Battlefront II, page 24
Sadori, so much taller than she, craned his neck to look up ahead, and nodded at her.
“Looks like,” she told Del.
“We’ll be there to pick you up when you’re all done. Just let us know when you’re ready.”
“Thanks! I’ll talk to you soon!”
Garrick Versio had been right. The trick in deceiving someone was to mix as much truth as possible into your lies, and be relaxed about what you were doing. Seyn agreed completely. If you behaved as if you belonged, people usually overlooked you. Some, in fact, could smell fear, and sweat droplets or quick breathing were dead giveaways among human and near-humans, as had been the case at the Singularity bombing.
So she held her “boyfriend’s” hand, and looked excited, and obeyed instructions as the river of students was shuttled through. She had to rely on Sadori’s height advantage for information about what was around them. He told her everything he noticed that was of import, couching the information in ways that sounded completely innocuous, such as “Wow, there must be at least twenty-five stormtroopers here. They’re lined up on both sides of the gate!”
He was extremely good at this. If his parents had the same skill level, then Staven was squandering them by only using the Kages in a fight.
They gathered outside the main entrance, where an exaggeratedly large red ribbon draped across the huge door to the building. A stormtrooper stood rigidly at attention, his gloved hands closed about the hilt of a lengthy vibroblade that would shortly be cutting the ribbon.
The ceremony was open to the public. The intel that Staven said he had obtained indicated that this would be the most heavily secured area. If anything was to go wrong, it would most likely be here.
While they waited, Seyn went over the plan. At approximately oh nine hundred local time, the local moff, Rys Deksha, and the visiting dignitary, General Ivel Toshan, would emerge to formally open the factory. Speeches and posing for the cam droids was expected to last twenty minutes, and then the students would be admitted for their tour of the facility. Their IDs would be checked once more, but security was expected to be relaxed as this was a contained, previously screened group of local teenagers. They would begin moving through the factory at oh nine twenty, and the two-hour tour would culminate with a half-hour meet and greet at eleven thirty in a receiving area that had been laid out for a banquet.
There the students would be permitted to interact with the general, the moff, and their aides. At noon, the students would return to their shuttle, and the dignitaries would be served luncheon at the same site at twelve thirty.
Except that wasn’t what would happen. At eleven fifty-five, everyone in the room would be dead.
The ribbon-cutting ceremony went off smoothly, with Deksha and Toshan keeping their speeches brief and to the point. Seyn knew of Toshan, and was aware that he, like so many moffs, had a preference for the finer things in life. She wondered if someone in a position of authority was unhappy with his performance recently, and had sent him out to this backwater world as a reprimand. He certainly didn’t look like someone who was happy to be here.
After the speeches, each of the two men placed one hand on the vibroblade’s hilt and together cut the ridiculous ribbon, which fluttered prettily in a sudden breeze. Everything was captured by the cam droids. It was intended to be what was called a fluff piece, but later, Seyn knew, it would be regarded as hard news.
Something fluttered inside her, and she frowned, quelling the sensation. Iden had made it clear that Seyn was not to interfere with the execution of the Dreamers’ plan. Seyn was an Imperial agent, a member of an elite team, and casualties happened in war. And what was happening now, as cheerful, excited students clogged the main doorway eager to get in, was as much a battle as any that was fought between starships.
She was, of course, stopped when they reached the initial main scanner, and she had to explain to the tired-looking guard that the droid was medically authorized. As proof, she produced her fake ID. The guard waved her through.
So far, so good. Time to check in.
“I really hope Seyn’s ready for this,” Staven said. He and Iden were piloting the vessel while Del monitored Seyn and Sadori through the eyes of the droid.
“Me too,” Del replied. “She seems pretty sharp, though. And Sadori seems to have it under control.” It amused him to see Staven worried about a professional NavInt supervisor handling an undercover mission. So far, Seyn was blending in better and learning more than any member of the squad. And to think they all originally thought of her as the rookie.
