“We must make it clear that the current Kamino contracts terminate in two years. Apart from the special facilities you ask us to set up on Coruscant, Chancellor, you will have no further clone production beyond the current three million unless you commission more now…”
There was nothing more. It appeared to be all that Lama Su had filed, probably as some kind of personal insurance. If the date was correct, the conversation had taken place some months before.
“Shab,” Skirata hissed. “What are they playing at?”
Ordo slowly raised his hand to his mouth. Mereel, who thought he'd seen it all, revised his grasp of political subterfuge on the spot.
“So is the Republic going bust and not paying its bills?” asked Ordo. “Or are we seeing something else?”
“Cloning facilities on Coruscant? General Zey never mentioned that.”
“Maybe he doesn't know. There's a lot Zey doesn't know, after all… lots about us, for a start.”
“How's the Chancellor going to pull that off?”
Skirata interrupted. “See what else you can find.” He'd started chewing ruik root again and Mereel gauged his anxiety by the speed of his jaw. He was going like a machine now. “I don't like this at all.”
“If this is all the army we've got for the foreseeable future,” said Ordo, “then we'll be overrun in two years.”
“Unless Prudii's patent droid remover saves the day,” said Mereel, stomach churning.
Why didn't I pick this up earlier?
All Nulls were adept spies, used to knowing more about the Republic's inner workings than the Senate itself. Mereel could even find out the smallest and most private details if he needed to, maybe even how many times Palpatine used the 'freshers each day. He'd thought that no information escaped him. So being surprised by totally unexpected information left him uneasy and ashamed.
“How did I miss this, Kal'buir?” he said, feeling he had let him down.
“You didn't, son,” said Skirata. “You found it.”
place and time: RV point. drall space. corellia sector – 462 standard days after the battle of geonosis.
Prudii obviously hadn't seen Skirata in a long time. Atin watched, fascinated, as he turned instantly from glib cynic to adoring son, hugging Skirata with a clash of armour plates. He stood back, and Skirata patted his cheek, an indulgent grin spreading across his face.
“I have some interesting data for you, Kal'buir.” The two ships hung linked together by a docking tube, a long way from Republic scrutiny as well as the Separatists. They gathered in the crew bay of the smaller TIV. It was a tight fit. “We're still not finding droid numbers like Intel claimed. We have to reassess the nature of the Sep threat.”
Atin thought Prudii just meant numbers. It was now obvious that the droid numbers were flawed to say the least. Atin would have been happy to just write that off as Republic Intelligence being di'kute – nobody with any sense expected intel to be accurate anyway – but it seemed to bother all three Nulls a great deal. Ordo and Mereel, their helmets stacked side by side on the deck like two decapitated heads, wore matching frowns of concern.
“Come on, this is supposed to be good news,” said Atin.
Ordo shrugged. “Depends where the original estimate came from.”
“But what if it turns out to be right?”
Mereel looked mildly exasperated. “If they had even one quadrillion droids, or a tenth of that, we'd know all about it – because they'd use them, and they'd invade Coruscant.” He glanced at Skirata, as though waiting for permission to go on. Skirata shook his head. “Anyway, a factory processing more droids than that needs a lotofdurasteeland parts, and we'd notice the traffic. We're not seeing quadrillion-ton shipments of ore, metal or components.”
“Then it's just Sep propaganda. Everyone talks up their troop strengths.”
Atin simply couldn't see why it mattered. They had a better handle on the Sep droid numbers now, and a good strategy, for the time being, for making sure that the millions didn't count for anything like that number on the battlefield. He settled back into an alcove in the port bulkhead and inserted his test probes into the wafer's terminals. He just wanted to see the data for himself, or as much as he understood of it.
“We're fighting small fires all the time, all over the place,” said Skirata. “Zey might think these numbers are good news, but it's like saying we're drowning in three metres of water instead of a hundred.”
Atin hadn't been raised by Skirata like the rest of Omega Squad, but he knew the man well enough now to read his reactions. He was completely transparent with clones; he didn't seem to be able to deceive them, or even want to. “There's something you're not telling me, Sarge.”
Skirata put his comlink on standby. “Yes, son, there is.”
“So it is Grievous, then? Because if it is…”
“It's messy politics.” Skirata – a contract killer, an accomplished thief, a man who diverted Republic resources whenever he felt like it – would never lie to his boys. He promised them that. “If you know about it, it might endangeryou.”
Atin wondered what might be more dangerous than being a Republic commando. It wasn't exactly a steady desk job. But he trusted Skirata completely, even if his curiosity was devouring him. “Okay, Sarge. Orders?”
“Get back to HQ with the TIV pilot and do a bit of skills transfer. Teach the rest of the lads how to make nice crumbly droids.”
Ordo cut in. “And thank Besany Wennen for me, will you?”
Atin worked out that Prudii wasn't going back with him. “You're telling me to get lost, aren't you?”
“For your own good,” said Skirata.
It had to be Grievous. Fora moment Atin wondered if they didn't think he was good enough to go after the Separatist general with them, and then he started worrying for Skirata. Even with a bunch of Nulls, the old di'kut would be insane to try to tackle him. And Atin had no intention of walking away if that was on the agenda.
“Straight question, Sarge.”
“Don't put me on the spot, At'ika.”
“Are you going after Grievous? 'Cos if you are, I'm not leaving.”
“No, we're not going after Grievous.”
Atin scrutinized his face. “Okay, Sarge. Be careful, anyway. Whatever it is.”
He climbed back through the hatch to rejoin the TIV pilot. Most of the time, he really didn't need or even want to know what the Nulls got up to. Or Skirata, for that matter. He just didn't want to lose any more brothers.
And even if he worked out what was going on, it wouldn't change his job one bit.
place and time: rv point. drall space – 462 standard days after the battle of geonosis.