True Colors

by Karen Traviss

  “You haven’t asked me something,” she said.

  “Birth weight?”

  “Don’t you want to know if he’s strong in the Force?”

  Skirata trod tactfully. He found he was determined not to think of Venku as a Jedi-in-waiting. That could never be allowed to happen. “Is he? It’s not a given, is it?”

  “No, it’s not. But he will be a Force-user. It depends on how he’s trained to handle it.”

  She might have been having second thoughts about his future. All she’d ever known before the war broke out was a Jedi clan for a family; stress could make folks default to what they knew best. “And who’s going to train him?”

  “I will. I might regret taking away his choice to be a Jedi, but I’d rather offer him the wider world.”

  There were times when she really looked like a Jedi, the same way Jusik did, simultaneously both child and ancient sage, swathed in those dull brown and beige robes. Skirata tried to imagine her like a normal young girl of her age, doing mindless fluffy things like worrying about fashion, and felt agonizing guilt for the harsh things he’d said to her when she told him she was pregnant.

  He was glad she did it. Darman had a son.

  It was going to kill her to stay away from her baby, though, and to cover up the fact that she’d given birth. He’d been so sure it was right for Darman not to know about Venku until he was ready for the news. But now he wasn’t so sure.

  I took away his chance to name his own son. So where does that leave me?

  And Venku was a blend of Force-using Jedi and the perfect soldier, a valuable commodity. Ko Sai’s continued cooperation was being bought with a vial of blood and tissue. There was nothing the aiwha-bait could ever do with it, but she wanted it badly. Skirata was going to hand it to her.

  “Et’ika, let’s pick our moment and tell Darman,” he said. “Let’s see if he’s up to it. I’ll know.”

  “But I’m not sure how I’m going to face him after lying to him like that.”

  “I’ll tell him the truth. I made you do it.”

  “But you were right, Kal. It’s already a dangerous situation, whatever I do. There’s no way around it.” Etain held her hands out to take Venku again, and settled him in the crook of her arm. “Once even a few folks know what his parentage is, the trouble starts. Unless both Dar and I desert, that is, and he won’t do that.” She wiped the baby’s mouth. “I don’t think I can, either. I can’t play happy families while this war’s going on, not like that, anyway.”

  Skirata saw her point, and wondered how he’d react in the same position. “Fi knows now.”

  “Yes. But he’s not exactly in a position to blurt it out to anyone.”

  “I’d better talk to him.”

  “I don’t think he understands why I didn’t tell Dar.”

  “Leave it to me. First things first, though—Ko Sai.”

  Skirata hadn’t seen her in a while, and when he and Mereel walked into the mobile laboratory unit that she’d finally deigned to use, she reminded him of someone wasting away who’d managed to muster a little strength to greet a friend. But there was nothing friendly about her. She was just anxious to play with that sample.

  But she must know she can’t ever make a super-soldier out of it. Imagine being so hungry for knowledge that all you want to do is find out, even if you’ll never use it.

  Skirata wasn’t taking chances. If she escaped from Kamino, then she could try to make a run from here, even now. From the moment she took that sample out of his hands, she was locked in and under surveillance.

  “I hear the baby is healthy and well,” she said.

  “Yeah.” Skirata held up the vial. “Now you tell me how healthy.”

  “I don’t even have to test for abnormal aging, Sergeant,” she said. “Any engineered genes inherited from his father will be designed to be recessive, and those occurring naturally in the Fett genome have been chemically regulated. Apart from any exotica inherited from his Jedi mother, the baby will grow up normally unless he’s been very unlucky in life’s lottery.”

  “You make it sound so wonderful.” Skirata looked at the vial. “And you’ve had a good rummage around Etain’s genome, I take it.”

  “Yes. Fascinating.”

  “So this cocktail just tells you how they interact.”

  “Not just. This is the most fascinating part of all.”

  And Venku didn’t need it. Skirata could walk away now, if he believed her. But he had to take her tests on trust, too. He was no geneticist.

  Mereel nudged him. “Ko Sai kept her word before, and it’s not as if it can do any harm now.”

