over the rim of his cup he asked. “I don't suppose my uniform is anywhere about, is it?”

The doctor rubbed his muzzle and gazed around the room. “As a matter of fact, yes, it's in here somewhere. I saw the droids bringing it back from cleaning yesterday; I just have to recall where they put it.” Rising, Doc wandered around the room peering into cupboards at random. As he searched he fired a stream of questions at Balto.

“Do you remember your name?”

“Balto.”

“Your rank?”

“I was promoted to Commander of the Emperor's stormtroopers last year.”

“And your number?”

“Service number AR-13094,” Balto replied promptly. None of these questions were improper for the doctor to ask and none of Balto's replies were outside the protocol required of prisoners of war.

“Very good,” said Doc. “Do you know what day it is?”

Balto considered the question. “On the day our ship was hit it was the third day of the 10 day cycle of the new month. I don't know how long it's been since then, but people only typically spend a day or two in the bacta tank.”

The doctor nodded. “A logical conclusion, Commander, but it is now the eighth day of the same cycle.”

“What?! I've been out for five days?” Balto stared at the doctor in disbelief. “Why so long? As far as I know, the wounded are either cured or dead by three days.”

“Aha!” Doc cried in triumph as he opened another cupboard. Reaching inside he pulled out a neatly folded pile of black clothing followed by a black officer’s hat. Returning to the table he gave them to Balto. “That's true for most casualties, but you don't seem to be a typical patient. I don't get too many people in my clinic who arrive in a deep trance state. In point of fact, I haven’t had any; I had to refresh my memory by reading about them in archived holojournals from the time of the old Republic.” He watched as Balto began to sort through the bundle of clothing.

Balto unfolded the tunic. Frowning, he held it up to the light, running his paw gently over the front. “I can still see the holes, even after mending,” he murmured. “It wasn’t a dream.”

“Yes, yet another reason why you were a most untypical patient. I've never seen anyone before with lung hemorrhages pinpoint-cauterized by means of a lightsaber. This provides me with a most interesting mystery. Do you remember how it happened?” The doctor watched him keenly.

“Yes, yes I do.” Balto placed his uniform on the table and rubbed at his temples with his paws, squeezing his eyes half-shut in an expression of intense concentration. “I was dying, stuck in a compartment that was slowly venting out atmosphere. The air had become too thin to breathe, when he returned and said he would help me, keep me alive until rescue arrived.”

“Which he?” Asked the doctor. “One of your troopers?”

“No, the Jedi, of course. He was the only one who could move around freely.” Balto brushed his hands across the front of his robe. “He used his lightsaber to stop the bleeding in those places where it was really bad, and then he made me sleep.”

Doc stared at Balto in disbelief. “Putting aside the matter of the alleged Jedi for the moment, don't you have the order of events somewhat mixed up?”

“Mixed up in what way?”

“Don't you mean that your healer made you sleep first and then cauterized your wounds?”

Balto shook his head. “No, Doctor, not at all. Everything happened just as I told you: he stopped the bleeding in my lungs with his lightsaber, and then put me into what he described as a healing trance. Next thing I know, I'm waking up in your tank.”

The doctor joined Balto at the table and sat down, pulling his chair a little closer to the Imperial officer. “I find it difficult to believe you allowed someone to use a lightsaber on you while you were still conscious. The ordeal must have been...”

Balto gave the doctor a slight smile. “Each to their own phobia. I was more afraid of being worked on while I was out than of enduring pain for a short stretch of time. Granted, I'd have to describe the sensation as intense, but it wasn't that bad.”

“You're a braver dog than I,” said Doc. “I told your people that when we initially rescued you, and I’ll say it again now. I doubt I would have been able to hold still for such treatment.”

“I never thought of it as being particularly brave,” said Balto, shrugging. “I just felt as if I could trust him somehow, and so I let him do what he wanted with me.”

Doc considered Balto's explanation. “Tell me; are you always so trusting of strangers with dangerous weapons?” The doctor's tone was light rather than disapproving. “I thought the officers of the Empire were a little more cautious.”

“It's odd, now that you mention it, had it been anyone else I would never have allowed him to do what he did.” Balto looked away, a thoughtful frown on his face.

“Was it someone you knew?”

