Part 37 (2/2)
In tank 113, Fi hung suspended in a surgical harness, breather mask held in place by filaments looped behind his ears, a very regular trail of bubbles rising slowly to the surface of the bacta; he was on a.s.sisted breathing, then. He looked peaceful. But Darman didn't like that because he'd seen more than enough dead men with that same look of ab-sent serenity.
”Hey, Fi,” he said quietly. He put his hand flat on the transparisteel. They said coma patients often heard what was going on around them, so Darman treated Fi as conscious. ”You're going to be okay, ner vod. Better hurry back, be-cause Corr's taking your place, and you don't want him to get all the girls, do you?”
Darman watched Fi for a while, drumming gently on the gla.s.s with his fingers. They'd all started life in a tank a lot like this. Darman was determined Fi wouldn't end it in one. Now that he could stand outside all this, he could see it for the loveless, isolated, sterile excuse for life that it was.
Someone walked up behind him, very carefully. He knew Niner's gait anywhere.
”The med droid's getting annoyed with us trooping in here,” Niner whispered, draping his arm over Darman's shoulder. ”Fi's stable. They say they've stopped the swelling in the brain, so they'll drain him down and take him off the sedation in a couple of days and do scans. Then they'll know what shape he's in. We're going back to Triple Zero anyway even if Leveler isn't-we have to meet up with Corr and get a new squad in shape.”
”Why do they need to sedate him when he's in a coma?”
”In case he wakes up in that thing and starts thras.h.i.+ng around.”
”Ah.”
”He'll be okay.”
”What happens if he isn't? What if he's still in a coma? What happens then?”
This was where it got difficult. Men were wounded all the time, and some died, and some survived and were sent back to their units. It was the first time Darman had wondered why it was all so tidy.
”I don't know,” said Niner. ”I'll ask Sergeant Kal.” Darman knew why he hadn't asked the question before. though. The answer was brutally pragmatic. If it took too much effort to save a man, he wasn't a priority. He died.
Darman thought of the surgical expertise available to the Republic and just how much was medically possible these days-as long as you weren't a meat-can like them.
I thought we were expensive a.s.sets. You'd think we'd be worth a little more spent on repairs.
”Come on, Dar.” Niner pulled him away, hooking his fin-gers into the back of his belt. ”We'll come back later.” Dar-man, reluctant to leave Fi in this cold and lonely place, put his hand on the tank again. ”I'm not abandoning you, vod'ika. You didn't abandon me on Qiilura, and I won't leave you. Okay? I'm coming back. I promise.”
Fi didn't react, but then Darman knew he wouldn't. The point was that he'd said it, and that meant he'd do it. Reluctantly, he followed Niner back to the mess deck, and found a quiet corner to pour his heart out in a message to Etain.
He could have unburdened himself on his brothers, but they all knew what he was thinking anyway.
Kyrimorut, northern Mandalore, 480 days after Geonosis Etain stepped out of Aay'han's cargo hatch and looked upon a wilderness of ancient trees huddling together for warmth against a biting wind that swept off the plain. The palette of sunset colors was remarkably like the tropical is-land she'd just left, all intense violets and ambers, but the temperature difference was thirty degrees.
Despite what Skirata had said, it wasn't unattractive. It was just dauntingly isolated.
”Okay, it's not Coruscant,” Mereel said, offering her a hand down. ”You can't comm the local tapcaf for a banquet-to-your-door delivery. But in the warmer months, it's beautiful. It really is.”
Etain tried to believe him. It didn't matter, anyway: she'd be out of here in three months, maximum. For some reason, freezing her shebs off here-that was the right word, shebs, she knew that now-was a lot better than being exposed to the same temperatures on Qiilura. She had a connection with this place, however tenuous it was. There was something right about having the baby here. She understood all about bloodline and geography counting for little with Mandalorians, but it mattered to her because this was, technically, her son's home.
But she couldn't see any houses. There wasn't a light or a road out there, just the wild landscape.
”They have tree houses here, don't they?” she said, realization slowly dawning. Accessibility was an issue for a woman with a rapidly expanding waistline. ”Like Wookiees.”
