Legacy Of The Force_ Bloodlines Part 23

"Tough."

"And it will ruin me. Do you feel no compa.s.sion for me, Boba?"

"No. I don't believe I do. Not now."

Taun We appeared to be considering the revelation, head tilting slowly from side to side on the long column of her slender neck like a tree swaying in a breeze. He wondered if that reaction was just her expertise in human psychology taking a knock: she didn't know his mind as well as she thought. She still reminded him of a nahra artist, a Kaminoan mime-dancer. He'd always been baffled by nahra as a kid, because Kaminoans didn't feel a thing and yet they loved a kind of ballet that mimed emotions they didn't appear to have.

That summed up their lives-and his, he realized.

Time for a.n.a.lysis later. Get to work.

Still holding his blaster on the scientist, Fett took three paces to the computer console and slid the data breaker into the port. The device sparkled with blue and green status lights to show that it was searching and downloading, and he let it gather a lot more data than he needed. He wasn't a thief, but other Arkanian Micro data might come in handy-and even save his life. He was just taking custody of a copy of it.

"I don't make deals," he said. The status bar indicated that five thousand exabytes of data had been swallowed whole. Complete genomes took a lot of memory. "But here's a promise. Tell me all you know about Ko Sai, and I won't hand this data over to the highest bidder. That'll make sure you're still of use to Arkanian Micro."

"She's dead."

"I still want to know everything."

Taun We paused for a moment, blinking slowly at the blaster. "Are you going to take me back to Kamino by force?"

"No. I don't need the credits."

"But would you kill me, Boba?"

He paused. For this, I would. "Yes."

She still seemed puzzled, not hurt, or afraid, or betrayed. "Very well. Ko Sai thought the cloning program would be destroyed, so she defected to the Separatists during the Battle of Kamino to save her life's work."

"And her own skin."

"We are not materialistic, Boba. It was not about payment. It was about pride. About excellence."

Fett slipped the data breaker back in his belt. "Get on with it. Where did she go?"

"I have no idea where her journey took her next."

"What happened to her?"

"She was ... traced."

"By who?"

Another pause. Whatever it was, it was giving Taun We problems. "Clone intelligence units.

And one of your father's commando instructors."

Fett swallowed hard. He hadn't expected that. "And?"

She indicated the braided Wookiee pelts strung from his right shoulder plate. "She fell prey to the Mandalorian penchant for souvenirs."

"Interesting," said Fett. No, it's astonishing, it's terrifying, it's hope, it's everything. "So the clones got their revenge."

"We a.s.sumed so. Packages arrived. Parts of a Kaminoan body whose genetic profile was Ko Sai's."

Fett found that unnecessarily brutal. Kill a prisoner if you were paid to, kill them if you needed to; even retrieve parts if you had to. But mailing Ko Sai home a piece at a time sounded like a vengeful, elaborate message. "And her data?"

"We can only a.s.sume they took that, too. It has never been recovered."

"What was special about it?"

"Ko Sai's triumph was controlling the aging process. She knew how to manipulate it better than any other biologist. We were interested only in accelerating it to mature clones faster, but I can see how many would find slowing the process and its therapeutic potential an attractive commodity. She claimed she was able to achieve it in the laboratory."

Mirta had met an original Kamino clone, she claimed. A clone who couldn't, shouldn't be alive today. Fett found a slew of puzzle pieces dumped in his lap, all fitting together.

Impossible clones, dismembered Kaminoan scientist, missing cloning data. "You got any names?"

Taun We stiffened. "Do you remember that aggressive little human called Skirata? The one who . . . threatened my colleagues with a knife so frequently?"

Yes, he remembered Kal Skirata, all right. Sometimes his father swore he was the best of the bunch; sometimes he just swore at him and lashed out. Jango Fett rarely lost his temper, but Skirata had a talent for making that happen. He was ferociously and uncompromisingly Mandalorian.

As a lonely kid on Kamino, Fett had narrowly escaped being forced to learn Mando'a from Skirata's wildly unpredictable special forces trainees, six cloned ARC troopers who answered only to him. They were intelligence units; the Nulls, as everyone called them, the first batch of clones, and they had turned out crazy, hypersmart, and dangerous. They had disappeared when the war ended.

Yes, this was a neat pattern. Skirata lived for his clones. He'd want them to live out full lives like ordinary men. He would have wanted Ko Sai's data and expertise very badly.

Butchering her to get the genetic technology he needed to stop the accelerated aging would have been nothing to him, just a means to an end.

And if one of Skirata's clone troops was still alive and fully active today when he should have been the equivalent of a 140-year-old, it meant that they'd found a way to stop the accelerated aging process-Ko Sai's way.

That's what I need. That will save my life.

Fett was suddenly enveloped in a sensation of vivid awareness, like a pleasantly cool shower on a hot day; the colors around him seemed instantly vibrant, the sounds crystal clear, the smells sharp. Adrenaline coursed through him. He'd found what he was looking for-or the route to it, at least.

He'd never failed to track a bounty. Never. Even if a few had escaped in the end, he had always found them.

I'll find you, too.

"Useful," said Fett. Holding the blaster level was making his forearm ache. He'd never felt that before. "You keep quiet about this and I'll keep this data to myself. Got it?"

"Agreed," said Taun We. "And if-when you find Ko Sai's data, we would give you an excellent fee for its return."

He suddenly thought of Sintas, her eyes br.i.m.m.i.n.g with tears of joy as she held baby Ailyn.

