Balto: Wreckage and Rescue

Author: Starwarsisme
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Vader, Balto, Luke Skywalker, Jenna and various other officers and troopers
Category: Adventure

Disclaimer: All Star Wars characters, locations and concepts belong to George Lucas. Balto and other characters are copyright of Universal Studious and Amblin Entertainment.

Part of this was inspired by Rotramel the writer's "A forbiddion love" and Lone Wolf_fanwriters "Balto: A new life"

Summary: For years, Commander Balto has had an 'interesting' job as Lord Vader's faithful aide-de-camp. Now things are getting downright out of hand as he finds himself marooned in a broken fragment of Lord Vader's flagship, the Executor, after the battle of Endor. To make matters worse, he seems to have picked up a ghostly 'helper'.

PROLOUGE

Balto has been with the Empire for several years. One of his greatest victories was the capture of Princess Leia Organa on the Tantive IV. He is second in command of Darth Vader’s personal flagship the Executor. At 8,000 meters long the Executor was the largest traditional starship ever constructed by the Imperial navy. Only the Death Star was larger. Jenna, his mate, is also is in the same section of the ship, but Balto has no clue where she is. Balto is on level 44. The Admiral of the fleet is a tall and composed human male named Piett. Piett stood before a transparisteel veiwport and surveyed the battle. The bridge was positioned at the bow—usually the most venerable part of a starship. It was protected by a strong energy shield. The bridge provided a view that was better than any part of the ship.

Behind Piett, a long walkway extended to the Captains control station. The walkway was without railings, and on either side the floor dropped off to expose the bridge’s lower level. There, gray uniformed Imperial technicians operated their console stations. The technicians had an excellent view of Piett’s feet.

Two Rebel fighters fired at the, round sphericl-shaped defector shields of the Executor. They blew up and the shock was felt through out the ship.

“Sir, we’ve lost our bridge defector shields!” an Imperial officer called from his console. Piett turned around quickly and stared down at the dog.

“Intensify the forward batteries! I don’t want anything to get through!” Piett siad.

Two other Rebel fighters spun out of control towards the bridge. One fighter blew up but the other was still coming. The A-wing burst into flames and shot near the bridge. The pilots sacrifice was to crash into the bridge of the Executor.

“Intensify forward firepower!” Piett screamed, losing his composure.

“Too late!” the other officer yelled.

Both officers jumped into lower level of the control station. The A-wing crashed into the veiwport that Piett was looking out of. Everyone in the bridge died instantly. The Executor was slowly pulled down by the Death Star’s gravitonal pull and hit the surface. The ship went up in a blaze and the Executor was no more.

Part One

It’s so cold. Balto lay curled on his side in darkness, shivering in the deep chill, aching all over.

“Commander Balto, rise!”

The voice held a tone of absolute command, waking him, cutting through the haze that held him in thrall.

“Stand up!”

With a sharp shudder Balto opened his eyes and scrambled to his paws, retrieving his hat from where it lay on the deck. He was in a corridor half-filled with wreckage tumbled from various compartments by the wild motion of the starship. Harsh emergency lighting provided the only illumination. An odd feeling of vertigo provided evidence the artificial gravity was damaged.

“Who – who’s there?” he croaked. His muscles shivered convulsively in the icy air and put his hat on as he staggered stiffly forward. His breath drifted away in soft clouds of condensation. He could see no other living person in the corridor, nor could he hear any intra-ship announcements or alarms. The stillness was unnatural. A faint, acrid smell of burning stung his nostrils.

“Ship’s been hit,” Balto concluded under his breath, quickly surveying the brutal evidence provided by the scattered bodies of star destroyer personnel. They seemed to have died from blunt trauma – crushed by machinery or heavy droids as the ship lost both gravity and power in its spinning trajectory through space. Balto took a cautious step forward. Then, he feared for his mate, Jenna, had been on this part of the ship when it had been hit, “hopefully she’s alright.” Balto thought. While his legs ached from the tumble and sported a number of bleeding scratches, he seemed to be more or less whole and with that knowledge came the responsibility of his rank.

“My men.” He looked up and down the corridor but saw no sign of the stormtroopers under his command. His own comlink was lost. Rummaging about in the debris, he spotted the edge of a trooper’s utility belt and dragged it out from under a smashed maintenance droid. Fastening it around his waist, he pulled the comlink free and hit the key.

“Platoons RM-39, AR-277, MZ-420, this is Commander Balto. Report in.” A long silence ensued, punctuated only by the gentle hiss and crackle of the carrier.

“Commander, Private Kaltag RM-39-06, here.” The private’s voice was a low croak.

Balto’s heart leaped. At least one of his men was alive. “Private! State your location and condition.”

“I’m… On level 59, section A-4, near the forward lateral turbolaser batteries. My leg’s cut up a bit, but otherwise I’m all right. We’re on emergency lighting, though, and I haven’t had any transmissions from the bridge or chain of command for over 25 minutes.”

“How many are with you?” Balto asked.

“From our unit… four, Sir. We’ve pulled together any surviving crew we could find as well.” A pause as Kaltag queried his companions. “We’ve got three technicians, two gun crew, a fire control ensign – he’s not in good shape, and that’s all we could find so far. Haven’t mounted a full search of the adjoining compartments yet. Corporal Star has a medpac and is doing what he can for the injured.”

“Is anyone able-bodied enough to assist in a search?” asked Balto, frowning as he sought to reconcile his own position with that of his men.

“Corporal Star, Sir. He’s the only one with both arms and legs working. I’ll be able to walk once he patches my leg.”

“Have him attend to the wounded. You can search once you’ve been seen to. How is hull integrity up there?”

“Atmosphere feels all right, I don’t think we’re leaking, at least not yet. Blast door up the hall is sealed, however.”

Balto considered this information while assessing his own position. “I think it’s leaking down here. Its freezing cold, I suspect some of the compartments have been vented. Sit tight, Private, and I’ll come to you. I’m on Level 44, so I’ve got a bit of a hike ahead of me. Keep monitoring the com – let me know if anyone else in command checks in. I’ll collect everyone I can find on the way over.”

“Yes, Sir. Kaltag out.” The comlink clicked off.

Balto attached the comlink to the utility belt and, after orienting himself, set off down the hall. He wasn’t sure how badly the massive ship had been damaged, but this section was certainly out of commission. A bank of turbolifts clustered at a juncture point, but they sat blank and dark. Balto sighed at that. “No power. Figures.” Muttering under his breath, he found the emergency access hatches flanking the lifts and with some effort wrestled one open. A gust of arctic air greeted him as he peeked cautiously up the tube. Open gridded metal stairs spiraled upward as far as he could see. The stairs appeared clear and he did not smell any smoke, which was one good point.

He shivered again as he entered the access way and began to climb. “Wished I’d gotten suited-up before this party broke.” Being an officer and in a staff meeting, he had been clothed in day uniform rather than his armor when the call to battle sounded. Now he missed the protection from cold and vacuum that the standard troopers’ suit provided. Unfortunately the decks housing the stormtrooper units and spare armor were far removed from his current position. The thought of stripping a suit from a fallen comrade was unappealing, but the situation might well demand it of him. So far he had not seen any slain troopers and, while that was cheering, it literally left him in the cold. Also in the back of his mind was worry over Lord Vader, whom he served as aide-de-camp as required. The Dark Lord had taken a shuttle to be with the Emperor aboard the Death Star and had not yet returned.

“All right, worrying about it isn’t going to help. I’ll deal with my men first, and attend to Lord Vader when I can find him.” Letting his paws trail on the railings Balto climbed as quickly as he could. At each level he checked the access hatch. Red telltale lights revealed hard vacuum beyond the hatchway. He went onward. After several levels he heard the soft creak of stressed metal echoing along the shaft. “How bad were we hit?” he wondered aloud as he tried to hurry his pace. “Bad enough, I suppose.” His heart labored and he panted heavily, trying to draw in enough air to support his physical activity. “C’mon, I know I’m in good shape!” Balto thought about it for a minute. “Atmosphere’s thin and getting thinner.” The conclusion was unwelcome. Metal groaned again, louder. Balto paused and looked up. Somewhere high above in the shaft a large object shifted slightly.

“Move!”

At the prompting of the voice, Balto scrambled desperately upward to the next level, gaining the slight protection of the access hatch. He wedged himself into that small opening as the groan of metal became a terrible, rending shriek. As he watched in fascination, one of the lifts tore free of its mounting and fell down the shaft, caroming off the walls as it came. Balto pressed back into his little alcove and waited. Seconds later the lift hurtled by his position, trailing bits of broken metal and cables that slashed the air wildly like the tendrils of some wounded alien beast. A cable end snapped past his head, knocking off his hat and notching a piece out of the durasteel above. It wasn’t until he felt the warm trickle of blood on his face that he realized he had been cut on the forehead. Occasional swipes with his sleeve kept the blood from running into his eyes until the little rivulet dried up. 

The immediate danger over, Balto resumed his climb until he reached Level 50. There he discovered the falling lift had ruined the stairway from that point onward. He could go no higher. Fortunately the telltales on the hatch showed green rather than airless red. Once again he worked with the locks holding the hatch closed. After some effort and cursing, the hatch opened, allowing him into the level itself. He peered through the portal and coughed as the acrid smell of charred electronics wafted to his nose and caught at his lungs. Keeping low to avoid the pall of smoke, Balto entered the corridor and began working his way toward the next set of vertical lifts, keeping an eye out for survivors as he went. This section seemed to be in even worse shape than the one he had left, with the mangled bodies of crew piled in heaps along the walls. The sight gave him chills.

“What happened here?” he asked himself as he skirted a mound of the slain. A wave of vertigo gave him some warning. “The gravity generator!” Pulling the grapple from his utility belt, he made it fast to a stanchion as the gravity first fluctuated then abruptly changed the orientation of ‘down’ from floor to ceiling. Everything in the corridor fell onto the ceiling. Jir, arrested by his line, hung from the floor, fighting disorientation and trying not to look too closely at the horrible mess.

“Sithspawn.” Now progress became even slower as Balto was forced to belay himself at stages as he went. The gravity changed at random intervals, making free movement nearly impossible. Worst was when the gravity finally slewed around to point down the length of the corridor, causing everything not tied down to plunge away into the depths. As he had in the lift shaft, Balto anchored himself in the opening of a compartment and prayed nothing large would sweep him from the precarious safety of his shelter. Several times he fell for a few feet before being arrested by his line. His ribs ached and his muscles were screaming at the overuse by the time he rappelled his way to the lift tubes.

These lifts were likewise dark and still. Balto did not bother trying to use them, going instead directly to the access hatch and keying it open. Once in the lift tube he found the air cold but clean, and the stairway leading upward appeared to be intact. The gravity in the tube was lighter, but seemed to have a stable up and down orientation. Pausing to catch his breath he took out the comlink. “Private Kaltag, Commander Balto. Come in.”

“Commander, I copy.”

“How is the gravity generator in your section? On level 50 it’s fluctuating wildly. I found no survivors.”

“The gravity? Seems all right for now, Sir. Maybe a little under normal.”

“Assess your location. I’ve got a nasty feeling the gravity generators are losing power. So far the lift tubes are the only place where they’re working normally. Get yourselves to a sheltered position where you won’t be crushed if the gravity reverses and secure everyone to the deck. Use safety line procedures if you’ve got to go anywhere.” Balto glanced at the luminous number on the wall of the lift shaft. “I’m on level 55 now, I should be there fairly soon.”

Very good, sir. I’ll leave the nav beacon on so you can home in on us.”

“Excellent. Balto out.” A groan startled him and he hesitated. “Is anyone alive?” he called. Another moan of pain answered him.

“Help…” The voice was faint, but definitely close.

Easing himself back through the access portal Balto carefully made his way to the lift tubes. One of them was now partly open and a paw dangled out into the corridor. The fingers twitched slightly. “Hold on, I’ll get you out.” The lift doors yielded after some diligent effort and he was able to pull the injured dog out into the hall. For the moment the gravity was actually normal. The person Balto pulled out, he loved with all his heart.

Her face was so blackened by soot he could not tell if she was OK. Balto brushed the soot off her face. A great oozing lump swelled on her head, but other than that Balto could see no obvious injuries. Carefully he carried her into the marginally greater safety of the lift tube access, propped her into a sitting position, and took a small medkit from his borrowed belt.

After a few minutes her eyes opened and she squinted at him as if trying to bring him into focus. She took in his rank badges and black uniform. Then, she recognized him.

“Balto?” the rust and cream colored Siberian husky murmured. Balto leaned down and kissed her lightly, Jenna continued, “How’d you get up here?”

“I’ve been doing a lot of climbing.” Balto’s voice was dry as he dabbed some antiseptic on her contusion. “You’re the first person I’ve found alive during my travels. I’m going to level 59 to join up with my men, er, well – what’s left of them.”

