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Informationen zum Autor Michael Reaves received an Emmy Award for his work on the Batman television animated series. He has worked for Spielberg’s DreamWorks, among other studios, and has written fantasy novels and supernatural thrillers. Reaves is the New York Times bestselling author of Star Wars: Darth Maul: Shadow Hunter and the first two Star Wars: Coruscant Nights novels Jedi Twilight and Street of Shadows . He is also the co-writer (with Maya Kaathryn Bohnhoff) of the last two Star Wars: Coruscant Nights novels— Patterns of Force and The Last Jedi —and Star Wars: Shadow Games, as well as (with Steve Perry ) Star Wars: Death Star and the Star Wars: MedStar novels Battle Surgeons and Jedi Healer . He lives in the Los Angeles area. Klappentext As Civil War between the Republic and the Separatists rages across the galaxy, nowhere is the fighting more fierce than on the swamp world of Drongar, where a beleaguered mobile hospital unit wages a never-ending war of its own . . . A surgeon who covers his despair with wise-cracks; another who faces death and misery head-on, venting his emotions through beautiful music . . . A nurse with her heart in her work and her eye on a doctor . . . A Jedi Padawan on a healing mission without her Master . . . These are the core members of a tiny med unit serving the jungle world of Drongar, where battle is waged over the control of a priceless native plant, and an endless line of medlifters brings in the wounded and dying-mostly clone troopers, but also soldiers of all species. While the healers work desperately to save lives, others plot secretly to profit from the war-either by dealing on the black market or by manipulating the events of the war itself. In the end, though, all will face individual tests, and only those of compassionate hearts and staunch spirits can hope to survive to fight another day.RMSU-7 The Jasserak Lowlands of Tanlassa, Near the Kondrus Sea Planet Drongar Year 2 A.B.O.G. 1 Blood geysered, looking almost black in the antisepsis field’s glow. It splattered hot against Jos’s skin-gloved hand. He cursed. “Hey, here’s an idea—would somebody with nothing better to do mind putting a pressor field on that bleeder?” “Pressor generator is broken again, Doc.” Republic battle surgeon Jos Vondar looked away from the bloody operating field that was the clone trooper’s open chest, at Tolk, his scrub nurse. “Of course it is,” he said. “What, is our mech droid on vacation? How am I supposed to patch up these rankweed suckers without working medical gear?” Tolk le Trene, a Lorrdian who could read his mood as easily as most sentients could read a chart, said nothing aloud, but her pointed look was plain enough: Hey, I didn’t break it. With an effort, Jos throttled back his temper. “All right. Put a clamp on it. We still have hemostats, don’t we?” But she was ahead of him, already locking the steel pincer on the torn blood vessel and using a hemosponge to soak and clear the field. The troopers of this unit had been too close to a grenade when it exploded, and this one’s chest had been peppered full of shrapnel. The recent battle in the Poptree Forest had been a bad one—the medlifters would surely be hauling in more wounded before nightfall to go with those they already had. “Is it just me, or is it hot in here?” One of the circulating nurses wiped Jos’s forehead to keep the sweat from running into his eyes. “Air cooler’s malfunctioning again,” she said. Jos didn’t reply. On a civilized world, he would have sprayed sweat-stop on his face before he scrubbed, but that, like everything else—including tempers—was in short supply here on Drongar. The temperature outside, even now, near midnight, was that of human body heat; tomorrow it would be hot...
