501st: An Imperial Commando Novel (11 page)

Ordo walked into the main room that formed the hub of the Kyrimorut complex, the living area where the clan ate, argued, and generally entertained themselves. The usual war council was assembled—Skirata, Vau, Gilamar, Ordo’s brothers, and Jusik. Fi, Corr, and Atin obviously had better things to do, probably with Levet, who was teaching himself to farm with the aid of an instructional holobook and some very confused nuna.

“
Ord’ika
—take a seat, son.” Skirata nursed a steaming mug of
shig
. The tisane smelled like
behot
herb.
Kal’buir
was in need of comfort, then. “We’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

Skirata wasn’t a man who liked formality, but Ordo could see why Ny thought he’d suddenly caught a dose of organization. She hadn’t lived in barracks; she didn’t know the routine. Even Mandalorians needed a little structure in their lives, however anarchic they looked to
aruetiise
. The day had to start with a
din’kartay
, an assessment of what was happening and what everyone needed to do next, and sometimes that was just a chat over breakfast. Sometimes—like now—it was much more serious, an operational planning session.

Gilamar sat on a veshok stool, warming his hands by the log fire that burned in the center of the room. “Who wants to start? Walon, I take it you had no luck finding leads on Sev.”

Vau didn’t even shake his head. It was hard to read the man, and if Ordo hadn’t known better, he might have thought that Vau didn’t care much about the missing member of Delta Squad.

“Nothing,” he said. “It’s near impossible to do anything on Kashyyyk at the moment anyway, now that our beloved Emperor’s crushed the Wookiee clans and let the slavers in. Enacca’s still on Togoria organizing a resistance. But she’s made finding Sev her personal mission,
and I feel a little …” Vau trailed off. “Shall we move on?”

“Hard to do that when we’re going to be working out how to get Dar and Niner back, Walon. Can’t ignore Sev.”

“But we know where they are.” Vau’s tone was very final. “First things first.”

“Okay.” There was a long silent pause. Gilamar didn’t sound convinced. “Uthan’s started analyzing the
kaminii’
s samples. I think we should get her to create an antigen for the FG thirty-six virus, if she hasn’t already worked that out, which she probably has. It’s too dangerous—Palpatine’s got it, even if he doesn’t know what it’ll do when dispersed.”

“And you trust her?” Vau said.

“As much as I trust anyone who’s not one of us and makes weapons of mass destruction for a living.”

“Do you trust her to create what she says she’s going to create, and not just poison us all?”

“I don’t know,” Gilamar said. “But I don’t think she knows, either. I’d like to give her a reason for working for us beyond being scared we’ll shoot her if she doesn’t.”

“I don’t think she’s going to be won over by our rough Mando charm,” Skirata said. “Or the justice of our cause. Or even credits. This is a psy ops job.”

“Well, I’ll start working on her for an antidote. She can re-create that original virus anytime. She’s got all her research with her. We ought to have control of that, just in case.”

Skirata nodded, still subdued. He’d been that way for a couple of days, ever since he set eyes on Scout. “Jaing, finance report?”

At least Jaing looked happy. He radiated satisfaction. “Even at the lowest interest rate in the galaxy, we’re making fifteen billion creds a year,” he said. “That’s about two hundred million a week, even without compound interest.
A week
. Not a bad return for a paltry credit skimmed off every bank account in the system.”

They were unthinkable numbers, so far beyond the personal needs or imagination of anyone in the room that they were almost meaningless. Ordo could only think of the things that credits could never buy.

Jusik was a natural optimist, though. He applauded.
“Oya
! We can do a lot with that.”

“I bet even Walon can’t imagine that much
waadas
, and he was born stinking rich.” Skirata drained his mug. “But isn’t that going to get noticed sooner or later?”

Jaing winked. “Not split across thousands of separate accounts and invested in companies across the galaxy, no …”

“Ah, my clever boy. My
very
clever boy.”

Nobody seemed particularly excited about so much wealth. Ordo, like all the clones, had never needed credits until he left Kamino, and even then all his needs had been met by the Grand Army’s budget. And men like Skirata came from a frugal culture. Nobody was about to rush out and buy a stable of racing odupiendos or a luxury yacht. It was all
ret’lini
—just in case, a Plan B, the classic Mando mind-set of always being ready for the worst. The fortune was insurance against a rainy day, intended to be spent on whatever it took to resettle as many clones as possible.