“Fifty-nine? That should be all right. Got some transmissions from the Black Gang up there before I fell and passed out. Hutt-slime backup gravity generators aren’t worth a damn. I was trying to fix the lift when they failed. If it wasn’t for the fact I fell into the lift itself, I’d have been crushed to pulp with everyone else on this level. May the Dark take all low-bid contractors!”

“Hold still a moment.” Now that Balto had finished doctoring her battered head, she reached out, took the antiseptic and a wad of gauze from him and began to dab at his forehead in turn. Balto sucked in a sharp breath as the antiseptic stung the wound in his scalp.

“You got a nasty cut here, Balto. It’s gonna need sutures or bacta or something.”

“I’m lucky; it could’ve been a lot lower.” He mimed cutting his throat with a paw, smiling as he did so.

She finished cleaning up his cut and flung the bloody bit of gauze over the edge into the gulf of the lift tube. “Me and my crew were supposed to be keeping this tub working.” Jenna made a pained face. “At least until the Rebels blew the crap out of us.” Her expression suddenly became sad. “I appreciate the rescue, but we’re dead, you know.”

“No, we’re not. Why do you say that?” Balto put a hand under her arm and helped Jenna to her paws. She wobbled a little then firmed up. “Come on, let’s get climbing. Moving will do you good. I’m going to rope us together just in case the gravity in the tube decides to go.” Suiting the deed to the words he made a second safety harness out of some line, looped it around the tech and secured it, then measured a length of rope and fastened them together. Once he was sure she understood to follow, he set off up the stairway.

“You weren’t watching the scopes, Balto. The ship has been destroyed. We took a direct hit in the shields and then everything the Rebels threw at us afterward got through.”

“Well, I’ll grant this section doesn’t seem to be in very good shape, but it’s certainly not destroyed.” Balto waited for her to catch up, repositioning his safety line. “Perhaps the ship is salvageable?”

“No, Balto.” Jenna shook her head as she joined him on the narrow landing. “I told you, the ship was wrecked. We’re in a piece – a large fragment – that got shattered off before the entire thing blew. I don’t know what the main hull of the ship hit, I was off trying to fix the lift by then, but I felt the shockwave. It’s gone. The Executor is no more.”

Balto set his jaw stubbornly. “Are you absolutely sure?”

“I can’t show you a holo as proof, no.” She waved a paw at the space around them. “But think about it – no intra-ship communications, power failures, gravity generators are damaged, and many of the compartments are leaking. It all adds up. These capital ships were built to be modular, to survive bad hits and keep on fighting. Many of the sections are independent. As long as the compartments aren’t vented, people will survive in them for awhile. You could tear a big piece out of the ship and it would continue to run for a time.”

“How long would a large fragment survive?” Balto checked the level marker. It read 57. Like most of the other levels, the telltales shone red.

“I don’t know. A couple hours, obviously. Maybe a few days. But once the backup power fails that’ll be it. We’ll either freeze to death or die from lack of oxygen.” She looked suddenly cheerful. “Or maybe we’ll fall into this system’s sun or something? That’d be quicker.”

“Don’t give up. If we’re that large a piece of the ship, someone may well find us. Without shields, our life energy will show up on scanners.” Balto climbed the last set of stairs and waited on the level 59 landing, breathing hard. His lungs ached and he wondered if he had managed to break a few ribs during his traverse of level 50.

“I hadn’t thought of that. Sometimes people do get rescued from wrecked ships. Those old Victory-class cruisers were known for keeping their crews alive after a wreck.” Jenna waited as Balto worked the hatch controls. “What are the odds of our own forces finding us?”

“Pretty good, I’d say. The Rebels should be in full retreat by now.”

“Uh-huh.” Jenna’s tone was neutral, but she said nothing further.

At last Balto persuaded the hatch to open. Cautiously he looked into the corridor beyond. “Seems all right and the air smells clean. Don’t see the heaps of bodies like I did on your level.” Taking a precautionary turn of line on the stairway railing he eased himself through the hatch and into the corridor. “Gravity feels light, but stable so far. Come on through.”

Jenna followed him into the corridor, pausing to release the line and close the hatch behind her. Balto kept a belay on various sturdy points as they progressed up the hall, but the gravity did not fluctuate. Balto pulled out his comlink and checked the beacon. “This way.”

“Where are your men?” Jenna paused to pull a medpac out of an emergency station set into the bulkhead beside a blast door. The door was half-open. Balto jumped through the gap and helped her over the high threshold.

“Section A-4, last time they gave me a position. They might’ve moved after I spoke to them. I told them to find a secure place in case the gravity decided to fail.”

Jenna grunted. “It would be better if it did fail. It’s those fluctuations that are killing us. If I live through this, I’m going to find whoever designed those machines and put a blaster bolt through their brains.” 

“Don’t be so hasty. It could be simply that there’s not enough power to keep them running properly.” He nodded at another bank of dark lifts.

“Those aren’t working, so why should anything else? I’m more surprised we’ve got some level of power at all.”

“You’re awfully forgiving for a officer.” Jenna eyed him as if she was suddenly unsure of his credentials.

“I still have a mind, thank you. I didn’t abandon the ability to think when I took my training,” Balto said tartly.

“Sorry, didn’t mean any insult,” said Jenna, holding up a hand. “You’ve been doing wonderfully, honest.”

Balto smiled tightly. “I’ll call it ‘wonderful’ when we’re out of here in one piece.”

“No argument there, Balto.” Jenna said, she nuzzeled him “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

Balto smiled, “Me too. I love you, Jen.” The space in-between them vanished into an affectionate canine kiss.

Balto found his stormtroopers not far from the section named by Private Kaltag. The dogs had located a smallish wardroom off the main corridor and in that relative shelter they had set up a field clinic. Wounded crew lay in neat rows along the walls, secured in place with netting normally used to hold down cargo. Those up and attending to the injured wore safety harnesses similar to the ones Balto had rigged for himself and Jenna.

Nearly everyone in the room sported one or more field dressings. The one person not bandaged was a trooper acting as medic. He had removed the upper armor from his body to increase his range of motion and was kneeling by an injured naval officer, scanning him with a medpac and frowning at the readouts. He looked up as Balto and Jenna entered the room and gave the officer a quick salute.

“Commander Balto, glad to see you, Sir.”

Balto returned the salute. “Corporal Star. Things look in good order, well done.”

“Thank you, Sir. Private Kaltag and Specialist Nikki have been bringing in everyone they could find. I think we’ve almost got ‘em all.” As he finished, two more dogs entered the room, carrying another crewer between them on a stretcher. They moved stiffly, both of them sporting bandaged limbs, but they handled their charge with care. When they saw Jir they grinned.

“Commander Balto! I knew you’d get here eventually.” Kaltag turned to his comrade as they placed the stretcher on the deck and lifted off the injured man. “See, told you so! If anybody could make it, it’d be our Commander.”

“Are all the survivors gathered in?” Balto asked Private Kaltag. He moved the dogs away from Corporal Star, giving the medic the floor space he needed for his new patient.

“We got everyone accessible on this deck, Sir. Did you find anyone else on the way up?”

“Only one, Jenna here. The remaining crew on level 50 was crushed in the gravity failures and the other decks were in vacuum.”

“What of the Captain? The Admiral?” Specialist Nikki asked, looking from Balto to Jenna.

Jenna shook her head slowly. “Everything from the main turbolaser decks up to the command decks is gone. We lost communications hours ago and haven’t heard anything since. It doesn’t look good.”

“Damn Rebels!” Nikki clenched his paws.

“Save your energy for something useful,” said Balto. The emergency lights flickered slightly. He walked to the door and looked out into the corridor. “I want you and Kaltag to assist Corporal Star until I return. Continue using ropes and safety rigging. Once the power goes so will the gravity – at least that’s been our experience so far, and I don’t want us to be caught by surprise.”

“Return, Sir? Where are you going?” Kaltag looked at his commander in concern. “You only just got here. You should at least let Star do something for your cut.”

Balto took a length of bandage from the medpac Jenna had carried and wound it around his forehead, covering the cut. Jenna assisted him in making a quick and tidy dressing over the injury. “This will do.” There’s no time to waste. I need to close all the blast doors and seal off this section from the decks below. Almost all of the sections have been hulled and we’re bleeding atmosphere. If we want to have a fighting chance, we’ve got to stop those leaks.”

“I’ll go with you,” offered Jenna.

“No Jen, you’ve been unconscious and may have a concussion. Stay here and have Corporal Star scan you. If you test clear, you can check the blast doors that have already closed on this level and make sure they stay sealed. Take one of the men with you and use rigging as you proceed. You don’t want to end up like...” Balto pointed to the deck under his feet.

Jenna nodded. “All right, I’ll do that, Commander, but if you’re going to go off by yourself, take my toolkit with you. You may need to hot-wire the doors to make them work.” She offered him the technician’s kit she had carried on her back.

“Thanks. I don’t want to take all the tools, but a few would come in handy.” Balto scanned the contents of the pack, selected several items, and tucked them into his utility belt. “Captain Jenna, you are senior and will have command in my absence.”

“I know, but if it comes to fighting, I will defer to Corporal Star.” Drycin nodded at the stormtrooper-cum medic.

“I hope we don’t have to do any fighting, but if we must, you can trust my men to do what is necessary.” Balto thought about their situation for a minute as he prepared to leave. He directed his next statement at his men.

“I don’t want any blaster fire, even if it is the Rebels who rescue us – we don’t need any more air-leaks, understood?”

“But Sir, if the Rebels…” began Kaltag, his voice holding a note of protest.

“If the Rebels don’t come in shooting, you’ll thank them kindly for the rescue and go with them, Private. The Empire will arrange a POW-swap for us eventually, so don’t waste your life on a futile gesture, understood?”

Kaltag sighed heavily but nodded his acquiescence. “Yes, Sir, understood.”

“Excellent. Sit tight and I’ll be back as soon as I’m finished.” Balto left the wardroom and gathered up his grapple and line to risk a quick un-tethered sprint down the long corridor toward an intersection housing a thick set of blast doors. The doors were currently open. His lungs were aching by the time he reached them. He caught himself against the doorframes. He moved on once the mist had cleared from his vision.

“Commander Balto, a challenge awaits you.”

Balto jumped and spun around, making an abortive grab for his nonexistent sidearm. He froze in place, his paws still reaching for a blaster that would have been there had he been in armor. Standing perhaps ten feet away was a man dressed in robes of dark brown. A lightsaber hung from his belt. Balto looked at the weapon and his fur prickled. Not just any man then, but a Jedi. Balto frowned. But there weren’t any Jedi, were there?

“Who are you?” Balto called. His heart was still racing from the rush of adrenaline and grayness threatened to encroach on his eyesight once again.

The lights faded as the power in this section failed, leaving him in the dark. Well, that wasn’t quite right, he saw. A soft glow came from the body of the man who had spoken to him.

“A friend.”

The voice… the voice was somehow familiar. Jir rubbed his aching ribs and settled for tugging down the hem of his tunic. He was going to have to use words rather than weapons, if the Jedi decided to start a fight.

“Didn’t think I had any Jedi friends,” Balto replied, keeping a wary eye on the lightsaber.

“Perhaps you didn’t,” said the man, his voice sounding sad. “But you served one faithfully, once.”

“A Jedi? Oh! Lord Vader.” Balto nodded as he made the mental connection. “Yes, I serve him.” He looked at the Jedi in sudden hope. “Tell me, is he still alive? I’m trying to get out of here with my people. If he’s alive, we’ll get back to him, somehow!”

The Jedi shook his head slowly. “Darth Vader is… free, and suffers no longer.”

Balto felt his heart sink at the tone of the Jedi’s words. “Free.” He shivered as the cold penetrated his clothing. The warmth was fading along with the light and power. “Just like I’ll soon be ‘free’ if I don’t figure out a way to seal off this section and keep my surviving crew alive.”

“All are one in the Force, Balto, do not be afraid.”

“The Force.” Balto snorted. “Right. I’d rather we stay among the living.”

The glimmering man grinned suddenly, looking young and vital. “If you do not want to go into the Force so quickly, I am permitted to help you.” He pointed down the dark tunnel of the corridor. “Two intersections from here is the main control for the blast doors in this entire section of the ship. If you hot-wire them, I will see about restoring power long enough to run them all closed.”

“Can you do that?” Balto was already moving in the direction the Jedi had indicated, pulling a small light from his belt. “I will.”

The glowing man faded away as he moved off. Balto trotted down the gloomy hall with his light providing a bobbing little area of illumination, jumping over the occasional mound of debris. “Jedi on the Executor. How did that happen?” he wondered, shaking his head. “And why do I trust him?” He could not articulate any reason for that trust, but there it was, making him take the strange Jedi’s suggestions as if they were orders from the Emperor himself.

