501st: An Imperial Commando Novel (27 page)

“Shab.”
Mereel had obviously thought it through,
too. “We can’t keep abducting top geneticists if
she
goes off the boil.”

“Worse than that,” Prudii said. “Uthan’s the one who knows most about the aging mechanism. It’s all second best after that.”

“Stay on task,
vode.”
Ordo tapped the helmet that Prudii had left on the seat beside him. “Nothing we can do about it now.
Focus
. We have a mission. Buckets on, and think meat-can.”

Ny slowed and brought
Cornucopia
to a hover at the main exit. “And keep your heads down. We’re coming up to the gate, and if anyone decides to check us out, I can’t explain why I have four stormies on board.”

“Copy that,” Mereel said, feigning a meat-can tone of voice. “Yes
ma’am.
”

“Ha ha … well, I’m fooled.”

“They’re all lousy shots, the Spaarti clones. I’m working on being mediocre.”

Ny frowned at him. “That’s an awful thing to say.”

“Well, they’re not made from fresh wholesome Jango like us. They’re second-generation DNA, clones of clones. All kinds of problems, they say.”

“How can you dismiss them all like that when you’re the first to say you’re more than your genes?”

Ny wasn’t joking now. She was offended, and the frown was real, not habit. Ordo interrupted. Ny was to be kept placated, or else she might not marry
Kal’buir
, and finding someone else for his father was only going to get harder as time went on.

“They’re Spaarti clones,” Ordo said. “Grown in a year. It’s not the raw material that causes the problems, it’s lack of training time. We had blasters in our hands from the time we could walk. They’ve probably had a few months’ training at best. We’re bound to be better at everything requiring motor skills—until they’ve put the time in, of course. And then they’ll be able to slot us with the best of them.”

Ny leaned on the steering yoke and turned to look at him. She seemed to be studying his hands, as if imagining
what size blaster a child of that age would need just to be able to grip it.

“Kal told me that,” she said quietly. “About you handling weapons as toddlers, and all those tests and experiments. You poor little barves. It’s criminal. No wonder you hate Kaminoans.”

“Oh, they didn’t expose us to live fire until we were two. Which is about four or five, in clone terms. We weren’t
babies.
”

Ordo wasn’t making light of it. He was simply correcting facts, and he didn’t expect to see Ny’s eyes glaze with tears. Sometimes Besany had that look, too—pity, like she could see something he couldn’t and that she didn’t want to mention.

I don’t need pity. None of us do. Not us Nulls, anyway. We control our own lives
.

“Kal’buir
saved us,” Ordo said, “and after that, it was the aiwha-bait that was afraid, not us. Genetics isn’t a cake recipe. They found that out fast enough.”

Mereel seemed chastened. He still had to have the last word, though. He’d spent a lot of time working on the Kamino research data, and—Ordo had to admit it—he was getting annoyingly cocky about it all.

“Okay. I surrender,” he said. “The Spaarti guys can be just as good as us if they eat their greens and work hard.”

“Sad,” Ny said wistfully, and went back to staring at the cargo doors of the freighter in front of her. “Very sad.” She shook her head. “Do Niner and Dar know Palps is a Sith?”

“Yes,” Ordo said. “I told Niner.”

“And how did Dar take it when you told him Kal had refugee Jedi at Kyrimorut?”

“I didn’t tell him.”

“Don’t you think he ought to know?”

Ordo had a feeling Dar wouldn’t be comfortable with that. It was better to break it to him when he could see how harmless the two Jedi were. “He’ll find out soon enough.”

Outside the terminal, altitude was restricted, and Ny had to stick to freight skylanes. As soon as
Cornucopia
cleared the gates—no stops, no inspections, just a droid recording transponder codes for port taxes—she dropped the ship into a freight lane and headed for the nearest commercial sector of the city. Everywhere Ordo looked, there were advertiscreens exhorting citizens to be vigilant and report beings acting suspiciously. That applied to half the planet on a good day. The ad he found most unsettling was one that depicted a humanoid of indeterminate species skulking in an alley as if planting a bomb:
HE COULD BE YOUR NEIGHBOR. YOUR FRIEND. YOUR BROTHER. YOUR SON. SUSPICIONS? COMM THE IMPERIAL SECURITY HOTLINE
.

Imagine not being able to trust your own brother
.

