Why me?
Doda was somewhat comforted to see that the columns of black smoke that hung over Bantha Town seemed to rise only from the north-most blocks--where at least two Imperial gunships swarmed like angry stemwasps. He was heading more eastward, though he still didn't feel entirely safe from attack. Maybe the ReSeps would confine their strikes to military targets--or would at least refrain from attacking a cargo skiff that broadcast a low-freq signal that said "Property of Rabblo the Hutt." Ahead, just past the crumbling remnant of a cooling tower, he saw a thin plume of grey smoke rising from a many columned-plaza. A sudden thrill of elation filled Doda, and his antennae flushed with excitement. Maybe Hedebbi was already dead. Sure, he knew he'd get some flak from Rabblo if that happened on his watch, but the Rodian also knew that without Hedebbi around, certain spots might suddenly open up in the organization. Opportunities available for an ambitious young Rodian such as he. Certainly Rabblo would see just how useful Doda was with Hedebbi gone.
Giddy with the thought, he began to hum the melody of that bawdy song they were playing in the cantina last night. Bombed-out Bantha Town didn't seem so frightening now. He'd fly in, dutifully collect the corpses of Hedebbi and his gang. He supposed he could even summon a few genuine tears to mourn the twi'lek's passing. Perhaps Rabblo would even let him dine at the big stone table in the galley during the funeral feast.
Doda was just beginning to taste the juicy roast nuna when the ship's comlink crackled to life. He heard Hedebbi's voice spewing wicked insults in Huttese, but Doda wasn't listening. As he swung the cargo skiff over the plaza, he saw the twi'lek waving from near the wreckage of a downed Imperial gunship. Hedebbi's driver, a human called Frak, was talking to four Imperial scouts as they searched the bodies of several ReSep guerillas. If they have Imperial escorts, why'd they call me? he reflected bitterly. The Rodian lowered the skiff's nylar boarding ladder and threw open the hatch. As the lingering scent of blaster fire wafted into the cockpit and into his snout, Doda could only sigh.
One day....
* * *
SOMETIME LATER, in ANOTHER PART OF BANTHA TOWN
Hil Gorba's heart was still pounding when he reached the metal grate at the end of the dusty corridor. Hands shaking, he unlatched the brackets that held the ventilator screen in place against the wall. He winced as it clattered to the floor, but he stepped into the narrow air-shaft quickly and did not look back. Certainly the Imperials weren't following him now. He'd been sneaking through the ruins of Bantha Town for the better part of an hour. If they were going to find him, they would have done so by now.
Click. The sound of a blaster's safety catch being released behind him.
"Freeze, neimoidian," a voice ordered.
"B-but, I'm D-duros," he protested lamely, realizing the usual error concerning his lineage was the least of his worries. He raised his long, green hands as high as the low ceiling duct would allow and turned to see his fate.
A female Mon Calmari glared at him with her dark, fishy eyes, her fleshy mauve skin almost purple in the dim light of air duct. She held a DL-44 aimed between his eyes. In the corridor he'd just come from, three other ORLF fighters, all human, held their blasters at the ready. Hil felt an immediate sense of relief.
"Marab, my d-dar-- it's g-good to see you," he stammered. He noticed with some dismay that Marabb Ortolo did not appear pleased to see him.
"Come out of the air duct, Hil," she commanded, backing out into the corridor. Her blaster remained leveled at him. Hil had no choice but to comply. He stepped out as well, keeping his hands where Marab could see them.
"I can e-explain--" he began, "The Imps weren't supposed to be there. We rushed the mission, I t-take full blame for the botched operation." His admission of guilt did little to soften Marabb's angry glare. But she did lower her blaster at last.
"We were just a few hundred meters away, beneath the streets. You could have called for backup., Hil. We might have crushed the Imperials between us. Now, Goza's dead and so are the rest. Two precious battle droids destroyed. For what? So you could save your skin--again!?"
Hil wanted to explain to Marabb how fast the Imperials had come in, how precise they'd been in cutting down the rest of his squad. If he hadn't run, they all would have died, and there would be no one to tell the tale of what had happened. But he knew that she would only think of his half-neimoidian blood, of the inborn cowardice the rest of the galaxy seemed to ascribe to the entire race. It wasn't cowardice, it was a calculated weighing of the risks. Who else would be able to keep the ORLFs battle droids functioning?
"I'm not going to kill you Hil," Marabb finally sighed. "Though I probably should." She holstered her blaster and the other four guerillas relaxed as well. "That wasn't the only power generator on the list. And we still have the schematics, at least."
Hil's mouth went dry, and his eyes flicked to the floor. "Ah, Goza had the datapad." He let the words tumble out, so they might seem unimportant. Sad images of the bothan's blaster-scorched body filled his head. He'd really liked Goza. He'd been an engineer too, even if he did enjoy playing with explosives more than Hil would ever appreciate.
Marabb's fishy eyes bulged and her fleshy whiskers quivered. "What?" she gasped.
"I-I gave it to him, so he could see j-just where to place the ch-charge," Hil snuffed. "We have b-backups, M-marabb."
The MonCal's hands twitched, and Hil was certain she was going to raise her blaster and fry him on the spot. But she didn't. Shaking with anger, she turned to the female human called Tifa. "Send the word, Evacuate the safehouses in Sectors 2, 4, and 9. Strip them bare. I don't want the Imps to find so much as a nuna-turd if they come looking. "
Marabb spun back on Hil, angry tears welling in her round, yellow eyes.
"As for this one, get him out of the city. Put him on a transport and lock him on the asteroid for a while, where he can do some good," she commanded.
As the other ORLF soldiers closed around him, Hil felt tears sting his own eyes.
"I'm sorry, Marabb, I'm sorry. I didn't mean t-to--" he wailed.
Her back to him again, Marabb didn't answer at first. Hil waited for some reason to hope, some kernel of understanding in the Mon Cal's words. Even another firey condemnation might have been welcome. What she said was far worse.
"I am so disappointed in you, Hil, " she sighed quietly.
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