eyes.

“Captain, do you think they will execute him?” Corporal Star asked anxiously as the Rebel ship undocked itself from the flotsam of the Executor. “I've heard rumors the Rebels kill any troopers they capture.”

Jenna looked at the stormtrooper still half clad in his white armor and smiled slightly. “Aren't you worried about yourself? It's not as if you've made any attempt to disguise your own branch of service.”

Star shook his head. “No, we all lived at the whim of the Emperor. I'm amazed we survived as long as we have, so no; I'm not afraid for myself. I am worried about the Commander, however. It would be wrong after all we’ve been through for them to kill him.”

“I don't think they would have gone to all the trouble to rescue him if they intended to kill him right away. They didn't kill us, did they? They didn’t come in shooting – they didn’t even threaten us.” She rubbed his head. “Try not to worry. If the Commander was right, the Empire will arrange to swap us out for Rebel prisoners soon enough.”

“All right, Captain.” Corporal Star folded his paws and settled down into a comfortable resting posture. “I hope you're right.”

“Me, too,” Jenna muttered and closed her eyes.

“What do we have here?” asked Doctor Doc as he entered the triage room aboard the Rebel medical frigate Healingsong.

The chief medic answered. “A bunch of banged-up Imperials Sir, they came in a couple minutes ago. The Lieutenant who brought ‘em in said they found them in a fragment of the Executor. They'd been sealed up inside for hours.”

Doc, a German Shepard stood in the doorway and scanned the occupants of the room. A number of young dogs, some still clad in the remnants of white armor, sat in a tidy row side-by-side on treatment tables. All of them sported field dressings. A beautiful rust and cream colored husky in the uniform of an Imperial officer sat near them. Her head was wrapped in a neat bandage. More men lay on treatment tables. These were more severely injured and medical droids were already working on them. The doctor's gaze fell on one unconscious wolf-dog wrapped in heavy blankets. The collar of his black uniform was barely visible where some of the material had fallen open. The doctor pointed at the officer. “What happened to him?”

“He saved our lives Doctor,” said the female husky quickly. “That's Commander Balto. He figured out our piece of the ship was leaking, and somehow jury-rigged all the blast doors to close. That's how we survived, but he got himself stuck outside the safe zone. He was the last one to be rescued. Your medic said he's alive but comatose, can you help him?”

“He survived hard vacuum?” Doc moved to Commander Balto's side, pulling out a medical scanner and moving it over the body of his patient.

“Not hard vacuum Sir,” said Captain Jenna. “But the air on the other side of the doors got really thin, and he'd taken some injuries earlier.”

The doctor frowned as he checked the readouts on his scanner. “What kind of other injuries?”

“He'd gotten a big cut on his forehead and he said he been smashed around on one of the lower levels when the gravity reversed itself several times.”

“Is that all? Those sort of injuries don't explain the readings I'm getting,” said Doc. He sounded puzzled. “Your Commander isn't in a coma; it's more as if he’s in a state of hibernation, or a very deep trance that lowers the metabolic rate.” The doctor touched Balto on the forehead, removing the bandage to examine the cut. “This isn't nearly bad enough to explain why he's out the way he is. Very strange.” Doc looked at Jenna. “He's not a Jedi is he?” 

“No, he couldn't be. Why do you ask?”

“The only people who could induce a trance state of this sort were Jedi. And there's not many of those around any more, are there?” Carefully the doctor pulled back the edges of the blanket covering Balto's chest and whistled softly. “Then again, perhaps one is closer than I think.”

Doc suddenly became very brisk and businesslike. “Get a bacta tank ready, this dog is going to need a good soaking.” A nearby medical droid moved at once to the back of the room and began to prepare the requested equipment.

A second medic joined the doctor and looked at Jir. “Do you want us to revive him first, Sir? He might be able to tell you how he was injured.”

“I wouldn't do that, if I were you.” One of the stormtroopers awaiting treatment spoke up.

Why not?” The medic shot a curious glance at Corporal Star.

“Because if you wake him up before you tank him you're gonna need an entire squad of helpers to get him in there. I should know; I've seen him need treatment before. He's just awful about it.”

“He's right, you know,” added private Kaltag. He gave Doc a lopsided smile.