At last Balto found the large panel housing the controls for the section’s blast doors. Taking out the few tools he had borrowed from Jenna, he removed the panel covers. Underneath, half the wiring was fused. He glared at it, propped his light up on a pile of wreckage, sat before the ruined tangle, and stripped away the wires that looked the least damaged. When he had amassed enough wire, he began cross-connecting the leads. For that delicate task he removed his gloves. His paws quickly went numb and stiff in the cold air and he noticed his breath was visible in the small beam of his light.

“Nome is starting to feel like a fond memory,” he muttered, trying to wrap a bit of bare wire around the small metal terminal nub and pricking his fingers for his trouble.

“You wouldn’t say that if you’d grown up on Tatooine.” The Jedi moved gracefully up from the deck to one side, passing easily through the durasteel as if it were air. “The power is ready.” He looked at the mass of wires hanging from the control panel. “Excellent, you’re almost done.” 

Balto flinched at the uncanny feat. “You’re a ghost!” Sweat sprang out on his cold fur. He clenched his teeth to keep them from chattering.

“No, a Force-spirit.” The Jedi corrected him almost absently, pointed at a stray wire. “Connect that one over here.”

“There’s a difference?” The ancient legends of derelict ships crewed by the spirits of the dead danced through Balto’s mind even as his paws followed the Jedi’s instructions. To meet a ghost aboard ship almost certainly meant you were doomed to the same fate. “I don’t want to serve forever on the Red Rowan. Or the Executor, for that matter.”

“All will be well.” The Jedi spoke soothingly as he pointed at another relay.

“That is the last one. Once it is connected, the doors will close.”

“Good. No time like the present.”

“Wait a moment, we’re forgetting something…” The Jedi scratched his head as if trying to aid his memory.

“It can’t be anything too important. You fixed the power; I fixed the wiring, so we’re ready.” Balto drew on his gloves, worked a hook into the end of the last wire and quickly clipped it over the terminal the Jedi had indicated. At once the sounds of the motors powering the blast doors echoed from many places.

“Balto! You’re on the wrong side of the doors!” The Jedi waved at him urgently, pointing down the hall. “Run, run now!”

“Damn it!” Balto sprinted away from the control panel toward the juncture point where a set of blast doors were closing all too fast. He would have cursed his stupidity, but there wasn’t enough extra air for the effort. He ran, his lungs burning in the icy atmosphere. Ahead of him, the doors irised ponderously toward closure. The gravity felt somewhat lighter than normal and Balto risked a long dive toward the shrinking gap. He pitched through, feeling the doors scrape his boot-soles as he cleared the barrier and measured his length on the deck. The heavy clang behind him sounded ominously final.

For several minutes he laid face-down on the deck, trying and slowly succeeding at getting air into his strained lungs. When he was sure he could see again, he pulled himself up onto his legs, felt around, retrieved his small light, and stood up carefully. His entire chest felt as if it was smoldering slowly and he grimaced at the sensation. “Should’ve thought to take a painkiller with me.” He began to make his way back to the section housing his men. “I don’t suppose falling on broken ribs does them any good.” He set off at a slow walk, trying to breathe gently.

The trip back in the dark seemed far longer than when his way had been lit by the emergency lights. At last the circle of lamplight fell on an obstruction. Balto stopped and stared in disbelief. A pair of blast doors, unnoticed by him as he left on his mission, had closed just two rooms away from where he had left his men, walling him off between the two main sections. He placed his gloved paws on the doors. They were quite solid and real. He touched the control panel, but the power that had moved the doors shut had faded away; there was no way to open them short of a heavy beam cutter.

His comlink crackled and he plucked it from his belt and switched it on. “This is Balto.”

“Commander, you did it! The blast doors are all closed!” Kaltag’s voice was relieved. “Where are you?”

“Closer than you think,” said Balto. He leaned forward and let his forehead touch the metal of the door. It was like ice and he jerked back. “But not close enough.”

“What? What’s your location, Sir?”

“Two rooms from your current position – behind a set of blast doors I overlooked.”

“What?!” Balto heard a confused babble arise as Kaltag relayed Balto’s information to his companions. Soon he heard a metallic tapping on the other side of the barrier. “This door?” Kaltag asked as he tapped.

Balto lifted a pair of pliers from his belt and tapped back. “Yes, this is the one.”

“How do I open it?”

“I don’t think you can.” Balto made a face at the door.

“Hold your position, Sir! Captain Jenna is here.” After a bit of rustling, Jir heard Jenna’s voice.

“Balto, how did you manage to get yourself on the wrong side of the doors?” Her tones were strained with worry.

“Sheer talent,” he said dryly. “I barely made it through one set, but forgot about this one. Couldn’t be helped, the main control panel was all the way down at the other end of this corridor.”

“Stars. We can’t leave you stuck out there, you’ll freeze.”

“Am freezing,” Balto replied, watching the white smoke his speech generated drift away in curls from the beam of his light. The effects of adrenaline, injury, and effort were starting to make themselves known. His muscles shivered uncontrollably and he wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep. Sleep in this cold would be fatal, he knew.

“Commander Balto, listen to me.” Jenna spoke firmly and calmly. “There will be another wardroom a few compartments away from these doors – a twin to the one we’re set up in. Inside will be a small technician's break room with blankets. Grab as many as you need, but come back and wait here. I’m going to take some of the dogs and look for a portable power supply or droid. Once I have that, I’ll be able to jury-rig the doors open, all right? Don’t give up!”

“Not yet, I still have my mate to save.” said Balto, nodding at the comlink and then realizing Jenna could not see the gesture. “Very good, Captain, carry on. I’ll be here.” He cut the connection and pushed the encroaching fog of despair into the back of his mind. Turning his light into the corridor again he set off to search out the wardroom. “I’m not going to live this one down. Assuming I live.” Laughing hurt, but he chuckled anyway. It was morbid humor, but it raised his spirits.

Constrained by his stiffening muscles and the thin air, Balto felt as if he were moving over a tanglefoot zone. It took almost half an hour to find the small break room nested in the larger wardroom and ‘liberate’ a number of blankets. Returning at last to the doors with his trove of warm material, he wrapped himself up snugly to settle down with his back against the threshold. His chest ached abominably and he wished again for the painkillers to be found in the standard medpac. The thought of wandering around in the dark looking for one did not appeal to him. “Guess I’ll wait for a little,” he muttered. The warmth felt good and his shivers eased.

“Balto, you must not sleep. Wake up!”

“Wha…” Balto started as the voice tugged him back to wakefulness. “’M not asleep. Not really.” He rubbed his paw into one eye and yawned.

The glowing Jedi stood before him, hands on his hips, frowning at the blast door. “I thought you were safely inside with your people.”

“Well, I would be, but I forgot about this extra pair of doors, and I haven’t your talent for walking through walls.” Jir paused for air and found a cough escaping despite his best effort. “I don’t suppose you could drag me through there?”

The Jedi shook his head. “Not unless you were in the same state as I am, and you said earlier you didn’t want to go into the Force so quickly. Have you changed your mind?” He looked at Jir curiously.

“No, thanks.” Balto spoke between coughs. “I rather like being alive.” He scowled. “Although it might be a moot point soon enough; feels like the air’s getting thinner. It’s hard to breathe.”

“It is. There must be some pinpoint leaks in this section. The separation of this piece from the main hull of the ship was not clean, there are stress fractures everywhere. From outside, you can see the damage – it’s most impressive in an ugly sort of way.”

“What about the section where the crew is now?” Balto looked anxiously at the Jedi.

“Sealed tight, they’re doing fine.”

“Good. Then it was worth it to close the doors.” He fought against the nagging urge to keep coughing but had to give in. Once started it was hard to stop and the effort made little spots of light dance behind his eyes. When he could focus again he found the Jedi had moved closer and was looking at him intently.

“You are suffering from altitude sickness.” The Jedi pointed at Balto’s furry chest, covered by his uniform, swathed in layers of blanket. “The apparent altitude in here is higher than what humans can endure. You are getting pneumonia.” He narrowed his eyes as if concentrating. “You are also bleeding into your lungs in several places. That’s no good.”

“Granted, but there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“Perhaps not, but there is something I can do. Several things.” Squatting down, The Jedi held out a hand toward Balto. “If you will permit, I will put you into a Jedi healing trance, and then I will stop the bleeding in your lungs.”

“Stop the bleeding how?” Balto did not see any medpac on the Jedi’s person, ghostly or temporal.

“With this, of course.” The Jedi lifted the lightsaber clear of his belt.

Balto woke up thoroughly at that and made an effort to push his body backward. Since he was leaning against the blast door he did not get very far and only succeeded in aggravating his strained muscles. “Are you a medic?” he blurted, not caring that he sounded horrified. He was.

“Not exactly, no.” The Jedi grinned suddenly, looking almost mischievous. “I do have a lot of experience with fixing things, however, and I can see where the damage is in your body. If I spot-weld those few places, it should hold until help arrives.”

“Help is coming?” Balto grasped at both the offered straw of hope and the distraction.

“Yes, although I had to go and wake them up a little. They are on their way and should be here in time for your people. It’s getting you through the next hour or two that concerns me now.” The Jedi raised his hand again. “So, let me put you into a healing trance…”

Balto bumped his head against the door as he tried to pull it back out of range. “Wait! Is this some polite way of killing me? If that’s the case, I’d rather you weren’t polite. Just kill me and be done with it. I’m an officer, I understand these things.”

“I’m very aware that you do, Commander Balto,” the Jedi sighed softly. “But I’m not trying to kill you, politely or otherwise.” He held up the lightsaber. “It is simply that I have never tried to heal with this. While I know it can stop the bleeding, I don’t know if it will hurt you or not. I suspect it will. Pain can slay as swiftly as any weapon and I would spare you that. If you sleep in a healing trance, you will not feel anything, nor will you move around as I work.” 

Balto shook his head. “I’d prefer to be awake. No insult, but if I’m gonna die, I’d rather be awake for it and not be euthanized like some pet.” He shrugged. “If it kills me, so what?” Balto waited, wondering what he could do if the Jedi refused his request. How could you fight off a ghost? He wasn’t even sure if he could run any distance, never mind conduct an effective defense.

The Jedi considered his words for what seemed to be a very long time, at least time measured in the swift beating of Jir’s heart. Finally he nodded. “Very well, Commander, let it be as you wish.” He rose. “Stand up and face me squarely.”

Shrugging out of the blankets, Balto struggled to his paws. The effort it took to complete that simple movement made it clear there was no way he could fight. He stood up on his two legs, witch he did sometimes to meet human’s heights. He let his shoulder blades rest against the door, which helped to steady him. He felt an odd exhilaration rather than fear. “I never did have much sense”, he thought.

The Jedi looked at Jir’s chest as if pinpointing certain things only he could see. He nodded and lifted the lightsaber. “Very good, let us begin.” From the end of the handle sprouted a thin blade of light so bright it seemed to have leaped from the heart of a blue star.

Quickly Balto raised his paws to shield his eyes. Even through his fur and bones he could see it, although the glare was bearable.

“Excellent. Keep your paws up and don’t move,” said the Jedi. He sounded utterly calm.

Through the barrier of his paws Balto could see the lightsaber flick toward him, the point touching the lower left side of his chest and penetrating inward. For just a moment it lingered then slid upward, stopped, jogged sideways and moved up again, from one lobe of his lung to another. It didn’t actually hurt as Balto knew pain, but it was a touch so very intense that it went somewhere beyond agony, brushing his nerves with strange fire. When the blade of light reached the uppermost part of his lung it drew out slightly, skipped delicately over his heart, moved to the right lung, pushed inward, and performed a similar pattern down that side. The blade withdrew and the actinic light vanished as the Jedi switched the weapon off. Balto lowered his hands and blinked in the gloom. The Jedi’s glowing body swam into view as his vision cleared and adjusted.

“Bravely done, my friend, no Jedi could have done better.” The Jedi watched him closely. “How do you feel?”

“Fine.” Balto was still trying to interpret the messages his body was sending him. Most of the incoming communications seemed to involve laughing, screaming, or both. He breathed very shallowly and tried to ignore the input.

“Liar.” the Jedi said in affectionate tones.

“All right, it feels… funny, ok?” Balto conceded the point as he folded his wobbly legs and sank down into the nest of blankets piled at his ankles. After some fumbling about he pulled them around his shoulders and took up his former position leaning against the door.

“You are so stubborn, it’s one of the things I like about you,” said the Jedi with a smile. He knelt in front of the officer. “You have ten deep cauterizations in your chest. I would prefer it if you didn’t move around much.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Balto vowed. Indeed he doubted if he could have stood up again, no matter what sort of bizarre plan the Jedi might spring on him. The burst of excitement had faded, leaving him exhausted.

“You need to rest, and the healing trance is the only safe way you can do it in this place. The air is too thin now. If you remain awake, you will need more oxygen and by breathing deeper you will damage your lungs further. In the trance, I can slow your metabolism down to the point where you can sleep and heal safely.” He scooted closer to Balto and looked into his face. “Are you willing to sleep for a little?”

