As they queued up at the end of the line, Rendra scanned the crowd. Though a majority were Weequay and Houk, several other species from the sector were represented. She even noticed a few Bith and a handful of Rodians mixed in with the rest. This event has to be pretty important to attract so many beings And I can’t imagine that that can be a good thing.
She felt the emptiness in her stomach, and wished she’d consumed something before they’d left the ship. She didn’t need any distractions.
Slowly, the line moved forward as security checked out each and every being who wanted to get into the Coliseum. As far as Rendra could see, they were using some kind of droid to scan each being for… well, for whatever they didn’t want passing into the arena.
She turned halfway toward Nopul, who was standing just behind her, but didn’t look directly at him, pretending instead to be casually checking out the length of the line. “You ever seen that kind of droid before?” she said, barely moving her lips.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw him maneuver his gaze toward the security station ahead. “I don’t recognize it. Could be a local R-series variant.”
“Will the jammers work on it?”
“No way of knowing.”
Now she focused on him, a look of fear mixed with annoyance on her face. He only shrugged in response. She pivoted forward again as the line moved ahead. Well, this will be fun, she thought as she watched the droid’s sensory receptors scan a Houk from head to foot.
Though she hated to admit it, she could sense the fear growing within her. It was an emotion she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in a long time—since the last time she thought she’d had something to lose. Better to be worried than to have nothing to be worried about, she decided, hoping her intellectual side might convince her emotional side to calm down. Unfortunately, the argument didn’t carry the weight she thought it might.
After she’d had enough time to acquire several more symptoms of anxiety—rampant perspiration among the worst of them—she reached the head of the line. The security guards—one Weequay and one Houk—motioned for her to step up. As she moved into position, the droid’s miniature sensor array followed the contours of her body. Halfway down it came to an abrupt stop.
Rendra looked to the Weequay guard, who had bent over to examine some sort of display screen on the exterior of the droid’s cylindrical body. A puzzled expression crossed his face, and he called over his Houk counterpart. As the two conversed, Rendra started to run through escape plans. But after a moment she realized she didn’t have much chance of evading an entire security force that was already watching for signs of trouble.
Finally, the Weequay approached her. She tried to put on the best look of innocence she could muster, but she had no way of knowing whether it would translate into Weequay.
He stopped directly in front of her, one hand on the heavy blaster pistol at his waist, then waved her forward and turned to call the next person.
For less than a fraction of a second, she wondered what had just happened. Then her logical half caught up with her, and forced her to move past the checkpoint. She could count her blessings later.
A few meters down the corridor, she came to a casual halt and turned to watch the security droid scan Nopul. As soon as the sensor passed over his chest, the droid started to beep frantically. Both guards ripped their blasters free and pointed them at Nopul.
The Houk moved forward cautiously and then pulled open Nopul’s double-breasted tunic. From her angle, it was hard for Rendra to see exactly what was happening, but it looked like the guard was examining something on Nopul’s chest.
After a moment, the Houk lifted his hand to show the Weequay the holocharm from Nopul’s necklace. He turned it on, and the image of a beautiful blue-and-brown world appeared a few centimeters above the device and began to rotate.
The other guard nodded, and the Weequay motioned for Nopul to move forward.
As he reached Rendra, she could see an odd look etched into his face. “Yeah,” he said, his voice a bit wobbly. “The jammers definitely work, but they appear to have a limited range.” He patted his belt where the sensor jammer was tucked away.
Rendra couldn’t help but smile at her companion as the color returned to his skin.
A minute later, Oro and Vakir had joined them and they were all heading toward the other end of the tall corridor. As they got closer to the exit archway, the rumble of voices and bodies shuffling from inside the arena grew continually louder until Rendra thought the strength of the vibration might tear the structure’s supports asunder.
Finally they emerged into the vast stadium—and they all stopped simultaneously as the enormity of the Coliseum fell upon their senses. A ring of five tiers enclosed the immense area of open space—Rendra gauged that it would take a repulsorbike at least ten seconds at maximum velocity to reach the opposite end of the arena. From the topmost tier hung flat screens about a dozen meters on a side, one in each quadrant—the silver sheen of their surfaces suggested they were some sort of ancient vidscreen system, but she’d never seen one outside of museums so she couldn’t be certain. As her gaze fell to ground level, she saw that the arena proper was empty except for a circular dais filled with a few dozen unoccupied chairs.
Rendra had to draw herself out of her wonderment to remember why they had come in the first place. From the information her employer had provided, the dignitaries would march in through an archway on the ground level and then parade up to the dais, where each would get his, her, or its turn at the podium. She imagined the whole procession, trying to give herself a sense of the timing and the positioning of the ambassadors and their security forces. When she thought she had the best estimate she was going to get. she nudged Nopul.
“We’ll put Vakir on the east side of the first tier and Oro on the north side of the second. You’ll be west on the third. That should give us a full range of angles in case he’s taken any precautions.” She had to shout into his ear to be heard over the crowd.
Nopul regarded her with confusion. “What do you mean ‘in case?’”
