by James Luceno
“Yes,” Valorum conceded, “you’re right.”
“And what of the Senex Houses?” Ryyder asked Palpatine.
“They will support whatever actions we take, if only on the chance that we will rescind the restrictions that have prevented them from trading directly with the Republic.”
Valorum considered Palpatine’s remarks, then shook his head. “Even if we are successful in securing Senate approval to proceed as you suggest, a show of force at Asmeru could provoke the Nebula Front to kill their hostages.”
Palpatine smiled tolerantly. “Supreme Chancellor, the hostages are Jedi Knights.”
“Even Jedi can be killed,” Antilles argued.
“Then perhaps we should leave it to the Jedi High Council to decide a course of action.”
Valorum stretched the baggy skin under his eyes. “I concur. I will attend to the matter personally.”
The lean air of the plateau was sibilant with the hiss of laser bolts, resonant with the thrum of lightsabers, energized by detonations of artificial light.
Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, and Ki-Adi-Mundi stood with their backs pressed to one another, deflecting a hail of blaster bolts the terrorists poured into the plaza. The blades of their lightsabers—green, blue, and purple—moved faster than the eye could follow, blazing bright as novas as they sent the bolts caroming from the ancient stone walls and ricocheting off the sloping faces of the pyramids.
Elsewhere, standing tall on her extended legs, Vergere led a fleet assault up the staircase of an adjacent structure, her gleaming emerald blade raised above her downy head. Two of the judicials followed in her long stride, discharging their weapons as they ran.
Not far away, Saesee Tiin led another pair of judicials in a charge against a half a dozen terrorists entrenched in a narrow alley between two of the pyramids, his blade a blur of cobalt as it parried bolts and sent blasters flying from outstretched hands.
Yaddle and Depa remained with the injured cruiser captain near the entrance to the northern pyramid. Pinned down by a torrent of fire from the summit of the ion cannon bunker, they swung and windmilled their lightsabers, repulsing bolts as if in some crazed sports contest.
Most of the slaves had scattered with the first bolts fired after the brutal execution of the three who had helped the Jedi. But several of the bioengineered bipeds were being used as living shields.
Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, and Ki-Adi-Mundi began to work their way deeper into the plaza, intent on reaching the grounded CloakShape fighters, or perhaps even the gunship, before any of the terrorists could get to the crafts.
Qui-Gon advanced with determination, scarcely aware of the thrum of his blade, or the chaotic fusillade of blaster bolts. His mind turned with each and every action of his adversaries, whirling right, left, or wherever needed. He left no traces of himself in any particular place or direction, focusing only on what lay ahead, with the past smoothing out behind him like the wake of a settling boat.
He remained subtle and imperceptible, invisible in his detachment, never lingering to watch, or clinging to thoughts of what he might have done.
Wounded by deflected bolts, terrorists fell in his path, though he had yet to meet any of them head-on, and by the looks of things wouldn’t. Already they were retreating fast for the fighters.
“If they launch, we’ll really have our hands full,” he told Obi-Wan in a moment of quiet.
Then a new sound whipped up the frigid air. Around the sharp edge of the southern pyramid came two of the repulsorlift vessels the Jedi had last seen on the lake.
Bolts from the crafts’ repeating blasters lanced into the plaza, carbonizing the cut stones where they hit. In unison, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan leapt for cover, while Ki-Adi-Mundi parried a stream of fire that nearly spun him completely around.
The vessels came about for another run, firing wildly.
Momentarily overwhelmed, the trio of Jedi were forced to fall back. Qui-Gon saw that Vergere’s and Tiin’s teams were also being driven back down the steps and into the plaza. First to hit level ground, Vergere directed the judicials to race for the shelter of the northern pyramid, but only one of the men made it. The other was cut down by fire from a nearby tower.
The two judicials who had fought beside Tiin were wounded. The Iktotchi carried one of them under his left arm, while he continued to divert bolts with the lightsaber clutched in his right hand. The other judicial scampered backwards, covering their retreat amid a storm of fire from the gunboats.
