[Republic Commando] - 02(117)

“Su’cuy, Buir!”

Father. Fi knew the voice.

“Suc’uy, ad’ika. Tion vaii gar ru’cuyi?”

“N’oya’kari gihaal, Buir” The man looked almost tearful: his pale blue eyes were brimming. He wiped them with the heel of his hand. “If I’m not careful I’ll wash out this iris dye.”

“That hair doesn’t suit you, either.”

“I can change that, too. I’ve got lots of different colors. Did you like what I added to the five-hundred-grade thermal?”

“Ah. I did wonder.”

“I’m still a better chemist than Ord’ika, Kal’buir”

Fi finally saw the face in front of him as a negative image, and suddenly imagined dark hair and eyes, and realized why the man was familiar. He wasn’t one of Skirata’s own sons. He was a clone, just like Fi: or, to be precise, just like Ordo. It was astonishing how much difference pigmentation alone made to someone’s appearance: a simple but effective disguise, for casual use anyway.

Skirata beamed at him with evident pride. “Lads, this is ARC Trooper Lieutenant N-7,” he said. “My boy Mereel.”

So this was Mereel. And even though Fi’s Mando’a wasn’t perfect, he understood that Skirata had asked him where he’d been, and that the ARC trooper had said that he’d been hunting fish-meal.

Fi was fascinated. But he kept his fascination to himself.





19


I had no mother and no father. I was four years old when they first put a weapon in my hands. I was taught to suppress my feelings, and to respect and obey my Masters. I was encouraged to be obsessive about perfection. It wasn’t the life I would have chosen, but the one ordained because of my genes-just like the men I’m expected to command. But now I have something wonderful, something I have chosen. And I will never let anyone take the child I’m carrying.

-General Etain Tur-Mukan, private journal

GAR logistics center, 1230 hours, 385 days after Geonosis

It was lunchtime.

The biggest decision most people made at that time of day in the logistics center was whether to eat in the cafeteria or find a spot in the public courtyard nearby to enjoy an open-air snack.

Ordo’s decision was whether to use the Verpine, or walk up to the traitor Hela Madiry, maneuver her into a shadowy alcove, and then garrote her or cut her throat.

Verpine. Best choice. Fast and silent, as long as the projectile didn’t pass through her and hit something that made a noise.

Madiry sat in the shadow of a planter filled with vivid yellow shrubs, eating a mealbread stick and reading a holozine, oblivious to her life expectancy. Ordo sat in the shade of a manicured tree with his datapad on his lap, calculating her remaining life in minutes.

There was nobody within ten meters of her, but there was a security holocam.

A man sat down on the bench beside him. “Well, our young friend in Transport Maintenance just had an unfortunate accident with a repulsorlift platform. Thanks for the use of your security codes.”

“And he didn’t turn into a Gurlanin, I hope.”

Mereel looked utterly alien with light hair and eyes. Even his skin was tinted two shades paler. It didn’t suit him. “No, vod ‘ika, he turned into a dead human. Skulls and repulsorlifts don’t mix. Trust me.”

“Just checking.”

“You haven’t told Kal’huir about Ko Sai yet, have you?” Mereel asked.

“I thought he might be less distracted if we wait until this mission is completed.”

“He’s a true verd, a warrior. He’s never distracted when the shooting starts.”

“There’s no rush,” Ordo said.

Mereel shrugged. Out of armor and kama, he slouched in a convincingly civilian manner. “So, shall I wander off?”

Ordo was watching the security holocam that covered the area between the woman and the public refreshers twenty meters beyond. “Can you disrupt that holocam circuit for me on my mark?”

Mereel felt in his coat for something and pulled out a slim stylus. It was an EMP disruptor. “I can do it without leaving my seat, ner vod.”

“Okay, I’ll give you a reminder to kill the cam when I’m five meters from her.”

Mereel tapped his ear. “Comlink on.”

Ordo took a few slows breaths. He had removed the folding stock from the Verpine rifle; it was now short enough to conceal under a document holder. He looked like any other anonymous, helmeted, convalescing clone trooper playing office boy and carting archived flimsi around.

“Go,” Ordo said, and stood up.

He walked toward the refreshers, which took him on a path past the Madiry woman.

“Mereel, kill the cam.”