Alliances (Star Wars: Thrawn, #2)(43)

“What?” Vader asked, still watching the movements in the brass.

“Their click code,” Thrawn said quietly. “Do you hear it?”

Vader frowned. Yes, he could hear the faint tongue clicking now. Odd that he hadn’t noticed it before. “Can you interpret it?”

“Not the specifics,” Thrawn said. “But most follow similar patterns. The number and frequency of clicks indicate they are nearly ready to launch their attack. Remember that we wish prisoners to interrogate.”

Vader glowered at the images in the railing. Simple blasters for hire, most likely. Better to eliminate them and allow Kimmund to deal with the task of finding prisoners. “Do you expect them to be equally courteous?”

“At first, yes, they will,” Thrawn said.

That wasn’t the answer Vader had expected. “For what reason?”

“Interrogation,” Thrawn said. “They will wish to know what I have learned of them.” He looked sideways at Vader. “Though they may not offer you the same courtesy.”

The Chiss thought highly of himself, that was for certain. “Then they will be surprised.”

“They will indeed.” There was the soft hiss of Thrawn’s combat baton being drawn from its holster. “Once they have lost some of their numbers, they will likely abandon any hope of taking either of us alive.”

Vader nodded to himself. And when they reached that point, not even Thrawn would be able to complain about leaving the bodies of their opponents scattered on the cantina floor. “Then their surprise will be short-lived.”

“We will first try to disable without killing,” Thrawn said, with an emphasis that suggested it was an order.

Not that Vader was in the mood to accept any such instructions, especially not under these circumstances. Fortunately for Thrawn, he’d presented the goal with more subtlety than that.

Subtlety. In an Empire filled with men like Tarkin, perhaps that was what the Emperor found most useful in this Chiss.

Thrawn had refused to send the Chimaera against the unknown ships on the grounds that it could be advantageous to keep the full extent of the Imperials’ power hidden. Now he wanted to strike nonlethal blows to suggest he lacked the power or the strength of mind to kill?

Very well. Subtlety was a game Vader could also play if he chose.

And in that instant he caught the flicker through the Force as the Darshi charged to the attack.

He turned, snatching his lightsaber from his belt. Three of the aliens were converging on Thrawn, combat sticks of their own ready in their hands, while four more charged at Vader with identical weapons.

Their knives, interestingly enough, remained in their sheaths. Apparently, they did have some thought of taking their quarries alive.

Still, they weren’t being foolish about it. Standing well back from the battleground, only intermittently visible as the rest of the customers beat a hasty retreat past them through the door, were the other three Darshi, blasters drawn and ready. Either Vader and Thrawn would leave as prisoners, or—their thinking apparently went—they wouldn’t leave at all.

The attackers were going to be severely disappointed.

Thrawn had already turned to face his attackers, a bottle of rum he’d snatched from behind the bar in his free hand. But instead of simply throwing it, he spun it around twice in his hand, pointed it at the nearest attacker, and slashed his baton across the bottle’s neck, shattering it.

And as the freshly agitated liquid burst from the bottle’s confines Thrawn sprayed the stream across all three of his attackers’ faces.

Their charge jerked to a confused halt amid gasps and roars as the alcohol hit unprotected eyes. Thrawn threw the now half-empty bottle toward Vader’s attackers, then waded into the midst of his own group, slamming his baton with expert precision across arms, legs, and ribs, disabling without killing.

But Vader’s group had seen Thrawn’s move, and had had time to recover from the surprise attack. As the bottle came toward them the nearest Darshi knocked it away with a flick of his own baton. He turned back toward Vader—

Double vision: the Darshi feinting left, then swinging his stick from the right—

The attacker staggered back, twisting around from the impact as Vader slapped him hard across the side of his head with his lightsaber hilt.

Not the blade. Only the hilt. If Thrawn could take on three opponents with just a stick, so could Vader.

Double vision: stick jabbing at his helmet—

Vader swung his lightsaber, deflecting the attack, then jabbed the end hard into the center of the alien’s chest.

Double vision: slapping blows against helmet and right forearm from the remaining two Darshi—

A complete waste of their time, of course, combat sticks against body armor. But Vader allowed the attack, letting the blows land without effect, luring them into moving within range of counterattack. Two more quick jabs with his lightsaber, and they had joined their companions on the floor.

Double vision: bolt coming at right shoulder—

He looked at the three backups, swinging their blasters toward him. He brought up his left hand, catching the bolt on his palm, feeling a brief rise in heat as the energy expended itself against the armored glove.

Double vision: bolts coming at chest, at helmet—

He reached out to the Force, tweaking the attackers’ blasters a couple of degrees to the sides, just far enough to throw off their aim. Probably they never even realized what had happened. He strode toward them, feeling his cloak billowing behind him.