Cloak Of Deception

"Precisely. We'll have to have the aurodium converted to Republic dataries, even though that will require some time." Palpatine fell silent for a moment, then said, "May I suggest that one of my aides help you set up a special account with a bank on an outlying world that won't ask questions about the origin of the ingots. Once the aurodium is safely deposited there, you'll be able to transfer funds through the InterGalactic Bank, and draw against the account in the form of Republic credits." Havac clearly liked the idea. "I know you'll put the funds to the best possible use." "I'll do all within my power." Havac smiled in admiration. "You are the voice of the outer systems, Senator." "I am not a voice of the outer systems, Havac," Palpatine rejoined. "If you insist on awarding me an honorific, then consider me the voice of the Republic. You need to remember this, because if you begin to think in terms of inner systems against outer systems, star sectors against rims, there can be no unity. Instead of equality for all, we will end up with anarchy and secession." s tanding just outside of the Jedi Temple's east- facing gate, Qui-Gon gave thought to where he should wander.

The day was warm and cloudless, except to the north, where microclimatic storms were swirling about the summits of some of Coruscant's taller buildings, and Qui-Gon had nothing to do.

He set out walking into the sun, memories of his youth surfacing, as if images glimpsed in the riffling of a deck of sabacc cards. As ever, he saw himself inside the Temple, meditating, studying, training, making friends and losing some. He recalled a day he had stolen into one of the spires and had had his first real look at Coruscant's fantastic cityscape, and how from that moment forward he had yearned to explore the city-planet from bottom to top. A quest that would remain a dream until well into his teen years and, in fact, had yet to be completely fulfilled.

On those rare occasions when students were permitted to leave the Temple, they moved about like groups of tourists, and always in the company of chaperons of one sort or another. Visits to the Galactic Senate, the Courts Building, the Municipal Authorities Building… But in those early explorations Qui — Gon saw enough to understand that Coruscant was not the fa4 land he had first imagined it to be. The planet's climate was more or less regulated, its original topography had long ago been leveled or buried, and what nature there was existed indoors, where it could be tended to and controlled.

Because it resided in all life, the Force was in some sense concentrated on Coruscant. But one felt the Force differently there than on worlds in their natural state, where the interconnectedness of all life created subtle shifts and rhythms. If on many worlds the Force was a gentle murmur, on Coruscant it was a howl-a white noise of sentience.

Qui-Gon had nothing in mind beyond walking. The huge holomap in the High Council spire indicated hundreds of distant trouble spots and emergencies, but the Reconciliation Council hadn't gotten around to assigning him and Obi-Wan to any of them. He wondered if Yoda and some of the others were angry about his seeming obsession with Captain Cohl.

To Qui-Gon's thinking, the council members were too willing to dismiss Cohl as nothing more than a symptom of trying times, when he was much more than that.

But, then, the Council had a tendency to dwell on repercussions, on future events, rather than the present. Yoda, especially, was fond of saying that the future was always in motion, and yet he and Mace Windu sometimes acted as if that wasn't the case at all.

Did they know of some great event looming on the horizon? Qui-Gon wondered. And would he fail to recognize that event, even were he to trip over it?

He supposed he should at least remain open to the possibility that the High Council Masters knew something he didn't.

The one thing he accepted as beyond dispute was that the Force was even more mysterious than any of the Jedi perceived it to be.

He hadn't gone half a kilometer when Adi Gallia fell into step beside him, catching him by surprise.

"In search of something purposeful, Qui-Gon, or just hoping you'll bump into something worthy of your attention?" He smiled at her. "I have-you." She laughed, then scolded him with a look.

Adi's fingernails were polished, and the same blue cosmetic that rimmed her dark blue eyes traced the ligaments on the backs of her hands. She had been a permanent member of the High Council for over a decade, and a Jedi Master for much longer than that. Her parents were Corellian diplomats, but, like Qui — Gon, she had been raised in the Temple. Adi had always been enthralled by Coruscant, and knew the planet about as well as anyone. Over the years, she had forged a close friendship with Supreme Chancellor Valorum, along with several Core World delegates.

"Where is your young apprentice?" she asked as they sauntered.

"Sharpening his wits." "So you actually give him an occasional respite from your resolute tutelage," she teased.

"It's a mutual thing," Qui-Gon said.

She laughed again, then grew serious. "I have news that's bound to interest you. It seems that you might have been right about Cohl's surviving the explosion of that Trade Federation freighter." Qui-Gon came to a dead stop in the center of the sky bridge they were crossing. Droids and pedestrians ambled past him to both sides.

"Has Cohl been seen?" Adi leaned on the bridge railing and gazed back toward the Temple. "Dorvalla Space Corps pursued a shuttle that matched the description and drive signature you and Obi-Wan furnished.

The shuttle crashed and exploded onworld, apparently not far from where Cohl had established a temporary base." Qui-Gon nodded. "I know the area."

"There wasn't much left to investigate at the crash site, but the remains of three humans found in the wreckage were identified as associates of Cohl. But here's the interesting part: The shuttle was clearly attempting to rendezvous with Cohl's personal ship." "The Hawk-Bat." "It set down close to the crash site, then proceeded to blast its way off Dorvalla, taking out a number of Dorvalla's picket ships on the way." "Cohl made it to the ship," Qui-Gon said.

"You're that certain?" "I am." Adi nodded. "One of the picket ship pilots reported that two or three of Cohl's band might have made it alive to the Hawk-bat." "Has there been any sign of the ship since?" "It jumped to hyperspace as soon as it left Dorvalla behind. But surveillance has been doubled at all of Cohl's known retreats. Assuming he did survive, he'll be spotted and, with luck, captured." "Adi, is there a chance that Obi-Wan and I could-was "Cohl is no longer our concern," she cut him off. "Supreme Chancellor Valorum is attempting to encourage the systems along the Rimma Trade Route to assume responsibility for curtailing acts of terrorism in their separate sectors. Intervention on our part would likely be viewed as indirect support of the Trade Federation." Qui-Gon frowned. "That's shortsighted.

Most of the worlds along the Rimma support the Nebula Front to one degree or another.

Recruits, funding, intelligence… The Rimma worlds supply these and more." Adi regarded him for a long moment. "Qui-Gon, suppose I could arrange for you to meet with Chancellor Valorum, so you could apprise him of these matters personally?" Qui-Gon nodded. "All right." "Then it's settled. I'm on my way to meet with him now, and there's no time like the present." "I couldn't have put it better." In his chambers beneath the senate rotunda, Valorum reclined in his chair, exhaling wearily as he stretched his arms over his head. Finished with the morning's business, he now had to face those delegates who hadn't been able to secure appointments and were undoubtedly lingering outside his office, anxious for a moment of his time.

"What's on the agenda for this afternoon?" he asked Sei Taria as she came through the office's tall, ornate door.

The young human woman glanced at her wrist comm screen. "You have a meeting with Adi Gallia, then a follow-up meeting with Bail Antilles and Horox Ryyder. After that, you are meeting with the representatives of the Corporate Alliance and the trade delegation from Ord Mantell. Then-was "Enough,"

Valorum said, holding up his hands and shutting his eyes. He gestured to the door and the corridors beyond. "How bad are things out there?" "As crowded as I've ever seen it, sir," she said.

"But I'm afraid that that's not the half of it." Valorum stood up and reached for his cloak.

"Tell me the rest." "The plaza is swarming with demonstrators. Some are calling for the breakup of the Trade Federation, others are denouncing your stand on taxation. Security recommends that we leave by way of the rooftop platforms." "No," Valorum said firmly. "This was to be expected, and now is hardly the time for me to avoid my critics." Sei smiled approvingly. "I told security you would say that. They said that if you insisted on exiting through the plaza, they would be tripling the guard." "Very well." Valorum squared his shoulders. "Are you ready?" Sei went to the door. "After you, sir." No sooner did Valorum enter the anteroom than two tall Senate Guards stepped in to flank him. They wore long dark — blue robes and gloves, and double-crested helmet cowls that left visible only the eyes and mouth. Over their right shoulders, the guards carried long, cumbersome rifles that were more ceremonial than practical.

By the time Valorum had passed into the front offices, more guards had fallen in before and behind him.

Short of the public corridors another pair joined the group, and yet two more the moment Valorum emerged in the corridor.

Wide as it was, the walkway was crammed with beings, who had been forced to stand shoulder to shoulder along both walls behind hastily erected barricades.

The guards in front of Valorum closed ranks in a wedge formation, thrusting through a forest of outstretched arms. Still, some hands managed to get through, bearing messages meant for the deep pockets of Valorum's cloaks but more often than not ending up trampled underfoot on the polished stone floor.

The corridor was loud with voices, as well, most of them entreating Valorum to attend to one urgent matter or another.

"Supreme Chancellor, about the terms of the peace negotiation…"

"Supreme Chancellor, regarding the recent devaluation of the Bothan credit…"

"Supreme Chancellor, your promise to respond to accusations of corruption leveled against Senator Maxim…" Valorum recognized some of the voices and many of the faces. Crushed against the left wall he noticed the delegate from New Bornalex. Behind him, Senator Gre9ps and his trio of large-eyed, puddle- footed delegates from Brodo Asogi.

Off to the right, straining to reach to the front of the crowd in time for Valorum's passing, stood Malastare delegate Aks Moe.

As they neared the exit to the plaza, the voices in the corridor were overwhelmed by the chants and bellows of crowds of demonstrators massed along the Avenue of the Core Founders, with its towering statues and sunken sitting areas.

The Senate Guards pressed closer still, all but lifting Valorum off his feet and spiriting him outside the building on their shoulders.

The chief of the guard detail swung to Valorum.

"Sir, we'll be proceeding directly to the north hover platform. Your personal shuttle is already waiting. There will be no stopping along the way to respond to reporters or protestors. In the event of any untoward activity, you will submit to our custody and do as we say. Any questions, sir?" "No questions," Valorum said by rote. "But let's at least attempt to appear cordial, Captain." "You didn't mention you were inviting me to a political rally," Qui-Gon said, as he and Adi Gallia arrived at the expansive plaza that fronted the senate.

"I didn't know," Adi said, plainly astonished by the sight.

Mixed-species crowds extended from the pedestaled building itself, clear to the terminus of the Avenue of the Core Founders. The balconies there overlooked a sprawl of spired buildings, their close-set summits rising below the plaza.

"Where are you supposed to meet him?" Qui-Gon said loudly enough to be heard over the periodic chants and general clamor.

"Outside the north entrance," she answered, close to his ear.

Tall enough to see over the heads of many in the crowd, Qui — Gon gazed toward the senate dome. "There'll be no getting to him-not if I know the Senate Guard." "Let's try, anyway," Adi said.

"Otherwise, we'll go to his private office in the Presidential Tower."

Qui-Gon took Adi's hand and began to edge into the crowd. This far from the building, there was no telling the pro-Valorum from the anti-Valorum protestors.

Qui-Gon stretched out with his feelings.

Beneath the current of anger and dissent, something else was in the air.

Coruscant's usual howl was charged with menace. He sensed danger-not the vague sort that might emanate from any gathering of this nature, but specific and targeted. He closed his eyes momentarily and allowed the Force to guide him.

His opened eyes found a Bith, standing at the leading edge of one gathering. The Force bade Qui-Gon look to his left, to two Rodians, lurking near the tall base of one of the statues. Closer to the senate's north exit stood two Twi'leks and a Bothan.

Qui-Gon raised his gaze to the ceaseless traffic flow above the plaza's north end. A green air taxi caught his eye. Disk — shaped and open-topped, with a semicircle of stabilizers below, it was no different from most of the other taxis that filled Corus — cant's sky. But the fact that it was riding outside the denned corridor of the autonavigation lane told Qui-Gon that the pilot- another Rodian-knew the skylanes well enough to have been granted a free-travel permit.

Not far below the taxi, just at the rim of the plaza, hovered an eight- lobed repulsorlift platform, atop which sat Chancellor Valorum's personal shuttle.

Qui-Gon swung to Adi. "I sense a disturbance in the Force." She nodded.

"I feel it, Qui-Gon." He glanced up at the air taxi, then cut his eyes to the Rodians positioned near the statue base. "The Supreme Chancellor is in danger.

We need to hurry." Unclipping their lightsabers from their belts, they began to thread their way through the crowd, their brown cloaks billowing behind them. They reached the north exit in time to see a phalanx of guards surge into the plaza. Behind them came Valorum and his young aide, at the center of six other guards, who were steering the couple toward the docking platform.

