Clone Wars Gambit: Siege (34 page)

“T
EEBA
, I don’t think you should be doing this,” said Sufi. “I don’t think Teeb Kenobi would approve.”

Feeling the sluggish flow of her blood, Taria unfolded from her stretch. “Sufi, I know he wouldn’t. So isn’t it a good thing I don’t answer to him?”

“He’ll be cross,” said the little girl, Greti, whose startling presence in the Force shouted to be noticed. “Prickly he is, when he’s cross.”

Prickly
. Taria grinned. “He can prickle at me all he likes. Won’t make a blind bit of difference.”

Teeba Sufi and the child exchanged looks.

“Truly,” she added, and slipped the activated comlink into her bodysuit’s thigh pocket. “There’s no need to fret. I’ve known Obi-Wan my whole life, almost. If he’s cross with me, well, it won’t be the first time.”

Greti looked ready to argue. Then she changed her mind, and instead turned suddenly shy. “Teeba…”

Taria dropped to a crouch before her. “Yes, Greti?”

“Your hair,” said the girl. “It’s—pretty, it is.”

Xenophobic
, Senator Organa had called the people of Lanteeb. Rigidly prejudiced against anyone different.

“I expect it takes a little getting used to, doesn’t it?” Taria said softly, and with a glance included Teeba Sufi. “I don’t suppose you’ve ever seen hair this color before.”

Teeba Sufi’s face was stiff. “No.”

“It’s just hair. Underneath it, I’m the same as you.”

“No, you’re not,” said Greti, shaking her head. “Underneath it, you’re a Jedi.”

There was a deep, aching regret in the child’s voice. Looking at her, Taria realized Greti understood she was trapped here. For a moment she was furious with Obi-Wan, for waking the girl’s potential when he
knew
he’d have to leave her behind. And then she sighed.

He did what he had to. I can’t blame him for that
.

Standing, she looked at Sufi. “I have to go. Stay inside. No matter what you hear—don’t leave this sick house. Not unless there’s an order.”

Sufi reached for the child and pulled her close. “We won’t.”

“What about Bohle?” Greti protested.

“Her mam,” said Sufi. “I’ll send for her, Greti. Let the Teeba be about her business now.”

With a smile and a touch to Greti’s cheek, Taria left them. Outside, the square was alive with some thirty of the healthiest villagers learning the rudiments of blaster firing and how to throw what looked like homemade grenades. Their courage was admirable… and heartbreaking. They didn’t stand a chance against that horde of droids on the other side of the shield. She watched for a while as Obi-Wan and Anakin moved from group to group, trying to impart years of training and months of frontline experience in minutes. A fool’s errand, some would call it—but what else could they do? Tell everyone to sit on the ground and wait for the droids to break through the shield and kill them like nerfs?

No. And neither can I
.

Seeing her approach, Obi-Wan broke off his demonstration and walked to meet her. “
Taria—
”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re surprised? Really?”

“No,” he said, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I see you’ve been busy making bombs.”

“Among other things,” he said wearily. “We’re as armed as we can be.”

“But not as trained. Where do you want me?”

Heroically, he restrained himself. “Over there,” he said, pointing. “That group’s still waiting for basic blaster instruction.”

“Excellent,” she said, and got to work.

An hour later, they stopped to rest. After answering a spate of last-minute questions Taria left the villagers to pester Obi-Wan. Refusing to admit her pain and fatigue, she joined Anakin in the middle of the road leading out of Torbel, where he stood contemplating the droid army. The shield buzzed and flickered with every blaster-bolt impact.

“Here,” said Anakin, handing her his quarter-filled cup of water. “And don’t argue.”

Amused, grateful, she sipped and stared at the droids. “Have they stopped firing at all yet, today?”

“Only to reload,” he said, morose. He’d seen her comforting Obi-Wan at the shield, the night she arrived. For some reason their closeness had angered him, and that had distressed Obi-Wan. She had no intention of causing strife between them.

“Anakin, I need to ask you a favor.”

He glanced at her. “What?”

“Promise me you’ll always have Obi-Wan’s back. And be there for him, when I die.”

After a long silence, he nodded. “All right.”

She swallowed the last mouthful of water. “He’d die for you. You do know that?”

Another nod. “I know.”

His tone was faintly hostile, as though she’d broken some unspoken rule. And maybe she had. She smiled. “Just checking.”

When she didn’t say anything else, he raised an eyebrow. “What—you’re not going to ask if I’d die for him?”

And that made her laugh. “Just how stupid do you think I am?”

