Thrawn_Alliances_Star Wars

by Timothy Zahn

  He broke off, sudden understanding on his face. “Of course,” he said. “Skywalker. I thought that freighter thief seemed familiar. But I couldn’t place the face. Oh, that’s unfortunate.”

  “Why, because you’ve lost?” Padmé suggested. “Because I can offer you good terms if you surrender right now.”

  “No, no,” Solha said. “It’s unfortunate because it means a great hero of the Republic will die here, unnoticed, with no one ever knowing what happened to him.” His face hardened. “As, of course, will you.”

  The factory area in the north wing wasn’t so much an assembly line as it was an artisan’s studio—smaller, more crowded with tables, and filling only a single floor. But the work being done there was very familiar.

  “So that’s why Solha was wearing clone trooper armor,” Anakin said as he and Thrawn stood beside a section of the assembly table. “They’ve got the same system going here as with the B2s.”

  “Yes,” Thrawn murmured. “This is a puzzle, General.”

  “How so?”

  “You’ve stated that the battle droids being created in the east wing fight for the Separatists,” Thrawn said. “Yet this armor is worn by the clone troopers who fight for the Republic. Why would the Separatists want lightsaber-resistant armor for their enemies?”

  “That’s obvious enough,” Anakin told him grimly. “Dooku must be planning a massive infiltration of the Republic forces.” He nodded at the rows of completed armor lined up on hooks along the center of the room. “In fact, right now he’s got almost enough to run roughshod over the whole Senate District.”

  “The Separatists also have human soldiers?”

  “They have enough to fill this many suits,” Anakin said. “In fact, that’s probably why Dooku has Solha running the factory in the first place. A Serennian-run operation, with Serennian troops in the armor, and Dooku will have first crack at the best Coruscant has to offer once he’s taken down the Senate.”

  “And eliminated the Jedi, as well?” Thrawn suggested. “They’re the only ones in the Republic who use lightsabers, are they not?”

  “They are,” Anakin confirmed, his throat tightening. “You’re right, armor like this would be perfect for attacking the Jedi Temple. If Dooku could destroy the Jedi and the Senate and maybe capture Chancellor Palpatine—”

  He broke off as a sudden emotional flood rolled over him. “Padmé’s in trouble,” he said, turning and starting toward the door.

  He stopped in midstride as Thrawn grabbed his arm. “No.”

  “Let go,” Anakin said, snapping his arm free of the Chiss’s grip. Thrawn countered by half turning and getting a fresh grip on Anakin’s collar with the other hand. “I said let go.”

  “You cannot,” Thrawn said firmly. “This is the danger to your Republic. This is where you must focus your efforts.”

  “We’ll reprogram this factory like Artoo’s doing to the other one,” Anakin said, snapping up his arm, aiming his forearm at Thrawn’s wrist to try to break the other’s grasp. Thrawn countered by letting go just as Anakin’s arm swung harmlessly past, then reacquiring his grip. “Stop it, damn you—she’s going to die.”

  “We can’t reprogram here,” Thrawn said. “Clone troopers don’t have the droids’ built-in weaponry.”

  “I can’t abandon her.”

  “We won’t,” Thrawn promised. “But your mission—your true mission—must come first.”

  My true mission is Padmé, Anakin wanted to snarl.

  But again, he couldn’t. Thrawn didn’t know the truth, and Anakin didn’t dare tell him.

  And down deep, he knew the Chiss was right. There was little point in rescuing his wife here only to see her executed in a Separatist purge after Coruscant’s fall. “You have a plan?”

  “Yes,” Thrawn said. “Let’s see if our opponents will allow us sufficient time.”

  * * *

  —

  “I’m sure you’ll try your best,” Padmé said, forcing her voice to stay calm. If the rest of Solha’s B2s were as invulnerable as the three Anakin and Thrawn had already tangled with, her husband was in deadly danger.

  Behind him, R2-D2’s dome swiveled to face her.

  And suddenly she realized something that hadn’t occurred to her. The way the control table was positioned, Solha wouldn’t have seen R2-D2’s data arm on his walk across the room.

