Qar took another careful
scanner reading of Anakin’s right arm. The bones were mending
at least. Slowly but they were definitely mending. One positive
development amidst all the frustration and disappointments.
Anakin was stuck in his coma for almost two weeks now. She knew that
her colleagues had given up on him ever regaining consciousness. She
knew not only because of the way they looked at her or occasionally
lapsed into talking about the patient in the past tense as if he was
already dead, not only that, but Prof. Cagliari had vetoed all further
reconstructive surgery.
Qar swore quietly and put the scanner away. She knew he was still
there, deep in a coma but still there. She still had these vision-like
dreams that this jedi woman had said were a sign that some sort of a
link had formed between her and her patient. If only she had some
possibility of replying to them. She had never thought she would wish
she had any of the jedi’s creepy powers but now she
desperately longed for them. She had even thought about asking Senator
Palpatine whether it was possible to get another jedi to try and
contact Anakin, so far she had not dared to ask him, but if
Anakin’s condition deteriorated she was would try anything -
even hiring one of these weird people.
Picking up his right arm, she carefully examined the stump of his
wrist. Of course that was healing too, scarring over. The longer they
waited the more difficult it would be to attach an artificial hand, and
it would have to be an artificial one considering his medical history.
Damn these pessimistic idiots. She wanted to get the reconstructive
surgery started now.
The senator had promised he would have a word with Professir Cagliari.
She just hoped that he was insistent enough.
With a sigh, Qar sat down on her chair again. ‘Too
expensive’, Prof. Cagliari had said. Qar looked at the
container with Anakin’s belongings sitting in the corner
under the window. She had only briefly looked into it, but she had
taken out the numerous little boxes that contained Anakin’s
decorations. She had arranged them on top of the container, just to
remind her colleagues that this man had risked his life on uncountable
occasions for the Republic – and now they were too stingy to
pay for an artificial hand.
The other thing she had taken out of the container were some of his
books. She had been surprised to find well-thumbed copies of the Space
Traveller series among them. Why should somebody who spent
his career in space, read books about some fictional space-farers?
Given their battered appearance Anakin had read and re-read these
books, and now Qar had started to read them to him. To her own
amazement she started to like them. She picked up the copy of Sisters
in Darkness and started to read it out to her patient. It
couldn’t hurt, could it?
A knock on the door, interrupted her after a few pages.
“Yes,” she called out.
The door opened and Nurse Roseanne stepped in. She held a square parcel
wrapped in brown paper in her hand. “This arrived for
you,” she said.
Judging from the way she held it, it seemed to be heavy.
Qar got up and accepted the parcel. “Thank you,”
she replied. The parcel was heavy. There was a note stuck to the front.
Who on earth would send her a parcel? She unfolded the note, but the
handwriting, neat and clear, was unfamiliar too.
‘You recently mentioned your lack of knowledge about your
patient,’ she read, ‘so when I saw this in a
bookshop on Nagamasa I thought of you. I hope it helps. Diam
Palpatine.’
A book? She ripped the paper off impatiently.
There was a large photograph of a young man on the cover, and bold, red
letters ran across the top: A Hero of Doom. The unofficial
biography of Field Marshal Anakin Skywalker and in smaller
letters the author’s name: Ashton Widdows.
“Oh,” Qar said.
She looked at the picture again, realising that she had not recognised
Anakin at all. She must have seen his image innumerable times during
the war, she had even seen it on his medical file, but she had not
recognised him. She had actually never noticed what a good-looking man
he was. The photograph on the book showed his face in close up, staring
defiantly about two feet beside the camera. He had amazing blue eyes,
she realised. In real life she would probably not look at him twice
– she never looked twice at anybody, no matter how
good-looking – but this was her patient, the man she tried so
hard to keep alive.
Sitting down on her chair, she stared at the book for a long time.
– It seemed that she set his nose correctly, judging from
this image. – What struck her particularly, and the reason no
doubt that this picture was selected for the cover, was the fierce and
intent expression on his face. The background of the picture was out of
focus. Anakin was wearing his uniform, his shoulders were just visible
at the bottom of the cover.
Turning the book around, Qar found the caption of the picture. Cover:
Captain Skywalker during the inquest into the death of Vigee Nomana.
