Jedi Healer

by Michael Reaves

  ear-smiting crack of something very much like thunder. What the-?

  A moment later, the temperature began to rise. It was easy to tell the

  difference because it was happening so quickly.

  Jos knew very little about how weather worked, but he knew that when

  warm air collided with cold air, things happened. And things were definitely

  happening now. A thick mist formed almost immediately, making it impossible

  to see more than a few meters ahead. He was buffeted by microbursts of wind

  from different directions, some hot, some cold, that whipped up flurries of

  melting, spore-tinged snow. Hard spatters of rain hit the ground in staccato

  bursts. Through the mist he could see eerie flickers of light-electrical

  discharges that he'd heard referred to in the past as Jedi's Fire. It

  glimmered on the dps of his fingers. He stood still. The voltage required to

  break through the air was high, obviously, but his capacity to store a

  charge was relatively small. He was in no danger. He hoped . . .

  The mist began to clear after a few moments. Jos felt the air becoming

  charged with moisture as the temperature continued to rise. He began to

  sweat, and started doffing layers of clothing: coat, vest, his outer pair of

  pants. Mud squished under his shoes.

  "Looks like Teedle's sacrifice wasn't in vain," Den Dhur's voice said.

  Jos looked about, and saw the diminutive Sullustan slowly materialize as the

  fog thinned.

  "Winter seems to be going away at a good clip."

  Jos nodded. For better or worse, the malfunctioning force-dome had

  apparently been repaired. And already he was missing the cold.

  Another humanoid form took shape a few paces ahead. It was I-Five. The

  droid was looking up. Jos followed his 'gaze. For the first time in weeks

  the relentless glare of Drongar Prime was visible.

  "Guess things are back to normal," he said to I-Five.

  "Indeed."

  Jos looked about the base. Icicles were dripping and disintegrating,

  the mud was getting deeper, and the ripe and fecund smells of the Jasserak

  Highlands were back with a rancid vengeance. All that was needed was the

  sound of incoming medlifters to provide the finishing touch.

  Even as the thought crossed his mind, the heavy air began to pulse with

  the distant throb of repulsors.

  "They're playing our song," he said to the droid as he turned back

  toward the OT. He felt unaccountably content. For better or worse, things

  seemed to be back to normal. No more surprises for a while, perhaps. Was

  that too much to ask?

  Probably . . .

  I-Five hadn't moved. "Come on," Jos called to him. "We've got jobs to

  do, remember?"

  The droid turned and looked at Jos. The subtle light shadings of his

  photoreceptors gave his metallic face a look of wonder. "I remember," he

  said.

  Jos stopped. "You remember what?"

  "I remember everything.'"

  21

  On Kaird's payroll was the human in charge of the xenobotanists

  monitoring the bota. Kaird, always thinking ahead, his identity always

  hidden within his Kubaz disguise, had been paying the man handsomely for

  information regarding the state of the crop.

  Kaird met the man in a refresher, the door blocked against unwanted

  company. The air scrubbers were, like so much of the Rimsoo's equipment,

  only intermittently functional, and so the place smelled very bad.

  The news, however, smelled worse.

  "It's not unprecedented," the xenobotanist said. "Have you ever heard

  of the ironwithe plants of Bogden ?"

  "No."

  "Quite fascinating. Nearly as hard as durasteel, and very popular as an

  export for rooftop gardens on Corus-cant and other Core worlds. Its shoots

  are the major part of the giant renda bear's diet, and-

  "Fascinating. Is there a point?"

  "Sorry. Well, every few decades there's a planetwide die-off of

  ironwithe. No one's sure why. It's like there's some sort of plant telepathy

  that triggers a near-extinction event. The really amazing thing is that it

  even affects the ironwithe growth parsecs away, on other worlds. The theory

  is that there's some kind of quantum entanglement reaction in the DNA that-

  "Just tell me exactly what it means regarding the bota," Kaird said,

  resisting the urge to strangle the man. "The plant life here is constantly

  mutating, and that includes bota. There is a new mutation, and from all

  appearances, it's planetwide. We don't know why; it could have been

  triggered by anything. The change seems to be altering the beta's

  adaptogenic properties." "Which means ... ?"

  "If it continues in this direction-and there seems to be no reason why

  it won't-within another generation, bota will be, for all intents and

  purposes, inert. Useless."

  Silently, inside his mask, Kaird cursed. How was he supposed to explain

  this to his vigo? It was not his fault, he could hardly control what had

  happened, but vigos had been known to blast messengers bearing bad news

  before.

  "Who else knows of this?"

  "Well, except for you and me, nobody yet. I haven't made my report to

  the military. I thought you would want to know first."

  "Good. Can you delay this report?"

  "Not for long. Botanical stations around the continent run periodic

  tests. These reports are funneled through my office, and I might be able to

  sit on them for a week or two, but no more. A few weak batches are not

  unusual, but something like this will get out." The human shrugged. "People

  talk."

