3-22 HEALER

They’re still pinned.

The marines crouch behind yet another metal table, listening to the continued chattering of guns and heretics. Bullets tear up the table, slowing down enough to be completely ineffective against the marines’ heavy armor, but still opening up more and more holes for the next rounds to get through. At some point, even with all the armor, the marines are at risk of being hit in just the wrong location, and then it will all be over.

“Do something!” intones the skull.

The closest marine turns, glaring back into its mechanical eye. With one armored hand, he reaches and grasps the skull.

“Navigator, what do you think we’re doing?”

“You’re letting yourselves get pinned! Didn’t you say this was going to be easy? Now unhand my servo-skull and do something!”

The marine looks to his compatriots, then back at the skull.

And then he stands up and lobs it toward the enemy.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” the heretics hear. As one they swivel, pointing their guns up toward the incoming projectile, and at that moment, the marines strike.

The marines vault over the table, dashing forward in one mad charge. Their boltguns fire, tearing through the heretics’ meager cover and annihilating the combatants behind. Before the skull even hits the ground — now riddled with holes and barely functional — the marines have covered the distance between themselves and the nearest groups of their enemies. Chainswords buzz, ripping through flesh and armor. Gauntleted fists pulp heads and torsos with ease.

There is no “fight” here. It is merely a slaughter.

By the time it is over, the four marines stand covered in heretic blood and viscera, the lengthy refectory completely clear of threats. One of them bends down and picks up a severed head, looking into an angry amber eye.

Not a head. A skull.

“You broke my karking servo-skull!” an enraged voice screams out.

“It doesn’t seem like I did, Navigator. You can calm down.”

“I am calm. Oh, I am so very, very calm at the moment. Don’t mind me…”

“Oh. Good.”

“WHAT THE HEL WERE YOU THINKING? How dare you just—”

“You told us to ‘do something,’ so we did.”

“Why didn’t you just throw a grenade or something? Or maybe you could have just torn the head off of some idiot body nearby and thrown that? Why did it have to be my Emperor-forsaken skull?!”

The marine holding the skull looks to his brothers who just shrug. Hefting it up, he says, “We were saving munitions and this… annoying floating head just seemed to be nearby. I thought I could kill two gretchins with one stone.”

“You! You! Argh! …I hate you. Kark it. Fine. Whatever. But, you get to carry the damn skull now. Your idiot move broke the antigrav generator. Don’t. Drop. It.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

With that, the marines move on. As they move, they can hear the quiet grumbling of the still-incensed Navigator, venting her frustrations to the empty air. The one carrying the skull puts a hand over its mouth, muffling the noise and together they choose to believe that the inspired invectives flowing surprisingly smoothly from the Navigator’s expansive repertoire are simply prayers for their future success.

What a thoughtful and pious woman.

The path forward is surprisingly clear; only the scurrying of vermin reaches the enhanced ears of the marines. It seems that they’ve passed the majority of the defenders, and there were no survivors of their scuffle to pass word around that something went wrong. Fortuitous, if boring.

Swiftly and steadily, the marines march on into the dark depths of the fortress. Occasionally, they pass corridors from which the distant sounds of ongoing battle echo. Screams and gunfire, the epitome of conflict.

However, their easy progress is not to last. As they dive deeper, they begin to encounter heretics. At first, lone patrols or couriers which they dispatch with ease. Then, they find larger groups, rushing forward with weapons in hand — reinforcements heading to the surface, most likely.

The marines avoid these larger groups for while they ache to vanquish and destroy the heretic elements, they have a greater mission. Wasting time and ammunition would not be worth it. And, speaking of the mission, how close are they getting?

The marine carrying the skull lifts it up and uncovers its mouth.

Silence.

“Navigator?”

No response. The skull’s eye is dimmed, no attention being paid to the present.

“Navigator? Are you there?”

The eye flickers. “Huh? Oh… yes. I was absolutely paying attention.”

“Navigator, where are we?”

The skull whirrs, the eye focusing on the marine. “Brains and eyes, marine. Try using them.”

“You are our guide, Navigator.”

“Feh. Fine. Dammit, why do they always start talking back…”

The servo-skull pings, interrogating the area with its sensors as the Navigators once again opens her eye. She peers down, spotting the skull and the marines, then compares their position to the target.

Almost there. Wonderful.

“In three-hundred meters, make a U-turn!” she says in a singsong voice.

“What?” growls out the marine.

“Only joking. Take a step to your left.”

The marine frowns but complies, taking one large step over.

“Well done. Now take your boltgun out and shoot the floor.”

“Really?”

“Imbecile. Use your own damn auspex. This is a shortcut! Do you really want to walk another kilometer to the next ladder?”