Qui-Gon looked up. The air taxi reversed direction and began to hover above the plaza. At the same instant, the two Twi'leks began to hasten toward Valorum, their hands buried in the sleeves of their loose robes.

The chanting rose to a crescendo.

Suddenly, blaster bolts streaked from the crowd, catching two of the most forward guards and dropping them to the paving stones. Screams erupted and the crowd panicked, rushing every which way to avoid danger.

Qui-Gon ignited his lightsaber and moved toward the Twi'leks. Weapons drawn, they fired, only to see the bolts deflected by the brilliant green blade of Qui-Gon's lightsaber. Additional bolts darted from the Rodians"

blasters, but Qui-Gon moved quickly and managed to deflect those. He twirled, raising his weapon to parry fire, careful to divert the bolts above the heads of the scattering demonstrators.

The Force told him that Adi, her azure blade ignited, had angled for Valorum, who was effectively pinned to the plaza by his guards.

A muffled explosion sounded nearby, launching clouds of astringent white smoke and further terrifying the fleeing demonstrators.

Qui-Gon understood at once that the detonation was only a distraction.

The real danger came from the opposite side of the plaza, where two more assassins were racing forward, armed with small hand blasters. As another guard fell, one of the assassins fired into the gap that had been opened in Valorum's protective cordon. Adi turned two of the energy darts, but a third got through.

Valorum grimaced in pain and toppled sideways.

A Senate Guard advanced, his long rifle blazing, felling both assassins.

Qui-Gon heard the air taxi begin a rapid descent, its rounded form trailing a trio of hauling cables. A Twi'lek and the two Rodians fought their way to a clear area in the plaza and grabbed hold of the cables.

Qui-Gon prized a liquid-cable launcher from a pouch on his belt and fired it as he ran. The hook bit deep into the underside of the taxi, and the monofilament cable began to unspool. Qui — Gon hooked onto the cable, thumbed the winding mechanism, and rode it skyward, his lightsaber extended in his right hand.

Coming alongside the two Rodians, he severed their cables with his blade, sending them plummeting back to the plaza. The Twi'lek, however, was still above him, and Qui-Gon realized that he would never reach him in time. The air taxi was already banking for the northern lip of the plaza, clearly hoping to shake Qui-Gon loose into one of the chasms below.

Level with the tallest of the Core Founder statues, Qui-Gon let go and dropped, landing on the shoulders of the statue, then leaping to the pedestal base, and finally to the plaza.

Backing away and firing steadily, one of the Rodians ran into the arms of two Senate Guards, who threw him harshly to the paving stones.

A broken leg kept the other Rodian rooted to the spot where he had fallen.

Qui-Gon spun on his boot heels and hurried for Valorum. Formed up into an unbreachable perimeter, the remaining guards stood with their feet planted and their rifles pointed straight out. Adi saw Qui-Gon approaching and told the guards to make room for him.

The right side of Valorum's cloak showed a large blood stain.

"We have to get him to the medcenter," Adi said in a rush.

Qui-Gon put his right hand under Valorum's left arm and eased him to his feet. Adi supported him from the other side. With their lightsabers still ignited, they began to move the Supreme Chancellor back into the senate building, while the guards covered their retreat.

It was theorized-by ^th who devoted themselves to such things — comt one could fall from the roof of the senate dome and land directly in the medcenter at which the delegates enjoyed exclusive privilege, assuming, of course, that the winds that blew through Coruscant's chasms were just right, and that one managed to miss being struck by passing vehicles during the plunge through the traffic lanes.

A safer and more certain method for arriving intact at the Galactic Senate Medcenter was to ride a turbolift from the rotunda, or be delivered there by skycar, as Senator Palpatine had chosen to do.

The medcenter occupied the top five stories of an ordinary building that rose precipitously to Coruscant's midlevel. Its numerous entrances were coded, by color and other means, to individual species, many of whom required specific atmospheres and gravities, as was also the case with many of the senate rotunda balconies.

Sate Pestage piloted the skycar to an unoccupied lobe of a docking platform anchored to the entrance coded for humans and near-humans, by far the most adorned of all the rectangular admitting areas.

"Waste no time," Palpatine said from the backseat, "but be discreet."

Pestage nodded. "Consider it done." Palpatine stepped from the rear of the circular skycar, gave a smart tug to the front of his embroidered cloak, and disappeared through the entrance.

In the lobby he encountered Senator Orn Free Taa.

"I heard that you were here," Palpatine said.

The corpulent Twi'lek gave his massive head a presumably mournful shake.

"A tragic event. Truly terrible." Palpatine raised an eyebrow.

"All right," Taa huffed. "The truth is that Valorum has been blocking my requests for reduced tariffs for the exportation of ryll from Ryloth. If I can ease that by visiting him in the medcenter, so be it." "We do what we must,"

Palpatine said mildly.

Taa studied him for a moment. "And I take it that your visit is prompted by genuine concern?" "The supreme chancellor is the voice of the Republic, is he not?" "For the moment," Taa said nastily.

With Senate Guard sentries posted throughout the admitting area, Palpatine was made to show his identification no fewer than six times before being ushered into a waiting room reserved for Valorum's visitors. There, he exchanged greetings with Alder — aan's delegate to the senate, Bail Antilles- a tall, handsome man with dark hair-and with the equally distinguished senator from Corellia, Com Fordox.

"You've heard who's to blame for what happened?" Fordox asked as Palpatine sat down on the couch opposite him.

"Only that the Nebula Front appears to have been involved." "We have confirmed evidence of their involvement," Antilles said.

Fordox's features reflected anger and confusion.

"This is beyond comprehension." "An act that cannot go unpunished,"

Antilles agreed.

Commiserating with them, Palpatine firmed his lips and shook his head. "A terrible sign of the times," he said.

Most of the infirmities that landed delegates in the medcenter were usually the result of overindulgence in food or drink, or injuries sustained on the scoopball courts, in air taxi accidents, or as the outcome of the occasional honor duel. Rarely were delegates admitted because of illnesses, and even more rarely as a consequence of an assassination attempt.

Palpatine held himself accountable.

He should have seen what was coming during the meeting with Havac. More than once the young militant had stressed that Valorum needed to appreciate just how dangerous the Nebula Front was. But Palpatine hadn't thought Havac desperate enough to resort to assassination.

The fact that Havac was also a fool made him especially dangerous. Did he actually believe that things would go better for the Nebula Front with someone other than Valorum leading the senate?

Didn't he realize that Valorum was the Front's best hope for restraining the Trade Federation, through taxation and other means? By attempting to kill Valorum, Havac had not only reinforced the Federation's assertion that the Nebula Front was a public menace, he had also given added weight to the Neimoidians' demand for additional defensive weapons.

Havac would need to be reminded just who his enemies were.

Unless, of course, there was more to Havac than met the eye, Palpatine told himself. Was Havac's pleasant but nondescript countenance masking a cunning intellect?

Palpatine deliberated while Fordox and Antilles had their visit with Valorum. He was still mulling it over when Sei Taria entered the waiting room some time later.

Palpatine rose and nodded. "How good to see you, Sei. Are you all right?"

She mustered a warm smile. "I'm fine now, Senator. But it was terrible."

Palpatine adopted a grave look. "We will do all we can to protect the Supreme Chancellor." "I know you will." "How is he?" She glanced at the door. "Eager to see you." Armed guards flanked the door to Valorum's room-a windowless corral of monitoring devices, overseen by a bipedal medical droid equipped with servogrip pincers and a rebreatherlike vocabulator.

Valorum looked pale and grim, but he was sitting up in bed, his right arm, from wrist to shoulder, encased in a soft tube filled with bacta. A transparent, gelatinous fluid produced by an insectoid alien species, bacta had the ability to promote rapid cell rejuvenation and healing, usually without scarring. Palpatine often felt that the wondrous substance was as key to the survival of the Republic as were the Jedi.

"Supreme Chancellor," he said, approaching the bed, "I came as soon as I heard." Valorum made a gesture of dismissal with his left hand. "You shouldn't have bothered. They're releasing me later today." He motioned Palpatine to a chair. "Do you know what the guards did when they brought me in here?

They cleared every patient from the emergency room, then emptied this entire floor, with scarcely a concern for the condition of the patients." "The security was warranted," Palpatine said.

"Knowing you would be brought here if they failed, the assassins could have stationed a second team in the admitting area." "Perhaps," Valorum granted. "But I doubt the actions of my protectors earned me any new allies."

He frowned. "Worse, I have to suffer the transparent concern of delegates like Orn Free Taa." "Even Senator Taa understands that the Republic needs you,"

Palpatine said.

"Nonsense. There are many who are qualified to fill my position. Bail Antilles, Ainlee Teem… even you, Senator." Palpatine feigned a startled expression.

"Hardly, Supreme Chancellor." Valorum grinned. "I couldn't help but note how the delegates responded to you during the special session." "The Outer Rim is desperate for voices. I'm merely one of many." Valorum shook his head.

"It's more than that." He paused briefly. "In any event, I want to thank you for the message your aide delivered to the podium. But why didn't you inform me in advance of your plan to propose a summit meeting?" Palpatine spread his graceful hands. "It was a spur-of-the — moment decision. Something had to be done before the taxation proposal went to committee, where it may have been crushed out of hand." "A brilliant stroke." Valorum fell silent for a long moment.

"The Judicial Department has advised me that my attackers are members of the Nebula Front." "I've also heard." Valorum forced an exhale. "Now I see what the Trade Federation is up against." Palpatine said nothing.

"But what was the Nebula Front's motive in attacking me? I'm doing what I can to find a peaceful solution to all this." "Your efforts are obviously not enough for them," Palpatine said.

"Are they so convinced that Antilles or Teem would act differently?"

Palpatine formed his response carefully.

"Senator Antilles thinks only of the Core Worlds. Doubtless he would advocate a policy of nonintervention. As for Senator Teem, he would probably bestow whatever the Trade Federation requests in the way of advanced weaponry or additional franchises." Valorum thought about it. "Perhaps I was wrong in ruling that the Nebula Front shouldn't be allowed to participate in the Eriadu summit. I feared giving the impression that the Republic would be recognizing them as a political entity.

Furthermore, I couldn't envision them sitting down at the same table with the Neimoidians." Confusion clouded his eyes. "But what could they hope to gain by having me killed?" Palpatine recalled Havac ranting about not being invited to the summit.

We need a stronger Supreme Chancellor, Havac had said.

"I've been asking myself the same question," Palpatine replied. "But you were right not to solicit their participation. They are dangerous-and deluded." Valorum nodded. "We can't risk having them interfere at Eriadu. Too much is at stake. The outlying systems must be encouraged to speak for themselves, without fear of reprimand by the Trade Federation or reprisals by the Nebula Front." Palpatine steepled his fingers in reflection, summoning memories of the recent meeting with Havac, hearing again his every word…

"Perhaps it is time to ask the Jedi for help," he said at last.

Valorum regarded him for a long moment. "Yes, perhaps the Jedi would be willing to intervene." He brightened somewhat. "Two of them helped thwart my would-be assassins." "Indeed?" "The senate will have to sanction Jedi involvement. Would you consider introducing the motion?" Palpatine smiled with his eyes. "I would consider it a great honor, Supreme Chancellor." Leaving the hospital docking platform behind, Sate Pestage accelerated into a midlevel traffic lane, then, at each vertical exchange, began to ascend toward the upper-tier thoroughfares, until he had entered a rarefied zone of limousines and private skycars. Here, one seldom encountered a taxi, much less a delivery craft, because those who resided in the heights owned their own vehicles, and goods were delivered to the lower stories of the buildings and moved skyward by turbolift.

Pestage kept climbing until he was in the uppermost lane. In that part of Coruscant, the lane was restricted to skycars the mobile traffic scanners could verify as enjoying diplomatic privilege, which Senator Palpatine's vehicle did.

He piloted the car to the attached platform of a luxurious, kilometer- high skyscraper and docked. From the car's luggage compartment, he retrieved two expensive-looking bags. The larger was a square handheld piece; the other was a sphere about the size of a sweetmelon, which fit snugly into a specially designed shoulder bag.

Pestage carried both into the building's upper-tier lobby, where he was scanned head to toe before being allowed to enter the turbolift that accessed the penthouse. Once again, his employer's credentials opened many a door that would otherwise have been locked to him. Few residents were about, and none gave him a second look, trusting implicitly that anyone who had managed to get into the building had every right to be there.

