Thrawn_Alliances_Star Wars

by Timothy Zahn

  And instantly ducked around the other side as blasterfire blasted chips of ceramic off the edge where he’d just disappeared. For a fatal half second the B1s had lost their target.

  That half second was all he needed. Stretching out with the Force, he lifted the nine helmets and hurled them at and above the four invulnerable B2s. Another twitch, and the helmets turned over, dumping their cortosis fibers into a drifting, swirling cloud around the droids’ heads. From across the room, the final shot of Thrawn’s lightning gun shattered through the air.

  An instant later the four B2s were wreathed with a blazing, twisting, pulsating cloud of energy as the falling fibers connected to one another, disconnected, then reconnected, sending the energy through one another and into the threads embedded in the droids’ armor.

  Thrawn had hoped that the sudden flood of energy would destroy the droids. Anakin hadn’t been convinced that would happen. But he also hadn’t cared. All he cared about was dazzling the B2s long enough for him to get in before they recovered. Ducking around the pillar, he charged into the droid formation, slicing and shattering every B1 in his path. He reached the four invulnerable B2s and leapt into the air, fatally stabbing two of them as he arced past. He hit the floor, spun around as those first two toppled over, and jumped on the third’s shoulders. Two more stabs, and all four were down. He dropped to the floor again—to find that the rest of the droids, not as affected by the lightning storm as the cortosis version, swung to the attack.

  Double vision: bolts coming at chest, at head, at legs, at head, at legs, at chest—

  There were probably twenty of them in all, B1s and B2s. It didn’t matter. Anakin was deep in the Force, turning and blocking and slashing and destroying. Dimly through his combat haze he could sense other blasterfire cutting through the melee: Padmé and Thrawn picking off the more vulnerable B1s where they could.

  The threat to Padmé—the danger to the Republic—the murder of Duja—

  Double vision: bolts at chest, at head—

  He continued his attack, a memory swirling up through the mist: the slaughter of the Sand People who’d tortured and murdered his mother. Then it had been justice. Now it was war.

  Double vision: one bolt at chest—

  He deflected the solitary bolt, raised his lightsaber. Before he could attack, the last remaining B1 fell, its torso burned through by the shot from Padmé’s S-5.

  He looked around. They were down. Destroyed. All of them.

  “Are you all right?” Padmé asked as she hurried over to him.

  “Sure,” Anakin said, breathing a little harder than he should have been. The result of fighting in full armor, no doubt. “Thrawn?” he asked, turning around.

  “Here,” Thrawn said, emerging from cover and walking over to them, Padmé’s ELG-3A blaster in his hand. “Do you still wish to destroy this place?”

  Anakin looked over at the row of cortosis-laced clone armor. Dooku’s ultimate plan for victory. “Absolutely,” he said.

  “Then do so,” Thrawn said. “Ambassador Padmé and I will check on the freighter.”

  Anakin looked questioningly at Padmé. “Go ahead,” she said. “Dooku can have his battle droids now, for all the good they’ll do him. But this…”

  “Got it,” Anakin said. “Be careful. I’ll be right out.”

  The armor might be impervious to his lightsaber. But the pillars holding up the ceiling and the floor above weren’t.

  He started on the one farthest to the east, to seal off that entrance as quickly as possible in case Solha tried to move the B2 out of the doorway. The pillar was stronger and better-designed than he’d expected, and it took six cuts to finally bring it down.

  But when it fell, it fell spectacularly. Apparently the builders had never dreamed the pillar would collapse, and so had anchored it firmly to the ceiling as well as the floor. The result was that as the upper part of the pillar came down it dragged a huge section of ceiling and roof down with it. Even with Jedi speed Anakin was barely able to get out of the way in time.

  The debris was still bouncing, the dust thick in the air, when he started on the second pillar.

  By the time he reached the end of the chamber, he’d figured out the structural characteristics accurately enough to drop the last pillar squarely across the racks of clone trooper armor.

