“Not a place to take a lady,” Fi said. “Unless she’s especially rough.”
“Nothing that a little urban regeneration grant wouldn’t fix.”
“Or a turbolaser. From orbit.”
“Okay, I know where we are now. Follow me.”
“I still think it’s ever so clever.”
“What?”
“Your homing instinct. It’s like watching Mird track borrats.”
“Yeah, well this borrat’s going to be armed and he can use the Force a lot better than I can, so let’s not alarm him.”
“You think the beskar’gam is a good idea? Too intimidating? Too dressy?”
“Safer than the alternative, ner vod.”
Jusik walked casually, surrendering to an instinct that made him want to turn his head in a specific direction as if trying to hear a faint sound. He tried to stay fully aware of every Force sense that he used, un-learning every lesson they’d tried to teach him at the Jedi Academy about feeling rather than thinking.
You have to challenge what you feel. You can’t just feel things and act on them. If we’d thought a bit more and felt a bit less, the galaxy would never have ended up like this.
Fi started laughing. It jerked Jusik out of his inner debate, and for a foolish moment he thought Fi had picked up what he was thinking. It turned out that he was laughing at some kids who looking over the Aggressor at a cautious distance. Aggressors were popular bounty hunters’ ships, and seeing two Mandalorians swagger out of this one had probably guaranteed Fi and Jusik an uneventful visit. Jusik still wore his lightsaber on his belt. Nobody needed to know that it was his and that he hadn’t killed a Jedi to get it.
“Would you ever go back to being a Jedi?” Fi asked. “I mean, if Altis is what they say he is, and it’s all anything goes and egalitarian, would you think about it?”
“No, I wouldn’t. I’m Mandalorian now. Why does everyone keep asking?”
“They’re not. And I’m just checking.”
“Why?”
“Well, having your old boss around …”
“They say that you can run into an old flame who once broke your heart and not understand what you ever saw in her,” Jusik said. “I think it’s like that with me and the Order. Except I fell out of love with it over a couple of years—at least.”
“So you met us on the rebound.”
The sooner Zey and the others left, the better. It raised unnecessary specters for Jusik. “Okay, I’m an all-or-nothing type. Fodder for any cult. But you lot had the cool armor.”
They did a little backtracking and diversion just in case they were under surveillance, even though Jusik felt they weren’t. Eventually they ended up on the banks of a canal that seemed to contain more rusting speeder parts, rubble, and dumped garbage than water. It could have called itself a very wet road. A rainbow film of oil gave it an incongruously iridescent beauty.
A sudden feeling of Jedi—anxious, wary Jedi—hit Jusik like a punch in the chest. The old boatyard on the other side of the canal was Altis’s choice for a neutral meeting place. That should have reassured him.
“Okay, I’ll go first,” Jusik said.
“You told him what we’d be wearing, right? Because the helmet tends to upset those of a nervous disposition. Not to mention the Verpine piece.”
“He’ll know who we are. He can sense me by now.”
They picked their way across locked gates so overgrown with weeds that it would have taken a direct hit to open them. Jusik walked into the boat shed and looked around. It still seemed to be in use. There were two long, shallow wooden-hulled boats up on blocks with half their varnish removed.
“Master Altis, you can come out now.”
Jusik waited, hands well away from his sides, trying to look as harmless as he could. Fi was trying, too, but Fi was a big guy even now, and he still moved like a soldier despite his disability.
“Left,” Fi said. “Armed and unhappy-looking.”
Jusik didn’t take off his helmet. He and Fi had a good infrared image in the gloom of the shed, and there was no point being rash. The male human who walked slowly toward them was a Force-user all right, but there was something different in the impression he left in Jusik’s mind. For a moment Jusik thought they’d been set up by a dark sider, but it wasn’t that at all. And this man wasn’t a Jedi. He was something else. He stood four meters in front of them, a square-built man in an ancient ankle-length coat with deep vents and leather shoulder panels that made him look like he’d stepped out of a costume drama. But the rifle he held on Jusik was absolutely real.