“Sure, for now,” Balto replied fuzzily. Sleep sounded very good – the need for it overriding his fear of never waking. “Just no lightsabers while I’m out, allright?”

The Jedi smiled. “Promise. No lightsabers.”

“Go ahead.” Balto watched through half-closed eyes as the Jedi reached toward his head. As the ghostly fingers touched his temple, he felt the slightest wisp of sensation, followed immediately by encroaching drowsiness.

“Sleep now, Balto. Sleep and heal. When you next wake, you will be safe.”

Balto began to drift off, but a sudden surge of curiosity kept him conscious long enough to ask “Wait a moment – your name, what’s your name?”

“It is not important. I am just a friend.”

“You have my name,” Balto insisted, fighting off the tidal pull of weariness. “Please give me yours.”

The Jedi sighed and spoke in a voice barely above a whisper. “Anakin, my name is Anakin.”

“Anakin,” said Balto, relaxing. “Anakin.”

“Anakin… Skywalker.”

The names echoed curiously in his mind as sleep finally dragged him under and he knew nothing further.

Part Two

“Oh, look at him!” Captain Jenna clenched her paws in distress as the heavy doors slid open with the assistance of several burly Rebel soldiers and a sturdy maintenance droid. A piece of specialized equipment attached to the droid generated a shield bubble which held back the near vacuum in that section. Commander Balto lay curled on the deck beside the doors, wrapped in blankets. Ice crystals sparkled in his fur and on his eyelids. He did not seem to be breathing.

The Rebel commander shook his head as he consulted the readout on a device in his hands. “Ma'am, I know the scanner says he's still alive, but the air in here is terribly thin. He might be brain-damaged.”

“I don't care,” Jenna snapped. “We're not leaving him here. He's a hero, he saved all our lives. If it hadn't been for him closing the blast doors, we'd all be dead by now.” Under her breath, Jenna added “He was a hero once before and he still is and…I love him.”

The officer nodded. “I understand ma'am, don't worry, we'll do the best we can for him. It’s a miracle any of you survived in this wreck.” Under the officer's direction, Commander Balto was carefully lifted, placed on a stretcher, and carried away to the waiting Rebel ship, which was attached to the fragment of the Imperial ship by a temporary hatchway. Captain Jenna followed the rescuers, her expression somewhere between relief and worry. Once inside the Rebel ship, she sat down heavily beside the group of stormtroopers. While the Rebels had not tried to bother them, they had confiscated all of the trooper's weapons and no one seemed to be in the mood to attempt a takeover of the ship.

“Well, we got him out of there.” Jenna found a cozy spot to lie down and closed her 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 Jenna so she could wipe her eyes and face.

“What excitement?” asked Corporal Star. “We've only been shot up, shipwrecked, nearly lost our commanding officer, and been captured by the Rebellion. That hardly qualifies as excitement.” He snapped his fingers. “All in a day's work for the soldiers of the Empire.”

Jenna laughed through her tears, mopped her face, and sat up straighter, looking much more composed.

Doc smiled at them. “Very good. All the same, I think we'll try to get you taken care of as quickly as possible so you can get some rest. Things will look better in the morning.”

“Morning already?” thought Balto, squinting at the light shining in on him. He had a sneaking suspicion that someone aboard the Executor was advancing the day cycle while no one was looking. “Guess I ought to get up.” One didn't want to be late to any meeting attended by Lord Vader, but now that he thought about it he had no memory of the day's agenda and that was very odd. Normally, he had an idea of what was expected of him and his men several days in advance. They often had surprise assignments, but he only had to respond to surprises as they occurred. Yet it was unwise to miss a staff meeting and that nagging thought prodded him awake more than anything.

“What was I doing? Seems like I was in the middle of doing something.” Balto raised a paw to rub the sleep from his eyes and noticed a strange heaviness along his paw as if somehow the air had acquired substance. Another oddity. He yawned and felt fluid move in and out of his mouth. That wasn't odd, it was downright outlandish! Balto opened his eyes wide and tried in vain to focus on the hazy view. “I'm not in my bed; I'm in a bacta tank! Without a breath mask, comm gear, my clothes or anything!? When did that happen? What's going on?” He scowled fiercely and raised his paws to strike at the walls of the tank. “Never mind that, I'm getting out of here!”

“Don't.”

That familiar voice again. Balto hesitated with his knuckles millimeters short of the transparisteel tube in which he was trapped. “What?” When he received no immediate reply he shook his head, feeling his fur about in the blood-warm liquid. The old claustrophobic feeling coursed along his nerves, along with snatches of memory: a wrecked ship, wounded comrades, and being trapped in the cold dark with the ghost of a Jedi. His heart began to race as a host of new worries assailed him. “Jenna and my men…what happened to them? Did they get rescued?” He gritted his teeth. “I want out, now!” Balling up his paws he prepared again to start pounding on the tank.

“Balto, let go of your fear and think clearly.” The quiet voice sounded almost as if it were quoting a professor’s teachings. “They will take you out presently, but if you are in that much of a hurry, simply remove the top and let yourself out. It is not tightly sealed.”

The voice had a calming influence. Balto took a deep breath of the fluid and let his initial panicked reaction drain away as he exhaled slowly. Taking stock of his situation he found he was not actually restrained. A light harness studded with small weights on his upper body served to keep him suspended in the middle of the liquid-filled tube but he soon discovered it did not prevent him from swimming upward to the top of the tank. Bracing himself against the walls he placed both paws against the cover and pushed upward. It yielded after a few firm shoves. Once loosened, he nudged it to one side, creating an opening large enough to allow him to surface into the air of the room beyond. Different voices called to him from below.

“Hold on a minute, Commander! We'll help you down.”

Balto wiped his eyes and peered over the side of the tank. The dog speaking to him was a young medic. Standing beside him was another medic who seemed to be somewhat older.

“Yes, wait there for just a moment and I'll bring up the lift; it would look bad if you fell, broke your bones, and had to be put back in the tank for another day,” said the second medic.

That unpleasant possibility made Balto pause. Resting his paws against the lip of the tank he waited, exhaling warm fluid and inhaling cool air. The odd mingling of the two dissimilar substances brought on a fit of coughing. He was still snorting and sneezing as the medics hoisted him from the tank and lowered him gently to a mat nearby. One of them quickly flung a towel over his wet, furry body and withdrew to linger at a safe distance, waiting for him to cease coughing up fluid and mucus. When Balto had finished the medic drew close enough to remove the harness, and began to help towel the remnants of bacta from his fur. 

“How do you feel, Sir?”

With an expression of distaste, Balto shook bits of bacta from his arms and began to dry his hair vigorously with a second towel. “Wet, sticky, and starving.”

The younger of the two medics laughed. “You sound much improved, Sir. You're in luck, too; the day cycle is just starting, I'll see about getting you some breakfast right away.”

“I'd appreciate that, thank you,” said Balto, as he wiped his face with the towel. “How are my people?”

“Don't worry, they’re all fine, we didn't lose a single one. You can check on them yourself once we've got you properly kitted out and fed.” The medic pointed at himself. “I'm Sav, and he's Ardin. With the help of Doctor Doc we've been taking turns looking after you and your group.”

Balto nodded as he finished drying himself off and accepted a hospital robe from Sav. “I’m grateful for the rescue.” He shrugged into the robe.

“How goes the war?”

“Err… it goes very well for us,” said Ardin in a quiet voice. “But not so well for your side, I'm afraid. The Death Star has been destroyed and the Emperor is dead.”

Balto stared at the medic as if seeing him for the first time. “You… you're not one of ours!” he said in an accusatory tone.

“I could say the same about you,” said Ardin equably.

“You're Rebels?” asked Balto.

“I'm told they're calling us the New Republic now.”

“Huh, as if the old one was any good,” Balto laughed. “Couldn't you people have at least picked a different name?” As he spoke he looked around the room. It seemed to be devoid of patients; two other bacta tanks stood empty nearby, and a row of hospital beds were likewise unoccupied. While he did not see any guards, neither did he see his uniform, armor, or anything that looked like a weapon. Balto sighed and temporarily shelved his initial plans for a breakout.

“Well, that's what we get when we let the politicians decide these things,” Ardin shrugged and smiled at Balto. “Perhaps they thought it would be nice to remember the old Republic by recycling the name.”

Sav laughed at Ardin's summary. “I'm rather fond of the name ‘Rebel' myself. It seems a lot more exciting. New Republic sounds entirely too respectable.” Turning away, he made a follow-me gesture. “This way, Sir. We can't bring food into the wards, but we've got a break room next door where you can sit and eat. Dr. Doc will want to check on you now that you're out of the tank.”

Balto walked after the medic, who led him out of the sick bay and into a room directly across the hall. It seemed to be a small stateroom with a table, chairs, and a compact galley. An older German Shepard with brown fur in the uniform of a physician was pouring a cup of water as the group of dogs entered. He smiled when he saw Balto and quickly poured another cup, offering it to the commander. “Here you are, up and about at last. Take a chair and I'll get you something to eat. I’m Doc, your attending physician. How do you feel?”

Balto sat down at the table, carefully tucking his robe around him. “I'm alive, and that rather surprises me.”

“Yes, it was a near thing. You're the last of your group to recover.” Dr. Doc moved to the table and placed a plate of food in front of Balto. “Once I'm done examining you, you can go and check on your people. They'll be very relieved to see that you're out. Captain Jenna has been pestering my medics and me about your condition.” The doctor's voice held a reluctant admiration. “For Imperials, they seem to care quite a bit about you and each other.”

Balto paused to swallow a mouthful of food before replying in a dry tone. “You mean Imperials can't care about each other?”

The doctor shook his head. “I haven't seen too many that cared about anyone or anything other than themselves, or power. Not that I've met all that many personally during the years of the rebellion, but the ones I saw on the Holonet were hardly paragons of virtue. Mostly I've had to deal only with our own wounded.” Doc studied Balto's face thoughtfully. “Your Captain and Corporal are the first two live Imperials I've been able to have a conversation with. They seem to be good dogs and their concern for your welfare is genuine.”

“They are good dogs,” Balto said simply. There was a lot more to it than that, but Balto did not know how to express the complicated web of loyalty and honor that bound him to his own troops and by extension to anyone who had served aboard the Executor. He contented himself with finishing his meal and tried to ignore the fact that Doc was watching him closely. The two medics who had helped him out of the tank excused themselves and left the room. No guards arrived, but Balto did not fool himself into thinking that he could simply leave. “I don't even know where I am”, he thought to himself as he took a sip of water. “Guess I'll have to wait and gather a little intelligence before trying to get us back to the Empire.”

At last Balto pushed his bowl back with a sigh, feeling much more dog now that he had had a proper meal. Looking at the doctor 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 story, please?” Luke took a chair and sat down near the doctor. Balto paced the room restlessly, saying nothing for a time, but at last he began to speak. “Very well, since you're the one person who may be able to shed some light on this mystery. Evidently, once the Executor was hit, I and a number of the crew were trapped inside a large fragment that spun away from the main wreck and so was not destroyed with the rest of the ship.” In a calm voice and without any embellishment Commander Balto related his story. “The last thing I remember was asking the Jedi for his name, and then I fell asleep. I woke up on this medical frigate in the bacta tank. The medics fished me out and the rest you know.”

“He gave you his name?” Luke's eyes sparked with interest.

“Yes he did,” Balto closed his own eyes in concentration. “I was falling asleep, so what he said seems very far away. An-something. Ana– Anakin.” Balto opened his eyes and nodded. “That was it, Anakin Skywalker.” He smiled in momentary triumph then his smile faded as he turned slowly to stare at Luke. “Just a moment,” he muttered. “You're Luke Skywalker…”

Luke's incredulous expression matched Balto's own. “Anakin Skywalker is the one who saved your life?”

“I'm quite sure that was the name he gave me. Was he a relative of yours?”

“You could say so. He was my father.” A number of emotions flashed across Luke's expressive face. Balto couldn't be certain, but he thought he recognized astonishment, joy, and sorrow. “You actually saw him?”

“Oh yes, as clearly as I see you now.” Balto smiled strangely. “If it wasn't for the fact he glowed in the dark and could walk through walls, I would have thought he was any normal person with Jedi robes and a lightsaber.” He tilted his head, considering Luke. “You favor him.”

“You saw him.”

“Is something wrong with that?” Balto folded his arms and looked stubborn. “I know it's not normal for most people to see ghosts, I didn't believe in them myself before this, but I certainly saw something, and more than that. He helped us somehow, repaired the power supplies so the blast doors would close, talked me through the hotwiring, patched up the worst of my injuries.” Balto pressed a hand to his chest. “Without his help we never would have survived long enough to be rescued.”

Luke seemed to consider his words carefully. “You didn't see a ghost, you saw a Force spirit.”