He was still trying to decide exactly what she meant by that when Obi-Wan joined them, and nodded at the ranks of droids beyond the shield.

“Have you noticed what’s skulking at the back of the line?”

“Of course,” said Anakin. “Super battle droids.”

“The Seps must have emptied the city of droids by now,” said Obi-Wan. “It’s only a matter of time before they ramp up their bombardment. Anakin—are we ready for it?”

Anakin shrugged. “As ready as we’ll ever be. I can’t make the shield any stronger, not without overloading the generators or the power plant.”

“And you’re sure we can’t spare any more liquid damotite? We could use some extra grenades.”

From the look on Anakin’s face, it wasn’t the first time Obi-Wan had asked the question. “Not if you want to keep the shield running, no.”

“Liquid damotite?” said Taria, surprised. “That’s your fuel source? Isn’t it a bit—”

“Volatile?” Anakin managed a tight smile. “Yes. Good, isn’t it? If the shields fail we should be able to reduce quite a few droids to scrap metal with our homemade grenades.”

He was trying to make light of the notion, but it frightened him, she could tell. As well it should. The homemade grenades were jars and bottles and tins filled with fuel, the detonators a strip of cloth soaked in lamp oil. As bombs went, they were simple, brutal and most likely ineffective. The risk to the villagers was enormous.

But this is war, and in war there is no safe
.

She looked at Obi-Wan. “Well, perhaps there’s something else we can—”

And then her comlink sounded. Retrieving it from her bodysuit pocket, she thumbed it to transmit.

“Damsin.”

“
This is Mace Windu. We’ve got reinforcements and we’re engaging Grievous full-strength, attempting to breach the blockade and get ground troops to your location. We should—
”

A high-pitched, electronic squeal drowned his voice—and then the comlink went dead.

“Ah,” said Obi-Wan. “I think Grievous has worked out how to jam our comms again. How inconsiderate.”

“Yeah, that’s probably why I don’t like him,” said Anakin. “He’s got no manners.”

Watching them smile at each other, Taria felt their kinship and the complicated love. They were such an odd pairing on the face of it: Obi-Wan so self-contained, Anakin so reckless. But they’d found their balance, and now they were two halves of a whole. Anakin had been the making of Obi-Wan… and Obi-Wan had shown Anakin what it meant to be a good man.

I’m glad, I’m so glad, that I got to see it
.

“Obi-Wan!
Obi-Wan!
”

Turning, Taria saw a scarred, middle-aged man hurrying down the road toward them.

“Rikkard,” said Obi-Wan, under his breath. “He’s the head miner and village speaker.”

“Obi-Wan,” said Rikkard, reaching them. Out of breath, close to limping, sweat slicked his stubbled face. “Folk want to know what to do next. I thought maybe the strongest men could start blocking the streets with groundcars, like you suggested.”

“Yes, Rikkard, good idea,” said Obi-Wan. “And everyone else should stay calm. Have you put the evacuation plan in place?”

“There’s some not too happy about it,” said Rikkard, scowling. “But yes. It’s all set.”

“Rikkard—” Obi-Wan grasped the man’s bony shoulder. “I thought we’d agreed the mine would be the safest place for people to hide.”

“We know you’re worried about the raw damotite,” Anakin added. “There aren’t enough protective suits, you’ve run out of herbal pills, and people are already weakened from the toxic smoke. But Rikkard—you have to trust us. All of that is nothing compared with a full droid assault.”

“Which we won’t have to face if your shield jiggery holds,” said Rikkard, still scowling. “Will we?”

Anakin folded his arms. “It’ll hold. The mine is a fallback, that’s all. But when we give the signal
—if
we give the signal—then you have to send
everyone
but the commando teams down there. No exceptions. Understood?”

“Understood,” Rikkard muttered.

Taria watched his limping retreat for a moment, then looked at Obi-Wan and Anakin.

“Commando teams?”

“A little morale booster,” said Obi-Wan, shrugging. “An exaggeration, perhaps, but if it helps…”

He had a point. “You didn’t tell him about Windu’s ground assault.”

“I didn’t want to get his hopes up. Let it be a nice surprise.”

Yes, indeed. Let it be a nice surprise for all of us
.

Anakin tipped his head back to look through the plasma-shield ceiling and into the blue sky beyond. “I can’t tell what’s happening up there. Can you?”

“No,” said Obi-Wan. “Taria?”

She shook her head. “Sorry.”

They were all too tired to sense so far. She just hoped they weren’t too tired to fight.