“Our employer has supposedly taken care of that aspect of the operation—but I don’t want to take any chances.”
Nopul nodded. “Where will you be?”
“Ground level. I want to be as close as possible.” So I can face my actions directly, she left unsaid, though she had the feeling he understood by the grim expression on his face.
After a moment, he motioned for Vakir and Oro to follow him. They headed for the stairwell that would take them up to the higher tiers, Oro throwing her a hand gesture that she took to mean “good luck.”
In front of her a narrow set of stone steps lead down to the ground level. After taking a deep breath—the last deliberate inhalation she’d probably have for a while—she headed for her position.
Loud warbles from some large form of wind instrument sounded throughout the arena, silencing the crowd for the beginning of the public ceremony. Rendra glanced up to the tiers above and tried to pick out her companions, but the enormous size of the stadium coupled with the massive crowd prevented her from locating them.
But now that the noise had died down, she realized she could probably use her comlink. She slipped it out of her belt and flipped it to send mode. “Nopul, you in position?”
“Yes,” came the barely audible reply.
“Good. Vakir?”
No answer.
She called him again.
Still nothing.
“Oro?”
He, too, failed to respond.
She would have to assume they had both reached their positions but had either forgotten to turn on their comlinks or hadn’t bothered because of the noise level. They knew the plan—she just had to rely on their ability to carry it out.
Carry it out. That was good. She didn’t even want to call it what it was: an assassination. Simple. To the point.
Then why was it so hard to admit?
She shook the line of rea
soning before it could go any further. I guess Nopul is getting to me. Come on, Rendra, concentrate.
She turned her attention to the two lines of dignitaries emerging from the archway. One line was composed entirely of Weequay, the other of Houk. The leader of each held aloft the banner designating his government. Oddly, the fabric remained draped about the poles, lifeless. Rendra would have expected the arena structure to create strong wind currents, especially at ground level, but the banners remained motionless as the parade continued forward toward the dais. Come on, let’s go. Let’s go. Walk faster.
She pressed her back up against the wall of the small, partly enclosed alcove she’d found, then slid her hand in between herself and the duracrete and eventually up the back of her shirt. Slowly, she pulled away the hold-out blaster she had affixed to the skin of the small of her back. The weak adhesive gave way easily, and she just as cautiously slipped her hand back out, concealing the weapon as best she could as she eased it into the front pocket of her flight jacket.
The crowd remained transfixed by the ceremony before them. Rendra saw expressions of sadness, joy, remorse, and hope on the faces of the assembled beings. Though they believed they were about to witness a momentous occasion, only Rendra and her companions knew it would instead become one of the most infamous events of galactic history.
She found herself playing with the blaster trigger, and immediately yanked her hand out of her pocket. All she needed was to accidentally fire a shot—the Weequay leader hadn’t even come into view yet.
Her heart was beating loudly in her head again—or still… she wasn’t sure. She knew she had to calm herself down, but nothing she considered seemed possible of doing so.
Suddenly she heard a voice. It boomed from one side of the arena to the other, but didn’t reverberate back upon itself. The Weequay were definitely master architects to have created dampened acoustics in such an enormous structure.
“Today marks a milestone in the history of the Periphery,” the voice continued. Rendra now saw that it belonged to a politician standing at the podium. The remainder of the dignitaries had seated themselves in the chairs covering the rest of the dais. Apparently she’d lost a good few minutes dealing with her nerves.
“For thousands of years, the Weequay,” he gestured toward one side of the dais and then to the other, “and the Houk have stood fervently against one another. Now they come together, united in peace, to put an end to their long-held differences.” He paused to scan the bewitched audience.
“Millions have died as a result of this feud. That loss comes to an end here and now. No longer will children suffer the deaths of parents, or parents the deaths of their children. Today we make peace.”
The intonation of his last statement indicated he had come to the end of his introduction, and the crowd responded with a splatter of applause that quickly turned into a raucous roar of cheers, clapping, and foot-stomping.
He put his hands up to call for quiet. “Now I would like to bring up the architect of this peace. A politician who has dedicated his entire life to ending the war between our two species… Ambassador Uli Aaregil.”
An outpouring of emotion greeted Aaregil as he rose from his seat and assumed a position at the podium.
While the crowd rejoiced, Rendra removed the blaster from her pocket and extended the tiny macroscope she had installed to aid her aim. She brought the weapon up to her eye as if she were trying to get a better look at Aaregil through an ocular magnifier, keeping the blaster concealed within her cupped hands. It would be an awkward pose to fire from, but she had no choice if she wanted to pull it off as surreptitiously as possible.
Finally, the congregation had grown quiet enough for Aaregil to speak. According to her employer’s information, his speech would include the line “for all of us, from now until eternity.” Rendra had decided that that would be the signal for all of them to fire. Between the silencing units and the macroscopes, they should each be able to squeeze off a shot and retreat into the crowds before anyone could pinpoint them as the assassins.
