“Not in any detail. Viruses. From the building specification, anyway.” He’d policed the construction crews, who were also all thieves. “Hazardous materials.”
If Uthan was surprised, she gave no indication whatsoever. “Exactly,” she said. “And I confess I’m somewhat disturbed by the events of recent days. Lik Ankkit assures me my security is guaranteed, but I would really welcome your assessment of the situation.” Her tone hardened just a fraction: still syrup, but now with gritty, sharp crystals in it. “Is this project under any threat? And can you maintain its security?”
Hokan didn’t hesitate. “Yes, I believe your facility is vulnerable.” He was a master of his trade. He saw no reason to lose his reputation over a restriction not of his making. “And no, I can’t guarantee anything with the level and quality of staff that I have.”
Uthan sat back with controlled slowness. “Last matter first. Do you not have the resources to employ them? Ankkit’s contract is quite generous.”
“That generosity has not filtered down to my operation.”
“Ah. Perhaps we should shorten the supply chain in the interests of efficiency.”
“I have no opinion on that. Ankkit’s welcome to his cut as long as I have the tools to do the job.”
“That wasn’t quite the cut I had in mind for Lik Ankkit.” She smiled. There was no warmth in it. “And you believe the recent incursions are related to this facility?”
“Circumstantial evidence. Yes.” Hokan returned the smile and suspected his was a few degrees cooler. If she’d do this to Ankkit, she’d do it to him. “It’s a big planet. Why the Imbraani region? Why send Jedi agents?”
“Have you located any forces?”
“No. I’ve identified at least two points of hard contact and one downed vessel, though.”
“Hard contact?”
“Situations when soldiers actually engage each other.” Not that his rabble of mercenaries rated the distinction of soldiers. “I can’t gauge numbers.”
“If I were to arrange for you to have command of Separatist droids and their officers from our nearby garrison, would that make your task easier?”
“I take no sides. I won’t lie to you and pretend to support your cause.”
“You have military experience, of course. There’s no disgrace in being a mercenary.”
“I’m Mandalorian. It’s in my soul as well as part of my education. No, there’s no shame in it as long as you give of your best.”
Uthan suddenly melted into what seemed to be a thoroughly genuine and sympathetic half smile. “I think I should share something with you. It might be distressing.” There were still hard edges in her unctuous tone. “The Republic has created an army of cloned troops. Millions. They have been bred to fight and serve Jedi generals without question, altered to be their willing servants. They have had no normal life and they age very rapidly—if they survive being wasted in foolish battles. Do you know whose genetic material was used to create these unfortunate slaves?”
“No, I don’t.” Hokan was never embarrassed to admit ignorance. That was for small men. “Tell me.”
“Jango Fett.”
“What?”
“Yes. The finest Mandalorian warrior of his day has been used to churn out cannon fodder for the aggrandizement of the Jedi.”
If she had spat in his face, he couldn’t have been more appalled. He knew she was aware of what would enrage him; she used the emotional term warrior, not bounty hunter. She knew how much the revelation would offend his cultural pride. But she was right to tell him. It was a matter of honor, and more than his own. He would not see his heritage used in this travesty of honest war.
“I’d take the contract even if you didn’t pay me,” he said.
Uthan seemed to relax. “We can give you up to a hundred droids to start with. Ask if you need more. It’s a small garrison because we didn’t want to attract attention, but now that we have that attention anyway we can reinforce if necessary. What about your existing militia?”
“I think layoff notices might be in order. Perhaps your troops might start by helping me with the administration of that.”
Uthan blinked for a second, and Hokan realized she had taken longer than usual to understand what he meant. She’d grasped the meaning: I can be as ruthless as you. She’d think twice before undermining him as she was undermining Ankkit.
“That might be a sensible start,” she said.
Hokan stood up and held his helmet in both hands. He had always been proud of that tradition, proud that it hadn’t changed in thousands of years except for a technical enhancement here and there. What really mattered was what lay under Mandalorian armor—a warrior’s heart.
“Would you like to know what virus we’re developing here, Major Hokan?” Uthan asked.
So he had a real rank now, not the flatteringly extravagant General. “Do I need to?”
“I think so. You see, it’s specifically for the clones.”
“Let me see. To make them proper men again?”
“Nothing can do that. This is to kill them.”
Hokan replaced his helmet carefully.
“The kindest solution,” he said, and meant it.
7
–Traditional Mandalorian war chant
It would have been much, much easier to fight in a different environment.
Niner decided that when he got back to base he’d ask to amend the training manual on nonurban warfare, to reflect the fact that SOPs for temperate rural terrain were definitely not interchangeable with jungle tactics.
It was the fields. There was too much open ground between areas of cover. Niner had been sitting in the fork of a tree for so long that one buttock was numb and the other was catching up fast. And still the group of militia was sprawled in the grass at the edge of a recently mown field, passing around bottles of urrqal.
Niner didn’t stir under his camouflage of leaves. It was nearly autumn, so it was a trick they wouldn’t be able to rely on much longer, as almost all the woodland was deciduous. They planned to pull out long before then.
“Anything happening, Sarge?” Fi’s voice was a whisper in his helmet, even though the sound wouldn’t carry. It was a smart habit, just in case. If one precaution was good, two was better. “Still swigging?”
“Yeah. We could always wait until they die of liver failure. Save the ammo.”
“You okay?”
“My bladder’s a bit full, but fine otherwise.”
“Atin’s shredding that speedie’s onboard computer.”
“I hope he’s doing it quietly.”
“He’s moved into the wood a bit. He reckons he’s downloaded some high-res charts, but the rest are probably fried. He’s on the encryption files now.”
“As long as he’s happy.”
Fi made a stifled snort of laughter. “Yeah, he’s happy.”
I’ve been Darman. Niner still had no idea what Atin had meant by that. He’d remember to ask him at a more appropriate moment. All he wanted right then was for Hokan’s men to get up and move on so they could cross over to RV Beta, just four klicks ahead. It would have been easy to pick them off from here, but that would leave a nice pile of calling cards and the squad had left too many already. Niner wanted to avoid all the hard contact that he could.
They have to run out of urrqal soon.
And they can’t be taking Ghez Hokan very seriously.