  He spent a moment peering through the clouds of dust at what was left of the chamber, surveying his handiwork and making sure there was no chance that anyone could ever retrieve enough of it to be of any use. Then, picking his way through the debris, he made his way back across the chamber to the easternmost door.

  Padmé and Thrawn were outside, crouched behind a section of broken permacrete that seemed to have come from the east wing’s roof and top floor. “Is it done?” Padmé asked as Anakin dropped into a crouch beside them. “It was certainly loud enough.”

  “Buried, crushed, and shattered,” Anakin confirmed. He tapped the pile of broken masonry in front of them. “What happened here?”

  “Did you forget my ship’s diversionary attack?” Thrawn asked.

  “I guess so,” Anakin said. Across the courtyard, four more B2s were standing guard at the foot of their freighter’s ramp. “Let me guess. The other Serennians and the rest of the droids are inside?”

  “Most likely,” Thrawn said.

  “Solha said they were going to disable it,” Padmé said. “They’ve probably had enough time to do that by now.”

  “Probably,” Anakin agreed. “So what now?”

  “We prepare to leave this world,” Thrawn said. “Ambassador Padmé and I will go there.” He pointed to another pile of debris about halfway down the east wing’s wall. “You, General, will go to the spot where the shield generator used to be and engage the battle droids. Don’t advance, but remain on that spot and merely defend yourself. We shall do the rest.”

  Anakin frowned. Only the one hatch on the freighter was open, and there was no way anyone would be able to sneak in past the B2s, no matter how engaged they were. Even if Thrawn and Padmé got in, there was no easy way to unsabotage a ship in a timely manner without knowing exactly where and how it had been sabotaged in the first place. “May I ask how you’re going to accomplish that?”

  “There’s no time,” Thrawn said, peering up at the stars. “Go. Now.”

  Anakin took a deep breath. “Okay. Just remember what I said earlier about never letting you hear the end of it.” Bracing himself, he ignited his lightsaber and charged into the courtyard.

  The B2s swiveled as they saw him, bringing their wrist blasters to bear.

  Double vision: bolts at chest, at chest, at head, at chest, at head—

  He settled into his defense, letting the Force guide his hands. The battle intensified; he intensified his defense…

  “Anakin!”

  The voice seemed to come from the bottom of a well. He half turned, handing his defense fully over to the Force.

  And to his amazement found that, while he’d been focused on the freighter and the B2s, another, smaller freighter had landed in the courtyard behind him. The ramp was open, and two men were lying dead or stunned on the ground beside it where they’d apparently fallen off. Padmé was waving to him from the top of the ramp; she caught his eye, nodded, and disappeared inside. Thrawn was standing beside the ramp, using it for protection as he fired Padmé’s S-5 at the droids. “Inside, General,” he called.

  Once again, the Chiss had somehow pulled off some magic. Turning back to the droids, Anakin backed toward their new transport, continuing to block their attacks as he walked. He reached the ramp, waited for Thrawn to slip around behind him and into the ship, started to back up himself—

  “Hold it!” a voice called.

  Anakin risked a glance to the side. Padmé’s friend LebJau was staggering toward him, R2-D2 clutched in his arms. “He got t
angled in some broken plastoid,” he called.

  Anakin winced. “Take him inside,” he said. “Sorry, Artoo.”

  He waited until LebJau and the little droid were safely through the hatchway, then backed up the ramp himself and stepped inside. He slapped the hatch control—“Go!” he shouted.

  And grabbed for a handhold as Padmé rocketed the ship up and out, driving away at full power, twisting and jinking to avoid the B2s’ fire. He waited until she’d straightened out, then headed forward.

  Thrawn was already seated in the copilot seat when he arrived. “I give up,” Anakin said as he got a grip on the back of Padmé’s chair. “What hat did you pull this one out of?”

  “Don’t you recognize it?” Thrawn asked. “It was one of the other ships at the Black Spire landing area.”

  Anakin frowned. “So…? Ah. The Separatists we left on Batuu helped themselves?”

