"What makes you think we can cure what the Valorum Center couldn't?" Vau asked.

"We've got a vested interest in freeing her. They just wanted her off the streets."

Gilamar seemed to be putting on a show of good humor. He wasn't happy at all, though, and Skirata didn't have to be a Jedi to sense it. "Kal, making crazy people un un- crazy is a long job if it's trauma that's driven them nuts. Brain chemistry imbalances are relatively easy. You just top up the oil, pharmaceutically speaking. Bad experiences aren't as fixable."

"Maybe I can do it," Jusik said, his voice distorted by his broken nose. "I'm good with brains."

"He brings Fi back from the dead, and suddenly he's a brain surgeon." Gilamar winked at him. "Can you visualize what's happening in her brain that causes the problem? That's how you fixed Fi, isn't it? Seeing something in your mind's eye and manipulating it with the Force."

Jusik shrugged. Skirata was suddenly aware of Scout. She'd slipped through the press of bodies and was watching Jusik intently, as if he was saying something that nobody else could hear.

"It has to be possible," Jusik said. "The brain's a machine. Thoughts, feelings, memories-it all comes down to chemical and electrical switches going on and off. I think we manipulate that a lot, but don't realize we're doing it."

"We?" Scout asked.

"Force-users."

Something had grabbed her imagination. Skirata could see it written all over her face.

"Show's over, ad'ike ad'ike," he said. "Time to get your beauty sleep."

While everyone else started drifting back to their rooms, Scout looked back at Jusik again as if she was going to ask him a question, but thought better of it. Besamy hung around.

"I'm going to keep her sedated until we can get some sebenodone," Gilamar said. "But that will just keep the lid on her at best, and maybe do her real harm at worst. That stuff's got a lot of permanent permanent side effects. Now, I'm going back to bed, and we'll take a look at her in the morning." side effects. Now, I'm going back to bed, and we'll take a look at her in the morning."

Nobody had asked many questions about who Arla had killed. Skirata noted, as he occasionally did, that aruetiise aruetiise had a different take from Mandalorians on the violent side of life. For millennia, they'd done the jobs that were too dangerous or difficult for other folks' armies, and hunted the galaxy's most violent criminals. Killing had a different take from Mandalorians on the violent side of life. For millennia, they'd done the jobs that were too dangerous or difficult for other folks' armies, and hunted the galaxy's most violent criminals. Killing happened happened. And when you made your living that way, there was always somebody waiting to kill you you. In the more genteel, better-fed parts of the galaxy, a single killing kept the news and the neighbors enthralled with horror for weeks. Here...it was simply part of existence, and only the circumstances mattered. There was no glamour to being a killer, and no stigma, unless the killing had been ori'suumyc ori'suumyc-"way beyond," too far outside the rules of acceptable Mando conduct.

Arla was assumed to have her reasons until proven otherwise. But she wasn't a Mandalorian, despite her illustrious brother, and Skirata reminded himself that he knew almost nothing about her.

"What did you do to start her off?" Besany asked Jusik.

Jusik looked a little indignant. "Nothing, other than being male."

"I try not to imagine what would make a woman that scared of men." Besany fussed over Jusik's nose and made him a mug of shig shig. He drank it with difficulty. "And what would tip her so far over the edge."

"Well, she doesn't stand a chance of getting any better until we find out."

"Maybe she's always had mental problems," Skirata said. "We're assuming an awful lot. If everyone who had a horrific childhood turned into a psycho, half the galaxy would be at each other's throats."

It sounded callous as soon as he said it, and he didn't mean it that way. Besany hovered on the edge of a frown. "Has Ordo called in?"

"No. It's all on schedule."

"Oh well. I suppose he'll let us know in his own good time." Besany yawned. "It'll be good to have Darman and Niner around again. The place doesn't feel complete without them. Good night, Kal'buir Kal'buir."

It was three in the morning. Skirata wondered what an uneventful life felt like. But his boys were coming home, and he had a brand-new son in Jusik, and that kept the hurdles he had to face in some kind of perspective.

This is who it's for. This is why it's worth it. Work through the problems one at a time.

Eventually...

"How are you feeling, Bard'ika Bard'ika?" Skirata ruffled his hair. "You want a painkiller?"

"I'll be okay, thanks," Jusik said. "Not the first black eye I've had."

"You should spend more time healing yourself, you know. It's not selfish."

"Fi still needs therapy. And I'm sure I can do something for Arla. I've just got to work out how. Kal'buir Kal'buir, if you could feel things in the Force...the misery misery that just flows out of her is terrible. It's like she's permanently crying." that just flows out of her is terrible. It's like she's permanently crying."

Skirata found it revealing that Jusik talked about his powers in such technical terms-therapy. He saw his Force abilities in terms of the real world, like a tool that obeyed the laws of physics and could be understood and explained. He'd never been all that mystic.

