501st: An Imperial Commando Novel (37 page)

It made sense to any Mando. Skirata wanted it to make sense to Ny. He stopped short of asking her if she’d ever attended a wake, and realized he didn’t know much about her background. The better he got to know her, the harder he found it to talk about her dead husband.

Laseema came out of the kitchen with a tray of miniature pastries filled with conserves so transparent and brightly colored that they looked like gems. She was an impressive cook. “Might as well tuck in,” she said. “The others will show up when they smell the food.
Haili cetare
. Fill your boots.”

“Where
is
everybody?”

“Jaing went racing off to play with the datachip.” She downed a pastry, looked pleased with the result, and licked her fingers. “Kina Ha took Kad for a walk to burn off some energy.”

Skirata’s alarm bells went off. “You let a
kaminii
go off with him?” He regretted snapping the second the words were out of his mouth. But it told him his hatred of Kaminoans was as embedded now as Ordo’s fear of failure, and just as immune to evidence and reason. “Sorry. Just tell me they didn’t go far.”

“She’s a thousand years old or something,
Kal’buir.”
Laseema took his arm like an old man and gave him a kiss on the cheek, humoring him. “How fast could she get away? They’re in the yard, feeding the nuna.”

And Dar and Niner are light-years away
.

Skirata tried not to dwell on it. They were alive, and they’d made their own decisions. But there was Kad, and Kad still thought Daddy was coming home. As long as Darman and Niner were behind enemy lines and not
here
, then Skirata could have no sense of peace.

I left my kids to go to war time after time
.

What was the difference? His wife had been there for them. Kad had a choice of mothers here, at least a dozen uncles, and a grandfather, too.
Aliit ori’shya tal’din—
family was more than bloodline. Dar didn’t have to be here all the time to make Kad feel loved and secure. But it was more than that. It was all about Etain, and trying to heal that wound.

Skirata still couldn’t work out whose wound it was. He suspected it was more his even than Darman’s. Etain’s ashes haunted him. He went to the cupboard where the funeral urn was kept, and stood looking at it as if she was trapped within.

It was a strange thought for a Mandalorian, in a society that had had to dispense with cemeteries and revered remains in fixed places; the dead weren’t there, and the link to them in life was a piece of armor—or a lightsaber. But Etain was somehow in a kind of limbo in Skirata’s
mind, waiting for Darman to scatter her ashes and free her.

Becoming one with the Force wasn’t like that. Jusik kept telling him so.

“Sorry,
Et’ika,”
Skirata said. “Can you wait a little longer for Dar? He’s doing it for the boy.”

Ny was right behind him when he closed the door and turned. She squeezed his arm.

“I’ll get Uthan,” she said. “I’m starting to get the picture.
Shereshoy bal aay’han
.”

Skirata found himself slowly surfacing from the numbness of dashed hopes and entering a stage of anger. He was angry at Darman for putting everyone through this when he could have just walked away.
You’ve got a son here—doesn’t that pull you back? How can you do this to him
? It felt a lot like the process of grieving; shock, then anger, and then the pain, self-recrimination, and irrational ups and downs before you accepted this was for keeps, and you had to live with it or not live at all. Skirata struggled with the familiar emotions, even knowing he’d go through a sequence of helpless feelings. But this time, those lost to him
could
come back. This wasn’t death. He had to focus on that.

I wanted them to have the freedom all other beings have. I wanted them to have choices. Well, they have. And they chose, and if I don’t like it—too bad
.

His head knew that. But his heart remained stubbornly ignorant. He forced himself to concentrate on the room that was filling up with his family and … guests? Prisoners? Friends? He didn’t know. He wasn’t sure if it even mattered.

My clan. Isn’t this a miracle in its own right? Not one of us should be here. Misfits, rejects, fugitives, disposable lives. Somehow we’re making it work
.

“Have a drink,” Fi said. He folded Skirata’s fingers around a glass of ale. Fi had definitely come back from the dead, as profound a symbol of vindicated hope as Skirata had ever seen. “We’ll think of something to be grateful for. How’s about we start with
Bard’ika
? A new
brother. We can have sibling rivalry and fight over stuff and everything.”

