Star Wars_ MedStar 02_ Jedi Healer - Michael Reaves [3]
Of the two of them, Zan had always been neater. He would never have let it get this out of control. Jos could almost hear the Zabrak’s voice: Look, Vondar, I’ve seen garbage scows more aseptic than this. What’re you trying to do, max out your immune system?
But Zan wasn’t here. Zan was dead.
The boy was speaking again. Jos tuned back in: “…been assigned to Rimsoo Seven as a surgeon, sir.”
Jos sat up on his cot and stared. Was he hearing right? This—this child was a doctor?
Impossible.
His disbelief must have shown, because the boy said, somewhat stiffly, “Coruscant Medical, sir. Graduated two years ago, then did a year of internship and a year of residency at Big Zoo.”
That did bring a smile from Jos. Big Zoo was the unofficial name of Galactic Polysapient, the multi-sentient-species medcenter on Alderaan, at which he himself had interned. It boasted no fewer than seventy-three separate environment zones and ORs, and treatment protocols for every known carbon-based sentient species in the inhabited galaxy, as well as most of the silicon- and halogen-based forms. If it was alive and reasonably conscious, sooner or later you’d see it at Big Zoo.
Jos gave the boy a closer, more appraising look. He was human—either Corellian like Jos or some other close variant—towheaded, with cheeks that looked like they had yet to experience depil cream. “You should have had three years of residency before they drafted you,” Jos said.
“Yes, sir. Apparently they were running short on doctors in the field.”
The vestige of Jos’s smile vanished. Zan had been dead only a week. And this boy was supposed to be his replacement? The Republic was getting desperate if it was snatching babies from their cradles this way.
Besides, nobody could replace Zan. Nobody.
“Look, Lieutenant… Divini, was it?”
“Uli.”
Jos blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“Everyone calls me Uli, sir. I’m from Tatooine, near the Dune Sea. It’s short for Uli-ah, the word for Sand People children. How I got the nickname is kind of an interesting—”
“Lieutenant Divini, far be it from me to question the wisdom of the Republic—I don’t think anybody really could, since they don’t have any wisdom to question—so, fine, welcome to the war. You check in with the unit commander yet?”
“Colonel Vaetes, yes, sir. He sent me here.”
Jos sighed. “All right, I guess we’d better find you a place to stay.” He rose from his cot.
Young Divini looked uncomfortable. “The colonel said I was to bunk with you, sir.”
“Stop calling me sir. I’m not your father, even though I feel old enough for that these days. Call me Jos… Vaetes sent you to stay here?”
“Yes, sir. Uh, I mean, yes, Jos.”
Jos felt his bottom teeth settle firmly against his upper jaw. “Stay right here.”
“Okay.”
Vaetes was waiting for him when Jos arrived at his office. Before he could say a word, the colonel said, “That’s right, I sent the boy to your cube. He’s been assigned here as a general surgeon and I’m not going to have the construction droids drop everything and build a new kiosk when you have an empty bed in yours.” He raised a hand to forestall Jos’s comments. “This isn’t a debate class, Captain, it’s the army. You’re the chief surgeon in this unit. Show him the drill, get him set up. You don’t have to like it, but you have to do it. Dismissed.”
Jos stared at Vaetes. “What’s the matter with you, D’Arc? Someone split your head open and drop a regular army brain in? You sound like a character in a bad holovee. Have you taken a look outside recently? We’re not even totally relocated yet, only one bacta tank’s online, and we lost an entire case of cryogen during the move. Meanwhile,