Chapter 25

                                    

                                          
I wake to the sound of soft beeping over the constant hum of machines. The mindless noise nearly puts me back to sleep as I lay there, my head lolling back and forth as I debate whether or not to open my eyes. My throat feels like cotton's been stuffed down it to clog my lungs. I feel heavy, like lead. 
My eyes sting from the light as I try to open them. I think I'm laying on some kind of bed, though it's nowhere near as soft as the times I've woken up in Din's bed on the Razor Crest. 
Din. 
After a moment of persuading my mind to cooperate with me, I manage to push the thought of the Mandalorian aside and peel my eyes open. My lashes flutter as I filter in bright light. I'm staring at the ceiling, directly at an unforgiving overhead light. 
I hiss out a breath and look away, my gaze immediately landing on a small metal workstation beside my bed. Beyond it, a sunken man hovers over a datapad the size of his head with his spectacles perched on the edge of his nose. I clear my throat and his eyes snap over to me. 
Instantly, I recognize him. 
"You..." I croak, unable to convince my voice to work right away. The man rushes to my side with sweat clinging to his brow. "You're the one who took the child."
"I'm Dr. Pershing," he says, offering me a hesitant bow. "There's no need to be alarmed, Miss Viszla."
"Don't call me that," I snap, narrowing my eyes at him. I'm so drained, even that small effort weakens me. "Where is the child?"
"Moff Gideon thought you might be asking for him..." Pershing trails off, striding over to the other side of my bed. That's when I notice the long, gray curtain concealing the other half of the room. Pershing gives me a small smile before pulling back one side of it. 
The cotton in my throat only thickens when I take in the sight of Grogu, in the flesh, laying asleep on his own small bed. Countless wires are stuck in him, but I only have eyes for the glowing handcuffs attached to his tiny wrists. They're too big for him. 
"Grogu," I nearly whisper, trying to sit up. My body protests strongly and I sink back onto the bed with a quiet whimper. The child doesn't budge. It confirms my suspicions about the handcuffs. They're force-suppressive. It's why I couldn't feel his presence.
"I'm taking good care of him," Pershing says softly, tucking the curtain back into place.
"Wait..." I say weakly, managing to raise a hand. I must look absolutely pitiful right now. "Please, let me hold him. He must be scared."
Pershing looks pained as he finishes pulling the curtain and inches closer to my side. "I can't let you do that, I'm sorry. Please just trust that I'm doing all that I can to keep him healthy. Just as I'm doing for you."
A stray tear falls down my cheek and I don't bother trying to hide it. A sigh escapes me as I feel my lungs flatten from the effort. I just want to sleep. "What's wrong with me?" I whisper thinly. 
Pershing hovers above me, taking my arm gently as he examines it. It's all I can do to follow his gaze and when I do, my eyes grow wide. Two needles are stuck in my arm with tubes leading to the workstation. One is pumping me full of some yellow liquid, while the other sucks the blood out of me. 
The experiment. 
"Get this out of me," I snap, my voice far too weak to hold the threat. Pershing shakes his head, adjusting something on his datapad. I start to feel even sleepier. "If you don't get this out...I will...I'll..." 
His image fades away as my eyes droop shut and sleep takes me again. 
The next time I wake up, the machines are gone.