[Republic Commando] - 03(128)

Tropix island, Dorumaa, 478 days after Geonosis

Etain felt something scared and abandoned rippling through the Force, like someone running after her and calling her name, but who was never there when she turned around.

It’s not Dar. It can’t be, not now. I have to see him again.

She tried to identify its meaning as she walked along the bleached planks of the marina toward the berth where Skirata’s ship was moored. Whatever it was, it was unhappy and it would be coming her way, so she slowed down, concentrating to make absolutely sure nothing had happened to Dar-man.

“Ordo,” she said, “something’s really wrong.”

He seemed to have learned a lot of restraint very fast. The vague warning didn’t spark a diatribe on why she needed to narrow the range and work on making the Force a little more specific. “Here, or elsewhere?”

“I’m not sensing immediate danger.”

“I’ll put in a status check to everyone, just to be certain.” He checked his comlink. “I’ve had one troubling message today, and I doubt it’ll be the last.”

Moored at the farthest end of the pontoon was a stream-lined dark green vessel with a curving transparisteel dome, about forty-five meters long, rising and falling on the swell.

From the position-closest to the mouth of the harbor-Etain got the idea that Skirata was always ready for a fast getaway. Ordo approached it as if he was walking into a fight, leaving a wake of anger, unhappiness, and more fear than she’d ever detected in him before.

“I’m not looking forward to seeing her, either, Ordo.”

“I didn’t mean Ko Sai. But I can think of better ways to occupy my time than begging her for help. She had the power of life and death over us once, and I’m not handing it back to her now.”

“This is the first time I’ve met a Kaminoan,” Etain said. Barman mentioned them very rarely, and usually in terms of keeping out of their way, like a grumpy Master at the Jedi academy. “But I can probably tell you if she’s lying. Her only use to you is if she knows how to stop the accelerated aging, isn’t it? Because you already have all her research. You could hire someone else to crunch the gene sequences.”

“Oh, she knows that, too.”

It really was a beautiful late afternoon. The sun was low on the horizon, with just enough gilded clouds to add a little punctuation to the sky. There was something about seeing beauty while struggling with dark thoughts that was uniquely upsetting, like being shut out from the world. Etain couldn’t stop worrying about the disturbance in the Force that was close to Darman. She’d have to contact him or go crazy worrying, but in the meantime she made do with reaching out to him, hoping he wasn’t too preoccupied to feel it.

As she followed Ordo down onto the pontoon that stretched out into the harbor, she could see faint cockpit lights on the ship.

“What does Aay’han mean, Ordo?”

“It’s a state of mind. An emotion.” He walked a little way ahead of her now, not a clone captain at all, just a young man in plain blue pants, sport shirt, and sun visor who could have been one of the professional slingball coaches at the resort. With most of his features obscured, even Zey might not have recognized him except by that very upright walk. “Enjoying time with loved ones but suddenly recalling those who’ve passed to the manda, and still feeling the pain, but embracing it.”

The concept hit Etain hard enough to elicit a kick from the baby. She wasn’t sure whether aay’han upset her or if she craved that emotional intensity, but it seemed the polar opposite of the Jedi avoidance of attachment, and gave her an insight into why the ancient mistrust between Jedi and Mandalorian never healed. The two communities seemed only to have areas where they were identical, and areas where they were diametrically opposed, with no regions of neutrality or apathy. It made for uncomfortable relations.

Ordo jumped onto the flat section of Aay’han’s casing and reached into an open hatch. Someone she couldn’t see passed him a long strip of durasteel sheet, and he hooked the curved end over the hatch coaming to form a brow onto the pontoon.

“Up you come,” he said, gesturing to take her hand. “Can’t have you leaping onto decks at the moment.”

Etain could easily have Force-jumped across the whole pontoon and landed safely, pregnant or not, but it was such a touching gesture that she accepted it graciously and walked onto the hull. Ordo had his moments. On the other side of the cockpit dome, Mereel and Skirata sat with legs outstretched, leaning back against the transparisteel and passing a carton of some drink back and forth between them. Both men were staring out to sea, lost in thought.