"I'm fine, Niner," Darman said. This was the worst he could imagine, the lowest ebb. But he was surviving, and if he could hold himself together at rock bottom, then he would eventually live his life again, because no pain he would ever encounter again could be worse than this. "I'm coping."

"Dar, I know you well enough to see what's happening now."

"What, then? What is happening now?"

"Okay, ner vod. It's okay. I'm not pushing you."

Darman wanted to tell Niner that if he tried to get the old Darman to come out, the pain would destroy him. And the things that other Darman knew had to remain under wraps. The best way to do that was to forget that he knew them, and lock them down for another day. What he consciously shut out of his mind could become habit-he had a technique for that-and then he wouldn't let anything slip, or incriminate those he loved.

So it was for the best. He put the old Darman away, and with it the unbearable pain of being so very close to an idyllic happiness and having it snatched from him. That Darman couldn't survive here, not even with his brother Niner supporting him.

But he could hide, and come out when it was over.

"You could have left me," Niner said. "But you didn't, and I'll owe you for the rest of my life."

"We never leave a brother behind," Darman said. "How could I?"

And he wouldn't be left behind, either. He knew that. Someone would come for him. While he waited for that day to come, though-he'd do whatever he had to, the way that Kal Skirata had taught him.

Barracks block, Imperial Army Training Center, one standard hour after lights-out Scorch had finally forced himself to stop replaying the events of the Kashyyyk operation in his mind to work out what he could have done to save Sev. There was plenty.

But that was in the past, a moment gone forever, and now he could do nothing except drive himself crazy with self-recrimination. And he had a new job to get on with that wasn't going to wait around while he grieved. There were no Skiratas or Vaus in the Imperial Army to let the remnant of Delta Squad do as they pleased, or to care how they felt. This was a new world, much more like the restricted one of Kamino than the independence they'd grown used to. Even the new barracks had that white antiseptic feel of Tipoca City.

"Have you seen him, then?" Boss asked, voice barely audible. He leaned over the edge of the upper bunk and prodded Scorch. "He's here. Him and Niner."

Scorch was grateful for the momentary distraction. He broke off from his perpetual guilt about Sev's fate to wonder if Etain had survived the purge. Jusik had: Scorch knew because he'd seen the death warrant on the list of missing Jedi that was being circulated. Palpatine had put a bounty on Skirata's head too.

But if Darman was still here-it didn't look like Etain had made it. Scorch was certain he'd have got her away to safety if he could.

"No sign of Corr or Atin," he whispered.

"I heard they're on the deserters' list, with the Nulls and a few others..."

Scorch didn't reply. He could hear Fixer snoring mechanically in the next bunk, and the noise now seemed reassuring rather than something that exasperated him enough to pour a jug of water over his brother while he slept. The rest of the commandos in the dormitory area were men he didn't know. A little familiarity was precious right then.

"Would you shoot them if ordered?" Boss asked.

Sev had once asked Scorch a similar question. "I don't know." But Scorch wanted to say no, he wouldn't; and good luck to them. "Would you have shot Etain if she'd still been with us when Order Sixty-six went down?"

"Academic," said Boss, evading the issue. "She wasn't."

"Did you get a chance to ask Dar why he's still here?"

Boss paused. "Yeah."

"And?" Scorch expected news of Etain. His stomach clenched. "What, then?"

Boss swallowed. Scorch heard it. "All he said" Boss whispered "was that he couldn't leave Niner behind."

Scorch knew Boss well enough not to ask him how that made him feel.

He felt the same way.

Chapter 27.

I didn't accept that he was gone until I saw his name on the war memorial. Then it had a finality to it. He wasn't mine any longer. He was absorbed into the ranks of the dead, untouchable, separate, frozen in stone.

-Widow of Lieutenant Commander Ussin Fajinak, first officer of Republic warship Aurodia Keldabe, Mandalore, next day, 1,097 days ABG Kad was restless today. He'd whimpered through most of the night and everyone had stood their watch with him, trying to soothe him to sleep. Fi bounced him on his lap.

"Nice day out, Kad'ika!" He loved that kid. Maybe he was putting too much pressure on Parja to have one just like him. "See all the funny Mando'ade playing with knives and blasters, and singing rude songs?"

Kad clung to his scorched toy nerf with both hands and refused all attempts to distract him. He gazed out of the speeder window as if he was looking for something. Fi was sure he was watching in the hope of seeing his mother or father, whatever Jusik said about the kid understanding death better than ordinary babies.

"I think you get more excited about a day out in Keldabe than he does," Skirata said hands relaxed on the steering yoke. "It's good to see you happy again, son. You heal an old man's heart. Etain would be so pleased."

