Chapter 9 – Clones

When approaching Byss, a brisk little ship tried to land on Gorgon's hull to go through the passage in the security field with her. But the pilot failed smugglers' old trick. He was taken down with tractor beam and drawn into docking bay.

Daala was informed about the capture. Admiral yawned,

"I will join the trough my collection, it'll stand next to the X-wing. Take the illegal immigrants to the prison block, treat them with the torture droid. As though you can't guess without the Admiral..."

The Byss capital was slightly different from metropolis - the same skyscrapers, over which innumerable satellites swarmed, and many kilometers of orbital complexes, but also, incidentally, not the entire planet's land was put in asphalt with build-up high-rises, and natural air still remained on Byss. Gorgon was met by lightning-excised sky in dark rags of clouds, turbulence was over-the-top, it became clear that hurricanes and storms on Byss are normal, usual thing, and a cloudless and windless day on this planet was a rarity. Daala couldn't understand why this planet with an inhospitable atmosphere became the Crown property, why Palpatine decided to build a second residence here.

After receiving landing clearance, a shuttle from Gorgon landed on the platform of Imperial Citadel, specified by controller. Surrounded by Daala's men, droids pulled a stretcher and handed the sufferer to manager, doctors and waiters. The last thing that Palpatine ordered Daala - to return to the ship and spend time in waiting.

Gorgon took a hangar at the military unit. Having reported to local command, Daala was left to her own devices – Maw gets postponed, that much at least! - and remembered about the captive.

"How many illegals out there?" Pulling off her gloves, she asked lazily.

"One, ma'am! Mandalorian."

"Drag here", Daala got interested.

The Mandalorian was brought in. He was, of course, disarmed, but the armor fitted him like a glove. Even through the helmet the bounty hunter managed to express deep skepticism at the sight of two rank cylinders and blue-red insignia on Daala's magnificent breasts.

"Remove your helmet, hunter."

"I don't take it off at work."

"Work is over", Daala smiled and gestured him to open his face. Bounty hunter pulled off his gray-green helmet. A human. Not furry, not horned, not scaly, not a woman. Swarthy, dark-haired.

The detainee was taciturn. His name is Boba, he has a "hefty job" on Byss, and she could draw nothing more from him. It was time to take him to cell and plug the torture droid, but Daala sent Mandalorian in disinfecting shower, and when he came out, he didn't find neither Daala's men, nor his equipment in the room.

"Now work", Admiral ordered. "Show your... prowess".

Boba's thoughts raced. He should put it in his best licks if she decided to keep him as a lover – perhaps, he won't be lynched.

In Maw there was 180,000 men under Daala's command, and, of course, it seemed to onlookers, whispering behind her back, that all of them were Daala's sex slaves. That she invites different men every day and uses. But Admiral couldn't afford herself to entertain. Discipline would collapse if she spreads for subordinates. Her authority will be undermined. If she relaxes - a riot will be in the cozy Maw. Without contact with the outside world she could only rely on her own strength, and she was alone, she and her service blaster - against 180,000 loafers, that must be kept in check.

Daala's deputy, Captain Kratas, told the local commanders, that Admiral Daala brought an illegal immigrant to the planet - the assassin Boba Fett, and put the recidivist in her private apartment on board the Gorgon.

And then, so that Daala didn't suspect him of trying to scheme against her, he hurried to her to warn that inspecting officers will come.

Boba was dressed in mechanic's threadbare clothes and taken to the maintenance bay.

Seeing the inspectors off, Daala was thinking, which from her men schemed against her. And why! Tarkin had a personal slave – a Calamari, that had escaped during the next terrorist attack at Despayre shipyard. Himself, His Majesty the Emperor lodged an underage with him, put her in the family way...

Enraged, Daala put on the Mandalorian armor and decided to try out the jetpack to take her mind off things. That is to motley my wardrobe, she told herself, what did Roganda mutter about glamorous boutiques? Coming out of the territory of a military unit in the open field, she left her speeder and took off - and wisely didn't rise higher than two meters, until a hurricane came on. A gust of wind swept Daala and carried her towards the city. She skirted skyscrapers, but couldn't turn back, just trying to stay away from air traffic - and there was a few ships on air highways, mostly public transport, few people dared to throw their speeders into a hurricane.

Dusk thickened, lights shone everywhere, and Daala, circumnavigating the approaching patrol, flew too close to the flashing billboards and, blinded, tried to dodge - and has not caught a gust of wind. She didn't understand how she managed to land successfully at one of the balconies of mushroom-shaped citadel.

