Star Wars_ The Approaching Storm - Alan Dean Foster [134]
But there were too many skilled attackers. To ensure the safety of innocent bystanders, of shoppers and sales personnel, Luminara and Obi-Wan decided that a retreat was in order. It would be more dangerous to continue the fight out in the street, where they would again likely come under close-in fire from surrounding rooftops, but that was better than seeing dozens of inoffensive citizens cut down by the callous gang of professional killers.
Ogomoor got the word from one of his hirelings inside the compound and hurried to alert his frustrated snipers. “Be ready!” he instructed them via voice and comlink. “The Jedi are retreating! Let them all back out onto the street before you resume fire.” Returning his attention to the boulevard below, he added more softly but no less emphatically, “We don’t want even one of them to get away.”
Kneeling behind his sniper’s rifle on the parapet of the building on which they waited, one of the assassins inquired casually, “What about the Alwari who are with them? The two big ones and the little one?”
“Don’t worry about them. Our people on the ground will take care of them. Get the Jedi first, then their Padawans.” Eagerly, Ogomoor leaned forward to enjoy the forthcoming slaughter while exposing as little of his own precious self as possible.
Below, a recognizable garment appeared, vanished back under cover, appeared again. Come out, noble Jedi. Show yourselves. Step out in the street, into the clear, bright sunshine of Ansion. Step out where I can see you. I, and my very high-priced servants.
There, he shouted silently. He could see both Jedi, fighting side by side, emerging with obvious reluctance but emerging nonetheless from within the cover of the trading compound. He could see the two kneeling assassins on his left tensing as they prepared to fire. With luck and good fortune, it would all finally be over in less than a minute or two.
Unfortunately, the blessings of Jiaguin, the god of guile, were not with him that morning. The Alwari who descended upon the pair of snipers might as well have dropped out of the sky for all the intimation they gave of their presence. Knives and other traditional weapons flashed repeatedly in that same clear, bright sunshine of Ansion that Ogomoor had been counting on to facilitate the work of his hired assassins. As he whirled and raced for the exit that led down and away from the rooftop, he caught a passing glimpse of the bold motifs on the intruders’ garments. His eyes grew even wider than usual.
Situng Borokii—and Hovsgol Januul. Warriors of the two most important overclans. Ferocious fighters with reputations that extended the length and breadth of both hemispheres.
What were they doing here, in Cuipernam, interfering in a city brawl? He did not know and could not imagine. He knew only that the sunny rooftop was no longer a safe place to linger.
As he fled, he saw that similar scuffles were taking place on the roofs opposite, where other outriding Alwari were overpowering his remaining snipers. Without shooters on the rooftops to worry about, he feared the Jedi and their Padawans would make short work of his surviving workforce. Then there would be nothing standing between them, the city of Cuipernam’s municipal complex, and the Unity delegation. Unexpectedly, he found himself faced with the prospect of having to report yet another failure to his master. An especially expensive failure. Soergg would be less than pleased and more than furious. He would …
Cuipernam was not the only city on Ansion, and Soergg the Hutt not the only bossban worthy of the majordomo’s inimitable talents. Weary of having to report one failure after another, the redoubtable Ogomoor wondered as he descended the stairs three