He rode the turbolift to the penthouse, which was owned by one of Palpatine's peers in the senate, but was presently unoccupied, as the senator had, only the previous day, embarked on a visit to her homeworld.

In the penthouse alcove, Pestage carried the bags to the entry and tapped a code into a touchpad mounted on the wall. When the scanner asked for retinal corroboration, he entered a second code, which essentially commanded the scanner to cut short its usual security routine and simply open the suite.

The bypass code did the job, and the door pocketed itself into the wall.

Soft lighting came up as Pestage moved into the elegant front room.

Furniture and artwork attesting to the senator's refined taste were everywhere in evidence. Pestage went directly to the terrace doors and stepped outside.

Traffic hummed below the tiled enclosure, and the lights of still-higher buildings shone down on him. The air was ten degrees cooler than at midlevel, and nowhere near as grimy. From the chest-high wall at the edge of the terrace, Pestage could see clear to the Jedi Temple in one direction and the Galactic Senate in the other.

But those weren't the views that interested him; only the view directly across the cityscape canyon, into a mostly darkened penthouse of similar size.

Pestage set the two pieces of luggage on the floor and opened them. The square one contained a computer, with a built-in display and keypad. The second was a surveillance droid, black and round, with three antennae projecting from its metallic pate and sides. Standing the computer on end, Pestage positioned the droid alongside it.

The two devices conversed for a long moment, in a dialogue of beeps and warbles. Then the surveillance droid levitated of its own accord and began to float out into the canyon.

Pestage repositioned the computer so that he could monitor the flight of the surveillance droid while he entered commands on the keyboard.

By then the black sphere had crossed the abyss and was hovering just outside one of the penthouse's lighted rooms, and relaying color images back to the computer's display screen. The small screen showed five Twi'lek females, lounging together on comfortable furniture. One of the females was Senator Orn Free Taa's red-skinned Lethan consort. The others may have been lesser consorts, or simply friends of the Lethan, indulging in drink and gossip while the fat-faced senator was off visiting Valorum at the medcenter.

Pestage was pleased. The females were so absorbed in debauched merriment that they were unlikely to interfere with his business.

He instructed the surveillance droid to move to an unlighted window, three rooms away, and go to infrared mode. A moment later the screen displayed a close-up of Taa's computer terminal, which, while it was capable of interfacing with distant systems, could not be accessed remotely.

Pestage did rapid input at the keyboard.

Pressing close to the window, the droid activated a laser and burned a small hole in the sound-silencing and blasterproof pane-just large enough to accommodate the computer interface arm that telescoped from its spherical body. At the end of the arm's extensible rod was a magnetic lock, which the droid inserted into the access port of Taa's system.

The computer booted up and asked for a passcode, which Pestage provided.

A novice operative might have thought to ask Senator Palpatine how he had secured the passcode. But part of what made Pestage a true professional was knowing when not to ask questions.

Taa's computer welcomed him inside.

Now it was simply a matter of slicing into the relevant files and planting the bits of coded information Pestage had been given. Even so, the infiltration was hardly routine. First of all, the data had to be untraceable, and it had to be implanted in such a way that the computer would be convinced that it had, in fact, discovered the data. Then the computer had to be instructed to reveal the data-to flag it-only in response to specific requests from Taa.

Most important, Taa himself would have to be persuaded that he had uncovered data of such resounding import that he was compelled to shout it from the rooftops.

At the center of the Jedi Temple's High Council spire was an enormous holographic representation of the galaxy, which highlighted trouble spots and locations of Jedi activity. The spherical projection changed in accordance with signals received by a multifeed assembly located in the tower's summit chamber, while a collimating disk located beneath the projection focused the signal beams and sustained them through power fluctuations.

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan stood on the circular walkway that surrounded the holomap, waiting to be called before the members of the High Council.

Several other Jedi were about, studying the map or headed for one of the three exterior contemplation balconies that overlooked the vast plain of cityscape below the Temple. It was from the dawn-facing balcony that Qui-Gon had had his first real look at Coruscant.

"This is the first time I've ever seen Coruscant singled out," Obi-Wan remarked as he gazed up at the sphere, his elbows resting on the walkway railing.

Qui-Gon glanced at the flashing spheroid that was Corus-cant, then allowed his eyes to roam midway to the holomap's perimeter, where a second spheroid was aglow.

Dorvalla.

"Coruscant should remain illuminated at all times," he started to say, when yet another spheroid, at even greater remove than Dorvalla, began to flash.

"Eriadu," Obi-Wan said, reading the graphic attached to it. He looked questioningly at Qui-Gon.

"The site of the upcoming trade summit." "Whose idea was that, Master?"

Obi-Wan asked.

"Senator Palpatine," a baritone human voice said from behind them.

They turned to find Jorus C'baoth watching them.

An elder human Jedi Master, C'baoth had a chiseled face, white hair as long as Qui-Gon's, and a beard three times as long.

"Palpatine represents Naboo," C'baoth added.

"Just the world for Qui-Gon," another human Jedi said from farther along the walkway.

C'baoth nodded. "More indigenous species in one square kilometer than you normally encounter on a hundred worlds." He smiled faintly. "I could easily see Master Qui-Gon losing himself there." Before either Qui-Gon or Obi-Wan could respond, Adi Gal — lia entered the holomap room. "We're ready for you, Qui-Gon," she announced.

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan folded their arms, so that each hand disappeared into the opposite sleeve of their cloaks, and followed Gallia to the turbolift that accessed the summit chamber.

"Don't say anything, Padawan," Qui-Gon said quietly when they reached the circular chamber.

"Simply listen and learn." Obi-Wan nodded. "Yes, Master." Arch-topped panes of transparisteel afforded unobstructed views in all directions. The ceiling was also arched, and the lustrous floor was designed as a series of concentric circles, inlaid with floral motifs.

Leaving Obi-Wan to wait by the turbolift, Qui-Gon advanced to the center of the room and stood with his hands crossed in front of him.

To the right of the turbolift sat Depa Billaba, a slender near — human female from Chalacta, who wore a mark of illumination between and slightly above her eyes. Beside her was Eeth Koth, his face a jigsaw puzzle of lines, and his hairless head studded with vestigial yellow horns of varying length.

Next came the long — necked Quermian, Yarael Poof; then Adi, Oppo Rancisis, and Even Piell, a Lannik warrior whose face bore a puckered scar. To Piell's left sat Yaddle, a female of Yoda's species; Saesee Tiin, an Iktotchi, with downward-facing horns; Ki-Adi-Mundi, a strikingly tall humanoid from Cerea; Yoda, in the red chair that cupped him; and Yoda's peer, Mace Windu, a powerfully built, dark — complexioned human with a shaved skull. To Windu's left, close to the opposite side of the turbolift entrance, sat Plo Koon.

Fingers interlocked, Mace Windu leaned forward in his seat to address Qui-Gon. "We've just met with members of the Judicial Department, regarding the attempted assassination of Supreme Chancellor Valorum. We're trusting that you can shed additional light on what transpired at the Galactic Senate." Qui- Gon nodded. "I trust that I can." Yoda glanced at Windu, then leveled his gaze at Qui-Gon. "How came you to be at the senate, Qui-Gon? Alerted by your source in the Nebula Front, were you?" "I'll answer that," Adi Gallia said. "I asked Qui-Gon to ac company me to the Senate, to speak personally with Supreme Chancellor Valorum." Windu regarded her with a frown. "For what purpose?" Adi looked briefly to Qui-Gon.

"Qui-Gon has reason to believe that the Supreme Chancellor errs by relying on worlds along the Rimma Trade Route to end terrorism in those sectors." "Is this so, Qui-Gon?" Ki-Adi-Mundi asked.

Qui-Gon nodded. "The Nebula Front receives much of its funding from those very worlds." "Knows much about the situation, Qui-Gon does," Yoda said with false flattery. "Correct he was about Captain Cohl surviving the explosion at Dorvalla." He paused. "Behind the attempted assassination attempt, is Cohl?"

"No, Master," Qui-Gon said. "Cohl is on the run. Furthermore, I'm not persuaded that the Nebula Front actually wished to harm the Supreme Chancellor." Yoda's expression hardened. "Shot him, they did. Traced by documentation to their secret base in the Senex sector, they were." "Too easily, Master," Qui-Gon said, holding his ground. "The signs were far too obvious." "Terrorists they are. Not soldiers." Windu looked at Yoda, then at Qui-Gon. "You've obviously given thought to this.

Continue." "The assassins aimed their bolts at Supreme Chancellor Valorum's guards. I believe that the bolt that grazed him was inadvertent. The escape was also unconvincing. And since they must have known in advance that there was little chance of all of them getting away, why would they carry documentation?" "Unlike Captain Cohl, eh, Qui-Gon?" Qui-Gon nodded. "He would not have been so careless." Yoda brought his right forefinger to his mouth.

"Plan this he did-from afar. Seek out your Bith contact in the Nebula Front, you must." Qui-Gon turned to him. "I'll do that, Master.

Still, why would the Front target the Supreme Chancellor, when he has finally taken a stand against the Trade Federation?" "Answer your own question," Windu said.

Qui-Gon took a breath and gave his head a quick shake. "I'm not certain, Masters. But I fear that the Nebula Front has something even more treacherous in mind." Hyphens of angry light streaking past her to all sides, the Hawk-Bat fled the surface of a green planet, graced by two small, close-set, and heavily cratered moons.

Her ardent pursuers were a trio of slender-bodied vessels, Coruscant red from stem to stern, with blunt bows, a trio of large, drum-shaped sublight thrusters, and multiple pairs of turbolaser batteries.

In the gunship's cramped bridge, Boiny studied the console's authenticator displays.

"Corellian space cruisers, Captain!

Gaining fast! Estimated time before they overtake us is-was "I don't want to know," Cohl said from the captain's chair, as an explosion pitched the ship roughly to port. "Blasted Judicial Department!

Don't they have better things to do?" "Apparently not, Captain," Boiny rejoined.

Cohl swiveled away from the forward viewports to regard Rella, who had the controls. "How soon before we can make the jump to lightspeed?" She shot him an angry look. "The navicomputer is holding out on us." Cohl glanced at Boiny. "Persuade it." The Rodian staggered across the cockpit and slammed his hand against the navicomputer.

"That'll do it," Rella said, relieved.

Another bolt rocked the ship.

"Route power to the rear deflectors," Cohl ordered.

"I'm on it, Captain," Boiny said, as he strapped back into his chair.

Rella turned slightly to Cohl. "You know, not everyone thrives on close calls." He laughed theatrically. "This from someone who claims that an escape isn't worthwhile unless it's narrow?" "That was the old me. The new me has different ideas about what's fun and what isn't." "Then you'd better stow the new you until we hit clear space." Stung in the tail, the Hawk-Bat shuddered as she rolled to one side.

"Where are those jump coordinates?" Cohl snapped.

"Coming up now," Rella assured him. "It's time we put this sector behind us, Cohl. Every one of our hideouts is under surveillance." "And just where are we supposed to go?" "I don't care if we go live with the Hutts. I just know it's gotten too hot for us here." Cohl grimaced. "Don't tell me you'd work for those bloated worms." "Who said anything about working?" "What about our retiring in high style?" "Right about now, I'll settle for retiring, plain and simple." Cohl shook his head. "That's not the way I planned it. Besides, I don't like the idea of getting chased out of my own hunting ground." "Even when it's clear you've become the prey?" Cohl watched Rella for a long moment.

"You're serious, aren't you? You're thinking of quitting this tour." She bit her lip and nodded. "Unless you decide to come to your senses, Cohl. We're too old for this. I want to make good on some of the promises we made ourselves, before it's too late." He thought about it, then laughed. "You won't walk.

You know you'd miss me and come looking for me." Rella showed him a sad look. "You're still thinking of the old me, Cohl." He glanced at Boiny. "Am I right or wrong about her looking for me?" The Rodian ducked his crested head.

"Don't get me in the middle of this. I'm only good at following orders." Cohl shook his head at Rella. "Our first fight." "Wrong, Cohl. Our last." She reached for the throttle. "Making the jump to hyperspace." With laser bolts still nipping at her, the Hawk-Bat surged forward. The stars elongated, and the gunship blinked from view.

In the greeting room of his office in the Galactic Senate, Valorum slipped into his veda cloth robe and regarded his image in an elaborately framed mirror. His right arm was almost healed, and instead of the cumbersome tube, a soft case was in place, concealed within the ample sleeve of his overcloak.

