Besany sat at her desk and logged into the accounting override system, the rarefied atmosphere where auditors could observe transactions at will. She'd been honest all her life, scrupulously so. It was her job to root out dishonesty among others. But it was time the Republic paid its dues, and it could start with Fi, RC-8015, who didn't exist now, and had never existed in law.
She had the access codes and the ability to cover the audit trail that led to her. It was a relatively straightforward matter to slice into the Grand Army's database and record that RC-8015 had been terminated after receiving injuries from which he was unlikely to recover. Among a few thousand commandos, hidden among a few million men, nobody above his own commander-General Zey-would even bother to check. His place in Omega Squad was already filled, and clones died every day.
She hit the EXECUTE key, and Fi was a free man for the first time in his short and tragic life.
Office of the Director of Special Forces, SO Brigade HQ, Coruscant, 503 days after Geonosis Skirata never liked to be summoned to anyone's office, but he seemed keen to respond to General Zey today. Ordo ac-companied him. He hadn't been summoned, but if Zey wanted to kick him out, he could try.
The Jedi looked like a man under increasing pressure. "I've cut you a lot of slack, Sergeant," Zey said. "A galaxy of slack. A budget of slack. Now where is he? And what's Jusik playing at?"
Kal'buir was the last man to be intimidated by anyone, and Zey couldn't even come close to it. Ordo caught Maze's eye, and found they were both tensed to step in to back up their master, like a pair of strills. Yes, that's exactly what we are. Animals trained to kill, and we can never be trusted not to turn wild again. Maze and Ordo had an understanding, though. Maybe Maze understood a whole lot better since he'd been educated about his ARC brother Sull. "Fi's dead, sir," Skirata said. "It says so on the database."
"That is, to use your phrase, a load of osik."
"Really?" Skirata's arms were at his sides, which was never a good sign. "Well, he was in a coma, and medical care was withdrawn. Seeing as the Republic is too nice and civilized to leave a creature that can't feed itself to starve to death, the med droids were ready to ... what's the euphemism? Euthanize him. So one way or the other he's dead, in that the Republic washed its hands of him now that he's no longer useful, and RC-eight-oh-one-five no longer exists. Sir."
Zey looked mortified. He wasn't a callous man. He didn't even trot out all the usual Jedi platitudes. But Ordo still thought less of him for not being like Bardan Jusik.
"Sergeant, I've seen the record. I don't know how you did it, but I know you did, and I want to account for his where-abouts."
"Need-to-know, General. And you don't."
"This is not your private army, Skirata."
"Except when it suits you."
"Sergeant, you're still a serving member of the Grand Army of the Republic, and we have a chain of command here."
"Is that a threat?"
"I could remove you from your post."
"You could try, but even if you kick me out, I'll still be around, and my influence and networks and . . . abilities to perform will remain unchanged in all but name. You need me inside the tent, not outside throwing rocks."
Zey probably understood that he'd created the out-of-control Skirata standing in front of him and that there was no putting the man back in his box. Ordo was, as always, proud of his father and inspired by his refusal to be cowed. Zey's only option was to kill Skirata, just like an ARC trooper who no longer toed the line, and Ordo didn't give much for Zey's chances of that. So the fight was on.
"Well, just to keep your records tidy, here's his armor tally." Skirata collected the ID tallies from fallen clone troopers whenever he could, an echo of the Mandalorian habit of keeping a piece of armor as a memorial. Mando'ade often didn't have the time, place, or opportunity for graves.
"Is there anywhere in particular you'd like me to shove it?"
Zey paused, almost grinding his teeth behind that graying beard, then held out his hand for Skirata to drop the small plastoid tab into his palm. Their eyes locked for a moment, and Ordo willed Zey to look away first. He did. Honor was satisfied. Kal'buir-shorter, outranked, no Force powers- was still the alpha male.
"Look, I'm sorry about Fi," Zey said quietly. "I'm sorry about every single clone who loses his life or gets wounded. As Jedi, we endeavor to treat all sentient life with compassion. Don't think we don't agonize about it. I was discussing it with General Kenobi only the..."
"That's the way you talk about animals, sir. Not men. If you meant that patronizing twaddle, you'd insist troopers were offered a choice of remaining as volunteers, or leaving." Skirata paused but, judging by the way he swallowed, it wasn't for effect. "And I don't mean with the help of one of your covert ops death squads, either."
Zey stared back at Skirata as if this was news to him. It might well have been: the Jedi generals seemed to be out of the loop as far as the conduct of the war was concerned, in terms of both what the Chancellor told them and how much notice he took of their advice.
"Is there something you want to tell me, Sergeant?"
"Either you know, or you need to know, that ARC troopers who get out of line end up executed, and I have proof that at least one was targeted by our own covert ops troops."
Zey didn't look too happy. It wasn't the look of a guilty man caught out, though. It was an angry man whose face was illuminated by dawning realization.