“Master Altis will see you now,” he said stiffly. “Follow me.”
Jusik didn’t recognize the strong accent at all. He was starting to feel disoriented by not knowing things that he’d always taken for granted. Suddenly all the beings he’d sensed—a dozen males and females of various species—emerged from hiding places and stood watching.
He didn’t need to be told which one was Djinn Altis. He felt him before the eccentric Master stepped forward and stared for a moment.
“Bardan Jusik,” Altis said, breaking into a bemused grin. “I’ve heard so much about you. Except for how the blazes you managed to track us down. Let me shake your hand, boy.”
“Master Altis.” Jusik’s fingers were trapped in a handshake like a vise. This man was a legend, albeit one they didn’t talk about much in the Temple. “A pleasure to meet you.”
“So you’re the man of conscience who ran away to join the Mandos and scared all the little Padawans, eh? If you think I can help you, I’ll do my best, but you’ve probably noticed we’re in a sticky spot ourselves at the moment.”
Jusik took off his helmet and nodded to Fi to do the same. He could be forgiven for a little theater. It would make the point so much better than an impassioned speech.
“This is my brother,” he said. “Fi Skirata.”
If anyone needed a poster boy for the clone army, Fi was the first choice. He was still charming, funny, and disarming. It was much easier to tug heartstrings with Fi for a prop than with Maze or Sull, who didn’t look like they needed saving from anything and exuded resentment at the very thought of rescue.
“I bet everyone tells you that you’ve got a familiar face, young man,” Altis said. “Now, I know they don’t retire clone troopers, so let me guess—you’re on the run as well.”
“It was just a parking fine,” Fi said. “But you know how these things escalate.”
“Ah, you want to hide with us? You’re very welcome. We’re a mixed bunch. Jedi, other Force adepts, all sorts of Sector Rangers, a couple of Ffib Nonconformists, and plenty of non-Force-sensitives. We even have a renegade spy. No obligation beyond pulling your weight in the community.”
“Actually,” Jusik said, “we’d like you to take three Jedi off our hands.”
“Ah … that’s what you’re running.”
“No, we’re running an escape and rehab network for clones, Master. But we have Jedi who would be safer elsewhere, and we also need them to forget they know where we’re based. For everyone’s safety. We’ve really upset the Emperor. I mean at Intel level. It’s better that you don’t know the detail.”
Altis tilted his head. “Of course we’ll take them. Are you going to try memory-wiping them, though? That’s … risky.”
“I know.”
“Have you done it before?”
“Yes.” Jusik knew what was bothering Altis. Mind-rubs were regarded as a dark side practice. But then allowing marriage and families was anathema to orthodox Jedi thinking, too, and Altis didn’t seem to have any problem with that. It hadn’t sent his sect rushing to the dark side. “I erased a courier’s memory of meeting me and a squad of clone commandos. For safety reasons. Ours.”
Altis just looked at him for a while. “Let me know how you get on.”
“Put it this way, Master—the alternative is to leave no witnesses. Do you understand me? And my father doesn’t want to take that route.”
>
“Father?”
“It’s a long story.”
A brown-haired woman a little older than Jusik—rather pretty, he thought—sidled up to Altis as if to interrupt. She looked and felt eager, half smiling.
“These three Jedi,” she said. “Is one a human female called Etain? I met her at Nerrif Station. She had a son. We talked about her joining us with her child and her partner. Did she mention me? I’m Callista Masana.”
Jusik was taken aback. He hadn’t known Etain had approached the Altis sect at all. “Did she say why she …”
He couldn’t go on. Every Force-sensitive in that boat shed could feel his distress. Callista caught his arm.
“What is it?”
“Etain was killed,” Jusik said. Realizing that she could have left and found a safer place—that if she’d gone with Altis, she’d probably be alive now—was almost too much to take. “She’s dead.”