Sometimes Skirata felt his powers embarrassed him because they weren't logical, and that he needed to nail them down and define them.

If only they'd all been like him. If the Jedi had all been like Jusik, we'd never have been at war with them. been at war with them.

"Get some sleep, Bard'ika Bard'ika," Skirata said.

He walked past Arla's room just to check things were back to what passed for normal.

Mird was curled up right in front of the door, one golden eye open and watching Skirata, nostrils flaring briefly as it sampled his scent. The strill usually slept at the foot of Vau's bed. It had either been put on sentry duty or decided for itself to guard Arla's door.

Ny's really got a soft spot for Mird. Bantha bone indeed...

He missed her already. He hoped she was getting on all right with the Nulls. Mird grumbled as if to reassure him that everything was under control, and that he really ought to get some rest now.

Rest wasn't easy. Skirata checked his chrono to work out Coruscant time, and decided that Ordo would be calling in soon. Then there was Uthan to deal with before she got too distracted by Gibad's fate to focus on what needed doing.

I'm a real piece of work sometimes, aren't I?

For some reason, he thought of Dred Priest, probably because he was a piece of work, too, and wondered if the chakaar chakaar had heard that his had heard that his Cuy'val Dar Cuy'val Dar comrades were around. comrades were around.

Everyone at the Oyu'baat Oyu'baat knew; Skirata had to assume Priest did as well. He wasn't sure just how much of a risk Priest might be. knew; Skirata had to assume Priest did as well. He wasn't sure just how much of a risk Priest might be.

No, he likes being alive too much. And if he knows Gilamar's here-he won't want any trouble. any trouble.

Skirata settled down in the kitchen with a mug of shig and listened to the news feed for the latest on Gibad. There wasn't a lot to report, seeing as most of the inhabitants were dead, and any expats wouldn't exactly be rushing to the nearest offworld studio to express their outrage.

Am I wrong to lean on Uthan when she's just lost her entire world?

In the end, we all walk over those we don't really care about. Only difference is that I don't lie to myself about it. don't lie to myself about it.

After a while, his comlink chirped. Ordo was a little early. Skirata opened the channel, wanting to hear that Dar and Niner were on their way back, but realizing that it would probably take a while to slip out of Coruscant.

Imperial City, my shebs shebs . Corrie. . Corrie.

"Sergeant?" said a voice.

It wasn't Ordo. The voice was familiar, a clone's, but not one of Skirata's boys. It could have been anyone; word was probably finally getting around that there was a safe haven for deserters. It was hard to let those who needed sanctuary know where to get help and still keep Kyrimorut's location a secret, but Skirata's old comlink code was known by quite a few, and there was now no way that the link could be traced to a specific location.

"Who wants to know?" Skirata said.

"It's me, Maze. Formerly Captain Captain Maze." Maze."

Maze was on the wanted list. He was the last clone Skirata would have bet on to desert, but then ARC troopers were a funny bunch. "You need help, son?"

"I heard you were...running a relocation service."

Skirata felt a sudden flood of relief. This This was what he'd set out to do. His existence was justified. "We'll get you sorted out. You want to tell me where you are?" was what he'd set out to do. His existence was justified. "We'll get you sorted out. You want to tell me where you are?"

"How do we handle this?"

"We don't give coordinates over the comm. Pick an RV point, and we'll come to you."

Maze paused. "Fradian. The ore terminal."

"Might take a couple of days." Skirata couldn't get a location from Maze's comlink.

But he would have been disappointed if an ARC captain wasn't cautious to the point of paranoia. "You okay to hang on?"

"Yeah."

Skirata wanted to ask Maze what had made him jump ship, but that could wait. The less time they spent transmitting, the better. He'd tell Maze about the Imperial garrison when he needed to, but no ARC was going to be troubled by a few Imperials for neighbors.

"Want to give me your comlink code? It's not showing."

"It's a public comm booth," Maze said. "I'll call you again when I get to Fradian."

He could have been anywhere, then, and he had his reasons for not saying. Skirata closed the link and smiled to himself. The waifs and strays were coming home at last.

Everything was going to work out fine, he knew it.

"Come on, Ord'ika Ord'ika," he murmured, glancing at his chrono. "Call me. Tell me my boys are on their way."

Freight vessel park, Quadrant G-80, Imperial City Ny wished she'd sprung for a better security system for Cornucopia Cornucopia.

The freighter's external cams gave her a limited view of the outside world, just the critical areas she needed to keep an eye on for safety-the cargo ramp, the drive exhausts, the ground immediately beneath the landing struts, and the main hatch. As she sat fretting about who might be lurking in the yard waiting to arrest her, she realized just how much she couldn't couldn't see. see.

It'll be dark in a few hours, too.

"Relax, Ny." Prudii looked engrossed in his datapad, but he had even better peripheral vision than she thought. "The eggs won't break."