They had backup plans, of course. They always did. But even as Staven expressed his reservations, he didn’t seem overly concerned.
“Hi, Dad!”
“Hi, uh, sweetheart,” Del said into the comlink. “Did they give you any trouble with your med droid?”
“No, I’m okay,” Seyn said. “Feeling great! So much to see here!”
“Can’t wait to hear all about it,” he said. “Keep me posted!” He clicked off his comlink. To Staven, he said, “They’re in. Got the droid through no problem, and they’ve assembled the bomb.”
“You know,” Staven said, “the Empire is enormous and complex. Sometimes they’re very, very clever. Sometimes, they’re just stupid and miss the obvious things. Can’t even catch a pair of teenagers smuggling in a bomb.”
That hadn’t escaped Del’s notice, either. When the team had completed its mission, they would have an earful for Admiral Versio about how much tighter some security needed to be.
But then again, by the time they returned the Dreamers would be no more, and the Rebel Alliance was too crippled by its own moral code to push a similarly violent agenda. Its leaders would be as horrified about what was about to unfold as the Empire.
As, if he admitted the truth, Del himself was.
Staven hadn’t really warmed up to anyone from Inferno Squad other than Gideon, and ever since they’d lost Nadrine and Kaev, he’d just gotten grimmer. There wasn’t much chitchat to pass the time while they waited for the school trip to run its course.
So Del leaned back in his chair, laced his hands behind his head, and closed his eyes, trying to focus on something other than the slaughter about to come.
In his mind’s eye, he saw glowing purple crystals.
—
The factory was clean, shiny, bright, and utterly Imperial. The students were appropriately impressed. They seemed thrilled to be here today, chatting, laughing, and taking vids in areas where they were permitted to do so. There were no more stormtroopers, just guards and a few engineers on the site to answer questions.
Seyn again attracted unwanted notice because of the droid. A couple of the students exclaimed over it, their envy turning to sympathy when Seyn explained that it was for her medical condition.
“Oh, I’m really sorry to hear that,” said a girl who reminded Seyn uncomfortably of Nadrine. “Can you have chocolate? I got some for my birthday.”
Chocolate was a rarity in this part of the galaxy, and Seyn demurred. “Oh no, I couldn’t take that.”
“You must be new at school, and that’s never fun. Especially when you’re—well, if you need a medical droid…I’m Anice,” the girl said. “Go on, have a piece, or else my kid brother will eat it all when I get home.”
Seyn went very still. Anice would never get home.
“You eat one for me, right now, and tell me how delicious it is,” she said, forcing a smile.
“Twist my arm,” Anice joked, and popped one in her mouth. “Mmmm…it really is so good! You sure you don’t want one?” she offered again.
“It’s more fun watching you,” Seyn said. She hung back as the group filed into the next room. She didn’t want to make any more idle conversation with the fiery-haired, freckled Anice.
After what felt like forever, their guide said, “Well, that’s all for today, kids! It’s time to go into the reception area, where you’ll get to meet and chat with General Toshan and our own Moff Deksha!”
Up at the far end of the room was what was obviously the main table for the visiting dignitaries. It was set with fine linens, plates, and dining utensils. Exquisite decanters sat at the ready for a luncheon that would never come, and for a wild, nearly hysterical moment Seyn wondered if they contained Toniray wine. It would be macabrely ironic if so.
“Do you think you can get there safely?” Sadori whispered.
She considered. The droid might be able to, but even as she had the thought, two other serving droids came out from side doors, bearing various nonalcoholic libations and appetizers.
“No,” she said. “But I can probably get near the end of one of the regular tables. That will more than suffice. I’ll go get everything ready.”
Toward the beginning of the tour, she had asked to visit the restroom to “get my medication” from the droid. There, she had retrieved all the necessary material to affix their personal bombs. She’d attached hers to her chest, and given the components to Sadori, who’d headed off to the restroom to attach his own bomb.