“Why did he resist treatment?” The medic asked. His expression showed a mixture of puzzlement and disbelief. “It's not as if soaking in bacta is painful.”

Private Kaltag shrugged his shoulders and looked at Corporal Star. The Corporal replied. “I don't know Sir, maybe he is claustrophobic. All I know is it was very difficult to get him to take that sort of medical help.”

“Very difficult!” Private Kaltag snickered and a number of the other stormtroopers likewise chuckled. “The only time I ever saw him get quietly into a bacta tank without ten people shoving him in was when Lord Vader gave him an order. He went in very quietly then.”

“He served Darth Vader?” asked Doc, rubbing a paw through his fur.

“As did we all,” said Corporal Star. “But Commander Balto was under Lord Vader’s command for years.”

“Then he's a braver dog than I,” said Doc. “Or perhaps very lucky.”

“I’d have to say he was very good. You didn't serve under Lord Vader for that length of time without being smart, a hero, competent, and yeah, maybe more than a little lucky.” Corporal Star looked thoughtful. “We're just troopers, so the worst that would happen if we messed up would be a dressing-down or maybe some sort of disciplinary action, but for the officers it was a different matter. They stood between us and the higher-ups. If they screwed up they didn't get yelled at, they got dead.”

“Very well,” said Doc. “We'll let him sleep peacefully for now and not wake him. It’s been far too long since I’ve heard about anything like this, since before the Clone Wars, but if I recall correctly the healing trance will wear off and he will wake of his own accord eventually.” Placing his hands on the table on which Balto lay he pushed it toward the young medic. “Take him back and put him in the tank. With any luck we'll pull him out of there before he wakes.”

“Yeah, and if he does wake up before you get him out you'll know about it,” chuckled Corporal Star.

The medic took the table and pushed it the length of the room toward the bacta tank. Peering at the chamber of liquid he frowned. “Doctor, this tank doesn't have breathing gear set up yet; I'll call over to clinic number five and get them to send a kit down.”

Doc shook his head. “No, don't bother with that. If you look at your patient you will see both lungs have been cauterized.”

The medic plucked back the blankets and stared down at Balto's chest. His face turned pale. “Merciful stars! What happened to him?”

“From the looks of it I'd deduce that a Jedi happened to him, but we’re going to have to wait until he wakes up to get the full story. In the interim, have the bacta fluid hyper-oxygenated and put him straight in so he can breathe it into his lungs. Nothing else would help the tissue heal so well.”

“Very good, doctor,” the medic replied, turning away to his task.

The Imperials watched with interest as Commander Balto was stripped of his uniform, hoisted up, and carefully lowered into the healing fluid. A slow sequence of bubbles trailed away from Balto's nose as he exhaled. The quantity of bubbles became less and finally disappeared altogether as his lungs filled with liquid while he breathed. Private Kaltag shook his head and muttered to his companions. “Boy, they better hope he really doesn't wake up while he’s still in the tank like that. He'll have a royal fit.”

“I'd have a royal fit, and I'm not claustrophobic,” said Captain Jenna as she watched the proceedings with concern. “Won't he drown?”

Doc, who had begun to unwind the bandage around her head, answered her calmly. “No he'll be fine. This is just what he needs. The fluid in the tank is breathable, it has more than enough oxygen to sustain life, and since it contains bacta, it will accelerate the healing process in his lungs just like it does for any external injuries.”

Captain Jenna nodded as she listened to the doctor, wincing a little as he probed the wound on her head. “If you say so, Doctor. Thank you for explaining what you are doing for Balto. I'm only an officer, not a medic.”

“Try not to worry Jenna, he'll pull through. Believe me, I've seen lots worse and our medical staff have put them right again. He'll be fine and so will the rest of you.”

“I'll take that as a promise,” said Jenna.

“I meant it as such,” Doc replied in a kind voice. “I'm not sure what your own people have told you about us, but we treat prisoners of war the same as we treat our own people. By the way, I heard you are from Nome, I am too.” Much to the doctor's consternation, after his little speech Jenna burst into tears.

“That’s right doctor, me and my mate both are too.” She sobbed.

“Now, now, it'll be all right. I think perhaps you've had enough excitement for one day?” He snagged a length of tissue from a droid as it trundled past with a tray of medical supplies. This he offered to