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[Republic Commando] - 03(34)

By:Karen Traviss


“Drink this,” Skirata said, lifting Vau’s head with one hand and holding a beaker of the cube-sweetened hot water to his lips. Mird gave Skirata some grudging space but spread it-self down the length of Vau’s frame. “Get it in your gut, Walon, or I’ll have to heat your innards by shoving a blaster down your throat.”

Vau coughed, splashing a fine spray of spit in Skirata’s face. “I’m going … to tell everyone… what a soft chakaar you are, Kal.”

Well, his cognitive functions were just fine. No confused rambling there; Skirata ticked one more symptom off the first-aid list. “Can you feel any injuries?”

“Not yet… you look worse than me…”

“Come on.” Skirata slopped more liquid into his mouth. He felt wrecked now. “Get this down you.”

“Tell Delta?”

“Okay, yes.” Vau had a few saving graces: he knew his lads would be worried sick about him, and that they needed to know he’d been extracted. “Will do. Now what the shab was worth nearly freezing to death for?”

“What the shab,” Vau said hoarsely, “was worth nearly… killing yourself… to save me?”

“I wanted your armor. Better environment seals than mine, obviously. You could survive a sarlacc in that.”

Vau actually smiled. He didn’t do that often. He had very even, white teeth that proved he’d had a healthy and well-fed early childhood. “Birgaan … take a look inside …”

Ordo’s voice cut into the ship’s comlink system. “I’m heading for the RV point, Kal’buir. I’ve informed General Jusik that Vau’s inboard.”

“Good lad,” said Skirata.

“Good lad,” Vau chorused. “How much did this sub cost you?”

“Shut up and drink.”

Skirata waited until he’d forced three beakers of diluted energy cubes down Vau’s throat before giving in to an animal curiosity that overrode every weary ache and pulled muscle. He untied the bundle. As the contents spilled across the med-bay deck, there was only one word he could spit out.

“Wayii!”

Vau made a coughing sound that might have been laughter. He didn’t get a lot of practice at that. Skirata was transfixed by the tide of valuables, so much so that his hands were shaking when he unfastened the backpack’s assortment of pouches. What spilled out stifled any further comment. He knelt down on the deck, knowing his old ankle injury was screaming for a painkiller but far too engrossed in sorting through the booty to give it any time.

There was a lot here. A lot. Hundreds of thousands of credits’ worth. He stretched out his hand and rummaged cautiously. No-millions.

Skirata started making a mental inventory almost without thinking about it. Old habits died hard.

When he glanced over his shoulder, Vau was watching him, eyes half open as if he was nodding off. Mird kept guard, snuffling occasionally.

“Except for the inside pocket,” he said, “you can keep the lot.”

“What do you mean, keep the lot?”

“I’m not a thief. I took what was rightfully mine. The rest is… a donation to your clone welfare fund.”

“Walon,” Skirata said quietly, “this is something like forty million creds, at least.” Stunned or not, he could always compose himself enough to carry out a blisteringly accurate valuation. “You nearly died to get it. You sure about this? You’re still in shock. You…”

“Sure.”

“Sure?”

“Sure.”

“You liberated it for the lads? Walon, that’s…”

“I liberated it to cover my shebs,” Vau said.

Skirata nodded, suddenly unable to meet Vau’s eyes any longer. “Of course you did.”

“If the only items missing … are from the Vau deposit box, then it narrows down the suspects.” Vau reached out for the beaker and managed to get it to his lips. He spilled a lot of it, but that was okay. He was recovering fast. “Just made it look like good old-fashioned random thieving.”

“Your dad couldn’t touch you even if he did work out that you’d come back.”

It was clearly one admission too far for Vau. He was definitely embarrassed, not angry. “Look, Kal, when you were surviving on dead borrats and gravel and playing the working-class martyr, did nobody teach you how to steal like a professional?”

Vau usually didn’t have to do much to get Skirata fighting mad: breathing was normally enough. This time Skirata simply knelt there with his chin lowered, struggling to find the right words to tell Vau he was moved by his generosity.

“Thanks,” he said, fidgeting with a spectacular aurodium ingot. “Thanks, ner vod”