Ordo’s expression was hidden behind his visor but his tone wasn’t. “It’s a kama,” he said, all ice.
“Someday, Fi, someone’s going to belt you one,” Atin muttered. “And it’s probably going to be Ordo.”
He was right. But Fi didn’t know any other way to keep his gut from shaking at times like this. It was how he coped. He was relieved and he was shocked, and now he had to get on with the job. He leaned on his Deece to get to his feet and saw the cams and droids had gone; the illuminated displays in the terminal were black screens and the amber emergency lighting was on.
So Ordo had deployed an EMP device to knock out the holocams, and taken out all the unshielded equipment around them too. Droiding. A crazy but necessary move, Fi thought, seeing as it might have triggered whatever explosives the gang had rigged. He linked into Niner’s helmet and saw that he was running and rerunning the images of the gang that Kaim had paid for with his life, memorizing the identifying details.
Rugeyan was looking around the terminal hall, chatting on his comlink, the embodiment of pure calculation. “Okay, so we’ll have to take the news conferences at the Chamber… any more bodies, and they go out via the back … I know, it’s not good seeing Jedi body parts … the grunt was great, right?”
Ordo and Skirata looked at each other as if some common bond had sprung up from nowhere. Fi wondered if they had some comlink of their own: Skirata occasionally slipped something into his ear and removed it again. Ordo cocked his head but Skirata smiled tightly and without humor. He turned to Rugeyan and put a scarred hand on the sleeve of his nice, sharp tunic.
“Son,” he said. “I couldn’t help noticing that you called my boys grunts. Don’t do that again, will you?”
Rugeyan looked down at Skirata as if he’d noticed him for the first time and lowered the comlink. “We want the Senator out now. Nothing else matters.”
“I’m glad you pointed that out to me.” Fi couldn’t see what Skirata did next, but his arm dropped down and suddenly Rugeyan seemed to be taking a lot of notice of him. His eyes bulged visibly and a small uh noise forced its way past his lips. “Now that I have your attention, may I suggest that you remove yourself from the incident scene and let Captain Ordo and my boys do their jobs?”
Fi was mesmerized. Darman jogged up to the tableau of frozen pain. “Charges laid, Sarge. Ready to go.”
Skirata’s arm fell back to his side again, and Rugeyan inhaled sharply before brushing down his tunic and striding away with somewhat splayed legs.
“I’ll remember that move,” said Atin approvingly. “Vau never taught us anything like that.”
But Vau had certainly taught Atin the exacting procedures for storming a building, Fi knew. He just wondered about Ordo. ARCs weren’t team players.
“Fancy a bit of action for a change, Captain?” asked Fi. “Give your Deece a day out?”
“Don’t worry, if your luck holds I’ll be right in front of you,” said Ordo, toneless. “If it doesn’t, I’ll be behind you.”
Fi thought about that for a few moments. Then he started wondering again why Nuriin-Ar and his cronies hadn’t seized hostages on the transport before it landed; it was an easier location to withstand an assault. The fools were facing certain death. They wouldn’t shift the Senate’s position. And they had to be stupid if they didn’t realize that.
In the end, though, their intelligence levels wouldn’t matter. He checked his Deece, rehearsing rapid changes between modes and aware that Ordo kept looking his way.
Holonews Update, 1830: The Haruun Kal government has denied knowledge of Nuriin-Ar, leader of the group that’s holding six hostages at Galactic City spaceport. But in an unusually robust statement, the Korunnai ambassador says she “fully understands the group’s frustrations” and has urged the Republic to cease interfering in her planet’s affairs.
One of the CSF officers brought a tray of caf in flimsi cups and handed Fi one first. A camaraderie had sprung up: Fi rather liked it. The cops actually seemed in awe of what he’d done, and he began to realize that it felt good to be held in that kind of regard.
“No cookies?” said Skirata, and took a cup.
The squad took their helmets off to drink. The officer seemed distracted for a moment, staring at their faces. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said.
“Don’t wait for a tip,” said Skirata. Fi smiled to himself.
Obrim and Dovel were observing a few paces away, and the group stared at the hologram of the terminal layout that Ordo projected into the space between them.