“RC-one-one-three-eight, General, receiving.”

It was time for names. “You're Boss.”

“Yes, General, Boss. Our ETA is fourteen to fifteen minutes.”

“You don't have any armament, do you?”

“No, and we're aware that there's another Sep ship right up our shebs that does.” Boss appeared to check himself. “Apologies for the language, General. But you're the ones carrying the cannon.”

“Boss, how do you plan to execute this?”

“Get there first, get them out fast, and bug out even faster. That usually works pretty well.”

She bristled, but she knew that wasn't fair to him. “Could you be more specific?”

“Okay, we get alongside, access the cockpit, seal against vacuum, and extract personnel.”

“Access means a big bang, yes?”

“No. Scorch would usually love that, but this is a cutting job if you want those prisoners alive because that'll mean an instant decompression. If you don't want them alive, then that's easier. Omega has enough air, so their suits are still good for another twenty minutes in vacuum. In that case we just blow the cockpit viewscreen and haul them out.”

Boss had his helmet cocked slightly to one side as if he was asking her to make a command decision. He was.

It was the mission objective versus Omega's safety.

And that's what command is all about. Etain suspected this was where she finally stopped playing at being a general.

Omega didn't have to survive, but a few terrorists who might hold the key to a wider terror network did. Accessing the cockpit carefully with cutting equipment would take more time, time that might mean the Sep ship arrived before Omega was safe and clear.

Her personal choice was immediate. But she wavered over the professional one. She was aware of Gett glancing at her and then looking down at something of overwhelming interest on the deck.

Boss showed unusual diplomacy for a squad that had a name for being unsubtle. He wasn't blind. He could see her as well as she could see him, and he probably saw a child out of her depth.

“General, I've spoken to Niner,” he said. “He's clear. They're all clear. This is as close as we've come to grabbing some key players for a long, long time, and it probably cost their pilot his life as well. We have to make prisoner retrieval the priority. We all know the game by now. It's a risk for us, too. We might all get vaped.”

“I know you're correct,” Etain said. “But none of you is expendable as far as I'm concerned. And I know you'll do everything you can to get them out alive.”

“General, is that an order, and if so, what is it? Extract Omega and abandon the prisoners? Or what?”

She felt her stomach fall. It was relatively easy to be the commander who held a trooper as he was dying. It was much, much harder to stand there and say Yes, rescue three terrorists and let my friends die—let Darman die—if that's what it takes.

Had they asked Skirata? What did he say?

Gett touched her arm and indicated the tracking screen. He held up three fingers. Three minutes behind the Sep vessel now. They were gaining on them.

“Extract the prisoners,” Etain said. It was out of her mouth before she could think further. “And we'll be right behind you.”

Unnamed commercial freighter, drifting three thousand klicks Core-sideof Perlemian node: Red Zero first responder ETA six minutes

Fi studied his datapad and considered his brief and busy one-year career as an elite commando.

He'd fought at Geonosis. He'd taken out a Sep research base, nearly slotted his beloved Sergeant Kal, and ended the careers of eighty-five assorted Seps and more droids than he bothered to count. And he'd denied the CIS an awful lot of assets, from replenishment depots to a capital ship and a fighter squadron that didn't even have the chance to fly its first sortie.

Some of it had been fun, most of it had been a grim hard slog, and all of it had been frightening. And now the cheerful euphemism was over; he was probably going to die. And he didn't want Skirata to witness that.

He looked up from the expired op orders on his datapad and saw that the holoimage of Skirata was still much as it had been for the best part of two hours. Sergeant Kal waited. He wouldn't leave.

Niner continued to stare out the viewscreen.

Then he sat bolt upright, prevented from shooting forward by the restraining belt. Fi checked his viewpoint icon and saw he had activated his electrobinocular visor.

“Visual contact,” Niner said quietly. “Fierfek, it really is a Sep crate. Neimoidian.”

The whole squad maneuvered so they could see what he was looking at.

“About time,” Niner said. Fi listened in. “Delta, Niner here. You been sightseeing?”

“Boss receiving. Sorry, we had to stop and ask for directions.” He had a voice very like Atin's but with a stronger accent. “My boys are now going to show you how to do an extraction properly, so take notes because you might blink and miss it. There's a Sep ship with missiles up the spout about three minutes behind us.”

“Can we bring some friends?”

“The more the merrier. We're going to align with your cockpit, slap an isolation seal on the viewport, and Scorch will cut through. Then you shift it fast, and we RV with Fearless for caf, cakes, and hero worship. Got it?”

“Copy that.”

“I love emotional reunions,” Fi said. “And hero worship.”

“Boss, that Sep's getting awfully close.” Another voice: Fi couldn't identify any of them yet. “This might have to beat the galactic record.”

“How close? Close enough to make me mad?”

“They could launch a missile in two minutes and it'd singe your shebs overtaking us.”

“Okay. Close. Omega, you heard the man.” Boss sounded unperturbed. “Powder your noses and get ready to party.”

Fierfek, Fi thought. He rolled carefully to peel Orjul off the deck and haul him upright for a hasty exit with jet-pack assist.

The human prisoner looked straight at him. And he spoke. “You're really not very good at this, are you?”

“Now you decide to get chatty.”

“We'll all be charcoal in a few minutes, and that gives me some satisfaction.”

“Okay, I'm now really motivated to introduce you to Sergeant Vau.”

“Whoa, cut it out,” Darman said. One of the Nikto tried to gore him with its short horns as he lifted it ready for escape. “Ungrateful di'kut.” He brought his helmet hard down in its face in a perfect head-butt; only the pilot's seat stopped them from being catapulted by the inertia of the impact. Darman looked around at the other Nikto. “Want some?”

“Udesii, boys, udesii.” Niner raised his Deece. “Push comes to shove, we only need one of them alive, so next one to look like a safety risk isn't going home. Okay?”

The small Neimoidian assault vessel now filled their field of vision as it came to nestle partly across the freighter's viewscreen. Fi watched, mesmerized. A hatch opened and something distressingly reminiscent of a wide mouthed worm emerged and sucked against the transparisteel. A familiar blue light loomed from the darkness of its maw. Through the plate, Fi saw a helmet very like his and an exaggerated thumbs-up gesture.

“Stand back and watch a pro at work,” said a disembodied voice on the comlink.

For a second Fi thought Scorch was attaching a frame charge. Yeah, that's. clever, I don't think. But the large ring of alloy pipe sat snugly on the plate and began to glow white-hot. Scorch's thumbs-up became a jerked move away gesture.

“Scorch, sooner rather than later, okay?” Boss's voice said.