Now she politely asked a guard where the restroom at this end of the building was. Once she was alone, she quickly opened the droid’s casing, removed the parts for the deceptively small third bomb, and assembled it quickly.
She paused as she prepared to set the timer.
She went over everything the bomb’s detonation was supposed to accomplish.
Delay the factory opening? Yes, that troubled her not at all.
Kill the moff, the general, and a handful of aides? That was a difficult one, but Admiral Versio had warned Inferno Squad that such deaths were acceptable in the name of eliminating the partisans and preventing future attacks.
But Moff Deksha and General Toshan wouldn’t be the only Imperials dying. Seyn thought of Anice, with her artless and complete generosity. Of her unknown brother and her parents; of nearly four hundred other noisy, laughing, fascinated students. Who were just kids.
Seyn stayed in the restroom for a long, long time, thinking.
She made her decision. And then she set the timer.
—
Sadori threw her a relieved glance when she emerged. “I was worried,” he said, slipping his arm around her briefly. “You okay?”
“Yes,” she said firmly. For the first time since the mission had started, she really was. “The timer’s set.”
“That gives us five minutes from when you activate it. It looks like everyone’s here. Let’s head over. I’ll distract people.”
They took glasses of sweet, bubbly beverages from the serving droids and sipped as they made their way to the end of one of the far tables, within two meters of the head table where the dignitaries would be celebrating their luncheon. With Sadori’s frame blocking her from view, Seyn slipped the bomb—carefully—out of her sleeve and passed it to the droid.
“Hey, Dad,” she said on her comlink. “Not feeling so good. Can you come pick me up?”
“Be right there.”
Seyn took a breath. “Under the table, in the center, set for fifteen minutes, then get on my back,” she whispered to the ID10.
The droid booped, dipped until it was level with the table, and did as it was told. Then, its mission accomplished, it resettled itself on her back.
“Now!”
She and Sadori moved through the crowd as quickly as they could without drawing attention, pointedly not making eye contact. Sadori was like the prow of an old-fashioned water ship, parting the cluster of teenagers with Seyn following, gripping his hand hard, her heart slamming against her chest.
They reached the hallway, heading toward an exit door, and then they were outside, putting distance between themselves and the building as fast as they could. The shuttle would be here at any minute.
And then Sadori slowed. Confused, he looked back at the factory. “It should have detonated by now,” he said.
Detonated. Killing everyone in the banquet hall. Killing nearly four hundred innocent Imperial subjects, who’d done nothing other than be born on this planet and attend school here.
Seyn reached for his hand. “I’m sure it’s okay,” she said.
He hung on to her hand, but still looked back. She tugged. “They’re landing,” she said. “Sadori, come on, let’s go, the bomb’s still going to go off!”
But he was shaking his dark head. “Something’s wrong. The bomb’s a dud.”
It wasn’t a dud. It was functioning perfectly. Functioning with a fifteen-minute delay, not five, so that the excited students would have the chance to pile into their shuttle and talk the whole way back about what they’d seen.
So that Anice’s brother could steal her candy.
“Sadori,” she said, begging.
The young Kage turned to her and gently grasped her upper arms. His eyes were wide, and it was strange, so strange, to see them brown and not their warm, softly radiant pink.
“Seyn,” he said, and his voice trembled. “I’ve been fighting my whole life. So have my family—all my people. I fought so that one day, I wouldn’t have to fight anymore. I fought for that future. I believe in it. And I have to do everything I can to make sure that future happens.”
He couldn’t be saying what she thought he was. Frightened in a way she’d never been before, Seyn reached up and put her hands on his cheeks, smudging the cosmetic peach tones and revealing his pale-gray skin. Wanting to see his skin, his eyes.
“Sadori, it’s fine, it’s fine. Stay with me.” Her voice cracked on the last word.
Stay with me ten more minutes, and those children live.
Stay with me ten more minutes, and you live.
Stay with me.