“No. Fine, but do I really have to stand on top of where I’m shooting?”

The skull is suspiciously silent for a moment, and then the Navigator responds with a drawn out “Yeees.”

The marine steps back over to his right, then shoots where she indicated. The bolter round easily smashes through the floor, greatly weakening it such that if he were standing on it, he would have fallen right through, exactly as planned.

The marine turns on his auspex and points it downwards, then glares at the skull. He then walks further forward, points his gun down and shoots. The floor immediately gives, sending him plummeting down onto a walkway.

“Spoilsport.”

The marine holds the skull out, hanging it over the flowing river of sewage to his left. He points the skull down, silently sending his threat.

“Don’t you dare!” seethes the Navigator.

“You tried to drop me in it and I would have been carrying the skull. Did you think of that?”

“...Shit.”

“Exactly.”

“Fuck you.”

≡][≡ ⬦⬦⬦ ≡][≡

Wow. She sure is foul-mouthed.

You sit up, then wince as your horns clack lightly against the bunk above you. Have you grown taller?

You crawl off your bed, then turn and compare your height to the bunk. Yes! You have!

Silently, you pump your fist, then get ready for the day. As you reach for your robe, you once again glance at the red-and-gold robe Master Masbau left for you.

This is what other-you was wearing.

Huh.

You pull it out and put it on, marveling at the soft feeling. It feels… right.

And then you blink.

Right, it’s still filled with warpstuff. Benign or not, maybe you shouldn’t touch it. You quickly pull it off and fold it up, then throw it back into the drawer. You’ll go without a robe today, actually. You’re going to have to change out of it anyways when you go help Master Corr. Easier to just go without.

You still didn’t finish your dream. It’s so long, and you’re so curious! Even if other-you is a bit of a… a nerf herder, you’re impressed with what she can do. She sees so much, from so far. You can certainly see far, but your fidelity is nowhere near as good. Perhaps… perhaps if you can just dream more, you can learn more?

Well, you’ll have to come back to that later. You can just take a nap in the afternoon. For now, you’re getting an early start on the day so you can help out more. While yesterday’s work was tiring, it certainly felt good to do something.

And you’d learned something too. Smiling quietly, you put your headband and mask on as you think back to the day before.

≡][≡ ⬦⬦⬦ ≡][≡

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“I’ll try,” you say in response to Master Corr’s question.

“Xenaaa!” Master Corr bemoans with exaggeration. “How many times do I—”

“I’ll do it! Okay? But, can’t I just say ‘try’ instead? Just imagine I’m saying ‘do!’”

“Now, now. That’s not how it works! It’s a state of mind, young Xena. Be decisive! Do things! Do not just attempt!”

“But what if I tr— do my best, but fail? Isn’t that just a failed attempt? Didn’t I try?”

“In that case, you simply failed. You succeed, or you fail, but we can still acknowledge that you did put effort in!”

“This is so confusing, Master Corr.”

“Don’t worry about it for now. You’ll understand when you’re older.”

“I hate it when people say that.”

“Ha!” Master Corr barks out a laugh as she continues moving. “You’ll have to get used to it. Pretty soon, you’ll be the one saying that!”

“I dunno about that,” you doubtfully say.

“You’ll see.”

That first healing attempt was… good. And bad. Bad and good.

You learned.

And now, you’ll try — sorry, do — your best again. You’ll heal the other patients with Master Corr’s help. It’s good practice, after all!

Master Corr brings you to the next room. Here, another Jedi sits, his arms and legs bandaged from the bicep to the fingers. He’s lifting a cup with the Force to take a sip of water, a concerned MedCorps nurse watching anxiously with her hands outstretched and ready to catch the cup if it falls.

“Master Anshuk! What are you doing?” Master Corr loudly calls as she enters the room.

The cup wobbles, prompting a cry from the MedCorps nurse as she prepares to catch the cup. However, all she catches is a splash of water in the face which soaks into her uniform.

“Oh my! Sorry about that, my dear,” the Jedi says to her, concern radiating off him. “Master Corr, I would appreciate it if you were more…”

“Quiet?”

“Nah. That’s not it… Well, I give up. I can’t think of a good word. Now then, is this your new apprentice?”

Master Corr chuckles, then beams and nods rapidly. You, on the other hand, shake your head instead with an obvious frown.

“Ha! Looks like you have a little rebel here, Master Corr. Little one, I suppose you are here to heal me?”

“Yes, Master Anshuk,” you quietly say.

“Wonderful!” He smiles and waves both his bandaged arms in the air, prompting a gasp from the nurse. Master Anshuk shrinks away as the nurse glares at him, clicking her tongue. “No! Bad! Down! Good boy.”

