"Doesn't trust him not to make tatsushi out of Ko Sai," Boss murmured. "Papa Kal got off to a bad start with the Kaminoans ..."
Scorch carried on swinging his boot against the metal frame. "Is it true he killed one?"
"Who knows? He's crazy enough."
"So what's Vau going to do with his stash?" Sev turned around, grabbed Scorch's ankle, and twisted to make the point. "Maybe he'll pay for a nice beskar saber for me so I can remove the source of this irritation."
"Come on, you'd miss me if I got killed ..."
"Nobody's going to get killed. Except by me."
"Shut up, you two." Boss took a sudden intense interest in the TIV's rectenna display. "Busy lane. Don't distract the pilot."
Fixer, gaze glued to his datapad, suddenly stirred and pulled off his helmet. "Paydirt."
"What?" Sev asked.
"Fifteen flights booked in that originated on Aquaris or Vaynai. Five of those passed through both. Two of that five went on to Da Soocha. One paid for in cash credits."
Boss muttered to himself. "Very busy lane ..."
"Vessels?" Scorch asked.
"One hydrographic survey vessel, one private charter. The droggy ship was the cash credit transaction."
"So she's doing the waterworld grand tour." Sev pictured the rough layout of the galaxy, mentally plotting a course from Kamino, then to Vaynai, then Aquaris, then Da Soocha. It looked as if Ko Sai had headed out along the margin of the Outer Rim toward the Tingel Arm and then looped back, maybe to cover her tracks, maybe to avoid something. What-ever she was doing, she was hopping from one ocean world to another. "Looking for a new house with a pool?"
"Better find the pilot and shake him down about the trip."
"What if it's not Ko Sai?" Sev was distracted by the fact that Boss wasn't joining in. "I suppose we start over from Aquaris, if the informant was telling us the truth."
"We'll pay him a visit if his memory needs help." Scorch rolled his eyes. "How many Kaminoans do you think go wandering around the Outer Rim, Sev?"
Boss interrupted. "I hate to ruin your travel plans, gentle-men, but this is a busier freight lane than anyone has a reason to expect. Check out the joker who's tailgating us."
All four commandos squeezed forward to stare at the rectenna screen. There was a small, fast vessel right up their tail, so close that if they'd vented their waste tank it would have spattered the viewscreen. It wasn't the kind of thing that bad pilots did. It was what someone in pursuit did.
"It's a big galaxy," said Sev, pulling on his helmet and sealing the collar for vacuum. He felt his stomach tighten and his pulse pounding in his throat. "He could overtake..."
Scorch helmeted up, too. "Maybe he wants your auto-graph."
Boss commed back to base. The sensors showed that the vessel's weapons were charging, and the transponder trace read UNKNOWN.
The cannon round that shaved past their port side was definitely known, though. It had trouble written all over it.
Chapter 7.
Master Windu, I respect clone troopers as much as any Jedi, and perhaps even more in some cases. But a certain distance is required from our troops, clone or not. General Secura is becoming a little too close to Commander Bly, and while I applaud her dedication to the men under her command, this can only end in tears.
-Jedi General Arligan Zey, director of special forces, stepping outside his area of responsibility in conversation with Master Mace Windu * * *
Aay'han, laid up on Bogg V, 476 days after Geonosis Ordo watched a strange tableau unfolding in the crew lounge of Aay'han as he worked on fitting the enhanced weapons in the ship.
While he passed hydrospanners and connectors to Mereel in the engineering section, he kept an eye on Skirata and Vau through the open hatch. He was ready to step in and break up an argument, because Kal'buir's embarrassed and partial thaw toward his old comrade couldn't last. The Nulls had grown up with the Skirata-and-Vau act-arguing, bickering, even fighting; the only thing the two had in common most of the time was their armor and their military skill. Skirata thought Vau was a sadistic snob, and Vau saw Skirata as an overemotional, uncultured thug.
But, for now at least, there was a truce. It felt uncomfortable, like borrowing someone else's clothing. Skirata was trying be polite and grateful, and neither man seemed to know how to handle that. Their stilted conversation had suddenly given way to very focused and intense discussion in voices that Ordo couldn't quite hear.
He tapped Mereel on the knee. His brother's legs protruded from the open access duct as he tested power couplings. Aay'han was going to pack a lot more punch when Mereel was finished.
"Mind the actuator housing, vod'ika." Ordo laid the metal plate on the deck. "I need to check on Kal'buir. Something's going on."
"Call me if you need to break them up..."
Vau and Skirata were sitting facing each other on the square of sofas, and they were both talking on their corn-links. They also appeared to be listening to each other in a bizarre jigsaw of a four-way conversation.
"You're a good lad, Bard'ika, and I appreciate the risk you're taking."
"What do you mean, no med droid?"
"So where are they now?"
"Levet should have cleaned them out by now. They're only farmers."
"Shot at? Who knew they were even there?"
"Kal's going to have another meltdown."