In the hold, a complete pallet of assorted eggs-nuna, marlello, even meal-sized ganza eggs-was secured to the deck. Ny hoped the rest of the tasks on her list would be as easy as getting the groceries. If she'd known how long they were going to be stuck here, she'd have stocked up with a lot more supplies.

"It's not broken eggs I'm worried about," she said. "It's other broken things. Like legs and necks."

The big illuminated sign on the opposite side of the compound really bothered her. It was the only new, shiny thing she could see in the area, which still bore signs of cannon damage from the failed Separatist invasion, blast-pocked walls and gaps in the rows of buildings like missing teeth. The sign showed a kindly but serious cop and a stormtrooper, side-by-side, guardians of the new Imperial peace, with the words: SUSPICIOUS? OUT OF PLACE? REPORT IT. BE THE EMPIRE'S EYES AND EARS.

The posters were big, bright, and everywhere everywhere. It gave her the creeps.

"Cheapens the military image, doesn't it?" Jaing flexed his shoulders as if the new armor was too tight. The Nulls were more heavily built than the average trooper, and Ny wondered when the recreational eating at Kyrimorut was going to show up on their waistlines. "They'll have stormies issuing parking tickets next."

Ny reached across and twanged his belt. "I'd really recommend trying the concealed tanks for size, boys. The Jedi found it a tight squeeze. And we'll have six six strapping lads to hide on the way out." strapping lads to hide on the way out."

"Not for long," Prudii said. "And these suits are atmosphere-tight for half an hour."

Ny had visions of the clones clinging to the outside of the ship like Salgari street kids sneaking free rides on transport speeders. "You're going to have to draw me a picture."

"Means they can withstand immersion, too. Who's going to look for illegals in a full full water reservoir? Or a full fuel tank, come to that." water reservoir? Or a full fuel tank, come to that."

"That's just mad," Ny said. The idea made her shudder. That fuel was liquid trimoseratate-not as volatile as liquid metal, but nasty enough. "You're off your kriffing heads."

"We can't help it, Buir'ika Buir'ika." Prudii stood with his finger pressed into his ear. He was just listening to the audio feed from Niner, but he hammed it up into a credible impression of a lunatic. "The aiwha-bait built us crazy."

Mereel raised an eyebrow. "As long as I don't have to hide in the waste tank."

"They might not even try to board us," Ordo said. "And your faith in Imperial procurement quality is disturbing disturbing."

Mereel didn't take the bait. "Everyone's a comedian..."

"So what's the plan now? now? " Ny asked. "We just sit here?" " Ny asked. "We just sit here?"

She was defying an Emperor who'd wiped out a planet for arguing with him, and she was scared that she'd be the weak link that compromised the whole mission. The Nulls could stroll through this without breaking a sweat, but she was in danger of letting them down by looking like she had something to hide when they had to clear departure checks.

Waiting wasn't easy. It gave her too much worry-time.

"Yeah, we just sit here," Jaing said. "Unless Niner calls for assistance."

Ordo was never chatty. He was staring at the bulkhead chrono, counting down to something else entirely-his scheduled sitrep call to Skirata. Every six hours, on the dot, he commed Kyrimorut to update him. Ny watched his gaze fixed on the seconds on the chrono display.

Five, four, three, two...

" Kal'buir Kal'buir? Everything's fine here. You've seen the news on Gibad, I assume."

Jaing, Prudii, and Mereel seemed to be ignoring the conversation. Prudii was listening to Niner's audio feed while he read a technical manual and made notes in the margin. Jaing and Mereel were watching something on Jaing's datapad screen.

"My," Jaing said, all smug satisfaction, "hasn't my little backdoor program been busy?

It's always gratifying when your offspring come of age and branch out on their own."

"Is that the second second one you fed into the system?" Ny asked. one you fed into the system?" Ny asked.

"They were so trusting, the Republic. So innocent innocent."

"What's it found?"

"You sure you want to know? With much knowledge comes bad stomach acid."

Skirata had explained how Jaing had acquired the clan's vast fortune by skimming off just a cred-sometimes half-from trillions of bank accounts via the galactic clearing system. It was, by anyone's standards, a bank robbery on a grand scale; theft, fraud, a very wrong wrong thing. If Jaing had walked into a branch of the Core Bank and hosed the staff with a blaster before making off with bags of credit chips, Ny would have classed him as a criminal. But when she watched him so clearly delighting in his technical genius, all she could see was a nice young man who'd had the worst imaginable start in life, and who was now redressing the balance in favor of other young men just like him. thing. If Jaing had walked into a branch of the Core Bank and hosed the staff with a blaster before making off with bags of credit chips, Ny would have classed him as a criminal. But when she watched him so clearly delighting in his technical genius, all she could see was a nice young man who'd had the worst imaginable start in life, and who was now redressing the balance in favor of other young men just like him.