Alliances (Star Wars: Thrawn, #2)(87)
That was probably a decision Solha was regretting. Every B1 Anakin had seen in the courtyard—minus the ones he’d shredded—seemed to be here, along with seven hulking B2s besides the three at the control table. Solha was hunkering down, and the fact that he had his techs activating his new blanks was evidence that he wasn’t feeling particularly safe.
On the other hand, if the duke was running scared, why wasn’t he in here where droids could protect him? For that matter, the more Anakin studied the B2s, the more it looked like the ones that weren’t at the table had been deployed mostly to defend the bins of fibrous material beside the armor plate molds.
Thrawn had pointed out the mining truck in the courtyard, with the suggestion that it and its cargo were important. But at the time Anakin had been too preoccupied with choreographing his disappearing-Jedi trick to pay much attention.
Far across the room, the armored door at the far end swung open—
Anakin felt his jaw drop . Marching into the factory as if he owned the place, a blaster gripped in his hand and a pair of B2s trailing behind him, was a clone trooper.
Anakin’s first, wild, thought was that he was imagining things. His second was that it was a crazy coincidence, that somehow this far-flung world had managed to come up with armor that mimicked that of Republic troopers.
Neither was correct. The person striding along down there was indeed wearing genuine clone trooper armor. Not only that, but it looked from the markings like he was from the 212th, Obi-Wan Kenobi’s unit.
So that made him…what? A loyal clone who’d somehow gotten innocently mixed up in this? A non-loyal clone, who was deliberately working for Solha and the Separatists? Or was he a decoy, here to create the precise confusion and uncertainty that Anakin was currently feeling?
The trooper stepped over to the programming table. He dropped his blaster back into its holster and pulled off his helmet.
It wasn’t a clone, of any alignment. It was, instead, Duke Solha.
Anakin puffed out a silent breath. At least that cleared up the question of why Solha hadn’t been here. Apparently, he’d been off scrounging up some extra protection.
Where he might have come up with clone armor was an entirely different set of questions. But Anakin didn’t have time right now to wonder why the duke had such resources at hand. Even as Solha set his helmet down on the edge of the desk, the door opened again and two more clone-armored figures came in. This pair was leading a group of B1s that were lugging bins of more fibrous material, with another pair of B2s running rear-guard behind them.
The two troopers popped their helmets as the door closed behind them, revealing the other man and woman who’d been in the courtyard. The B1s, for their part, headed to the armor conveyer and the other bins, the B2s following to reinforce the droid guard already there. Solha left the table and crossed to the other Serennians, meeting them halfway, and the three of them paused for a quiet but clearly intense conversation.
Anakin pursed his lips. This whole thing was starting to look way more complicated than he’d expected.
Still, sorting it out could wait until he had Padmé safely back at his side. And the best way to ensure her safety was to keep Solha and his droids busy right here.
Reaching out to the Force, he focused on one of the B1s near the door. A little nudge to its blaster’s aim; a small twitching of the trigger…
The blast echoed off the high ceiling as the bolt slammed into one of the B2s standing stoic guard beside the bins.
It was a glancing blow, and the B2 barely even twitched from the impact. But even as the B1 yelped in confusion the super battle droid’s programmed reflexes kicked in, spinning it around and raising its right arm, its dual wrist blasters tracking toward the source of the attack.
Luckily for the B1, Solha was faster. “Hold!” he shouted, cutting short his conversation and yanking out his own blaster. Anakin briefly considered snatching it away from him, then decided it would be better to keep the true situation muddled as long as he could.
Unfortunately, Solha was quick on that one, too. “It’s the Jedi!” he shouted, swinging around in a slow circle, his eyes darting back and forth. “He’s in here somewhere, making you shoot at each other. Spread out and find him.”
And here, Anakin knew, was where it got fun.
First on the list was to create a little confusion. Stretching out to the switches by the far door, he turned off the lights.
* * *
—
Four of Mokivj’s ten moons were high in the night sky as Padmé led the way through the hidden exit. They were small moons, smaller than any of Naboo’s three, but even through the attenuation of the energy shield their reflected light was enough for her to get a clear view of the south wing’s outer wall as it towered above them. “What’s your plan?” Thrawn asked, coming up beside her.
“The windows on the west wing were covered with a protective metal mesh,” she told him, slinging her backpack over one shoulder and pulling out her monocular. “So are these,” she confirmed, peering through the device. “The mesh is open enough for the grapple to catch, and should be strong enough to hold our combined weight. We fire the grapple, engage it, then the motor in the grip pulls us up.”
“How many grapples do you have?”
“Three, but we won’t need more than one,” Padmé said, putting the monocular away. “The telescopic sight cylinder rotates ninety degrees and locks, and is reinforced to work as a second handhold. You hang on to that one, I hang on to the main grip, and we go up together.”