Yes, the Imperial Army would understand perfectly. Vader would give Darman a month's leave, and the Emperor would send him a nice box of candies to show his concern.

Right.

"You're not fine," Niner said. "But I'm here, and I'll keep an eye on you. Okay?"

Darman blinked a few times. "I'm going to the gym. Maybe we ought to get Ennen along, too, and Rede. Why don't we mix with the others?"

"Because we're not very sociable," Niner said.

Because we're not planning on staying. That's why I don't feel part of this army. I switched off, and I can't switch back on again. switched off, and I can't switch back on again.

"Do you still...want to go?" Niner asked carefully.

"Go where?" Darman said.

Niner imagined bugging devices everywhere. Sometimes that seemed ludicrous-who would suspect clones of disloyalty?-and sometimes it made perfect sense, because the rest of his squad, his training sergeant, and the ARC troopers he'd served with were all on the death list. If the Empire was looking for deserters, where better to start than by waiting for their closest friends to make a slip?

"The gym," Niner said. "I meant the gym."

Darman gave him a blank look. "I'm going. It'll do you good to go, too. Come on."

Niner had always been too busy fighting to worry about keeping fit. Running for his life and hauling a heavy pack was all the exercise he needed. But now that his duties were less active-physically, at least-he had to make an effort. He changed into his shorts, tucking the datachip carefully in a sealed pocket, and left his armor stacked neatly on his bunk as if ready for kit inspection. But Darman shut his armor in his locker and secured it.

Niner wondered if he'd kept some incriminating keepsake of Etain, like a letter or something.

That could get both of them killed.

What had Darman done about the data stored in his old helmet? He'd proposed to Etain via the messaging system, and she'd accepted the same way. He never saw her alive again after that, except for the short minutes on the bridge before she was killed, just meters and seconds away from escaping with him. It still seemed massively cruel-newly wed, unable even to touch before they were separated forever.

He must have had the sense to erase anything stored in the helmet's memory. Dar's thorough. If he hadn't, we'd be in big trouble now, wouldn't we? thorough. If he hadn't, we'd be in big trouble now, wouldn't we?

Niner realized that he was behind enemy lines. Suddenly, life seemed simpler.

Fine. I'm trained for that. I can handle it.

He played pairs-slingball with Darman, smashing the ball against the wall as hard as he could and not even thinking about the score. A game that intense took his mind off everything except the fast-moving, rock-hard ball that gave him no time to think. It purged all the pent-up anger and frustration from anyone's system. Nobody interrupted a game like that. That was the plan; Niner had seen Darman lose it with Skirata once, and if he could take a swing at a man who would have done anything for him, his adoptive father, then he would do a lot worse to some hapless stormtrooper who rubbed him up the wrong way in a game.

The less attention Dar drew, the better.

Niner couldn't return half of Darman's shots. The ball was coming back off the wall like a missile. Sweat stung his eyes, and Darman collided with him a couple of times without even seeming to notice. Eventually Niner slowed to a standstill and bent over with his hands on his knees, catching his breath.

"Good game," Darman panted. Sweat dripped off his nose. "Want another?"

"I'm done. I'm going to clean up."

This was where things started to get complicated. Niner had to keep the datachip on him at all times, and when it came to using the 'freshers, that wasn't easy. He didn't dare leave the thing in his locker. The chip was about three centimeters square, wafer-thin, so he racked his brains for all the places he could hide the chip while showering. The choices weren't fun. He opted for wrapping the chip in a layer of waterproof plastoid and tucking it inside his cheek.

Just don't swallow it. That would be...awkward.

It still took a conjuror's dexterity to slide the chip from his shorts and then find a private moment in the communal changing room to slip the thing in his mouth before taking his clothes off. He was lucky that the chip was too thin to create a telltale bulge in his cheek and make him look like a foraging profogg. All he needed now was to avoid getting into a conversation. Concentrating on the tiled wall was the best way to do that.

