Star Wars_ Cloak of Deception - James Luceno [10]
Moving with preternatural silence and swiftness, Qui-Gon advanced on Cohl’s pod, the lightsaber gripped in his right hand, concealing himself at every opportunity behind other pods. With all the noise in the hangar, he knew that it wasn’t going to be easy to distract the two guards. But he had to buy Obi-Wan at least a few moments.
Sprawled atop the curving nose of one of the pods was what remained of a battle droid’s upper torso and elongated head. Glancing at Cohl’s sentries, Qui-Gon thumbed the activator button above the lightsaber’s ridged handgrip.
A rod of brilliant green energy hissed from the sword’s alloy hilt, thrumming as it came in contact with the thin air. With a single one-handed swipe of his lightsaber, Qui-Gon cleaved the droid’s head from its thin neck. At the same time, he extended his left hand, palm outward, and with a blast of Force power sent the severed head hurtling across the hangar, where it struck the deck with a strident clank, not five meters from where the terrorists stood.
The pair swung to the sound, with weapons raised.
And in that instant, Obi-Wan disappeared in a blur, headed for Cohl’s pod.
Midlevel in the freighter’s centersphere, Cohl, Rella, Boiny, and the rest of Cohl’s band gazed wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the cache of aurodium ingots, which had been removed from the Revenue’s security cabin and piled—lovingly—atop a repulsorsled. Hypnotic in their beauty, the ingots glowed with a constantly shifting inner light that summoned all colors of the rainbow.
Even Dofine and his four bridge officers could scarcely tear their eyes away.
“Take my breath and call me wheezy,” Boiny said. “Now I’ve seen it all.”
Cohl snapped out of his reverie and turned to Dofine, whose thin wrists were secured in shiny stun cuffs.
“You have our gratitude, Commander. Most Neimoidians wouldn’t have been so obliging.”
Dofine glowered. “You go too far, Captain.”
Cohl’s broad shoulders heaved in dismissal. “Tell that to the members of the Trade Federation Directorate.”
He nodded to Rella to get the sled under way, then took Boiny by the shoulders and steered him toward an inset control panel.
“Patch into the central control computer and tell it to run a diagnostic on the fuel-drivers. When the computer locates the thermal detonator, it should order an abandon ship.”
Boiny nodded in comprehension.
“Be sure to convince it to jettison all the cargo pods and barges,” Cohl added.
Dofine’s eyes widened in revelation. “So, the lommite is important, after all.”
Cohl turned to him. “You’re confusing me with someone who cares one way or another what goes on between the Trade Federation and the Nebula Front.”
Dofine was confused. “Then why are you saving the cargo?”
“Saving it?” Cohl put his hands on his hips and laughed heartily. “I’m merely providing the Acquisitor with a target-rich environment, Commander.”
With the same extraordinary nimbleness that had guided him to the terrorists’ pod, Obi-Wan returned to the Jedi craft.
“Everything is in place, Master,” he said, just loudly enough to be heard over the wailing sirens.
Qui-Gon motioned him toward the hatch. But Obi-Wan hadn’t even raised a foot when all the pods in the hangar began to levitate and wheel toward one hangar portal or another.
“What’s happening?”
Qui-Gon looked around in mild perplexity. “They’re jettisoning the cargo.”
“Hardly the act of terrorists, Master.”
Qui-Gon’s brow furrowed in thought. “The central control computer wouldn’t allow this unless the freighter was in serious jeopardy.”
“Perhaps it is, Master.”
Qui-Gon agreed. “Either way, Padawan, we’re better off inside our craft. Unless Cohl has failed in his mission, he should be arriving at any moment.”
Barely keeping pace with the