She watched Aaregil through the scope as he fiddled with a datapad. “I had prepared a speech for this occasion, but… but, to me, that’s too political for this joyous achievement.” He slipped the datapad into his tunic pocket. “Instead, I’d like to talk to you from the heart, about how I feel at this moment—one I have waited a hundred and twenty-two years to see.”
Blazing stars, Rendra cursed. She put the blaster back into her pocket and took out her comlink. pressing it against her lips. “Nopul.”
A pause, then, “Yeah.”
“No speech. Alternative: fire when he introduces the next politician.”
“Right.”
“Vakir. Oro.”
No response—not that she had expected one. She could only hope they’d figure out the problem on their own and contact her or Nopul.
As she exchanged her comlink for her blaster, she hoped Dania Starcrosser was having a good time wherever she was in the galaxy on the credits Rendra has paid her, because it was the last good time she was ever going to have.
Aaregil spoke. “We are about to embark on a new path for both of our species, one filled with freedom—freedom from the horrors of conflict; freedom from senseless death; freedom from meaningless ideals.”
She adjusted the macroscope until the readings indicated she had a perfect shot at Aaregil’s chest. Meaningless ideals…! I should have had you speak to my father years ago.
If her father knew what she was about to do, he would have shot her himself. Good old Dad, always placing ideals before everything else—including his family, Rendra had committed her life to avoiding that mistake and…
Look where it had gotten her.
She stared at Aaregil through the sights. What was she doing?
Saving herself from returning to the life she had struggled so hard to escape, that’s what. She pushed away her misgivings. Ideals get you killed. Your father learned that the hard way. Don’t follow in his footsteps.
She breathed out, hoping to send her inner conflict along with it, when her comlink beeped. She yanked it out of her pocket without bothering to hide the blaster. “Yeah.”
“I got through to Oro and Vakir. They know the new plan.” He paused. “You sure killing him is worth a ship?”
Just what she needed right now, another outsider questioning her life.
“No,” she said crisply, “but it is worth my life.”
“And that of millions of Weequay and Houk, as well, apparently.”
It was a damning statement…
And yet, it was true. She could not deny the logic, no matter how much she wanted to.
Aaregil continued his remarks. “But I was not alone in this struggle to bring about peace…”
“Time’s running out,” came Nopul’s filtered voice.
She couldn’t believe she’d come this far only to question herself now. She should just do it and get it over with. Then she’d have no decision to make.
But by then it would be too late.
“He is not only my colleague,” Aaregil said from the podium. “He is also my friend.”
Rendra raised her blaster again and targeted Aaregil. She could now see that another Weequay had risen from his seat and was standing behind the ambassador. Sunlight suddenly flashed on an object hanging from the being’s clothing, blinding her for a moment. When she looked again, he had shifted just enough to stop the reflection.
She adjusted the zoom on her blaster’s macroscope, favoring the spot that had glinted a second before.
From a long chain around his neck hung a crescent-shaped amulet made from a lustrous metal, its hue falling somewhere in the bluish green range.
Her mind flashed on an image of the meeting with her employer in the temple—the Temple of Quay, Weequay god of the moon. The realization came instantly: it had all been a set-up. For what reason, she had no idea—not that it mattered right now. She could take time to figure that out later.<
br />
“Here he is,” Aaregil’s voice boomed over the loudspeakers, “Minister Pon Svale.”
She put the comlink to her mouth. “Don’t shoot!”
Ambassador Svale clasped Aaregil’s arm in peace.
Rendra keyed her comlink again, recycling the entire system in case it had gone on the blink. “Repeat. Terminate mission. Confirm?”
On the dais, Svale situated himself at the podium as Aaregil moved off the side.
“Confirm?” she whispered as loud as she could in the sea of onlookers.
A pair of blaster bolts, each from a different direction, pierced the hushed silence in rapid succession, striking Ambassador Aaregil full on. Rendra cursed as she shoved her blaster inside her tunic—and then fell completely silent as she saw the result of the attacks.
Rather than knocking the ambassador down, the bolts collided with a shimmering energy shield, ricocheting the blasts upward into the sky and leaving Aaregil dazed but otherwise unharmed.
At that moment, the solemnity of the ceremony erupted into frenzied chaos. Security guards hefted their weapons and took off through the crowd. Minister Pon Svale shouted orders over the speaker system—the words all but lost in the cacophony of confused and outraged citizenry.
Rendra leaped forward, knocking down several bewildered Weequay as she vaulted down the steps into the central walkway. She flicked on her comlink and screamed into it at the top of her lungs, “Everyone back to the Zoda! Now!”
She pocketed the comlink, and then pushed herself through the thickening mobs, heading, however slowly, toward the exit. She felt like an amoeba stuck in a pool of heavy plasma, and for once she could relate to the life of a single-celled organism.
She had no way of discovering the fates of her companions at the moment, so she instead concentrated on her own escape, hoping they would all meet at the Zoda and get off the planet before it was too late—if it wasn’t already.
As she squeezed through the crowd, a lone thought dominated her mind: Minister Pon Svale would pay for setting her up. And the gods help him if any of her companions were hurt…
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