Part 26 (1/2)
Rebel camp, near Eyat, Gaftikar, 478 days after Geonosis The Marits were scuttling everywhere in a state of excitement, and there were a lot more of them today than Darman had seen before.
He leaned against the doorway of the hut, brus.h.i.+ng his teeth, collapsible plastoid bowl in one hand as he contemplated what was going to be a busy few days.
”s.h.i.+ft it, Dar.” Niner was in full armor. He'd had word-then: they were going in. ”Thirty-fifth's moving. They're finis.h.i.+ng up on Qiilura. Let's make sure they've got an open door.”
Qiilura. Darman spat foam into the bowl. ”Have I got time to call Etain?”
”Do you have to?”
”Well, I might get killed, and...”
Niner's expression was hidden behind his visor, but Dar-man knew every nuance of his breathing by now, every faint sound that indicated swallowing or licked lips, every click of the jaw when words didn't emerge.
”You'll be fine,” Niner said at last, and slapped him on the shoulder. He was playing the rea.s.suring ruus'alor, the sergeant; the word was derived from runs, a rock, and it summed up his solidly pivotal role pretty well. ”But call her anyway. Say hi from me.”
Niner walked away toward the Marits. He never talked much about what he wanted from life. He never confided in his brothers about fears and loneliness, or talked about girls, or showed any sign that he didn't think the war was a good idea. It was the last bit that worried Darman most. Niner probably kept his yearnings to himself for the sake of maintaining morale-did he think they didn't know that?-but everyone griped about the war and every aspect of it out of habit and custom. It was the only leeway clone troopers had-to express opinions that the command was clueless, that the food was garbage, that the kit was osik, and that it was all a waste of time, but it was better than being a civilian. And it was a veneer, a kind of bonding ritual to show how much you didn't care, when in reality you were scared witless, always hungry, and usually disoriented. Being the best army in the galaxy didn't stop any of those feelings. At first, Darman-like all of them-had thought their role in life was n.o.ble and inevitable; now the indoctrination had been worn thin by seeing the galaxy beyond Kamino, and even some ARCs were deserting. The rank and file were grumbling-in private. If they'd had somewhere to go and the bonds had been weaker, Darman suspected a lot more would have vanished from the ranks.
But they stayed for their brothers. They stayed because their only source of self-esteem was being the best at what they did.
And they had nowhere else to go. Once more of them worked out what happened to those who couldn't-or wouldn't-fight any longer, what would happen?
Yes, the GAR might have been better off with tinnies. They never worked things out.
”How many teeth have you got, Dar?” Niner yelled. He'd stopped to look back. Darman paused with the brush still in his mouth. ”Because you're taking an awful long time cleaning them.”
Darman mumbled through a mouthful of foam. ”Sorry, Sarge.”
He went back to the refreshers to rinse his mouth and clean up, then changed from his fatigues into his bodysuit before was.h.i.+ng the clothing in the refresher's basin with a rock-hard lump of the local soap and shaking it out so that it dried in minutes. Habit-ritual-was a soothing thing. By the time he'd attached his armor plates to the bodysuit, the fatigues were dry and he could fold them tightly into a small roll that he slipped into his backpack.
He couldn't even recall putting on his plates. His mind was on Etain. He shut the door and commed her.
She took some time to answer. He was on the point of just recording a message when he heard her voice, and he felt instantly foolish, tearful and excited. It was audio only, no holoprojection, but he never questioned that because she was on deployment and she had her reasons for not showing him where she was.
He worried anyway. He wanted to see her again, quite literally. He was worried he'd forget her face.
”Can you talk?” he asked.
There was a brief pause. ”Are you okay, Dar?”
”I'm fine. I got bitten by an ARC trooper.”
”That's gross. Are they poisonous?”
She seemed to think he was joking. Darman wondered whether to blurt out that Sull had been under a death sentence, but decided that kind of thing needed saying in per-son. ”It's okay, I just sucked out the venom and shot him. Anyway, Fi wanted his armor. Hey, I miss you. What's happening on Qiilura?”
Another pause. ”It's not good. Most of them went quietly but some dug in, and ... well, you know.”
”Casualties?”
”Yeah.”
”Ah.”
”Not me, obviously.”
”I'm glad.” He caught a note in her voice that said she was holding back; maybe there was someone with her. The holovids showed clandestine love affairs as exciting, but Darman just found the secrecy miserable. ”What's Level like?”
”Solid guy.”
”We'll be working with his battalion pretty soon. Does that mean you'll be coming back to Triple Zero? Sorry-I shouldn't ask. Just thought you'd be finished there, and ...”
”It'll be a few more months. Three, maybe.”
”Oh.” Where? Why? ”Okay.”
”I miss you too, Dar. Think of something you'd like to do when we meet up. I'm not good at planning things like that.”
Darman wasn't, either. He suspected she didn't mean a drink from a grimy gla.s.s at Qibbu's sleazy cantina for old times' sake. ”Mereel might have some ideas. He seems to know every tapcaf between Galactic City and the Outer Rim.”
”Okay. I don't mind as long as you're there.”
”Me, too.” Darman worried that he didn't have any smart talk or witty lines. He sounded like a total di'kut, he knew it.
There was a loud rapping on the door. ”Dar?” It was Fi. Dar, are you in there?”
Darman rolled his eyes and addressed the ether. ”What, Fi?”
”Are you going to be in there all day? I'm not going to dig a latrine because you're still doing your hair ...”
”Okay, okay. Give me a moment.” He lowered his voice. ”I'm sorry, cyar'ika, I have to go.”
”I'll call you in a while. Stay safe. I love you.”
”Look after yourself.” Darman was working up to saying that he loved her, too, when the link closed from her end of the channel, and the moment was gone. He took a deep breath before yanking the door open, brokenhearted that he might never get the chance to tell her. He had a bad feeling about the coming a.s.sault on Eyat. It was vague and nagging, probably just his growing awareness and resentment of the way things were, but possibly-just possibly-an omen. Mixing with Jedi made you almost believe in that kind of stuff. ”Fi, I'm going to break your shabla neck ...”
Fi stepped back with his hands held up in mock submission. ”Steady on, ner vod.”
”You really pick your moments.”
”I want to use the 'freshers.”
”Yeah, and I was-” Darman stopped himself. There was no point ranting at Fi for interrupting a call to Etain. It would be particularly tactless. ”Okay.” He patted his brother's cheek with exaggerated care, and realized he was doing a very Skirata-like thing. ”I'm going to check the ordnance again.”
”Atin's been through it twice.”
”Then I'll do it a third time.”
”Dar...”