“He had a weapon,” said Ordo. “It’s something of a giveaway. Must have swapped coats with our businessman.”
Now that all the targets were down, Fi could think only of Skirata’s horrified expression in his spotlamp beam. He fought down an impulse to tell him he was sorry. The old warrior was kneeling in front of the stunned hostages, now making reassuringly cheery comments that everything was going to be fine as long as they kept very still just a little longer. They were rigged to explosives and a dead terrorist was still smoking gently in their midst. And yet they kept still, and they kept quiet. People generally did what Skirata told them.
He glanced up at Fi. “Well, not exactly textbook. But dead’s dead.”
Explosives disposal officers moved in to check the backpacks and the squad moved out. Fi looked at his chrono: The assault had taken less than 30 seconds. He could feel the adrenaline ebbing while his body-which didn’t care how trained he was-tackled the aftermath of the massive surge of hormone. His breath rasped hard in his ears as he sat down on a baggage repulsor.
“All clear.” The explosives officer came out of the wrecked hallway with an open backpack that rattled as he walked. “And I mean really clear. These packs are just full of used comlink parts. Nasty bluff?’
Skirata wandered over to Fi and sat down beside him. “We don’t like practical jokes like that, do we, lads?” he said. He motioned him to take his helmet off. “Serves the stupid bunch of di’kute right.”
Obrim stood at the blast-shattered doors, looking bewildered. “Is that it?” he said. “We prat around for more than three hours, and you clear the room in 60 seconds?”
“Twenty,” said Fi automatically.
It all looked easy from the outside. It probably would have looked great to the holocams. Fi could see only that he had come within an ace of doing what he never believed he could. If Skirata hadn’t identified the man as a hostage, Fi would have killed both of them with a single round.
Sergeant Kal’s nearly a father to this squad. How could I?
He took off his helmet and wiped his palm across his forehead, still unable to shake Skirata’s image from his mind.
“You really would have slotted me, wouldn’t you?” said the old sergeant hoarsely.
“Sarge, I’m sorry, I-“
“No, you’re a good lad.” He still seemed able to read Fi’s every thought, just as he had in training. “You only did what I taught you to do. What did I say?”
Fi swallowed. “Priority is to drop the bad guys, Sarge.”
“Good. I’m proud of you. Sentimentality gets you killed.” He tapped Fi’s cheek a few times with the flat of his hand. “And matey over there is luckier than he’ll ever know, as are we all. They made him change clothes with them for a good reason, I reckon. He’s CorSec.”
The businessman, N’zaet Nir, was still standing by the wall, examining the scruffy tan jacket and pants as if appalled to find himself in such tatty clothing. He should have been medevaced for a routine checkup by now, but whatever he had said had ensured he was still there, and waiting. He walked up to Obrim.
“I need to leave right now.”
“You really should have that checkup, sir.”
“But I have an important meeting. I’m a member of CorSec’s Direx and it’s imperative that I attend.”
“Just as well you’re in one piece then,” said Skirata. “I don’t think your government colleagues would have found it amusing if we’d crashed in and shot you by mistake. Especially when the explosives were dummies.”
Nir seemed to have forgotten his terror of a few minutes earlier. “No, they would not. We hope to stay out of your disputes with the Separatists. Can I have my suit back now? And who’s paying for the damage?”
Fi thought a thank you might have been a nice touch, but he realized he had missed something in the exchange that had made Obrim and Skirata just stare at each other.
Niner walked over to them, followed by Ordo. Neither looked as if anything left them trembling. “What have I missed?”
“It wasn’t the Senator,” said Obrim. “He wasn’t the key hostage. He was a lure to get us to storm in and kill the real trump card they were holding.”
“You want to explain all that, Sarge?”
Skirata raked stubby fingers through his hair. “The Corporate Sector Authority is neutral and the Direx Board is its governing body. They’ve got serious money and armaments, so you don’t want to upset them. So if Fi had shot a Direx member, the political fallout would have been enormous