The Omega boys, like all squads, were well attuned to one anther’s sensitivities. They knew Skirata was hanging around to talk to Darman on his own. Niner shoved Atin and Fi toward the doors. “See you later, Sarge.”
There was no question of Darman joining them for a last day out in town. They knew where he’d want to spend his time. Skirata waited for the briefing room doors to close and slid off the table to stand in front of Darman’s seat.
“Now, son, anything troubling you?”
“No, Sarge.”
“Etain’s off to Qiilura for a few months, to start the rundown of the garrison.”
Darman actually smiled. “That’s a safe deployment compared with the jobs she’s pulled recently. I’m glad.”
“She’s hanging around the barracks waiting for you.” Darman seemed relieved. He took a deep breath and grinned, but it was that smile Skirata had seen on many mercenaries’ faces before they left for a new battlefield.
Fierfek, should I tell this boy now? Should I tell him he has a kid on the way? What if something happens to him before he gets a chance to find out?
Skirata took a sudden and impulsive risk. He could square it with Zey later, like the bill for the anti-terror operation. Always better to beg forgiveness than ask permission. “You can go to Qiilura with her if you want.”
Darman shut his eyes. The pain showed on his face. “I’ve had that choice before, Sarge.”
“You love her, though?”
“Yes.”
“I can make this happen.” Maybe it wouldn’t be right for you, son. But it’s your choice. “All you have to do is say the word, and Corr will take your place in the squad. He’s still around. Zey’s letting me train him.”
Darman let out a long breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes still shut. When he opened them, they were brimming with tears.
“Qiilura’s safe. My squad deploys in the front line. How can I not be there with them? You could have walked away from Kamino with a fortune and never given us another thought, but you couldn’t do it, either.”
“That was different. I was washed up, a di’kutla-“
“No. You were loyal.”
“You sure about this?” Of course you’re sure. Your loyalty is overwhelming, too. That’s how the stinking Republic uses you. “I won’t think any less of you if you go.”
“But I’ll think less of me.”
“Okay, no need to tell her, then. It was my idea, not hers. And Ordo will make sure you two can stay in touch whenever you want.”
Darman brushed the tip of his nose and sniffed hard. “You always put us first.”
“I always will.”
“We know.”
Yes. He always would. “There’s two ways you can think of females in wartime, son. One is to get obsessed and let them take your mind off your work, and that gets you killed. The other is to focus on them as what you’re really fighting for, and draw strength from knowing they’re going to be there for you when you get home.” He tapped Darman’s cheek a few times with the flat of his hand, firm but paternal. “You know which you’re going to choose, don’t you, Dar?”
“Yes, Sarge.”
“Good lad.”
Skirata knew that Darman might never arrive home, throw his kit bag on the hall floor, and sob on his wife’s shoulder, relieved and grateful and swearing it would be his last tour of duty. But he’d make sure he brought him as close to that sweet normality as a cloned soldier could ever come.
At least Etain understood what a soldier went through. All Skirata had to do was make sure the kid was safe when he was born, and educate him properly. Jinart had held up her end of the bargain and would see that Etain was taken care of on Qiilura. The shapeshifter understood Skirata’s obsession with looking after his tribe. She was doing the same thing herself. They were both beleaguered fighters with no love for the Republic, just an uneasy tolerance.
“Go on, then, son.” Skirata nodded toward the doors. “Go and find Etain. Have a day out. Be a regular couple for a few hours and forget you’re soldiers. Just be discreet, that’s all.”
Darman smiled and seemed to brighten. He was a resilient lad. “Sarge,” he said. “How can I forget I’m a soldier? I don’t know how to be anything else.”
Skirata watched him go and wondered when the desire to tell him would overwhelm him and it would slip out. Maybe Etain would find the strain too great, too. It was a pity that something that was a source of joy to ordinary people was so dangerous for Darman and Etain.
It was a rotten war. You should have grown used to all that by now, you fool. But he doubted he ever would.