In a blur of motion, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan hurried to Tiin’s aid, spinning and leaping in the face of the onslaught.
The gunboats had completed their pass and were swooping in for another strafing run. At a nod from Qui-Gon, he and Obi-Wan leapt ten meters into the air with their swords raised, ripping the repulsorlift engine from the lead craft.
Sparks showered down on them as they landed and rolled for cover. Overhead, the gunboat careened out of control and struck the upper story of the palace, exploding into white-hot fragments and loosing an avalanche of stone onto the plaza.
Tiin and the judicials reached the safety of the pyramid entrance just ahead of the rockslide. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan followed them inside, as bolts from the second gunboat’s repeater blaster rained against the portal’s engraved columns and monolithic lintel.
Yaddle and the others were massed in the rear of the corridor.
Flattened against the wall, Qui-Gon peered into the plaza. “We have to get to the fighters.”
“If we have to, we will,” Tiin said.
Obi-Wan nodded at Qui-Gon and reactivated his blade.
Lightsabers raised, they charged back into the plaza.
* * *
The High Council Chamber felt empty without the three Masters who had accompanied Vergere, Qui-Gon, and his Padawan to Asmeru. Now it was Yoda who stood at the center of the inlaid mosaic floor, pacing while Mace Windu and the others discussed what was to be done.
“Even without word from the Prominence, we can’t assume that the ship was destroyed, or that any who were aboard have been killed,” Windu was saying. “Everything I feel about the situation tells me that Yaddle and the others are alive.”
“Alive, she is,” Yoda said. “The others, too. But in grave danger, they are.”
“That supports the Nebula Front’s claim that they’re holding a dozen hostages,” Adi Gallia said. “They’re demanding that the Eriadu summit be cancelled.”
“Valorum must not give in to them,” Oppo Rancisis cautioned.
“He isn’t going to acquiesce to the demands,” Windu assured everyone. “He’s aware that by doing so he would only lessen the chances for ratification of the taxation proposal.”
“The Nebula Front is not the important concern here,” Yarael Poof said. “It is the Trade Federation that matters.”
Yoda turned to the long-necked Master. “Thought to be less important, the Nebula Front is. But directing this, they are. Directing all of this.” He paced through a circle, then stopped. “Moving us around like pieces on a holo-game board.”
“Then we need to finish the game,” Even Piell said with conviction.
Windu nodded. “I assured Supreme Chancellor Valorum that there was no need for him to deliver an apology in person. We agreed to intervene in this matter. Therefore, this is as much our responsibility as it is his.”
“Too little thought, we gave this,” Yoda said pensively. “Unrevealed forces at work.” He glanced at Windu. “Clouded, this is. Muddled by motives difficult to perceive.”
Windu interlocked his hands and rested his elbows on his knees. “The senate has promised the Supreme Chancellor whatever authority he needs to deal with the crisis. But we cannot leave the decision to him.”
Yoda nodded. “Focused on the trade summit, he is.”
“The Judicial Department has also been given expanded authority,” Windu continued. “They advocate dispatching additional forces from Eriadu, which is only a jump from Asmeru’s location in the Senex sector.”<
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“The judicials are on Eriadu to safeguard Supreme Chancellor Valorum and the delegates,” Gallia said.
“The Judicial Department feels certain that they have enough personnel there to deal with both situations.”
“Do we have any assurances that the Senex Houses will stay out of this?” Poof asked.
“We could offer them a deal,” Piell said. “They have long wanted to trade with the Republic, but have been shunned because of continued violations of the Rights of Sentience. If we offer to arbitrate an accord between them and the Republic, I’m certain they would agree to overlook any territorial infringements that arise from the situation at Asmeru.”
Yoda gazed at the floor and shook his head back and forth. “Deeper and darker and murkier this becomes.” He looked up at Windu. “How many Jedi on Eriadu?”
“Twenty.”
“Send ten to Asmeru with the judicials to help Master Tiin and the others,” Yoda said in a troubled voice. “Pay our debts when they come due, we will.”
Windu nodded somberly.
