Okay, the government doesn’t want the public to see how many troops are brought back too seriously hurt even for the Mobile Surgical Units and medcenter ships to treat. Bad for citizens’ morale. Keep it all offworld.
But Kamino didn’t need licenses, did it? And if anyone wanted cloned organs to restore troopers to fighting health, Kamino was the obvious source. It was what the Kaminoans did. The Republic was now their only customer thanks to the decree.
A little bell started ringing at the back of Besany’s mind. She knew the sound of it: it was the finely tuned instinct familiar to anyone who’d spent time uncovering that which others wanted kept covered. She had no doubt that Captain Obrim and his CSF colleagues knew that bell only too well.
What was going on here?
Besany transferred the data to her own device, far more sections than she actually needed to disguise which information she was interested in, just in case data movement was being monitored. She needed to talk to Mereel, but this wasn’t the place.
She pocketed her datapad and took a late lunch far from the Treasury building.
Landing area 76B, Bogg V, Bogden system, 473 days after Geonosis
Aay’han sat on her dampers, looking scruffy. She’d been left in the water too long at one stage in her life: there was still a definite tide mark of encrusted growth even after a few searing atmospheric reentries. Mereel laughed and slapped his gauntlet against his thigh plate. Jusik just stood and stared.
“It’s a hybrid submarine, General.” Skirata took a piece of ruik root from his belt pouch and chewed it thoughtfully. He didn’t enjoy the perfumed taste, but the texture was soothing. “I didn’t charge her to the brigade budget, if that’s what’s worrying Zey.”
“It’s when you call me General that I worry, Sergeant…”
Jusik really didn’t look like a Jedi right then. Whatever it was about the Force that gave him an air of illuminated serenity had taken a walk. He looked grimly mundane.
“Bard’ika.” Skirata offered the kid a piece of root, but he waved it aside. “You’ve come an awful long way for just a chat, son.”
Jusik took a deep breath and trudged forward as if he knew how to get into a Deep Water. “Things are getting out of hand. I had to do something that’s … been a difficult decision.”
Skirata was a magnet for waifs and strays; if someone was looking for a sense of belonging, Skirata could make them feel they belonged like nobody else. It was the necessary skill of a sergeant, someone who could bond troops with the intensity of a family, but it was also the authority of a father, and he often couldn’t tell where one began and the other ended. He wasn’t sure that it mattered. Jusik-clever, lonely, and increasingly at odds with Jedi policy-radiated a need for acceptance: the result was inevitable. Skirata struggled to find the line between taking advantage of the Jedi’s vulnerability and getting the best deal for his clones.
Kal followed Jusik. “You can only do what you think is right, ad’ika.”
“Then I need you to level with me.”
“Be sure you want to be burdened with the answer, then.”
The port-side cargo hatch edged open, and Skirata ushered Jusik inside. Mereel tutted at an interruption from his comlink and paused to answer it.
In the crew lounge, Vau sat rubbing Mird’s head as it lay across his lap, and looked a much healthier color than he’d been hours earlier. He nodded gravely. The proceeds of the robbery were nowhere to be seen. Skirata sat down on one of the low tables, and Ordo and Mereel planted themselves to either side of Jusik on one of the couches. Jusik-Skirata’s height, a head shorter than any clone-was swamped by Munin Skirata’s green armor. Green for duty, black for justice, gold for vengeance: Mereel had opted for dark blue and Ordo for dark red, simply a matter of taste, but when they decided they had a specific cause then they might change the livery and add sigils. The word uniform didn’t have much meaning to Mandalorians.
Mereel was deep in conversation with his comlink pressed to his ear, and all Skirata heard was, “… that’s useful any-way … don’t worry … yes, whatever you get…” Then he handed the comlink to Ordo. From the way the lad’s face lit up, it was clear that Mereel had been talking to Besany Wennen. Skirata caught his eye and gestured to him that he was excused and he could take the call elsewhere. Ordo got up to stand by the aft engineering hatch, looking uncharacteristically embarrassed.
Skirata dragged the attention back to the conversation. “Ask away, Bard’ika”
Jusik’s face was all reluctance. “I can’t keep covering for you unless I know what you’re up to, Kal. And I know you’re not telling me things.”