Star Wars_ Fate of the Jedi 04_ Backlash - Aaron Allston [62]
Over against the far wall, not far from that door and beside a desk and computer console, was the blanketed mound Allana recalled. She led Anji over to it, keeping a wary eye back toward Monarg, making sure they never moved fully within his sight. As they reached the desk, the smell of fresh-brewed caf, strong as a Wookiee, assailed her nose and drove away the odors of paint and fuels; Monarg’s cup was there on the desk, just poured and steaming.
She lifted the edge of the blanket draping what had to be her droid friend.
And it was. R2-D2 stood there, silent, unmoving, his indicators unlit.
“Artoo?” Allana’s voice was almost too faint for her to hear. Was he dead, at least as dead as droids could be? Then she saw the restraining bolt plugged into the droid’s torso.
Of course he couldn’t wake up or answer. Monarg was stealing him. He had to keep the droid quiet so he could flush the droid’s memory and reprogram him.
Allana grabbed the restraining bolt and tugged at it. Her small fingers slipped from the rounded piece of metal. She grabbed and yanked again, more fiercely, with the same result.
Desperate, she looked back over her shoulder out the doors. Monarg was still in sight, his back to the dome. The fire was out, the fire extinguisher was at his feet, and his blaster pistol was in his hand. He looked back and forth, his posture suggesting that he was very, very angry.
A mechanic droid rolled past Allana. She saw tools on its rack, one of them a set of hydraulic gripper-pliers. She snatched the tool, letting the droid speed harmlessly past.
Monarg was turning now, back toward the dome.
Allana pushed Anji under a workbench, then moved up next to R2-D2 and let the blanket fall across them both. A moment later she heard, over the noise of busy droids, the sound of the doors shutting … sealing her in the shop with Monarg.
She moved as quietly as she could, making sure not to shift the blanket at all. She clamped the pliers onto the restraining bolt and began tugging. It still refused to come free.
She did not hear Monarg again until a few moments later, when the chair to her left creaked. She bit her lower lip and continued tugging. She could feel how curious and excited Anji was getting, like she thought they were playing a game. Allana tried to make Anji feel how serious she was, but that only made the nexu nervous.
C-3PO should be here by now. R2-D2’s bolt should come free. Nothing was going right. That seemed to be the way it always was for Grandpa Han, too.
She heard Monarg’s voice, a surprisingly smooth, mellow tone. She had expected him to sound gruff and mean. “Yes? What do you want?”
There was no answer. But a moment later the blanket concealing her was yanked aside. Monarg, seemingly as tall as a giant and twice as menacing, stood there, a mechanic droid beside him. The droid was pointing with one spindly arm at her, and as she came fully within view of its optical sensors it shifted so that it was pointing at the pliers.
Monarg grabbed her arm, yanking her away from the astromech. “You. You set the fire.”
She screamed, a high-pitched wail of distress, and kicked him in the shin. Then Anji jumped on his shoulders and tried to chomp the back of his neck. Her bite restrainer kept her teeth from closing quickly enough to break the skin, but the surprise of feeling the mouth of a nexu cub around his neck made Monarg scream and release Allana’s arm. At the same moment, the mechanic droid nimbly plucked the pliers from her hand and sped off back toward its intended task.
Monarg whirled in a circle, then reached up behind his head and grabbed Anji. If her quills hadn’t been safety dulled, they would have gone right through his hand. But as things were, he grabbed the scruff of her neck and pulled her off, then slammed her head down on his workbench—twice—and tossed her onto the hangar floor several meters away.
Anji