Get Well Soon: Out the Airlock

This is my first post. . . If you like it, I can add more. The next chapters will be more humorous. :-)

We were on Dxun, the jungle moon of Onderon. I had been completing some tasks for the Mandalorians at their secret camp in an effort to gain discreet passage to Iziz spaceport using their shuttle.

The Ebon Hawk had already been fired on once by Colonel Tobin's ships, which had spurred a firefight between Republic and Onderonian ships stationed in the atmosphere. While politic tensions intensify on the planet's surface, the spaceport is under strict quarantine; it had pilots from both factions at their wit's end. Thankfully, though the Ebon Hawk sustained some damage, we were able to escape from the battle and seek refuge on Dxun, where our 'crack pilot' made yet another emergency landing. . .

"Kristen, can you come aboard?" Mical greeted me outside the Ebon Hawk. Although his face didn't show it, the tone of his voice told me he was very worried.

I was hot, sweaty, and tired, not to mention smelly. For the past several hours, Bao-Dur and I had been mucking around in the humid, dense jungle, gutting cannoks to find the parts of some blasted phase-pulse converter. If I never saw the inside of a cannok again for the rest of my life, it would still be too soon.

Anyway, Bao and I had retrieved the scattered parts and taken them to Zuka, who, after getting a good chuckle out of our exasperated expressions and strong stench, managed to repair the converter and get the telemetry computer operational. Although he expressed his gratitude, there was a question burning on my lips. I just had to ask.

'Zuka, honestly--how do a bunch of the galaxy's toughest warriors let animals snack on one of their most important pieces of equipment?'

Bao smothered his laughter with a cough.

'Well. . .Blast it!' Zuka began awkwardly, rubbing the back of his helmet. 'Those cannoks will eat anything! We have more important things to do than chase them around the jungle.'

'Right. Just wondering,' I replied, smirking.

Zuka shooed us away in the end, saying something about having another task for us tomorrow. Bao and I decided we had had more than enough for one day, so we asked Jayka, the guide, to take us back to our ship.

After all that, I'm sure Mical could easily see how exhausted and drained we were. It was unusual for him to try to discuss anything with me when I was so worn out, for he would always mutter apologetically about 'not wanting to burden me with his problems'. In reality, I enjoyed talking with him, as it always made me feel calmer and at peace. I'd have to find a way to explain that to him.

'Is everyone alright?' I asked Mical, concerned. There was no need to hide my emotions from him; I trusted him as one trusts a brother. I had begun to wonder about trusting Kreia, though. . .

'Well,' he began, glancing over my shoulder at the Mandalorian guide stationed at the entrance to the jungle path. 'I think you'll have to see for yourself.'

'Alright,' I sighed. Turning to Jayka, I waved and called, 'Thank you for your help. I'll be back tomorrow.'

'I'm ready anytime you want to return to camp,' said the Mandalorian gruffly.

I turned my thoughts to the worry in Mical's voice. Great. What else could go wrong? I silenced that question as soon as it entered my head. We were actually rather fortunate, considering we had the entirety of the Sith and Republic forces on our tail.

Onderon's golden sun could be seen setting picturesquely over the misty mountains in the background as I called on the Force to center myself. I followed the Disciple aboard the Hawk with Bao right behind me.

It was an interesting scene aboard the ship. Kreia and Atton were nowhere to be seen, but Mira was taking a break and was relaxing in the main hold, shuffling a pazaak deck. Her face kept flickering between a concerned frown and a small, amused smile. When my eyes met hers, a smile formed at the corners of her mouth.

Visas was across the room, her veil pulled unusually low over her face.

'Visas, what's going on?' I started, confused. She ignored me, muttering something about force pikes and malraas before striding quickly in the direction of the dormitories.

I turned from her retreating figure toward T3-M4, who was stationed at the door to the med bay.

"What's up, T3?" I called to him, striding over. Everybody was acting very strange.

"Wooooo," hummed the little droid softly, turning his blue photoreceptor from me to the doorway of the med bay.

'General,' said Bao softly, 'Do you know what--'

He stopped short when a loud groan met our ears--a very familiar, scoundrel-like groan.

I rushed around the corner. 'Atton, what's wro--' I stopped short in the doorway.

A very green Atton Rand was sprawled out on the med couch, groaning and turning restlessly from side to side. When his eyes met mine, he managed a small smile.

