Star Wars_ MedStar 02_ Jedi Healer - Michael Reaves [32]
On one side of the stage, the Modal Nodes, with their leader Figrin D’an, struck up the well-known theme music for Trebor, a Bith composition that translated into Basic as “Appreciated Reminiscences.” Trebor, a human, was one of the HoloNet’s most enduring entertainers. Revoc was the current younger and popular holovid star whom HoloNet Entertainment had insisted have top billing, but Trebor had been doing this in various venues for decades. Since the beginning of the current conflict, he had been one of the driving forces behind these tours to various battle fronts to entertain the troops and, as he put it, “the other unsung heroes of the war.” Jos had never particularly cared for Trebor’s brand of humor; he found it overly sentimental and a bit too party line. But there was no denying his popularity, judging by the applause.
“Good evening, fellow sentients—and a special greeting to our troops.” This brought renewed applause and cheers from the troopers. “Y’know, I hear the Kaminoans feel that the entire clone army project has been so successful, they’re thinking of branching out into other areas. They’re planning on cloning Falleens as marriage counselors… Zeolosians for farm and gardening aid…and Gungans to teach elocution.”
The laughter and applause continued as Trebor delivered his opening monologue. Most of his quips were somewhat funny, but Jos’s mood continued to be somber. He wished Tolk were here with him, instead of high overhead on MedStar enduring some ridiculous and unnecessary tutoring—and possibly well-meant but equally unnecessary interrogation by Admiral Great-Uncle. He found it difficult to get into the festive spirit with her circumstances weighing on his mind.
He wondered how long this war was going to continue, and what their lives together would be like afterward— always assuming that there would be an afterward. Like Erel Kersos, if Jos espoused an ekster he could never go home again. He had no worries about making a living— with his skill as a surgeon he could find work just about anywhere there was a medcenter, as could Tolk. They could even have children, since Lorrdians and Corellians were both basically human.
But to never see his homeworld, his friends, his family, again…
That would be hard. Brutally hard.
Erel Kersos had lived the life of an exile, and Jos could read the regret in the lines of the man’s face. He felt his mood growing darker. He wished Merit were here so that he could unburden himself to him, but the minder was also away from the Rimsoo on some errand. No, he would have to deal with these sorrows himself.
And the only reliable way he knew to do that was, of course, to drown them.
The cantina was probably close to deserted, but Teedle would be on duty, and his mood would be best served by drinking in solitude anyway. Thank the stars he didn’t have to worry about becoming addicted to alcohol—five hundred milligrams of a new drug called Sinthenol before the first drink prevented the potent concoctions from having long-lasting effects on the brain. It also sometimes helped alleviate hangovers, and the times that it didn’t he could always go to I-Five. The droid had recently discovered in himself the ability to soothe headaches and other postparty symptoms with sonic tones.
“Two clones walk into a cantina…”
Jos felt suddenly impatient. The show seemed to him pointless, or worse: a classic case of whistling past the pyre. The chances of it being interrupted by more incoming patients were even higher than usual, since the Separatists were currently aggressively extending their front lines. Abruptly he stood, made his way to the steps, and left.
Den and Uli watched Jos leave the bleachers. Uli scratched his head. “I thought he was looking forward to this.”
“Probably so did he. After you’ve been here a little longer, you’ll realize that our good captain, while not exactly bipolar, can sometimes be a little…moody.”
“I think he misses