  Skirata wasn’t sure if Mereel was playing nice-policeman-nasty-policeman with the Kaminoan, but he handed over the sample.

  “Have fun,” he said, and they left.

  The bastion was taking shape. Bralor’s droids had built a sheltered circular atrium off the main hub, with a roof that slid back on days when nobody cared what could be spotted from the air; it was ideal for open-air roasts.

  “I say we get started on butchering that shatual if Rav hasn’t already prepared it, Mer’ika. Perfect celebratory meal, if we had the whole clan here.”

  “You said clan.”

  “That’s what it is, isn’t it?”

  “Indeed it is, Buir.” Mereel smiled. “The war will be over one day.”

  “It’ll be over for us,” Skirata said. “And the rest of the galaxy can do what it wants. In the meantime, I need to make friends with someone reliable who’s worked at Arkanian Micro.”

  “But not before we roast a little shatual, eh?” Mereel smiled. “I’m an uncle now. I have to do things right.” Uncle. Ba’vodu.

  It was a lovely family word. This was where the future all began; these days, Skirata was certain, marked the beginning of hope for his boys—for Mandalore, even.

  Yes, Arkanian Micro could wait a few hours longer.

  Kyrimorut bastion, northern Mandalore,

  545 days after Geonosis

  “How do Mandalorian women transport their babies?” Etain asked. “I’m pretty sure they don’t travel with this amount of kit just for a few hours’ jaunt down the Hydian Way.”

  She couldn’t actually manage the bag of diapers, milk, and changes of clothing. To think she’d once carried an LJ-50 conk rifle into battle: now she was drained to empty by simply lifting a travel bag and forced to resort to a repulsor assist.

  Bralor had one last peek at Venku. “Backpack,” she said. “But under the circumstances, I’d say cheating is fine. Remember, Mando’ade don’t enjoy pain and hardship—we’re just better at putting up with it than the aruetiise. Be kind to yourself. This isn’t an endurance contest.”

  “I’ll be back as often as I can.”

  “Any time, vod’ika. You certain you want to go through with this? Back in barracks?”

  “I can always change my mind.”

  “Well, trite as it sounds… we’re here. I just hope Darman’s ready for the whole thing.” Bralor craned her neck to look through the narrow window slit. “They’re wonderful lads, but they can’t help being naïve in some areas. Of course, the Nulls got the idea fast, except maybe Ordo…”

  “What are you looking for?”

  “Parja and Fi. She’s making him walk today. His balance is shot to haran but she’s got handrails set up, droids on standby, you name it. That girl never quits on a repair or orphaned nuna chicks.”

  Etain still saw what Fi had had and then lost: once a perfectly made, supremely fit man, now one who struggled to have a basic conversation, forgot where he was, needed help to eat, and was learning to walk properly again. Parja, never having known that perfect Fi to use as a benchmark, just saw who he was now, and appeared to find that he struck a chord in her. She seemed tireless in her devotion.

  I wouldn’t cross these people, but if I had to choose who to trust if my life depended on it…

  But she had chosen, and had not been disappointed.

 
“I’ll go say good-bye to Ko Sai,” Etain said. It still sounded utterly unbelievable to her, as if this was just a neighbor she had to humor for harmony’s sake. It was sobering to think how normal even the most repellent beings could seem if you inured yourself to their ways by spending time with them. Darkness crept up quietly on the unwary. “I wonder what genetic goody I can think up to keep her amused and cooperative.”

  Bralor resumed her business-as-usual tone again. “You know Kal’s going to have to shoot her one day, don’t you?”

  “I suppose I do.”

  “Personally, I’d do it now, take the files you have to another clonemaster and trade it with them, because they all know how to age clones fast at some stage. Or just haul the shabuir down to Arkania and let them shake it out of her for you.” Bralor placed a large floppy parcel in Etain’s straining bag. “If she knows anything worth having, that is. That’s the shatual, by the way, roasted and sliced. Share it with Darman and the boys. Right way to celebrate the birth of a son—even if you can’t tell them yet.”