“May the Force be with them,” Gallia said for everyone.
Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, Tiin, and Ki-Adi-Mundi surged from the pyramid entrance, engaging the terrorists that had driven them back. A quarter of the way across the immense plaza, the Jedi spread out in a wedge formation, their constantly moving blades fending off blaster bolts loosed from ahead and to either side. Behind the energy barrier fashioned by the lightsabers, Yaddle, Depa, Vergere, and two of the judicials raced out to divert fire from the rear.
The point of the wedge, Qui-Gon advanced steadily into the fray, whirling and crouching, his green blade sonorous as it sent bolts arching every which way. Terrorists fell wounded from the surrounding stairways, balconies, and rooftops, but none of them fled.
You will have to kill all of us, the spokesman had said.
Unexpectedly, the unrelenting blasterfire began to taper off. Qui-Gon took a moment to look around, realizing in a rush that the terrorists were suddenly directing fire toward the heavily bulwarked perimeter of the plaza.
With eerie, tremolo war cries, hundreds of slaves charged into the plaza from the deep alleys separating the pyramids. Lacking anything in the way of shields, they brandished stone axes and knives, spears fashioned from the wooden handles of tools, and whatever other implements they had managed to sharpen or provide with an edge.
Blaster bolts felled them by the score, but still they came, resolved to overthrow the outsiders who had robbed them of what little freedom and dignity they possessed.
Qui-Gon grasped that the uprising had to have been in the works for some time. But determination alone wasn’t going to win the day against blasters.
He and Obi-Wan pressed their attack, Vergere off to one side of them, leaping high into the air and returning to the ground with her lightsaber slashing. Caught between the rebelling slaves and the Jedi, the terrorists gathered in two lines, one to handle each front.
A second surprise gave Qui-Gon pause. Some of the terrorists were succumbing to blasterfire. It seemed improbable that the slaves had somehow managed to reconfigure blasters to suit their fingerless hands.
Then he saw where the fire was coming from.
Advancing in leap-frog fashion came a contingent of terrorists, led by the Bith who had been Qui-Gon’s informant.
Events of the day had splintered the Nebula Front into two factions: the militants responsible for the attack on Valorum, and the moderates who had for so many years restricted themselves to nonviolent actions against the Trade Federation.
The militants clearly hadn’t anticipated insurrection by their own confederates. All at once the race for the grounded CloakShape fighters became more desperate than ever.
One of the starfighters was already lifting off on repulsorlift power. Realizing what was occurring below, the pilot wheeled the craft through a half turn and opened up with the forward laser cannons. Each hyphen of raw energy decimated the opposition. Stone blasted from the encompassing structures, and lightning-bolt walls whizzed through the air like shrapnel, tearing into those who had managed to flee the fatal energy beams themselves.
Qui-Gon understood that the one starfighter could turn the tide of battle—not only against the alliance of slaves and moderates, but also against the Jedi.
Even as he was thinking it, the hovering CloakShape began to rotate toward the Jedi’s side of the battle arena. The wingtip lasers had swung into view, poised to fire, when without warning the starfighter exploded. Pieces of its angled wings slammed against the face of the tractor beam grid, and its flaming fuselage spun down into the plaza.
Qui-Gon glanced up from where he had flattened himself to the ground. The landing platform was littered with white-hot wreckage, small bits of which had burned holes in his cloak.
His eyes searched the plaza for signs of the weapon that had brought down the ship, only to grasp that the devastating bolt hadn’t come from any downside emplacement.
It had come from above.
A crimson and white craft streaked overhead, so close that it rattled Qui-Gon’s teeth.
“Judicial Lancet,” Obi-Wan said when the sound of the starfighter’s passing had roared through.
White veins in the blue dome of the sky told Qui-Gon that other ships were coming down the well.
He swung back to regard Depa and the judicials, one of whom was speaking into his wrist comm. Sensing Qui-Gon’s gaze on him, the judicial looked up and raised his left fist in a sign of confidence.
Qui-Gon raised his gaze to the sky. From the south, a Corellian cruiser was on the approach.
