[Republic Commando] - 02(132)

He heard Ordo’s voice in his ear. “Kal’buil; you’re scaring us …”

“Okay.” The woman pointed to another bag on the speeder bike. “That one. Empty it in front of me.”

Skirata obeyed. He unwrapped the bundle and waited for her to choose a pack at random. He tore it open and let her inspect it. She repeated the process three times.

Skirata stood up, hands on hips, and sighed theatrically. “I’ve got all night, sweetheart. Have you?”

The woman looked into his face as if she liked the idea of killing him anyway. “Bag it up and get out of here.”

He glanced at his chrono: 2220. Obrim would be getting jumpy now, with squads of CSF officers waiting throughout Galactic City to raid the long list of suspect addresses he’d given them.

“You heard the lady.” He shoved Jusik in the back. “Get on with it.”

The last few seconds before a hasty exit were always the most terrifying. A hairbreadth lay between victory and defeat, life and death. Jusik secured the last of the bags and dumped the rest from the speeder in a pile between the trucks.

“Now get lost,” she said.

“I take it I can’t count you as a repeat customer, then?”

She raised the blaster eloquently. Skirata replaced his helmet and swung onto the speeder bike behind Jusik. They lifted into the air and climbed above the warehouse.

“Fierfek,” said Darman’s voice in his ear. “I hate it when you improvise, Sarge.”

“Like you don’t.”

“Standing by.”

Ordo cut in. “The woman’s loading all the explosives except a single bag into one truck. The one with the green livery nearest the loading bay. I repeat, negative the green truck. Do not target the green truck or it’s good-bye to half of Coruscant.”

“Females never listen to a thing I say, thankfully,” Skirata said. He knew she’d react like that. “So that means there’s only one vessel we can’t blow up.”

“Priority is to isolate the green truck and ground it before engaging other targets.”

“Copy that, sir,” a chorus said.

Jusik set the speeder down three hundred meters behind the warehouse in a cluster of shuttered wholesalers’ units. Skirata sat breathing deeply for a moment to steady himself before opening his comlink again with a double click of his back teeth.

“Obrim, this is Skirata.”

“Got you, Kal.”

“You can roll now, my friend. Talk to you later.”

“Copy that.” Obrim’s channel snapped into silence. “Omega, Delta, all units, this is Kal. We’re clear. All yours, Captain.”

“Copy that, Sargeant.” Ordo began counting down. “Five; four, three, two … go go go! Oya!”

A bitter little war with far-reaching consequences was unleashed in downtown Galactic City.





22


We will watch you, I promise. You will not see us or hear us or even know we stand beside you. How does that feel, Jedi? How does it feel to be at the mercy of a species with powers even you don’t have? Now you know how others regard you. Keep your promises, General, or you will see how hard a small, invisible army can strike.

-Jinart the Gurlanin, to General Arligan Zey, on the pledge to relocate all human colonists from Qiilura within eighteen months

CoruFresh depot, 2225-H Hour

At 2225 hours Triple Zero time, Fi and Mereel broke from behind the low wall at the southern edge of the landing strip and positioned themselves between the parked repulsor trucks at the far side facing the warehouse.

Fi focused the infrared scope of his DC-17 on the green truck and saw a bright patch of heat on the fuselage. He tilted up and saw the dim patchwork indicating the varying temperatures of a human’s upper body, a pilot waiting to depart.

“I’ve got a target in the pilot’s seat of the green truck, and his drive’s showing up warm on the infrared scope. Is the explosive loaded? Can anyone confirm?”

“I can see the rear of the truck. They’ve closed the hatch with two targets inside as well as the pilot.” Ordo paused. “The green truck is now confirmed as laden. We have to keep that vessel grounded, vode. We can’t detonate it, not here.”

“Dar, you got a clear shot at the pilot?”

There was the sound of fast breathing and a grunt as someone dropped next to him. Fi looked left and saw Darman kneeling on one leg with his Verpine rifle raised, elbow braced on his knee. A Verp slug was guaranteed to punch a hole in the truck’s viewscreen and kill the pilot without triggering the five-hundred-grade. “Got him lined up. Standing by.”

Fi swung his Deece to locate Ordo on the roof. He couldn’t see Sev, but Ordo’s helmet range finder was just visible as he turned his head.