General Bucket's office, Resistance Base "Homestead"
Without pretense, the door opened. Carver stopped in mid-sentence and turned, staring. Bucket followed his gaze, to see an outstretched arm lying across the doorway, a rifle just beyond the limp hand. "What the…" Carver started to speak, one hand going instinctively for his sidearm, but it never arrived. There was the cough of a suppressed gunshot, a faint ripple in the air, and a jet of blood exploded from Carver's back. Two more coughs followed in quick succession, sending Carver to the floor in a heap; something struck the wall beside Bucket's desk, and a spray of cement chips struck his face. The General stood, the horrible realization of what was happening all too clear…even though he could not have said how it was happening…his own gun was coming up slowly, far too slowly, every movement feeling as if it took place underwater. But even as his body fought for survival, he already knew…something hit him, the pain in his stomach like a brutal punch to the gut. He fell back into his chair, one hand rising instinctively to his wound; another impact slammed into his right shoulder, and he swore as his hand involuntarily released its hold on his pistol. He still had one weapon left…throwing himself to his feet, he lunged and fell against the alert button on the wall. Nothing happened. He pressed it again, hoping for the wail of sirens: Even if I die, they can lock down the base, start the evacuation. Whole damned Imperial army won't be far behind.
But there was nothing, other than the faint click of the button as he hammered on it. "It's no good, I'm afraid. We've disabled your entire network." Bucket turned and fell back into his chair, knowing inescapably that it must be the truth if even the panic buttons were useless. He did not feel any surprise as he registered the voice of Violet Beauregarde; in fact, he would have been surprised if it had been anyone else. He looked up, glaring at the place where he had just seen a vague distortion in the air. Like the damned alien from the Predator movies, he thought, only the invisibility's even better.
"Do me one favor," he hissed, his breath coming with difficulty through the pain. "At least have the decency to look me in the eye when you kill me."
"As you wish." The air in the middle of the office rippled and peeled apart, the Empress's assassin materializing before him with a silenced pistol in her hand.
Even as he slumped in his chair, knowing he was about to die, he did want to know one thing. "How?" The curiosity in his voice was genuine.
Violet shrugged. "I'd be lying if I told you I understood it all…let me just say that your mysterious Oompa-Loompa friends brought some remarkable technology with them, the day they first came into our war." There could be no doubt who she meant. Bucket shivered, growing cold…all of his anger and pain had flowed away, to be replaced only be a keen awareness of how old and tired he was. Not just light-headed because I'm bleeding to death, but tired. Tired of this war…tired of this whole damn world.
Bucket nodded. "Well, for what it's worth, I hope they get their ship back…somehow. Good bunch of chaps, they are. I assume you're not alone?"
"The entire Third Army is coming up the valley as we speak."
"Hmmm. I don't suppose there's any chance of bargaining for the lives of the civilians."
"What would you bargain with, General?" Violet's cold but genuine curiosity drew a snort from Bucket.
"Well, you've got a point there." He straightened up as much as possible, looking Violet directly in the eye. "Go on then, if you're going to do it."
"Any last words?"
"No. No great speeches for me. Just make it quick."
"I will."
Bucket closed his eyes. What do you want your last thought to be, eh? But he already had it. My darling wife, and my little Charlie, and my girl that I never even knew…I'm about to see them, all of them. He smiled. The pistol spat once, and General Bucket knew no more.
Violet Beauregarde could not suppress the savage grin on her features as she stepped forward, rapidly taking scans of the General's retina and thumbprint. She even drew a tiny vial of blood; there was no doubt that she had in fact killed the right man, but there would always be the naysayers who would not believe anything less than genetic evidence. And now we even have that, she thought as she again faded to invisibility and transmitted the brief burst of code that would inform her teammates she had succeeded. The last of the tiny rings at the bottom of her vision lit up…five objectives, all of them now complete. She could taste the victory already, could almost hear the Empress congratulating her team. All of it for you, Violet thought, thinking only of Veruca's face. Always for you.