  Etain walked around the outside of the bastion to Ko Sai’s laboratory, Venku held close to her, and caught sight of Parja guiding Fi between two fence rails. Fi fell over; Parja hauled him up with the aid of a droid, and they started over. Fi had once left an impression in the Force of resentment and bewildered loneliness, constantly wondering why he couldn’t have the freedom and companionship in life that every other being around him seemed to have. But when Etain reached out in the Force to see what he radiated now, the mix was different—scared, confused, and seeking his old self, but the loneliness had all but vanished.

  At last, Fi no longer felt alone. He’d paid a terrible price to reach that state, but he seemed more at peace than he ever had. The Force balanced its books in strange ways.

  Holding Venku in her left arm, Etain rapped on the doors.

  “Ko Sai, it’s Etain. Can I come in?”

  It was just diplomacy. The locked door was key-coded, and Etain could come and go as she pleased. But there was no point rubbing Ko Sai’s nose in it. Seeing Venku might chip away further at her resolve.

  “Ko Sai?”

  There was no answer. Etain had a sudden cold panic: the Kaminoan had fled with the tissue samples.

  Don’t be stupid. She can’t escape. She’s just engrossed in something.

  Etain keyed in the code and walked in anyway.

  Ko Sai had indeed fled: but she’d escaped to where nobody could follow, taking whatever knowledge she had with her.

  She hung lifeless from a noose slung over one of the crossbeams.

  Etain put her hand to her mouth, but she didn’t scream. She’d seen far too much on the battlefield to react. I know the drill. I call Kal. Oh no, no, no… She found herself cursing in a sobbing voice under her breath as she summoned Skirata by comlink, and glanced at the note on the datapad that lay still illuminated on the workbench.

  Thank you, Etain. It was fascinating.

  Once more, Ko Sai, geneticist without equal, had had the last word.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Maze, if you ever find you wish to pursue an alternative career, let me know—privately, mind. I’m sure I could acquire some resources to help you… relocate.

  —General Arligan Zey to his aide, ARC trooper Captain Maze, after receiving inconclusive answers about what might happen to clone troops wanting to leave the army after the war

  Kyrimorut bastion,

  Mandalore,

  545 days after Geonosis

  So the aiwha-bait was still jerking his chain, even though she was dead.

  Skirata leaned against the door frame and stared at Ko Sai’s body, wondering what he had missed. Vau and Mereel checked it over carefully.

  “I don’t do full postmortems, not even for a hobby,” said Vau, “but I can’t see how anyone could have come close enough to Ko Sai out here to assassinate her, even if they knew we were holding her.”

  “She was getting more hacked off with life by the day.” Mereel removed the ligature. “She must have known she wasn’t going home. But I never had Kaminoans down as suicidal. Excessive self-esteem. It might have been the ultimate act of contempt for us.”

  Vau prodded the cadaver thoughtfully. “But they’re not the most cosmopolitan and well traveled of species. Big deal for them to leave Kamino. Personally, I’m not surprised she went off the rails.”

  “I’d have taken the pearl-handled blaster and done the decent thing ages ago,” Mereel muttered. “But then I’m not an arrogant xenophobic piece of tatsushi.”

  Skirata could only see a tenuous stream of data that had finally dried up. “I’m glad to see this hasn’t traumatized you boys,” he said sourly. His shock hadn’t taken long to give way to anger. “I was getting worried that it might have scarred you for life.”

  She’d already done that to Mereel, of course. “She might have run out of information to give us.”

  “She might,” said Skirata, “have been jerking our chain all along.”

  “Well, I know what I’m going to be doing for the foreseeable future. Collating what we’ve got and finding another geneticist or three to advise me.” Mereel slotted a probe into the computer. “Just checking she hasn’t trashed the data… no, she thought her work was too sacred even to have so much as a full stop erased. What a gal. Scrub the theory on the ultimate act of contempt, then.”

  “I still think we should risk it and do a deal with Arkanian Micro,” said Vau. “Every cloner has to handle accelerated development. It’s what they run on.”

  “But they’re cheap and nasty,” Mereel said.

  “So? We’re not buying from them. We just want them to say, Hey, those are the genes you need to switch on and off, and then we get the regulator manufactured by a pharma company.”