Cowed, Master Anshuk does as she says. The nurse works efficiently, unwrapping his arms and revealing… something. It’s not as if you can see it at the moment. Afterwards, she bows to Master Corr and leaves.

Master Anshuk sighs in relief, then turns to Master Corr and asks, “Am I a dog?”

“Apparently so. Well, we’ll let our aspiring vet get to work now. Xena, you’re up!”

They both laugh as you stick out your tongue at her in response. Even so, you move to Master Anshuk’s side while Master Corr moves to the other.

“Alright, Xena. I’ll give you my prognosis.. What I believe we have here is major nerve damage. This would be nearly impossible to heal normally without invasive procedures. I want you to confirm the damage and then we will heal Master Anshuk together over the next few days.”

“Days?” you ask.

“Yes. Some things take time, Xena. Especially delicate work like this. Now, go ahead”

You nod, then begin.

Master Anshuk’s arms are definitely messed up. Tiny pieces of metal and some sort of polymer are embedded throughout them. Not only that, but his nerves are indeed damaged, some of which due to the foreign material simply severing the connections. You’re going to have to remove the material, then heal everything.

“Master Anshuk, there’s, um, stuff in your arms. Metal. Some kind of plastic. What happened?”

Master Anshuk leans over, looking at his own arms. “I may have been a bit… enthusiastic. I lost my saber, then went fisticuffs with the droids. Let me tell you, punching metal is not easy. I highly recommend not doing that.”

“That… wait. How did you get all this stuff in your arms though? I still don’t understand.”

“Some droids were a bit brittle. Shattered when I hit them and I caught a bunch in my arms.”

“Ah. I see now.”

“So, do you think you could heal me, Initiate?”

You hum in thought, wavering at the challenge. Finally, you nod. “Yes. Probably. Maybe. But, the stuff needs to come out. Why wasn’t it removed prior?”

“I was bleeding out rather badly, so the medics dunked my arms in bacta and wrapped me up without debriding. Seems like the wounds mostly healed, but the nasties stayed inside.”

Master Corr interrupts with a huff. “Fools! This could have led to infection! Still could, actually. Xena, I’ll help you out with this. What we’re going to need to do is shift the particles out while making room for them. This will be a rather complicated process, so just follow my lead.”

“Yes, Master,” you say.

It is indeed complicated as she says. While the theory is simple, the actual process requires intense concentration to pull off. However, with both you and Master Corr working at it, you’re able to make quick progress. So quick, in fact, that you’re done in under an hour.

“Well done, Xena!” Master Corr says. “Looks like we won’t actually have to see you here tomorrow, Master Anshuk. You’re almost all done. Just a week of bedrest and you’ll be as fit as ever.”

Master Anshuk once again looks down at his arms, now coated with splotches of drying blood where you’d extracted the shrapnel. He gingerly wiggles his arms, then smiles as he feels far less pain than before.

“Wonderful! My utmost thanks to my dear Alba, and you too, Initiate Xena. I suppose I can get back to my duties now!”

At that, Master Corr immediately shouts out, “No!” prompting a chuckle from the bedridden Jedi.

“Heh! Do not worry, Master Corr. I’m only joking. I’ll be a good boy and stay here.”

“Good. Think about the example you would set to the Younglings! There’s already so many foolish Knights springing out of their beds the instant they can stand. You’d better not encourage that behavior.”

You shuffle your feet, guiltily thinking back to when you’d assisted Master Kenobi in his little quest. You’re still not sure why he’d felt so much of an urge to get up, or why Healer Che even allowed it. She seemed rather strict, so it is seriously surprising that Master Kenobi’s stubbornness won out. Though, now that you think about it, perhaps she simply thought he would have an easier time calming down that senator?

Hmmm.

“Xena, the records as usual, please.”

You nod, moving to do as she asks. In the meantime, Master Corr does her last few checks on Master Anshuk, ensuring that he is comfortable and fully cared for. Soon enough, you’ve finished and then the two of you are moving on. There are many more patients to see.

≡][≡ ⬦⬦⬦ ≡][≡

You’d been able to get through another eight patients, all of which were other Jedi. Of the eight, four required additional healing, which you were happy to provide.

The first three went very well, with you successfully curing their ailments or drastically moving along their healing process. However, by the time you were done with all three, you felt exhausted.

The Force moved sluggishly at your command — your grasp weak and fatigued. When you’d mentioned this to Master Corr, she’d stopped you from assisting further, instead taking on the fourth patient by herself. It seems you’re going to need to practice a bit more before you’ll have the stamina to do more.

Today, you’re feeling a lot better. The night’s sleep, however plagued by dreams as it was, was still restful. You feel refreshed and ready to go for another round in the Halls of Healing. You’re going to do your part!