A pair of Senate Guards flanked the door, facing into the room, but Valorum ignored them as he prepared for the imminent arrival of Jedi Masters Mace Windu and Yoda.

The Valorum dynasty had long hoped that one of its offspring might be strong in the Force, but, by all accounts, it appeared that the Force just wasn't in Valorum blood. That regrettable absence, however, hadn't stopped Finis Valorum from revering the Jedi. As an entitled youth on Coruscant and on other Core worlds, he had passed countless hours with the family chronicles, devouring accounts of his ancestors' dealings with the order- — often with Jedi Knights and Masters of legendary status. The tales had only firmed a belief developed early on that, even if he couldn't be a Jedi, he could at least model his life after them, behaving as if the Force were his ally, and devoting himself to upholding peace and justice at all times.

But the Republic Valorum had inherited had afforded him few opportunities to foster peace or justice. Weakened by greed and corruption, the senate had become a tool for widening the rift between rich and poor, and bolstering the ambitions of the privileged and influential. Try as he might to remain faithful to his ideals, Valorum had found himself foiled by delegates fattened on bribes or enslaved to self-interest. Why serve the common good when it was more profitable to serve the Commerce Guild, the Techno Union, the Corporate Alliance, or the Trade Federation?

Whether for personal reasons or in exchange for trade favors for their home systems, more than half the senate's delegates answered to the powerful corporations, which, in return, asked only that certain motions be quashed, or others be supported.

Time and again Valorum was made to appear weak by being overruled, and that perceived weakness had made those who should have known better consider him to be ineffectual.

Ineptitude, of course, was the unexpressed goal of the corruptors themselves. Where a weak leader would have been replaced, and a strong one counterproductive, one who had simply given up the fight was seen as the best of all possible solutions.

The rueful middle ground had been Valorum's domain for too many years, until recently, when senators like Bail Antilles, Horox Ryyder, Palpatine, and a few others had begun to rally round, pledging their support to help end corruption-or, at the very least, to keep it in check. Many thought that the current crisis involving the Trade Federation would be a testing ground for what lay ahead. Valorum hoped only that he could spend the fi-nal years of his term in office doing right by everyone, in true service to peace and justice.

That was why the Nebula Front had to be contained.

Normally the Jedi were not asked to intervene in trade disputes, but the attempt on Valorum's life had had less to do with trade than with preserving law and order. Because the Jedi answered to the Supreme Chancellor and the Judicial Department, their assistance could now be solicited, and in that sense, the assassination attempt had been a blessing in disguise.

Valorum could not recall an instance where they had refused to serve, in any case. On occasion, though, dealing with them had made Valorum feel as if he were contracting with a power even greater than that enjoyed by the various trade consortiums or the Republic.

Ten thousand strong, their collective strength was such that they could rule the Republic if they so wished-if their dedication to peace was any less demonstrably earnest. Although the Republic government funded the order, at times there seemed to exist an added price for their support-a sense that they might one day come to Valorum and demand that the favors they had rendered be returned tenfold. Although Valorum couldn't imagine what they might ask for that either he or the Republic could provide. While the Jedi operated in the world, they were at once outside it, living within the Force, as if it were a separate reality.

It sometimes seemed to Valorum that the Jedi behaved as if the Force ruled the ordinary world, and that the role of the Jedi was to behave in such a way that a balance between good and evil, light and dark, was forever preserved-lest the scales tip one way or the other, opening a portal for the dark to come streaming in, or for allowing the light to blind everyone to some greater truth.

Two thousand years earlier, the Jedi had faced a menacing threat to continuing peace, in the form of the Sith Lords and their armies of dark-side apprentices.

Founded by a fallen Jedi, the Sith believed that power disavowed was power squandered. In place of justice for all, they sought single-minded authority. Agitation and conflict were thought to be more crucial to transformation than was gradual understanding.

Fortunately, dark power was not easily harnessed, and over the course of a thousand years, the Sith had ultimately destroyed themselves.

Valorum heard the guards snap to attention as the greeting room opened and Sei Taria entered, followed by the two Jedi Masters.

Dignified in his hooded robe, linen-white tunic, and knee-high brown boots, Mace Windu seemed to fill the room. But it was the slight and enigmatic Yoda, in well-seasoned and less-tailored robes, who took up the most space.

"Masters Windu and Yoda," Valorum said warmly. "Thank you for coming."

Yoda regarded him for a moment, then smiled lightly. "Restored, you are."

Valorum touched his right forearm beneath the cloak.

"Nearly. If the assassin had been a better shot…" Windu and Yoda traded meaningful looks.

"How may the Jedi be of service, Supreme Chancellor?" Windu asked.

Valorum motioned to chairs in the sitting area.

"Won't you be seated?" Windu sat tall and straight, with his feet flat on the floor. Yoda considered sitting, then paced to the center of the room, tapping the floor with his cane.

"Think better in motion, I do." Valorum dismissed Sei Taria and the two guards and sat down opposite Windu, where he could watch Yoda, as well.

"I trust you've heard that the assassins have been identified as members of the Nebula Front." Valorum waited for Windu's nod before continuing.

"The few that managed to escape were traced to Asmeru, a world on the edge of the Senex sector." Leaning toward the table that separated him from Windu, Valorum activated a holoprojector. In a cone of translucent blue light, a star map took shape. Valorum indicated a cluster of star systems.

"The Senex is an autonomous sector, ruled by a line of fiercely self- reliant royal houses. The Republic respects the independence of the Senex worlds, and has no interest in meddling in the affairs of those worlds-given especially my recent request that worlds along the nearby Rimma Trade Route unite to curtail terrorism in their sector of space. However, when affairs there reach across the stars to affect Coruscant, we cannot stand idly by."

Valorum switched off the holoprojector.

"I have communicated with the rulers of Houses Vandron and Elegin, who hold sway over Asmeru and other systems in that part of the Senex sector.

They deny granting the Nebula Front safe haven. Rather, they contend that the terrorists seized Asmeru from a scant indigenous population, and have been using the planet as a base of operations for raids against ships plying the Rimma Trade Route and Corellian Trade Spine. Wishing to avoid becoming targets of the Nebula Front, Houses Vandron and Elegin have essentially ignored activities on Asmeru." "Until now," Windu interjected.

Valorum nodded. "They have agreed to help us in our effort to contain the Nebula Front on Asmeru until the Eriadu trade summit concludes." Yoda frowned.

"Breeders of slaves, they are.

No better than those who make up the Nebula Front." Valorum acknowledged it with a fatigued sigh.

"It's true. Slavery is what has prevented the Senex sector from trading openly with the Republic.

The possibility of trade is what prompts their willingness to help us."

Windu's eyebrows beetled. "What help are the Senex Houses offering?"

"Logistical support. Owing to a nearby gravitic sink, as well as to space mines sown by the Nebula Front, Asmeru is not easily approached. House Vandron has offered to guide us in." Windu considered it. "You wish us to accompany the Judicial Department cruisers." "Yes," Valorum said flatly. "Should you consent, I will petition the senate for authorization. But allow me to explain. This operation is not designed to be a show of force, nor an attempt at retaliation for what happened here. I propose to dispatch two cruisers, carrying thirty judicials, along with as many Jedi as you see fit to include.

"For all we know, those responsible for the attempt on my life could be members of a radical faction.

The rest may know nothing of the assassination plot.

Nevertheless, I don't want them disrupting the Eriadu summit. I also wish to learn what they hoped to accomplish by assassinating me. If their actions sprang from not being included in the trade summit, then I want them to know that I am willing to meet with them, as soon as they agree to desist in attacking Trade Federation vessels. If they are unwilling to enact a truce, the Trade Federation will likely be given consent to increase their already substantial arsenal of weapons." Windu glanced at Yoda before replying. "And if our attempt to communicate these things to those in charge is rebuffed?"

Valorum frowned. "Then I would ask that the Jedi see to it that no one involved with the Nebula Front leaves Asmeru. They are to be contained there until further notice." Windu stroked his smooth chin. "You could be sending your judicials into a trap." "We have to take that risk," Valorum said sternly, then softened his voice to add, "We should at least attempt to negotiate before deciding on desperate measures." He looked from Windu to Yoda, and back again.

Yoda stopped moving to gaze unsympathetically at Valorum. "Want to see this conflict resolved, we do." Windu interlocked his fingers and leaned forward in his chair. "The Trade Federation should not be granted additional weaponry. Defensive or otherwise, weapons are not the way to settle this. Such actions will lead only to further escalation." "I agree," Valorum said sadly.

"And I wish it was that simple. But the Trade Federation is deeply entrenched in Republic politics." "At war with yourself, you are," Yoda remarked.

"Caught up in your own conflict." Chagrined by the remark, Valorum shook his head from side to side. "These matters require great delicacy, and deals of a sort I am loathe to make." Windu firmed his lips. "We will consider what help we could lend at Asmeru." Valorum was disappointed. "Thank you, Master Windu. I would also request that you consider providing security at the Eriadu summit. No one, I fear, is safe." Windu nodded, stood up, and walked to the door.

Yoda turned to Valorum before leaving.

"Confer we will, and inform you of our decision." Docking rings linked by a rigid cofferdam, the Hawk-But and a modified CloakShape orbited drab Asmeru in deeply shadowed concert.

"To be honest, I didn't expect you to come back," Havac was telling Captain Cohl in the forward compartment of the gunship.

Cohl sniffed. "To be honest, I didn't expect to come back." Havac's partner, Cindar, made a show of glancing around the compartment. "Where's your first mate, Captain?" "She walked," Cohl said.

Havac regarded him for a moment. "And you didn't walk with her? Why not?"

"My business," Cohl snapped.

Cindar couldn't suppress a smug grin. "You came back because you couldn't resist the credits, and she could." Cohl gave his head a smart shake. "It's not the credits that brought me back. It's the life." He laughed bitterly.

"How does someone like me retire? What do I know about farming?" He slapped the blaster on his hip. "This is what I know. This is how I am." Havac swapped satisfied looks with Cindar.

"Then we're even more pleased to have you back aboard, Captain." Cohl planted his elbows on the table. "Then make it worth the trip." Havac nodded.

"Maybe you haven't heard, but Supreme Chancellor Valorum intends to press for taxation of the free trade zones. If the proposal meets with Senate approval, the Trade Federation stands to see a lot of its profits end up on Coruscant.

All well and good, if the Neimoidians would agree to take it on the chin, but they won't. They'll try to offset the taxes by raising the costs for shipping with them. Without anyone else to ship with, the outlying systems will have no choice but to pay whatever the Federation demands. Worlds that refuse to play by the new rules will be overlooked, and their markets will collapse."

"Competition will get cutthroat," Cindar added.

"Especially hard for worlds desperate to do trade with the Core. There'll be credits galore for anyone willing to take advantage of the situation." Cohl gazed at the two of them and smirked.

"What's all that got to do with me? I couldn't care less what happens to either side." Havac's gaze narrowed. "Disinterest is exactly what this job calls for, since our goal is to change the rules." Cohl waited.

"We want you to assemble a team of spotters, trackers, and weapons experts," Havac said.

"They have to be highly skilled, and they should share your penchant for impartiality. But I don't want to use professionals. I don't want to take the chance of their being under surveillance already, or first-choice suspects after the fact." "You're looking for assassins," Cohl said.

"We're not asking you to be involved in the act," Cindar said. "Only the delivery. In case you need to soothe your conscience any, think of the team as a shipment of weapons." Cohl's upper lip curled. "I'll let you know when my conscience needs soothing. Who's the target?" "Supreme Chancellor Valorem,"

Havac said carefully.

"We want to strike during the trade summit on Eriadu," Cindar elaborated.

Cohl stared at them in amusement. "This is the major job you promised?"

Cindar spread his huge hands. "Your assured retirement, Captain." Cohl shook his head and laughed. "Who put this bright idea in your head, Havac?" Havac stiffened. "We're receiving help from a powerful outside agency, sympathetic to our cause." "The same one who told you about the shipment of aurodium."

"The less you know, the better," Cindar warned.

Cohl laughed again. "Secret information, huh?" Havac's forehead wrinkled in concern. "You don't think the job can be done?" Cohl shrugged. "Anyone can be killed." "Then why are you hesitant?" Cohl blew out his breath in scorn.

"You two must take me for a furbog trader. Just because I've been chased up and down the Rimma and all over this sector doesn't mean I don't keep an ear to the background noise. You tried to kill Valorum on Coruscant, and you rumbled the job.

