I nodded, and told him I understood: he was angry at me. He felt like I’d let him down.

“Not me,” he said. “I mean, come on: Jedi are supposed to stand for something, aren’t you? You’re supposed stand up for what’s right. No matter what.” Angry at me as he may have been, he still swung his head under one of my arms and held it across his shoulders, so he could help me walk.

It was appreciated. Only as the adrenaline and concussion shock were wearing off did I begin to understand what a beating I had taken; later, with access to the medpac’s scanner, I would discover two cracked ribs, a severe ankle sprain from the gripleaf trailer, a moderate concussion, and some internal bleeding, not to mention the bite wound on my neck and an astonishing variety of scrapes and bruises.


- Shatterpoint, Chapter 12