Skirata paused and stared hard at Vau. "Bard'ika, can you hold on for a moment?" Vau held out his hand and they swapped comlinks. "So, Jinart, what exactly am I going to be angry about?"
Skirata listened, head down, and then shut his eyes. Ordo glanced at Vau, who shook his head. "Delta," he mouthed and gestured with Skirata's comlink. "They followed Ko Sai as far as Napdu and then they ran into some competition. No further contact."
Napdu was one stage behind them in the hunt; events were getting out of hand. Ordo stood by Vau's seat and tried to fol-low both conversations, which was suddenly much harder now that he knew some of the facts and his brain was trying to fill in too many gaps. His mind wasn't on Delta's safety, and he felt guilty about that. Somehow getting hold of Ko Sai seemed much more important. There were millions of lives hanging on her, after all.
"We need to get a move on," he said. He glanced at his chrono; TK-0 and Gaib had a few more hours to come up with the pilot who transported Ko Sai to Dorumaa, but he needed that information now. If Delta were that close-they were physically closer to Dorumaa than Aay'han was, in fact-then they stood a chance of getting there first, provided they made the connection. "I'm not throwing away this lead."
The lead would be... a pilot. It was hard to move Kaminoans around and find them accommodation without somebody noticing, even if they didn't recognize the species.
Skirata seemed to be getting increasingly upset rather than angry. He had one hand shielding his eyes as if to ignore dis-tractions; all that Ordo could hear was occasional grunts and sighs as if Jinart was telling him bad news in extreme detail. Eventually he spoke.
"Okay, I'm sending Ordo ... no, don't let her move a mus-cle, Levet's perfectly capable of doing the job without her... he'll probably be happier with her out of the way, in fact. I'll call in later."
Skirata handed the comlink back to Vau, who resumed his conversation with Jusik. Mereel wandered up and stood be-side Ordo.
"Where am I going?" Ordo knew perfectly well where he was going, but he didn't want to go, not with Ko Sai within reach. He wanted to be in at the end of the hunt. "Buir? I heard Jinart, so I assume it's Qiilura."
Skirata stood up and gave both Nulls a playful but half-hearted shove in the chest. "Ad'ike," he said, "I need Etain out of there fast. She's bleeding where she shouldn't be, and the farmers have settled in for a fight. They're having to pick them off one at a time, asking them to surrender very politely each time."
"No wonder we're not winning, if that's how Jedi fight wars," Mereel said.
"Rules of engagement, son ... last resort."
Ordo had never understood it, either. He could recite any statute or regulation, including all 150 Contingency Orders for the Grand Army-which all clone officers had to know by heart-with all the ease granted by his eidetic memory. But making sense of rules was another matter. Why start a killing war if you were going to slam on the brakes and de-clare one way of killing someone morally preferable to an-other?
"They'll end up killing them all anyway," Ordo said. He would never disobey his father, and he loved him too much to allow him to be even slightly disappointed, but he had to at least ask. "Kal'buir, are you certain you want me in Qiil-ura? I can be more use to you finding Ko Sai."
Father. Yes, he'd always felt like Skirata's son, but now... he actually was.
"Etain's used to you, Ord'ika." Skirata had promised he would never lie to his men, but he'd admitted not telling Ordo everything. Perhaps he wasn't leveling with him now. "She might get gedin 'la if Mereel or Vau show up. You know how cranky women are when they're pregnant."
"No, I don't."
"Well, they are. Hormones. And Etain's cranky enough to start with."
Vau looked up and put his comlink back in his belt pouch. "I got on very well with the young woman when we last worked together, actually."
Skirata gave Vau the long stare, the one that said he didn't think the comment added anything useful to the sum of the galaxy's knowledge. Vau shrugged and got up to wander around calling for Mird, who'd gone exploring, leaving only his pungent aroma to keep the sofa warm.
"Come on, Mer'ika," Skirata said. "Let's contact your tinnie friend and find that pilot. Time is of the essence."
Ordo couldn't disobey. Kal 'buir had his plans, and this was where Ordo fitted in. He didn't have to be happy about it. though. He was being handed a soft job, a nursemaid job, the kind he always did when his brothers were racing around the galaxy carrying out anything from assassinations to elaborate financial frauds.
Do they resent me? Maybe they pity me.
"Yes, Kal'buir" Ordo said. "I'll treat it as a medical emergency."
Mereel tossed him an identichip, the kind that opened security locks. "Take the shuttle I used to get here. I left it next to the cantina."
They lived that kind of life. Credits, transport, supplies, the cost was no object: if the Republic didn't bankroll it, they stole it, directly or indirectly. Ordo didn't have any more personal desire for wealth than his brothers. He was used to finding all his needs met, but his needs seemed nowhere near as rich and varied as those of the beings around him. All he wanted right then was a piece of the cheffa cake that Besany had sent him, so he took half from the galley, slicing it in two pieces with his vibroblade, and left the rest for the others- even Mird, if strills ate such things. Then he went in search of the shuttle, just another mercenary wandering around on a lawless planet, and sat in the cockpit chewing the cake for a few minutes.
