He took two long steps toward Yama, hitched his foot under the edge of her chair, and pulled. She went sprawling across the floor.
An irrational rage boiled up from inside him and the humiliations and injustices of the day, of his life, the final irritation of Yama’s insolence, exploded all at once. Winshur felt a pounding in his ears, and his vision went black.
* * *
—
The next thing he knew, Winshur was staggering from his office, blindly groping at the walls until he found the restroom. He vomited into the nearest sink, all the fancy overpriced food he had eaten at that ridiculous luncheon coming up in bile and bits. There wasn’t much left and soon he was dry heaving, tears streaming down his face. What had he done? What had he done?
Yama had deserved it, he told himself. Deserved the kicks to her head and stomach, the violence that he had done her. But even as he thought it, it felt like a lie.
Finally he calmed. Washed his face while doing his best to avoid his own reflection in the mirror. He didn’t want to see what he looked like.
A sound behind him, someone clearing their throat, and he whirled around so quickly he almost lost his balance. He gripped the edge of the sink to keep from sliding on the cool white tiles. In front of him stood his nightmare.
“Colonel Genial?”
“Bratt,” the blue-eyed man said, drawing out the t’s in his name and then cutting them off with a sharp note of disdain. Winshur’s throat was tight, his pulse racing. How long had the colonel been standing there. What had he seen? Did he know what he had done?
“We have a problem,” Genial said.
“I-I can explain…”
The colonel raised a thin yellow eyebrow.
“About the girl…” Winshur started.
“Interesting you should bring up the girl,” Genial said, voice silky with some emotion that made Winshur feel dizzy. “She paid me a visit earlier this evening.”
Bratt had been ready to confess his weakness, his irrational loss of his temper. To protest that he wasn’t the kind of man who would beat a child. But it all froze in his throat.
Genial pointed a bony finger at Winshur. “You have an employee problem.”
“The girl. I know. I—”
“Not the girl, you fool. I just told you the girl is exemplary.”
“I…then who?”
“Your other employee, Monti Calay. Yama tells me he disappeared this afternoon with your datapad.”
Winshur gaped, unable to process what Genial was saying. “That can’t be right…” he started.
“Oh?”
“Monti Calay has never been a problem. Yama Dex on the other hand. Her file is thick with disciplinary infractions.” He shook his head. “She’s lying.”
“And why would she do that?”
“She…” Winshur racked his brain, trying to think of a reason why Yama would say such a thing about her co-worker. “I don’t know. But I wouldn’t trust her. That girl—”
“Deserves a good beating?” Genial cut in smoothly, cocking his head to the side, eyes boring into Winshur.
Winshur had never felt quite so small.
Genial tsked, a thick ugly sound in the quiet of the restroom. “You really are a terrible judge of character, Winshur Bratt. But now I suppose it doesn’t matter. I can only say that I am glad I was here to stop this disaster before it went any farther. You are lucky Yama Dex had the judgment to come to me.”
“I am?” Winshur asked, feeling stupid.
“It seems that your datapad was in fact breached, and the prisoner list that high command entrusted to you was stolen.” The colonel paused, obviously waiting to see how his declaration affected Winshur. Winshur could only stare.
“You understand that Monti Calay committed this crime while he was under your supervision. Therefore the ultimate blame rests on you, Bratt. You—” He pointed a finger at Winshur. “—will have to answer to high command for it.” An unsettling grin spread across Genial’s face. “You may envy the girl her beating on that day. Hers only lasted a matter of seconds. I don’t think it will go so well for you, my friend.”
Winshur felt faint. Only his grip on the sink kept him on his feet.
“I’ve already sent the full contingent of stormtroopers stationed here ahead to disrupt Calay’s little plan,” Genial said primly. “They should be rounding up the guests to start the interrogations imminently.”
“Plan? Guests?” He was lost.