"I know nothing of this."
"Then it's about time," Skirata said, "that you Jedi took your heads out of your shebse, stopped contemplating your midi-chlorians, and did a reality check. You're going to get a nasty shock one day, General. We told you about the vastly inflated claims of enemy droid numbers, and tactics didn't change. We told you we should be concentrating forces on a few main theaters, cleaning up before moving on, and not scattering forces so we never quite have the strength to root out the enemy. Again, nothing changed. None of this is winning the war. It's just keeping it going. So I wonder how much it's worth risking our necks to find out for you, if that Intel isn't used."
Zey snapped. He slapped both hands on his desk, an ordinary man at the limit of his endurance now, not a Jedi. Ordo didn't flinch, but he saw the discomfort on Maze's face.
"Skirata, the Jedi command doesn't run this war!" Zey roared. "The politicians do, and the Chancellor says this is how we fight. End of story."
"Doesn't that scare the osik out of you?"
"Of course it does. What do you think we are, idiots? But I've learned that's how wars always work-politicians don't listen to the military, everyone lies wildly about their assets, and there are never enough troops to go around. Maybe Mandalorians live in a different reality."
"You've got plenty of assets, actually..."
Ordo had a second of adrenaline-flushed panic that Skirata would mention the Centax clones, but he didn't expand, and Zey was now too angry to stop himself from interrupting him.
"I've fully committed the whole brigade, Skirata, although I have to ask what your ARCs are actually tasked to do some-times."
"You wanted black ops folk like me to do the dirty work. This is the price of dirty, sir."
Skirata didn't wait to be dismissed, and stalked out almost without limping. Ordo followed. They strode down the corridor, boots echoing, until they reached the parade-ground exit. It was a pleasantly balmy day outside, and they sat on the low perimeter wall to have a hot wash-up. It was a lovely phrase for working out what the shab had gone wrong, one of those military euphemisms that poor Fi enjoyed so much. "Zey didn't know about the death squads," Ordo said. "He really didn't."
"He's the head of special forces." Skirata fumbled in the pockets of his leather jacket and pulled out ruik root and some candied fruit, the ruik for him and the candies for Ordo. He chewed savagely, gaze in slight defocus. "He ought to make it his business to know."
"And I think it was wise not to mention the new clone pro-grams. Zey really would go charging in to demand that Windu got answers on that one. I'd prefer the Chancellor's office not to notice us."
"Besany did a fine job there, but I don't want to get her killed." Skirata nudged Ordo in the plates with his elbow. "She's good all around, that one. But put her out of her misery, give her the sapphires, and ask her how she likes the idea of living in the middle of nowhere with a depressed Kaminoan for a house guest. Okay?"
"I'll tell her they're stolen. She's touchy about that kind of thing, being Treasury."
"Ord'ika, just take a couple of days out and spend quality time with her. You know what I'm saying."
"Yes, Kal'buir"
Skirata spat the fibrous remains of the ruik into the flowerbed next to the wall. "In a year's time, if we've still got a year, then I want everything in place for an instant ba'slan shev'la."
It meant "strategic disappearance," a Mando tactic for scattering and disappearing from sight, only to coalesce into an army again later. For them, it meant banging out to the bastion on Mandalore and helping any like-minded clones that they could.
They never did get around to talking about Jusik. Zey would realize that and come back for round two with Skirata sooner or later. But unlike Skirata, he didn't have the luxury of ba'slan shev'la.
Maybe he needed to think about that. Everyone needed a plan B-even Jedi.
Chapter 18.
It took me a long time to understand that winning a war often has nothing to do with ending it, for governments at least.
-General Arligan Zey, Director of Special Forces, Grand Army of the Republic, on his recent interest in military history * * *
Kyrimorut bastion, northern Mandalore, 539 days after Geonosis I don't want you to get upset," Vau said, "but Fi's not as you remember him."
Etain nodded gravely as they waited for Aay'han to land. Vau wasn't sure if an emotional shock was a good idea for a pregnant woman so close to term, but he had Rav Bralor here if any of that female stuff needed attending to. Mird followed Etain around, staring fascinated at her belly.
"He's still Fi, and I think I understand post-coma recovery now," Etain said. "You have no idea how much medical literature I've read recently. But Mird's worrying me."
Bralor flicked her thumbnail against the butt of her blaster, making Mird whip its head around to stare balefully at her. "And I can worry Mird. Can't I, my little stinkweed?"
Vau felt the need to defend his comrade. "Strills have very acute senses, remember. It knows the baby's coming soon."
"As in snack opportunity?"
"As in parenting, Rav. Mird is hermaphroditic, remember.
It's capable of being a mother, too, and you know how fe-male animals will mother anything."
"Even you, Walon ..."
Etain looked up at the first distant throb of a drive decelerating for landing. "I really wish Darman knew right now. I really do."