No, Taun We couldn't possibly care about him like a real mother.

Taun We's first thought was for her science.

"Maybe I don't want to sell it," said Fett.

"What do you plan to do with your legacy?"

"What?"

"You're dying. And even if you succeed in finding Ko Sai's data and it can help you, then you still face the question of what legacy you will leave behind."

"Why does that worry you?"

"I believe it was a concern to your father. He told Count Dooku that he did not want a son-he wanted an apprentice to be Jaster's legacy."

That stung. Maybe Taun We didn't mean it the way it sounded. He remained deadpan and wished he had kept his helmet on. "Jaster Mereel was more than Dad's mentor. He was a father."

That seemed to mean nothing to Taun We. "And what is that legacy?"

"To be Mandalore. To make sure Mandalorians survive, whatever happens. And I'll live up to my father's pledge just as he did before me."

Taun We remained glacial. "We will exceed any offer."

Dad was always looking back at Jaster Mereel, feeling he had to live up to him. Maybe I was a second chance to do that.

"I'll let you know."

Jaster's legacy. Beviin's got a point. More Mandalore, less business.

Maybe she said it to wound him. No, Kaminoans didn't care about anything, even if they were almost your mother.

He put on his helmet and turned to leave. Would she raise the alarm? She wouldn't want anyone to know that her data had been compromised. All she cared about was her work, as she always had, and that would buy her silence. If Arkanian Micro ran any security checks, they would find nothing missing and no botched attempts at slicing their system. It was between him and Taun We.

"I would like to know if you find Ko Sai's research, and if it cures you," she said.

Fett resisted the urge to ask if that was personal or professional concern. "If I'm still around in a couple of years, you will."

He left the way he had come in, crawling back up the hazmat access hatch with the aid of his grappling hook and covering the distance to the edge of the roof in a rapid crawl. The disrupter clips were still in place. Checking around him, he jetted over the fence, released the clips-and as far as the fence sensors were concerned he had never been there.

Slave I's ramp lowered via his remote helmet link and he stepped up it, wondering why he clung so fiercely to his father's ship. It was a wonderful vessel, but it meant more to him than just the best his fortune could buy.

I'm in my seventies now, and I've only just started to be more than someone's son. Doesn't mean I love you any less, Dad, but I can't look back forever.

Boba Fett wasn't certain what would fill that void and show him his purpose in life, but he knew now that it lay ahead of him, and not behind him frozen in memories.

He stood in front of Slave I, an icon of his childhood, and wondered where the line between trademark and trap was drawn.

"So you didn't trash the c.o.c.kpit," he said, opening the conversation for once.

Mirta was wiping the console. It looked remarkably shiny: Fett kept a clean, well-maintained ship, but this time it looked polished. "Did you get what you came for?"

she asked.

He kicked Slave I into life and lifted her clear, looping under the monorail that snaked two kilometers above Vohai's surface. "I did."

"What now?"

Fett took refuge behind his visor. He was torn now. He needed to find that impossibly old clone, and he wanted to see Ailyn, and he wanted to know how Sintas had died.

Mirta knew-or claimed to know-all three answers. Sintas's fate now wasn't urgent; and he could find Ailyn for himself, because he could find Han Solo, and where Solo was, Ailyn would follow.

So he needed to track that clone of Skirata's. Even if he didn't have Ko Sai's data, he might be good for a tissue sample that a Kaminoan could examine and reverse-engineer.

Still too many uncertainties. Still too many variables.

Fett decided it was time to reveal his interest, but carefully. "Where did you run into that clone?"

"Coruscant. Seemed to be a regular trip for him." Mirta stared straight ahead as usual.

"So where are we heading?"

To find Han Solo, because that'll lead me to Ailyn.

He staged a conversational diversion. "You've got the necklace. You tell me where we're heading."

Mirta took the leather cord from her neck and stared at the shimmering stone in her palm.

"Let's try Coruscant."

Aha. Fett had never taught Ailyn anything about bounty hunting, but she had obviously learned that you could often hide better on a planet that was one vast city of a trillion people than you ever could in a cave up a mountainside on the Outer Rim.

Fett laid in a course for the galactic core; zero, zero, zero. Slave I was about to make the jump to hypers.p.a.ce when the comlink console flashed impatiently in front of him.

The point of origin said CORELLIA, even if the sender had tried to disguise the source with multiple relays. Fett didn't get a lot of calls from Corellia, and when he did they usually weren't the kind that he wanted to take in front of Mirta Gev.

"Time to eat," he said. "Get back aft and see what you can find in the stores for us."

Mirta obeyed in silence, without a hint of dissent on face. It was the response of someone used to following orders, not a woman who spent her time in the kitchen. "Okay."

"Not insulted by that, are you?"

Mirta looked at him as if he were mad. "My father was Mandalorian. So I can fight and cook."

Fett realized how little he knew about the small details of his own culture. Next time he saw Beviin, he'd ask the man to explain all that. He waited for Mirta to close the internal hatch behind her and then switched the call to a secure circuit.

"Fett here. Make it fast."

There was a slight pause. "And this is Thrackan Sal-Solo, Corellian Head of State. I've got a proposal for you."

SQUADRON TRAINING SECTION AIRs.p.a.cE, CENTAX 2.

The XJ7 below Luke jinked to port and fell away beneath him with astonishing speed. Even for him, Jaina Solo was a serious challenge in aerial combat.

Or maybe I'm slowing down.