Star Wars_ MedStar 02_ Jedi Healer - Michael Reaves [17]
He began the external repair, his movements very neat and precise.
“You do nice work, Doctor Divini.”
“Call me Uli,” he said. “Doctor Divini is my father. Also my grandfather. And my great-grandfather. All of them still in practice together.”
“Disappointed them when you didn’t go into the theater, did you?”
He laughed. “A Jedi with a sense of humor. Will wonders never cease.”
After he finished, she thanked him. He stood and gave a grandiose bow. “Glad to be of service,” he said. “It’s what I do.” He watched her with a speculative frown as she put her boot back on. “Now, an ordinary human or humanoid, it’d take five, six days to heal. With you… what? Three?”
“Two. Two and a half, at the most.”
Uli shook his head. “Wish we could bottle that.”
The unsettling image of beings dying in the OT arose unbidden in her mind, and she could see by his expression that it had in his as well. She changed the subject.
“You spend much of your time slogging around in the swamp?”
He smiled, and once again he looked about fourteen. “My mother collects Alderaanian flare-wings,” he said. “Some of the bugs on this world look very similar; might be panspermic relatives. Thought I’d bag a few for her.”
Suddenly his name sounded a chord of recognition. “I saw a display once, in the Coruscant Xenozoology Museum. The most extensive collection of flare-wings in the known galaxy. Filled up three of the biggest rooms in the building. Presented by the renowned mudopterist, Elana Divini. Any relation?”
“Mother never does things halfway.” He looked at his chrono. “Gotta run. I’m back on duty in ten minutes.”
“Thanks again for the stitchery.”
“Thanks for the opportunity.”
After he was gone, Barriss walked around the clearing. Her foot was fine, and it would heal quickly. But that sudden cold wind she had felt was nowhere to be found now. She’d been on this hothouse world for so long she’d almost forgotten what cold air felt like. How could a cold breeze possibly be produced anywhere on Drongar, without mechanical aid? And inside a force-dome? It was human body-heat temperature out here within moments of sunrise, and it never got much cooler than that, even at night.
More importantly, even if a chill breeze had touched her, how could she have allowed her concentration to lapse to the extent that she had cut herself with her lightsaber? The last time that had happened, she had been nine years old—and it had been a nick on her wrist, nothing nearly as bad as this.
No two ways about it—she had reacted like a rank amateur.
Barriss started back to her kiosk. This was a bad sign. The longer she stayed on Drongar, the more she seemed to be moving away, not toward, her goal of becoming a Jedi Knight.
She shivered. For a moment it seemed that she could feel that chill breeze again—not on her skin this time, but in her heart.
7
The cantina was fairly busy, it being one of the rare times when the spore-ridden skies were not full of medlifters, themselves full of wounded clone troopers. At their usual table sat Den Dhur, Klo Merit, Tolk le Trene, Jos Vondar, I-Five, and Barriss Offee. These were the regulars for the twice-weekly sabacc game. Occasionally others, like Leemoth, would sit in, but for the most part it was the same six. The game was a way of relaxing, of rebuilding themselves for the next onslaught of blood and pain. They could never forget about the war, but for an hour or two it would not be uppermost in their minds.
The air coolers were working fairly well, which was also unusual—the filters in the refrigerating units were especially susceptible to spore-rot, and, because all the other Rimsoos on Drongar had the same problem, replacement parts were on constant back order. Even though spores couldn’t penetrate the force-dome when it was lit, there were pass-throughs for incoming and outgoing vessels, plus all the local flora and fauna that were already there when the dome was first triggered. Consequently, most of the time, rooms filled with cool, clean, and dry air were few and far between.