Alliances (Star Wars: Thrawn, #2)(57)

Vader eyed him, stretching out to the Force. The Jedi, too, had been distrusted and his opinions casually dismissed, often by the people he was closest to. He, too, had known how it felt to be powerful, yet somehow still an outsider. “Tell me of the prisoners taken from Batuu.”

“I cannot,” Thrawn said. “I can say only that it is vital we recover them.”

“If I demand an answer?”

“I cannot answer,” Thrawn repeated. “I can only ask that you trust me.”

Vader clenched his teeth. “One cannot simply ask for trust, Admiral,” he warned harshly. “Trust must be earned.”

“I agree,” Thrawn said. “I ask one more hour.”

Vader looked out at the flowing hyperspace sky. “One hour,” he agreed. “And then, Admiral, you will answer my questions.”





“All I’m asking,” Anakin said, “is that you trust me.”

Thrawn didn’t answer. He’d been talkative enough at the beginning of the trip, mostly questioning Anakin about the Republic, the Separatists, and the Clone Wars. Anakin’s own questions about the Chiss tended to be answered briefly or not at all.

But once Anakin started talking about his plan for getting into the Mokivj facility, all that had changed. Now it was mostly Anakin talking and the Chiss not answering.

On one level, he really couldn’t blame his new partner. The plan was borderline crazy, and with anyone but a Jedi it would be doomed to failure from the outset.

But Anakin was a Jedi. More than that, he knew how Separatists thought and acted.

And he was very good against Separatist battle droids.

“I am a commander of the Expansionary Defense Fleet,” Thrawn said. “My uniform proclaims my authority.”

“Which you won’t have any of on Mokivj anyway,” Anakin said patiently. “Even if the locals have heard stories of the Chiss, the Separatists in charge of the base aren’t going to be impressed.” He waved at the blaster damage on Thrawn’s uniform. “And frankly, what that outfit mostly proclaims is that you were in a major battle, and that you probably lost.”

“I’m still alive,” Thrawn pointed out. “Life always tempers defeat.”

“I suppose,” Anakin said. “But really, we can do this.”

Thrawn looked over at R2-D2, sitting quietly in the corner. “You were making modifications to your droid earlier,” he said. “Were those modifications part of the plan?”

“Yes.”

“Are they detectable by the enemy?”

Anakin considered. Technically, if the enemy was very observant…but they almost certainly weren’t. “Not without taking him apart,” he said.

Thrawn pondered another few seconds. “The plan is rash. But the very boldness argues against the enemy being prepared for it. Very well, we’ll attempt it. At the very least, it will bring us past their outer defenses.”

“Good,” Anakin said with a sense of relief. This was theoretically a plan he and R2-D2 could pull off alone, but things like this always looked more believable if there was a team. “There are clothes lockers back in the crew quarters. Hopefully, something in there will fit you.”

“Yes.” Thrawn gestured to Anakin’s clothing. “What about you and your uniform?”

“The Jedi don’t have uniforms,” Anakin said, looking down at his own outfit. “Neither do the Separatists, really—their soldiers are battle droids, ours are armored clones. Though our navy officers and crewers have uniforms. Anyway, you’re right. I should probably change into something that looks more local.”

“And less like the garb of a warrior.”

Anakin frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Your sleeves are cut to allow exaggerated movements of your arms,” Thrawn said. “Likewise, the long tunic, which appears as if it would impede your movement, also allows freedom of motion. Of equal importance is the fact that in combat its swirling motion will distract an opponent’s eyes.”

“Interesting,” Anakin said, looking at his clothing with new eyes. He’d always known how easy it was to fight in the outfit, but he’d never focused on the individual details before. “I’ll see if I can find something that works as well.”

“Yet does not appear as a warrior’s garb.”

“Right,” Anakin said drily. “Tricky, though—form and function, and all that.” He gestured. “If the coordinates are right, we should hit the base four hours into full night. We’ll find some landing clothes, then run through the plan again. They’re bound to ask questions, and I want to make sure we’ve got answers.”



* * *



—

“No, I’m not Captain Boroklif,” Anakin explained for the third time, putting some strained patience into his voice. A glance out the cockpit canopy showed that the two vulture droids that had flown up as escort were still holding their distance. That was something, at least. “Captain Boroklif is, let’s say, indisposed.”

“I need to speak to him,” the voice at the other end insisted. A Serennian accent, if Anakin was hearing it right: someone from Count Dooku’s home planet of Serenno. Could the duke be some friend or associate Dooku had set up to run things for him?