Balto scowled. “That's exactly what he said! To be honest I don't see what the difference is, they're dead and yet somehow they interact with the living.”

“But that is the difference, interacting with the living. Ghosts don't do that. As I understand it they are simply afterimages of beings that were once alive and are now gone. But Force spirits are something different.” Luke reached out a hand toward Balto. “Most people cannot see them, never mind see them so clearly they initially mistake them for those living in physical bodies. As I understand it, only a powerful Jedi could do such a thing.”

Balto felt an exquisite thrill of horror race along his nerves. “I'm no Jedi!? There is no way I could have served Lord Vader for any length of time and been a Jedi. The Emperor would have had me executed straight away, and Lord Vader himself would have done the deed since I was under his command.”

“You served Vader?”

Balto spoke in a calmer voice, still feeling rather flustered. “For years. I began my service as a junior officer under his command, and he kept me on rather than rotating me out.” Balto shook his head at Luke's expression. “What, do you think he slaughtered everyone under his command? It wasn't so. A competent soldier could do very well. I wasn't the only officer assigned long-term to his service, there was Commander Praji, and Lt. Commander Belkan, and several others.”

“But you were close to him?” Luke moved a step closer to the commander.

Balto ran a paw through his fur and looked puzzled. “Close? Do you mean as in physical proximity? I served as his aide-de-camp, so I was often near him. If you mean was I his confidant...” Balto shook his head and said nothing further. He kept a wary eye on Luke as the young Jedi came close enough to touch him, but instead of actually touching Luke simply stroked a hand through the air near his head. Balto felt an odd sensation, as if someone were pushing on him slightly and without thinking he braced himself. Luke smiled at that.

“You may not be a Jedi yet, Commander Balto, but the Force is with you.”

Balto could not think of any immediate reply, his mind still trying to comprehend Luke's words. He wasn't sure which statement appalled him more, the one about ‘the Force is with you’, or the ‘not a Jedi yet’. His thoughts skittered around in loops like small creatures trying to figure out a larger potential predator dropped into their midst. Cold sweat prickled on his fur and it took nearly all of his self-control to keep from flinching away from Luke. “I don't see how it could be.” His voice sounded unsteady even to himself and Balto grimaced.

“I am far from knowing everything there is to know about the ways of the Force,” said Luke quietly. He kept his movements slow as he circled Balto, obviously using whatever enhanced senses he possessed. “I only started learning about it five years ago, and all of my old masters who were teaching me are now one with the Force.”

“Like my mysterious Jedi rescuer?”

“Exactly.” Luke nodded in approval at his deduction. Abruptly he seemed to change the subject. “Commander Balto, did Anakin Skywalker say anything to you about the fate of Darth Vader?”

Balto tossed his head in a quick motion. “Yes, he did. When I asked if Lord Vader was still alive, the Jedi said Lord Vader was ‘free and suffers no longer.’ By that, I assumed he was dead, and it turns out I was right.” Thinking about it still gave Balto that odd pain in his heart. He shifted from paw to paw, wanting to be moving again, but something in Luke’s face held him. 

“He said it that way?! I’m so glad!” Luke knelt down, flung his arms around the Imperial and caught him in a strong hug. “I know he's all right, but it's wonderful to hear it from someone else.”

Balto barked in surprise, distracted from his unhappy musings. Being embraced by Rebels —especially this Rebel—was not something he’d expected to experience, ever. The younger man was several feet taller than Balto and at this close range exuded an odd scent compounded of ozone, fire, leaf mold, and desert dust.

“Will you please tell me why your father would care about me and my people or Lord Vader?” Balto tried to make his questions sound less peevish but failed miserably. “What’s going on?”

Luke released him and held Balto’s shoulders, staring into his eyes as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “Don’t you know? Didn’t Anakin Skywalker tell you?”

“Know what? Tell me what?” Balto was more than a little frustrated. “Why should some Jedi care about us or help us as he did? I served Lord Vader.”

Luke took pity on Balto and spoke gently. “Because they were one and the same person. Anakin Skywalker was Darth Vader.”

“The… the same?” Balto shuddered at the sudden onset of vertigo. “The same person? I knew something in that voice sounded familiar,” he muttered. The sensation of falling became markedly worse. I think I'm fainting, Balto thought as his knees buckled and he sagged to the floor. Luke caught him under one arm and kept him from collapsing entirely. Dimly he heard Dr. Doc's worried voice.

“Is he all right?”

A moment later Jir felt the doctor take his other arm. “I'm afraid he's feeling about the same as I did when I got the news from my father.”

“I'm sorry,” said Luke as he and Doc helped Balto into a chair. “It's a bit of a shock – no, it's far more than that, but there's no easy way to say it.”

Balto sat where they had placed him, powerless to move, still feeling as if he were falling. That Jedi, that man, Lord Vader? Balto’s eyes were wide open, but he couldn’t see. That fine man? How? Why? His thoughts, which had begun to settle down somewhat from Luke’s earlier Jedi bombshell, gave up any semblance of order and fled in a chaotic stampede. He was left with a sensation of anguish so deep it felt like wild krayts were flaying the flesh from his bones. He breathed in ragged gasps, unable to articulate the agony.

“You’re in pain,” said Luke, his voice filled with concern.

“Yes,” Balto forced the response out through clenched teeth. “I suppose so.” Balto felt rather than saw Luke reach toward him.

“It might be better if you could cry – or scream,” he offered. “I did both.”

The paralysis broke and Balto scrambled up with a lurch, knocking over the chair in his haste to avoid Luke’s hand. He still could see almost nothing; it was as if someone had plunged the room into utter darkness. The young Jedi was a shining swirl of soft light, the doctor a similar nexus-point of energy. Balto backed stiffly away from both of them. “Don’t,” he pleaded. “Don’t touch me.”

“Commander, if you…” Luke took a step toward him.

“No.” Balto moved away as Luke tried to come closer. He was hot, burning with fever, yet so cold he shivered uncontrollably.

“Please.”

“No,” Balto whispered. “I’ll come apart.” He stepped back another pace and found the wall of the room brushing against his tail. “Don’t be kind to me. I’m used to it from my hometown.”

Balto was surprised at how sane his voice sounded. Wobbly, yes, but sane. He didn’t feel sane. Sucking in a deep breath he continued in a rush. “If you touch me, I won’t be able to stand it. If I start crying, I won’t be able to stop and Jenna and Star and the others need me to be strong so don’t touch me or I really will…” He paused as he felt another presence close behind him. He turned his head and gave a little groan. Anakin Skywalker – Lord Vader – stood there, solid and real in the gloom.

“Don’t ruin all our hard work by doing something stupid.” Anakin’s face was calm and his voice was steady.

“But he…” Balto waved a paw toward Luke, who waited at a distance.

Anakin Skywalker shook his head. “You’ve had enough for this day.” Balto felt the Jedi’s ghostly fingers stroke his fur. “Rest for now.”

“But! My Lord,” Balto protested.

“Shh.” Anakin hushed him as if he were a willful child. “I will explain once you are recovered. For now, rest, and once you wake, see to your people.”

He smiled at Balto as the young officer began to sink toward the deck. “Don’t forget – you have duties to attend to.”

“Duties.” Clutching that familiar concept, Balto fell away into sleep.

“Who was he talking to?” asked Doc as he gently arranged Balto’s body into a more comfortable position on the floor.

“I don’t know for certain, but I have an idea,” Luke replied.

“Commander Balto!” The voices penetrated the comfortable fog of sleep. “Please wake up, Sir.”

“Uh, what?” Balto yawned and blinked. The room slowly began to materialize. The lighting indicated they were into the ship's day cycle.

“He's awake!” A generalized happy murmur greeted this statement. Balto sat bolt upright. He was lying on a standard bunk of the sort found aboard military starships. Someone had been kind enough to remove his boots, loosen his tunic, and throw a blanket over him. He was with his dogs, he knew this even before he could see them, from the distinctive feel they had and the soft brightness they cast into the space behind his eyes. After several more blinks they swam into visual focus and he was able to perform a quick headcount, confirming his initial impression.

Corporal Star grinned at him. “Good morning, Commander.”

“You’re all right!” Balto grabbed him by the arms with his paws, relieved to find fur and bone under his paws. He looked beyond Star into the room. “Everyone make it?”

Private Kaltag peered over Star’s shoulders. “Yes sir, thanks to you. We didn’t lose anyone.”

“I had help,” Balto said quietly, but his admission went unheard over the rumble of greetings from his men. His mind shied away from the sudden memory of Anakin Skywalker. Don’t think about it right now, he told himself. You’ve got duties to perform, you can think later. Calmly, he greeted the three junior naval officers his men had rescued while he had been away closing the blast doors aboard the Executor. They introduced themselves respectfully and indicated they were more than willing to follow his lead while they were in Rebel custody. Those polite rituals finished, Balto found one of their number missing.

“Kaltag, where is Jenna?”

“The Rebels say she’s fine; they’ve got her bunking in with some of the female medical staff, Sir.”

“But why? They kept the rest of you together.”

Kaltag shrugged. “Maybe they thought us ‘terrible Imperials’ wouldn’t behave ourselves?”

Balto got up with a snort and a shake, searched around for and found his hat. “They should know better. She’s my mate. Our military rules aren’t that divergent from their own.” Putting on his hat and fastening up his Imperial uniform set his own external world to rights.

“What, the rule that says you’d space us if we got too forward with the Captain?” asked one of the troopers with an innocent look.

“Yes, that one, assuming she didn’t space you herself.” Balto smiled at the trooper. “Or do something worse. She is very stubborn from my experiences. Never annoy a beautiful girl.

“Good point,” Star conceded.

“Ah, Commander Balto, good morning.” Unnoticed in the initial hubbub, a Rebel officer had entered the dormitory. “I am Lieutenant Orvit.” He made a ‘come with me’ gesture. “Please join us for breakfast.” As Balto followed, the officer asked. “Is everything satisfactory, Commander?”

“From what I can see, yes, and thank you. I’m relieved to see everyone is well.” Balto paused and added. “Almost everyone, we’re missing our Captain. My men say you have her berthed separately.”

“We do, our female medical staff insisted. I’ll take you down so you can verify your mate’s condition for yourself.”

“Very good.” Balto was led through a succession of corridors into the crew’s quarters, stopping before the door of a dormitory unit very much like the one he and his men were using. The officer touched the annunciator. The door opened and a Mon Calamari woman in a medic’s uniform peered out.

“Yes?” She focused her large eyes on Balto. “Oh. You’ve brought him.”

Orvit grinned at her. “The very same. Lieutenant Mirghal, this is Commander Balto.”

“Hmm, yes. Your mate has told me about you, Balto.” Mirghal nodded and stood aside to allow them entrance. “Welcome to the Rebellion, Imperial Jedi.”

Balto felt as if someone had flushed his insides with quick-freeze. “I’m no Jedi!” Any further protestations were lost as Captain Jenna saw him enter the room which served the residents as a small parlor.

“Commander Balto! You’re all right!” She sprang up from her seat, her imperial uniform was a complement to her beauty, she ran the few strides between them and nuzzled him, and then they kissed. “I was so worried. They said you were out of the tank yesterday and all, but they’ve been saying the strangest things about you!”

“Probably not half as strange as the truth, I missed you Jen.” he tiredly murmured. Lovingly he returned her kiss. Relief washed over him, followed by a sudden burst of feelings and thoughts not his own.

“Not-dead, not-hurt, so glad.”

“Fine, I’m fine”, he thought into that space that seemed to contain far more than mere thoughts.

Jenna eased her kiss and looked into his face. “Did you just say something?”

“Yes, sort of.” His mouth felt dry and his heart tripped along quickly. “I’ll explain later.” He grimaced internally at the thought of all the ‘laters’ piling up that wanted attending-to. “For now, though, I’m off to a meeting with… our hosts.” Balto found he no longer wished to call them Rebels to their faces. “I wanted to be sure you were being treated properly.”

Jenna stepped back and took up a proper military posture. Her eyes had a light in them. “Don’t worry about me Balto, I’m a big girl now. Lieutenant Mirghal and the others have been very kind to me.” 

“Excellent. Stay sharp, Captain. I’m going to explore our options.” He smiled at her. “I’ll let you know when I understand what those options are.” With a crisp exchange of kisses, he left with Lieutenant Orvit.

“Forms,” Balto muttered as he glowered at the screen of a data terminal. “The bane of an officer’s existence.” He sat in a small room – a ‘stateroom’ which connected to the dormitory used by his men. The room was large enough to contain his bunk, a built-in desk, and a data terminal connected to the ship's personnel computer. It had been secured, of course, so that had he been an expert slicer he could not have damaged the main database.

