Republic Commando: Triple Zero

25

Of course I've planned a way out. I've been a mercenary since I was seven years old. You always plan for what happens when the current war is over. It's called an exit strategy, and mine's been in the planning a long, long time.

–Kal Skirata to Jailer Obrim, discussing the future in an uncertain galaxy

Coruscant Security Force Staff and Social Club, 0015 hours, 389 days after Geonosis

“Well, that was fun,” Jailer Obrim said, heaving himself onto a bar stool. The club was almost deserted now. “They don't drink much, your boys, do they?”

“They make up for it with eating.” Skirata was working out how he would deal with the current crisis. Jinart the Gurlanin had disappeared in that way that only shapeshifting Gurlanins could. She didn't have a comlink, and he wouldn't run into her eating a fried breakfast at the Kragget. He had to find another way of summoning her. “Enormous appetites. It's the accelerated aging that boosts their metabolisms.”

Obrim scratched his cheek, looking embarrassed. “I know, friend. I've not been through what you've been through with them, but anyone in our game will understand just how you feel.”

“Yeah.” But Darman has a son now. I'm angry that Etain let that happen without even asking him, but he has a son. Even if I never get hold of that Kaminoan aiwha-bait Ko Sai, he does have some kind of future now. “I'm sorry if I take it out on you sometimes.”

“Don't you ever worry about that.”

“Thanks.”

“What would you do if you could run the galaxy now, Kal? I mean anything.”

Skirata didn't even pause to think. “I'd stop the war right now,” he said. “Then I'd go back to Kamino and grab those gray freaks by their rotten skinny necks and make them engineer a normal life span for every single last one of our boys. Then I'd take the whole army home to Mandalore and spend the rest of my life making sure they had wives and families, and a purpose that was theirs, not some aruetii's private feud.”

“I thought you might say that,” Obrim said. “I ought to be getting home now. Last few days have been a bit rough on my wife. Y'know, never at home. Why don't you come around for dinner sometime?”

“I'd like that.”

“Can I drop you off?”

“I'm waiting for Ordo. He's talking to Besany.”

“I noticed.” Obrim just smiled. “He's a smart boy.”

Skirata was left contemplating a future that had seemed no more tangled than it ever had just a few hours ago, but was now totally upended. He stood up and threw his knife into the carvings around the bar a few times and thought about his bank account on Aargau, and the fact that Mereel was very close to finding Ko Sai. Skirata felt he was now in striking distance of making a better life for a handful of cloned soldiers—a tiny number out of so many, but that was all he could do. That had to be enough.

And he had an even sharper focus now. Darman had a son, and he would see that Darman was around to watch the boy grow up.

“Sorry I kept you, Kal'buir.” Ordo strode into the bar and attempted a smile, but winced at his split lip. “We can go now.”

“Everything working out with Besany?”

“Yes.”

“Just yes?”

“Ummm … I think it is.”

“Good.” He resisted the urge to interfere. “I have a question for you. I need to get hold of Jinart. How would I do that?”

“Easy. She's a spy. She monitors the GAR troop movements to and from Qiilura. I can put a message in the logistics system that will get her attention. Something subtle. Give me a time and place, and leave the rest to me.”

Skirata had to smile. Almost everything was easy for Ordo. “Back to the barracks then.”

“I have a question for you, too, Kal'buir.”

“Okay.”

“Is it true what Etain said? Did your sons disown you because you stayed on Kamino with us?”

Ordo wasn't stupid and he wasn't deaf. Skirata's family shame was the one thing he never wanted any of them to know about, and not only because it might make them feel guilty. He didn't want them to fear he might abandon them with equal ease.

“It's true, Ord'ika.”

“Why would you even think of paying such a terrible price for us?”

“Because you needed me. And I never regretted it for a second. My relationship with my … former family was as good as dead before you were even thought of. Don't you ever give it a second thought, because I'd do it again in a heartbeat. No question.”

“But I wish we had known.”

Do I have the right to keep another secret, then? “I'm sorry.”

“So apart from Darman's unborn son, is there anything else you keep from us?”

He'd heard him arguing with Etain, then. Skirata felt the most agonizing shame he had ever experienced in his life. His whole existence now rested on the absolute trust between him and his clone family. He couldn't bear to lose that.

“So you know what I'm going to ask of Jinart, then. I heard the news when you did, Ord'ika. And no, there is nothing else. I swore I would never lie to you, and I never have.” Skirata pointed to Ordo's matched blasters. “If I ever do, I'd rather you used those on me. Because being there for you was the only decent thing I ever did in my life. Understand?”

Ordo just stared at him. Skirata put both hands up on his shoulders and stood there in silence.

“Okay, son, tell me what I should do about Darman, and I'll do it.”

Ordo still had that look of blank appraisal, the expression he adopted when dismantling a new and fascinating puzzle. “I don't think the time is right. We have to do what's best for our brothers.”

It was the pragmatic thing to do. Skirata fastened his jacket and checked that his knife was in place, his ritual for leaving any building and walking out into the unknown night.

“Agreed, Ord'ika. Now all I need to do is have a little chat with General Zey.”

Arca Company Barracks, Special ForcesHQ, Coruscant, 395 days after Geonosis

It was an op order—an operational order—like many others they had been given. Niner glanced at the datapad and shrugged.

“Well, that'll be interesting,” he said. “Never worked with the Galactic Marines before.”

