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15

The thing Corran hated the most about floating in the bacta tank was that he could see blurred figures outside the tank, but he couldn’t communicate with them. Even when one or more got close enough to press a hand to the transparisteel window into the tank, he couldn’t make out who was at the far end of the arm. He could guess, but since the room outside the tank was kept dim and lit mostly by a yellow-green glow from within the tank itself, confirming his guesses was impossible.

He had no way of knowing how long he’d been in the tank, but he found the duration of his stay both too long and too short. Pain in his back and guts had been overwhelming at first, but it subsided after a while. In its wake came a tingling in his legs, which was good since he’d not felt anything in them at first. Only after feeling returned to them did Corran allow himself to think about how badly he had been hurt and how close he’d come to death.

I probably broke my pelvis in the fall, then when the stormtroopers landed on me I broke my back and probably ruptured internal organs. Had bacta not been available, those injuries would have been fatal.

That realization sobered Corran and gave him a clarity of mind that allowed him to go back over what he had done at the spaceport. His two mistakes were very clear and gnawed at him. I should have known better. I am not a Jedi. Trying to use Jedi methods without proper training is stupid, as I found out. I’m as bad as wannabe police—a Jedi vigilante. If Jedi techniques were just parlor tricks and illusions, the Emperor wouldn’t have hunted all the Jedi down and had them destroyed. If these abilities are that dangerous, they shouldn’t be used without proper training.

While that line of thought made certain he’d never again try to warp the brain of a stormtrooper, Corran was not as harsh in his self-judgment concerning the fight on the catwalk. Lacking a blaster and pinned down by crossfire, to do nothing would have meant both he and Mirax would be dead. Escaping that trap required action and he’d taken action. His mistake in the fight had been the result of inexperience with the weapon he’d used. I swung wildly, using more power than I needed. If I moderated things, kept the blade more under control, I could have gotten at least the third stormtrooper. The fourth stormtrooper would have shot him, Corran had little doubt, but his attack would have all but eliminated half the threat to his friends.

A gentle tug on the breathing mask he wore caused Corran to look up. He saw a round hatch through which light came and a silhouette of a human head and shoulders in it. Kicking his legs, Corran made his way to the surface of the tank. He removed the breathing mask and hauled himself out through the hatch. The medtech there lowered a grate over the hatch and pointed Corran toward it. As he had done before, Corran stood on the grate as the tech used a water spray to wash the bacta residue from him and back into the tank. Holding his hands high, Corran turned slowly beneath the spray, then smiled as the tech tossed him a thick towel.

“How do you feel?”

Corran shrugged and wiped his face. “Pretty good. How badly was I hurt?”

The tech’s face screwed up tight. “Pretty bad. You were in shock when we dunked you. Internal organ damage, broken pelvis, spine, and ribs—more quantity than quality of damage.”

Corran nodded. “So I was in for, what, a week?”

“Two days.”

“What?” Corran frowned at the tech. “I should have been in there much longer than that for those injuries.”

The tech lifted his chin and gave Corran an imperious stare. “You are used to dealing with export-quality bacta, and Xucphra product at that, friend. The bacta here is more potent.”

“Made by Zaltin verachen?”

The tech bowed his head. “Very good. If you will follow me, your friends are waiting for you.”

Lacking clothes, Corran wrapped the towel around his waist and followed the tech down some stairs and through a doorway. The room beyond it was lit by a ghostly green glow coming from the