Darman thought of the surgical expertise available to the Republic and just how much was medically possible these days-as long as you weren’t a meat-can like them.
I thought we were expensive assets. You’d think we’d be worth a little more spent on repairs.
“Come on, Dar.” Niner pulled him away, hooking his fingers into the back of his belt. “We’ll come back later.” Dar-man, reluctant to leave Fi in this cold and lonely place, put his hand on the tank again. “I’m not abandoning you, vod’ika. You didn’t abandon me on Qiilura, and I won’t leave you. Okay? I’m coming back. I promise.”
Fi didn’t react, but then Darman knew he wouldn’t. The point was that he’d said it, and that meant he’d do it. Reluctantly, he followed Niner back to the mess deck, and found a quiet corner to pour his heart out in a message to Etain.
He could have unburdened himself on his brothers, but they all knew what he was thinking anyway.
Kyrimorut, northern Mandalore, 480 days after Geonosis
Etain stepped out of Aay’han’s cargo hatch and looked upon a wilderness of ancient trees huddling together for warmth against a biting wind that swept off the plain. The palette of sunset colors was remarkably like the tropical is-land she’d just left, all intense violets and ambers, but the temperature difference was thirty degrees.
Despite what Skirata had said, it wasn’t unattractive. It was just dauntingly isolated.
“Okay, it’s not Coruscant,” Mereel said, offering her a hand down. “You can’t comm the local tapcaf for a banquet-to-your-door delivery. But in the warmer months, it’s beautiful. It really is.”
Etain tried to believe him. It didn’t matter, anyway: she’d be out of here in three months, maximum. For some reason, freezing her shebs off here-that was the right word, shebs, she knew that now-was a lot better than being exposed to the same temperatures on Qiilura. She had a connection with this place, however tenuous it was. There was something right about having the baby here. She understood all about bloodline and geography counting for little with Mandalorians, but it mattered to her because this was, technically, her son’s home.
But she couldn’t see any houses. There wasn’t a light or a road out there, just the wild landscape.
“They have tree houses here, don’t they?” she said, realization slowly dawning. Accessibility was an issue for a woman with a rapidly expanding waistline. “Like Wookiees.”
Mereel laughed. For a man whose crazy brother had just junked his chance at a normal life span, he didn’t seem too crushed. “Only in some places. Here, you need something a little more substantial in the winter. Think of it as your private retreat by the lake. Fishing, bracing country walks for a few hundred klicks …”
Skirata stuck his head out of the hatch. He had his comlink in one hand and seemed to be talking to someone who had dumped more bad news on him. He paused, oblivious that he was blocking the exit, and rubbed his forehead, eyes closed. He was back in his gold armor now, a regular Mando on home turf.
Enemy territory. Remember that. These people fight for the Seps.
Etain heard the word Fi a few times. He’s not dead. I’d know if he was. Then Skirata closed the link and keyed in another code, stepping out and wandering around the landing area with his free hand deep in his pocket, left leg dragging a little.
“Ah,” said Mereel, holding up a forefinger and cocking his head toward the sound of an approaching speeder. “Our gracious enabler.”
“Has Kal got a home here?” she asked. “Not until now,” Mereel answered. “I don’t understand.”
“He’s looking at retirement properties, let’s say. In the meantime, Rav Bralor’s looking after his interests.” That meant absolutely nothing to her. “Who’s he?”
“She. Another Cuy’val Dar.”
Skirata only trusted his own. Etain couldn’t blame him: it was a dangerous galaxy, and Skirata was playing a very risky game indeed, even here. She wondered how he bankrolled all this, and suspected General Zey was going to get a heart-stopping shock one day when the auditors went through the SO Brigade accounts.
But Skirata had Besany Wennen on the team now, which was … convenient. A Treasury agent always came in handy. And I think Kal’s taking risks? I’m a pregnant Jedi general, and here I am in enemy territory, paying a social visit, looking to them for safe haven. Force preserve us …
A mud-spattered speeder drew up alongside them, and a figure in beskar’gam, the traditional Mandalorian armor, jumped out of the hatch.