Now you're turning to me, which you should have done in the first place."

Cindar returned the sneer. "You weren't interested, remember? You were bent on a life of moisture farming on Tatooine." "Besides, we didn't fumble anything,"

Havac said.

"We thought we could scare Valorum into inviting the Nebula Front to attend the summit. He didn't bite, so now we mean to finish the job on Eriadu.

" Cindar grinned malevolently. "We're going to ruin his summit in a way no one will soon forget." Cohl scratched at his beard. "For what? So Valorum won't tax the free trade zones?

How does that help the Nebula Front or the outlying systems?" "I thought you weren't interested in politics," Havac said.

"Pure curiosity." "All right," Havac allowed. "Without taxation, no worlds have to worry about increased costs. As for the Trade Federation, we'll continue to deal with them in our own way." Cohl was unconvinced. "You're going to cultivate a crop of new enemies, Havac-including the Jedi, if I know anything about anything. But I guess you're not paying me to think." "Exactly, " Cindar made clear. "Suppose you let us worry about the backlash." "Fine with me," Cohl said. "But let's talk about Eriadu. Because of what you pulled on Coruscant, security is going to be extra tight. No matter what you were trying to do, you've already undermined yourvs." "All the more reason to gather a highly skilled team," Havac agreed.

Cohl put his hands on the table. "I'll need a new ship. The Hawk-Bat is too well known." "Done," Cindar promised. "What else?" Cohl considered it briefly. "I don't suppose you could do anything about keeping the Jedi clear of my trajectory?" Havac smiled. "As a matter of fact, Captain, I can practically guarantee that the Jedi are going to be busy elsewhere." the outlying systems Edging into jaded sunlight around the curve of a tiny moon, two diplomatic cruisers closed on pale-brown Asmeru. In front and to either side of the crimson Corellian ships flew a dark escort of Tikiar fighters, resembling beaked and taloned predatory birds. Lagging behind, still in the shadow of the moon, came a pair of colossal dreadnaughts with fanged bows and elegantly finned sterns, prickly with weapons and bearing the royal crest of House Vandron.

Light-years distant, etched into the star-strewn backdrop, loomed an immense spiral of light, attenuating toward a center of utter blackness.

Qui-Gon regarded the crazed sky from the cockpit of the trailing cruiser.

Obi-Wan stood beside him, peering between the forward seats for a better view.

The female pilot and male copilot wore the tight-fitting blue uniforms of the Judicial Department.

"Coming up on the minefield," the pilot said while her hands were busy making adjustments to the instruments.

A scattering of glinting cylinders caught Qui-Gon's eye.

"I might have mistaken them for asteroids," the copilot said.

Obi-Wan leaned toward him. "Things are not always what they appear to be.

" Qui-Gon shot him a disapproving glance.

"Remember that when we are on the surface, Padawan," he said quietly.

Obi-Wan bit back a retort and nodded.

"Yes, Master." The copilot called up a magnified view of one of the mines. "Command detonated," he said over his shoulder to Qui-Gon. "They can probably be triggered by the terrorists' sentry ships or from down below." As Qui-Gon was considering it, a female voice issued from the cockpit annunciators.

"Prominence, this is Ecliptic.

Our escort advises that we raise deflector shields and hold fast to our course. Long-range scans show three fighter craft on the far side of the minefield. We have high confidence that they are aware of us." Qui-Gon touched Obi-Wan on the shoulder.

"It's time we rejoined the others in the salon pod." They left the cramped cockpit and walked aft down a narrow corridor that passed directly through the navigator's station, the communications station, and the crew lounge. The corridor terminated at a turbolift, which they rode to the lower deck. Then they walked forward through the salon pod's vestibule and into the roomy pod itself.

Nuzzled beneath the cruiser's abrupt bow and forward sensor array, the cone-shaped pods were interchangeable and capable of providing customized atmospheres.

In emergency situations, they could be jettisoned and employed as escape vehicles. This one featured port and starboard viewports and a large circular table, with a holoprojector at its center.

"We're negotiating the minefield," Qui-Gon said.

"Indeed we are," Jedi Knight Ki-Adi-Mundi said from the starboard viewport.

He had a smooth, elongated skull and a piercing gaze. His chin sported a long tuft of gray hair; his upper lip, dangling gray mustachios that matched his thick eyebrows.

"Worried your young Padawan appears, Qui-Gon," Yaddle remarked from her seat at the table. "The minefield is it, or other concerns?" Qui-Gon almost smiled. "That's his normal look of foreboding. When he's actually worried, you can see steam escaping his ears." "Yes," Yaddle said. "Watch him train I did.

Saw the steam." "I'm not worried, Masters," Obi-Wan said good-naturedly. "I'm only thinking forward." He waited for Qui-Gon to offer some piece of wisdom regarding the living Force, but for once his Master kept silent.

"Right you are to think forward, Padawan," Yaddle told him. "Deal lightly with matters of consequence, and decisively with those of little consequence.

Difficult it is to face a crisis and solve it gently, if not resolved beforehand you are, for uncertainty will impede your efforts. When comes the time, thinking forward allows you to deal lightly." Her big eyes shifted to favor Qui-Gon.

"Agree do you, Qui-Gon?" He bowed his head. "As you say, Master."

Diagonally across the table from Yaddle, Saesee Tiin glanced up and smiled, as if reading Qui-Gon's thoughts. Next to him, and as small in stature as Yaddle, sat Vergere, a female Fosh, and the former apprentice of Thracia Cho Leem, who had left the Jedi Order several years earlier. Vergere's trim torso was covered with short feathers of varied color. Her slightly concave face was slant-eyed, wide-mouthed, delicately whiskered, and bracketed by willowy ears and twin antennae. A pair of reverse-articulated legs and splayed feet propelled her.

Alongside Vergere stood Depa Billaba, the hood of her brown cloak raised over her head.

The voice of the Prominence's pilot crackled from the pod's speakers.

"Master Tiin, incoming transmission from our escort." Qui-Gon stepped closer to the table.

Shortly, the image of an aristocratic human male appeared above the holoprojector.

"Esteemed members of the Jedi Order," the man began. "On behalf of Lord Crueya and Lady Theala of House Vandron, it is our honor to welcome you to the Senex sector. We apologize for the circuitous route we have been obliged to follow, and likewise for the precautions circumstances have obliged us to exercise. Tidal forces and orbital weapons make for an uncommonly hazardous mix." He smiled thinly. "Be that as it may, we trust that you will not judge the Senex sector by what you are likely to encounter on Asmeru. The planet once supported great cities and grand palaces, but all those fell victim to sudden climatic change. The current population is comprised of Ossan slaves created on the Vandron world of Karfeddion, but banished here owing to defects of one sort or another. Bred for agricultural work, the slaves have managed to make a life for themselves, though we doubt that you will find them especially welcoming. That might have been the case with the members of the Nebula Front, as well, but for their superior weapons." "Charming," Depa said, just loudly enough to be heard by her comrades.

"We're sorry we can't be of more assistance at this time," the human added. "Perhaps when the present crisis is resolved, the Senex Houses and the Republic can meet to discuss matters of mutual concern and benefit." The miniature figure disappeared, leaving the seven Jedi to trade looks of misgiving.

"And not yet midway through the minefield are we," Yaddle said.

The comm chimed again.

"Communication from Asmeru downside," the pilot announced. "Nebula Front sentry ships are presenting no overt threat, but House Vandron fighters have dispersed to remove themselves from any possible action." Through the port viewport Qui-Gon could see the sleek Tikiars peeling gracefully away from the Prominence.

When he turned back to the table, a leathery-skinned humanoid with a barbarous twist to his mouth stood in the holoprojector's cone of blue light.

His face was deeply pitted and his features were large.

His skull was shaved, save for a braided topknot that fell to his shoulders. Qui-Gon thought that he was getting his first glimpse of one of Asmeru's banished slaves, until the humanoid spoke.

"Republic cruisers, identify yourvs or risk being fired on." Saesee Tiin positioned himself for the holocam and spoke for the Jedi, his cowl lowered to reveal his tight, shiny face and downward-facing horns. "We are members of a diplomatic mission dispatched by Coruscant." "This is not Republic space, Jedi. You have no authority here." "We acknowledge that," Tiin replied in a calm voice. "But we have prevailed upon the rulers of this sector to guide us to Asmeru for the purpose of opening negotiations with the Nebula Front." The humanoid showed his teeth. "The Nebula Front's grievances are with the Trade Federation, not Coruscant-and we can settle those in our own fashion. What's more, we know full well how the Jedi "negotiate." his Tiin leaned toward the holocam pickup, narrowing already narrow eyes. "Then let me provide you with a reason. Coruscant has grievances with the Nebula Front when they make an attempt on the life of a Republic dignitary." The humanoid blinked in apparent bafflement. "Your meaning escapes me, Jedi. Whose life was threatened?" "The life of Supreme Chancellor Valorum." Concern tugged at the humanoid's gross features. "Your guides have misled you. As I said, we have no issue with the Republic." "Some of the assassins were tracked to Asmeru," Tiin pressed.

"They may have been tracked here, but we know nothing of their actions."

Tiin pressed his point. "I propose that someone in a position of command come aboard and speak with us." The humanoid scoffed. "You must be space happy."

"Then will you allow us to come to the surface and speak with you?" "Do we have a choice in the matter?" "No, not really." "I thought as much," the humanoid said. "How many Jedi are you?" "Seven." "And how many judicials?"

"Perhaps twenty." The humanoid turned to discuss the matter with someone out of view. "As a gesture of good faith, leave one of your cruisers in orbit, along with most of the Judicial force," he replied at last. "Two of our CloakShapes will usher the other cruiser down." Tiin glanced at Yaddle, then Billaba, both of whom nodded. He swung back to the holocam pickup. "We await your escort." "Is there anyone here who feels confident about this?" Vergere asked while the cruiser was descending through the thin clouds that barely masked Asmeru's wrinkled surface. When no one responded to the delicate, feathered Jedi's question, she shook her disproportionately large head. "Just as I feared." Qui-Gon glanced meaningfully at Obi-Wan.

The two of them left the pod and retraced their steps to the cockpit. By the time they arrived, features of the landscape were coming into view: ice- capped mountain ranges; arid plateaus; steep and intricately terraced hillsides, pale-green with crops, climbing above ribbons of racing black water.

"What should we do in the event of trouble, Master?" Obi — Wan asked quietly.

Qui-Gon's gaze didn't leave the cockpit viewport. "In a rainstorm, you try to keep dry by hurrying for shelter. But you get soaked regardless." "It's better to conclude beforehand that you're going to get wet," Obi-Wan said.

Qui-Gon nodded.

The ruins of an ancient city of quarried stone appeared on the horizon- monolithic monuments, rectangular platforms, and stepped pyramids, silhouetted against the sky, as if they were a range of hills. Directly below, enormous geometric shapes and animistic symbols had been etched into the perpetually thirsty ground. The city was bounded by walls made of cyclopean boulders, assembled in the shape of lightning bolts.

Surrounding the ruins spread a maze of primitive dwellings built of mud and sun-baked clay.

Tiny figures could be glimpsed moving along dirt roadways, some of them in wheeled wagons, and others driving herds of long-haired pack animals, as large as banthas. To the north, an expansive lake dotted with rocky islands stretched across the creased terrain like a spill of liquid jet.

"There's the landing area," the pilot said.

She directed Qui-Gon's attention to a large plaza at the center of the ruins, as wide as the hangar arm of a Trade Federation freighter and twice as long. Bordered on all four sides by flat — faced pyramids, the plaza was large enough to accommodate a flotilla of cruisers.

"Prominence, this is Ecliptic" the same female voice said in haste over the cockpit speakers. "Our scanners have detected five unidentified vessels emerging from Asmeru's dark side. House Vandron's Tikiars and Dreadnaughts are leaving orbit." Qui-Gon glanced sharply at the pilot. "It's a trap, Captain.

Order the Ecliptic to get clear." "Ecliptic," the pilot started to say, when a long burst of static issued from the cockpit speakers. Then the female voice returned, her words shot through with alarm.

"'Prominence, they're detonating the mines! We can't maneuver!

Unidentified ships closing. Four starfighters and a Tempest — class gunship." Obi-Wan shot Qui-Gon a wide-eyed look.

"The Hawk-Bat!" "We'll know soon enough." A prolonged screech erupted from the speakers. At the same time, the Prominence began to shudder violently.