Master Corr is already in the dressing room when you arrive, all gowned up and ready. You bid her a good morning then hurry to ready yourself. As you do, Master Corr takes out her datapad and begins reading out the tasks for the day.

“Today is going to be very similar to yesterday. We’ll be by the soldiers again first thing so I’ll leave you to speak with your new friend while I work on the others.”

“You don’t need me for that?”

“Nope. Same as yesterday. Boring stuff which you’ve seen before. I’ll grab you for more Healing work afterwards if you don’t object.”

“Okay!”

“Alrighty then. We’ll be visiting Master Anshuk, Master Geeran, and Knight Harmony first for quick checkups, and then we’ll move on to doing Healing on three more Jedi. I hope you’re up for it. Just let me know if you get tired like yesterday. We’ll stop then.”

“Understood,” you affirm with a nod.

“Wonderful. Now, follow me.”

Tension is lightly dozing when you approach him today; it is early after all. When you step into the room, the curtains ruffling as you move, he blinks awake.

Confusion. FEAR.

“Tension? Are you alright?”

He shoots up in his bed, staring down at you as you step further into the room. “It’s me, Xena. Do you remember?”

“Oh… yes. The girl from yesterday.” Tension balances himself, his emotions settling though you can practically see the gaping hole within him — left by the loss of his brothers. It’s slowly healing, the edges curling in ever so slightly. It will be a long time before he’s ready to let them go, though.

“Sorry for waking you, Tension. Master Corr will be here in a moment for your checkup. In the meantime, we can continue our chat from yesterday if you’d like.”

He rubs his eyes, blinking the world back into focus. “Yeah. Yeah, sure. Sorry. I’m still not used to… this.”

Tension waves his arms vaguely, gesturing at the wide room.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“I’m used to the barracks and the ships. And, Kamino, where I was… born. Your Temple is odd. It feels weird here. Pleasant, actually, but in an indecipherable way.”

You tilt your head in confusion, unsure of what he really means. Then again, you’ve lived here your whole life. How would you pick out what exactly is strange?

“It’s… it doesn’t matter. How about we just get back to what we were talking about?”

“Sure. Where were we, though?”

“You were going to tell me about your eyes. I’m guessing you weren’t born like that. What happened to you?”

“A lot. A lot of stuff.”

You pull over a chair and sit down while he watches you patiently. You take a breath and begin.

You don’t tell him everything, but you give as much context as you can. The warp and the creatures within. Your third eye and its abilities. The ship. The warp dreams. And then, the daemon.

“That’s, uh, rather horrible.”

“Yeah. I think so too,” you quietly respond.

“I didn’t think dreams or meditation could be that bad. Hey, does that mean you’re in any danger with your current dreams? Are they connected with all of that in any way?”

You pause, then shake your head.

“No. I think… I think these dreams are more like memories — things that have happened in the past. The Navigator, the other version of me, did things, and I’m only now learning about them.”

“So, this whole thing about ‘heretics’ and ‘marines’ and giant kriffing ships could be real?”

“Yeah, but they’re in a different galaxy. I think.”

“This sounds insane.”

“Yeah.”

“What started these dreams though? Did they just start happening? Are you sure you’re not still in danger?”

“I…”

How did you start having these dreams, actually? It’s…

Oh, right. That creature! The thing in your arm! You followed it to that room, and something happened. You’re still not sure what. You haven’t seen it in a while. Is that because it hasn’t been present or because you haven’t been paying attention?

You look down, quickly pulling your headband down for a peek while revealing your gold-veined arm. Still there.

It floats aimlessly, as if it’s not altogether there. Perhaps that is because part of it is still within your sanctum? Within your room?

You’ll have to check later.

You pull your headband back up, then speak. “I started having these dreams when I looked into the ship again. I found something: a room. My room. The Navigator’s room. I meditated there and slept, and I started dreaming. Since then, I’ve been dreaming in my normal sleep. As for whether it’s dangerous… I don’t know. Probably not. Like I said, it feels like the past. What can the past do to me now?”

“More than you would think.” A quiet, muttered statement. Tension seems to shrink, hunching his shoulders in just the tiniest of fractions.

Remembering.

“Tension?” you ask, getting his attention again.

“Right. Sorry. I’m fine.”

You smile, then softly say, “How about we talk about your brothers again? Tell me more. Maybe that’ll make you feel better.”

He gives an awkward grin in return. He’s still processing your revelations while handling his own demons. His emotions spiral, but their centerpoint always remains that hole.

Once it is filled, perhaps he’ll be truly cured.

It’s not that missing leg that keeps him down, you think. He’s made that clear, and so you listen and let him heal.