  “Exactly,” Thrawn said. “You may recall my comment that as long as they were a few hours behind us all would be well.”

  “So you expected them to come.”

  “Of course,” Thrawn said, his tone the kind Obi-Wan used when he thought Anakin wasn’t catching on fast enough. “They’re soldiers. They wouldn’t simply abandon their duty.”

  “Of course not,” Anakin said sourly. “And you knew they would land right where you and Padmé could shoot up at them from beneath the ramp because…?”

  “It was the nearest spot in the courtyard where they would be able to attack you from behind without risking a crossfire from their own droids.”

  “Speaking of droids, was that LebJau who just came in with Artoo?” Padmé asked.

  Anakin nodded. “Artoo was in trouble, and LebJau got him out. There—up ahead—is that the cortosis mining area?”

  “I don’t know,” Padmé said. “Seems to be in the right place, though.”

  “It is,” Thrawn confirmed.

  “Take us over there, Padmé,” Anakin ordered. “We’ve got one more job to do.”

  “I’d urge you to reconsider,” Thrawn said. “The presence of outsiders has already damaged this world enough.”

  “Hey, we weren’t the ones who did this to them,” Anakin countered. “We didn’t start it. But we need to finish it.”

  “What are you talking about?” Padmé asked, sounding puzzled.

  “General Skywalker plans to destroy the mine,” Thrawn said quietly. “Again, I urge you—”

  “There,” Anakin interrupted, pointing past Padmé’s shoulder at a tall, angled structure in the middle of the darkness, its lights off, apparently deserted. “That must be the main shaft.”

  “Anakin, are you sure this is a good idea?” Padmé asked carefully.

  Anakin looked down at the top of her head, a flash of anger rippling through him. “You taking his side now?” he demanded.

  “I’m not taking anyone’s side,” she protested. “I’m just trying to figure out if it’s the smart thing to do. We’ve got the droids reprogrammed, remember? Why not let them waste the cortosis?”

  “And what if they figure it out?” Anakin shot back. “Just because Thrawn said cortosis is rare doesn’t mean they won’t find another stash of it somewhere. Besides, we can’t risk them making more clone armor.”

  “There’ll be miners down below,” LebJau murmured from the hatchway behind them.

  Anakin turned. LebJau’s face was set in hard lines, his throat working. “We’ll get them out first,” he promised. “Thrawn and I can do that. Or maybe you and Thrawn—I need to find and set some explosives.”

  For a long moment, LebJau gazed in silence at the building coming up on them. He looked down at the lightsaber on Anakin’s belt, and sighed. “Sure,” he said. “Not like we have a choice. Like we ever have any choice, really.”

  “Good,” Anakin said, turning back around. “Looks like the main door’s there on the south. Put us down beside it.”

  “I hope you know what you’re doing,” Padmé murmured.

  “I do.” Reaching over the chair back, Anakin touched her shoulder. “Trust me.”

  “Lord Vader?” Thrawn’s voice came through the blackness. “Come back, my lord.”

  Vader opened his eyes. To his mild surprise he was still seated at the Chimaera’s helm. “I have not left, Admiral,” he said, putting some warning into his voice. “There is no need to return.”

  “My apologies, my lord,” Thrawn said, inclining his head.

  Vader looked around. Thrawn had been wise enough to clear this section of the bridge, leaving no one to gawk at him, either in the crew pit or on the command walkway above them.

  Fortunately for Thrawn. Even more fortunately for whoever that unlucky person might have been.

  “They are preparing the Chimaera for attack,” Thrawn said, answering the unasked question.

  “I see,” Vader said, turning back to the helm readouts.

  They had arrived.

  “Yes,” Thrawn said. “The system has no name among the Chiss, nor has it any inhabited worlds. In the distance ahead lie two ships in parking drift, most likely part of the moon-transport group. They are largely dormant, presumably awaiting the return of the ships from Mokivj.”

  “Is there a base?”

  “There is nothing except the ships.”

  “Perhaps the Grysks are nomads, after all. We are undetected?”

