Sooner or later was the problem, as always. Time was the enemy on every level. Ko Sai wouldn’t have just the Separatists hunting her. The Kaminoans had to know she’d skipped with their data because if Mereel could see it was missing, they’d have worked that out a year ago. But they wouldn’t dare tell their main customer-the Republic-that they were in trouble. They’d want to get her back quietly and without fuss. They’d have engaged bounty hunters, too, if they had any sense. Their economy depended on it.
And the Arkanians, Kamino’s closest rival, knew she was missing. Everyone who mattered did; gossip in the industry was hard to control. Cloning had gone underground to beat the ban, and there were plenty of companies that’d want the top aiwha-bait on their staff, so the Nulls might be elbowing a dozen pursuers out of the way to get to her if they didn’t stay ahead of the pack.
“She’s on the run from at least three interested parties, then,” Ordo said. “This is getting crazy. Do you think Lama Su is using the excuse about the end of the current cloning contract to cover the fact that he’s lost her data and now it’s crunch time? How critical is it to production?”
“I don’t care,” Mereel said, “as long I get my hands on her skinny gray neck and she hands over whatever it takes to give you and me and all our vode a full life span.”
TK-0 nudged Mereel. “Are we boring you? You’re very quiet…”
“We’re meditating,” Mereel said. “We’re very spiritual people, we Mando ‘ade. Communing with the manda.”
“I can feel that from here,” said Gaib. “When do we get paid?”
Mereel slapped two fifty-thousand-credit chips on the table. “You can keep the change if you find me the freighter pilot who delivered the kit to Dorumaa.”
“The Arkanians might pay us more.”
“But not as much as the Kaminoans …”
“Is that who you’re working for?”
“Look,” said Mereel. Ordo braced: his brother had that edge in his voice that usually preceded skating on very thin ice for the sheer thrill of it. He was always the one who liked rapid-roping from the highest point in Tipoca City, and he had broken bones to show for it. “Only the Kaminoans can clone legally. Everyone else is a chakaar who threatens their business interests. Get it?”
“Not really.”
Mereel managed a little puff of exasperation. Ordo got ready to shut him up with deafening high-pitched feedback on his helmet audio.
“Okay, we’re Republic agents,” Mereel said wearily. “Stamping out illegal cloning wherever we find it. Because Mando ‘ade care about law and order.”
I’m going to slap the osik out of you one day, Mer’ika-Don ‘t do’ this to me.
TK-0 bristled, which was no mean feat for a droid. “This is hardly the time to get snotty and organicist, is it? I was only asking. If you have a deal with Kamino, fine.”
“I think it’s time you tightened his nuts,” Ordo said to Gaib. “Seeing as you’re his mechanic.”
“Find me the pilot who did the last leg of the journey, Teekay, my little beskar’ad, and I’ll pay them as well.” Mereel took one of the credit chips from the table and flipped it between his gloved fingers like a conjuring trick before making it vanish up his sleeve. “No penalties. Not the pilot’s fault. Got it? That’s the Republic’s problem, not ours.”
“Okay. Can do.”
“And I want it by the time I finish the modifications to our ship.”
“Aww, hang on-” said Gaib.
“Forty-eight hours.” Mereel stood the remaining fifty-thousand-credit piece on one end and flicked it over with his forefinger. Gaib grabbed it with impressive speed. “Back here. Pilot’s name and location.”
“Don’t listen to him, we’ll do it,” Gaib said, checking the chip with a counterfeit scanner and batting away TK-O’s extended manipulator arm. “Trust us.”
“I do.” Mereel patted TK-0’s durasteel casing with slow emphasis, making him sound like a gong. “I’m very trusting.”
Ordo switched back to internal comlinks. “Quit while you’re ahead, ner vod…”
The two tech hunters got up to leave. All Ordo could think of was that time was wasting, and more interested parties seemed to have a reason for hunting down Ko Sai every day.
But who s she working for? Who s bankrolling her?
If the Tipoca hatcheries found they couldn’t replace the critical tech, and the Republic hadn’t paid the next installment, there were several contractors waiting to fill that gap.