501st: An Imperial Commando Novel (6 page)

Ordo watched in silence for a little longer until the man took off his helmet for a moment to scratch his scalp.

“Yes, that’s definitely him,” Ordo said. “Former
Cuy’val Dar
. One of Jango Fett’s less inspired choices for training sergeant—good soldier, but a complete nutter. Mij Gilamar had to be dragged off him more than once. Had a lady friend called Isabet Reau—also a sergeant, also mad as a box of Hapan chags.”

“I need a name.” Jusik recalled all the gossip and filed names mentally. He needed to know who could upset the good-natured Gilamar that much. “Come on, who is it?”

“The man who wants the old Mandalorian empire restored,” Ordo said, seeming to have lost interest in his nuts. “To the bad old days, that is. His name’s Dred Priest. And he’s a dead man already.”

“S
o you know what you’re doing, Kal, yeah?”

Mij Gilamar rarely gave advice outside of his two fields of professional expertise—killing or curing—but sometimes he used a certain tone that made Skirata’s shoulders hunch.

It was a rebuke, a clip around the ear, however kindly put, and all the more cutting for it. No, Skirata was
not
sure what he was doing. He would have been the first to admit it. In fact, he was going to admit it right now. He stared up into the clear dusk in the general direction from which the freighter
Cornucopia
was due to make a low-level approach, and wondered if this was the moment when his talent for pulling off impulsive gambles had finally reached its limit.

But it’s not just my neck, is it? It’s my boys. And it’s all the other unlucky
shabuire
who put their faith in me
.

“Okay, I’ve risked everyone’s life by letting the Jedi come here,” he said. “The more folks I gather in, the greater the odds that we’ll be found. But be honest,
Mij’ika
—if you’d had the chance of getting your hands on someone the aiwha-bait engineered to live longer, could
you
pass it up?”

Gilamar kept his eyes on the sky. “No, probably not.”

“I hear the
but
coming.”

“It’s too late to change plans. I’d just be sniping.”

Skirata heard something rustle in the undergrowth. His first thought was that it was Mird, but the strill was with Vau, light-years away in the Kashyyyk sector looking for leads on Sev. After long years of hating Mird, Skirata now missed the animal, and much as it surprised him, he missed Walon Vau, too. He thought of all the times he’d drawn his knife on both of them, and bitterly regretted years spent on infighting when there were so many real enemies around.

The rustling turned out to be Mereel and Jaing strolling through the bushes. Jaing was either keeping an eye on Mereel, knowing his temper when it came to Kaminoans, or else planning to show off his distinctive gray leather gloves to Kina Ha to remind her what could happen to Kaminoans who didn’t behave.

Am I sure this isn’t a setup? How could a Kaminoan Jedi with those genes land in my lap? She’s probably the only one of her kind. And I’m not that lucky
.

Gilamar sighed. “Maybe Ny’s had the sense to blindfold them. But they’re Jedi. They’ve got that radar ability, that
direction
thing.”

“Yes, thanks, I do realize that once they get here, they know our location.” Skirata took out a strip of ruik root and chewed to calm his nerves. “They can have this location dragged out of them if they’re ever caught. So once they’re here …” He hadn’t thought that through yet.
What the
shab
have I done
? “But my priority is keeping the boys safe. So I won’t hesitate to put a round through both saber-jockeys if I think that needs doing. Is that the question you really wanted to ask, Mij?”

Gilamar turned his head slowly to look at Skirata. “Kal, did you tell Ny why you were willing to hide the Jedi here?”

No, he hadn’t. At least, he hadn’t spelled it out; he’d just reminded Ny that he wasn’t the good man she thought he was, but that he loved his boys. She
knew
what the stakes were, what was happening to Ordo and all the other clones. She should have put two and two together. He didn’t plan to apologize for doing his duty as a father.

“I never told her I wanted Kina Ha for spare parts, no,” he said.

“She’s only seen the nice paternal Kal.” Gilamar held out his hand for a piece of ruik. “You might want to think how to break it to her. Maybe I should do it. Doctor’s bedside manner and all that
osik.
”

“Tough. She’s a fine woman, but this isn’t about her.”