  “As yet, it appears so.” Thrawn hesitated. “I have a plan, my lord. It will require your participation, if you are willing.”

  Vader eyed him. At least this time the Chiss was asking instead of ordering or assuming. “Tell me your plan,” he said.

  “I wish you and your First Legion to go aboard the Darkhawk. You will intercept the Grysk ship, go aboard—”

  “No,” Vader said.

  Thrawn seemed taken aback. “Excuse me, my lord?”

  “I will not go aboard the ship,” Vader said. “Commander Kimmund and the First Legion are more than capable of handling a breach and rescue mission on their own.”

  Thrawn’s lips compressed, just a bit, just briefly. “Yet of all of us, my lord, you are the only one who can utilize the Force.”

  “Does that bother you, Admiral?” Vader asked. “The creature you described on Atollon. It nearly defeated you because you could not understand it.”

  “In the end it was vanquished.”

  “Was it?” Vader countered.

  Thrawn’s lips compressed again. “This is hardly the time to discuss such matters.”

  “It is the perfect time.” Vader waved a hand toward the viewport and the two Grysk ships in the distance. “You propose to take the Chimaera against a people whom the Emperor has not yet declared as an enemy. You propose to do so without orders, and in an action that benefits your people and not the Empire.”

  “We have already discussed this,” Thrawn said. “I maintain that it serves both.”

  “Does it?” Vader countered. “We are on a mission for the Empire, Admiral. The mission is all that matters. Victory is all that matters.”

  “The future of my people also matters.”

  “No,” Vader said flatly. “Victory is the goal.”

  “And not revenge?”

  “Not revenge,” Vader said. “Not even rescue.”

  For a moment Thrawn was silent. “I understand,” he said. “But I believe we can do both.”

  Vader stretched out with the Force. Again, Thrawn seemed so certain, so confident that he was in the right.

  Vader could stop him. Perhaps he should stop him.

  But he’d seen this confidence before, long ago, in The Jedi. He, too, had had perfect assurance that what he was doing was both right and necessary.

  And once again, Vader found himself curious to see whether Thrawn could truly deliver everything he’d promised.
<
br />   “Very well,” he said. “But understand this. All the strength of the creature you faced on Atollon pales in comparison with the power of the Emperor. Are you truly willing to risk his anger?”

  “There is no risk,” Thrawn said evenly. “This mission will indeed meet with the Emperor’s ultimate approval.”

  “Perhaps,” Vader said. It might not, of course. But again, the Chiss’s quiet certainty was unmistakable. Whether Thrawn was ultimately proven right as to the Emperor’s approval, there was no doubt that he himself believed such approval would be forthcoming. “Very well, I will permit this attack.

  “But this is how it will be carried out…”

  * * *

  —

  “Bridge reports ready, Admiral,” Faro said. Her voice holds tension, her body stance trepidation. She is not convinced the battle can or will be won. “All weapons systems standing by, ready to activate at your command.”

  “Thank you, Commodore,” Thrawn said. “And the Darkhawk?”

  “In position, sir.” Her voice holds a fresh layer of uncertainty.

  “You do not believe we can achieve victory, Commodore.”

  She hesitates, her expression holding reluctance. “I’ve seen the scanner reports, sir,” she said. “I’ve counted the number of weapons emplacements. Each ship is nearly as big as we are…and there are two of them.”

  “Indeed,” Thrawn said. “But we have an advantage.”

  “Which is, sir?”

  “The Grysks have been studying the Empire,” Thrawn said. “They must therefore know Imperial ships and weapons. We shall use that knowledge against them.”

  “And, hopefully, their own cultural blind spots?” Faro suggested.

  “Incoming!” Sensor Officer Hammerly called suddenly. “Just out of lightspeed ahead of us. Configuration…it’s the ship we chased out of the Mokivj system, Admiral.”

  “Very good,” Thrawn said. Faro’s expression holds a degree less uncertainty now. “Proceed, Commodore. Let us see how we may turn their numerical advantage against them.”