Hallin had been on Vader's personal staff for less than a season, chosen by Vader to replace an existing member whose skills he exceeded, and wasn't yet well-versed with the finer points of his promotion. But he was a fast learner.
"Aside from...the obvious--" Hallin hesitated, then said it anyway, "the loss of his hand--he has contusions, several deeper lacerations and concussion. More seriously, some acute nerve damage to his upper thoracic spine; compression and displacement of discs and vertebrae consistent with an impact or a fall. Nothing irreparable, if it's treated immediately."
"He collapsed because of?" Vader prompted curtly.
"The nerve damage. It's significant enough to bring anyone down. I understand he'd just received several...severe blows to the head, which probably aggravated the upper spinal injury. His system probably just couldn't process any more damage and simply shut down." Intensely aware of the brooding silence from the huge figure to his side, the slim, slight medic began to back-pedal. "To be honest, I'm surprised he was standing anyway, considering the damage. Plus, he is concussed. Taking into account all of his...injuries..."
Hallin trailed off, aware that he was simply digging a deeper and deeper hole.
Finally, unable to stand the silence any longer, he tried, "We should...begin treatment to relieve pressure on the nerves along T-four to T-eight on his spine. That's a time-critical injury, My Lord. The hand less so, though the sooner we wet-wire AR nerves into biological ones the easier it is to integrate them, and for the patient to adapt."
It occurred belatedly to Hallin that neither of these procedures may be an option since the patient was clearly a prisoner, judging from the amount of troopers staged in and about his medi-bay. It would be far more in keeping with Hallin's still-limited experience with Lord Vader for him to simply wish to know what was wrong, rather than what could be done to repair it. If the young man was a Rebel as Hallin guessed, then he was facing the death penalty anyway, which made it rather a waste of everyone's time and of Hallin's considerable ability...
"Treat him. Whatever is necessary," Vader said, bringing Hallin's head round in surprise.
"Yes, My Lord," Hallin acknowledged, trying to hide his shock.
Vader almost made to leave before a further thought occurred. "Are any complications possible?"
"Complications?" Hallin hesitated, unsure what Vader was getting at; it surely wasn't concern. He turned back to the prisoner, considering. "The neural procedures to the spine carry a risk in terms of possible secondary nerve damage and the length of time under anesthetic, but the droids who perform the procedure are very competent. The limb replacement is only a local anesthetic and so carries no risks, though it's a long procedure. If we use a more basic replacement..."
"No. Use the best available. Do you have everything necessary here?"
A thought occurred to Hallin now--a reason for the man's being here rather than in the Detention Level, and for Lord Vader's apparent concern--perhaps this was an Imperial spy? A trooper from the 501st even, Lord Vader's own battalion. Would that warrant this level of concern? If so, then Hallin would be expected to display the same.
"Of course, My Lord. Should I use..." He stumbled, uncertain how to ask, "standard medical staff?"
"Are there others more competent?"
"There are several specialists in your own team who are presently onboard, if you wish to ensure an exemplary job."
"Use them. Whatever you need." Vader turned his wide bulk to Hallin, stepping in to tower over the slender medic. "I assign his health to you, Hallin. I expect no mistakes... I shall be displeased with any misstep."
"Yes, Lord Vader." Unlike everything else, that was crystal clear. "Should I...does he have a name? How would you like him referred to in the log?" Hallin felt certain now that the badly-injured man was some kind of agent in Vader's employ, which left him unsure what Vader would wish entered into the ship's medical log.
.
.
Vader paused for a long time, considering, his gaze on the unconscious youth. "His name is Luke. He is my son."
The medic's eyes widened in shock, though to his credit he made no other move. Vader could almost see that fast mind working through the facts though, changing gear accordingly.
"I understand, Lord Vader. I understand completely," Hallin reassured quickly.
Feeling he had now made the repercussions very clear, Vader left Hallin to his work.
Striding from the medi-bay, Vader considered his actions. It had been a momentous act to him, to acknowledge his son as his son. He felt...what? Uneasy emotions conflicted, long-lost whispers at the edge of his thoughts; at his son's rejection of him, at dim memories of a distant past. Awareness of his Master's plans, of the boy's inevitable part in them. Of what it would demand of his son--what it would take from him.
Some deeper feeling welled, fed by the boy's presence...
He had, of course, known of his son for almost a year now, as soon as the Emperor's spies had tracked down the name of the pilot who had destroyed the Death Star. The rarity of the name, the nebulous feelings Vader had sensed when chasing down that X-Wing above the Death Star, the simple fact that the anonymous pilot had made that impossible shot...it hadn't been hard to come to the obvious conclusion.
Over the past year, Vader had alternately felt so sure that this was somehow the son he had believed lost with his mother on her death, then wracked with doubt that it could possibly be true, that such things were occasionally allowed by fate.
Terrified, both that it would be a lie or that it would be true.
And then Luke had come to Cloud City, his presence in the Force shining out, and Vader had known in a way deeper than any facts his spies could bring him.
This was his son. His child--his legacy.
And to say that--to speak it out loud for the first time--felt...good. Though it did nothing to interpret deeper, wildly warring feelings on the matter.
What it did clarify however, beyond question for those around him, was the level of commitment he expected of them in this. That was his intention in saying it, he reasoned, stepping easily back from the momentary burst of rare sentiment. That, and nothing else. And if it turned out that it was not the Emperor's wish to have this information disseminated...well then, nobody was indispensable.
.
.
.
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.
It was early in the morning when the man began to come round from the anesthetic, the scanners which surrounded him registering changes in brain activity and sounding out a tone.
Hallin stepped quickly into the room. He was deathly tired but hadn't slept yet, wanting to wait until the man had come round to make sure that all was well before he dare retire. Now he checked the IV feeds, glancing nervously at the condition readouts above the scanner, which remained worryingly erratic after the protracted surgery time, and reaching out a hand to one of the 4-OneBee droid as it approached with a small hand-held scanner as a second droid removed the oxygen feed.
Surprisingly, as Hallin was resting the scanner to the man's temples he brought his left arm up and wrapped his hand weakly about the medic's, attempting to push it away.
"Luke, can you hear me? My name is Hallin, I'm a medic. You've just had a surgical procedure and you need to try to remain very still. Do you understand?"
The man's eyes fluttered open briefly as he pawed clumsily at the IV feed in his arm, but he gave no other sign of genuine awareness. Hallin turned to the medical droid. "Do you have an EM scanner?"