"We're being pulled in," the pilot said in astonishment.

She and the copilot began to struggle with the controls.

Qui — Gon pressed his face to the cool transparisteel viewport. A rec tangular opening had appeared in the inclined face of one of the plaza pyramids, revealing the telltale grid of a tractor beam.

"It's a commercial array," Qui-Gon said. "Can we break away?" "We can try," the pilot said.

"We could also end up blowing out the sublight drives," Obi-Wan thought to point out.

The copilot opened a channel to the communications station. "Send a burst transmission to Coruscant, alerting them to our situation." Below, the flat roof of a sprawling building was parting like a curtain. The barrel of a weapon elevated into view.

"Ion cannon," the pilot said through gritted teeth.

Qui-Gon squatted down next to her. "Our visit was clearly anticipated, Captain." Abruptly, she pivoted to the controls that ena4 the salon pod ejection system. "Master, tell your comrades to exit the salon pod. There may yet be a way out of this." Qui-Gon glanced out the viewport. One of the escort Cloak — Shapes had altered vector to move in front of the cruiser. The landing area was directly ahead, only a few kilometers distant. "There are ways, Captain. But not the one you have in mind." "Do as I say," she snapped.

Qui-Gon hesitated, then leaned toward the intercom pickup. "Master Tiin, evacuate the salon pod immediately." "Why, Qui-Gon?" "There's no time to explain. Hurry." The pilot waited for confirmation that the pod was empty.

Then she triggered the pod's separator charges. The cruiser's bow tipped up as the magnoclamps below the cockpit blew, and the pod broke away from the fuselage.

All but immune to the effects of the tractor beam because of its small size, the pod rocketed ahead of the decelerating cruiser, its self-contained jets flaring, but its course dictated by the Prominence's captain.

The pilot of the CloakShape flying point couldn't have known what hit him.

Rammed forcefully in the tail by the pod, the fighter lurched forward, then veered violently to one side.

The pilot tried to correct, but the repulsorlift engine had been fatally damaged, and the small craft was out of control. Belching intermittent puffs of white smoke and a stream of viscous fluids, the CloakShape tipped up onto its right stabilizer, then began a corkscrewing plummet toward the city's central plaza.

The pilot leaned forward to track the fighter, her right hand clenched.

"Stay on target," she urged the fighter. "Stay on target…" The CloakShape slammed nose first into the sloping face of the pyramid that housed the tractor beam, and blew to pieces. Narrowly missed, the grid held for a moment, then sparks began to gambol across the invisible perimeter of its deflector shield.

"That's all we needed!" the pilot said.

She fed full power to the tri-thrusters, and was just starting her climb when the cruiser jerked to a halt, then was released, only to be jerked motionless once more.

"You damaged it, Captain," Qui-Gon said, "but you didn't kill it." The pilot's continued efforts to pull away succeeded only in throwing the cruiser into a dizzying horizontal spin. Still half in the grip of the dazed grid, the Prominence slued sharply to starboard, flying over the plaza and headed straight for the city's northernmost pyramid.

Qui-Gon was certain that they were go ing to hit the structure head-on, but at the last moment, the cruiser surged upward. Even so, the tail struck the pyramid's upper platform, shearing off the central and starboard thrusters.

At the same instant, the ion cannon opened fire.

Energy pulsed from the weapon's reciprocating barrels, finding soft spots in the belly of the ship.

Charges leapt about the deflector shield, forking like lightning, then encasing the ship in a scintillating web of blue light.

All shipboard systems failed.

Silence reigned for a split second, then sporadic power returned. The cruiser commenced a rapid, diagonal glide, held aloft by its sole remaining engine.

Lambent with late sunlight, the black lake expanded below.

"And I thought you were just being figurative about getting wet, Master,"

Obi-Wan said as he looked around for something to hold on to.

The Prominence skimmed the surface of the lake, then bellied into the water and began to hydroplane toward the center. The cruiser was on a collision course with one of the rocky islands, until its blunt bow dropped, and the lake robbed it of forward momentum. It came to a shuddering stop in turbulent water, then listed to its damaged side and slowly began to sink.

By then the seven Jedi and the few judicials aboard had gathered at the starboard docking ring airlock.

Blowing the hatch, they eased down into the frigid water and started to swim for the nearest island, which rose in a jumble of wind — and water — smoothed boulders to a height of one hundred or so meters.

First to reach shore, Qui-Gon launched himself to dry land, landing on his feet on a narrow stretch of rocky beach. Waves generated by the cruiser's plunge crashed around his ankles. He used his hands to sluice some of the water out of his long hair and beard. Then he emptied his boots, plucked his soaked tunic away from his chest, and slipped into the cloak he had held above the waves while swimming. Unclipping his lightsaber, he acti vated the blade and swept it in front of him.

Satisfied that the weapon hadn't been damaged, he switched it off and reclipped it to his broad leather belt.

He inhaled deeply, but didn't come close to filling his lungs with oxygen. The high-altitude air was thin; the sky, an inverted bowl of the deepest blue, was seemingly supported on the ice — white shoulders of mountain ranges that ringed the horizon.

As — meru's sun was a huge red smear on the western horizon. The temperature was falling fast, and certainly would be below freezing by sunset.

To the south, the sky was streaked with the contrails of ships rocketing down the planet's gravity well, no doubt headed for the landing area. Qui-Gon wondered briefly which one of them might be the Hawk-Bat.

He turned his back to the lake and let his gaze wander up over the lifeless rocks. Assembled by hand rather than nature, the island was itself a pyramid, with the ruins of ancient structures surmounting it.

To both sides of Qui-Gon, Jedi and judicials were beginning to climb from the lake, their waterlogged tunics and uniforms weighing them down.

Following Qui-Gon's lead, Obi-Wan sprang from the water, landing atop one of the smaller rocks. Vergere floated in like a water fowl until she reached the stony beach, then she called on her powerful reverse-articulated legs to catapult her ashore. Saesee Tiin's big hands cut through the waves like flippers. Yaddle rode in atop Ki-Adi-Mundi's broad shoulders, her short arms wrapped around his tall head, and her topknot of golden-brown hair plastered to her green skull.

Close by, Depa Billaba stepped gracefully to the beach, as if emerging from a warm bath.

Three hundred meters away, the dorsal hull of the Prominence was still visible above the waterline. Giant air bubbles broke the surface of the lake and popped loudly.

Everyone was a bit stunned. With a fractured arm, the cruiser's pilot was the most seriously injured. In obvious pain, she made her way over to Qui-Gon, breathless when she reached him.

"I thought we could break free," she said, by way of apology.

"Don't condemn your actions just yet," Qui-Gon replied. "Nothing happens by chance." The pilot nodded and looked at Saesee Tiin.

"Was it House Vandron that betrayed us?" The Iktotchi folded his arms across his massive chest. "That has little bearing on our present situation."

He glanced at Yaddle. "The question is, what do we do next?" "An immediate answer, that question begs," the small Jedi replied, "as company we're about to have." Qui-Gon followed her gaze. Several vessels were approaching from the lake's south shore.

Obi-Wan reached to unclip his lightsaber, but Qui-Gon restrained him with a look. "There's always time for that. Just now we need to assess where we stand." Obi-Wan glanced around. "On an island, in the middle of a lake, with adversaries on the approach, Master." "Wasn't it you who said that things are not always what they appear to be?" Obi-Wan frowned. "I stand corrected." Qui- Gon touched him on the shoulder and nodded his chin to the others. "There's no sense making ourselves easy targets." Drawing on the Force, and taking the judicials with them, the Jedi vaulted and bounded up into the boulders.

From higher up, they had a better vantage from which to see just what was approaching. Driven by repulsorlifts, the vessels were as gruesomely fanciful as the spaceships of House Vandron. Some had upturned animistic prows and ribcage gunwales; others had elaborately raised sterns, carved with ghastly visages. All were equipped with mounted repeating blasters.

The bestial flotilla came to a hovering halt just short of the island, weapons traversing the shore. Each vessel carried a crew of humans, Weequays, Rodians, Bith, Sullustans, and others, many of them layered in heavy garments, gloves, and headpieces that covered noses and mouths.

Standing in the bow of the lead craft, a tall human unwound the colorful scarf that masked his lower face and cupped his hands to his mouth.

"For what it's worth, Jedi, we had planned on providing you with a warmer, and certainly drier, welcome." Saesee Tiin, Ki-Adi-Mundi, and Qui-Gon showed themselves. "The same warm welcome you provided our other cruiser?"

Tiin said.

The human had the boat brought about to face Tiin.

"In attempting to flee, your other cruiser struck several mines and was destroyed. We had no intentions of firing on it." "What are your intentions here?" Ki-Adi-Mundi asked.

"First, to declare that we are dismayed that the Jedi would oppose free trade in the outlying systems, by choosing to side with the Trade Federation."

"We have taken no sides," Tiin said gruffly. "Our sole aim is to resolve this crisis before it intensifies into open warfare. That, too, is the goal of Supreme Chancellor Valorum, who is anything but your enemy is this matter."

"We had nothing to do with the assassination attempt," someone in one of the other boats shouted.

The terrorists" spokesman whirled angrily to the source of the outburst, then regained his composure. "If Valorum is not our enemy, why was the Nebula Front excluded from the Eriadu summit?" "If you will agree to meet with the Supreme Chancellor, he will explain his reasons." The human shook his head at Tiin. "That's not good enough. The conference will unite the Trade Federation and the Commerce Guild against us. We demand that Valorum cancel the summit."

"Is that what this is about?" Qui-Gon asked, gesturing broadly. "You intend to hold us hostage while you issue your demands?" The human spread his gloved hands. "What are the chances of Valorum listening to us otherwise, Jedi?" Tiin responded to it. "And should the supreme chancellor refuse to listen to you now?" "Then the blood of however many of you die here will be on Valorum's hands," the man said after a long moment.

He continued before any of the Jedi could respond.

"All of us are aware of your abilities. We're not yet desperate enough to attempt to take you by force.

We know that you can probably survive on this pile of rocks for as long as you wish, even without adequate food and water. But that is also acceptable to us. For the moment, the fact that you are stranded here is all that matters. It is our hope, however, that you will come to your senses and allow us to imprison you in a style more in keeping with that which you are accustomed." Night passed slowly.

Warming themselves through the Force, the Jedi huddled on the stone floor of the island's ruined summit temple, with the judicials pressed in among them. Glow sticks provided light when they needed it, and food tablets provided some sustenance. But there was no water, even from the lake, because of its dangerously high salinity.

Vergere tucked her legs beneath her and sat as if roosting. Yaddle pulled her delicate robes around her and slipped easily into a trance state.

Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, Depa Billaba, KiAdiMundi, and Saesee Tiin took turns at guard duty.

Lifeless as the island was, the Force was strong there, in the lingering presence of the ancients who had assembled it.

Through trapezoidal windows in the temple walls, dawn cast long red shadows into the room. When everyone was awake, Yaddle and Depa Billaba got right down to business.

"By now, Coruscant has learned of our predicament," Billaba said. "I'm certain that the Supreme Chancellor will not delay the Eriadu summit. But he may dispatch more judicials to Asmeru." "A conflict that guarantees," Yaddle said.

"Lost already is the Ecliptic, presumably with all hands. Now, additional deaths in the offing are. A better way to resolve this there is." It was not the first time in her 476 years that the tiny Jedi had been imprisoned.

According to legend, she had ascended to the rank of Master as a result of having spent more than a hundred years in an underground prison on Koba.

"The Nebula Front can't hope to gain anything by holding us here," Qui- Gon said with patent suspicion. "Surely they know that we were able to communicate with Coruscant before we crashed." "Perhaps they don't think that way," Ki-Adi-Mundi suggested. "Perhaps strategy of that sort doesn't come into play." Qui-Gon looked at him. "But it does. I've already seen it in action."

"Explain it to you Cohl will, when finally you confront him," Yaddle said.

"Until that time, resolve to yield or fight we must." Vergere's willowy ears pricked up. She glanced knowingly at Qui-Gon, then cut her oblique eyes to the doorless portal that led to the temple's adjoining room. Qui-Gon listened intently for a moment, then he and Ki-Adi-Mundi stood up and moved silently to either side of the gaping opening.