"When we go back for Dar and Niner, I'm in, okay? I want to do that mission."

"You will be."

Skirata seemed to be in a mood that Ordo called contemplative. Something was up, and his willingness to go to Keldabe made Fi wonder if it had anything to do with Shysa. But Kal'buir insisted he was just going to buy some stuff to keep Uthan happy-holozines, toiletries, maybe even a bottle of fancy wine. It was too much of a risk to get goods delivered to Kyrimorut from outside the area. And Skirata seemed to need to get out and stretch his legs occasionally.

"Kad want to try my buy'ce?" Fi held his helmet over the child's head like a Basani high priest performing a coronation. "Lots of funny noises. Lots of colors."

Kad looked up at him with big, wary, dark eyes. Then his lips flattened into a thin, tight line and he frowned tears wobbling on his eyelashes. But he was silent. He was very good at not crying aloud. Fi reckoned that every baby had the right to bawl its eyes out, Kad more than any of them.

Fi lowered the helmet anyway. "Here it comes, Kad'ika... look at the pretty colors. Buckets on! There, you're a soldier now."

Kad accepted the crown for a moment, with Fi's hands taking the weight. Then he squirmed away. "Dada," he said. "Dada?"

"Can't start the kid too soon," said Skirata. "We'll have Beviin Verhayc make him a nice little buy'ce of his own. No expense spared. Even a little flight suit. Mirgo Ruus makes good ones. Only the best for my bu'ad'ika."

"Is Bardan going to teach him to use the lightsaber?"

"No reason why it's a weapon only for jetiise." Skirata was worried Fi could tell. There was always that carefully controlled note in his voice that cut off some of the higher registers. "Discreetly, of course."

Fi watched Kad like a Fleet Met storm forecast. He was sure the kid could sense his father in the Force, and if anything happened to Darman, Kad would know first.

Keldabe was busy today. It wasn't Coruscant by a long chalk, but Fi had given up on his ambition to rappel from the highest tower in Galactic City. Keldabe was on a scale he could handle, and he was more confident with every passing day that-eventually-he would remember his way home without ever needing a datapad prompt. The two men wandered through the alleys for the morning, Skirata carrying Kad on his hip in typical proudly paternal Mando fashion.

They stood in the square outside the Oyu'baat tapcaf, looking over the edge of the rail into the Kelita River to amuse Kad. He was still more interested in the sky for some reason. He was looking for something.

It was then they first saw the ships.

Overhead assault vessels and transports swept in a loose formation toward the east of the river. They'd once been a welcome sight on the battlefield but now they were a threat of dark days to come. The Imperial garrison was moving in, and they hadn't wasted any time. They were obviously in a big hurry. Skirata looked up and sighed.

"I've got what I came for, ad'ika" he said. "I think it's time we disappeared."

"I'm glad I didn't take the Mand'alor job," said Fi. "I bet Spar is, too."

So that was what Kad had sensed and fretted about: Jusik could sense trouble in the Force, so Kad probably could too. That was what he'd been watching for. Fi preferred to think so rather than imagine him pining for poor Etain.

They headed back to the speeder. A man in amber armor paused to touch Skirata's arm as he passed. "Have you heard?"

"What, that we're going to rue the day we let Palpatine in?

The man shook his head. "No, Shysa. Fenn Shysa's just accepted the kyr'bes. He's our new Mand'alor. The ale's flowing in the Oyu'baat."

The man walked on, apparently happy that the three-year interregnum without a Mand'alor since Fett's death was now over. Maybe he didn't know what Fi knew: that Shysa had told Skirata he'd take the top job if he didn't like the look of his Imperial guests. Shysa had obviously made up his mind right away.

"I don't think I'm thirsty." Skirata glanced at Fi. "Are you, son?"

"I'm the designated driver," Fi said.

A gunship-not quite the beloved LAAT/i, but close, clad in the new Imperial livery-swooped low over the center of the city, looking as if it was going to clip the MandalMotors tower.

Fi put a finger to his lips. Stay quiet. Kad mimicked the gesture in complete silence. It was a good habit to get the boy into. Kad looked up with his fist in his mouth, eyes wide, brow puckering with the start of tears. He already knew that he'd need to be unseen and unheard to survive the years to come.

Skirata watched the sky until there were no more ships, and Fi had seen that look before: wary but not cowed down, wary-but with something up his sleeve, something more than his three-sided knife. Kad whimpered quietly.

"It's okay," Skirata said stroking the boy's head. "I'm here, son. I'm here."