  For a moment, Kaird considered killing the botanist.lt seemed the

  easiest way to keep this under wraps as long as possible. But-no. Killing

  him would only guarantee that he would be replaced, and the replacement

  might ant be .is venal. Better to have the man in charge working for him.

  Knowledge was, as always, power. Much could be accomplished in a short time

  with millions, maybe even billions, of credits at stake.

  "All right," Kaird said. "There will be a large bonus for you. Keep

  this information quiet as long as you can."

  The human fidgeted nervously. "They'll fire me if they find out." Til

  get you a better job, making three times as much,"

  The botanist stared at him.

  "Trust me. I have many useful contacts." Kaird pulled a credit cube

  frqm his pouch and tossed it to the man. The botanist triggered it. The

  amount appeared as a red number in the air in front of him. It was equal to

  his salary for two years.

  "Whoa!"

  "That, and that much more if you keep the lid on this for two weeks."

  The man nodded. Greed shone from his face. "All right." The man left, and

  Kaird lost no time in vacating the dose, ill-smelling building as well.

  As he tromped through the mud back to his quarters- too bad the lovely

  weather of the past couple of weeks had vanished with the dome's

  repair-Kaird thought about the situation. Bota had always been fragile, of

  course, and it wasn't surprising that the past few weeks of severe local

  climate change had resulted in a loss of the nearby crop. They'd planned on

  compensating for this by increasing production
from the other fields. Much

  of the harvest on the Tanlassa continent was shipped through Rimsoo Seven,

  and with Thula and Squa Tront doctoring the manifests, Black Sun's take

  would not have been af-

  fected much. This could still be accomplished to a degree and it might

  help keep the problem quiet for a few extra days.

  But that was merely a stopgap solution. The only way to salvage this

  situation was to get as much of the bota encased in carbonite as quickly as

  possible, and on its way to Black Sun. If the plant shifted from a miracle

  drug to a useless weed, then however much of it was still potent would

  become that much more valuable.

  When he'd been a youngling, he'd learned from a favorite aunt a

  trader's story: if you have the only case of a rare, vintage rimble-wine

  worth a thousand credits a bottle, and you want to maximize your profit,

  drink all but one of them, and put the last bottle in a secure vault. There

  were many rich people who would pay a fortune for something that was unique,

  but who wouldn't bother if there were a dozen, or even fewer, just like it

  in the whole galaxy. The single bottle would he worth more than the case.

  Bota, because of its properties, was already one of the most valuable

  of drugs. If the possibility of obtaining fresh supplies was gone, what was

  left would appreciate in value faster than a ship going lightspeed. A rich

  and seriously ill person would pay a lot to stave off death. How many

  credits you had didn't mean anything when they stuck your corpse in the

  recycler.

  Kaird considered his options: he could steal a large amount of the bota

  and try to smuggle it offworld on a military or commercial vessel . . .

  No. Too risky. Too many elements he could not control.

  He could contact Black Sun-assuming he could get his communicator

  working. He had been unable to make a connection the last few days, and

  while that might change, it was also a risk. Once the mutation became known,

  the military would triple the guards on it, and that would make things

  worse.

  Taking it by force would be impossible, of course. Black Sun was a

  formidable criminal empire, but its ways were those of the poisoned chalice

  and the hidden dagger, not the blaster and the lightsaber. All of Black

  Sun's firepower couldn't match even that of the Republic's done army on

  Drongar alone.

  Kaird reached his kiosk, sealed the entrance, and gratefully stripped

  off the stifling disguise. He was still reviewing options. He had his agents

  in place, so the theft itself was doable. But for the escape and transport,

  he needed a ship-one that was fast enough to outrun pursuit if they

  discovered the theft before he had enough of a lead.

  He'd have to steal one, along with the security codes that would allow

  it to escape.

  His vigo would be unhappy about the situation, Kaird knew. But he also

  knew that fifty kilograms of still-potent and ever-more-valuable bota would

  go a long way toward calming him.

  He exhaled in relief. Yes. Now that he had a general plan, the

  specifics would be easier. He could make it happen. People who stood in the

  path of Kaird of the Nediji never stayed there for long.

  He would contact the Falleen and the Umbaran and set up the theft. Then

  he would find a suitable ship and set that operation in motion as well.

  It felt good to be doing something more active after just standing

  around as one of The Silent for so long. Kaird was always better in motion

  than when he was still.

  When Den awoke, his head was-not to any great surprise-throbbing like a

  Benwabulan gong. He'd com-

  pletely forgotten to take a dose of hangover-stop before he fell

  asleep. Seemed he was forgetting a lot of things lately. Next thing you

  knew, he'd be losing his sense of direction-

  "Good morn," came a bright female voice.

  Den rubbed sleep from his eyes and saw Eyar Marath, standing in his

  'fresher, drying off with a towel.

  Good morn, indeed . . .

