[Republic Commando] - 03(126)

“Here.” Skirata handed Mereel the remote for the thermal dets. If the signal didn’t work from here he’d have to go back and blow the tunnel entrance, because he wasn’t about to walk back on a live det. “You ought to do it. Very cathartic.”

“My pleasure. I declare this facility … closed.” Mereel closed his fingers around the small cylinder and rested his thumb on the button. “But it’s not over yet.” He squeezed slowly. “Oya manda.”

The button clicked, and then there was a moment of silence before a sound like an instant, distant storm disturbed the tranquility of the beach. A couple of tourists stopped to look around as if expecting to see some spectacle. And then it was over: Ko Sai’s legacy had vanished in flame and tumbling rock, unseen, and the only archive of her life’s work was a pile of data chips in Mereel’s belt pouches.

“That felt better than I expected,” he said. “Thanks. Kal’buir.”

Sometimes, just sometimes, even the most pragmatic and rational of men needed to lay their ghosts with a little symbolic gesture.

Meree’s smile-harmless, charming, and no guide to his state of mind-still didn’t waver.



Eyat City, Caftikar, 478 days after Geonosis

“Medic!” Darman yelled, but there was no response, and he knew he was stupid to expect one.

He popped the seal on Fi’s helmet and pulled it off. The built-in armor diagnostics said his brother had a pulse and was breathing, but he wasn’t responding. There wasn’t a mark on him-no sign of penetrating injury, and no bleeding from mouth, nose, or ears-but Darman couldn’t tell about the rest of his body. Katarn armor was sealed against vacuum, and that meant it was also good protection against lethal pressure waves. Darman could recall the whole grisly lecture during training.

“Vod’ika, talk to me.” Darman pushed back Fi’s eyelids: one of his pupils reacted a lot more than the other. That wasn’t good, he knew. Then Fi lifted his arms and batted Darman’s hand away.

“Oww,” he said. “I’m okay… I’m okay.”

“Can you feel your legs?” Darman asked. Fi could obviously move his arms, so at least that part of his spine was intact. “Come on.” He pulled off Fi’s greaves and tapped his shin-bone. “Feel that?”

“Oww. I’m fine.” Fi drew up his knees and tried to roll over to get up. “Just-did I fall? What happened?”

“I don’t know if it was a booby trap or what. The whole wall’s gone. Come on, let’s get you out before anything else collapses.”

“Might be worse outside.”

Astonishingly, Fi stood up with minimal help from Dar-man and managed to put his helmet on. He stumbled a few times trying to pick his way over the rubble, but he was moving under his own steam. Darman knew that didn’t mean much when it came to blast injury, but Fi had once tested the Mark III armor the hard way by throwing himself on a grenade, so it was going to take a lot to kill him. He s okay. He s okay.

“Where’s Miner?” Fires raged outside but it was eerily quiet, the noise of blasterfire and explosions muffled by distance. Darman found the front of the building gone, and remembered Atin had been on the roof. “At’ika? Atin, it’s Dar. You there?”

Atin’s voice crackled over the comlink. “I think I’ve bro-ken my shabla ankle. I can see Niner. He’s giving first aid.” They were all accounted for, then. Darman could spare a thought for the 35th Infantry now that he knew his brothers were alive. The larty had come back to extract them; it touched down in the middle of the road, the port-side hatch of the troop bay closed and blocking the line of sight between the ruined holostation and the buildings opposite. Troopers struggled forward carrying comrades between them, but one trooper was still flat on his back while Niner struggled to place a hemostatic dressing on his chest wound. “I should be doing that,” Fi mumbled. “I’ll do that. I’m the squad medic …”

Atin appeared, limping badly. “Well, we stopped enemy broadcasts just fine. I think that was incoming.”

“Ours or theirs?” Darman asked. Atin took hold of Fi’s arm, but he stumbled and Darman had to catch him. “Hey, you okay?”

Fi swayed a little. “Just dizzy.”

“You should get that checked out. Sounds like concussion. You’re the squad medic, Fi, you should know that.”

“That’s what I said, didn’t I?”

“Fi?”

“Okay.”

“What’s wrong, Fi?”

“I’m going to throw up.”