by James Luceno
He had a very characteristic walk.
“Tinnies wouldn’t have sent out for fruit, would they?” Fi said.
The kid’s gait reminded Darman of an old woman he’d recently slammed up against a barn wall.
“You’ve got to hand it to Jinart,” he said. “She’s certainly got guts.”
“Let’s hope she manages to get that fruit into the cellars.”
“Let’s hope she comes back out,” Etain said.
Dr. Uthan appeared to have forgotten that Hokan had hauled her across a desk by her collar, at least for the time being. She sat in one of the beige brocade chairs that really didn’t match her utilitarian office, listening to him with apparent patience.
“This is an unprecedented opportunity,” she said at last.
Hokan agreed completely. “I realize that you haven’t managed to create a delivery system for the nanovirus yet, but I think we might be able to help with that. Inhalation will work, yes? Could we introduce it into a sealed room?” He had ideas for ambush and entrapment. “Can that be done?”
“It’s one of several vectors,” she said. “And skin contact, too. But that isn’t quite what I had in mind.”
“Which was?”
“A live subject. I would like you to take one of the clones alive.”
“That wasn’t quite what I had in mind. I tend to have problems with the alive bit. Not my forte.”
“You can’t simply spray this agent around, Major. I told you we haven’t ironed out the genome specificity.”
“I have droid troops. While rust might be a health issue for them, I suspect that viruses aren’t.”
“Having a live test subject would almost certainly enable us to achieve weaponization faster.”
“If you allow me access to the nanovirus, I’ll do what I can to save one for you.”
Uthan shook her head. Her vivid red-and-black-streaked hair was scraped up in a tight bun on the top of her head, giving her an even more severe appearance. Not a wisp of hair escaped the topknot. “I can’t do that. While you might be an expert in combat, you’re not a microbiologist, nor used to handling hazardous substances. This is far too dangerous a pathogen for you to use at this stage of its development. I’m also not prepared to expend what limited samples we have on a risky counterassault.”
Hokan knew he could have taken it by force. But it would have been pointless. She was right; if the virus wasn’t in a state that could be weaponized, it was a long shot compared to the proven weapons he had at his disposal.
“Pity,” he said. “I’ll endeavor to learn more about this technology after we’ve dealt with the current difficulty.”
“So what happens now?”
“Sit tight. Stay in this suite of rooms with your staff until further notice.”
“What do we do if shooting starts?”
“The same.”
“What if they get through your defenses?”
“They won’t, but if it makes you feel safer, I’ll provide you with hand weapons for your personal protection.”
Uthan gave him a regal nod of the head and reached for a pile of notes. Then she went on reading, pausing occasionally to write something in the margins of the papers. Despite the brief showdown earlier, she didn’t seem afraid of him in the least: perhaps working with deadly organisms on a daily basis gave her a different perspective on threats.
“Something highly effective, please,” she said as he turned to leave.
“Commanding Officer Majestic,” the voice said. “That was fast. Position?”
Niner couldn’t get a video image on his HUD, but the sound was crystal clear. “That’s a negative on the extraction for the time being, Majestic. Requesting gunnery support.”
“Say again?”
“We’ll be needing gunnery support. It might get a bit hectic down here. A hundred droids.”
There was a second or two of silence. “Omega Squad, be aware that it might get busy up here, too. We have a Techno Union vessel standing off our port bow.”
“Is that a negative, Majestic?”
“No. If we cease firing, though, it may be because we’re repelling an attack ourselves.”
“Understood. Coordinates uploading now. On receipt of code Greenwood, direct cannon at this location. On receipt of code Boffin, this location. Enemy now has no comm apart from droid networks, repeat comm disabled. Knock yourselves out.”
“Received. My, you’ve been busy boys. Standing by, Omega.”
Niner shut his eyes and felt the relief flood through his stomach. He wasn’t exactly sure how they were going to deploy Majestic’s massive firepower, but at least they had it to fall back on.
“Are you making this up as you go along, Sarge?” Fi asked.
“You got a better idea?”
“I meant the code names.”
“Yes.”
“Classy.”
“And I meant it about the better idea.”
Fi drummed his fingers on the thigh plate of his armor. “I wish Skirata was around. What was it he always said? Turn the problem upside down. See it from the enemy perspective.”
Etain glanced up, now a sure sign that Jinart was approaching. They seemed to share a kind of radar. The Gurlanin slunk into the laying-up point and swung her head around. Darman and Fi gave her a mute round of applause and a show of thumbs up.
“Nice job, ma’am,” Darman said. “Amazing deception.”
“Thank you, gentlemen,” she said. “Uthan is definitely not in the villa. And your device is now sitting in Ankkit’s wine cellars, between a case of vintage Naboo tarul wine and a crate of thermal detonators. When you’re ready, you can give Qiilura its own asteroid belt.”
“That’ll make their eyes water,” Fi said.
“And ours if we’re too close,” Niner said.
“So what now?”
“Let’s do what Skirata taught us. Turn it upside down.”
The holochart plans of the facility once again hung in midair as the squad, Etain, and Jinart sat around it, seeking inspiration.