Who on earth was this Vigee Nomana?
‘During the recent war,’ the blurb on the back
read, ‘many spectacular careers were made, but none as
spectacular as the one of Anakin Skywalker. His abilities as a fighter
pilot were unsurpassed. His quick thinking and ability to spot the
weakness of the enemy combined to make him one of the greatest navy
officers of the war. Together with his equally gifted wife, Shura
Talassa, he was responsible for some of the war’s most
spectacular victories, most notably the Battle of Doom. But not only
was he a skilled pilot, a brilliant officer and a talented jedi, he was
also married to a stunningly beautiful and successful woman. To many it
seemed his life was perfect. But was there another, a darker aspect to
his life? Glimpses of this troubled side started to show even before
the war ended. Since then difficulties have mounted for the former war
hero. Has his status as a hero been a sham from the beginning? Former
war correspondent Ashton Widdows has been researching Field Marshal
Skywalker’s career for many years and in this thrillingly
written biography carefully traces the moments of greatness and
disaster in the amazing life of Anakin Skywalker.’
Qar swallowed. This was really weird. Of course she had known about
Anakin Skywalker, everybody had, but this was so … over the
top. She found it hard to reconcile this description with the man she
knew. Not that she really knew him – with the exception of
these strange visions. She hadn’t even talked with him.
‘Superbly researched – brilliantly
written,’ was one of the positive endorsements under the
blurb. ‘A must for anybody who wants to understand the recent
war – and learn from it,’ read another.
‘The definitive biography of a great man and a flawed
hero,’ was the third.
This was just bizarre. Qar turned the book over and stared at the
defiant Captain Skywalker again.
How did they manage to get this book out so quickly? she wondered. The
accident was just a fortnight ago. They must have been working on it
already and just pushed the publication through as quickly as possible
when the crash happened. Would they have called it ‘A Hero of
Doom’ if the accident had not happened?
Opening the book, Qar looked at the index. ‘Chapter One: A
desert tragedy, Chapter Two: Taking flight, Chapter Three: Profits of
war.’ Hm. The first chapter was only three pages. Flicking to
it, she noticed that one page was completely taken by a colourful
photograph of a dusty looking space-port, Moss Eisley as the caption
read, and half of another page showed a picture of desert. The next
chapter began with ‘At the age of
eighteen…’. Was that all there was to say about
Anakin Skywalker’s childhood and youth. One and a half pages?
Turning back to the first pages of the book, she noticed a short
foreword by the author. ‘The life and career of Field Marshal
Anakin Skywalker is truly the stuff from which legend are made. As a
war correspondent I have been following Skywalker’s career
from the very beginning, his courageous action during the battle of
Ereeta. Ever since these dramatic events I was particularly fascinated
by this young man. After the end of the war, I have started to prepare
the publication of this biography. I had hoped that once the New Forces
were fully established, I would have a chance to interview Field
Marshal Skywalker and ask him to supply some additional information
about his life, particularly his childhood which seems to be shrouded
in mystery. However, the tragic events have put an end to these hopes
for the foreseeable future. As it is my wish to commemorate the
greatness of Field Marshal Skywalker, particularly to the generations
coming after us, those who cannot remember the war, I have decided to
go ahead with the publication of this book. Hopefully I will be able to
publish a second edition in the format I originally intended. My
prayers and wishes go to Field Marshal Skywalker and those who care for
him now at the Great Military Hospital of Alma Serena. – A.
Widdows.’
Qar shook her head again. What an odd person that Ashton Widdows must
be. Was he really trying ‘to commemorate the greatness of
Field Marshal Skywalker’ or did he just want to cash in on
the interest created by the accident. Obviously he must have worked on
the book for longer but she could not imagine he was so selfless as he
stated.
Perhaps, she thought, she should get in touch with Widdows and ask him
to donate the profits he was making in favour of his hero so that she
could care for him properly and buy that artificial hand.
That wasn’t such a bad idea at all. Qar thought, grinning at
the ceiling. She should ask the Senator to get her in touch with Mr
Widdows. She should talk to Palpatine anyway, to thank him for the book
and ask about his talk to Prof. Cagliari again.
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