"Oh, this I hate."
For what felt like the tenth time, the scalpel whispered past my bicep, opening up a vivid red gash that offered up a steady stream of blood. Of course, I barely felt it; Compared to the constant burning and tearing pain in my chest and shoulder, it was a passing irritation. A bite from a playful cat compared to the things scraping against my bones and muscles. Also, I had some painkillers in my system that probably were not going to wear off anytime soon.
Still, watching the vivid red fluid flow into a strategically placed cup already more than two thirds full of the same life-giving liquid was a strange feeling. Even if the blood-pressure cuff just above the cut reminded me that all of this was for a good cause (read: figuring out what the Hell these bugs were doing to me), that did not make it much easier.
Watching the flow of blood rapidly slow down and soon completely stop, far faster than it had any right to do, was an even odder sensation. Seeing a pale silver scar mar my flesh after wiping away the excess blood even more so.
The machine attached to the blood-pressure cuff gave a chime, and the Little Jedi deposited the bloodied scalpel onto a towel before checking the machine's display. For my part, I used the Force to grab something from the drinks globe I had installed by the door. Nothing alcoholic, unfortunately, just a bottle of mixer I kept on hand.
There had to be a reason why people were given orange juice and cookies after donating blood, right?
"Well, the good news is that you can still bleed to death," the Little Jedi observed. "Add that to list of things that can kill you alongside lethal organ damage, lethal brain damage, broken neck, drowning, choking, strangulation, burning to death, poisoning, disease, decapitation, and suffocation."
"That's good news, is it?" I deadpanned. "That long a list?"
"My best guess is that those bugs just accelerate natural healing without impacting regular biological function," she said. "Closing wounds is one thing. That's just regular old cell division. Restoring blood is an entirely different process with intermediary steps."
"So the bugs won't let me get away with mixing pain pills with alcohol," I mused, finally taking a sip of my overly sugary mixer. It wasn't orange juice, but I had known that when I had bought it. Truth be told, I doubted if I would ever taste orange juice again. "Shame."
"Considering how often you're flying yourself around, you shouldn't be drinking at all," she warned me. Even so, she removed the blood-pressure cuff and took the cup of my blood and all the used medical supplies. As she disposed of them, her voice became a bit more distant and echo-y.
"Oh no, the government will confiscate that piloting license I don't have." Perhaps I shouldn't have been sassing the woman willingly performing first-aid on me while making a list of all the different ways I could be killed. Then again, sassing the Little Jedi happened to be something I enjoyed, and it had yet to kill me. "Whatever will I do?"
"Struggle to get dressed on your own, for one," she mused, causing me to freeze. I had not even managed to undress myself before this impromptu medical exam, relying on the Little Jedi and a pair of bandage shears to cut me free. Getting clothes on, however?
That was going to be a whole new challenge. Thankfully, there were ways to deal with that.
"There are Force techniques for that," I pointed out. "Not that I know any of them, but I figure I can either figure them out or extort my boss for one."
That was the moment I shifted in my seat and a fresh wave of pain was sent through the entire left side of my torso. Never mind, those painkillers were wearing off pretty soon after all. Since I did not want to have to deal with the hassle of setting up an IV drip to constantly pump drugs into my system, that meant oral pain medication.
Fast-release stuff, preferably.
"You might want to move that up on your priority list, Little Sith," the Little Jedi said, amusement clear in her voice.
"Bite me," I hissed, standing up so I could properly root through my bag of many medications. Soon enough, I found something that would do the job. Praying that it wouldn't have an extreme reaction to the remnants of the drugs in my bloodstream, I swallowed a few chalky tablets and went hunting for an outfit.
Well, the only kind of outfit I had, really.
"That's your best retort?" she asked.
"You're short?" I offered. There was another unflattering descriptor I had floating around in my head, but I chose to pass on it. There was a limit on what a man should say to a woman who had spent the past hour cataloging ways to kill you. "Murderous? Corellian?"
"The last one isn't an insult," she said.
"Silly Jedi, anything can be an insult if said correctly," I said. Making my voice sound sagacious was a challenge when it still felt like my body was being torn apart little by little with every movement, but sometimes you had to try.
"That would be a lot more insightful if you were actually dressed," the Little Jedi pointed out.
I had no retort to that, so I slipped on a fresh undershirt. Raising my left arm to jam it through the armhole reduced my field of vision to a flash of white as the pain in my shoulder intensified. Even through the painkillers, it was enough to force me to lean against the table. Gritting my teeth, I fumbled my way through to pull the shirt on. Almost immediately, I could feel it wick away the sheen of sweat that was refusing to abandon me.
Blessedly, the rest of my outfit was a lot less of a pain. Probably because the shirt was open at the front, but maybe because the drugs were starting to kick in. Halfway through buttoning up my waistcoat, my commlink gave a notification chime. No, not a notification chime; That was an incoming call. Making sure to slip my mask back on, I accepted the call.
"Hello Natia," I said, having checked in the incoming call. One of these days, I was giving her a unique ringtone. "I take it you finished up already?"
"Yeah." If she had been surprised at me guessing the purpose of the call, she did not show it. Then again, what else could it have been? She had been given a lot of leeway to handle the situation. "We found a list of Intelligence activities on Nar Shaddaa, but not much else. There's a team of Nikto out here in imperial gear, though. They said our ride's compromised?"
"Correct," I said, glancing down at my outfit. Even with the waistcoat only partially on, I could tell it would not sit right. Maybe if I padded the shoulders… but I didn't have time for that. Better to lean into the different look until I could properly compensate. I ditched the waistcoat and stuck with the red shirt. If I hunched my right shoulder, it would compensate for the bugs' presence and keep out the worst of the wrinkles. "Tag along with them and meet me back at the base and we'll figure out our next steps."
"Fine by me," she answered, and the line went dead.
"Our next steps might be a bit bigger than anticipated," the Little Jedi commented, stepping out of the refresher in her usual Jedi attire. She must have taken the opportunity to let us both get changed in privacy. Personally, I would have appreciated it more had she not eavesdropped on me, but that was my fault for inviting a Jedi Shadow along for the ride.
"How so?" I asked, and the Little Jedi produced the Mystery Sith's lightsaber. Using the Force, she let it hover in the air between us.
"You still have the dossier on Darth Angral's allies?"
"Of course," I said, pulling out the datapad.
"Check the section on Lord Sadic," she instructed, and I froze.
"Lord Sadic?" I asked. Despite my reservations, I scrolled to the relevant section. ID picture, name, demographic info, biometric info, history, and… a picture of a lightsaber. A lightsaber identical to the one hovering in front of me.
Oh no.
No no no.
That… that wasn't possible. It couldn't be. There was no reason for him to expect us, to create a specific countermeasure for me. There had been nothing published about my efforts to combat Darth Angral, yet his subordinate had been ready for me. Sure, there was an interview with J'Meson, but that was under embargo until we had a solid win in hand for the sake of momentum. Angral could not have found out about that unless he had been spying on me from the start.
A muffled voice reached my ears, but I paid it no mind.
...
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