She almost knocked someone off his feet, who was standing silently in the shadows.

"Phew", Irek bounced back and smiled widely. "Mandalorian".

Daala removed her helmet, breathing heavily and clutching at high balcony railing. Nauseous, dizzy, purple spots were dancing before her eyes.

"If it wasn't for me!.." Irek declared.

"You caught me?.."

"Yeah. You were against the billboard."

Daala squinted. Multimeter electronic board blinked, and the set of squares formed an ad of a casino.

"And I saw you... you've never flown on these jetpacks?"

"I have. Back in the Academy". Daala stretched out her hand to pat him on the head, but Irek pulled away.

"Long ago, you have long forgotten how to! You shouldn't gain height! Above the city! What a childishness!"

Daala winced.

"And why are you here alone?"

"I short-circuited the lackey! Mom wants to send me away to the shipyard, to study."

Daala tried to play out a polite hearing. Thoughts about the treachery of her subordinates again crept into her head.

"And I'm running from her across the citadel. It's all because I'd overheard a conversation, not intended for my ears. And now I must see these clones."

"What clones?"

"In the basement", Irek pointed to the floor, "is clone factory. And my mother wants to replace my father with one of... She thinks he won't recover from his wounds."

"Wait." Daala squatted down and looked into Irek's eyes. "Palpatine clones are cultivated here?"

"Yes. Mom came up to the laboratory manager, but he said that only staff and his Majesty the Emperor may come there."

"Perhaps you got everything wrong. I think Roganda was acting on his instructions."

"Get there and find out!" Irek clenched his fists. "I paused password guessing, because I saw you."

"You weren't informed", Daala straightened his hair, "so you don't talk to strangers. Like me. Who is not supposed to know this."

"You're my older friend!"

Daala smiled sadly, and Irek turned up his nose.

"Come on. I loaded up the building plan."

On the citadel ground level the guards freely let Irek pass - he was known for his status. Personnel only looked askance at Daala in the odious armor - and the prince threw off over his shoulder, "With me."

Citadel basement seemed to go as much levels down as that were towering. And Daala understood why Irek was so sure of himself - on the floor designated for the laboratory, four droids were on post. On-duties simultaneously rose and saluted, suddenly having changed their mind and deciding not to ask for ID or to scan the newcomers. Irek raised his eyes to Daala and smiled triumphantly.

"And can you do humans like this?" Daala teased. Irek's eyes instantly extinguished.

Power setback began in the citadel basement. Monitoring apparatus went off. It was repaired the whole night, trying to understand the reason of breakage. Self-powered alarm went out of order. Irek and Daala reached the laboratory, bypassing all those offices where living employees were, and night duty was quite a bit, and they didn't strive to run throughout all rooms and corridors. Finally, a blast door appeared before the alien newcomers, behind which the hidden room with clones was. Irek froze with far-way look - his appropriate program generated codes.

It seemed to Daala that it should already dawn on the street when Irek finally opened.

"Just pick up a six-digit code and disable the self-destruction device", he snapped, tired.

The only ceiling-mounted lamp glimmered, indicator lights flickered on the massive life-support systems of the clones. Irek blinked, light flooded the lab. Indeed, in cylinders filled with liquid, ginger, nosy, frail guys were resting. Irek bit his lip. Father is to die any day now, if not – he'll be helped! Burned in the crematorium, and on his place... he wondered, how his mother and some of these clones will explain the sudden Emperor's rejuvenation to the courtiers? Will they refer to the omnipotence of the Force? And how many people in Palpatine's office will buy it? And will he, Irek, survive, when a coup starts? Or everything will be all right - bureaucrats, time-servers, so as not to lose the plum positions, together recognize the clone as their boss, and will call him the deceased Emperor's name.

Irek wandered between the rows of two-meter tanks, considering clones sleeping in them. Daala stopped in front of a tank, tiptoed to have a better view. White body shriveled in the fetal position, connected to a power source with an artificial umbilical cord. Mindless face, tightly shut eyelids, wet red hair stuck to his head. Looks like me, she thought, and somehow she turned cold. Through a transparent tank filled with liquid, the same tanks with clones could be seen. With my brothers, Daala thought. I am the eldest of them. Minus one. Icy shiver began to beat her. She whirled and stared at the sleeping face - exactly the same. Now I know why I was refused by the customer. So what of it?

