Part 48 (1/2)

The Kragget all-day restaurant, lower levels, Coruscant, 548 days after Geonosis I always said you were a fine officer, Bard'ika,” Skirata said. ”I feel this is my fault.”

He slid onto the bench and faced Jusik across the table; the Twi'lek waitress was there in a heartbeat. The Kragget had real live staff, for its regulars at least, and this place was 90 percent regular trade.

”Usual Arterial Blocker, Sergeant Kal?” asked the Twi'lek, whose dancing days were over but who still brightened his day. ”Extra egg?”

”Please. And top up the caf for my skinny young friend here, too.” Skirata waited for her to walk away. ”Bard'ika, I'm so sorry it came to this.”

”I'm not,” Jusik said brightly. It hadn't ruined his appet.i.te, either. If anything, he looked purged. ”Okay, it's scary to walk out, but I did it, and I had to. The only thing I feel bad about is leaving my command, not that the men need me holding their hands, and not being on the inside for you any longer.”

Skirata had long since decided that Jusik was an exemplary man but a potentially lethal officer. He wouldn't see men as resources to be expended in battle to win wars, a price worth paying; he cared too much and stayed too close, and so he would never be an efficient tactician. Skirata both loved him for it and knew he was a liability, and so had made a silent pledge to keep the kid alive-whatever that took.

Jusik had made a stand on pure principle, a man's decision that so few of his superiors seemed to have the gett'se to make. That was mandokarla.

”Son, I need you now on the outside more than you can ever know. Anyway, you haven't left your boys any more than I have. You'll see plenty of them. You've just . . . well . . . s.h.i.+fted sideways into a self-employed consultancy capacity. Right?”

”I have to get a job and a place to live for the first time in my life. The Jedi Order doesn't set you up for life on the out-side. No resettlement package, just like the clones-but at least n.o.body sends a hit squad after us.”

”You've go? a job to walk into.” It was such uncanny tim-ing that Skirata decided not to make any more cracks about the Force, or maybe he was just a five-star opportunist. ”And a home, if you don't mind sharing a s.p.a.ce with me and Laseema. Oh, and Venku. In fact...”

”Yes. Thank you.”

”He's going to need someone around with your special skills to help him deal with his own abilities. Etain won't be there often enough.”

”I'd love to. I really would. But I can still be useful in the war.”

”Oh, I know. Poor old Zey. He thinks that if he confiscates your identichip, you're locked out. He really doesn't get it.”

”I think he knows otherwise,” said Jusik, ”but he doesn't want to be reminded of it.” The waitress returned with more hot plates and jugs of caf. ”Venku, then.”

”I think we might need to call him Kad.”

”Why?”

”The lads were talking about names, and Darman said he liked Kad. He really ought to choose his son's name, even if he doesn't know it yet.”

Jusik chewed, contemplating. ”Call him Kad, then. Kad'ika. You weren't called Kal when you were taken in by Munin. Doesn't mean he can't be Venku, too, if he wants.”

”See? You're a real problem solver. Earning your keep al-ready.”

”And I get to take him to Manda'yaim when I visit Fi.”

”Deal.”

They finished their meal in relatively happy silence. There was nothing so bad that it couldn't have something worth-while wrung from it, and good luck was simply a matter of what you decided to do with the hand you were dealt. Skirata had climbed out of the depths of despair of recent weeks, and was back on the attack, making things happen.

Ko Sal-she definitely hadn't had the last laugh, not by a long shot. Nu draar.

He was glad the Kragget never asked its patrons to open their bags for security checks, because that nice Twi'lek waitress probably wouldn't have seen him quite the same way ever again.

”Here's a code key to the apartment, Bard'ika,” he said ”but let Laseema know you're coming, because she's still a bit nervous of unexpected visitors. I've got to do Delta a favor.”

”They haven't reported to Zey yet. I asked them to hold off until you were ready.”

”Good lad.”

Jusik's gaze flickered and settled on the bag. ”Is it in there?”

”Uh-huh.”

”Gross.” But Jusik carried on eating. It was an act, but he was probably trying hard not to think Jedi thoughts about compa.s.sion. ”Anything I can get on with while Kad'ika's asleep?”

”Yes.” The boy was a gem, he really was. Skirata was thankful for whatever it was that put fine men-fine sons- in his path. ”See what you can dig up on high-security prisons here. There's a certain Sep scientist I'd like to visit, one who knows a lot about Fett clone genomes. Dr. Uthan must be bored out of her skull by now.”

”Handy that Omega hauled her back from Qiilura, isn't it?” Jusik winked. ”Kind of... destiny.”

”I promise,” said Skirata. ”No more Force jokes. This is no time to make new enemies.”

Skirata walked out onto a grimy lower-levels walkway, carrying his prize in a cryoseal box in a bag, and found that he was whistling. No, she wasn't going to have the last laugh at all.

Area Company Barracks, SO Brigade HQ, Coruscant, 548 days after Geonosis Delta Squad were still waiting in the TIV on the landing strip when Skirata got there, and Sev wasn't very happy about it.

”This had better be good, Sarge,” Scorch said, looking ruffled and in need of a haircut when he took off his helmet. ”We haven't eaten in twelve hours.”

”Well, thanks for not signing in yet.” Skirata put the bag on the deck of the cramped compartment and pulled out the box. He handed the package to Sev. ”Guess who.”

Sev looked at the box suspiciously. ”This isn't the family-sized pack of spicy warra nuts, is it?”

”No. Definitely not. But if you're going to open it, be care-ful not to drop it. It'll make a mess.”

Sev swallowed. ”And why are you giving us this, Sarge?”

”I want you to walk into Zey's office, put that on his desk, and tell him you found her. He can have Tipoca City check the Kaminoan DNA records.”

”Her?”

”You know who I mean.”

”Ko Sai?”

”No, the Queen Mother of shabla Hapes. Who do you think? Of course I mean Ko Sai.”

”She's dead, then.”

”Either that, or she overdid the diet.” Skirata rolled his eyes and popped the seal on the cryobox. Sev held on to it, but the smell hit him, and he took the briefest of glances be-fore closing it again. ”I've made it look like she had an en-counter with incontinent ordnance so it fits your story. And it's a body part she couldn't do without, not something like a finger that any amateur chakaar could slice off. It's absolute proof she's dead.”

Sev had stopped counting the kills he'd made, and he was no longer sure if tinnies outnumbered wets on the tally. But this shook him, maybe because Ko Sai had been such a fig-ure of authority for most of his short life-and because the Mandalorian knot he'd found anchoring the headless skeleton now made sense.

”You killed her, then, Sarge. It was your knot.”