>>5531728Master Larid’s file on her mentioned an extensive list of comrades she’d fought alongside with. “Is it possible for you to get into contact with your friends?”
Her smile visibly drops. “…no…at least not immediately. Order 66 split us apart…but I have a friend on Naboo! Arani of House Korden. Even if she and I didn’t fight together as part of the Naboo Underground, she’s sympathetic to the Order after Masters Jinn and Kenobi helped liberate her home planet. While the planet was burying Senator Amidala, Arani helped me get to Kessel, but she was helping others – not just Jedi – escape from the Empire’s grasp.”
That’s quite the friend, indeed. You make a mental note to follow up on that as a potential lead. Risky, given how Naboo is Palpatine’s home planet, but one that might very well yield an invaluable contact.
Sia-Lan kneels down beside Master Potkin. The guardian allows herself one final look of disgust before she sighs, and rolls up her sleeves. “We can’t transport her like this. The Force would have already begun to heal her injuries, but after what you did…”
Your face betrays nothing. “Make it quick.”
“She won’t be comfortable, but at least her injuries won’t go septic. Master Darté? In the supplies that Potkin had, were there any medpacks?”
They are produced. Their contents are extracted, and gingerly applied to the worst of the burnt skin, and the hole created by your blaster shot. A small cannister of bacta is produced, and subsequently sprayed onto the bandages.
Then, your eyes visibly widen as Sia-Lan closes her eyes, and lays her hands on Potkin’s injuries. The blaster wound begins to seal – flash-boiled and charred flesh is remade and slowly knits itself together. Blisters recede back into the skin, burnt flesh sloughs off in piles of ash…
…but Sia-Lan stops, cutting herself off before even a full quarter of the master’s injuries are healed.
“I’m no trained healer,” she says, visibly wobbling as she accepts a hand up from Ma’kis, “But I can at least keep her wounds from going septic. After that, it’s only up to the Force as to how fast Master Potkin will heal.”
But you don’t see Potkin at all.
All you see is Kristen.
“…are you alright?” Ma’kis looks at you with visible concern.
It takes a moment for you to come out of your thoughts, out of the memory of that terrible day, and the sight of what lay in the Tof’s Galleria of Splendor. And even longer to restrain yourself from demanding of Sia-Lan for all of what she knows about healing through the Force.
“…I’m fine,” you say roughly, “Just…thinking about some things.”
He doesn’t buy it, but he nods. The Nikto turns towards Sia-Lan with a hopeful expression on his face. “I’d hate to ask, but…”
She blanches as he points towards his broken arm. “Oh, I’m sorry! Ma’kis, you might want to sit down. This is going to hurt…”
(cont.)