Darman switched on the spray head next to him.

"I don't know when I'm going to be Dar again." He seemed to be having another lucid moment, able to stand back and see that he wasn't quite right. "I'm sorry, ner vod ner vod."

"It's okay," Niner mumbled. He felt like an idiot with the chip lodged in his mouth.

"You don't have to explain yourself to me."

Niner dressed, hid the chip in his pants again, and went back to the room to do his laundry. He found the doors open and his helmet missing. For a moment he was ready to go find Ennen to tell him exactly what he'd do to him if they tried to pull some stupid stunt with his bucket, but as he checked the other lockers, he heard the rattle of a droid in the corridor.

A tech droid with a polished dome and a cylindrical body, like a taller version of an R2 astromech unit, rolled into the room carrying Niner's helmet in both arms. He knew it was his. He recognized the scrapes and charring on the cheek piece.

"Servicing complete." The droid placed the helmet back on Niner's bunk in exactly the position where he'd left it. "But I've been unable to service your colleague IC-one-one-three-six's helmet. It wasn't left for collection. Have a pleasant day."

The droid spun 180 degrees to leave, but Niner tapped it on its dome. It turned back to him with a slight pause. He could have sworn it was exasperated.

"Yes, IC-one-three-zero-nine?"

"I didn't ask for helmet repair."

"I know. This is routine maintenance under contract. A number of helmets have developed comm problems due to component failure. I suggest you test the audio systems at your earliest convenience and report back to Equipment Maintenance if problems persist. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

Niner hadn't had any problems with his bucket. He didn't like it much, but that wasn't going to be solved by servicing, and there was no point arguing with a droid.

"That's all, thanks," he said.

"How nice to receive courtesy from a wet wet," the droid said, and left.

Skirata had brought up his young commandos to say please and thank you, even to Kaminoans and droids. Niner still found it funny to hear a tinnie call him a wet wet, though.

But now he was alone. He'd been waiting for relative privacy to examine the datachip again, and this was as good a time as any. He removed the transmitter unit from his datapad to make sure that anything he viewed wouldn't end up being relayed to prying eyes. Then he sat on the bunk and hunched over the datapad so any hidden surveillance cam wouldn't see what showed on the screen.

Well, until I know this place isn't bugged-I'll assume the worst. Enemy lines, remember. remember.

When he slid the chip into the port on his datapad, the device told him that it was empty. For a moment he wondered if Obrim had slipped him some other chip, but nothing was precisely what he should have expected to see. Only Jaing could coax information from the chip. But he had no idea yet how to contact him, and in the new army, he couldn't just put in a comm call to Mandalore or cadge a ride with some unit heading for the Hydian Way.

Shab. If he messed around with the chip too much, he might end up corrupting the data. After a few minutes staring pointlessly at an empty dialogue box, he gave up and hid the chip carefully again.

There has to be a way to do this. Whatever's on here matters to Kal'buir and my brothers. Obrim wouldn't have taken a risk like this if it wasn't crucial. brothers. Obrim wouldn't have taken a risk like this if it wasn't crucial.

Niner checked his helmet, working out how he would locate Jaing if he could reach the Mandalore sector-just theory, mind, not a plan at all. He flipped the helmet over in his hands and looked at the tight-packed interior, every space lined and studded with suit environment sensors, displays, and interfaces. When he lifted it and inhaled, he could smell unfamiliar scents: the incense-like perfume of solder, a faint whiff of cleaning fluid on the mike and earpiece adapter, and something else he couldn't identify. Singed plastoid, perhaps.

There was only one way to fully test a helmet, and that was to suit up and close all the seals to make the armor soundproof. He dressed, distracted by the thought that Dar knew that he was behaving oddly, and imagined how scared that made him. It was bad enough to grieve. It had to be even worse to watch yourself coming apart at the seams as well.