  More important, he wouldn’t have been able to see that the arm was plugged into the data socket.

  But he would see it now if he simply turned around. At all costs Padmé had to keep him from doing that. “Why don’t you tell me about Dooku’s grand scheme?” she asked. “I seem to remember Serennian custom permitting a condemned prisoner a last request.”

  “Such dramatics, Senator,” Solha chided. “Really, I’d tell you if I could. But I believe the count is still working out the details.”

  “Ah,” Padmé said drily. Right. The Count Dooku she knew would have the whole thing planned down to the centimeter and millisecond by now. Odds were that he did, and that Solha simply wasn’t important enough for such information.

  “But really, the plan should be obvious,” Solha continued. “Invulnerable battle droids to destroy your clone armies—”

  With a clank, the B2 beside R2-D2 abruptly came to full life. Solha half turned toward it—

  Snatching out her S-5, Padmé aimed at the left side of Solha’s lower ribs, a shot that should get his attention without seriously injuring him, and fired. The bolt blazed into the edge of his chest plate.

  And disappeared.

  Solha jerked back around to face her, a startled look on his face. “You shot me?”

  Padmé fired again, more toward the center of his chest this time. Again, there was no effect.

  But this time she spotted the distinctive sunburst effect.

  Like the B2s, Solha’s armor was wreathed in cortosis fibers.

  “So much for a civilized conversation,” Solha snarled, his casual arrogance gone. Slipping his helmet back over his head, he spread his arms wide to both sides. “Go ahead—take your best shot. Then maybe you’ll accept the fact that the Republic is doomed.”

  Padmé glanced past his shoulder, to see R2-D2 withdraw his data arm from the console. The reprogramming was finished.

  Time to get out of here.

  “If you insist,” she said, focusing on Solha again. She sent a final blaster bolt at him, this one sunbursting off his helmet, again with no damage.

  Thumbing the S-5’s selector switch, she braced herself and fired her last grapple squarely between his eyes.

  The impact snapped his head back, staggering him backward as he fought for balance. Padmé rushed forward, reeling in the grapple as she ran. Solha recovered his stance and started to swing his E-5 back toward her.

  And fell flat on his back as she again slammed the grapple into his helmet. Reeling it in again, she reached him and kicked the blaster out of his hand.

  He grabbed at her ankle, started to pull himself to his feet. She slammed the grapple off his faceplate one final time, bouncing the back of his helmet against the floor. This time he collapsed and lay still.

  “Come on,” she said, beckoning to R2-D2 as she turned and ran toward the north door. Solha’s brother and sister were out there somewhere, and Anakin and Thrawn didn’t know their clone armor was as invulnerable as the B2s’.

  They were halfway to the door when Padmé heard the woken super battle droid stir behind them. It made a strange sound deep within itself.

  And began lumbering its way toward them.

  * * *

  —

  “Fill it completely,” Thrawn said.

  Anakin blinked, looking at the clone trooper helmet in his hands. It was indeed only half full. “Right,” he said, dipping it into the cortosis bin again, his full focus on the
sensations coming to him from the east wing. Padmé was still alive, still unhurt, and her anxiety level was back under control. But that was all he could see. He desperately wanted to hand the rest of the prep work over to Thrawn and rush to her aid.

  But he couldn’t. Thrawn was right: They had to beat this thing right here, and right now, or the Republic would be in deadly danger.

  And already he could hear the sounds of approaching droids from the western end of the north wing. He and the Chiss were running out of time. “You sure this will work?” he asked as he set the helmet on the floor with the others.

  “I’m certain of nothing,” Thrawn admitted. “Stories and legends are useful for gauging a culture, but aren’t always reliable sources of tactical data. Yet from what I’ve seen I believe this has a good chance of success.”

  “Well, if it doesn’t I’ll never let you hear the end of it,” Anakin said. The sounds of droid feet were getting closer—

  There was a sudden thud from behind them. He spun around, drawing and igniting his lightsaber in a single motion.