Skirata liked Ny, so much that it scared him. He should have grown out of all that nonsense by now. And he owed her. But if A’den tried any harder to throw the two of them together, they’d break something.

A’den would have to wait to get his own way for a change. Skirata had a mission, and he would
not
be diverted from it. His reason for living was his adopted sons, and without them … sometimes he wondered how long he would have lasted if he hadn’t taken a chance on Jango’s summons to Kamino. He was pretty sure that within a year, he’d have been dead in a gutter with a blaster hole through his head for pursuing one bigger, faster, younger bounty too many. He might even have ended up putting the hole there himself. He hadn’t enjoyed being the old Kal Skirata.

And then he met the Nulls, breathtakingly courageous little kids barely big enough to grip a hold-out blaster, and his life began again as if he’d been resurrected. He’d been given a second chance to make a better job of it.

I owe them everything
.

“Okay,” Gilamar said. “You trusted her with the location,
and you trusted ARC troopers you didn’t even know, like Spar and Sull. So maybe you can find a way to trust these Jedi.”

Jaing walked up behind Skirata and draped one arm on his father’s shoulder. Mereel appeared on the other side. They moved in like a close protection team.

“I’ll make sure they know the house rules,
Buir,”
Mereel said. “Regardless of how much I want a nice pair of gloves like Jaing’s.”

“Get your own Kaminoan,
ner vod.”
Jaing gave Skirata a rough hug and back-slap. “I need a matching belt to go with these.”

Gilamar just smiled. Like Skirata, he’d never been one for trophies. Come to think of it, neither had Vau. The three of them always looked pretty harmless for Mandalorians, with no scalps, hides, strings of teeth, or unidentifiable remains of their kills dangling from their shoulder plates. Maybe they needed to roughen up their image a bit and sport a few shriveled body parts that weren’t their own. Skirata tried to imagine what he’d be able to stomach hanging from his shoulder plate. He couldn’t think of anything. His own squeamishness surprised him sometimes.

Mereel cocked his head. “Listen …”

“Is everyone inside?” Skirata asked.

“I don’t think a teenage girl and a senile Kaminoan are going to be a security problem,
Buir.
”

“What if it’s not just them?”

Jaing chambered a round in his Verpine rifle. “Then I’ll just have to empty the whole magazine, won’t I?”

Skirata’s hearing had been wrecked by too many years of using noisy weapons, but his eyesight was okay. He watched Ny’s freighter skim just above the trees, no navigation lights visible, bringing with it a heady blend of hope for prolonging his boys’ lives and the real risk of losing everything he lived for.

Every waif and stray that ended up here was potentially another mouth to betray the existence of the bastion, whether they intended to or not.

And that included Ny Vollen.

Skirata trusted her because A’den did. And she’d put herself on the line; she’d brought Etain’s body home, spied for the clan, and refused all payment. All she wanted was to find out how her husband’s ship had been lost, but now she had that information—she was still around, still doing favors.

“So you have a woman at your beck and call now,
Buir,”
Mereel said, not quite managing to stop himself from grinning. “We’re irresistible, we
Mando’ade.
”

“It’s not like that,” Skirata said. “She’s lost. She’s found us. That’s all.”

He’d never thought of himself as a man who put the slightest faith in anyone beyond himself and his lads, but now he saw just how long the list of trusted strangers was becoming. This wasn’t what he’d planned.

Cornucopia
settled on its dampers, hissing vapor like a panting animal. Jaing and Mereel took up firing positions with their rifles trained on the main hatch and the emergency escape plate.
Shab
, it was just like Tipoca City again. The little Nulls reacted like that on the first night he’d met them, when an unexpected knock at the door sent them scurrying to take cover or stack either side of the doors.

I mustn’t forget what Kaminoans did to my boys. No two-year-old child should know how to do that. It’s wrong. It’s just plain wrong
.

Skirata felt better now. The clone army might not have been Kina Ha’s doing, but he had no reason to apologize to her, either. The hatch opened. Light spilled on the snow and the ramp extended in jerks and scrapes.
Cornucopia
was in need of a major service.