As soon as Niner closed the neck seal, he was back in his own one-man world of silence and perfectly controlled temperature and humidity. He blinked to activate the HUD and sound systems, selecting the diagnostic icon to test that everything was working. The ambient sound of the room flooded in, then the calibration tone, and lines of readouts cascaded down the HUD like an overlay on the world around him.

Fine. Working just fine.

He commed Control to check his mike, and got confirmation from a droid that it could hear him perfectly.

What do I do now?

Imperial Command wasn't as free and easy as the Grand Army's special forces setup.

There was no way of vanishing for a few days on a whim if a target looked promising.

There was no Kal'buir Kal'buir to cover for them while they did as they pleased, or an indulgent General Jusik to task them as he saw fit. to cover for them while they did as they pleased, or an indulgent General Jusik to task them as he saw fit.

Or Etain. Poor Etain.

How the shab shab could he get a chance to go to Mandalore? How much more could he ask of Jaller Obrim? The man would be watched as closely as anyone. One thing was clear to Niner, even if he didn't care about politics: in the new galactic order, Palpatine was checking who was with him and who was not. could he get a chance to go to Mandalore? How much more could he ask of Jaller Obrim? The man would be watched as closely as anyone. One thing was clear to Niner, even if he didn't care about politics: in the new galactic order, Palpatine was checking who was with him and who was not.

" Ner vod Ner vod..."

Niner turned, expecting to see Darman, but he was still alone in the room. He adjusted his audio, cycling through comm frequencies and picking up channels he didn't know he could access. They were all Imperial military channels. He was entitled to use some of them, being special forces, but he hadn't been able to get this many before. The droid had screwed up.

And now he kept hearing a voice.

Niner couldn't make out the words, but it was definitely a man's voice, very faint, very broken up, buried in radio interference when he switched comm channels. He wondered if he'd picked up a holonet transmission or even a taxi frequency. Then the voice came in loud and clear.

"Niner, ner vod ner vod," it said. "You didn't think some osik'la osik'la Imperial encryption could keep us out forever, did you?" Imperial encryption could keep us out forever, did you?"

The voice almost made him lose control of all sphincters. It wasn't Darman who was going crazy. It was him. He didn't dare reply. He activated the signal locator in his HUD, but it told him the transmission was coming from inside the barracks, and he didn't believe that for one minute. He knew that voice. He was just too scared to say the name, in case it was a setup, and he was wrong-fatally, finally wrong.

"Niner, cut the osik osik and respond," the voice said sharply. "Can you hear me?" and respond," the voice said sharply. "Can you hear me?"

"Identify yourself," Niner whispered.

"The galaxy's gift to women. The best data slicer this side of...well, anywhere.

Financial genius and all-around modest ori'beskaryc vod ori'beskaryc vod. Jaing Skirata. Who'd you think it was-Mereel?"

"You wish..." said Mereel's voice.

" Shab Shab," Niner whispered. Was he hallucinating? He answered anyway "They'll pick you up and trace you. Shut up."

"You always were a worry-guts, Niner. Trust Teekay-O. He's done a lovely job on your comms. I await his invoice with interest."

"The droid."

"Inorganic colleague, please." Jaing sounded chipper. Niner was relieved that he wasn't hallucinating, but now he had an extra risk to worry about. "Niner-you're coming home. And I hear you have something for me..."

Kyrimorut, Mandalore "Who's for more eggs?" Corr yelled over the hubbub. He'd volunteered for kitchen detail with Ny this week, probably to impress Jilka, and Ordo decided it was working. She watched Corr when she thought he wasn't looking. "Make the most of these. The nuna can't keep up with you greedy shab'ikase shab'ikase. It'll be boiled mealgrain until they start laying again."

"But we're trillionaires," Fi said. "How come we've got an egg crisis? We should be brushing our teeth with Daruvvian champagne."

"It's all Levet's fault. He's not farming fast enough."

Levet looked up from his plate. "I'm only halfway through the livestock manual. I'm still on chapter ten-nerf husbandry."