So far … it’s just us, Yayax Squad, and Commander Levet. But it’s early days yet. More will come
.

“So we can afford to buy a lot of loyalty,” Skirata said. “Mereel, you think this Gaib is reliable?”

“He hasn’t let me down yet,” Mereel said. “He works with a tech droid called Teekay-O. They’re the ones who led us to Ko Sai, remember. They know who’s selling, who’s buying, and who’s shipping what and where, and how much. So they did a bit of digging for us, and what better way to spy on the Empire than through its procurement contracts?”

“What do they want?”

“Credits, like any mercenary.”

Skirata didn’t even have to ask how much. It didn’t
matter, as long as it wasn’t anything that drew attention to Kyrimorut. “So Dar and Niner are Five-oh-first Legion. Vader’s Fist, my
shebs
. Who is this Vader, anyhow? Never heard of him.”

“Palpatine’s right-hand man. Red lightsaber, Teekay-O says.”

“Shab
, another Sith. Same old feud. Why don’t all the Sith and Jedi move to some planet nobody’s ever heard of and slug it out in private, and leave the rest of the galaxy in peace?”

Skirata didn’t even glance at Jusik, not even to say that present company was excepted. He seemed to have erased the idea that Jusik had ever been a Jedi. Ordo wondered how Jusik saw himself, though. He never did things by half. Ordo wondered if Jusik put so much effort into being Mando to atone for some sense of guilt at having been a Jedi. He really seemed to reinvent himself.

“Anyway, saber-jockey infighting apart,” Mereel said, “Vader’s set up a special assassination unit of former Republic commandos and ARCs within the Five-oh-first solely to hunt Jedi, deserters, and sympathizers.”

“That’s us, I think,” Jusik said. “Now we know where Dar and Niner are, though, it’s just a matter of collecting them, isn’t it?”

Skirata shrugged. “It shouldn’t be too hard, but we don’t have the freedom to come and go that we used to have. We’re the enemy.”

“And how does that stop us, exactly?” Vau asked. “It’s not as if Zey ever gave us his blessing to do what we did. He didn’t know about most of it, for a start.”

Skirata studied his datapad. “If we work out what missions they’re tasked for, we might not even have to land on Coruscant. Just show up and tell them their taxi’s arrived.”

“I don’t think the Empire’s seen me before,” Prudii said, deadpan. “Or Kom’rk. Eh,
ner vod
? The great thing about being a clone is that we’ve got literally millions of places to hide. Grab the right armor, and no mongrel’s any the wiser.”

“Son, you know how many times we’ve pulled that stunt?” Skirata asked.

“Yes. You know how many times it’s worked?”

Kom’rk inspected his fingernails. “Well, that’s another problem they’ve brought upon themselves—it’s not like they can take our DNA to prove who we are. Or stick us in a lineup.”

“Well, they
could,”
Mereel said. “Because we devlop differences but—”

“Okay, point taken.” Skirata didn’t start the paternal lecture about not taking risks. This was possibly the most straightforward operation they’d ever faced. All they had to do was locate their missing brothers and show up on the day with transport; no guards to slot, no doors to blow open, no hostiles to battle through. By the time the Empire realized Dar and Niner were gone, they’d be home and dry at Kyrimorut.

And Darman would be reunited with his son.

“Any other business?” Skirata asked.

“Yes, what are we going to do about Dred Priest?” Jusik said. “Not that I know the man, but
you
do.”

Gilamar looked as if he was going to spit. “He’s a
hutuun
. I don’t care how good a soldier he is. He talks that supremacy
osik
, and we don’t need his kind on Mandalore.”

“Shysa would never listen to him, anyway,” Skirata said. “He’s too smart. Everyone knows Mandalore’s never going to be a galactic empire again.
Shab
, we haven’t been a major power for millennia.”

“And we don’t
want
to be.” Gilamar was on his favorite topic now, unstoppable. “Empires are doomed from day one. Whatever happens, however well they start out—they get too big and go rotten. They
all
fall. They’re
all
overthrown. It’s the cycle of nature. Let’s stay on the margins, moving in the gaps the big boys leave.”

“Too right,” said a voice from the doorway. It was Ruu. “Can I come in?”

“Of course you can,
ad’ika
.” Skirata made room for
her on the bench. “We must be bored. We’re arguing about politics.”

