I'd hate to be killed on a pointless whim."

A voice from the doorway made Uthan jump. "That's a dirty word around here, Death Death Watch Watch. Two, actually."

Mij Gilamar leaned against the door frame, rattling a flimsi bag that sounded as if it was full of glass. "And Hokan was never a member, just a hard-liner, so never believe intel or gossip." He held up the flimsi bag again as if he was tempting Uthan with a gift. "I took some samples from Kina Ha, Doctor, seeing as I'm the qualified scab-lifter. You're not a physician, are you?"

"Oh dear, you're going to use big confusing words," Fi said. He filched a couple of extra rolls and stuffed them in his pocket. "I'm off."

Uthan was still trying to place Gilamar in the Mandalorian scheme of things. He looked like everyone's idea of a holovid Mandalorian-broken nose, scarred armor, grim expression, buzz-cut hair-but when he spoke, he was another stereotype entirely: a highly educated man. She found the idea of a doctor working as a mercenary and still practicing medicine almost too much to take in. But then Mandalore itself was one big contradiction, with heavy industry and shipbuilding sitting cheek-by-jowl with farms that hadn't changed in centuries, sophisticated electronics and ancient metalworking skills side-by-side in the same suit of armor. She really wasn't sure what a Mando was anymore. All she knew was that they weren't quite what she expected. She hadn't met two the same yet-not even the clones.

"No, I'm not good with needles," she said. "You seem to be a polymath, Dr. Gilamar."

"Got to be." He sat down and took an assortment of vials and slides out of the bag.

Some contained dark purplish blood, one seemed to be urine-clear and colorless as distilled water-and other containers held tiny globs of bloody tissue. "We're a long way from Coruscant Medical School. Every Mando needs to be able to do half a dozen jobs."

Uthan picked up one of the sample vials. "Biopsies? You know your way around Kaminoan anatomy, then."

"I spent more than eight years in Tipoca City with them. I know how those things are built. Now, how do you want to play this? I'll run the analyses for you if you like."

"Is she really a thousand years old?"

"No reason to doubt it. I've never seen a Kaminoan like her, and I've seen plenty."

"Extraordinary."

"You're looking for switching techniques rather than actual genes, right?"

"Most life in the galaxy has some genes in common, so perhaps not."

"We thought the maturation control was linked to silencing genes H-seven-eight-B and H-eighty-eight, but we didn't get anywhere with that. No artificial or nonhuman genes in the mix, either. I can assure you we menaced and leaned on some of the best scientists in the field."

Uthan smiled. She liked keeping things up her sleeve. She'd had to, just to stay alive these last few years. How could these strangers think she would trust them? Everyone used her.

"Do you know how my engineered pathogen targeted clones?" she asked.

Gilamar smiled back. "I think targeted bioweapons are a load of old osik osik, actually.

Against humans, anyway."

"And why would you say that?"

"Because, unless you have some way of identifying a complete genome-not just a few genes, not even ninety-nine percent ninety-nine percent of the genome-there just aren't convenient Corellian genes or Mandalorian genes or whatever for a pathogen to hook up to. Not even if you call it a nanovirus, which I also think is of the genome-there just aren't convenient Corellian genes or Mandalorian genes or whatever for a pathogen to hook up to. Not even if you call it a nanovirus, which I also think is osik osik, by the way. You'd have to find a way for the virus to identify the whole genome, or nothing."

Gilamar didn't sound as if he was gloating. He must have known the virus wasn't quite what she'd told Palpatine's minions about it. He leaned forward across the table and smiled. Once, Ghez Hokan had lost his temper with her and hauled her across her desk by her collar, and for a moment she thought Gilamar would do the same. These were, after all, men who lived by violence.

But he just picked up the vial of urine and shook it carefully as if he were mixing a leisurely cocktail. "Am I right, Doctor? Either your virus has to find the intact Fett clone genome, or else it's useless. Which means it won't affect the Nulls, because their genome was altered from the basic trooper template, and it won't touch. Kad'ika Kad'ika, because he's got half his mother's genes. Or maybe it goes to the other extreme, and kills most humans indiscriminately. Because the differences between human genomes across the galaxy are so tiny tiny and populations and populations so mixed up so mixed up that your killer cocktail that your killer cocktail can't tell the difference can't tell the difference. Can it?"

Uthan wondered if Gilamar had been in contact with Hokan during those few days of crisis on Qiilura. He was right. At that time, she hadn't been able to stop the virus attacking all human genomes and make it single out Fett clones. There just weren't enough genetic differences between humans to exploit-bar one. Hokan had been furious, thinking he was guarding a failed experiment.

"You're an analytical man, Gilamar."

