Definitely not one of our speeders, Kal. Look, I know why you think I don't need to know what your boys are getting up to. But someone's going to notice you blew up their people. And so is CSE. What do you want me to tell them?

–Captain Jailer Obrim, to Kal Skirata

Operational house, Qibbu's Hut, 1600 hours, 380 days after Geonosis

“You're sure nobody followed you?” Skirata said quietly.

The strike team, minus. Ordo, was assembled in the main room, sitting where they could. For a moment Skirata was distracted by the way Darman and Etain were positioned. It told him something, but he had more pressing issues right now.

He'd calmed down, too. Red Watch was back safely. Jusik, predictably, was taking his roasting like a man.

“I'm sure, Kal. I felt it.”

“Don't go mystic on me. Did you go through the procedures? Give me tangibles.”

“I didn't return via a direct route. I looped back on myself several times. Nothing.”

There was no point yelling at them. Skirata knew he probably would have done the same. It was all very well to talk about painstaking surveillance and meticulous planning before resolving a threat, but when a truly ripe target walked in front of your scope—no, he would have done the same.

And he was simply relieved that they'd made it back in one piece.

“Okay, surveillance is off for the day. We change vehicles again, and we'll start defense watches, just in case the Force has deceived Bard'ika and we've got a load of bad guys on our case now. Enacca is identifying a second location we can pull back to if this place is compromised.”

Jusik looked crushed. “I'm sorry, Kal.”

“You weren't in command. I should have made sure you were ready for this.” Skirata turned to Fi and Sev. Fi looked crestfallen; Sev was complete blank insolence. “And what have you two got to say for yourselves?”

“It won't happen again, Kal.” Fi looked at Jusik. “And it was me and Sev who decided to go for it. If Bardan hadn't done some clever flying, we'd all be dead now and the op would be over.”

“And you, Sev?”

Sev turned his head with slow deliberation. “What he said.”

“Son, I know you think you're a hard case because you survived Walon Vau, and you probably are. But anti-terrorist ops are more about this.” Skirata walked over to him and rapped his head so hard with his knuckles that the thunk of bone was audible. Sev blinked but didn't move a muscle. “If you'd thought about it for two minutes, you could have relayed that identification back here and we could have planned some intelligent surveillance. But now we've got another prisoner plus a bunch of dead guys, and we have to explain why a GAR employee isn't going back to the office anytime soon. Because if she wasn't working alone, then some di'kut is going to notice she's absent. Have I missed anything?”

Niner, arms folded, looked up. “Yes, who's helping Vau now? He must have his hands full.”

“Enacca. Wookiees are good at looking like a crowd.”

Boss had been remarkably quiet for the last ten days. He'd worked his watches without complaint and had shown none of the swaggering confidence that the Delta boys were known for. Now he was pacing up and down the length of the window, slow and deliberate, and glancing occasionally at Niner. Skirata wondered if it was the displacement from the sergeant role that was getting to him.

Might as well lance the boil. “You want to say something, Boss?”

“With respect, Kal, we have different approaches, don't we?”

“Spit it out.”

“Delta does rapid neutralization. Omega does the more considered stuff. Why not split our tasking that way?”

For once, rock-solid Niner took the bait. “Yeah, you blow up everything without checking and we think first. I certainly agree with your analysis, ner vod.”

“And we have the unbroken track record of successful missions.”

“Like we don't.”

“You said it.”

Skirata wasn't quite fast enough crossing the room and Niner had slammed Boss hard against the wall without a moment's warning. If Skirata hadn't yelled “Check!” Niner would have smashed his drawn-back fist into Boss's face. The two men stood almost nose-to-nose, locked in a frozen standoff.

“This stops right now,” Skirata barked. “You hear me? Stand down!”

He'd never seen Niner react like that. Soldiers got into scraps all the time; it was an inevitable part of being encouraged to fight. Sometimes they took a swing at each other, but it was rarely serious, no more than a bit of bravado. But not his boys—and certainly not Niner.

There was a switch in all men somewhere, no matter how deeply buried, that could be thrown.

“You have never lost brothers.” Niner took one grudging step back from Boss. “Never. You have no idea.”

“Ever wondered why?” said Boss.

“Enough.” Skirata put an arm between them. “Next one to open his mouth gets a thump from me, okay?”

This was the brief moment where the fight would erupt or vanish, and Skirata was secretly uncertain if he had what it took to separate two bigger, younger, fitter men. But Niner muttered, “Yes, Sarge,” and sat down in a chair on the far side of the room, face white with anger. Boss paused, then followed him to hold out a placatory hand.

“Apologies, ner vod.”

Niner just looked up at him, unblinking. Then he took Boss's hand and shook it, but his mind was clearly elsewhere, and Skirata knew exactly where. Some things didn't go away with time. Niner had lost another Sev, plus DD and O-Four, at Geonosis; and during training he'd lost Two-Eight. Republic Commandos never forgot the brothers they grew up with in that tight pod from the time they were decanted.

But Delta still had their pod intact. The world was different for them. They thought they were invincible; death only happened to others.

“I think we need to take a step back,” Skirata said, bleeding for Niner. He'd thought the squad was as close as a true pod, but they still nursed their loss. “Delta, you break off and get a meal downstairs and report back at nineteen-hundred. Omega, you break when they get back. Maybe we'll all feel better on a full stomach.”

There was no point turning this into a contest between the squads. But mixing them hadn't helped that much. Skirata watched Delta troop out toward the turbolift. It was going to take more than food to distract them, although it usually did the trick.

“Are we all okay?”

Atin looked up from a datapad he was cannibalizing. Dismantling things seemed to keep him happy. “We're okay, Sarge. Sorry. I just don't feel happy calling you Kal. Except in public, of course.”

“That's okay, son.”

Skirata made a point of sitting down where he could see Darman and make a discreet assessment. There was something about the way he was turned slightly toward Etain in his seat, and she made a lot more eye contact with him than she had earlier. Skirata wondered why he hadn't spotted it earlier, and also when it had happened.

If he was right …

It was bad for discipline to let an officer and an enlisted man have a relationship. But Etain wasn't an officer, and Darman had never chosen to enlist. The risk lay more in how Darman would handle it, and how left behind his brothers might feel now that they were out in a world where everyone who wasn't wearing armor was free to love.

Skirata stood up and limped across to Etain. “Come and explain some Jedi stuff to me,” he said quietly. “I'd ask Bard'ika, but he's still in disgrace at the moment.” He winked at Jusik to indicate he was joking: the kid took his ribbing far too seriously sometimes. “Outside.”