The sight of the descending fighters didn’t deter the radicals from continuing their fight for the CloakShapes, however. Three more starfighters lifted out of the plaza. But rather than waste time pouring fire against the slaves, the ships rocketed off to the east, with a pair Lancets in close pursuit. A fourth CloakShape whirred noisily to life, managing, during its reeling ascent, to take out an incoming Lancet.
Off to Qui-Gon’s left, the ion cannon pulsed. Dazed by a direct hit, another Lancet rolled over on its back and dived silently toward the parched ground. Shortly, an explosion boiled high into the air behind the southern pyramid.
The cannon continued to send darts of disabling fire skyward, but the alliance of slaves and moderates were already storming the emplacement. A dozen warriors fell to the charge, but the rest persevered, lobbing thermal grenades from where they hunkered behind a toppled monument.
A moment later the gun emplacement belched a column of howling fire and collapsed in on itself.
The ongoing turmoil in the plaza had prevented the cruiser from landing. While it hovered at the level of the pyramid summits, hatches opened in the underside of the ship and twenty or more figures rappeled down on monofilament cables. Half of them were armed with blasters, and the rest with glowing lightsabers.
The battle raged furiously for several more minutes. Then, hemmed in on all sides, the militants began to surrender their weapons and drop to their knees. Captives of the slaves, other groups were marched into the plaza with hands raised above their heads.
Tiin, Depa Billaba, and some of the Jedi reinforcements started to meander through the devastation, gathering up weapons and tending to the wounded. Qui-Gon saw Yaddle standing at the entrance to the northern pyramid, shaking her head in dismay.
He and Obi-Wan set out to find the Bith. Shortly, he saw Obi-Wan waving him over to the southwest corner of the plaza.
Qui-Gon clipped his lightsaber to his belt and broke into a jog. He knew before he arrived that calamity was waiting.
The Bith was curled on his side, his long-fingered hands pressed to a blackened hole in his midsection. Qui-Gon went down on one knee beside him.
“I tried to contact you on Coruscant,” the black-eyed alien began in a weak voice. “But after what happened at Dorvalla, Havac and the others suspected that there was an informant among them.”
“Havac?” Qui-Gon said. “I
s he the one who had the slaves executed?”
The Bith shook his large head. “He’s just a lieutenant. Havac is the leader. But he’s not onworld—many of the militants aren’t.” He paused to take a breath. “They’ve undone everything we tried to do. They’ve turned this into a war with the Trade Federation, and now the Republic.”
“It’s over,” Qui-Gon said. “You’ve deposed them. Save your strength, friend.”
The Bith clamped his hand on Qui-Gon’s forearm. “It’s not over. They have something dreadful planned.”
“Where?” Obi-Wan asked. “When?”
The Bith turned partway to him. “I don’t know. The plan was kept secret from most of us. But I know that it involves Captain Cohl …”
The Bith’s words trailed off. Qui-Gon felt Obi-Wan’s gaze on him. At the same time, all light fled the alien’s eyes.
“He’s dead, Master,” Obi-Wan said.
“Jedi,” someone said from behind Qui-Gon. The speaker was a Nikto humanoid, flat-faced and horned. “I don’t mean to intrude, but your friend was my friend, as well.”
Qui-Gon stood up. “What do you know about this plan involving the one he called Havac and Captain Cohl?”
“I know that it had something to do with Karfeddion.”
“Karfeddion?” Obi-Wan repeated, while he showed the Nikto his most disapproving gaze.
“The homeworld of House Vandron,” Qui-Gon said. “Deep in the Senex.” He turned back to the humanoid. “Your name?”
“Cindar.”
“Do you know this Havac on sight?”
“I do.”
Qui-Gon considered something, then said, “Come with us.”
He led the way to where Tiin, Yaddle, and some of the others were gathered in the plaza.
“There’s no time to sort all this out,” Tiin was saying, gesturing broadly to ruination. “The High Council and the Judicial Department have ordered us to leave the Senex sector as quickly as possible.”