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He pried some wires and chips away from the insignia, and went cold. The insignia was part of the new computer system, buried within the internal workings, unseen except by those who assembled the system.

Cole couldn’t tell if the device was unique to Skywalker’s X-wing or not. It would take some research to find out. Research he would have to do.

Because he recognized the device in the computer system. He had seen it in some of the remains on Tatooine, had watched one of his friends die by switching it on.

The Imperial symbol hid a detonating device of unique capability. The device remained inoperative until a certain command code had been spoken or entered into the attached system. Then, without skipping a beat, the energy polarity in the system would reverse, overload, and the detonator would go off, creating the largest possible explosion with the equipment at hand.

Cole’s hands were shaking. Skywalker had been right not to take this X-wing. If he had, he would have died.

Sixteen

“Skin … you will …”

Luke thought he heard Yoda’s voice. He listened very carefully, but the words kept fading in and out.

“… lucky … are …”

Just as his consciousness faded in and out. He was warm for the first time in what seemed like forever, but he couldn’t feel anything against his skin. It was like floating in zero G, only without the movement. He was stationary and touching nothing. How very, very strange. He had never been without the sense of touch before.

“… know you … I …”

His eyelids were closed, but the texture of the darkness had changed. Instead of seeing nothing but blackness, he now saw that light brown color he would see when he closed his eyes in Yavin 4’s bright sunlight.

“… feeling …”

Smells, too, were fading in and out. He thought he caught the scent of the meat stew his aunt Beru used to make when ships brought meat into Anchorhead. The meat wasn’t all that fresh, so she stewed it for two days and dished it out as if it were as precious as the moisture they farmed.

“… in time …”

The voice had the same qualities as Yoda’s, but wasn’t his. The same deep, androgynous quality existed, but the twisted syntax that marked Yoda was missing here. The speaker knew the language well. Luke’s ears simply weren’t working. They kept skipping words like a malfunctioning droid.

He concentrated, reached for the Force, found it, and heightened his senses.

Bubbles.

Sizzling.

Pink goo against his skin.

He forced his eyes open, his heart racing.

A woman in her late seventies looked down at him, her wrinkled features breaking into a smile. She had been beautiful once; still was, if truth be told. Her hair was silver and her eyes were the brightest blue he had seen since—

Since—

The memory failed him.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “You’ll be all right.”

Actually he heard her say “don’t,” “be,” and “right” and parsed out the rest by reading her lips.

“Not many people survive the mistmakers, and I’ve never seen anyone live who was as covered in their slime as you were. It was touch and go for a while there.” Her smile softened. “You’re lucky I have a bacta tank.”

He came fully awake then. The bacta tank was across the room, its water still holding traces of the pink slime. That stuff had to be really potent for it to last in a bacta tank.

The room had other medical equipment from several different cultures. Through an open door, he saw a regular living area, complete with kitchen. Another door led into still another room that he couldn’t see.

All of this he noticed without turning his head. He still could feel nothing around him. With an incredible effort, he twisted his neck slightly and saw that he floated several feet above the bed. Air cushions. He had seen them in Imperial medical centers, but had never really been on one. They were reserved for burn patients who had lost most of their skin.

Luke shuddered. He tried to raise his hand to see if he had any skin left, but the woman shook her head.

“The more you try, the longer it will take you to recover. You can’t feel