It was dry and spicy against his tongue, like licking scented velvet. The comfort effect was immediate and from another time and place.
Sometimes Ordo felt just as he did when he was a small child and Skirata first towered above him: part of him was competent far beyond his years, and the rest was hollow terror because the kaminiise were going to kill him, but Skirata had snatched him and his brothers to safety and fed them all on uj'alayi, a sticky-sweet Mandalorian cake. It was a powerful act of salvation, one that had defined Ordo. He felt it as freshly now as he had then. It was the cake. That was it. The cake had brought it all back. He felt safe again.
And this was from Besany Wennen. She was saving him too, in her way.
Ordo folded the remains of the cake in a piece of cleaning rag, slipped it into the pocket on the thigh of his flight suit, and fired up the shuttle's drives to head for Qiilura. He had no idea-yet-what to do with a pregnant Jedi who was showing signs of miscarriage on a backworld planet a long way from competent gynecological help, but he'd find out. He was Ordo. Nothing was beyond him.
Hutt space, 476 days after Geonosis "He can't shoot straight," Boss said. "But he's spoiled my paint job."
The TIV jinked again to avoid cannon fire from the pursuing ship. Sev checked via the external holocams and there it was: a Crusher-class fighter. It harried the TIV, closing up and then falling back several times, loosing cannon rounds to one side then the other.
"You could have creamed it by now, Boss." Sev wasn't sure what his sergeant was playing at. "Or maybe just hyper-jumped out of here. Forgotten what the Big Red Button's for?"
"Curiosity is the sign of intelligence, Sev."
Scorch had a tight grip on the restraining belt. "I'm not that curious."
"Think about it." Boss rolled the TIV as if he was enjoying it. "If this guy hasn't killed us, either he can't, or he wants us in one piece because we've got something he wants. I want to know who he is."
"Sometimes it's better to leave a little mystery in a relationship," said Scorch.
Sev felt the steady beat of his heart, nothing else. He'd passed the point of fear, and his body was on autopilot; he'd strapped himself in for a rough reentry somewhere almost without thinking about it. "So land and see if he follows."
"You get there eventually, don't you?"
Nar Shaddaa was the next planetfall, unless they landed on Da Soocha, and nobody ever landed there, not even the Hutts who named it. That was going to be cozy. The planet was all ocean except for a couple of small islands that broke the surface. But Delta had done their job and transmitted the data already, so if anything went wrong another squad could pick up where they left off.
Did I secure my locker back at the barracks? I've got the code key here. Fierfek, they'll have to force the door open if I get killed. . .
Sev had no idea why he was thinking about death or fo-cused on such a trivial worry. Death hadn't crossed his mind that often before, not in a concrete way. Besides ... it wasn't as if Boss couldn't handle a skirmish with a tourist, was it? Anyone who wasn't Grand Army was a tourist, by defini-tion-an amateur.
The Crusher was chancing it, getting too close. If he tried that tailgating maneuver again, one of them would end up with a hull breach.
Scorch seemed intrigued by the idea. "What if he thinks we really are a courier shuttle and he's planning a robbery?"
Fixer came to life. "In a fighter?"
"He could have stolen the fighter, too."
"Oh yeah. I bet that happens all the time . . ."
"We do it."
"We 're special forces."
"Okay. Time's up." Boss banked to starboard, and the array of lights on the navigations display tilted to show a course for the nearest planet-the third moon. "Let's find out."
Scorch went through the ritual of checking his suit's seal integrity again. "You got charts for that place, Boss?"
"Nobody has. Let's make some."
The third moon of Da Soocha had landmasses. Sev could see them as the TIV neared the atmosphere. If the pursuing Crusher really thought his quarry was a courier shuttle, heading for this deserted lump of rock would have tipped him off that it wasn't; but he was still on their tail. Sev closed his eyes and clenched his fists on reentry-it always bothered him to see the hull temperature climbing on the console display-and thought that it was good of Scorch not to rib him about his phobias. He never had.
"It's going to be fun when we land." Scorch was going through the motions of hitting the release catch on his restraints and swapping firing modes on his Deece, over and over, like it was all an Ooriffi meditation ritual. "He who dis-embarks first, wins."
"Nah," Fixer said. He was almost chatty today. "He who disembarks first is a nice target."
Boss brought the TIV down into a bumpy landing on grassland, skidding fifty meters through driving rain and slewing sideways before coming to a halt. Sev, concentrating on the charge level on his Deece, saw the Crusher's jets al-most fill the front viewport as it dropped down in front of them and came about to land with its nose facing them. There was an awkward pause.
"He's charging cannons-" The TIV shook. Boss swore, and for a moment Sev didn't know if the vessel had been hit or if Boss had fired. Either way, the Crusher clearly hadn't been expecting the TIV to be anything other than a lightly armed vessel, because there was suddenly a cloud of steam building beneath it as it powered its drives again. Then its port wing shattered into fragments, sending a ball of fire into the damp air. "Go go go!"