“Obi-Wan, I’m going to get my generator team together,” said Anakin. “Make sure they’re clear on what warning signs they need to look for. You’re all right?”

“Of course,” said Obi-Wan, faintly smiling. “You?”

“Never better,” said Anakin, and pulled him into a swift, hard embrace. “Take care.”

“He’s so terribly demonstrative,” Obi-Wan complained, watching Anakin half walk, half jog toward the power plant. “Has been from the first. And nothing I say seems to break him of the habit.”

Taria smothered a smile. “Yes. It’s very un-Jedi of him. What a crushing disappointment he must be to you.”

Obi-Wan gave her a look. “Tell me—what will it take to get you down the mine?”

“A kidnapping.”

“Ha!” He shook his head. “Don’t tempt me.”

“I mean it, Obi-Wan,” she said, her smile fading. “We both know you need another lightsaber in this fight.”

“What I
need
is not to—”

They both felt it, a shock of warning through the Force. A moment later the spindly battle droids lowered their blasters and parted ranks—and the hulking super battle droids advanced, their arms extended, the mouths of their inbuilt laser cannons glowing crimson. A heartbeat of silence—and then they opened fire.

Bam. Bam. Bam
. The heavy-duty laser bolts slammed against the shield. The plasma shivered and shimmered, turning bloodred on impact, the color fading too slowly. Under the noise of the escalated bombardment they heard a high-pitched, mechanical whine.

Obi-Wan turned. “That’s Generator Six. We’d better look at it, in case Anakin can’t get there in time.”

Another hollow
boom
. Another shiver through the shield. And then, as though Durd’s army had only been clearing its throat until now, every battle droid and swarming mosquito opened fire with the SBDs—and the afternoon’s daylight turned scarlet.

“Well,” said Taria. “I guess they finally got the message the Republic means business.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “I guess they did.”

He grabbed her hand, and they ran.

A
T SOME POINT
Anakin stopped hearing the noise of the attack. He could feel the blaster concussions against his skin, feel them violently humming through his muscles and bones and his prosthetic arm and hand, but he ignored them. He had more important things to worry about. How long since the SBDs had opened fire? Two hours? Three? He had no idea. He’d lost track of time.

As far as he knew, Obi-Wan was still at the power plant with Devi, making sure the creaky machinery didn’t fall apart. Taria was working the fuel supply line, keeping the liquid damotite coming, keeping the power plant and the shield alive. And he was running the shield’s groaning perimeter, around and around and around each generator without stopping, because the moment the shield failed the village was dead. Sure, he had a handful of helpers, Tarnik and Guyne and their friends, doing what they could to keep the generators going, but they were ordinary men and women. Machines didn’t speak to them, didn’t whisper in their blood.

He’d forgotten what it felt like to breathe without pain, run without pain, use the Force without pain. His whole world was pain… and he couldn’t imagine a world without it.

The rest of Torbel’s people were gathered on the square under Rikkard’s stern eye. The commando teams, with their few blasters and their dangerous homemade grenades and their vibro-picks and axes and crowbars and rigged-up blasting caps, huddled together and waited for the worst to happen—for the shield to fail, and the droids to advance. Everyone else—the mothers, the fathers, and the children—waited for the order to flee underground. Sufi’s patients were loaded onto stretchers and antigrav sleds, ready for a swift evacuation.

Their fear was oppressive. Fighting it, Anakin gritted his teeth.

We’ve done everything we can for them. We couldn’t have done more
.

As he reached Generator Eight for the fifteenth time, or the twentieth, who knew anymore, he saw a villager on her knees with its housing sprung free, frantically pulling out its wiry entrails. There were sparks and spits of smoke, and the bleeding edge of the shield was starting to melt…

“Get out of the way!” he said, and half dragged, half Force-pushed the woman aside. Plunging his hands into the generator’s innards he let that strange instinct guide him, let it show his fingers where to go, what to heal.

And then the villager—Chiba, that was her name—screamed and pointed and he looked, and saw the same melting along the edges of sections ten and twelve.

Oh, stang. This is it
.

“Chiba!” he shouted, so she’d hear him over the endless booming blasts. “Run to the power plant and tell Obi-Wan the shield’s failing. And then tell Rikkard it’s time to get down the mine, as deep as you can go.”

Chiba was young and terrified. “But—but—”

“
Go!
” he howled, and used the Force to make his point. Chiba ran.

Dizzy, he could hear the escalating sound of wrongness in the shield, in the generators. He took a deep breath, banished all thought and fear of what this was going to cost him… and plunged himself into the Force to buy them more time.