Carefully Balto read down the page, idly gnawing on a nail as he scanned the entries. It had been three days since his awakening in the bacta tank; days spent dealing with the administrative muddle caused by their untimely capture. As the senior officer, the tedious job was his alone. Luke Skywalker had gone, but Doctor Doc assured him the Jedi would return soon to speak with him and that was a conversation Jir did not look forward to continuing.

Balto sighed heavily. “You’d think the Rebellion would be less into paperwork than the Empire, but no, they simply seem to have placed their own layer on top of what the Empire already has.” Slowly he began to add information to that displayed on the screen. “Maybe this is their idea of punishment.” The data was quite mundane, consisting of the names, ranks, and service numbers of all the captured Imperials, any material captured with them, a list of their injuries and treatment, and their current state of health. In theory, the information would be used to notify their next of kin they had survived the battle and were well, but that was assuming the Empire was still functioning efficiently enough to be collecting such lists of prisoners and distributing the information.

Jir frowned at the list. “With our luck this stuff will be sent to the Hutts or somewhere off to the Outer Rim.”

“The Outer Rim would not be such a bad place, but it would be best if the information were not sent anywhere.”

Balto jumped as if prodded with a Force pike (spear). The door of his room was closed, no one had opened it. The hour was late, the men in the room beyond had turned in and the sounds of their voices had faded away an hour earlier. Moving carefully he turned in his chair. Anakin Skywalker stood in the small space behind Balto, his arms folded, a wry smile on his face. “It will be safer to let the Empire think you all were lost with the Executor.”

“But…” Balto felt again the urge to weep when he looked at the healthy man before him. Firmly, he pushed the need aside in favor of another question. “Why, my Lord? It will be difficult to return to the Empire if we don’t have our papers in order.” Actually, it would have been nearly impossible to return to the Empire without the correct documentation, but Balto felt it unnecessary to belabor the point, since Lord Vader would have been well aware of the fact.

Anakin shook his head. “Because for now the Empire is not safe for you, not for any of you.” The Jedi waved a hand in the direction of the rooms beyond where the rest of the men were sleeping. “You know the Emperor is dead, don't you?”

“Yes, my Lord,” Balto replied.

“Did they tell you how he died?”

“No, they did not. They said the Death Star had been destroyed in battle and so I assumed he perished in the explosion.”

“Well, what was left of his body certainly would have been space dust along with the Death Star, but he was dead well before that point.”

Balto caught a glimpse of something as Anakin spoke; dark figures locked in struggle, the flare of evil lightning. Father, please! He saw a sudden flash of expended energy accompanied by sensations of relief and sharp joy. The shared experience was intense and Balto felt glad he was seated.

“You killed him, didn't you? To save your son from the Emperor.” Balto felt a warm tear roll off his cheekbone before he could stop it and blotted his eyes with his sleeve to ward off any others.

“I did it to save him, and in doing so I saved myself. Luke’s stubborn faith restored my sanity, my wholeness.” Anakin pressed both hands to his chest. “There is much healing to be done, for me and for many others, but right now I can help you. I will do what I can for you and for those who were in service to me.” Anakin’s smile returned. “It seems to me I’ve felt that kind of stubbornness before, in men who insisted on serving an evil lord with faithfulness.”

“But you weren’t…!” Balto checked himself and tried again. “I mean, you had honor and something that…” Balto closed his hands as if trying to grasp for some indefinable word. “I could feel it.”

Anakin’s grin was so wide the corners of his eyes crinkled. “What was I saying about stubbornness?” He pointed a finger at the middle of Balto’s furry chest. “That heart of yours is an entirely unlooked-for gift and I am humbled by it. You held up a small light during the years of darkness.”

Much to Balto’s embarrassment, Anakin bowed deeply to him as if he were some royal personage. While he struggled to find his voice, Anakin straightened, clapped his hands and spoke briskly. “Now then, back to business. You can’t return to the Empire, Commander Balto.”

“But the Empire— I'm an Imperial officer; I can't just leave.” Balto looked toward the room beyond his own. “They can't leave either.”

“You must. It is not safe to return, with the Emperor dead. With Darth Vader gone, who would be next in line for the throne?”

Balto considered the question for several moments. “You would have been the one to succeed him. If you are not there to take the reins of power the ones most eager to take his place would be members of the Emperor’s entourage like Sate Pestage.” Balto shuddered at the thought. “He is a professional backstabbing sycophant.”

“You can see now why I say the Empire will not be safe enough for you to return. Pestage and others of the inner circle will vie for control with ambitious Moffs and military leaders.” Anakin’s face was grave as he spoke.

“It will be chaos.”

“For a brief time only and then it will be war between those who control the various factions. You and I both know they will spend Imperial lives without a care to secure their grip on power.” Anakin looked at Balto sadly. “I am sorry, but the life you had has been lost along with the stability of the Empire.” He looked away for a time. “The Empire will survive in a diminished form, but you and the others will not be able to return for many years.”

Once again Balto found himself grasping at the offered wisp of hope. “But we will be able to return someday?”

“Yes, some day.” Anakin smiled at him. “If you still want to.” Seating himself on Balto’s bunk, he leaned toward the officer and lowered his voice. “Once you complete your Jedi training, you may go wherever you please.”

“My what?!” Balto felt the abyss open beneath his feet. “I can’t do any such thing! I’m an Imperial officer – and I’m still in the service! Danger or not, I can’t just leave without permission and neither can my people. We’d never be able to return if we simply went AWOL.” He drew in a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself. “You know this, my Lord.”

“Sometimes a sense of honor is most inconvenient.” Anakin frowned momentarily then his expression smoothed. “You wouldn’t be yourself without it.” Propping his chin in his hand the Jedi looked beyond Balto to the data terminal. “Tell me, Commander, would you accept an honorable discharge from the Empire?”

“If I were given all the legal papers and everything? Yes, Sir. I think the others would accept it as well, if I presented the case to them properly, but such a thing is not possible given the Empire is still in a state of war.” Balto looked at Anakin and felt a slight surge of alarm along his nerves. While he did not know the Jedi’s facial expressions that well, he did understand the feeling of mischief radiating along with that little half-smile.

“Is the list complete?” Anakin pointed at the data terminal.

“Yes, my Lord, but really, it’s quite impossible. The odds—”

“Never tell me the odds.” The half-smile had become a grin of pure devilry. “You take care of the possible and leave the rest to me.” Before Balto could begin to think of any further arguments, Anakin rose. “I’ll be back.” Turning, he walked away through the wall and vanished.

Balto puffed out a small groan. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

Part Three

Three days passed after Anakin Skywalker's visit. Part of the time was spent in what the Rebels called ‘formal debriefings’, but were really just relatively polite sessions of interrogation meant to discover if Balto or his men possessed any information of tactical value. It did not take the Rebel intelligence officers too long to learn the only people who might have had useful information were the four officers, and all of them, including Commander Balto and Jenna, readily admitted that with the deaths of the Emperor and Darth Vader, the tactical plans they knew had been rendered useless. The movement of ships, the positioning of troops, everything regarding the disposition of the Imperial military forces was now a large unknown factor, given the chaos caused by the loss of the two strongest leaders of the Empire.

In between those sessions, Balto and his men were allowed to exercise and use the ship's recreational section. They were accompanied by armed escorts as they traveled back and forth between their quarters and the rec room, but were not harassed or abused by their guards. One afternoon, after a hard run through Track, Balto found Lieutenant Orvit waiting for him on the sidelines. The lieutenant was carrying a hardcopy file folder under one arm and his face held an expression somewhere between amusement and surprise.

“Lieutenant! Good to see you again.” Balto was honestly glad to see the officer, as he was one of the rebels with whom he felt most comfortable. He had learned during the course of a long conversation with Orvit that the man had once been an Imperial officer; switching sides not long after his home world of Alderan had been destroyed by the Death Star. Orvit had been pleased to find a few more Alderanian survivors among Balto’s troopers and he had been trying to encourage everyone to stay with the New Republic. 

“Commander.” Orvit grinned at Balto, gave him a quick salute and offered him the file folder. “I’m not sure how you managed it, but your papers have arrived in record time.”

“Our papers?” Balto took the folder and peered inside curiously. “What papers?”

“The papers you requested from Imperial Center. You've got pull, Commander, or else friends in very high places back on Coruscant. I've never known military paperwork to come through so quickly, not in the Empire or the Rebellion.”

Balto pulled out several of the uppermost documents and quickly scanned the first one. “This is an honorable discharge from the Imperial navy for Lieutenant Tazlon!” Balto riffled through the papers. “And here is one for Corporal Star, and for Captain Jenna, and… for me.” Opening the folder Balto flipped through the remaining papers, shaking his head in disbelief as he did so.

“I think you'll find honorable discharge papers for everyone in your group, Commander. My CO checked them himself. Quite frankly, he was surprised to find Imperial headquarters had managed to process discharges for people in several different branches of the service and deliver the paperwork in one tidy bundle.” Orvit waved an expressive hand.

“I mean, you and I both know how it was back at Imperial Center. What were the odds of them getting everything done like this?”

Balto stared at Orvit without really seeing him, his hands clutching the folder tightly. “’Never tell me the odds’,” he murmured softly. He did it. He actually did it. Slowly Balto breathed out a long, soft sigh, feeling some of his long-held tension drain away. “This is very good news indeed. We’re free now, free to choose.”

Orvit nodded and gave Balto an encouraging smile. “I hope that means you will choose the New Republic.”

“We'll see. I need to present the news to my people and then they will have to select the course of action that seems best to them. Technically, now that we have been discharged, I am no longer their commanding officer. I won't be able to order them to stay or go.”

“Ah, but they trust your judgment, Commander. Whatever you recommend will hold great weight in their minds,” said Orvit.

“Well then, allow me to gather my people together and speak to them. After that, they can decide whether my judgment is any good or not.” Balto tucked the papers neatly back into the folder.

“You can meet in your quarters, Commander. I’ll have Captain Jenna sent up this afternoon.” Orvit looked at Balto. “And what about yourself, Commander Balto? Will you be joining us?”

“I don't know, Lieutenant.” Jir frowned slightly as he considered his options. “I need to talk to some people before I decide. Two of those people is Luke Skywalker and Jenna.”

Orvit nodded. “Yes, I remember Dr. Doc and Commander Skywalker mentioning that possibility. Commander Skywalker should be returning fairly soon. I'll mention you’re willing to meet with him once he gets back.”

“Thank you,” said Balto. As he watched Orvit leave the room, he muttered. “No sense in delaying the execution, so to speak.”

“We’re all ready, Commander,” said Lieutenant Tazlon, giving Balto a crisp salute. The Naval officer had become Balto’s informal second in command during their time in Rebel custody. He stood between Balto and the group of dogs and one female dog crowded into the common area of their quarters. All faces regarded Balto expectantly. Many held cups of water or other drinks as they rested from their exercise session. Balto’s own cup was balanced on the edge of a small table, where he had placed the stack of papers.

“Very good.” Balto raised his voice slightly. “Listen up, everyone. I have here official honorable discharges from Imperial Central command. I'm going to hand them out in a minute. I want you to read them thoroughly and hang onto them. With those papers, you've got a number of options open to you. You can return to your home world as a civilian, you can return to Imperial controlled space and apply to rejoin the service, you can head out to someplace entirely new, or you can join the New Republic either as a civvie or a soldier.” While a slight murmur had greeted the news of their discharges, the group had quieted quickly and listened to his words intently.

“I'm not going to give you a lecture on which decision I think is best for you, that's for you to decide.” Balto paused for a moment then plunged ahead. “I will tell you that I am going to stay with the New Republic for now, since I feel I cannot return to the Empire safely. I'll be willing to discuss with you any possible plans once I finish distributing these.” Balto lifted the first set of documents. “Private Tunrin.” The stormtrooper stepped forward to accept his papers and to exchange salutes with his commander.

Methodically, Balto called out the names and handed out the papers.

“I don't understand Sir,” said Corporal Star, as he waited beside his officer. “Why can't you go back to the Empire? I'm only a grunt, but as far as I can see you’ve done nothing wrong to make the brass unhappy, quite the opposite. You're the one who saved all our lives. Think about all you’ve done for the Empire....Lord Vader!”

Balto thought about his greatest victory on the remote ice world of Hoth.

Commander Balto saw the second AT-AT fall, then guided his own walker past its burning hulk. Balto never felt the cold on Hoth, he was used to cold. Without taking his eyes off the veiwport, he addressed Jenna to his right: “Distance to power generators?”

“One seven decimal two-eight.” Jenna responded with absolute accuracy.

A rebel snowspeeder flew into Balto’s path, and Balto took over the weapons controls to angle his walkers cannons and fired. The blast slapped the speeder out of the sky and sent it into a spiral that ended with a fiery explosion in the snow. Balto reached for the electorangefinder and lined up the main Rebel power generator. “Target,” he said “Maximum firepower.” The AT-AT spat out energy beams from its laser cannons, and blew the Generator sky high. Balto was victorious.