Callista gulped in air the way people did when they were caught out by shocked tears. She composed herself quickly. “What about her son?”
“He’s fine. We have him. His father … he’s fine, too. Look, if I can deliver these Jedi to you without anything in their memories to connect them to our base, will you take them?”
“Absolutely,” said Altis. “May I know their names?”
“Master Arligan Zey, a Padawan called Tallisibeth Enwandung-Esterhazy, and a Kaminoan Jedi Knight—Kina Ha. She’s rather senior.”
“A Kaminoan? Good grief, I thought that was a myth.”
“She’s about a thousand years old, we think.”
Altis blinked a couple of times, then laughed to himself. “At last, someone I can grumble with about young whippersnappers and dreadful modern music. Are you sure? No, of course you are. How extraordinary.”
Jusik felt a flood of relief. He’d almost expected Altis to be too wary of a trap to cooperate, but he’d forgotten that he was dealing with Jedi, and one thing he could be sure of was that they felt his true intentions. He looked around at the group. Yes, it was a very mixed bag indeed, six different species, male and female, young and old. And he felt that some weren’t Force-sensitive.
The man with the ancient coat still perplexed him. So did a striking woman with flawless black skin that looked almost polished. She dissected Jusik with a glance—not unkind, simply thorough, as if she was used to making fast judgments—and went to speak to Fi.
“Do you know anyone in the Five-oh-first?” she asked.
“Yes ma’am.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“I knew some very fine troopers from the legion. I’m glad there’s another life for them if they want it.”
“We never close, ma’am. Open all hours.”
“Remember that Imperial Intel is full of dark siders and would-be Sith,” she said. “So watch your back, soldier. It was looking a bit too mystic even when I worked for them. I’m Hallena, by the way. I used to be a spook, but I’m all better now.”
“I leave the intel stuff to my crazy brothers,” Fi said. “I just shoot things. And feed the nuna.”
“Very wise,” Hallena said. “How are we going to do this handover, then? It’s not without risks.”
“Neutral planet,” Jusik said. “We won’t burden you with our location.”
“Are you going to tell us how you found us?”
“Probably not.” It was Skirata’s job to do the bargaining when necessary. Jusik had the feeling the problem would be stopping Altis from being too helpful and ending up on everyone’s comm list. At least they had a resident spook to keep their paranoia fit and healthy. “I’ll stay in touch. When they’re ready to leave, I’ll comm you.”
Altis shook his hand again, and Fi’s. “You sound like very interesting folks. I’d like to meet your father.” He turned Jusik around by his shoulders. “Now vanish. Because we will. You can’t trust anyone here.”
Jusik resisted the urge to look back. Fi glanced over his shoulder just once as he walked, then faced forward again and whistled tunelessly under his breath.
“Nice lady,” he said. “Well, that’s one problem solved. But Mij is going to miss Scout. So will Uthan.”
“Yeah, I know. I might be out of my depth with a memory wipe.”
“You repair brains. How hard can it be?”
“Might be easier with subjects who can consent and cooperate.”
“It’s that, or it’s endex for them.”
“No pressure, then.”
“Nah. Can I drive?”
“Okay. Once we leave orbit.”
Jusik scattered the small knot of local kids with a tilt of his head and climbed into the Aggressor’s cockpit. They looked at him like he was the most ori’beskaryc gangster this side of Hutt space. If only they knew his self-doubt at that moment.
He was going to have to wipe his old Master’s memory. It wasn’t the same as healing injury. He wondered how much Zey wanted to forget besides the coordinates of Kyrimorut.
“Are you going to tell Kal’buir that Etain had an invite to join Altis?” Fi asked.
“Yeah,” Jusik said. “Somehow.”
Skirata had to be told. It was the kind of thing he’d want to know, even if it hurt.
15
It had never crossed my mind that these men felt persecuted by me, that they felt I was a threat and would take Darman’s child. I was horrified. I was raised to believe I was a soldier for the light, defender of the oppressed, a righter of wrongs. But Skirata and Darman saw me as just a baby stealer, a monster who would drag Kad into a cult. And so did Etain, it seems. And that breaks my heart.
