Project Boussh: A Prayer Answered
by Josh Nolan

The moment Josh had thrown Korak out of the way, he knew he was dead.

But he wasn't dead *now*.  He wasn't dead *yet*.

He squeezed the trigger on his blaster, and one of the droids' weapons
exploded.  This was good.  He needed to keep doing that -

A blaster bolt screamed into his chest, just to the right of his heart.
The shock of the impact froze Josh just long enough for a second one to
strike him to the left of his solar plexus.  His body loosened up then,
letting him drop to the floor in a heap.  Josh supposed that the impact
hurt, but it was just so much background noise compared to the fire in
his chest.

He had a front-row seat as the droids emerged from the doorway into the
massed fire.  If only he could have held on just a few more seconds...

The sight of Otom's corpse flashed in front of his eyes, and he realised
he was headed the same way.  Korak was standing over him, and Josh tried
to tell him.  "Volunteering's a bitch," he said, but that wasn't
everything he was meaning to say.

Korak dug into one of the impact craters, and drew out a claw coated
with blood.  The Ewok licked it clean, and showed it to him.  Josh
coughed, and was surprised to see the top of the breath mask turn pink.
Korak started yubbing something, but roaring filled his hearing, and he
couldn't make out what the Ewok was saying.  "Whatever," he managed to
say.  "Take care of 'em, okay?"

Korak nodded, and yubbed again.  Darkness began creeping into his
vision, and he saw Neekred approach him.  The Duro said something, his
noseless face stern, but his nod was approving.  Before he lost his
sight completely, Josh turned his head to him and said, "Thanks."

Then blackness claimed him.

*******

His body hurt, he knew this.  Wherever it was.  But he wasn't with it.
He was floating in darkness.  *Near-death experience*, muttered some
part of his mind.  *Brought on by a large dose of endorphins.*

Another part of his mind furnished the memory, stark against the
blackness, of Homer Simpson's face.  "Mmm... endorphins."

But a near-death experience should be more than simple blackness.  At
the very least, there should be a white light.  A kind of a tunnel
thing.

And there it was.  Above him.  He rose toward it, and, gradually, it
resolved itself into the eye of a Defel droid.  Its metal countenance
was hovering over him.  *If this is the afterlife, it sucks.*

The droid spoke, but not in any language Josh knew - it sounded like the
static on a crossed line, where the tones of voice are clear but the
words are incomprehensible.  It was questioning, but not him.

A voice spoke in an authoritative answer - it sounded like a single
word.  "Gonk."

But the vision receded, and Josh was in blackness once more.

*****

He was floating again, and moving down a corridor.  He was being
carried.  How could they?  Didn't they know there was no gravity here?
Josh lolled his head to the side to give a reproachful look to one of
his carriers, and only saw the side of a Defel droid's head.

Ah.  That's how they did it.  Magnets.

Blackness.

*****

A door was shutting.  The droids were packed in tight, here.  Mouse
droids, as well.  Was he in Silicon Heaven?

If he wasn't, where would all the calculators go?

*****

He was being carried again.  But someone was speaking.

"What's your unit, son?  Where're you from?"

It was Harvey Keitel.  "Son.  You need to be cool.  Are you cool?"

Josh smiled slightly and murmured, "I am cool."  Harvey would like that.

And soon enough, Josh was floating again.  It felt nice.  He slept.

*****

"Any idea on the identity of the patient yet, Pincers?"  Ocidem Deah
asked of the 2-1B droid supervising the medbay.

"Negative, sir," the droid replied.  "The patient has no unit patches or
dog tags.  His genetic profile does not match any in my database."

"Not even under the name 'Kule'?"

"There is only one match to that name - suffice to say, that match is
not human.  Whoever he is, he is lucky to be alive."

Deah nodded.  "He seemed in pretty bad shape when the S&R crew picked
him up."

"It is substantially more than that, sir.  He had a coating of bacta
patches, treating some major burns all along the right side of his
body.  It was the bacta in his system that kept him alive long enough to
receive treatment.  Without them, those wounds would have been quickly
fatal."

The medical officer raised his eyebrows.  "Lucky indeed.  How much
longer would you have given him?"

"An hour, possibly.  Maybe even two."

Deah surveyed the bacta tank where the unknown soldier floated one more
time.  "I'll send the call out.  See if anyone forgot to update their
medical databases again."  Shaking his head in disbelief, the human left
the medbay, muttering, "Lucky."

The 2-1B waited till the door had shut after Deah, then murmured, "Not
just lucky, sir.  Blessed."