  "Your sonic shower is broken," she said, smiling at him. "I had to use

  the water spray, Might take a little while for the heater to warm it up

  again, if you want to use it."

  Den smiled. So it hadn't been a dream, after all.

  Eyar came back into the main room of the kiosk and sat on the edge of

  the bed. "1 really enjoyed being with you, Den-la," she said, adding the

  familiar-suffix to his name.

  "Yes, indeed," he managed, sitting up to watch her. "Me, too."

  "You have wives?" she asked.

  "Never had time to get any," he said, waving one hand as if to

  encompass the war, his job, everything. "What about you? Husbands?"

  "No. I'm still probably a year away from Ready."

  They both smiled as she pulled on her boots. "Revoc says we'll be here

  until the military unlocks the security quarantine. Perhaps we can see each

  other again?"

  "I'd like that."

  That they had just met officially yesterday and moved immediately into

  a relationship was, of course, perfectly normal for Sullustans. The old joke

  was that Sullustans seldom got lost, and they could always find the nearest

  bedroom . . .

  Eyar stood, did a quick dewflap wipe, and smiled broadly at Den. "How

  do I look?"

  "Best-looking fern for fifty parsecs," he said.

  "Probably the only one," she said, "but I'll take it."

  She started to leave. It was about as perfect as it could get, as far

  as Den was concerned. Nice to know he still had the moves.

  Eyar paused at the door, looked back, and smiled. "You remind me of my

  grandfather-he was such a sweet masc."

  Then she was gone, and Den was left with his mouth gaping and his

  dewflaps sagging. Her grandfather! Could have gone all month without hearing

  that. . .

  22

  Barriss tried to practice her lightsaber drills, but she just couldn't

  seem to narrow her focus. Her timing was off, her balance, her

  breathing-everything. Even the simplest sequences felt as if she were

  encased in a tight-fitting metal shell, barely able to move.

  She had found a dry patch of ground, so at least she wasn't standing

  ankle-deep in mud, but that didn't help much. She relit the blade and

  started a basic centerline parrying sequence. The ozone smell and power hum

  of the lightsaber were familiar, but not comforting.

  Someone was approaching.

  Though no one could walk without making noise in the mud and dead

  vegetation, the buzzing of the energy blade made it difficult to hear

  snapping twigs, squishing mud, and other quiet warnings. Fortunately, she

  didn't need such aids. Barriss shut off the lightsaber, hooked it to her

  belt, and turned to face Uli.

  He grinned at her. "Boo."

  She grinned back. "We have to stop meeting this way. Out collecting

  flare-wings for your mother again?"

  "Trying to ... the cold seems to have wiped out all those inside the

  dome. No luck today. Y'know, even though it was a pain in the posterior, I

  kinda miss the snow."

  Barriss nodded. She felt the same way. Though it wasn't even midmorning
<
br />   yet, the tropical sun had already laid its hot hands on the camp. Even the

  osmotic weave of her robe wasn't enough to keep her cool.

  "So, what's with your practicing? You seem . . ."

  "Stiff? Tight? Unattuned?"

  He nodded. "I was gonna go with off your game, but those'II do. It's

  not your foot, is it?"

  "No. That's healed."

  He nodded. "Good. Anything I can do to help?"

  "Offering me a massage, Uli?"

  He blushed. She found that charming. Then, abruptly, she decided to

  talk to him about her problem-in general terms, at least. He was a doctor,

  and good-hearted. Besides, she had about come to the conclusion that any

  help now would be better than none. And the boy might have something

  constructive to say. Out of the mouths of children, and all that . . .

  She said, "How much do you know about the Force?"

  He. looked somewhat surprised. "Almost nothing," he said. "The few Jedi

  I've run into haven't talked about it. I mean, I know the medical theories

  about midi-chlorians being the organelles that somehow generate the

  connection and all, and I've heard the usual wild stories about it, but as

  to how it actually works and what it really is- He shrugged.

  She nodded. "Actually, the Force may create midi-chlorians, sort of as

  its conduits into our continuum, rather than the other way around. They're

  isomorphic on every world that has life. The Force, it appears, truly

  pervades the galaxy, if not the entire universe.

  "But, when all is said and done, the Jedi don't really know how it

  actually works and what it really is, either, We know how to connect to it,

  how to channel it, but in a lot of ways we're like primitives standing on

  the bank of a rushing river. We can put our hands in it, even wade in and

  try to swim, but we don't know where it comes from-only that it exists, and

  that it is bound to life and consciousness more deeply than the quantum

  level."

  He nodded slowly, waiting for her to continue.

  She was lecturing, she knew, as she might to a class of nine-year-olds,

  but he did seem interested, and it was a roundabout way to approach her

  problem, even if she didn't make it that far.

  "Part of becoming a Jedi Knight is learning how to become better

  connected to the Force. Jedi Masters are the best at it-coupled with their

  wisdom and experience, they are able to do things that Padawans, let alone