Uthan stood surveying the food, but it was clear her mind was elsewhere. Skirata wondered how many times she’d replayed the news about Gibad in her head, just to try to absorb the enormity of it: the genocide of her world, something few could ever have experienced. Scout hovered close by her like a doting daughter. Skirata bet on Gilamar leaving her with orders to look after Uthan while he was away.

“I believe in coming out fighting,” Uthan said. She took a plate from the stack, none of which matched another, and placed a few morsels on it as if to show willing. “So this is the point where the Empire has to start worrying about
me
. An antigen for the galaxy, but a special surprise for Coruscant.”

Skirata took a pull of the ale.
Casual. Act casual
. “Coruscant?”

“A planet of a trillion people, crowded together. The ideal scenario to spread a pathogen.” She chewed, and nodded polite approval. “The heart of the Empire. Take out the heart …”

My boys are on Coruscant. Not just Dar and Niner. The other commandos I trained, too
.

“So you’ve got an antidote,” Skirata said. This wasn’t the time for a debate. “Good work. Can we spread it quietly? So Palps doesn’t know he’ll be firing blanks in the future?”

“Silently,” Uthan said. “But you realize that spreading it here means the garrison will be immunized, too. You’ll lose your most effective weapon against the Empire.”

Skirata caught himself hesitating for a second. The stormies were clones much the same as his boys, not volunteers, not conscripts—slaves. He knew he was going to have to get a grip of this feeling or the Empire would have him beaten from the start.

“Shab
, we’ll just have to shoot them the old-fashioned way, then,” he said, and hoped he meant it.

“I can always engineer something new.”

Skirata didn’t answer. The room was noisier now, and didn’t leave a ringing silence for anyone to interpret. Uthan had a cause for war with the whole Empire. All Skirata wanted was a small corner where his family could live in peace and not invite trouble to visit them.

So what do we do if Dar or Niner send us intel that’s no use to us, but would help a resistance somewhere? What do we do with that information
?

He put the idea to one side. It might never happen. He watched Besany standing with her arm around Ordo’s waist, clearly devoted to him, and Parja fussing over Fi, and Corr whispering something in Jilka’s ear and getting a laugh out of her. This was what Skirata wanted for his lads—the normal life that every other human male took for granted. Rebellion was someone else’s problem.

Ny sat down next to Skirata on the cushion-strewn seat and nudged him with her elbow. “What are you going to do about the others?”

“What others?”

“How are they going to find someone to settle down with in the middle of nowhere? And what if they can’t bring them home to meet the folks? Romances break up. But disgruntled exes always know where you live.”

She was right, and he’d tried not to think about it. Kyrimorut was already less than a secret. Rav Bralor had refurbished the place with local labor, and every clone who passed through would have a location that could be revealed.

“It’s a risk we’ll take,” Skirata said, not knowing where to start to solve it. “Mandos keep their mouths shut.”

“What if one of the boys meets someone he likes who
isn’t
a Mando?”

“We’ll have to lock her in once she gets here.” He gave Ny a wink, but she just smiled as if she didn’t understand. It was just as well. He couldn’t worry about his own needs while there was so much to do for his boys. “We’ll think of something.”

Kad tottered around from person to person, getting picked up and fussed over at every stop. When he
reached Ordo, Skirata watched, knowing what was coming next. Ordo scooped him up in his arms and took a few steps away into a space.

Ordo wasn’t a natural with kids, but he looked determined to learn. Skirata saw his expression change as the boy stared into his face with that wide-eyed expectation that disarmed adults every time.

“
Kad’ika
, your daddy couldn’t come back this time. My fault. Bad Uncle Ordo did something silly.” He tapped Kad’s nose with his fingertip, which usually made the kid giggle, but not this time. “We’re going to see if we can make something clever that helps him talk to you. He misses you. Would you like that?”

It was hard to tell what Kad understood, because he always reacted as if he knew exactly what the grown-ups were talking about. Skirata could see his chin wobbling and a frown forming. He could have been responding to Ordo’s distress rather than feeling upset about Darman.

But Kad didn’t cry. He rarely did. He just took it and got on with life, even at this early age. Skirata tried to imagine the man he’d grow into.

