34

There wasn’t much to pack—Den’s years as a field correspondent had taught him how to live lightly. It wasn’t down to the point where all he needed was his dewflap brush, but it was pretty close. His multiclimate clothes were all compressible fabrics, his voxwriter not much bigger than his thumb. Two pieces of luggage, both small, were all he needed. Load it up, move it out. He’d done it a thousand times. At least.

The announcer chimed.

“Come in.”

The entry panel slid open, revealing I-Five.

“Just the droid I was looking for,” Den said.

I-Five’s left photoreceptor made the droid equivalent of a raised eyebrow. He looked around. “You seem to be packed and ready for departure—though it’s somewhat difficult to tell, given the general …ambience.”

Den grinned. “I’m not the best housekeeper on this planet,” he admitted. “Probably not on most of the known planets. Or, I expect, the unknown ones.”

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” the droid said. “Give me thirty minutes and a flamethrower attachment, and—”

“You know, there’s still one more transport lifting soon, with the last of the entertainers. I’m sure a droid who does stand-up would be high on their list of needs.”

“No doubt. And, as it happens, I will be on the next shuttle after that.”

Den nodded. He’d expected as much. “You have your mission from Barriss, then?”

“Yes. Information—eyes-only, very hush-hush—and a vial that I must also deliver.” I-Five extended a hand. “I came to say good-bye.”

Den did not take the droid’s hand. “No need. I’m coming with you.”

Another subtle shift of luminosity, this one registering surprise. “Indeed? To what do I owe this honor?”

“To the fact that, very soon, this place will be overrun with Separatist droids, mercs, and anything else they’ve got that’s smart enough to move and shoot at the same time.” Den explained briefly about the bota mutation, and what the likely outcome would be once this became common knowledge.

“The mutation comes as no surprise,” I-Five said. “This entire planet is one huge transgenic experiment. Given all the cross-pollination of the spores and the un-differentiated potential of the local DNA, I’m only surprised it remained stable for this long.”

“Well, stability is a word that won’t be bandied about too much in the next few days. Which is why I’m headed back to Coruscant.” Den shrugged. “I thought maybe we could travel together.”

“I have no objection. Though I doubt most of the other droids will speak to me if I’m accompanied by an organic.”

“Y’know, you might want to prune back that prickly side of your programming just a little. Otherwise, someone’s likely to do it for you—with a vibroknife. Very few people like a smart-mouthed droid.”

“As you might imagine, you’re by no means the first person to tell me this. However, I find it adds a bit of piquancy to an otherwise bland existence. And I can take care of myself, thank you.”

Den looked at his chrono. “Just about nine hours before the shuttle lifts. Any plans for the interim?”

“It would seem appropriate for me to spend it in the operating theater, aiding Jos and the others. That was, after all, my primary assignment.”

“Myself, I have another destination in mind. But even though we’ll be spending our last hours here in two separate locations, there is one thing that both places have in common,” Den said with a grin.

“Alcohol.” The droid paused. “Are you planning to tell anybody about your knowledge of the bota mutation?”

Den regarded I-Five. No doubt about it, he was as sharp as a lightsaber, this one. “Officially—no. And if I put fire gnats into any ears among the staff, that wouldn’t do much good, since they aren’t in a position to do anything about it except worry.”

“I sense an unspoken addendum.”

“Yeah, well, some of the card players and I have gotten friendly, and I’m thinking maybe I don’t want them to be caught from behind.”

“But if, as you say, they can’t affect the situation, why say anything?”

Den shrugged. “Wouldn’t you want to know?”

“Of course. The more data one has, the better equipped one is to function.”

“There you go.” Den started for the door. “I’m going to have a drink or six, then tell my friends the news. See you at the pad.”