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.
“Okay, what's your assessment?” Skirata prepped the secure link to General Zey back at headquarters. “What are we going to tell him?”
Ordo shrugged. “Nothing about the holorecording – yet.”
“We'd be failing in our duty if we didn't advise him to change tactics, though,” said Mereel. “Again.”
“You know it's not his decision.”
“But it's still our duty.”
Skirata frowned and opened the secure link. The Jedi general seemed to have been caught on the hop – the holoimage showed him in his undershirt, hair disheveled.
“Another confirmation of droid production numbers, General,” said Skirata. “Same as before. Worst scenario, maybe a few hundred million right now.”
“That's better than we thought. I needed some good news.
Successfully neutralized?”
“My lads are completely reliable.”
“I know.”
“We think… look, it's pretty clear from what we're seeing that we're facing small-scale conflicts in waves. If we concentrated all our forces on completely overwhelming them a sector at a time, instead of scattering our troops across a thousand fronts, we could break the Seps a lot faster.”
Zey chewed his lip. “I hear what you say.”
“A big push. Consolidate our forces and hit 'em hard, then move on when they're crushed and hit the next sector. This piecemeal approach is just damping down fires temporarily.”
Mereel waited for Zey's reaction. The Jedi looked tired. It was hard to find anyone in the Grand Army who didn't look in need of a week's sleep.
Zey dropped his voice to a near-whisper. “I agree, militarily. General Windu reminds the Chancellor of this proposal whenever he can. The answer's always the same. Palpatine thinks it'll be seen as excessive force and might alienate the neutral worlds.”
Mereel had no patience with politics. “Tell him we're feeling pretty alienated right now, too.”
“I understand your frustration, Lieutenant.”
“What does he say about the droid numbers, then?”
Zey shrugged. “He believes that underplaying the threat might be foolhardy.”
“Always easier to get the voters to foot the bill for a war if they think the enemy's about to invade, eh? Is that why Republic Intel came up with the quadrillions figure?”
“You're a cynical man, Sergeant.”
“Yeah. I was a mere for too long.”
“I never said you were wrong.”
“Okay, General,” said Skirata. He managed to sound irritated. Zey knew the game by now; the two of them conducted a coded conversation, both knowing what the other really felt. Mereel admired their pragmatism. “We've not found the hub of the Seps' droid production. I assume you'll want us to carry on looking.”
Zey sounded older these days. “The Chancellor is most insistent.”
“Understood, General.”
Skirata closed the link and stared through Mereel for a moment. Then he focused on him again. “Palpatine doesn't want to talk about the real numbers. Clone production on Kamino looks like it might stop dead in a couple of years. I say the objective of this war isn't the one we're being told it is.”
“You sound like you expect politicians to tell the truth, Kal'buir.”
“Nah, I'm not that senile yet.” Skirata gestured to Ordo for his datapad, fingers beckoning. “We're bringing the plan forward a little, lads. I'm marking a date on my calendar just under two years from now, and making sure we're ready to take care of our own by then. You understand me?”
“Understood,” said Mereel. Skirata had what he called an exit strategy: his plan for the end of the war, not just for himself, but for the Nulls… and maybe any clone who found himself out of a job. “Okay, everybody looks for Ko Sai now.”
“What about Grievous?”
Ordo handed the datapad to Skirata. “Last time Kom'rk got a fix on him it was leaked information. Someone wants us to find him. Until we work out who and why, we keep a little distance.”
“Works for me,” said Mereel.
Wars often didn't make sense. He'd read plenty of history, and he'd absorbed Kal'buir's lessons; politicians often made decisions that flew in the face of professional military advice. Whatever the Republic was up to, a long-running war of skirmishes suited Palpatine's purpose.
But it didn't suit Mereel. And it didn't do the mounting numbers of clone casualties any good either. He felt no guilt whatsoever about using the taxpayers' credit to get the best outcome for himself and his brothers, both those in the field now and those to come.
Three million against… how many? Hundreds of millions. They were bad odds, but they weren't impossible, not with the Nulls and a few thousand commandos around. But working out odds meant being clear who the enemy was, and the more Mereel learned, the less certain he became.
“Cheer up,” said Prudii, “Average kill rates are going up all the time. I reckon we can shoot for at least 200-to-one.” He took a hand-size slab of metal out of his pack and held it up with a grin. Then he smacked it down hard on the edge of the console. It crazed and broke into pieces. “Those tinnies just can't take the strain like we can.”
No, those weren't impossible odds. Bad, maybe; but not impossible. Mereel sat back in the co-pilot's seat, took out his datapad, and began combing through the hidden data of Kamino's clonemaster. Ko Sai had the whole galaxy in which to hide, but she was hiding from men she had personally engineered to be the very best.
The odds weren't in her favour.
Glossary
carvanium – metal used in alloys
vode – (Mando'a) brothers
osik – (Mando'a) equivalent of “poodoo”
chakaare – (Mando'a) term of abuse (lit. thief, petty criminal, “grave-robber”)