Star Wars_ Death Star - Michael Reaves [100]
Yes, he reluctantly decided. If there was the slightest chance that the midi-chlorians were causing, or had the potential to cause, ill health for Nova Stihl, It was Uli’s duty as a healer to pursue all courses of inquiry.
C-4ME-O entered. “Your next patient is ready, Doctor.”
As he interviewed the next patient, Uli realized that, while he’d resented Hotise’s laying additional work on him initially, now he was glad of it. It took his mind off what a moral quagmire the galaxy had become.
46
ISD DEVASTATOR, ARKONIS SECTOR, OUTER RIM
“Lord Vader?”
“What is it, Lieutenant?”
The lieutenant practically stank of fear. Normally that was to be expected and not a problem, for fear was a useful tool. But occasionally it could be time consuming.
“You aren’t afraid,” Vader said, drawing his fingers together to concentrate the Force.
“I’m not afraid,” the lieutenant echoed. The tightness in his face and body relaxed, somewhat.
“You have something for me?”
“Yes, sir.” The lieutenant held up a printout flimsi sheet. “One of your warning flags has been tripped. A surgeon on board the battle station has requested from the local Med-Net information on midi-chlorians.”
“Very well. Leave it here. You may go.”
“Sir.” The man left. Weak-minded idiot he still was, but at least he wasn’t shaking in his boots.
Vader read the new dispatch with interest. He considered the knowledge therein. Why would someone on the battle station be looking for information on midi-chlorians?
Vader knew all about midi-chlorians, of course—he personally had the highest count per cell ever recorded, more than twenty thousand. More than Yoda, and, he knew, more than his erstwhile Master, Kenobi. Which meant that, potentially, he could have a stronger connection to the Force than anyone. Since most, if not all, of the Jedi were no more, that was all the sweeter, though Vader was convinced that Obi-Wan had remained hidden all these years, as had Yoda, assuming the latter had not finally shuffled off into death. Yoda had been very old, after all, and the defeat and deaths of the Jedi could not have helped him age any easier. He could be dead. But it was unwise to make such assumptions about such a powerful Jedi Master.
Back to the subject at hand. It might be wise to have a word with this medic and see what he was up to. Midichlorians did not normally figure into the medical treatment of most beings. This was unusual.
Not unusual enough to leave his current mission and go investigate, however. Soon enough he would have reason to return to the battle station. He would deal with this doctor and his strange request when he went.
For now, it was time to go again to his hyperbaric chamber, to rest and recharge. There was much that needed to be done in the service of his Master, and never enough time to do it all.
ARCHITECTURAL OFFICES, EXECUTIVE LEVEL, DEATH STAR
Teela saw the flowers on her desk when she arrived for her shift, a spray of everlilies, rojos, blueblossoms, and purple passions, artfully arranged by somebody who knew how to mix and match them for the most visual appeal. She could smell the spicy, peppery scent of the rojos wafting in the office air currents as she drew nearer.
The card with the arrangement said, SO WHERE DO WE GO FROM HERE?
That, she thought, is a good question.
There wasn’t any real future for them. He was an Imperial TIE fighter pilot on war duty, and she was a convicted criminal working as a trustee on the biggest battle station ever designed and built. Their backgrounds were too different, their loyalties too far apart. While it was true that they would both go where the Empire told them to go, and do what they were ordered to do, Teela did so because there was no real choice, whereas Vil gloried in his work.
Construction on the station kept getting faster as the crews learned from the first sections built and were