Alliances (Star Wars: Thrawn, #2)(34)

Double vision: Oenti spinning and leaping, his hands closing around Anakin’s throat—

The Separatist’s hands were still thirty centimeters from their goal when Anakin used the Force to send him flying backward across the room. As Oenti sailed past the others, Janott and the three thieves yanked blasters from their tunics, while the two long-snouts snatched weapons from hiding places among the crates.

Double vision: two blaster bolts at torso, chest, one bolt at Thrawn’s chest—

Anakin caught the first two shots on his lightsaber, bouncing them into the walls and ceiling. A quick flick of his wrist, and he managed to catch the shot that had been intended for Thrawn, as well.

Double vision: a bolt from the left into his rib cage, sending him toppling to the floor with a burnt lung—

Only now, with his lightsaber stretched out to the side between Janott and Thrawn, there was no chance he could bring the weapon back in time to block the attack.

He tried anyway, spinning as quickly as he could. Over his shoulder he caught a sideways glimpse of Oenti, raised up on his left elbow, lining up a blaster he had grabbed from somewhere. There was a sizzle from behind Anakin, a brilliant bolt scorching the air past his side—

Oenti collapsed to the floor, his dying shot burying itself in Janott’s couch.

Double vision: bolts coming at torso from the long-snouts—

This time, there was no problem deflecting the shots. One went into the crates; the other went into the shooter.

And then, it was over.

“Are you injured?” Thrawn asked in the fresh silence.

“No,” Anakin said, surveying the battlefield.

Oenti was dead. The five thieves were dead, taken out by Anakin’s ricochets or Thrawn’s less vigorous but adequately precise return fire. Only Janott the bartender was still alive, breathing in quick, shallow gasps as he stared in horror at the carnage around him.

“I let him live,” Thrawn continued, as calmly as if he were talking about the weather. “There may still be information he can give us.”

“I don’t know,” Anakin said doubtfully, eyeing the bartender. “We know the Separatists are bringing in supplies for a base on Mokivj through Janott’s cantina. We know this ring of thieves was stealing from those shipments.” He raised his eyebrows at Janott. “And we know now that Cargo Inspector Oenti was in on the scheme.”

“How do we know that?” Thrawn asked.

“Because otherwise he’d have made a break for the door, either to escape or to call in the others outside, instead of trying to hold me down long enough for the thieves to get to their blasters,” Anakin said. “And because he wouldn’t have known where to find that hidden blaster he came up with unless he’d spent a lot of time here.”

“Yes,” Thrawn said. “Very good.”

“Thanks,” Anakin said drily. Normally, he reflected, he would have been irritated by the Chiss’s condescending words.

But to his mild surprise, he felt a touch of satisfaction instead. Thrawn was clearly the type who stayed a couple of steps ahead of his opponents. It was nice to know that he, Anakin, could keep pace with him. “So the question is, what can he tell us that would persuade us to leave him alive?”

“She left unharmed,” Janott blurted out. “The woman—the second woman. She sang a song to her friend and then left unharmed and unhindered.”

“Her ship’s still here,” Anakin said, lowering his lightsaber blade over the bartender’s chest.

“She left Black Spire, but landed somewhere else,” Janott said, stumbling over the words in his haste to get them out. “She then left in another ship. A smaller ship.”

“How do you know?” Thrawn asked.

“The—” the bartender swallowed visibly. “The police. There aren’t many officers here, but there are some. They thought she was a smuggler and chased her for a bit. But her ship was fast, and hard to lock onto, and she left them behind.”

“Did they fire on her?” Anakin asked.

“I—don’t—”

“Did they fire on her?”

“I don’t know,” Janott said, cringing again. “I think they might have. But they didn’t damage her. She escaped. Really.”

“Does he speak truth?” Thrawn asked.

“Yes,” Anakin said, glaring at the bartender. It was all very well to say that Padmé had escaped; there could easily have been damage from the skirmish that wouldn’t show up until later. If her hyperdrive had been damaged, or her hull breached—

Stop it, he ordered himself. She was fine. She had to be.

“So do we kill him?” he asked Thrawn, stretching out to the Force. He had no particular interest in killing the man, but sometimes a threat was enough to shake loose information.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t sense anything in Janott that might suggest he was still sitting on any additional bargaining chips.

“No need,” Thrawn said. “The fact that the cantina attackers were part of the smuggler group, yet the attack was designed by those who understand Jedi tactics and abilities, suggests that the Separatists themselves either persuaded or hired the smugglers to launch that assault. Possibly knowingly; possibly not.”

“Ah,” Anakin said. Thrawn had said the cantina attack wasn’t simple, but that particular detail hadn’t occurred to him. “So the Separatists know all about the ring. And there are still a couple of Separatists alive out there—damaged a little, but alive—to pass the word to the rest of their forces.”