Empire Day ✓

Chapter 18 - Polis Massa

When the Silver Streak docked on Polis Massa Space Station, Padmé and Luke bundled up Anakin in a large, white blanket, draping it over his black armor.

To complete the disguise, Padmé sent Luke onto the station to retrieve a hover chair. The medical center expected them, but they did not know the identity of their patient.

The space station sat in the middle of the Polis Massa asteroid mining colony. It began as a medical center for mining accidents, but over the years it had become a haven for those who wanted complete discretion about their medical issues.

For everything from delivering Force-sensitive babies whose parents feared their children would be killed at birth to rehabilitation of Spice addicts, Polis Massa was known for its discretion. Most importantly, the space station claimed some of the most advanced medical facilities and doctors in the galaxy.

Padmé in her handmaiden ombre uniform and Luke in the Nubian security blue-and-maroon uniform guided the hover chair into the medical center.

A human doctor met them in the receiving area. Dr. Cantoro led them into an examination room where two medical droids and a human med tech awaited. "Welcome, Lady Quemé, and . . ."

"Discretion, doctor, utmost discretion from this point forward." She waited for the doctor's acknowledgment. "The patient has no records here. He has received inadequate treatment at an Imperial facility for injuries sustained in the lava flows of Mustafar eight years ago. We would like a complete examination of the cybernetics, life support systems, internal organs, and unhealed flesh wounds of . . ." She removed the white blanket hiding the dark suit. ". . . Anakin Skywalker."

Dr. Cantoro took in a deep breath and looked at her med tech, a gigantic Sanyassian named Wertho. Cantoro said with a sigh, "This is not how I thought this day was going to go. Very well. If you and the boy will excuse us . . ."

Anakin stiffened in the hover chair as his helmet swiveled to Padmé. Luke grabbed his left hand in comfort. The Sith Lord rumbled. "They stay."

He reached forth his right hand to emphasize his demand, but his wife grabbed it in her hand and lowered it to his side.

She shook her head slightly at him. "It will be okay. We're not going anywhere."

"Very well, if you wouldn't mind moving to the examination table, Lor—Master Skywalker . . . or do you require assistance?" The doctor pursed her lips together.

"I am perfectly capable." Anakin moved from the chair, leaving the white blanket behind, and sat on the padded examination table.

The med tech flicked a few switches on a control panel at the rear of the chamber. The room clicked, sealing the airspace. Oxygen flowed into the small room, filling the air with its odd odor. 

As they waited for the pressure to increase, the doctor asked, "I see you have an older model life-support unit. Do you know exactly what it manages?"

"It maintains my heart rate, and the respirator maintains my breathing. My lungs are scarred from the fumes on Mustafar."

"And where are your cybernetics?"

"My right forearm and hand were installed fourteen years ago after they were severed in a lightsaber duel. It attaches at the elbow. My entire left arm and both legs were installed eight years ago after they were burned in the lava." Anakin motioned to each in turn.

"Have you noticed any problems with the prosthetics?"

"Except for the right arm, I am in constant pain. I have phantom pains as well, feeling injuries to body parts that don't exist anymore. My lungs burn when I breathe, as well."