[Republic Commando] - 03(67)

Fixer took a probe from his belt and slid it into the computer’s port, then stood in a pose of frozen concentration as he watched the screen. “Business is booming,” he said. “They really ought to shut the system down at night and password-protect the start-up.”

Scorch prowled, taking flimsi out of files. Anyone who still used flimsi either had data they didn’t want to commit to a sliceable medium or was neurotic about keeping backups for the tax office. “And that would slow you down how long, exactly? Thirty seconds?”

Fixer grunted meaningfully. Sev, half his attention on points of entry and exit, and the other half on Fixer’s HUD view of the scrolling spreadsheets, could hear Boss clearing his throat. Their sergeant was a hundred meters away, waiting in a TIV-a special ops traffic interdiction vessel-that masqueraded as a packet courier, and the disembodied sound of someone coughing and swallowing irritated Sev a great deal.

“Boss …”

“Problem, Sev?”

“You, Boss …”

“When I can take my bucket off, I’ll gargle with bacta. Got a cold. Okay?”

Fixer came to life again. “That’s the contents of his data storage copied across. Scorch?”

Scorch was still sifting through a pile of flimsi, moving it from one stack to another and pausing to stare at each sheet. He was scanning the contents on his HUD holorecorder. “This is just old stuff. Might as well grab what I can, though.”

Boss’s voice rasped on the comlink. “This cesspit is orbiting another waterworld, Delta … Da Soocha. See a trend?”

Sev heard a faint creak and padded up to the interior doors. He listened carefully, then pressed a sound sensor to the panels. “Prepare to bang out. I detect signs of unintelligent life, and it’s not Scorch …”

Fixer shut down the computer, grabbed a trashy ornament-a souvenir faux crystal vase from Galactic City with long-dead insects piled up in the bottom-and broke open a cash credit box to pocket the contents. Vau had taught them to make infiltrations look like robberies if they could, and Sev remained impressed by his old training sergeant’s unerring eye for the choicest deposit boxes on Mygeeto. Whatever Vau did, he did it exceptionally well.

He s the best. Why should he expect any less from us? He made me what I am. He cares, whatever Skirata thinks.

“Okay, we’re gone,” said Fixer, and vanished through the doors with Scorch. Sev backed out after them, DC-17 aimed, in case the owner walked in and became another unfortunate statistic in a lawless sector. Burglars didn’t usually wear Katarn armor; it would have been hard to leave a live witness.

The three commandos sprinted down the road-no street lighting, all properties shuttered, no prying eyes-and down a dark alley to catch up with Boss. The TIV sat like a crouching animal in a gap between two repulsor trucks. The hatch opened, and they piled inside.

“Okay, let’s thin out and run through the data.” Boss punched in the coordinates to take the TIV into a freight lane out to Nar Shaddaa and held his hand out for the datachip.

“C’mon, Fixer. Got to transmit it back to base for General Jusik to sift through.”

Fixer dropped it into Boss’s palm. “Bet I find it before he does.”

“You can have a techies’ race between you,” Scorch said, taking off his helmet and rolling his head to ease his neck muscles. “He’s okay, ol’ Jusik.”

Fixer pounced on the chip as soon as Boss had transmitted the contents and slotted it into his datapad. Sev, sliding across the bench seat in the crew bay to lean on his shoulder, noted that there were an awful lot of freight and passenger transactions.

Fixer shrugged him away. “Gerroff. Go pester Scorch.” Sev heard his comlink click off and Fixer was in a world of his own, searching for all traffic that came from or connected with Vaynai in the last six months.

Sev eased off his helmet and gazed at the starscape. It was pretty. There were things out there he wanted to see and do, and probably never would, but he was determined not to think about it or else he’d end up a whiner like Fi, always regretting what he couldn’t have. His life was too short to waste it like that. It took an effort to steer away from speculation and longing, but Sev prided himself on his single-mindedness even when it hurt-especially when it hurt.

“So what’s Zey’s problem with Skirata?” Scorch asked, kicking the back of Sev’s seat. The benches were arranged . one behind the other. “Doesn’t he trust him?”

“Doesn’t trust him not to make tatsushi out of Ko Sai,” Boss murmured. “Papa Kal got off to a bad start with the Kaminoans …”