Марта Уэллс - From a Certain Point of View

Ela returned to her control panel and tried to shut out all thought, all distractions. She reset the weapons and comms, locked them behind her security code, then assessed the remains of the onboard Tibanna cannisters.

When she finished, she realized Kelos was watching her appraisingly. Finally, he shared his verdict: “Betrayal demonstrates character. It suits you.”

Ela returned his look with a cold disdain that she felt to the depths of her soul.

—

Exhausted, Ela finished her shift and headed back toward her quarters. Of course —she stopped herself. She needed a different venue. Someplace unlikely to be under surveillance.

—

“I owe you. I thought for sure you wouldn’t go along with our…emergency, worst-case scenario, wow did this go sideways plan after I was forced to get creative with the disguises. You didn’t have to do any of this, I know.” The glowing blue form of Tal smiled at her from Cloud City a short time later.

“Of course I did. I said I’d do what I could, and I don’t go back on my word.” Ela undid her constricting officer jacket and tossed it onto the bed. Recently vacated, these officer quarters provided exactly what she needed. The breezy scent told her the space had also been cleaned to her liking. “Besides, you’re the sexiest rebel scum this side of Corellia.”

Tal laughed. “I’ll take it. But maybe you should get out while you can. They could find out you blew up a few canisters of Tibanna gas instead of us. More than a few. I ejected the ones you planted onboard our ship, too.”

“They’re all fools. Kelos especially. I knew he couldn’t resist the idea of blasting a helpless ship into particles. He was looking right at me as I dumped our excess gas capsules into space…” She mimed the commands she had entered into the console. “…targeting the weapons on them instead of your transport. He was so focused on reading my expression, he didn’t look at my hands or the console. He one hundred percent believed me.”

“ I almost believed you.”

“Next time give me a little more information about what you’re planning, so I’m not surprised.” Ela collapsed onto the bed. “Only one way I like to be surprised.”

“Fair.” The hologram did not do justice to her eyes. “Ela. I know we don’t…do this. But it means a lot, what you did.”

Ela pulled her hair down, letting it fall down her shoulders. “Are you alone?”

Tal failed to suppress a grin. “The miners are all back home with their families, hiding out while we figure out what to do about your Imperial friends. Rajin has a new son. Kiren is getting treated. Right now, I think they’ll talk to me before Baudu does. But he’s a hero now. He’ll come around.”

“As long as he doesn’t come around now. ” Ela leaned down, beginning to slowly undo her boots, knowing she had Tal’s attention.

“Ela?”

“Yes?”

“Leave the boots on this time.”

RIGHT-HAND MANLydia Kang

It wasn’t the worst wound he’d ever seen.

The surgical droid 2-1B viewed the patient in front of him. Commander Luke Skywalker had a clean amputation of his right hand, via lightsaber. It had been a long time since he’d seen such a wound. Simple enough. His vital signs were remarkably stable, save for a slightly elevated heart rate. The patient seemed calm at first glance, but 2-1B could tell quickly that his muscles were tensed and his mouth was a taut line. The pain was there, no doubt, but the lightsaber had thankfully cauterized the bleeding. There was one good thing about Jedi and Sith combat—no blood. It saved him and his FX droids a lot of messy work.

Beyond his operating station, the large viewport of the Redemption ’s surgical suite yawned wide and dark, a view that was either soothing or menacing, depending on the point of view. Most patients preferred to face the wide expanse of velvety black speckled with bright stars. Rebel cruisers and X-wing fighters flew alongside the medical frigate, a comforting sight. The spinning fire of a nearby protostar was unusually brilliant. An excellent distraction, sometimes more powerful than painkillers and a dose of bacta. But Commander Skywalker chose to turn away from the viewport, as if something out there was too uncomfortable to face. How very odd.

Away from Bespin and the Empire, they were safe now.

“I shall begin by cleansing the wound, removing the dead and cauterized tissue, and testing your nerve endings for compatibility with the cybernetic attachment,” 2-1B said as he gathered instruments on a hovertray. “After that, I will apply bacta to ensure successful synergy, Commander.”

Luke said nothing, only stared straight ahead.

Too-Onebee turned his mechanical head to see what Commander Skywalker was staring at. He thought perhaps Princess Leia or the commander’s favored droids had entered the room, but no. Just a wall of supply compartments.

“Commander Skywalker. Are you in pain?” 2-1B asked.

For the first time, his patient looked up. “Pain?” he asked, as if he hadn’t quite heard the droid’s words.

“Yes. I can certainly give you some painkillers.”

Commander Skywalker blinked, and he looked down at the stump of his arm. “I don’t think they’ll work on me.”

“Why, of course they will. All humans and humanoids are sensitive to our pharmacologics.”

“No, thank you.”

2-1B stopped his supply gathering and walked closer to his patient. “Why would you choose to feel pain? That is illogical.”

His patient shook his head. “It’s not that kind of pain.”

The droid nodded. His patient suffered beyond the flesh. That he understood, though sometimes it was not obvious upon first examination. Still, his heart rate was elevated. There was truly physical pain. And yet, his patient chose to suffer.

“Suffering can lead to problems with healing. You must not close yourself off to help, Commander.”

The patient looked up at the droid. Too-Onebee paused, then continued to busily clean off the stump and remove remnants of burned tissue. His hydraulics were incredibly sensitive; 2-1B’s mechanical touch was cold, but he tried to be very gentle.

“Suffering leads to more than just that,” his patient admitted.

“I treated you on Hoth. Do you not remember, Commander?”

“Yes, I remember. I asked for you specifically. And please, call me Luke.”

“Yes, Commander.”

Luke’s eyes flashed up at him.

“My apologies, sir. Luke, then. If that makes you more comfortable.”

He nodded.

“You may not remember, but when you were in dormoshock on Hoth, you resisted within the bacta tank, too. Only when you agreed to assistance did your healing begin properly. Bacta is a living thing. It needs your cooperation.” He added, “Luke,” as an afterthought, though it sounded a bit forced. He might have shouted the name a little.

“Really?”

“Yes. Flesh is flesh, but the will is quite powerful. Time and again, our medical data banks show the strength of the connection between a being’s thoughts and the corporeal.”

“The Force,” Luke said quietly.

“Well. I don’t know if our medical data banks call it that. ”

Luke smiled a tiny bit. It was the first time his body relaxed. Not completely, but just a touch. “Call it whatever you want. But you’re right.”

Too-Onebee continued to remove tissue from his patient’s stump. Luke looked down at it and winced at the sight.

“Really. You ought to stop getting into so many life-threatening situations, Luke.” (This time, he didn’t shout his name.) “You are becoming my most frequently returning patient. One day you might return to me beyond repair, and I should not like that.”