Mereel laughed. For a man whose crazy brother had just junked his chance at a normal life span, he didn't seem too crushed. ”Only in some places. Here, you need something a little more substantial in the winter. Think of it as your private retreat by the lake. Fis.h.i.+ng, bracing country walks for a few hundred klicks . . .”
Skirata stuck his head out of the hatch. He had his comlink in one hand and seemed to be talking to someone who had dumped more bad news on him. He paused, oblivious that he was blocking the exit, and rubbed his forehead, eyes closed. He was back in his gold armor now, a regular Mando on home turf.
Enemy territory. Remember that. These people fight for the Seps.
Etain heard the word Fi a few times. He's not dead. I'd know if he was. Then Skirata closed the link and keyed in an-other code, stepping out and wandering around the landing area with his free hand deep in his pocket, left leg dragging a little.
”Ah,” said Mereel, holding up a forefinger and c.o.c.king his head toward the sound of an approaching speeder. ”Our gracious enabler.”
”Has Kal got a home here?” she asked. ”Not until now,” Mereel answered. ”I don't understand.”
”He's looking at retirement properties, let's say. In the meantime, Rav Bralor's looking after his interests.” That meant absolutely nothing to her. ”Who's he?”
”She. Another Cuy'val Dar.”
Skirata only trusted his own. Etain couldn't blame him: it was a dangerous galaxy, and Skirata was playing a very risky game indeed, even here. She wondered how he bankrolled all this, and suspected General Zey was going to get a heart-stopping shock one day when the auditors went through the SO Brigade accounts.
But Skirata had Besany Wennen on the team now, which was ... convenient. A Treasury agent always came in handy. And I think Kal's taking risks? I'm a pregnant Jedi general, and here I am in enemy territory, paying a social visit, looking to them for safe haven. Force preserve us . . .
A mud-spattered speeder drew up alongside them, and a figure in beskar'gam, the traditional Mandalorian armor, jumped out of the hatch.
”Rav'ika,” said Skirata. They hugged with a metallic clack. ”I owe you.”
”Too right you do, you old shabuir.” Bralor pulled off her helmet, revealing thick, gray-streaked chestnut braids and a surprisingly unlined skin, and looked Etain over with a practiced eye. ”So this is the little mother, hah? Shab, kid, you need to put some meat on your bones fast. Your baby needs it.” She walked up to Mereel and patted his cheek. ”You're looking fit, ad'ika. Good to see you again.”
”Mereel,” he prompted.
”Been awhile. I could always tell you apart back then.” Bralor was everything Skirata had said Mando women should be. If she'd had kids, Etain had no doubt that she'd endured a five-day labor in stoic silence, handed the newborn a blaster, and then zapped Trandoshans with the infant clutched under one arm. She looked frighteningly fit. Venku, is this where you want to be? ”Thank you for your hospitality,” Etain said, having no idea if Bralor knew who the father was. ”I realize this can't be easy for you.”
”It's okay, kid.” Bralor had vibroblade housings on her gauntlets, both of them. ”I know what you are. Kal and I go back way before Kamino. No problem. When you join this team, n.o.body cares where you came from. Only what you do from now on in.”
That didn't answer the question, but Etain made a mental note to check with Kal about who knew what. It was impossible to keep track now.
”Okay,” Bralor said, ”follow me. Five minutes, tops.”
”There's something else,” Skirata said.
”There always is, Kal'ika...”
”This.”
Ordo emerged from the hatch with a handcuffed Ko Sai. Bralor's expression was a picture. She didn't quite gape, but she parted her lips as if to speak and then just laughed her head off.
”Wayii! Bringing meat for the barbecue?” She held her helmet hugged against her chest, an oddly girlish pose for a veteran commando. ”This is something of a comedown for you, Chief Scientist, isn't it? Slumming it with the cannon fodder. Well, well.”
Skirata looked suddenly exhausted, as if he'd been worried about Bralor's reaction and could now relax. ”Ko Sai was a little reluctant to accompany us.”
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