“You've made it,” Etain said.
“And so have you.” He made a vague gesture in the direction of her belly. “I can sense as much. I know you too well now.”
“Don't.”
“This is going to be very difficult for both of you, Etain.”
“Darman doesn't know yet. You're not to mention it to anyone. Promise me.”
“Of course I won't. I owe Darman a great deal. All of the men, in fact.”
“You're going to kill yourself trying to live up to them.”
“Then that's fine by me,” said Jusik.
Jusik didn't want to be a peacemaker. If the Force hadn't manifested itself in him, he could have been a scientist, an engineer, a builder of astonishing things. But he wanted to be a soldier.
And Etain had to be one, too, whether she wanted to or not, because her troops needed her to be one. But as soon as the war was over, she would leave the Jedi Order and follow a harder but sweeter destiny.
Skirata set the green speeder down on the landing platform with a certain amount of satisfaction. He'd get Enacca to change the color and make it disappear from the licensing system, but that was routine work for her. She was furious at having to pick up so many of the team's speeders, sometimes abandoned when they had no choice, but a few extra credits would soothe her.
Vau eased out of the hatch on the passenger's side and Mird loped up to him, rumbling and whining happily.
“I'm going to treat myself to a glass of tihaar,” Skirata said. “If the strill wants to sleep inside tonight, it's welcome.”
“I might join you in that drink.” Vau scooped Mird, up in his arms again. “Not a textbook operation by any means, but the men put a decent dent in the opposition in a very short time.”
It almost felt like a civilized relationship. It felt that way right up to the moment the doors opened and they almost stumbled over Fi. He held out both arms as a barrier.
“Sarge, Atin's in a foul mood.” He turned to Vau, who set Mird down on the carpet and removed his helmet. “I don't think you should go near him, Sergeant Vau.”
Vau just lowered his chin slightly and looked resigned. “Let's get it over with.”
“No—”
“Fi, this is between me and him.”
Skirata's immediate instinct was to intervene, but this time he suspected Vau would come off worse, and that had a certain sense of justice to it. While he respected the man's skill and integrity, he loathed him at a gut level for his brutality. And for him, that erased all the virtues in Vau.
He said he did it for their own good: it was to reinforce their Mando identity, to save their lives, to save their souls. His lads even believed it. Skirata never would.
“I've been waiting, Sarge,” said Atin's voice.
Skirata pulled Fi back. Ordo and Mereel, still working on neutralizing the booby-trapped thermal plastoid, looked up, wary, waiting for his signal to get involved. He gave them a discreet shake of the head. Not yet. Leave it.
Atin wore his right gauntlet and his bodysuit. He extended the vibroblade from the knuckle plate and held his fist up at his shoulder, then sheathed the blade.
“If that strill starts on me, I'll take it out, too.”
It was a side of Atin that Skirata had never seen before, but one that Vau had built. It was the little bit of Jango, the gene that said Stand and fight, don't run, another genetic tendency that could be nurtured and developed and trained into something much bigger than itself.
Vau held his arms at his sides and looked genuinely frustrated. Atin never understood why he'd done it. And neither did I, Skirata thought. You save a man from being dar'manda by teaching him his heritage, not by making him into a wild animal.
Vau's voice had softened. “You had to be Mando, Atin. If I didn't make you Mando, you might as well have been dead, because you wouldn't exist as a Mando'ad, not without your spirit and your guts.” He was almost apologetic. “You had to be able to cross that threshold and be ready to do absolutely anything to win. Fierfek, if stupid Jedi hadn't used you as infantry on Geonosis, every single one of my commando batch would be alive today. I made you hard men because I cared.”
Skirata was glad Vau didn't use the word love. He'd have put his own knife in the man's guts if he had. He stood clear, hauling Fi away by his arm, and Atin surged forward to seize Vau by his shoulder plates and head-butt him. Vau staggered back a few steps, blood pouring from his nose, but didn't go down. Mird squealed frantically and went to defend its master but Vau sent it back with a hand command.
“Udesii, Mird. I can handle this.”
“Okay, handle this,” Atin said, and swung a punch.
It was hard to fight a man in Mandalorian armor but Atin, true to his name, was going to do it. His blow caught Vau just below the eye and he followed up with a ferocious lunge to slam him against the wall and press his arm across his throat. Vau reverted to animal instinct and brought his knee up in Atin's gut, driving him far enough back to smash his elbow into his face.
Do I stop this? Can I? Skirata stood ready.
The blow stopped Atin for a few seconds. Then he just came straight back at Vau and charged into him, knocking him flat and pinning him to the floor, pounding away at him with his fists, hitting armor as often as flesh. By this time the noise of bodies and the still's squeals of protest had woken people and Jusik came running just as Atin ejected his vibroblade with a sickening shunk and had it raised, elbow held high, to punch it into Vau's exposed neck.
The two men flew apart as if in a silent explosion. Atin cannoned into the table and Vau was rolled back against the wall. There was a stunned moment of silence.
“This stops now!” Jusik yelled at the top of his voice. “That is an order! I am your general and I will not tolerate brawling, do you hear? Not for any reason. Get up, the two of you!”
Vau obeyed as meekly as any new recruit. The two men struggled to their feet and Atin stood to attention out of long habit. Little Jusik—hair sleep-tousled, wearing just a crumpled tunic and rough pants—stood glaring at the two much bigger men.
Skirata had never seen the Force used to break up a fight before. It was as impressive as ripping open that door.
“I want this feud to stop now,” Jusik continued, voice barely a whisper. “We have to have discipline. And I can't let you harm each other. We have to be united. Do you understand?”
“Yes sir,” Atin said impassively, blood streaked across his face. “Am I on a charge now, General?”
“No. I'm just asking you to put an end to this for all our sakes.”
Atin was calm reason once again. He didn't even seem out of breath. “Very good, sir.”
Vau looked shaken, or at least as shaken as a man like him could be. “I'm a civilian, General, so I can do as I please, but I apologize to my former trainee for any pain I caused him.”
Skirata winced. It was enough to start the fight again. But it was as good a concession as anyone would ever get out of a man who believed he had done Atin a favor.
“My fault, sir,” Skirata said, doing what a good sergeant should. “I ought to maintain better discipline.”
Jusik gave him a look that said he didn't believe that, but it was fond rather than censorious. Skirata hoped he never had to show the lad that he wouldn't obey him, but he suspected Jusik would never want to test that.
The Jedi glanced over his shoulder at the silent audience that had gathered. “We can all get back to bed now.” The commandos shrugged and disappeared back to their rooms. Corr's expression of total shock was fascinating. There was no sign of Darman. “And you, Fi. It's been a heavy day.”