The factory floor below was deserted. He stretched out to the Force, trying to track down the agitated alien minds he could sense beneath him.
Further to the west, perhaps? Yes, he decided: somewhere a little ways west of his position. He frowned, trying to visualize the layout of the plant... Of course. Cowardly or merely very cautious, the Neimoidians would have set up shop in Production Area Four, where they could keep an eye on the tunnel leading to the Binalie estate.
He set off that direction, keeping a wary eye overhead for wandering STAR
patrols. But all the ones he could see were a good distance away, either swooping behind him to the east near Roshton's position, or else doing tight circles around the C-9979 landing ship over near the plant's west door. The cacophony from Roshton's position was definitely growing louder, possibly the droids from the landing ship now close enough to add their strength to the attack. A new sound shrieked through the air, and he turned in time to see a Republic gunship dive toward the ground, sweeping the droid positions with rapid-fire laser fire. It swung upward again, and was cutting around for another pass when it exploded in a brilliant red-and-yellow fireball. And then he was at the skylight over the Area Four control station. Again cleaning off a section of the transparisteel, he looked down.
There they were, directly below him on the control platform: the two Neimoidians who had earlier invaded Lord Binalie's office, plus a few more in much drabber clothing, all gathered together around a plotting display that had been set up in front of the Cranscoc twillers. The Master Creator, Gehad, was jabbing at something on the display, apparently arguing with Commander Ashel about it. Milling alertly around the control platform were a half dozen battle droids, their attention and blasters turned outward. The skylight's fastening catch was at the inside base directly across from Tories. Reaching out with the Force, he undid it and swung the skylight open on its hinges.
Taking a deep breath, he dropped through the opening.
He landed on the platform directly behind Commander Ashel, his knees bending to absorb the impact. Ashel had time to twitch, and someone else had time to give a startled squeak, before Tories was upright again with his arm firmly around Ashel's chest and the business end of his lightsaber pressed just as firmly against the side of the Neimoidian's head. "Everyone stay still," he warned. But the droids' reflexes were apparently set on hairtrigger.
Before Tories could say more, or Ashel could say anything at all, they whirled toward the platform, their blasters spitting fire toward him.
Tories took a long step away from Ashel and the others, igniting his lightsaber and whipping it against the incoming blaster bolts. Two seconds later, all six droids lay shattered and smoking, destroyed by their own backscattered fire. Before the stunned Neimoidians could react, Tories took another long step back and regained his grip on Ashel's robes. "Let's try that again," he said mildly. "Everyone stay still."
"What do you want?" Ashel asked, his voice shaking.
"I want this to be over," Tories told him. He glanced at the Cranscoc twillers crouching down in front of the control system mud flow, wondering how they were taking all this.
But if they were worried, surprised, or even fully aware of what was going on, he couldn't see it. "Contact the command ship and order them to surrender."
"Impossible." Ashel made a cautious gesture toward the ruined droids. "We cannot communicate except through the droids, and you have destroyed them all.
"
"Really," Tories said. It was almost certainly a lie, but there was an easy way to call the other's bluff. "Fine. Come on."
"Where do we go?" Gehad asked timorously.
"It just so happens I know where there are other droids you can use,"
Tories told him. "And watch it. I doubt you want the kind of trouble I can make for you."
Keeping a grip on Ashel's robe, he led the way down the platform steps.
The Neimoidians' sealing of the tunnel exit had been achieved by the simple procedure of welding the leading edge of the ramp solidly to the floor, and it took him only a couple of seconds to cut through the weld with his lightsaber.
Ashel quivered in his grip as he did so, but said nothing.
Their footsteps echoed eerily as they headed east through the empty plant. Tories kept alert for a surprise attack, but apparently the Neimoidians really had sent all the rest of the droids outside.
The battle was still going on as they reached the east door and stepped out into the night air. "There are your droids," Tories said, giving Ashel an imperative push toward the light and noise. "Let's go talk to them."
"You cannot be serious," the Neimoidian protested, cringing back against Tories' grip. "We are not equipped for battle."
"Too bad," Tories said. "But if that's the only way to stop them..."
He broke off as, abruptly, the circle of blasters around Roshton's position fell silent. Something in the sky to the left caught his eye, and he looked over as a pair of STAPs plummeted to the ground.
He craned his head to look up into the night sky. There, almost directly above him, was the fading light of an expanding gas cloud.
General Tiis and the Whipsaw had come through.
"I guess we won't need to talk to the droids, after all," he commented.
He could see movement from Roshton's position now as the clone troopers abandoned their positions, running toward him and the plant now wide open behind him.
"Come on," he added, returning his lightsaber to his belt and nudging the Neimoidians toward the approaching troops.
The two groups met halfway. "I see you've been busy," Roshton greeted Tories as he trotted to a halt, gesturing his troops to continue on toward the plant.
"What's it like inside?"
"Empty, as far as I could tell," Tories told him. "The tunnel's been unsealed, too, if you want to get the techs back in."
"Excellent," Roshton said in grim satisfaction. "We'll get the Cranscoc to undo any retooling they did, then get back to work.
"I doubt the Neimoidians got very far with their retooling," Tories said.
"Speaking of which, what should I do with them?"
Roshton glanced past him toward the plant. "Would you mind taking them to Commander Bratt? He's in one of the gunships heading over to shut down the Number Two C-9979."
"No problem," Tories said. "I'll see you later."
Roshton nodded and hurried off after his men. Tories started his own party off in the opposite direction. "It is not yet over," Ashel warned as they walked.
"We have not yet been defeated."
"You just keep thinking that," Tories said. They'd reached the site of Roshton's stand now, and he paused for a moment, gazing across the battlefield. The ground was almost literally covered with the wreckage of droids, with the bodies of probably a dozen clone troopers lying among the debris, their armor no longer white. Fires were still burning in the remains of a couple of vehicles, one of them the gunship Tories had seen being destroyed. Standing amid the general carnage were probably a hundred more droids, still upright yet with an oddly sagging look about them, where the loss of their control ship had left them.
He was still gazing at them when, with a sort of collective twitch, they came back to life.
For perhaps half a second the sheer unexpectedness of it froze him to the spot. But for the Neimoidians, that half-second was all the time they needed.
At a barked word from Ashel, the Neimoidians dropped flat on the ground.
And Tories found himself standing alone in the middle of a ring of blasters. There was no time for anything fancy, and literally nowhere to go but up. He leaped up and sideways, igniting his lightsaber and slashing behind him as he arced over the revived droid army, trusting in the Force to guide his hand and deflect the shots. He hit the ground running and dodging, heading away from the plant toward the city, a hail of blaster bolts nipping at his robes.