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[Republic Commando] - 03(132)

By:Karen Traviss


That scared Etain more than any signs of violence lurking in Skirata. It was the void she’d sensed, and it explained everything. No wonder the Kaminoans showed no hint of brutality or anger: they just didn’t see other species as anything more than a fascinating living puzzle whose pieces could be taken apart and reassembled closer to their idea of perfection.

Skirata wasn’t going to get anywhere, Etain knew it. It was possible to beat basic information out of people if they had it, but any complex answer-or trying to force them to do complex work-needed a bit of cooperation.

“Ko Sai, what other cloning projects have your people worked on?” Etain asked,

“A number of armies, as well as civilian workforces-miners for Subterrel, agricultural laborers for Folende, even hazmat workers. Our specialty is high-specification, large-volume production for labor-intensive industries where droids are inappropriate, and a product that’s tailored exactly to the client’s needs.”

“Is all that sales-babble in your brochure?” Mereel asked. “Because I think I’m going to puke. Perhaps you’d like me to leverage your synergy with my vibroblade.”

Ordo put a restraining hand on his brother’s arm and said nothing. Etain caught Skirata’s eye; he shrugged and let her continue. Ko Sai would never see living beings in her hatcheries, only product, and so she could never feel pressured by guilt or shame.

She was, however, indecently proud of her reputation as the finest geneticist in the galaxy. That was a great height from which to climb down.

“So what would your personal reputation gain, or lose, if you just told us how the aging process could be normalized?” said Etain. “Or is this about protecting a secret industrial process?”

“Every cloning facility knows how to mature clones rapidly,” Ko Sai said. “But there’s no advantage in adding a feature that the client doesn’t ask to have incorporated.”

Etain’s temper had never been brought fully under control by Jedi discipline, and hormonal upheaval in the last few months didn’t help. “Isn’t it your role to advise them on the options?”

“Life expectancy in a war is compromised for everyone.”

“If you want to create an ideal army, though, I can understand rapid maturation-but it seems odd to allow that deterioration to continue once the product is at its peak.” Etain threw Ko Sai’s detached business-speak back at her. “Wouldn’t you want the product to maintain optimum efficiency for as long as possible? Preserve them at their best? I think you didn’t halt the process because you have no idea how. And in that case, we have no use for you.”

It was out of Etain’s mouth before she could stop it. Skirata didn’t twitch a muscle, but Ko Sai wasn’t looking at him anyway. She was blinking and swaying her head slightly, all ethereal grace, and Etain would never have picked her out in a crowd as a supremacist and a sadistic tormentor of children.

“Our client wasn’t concerned about their longevity,” she said. “Just that they should be ready when he needed them.” Etain sensed the Kaminoan’s defensiveness and resentment. She pushed carefully, trying to steer that arrogant intellect into thinking and believing what she suggested. Jedi mind influence was a legitimate weapon. “And your product isn’t as reliable as you tell your customer, is it? You don’t manage to identify all the defective clones for culling. They’re not blindly obedient anyway. Some even desert. You oversold the genetic factor and failed to mention that human beings aren’t that predictable.”

Ko Sai didn’t respond. Maybe she was considering the idea that she was less than perfect, which must have stung a bit. But this wasn’t about winning a playground argument. Etain had to help Skirata establish whether Ko Sai could undo what she’d done, and then if she could be made to do it. What did Ko Sai really dread? Where could that lever be placed to shift her?

“I think I’ve had enough,” said Ordo. He got up from the sofa and walked around behind it, then leaned over Mereel with his hand held out. “Give me the datachips, ner vod”

Mereel opened the pouch on his belt and handed over a tight-wrapped block of storage media, bundled together in a small colorful brick. Etain watched Ordo cautiously: he walked a fine line between self-control and chaos far more often than anyone seemed to realize, and news of Fi’s condition hadn’t helped.

“Are you going to collate the files?” Mereel asked. “No.” Ordo unwrapped the brick of plastoid cupped in his hand. “Just having a moment of clarity.” He looked across to Ko Sai. “Your entire life’s work contained in a thousand cubic centimeters of plastoid, Chief Scientist. Not unlike mine, in fact.”