Clones

by John Whitman

  The Shroud touched down and the hatch opened. "Let's get out of here,"

  Tash said.

  They hurried on board the ship.

  Vader had traveled back and forth from the Rebel base to the Jedi ruins

  several times, piecing together the clues to this mystery. It was obvious to

  him that the ancient Jedi had done experiments with cloning, and that some of

  their machinery had been left behind.

  He knew what Zak, Tash, and Hoole could not. He remembered his previous

  visit to the ruins, the defensive blasters, and his wounds. Some of his blood

  must have spilled in the round chamber. The genetic maintenance droids,

  reactivated by the activity in the room, had been attracted by the proximity

  of fresh DNA. They'd gathered up a blood sample and used it to create a Vader

  clone. This clone had then gone on to create others.

  That mystery was easily solved. But the two human children and the

  Shi'ido puzzled Vader more. They were unusual, those three. They had a talent

  for getting in the way. Vader had met them once before, and they'd slipped

  through his fingers. Now they had escaped him a second time. He would make

  sure that did not happen again.

  Vader stood on the bridge between the base and the ruins, watching his

  stormtroopers work. They were gathering up all the clones they could find. The

  Rebel clones, with their limited mental abilities, would be nearly useless.

  The clones of the children and the Shi'ido would be more interesting. They

  would be studied before they were destroyed.

  The cloning equipment itself he planned to take aboard his ship. The

  mindscanners were obviously flawed, creating imperfect replicas. His own

  clone, with its false armor and lightsaber, was proof of that. The mindscanned

  clones seemed unable to distinguish between reality and mere image. But

  perhaps they could be improved.

  He knew the Emperor would find it interesting.