Star pointed at the papers on the table. “Those say you can take up your commission again. Nome is near the Imperial core, isn't it?”

Balto thought about Nome and nodded. “Yes, it is.”

“I thought so. Why not go back, then?” He looked at Jir hopefully. “I'd go with you.”

Unnoticed in the busy shuffle, Balto’s water had migrated slowly closer to the edge as the table was bumped repeatedly by the soldiers. At last, as Balto handed another young stormtrooper his honorable discharge, the cup was bumped one time too many, overbalanced, and hopped over the edge. Noticing the movement, Balto made a long arm in an attempt to stop its fall. Balto gripped the hard ceramic in his fingers and lifted the cup to place it back on the table. His eyes widened as he realized that while he felt what he thought was the cup in his paw, he had actually missed the cup by several inches and yet somehow he held it and it floated obediently in front of him. Flinching, he let go and it fell onto the table, causing the contents to slosh out in a small tidal wave. Clear droplets pattered down, barely missing the cover sheet of his papers. Corporal Star watched the entire event in silence, his face mirroring Balto's own surprise and shock.

Picking up a napkin, Balto wiped up the spill, meeting Darklan’s astonished gaze. “That's why,” he said calmly. No one else had noticed the little byplay.

“You've got… it, that thing the Jedi do.” Star waved his paws. “Like Lord Vader?”

“Yes, I'm afraid so. I started noticing it after I came out of the tank.” Jir flexed his fingers and shook his head. The cup had felt so real, even though he was gripping only empty air. “It's been getting stronger, and Force users are still outlawed in the Empire.”

“Permission to speak plainly, Sir?” said Corporal Star.

“Permission granted, Corporal.”

“You're screwed, Sir.”

Balto laughed aloud, causing several heads in the room to turn and look at them curiously. “Tell me something I don't know, Star.”

“Commander Balto, come to me.” The familiar summons echoed as if from a long distance away.

“Yes, my Lord.” Balto walked quickly, head up, scanning the horizon for his Lordship, but saw no one. Sand patterned in complex swirls of dark and light grated under his boots. Balto looked down at the stuff and hesitated.

“I’ve seen this before, I know it. Where was I? What was I doing?” Turning slowly in place, he examined the patterns closely. They seemed to cover the ground in all directions, showing clearly even in places where sand gave way to vegetation. Selecting one of the traceries, he began to follow it, hiking around trees, through fields, and into the mountains. His path led him under a waterfall and into a cavern tunnel, until at last the rough, rocky walls smoothed into durasteel and he found himself in a large chamber. His heart beat faster. Lord Vader stood in that room, his back to Balto, looking down at something on a table in front of him. His hands moved and his head bent forward now and again as if he were working diligently on something.

“Here is the secret – to be strong and yet have a delicate touch. Only the combination yields the results I need.” Lord Vader spoke calmly as he motioned with one hand over whatever was on the table.

A medical droid positioned on the opposite side of the table responded. “Of course, Sir.”

“It is a pity you cannot see it as I do, the magnificent complexity combined with the promise of the Force.” Vader’s fingers flexed slightly and Balto could see a shower of bright bits of light, almost like fine sparks, drift down from his hand toward the table.

“Sir, the patient’s core temperature is rising and he is beginning to suffer respiratory distress. You did say to warn you if the patient began to experience ill effects.” The droid’s voice held concern.

“So I did.” Vader lowered his hands. “I believe I am finished here, anyway. Already his presence in the Force is much stronger.” 

Balto could not see what or who Vader was working on with such intensity. Bright lights beamed down on the work area, and Vader’s bulky frame and long cloak blocked much of Jir’s view. Drawing closer, he caught a glimpse of a black Imperial uniform and he hesitated for a moment, then taking a deep breath, stepped up to the table beside Vader and looked down. A dog in the uniform of a officer lay on the table, the fur on his chest and arms colorful in the brilliant work lights. His face was half-obscured by the medical droid’s various appendages and a length of tubing. Balto risked a glance at Vader. “My Lord, did you call me?” Vader did not seem to either see or hear him.

“His temperature is still rising, Sir,” said the droid, who seemed to be equally blind to Balto’s presence. “I have given him an antipyretic, but he needs to have his temperature stabilized as quickly as possible to avoid damage to the neural tissue.”

“Very well, release him and I will take him to sick bay.”

“Yes, Sir, that would be for the best.” Swiftly the droid began to remove the confusing tangle of tubing that snaked along the officer’s arms and the larger tube that trailed from his mouth. Balto studied the ceiling while this was done. Balto had never much liked medical procedures and found he had no desire to watch them being performed on others. Freed from the tubing, the man on the table heaved a great sigh and ceased breathing.

“Respiratory failure,” said the droid. “Shall I…”

“No!” Vader reached out and placed a hand on the officer’s forehead. Balto felt the air crackle with energy. The officer shuddered and began breathing again in deep gasps. Vader thrust his arms under the dog’s body and lifted him easily, turning toward the doors of his chamber. For the first time Balto had an unobstructed view of the dog’s face. It was a face much like his own, it was him, with messy brown and tan fur, framed by delicate ears, and yellow golden eyes with a wolf-like muzzle.

“W-what?! Who is this?” Balto reached toward the man and found himself pulled helplessly forward, drawn into the body Lord Vader held in his arms. Balto was suddenly falling, falling. He landed with a jolt and sat up in his bunk, breathing hard, his body clammy with sweat and his paws clutching the sheets. “A dream?” It took several minutes for his heartbeat to return to normal. “I guess it was a dream.”

“It is not uncommon to have visions of the future or the past.” Anakin Skywalker moved easily through the wall to sit down in the one chair in the room. “It is a manifestation of the Force.”

“The Force.” Balto sighed, drew his legs up to his chin and wrapped his arms around them. “There’s no escaping it, is there? Yesterday I grabbed for a cup and lifted it without touching it.”

Anakin nodded. “It’s only to be expected. Now that you are out of the grip of the Empire, you are progressing rapidly.” Anakin smiled at Balto. “Training will teach you how to fully use your abilities. My son will be a good teacher – he was instructed by the best Obi-Wan Kenobi, after all.”

“Couldn’t you teach me, my Lord?”

Anakin looked startled by Balto’s request. “Certainly I can help, but believe me, I haven’t exactly been the best model for the use of Force abilities.” Anakin’s smile was self-depreciating. “Better to learn from Luke, who is not burdened by the past.”

“But…he is with the New Republic.”

“It doesn’t matter. Luke is a Jedi, and that transcends political affiliation.”

Balto grunted. “You’re sure of that? The Mon Calamari woman called me ‘Imperial Jedi’.” Balto felt himself blush again at the memory.

Anakin chuckled. “That isn’t so bad, as titles go. Don’t worry. Luke will teach you, and he will not force you to join the New Republic.”

“Thank goodness for small mercies.” Balto looked at Anakin, still finding it hard to believe this healthy man had once been trapped in the armor of Lord Vader. “I don’t understand why I suddenly have the Force.”

“As I said, now that the Emperor’s influence is waning, your abilities are beginning to awaken. My helping you escape from the wreck of the Executor probably didn’t hurt, either. You let me into your mind, and that may have opened some of the lesser-used pathways.”

Balto dug his fingers into his knees. “But I wasn’t born this way!?”

“No, of course not.” Anakin rose and paced the narrow room as he spoke. “You were a Force-sensitive to start, but not strong enough to be a Jedi. Not strong enough to be noticed by the Emperor and killed by him or worse yet, corrupted by him.”

“Well, then, what happened? You don’t just wake up one morning stronger in the Force, do you?” Balto flung out his arms. “It’s not as if someone could make me stronger on a whim, right? I mean… wait a minute…” Balto paused and stared at Anakin, who suddenly seemed to be studying the toes of his boots intently. He spoke slowly, as if thinking out loud. “I had the strangest dream tonight – it reminded me of a dream I had years ago. You were calling to me, and I came to you through whatever obstacles were in the way. This time, it was similar, except when I reached your side, I saw you doing something to an officer who looked a lot like me. He seemed to be ill, and at the end, you picked him up and took him away.”

“Yes, that’s something I needed to talk to you about. Those dreams you had – they weren’t simply dreams, not entirely.” Anakin moved his fingers as if making some sort of delicate adjustment. “The first time you had those dreams, I was working, you see, and you couldn’t help but notice, asleep, or even unconscious.”

Balto felt his mouth go dry. “Working? On what?” He knew before Anakin replied he would not like the answer.

“On you.”

“Me? That was me?” Balto rubbed his forearms, trying to get his fur to lie back down. “What were you doing?”

“Increasing your Force abilities.” Anakin’s boots appeared to be infinitely fascinating.

The fur on the back of Balto’s neck stood up as well. “What? You… you didn’t really, did you?”

“’Fraid I did, sorry.” Anakin raised his head and looked at Balto, his face embarrassed. Taking a deep breath he continued. “I honestly did. Nearly four years ago, over the course of two days, I greatly increased your Force-using capability. You went from being a Force-sensitive, to someone with the potential to be a Jedi.”

“How? Surely I would’ve remembered?!” Balto frowned as he racked his memories for any clues. “I don’t remember being asked.”

“That’s because I never asked, I just did as I wanted.”

Balto’s eyebrows knotted in puzzlement. “But, I should’ve noticed something!”

Anakin produced a guilty grin. “Would have done, if you’d been awake to notice. It turned out the process was painful, so you wouldn’t sit still as I tried to alter you while you stood late watch one night. The solution was to have you sleep through it. You wouldn’t stay asleep when I tried the first time, so the next night I er, drugged your water. Once you were out, I had a medical droid assist me. It kept you anesthetized while I worked. By the time you woke up, it was all over.” Anakin’s smile vanished. “You were sick, too, when I got done. I didn’t have a good understanding of what I was doing, and ended up changing too much, too fast. I was afraid you were going to die of fever, so I took you down to sick bay as quickly as I could. You woke up when we were almost there.”

Balto blinked. “What, you mean that time when I had the alien flu and fainted while on duty?”

“That wasn’t flu.”

“But…! It had to be!” Balto shook his head. “It wasn’t just me that got sick, Praji got it and Belkan and…” he wound down as he looked at Anakin’s unhappy expression.

“You were the first I ‘improved’, but not the last,” Anakin admitted. “Everyone reacted to having their Force ability increased by running a fever and experiencing some level of illness. You were the first – and were the sickest as a result of my inexperience. I took my time with the others, ‘improving’ them over several days, and so they while they felt ill, they were much less sick than you were.”

“But, but, why?” Balto found himself torn between horror at having been altered and reluctant admiration at Vader’s sheer daring. “If it was risky for us, surely it was even more dangerous for you – if the Emperor had found out!” Balto shuddered over the magnitude of the risk Vader had run.

“Pride.” The word was short and harsh with self-knowledge. “I wanted to do something the Emperor could not. I was triumphant when I mastered the process.” Anakin’s tone became softer. “Pride and… loneliness.” Watching Balto’s confused face, he continued. “This is something I can admit only now. Please understand, what I did was unforgivable, an abuse of my power over those who trusted me with their lives. But… you’ve no idea how very lonely it was to be the last Force-user in the galaxy, or so it seemed at the time.”

Anakin rose and paced the room restlessly, walking through the chair and desk during his peregrinations. “I’d been used to hearing the voices, the presence, of friends and other fellow-Jedi in the Force for much of my life. But once I had so eagerly done the Emperor’s work for him, the voices all fell silent. I was utterly alone with my thoughts, and believe me, that was no good place to be.” He stopped; his face haggard. “It was dark and cold or dark and burning – a bitter desert night with no sunrise, a fire that consumed without warming.”

“Surely the Emperor was there?” Balto offered. “So you were not entirely alone.”

Anakin made a face as if he’d suddenly smelled something noxious. “Palpatine was not a presence as much as a void in the fabric of the Force. Bleak as my life had become, echoes of his thoughts were not something I wished to hear. He was hunger and hatred. He had nothing of substance to share, with me, or with anyone.”

Anakin stopped and looked at Balto. It seemed to the young officer as if the Jedi was barely older than himself. The lines of worry and pain were gone. “As soon as I changed you, I was no longer alone. Your voice, your thoughts, were in the Force, not only assured me that I had been successful, but let shine that first ray of light into my darkness. Your steady presence kept me from falling into madness and despair. For that I cannot thank you and your fellow-officers enough.” 

“Some of my most personal thoughts you heard! About Jenna! About my crew!” Balto argued.

“You do, however, have every right to be angry,” said Anakin soberly. “My acknowledging the harm I caused to you does little to remedy the situation.”

Balto thought about it as Anakin waited for his response. His head buzzed with astonishment and wonder. After a long minute he found his voice. “Can these changes be undone?”

“No.”

Anakin held his hands out toward Balto, who felt an odd sensation, as if something were touching all his nerves at once, a delicate stroke of brightness. He sucked in his breath quickly.