“Is this how you plan operations?” Etain asked.
“It’s not meant to be like this, no. You gather intel and then you plan and execute. This is what Skirata called a self-adjusting screwup. When the problem actually provides the solution to another problem. It’s there. All we have to do is work it out.” Niner didn’t mind admitting it was more guesswork than anyone should have indulged in. But then he’d been on two real missions now, and they’d both been the same. They hadn’t known what they were going into until it was too late. Intel. It was all about having reliable intelligence. “There’s three things you should never believe—weather forecasts, the canteen menu, and intel.”
Skirata said soldiers always complained. Niner was not given to complaining, but he was definitely not satisfied with the situation. This wasn’t what special forces were best designed to do. They should have been there to gather intel themselves, identify the target, call in air strikes, and maybe recover hostages or data. They might even carry out assassinations. They weren’t meant to be artillery and infantry as well.
If the Republic hadn’t wanted Uthan alive, they needn’t have been here at all. Majestic could have targeted the facility from orbit, and everyone would have been home in time for supper. Nobody would have needed to get their backside shot at, or spend days hauling forty-five-kilo packs across farmland.
“I’m glad you’re not just accepting this,” Etain said.
Fi shrugged. “If you can’t take a joke, you shouldn’t have joined.”
“I didn’t join,” Atin said.
At least they all managed to laugh. It was the first time that anyone had found any humor in the situation, apart from Fi, of course.
“What do we normally do?” Darman said suddenly. “How do we normally take a target? Break it down.”
Niner concentrated. “We isolate a target, go in, and neutralize it.”
“Okay, say we don’t fight our way in
.”
“Not with you.”
“We’re expected to pull off a rapid entry and fight our way in. What if we fought our way out?” Darman prodded his finger into the hologram. “Can we get in under the facility to this central room?”
“This plan only shows drains. The bore’s too narrow to get a man down there, and this really isn’t a job for Jinart.”
The Gurlanin twitched visibly. “I wasn’t offering, but if there was anything I might do—”
“You’ve done more than enough already.” Darman tilted his head this way and that, studying the plans. “The main drain chamber is nearly a hundred centimeters wide here, though. It only tapers to thirty centimeters at the wall. Is there any other way of getting into that main?”
“Short of walking up to the wall and digging under it like a gdan, in full view of the droids, no.”
Jinart sat upright. “Gdan warrens.”
“They tunnel, don’t they?”
“Everywhere. They even cause subsidence.”
“Are there tunnels around there? Could we locate them? Would they be wide enough?”
“Yes, there are warrens, because it was once a farm site and gdans like eating merlies. The tunnels can be quite wide. And I can certainly locate them for you. In fact, I will lead you through the warrens. You might have to excavate some of the way, though.”
“Basic sapper procedure,” Darman said. “Except we don’t have proper equipment, so we’ll be digging with these.” He took a folding sharp-edged trowel from his belt. “Entrenching tool. Also used for ’freshers. Apt.”
“What is it between you and the gdans?” Etain asked. “Why do they avoid you and your scent?”
“Oh, we eat them,” Jinart said casually. “But only if they try to approach our young.”
“That’s it, then,” Darman said. “Get me into that central chamber from below, and I’ll work my way out through the facility.”
“Take Atin with you,” Niner said. He didn’t want to say in case you get killed, but he wanted another technically minded man in there to lay charges and blow doors. “Fi and I can lay down fire out front and deal with any droids we see. When you bring Uthan out, Etain can help us get her clear and then you blow the place. Then we do a runner for the extraction point.”
“Gets my vote,” Atin said. “You okay with that, ma’am?”
Etain nodded reluctantly. “If that’s plan C, it sounds as impossible as plans A and B.” She patted Darman’s arm, not quite focusing, as if she was lost in thought about something. “But I don’t have a better suggestion.”
“Okay,” Niner said. “Everyone take a stim now. Be ready to move out at nightfall. We’ve got four hours to prep for this. I’ll notify Majestic.”
“What if this fails?” Etain asked.
“They’ll send in another squad.”
“And lose more men?” She shook her head. “If it’s down to me, I’ll happily give the order for Majestic to pound this facility to dust, with Uthan inside or not.”
“Do you think we’re going to fail?”
Etain smiled. There was something mildly unnerving about the way she was smiling. “No. I don’t. You’re going to pull this off, believe me.”
Niner kept a tight grip on his breathing. If he gave the slightest hint of a sigh of doubt, they’d pick it up. It was crazy. But, as Skirata said, they went where others wouldn’t, and did what nobody else could.
And fighting your way out from the heart of an alloy-plated, heavily guarded facility designed to be impregnable to any life-form certainly lived up to that boast. For some reason he felt fine about it all.
You’re going to pull this off, believe me.
He wondered if his thoughts were actually his own. If Etain was influencing his mind to improve his confidence, that was okay by him. Officers were supposed to inspire you. Right then he didn’t much care how she did it.
16
What do I think about it? I don’t know, really. Nobody’s ever asked me for my opinion before.