  “I’ve got that in hand,” Skirata said, unable to take his eyes off the dead Kaminoan. He half expected her to be playing dead, not a corpse at all. “First things first.”

  “Once we know what it is we’ve got, too,” Mereel said. “We’re sitting on the cloning equivalent of the Sacred Scroll of Gurrisalia and we can’t read the language—not well enough, anyway.”

  They still had a dead Kaminoan to dispose of, too. Skirata wondered what use he could make of her now. Nobody would ever believe he hadn’t killed her—he wasn’t sure why he hadn’t, in the end—so maybe there was some advantage to be gained here. If she couldn’t be useful to him alive, she’d earn her keep dead.

  “Delta’s still digging away under ActionWorld island, aren’t they?”

  “Yes, Kal’buir.”

  “I think they need to find what they’re looking for. Put the Chancellor’s mind at rest. Get him off our areas of interest, so to speak.”

  “How are we going to plant her there?” Vau asked. “We’re not,” Skirata said. “I’m going to have a word with Delta.”

  Mereel shook his head. “They’re not us. They stick to the rules. They’ll tell Zey.”

  Vau looked offended. “Don’t underestimate how diplomatic they can be, Kal. They didn’t tell him about the bank raid, did they?”

  “Okay, Walon, I’ll get my story straight so we don’t dump Jusik in it as the leak on Ko Sai, and I’ll provide some forensics for them to slap on Zey’s desk.”

  “Done. Now what about the body?”

  “I’m not looking forward to this.” Skirata’s hatred of Ko Sai and her kind didn’t extend to making what he had to do next any easier. “But help me move her into the barn. I’ll do my own dirty work.”

  “I think Jaing and I should do it, actually, Buir.” Mereel ushered the two older men out of the lab. “Ko Sai and us… we go back a long way.”

  Skirata could always rely on the Nulls. One day they might talk about it, but for the time being he was simply grateful that they volunteered, and wondered if there was now some kind of closure in it for them.

  “Are you… donating the entire body to Delta?” Vau asked.

  “No,” Skirata said,
suddenly getting a whole new idea, and not liking himself for it. Did she have any family? After all the years he spent on Kamino, he still didn’t know. “It wouldn’t do Lama Su any harm to think that we got to her in the end. I think I’m going to do the decent thing and send most of her home.”

  “They’ll appreciate that…,” Vau said.

  “Munit tome’tayl, skotah iisa,” Skirata said. Long memory, short fuse: it was the Mandalorian character, they said. “I’d hate Kamino to forget us.”

  But maybe, one day, they could forget Kamino.

  “I’ll get Jaing and Ordo.” Mereel took out a vibroblade. “This is a job a long time in the planning.”

  Mereel didn’t elaborate, and Skirata didn’t ask. He took Vau’s elbow and steered him outside.

  Ko Sai wasn’t the only person Skirata didn’t know quite as well as he felt he should.

  Besany Wennen’s apartment,

  Coruscant,

  547 days after Geonosis

  Besany always took her blaster with her when she answered the door these days, and she didn’t open it until she’d run all the security scans that Ordo and Mereel had installed for her. But today it was just Kal Skirata who showed up, carrying something in his arms.

  “Sorry, Kal,” she said. “I always expect you to show up on the landing pad, like Ordo does.”

  “I didn’t want to panic you.” He indicated the bundle with a nod. “Not with this little fella on board.”

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were carrying a—oh my, you are. It’s a baby…”

  Skirata took a deep breath and laid the bundle of blankets—plain pearl gray, very soft—on her sofa, then leaned over it and peeled the layers of fabric away with slow care. “Isn’t he beautiful?” His voice was a whisper. “I might need you to look after him. Not all the time, but sometimes.”

  The baby was a newborn, with a shock of dark silky curls, sound asleep. Besany wasn’t sure what to say; she was so fond of Skirata that she’d do pretty well anything for him, but she knew nothing about babies, and she still had a regular job. He took her hand without looking away from the sleeping child, and squeezed it gently as if the two of them were sharing a wonderful joke.