[Republic Commando] - 02(72)

“Fierfek.” Darman’s shoulders sagged a little. He got up and took the tray from the droid, looking pink-faced and annoyed. He peeled back the lids and inspected the contents as if they were unstable explosives, and she felt the moment was now lost.

“Is it dead?” Etain asked.

“If it isn’t, it’s not getting up again anytime soon.”

She chewed a test-mouthful thoughtfully. “Could be worse.”

“Ration cubes . .”

“Oh, that brings back memories.”

“Now you know why we’ll eat anything.”

“I remember the bread, too. Ugh.”

He prodded something in the container with his fork, looking concerned. “You did reach out to me in the Force, didn’t you? I wasn’t imagining that.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Why?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“How would I know? I’m not sure if I know that much about you.”

“I think you do, Dar.”

Darman suddenly took exceptional interest in the remains of the steak, which might have been nerf after all. “I don’t think anyone believed females would matter to us, given our life expectancy. And it wasn’t relevant to combat.”

That was freshly agonizing. Of all the injustices piled on these clones who had never been given choices, that was the worst: the denial of any individual future, of hope itself. If they beat the odds of battle, they were still doomed to lose the war against time. Darman would probably be dead in thirty years, and she wouldn’t even be halfway through her life by then.

“I bet Kal thought it was important.”

Darman chewed his lip and averted his gaze. She wasn’t sure if he was embarrassed or if he simply didn’t know what she was really asking.

“He never mentioned what to do about generals,” he said quietly.

“My Master never specifically mentioned soldiers, either.”

“I hear you ignore orders anyway.”

“I was afraid I’d never see you again, Dar. But you’re here now, and that’s all that matters.”

She held her hand out to him. He hesitated for a moment and then reached across the table and took it.

“We could be dead tomorrow, both of us,” she said. “Or the next day, or next week. That’s war.” She thought of the other Fi, whose life had ebbed away in her arms. “And I don’t want to die without telling you that I missed you every day since you left, and that I love you, and that I don’t believe what I was taught about attachment any more than you should believe that you were bred only to die for the Republic.”

This was breaking all the rules.

But the war had broken all the rules of peacekeeping Jedi and a civilized Republic anyway. The Force wouldn’t be thrown into turmoil if a mediocre Jedi and a cloned soldier who had no rights broke just one more.

“I never stopped thinking about you, either,” said Darman. “Not for a moment.”

“So … how long does it take two squads to finish their meals in the bar?”

“Long enough, I think,” said Darman.





11


I’d rather have little Jedi like Barden and Etain working with us than the likes of Zey. They’re sharp, no preconceptions, no agenda. And they’re more concerned with pulling their weight in the team than all this philosophical osik about the dark side. Zey might be a seasoned man, but he seems to want respect from me just because he can open jars of caf with his mind.

—Kal Skirata, having a quiet drink with Captain Jailer Obrim, well away from prying eyes

Retail sector, Quadrant B-85, nine days later, observation vehicle in position overlooking warehouse space, 1145 hours, 380 days after Geonosis

Jusik was enjoying himself.

“So,” he said, and let the trendy dark visor slide down his nose so he could look over the top. “Do I look like a lowlife taxi pilot?”

“Pretty convincing,” .Fi said. He wondered if Jusik ever had the sense to be scared. “Do I look like a fare?”

Sev, sitting beside Jusik in the taxi’s front seat, had a detached DC-17 scope balanced on the vessel’s console and patched into a datapad by a thin yellow wire. He was pinging, as Skirata called it. Each time a delivery transport or other craft passed through the dead-end canyon of warehouses that lay beneath the retail levels above, Sev checked the registration transponder against CSF’s database. He also checked the cargo with the scope’s sensor scan.

Fi was impressed by the ease with which Fixer and Atin had set up the remote link without CSF spotting it. They hadn’t even had to call in Ordo to sort it out. Ordo had melted into the city again two days ago, no mean feat for an ARC trooper captain.