Alliances (Star Wars: Thrawn, #2)(86)
“I see,” Thrawn said. “So the one-man Marg Sabl he referred to will involve appearing to strike from all directions?”
“Probably,” Padmé said, feeling a fresh twinge of worry. A one-man anything sounded risky at this point. “Did you happen to notice what the rooftop was like when you flew in? I’m wondering if there’s a parapet that’ll take a grappling hook.”
“No, there isn’t,” Thrawn said. “The surface is slightly concave, toward a drainage line in the center. There’s a small ridge at the edge, but not large enough to properly engage a hook. We’ll need an alternative plan.”
“Don’t worry,” Padmé said. “I’ve got one.”
* * *
—
Anakin had hoped that Duke Solha would keep him, Thrawn, and R2-D2 together for the hurried interrogation that he assumed would follow the courtyard lightsaber show. But splitting R2-D2 away from the others had always been a possibility, which was why Anakin had set up the oil drip in the first place.
He followed the trail out the door and down a wider corridor heading north along the east wing’s western side.
Right up to where it disappeared beyond a locked and armored door set in a solid permacrete wall.
Anakin scowled as he studied the door. All the other ones he and Thrawn had been rushed through since leaving the courtyard had been simple latch-and-hinge swinging doors, probably the factory’s original equipment, with no special security added in. Apparently, Solha didn’t care whether the locals Padmé mentioned could get into and out of those areas.
The main assembly chamber, though, was a different matter. For a moment Anakin considered going back to the stairway Padmé had pointed out and seeing if the security there might be easier to bypass. But unless Solha was incredibly stupid, that door would be just as well protected.
Still, they probably needed to bring workers in there on occasion, and of course the guard droids needed to get in and out as well. In a remote location like this, working among primitives who might never even have heard of the Separatists, security might reasonably be traded for convenience.
Battle droids, Anakin had long since learned, were heavier than most people realized. Occasionally that had proven useful, such as when he or his clone troopers needed to hold a prisoner for later pickup and didn’t have any binders with them. A couple of downed B1s settled across the captive’s arms and legs usually did the trick.
None of that weight mattered to a Jedi, of course. Using the Force, Anakin floated one of the droids he’d crumpled in the cell block up the stairs to the second floor. Mentally crossing his fingers, he maneuvered the droid’s torso up to the door.
It was still a meter away when he heard the faint snick of a disengaging lock.
He smiled tightly as he pushed open the door and floated the droid through. Convenience over security; and he wasn’t going to make Solha’s mistake himself. Closing the door behind him, he balanced the droid against it on his side. Its transponder should be close enough to keep the door unlocked for when Padmé and Thrawn returned, but opening the door and pushing the droid aside should make enough noise to alert him.
The door opened onto a short foyer that ended in a section of scaffolding. Staying low, his hand automatically reaching for the lightsaber that wasn’t there, he moved to the edge of the scaffolding and looked down.
He and the 501st had attacked plenty of droid assembly facilities over the years, and most of them followed one of only a few standard patterns. Not this one. The line was creating a version of B2 super battle droids—that much was clear from the molds and the size of the conveyers, not to mention the eight finished B2s standing rigidly against the far wall. But unlike other droid factories, the armored sections weren’t coming out of red-hot injection forges; they were instead laid out along a pair of separate belts with only low-temperature plastoid molds in sight. Between the belts were bins of metals, plastoid pellets, and something that looked vaguely fibrous. Possibly the material he and Thrawn had seen in the courtyard, though he still had no idea what it could be. The assembly process was also far outside the norm, with what looked like an adhesive or catalytic process for putting the pieces together instead of the usual welding torches. A set of support pillars ran down the center of the room, maybe ten meters apart, and he wondered briefly if there might be unpleasant surprises lurking behind any of them.
The only occupants were three men and two women, working feverishly at a large control table near the center of the room. A B2 droid stood motionlessly beside them, a thick cable leading from the console to the programming access port under the droid’s left arm. Three more B2s stood guard nearby, though whether they were protecting the techs or preventing them from leaving wasn’t clear.
R2-D2 was on the opposite side of the table, and for a moment Anakin wondered if the techs were doing something with him, too. But a closer look showed that the little astromech wasn’t connected to the rest of the system by any cables. Apparently, the techs were trying to upload the proper programming into the B2’s brain, and R2-D2 had simply been parked there out of everyone’s way.
Anakin frowned. Programming was normally part of the whole droid assembly process, with the new droids coming off the assembly line fully functional and ready to fight. This batch had apparently been created as blanks, with programming to be added later.