“I’ll be honest with you, Bratt, Yama Dex only implicated Calay, but I find that hard to believe. A young man, promising by all accounts. Why would he do such a thing? Unless he was instructed to do it.”
Winshur still hadn’t caught up fully with Genial’s accusations, and he was even more confused now.
“No,” the colonel said, resting fingers against his chin, as if thinking. “While Yama Dex’s loyalty to the First Order is without question, she is young. Well meaning. I’m afraid her best intentions may have led her to not be quite as forthcoming as she should have been. Yes, I think she was protecting someone.”
“Who?” Winshur blurted.
“After I realized the list had been leaked,” he said, continuing as if Winshur hadn’t spoken, “I asked Intelligence to monitor their networks, listening for increased chatter. It didn’t take long before they had something. Seems that Hasadar Shu’s wife is holding an auction tonight and it’s attracting quite the attention of Coronet City’s more unsavory citizens.”
“Hasadar Shu? The politician from lunch?”
“The very same. Now, I suppose you expect me to think that a coincidence. A man you just happen to know.”
“I don’t know him!” Winshur protested. “I mean, I barely know him. I just met him.”
“You were scheduled to meet with him today, had been carrying on with him for a while, as I understand it, after some rendezvous at a clandestine assembly for environmental activists.”
“It was a public land-use meeting!”
“Ecoterrorists.” Genial leaned closer. “You see. It’s very bad for you right now. Very bad, indeed.”
“But it’s not true. None of it is true.” He held a trembling hand to his mouth. “I’ve been set up!”
Genial shook his head. “Here’s what I think happened. You meant to have lunch with Shu and turn the list over to him. But then I showed up unexpectedly and accompanied you, so you couldn’t carry out your treachery. Thwarted, you then somehow alerted Calay to deliver the list instead.”
“But you were with me the whole time. How would I have done that?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Genial said, “but it would be easy enough. A predetermined signal, a secret hand gesture, a quick transmission when my attention was turned.”
It was so ridiculous, so outrageous, so untrue, that Winshur laughed.
The blow to his head, entirely unexpected, sent him stumbling. Genial loomed over him, hand raised as if to strike him again.
“Laugh now, Bratt,” Genial said, voice low and quiet. “You won’t be laughing when high command is done with you.”
Winshur was done for. He knew it deep down. Genial hated him, had hated him from the beginning. The man had already decided Winshur’s guilt, already had his story, and nothing, no amount of protests on his part, would change that. His bowels felt loose and all he wanted to do was be alone to weep in terror.
“But…” Genial held up a hand. “All is not lost. We know Shu has the list. If you help me retrieve it before the auction we might be able to remedy this disaster. In that case, I might, might, put in a word for you. Ask that they show you mercy.”
“Mercy?” Winshur latched on to that word. “What must I do?”
“Clean yourself up and meet me downstairs. I’ll explain on the way.”
Winshur cleaned up as best
he could. He dared not go back to his office to fetch a clean shirt. He was afraid of what he might find there. Yama still curled in a ball on the floor, or, worse, Yama dead. Or—and perhaps this was what he feared most—Yama bruised and beaten by his own hand, staring accusingly at him, smirking at his weakness, and now under the protection of Colonel Genial.
HASADAR AND NIFERA SHU’S home had been transformed into an underwater kingdom for the occasion of Nifera’s fiftieth birthday. Blue sea shimmered around them in eerily realistic holoprojections, and strange fish in brilliant colors swam through the crowd of guests who exclaimed in appreciation at the subterranean display. The food was ocean-themed, and Poe and Finn found tables heaped with all manner of edible sea creatures, including twenchok battered and fried in perfect tubular bits, colo clawfish coated in pink salt, huge prawns with eyes and antennae intact piled on mountains of smoking ice, and half a dozen species of fish displayed on beds of multicolored seaweed that Poe had no name for. Even the drinks that the waitstaff passed around referenced the oceans on Corellia in shades of green, blue, and storm gray. They bubbled merrily in long fluted glasses, and Poe was sure he heard the distant sound of waves crashing on the shore when he held one to his mouth to take a sip.