Skirata sat on the table in the briefing room, swinging his legs. Delta Squad had left that morning to prepare the battlefield—a nice military understatement for going ahead of the main assault and sabotaging strategic targets—on Skuumaa. Omega had drawn the slightly longer straw and had a similar task to carry out for the Marines.

“Everyone okay?” The question was directed at Darman as much as anybody. “Any questions?”

“No, Sarge.” Fi sounded a little subdued. Atin actually seemed more cheerful than Fi did, which was an interesting reversal of attitudes. “It'll be nice to see Commander Gett again.”

“Gett wants you embarked in Fearless by oh-seven hundred tomorrow. So if there's anything you want to do, do it today.” Skirata reached in his jacket pocket, took out four high denomination credit chips, and passed them around. “Go on. You know your way around the interesting bits of Coruscant now. It'll be a few months before you're back here.”

“Thanks, Sarge.” Atin stood up to leave. “You'll still be here when we get back today?”

“I always see you off, don't I?”

“Yeah, Sarge. You do.”

Fi took his chip and pressed it back into Skirata's hand. “Thanks. I've got to do some calibration on my HUD. I'll stick around the barracks today.”

“He's gone all sober,” Niner said. “Don't know what's come over him.”

“I'm an unsung hero,” said Fi. “I've got my public image to protect.”

The Omega boys, like all squads, were well attuned to one anther's sensitivities. They knew Skirata was hanging around to talk to Darman on his own. Niner shoved Atin and Fi toward the doors. “See you later, Sarge.”

There was no question of Darman joining them for a last day out in town. They knew where he'd want to spend his time. Skirata waited for the briefing room doors to close and slid off the table to stand in front of Darman's seat.

“Now, son, anything troubling you?”

“No, Sarge.”

“Etain's off to Qiilura for a few months, to start the rundown of the garrison.”

Darman actually smiled. “That's a safe deployment compared with the jobs she's pulled recently. I'm glad.”

“She's hanging around the barracks waiting for you.”

Darman seemed relieved. He took a deep breath and grinned, but it was that smile Skirata had seen on many mercenaries' faces before they left for a new battlefield.

Fierfek, should I tell this boy now? Should I tell him he has a kid on the way? What if something happens to him before he gets a chance to find out?

Skirata took a sudden and impulsive risk. He could square it with Zey later, like the bill for the anti-terror operation. Always better to beg forgiveness than ask permission. “You can go to Qiilura with her if you want.”

Darman shut his eyes. The pain showed on his face.

“I've had that choice before, Sarge.”

“You love her, though?”

“Yes.”

“I can make this happen.” Maybe it wouldn't be right for you, son. But it's your choice. “All you have to do is say the word, and Corr will take your place in the squad. He's still around. Zey's letting me train him.”

Darman let out a long breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes still shut. When he opened them, they were brimming with tears.

“Qiilura's safe. My squad deploys in the front line. How can I not be there with them? You could have walked away from Kamino with a fortune and never given us another thought, but you couldn't do it, either.”

“That was different. I was washed up, a di'kutla—”

“No. You were loyal.”

“You sure about this?” Of course you're sure. Your loyalty is overwhelming, too. That's how the stinking Republic uses you. “I won't think any less of you if you go.”

“But I'll think less of me.”

“Okay, no need to tell her, then. It was my idea, not hers. And Ordo will make sure you two can stay in touch whenever you want.”

Darman brushed the tip of his nose and sniffed hard. “You always put us first.”

“I always will.”

“We know.”

Yes. He always would. “There's two ways you can think of females in wartime, son. One is to get obsessed and let them take your mind off your work, and that gets you killed. The other is to focus on them as what you're really fighting for, and draw strength from knowing they're going to be there for you when you get home.” He tapped Darman's cheek a few times with the flat of his hand, firm but paternal. “You know which you're going to choose, don't you, Dar?”

“Yes, Sarge.”

“Good lad.”

Skirata knew that Darman might never arrive home, throw his kit bag on the hall floor, and sob on his wife's shoulder, relieved and grateful and swearing it would be his last tour of duty. But he'd make sure he brought him as close to that sweet normality as a cloned soldier could ever come.

At least Etain understood what a soldier went through. All Skirata had to do was make sure the kid was safe when he was born, and educate him properly. Jinart had held up her end of the bargain and would see that Etain was taken care of on Qiilura. The shapeshifter understood Skirata's obsession with looking after his tribe. She was doing the same thing herself. They were both beleaguered fighters with no love for the Republic, just an uneasy tolerance.

“Go on, then, son.” Skirata nodded toward the doors. “Go and find Etain. Have a day out. Be a regular couple for a few hours and forget you're soldiers. Just be discreet, that's all.”

Darman smiled and seemed to brighten. He was a resilient lad. “Sarge,” he said. “How can I forget I'm a soldier? I don't know how to be anything else.”

Skirata watched him go and wondered when the desire to tell him would overwhelm him and it would slip out. Maybe Etain would find the strain too great, too. It was a pity that something that was a source of joy to ordinary people was so dangerous for Darman and Etain.

It was a rotten war. You should have grown used to all that by now, you fool. But he doubted he ever would.

Skirata had plenty to occupy him while Omega was away—two datapads' worth and then some. He took a deep breath and opened his comlink.

“Ordo? Mereel? Let's go hunt some Kaminoan aiwha bait. We have plans to make. Oya!”

He was a skilled bounty hunter: they were the best intelligence troops in the galaxy.

There was nowhere in the galaxy that Ko Sai could hide from them.