“This,” she said quietly, “is why I don't like the war.” She went up to Corr, who was still conscientiously collating data and writing it on the flimsi with an expression of intense frowning concentration. “Corr, show me your hands. Please?”
The trooper put his stylus aside and held them out, metallic palms up. Corr placed her hands underneath so that his rested on hers for a moment and looked him straight in the eye. Single prosthetic hands—efficient, unnoticeable—were common; but to lose both hands seemed to pass beyond a threshold of what was flesh and blood.
“It's not right,” she said. “It's not right that Corr and men like him should end up like this. I'm wondering what kind of government I'm working for. One with a slave army, that's what. You know how that makes me feel? Disgusted. Betrayed. Angry.”
Skirata knew that feeling only too well. He just hadn't expected to hear it from someone who did an office job and could switch off HNE with its heroic and sanitized images of the war anytime she liked. Jusik caught his eye and nodded discreetly: She really means it, she's upset.
Skirata acknowledged Jusik with a slow blink. “You said it, ma'am.” Got her. We have an ally. She'll come in useful one day. “Believe me when I say that what we're doing here is aimed at stopping things like that happening to more lads like Corr.”
Wennen seemed satisfied, if someone that upset could reach that state of mind. She made her way back to the chair and handed Skirata her datapad. “Go on.”
“What?”
“I don't know what data might be of use to you, and you're not going to discuss detail with me. So take the datapad and copy what you like.”
“You're very trusting. You're sure we're who we say we are?”
Wennen laughed and stopped abruptly. That had to hurt her ribs. “Look, I know what I'm seeing. Now, if I'm out of contact for more than forty-eight hours, the Treasury will notice. So think about what you're going to do with me.”
Skirata hefted the little 'pad in his hands. Treasury data, codes, encryption algorithms. Oh, my Null boys will love slicing this. “And who else is going to notice you're gone?”
“Nobody. Absolutely nobody.”
Skirata pondered on that revelation for a while as he watched the unconscious Gurlanin. Jusik and Etain knelt back on their heels and looked as if they'd run a very tiring race.
“It'll be regaining consciousness soon,” Etain said. “And I still have no idea how you restrain a shapeshifter.”
Ordo picked up one of the Verpine rifles, checked the charge level, and stood over the inert black body.
“This does the job,” he said.
Recce team observation point, residential area, business zone 6, 0110 hours, 385 days after Geonosis
“I wish I hadn't eaten that hot sauce,” Sev said.
“Told you so.” Fi held out his hand for the infrared scope. “My turn.”
They had found a spot to hide between two top-floor apartments facing the building they were watching, a six-floor tower of a house with closed blinds at every window. A climate-conditioning access space nearly at the top of their vantage point gave them an uninterrupted view below of a very quiet, very private group of homes away from the sky-lanes in a dead end.
The upper floors arched into a fashionable overhang only seven meters from the facing building. No passing traffic could enter from the front to bother them here, not even a taxi, and the rear access was nonexistent, which left only the roof for access by a small green speeder. It was private and a good place to defend—or get trapped. Fi rather liked the idea of the latter.
The access space felt like being in a drawer. They could just about crawl through it on all fours. Fi knew he wouldn't have enjoyed serving in a tank company at all.
“Roll on your back for a while,” Fi said helpfully.
Sev hesitated then surrendered to the suggestion with a groan. “How many?”
Fi tracked from right to left with the scope. “Well, I think we've got ten bodies in there, judging by the GPR image, and they've been in there for an hour now, and they're not moving around much. I call that an operational base. Agreed?”
“Okay. Let's set up the remote holocam and get out of here.”
“Given the layout of that place, it's going to be a bit busy slotting them all when we go in.”
“I like busy,” Sev said.
“Have Scorch and Fixer reported in yet?”
Sev held his datapad level with his eyes. “Now, that sounds like fun.”
“What does?”
“Scorch says they've confirmed the third cluster is a small commercial docking area. CoruFresh fruit and vegetable distributors. Loads of spacegoing vessels of all sizes.”
“Yes, that's my idea of fun, too.”
“If we could get them all to meet up for a nice ride …”
“Dream on. But we could certainly stop them from leaving in a hurry.”
Fi backed out of the space, pushing himself on his elbows with his DC-17 crooked in both arms, collecting more dust and dead insects on his bodysuit. He turned sideways on to a narrow shaft that opened into the building's plant maintenance room and dropped his left leg into the gap, searching for a foothold with his boot before finding the ledge and scrambling down to the floor. Sev simply rolled off and landed with a thud beside him.
“Okay, where next?”
Fi cocked his head. “Want to wander over and take a closer look at the roof? Evaluate it for rapid entry?”
“You know how to engage my enthusiasm.”
Fi projected the fire safety holoplans of the building, which had proved to be Ordo's best illicit data slice of the mission. There was no point asking the fire department to provide them; it just invited awkward questions about why lads in white armor wanted detailed floor plans of most of the planet's buildings. “I hope they update these. Okay, go left along the passage; the roof access is the set of doors at the end.”
“I love the fire department.”
“They're so helpful. Nice uniforms, too.”
They crawled across the flat roof along the side of the climate-conditioning machinery room, over lengths of durasteel ladder laid flat on the waterproofing. Some buildings still had them to provide access to maintenance spaces. There were also the remains of a barbecue. They flattened themselves behind the parapet to peer through the breaks in the punched durasteel at the roof opposite.
“Ooh, a Flash speeder,' Fi whispered.
“Don't even think about it.”
“I meant that we could bolt on a few surprises, not wander off with it.”
“Look, what does the word recce mean, ner vod?”
“It almost sounds like wreck.”
“You scare me,” Sev said. “And that's saying something.”
“It's an opportunity we might not get again.”
“So you fly, do you? Going to do a Jango?”
“You've got no style.” Fi genuinely wanted to place a thermal detonator on the speeder. It could be set off remotely, giving them a relatively easy extra option for striking at the Seps that they might need soon. But he was also itching to smack Sev down a little. The man thought he was the galaxy's gift to adventure. So if he wanted adventure, Fi would show it to him, Omega-style.
It also just happened to be the safest way to cross the six-meter gap to the other roof—safer than asking the Seps across the way if they minded two commandos taking a look at their roof, anyway.
Fi edged backward and began placing the sections of ladder end-to-end. They slotted together neatly. Then he crawled back to the parapet and gave the chasm an appraising glance.
He peered across, then down six floors. “That'll reach.”
“I reckon.” Sev leaned over next to him. “So you're going to crawl across.”