—Clone Trooper RC-5093, retired, at CF VetCenter,
Coruscant. Chronological age: twenty-three.
Biological age: sixty.
An autumnal mist had settled over the countryside. It wasn’t dense enough to provide cover, but it did give Darman a sense of protection. He tabbed behind Atin as Jinart led the way.
He was a walking bomb factory. Why was he even worried about being spotted? The ram and its attachments clunked against his armor and he adjusted them, fearing discovery. Atin walked ahead, Deece held in both hands with his finger inside the trigger guard, a small but significant expression of his anxiety level.
“Matte-black armor,” Darman said. “First thing we ought to slap in for when we get back. I feel like a homing beacon.”
“Does it matter?”
“Does to me.”
“Dar, it’s one thing for the enemy to spot us coming. It’s another thing entirely for them to do anything about it.” Atin was still checking all around him, though. “I was knocked flat by a round and it didn’t penetrate the plates.”
Atin had a point. The armor might have been conspicuous, but it worked. Darman had taken a direct hit, too. Maybe in the future the sight of that armor alone would deter enemies, a touch of what Skirata called assertive public relations. Myth, he said, won almost as many engagements as reality.
Darman was all for a little help from the myth department.
They were four hundred meters southeast of the facility. Jinart stopped in front of a gentle slope and thrust her head through a break in the foliage. Her sniffing was audible.
“We enter here,” she said.
There didn’t even appear to be a hole. “How do you know what’s in there?”
“I can detect solid surfaces, movement, everything. I don’t need to see.” She sniffed again, or at least Darman assumed she was sniffing; it occurred to him that she might have been echolocating. “Do you want to stand here and present a target all night?”
“No ma’am,” Darman said, and got down on all fours.
Jinart might not have needed to see, but he did. He could have relied on the night-vision visor, but he felt the need for real, honest light. He switched on his tactical spot-lamp. He switched it off again, fast.
“Uh …”
“What’s wrong?” Atin asked.
“Nothing,” Darman said. It was natural not to like confined spaces, he told himself. With the light projected forward, he could see just how suffocatingly small a space he was in. With his night vision in place, he was simply looking down a narrow field of view, safe inside his armor, cocooned from the world in a way he was not only used to, but actually needed.
Get a grip.
He could hear the sound of scurrying farther ahead, but it was moving away from him. His pack caught the roof of the tunnel, occasionally scraping loose soil and stones. The warren had been excavated by thousands of small paws, circular in section because gdans obviously didn’t need as much floor space as a tall human male. Darman almost felt that his hands and knees were against the sides of the tunnel because of the curvature of the floor, like negotiating a chimney when rock climbing. At times he felt he was losing his orientation and had to shut his eyes and shake his head hard to regain accurate proprioception.
“You okay, Dar?” Atin asked. Darman could hear labored breathing in his helmet and he thought it was his own, but it was Atin’s.
“Bit disoriented.”
“Let your head drop and look at the floor. The pressure on the back of your neck is going to make you feel giddy anyway.”
“You, too, eh?”
“Yeah, this is weird. Whatever we inherited from Jango, it wasn’t a love of caving.”
Darman let his head hang forward and concentrated on putting one hand in front of the other. He switched to voice projection. “Jinart, why do such small animals dig such big tunnels?”
“Have you tried dragging a whole merlie or vhek home for dinner? Gdans wo
rk as a team. That’s what enables them to take prey that’s many times their size. A point, I think, that would not be lost on men such as yourselves.”
“On the other hand,” Atin said cautiously, “you could say that sheer numbers overwhelm strength.”
“Thank you for that positive view, Private Atin. I suggest you select the interpretation that inspires you most.”
They didn’t talk much after that. As Darman progressed, sweating with the effort, he was aware of a particular scent. It was getting stronger. It was sickly at first, like rotting meat, and then more bitter and sulfurous. It reminded him of Geonosis. Battlefields smelled awful. The filtration mask was active against chemical and biological weapons, but it did nothing to stop smells. Shattered bodies and bowels had a distinctive and terrifying stench.
He could smell it now. He fought down nausea.
“Fierfek,” Atin said. “That’s turned me off my dinner for a start.”
“We’re near the facility,” Jinart said.
“How near?” Darman said.
“That odor is seepage from the drainage system. The pipe work is local unglazed clay.”
“Is that all we can smell?” said Darman.
“Oh, I imagine it’s also the gdans. Or rather their recent kills—they have chambers where they amass their surplus. Yes, it’s an unpleasant stench if you’re not accustomed to it.” She stopped unexpectedly, and Darman bumped into her backside. She felt surprisingly heavy for her size. “That’s good news, because it means we’re near a much larger chamber.”
Darman almost felt relief that it was simply rotting meat, although that was bad enough. It wasn’t his meat. He crawled farther, encouraged by the promise of a bigger space ahead, and then his glove sank into something soft.
He didn’t need to ask what it was. He looked down despite himself. In the way of men exposed to memory triggers, he was immediately back in training, crawling through a ditch filled with nerf entrails, Skirata running alongside and yelling at him to keep going because this was nothing, nothing compared to what you’ll have to do for real, son.