"Call me Mij." He smiled. "You don't have to be a hotshot geneticist to work through the logic. Of course...if your magic potion does does work, and really work, and really is is that selective, then it has two possible methods-either the whole-genome approach, which sounds a bit too complex and would be totally borked by routine mutation anyway, or it would have to zero in on something that the average clone has, but the average random human hasn't...the gene sequence that controls their accelerated aging. Did I get the right answer, Dr. Uthan? Am I a clever boy?" that selective, then it has two possible methods-either the whole-genome approach, which sounds a bit too complex and would be totally borked by routine mutation anyway, or it would have to zero in on something that the average clone has, but the average random human hasn't...the gene sequence that controls their accelerated aging. Did I get the right answer, Dr. Uthan? Am I a clever boy?"

Gilamar was right. No, he didn't need to be a geneticist to work that out, but he needed to be smarter than the idiots who'd held her captive, and he was. Yes, she'd been working on a highly selective virus, all right. She wanted to identify the aging markers as badly as Skirata had, but for wholly different reasons. She couldn't unleash a virus that might wipe out the whole humanoid population of a planet. She had her ethical limits, however much of a monster others might have believed her to be.

And I'll still catch some nonclones who just happen to have that same genetic quirk- but perhaps one in ten million. Safe enough, I think. A reasonable margin of error.

She leaned back a little and finished her eggs. It took more than a table covered in Kaminoan tissue samples to dent her appetite.

The galaxy's different now: The war's over, but there's still an army full of Fett clones out there. So what happens next? out there. So what happens next?

She only knew that she couldn't trust the Empire not to kill her, and that the best deal she'd been offered so far had been from a gang of Mandalorian criminals.

Or maybe not criminals. Patriots? Amoral opportunists? Rebels? Terrorists?

Depends who's doing the defining.

"That's what I get," she said, with as much dignity as she could muster, "for thinking Mandalorians are all mindless thugs."

"Stereotypes," Gilamar said. "Don't you just hate hate it when that happens? You Gibadans are all the same." it when that happens? You Gibadans are all the same."

Uthan fought back a smile. Gilamar stared at her for a long time, not remotely aggressive, but all the more worrying for that. Then he grinned.

"Why do you suppose Palpatine wanted me to keep working on the FG thirty-six virus instead of destroying it?" she asked, wishing she weren't enjoying the discussion. "It wasn't asset denial. If he wanted the CIS to be deprived of my expertise, he could have killed me anytime."

"Oh, I think you know the answer."

"It did dawn on me, eventually. Insurance."

Gilmar nodded. "Can't blame the old despot, really. If the clones decided to turn against Palps for any reason, one of the Grand Army's contingency orders was to relieve him of office the hard way. Order number five, if I recall. There was an order for every eventuality, from the old chakaar chakaar himself to whacking the Jedi." He stood up and stretched. "Just tell me something. What himself to whacking the Jedi." He stood up and stretched. "Just tell me something. What did did you leave Palps with? A working targeted nanovirus, or the one that kills most humans it infects?" you leave Palps with? A working targeted nanovirus, or the one that kills most humans it infects?"

"What would you you leave him with?" leave him with?"

"One that wouldn't even kill bugs. It's a dangerous toy for a man like that."

"The strain I was working on when you removed me from the Valorum Center wasn't actually...finished. I had to have my own insurance, remember. He wouldn't have needed me alive once I delivered it."

"So Palpatine's got a less choosy version of your doomsday bug? The one that might affect everyone everyone?"

"I believe so."

She hadn't planned it that way, not at all. She just hadn't known that she'd be plucked from Republic custody without warning. But if the fool used it, he'd wipe out most of Coruscant, his own power base.

That'll teach him...

" Wayii Wayii..." Gilamar blew out a long breath, eyebrows raised. Uthan rather liked him. It was a pleasant change to have intelligent and challenging conversation, especially with someone who didn't think she was clinically insane. Three years in solitary with only a substandard psychiatrist for occasional company had nearly made her genuinely crazy.

"Does the shabuir shabuir know what he's got?" know what he's got?"

"I don't know," she said. "His scientists are mediocre at best. But if he does, then he'd better be too smart to use it carelessly."

"What's an Empire if you lose most of your subjects? No fun lording it over a few Hutts, two banthas, and a Weequay, after all."

"Well...a Weequay might not be resistant to the virus, either."

Gilamar laughed. He could afford to, perhaps; Mandalore was a long way from Coruscant. "So you know all about the rapid aging sequence. Well, well."

"I identified it. Not the same thing."

"The next thing I really want to hear you say is that you can switch it off."

Uthan was still waiting for the real game to emerge. Nobody would go to all this trouble and amass so much commercial data for sentimental reasons. It was worth billions.

Cloning companies would pay that simply to stop their customers being able to bypass built-in senescence in the clones they'd bought.

"What's Skirata really going to do with it?" she asked. "This whole operation, the planning, the risks-that's not just for the welfare of a few clones."

Gilamar's expression changed. His facial muscles slackened, and for a moment he actually looked as if he pitied her. For some reason, this cynical man-he was too intelligent to be otherwise-seemed not to be expecting that question.

"Have you never loved anyone so much that you'd do anything to save them?" Gilamar looked down at his armor for a moment. Uthan still wondered why it was that same dull sandy gold as Skirata's. It might have been regimental, but Mandos didn't seem the uniform kind. "Do you understand how much Kal loves those boys? Because if you don't, then you won't understand just how far he'll go to get what he wants for them."