In the most distant Spaarti cylinders two baby clones grew up – Irek's peers. Daala finally noticed that the discouraged boy stooged around toddler reservoirs for a full hour, and she came up from behind, put her hand on his shoulder.

"It's time, my prince", she said, tapping her finger on his skinny shoulder.

"I'm not your Prince! I don't look like... Cronal was right."

Slipped out. Irek was scared.

The Constitution is not yet rewritten. For eight years, almost nine, Palpatine could find time to change the order of succession. If he wanted to pass the throne to Irek. But now it's late to change anything. The father will not survive long. Adoptive father!

"Sons look like mothers", Daala said gently. "As a general rule. And daughters look like fathers, nothing out of way, and dark hair is the dominant genes, are you badly learning biology?" Daala squatted down and hugged Irek.

"It's that you have unfulfilled maternal instinct", Irek blurted out, "or you do this, because I'm the Emperor's son?" And corrected himself, "Allegedly! You can not try, I don't inherit!"

Daala straightened up and shook Irek's shoulders.

"Don't panic, young man. In the palace the walls have eyes and ears. Your dad would have been instantly told, if your mom allowed herself something. And your dad has such a hobby, like the Force. Reads minds. He can't be fooled. Do you think he would recognize you as his son if he knew that you are not? He would have dumped her!"

Irek sniffed.

"And most importantly, young man", added Daala, "you are powerful in the Force."

"What you understand in the Force!"

"That to drive the Death Star with the Force - it's not like calling a sword to your hand through half the room! You have an immense Force, Irek. From whom did you got it, I wonder!"

"It would be nice if everything was like this", Irek drawled, but he clearly felt relieved.

"Strangers, get out!" a thug-like guard barked at the door.

Daala and Irek spun around. Four hefty dark Jedi, obviously growth hormone treated, lined up on the threshold, along with two droids.

They restored monitoring system in the observation room, Irek realized.

"We will explain only to my father", he drew himself up haughtily, "His Majesty the Emperor Palpatine!"

The Jedi began to deliberate. They informed the security chief, he notified the higher bosses, and Daala and Irek were led to the elevator.

The prototype reclined in the ward, looking through reports from Coruscant and casually consuming ice cream with fruit pieces. Beside him a Muun secretary perched on a chair, holding a bunch of folders. When informed of Irek and Daala's arrival, Palpatine sent Muun out with a gesture.

"You feel better", Irek blurted. "You'll just get well, it's too early to replace you with a clone."

Palpatine frowned. If he had not seen that his son worries for the throne. He would never be the head of state, he's not being prepared for this. He is locum tenens for Darth Vader! And even if the plan with clones dies on a vine - he won't give the Empire to a whippersnapper younger than forty years!

"I will myself choose a day when I die." Bony cold beringed fingers ruffled boy's hair, groped the subelectronic converter. Irek tried not to grimace. "So far - I do not intend to leave the Empire." He groped Irek's cheek, hard and painful, and pinched. "I explained this to your mother. Didn't she tell you that with the overheard snatches of conversation, incomplete information, you can make wrong conclusions and therefore, to act wrong? Then I tell." Slightly slapped him on the cheek with two fingers, "Go."

Blushing, Irek flung out of the room - and fell into Roganda's arms, who has rushed here, when a droid told her,

"Ah, there you are, you wretched boy! I was told that you were caught in the clone lab!"

"I was curious, mom!"

"Why did you take Daala with you, and not me!"

"You'd only scold me and wouldn't let me in!"

Roganda was first inspired by the idea to go to Byss. To shed the old, infirm body... But Roganda thought with horror, that the clone is yet another man, albeit with rewritten memories. What if he doesn't want to live with a woman he had inherited, imposed by circumstances, when some old man enjoyed her - and he chooses another for himself, and she, Roganda, would be send out of sight, and another question if he provides her financially!

So when Palpatine popularly explained that it's not time to indulge clones, his mistress sighed with relief.

"Then why are we here?" Just in case she asked.

"Faster to get here from Korriban." And he hinted that he wasn't going to show her the clones beforehand.

...Old Sith reached for the tub with melted ice cream, sent a spoon in his mouth and squinted at Daala.

"And you - go back to Maw. I considered the possibility to transfer you to Byss", Palpatine frowned and waved his spoon, sandwiched between his fingers like a cigarette. "But you have dashed down your new assignment, putting your lopped nose into the laboratory."