Operation Darkness: With All Due Haste
By Sylvana Lorrdain and Dour Watcher


It felt as though I was walking . . . without having to move at all.  One 
arm cradled my knees from beneath, while another supported my 
back, holding me so my head lay on a well muscled shoulder.  The soft 
sound of a heartbeat filled my ear momentarily until another, more 
familiar, sound did reach it.

It sounded like Fate was prattling on about something as he trundled 
alongside whomever was carrying me.  A sense of trust and safety fell 
over myself like a soft blanket, as though it were trying to protect 
me from something.  Some . . . memory?

It came flooding back to me then, startling me so, that my body 
jolted to complete wakefulness.

"Relax, I'm not going to drop you."

I looked up, then, to see who it was carrying me.  He was as familiar 
to me as I myself was, yet at the same time as strange to me as a 
Rodian cab driver . . . on Terra.

"Who are you?"

"I am nobody, and I am taking you to your room so you might recover."

Again, that soft blanket attempted to calm me.  I consciously pushed 
it away.  "Put me down, I need to get to the Infirmary."

"We've just come from there," he said as he continued on stubbornly.

"Not for me, Mister `Nobody'.  They need me there.  Would you 
*please* let me down?  This is no time for dallying."

"You can barely walk."

"Then I'll ride Fate.  I've seen Mike ride his droid, I know it can 
be done."

He sighed, then put me down.  "If you insist."

"Thank you."  I straightened my flightsuit and then, with a nod, I 
limped back the way we had just come.

*

Stubborn.  If I could wrap her up in one word, I know that would be 
it.  I shook my head as she limped away, then sighed as I pulled out 
my comlink.  Just as I was about to thumb it on, I remembered I had 
promised to notify the Royals when she regained consciousness.   
Well, I'd definitely say she'd done that.

I headed down to the control room to have my message relayed to 
them.  When I had finished there, I headed toward the Infirmary.  I 
had a feeling that being a shadow right now was my best way of 
finding out just what was going on . . . and how I could help.

*

Fate trundled along beside me, and I leaned on him as though he were 
a cane, as I limped into the Infirmary.  I got there in time to see 
Brad lay Vickie down onto one of the cot-beds. 

The Jedi woman lay motionless, a sheen of sweat misted over the 
pallor of her skin.  Dark veins radiated from a puss filled, loosely 
wrapped, wound on her arm, a sure sign of some sort of poisoning.  

I didn't wait for them to say a word as I went to the medicabinet and 
began barking out orders.  Absently, I waved a hand behind myself as 
I sorted through the medicine bottles.  "Brad, grab me a laser 
scalpel and a bunch of gauze.  Sci, get a hemostat and syringe from 
the top right cabinet, will you?"

I only heard one of them move to follow my orders, silence falling as 
smotheringly as a soaked wool blanket.

When I found what I had been looking for, I turned to see that Brad 
was rummaging through a draw of gauze as Sci stood there staring at 
me with a befuddled look on his face.  "Well, if you're just going to 
stand there, *Sir*, you might as well stay out of my way."

I grabbed a hemostat and syringe from their cabinet, and went to push 
past Sci . . . and walked right through his shoulder!  Blinking in 
confusion, I backed up a few paces and waved a hand *through* his 
body.  "You're a spirit!" I gasped in surprise as I shook my head in 
wonder.

"That tickled me, and *you're* one to talk.  You're glowing blue."

"Am not."  I shook my head.  *Tickles, eh?*  I walked through him, 
getting a rather tingly feeling myself, then deposited my supplies 
onto the table beside Vickie.

As I washed up and donned a pair of latex gloves, I couldn't help 
muttering to myself.  "This is just another one of those nightmares. 
I'll wake up any time now . . . just have to play along like this is real 
and I'll wake out of here.  Sci won't be a spirit, Arrek'll be alive 
and asleep in his bunk, and everything will go back to being as 
normal as it ever was."

I was startled from arranging my instruments when Brad put a hand on 
my shoulder.  "You aren't dreaming.  This is *very* real."  He said 
nothing more, and backed out of the way to let me work.

The implications rocked me.  I went on as honestly as I had been.  I 
knew that, often, whatever happened in my dreams reflected in real 
life.  On the other hand, the fact that I was thinking that showed 
this probably *was* surefire reality. 

I gave Vickie a local anesthetic, then several antibiotic shots 
before picking up the laser scalpel and cutting the diseased tissues 
away from her arm.  Tissues even *bacta* couldn't heal.  Once 
finished with my grisly task, I discarded what I had taken into a 
biohazard bag.  

I stepped back to gauge my handiwork.  Only healthy tissues remained, 
but the poisonous veins continued along their paths to spite the 
heavy doses of antibiotics I had given her.

*What do I do now?* I wondered to myself.

*Lady Sellcùron Peredhil.  You regained many memories on Coruscant.  
Use them to do your best.*

Where had that voice come from?  I looked around, but no one else 
seemed to have heard it.  Could the voice be right?  Things were 
still jumbled, yet the more I thought about it, what I had to do 
became more clear.

I stepped forward and held my hands precisely seven centimetres 
above the wound.  I then closed my eyes and began to concentrate 
on what memories I had found.  Using those memories I began 
*Weaving the Flows*.

*

Silently I entered the infirmary and took in the sight of the people 
before me.  My eyes settled upon Sylvana.

A soft blue glow, as though from a ball of captured moonlight, 
surrounded her hands and *pushed* itself into the Jedi's wound, 
surrounding the poisoned bloodstream.  Dark veins contracted and a 
small part of the magical glow separated itself, surrounding some 
vile liquid, than deposited itself into the biohazard bag.

Sylvana was grimacing as though she was in extreme pain, her eyes 
were clenched shut and sweat dripped down her cheek as she *strained*.

The large cutout wound on the Jedi's arm seemed to turn into some 
sort of living thing, expertly *knitting* itself whole.

And then . . . it was finished.  There yet remained a purplish cast to the 
veins that previously had been blackened, perhaps not all the vile 
stuff had been extracted.  Yet the arm was unmarked but for a barely 
visible scar where a gaping wound had once been.  The `moonglow' 
retreated, enveloping Sylvana a moment before *soaking* into her.  
She let out a great sigh, and sat heavily on the side of the bed.

I couldn't help but smile proudly as I slipped, unseen, back into the 
shadows.