“He’ll make a great dad one day,” Ny said.

“Kad?”

“Ordo. He’s still getting the hang of it. Look at Besany’s face.” Ny smiled sadly. Besany was watching Ordo with complete adoration, oblivious of everything else. She was a striking woman anyway, but the beatific expression made her luminous. “We’re pushovers for guys who are kind to kids and animals.”

“We can forget the rich and powerful
osik
, then.”

“Being rich really doesn’t solve life’s problems.”

She had that right. The rapidly growing fund in the Clone Savings Bank, as Jaing called it, hadn’t brought Dar or Niner home or stopped the rapid aging yet.

“True,” Skirata said. “But it gives you more options than being poor.”

Skirata shut his eyes and visualized the tick-list of things that still needed to be sorted out. Jusik could now
go to retrieve Maze, and maybe take Ruu or Levet with him. They both deserved a break. As soon as Gilamar and Atin got back, they could start building Uthan’s virus factory, then get her back on track with the anti-aging research. Then there was Arla. What the
shab
was he going to do about her? And the Jedi; they couldn’t stay here forever, and they couldn’t leave.

I’ll think of something
.

He shut his eyes and half dozed, soothed by all the relaxed conversation around him. Kad scrambled onto his lap, smelling of sticky preserves and baby powder, and fell asleep.

I’ll think of something … 

“Buir
?”

A hand gripped his shoulder gently. He opened his eyes and stared up into Jaing’s puzzled face.

“I’m not dead, son. Just rehearsing.”

“I’ve recovered a fair chunk of the data from that chip,” Jaing said. “It looks like a gold mine. I’ve still got to bypass the encryption on some file contents, but from what I’ve skimmed, it looks like the complete guide to how to hide escaped Jedi. Safehouses, sympathizers ready to give aid, ships, locations, comm codes, arms caches—the whole shebang. Obrim must have got that far with his recovery program and realized what he had.”

Skirata sat up slowly, trying not to disturb Kad. “Sure it’s not a decoy to throw Palpatine off the real trail? Even Jedi aren’t naïve enough to risk recording all that on datachips.”

“Slicers like me rely on naïveté,
Buir
. It might only be a small part of their network, of course, in which case it’s not as dumb as it looks.”

“So why was Obrim sweating bricks about getting it to us? No offense to our guests, but I really don’t give a mott’s
shebs
how many Jedi the Empire catches. I’d happily pay my taxes if it got all of them.”

“There’s a file on there that might be closer to home.”

Skirata was wide awake now. “How close?”

“Ships and names. Friendlies. You’ll know at least one of them.”

Skirata felt slightly queasy. He knew what was coming next. He really should have let his natural suspicion have the upper hand. It was his fault for not asking a very obvious question months ago.

I was blinded. Grief and greed. Etain dead, the chance of a genetic break right in my lap. Grief, greed, and … getting too soft
.

Skirata looked slowly around the room to see where Ny was. She was talking to Cov, the sergeant from Yayax Squad. It was nice to see the Yayax boys joining in. They tended to keep themselves to themselves, rarely coming in for meals with everyone else.

“It’s Ny, isn’t it?” Skirata said quietly.

Jaing nodded. “Yes,
Buir
. It is.”

“I’m sorry, sir. Things got a bit out of hand.”

Niner took the fact he was sitting in Melusar’s office rather than standing to attention in front of the desk as a good sign. But then Melusar was a hearts-and-minds kind of officer. And this was just a routine report about discharge of weapons in a public place. A grenade round versus a repulsortruck, and the grenade won. Holy Roly didn’t need to know more.

“Meaning?” Melusar said.

“I should have alerted the police.” Niner found it hard not to say
CSF
every time. “I used lethal force to stop a vehicle thief.”

“I don’t think that’s going to be a capital offense under this Empire, Sergeant. But I’d like to know why you did it. You’re experienced. Special forces. Not some trigger-happy security guard.”

Niner reached for an outright lie. It was easy. He hadn’t realized just
how
easy. “I think I’m overreacting,
sir. I’m finding it hard to switch off from the war. Everything starts me off. Ordinary stuff.”