Ordo found that unthinkable. He had to respect Palpatine’s capacity for getting the public to do his dirty work for him by sowing doubt and discord. Every citizen would be a spy, afraid of their own shadow and looking for threats everywhere.

“Palps must have more of an unhappy minority left over from the war than we thought,” Mereel said. “After the cease-fire, always the purges …”

“New despots are always a little nervous.”

“He’s not exactly new at this.”

“He had the Senate and the Jedi getting under his feet before. Maybe the new freedom to throw his weight around is making him a little giddy.”

“I need directions,” Ny said. “As in, you haven’t told me where we’re going yet.”

“Just working that out now,” Jaing said. “If you see a grocery warehouse, feel free to stop and load up while we talk to Niner.”

“I know you’re clever boys,” she said, “but you do worry me. Whatever happened to precision planning?”

“Look at it this way, Ny. If we don’t know where we’re going next, nobody can plan an ambush for us, can they?”

Ordo prodded Prudii. “Monitor what that officer’s
saying. Leave Niner to me. Can you separate the audio channels?”

“I can remote-launch the Emperor’s private shuttle if you give me an hour.”

“Yes or no?”

“Yes.
”

Ny just snorted to herself and stuck to the skylane. She couldn’t exceed the speed limit, anyway. Ordo activated his secure comlink with a couple of blinks, reassured that Ny was such a worrier. Worriers tended to check everything and not make dumb mistakes.

“Niner, are you able to talk?”

“Who’s that?”

“Ordo,
ner vod
. We’re clear of the freight port and we need an RV point.”

Ordo could hear the hum of discussion in the background. Niner was still in the briefing.
“Shab
, that’s short notice. This isn’t Zey’s brigade anymore, you know. We can’t come and go as we please, and we’re tasked at the last minute for security reasons. I need to set something up.”

At least someone in the Imperials had learned from the liberties that Skirata had taken with the Jedi generals.

“We’re ready when you are,” Ordo said. “Got the chip?”

“Yes.” Niner sounded as if he was trying not to move his jaw too much. His consonants were distorted. “And never ask where I had to hide it.”

“Dar hasn’t got a secure link installed, has he?”

“No, the droid couldn’t get access to his helmet. But …”

“But what?”

“It’s probably for the best. He’s on a short fuse. I’m never sure what he’s going to do next.”

“Is he cracking up?”

“
Ner vod
, he saw his wife killed. Is he completely reliable and on top form? Not guaranteed. I haven’t
told him about the chip yet. Or that I’m in contact with you.”

Niner was always the ultra-cautious one. “Then you have your doubts.”
Great. We need Dar to stay cool. Never mind. We can extract them. Treat it like a cas-evac under fire. Or a civvie hostage
. “We’ll allow for minimal self-help on this, then. Just don’t feel insulted.”

“We won’t.” Niner paused. “You know we went after General Camas, don’t you? He’s dead. Cost us a man, too.”

“Ah, that was the
shabuir
who was going to chill us down after Geonosis, before Zey took over. Well, you got extra Palpatine Points for capping your old boss. He’ll trust you more now.”

“We hope.”

“Now, that commander of yours …”

“Roly Melusar. Just took over from the Intel guy, Sa Cuis.”

“He sounds keen.”

“Very. He almost had me convinced that I could save the galaxy, secure lasting peace, and put an end to injustice, all before lunch.”

“Almost?” Ordo said.

Niner’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I want to go home before I get too comfortable here. Dar needs to get out, too. He really does.”

“Consider it done,” Ordo said. “We’ll carry on monitoring your audio input. Try not to power down your
buy’ce
until we get to you. Ordo out.”

Ordo listened to the audio as Prudii monitored it. He heard Scorch:
Holy Roly
. Ordo hoped the commandos didn’t get too attached to the man. Charismatic leaders like Melusar could inspire you to do anything and feel it was a privilege to die for them. Ordo felt a little wary prickle tighten his scalp, and reminded himself that Skirata was just like that, too—pulling a knife on Kaminoan clonemasters, defying generals, instilling a sense of invincibility into any clone he trained, managing to be both uplifting and dangerous at the same time.
Men like that could wield enormous power for good or ill.

Maybe Melusar really is a decent man. But maybe he’s out to entrap the security risks. I’ll have to assume the latter until proven otherwise
.

“Where to, then?” Ny asked.

“Do normal things,” Ordo said. “Pick up supplies as per your transit sheet.”