  To his relief, it was Padmé, with R2-D2 jetting his way through the air right behind her. “Padmé!” he called.

  She turned toward his voice, her stride faltering for a split second at the sight of him and Thrawn encased in their new clone trooper armor, then hurried toward him. “The other B2,” she called tensely. “It’s right behind me.”

  Anakin hissed between his teeth. An invulnerable B2 behind, an unknown number of battle droids in front. Great. “I’ll take care of him,” he said, starting toward her.

  “Wait,” Thrawn called after him. “You must disable the droid in such a way that you block the door.”

  “Don’t worry, none of the other blanks have been activated,” Padmé said.

  “The blockage is for us,” Thrawn said. “They must not wonder afterward why we didn’t return to that chamber and destroy it.”

  “Yeah, yeah, got it,” Anakin said impatiently. Unfortunately, even a hulking super battle droid wouldn’t fully fill the whole doorway. “Suggestions?”

  “Try to spread-eagle it, as I did the two with my arc-cannon,” Thrawn said.

  “Why don’t you do it?” Padmé asked. “You still have one shot, right?”

  “We need that here,” Anakin said, thinking fast. “Okay, I’ll get it. Padmé, stay here and give him a hand—we’re filling as many helmets with cortosis as we can. Artoo, you’re with me.”

  “And don’t let the B2 see your lightsaber,” Padmé called after him.

  “Okay,” Anakin said. Prying back the top of his chest plate, he dropped the weapon between his chest and the armor, and sprinted toward the doorway, feeling decidedly awkward and more than a little claustrophobic. He normally fought with only minimal armor, as Thrawn had already noted, and with his arms and legs free to move. Going into battle fully encased this way was a new experience, and not a particularly pleasant one.

  A screwdriver lying on the floor a few meters away caught his eye, and he used the Force to draw it to his hand. A couple of quick instructions to R2-D2—

  The little droid warbled a warning.

  “Right,” Anakin said, slipping on the helmet.

  And now he felt awkward, claustrophobic, and blind. Great.

  B2s weren’t terrifically fast, fortunately, and the battle droid was still a few paces away when Anakin and R2-D2 reached the doorway. The B2 caught sight of Anakin and stopped, raising its wrist blaster. “Identify,” it demanded in a flat voice.

  Anakin smiled inside his helmet. So that was what Padmé had meant. The three Serennians were also in clone armor, and they probably hadn’t had time to work out a proper ID code system with their droids. As long as the B2 didn’t see his lightsaber, it couldn’t tell he wasn’t one of its masters. “Duke Solha,” he said, just to see what it would do.

  The B2 paused, thinking or else confused. “Artoo?” Anakin murmured, nodding toward the droid.

  R2-D2 twittered and rolled forward, gunning his little wheels for all they were worth. He reached top speed and kept going.

  And rammed straight into the B2’s legs.

  Given the difference in size and weight, Anakin hadn’t expected the astromech to topple the battle droid. Sure enough, the B2 staggered with the impact but stayed on its feet. It looked down, as if amazed by R2-D2’s sheer impudence, and Anakin took advantage of the distraction to reach up and drive the end of the screwdriver into the wall just above the door lintel, using Force strength to shove it through the ceramic nearly handle-deep.

  The B2 swept its left arm down, shoving R2-D2 off to the side, and started toward the doorway again. Anakin backed up a couple of steps, then reversed direction, running forward toward the droid. He reached the doorway and jumped up, catching hold of the screwdriver and using the pivot point to swing himself forward. He shoved off the screwdriver, arced briefly through the air, and slammed feetfirst into the B2’s torso.

  The battle droid nearly fell over that time, barely managing to maintain its balance. Anakin landed on his back on the floor and scrambled to his feet.

  Double vision: shot coming at torso—

  Just as the B2 fired its wrist blaster at full power into his chest.

  Anakin jerked back, feeling a warm glow spread rapidly from his chest to envelop his whole body. The droid fired again as Anakin backed through the doorway; this time the glow was almost painfully warm. Even cortosis, apparently, had its limits.

