Assassin (A Star Wars Fan-Fiction) Book 3

Chapter Twenty-Three

The doctors worked quickly, efficiently, swift with their knowledge of the situation and the procedures they'd need to go through if they desired to save the three children growing within their patient.

Sadly, there was no possible way of saving Denali Bleway. There was just too much trauma to her brain after the explosion on the battlefield, she was dead the moment her body hit the ground. But, if they were fast enough and made absolutely no mistakes, the Alderaan volunteers could do one last thing to pay their debt to the Rancor Slayers- save the founder's children.

Unfortunately, during the surgeries, they ran into one ginormous bump in their progress that they couldn't ignore- the babies were barely a month old, the doctors couldn't even tell what gender each child was yet. They hadn't fully developed, which gave the doctors only one option: put the babies in separate bacta tanks and use the machines as substitute wombs for them to grow in until their nine months were officially over. 

They didn't know how long this would work. The surgeons hadn't even expected to remove the children successfully, let alone give them a chance at growing til adulthood. And what would they do with them? Three undeveloped babies hanging on to a thread of hope for survival?

"Give them to me."

The robed figure approached the doctors as they spoke outside the room containing the three bacta tanks. Green, slender hands folded, large dark eyes like portals, the man removed his hood and exposed his Nautolan identity. 

The doctors glanced at each other in uncertainty. 

"I'm sorry, sir, but why would we just give these-"

"I know of a place where they have the proper tools and technology for the children to grow and fully develop. They'd be safe and away from the eyes of the Jedi Council and any other possible enemies that might pose a threat to their lives." The Nautolan explained. Once again, the doctors appeared to be unsure of this man's words. He was a complete stranger to them, to Alderaan, why would they trust him? "I realize I am asking for a lot when I ask you to trust me, but-"

"Fisto," The doctors and the Jedi master turned their heads at the sound of the Nautolan man's name and saw none other than Gerg, Denali's old friend and confidant. His blasters hung loosely in their holsters at his hips and his arms folded over his chest. His entire body was caked in dried mud, blood, and sweat from the battle outside those very walls and his eyes...it was as if he'd aged forty years in the last twelve hours. Instead of his happy smile and energetic aura, his face was a stressed frown and a lifeless cloud seemed to hang over him, weighing down his shoulders and bending his will. "what are you doing here?"

"General, you know this man?" The head surgeon questioned.

"He was Denali's master." The bounty hunter explained with a tone like ice. "He's one of the reasons today's events took place."

"Gerg, I am not responsible for this war between Alderaan and-" He started to deny, but Gerg held up a slow, tired hand to shut him up.

"I don't care about what you have to say, Fisto." Gerg sighed and rubbed his eyes with an old, aching hand. "I've had enough of what the Jedi have to say. Every last one of you damn monsters..." His dark, saddened eyes looked up and glared at the man before him. "You need not worry about the Rancor Slayers anymore. The group is disbanding. Your Order can relax now that we've been dealt with." The surgeons and nurses began to object at the sudden news, but the bounty hunter held his hand up once more. "There is no arguing. The Rancor Slayers have always put Alderaan's needs in front of our own. Waging a ware against the Republic would be devastating. Better to disband and be on peaceful terms than otherwise."