[Republic Commando] - 03(151)

“You’re not from the Defense Department, are you?”

“I’m from the Treasury. If he’s government property, he’s mine. So I’m taking him.”

“I cannot allow this.”

“Try stopping me.”

Besany rarely said things she regretted, but she realized she was now terrified. What of? Injury? Getting into trouble with my boss? What, exactly, when Fi’s lying there? But her primal defensive instincts-for herself, for Fi-had taken over, and her mouth was pursuing its own panicky agenda.

“You have to leave now,” the droid said.

If she walked out of here now and abandoned him, Fi was definitely dead, really dead. He was breathing fine. She didn’t care about definitions of brain death or depth of consciousness. This was about what she believed in and thought was right, from the time she’d first met Trooper Corr and realized what her government sanctioned in her name.

If I don’t make a stand now, what’s the use of expecting Senator Skeenah to make a difference?

“Then you’ll need to have me thrown out-bodily.” Besany reached inside her jacket and drew the blaster Mereel had given her. “I’m not going quietly, and I’m not leaving without Fi.”

She aimed the weapon squarely at the med droid’s central section, where the power packs were located, and flicked the charge indicator so that it could see she was serious about using it.

She had no idea how she was going to get Fi out of here. She had no friends or family to call upon, and her small band of special forces contacts were scattered across the galaxy; she was on her own. Order and precise planning had always been her watchwords, but there was no time for that now, and the best she could hope for was to stall for time-time for what, and how long?-or make such a scene that they backed down.

“I’m calling security,” the droid said, and backed toward the door.

Besany could see that it already had, or had at least alerted someone to the argument: there was a small crowd of white-coated figures and droids outside in the corridor. She followed it to the threshold with the blaster aimed, and when the staff outside saw it, pandemonium broke loose. They ran for it. Some screamed. The security alarm boomed and flashed along the corridor.

Besany shut the doors and seared the panel lock with the blaster, something she didn’t believe would actually work, but that Ordo had mentioned in passing. It worked, all right. She was now stuck in the room with Fi.

Okay, I’ve done it now. I’ll get arrested. I’ll lose my job. What happens to Fi then? But what happens to Fi if I just cave in to them?

It was sobering to think how fine a knife-edge stood between an early night after a boring holovid, and plunging into an abyss of anarchy where she pulled a blaster on a med droid and made a stand against a system that stank.

Besany pulled up a chair and sat at Fi’s bedside, blaster still on the door, and put her free hand on his. It felt warm and surprisingly smooth, but then the commandos always seemed to wear gloves.

“Sorry, Fi,” she said. “But I asked Jilka if she wanted a date. She’s nice when you get to know her.”

Chances were that he’d never see her, but he wasn’t going to leave here with the rest of the medical waste. She needed help, and there was only one person she could think of who could give it. She let go of Fi’s hand and opened her comlink to call Skirata.

“I don’t want to worry you, Kal,” she said quietly, “but I’ve started an armed siege at the medcenter. I’ve got my blaster, and Fi’s okay for the time being, but if you’ve got any advice … I’d welcome it right now.”



Kyrimorut, Mandalore, 482 days after Geonosis

“We’ve got to go, Etain.” Skirata grabbed a chunk of meat from the table and wrapped it hastily before cramming it into one of his belt pouches. Ordo was in the doorway, wearing his ARC captain’s armor for a change. “We need to get back to Coruscant fast. Besany’s run into a spot of trouble.”

Etain was plowing through the list of members of the Republic Academy of Genetics, identifying likely scientists for future discussions-voluntary or otherwise-while Mereel was holed up in a room with Ko Sai. The Kaminoan wasn’t adjusting well to captivity, and she wasn’t feeling chatty.

“What kind of trouble?”

“She was trying to get Fi released from the medcenter and ran into a few problems.”

Problems didn’t usually mean “admin” in Skirata’s vocabulary. “Tell me they’re both okay.”

“They will be. I just asked Jailer to give her a hand.” If Skirata had called in a favor from Jailer Obrim, the head of CSF’s Anti-Terrorist Unit, then it wasn’t just admin problems. He hesitated, looking guilty, which Etain found painful under the circumstances. “Okay, Besany started an armed siege. They were going to terminate Fi.”