"So, what? They planted a bomb?" Han asked, disgusted; cowards way. If you were gonna kill somebody, you should at least have the decency to look him in the eyes when you did it.
"Two. Mon disclosed the details about an hour ago. Madine had organised and implemented the action and she had authorised it. No-one else was told, to avoid any leaks."
"Avoid any leaks!" Han dismissed sceptically, "Avoid any arguments, more likely. All wrapped up, nice and neat, huh?"
She looked down and Han's gaze turned up to Chewie who keened in mournful agreement. The truth was Han had no idea how to take this news; no idea if this was a bad thing or a good. All he knew was that regardless of... everything, the kid had been a friend and there weren't that many he gave that name to. And now... "They're... sure?" he asked awkwardly, chiding himself for looking for hope.
Leia nodded, "Pretty sure, yes. They had confirmation that he was inside the bay when the bomb blew. We've been listening on all official channels since before dawn, and they've been like livewires, but nothing's been mentioned to contradict that."
Han nodded his head, completely bewildered as to what he should do next. Finally, pursing his lips, he set off across the bay, jaw tense,face like thunder. Leia made to follow, but Chewie took her arm to keep her there, shaking his head as he gruffed advice, knowing she would understand his action if not his words; "Let him go."
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CHAPTER SEVEN
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Hallin turned back into the medibay, having been called away yet again to answer a deeply troubling comm - not only because of its originator, the Emperor, expected almost hourly updates on his patient - but once again because of its content.
In his first comm, days earlier, he'd been to be closely quizzed on every aspect of The Heir's injuries whilst actually still in surgery, the comm being held by a rather squeamish-looking officer whilst Hallin remained in surgery, gloved hands held out before him, five surgical 'droids continuing to work to repair internal injuries, another team of five attempting to reconstruct the shattered arm, oblivious.
Palpatine had gone to great lengths to clarify in no uncertain terms that, although Hallin had explained the nature of the extensive injuries to The Heir's left arm would suggest amputation, under no circumstances was this to happen. Amputation was not an option unless the injury became life-threatening, and even then, it was only by direct permission of the Emperor; if this caused complications later, then they would be dealt with. For now, Hallin's job was to stabilise Skywalker until Lord Vader's arrival.
On his next comm, the Emperor had clarified which drugs may and may not be used, based on their effects on a Force-sensitive individual.
Another comm was to communicate the fact that should The Heir die, various organic samples were to be collected before any cellular breakdown began, this to be done in absolute secrecy, even from Jade, Reece and Lord Vader.
This latest comm had been to make very clear, as only Palpatine could, the consequences that The Heirs death would have on Hallin's own life-expectancy. Which weren't too rosy.
All of which left Hallin in something of a quandary. Because, if it came down to it, his loyalties lay squarely with Skywalker and not with the Emperor- as they had done for some time now. Consequently he'd stopped off once again at Reece's quarters, where The Heir regularly removed any surveillance devices, to discuss the comms again. Now, on his way back to intensive care, he was yet again fretting over the fact that, unless Skywalker woke, their hands were pretty much tied...
He passed the numerous troopers and security details arranged outside his medibay and trudged tiredly through the darkened bay, glancing through the semi-closed, slatted privacy blind of the transparent wall, momentarily able to see through the blinds at this particular angle- and stopped dead.
Mara Jade was still in there, as she had been almost every hour of the last four days, draped on a chair beside the bed, her unmistakable gold-flecked red hair almost glowing in the low light. In the darkness of the room she was sleeping, head leant on the edge of The Commander's high medical bed, arm crooked up to lie there... hand resting on Skywalker's, her fingers entwined around his.
Hallin remained frozen, stock-still. Had he not glanced up at just the right moment, he would never have seen. Were they...?
Mara had always been with The Commander, as long as Hallin had known him, and he knew that The Commander purposely kept her close, that he allowed no slurs of her... yet he had also told both Hallin and Reece that she was not to be trusted. Then again, he always played his cards close to his chest and unless he felt they actually needed to know, chances were he wouldn't tell them. And even Hallin could see that Mara was a stunning woman- if one was that way inclined, which he wasn't. It occurred to him suddenly to wonder if Reece knew about this... or maybe he was reading far too much into it?
Stepping toward the entrance, he kicked against the bottom of the door before hitting the release, coughing deeply, eyes down as he walked in... and lo, when he'd entered the room and looked up, Jade was sat bolt upright, both hands on the chair arms.
Interesting...
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Five days later, Hallin was nervously escorting Skywalker down the ramp of the shuttle which had landed on one of the small dedicated Tower pads close to the Palace's private Medi-center, a full-array medical capsule serving as life support. Skywalker's condition had remained critical as he had dropped into a coma, the arrival of Lord Vader halting that gradual decline as Vader remained every subsequent hour with his son, often standing at the head of the bed, gloved hands resting against Skywalker's temples, or to the side, hand resting on his son's surgery-scarred chest, head down in concentration.
He had twice been readmitted to surgery when his blood-pressure had drastically dropped, the second time enabling one of the trauma specialists the Executor had made a brief stop to bring onboard to lend his own expertise to the medical team presently staking not just their reputations, but very probably their lives on their ability to heal The Heir.
At the moment, it was a battle just to keep him alive.
They paused briefly on the platform as the Emperor stalked forward, face tight and pinched, skin sallow in the harsh light of day. He reached out briefly to rest his hand on the sealed sled, then stepped back to allow the solemn, nervous little contingent of white-dressed medics to pass, all eyes and attention on the sled's delicate passenger.
Hallin didn't even particularly relax when Skywalker was ensconced in the Intensive Care Unit, since all they had been able to do to date was keep pace with the situation, no real stability ensured as yet, and the truth was that there were no more advanced facilities or staff available here in the Palace than had existed on the Peerless.
Skywalker hadn't once gained consciousness, nor had his brain dropped into the particular pattern that would indicate any kind of Force-induced trance, save for when his father stood quietly beside him, hand resting gently on his temples, as he was now.
Lord Vader had been... surprisingly subdued throughout his son's struggle, remaining at his side almost constantly, thus rendering Jade unable to do the same since they had boarded the Executor five days ago, she and Lord Vader having a history as a volatile combination at the very best of times. Hallin had expected explosive retribution rained down on all about Vader from the moment he arrived, yet he had kept strangely, uncharacteristically passive. Restrained and self-possessed, even when his son had been rushed back into surgery.