“You felt that?” Anakin watched him closely.

“Yes,” said Balto.

Rising from his bed he took up his shirt and pulled it on, hoping it would offer some protection from the chill of the room.

“That feeling shows you something of the extent of the changes I worked into your body. In the course of the years, your system has adjusted to a new level of energy. To try and remove the extra midichlorians now would kill you.” Anakin shook his head. “I can’t do it, nor could even the most powerful Jedi Master.”

“Midich- what?” Balto scowled as he pulled on his breeches then sat on the edge of his bed. He ran his paws through his fur, rumpling it further. “Sounds like a disease or something.”

Anakin chuckled. “Not exactly, midichlorians are those parts of our cells that both produce the energy we need to live and connect us to the Force. Many of the old Masters theorized they expressed the will of the Force as well, working through our physical bodies. They – or some equivalent – occur naturally in all life forms. The amount varies from species to species, and between individuals of the same species. In dogs, the level of midichlorians you have now puts you squarely into the ranks of the Jedi.”

“These midi-chlorian things are in all our cells?” Balto sternly resisted the urge to scratch at his fur. The thought of having new, hitherto unknown, internal passengers made him feel thoroughly crawly, as if sand-fleas had gotten into his uniform.

“Yes, they have to be, or the cells would die. Jedi just happen to have more of them than most people. You started out with enough extra to be considered Force-sensitive, so you already had more than the average human being.”

“But you increased the amount I had?”

“Yes, in you I doubled their number.” Anakin added this information helpfully.

“How deep do these changes run?” asked Balto, staring at Anakin as if he still couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.

“Pretty deep.” Anakin looked at the floor for some time, a gesture which Balto was beginning to understand meant embarrassment. Anakin’s eyes met his own. “Let’s put it this way – I was very thorough when I increased your Force-sensitivity. When you have puppies, they’ll probably be Jedi, too. Have them with another Force-sensitive like your mate Captain, Jenna, and I guarantee it.”

Balto uttered a low croak of surprise. “You changed all that, too!?” meaning his reproductive system.

Anakin’s grin was like a sudden flash of lightning. “Well, I couldn’t leave the job half-done, could I? Everything had to balance out.”

“I don’t feel terribly well-balanced at the moment.” Balto gave Anakin an unhappy stare. “Everything’s turned upside-down.”

“Are you angry then?”

“I… don’t know. I think maybe I’m in shock. I don’t feel much of anything right now except numb and cold.”

“I’m sorry,” said Anakin. It sounded as if he meant it.

“So am I.” Balto sighed.

“You are still recovering from your wounds. This was a heavy burden to lay on you now, but I felt it best not to wait – you needed the full story to make a proper decision for your future.” Anakin began to fade away. “Once you have rested, I will return to answer any questions you may have.”

A sudden thought made Balto sit up quickly. “Wait!” Anakin paused. “You said ‘my Captain’ – did you mean Jenna has the Force?”

“Yes, indeed she does. Several of your men do as well.” Anakin put a hand through the wall separating Balto’s small room from the larger dormitory and nodded. “Six of them, I’d say.”

“Did you… improve them also?”

“No, no, they’re none of my doing. They are simply naturally sensitive to the Force, as you were. It could well be that their survival was due to the enhanced reflexes the Force grants those who are so gifted.” Anakin spoke gently. “You are not alone, Balto. If you relax and stretch out with your feelings, you will know the truth of that. The Force is with you, always.” Anakin faded away, leaving Balto alone.

With a deep sigh, Balto lay down on his bed and closed his eyes. Hovering at the edges of his mind was a soft susurration, as of people speaking softly among themselves. He could not distinguish exact words, but the feeling was one of closeness and sleepy calm. “Not alone”, he thought as he let his anxiety drop away into that ocean of presence. “Not alone at all.”

The next morning Balto set about quietly finding his fellow Force-sensitives. Anakin Skywalker had told him the number, but with the exception of Captain Jenna, had not given him names. Balto interpreted this as an unspoken command to ferret them out on his own.

While he took a break in the exercise room, Jenna joined him.

“So you’re definitely staying?” she asked as she toweled the sweat from her hands and face.

“Yes, I must. There is training I need, and only Commander Skywalker can supply it.”

“Training from Skywalker?” Jenna shot him a startled look. “What can he give you that you can’t get back home in Nome? Granted, he’s a great pilot,” she continued quickly. “But I didn’t think you really wanted to go that way.”

“I don’t. But he’s the only one who can train me to control…this.” Holding his paw palm out, he gave an experimental Force-push at an exercise ball sitting on the floor. It bounced away as if pushed by an invisible hand.

Jenna watched it go, her face holding wonder. “I thought you said you weren’t a Jedi? That you couldn’t be one?”

“It is what I believed at the time, yes. But I’ve since found out I was mistaken.”

"That's amazing news," she said, kissing and nuzzling him.

"Well, that isn't exactly how I first received the information. To tell the truth, I was utterly appalled." Balto looked down at his paws, unsure how to proceed.

Jenna put a paw on his paw. "You shouldn't feel bad about it. Luke Skywalker seems to be a fine man, I’ve only heard good things about him and it seems to me having Jedi back in the galaxy is a good thing too."

Balto placed a paw over hers and smiled as he felt the connecting threads of the Force weaving between them. "I'm very glad you feel that way. Will you walk with me around the track?" He indicated the jogging track which formed the perimeter of the large exercise room. "I want to discuss when we have pups and I have a few more things to share that you need to know." He walked toward the track and smiled again as Jenna took up a position by his side. "And once I have told you, perhaps you can help me figure out how to tell the others."

“I’m very glad you and some of your people decided to stay, Commander Balto,” Luke Skywalker said with an easy smile. “The galaxy needs all the Jedi it can get.”

"I now find I must agree. I have this feeling we all should be working as hard as we can to learn the ways of the Force." The corners of Balto's mouth turned up in a wry grin. "It took me some time to come to grips with your offer of training, and the better part of this week to persuade the others to give it a try. If it wasn't for Captain Jenna’s assistance, I don't think I would have been able to persuade half of them. Most of them were pretty leery of the idea at first. Corporal Star took it very well, but Private Kaltag thought it was some kind of horrible prank. His misgivings were not that much different from my own. I'm just not sure if the galaxy is ready for a contingent of Imperial Jedi."

Luke chuckled. "Imperial, New Republic, Dogs, or anyone in between, all are one in the Force, and all are welcome." Luke shifted his position within the confines of Balto's small room. "I've decided our former base on Yavin IV will make an excellent place to teach students. It'll need work of course, but the core facility is livable now, and no one else has a claim on it. We leave tomorrow."

"Very good then." Balto offered Luke a salute before he could stop himself and decided he wasn't about to feel embarrassed for saluting someone who was in effect now his commanding officer. "My people and I will be ready."

"You didn't say; I'm ready for anything." Luke's eyes sparkled with humor, as if he were remembering an old joke.

"I know better than that," said Balto. "All I can promise is that we will do our best."

"Then you’ll be fine." Luke placed a hand on the door in preparation to leave, hesitated, and turned back to face Balto. "Just a moment, I almost forgot this." Opening his outer robe he rummaged around inside and pulled out a cylindrical object. Laying it across the palms of his hands he offered it to Balto. "Take this, and keep it with you at all times. Instruction on how to use it will begin immediately in the forward exercise room."

Gingerly, Balto accepted the piece of equipment. Light glittered on bright metalwork as he carefully turned it over. “This is a lightsaber.”

"Yes. I took it with me when I left the Death Star. It was pretty damaged, but I repaired it, and put in a new crystal. I hope you don't mind."

Balto stared at the weapon, holding it as if it were made of spun glass. "This was your father's?"

"Yes it was. The lightsaber is the weapon of a Jedi. Eventually you will learn how to make your own, but for your training I think my father would want you to have it."

Balto looked up. Anakin Skywalker stood a little behind Luke; his expression was both pleased and thoughtful. Noticing he had Balto's attention, Anakin pointed at the lightsaber, nodded, and spoke. "Keep it. You’re going to need it. May it serve you well. I'm off to see how the others I gifted with the Force are faring; I'll let you know once I have found them." 

Anakin's teeth flashed in a quick smile. "Until then, attend to your studies, young Jedi. There will be a test later. There always is."

"Very good, my Lord," Balto answered with a bow as Anakin faded away.

Looking at Luke, Balto nodded. "The answer to your speculation is yes, he does." Balto breathed out a long sigh, looking at the lightsaber in his hand. "Well, off to work."

EPILOGUE

“Good Balto, you’re progressing fast. You learned as quickly as I did.” Balto deactivated his Lightsaber and Jenna deactivated hers as well.

Luke smiled “Well done, that’s enough for today.”

Balto walked out of the room and Jenna followed. Balto took of his officer uniform and Jenna took hers off. In Balto’s room, Jenna followed him to the bed and laid down next to him. “Balto, do you think the Jedi will come back?”

Balto sighed, then noticed Anakin Skywalker standing in the doorway. “I think so, if Luke teaches more students, they will slowly come back into the galaxy.”

She kissed him and rolled over onto her back and looked up at Balto “Balto, we’ve...well, been together for a while and was wondering if you were ready to start a family? It would help the Jedi grow too—if you put it that way.” Balto tried to think of a clever response but the suddenness of Jenna’s question left him speechless.

Balto was confused and looked towards Anakin for advice, through his thoughts Anakin said “Search your feelings commander, but I will tell you this, having children is a big challenge.” Balto nodded and made his decision.

“Jen...I...I...” she put her paw over his muzzle and he quieted right away.

“I know, I’m nervous too, but I want pups more than anything in the world, Balto. It will help the Jedi and our pups wouldn’t be in any threat because the Empire is gone.” Balto sighed and smiled as the apprehension finally left him.

“I do too.”

“Are you absolutely sure?”

Jenna rolled over onto her stomach. Balto kissed her. She tasted sweet, almost like sugar. Balto smiled and leaned down on top of her “Absolutely sure.” Anakin smiled and closed the blastdoor, leaving Balto and Jenna to their privacy. Jenna yelped in pain. Balto wasn’t worried, he knew this would happen. He put his paws on her shoulders. Balto lost sense of everything, the war, his duties, the Jedi. The time now, was only he and Jenna. This was the pleasure of their most secret dreams. What they experienced can only be experienced, not described.

The moment it ended was a great feeling, probably the greatest feeling Balto had ever felt. Both of them fell to the ground, panting hard. Both of them short of breath. Jenna rolled onto her side and faced Balto. “I....love....you.”

“I love....you too....Jenna.” Balto replied.

Balto pulled Jenna close to him and the both felt very tired and very content. They both drifted off into sleep on the floor, happy, together and in deep love.

A few days later, Balto was training with Luke. When Balto fought he stood on his two hind legs, he was getting used to being on them. Jenna was on the sidelines waiting for her turn. She gazed out a wide veiwport into space. Balto got past Luke’s defenses and knocked him to the ground. Balto held the tip of his blade at Luke’s nose. The smell of ozone choked Luke and he back away slowly. Luke had been in this position before with Darth Vader, He knocked Balto’s saber to the side with his own and rolled to the side and Balto swung and struck the ground with his saber. Luke reversed and knocked Balto to the ground, he held the lightsaber to Balto’s throat. “You are beaten. Give up!” Luke said kindly.

Balto smiled evilly “Never!” Balto used the Force to Force-push Luke to the wall and knocked to the ground. Luke’s lightsaber was in Balto’s other paw and Balto got up off the ground and Luke stood up over towering Balto.

Luke clapped his hands “Excellent! You learned a quickly as I did. You get better every day Balto. You are one of my most advanced students.”

Balto gave back Luke his lightsaber and Jenna walked slowly over to the two Jedi. Balto took immediate notice of Jenna’s quietness and withdrew his lightsaber. Luke waited quietly.

“You’ve been pretty quiet through lightsaber practice Jen, is there something I kneed to know?” he said, looking at Jenna. Jenna turned away.

“Something wonderful has happened. Balto....” Jenna paused and looked back, into his beautiful brown eyes. “......I’m pregnant.”

“When did you find out!?” not containing excitement.

“Just this morning. Lieutenant Mirghal checked on me and I tested positive!” not containing her excitement too. Luke walked up to them both and put an arm around each of them.

“Congratulations! I’m very happy for you two!” Luke bowed and walked out of the room leaving Balto and Jenna alone. They both sensed a powerful Jedi coming and they waited.

Anakin Skywalker appeared in front of them and he smiled at the couple happily “Good luck my fellow Jedi and may your puppies be blessed with the Force.”

Balto bowed “Thank you Lord Vader, and May the Force be with you.”

Anakin faded and Balto and Jenna snuggled, kissed and looked out the wide veiwport onto Earth. The medical frigate Healingsong and the rest of the Rebel fleet slowly veered onto a different course, then continued on into space towards Yavin IV.

THE END