Yaddle, Depa, and Vergere began to converse again, as if nothing were amiss. Suddenly, Qui-Gon and KiAdiMundi reached into the doorway, tugging into the scant sunlight a humanoid who looked as if he, or perhaps she, had risen from the ground itself. The being's thick skin was certainly impervious to wind, snow, or high-altitude solar radiation. Its four hands and bare feet were configured for digging and scooping, and its back was built for carrying loads. Eyes clearly capable of seeing in the dark were prominent in a mere suggestion of a face, lacking ears or nose, with a mouth barely suited to speech.

Held in the grip of the two Jedi, the biped began to babble nervously in an unknown tongue.

Depa got to her feet. "He speaks the traders tongue of the Senex sector Houses," she said.

Yaddle nodded. "One of their allegedly flawed bioengineered slaves, he is." The slave continued to speak, his gaze riveted on Depa.

She listened, then smiled gently and touched his shoulder. "It seems there's an alternative we hadn't considered," she told everyone. "This one is offering to help us escape." Qui-Gon spoke to the slave. "By what method?"

Depa translated the reply. "By taking the route he took to reach us." The slave motioned to the adjoining room. Qui-Gon and Obi — Wan lighted two glow sticks and ducked through the doorway. In the room's rear wall, a hinged stone door, a meter thick, was ajar.

"Explored this place during the night, did you not?" Yaddle asked from behind them.

"We did, Master," Obi-Wan said.

She shook her head in rebuke. "Careless, you are." The slave said something to Depa.

"This one says that this temple and the city are linked by underground tunnels. Some of the tunnels lead to the structures that surround the main plaza-the landing platform. Apparently, the plaza is lightly guarded, and this one believes that we could easily seize the starfighters parked there."

Yaddle's eyes narrowed somewhat. "Clearly what we are meant to do," she said.

"Less certain, I am, about our chances of leaving Asmeru." Tiin nodded decisively. "We'll defer any decision until that option is in hand." In single file they moved through the hidden doorway into a cold and dank corridor. At the bottom of a steep flight of stairs, two more slaves, all but identical to the first, were waiting. Oily black and acrid smoke curled from the torches they carried.

The wide tunnel beyond the stairway was constructed of un — mortared but precisely cut stones, some of which were perfectly curved to form vaulted supports.

Shifts in the land had wrought damage to the ancients' work. Lake water dripped through formerly solid joints and puddled on the stone floor. In several places, the walls were entirely encrusted in salt.

Depa continued to converse with the slave as they began to descend beneath the shallow lake.

"When the Nebula Front first arrived on Asmeru, they asked the slaves for shelter, and made no demands of them," she explained. "But the later arrivals- the members this one calls "the soldiers"-forced the slaves to surrender their homes and provide food. The soldiers are as cruel as the Senex Lords, and they frequently clash with the Front's more nonviolent founders about how things should be done. Fortunately, there are few commanding soldiers onworld just now." "Few soldiers," Qui-Gon said to Obi-Wan.

"That's odd." "How so, Master?" "Where are they, while we are here?" The tunnel began to angle up and the dripping ceased, indicating that they had reached the mainland. Smaller tunnels branched off in all directions, and there were visible signs that the passageways were used on a regular basis for moving about the ancient city.

Crude sconces were affixed to the walls, and the edges of stones at the tunnel intersections had been polished to a gloss by the caresses of countless hands.

"We're close to the landing platform," Depa announced quietly.

The central tunnel debouched into a large rectangular cavern, with stairways leading up at the center of each wall. Depa pointed to the nearest one.

"This will take us into the northern pyramid. The starfighters are parked near the structure that houses the tractor beam generator." "That's a good distance away," Qui-Gon said.

Depa nodded. "Most of the guards are quartered in the tractor beam pyramid. We're certain to encounter resistance." The slave led them up the stairs and guided them through a series of small rooms to a massive portal that looked out on the plaza. Several CloakShapes could be seen, along with the Hawk — Bat, resting on a trio of landing pads.

In the middle distance, a few armed guards traded remarks in Basic.

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan led everyone but the slaves out into the plaza, most of which lay in deep morning shadow. They weren't even halfway to the closest starfighter when a voice called out.

"I'm glad to see that you've decided to join us." Seven lightsabers igniting in a rush, the Jedi formed a protective circle, with their energy blades poised for deflection. At the center of the circle, the judicials crouched with drawn blasters.

The human who had spoken to them from the hover vessel stepped out onto the balcony of a palatial structure that overlooked the plaza. Then, to all sides of the plaza, appeared Nebula Front soldiers brandishing all styles of blaster weapons.

Behind the terrorists gathered a curious but wary audience of slaves.

"Again, we are betrayed," Ki-Adi-Mundi said.

Depa looked back at the pyramid doorway.

Quaking with primitive fear, the three slaves were being shoved forward by two armed terrorists.

"Only by our predictability," she said.

"Master, who is our enemy here?" Obi-Wan asked quietly.

Qui-Gon shook his head. "I've been wondering that since Dorvalla, Padawan. There is more to all this than we know." The terrorists' spokesman followed an exterior stairway down into the plaza, where he was joined by a second member-a Bith.

Obi-Wan glanced briefly at Qui-Gon.

"Master, isn't that-was "Quiet, Padawan," Qui-Gon cut him off.

The human and the Bith stopped while they were still some distance from the ominous circle the Jedi had formed.

"We have two choices here," the human began. "Of course, we could fight.

Ultimately, you would certainly emerge the victors.

But some of you might die in the process, and those who don't will be forced to kill all of us. Or-was He paused briefly. his-comwe could all lower our weapons." Qui-Gon looked to Yaddle and Tiin, who nodded curtly and deactivated their lightsabers. At a signal from the spokesman, the terrorists began to holster their blasters. Qui-Gon and the other Jedi followed suit, dousing their lightsaber blades but keeping the hilts at ready.

"I'm delighted that we could reach an understanding," the human said in what sounded like genuine relief.

Qui-Gon's gaze roamed over the terrorists in front of him. "Where is Captain Cohl?" He asked after a moment.

The question took the human off his guard. "Ah, of course," he replied, after a moment. "You recognized his ship." "Where is he?" Qui-Gon repeated.

The human shook his head. "I'm sorry to report that Captain Cohl is no longer with us. I believe he retired. But back to matters at hand, do we have a truce here?" "A temporary one, at best," Tiin cautioned.

"One piece of business first," the terrorist said, then turned to the soldiers who had herded the three slaves into the plaza.

Without warning, blasters discharged and the slaves fell to the ground.

Depa broke from the circle and hurried over to them, going down on one knee as she reached the slave who had guided them out of the pyramid. She touched the slave's neck, then glanced up at Yaddle and gave her head a mournful shake.

"That's what happens to traitors," the human was shouting to the slaves who had gathered round the plaza.

Qui-Gon exchanged brief looks with Yaddle and Tiin.

Seven lightsabers reignited.

"We're annulling the truce," Tiin announced.

The hologram showed a diplomatic cruiser attempting to maneuver through a field of asteroidlike space mines, grazing one then another, and another, losing pieces of itself with each encounter, and in the end vanishing in a brief-lived tempest of expanding fire.

"That was the Ecliptic" Valorum explained to Senators Bail Antilles, Horox Ryyder, and Palpatine, in his office in the Republic Executive Building.

"The images were relayed to Coruscant by the Famulus, one of the ships of House Vandron that led our mission into the Senex sector. All twenty judicials aboard the Ecliptic are presumed dead." Valorum switched off the holoprojector and lowered himself into his soft chair.

"Has there been further word from the Prominence?"" Antilles asked.

Valorum shook his head. "We know only that those aboard- seven Jedi and five judicials-survived the crash. By now they could be in captivity." "Is there any evidence to suggest that House Vandron was involved in this?"

Senator Ryyder asked.

He was exceptionally tall, even for an Anx, with a long, bearded head that rose like a mountain spire from his curved neck. His skin was a variegated yellow-green, and his fingers were elongated spindles.

He favored bright red robes, with high round collars.

"No evidence whatever," Valorum said. "Lord Crueya maintains that the commanders of their ships were ordered beforehand to avoid engagement, no matter what occurred." "I don't accept that for a moment," Antilles said.

Valorum blew out his breath. "I'm not certain that I do, either. Master Yoda was right about the rulers of the Senex. They are no better than the Nebula Front terrorists." "Has the Front issued any demands?" Palpatine asked mildly.

"Not yet. But I suspect we can sense what's coming: demands that the Trade Federation be disbanded, or that the Republic guarantee reduced tariffs for the outlying systems. I will not consent to those, but, if nothing else, we should at least postpone the trade summit until this crisis is settled." "I respectfully disagree," Palpatine said.

"I'm certain that is precisely what the Nebula Front wishes us to do."

Valorum's forehead furrowed. "They could be holding the survivors hostage, Senator. And I'm responsible for having sent them into danger." "All the more reason to stand firm." Palpatine glanced around the room. "Supreme Chancellor, if I may say so, the moment is ripe to demonstrate the far-reaching authority of the Republic, and thus ensure Senate approval of taxation of the trade routes. Moreover, with the Nebula Front eliminated, the Trade Federation will be more inclined to accept taxation." Valorum frowned at him. "Need I remind you that the Senex sector is not Republic space?

Sending additional forces to As — meru would constitute a violation of Senex sovereignty. The senate would never sanction such action." Palpatine remained calm. "Again, I beg to disagree. The senate will sanction it because Republic interests are at stake." Again he glanced at Antilles and Ryyder.

"Assuming for the moment that the Jedi have failed in their diplomatic mission, the Nebula Front is free to disrupt the Eriadu summit, and thus broaden the existing conflict to include not only the Trade Federation, but also the Commerce Guild and the Corporate Alliance. Supreme Chancellor, you yourself said that the summit should, under no circumstances, be jeopardized.

That was your paramount reason for dispatching the Jedi to Asmeru." "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 — comgreen, 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 Pada — wan 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 hologame 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. "Un — revealed 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." "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 Cloak — Shape 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 ^th 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 Cloak — Shape 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. "Is 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 Part way 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." "We need to make one stop first," Qui-Gon interrupted. "At Karfeddion." Tiin stared at him, awaiting an explanation.

"Cohl is executing another plan." Qui-Gon indicated Cindar. "This one is going to help us pick up Cohl's trail." Tiin and Yaddle traded brief glances.

"Cohl is no longer working for the Front," Tiin said. "We all heard as much."

"The plan has been a closely guarded secret.

Someone named Havac is behind it. We must go to Karfeddion." "Impossible, Qui-Gon," Yaddle said, shaking her head back and forth. "Leave the Senex, we must." Qui-Gon squared his shoulders. "Then my Padawan and I will go." Obi- Wan's jaw dropped slightly.

"Not in any of our ships, Qui-Gon," Tiin said in challenge.

Qui-Gon glanced around. "Then we'll use the Hawk-Bat." "Making this personal, you are," Yaddle said.

"Defying a direct order from the High Council, you'll be." Qui-Gon didn't argue the point. "My duty is to the Force, Master." Yaddle studied him for a long moment. "To what end, Qui — Gon? To what end?" The holobanner glowing through the t'bac smoke in the cantina read: the tipsy mynock welcomes the karfeddion skull CRACKERS. A smashball team, the Skull Crackers were known throughout the Senex for their blatant disregard for the rules of play and for the lives of their opponents. A boisterous dozen of the local heroes were gathered in a corner of the Tipsy Mynock, raising flagons of fermented drink to one another and whomever happened by, growing more inebriated by the minute, and fairly itching to cause trouble of a major sort.

A few booths away, Cohl and Boiny sat with a hulking human who might have been a member of the Skull Crackers- had he been a few centimeters shorter and a lot less dangerous looking.

A pleasant-looking humanoid female bred on one of the Karfeddion slave farms placed a tall shot of bright-yellow liquid in front of Cohl's guest, who downed the notoriously strong drink in one swallow.

"Thanks, Captain," the human said genuinely, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "It's not often I get a taste of the real article." Cohl appraised Lope, as the man called himself, from across the table that separated them. The fact that Lope could handle himself in a brawl was beyond dispute.

But the Eriadu operation would not turn on brute strength, but on a combination of skill and intelligence.

Of course, situations could arise in the most carefully designed scenarios when it came down to muscle. But Cohl still wasn't convinced that Lope was suited to handle even that eventuality.

"What's your specialty?" he asked after a moment.

Lope planted his elbows on the table.