“I’m not arguing,” Gilamar said. “Just making it clear that if I run into Dred and he starts on that bring-back-the-good-old-days garbage, I’ll gut him. And his crazy girlfriend.”

“No reason to run into him,” Ordo said. “Unless you’re in Keldabe.”

“Don’t you think it’s time we started fighting for our own interests?” Ruu took the mug out of her father’s hand and peered into it as if checking up on him. “I’m not saying this guy’s right, but being at every
aruetii
’s beck and call and doing the dying for them doesn’t sound smart to me. Look at this world. It’s dirt-poor. That’s not much to show for the lives we’ve spent on shoring up other governments.”

“Good point,” Vau said. “You’re definitely a Skirata.”

That was an odd thing for Vau to say, seeing as no Mando cared much about biological parentage. It was a culture of adoption and blurred lines between offspring and in-laws.

He just means she says the same things as
Kal’buir.
That’s all
.

Ordo scrutinized Ruu, still not sure how he felt about her. She’d fallen instantly into the role of dutiful Mando daughter, even though she hadn’t seen her father since she was five. As far as Ordo was concerned she was Corellian like her
aruetyc
mother. Yes, he knew that wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t the way Mandos did things. She had as much right to leave her past behind as Jusik, to walk on
cin vhetin
, the virgin snow of a new life, judged only on what she did from the moment she threw her lot in as a
Mando’ad
. She hadn’t even asked to be rescued.

But Ordo had fought alongside Jusik.
Bard’ika
had put his life on the line for the clones time after time. He was as much a brother as Mereel.

Am I jealous? Is that it? I’m an adult. I’m a married man. I’m too old to be jealous of new siblings
.

Ordo was thirteen in calendar years, going on twenty-seven
biologically. He knew he’d grown up too fast to get some things out of his system or even experience them to begin with. Sometimes the small stuff hurt a lot more than he knew it ought to.

Skirata could sense Ordo’s mood as well as any Force-user. He got up and walked across the room to sit next to Ordo and ruffle his hair.

“You okay, son?”

“Fine,
Buir
.”

“I know things are a mess at the moment, but it’s going to work out. I promise.”

It was a lie, because Ordo knew they’d probably spend the rest of their lives on the run with bounties on their heads, never able to drop their guard.
Kal’buir
had lost count of the number of death warrants out on him. Now they all had one. But a lot of Mandalorians—and others—lived their lives that way, and seemed happy enough. Ordo decided he would be happy with it, too.

“What are we going to do about the Jedi when Uthan’s finished with Kina Ha?” Ordo asked. “We’re going to have to deal with that sooner or later.”

Skirata put on his don’t-worry face that said anything but.

“I’ll think of something, son,” he said. “I always do.”

Whatever he thought of, it wasn’t going to be easy—or without a price. Ordo was going to make sure that nobody here would be the one to pay it.

Chelpori was a nothing town on a nondescript planet, the worst place to hide as far as Niner was concerned.

The easiest place to vanish without a trace was a big city. That was where Niner would have gone to ground, anyway. A fugitive could merge into the mass of anonymous faces, and the more urban it was, the more shifting the population, so nobody really knew their neighbors. It was perfect.

And what am I planning to do? Hide in the middle of nowhere, or wherever Kyrimorut is. Nowhere, Mandalore
.

The CR-20 set down in an empty landing pad on the outskirts of Chelpori, just a sprinkling of streetlights and a couple of illuminated cantina signs in the darkness. It wasn’t going to take long to cover it, even if they had to search every building. Niner handed out the PEP attachments, a deuterium fluoride laser bolt-on for the Deece that came in handy if you didn’t want a lethal outcome. It still hurt something fierce to be brought down by one.

“So do we have to ask him to come nicely?” Ennen said.

Niner checked that his PEP attachment was charged. The indicator light glowed bright red. “Cleaner and faster than clubbing him senseless.”

“This intel better be reliable,” Darman said. “It’s all come from their civvie police force, by the look of it.”

Niner almost reminded Dar that Jaller Obrim was a civvie cop, and he hadn’t done so badly. But mentioning Obrim would open a door onto that terrible night at Shinarcan Bridge. He let it go. Bry began walking to the rendezvous point with Ennen. The squad was definitely split into two pairs, not a four-man team like Omega at all. Niner wondered if he was going to hang around long enough to need to worry about that.