He stared at her intensely for a moment, then looked back to the fire, seeming defeated.
'No, you're right,' he finally admitted. 'It would destroy us.'
Padme looked from Anakin to the fire. Which would destroy her-destroy them- she had to wonder. The action or the thought?
Chapter Sixteen
'Wow!' Boba Fett exclaimed, rushing across the landing pad to view the sleek starfighter up close.
'Beautiful ship,' Jango agreed, strolling to catch up to his son, studying the craft with every stride. He noted the markings and design, the extra firepower, and, particularly, the astromech droid hardwired into the left wing, tootling happily.
'This is a Delta-Seven,' the excited Boba announced, pointing out the rear- cockpit position. Jango nodded, glad that his son had been taking his lessons seriously. These were new ships- so new that they hadn't yet been fitted with hyperdrive engines, Jango realized, and he inadvertently glanced up at the cloudy sky, wondering if parent ships were up there. He shook the thought away, turning back to Boba.
'And what of the droid?' he asked. 'Can you identify the unit?' Boba climbed up the side of the fighter and studied the markings for a moment, then turned back to his father, finger to pursed lips, an intense expression on his face. 'It's an Arfour-Pea,' he said. 'And is that a common droid for this type of starfighter?'
'No,' Boba answered without hesitation. 'A Delta-Seven pilot would usually use an Arthree-Dee. It's better at keeping the guns targeted, and the fighter is so maneuverable that handling the laser cannons is tricky. I read that some pilots wind up shooting their own nose cones off in this fighter! They do a snap-roll, coming out over and around, but they haven't compensated the manual swivel. .' As he spoke, he moved his arms over each other and about, tangling them up in front of him.
Jango was hardly listening to the details, though he was thrilled that Boba had taken to his lessons with such energy. 'Suppose the pilot didn't need the extra gunnery skills of an Arthree-Dee?' he asked.
Boba looked at him curiously, as if he didn't understand.
'Would the Arfour-Pea then be a better choice?'
'Yes,' came the halting response.
'And what pilot wouldn't need the extra droid gunnery skills?' Boba stared blankly, but then a smile spread on his face. 'You!' he blurted, seeming quite pleased with himself.
Jango took the compliment with an appreciative smile-and it was true enough. Jango could wheel any fighter, and if he ever had the opportunity to fly in a Delta-7, he'd likely choose an R4-P over the R3-D. But that wasn't what he had in mind right now, for he knew of one other type of pilot, pilots with heightened senses, who would similarly choose the better nav, but less weapon-oriented droid.
Jango Fett looked back up at the sky, wondering if a host of Jedi were about to descend upon Tipoca City.
Great racks holding glass spheres stretched across the immense room to the end of Obi-Wan's vision. Each sphere contained an embryo, suspended in fluid, and when the Jedi reached into the Force, he sensed strong waves of life energy.
'The hatchery,' he stated more than asked.
'The first phase, obviously,' Lama Su replied.
'Very impressive.'
'I hoped you would be pleased, Master Jedi,' the Prime Minister said.
'Clones can think creatively. You'll find that they are immensely superior to droids, and that ours are the best in all the galaxy. Our methods have been perfected over many centuries.'
'How many are there?' Obi-Wan asked. 'In here, I mean.'
'We have several hatcheries throughout the city. This, of course, is the most crucial phase, though with our techniques, we expect a survival rate of over ninety percent. Every so often, an entire batch will develop a… an issue, but we expect the clone production to remain steady, and with our accelerated growth methods, these before you will be fully matured and ready for battle in just over a decade.'
Two hundred thousand units are ready, with another million well on the way. Lama Su's previous boast echoed ominously in Obi-Wan's thoughts. A production center, supremely efficient, producing a steady stream of superbly trained and conditioned warriors. The implications were staggering.
Obi-Wan stared at the closest embryo, floating contentedly in its fluid, curled and with its little thumb stuck into its mouth. In ten short years, that tiny creature, that tiny man, would be a soldier, killing and, likely, soon enough killed.
He shuddered and looked to his Kaminoan guide. 'Come,' Lama Su bade him, walking along the corridor.
Next on the tour was a huge classroom, with desks in neat, orderly rows and with students in neat, orderly rows. They all looked to be about ten years of age. All dressed the same, all with the same haircut, all with exactly the same features and posture and expressions. Obi-Wan reflexively looked at the shining white walls of the huge room, almost expecting to see mirrors there, playing a trick on his eyes to make one boy seem to be many. The students went about their studies without paying any more heed to the visitors than a quick glance.
Disciplined, Obi-Wan thought. Much more so than any normal children. Another thought grabbed him. 'You mentioned growth acceleration-'
'Oh yes, it's essential,' the Prime Minister replied. 'Otherwise a mature clone would take a lifetime to grow. Now we can do it in half the time. The units you will soon see on the parade ground we started ten years ago, when Sifo-Dyas first placed the order, and they're already mature and quite ready for duty.'