—Jedi Master Arligan Zey, confiding in Kina Ha
Special Operations barracks, 501st Legion headquarters, Imperial City
“As far as I’m concerned,” said Melusar, leafing through the Coth Fuuras report, “that’s a result. Tidy job. Especially you, Rede. Good thinking. If Intel wants to up their departmental midi-chlorian count, they can do it some other way. One more Jedi off the list.”
And Melusar really did have a list. He’d had it neatly printed out on large flimsi poster that reminded Niner of a bolo-ball league table, with colored lines showing which Jedi was linked to another and how. He got up from his chair, scanned the list of names—more of which were crossed out with a red line each week—and ran his marker stylus through YELGO, BORIK.
“There really aren’t that many left,” he said. “Look. Scattered ones and twos. Occasional groups of five or six. The only big tranche left seems to be Djinn Altis and an assortment of other fringe Force-user groups linked to him. Makes sense. He was never part of the mainstream Jedi Order, so his people just weren’t there when Order 66 was called. Never hung out with the Yoda faction. Never got into politics. Never worked for the government. Never led clone troops. Fought the Seps, yes, but only later in the war, and then on their own terms. So more of them survived. And they’re nomadic—based on some ship.”
Niner quite liked the sound of Altis. He guessed that Darman didn’t. As soon as Holy Roly had told that briefing that Altis let his followers marry and have families, Niner could imagine what was going on in Dar’s head. It must have made him as bitter as haran. It wasn’t Altis’s fault that the other Jedi banned attachment, but he could see why Darman might blame them all for their dumb rules.
Rede just studied the list on the wall, squinting slightly. Melusar stood in his way and got his attention. “Rede, can you get me something, please? I need the details of the beskar extraction deal with Mandalore, and the latest geological survey you can find for the sector.”
“On it, sir.”
Rede trotted off. Melusar carried on talking generally about Jedi numbers, and then switched topics as soon as the office doors closed.
“It’s not that I don’t trust Rede,” Melusar said. “But he’s all raw enthusiasm, and I need to know him better before I tell him everything that I tell you. Now—I want you to go after Altis.”
Niner wanted to check
. “Us, or multiple squads, sir?”
“You.”
“I think we might be a bit outnumbered, then.”
“Not a frontal assault. Surveillance, intelligence gathering, and eventually we bring the whole lot down in one operation. It won’t be an overnight job. It’ll take months.”
“Is he that important?”
“Yes, I think he is. We’ve got more than enough commandos to deal with the other odds and ends. But Altis is the kind of leader that other Jedi might regroup around, not just his own dippy freethinkers. He’s a potential threat now that almost all the other Masters have gone. And he might be a charming chap, but the ones who flock to him will be the usual kind of Jedi, and before long they’ll be back, running the galaxy from behind the scenes.”
It was a helmets-off meeting, because Holy Roly preferred to make eye contact, but Niner—like most clones—liked to keep his helmet on because it gave him precious privacy. No officer could tell what was going on under that frozen mask. A guy could be mouthing obscenities, but as long as he kept his head still his commander would be none the wiser. It was a safety valve.
And it was Niner’s bugging device, too. He hoped it was picking up some of this briefing for Ordo.
He could see Darman’s jaw muscle clenching and unclenching. Melusar probably could, too. Shab, as long as that was all Dar did; he was still seething because he’d found out the hard way that there were Jedi at Kyrimorut. Instead of calming down, he was getting angrier and more agitated.
Dar was always the laid-back one. Never lost it. So calm that we used to think he was asleep.
“We’ll rely on our own intelligence,” Melusar said. “I’ll get cover in place so that they don’t start taking an interest in what we’re doing. Right now, all they seem concerned about is recruiting Force-users. Fine. At least I’ll know where they all are, come the glorious day.”
501st: An Imperial Commando Novel Page 39