“Shopping.”
Ny tapped the nav computer on the console and set a skylane route. “Let’s try the Core Comestibles Warehouse. It’s bigger than Keldabe, and if they haven’t got it, it doesn’t exist.”

The Empire ran a tighter ship than the Republic, that was clear. Niner would have to keep his helmet on at all times so he wouldn’t attract attention as he waited for instructions. Ordo could feel a little bead of nervous sweat snaking down his spine, nothing to do with the temperature in his suit, and rubbed his back against his seat to relieve the itch.

He didn’t usually get this edgy on a mission. But the memory of Shinarcan Bridge had dented his confidence a little. That extraction had been only seconds from completion, not even in hostile territory, but Etain had been killed and Darman and Niner had been left stranded.

Nothing was risk-free. And Nulls weren’t omnipotent.

Just a
lot
faster, harder, and smarter than everyone else. We were built for this. Come on. We can do it
.

“Poor
Dar’ika,”
Mereel said quietly. “Niner must think he’s lost the plot completely if he hasn’t even told him we’re getting them out.”

“Ah, you know Niner,” Ordo said. His top lip itched with sweat now. He’d have to take off his bucket to have a good scratch while he had a chance. “He invented caution. He’s got a secret ambition to be an accountant.”

Prudii was still monitoring the briefing, recording it to extract every scrap of data and any subtle clues about the location that just might come in handy one day.

Ordo concentrated on the voices. “So they’re interested
in a human male, Master Djinn Altis, and they don’t know much about him or how many followers he had … some guy called Jax Pavan … a bunch of Padawans—mainly human, some Twi’lek—a Whiphid called Krook or something, and …”

Mereel looked up from his datapad. “That’d be K’Kruhk. A Knight. The one who left the Order for a while because he wouldn’t use clone troopers.”

“Looks like most didn’t survive the Purge.” Prudii was listening intently, occasionally scribbling on his datapad. “But it’s clear that Imperial Intel doesn’t have any hard numbers, and they don’t know who’s just missing and who’s escaped. We can use that, I think.”

“Can’t they tally the bodies?” Mereel asked.

“You think the Jedi Order let them have a copy of the Temple payroll so they could tick-box the dead ones?” Prudii made a huffing sound. “Looks like they got most of the Masters. And the Knights. You can’t fault Palps on strategic planning. Nearly a clean sweep.”

“When they mention Kina Ha and Scout, start worrying.”

“Why? I mean, why worry more than usual?”

“If Palps knows about Kina Ha’s age, he’ll be after her like a borrat up a drainpipe. Remember what Ko Sai said about why she went on the run? The old
shabuir
wanted her to extend his life span.”

Altis
. Ordo recalled one of the Altis sect Knights, a young woman called Callista Masana. Even if the Kaminoans hadn’t engineered his eidetic memory, he’d never have forgotten her or her young comrades.

“I met some of the Altis Jedi,” he said. “They have their own rules. Not like other Jedi.”

“Are those the ones who had families?” Jaing asked.

Even Ny perked up at that. “They do like to bend the rule book, don’t they?”

No, they were definitely
not
like other Jedi. Altis allowed attachment. They’d returned to the practices of a
less rigid and ascetic age
, as Etain had put it. They took
lovers. They married. Ordo even saw Callista kiss her boyfriend, and nobody had apoplexy about it.

Ordo found the very existence of Altis’s sect troubling. Their differences seemed so profound that he found it hard to believe the sect hadn’t been a permanent topic of discussion in Jedi circles. Every Jedi who had to walk away from a forbidden love—and there had to be plenty, he was sure, because all beings needed someone—would have found that contradiction baffling and painful.

He did, too, but for different reasons.

There were Jedi he liked, and Jedi he despised, and then there was the Jedi Order, which was no better than the Senate as far as he was concerned. It existed for its own sake, like all institutions. After that, things got murkier. There were dissidents, the Altises and K’Krukhs of the galaxy, and there were all kinds of Force-using sects Ordo hardly knew about. They didn’t seem to be one happy Force-bending family.

Commander Melusar regarded them all as dangerous. Ordo didn’t have an answer to that, and uncertainty ate at him like the itch on his back. The argument was persuasive. He tried to separate the apparently unfair advantage of being able to use the Force from his own advantage of being vastly more intelligent than anyone else other than his brothers.