  The B2, its balance now restored, started forward again, its blaster tracking Anakin’s chest. Behind the droid, apparently unnoticed, R2-D2 was coming up, preparing for another run at its legs. Anakin watched the B2, judging his timing—

  “Now, Artoo!” he snapped and again charged forward.

  In general, B2s weren’t very bright. But this one was perhaps smarter than most. More important, it had already had a taste of its opponents’ preferred mode of attack. Even as Anakin sprinted forward it reached the doorway and stretched its arms out to both sides, bracing itself against the jambs for the coming impact. Behind it, R2-D2 trilled a sort of battle cry and increased his speed; the B2 responded by splaying its legs to both sides, bracing its feet against the doorway as well in preparation for the little astromech’s attack.

  Thereby putting itself in exactly the position Thrawn had requested.

  Jumping up to the screwdriver, Anakin grabbed it with his left hand and slammed his feet against the B2’s torso. With its arms and legs braced, the droid didn’t even quiver. Still holding on to the screwdriver, his feet braced against the B2’s torso, Anakin yanked off his chest plate with his right hand, grabbing his lightsaber before it could fall.

  He jammed the end up against the droid’s right eye and ignited the blade.

  A shudder ran through the B2’s frame. The reaction passed, and the droid seemed to sag in place. For a second Anakin thought it would fall, but it had braced itself too well and remained upright in the doorway. Sealing it from any approach, just as Thrawn had wanted.

  Sealing it, unfortunately, with R2-D2 trapped on the other side.

  Anakin’s satisfied smile vanished. “Artoo?” he called tentatively.

  The droid gave an exasperated grunt. “Yeah, sorry,” Anakin said, dropping back to the floor. “Hang on, I’ll get you out of there.”

  “Anakin!” Padmé called urgently. “They’re coming.”

  “Correction: They’ve arrived,” Thrawn added coolly.

  Anakin looked back. A door leading into the western half of the north wing had opened, and a line of B1 battle droids was filing in, their blasters held high, their heads moving back and forth as they searched for a target. Behind them, visible above the crowd, were seven B2s.

  He winced. And if all seven were the indestructible type…

  “There!” one of the B1s called, leveling its blaster at Anakin
. “You! Stop for questioning!”

  “Don’t shoot,” Anakin called, starting toward them with his hands behind his head, his lightsaber concealed from their view. The lead B1s had passed the row of nine cortosis-filled helmets, possibly oblivious to their presence, certainly unaware of their significance. All he had to do now was stall them long enough for all the B2s to clear the doorway.

  He grimaced. Nine helmets. Seven B2s. This could get tricky.

  The droids were still moving forward, half the B1s focused on Anakin, the other half continuing their visual sweep to both sides. The B2s were still behind them, their arms raised, their wrist blasters also sweeping the room. All of the super battle droids were inside now, with another squad of B1s bringing up the rear.

  Without warning a blaster bolt sizzled across the room to slam into one of the B2s.

  Instantly the droids turned, swiveling their weapons toward the shooter. But before they could fire a second bolt came at them from the other side of the room, this one splashing off a different B2.

  Splashing.

  Anakin smiled tightly. Of course. Padmé and Thrawn were targeting the B2s in order, watching for the telltale sign of cortosis armor.

  The droids were returning fire now. But the attacking blaster bolts were still coming in, their sources shifting each time as Padmé and Thrawn fired and then quickly changed positions to avoid the droids’ counterattack. One…two…three…

  The seventh and final shot split the air.

  And Anakin had the numbers. Three of the seven B2s were of the normal type. The other four, clustered together in the center of the droid formation, were the invulnerable ones.

  “Ready!” he shouted, bringing his hands and lightsaber back into view and igniting the weapon. One of the B1s gave a squeak at the sight of the blue blade, and the entire front rank opened fire.

  Anakin deflected the shots, edging toward one of the support pillars, trying to draw as much of their attention toward him as he could. They would only have one shot at this. He reached the pillar and ducked behind it.