“I don’t think that cam’s seen a Deece before,” said Dar-man’s voice.
Fi’s boots hit the walkway and he aimed. The hovercam darted left then right in his scope, fast but not fast enough. “It has now.”
A shout of “Hey!” followed the thwack of exploding hovercam. The rest of Omega Squad hit the ground and jogged toward the terminal entrance. “You shot my cam!” yelled a woman from the watching crowd. She was wearing a bright yellow tabard emblazoned with the word MEDIA in large letters. “You shot it!”
Fi touched his glove to his helmet in apology, just as he’d been taught, but he still thought it was a pretty good shot. “Oops. Beg your pardon, ma’am.”
He jogged after the others, conscious of the staring crowd. Fi saw his armor as safe and welcoming. But the expressions on a couple of faces made him realize that ordinary people were scared by it.
And it wasn’t just the civilians who found Omega Squad a riveting spectacle. The CSF and Senate Guard officers at the forward control point stared, too. Obrim stopped a head-to head discussion with a CSF lieutenant and stepped back from the defensive barricade of baggage repulsors and portable blast shields erected 10 meters around the customs hall.
“I see you’re tooled up,” Obrim said, eyeing the DC-17s with a distinct air of alarm. He almost slid his modest police-issued blaster behind his back. “They’re not driving Trade Federation tanks, you know.”
Fi decided that the police had a lot to learn about sieges. You could do anything with a Deece: A turn of the wrist, and it was a sniper rifle, grenade launcher or a regular blaster.
You could even club someone with it if you had to, although Fi hadn’t tried that yet. He checked the vibroblade in his gauntlet out of habit, and the shunk-shunk sound as it extended and retracted made Obrim flinch.
Niner made that annoyed click. Fi took the hint.
“Let’s get a cam in there first so we can see what’s going on,” said Niner. He beckoned Darman and Atin forward. “Pictures, Commander? We need to know who to shoot.”
“You’re a bit keen.”
“If you’re not a hostage, you’re a hostage taker, and that means you’re dead a few seconds after we go in. We hate to make mistakes.”
“What do you mean by go in, exactly?” The CSF lieutenant stepped between them. A name tab on his vest said DOVEL. “I’m incident commander. I say how and when anyone goes in. We’ve got a Jedi coming down to negotiate with the leader.”
Darman took his pack off his back and began pulling out coils of high-yield charges and detonators. He was staring at the security doors as if calculating. “We’ll still get the charges in place, just in case.”
“No, that’s not how we do it,” said Dovel. “We don’t want the hostages char-grilled. No storming, no heroics. Not yet.”
Obrim interrupted. “Senate Security Committee wants’ this ended fast to show Haruun Kal we’re in control. They can’t just walk in here, grab a Senator, and hold the Republic’s finest at bay.”
“Maybe the Republic’s finest, or you to be exact, should have concentrated on ensuring secure transportation for the Senators,” said Dovel. “What about those other hostages? You want to tell their families that they got fried because you called in the heavy mob to save a politician?”
Niner waited, all mild, deceptive patience. Fi had decided on first meeting him that he was a misery-guts, but now he found him solid and reassuring, just the way a sergeant ought to be. “Let’s be clear what we’re trained to do, gentlemen. We go in and extract hostages by any means necessary. We don’t ask for ID. We don’t take targets alive. We don’t avoid damaging the furniture. When you send us in, there is no happy ending.” He paused as if waiting to see if the reality of the request had sunk in. “So we’ll just wander around and rig the interrupts to the power and light, and you call us when you’re ready to roll.”
Atin took a couple of strip-cams from his backpack, each no bulkier than a sheet of flimsi. Fi switched to the internal helmet comlink. “You think they’re real terrorists or Haruun Kal government agents upping the ante?”
Atin shrugged. “I don’t care as long as they fall over when we shoot them.”
A commando’s life was all clarity. Fi was glad he wasn’t Obrim-or Dovel.
Holonews Update, 1700: The family of an elderly couple held hostage with Senator Tills have made an emotional plea for their safe release. Joz and Cira Larutur from Garqi were on their way to see their first grandchild when they were seized. Other hostages have been named as customs officer Berin B’naian and Senatorial aide Vun Merett Jai, but the identity of the sixth hostage remains unknown.