Jedi Voyage #6 - The Dark Ruse

Chapter Seven

  At least I'm alive, Anakin thought. I may be stupid, but I'm alive.
  It was a very un-Jedi thought. Jedi did not berate themselves. Anakin didn't care. He felt stupid and careless. He tried to rearrange himself within the garbage container he found himself in, but there was no room, and whenever he moved, his shoulder sent out a scream of protest. He wasn't hurt badly. He had landed on his shoulder when the thermal detonator hit. He had seen it but not soon enough. It had exploded, and he'd been hit.
  And dropped his lightsaber. Something a Jedi was never, ever supposed to do.
  Now he was being brought somewhere. He had been dazed from the thermal detonator, picked up like a sack of onions, and dropped into a container on top of a pile of greasy bones from the feast. His assailant had ripped his utility belt off his tunic, so he'd lost his comlink, too. He had been banged down the tunnel, been thrown into a vehicle, and now was careening... somewhere.
  He couldn't wait to hear what his Master would say about this one.
  Things were bad enough with Obi-Wan. What would happen when he found out that Anakin had lost his lightsaber and been captured?
  Anakin pictured the exchange.
  I saw the thermal detonator too late, Master. It was a surprise.
  There are no surprises when the Force is with you, my young Padawan.
  Anakin grimaced. He couldn't wait for that one. If he ever got out of here.
  He moved his fingers along the container. It was a standard-issue garbage bin. The lid was hinged and had a simple lock. If he could manage to get on his back, he might be able to kick the lid with enough power to shatter the lock.
  He could try it. He was on fire to get out of this stinking prison. But thanks to Obi-Wan, he had learned how to wait.
  He was almost certain that he'd been captured by Striker's gang. Without his lightsaber, he might not be taken for a Jedi. Perhaps he was one of many prisoners. He guessed that he would be taken to Striker's hideout. He could bide his time and observe. They were here to gather information, after all. Maybe he could discover something valuable about Striker, something they could use.
  So maybe the best thing he could do was lie here and wait to be released.
  As he had that thought, Anakin felt the speeder slow. It stopped, and the container was grabbed roughly, then dropped. Anakin had braced himself, but he banged his head on the side. Patience was hard to find now, with a smarting head, but he reached for it, calming himself for whatever lay ahead.
  The container lid was yanked open. Rough hands reached in. Anakin let his body go slack. He was grabbed and slung over someone's shoulder, then dumped on the ground.
  Anakin looked up into cruel yellow eyes.
  "There's your welcome, slug." A giant Imbat smiled down at him with mossy teeth. Then he reached for his utility belt, where a pair of stun cuffs dangled. They looked like delicate bracelets in his huge hand. He slapped them on to Anakin. Then with a grunt, he simply turned and walked off.
  Anakin rose unsteadily to his feet. His shoulder still ached, and he could feel a lump rising on the side of his forehead near his left eye.
  Around him, activity swirled, but no one paid him any attention. He was free to wander, but the stun cuffs guaranteed he would not be able to wander far. From what he could tell, he was the only prisoner.
  Anakin did what Obi-Wan would want him to do. He observed.
  The substation was even larger than the one Decca had used. Banks of monitoring equipment, now unused, ran along one wall. Benches and chairs had been ripped from their floor supports and we're piled in a corner. A weapons rack held an impressive array of small arms.
  The gang members were busy and didn't even glance at him. Some were checking and cleaning weapons. Others sat at improvised computer stations, entering information. Others manned comm units. Everyone seemed to have a job. Compared to the slipshod air of Feeana's operation and the chaos and suppressed violence of Decca's, this seemed like a professional operation.
  Which told him that of all three criminals, Striker was the one to worry about.
  Anakin had no idea where he was. How would Obi-Wan ever be able to find him?
  But he didn't want Obi-Wan to find him. Not until he had a chance to learn something. It would redeem him in his Master's eyes. Maybe he could discover something important and then escape.
  Anakin drifted closer to the computer banks. He focused his attention on the fingers of a man entering information. He tapped into the Force to help him. He felt time slow down, and he tried to out words together from the letters the man was entering.
  B I O... he missed several letters, someone was walking by... P O N
  T O X
  Frustrated, Anakin leaned forward to see. A huge hand suddenly landed on his sore shoulder, sending a fresh jolt of pain through his body. "The boss wants to see you."
  Without checking to make sure that he was following, the Imbat loped across the space. He accessed a durasteel door that led to a room off the main substation. He waited for it to open, then shoved Anakin inside. The door slid shut behind him. The room was almost empty except for a bare table and one chair. The man standing in front of him was smiling and holding out his hands. "Forgive my manner of bringing you, my friend. I was impatient to see you."
  Anakin felt shock ripple through him.
  It was their greatest enemy, Granta Omega.