“Hey, Shortie.” Ny stepped onto the ramp and jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “They followed me home. Can I keep them?”

“That’s Fi’s line,” Skirata said. He tried hard not to smile at her, but failed. He was instantly fourteen again, desperately worried what a girl thought of him, wishing he was taller, crushed or overjoyed depending on the
look she might give him. He didn’t even notice that Ny wasn’t his usual type; she’d struck a spark in him, and he wished she hadn’t. “He’s made an uj cake for you. Parja taught him how.”

“Mando men,” she said. “No end to your talents, is there?” She looked over her shoulder. “Scout? Kina? Come on, I need to get this ship under cover. We’re still on a war footing here.”

Skirata braced himself. He didn’t dare look at Jaing or Mereel.

Relax. It’ll be easy. All Uthan needs is samples, right? Nobody can object to that. No decent Jedi would want to deny another living being a chance of a proper life. And if she does—too bad
.

Skirata took Jusik and Etain as his benchmark of what decent Jedi should be. He was going to measure these two newcomers against that, and he felt he had the right to. But he’d been so fixated on the Kaminoan, so focused on what her genetic material might mean for the clones, that he’d almost forgotten about the kid Ny called Scout.

She came out of the hatch first, and he simply wasn’t prepared for the punch in the gut that it gave him.

Scout was all freckles and skinny determination, a Padawan Jedi in a grubby beige robe, shivering in the cold, hair in need of a good brushing. When she hitched up her belt and Skirata saw the lightsaber dangling from it, she reminded him so much of Etain that he simply couldn’t handle it. He put his hand to his mouth, more in shock than to stifle the sob.

Gilamar let out a long breath. He’d seen it, too.

“I’m Tallisibeth Enwandung-Esterhazy,” she said, giving Skirata a formal bow of the head. “You’ll probably want to call me Scout. Everyone else does. Thank you for taking us in, Master Skirata.”

Skirata wasn’t even aware now of Jaing and Mereel behind him. Kina Ha was temporarily forgotten. He held his hand over his mouth, blinking away tears, and struggled to compose himself.

“You must be freezing,
ad’ika.”
He could hardly keep
his voice steady.
Ad’ika
just slipped out. It was what any Mando father called his kids, regardless of their age. “Get indoors and have some hot food.”

Ny had told him that Scout was a lot like Etain, but she’d only said she was weak in the Force and almost didn’t make the grade as a Jedi. He took it more as a bid to convince him Scout was no danger to anyone. Ny had never warned him that the girl was so much like Etain in other ways, though.

But Ny had never seen Etain alive, of course. She couldn’t know.

Gilamar led Scout away, and Skirata was still so stunned and upset that Kina Ha was—mercifully—an anticlimax. The old aiwha-bait shuffled down the ramp, still with some of that grace that they all had, but she was obviously ancient. He’d never seen a Kaminoan who looked like that. Knowing how they treated him as defective because he’d limped, he wondered what they’d make of Kina Ha in Tipoca City.

She bowed her head. “Nyreen has explained your
difficulty
with my people, Sergeant.” She used Ny’s full name, adding to the impression of ancient formality. “Which makes your generosity that much more commendable.”

Skirata was too gutted by the shock of seeing Scout to say anything but the first thing that came into his head.

“I’m not a saint, ma’am,” he said. “There’ll be a price.”

Kina Ha nodded. “That’s the way of the galaxy.”

Ny guided Kina Ha to the farmhouse as if she was reluctant to leave her to Jaing or Mereel. When she looked at Skirata, she seemed shocked, but it wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen him cry before. Maybe she couldn’t see what he saw when he looked at Scout.

Fingers gripped his right arm, careful but firm.
“Buir
, you better get indoors, too.” Mereel marched him away while Jaing boarded
Cornucopia
to move the vessel into the camouflaged hangar. “Are you okay?”

“Are
you, Mer’ika
?”

“The old aiwha-bait’s irrelevant,” he said. “I’m not giving
all
of them the power to upset me. But remember something,
Buir
—the other one’s not Etain. Scout’s just a little Jedi who reminds us of her. Okay? Don’t let her get under your skin.”