Star Wars: Crash on Kessel

Chapter 04: Desperation

"What can we do?" Rand questioned.

"I don't know!" Voz shouted, raking a hand through his red hair. "I've only had some minor medical training. I'm not a doctor, and you're asking me for my opinion on how to deal with a chemical substance no one has even seen before. Lives are hanging in the balance, and I don't know what to do!"

Voz paced the small room, wringing his hands. He refused to look at Rand and focused his entire attention on Miyari as if not wanting to miss the answer should it happened to drift by.

"My people don't explore," Rand said softly. "They're xenophobic isolationists, so my desire to discover the mysteries of deep space was considered an aberration. I was banished before my strange ideas infected others. I know well what it's like being thrown into a situation you're unprepared to face, but a challenge must exist if it is to be conquered. Even though you aren't a full doctor, I'm glad you're here; I'm certain Miyari is as well. We would simply have to face our fate if you were unavailable, so anything you can do is an improvement."

Voz's eyes still showed his uneasiness, but he took a steadying breath, his shoulders squaring slightly.

"I think I'll go get some sleep," Rand decided, closing his eyes for a moment.

"Sleep, that's it!" Voz shouted, slamming a fist into his open palm.

"What?" Rand prompted.

"I'll explain later," Voz promised. "I have too much to do. Go back to your quarters and change. Try not to touch any of the dust and contaminate yourself again. You might consider taking a shower. I'll check in when I can."

Rand was hurried out the door, and the hatch closed behind him, leaving Voz inside the medical room to work on Miyari. Returning to his private quarters, Rand took a shower with his dark red flight suit still on in the hopes of washing away any lingering traces of the asteroid's dust.

Although his headache was reduced, waves of pain still passed through his mind every so often as if to remind him the problem hadn't gone away entirely. The dizziness was his primary focus as it made it difficult to do anything, and it was starting to make him sick to his stomach. Instead of resting, Rand dried off and left his quarters, heading for the airlock. He put on one of the spacesuits from a storage locker, complete with helmet, before going to the engine room.

The final member of the Starhopper's crew, too busy as yet to have gotten involved in the troubles unfolding elsewhere on the ship, was Walthen Kibach. A Rodian, his green skin was mostly hidden under grease covered coveralls whose original color had long ago become indeterminate. Large, circular eyes gave Walthen excellent vision, and he frequently noticed details unseen by the other members of the crew, even Rand. A pair of antennae, ending in rounded and forward pointing cups, protruded up from his forehead near the forest of spikes jutting out in all directions from the circular bumps on his scalp.

"Walthen," Rand called out, and the mechanic turned to face him.

"Why are you wearing that?" Walthen questioned in his native dialect.

Although Walthen understood Galactic Standard enough to grasp what others were saying, his lack of proficiency prevented him from speaking it. Rand had taken to having long conversations with the Rodian mechanic for the purpose of learning Walthen's dialect and comprehending him in return. It was a mutual understanding that had, so far, worked surprisingly well.

"The dust of the asteroid has extremely negative effects," Rand explained. "Miyari is unconscious, and I'm still feeling terrible from my brief exposure when I helped her into the medical room."

"I knew it," muttered Walthen. "Wandering around the galaxy, bound to happen sooner or later."

"I'm wearing this space suit so I don't risk infecting you," Rand went on without waiting for Walthen to finish his grumbling. "I don't know if Voz can prevent his own contamination while helping Miyari, so I want you to avoid the rest of the crew for the time being. Repair the ship and get us back to civilization where we can help."

Rand leaned suddenly against the wall when a wave of dizziness turned the ship sideways.

"You better lie down before you collapse," Walthen suggested.

Rand couldn't argue or even continue the conversation, he nodded weakly, another wave of pain ripping through his mind with the motion. Moving with unsteady steps, Rand departed.

"Probably going to collapse on the way," Walthen mumbled softly as he went back to work. "Every last one on the crew will end up sick, leaving all the work for me to do. I'm going to have to save everyone myself."

Rand wasn't listening anymore as the attitude of Walthen was well-known to him. The Rodian complained about many things, but he was an exceptional mechanic and a loyal member of the crew. Rand felt secure in leaving the work in his hands, especially since he had no choice at the moment. The symptoms, having left him for a while, were back in full force. His boots seemed heavier than normal and made walking require an inordinate amount of concentration. Although he wasn't cold, his hands were shaking as if he was freezing to death.

With as much speed as he was able, Rand drove himself forward, down the corridor toward his room. It seemed miles longer than he remembered, but he reached the doors to his quarters and staggered inside, collapsing on the bed.

He didn't bother taking off his spacesuit for he couldn't summon the strength to do so. His whole body was shivering by this point, and it was all he could do to keep from filling his helmet with the contents of his stomach.

Whatever the dust of the asteroid was, Rand hoped Voz could find a cure to its effects. If Voz failed, or if Walthen couldn't get the ship moving again, Rand knew the asteroid might end up being the final resting place for the Starhopper and its crew.