'Kris, you're still alive--that's good,' he said, wincing. 'Didn't know. . .if you'd manage without me.'

'Atton, what happened to you? You look like you swallowed a gizka,' I said anxiously, kneeling down beside the med couch. I instinctively placed my hand on his forehead. It was very warm. Beads of sweat trickled down his temples.

'Well, it's an interesting feeling, really,' Atton responded sarcastically. 'I feel like I'm going to be sick and have my head split open at the same time.'

It seemed like nothing could stifle his smooth, cocky attitude. Even so, I had been through too much with him to be fooled that easily--he was hurting bad. The Force radiated ripples of his pain that washed over me like waves.

'Hold still, okay? You're going to fall off the couch,' I said a little nervously, trying to make him laugh as my mind scrambled for a way to help him.

'Anything for you, babe,' Atton said, winking. Once a scoundrel, always a scoundrel.

He closed his eyes and obediently lay still.

'Don't worry; we'll get you fixed up,' I said confidently, stepping into the hallway.

'I haven't looked in the mirror yet, but I imagine I'm pretty darn handsome right now.'

'That's right,' I joked. 'I'm just going to give you and your handsome self some peace and quiet so you can get some rest.'

I wished I felt as lighthearted as I sounded. I didn't even know what was wrong with him.

Mical followed me back into the hold.

'What happened?' I inquired, hoping desperately that he had an idea.

'Well, it seems to be worse than the average stomach ache,' he began. I admired Mical's calm composure and tried to mirror it. There is no emotion, there is peace. . .

'A pilot like Atton would have been around the galaxy, exposed to all sorts of viruses and diseases. So my conclusion was that it had to be something new, something his immune system had never encountered before.'

'That's sounds logical,' I said, leaning against the security console and mentally steeling myself for anything.

'Then I remembered something I heard not too long ago. A healer on Dantooine told me he had treated a patient recently for an illness called Silvanitis. It's rare, but most people know it as 'jungle sickness'. The healer's patient experienced symptoms similar to what Atton's going through: severe headache, nausea, fever, and restlessness,' he recited, counting them off on his fingers.

'Does this have anything to do with the fact that we're on Dxun?' I asked. The question burning on my lips was 'Is it treatable?', but I wasn't sure I was ready to hear the answer.

'Yes, it does,' Mical said, nodding. 'There is a type of airborne spore on some jungle worlds that is thought to cause the illness.'

'So why aren't more of us sick like that?'

'I imagine the rest of us are either naturally immune or have built up an immunity by coming in contact with the spore.'

'Mical, you would make a wonderful Jedi Healer,' I remarked with a small smile. That was all I could muster at the moment.

'Thank you,' he said, beaming. He distractedly ran his fingers through his blond hair, and I noticed dark circles under his eyes. How long had Bao and I been gone?

'But on a more serious note, I know you must be worried about him.'

I nodded, silent. He had an uncanny knack for deciphering my emotions.

'Then you will be relieved to hear that he is going to recover, in time,' Mical said.

I was so relieved; I leapt up and hugged him. Good news at last.

Mical laughed, startled. I could feel heat rising to his face, and when I looked up, he was blushing.

'Oh, how cute,' Mira snickered in the background.

'Cut it out, Mira,' I retorted, spinning to face her. I had honestly forgotten she was in there, and I could feel my ears turning red--a sure sign I was embarrassed.

'Alright, alright--don't stuff your hydrospanner,' she huffed. 'Just be glad Rand's currently incapacitated; he might've had a few choice words for you, Mical.'

She gathered up her pazaak cards and strode off.

I turned slowly back to Mical, who was blushing even more furiously. I smiled reassuringly at him, keeping to myself the uneasy feeling that, had Atton seen what Mira had, Atton's 'choice words' would only serve as a prelude to shoving Mical out the airlock the next time the Hawk was space worthy.

'Unfortunately,' Mical began again, clearing his throat and gratefully changing the subject, 'there's not much we can do for Atton until it passes. Jedi healing techniques don't have any effect. It's nasty stuff, but he's just going to have to wait it out.'

'Have you told him all this already?'

'Yes--well, at least I tried to,' Mical started. A bit of the color seeped out of his face. 'That was right before--right before the first bout of nausea hit.'

'Oh,' I said, smiling as Mical shuddered at the recollection. 'I'll go see what I can do for him.'