"But this is worth billions billions...Mij."

"Is that why you you do it? Material gain?" do it? Material gain?"

"No." Credits had one purpose for her; to enable her to enjoy her life, and what gave her pleasure and purpose was her science. "I'm sorry. I assumed mercenaries would want to maximize income."

"Well, even mercs have other motives. Besides...Kal's already worth a lot more than a few billion creds. Think again, Doctor. This is about obsession, and consider me obsessed, too."

"Call me Qail Qail," she said. She didn't believe Skirata was a billionaire, but Kyrimorut had to be costing a lot of creds, and he seemed able to afford any number of weapons and vessels. Nothing flash, nothing conspicuous-but enough to equip a strike force. "We can't keep calling each other Doctor, because that'll get tedious."

"Okay, Qail Qail. And now I know the genes have been identified, I'm really looking forward to working with you."

Uthan loved a challenge. She was certain she could switch off the accelerated aging.

She wasn't sure that she'd still be alive after she did it, but there came a point where she couldn't stall any longer, and she knew she'd reached it. Gilamar had her pegged. The Kaminoan tissue samples removed her last excuses. If she could understand the techniques that the Kaminoans used to engineer extended life, then she'd have most of the missing pieces of the puzzle.

"Let's get on with it, then," she said. "If only I had some control samples of ordinary Kaminoan tissue."

Gilamar laughed. "I think we can manage that. Just don't ask me how."

Uthan recalled what Skirata had said about Ko Sai, and thought of Jaing's elegant gray gloves.

And Jaing seemed such a charming young man, too. The more she knew of Mandalorians, the less she understood them.

CHAPTER THREE.

Good news. Niner's okay, and so is Darman. Well, they're both in good health, at least.

Don't say we never do you favors, Mereel-it took a lot of maneuvering to get that servicing work for the Imperial Army, and if you give us a little time, and make it worth servicing work for the Imperial Army, and if you give us a little time, and make it worth our while, we can get you a secure link... our while, we can get you a secure link...

Gaib, of Gaib & TK-0 Inc., high-tech bounty hunters-obscure data and hard-to-source hardware procurement a specialty Landing pad, Imperial special forces HQ, Imperial City "Spook," said Bry. "Definitely a spook."

Bry nodded in the vague direction of the Imperial agent walking toward the shuttle.

The man's name-if it was his real one, which Darman doubted-was Sa Cuis, and he didn't look much like a holovid action hero.

They never did. That was what made them dangerous.

Darman watched him carefully, something he could do easily in a helmet with wraparound vision.

"There's no reason to brief us on the launch pad," Ennen said. "We're not short of time, and we're definitely not short of troops now. So all this last-minute briefing means they don't trust us not to leak stuff."

"Why, when we've been specially selected for this?" Niner stood with one boot on the ramp, looking impatient to leave. "The rest of the old commando brigade is on routine duties."

"Maybe," Bry muttered, "we've been picked because Palps thinks we're soft on Jedi and he wants to weed us out. Or that we know where they are. Because we got on well with some of the Padawans."

Darman didn't want to talk about relationships with Jedi. "Why don't you zip it and wait for the briefing?" he snapped. "Things leak and we know it. Jedi escaped. They had sympathizers. And anyway, there are guys in the unit who didn't much like Jedi."

The two newcomers-Darman definitely saw them as outsiders coming into his his squad-went quiet for a moment. squad-went quiet for a moment.

"Just saying, that's all." Ennen sounded peeved. "What's your problem, pal?"

"I'm not used to serving with shabuire shabuire."

"Oh, yeah, you're one of the Mando boys, aren't you? All mouth. Knuckle-dragging savages."

Not all the commandos had been trained by Mandalorians. Jango's handpicked sergeants included some aruetiise aruetiise. Darman braced his shoulders for a fight, but Niner stepped between them.

" Udesii Udesii, Dar...take it easy."

"Yeah, he was trained by a Corellian. No wonder he sat the war out, painting his nails."

" Whoa Whoa. We never had divisions before, and we're not going to have them now. Okay?

Cool it, both of you and you, too, Bry, 'cos I can hear you making dissenting dissenting noises." noises."

Very little escaped the scrutiny of the helmet audio systems. Niner had always tried to be Sergeant Kal to his squad, and he slid right into the role now, smacking them back into line for their own good. Darman felt lost. He was torn between needing that solid sense of family and security that he got from being Mandalorian, and trying to forget what else went with it: a dead wife and a son he couldn't be with.

But that wasn't happening to him him. It had happened to some other Darman. He hung on to that detachment to get through the day. At night, though-when he shut his eyes he couldn't stop thinking about what had happened to Etain's body. He simply didn't know. It wasn't the Mandalorian way to fret about remains, but he had nothing left of her, not even a scrap of armor.

I just want to know where she ended up. Then I might be able to cope.