“I don’t mind,” he said, softly, sadly. “I just wish…I wish that future could have been with you.”
And then he pressed his lips to hers, kissing her first tentatively and then passionately as she returned the kiss with urgency. She clung to him, absurdly thinking she could hold on tight enough to keep him there, but then the cool air rushed in to fill the sudden space between their bodies and he was gone, racing faster on those strong, long legs than she could ever hope to run.
Futilely, stupidly, Seyn tried to catch him, shouting his name, until she tripped and hit the ground hard and was scooped up by Del, who had seemingly materialized out of nowhere.
“What the hell happened?” screamed Staven, his face flushed a deep, angry red, both fury and fear in his eyes as Del rushed into the ship with Seyn in his arms.
The bomb was defective, Seyn should have lied. Sadori went back to fulfill the mission.
Instead, she couldn’t speak. Her hand went to her chest, where her own last-resort bomb was affixed. Where Sadori’s was.
Sadori—I’m so sorry—
The ship took off right as the factory exploded.
Less than a minute later, the bomb Seyn had delayed also detonated. Through eyes blurred with either grief or joy or perhaps both, Seyn looked down through the viewport as hundreds of tiny figures escaped to safety.
—
The next few days were a blur.
Seyn had never seen Sadori’s parents display much emotion. And at first, when the ship had returned to Jeosyn and Staven had to tell them the unthinkable, they had seemed stunned, and only nodded. They were composed and even kind to Seyn, wrapping her in a blanket and sitting her down by the heater to prevent her from going into shock even as they themselves quietly, unobtrusively, did so.
The debriefing was stunningly calm. Later, Seyn realized why. There was no shock of betrayal around this death, as there had been with Nadrine and Kaev’s. There was no fury or graphic violence to inflame darker, baser emotions, as there had been with Azen’s interrogation—or, more properly, execution.
Sadori, the joy of Ru and Halia Vushan’s lives, he whom they loved so much they seldom let him out of their sight, had died a courageous death, completing a vital mission when equipment failed. In the eyes of a Dreamer, he was a hero.
It made something inside her, something Seyn had never even known was there, retreat, like a small animal hiding in its burrow.
She stuck to the story. Yes, she had been careful. Yes, she had instructed the droid to set the timer for five minutes. No, she hadn’t noticed that anything was wrong with the timer or the bomb. Yes, she had tried to dissuade Sadori from sacrificing himself, and yes, that had been wrong of her, as it wasn’t the Dreamer way. Yes, she was proud of Sadori and would always remember him.
Yes, Sadori Vushan was a hero.
Seyn was not sure which was worse—that Sadori had died, or that he had done so trying to ensure that four hundred students had died with him.
Then Del and Piikow were grilled about their preparation of the bomb. They had done everything right, they claimed, and had double-checked each other’s work.
Staven was frustrated, but he did not blame anyone for what had, in the end, simply been a horrible disaster. “No one owns luck,” he said. “We’ve had some good. And we’ve had bad. This wasn’t anyone’s fault. Simply…bad luck. We just have to make sure that Sadori didn’t die in vain.”
—
Iden arranged to meet Seyn for a walk as soon as possible. The two women walked off from the encampment, arms folded, heads close together. Iden felt the sympathy from the others as they watched them, close enough to observe, not close enough to hear what they said.
“What really happened out there?” Iden asked in low voice. “Del is afraid he missed something.”
“No,” Seyn said. Her voice was flat, and her eyes stared out into the distance, but her voice sounded calm and in control. “I take responsibility.”
“What do you mean?”
“I made a decision on the spot to delay the timer. It would still explode—still kill Toshan and Deksha, and do some serious damage to the facility—but it would go off after the students were out of the building.”
Iden felt for her. Gently, she said, “We discussed this. It was a necessary sacrifice.”
“I thought so, too, until I was there,” Seyn said. “These were innocent children of the Empire. Almost four hundred of them. The Dreamers still made their point. I didn’t stop the event, just…altered it.”
