Star Wars_ MedStar 02_ Jedi Healer - Michael Reaves [10]
But not without cost.
The move, made under heavy Separatist fire, had incurred the loss of three patients—all from trauma associated with relocation—the wounding of fifteen, and the death of one doctor: Zan Yant.
A great pity, that. Yant had been not only an excellent doctor, but also a superlative musician, at times holding the entire base spellbound through the magic of his quetarra. He could make that instrument sing, truly; melodies so hauntingly beautiful that they seemed capable of calling dying troopers back from the threshold of eternity.
But there were no compositions, no fugues, no rhapsodies, that could call Zan Yant back.
Column turned away from the window, toward the desk that took up most of one wall. The Separatists were waiting to hear the latest, and it was necessary to work up one of the complex coded messages and send it to Dooku’s forces. The process was unwieldy and complicated: once the cumbersome code had been used to encrypt the message, the security protocol required transmitting it via sublight waves through a hyperspace wormhole connection rather than the usual subspatial carrier pulse. A complex and boring exercise, all in all, but necessary—failure to decode such messages in a timely matter might be fatal. The warning of the attack that had killed Dr. Yant had been carried in just such a message, and, had Column decoded it quicker, Yant’s life might have been prolonged for a short while longer. That was a lesson to remember. However laborious and time-consuming the process might be, Column needed Dooku’s resources and help to defeat the Republic, and some things had to be suffered for that.
Best get to it, then. It wasn’t going to get any easier…
Den had to hand it to Klo Merit—the Equani therapist had not so much as twitched a whisker in surprise when the reporter had shown up in place of Jos Vondar. In fact, of the two, the counselor was probably much more comfortable with the situation than was Den, this being the first time he had ever so much as set foot inside a minder’s office.
It had been a last-minute decision, he told Merit nervously. He didn’t feel that he needed to unburden his troubles, not on the Equani’s broad shoulders or on anyone else’s—at least, not until a few high-octane Bantha Blasters had loosened his frontal lobes enough to set him talking. Den was firmly of the opinion that pubtenders made the best therapists, and he told Merit so.
Merit nodded and said, “Sometimes they do. Believe it or not, some of my best sessions—impromptu, but memorable nonetheless—have taken place in similar circumstances. And, by the way, I usually frown on patient substitutions, particularly last-minute ones. But I’m letting that slide this time.” He leaned forward. “So—what brings Den Dhur to my inner sanctum?”
Den chewed his bulbous lower lip. Blast, but this was a lot harder than it had looked to be. He’d never thought he’d be this uncomfortable just talking…
“Jos said I should take his time,” he said finally. “He’s up to his hairline in wounded troops currently.”
Merit made no response to this at first. Then he leaned back and said, “And…?”
Den could already tell this was going to be no fun at all. “Uh, well …he said I needed it more than him.”
Merit looked slightly surprised. “Did he? Well, it being against the tenets of my profession to reveal anything about a patient’s private sessions, I’ll just say that that’s a surprising statement, coming from Doctor Vondar.”
“I know,” Den said, relieved at being able to discuss Jos’s woes instead of his own, if only for a moment. “Doctor Yant’s death really hit him hard. I mean, he deals with death all the time in the OT, but this is different—Zan was his friend. And it was pointless. So pointless…but what death in a war isn’t?”
Merit nodded. Den realized he was feeling much more relaxed already—maybe it had something to do with the Equani’s empathic abilities. Whatever it was, it made