Balto shook his head in an emphatic negative. “No, I'd never seen him before. I haven't a clue how he got on board our ship, or what he was doing there before we got so badly hit, but he stayed to help us. There's no way any of us would have survived without his assistance.” His paws touched the black fabric of his uniform where it lay on the table. “Yet he felt familiar…” Balto murmured softly to himself. 

Doc did not seem to hear the last statement. “So it was no one known to you in the Empire?”

“He was a Jedi, and there aren't any Jedi left in the Empire, save for Lord Vader.” Balto stopped, his face set in a sad expression. “And now he's gone.” Pain of a purely nonphysical sort shot through him. Balto stood and busied himself by pulling on his clothing, beginning with his shorts and breeches. Soon enough he had the lower half of his body decently clad. As he reached for his undershirt the doctor spoke.

“Do you mind waiting a moment? I'd like to check your wounds one more time before you cover them.”

“Certainly, Doctor,” said Balto as he drew the hospital robe off. “Although you've done such a good job healing me up, there isn’t much to see, really.” Balto stood still as the doctor inspected the set of small circular marks marching in parallel rows up his torso and chest.

The doctor touched one gently with a fingertip. “They don't hurt?”

“Not at all.”

The doctor turned Balto around, checking his back carefully, whistling softly through his teeth as he made his inspection. “I'm still amazed at the control of whoever did this surgery. You were standing as he worked, you say?”

“Yes, that's right, he had me stand up.” Balto smiled. “I wasn't very steady on my feet to begin with, so I leaned against the bulkhead for support.”

“As I said, amazing control; to use a lightsaber like a scalpel on a wobbly patient, without anesthesia, and yet he still managed to cauterize all your bleeders without puncturing you through the back, slicing the aorta, or ruining your lungs.” The doctor stepped back. “Thank you, you can finish dressing now. Much as I find it highly improbable, I have to agree with you and say the only person who could perform surgery like this under such extreme conditions would have to be a Jedi.” He watched as Balto pulled on his undershirt. “Are you absolutely certain there could have been no Jedi aboard your ship?”

“I don't see how,” said Balto as he shrugged into his overshirt and pulled the sleeves down tidily. “Lord Vader wouldn't have allowed it, nor would the Emperor. A Jedi couldn't have been on the Executor without being detected by Lord Vader and slain. I don't know of any other Jedi, except for….” Balto looked up in time to see a young man dressed in black enter the room. The man's blond hair was rumpled as if he hadn't had time to comb it. “Him!”

“Luke, glad you could make it,” said Doc, rising to shake the man's hand. He looked at Balto. “So you do recognize this particular Jedi?”

Balto snorted. “Pretty much every officer, non-com, and soldier in the Empire knows about Luke Skywalker. We had standing orders for his capture from Lord Vader, and wanted holos of him were stuck up everywhere in the Empire.” He peered at Luke as if he were some sort of exotic and dangerous alien.

In turn, Luke gazed curiously at the commander and then at Dr. Doc. “I came as quickly as I could. I must admit your message got me rather curious.” He grinned and nodded at Commander Balto, sitting at the table almost dressed and obviously unarmed. “It doesn't exactly look as if you're under attack by the forces of the Empire.”

“Message?” Balto ignored Luke's last statement and directed his question at the doctor. Hastily he finished fastening his tunic and exhaled in relief at finally being back in proper uniform.

“Yes, I believe I phrased it like this: “have you or any of your Jedi colleagues been performing life-saving surgery on Imperial officers with your lightsabers recently?” Doctor Doc lifted a hand to indicate Balto.

“He's not the one,” said Balto. He got up and approached Luke cautiously, an abstracted frown on his face. “Definitely not the same Jedi who helped me, but…”

“You were helped by a Jedi?” Luke looked at the Imperial officer in surprise. “When? How?”

“Five days ago,” said Doc. “A mysterious Jedi rescued Commander Balto and a number of other Imperials trapped inside a fragment of Darth Vader's flagship, the Executor.”

Luke's eyes widened in astonishment. “But, there aren't any other Jedi left!” His voice became softer. “At least, none that I know of.”

Balto uttered a short laugh. “My point exactly, and I've been trying to explain this to the good Doctor ever since I woke up.”

“May I have the entire