“This place is wild!” Finn exclaimed, already in possession of a plate heaped with the saltwater delicacies. “Have you ever seen food like this?”
“Once,” Poe said. He shuddered involuntarily. “Not a great memory.”
“Right.” Finn stuffed an entire yobcrab leg in his mouth, bit down, and winced in pain.
“You have to take the shell off first,” Poe said, amused.
Finn looked indignant. “Well, why didn’t they say so?”
Poe clapped a hand against the younger man’s arm. “Did I ever tell you how much I appreciate you?”
Finn grinned. “Not as much as you should.”
Poe drained the glass he had been holding in his free hand. The drink, a bright-green libation, had tasted like sunlight streaming through kelp forests, or at least what Poe thought that might taste like.
“You ready to go present our gift to the Shus?”
“Let me just…” Finn stuffed a piece of dark fleshy fish in his mouth. He rolled his eyes in pleasure. Dusted his hands off. “Okay, now I’m ready.”
They wound their way through the crowd of humans, Twi’leks, Sullustans, Barbadelans, and a dozen other denizens of the galaxy. It was a diverse crowd, multicultural, multilingual, but all having one thing in common. They looked very, very rich.
“Hey, Lorell,” Finn said, mouth close to Poe’s ear. “Did you notice something alarming about this crowd?”
Poe looked a little closer, past the glittering wealth and seascape, and immediately understood what Finn was getting at.
“Did you know half the attendees at the shindig would be First Order?” Finn asked.
“It’s more like a quarter,” Poe said without turning, “but no. I think we underestimated the First Order presence in Coronet City, and that they’d all be here tonight.”
“You think?” Finn said, as another officer walked by, dipping his head in a nod of acknowledgment.
“You still want to wear that pin?” Poe asked.
“Are you kidding me? Now more than ever.” Finn hesitated. “You’ll have my back in a fight, though, right?”
Poe laughed. “Inevitably.”
It was strange to see so many First Order officers here, but perhaps that was the nature of the occupation. The local merchants and politicians courted the favor of the First Order elite, and high command mostly left them to their business—as long as their business was supplying the First Order with ships and cheap labor and anything else they needed. It was ugly, but it wasn’t the first time Poe had seen it happen to a planet. And it never lasted. Sooner or later, the First Order would want more than Corellia could give, and the fist would tighten. And squeeze. And Corellia would either fight back or be left a used-up husk.
They’d reached the receiving line and joined the guests waiting for a moment of the Shus’ attention.
“Still got the gift?” Finn asked.
He held the box up in response. It let out a strange hissing sound. Not encouraging.
They didn’t have to wait long before they were face-to-face with Hasadar and Nifera. Hasadar was a handsome man. He wore a sea-green robe, tied at the waist with a belt of shark teeth. He smiled broadly in greeting. His wife was a head taller than him with ebony skin that glowed in the strange translucence of the artificial underwater world. Her hair coiled regally atop her head, and she wore long earrings that curved around her lobes and draped across her broad shoulders. Her dress was fashioned from hundreds of tiny white shells and flared out at her hips only to pinch in at her knees and finally scrape the floor like a tail. She wore a living albino eel around her neck as if it were a necklace. Poe shook his head, amused. Suralinda and Charth’s gift was impressive, but it was no eel.
“Lorell Shda,” Nifera Shu greeted him. “A pleasure to finally meet you. Our mutual acquaintances speak quite highly of you.”
Poe took Nifera’s outstretched hand and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. Her dark eyes glittered in delight. “The pleasure is mine.”
“This is my husband,” she said with a gesture toward Hasadar. “He is not familiar with your previous work but is surely a supporter.”
Poe nodded to the man, who nodded back in acknowledgment. Nifera hadn’t come out and said she knew that he was part of the Resistance, but her words were opaque enough to suggest it.