"You know there's a law against that, don't you?" Fi said. "Hurry up-start on the chapter about roba. I like smoked roba."

"Let's admit temporary defeat and ship in extra eggs for the time being," Levet said.

"We can glory in our gritty self-sufficiency later."

Ordo watched Uthan and Ny with interest. Neither woman was aware-as far as he knew-that Fi wasn't joking about being worth trillions. Ordo wasn't sure that Ruu knew or understood the details, either. Uthan definitely seemed to be taking it as a joke. He wondered how they'd react if they knew just how much wealth the clan was sitting on.

But creds didn't solve every problem.

Skirata tapped the end of his fork on the table. "Okay, ad'ike ad'ike, what's the drill today?"

"We're tracking Niner via his helmet systems," Jaing said. "So we rendezvous with Gaib and Teekay-O off Coruscant, they supply us with ordinary stormtrooper armor, we swap out the electronics, land in Imperial City or whatever it's called this week, pick up Niner and Darman, and bang out."

"Just like that," Fi said. "Can I come?"

"Nulls only," Mereel said. "And before anyone else asks-no. It's going to be just us and Ny, because her ship's been passed and inspected at Imperial checkpoints."

"We never needed to worry about that before," Atin muttered. "Bogus transponder signal. Don't leave the barracks without one."

"But it's a one-shot trick. We might want to drop in again. First rule-don't make things any more complicated than you need to."

Ny watched the discussion with her arms folded, lips pursed in apparent disapproval.

Ordo thought she was the perfect cover. She was used to contraband runs-and, Kal'buir Kal'buir said, after a certain age women were invisible, just like clones. She was the wrong gender and the wrong age to look like a gang courier. Females who did that kind of work were expected to be young and dangerous looking, because most beings watched too many holovids with glamorous actresses playing blaster-toting heroines, and so they believed that was how things were in the real world. Men like Jaller Obrim weren't fooled that easily. But the galaxy wasn't full of men like him. It was full of fools. said, after a certain age women were invisible, just like clones. She was the wrong gender and the wrong age to look like a gang courier. Females who did that kind of work were expected to be young and dangerous looking, because most beings watched too many holovids with glamorous actresses playing blaster-toting heroines, and so they believed that was how things were in the real world. Men like Jaller Obrim weren't fooled that easily. But the galaxy wasn't full of men like him. It was full of fools.

Ordo thought of mentioning that by way of explanation, but he knew Ny wouldn't appreciate the candor.

"Okay, I'm up for it," Ny said. "Shall we pick up some eggs at the store on the way back?"

It was hard to tell if she was joking, deadly serious, or scathing. Her expression seldom changed. She rarely looked happy, but sometimes she smiled-at Kal'buir Kal'buir, at Fi, at Kad-and became a different person. Ordo held out hope that she would stop sleeping in her ship as if she was on a cargo stopover, and accept that this could be her home, too.

"Okay, let's do it," Skirata said. He bounced Kad on his knee. "This boy needs his buir buir."

"And I really will stock up on supplies," Ny said. "Get your grocery list together, folks. No point wasting fuel. Might as well make the best use of it."

Skirata fumbled in his belt. Kad tried to help him find what he was looking for. "How many creds, Kad'ika Kad'ika?" Skirata asked, laying cash chips on the table. "Tell me, then give them to Ny."

Kad studied the chips. "Lots. Five." That was as high as he could count. "Six?"

"Clever boy, close enough," Skirata said. It was a lot more than that. "Now, what's special about them?"

Kad looked up into Skirata's face for a prompt, then shook his head.

"If you spend these, nobody knows who you are," Skirata said, holding one up. "You can spend them in secret. Nobody knows where you live or what you've bought." Skirata turned the chip over to show Kad the holoimage on the back. "That's important, Kad'ika Kad'ika, because there are bad people out there who want to find us and hurt us. That's why we use these, so they can't."

Kad looked as if he understood, but then he always did. He nodded gravely.