[Republic Commando] - 03(161)

-Sitrep from RC-1138, Boss, to General Jusik



Kyrimorut, Mandalore, 499 days after Geonosis

“You said you wanted a laboratory.” Mereel was running out of patience, and he’d managed to show a remarkable amount to Ko Sai given that he wanted to kill her. “This is a laboratory.”

The Kaminoan scientist couldn’t quite bring herself to step into the structure. Etain tried to encourage her.

“This is as good as you’re going to get for the time being,” she said. “And it means you don’t have to wait for a conventional lab to be built. This is Mandalore, after all.”

“It’s an agricultural trailer.” Ko Sai sounded crushed. Etain was used to all the subtle nuances in her tone now, and the Kaminoan voice wasn’t wholly sweetness and serenity any more than their character was. It was just harder for a human being to hear. “This is used for animals.”

“Don’t tempt me to state the obvious,” said Mereel. “It’s a mobile genetics unit, and I don’t see what difference it makes whether it’s racing odupiendos or humans that you’re assessing. Except the dupies are worth a lot more.”

Etain thought. Mereel had done well to get hold of it. But Ko Sai had Tipoca standards. Reminding her that she could extract DNA with the pots, pans, and household chemicals in the kitchen wasn’t going to help. She lowered her head and walked back into the house.

Mereel shook his head. “Etain, this is what they use at the racetracks. Those guys are as tight on genome identification as any Kaminoan, right along with drug testing. This is just a mini version of what a half-decent university would have.”

“I know,” she said. He sounded like a husband who’d bought his wife a totally unsuitable gift and was hurt to find she didn’t like it. “That’s the downside of finding the one thing that motivates her and taking away everything else.”

“Okay, we could build a lab like she had on Dorumaa, but that’s months away.”

“And we don’t really intend for her to do any worthwhile Jedi genome research, do we?”

“No, but we certainly want her to design a delivery system for regulating my genes.”

“I think she’s cracking up.”

Mereel held up his hands as if he didn’t want to hear. “Excuse me while I gag.”

“She’s no use to us insane.”

“If you’ve got any ideas for soothing her troubled soul, other than calling Kamino or the Arkanians and negotiating a deal, or even doing the same with the Chancellor, then you’re doing better than me.”

Etain was learning more than she ever wanted to about genetics. Many genes, Ko Sai liked to tell her, controlled aging. Etain didn’t just see the enormity of the task facing Mereel; she also saw how many things might go wrong for her unborn child. In both, all she could do was take it a day at a time. She went after Ko Sai and tried to inject a little enthusiasm into her.

“You managed with your lab on Dorumaa,” Etain said.

“And that was pretty small, too. You’ve got all the imaging and analysis stuff. Isn’t that a start?”

The Kaminoan sat in the room she had made her sanctuary, a windowless storeroom where she could avoid direct sunlight, and shuffled her datapads into a neat pile. She didn’t need locking up any longer. She’d shown no inclination to escape and never left the building unless Mereel made her; it was too bright and dry here for her liking.

“That’s the problem, Jedi,” she said. “It’s a start. Not a progression or a continuation. Beginning again is very hard sometimes.”

Etain wondered how much difference it would make if she knew her own research still existed, and then imagined Mereel’s reaction if she blew one of his main negotiating points. She almost dropped a hint. Almost.

“There’s always a commercial lab like Arkanian Micro…”

“They would never use my methodology. It’s too slow for them. They’re bulk producers. We all have our niche in the market.”

Etain wondered what hatcheries that could churn out a few million clones counted as if not bulk, then. But Ko Sai was right: ten years was longer than most customers wanted to wait.

“What would you want, ideally?” Etain asked. “Better imaging equipment, more computing power, and lab droids.”

Etain took a datapad from her robes and slid it in front of the scientist. It was newly published research from an eminent embryologist on expression of some gene whose code number Etain couldn’t even memorize, but it was the kind of material that was as exciting to Ko Sai as the latest celebrity gossip holozine would be to most Coruscanti holovid fans. It distracted her. She glanced at the author’s name.