"Nearly there, kid," Bralor said, squeezing her shoulders. "There'll be a right time. Soon."
But there was probably never a right time for her to see Fi again. Aay 'han settled on her dampers, ticking and creaking as the drives cooled, and the cargo hatch eased open. Jaing stepped out, steering Fi on a repulsor chair.
"I was just passing through," Jaing said, "but this crazy Mando 'ad said he'd booked a vacation here."
Etain didn't even pause. She rushed up to Fi, at a respectable speed for a woman laden with cargo, and flung her arms around him. But he didn't quite have the coordination to respond and simply flopped his arm over her shoulder.
He was wearing Ghez Hokan's armor, at least on his upper body. The leg plates probably needed extending; Hokan had been a much shorter man. Jusik understood motivation very well.
"We're going to have to feed you up," Etain said. "You're all bone now."
"Fizz," Fi said indistinctly.
"He means physiotherapy," Jaing explained. "You might struggle to understand his speech, but give him a stylus and he can manage to write a lot of what he can't say. He has to point to objects, too-he can't find the right words. Oh, and he forgets a lot. But for a dead man, he's doing great."
Vau found it particularly cruel that Fi-a funny, eloquent lad-had been effectively silenced by the injury. But it was very early days. Bralor went over to fuss over him, too, but Fi had spotted that Etain had filled out rather a lot in the mid-section. He pointed.
Etain shrugged. "Your eyesight's fine, then, Fi."
"Neversssss..."
"I'll tell you later," she said. "Let's show you the presidential suite and see what the care droid can do."
"It's okay, Fi." Bralor took over. "I'll be around, or else my sister's kid will. Proper Mando home cooking. That'll put you right faster than any of that aruetyc osik."
But Fi was still looking at Etain's bump, and Vau knew that he had enough recall to draw the very obvious conclusion. Without a major facial movement like a smile, it was hard to gauge his emotional state, but Vau couldn't help thinking that it was a little disapproving, and that he might have been trying to say, You never said.
It was too easy to attribute thoughts and words to him. They'd have to take it slowly.
Vau left Jaing and the ladies to fuss over Fi and went to check on Ko Sai. Mird, back in its native environment, looked to him with a hopeful expression that begged permission to do what it enjoyed most: hunting.
"Okay, Mird'ika. I have to see Ko Sai anyway." Vau pointed toward the trees. "Oya! Oya, Mird!"
The strill shot off at high speed and disappeared into the pocket of woodland to the north, and Vau went on his way. The bastion had started to acquire a routine like a real home-stead, and now that Vau, Skirata, or one of the Nulls was around much of the time, Bralor was getting on with over-seeing the building work for Skirata. It was definitely feeling yaim'la, and was a much bigger complex than Vau had first thought. Land was still free on sparsely populated Mandalore, as long as you didn't want to cram into Keldabe. Up here in the north, a clan could spread out.
But I'm not part of this. I'm just passing through, under-stood?
The only part of the bastion that didn't have that feeling of busy, wood-smoke-scented warmth was Ko Sai's quarters, where it felt as if she'd created an exclusion zone that was every bit as unwelcoming as Tipoca City without managing to be clinical, white, or shiny.
She seemed to be draped over her desk-Kaminoans, all fluid elegance, didn't bend. They curved. With her head lowered as she made notes, she looked as if she might droop completely.
"How's it going?" he asked.
"Another day when I lament the lack of data from my last year's work, but if you mean have I recorded more information on regulating the aging genes..."
"Let's not insult each other's intelligence. I do."
"Then I have."
"Well, my question's not about that. It's about motive. I still don't understand why you're withholding this information, because you've never made demands."
"Wrong end of the 'scope, possibly. Perhaps it's because I want to stay alive as long as possible, in the hope that some-thing in the circumstances will change, and I can resume my work unmolested."
"Chancellor Palpatine bothered you most, didn't he? That's what made you go into hiding."
"Anyone who creates powerful technology has a responsibility not to hand it to those who'll misuse it."
"I can sense you're not from Rothana, somehow..."
"It depends on your definition of misuse." Ko Sai never looked quite as imposing as she had on Kamino, and it wasn't just the limited wardrobe now. Exile was eroding her resolve. There might come a time when she simply caved in. "But might I ask why it's so important to you to restore normal aging to these clones? You're not an irrationally emotional man like Skirata. Is it a commercial venture for you?"
"Am I going to rush to Arkania with it and invite bids? No. No commercial value except to those interested in subverting genetic rights management, who tend not to be those best able to pay anyway."
"Curiosity, then, or to prove your interrogation skills?"
"No, it's because it's unfair to deprive them of a full life. Crushing the weak is the hallmark of a small mind."
"The Jedi said Skirata wouldn't sell the data, either, and would probably destroy it after he'd made use of it."