“My associate, Kade Genti,” he said, moving aside to allow Finn to present himself.
“A queen of the sea,” Finn said, kissing Nifera’s hand, “on her second twenty-fifth birthday.”
The Corellian woman laughed loudly. “Oh, you are charming. And what a name.” She arched an eyebrow at Finn. “An admirer of the firebird, I see.”
Finn touched his pin briefly. “And yourself?” he asked, recklessly.
Her eyes met his, bright with mischief. But wary, too. “Brave,” she murmured. “Or very impetuous.”
“I like to think I’m a bit of both,” Finn countered.
She turned back to Poe. “Do you have a gift for me, gentlemen? Besides your charm and flattery?”
Poe presented her with the gift. It fit neatly in Nifera’s palm, the gold-flocked wrapping flimsi catching the light.
Her face brightened as she unwrapped the box with eager fingers. Now it hissed and chittered in her hands. Her eyes widened as the flimsi tore away to reveal a tiny metal cage and inside that cage, a tiny living insect.
“Oh!” she cried.
“Oh!” Finn shouted, surprised.
“Oh,” Poe moaned quietly.
There was a scroll attached to the top of the cage and Nifera peeled it free, handing the cage back to Poe. He took it, peering in at the creature. It had six legs, ridged in a hard shell of armor, not unlike the yobcrab leg Finn had tried to eat earlier. Spiked mandibles snapped at him, and tentacles waved through the bars of its cage, as if to reach out and grab him.
“It’s a miniature lylek!” Nifera exclaimed, sounding delighted as she read from the scroll. “A native of the Ryloth equatorial rain forests, they usually grow to immense size, big enough to eat a full-grown man. But this one has been specially bred to stay small, as long as you don’t feed it flesh.” She widened her eyes in mock horror at Poe, but he could tell she was not afraid in the least. If anything, she was fascinated. “And,” she continued, “this one is a queen.”
She rolled the scroll back up and handed it to her horrified husband. Poe held the cage out, the strange beast still chittering and waving its tentacles menacingly.
“I love it!” Nifera Shu said, clearly pleased. “I do believe this is the best gift I have received, Lorell Shda.” She leaned in conspiratorially. �
��I don’t know how you knew that I trained to be an entomologist as a young woman, but I am impressed.”
Poe blinked. Had Suralinda known? Surely not.
“I am glad you appreciate this small token of my appreciation of your…birth.”
“I do, indeed. And now I have a gift for you.” She handed the lylek to her husband, who immediately handed it off to a servant waiting nearby. Nifera dipped her hand into a pocket and drew forth a tiny black clam-shaped packet. She took Poe’s hand and pressed the packet into his palm, temporarily holding his hand in both of hers. Her skin was warm to the touch.
“Best of luck,” she whispered, loud enough only for his ears, “and may the Force guide you in your endeavors. The games will begin five minutes past the hour.”
And then he and Finn were being moved down the receiving line and the next guests were presenting their gifts to the couple.
* * *
—
They wandered the undersea room a little longer, careful to avoid any First Order guests. Finn made another run at the banquet table, and Poe searched the room for Charth and Suralinda. He finally found them by a rushing waterfall filled with brightly striped fish. She was facing outward to the room and he reached past her to fill a nearby cup with whatever strange libation was pouring from the falls.
“Nice gift,” he said drily by way of greeting. “Did you know she was an entomologist?”
Suralinda’s jaw drop was enough of an answer.
He drank from the cup. It tasted like the tropics—like the vacation he had spent on Spira. He sat the cup down and gave her a smirk.
She narrowed her eyes. “I assume that means you got the packet.”
He patted his breast pocket. She handed him a comlink. “Stay in touch.” And then she was gone, back into the party.
He went looking for Finn by the buffet.
“Hey, try this,” Finn said, handing Poe a slice of gelatinous yellow cake on a small plate. He had one for himself and took an oversized bite.
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