"Vibroblade, stun baton, nerve pick. But I can also handle a blaster- BlasTechs, Merr-Sonns, Czerkas…" "But you prefer in-close work." Lope shrugged. "When it comes right down to it, yeah, I guess I do. Why, what's the job, Captain?" Cohl shook his head. "I can't tell you that unless I decide to bring you aboard." Lope nodded. "I understand. But I'd sure like to hire on with you, Captain. They don't come any better than you." Cohl ignored the flattery. "Where have you worked?" "Up and down the Corellian Trade Spine, mostly. I did a stint in the Stark Conflict.

I'd still be in the Core, if I didn't have a price on my head for a bit of wet work I did on Sacorria." "Are you wanted anywhere else?" "Only there, Captain." Cohl was mildly encouraged. Lope was typical of the outlaws that fled to the outlying systems, but he wasn't a professional.

"You have any problem working with aliens, Lope?" Lope glanced briefly at Boiny. "Not Rodians. Why, you've got others on your crew?" "A Gotal." Lope stroked his stubbled jaw. "Gotal, huh?

I can work with those." A sudden commotion erupted at the entrance to the cantina, and four large and mean-looking humans shouldered their way to the bar. Cohl thought they might be members of the Skull Crackers or some rival team, until the largest among them climbed up onto the bar and fired a blaster bolt into the ceiling.

"Lope, I know you're in here somewhere," he shouted while plaster dust drifted down around him and he scanned the tables and booths. "Where are you, you double-dealing slime?" Cohl glanced from the man at the bar to Lope.

"Friend of yours?" "Not for long," Lope said, getting to his feet and waving his arm. "Right here, Pezzle." Pezzle squinted in Lope's direction, then jumped down from the bar and began to shove and barrel his way through the crowd, his cohorts following in his wake.

"You're a no-good cheat," he said as soon as he reached the booth. "You figured you could walk out without paying us, is that it?" Cohl watched Lope take in everything at a glance: Pezzle's raised weapon, the position of the other three men, how far their hands were from their blasters.

"You weren't worth paying," Lope said flatly.

"You only took care of one of them, and you left me to clean up after you." Cohl and Boiny started to slide out of the booth, but Lope put his hand on Cohl's shoulder. "Don't leave, Captain. This won't take a minute.

Maybe you could consider it an audition." "All right," Cohl told him, settling back down.

Customers in the adjacent booths weren't as confident as Cohl. Climbing over seats and whatever else stood in their way, they began to scramble out of the line of fire.

Sweating profusely, Pezzle gulped and found his voice. "You'll pay now,"

he said, flinging spittle from his thick lips.

Cohl never saw Lope's blaster leave its holster.

He saw the blur of Lope's right hand, he heard several weapons discharge, and the next thing he knew, Pezzle and his trio were piled in a heap on the floor.

His smoking blaster still in hand, Lope regarded Cohl expectantly.

"You'll do," Cohl said, nodding his head.

Karfeddion Spaceport was a sprawl of docking bays, repair shops, and cantinas even seedier than the Tipsy Mynock. Nodding to the several members of Docking Bay 331 "s maintenance crew, Cohl, Boiny, and Lope closed on the battered freighter the Nebula Front had provided.

"What happened to the Hawk-Bat, Captain?" Lope asked as he gazed uncertainly at the ship.

"Too well known for where we're headed," Cohl said.

Cohl introduced Lope to the pair of humans who were standing at the foot of the freighter's boarding ramp.

"Captain," one of them said in a scratchy voice, "some dame is waiting for you in the forward compartment." "Who? "Cohl said.

"She wouldn't say." Cohl and Boiny traded looks. "Maybe it's that bounty hunter you were searching for," the Rodian suggested.

"I've got another idea," Cohl said, without elaborating.

"You don't think-was "Who else could it be? The only thing I can't figure is how she found me." "Maybe she attached a tracker to some part of you before she left," Boiny suggested.

They left Lope and the others to get acquainted and climbed the ramp.

"Did I tell you she would miss me?" Cohl asked over his shoulder as soon as he had stepped into the forward hold.

Rella was sitting in Cohl's chair, with her long legs crossed.

"You're right, Cohl," she said. "I couldn't stay away-but not for the reasons you think." Her outfit of tunic, trousers, capelet, and cowl was made of a silvery metallic fiber that shimmered as she moved.

"By the look of you, I'd say you've been dipping too deeply into your retirement fund, and you need the credits." She scowled at him. "Is it safe to talk in here?" Cohl nodded to Boiny, who ena4 the cabin's security system.

"I've been hearing rumors that you're putting together a new crew," Rella said when Cohl sat down.

He shrugged. "What else could I do after you walked out on me?" She didn't even crack a smile. "The way I hear it, you're in the market for lookouts and second-rate exterminators-like that brute you just brought in."

"Tough jobs call for tough personnel." Rella looked him in the eye. "What have you gotten yourself into, Cohl? Be straight with me-for old times" sake."

Cohl considered it, then said, "It's an execution." She nodded knowingly.

"Who's the target?" "Valorum-on Eriadu." Rella seemed to shrink in the chair, as if her worst fears had been realized. "You can't do this, Cohl." He laughed shortly. "You're welcome to watch." "Listen to me," she started to say.

"What, you bought yourself some scruples to go along with the new outfit- the new you?" "Scruples? Don't insult me, Cohl." "Then what is it about Valorum?" She shook her head. "It's not about Valorum.

It's about you-your reputation. Without even trying, I found out that you'd been to Belsavis, Malastare, Clak'dor, and Yetoom. How hard do you think it's going to be for anyone else to track you? And I don't mean thugs looking to hire on with you. I'm talking about judicials or Jedi." "I appreciate the warning, Rella, but it won't matter now. I've got everyone I need. Unless, of course, you want to sign aboard." She held his gaze. "I do." He blinked.

"No, I'm not kidding you, Cohl," she said.

All at once Cohl grew serious and reached for her hands. "Listen, kid, I appreciate your finding me, but this operation isn't something you want to get involved in." She appraised him. "I don't get it. A minute ago you were acting like you had the galaxy by the tail." "Bluster, Rella, pure and simple." "Are you saying you wish you hadn't taken the job on?" "Maybe I'm just feeling my age, but, yeah, I should have stepped out of the life when I could. I mean, moisture farming can't be all that difficult to learn, right? And there'll still be exciting times…" Rella smiled broadly. "Of course there'll be exciting times, Cohl. Just drop this thing. You can walk away right now." He shook his head. "I gave my word. I have to at least see this through." Rella studied him for a moment, then forced an exhale. "All the more reason for me to tag along.

If you can't look out for yourself, then I'll have to do it for you."

world of rugged landmasses and slender seas, slate-gray Eriadu had long sought to be the Coruscant of the Outer Rim. That goal had been furthered by dint of Eriadu's choice location in the heart of the Seswenna sector, at the intersection of the Rimma Trade Route and the Hydian Way.

But where Coruscant had confined most of its factories and foundries to specific areas, industry held sway over all Eriadu, fouling air, land, and sea with unrelenting outpourings of toxic by-products. Worse, while the planet was prosperous compared to its neighbors, Eriadu's legislators remained more interested in unbridled growth than in investing in the atmosphere scrubbers, aquifer purifiers, and waste disposal systems that made Coruscant livable.

The planet's principal city was in the southern hemisphere. A thriving seaport that had grown up around the mouth of a major river, it spread almost one hundred kilometers inland, sprawling along the shores of a finger-shaped bay to the west, and creeping up and over the once thickly forested hills that rose at its back.

From the rear of the energy-shielded, repulsorlift limousine that had swept him past crowds of demonstrators at Eriadu Spaceport, Valorum surmised that the city must have been a scenic wonder, once upon a time.

Now it was a gloomy warren of tiled domes, narrow alleyways, lofty arches and towers, and open-air marketplaces, thronged with turbaned merchants, veiled women, bearded men drawing on the spouts of bubbling waterpipes, and six-legged beasts of burden, heaped with trade goods, vying for space with rusting landspeeders and aged repulsorsleds.

Valorum couldn't help thinking of Eriadu as a dusty and forlorn flip side of Theed, the capital city of Naboo.

The din of voices and vehicles was nearly enough to overwhelm the tinted, sound-cancellation windows of his limousine, though many of the city's streets had been cleared for his passing. Traffic had been diverted, and security personnel and droids were stationed at nearly every intersection. Citizens were allowed to watch from the narrow sidewalks, but anyone caught peering from an upper-story window or overhead walkway risked being shot by judicial snipers stationed on the rooftops and riding in speeders above the Coruscant delegation hovercade.

Earlier, Valorum had learned that several decoy convoys had been dispatched from the spaceport, and that the route his hover — cade was following through the city had been altered at the last moment, to thwart premeditated attacks.

To the protective force of judicials, Senate Guards, and security droids, he was known in code as "The Goods." After the decision to send half the supplemental force of Jedi Knights to Asmeru, to deal with the crisis there, the security detail chiefs had demanded that Valorum submit to wearing a temporary locator implant, so that they would know where he was at all times.

It was ironic that he should find himself in the spotlight, when the whole idea behind the trade summit had been to focus attention on the Outer Rim worlds. Still, he was glad that he had had sense enough to listen to Senator Palpatine about going through with the summit as planned, despite what was occurring in the Senex sector.

An added irony was that the Valorum family had played a part in fouling Eriadu's atmosphere, as well as in cooking it, courtesy of the enormous balls of flame that spewed periodically from the factory stacks that dominated the outskirts of the city.

The family's contribution was a space vessel construction and shipping concern, based in orbit and in several downside facilities. In terms of output, the company wasn't in the same league as TaggeCo and the other giant corporations, and in terms of transport it was no match for Duro Shipping, let alone the Trade Federation. But thanks in part to the Valorum name, the company had never failed to show a profit.

Valorum's onworld relatives had offered their stately homes and mansions for use during his visit, but once again he had followed a suggestion by Senator Palpatine, that he stay at the home of the sector's lieutenant governor, who was an acquaintance of Palpatine's.

The lieutenant governor's name was Wilhuff Tarkin, and his compound was said to overlook the artificially blue waters of the bay.

Tarkin was rumored to be an ambitious man, with grandiose ideas, and, in that, his manse by the sea did not disappoint.

Equal in size to those of Valorum's wealthy cousins on Eriadu, the house was an ostentatious blend of Core Classic and Mid Rim Ornate, which declared itself with huge, domed enclosures, gilded columns, and stone floors polished to a liquid sheen.

There was, however, something impersonal about the great, high-ceilinged rooms and stately colonnades. It was as if the costly furnishings and framed artwork were there merely for show, when what the owner actually preferred was the antiseptic gleam of a space-worthy freighter.

Valorum was ushered into the manse by a surround of Senate Guards. Also under escort, walked Sei Taria and a dozen members of the Coruscant delegation to the summit. Trailing them came Adi Gallia and three other Jedi, who had assented to Valorum's request that they be as unobtrusive as possible.

Once inside, the guards allowed Valorum a bit of breathing room, but that was only because every guest and every droid servant had been scanned, well in advance of his arrival. The house itself had been gone over top to bottom by the security detail, who had turned part of the estate into theirthe tactical command and control headquarters. Snipers roosted in the trees and on the parapets, and gunships patrolled the offshore waters.

Testament to the priorities of Eriadu's leaders, Seswenna Hall, where the summit was to take place, was an even more elaborate structure. A dome of enormous dimensions, it crowned a high mount at the center of the city and rose in mosaic splendor to a height of some two hundred meters.

Valorum had expected to be feted, but he had not been prepared for so sizable a gathering. With Sei Taria at his side, he was announced to a ballroom filled with dignitaries representing worlds throughout the Mid and Outer Rims. From Sullust, Malastare, Ryloth, and Bespin they had come; few of them enamored with Valorum, but all of them eager to be heard on the matter of taxation of the free trade zones.

"Supreme Chancellor Valorum," the man who had made it all happen said, "Eriadu is honored to receive you." Lieutenant Governor Tarkin was a wiry man, with intense blue eyes, sunken cheeks, and an expressionless mouth. His brow was high and bony, and his taut face seemed to reveal the size and shape of every bone beneath. Already receding at the temples, his black hair was combed straight back and meticulously cut. He stood tall and straight as a military officer and projected an air of aristocratic officiousness.

Valorum recalled hearing that Tarkin, in fact, had served in the military when Eriadu was part of what had then been known as the Outland Regions.

"Did Senator Palpatine arrive with you?" Tarkin asked.

"He had some lingering business to attend to on Coruscant," Valorum replied. "But I'm certain that the Naboo delegation will arrive in time for the summit's opening remarks." Tarkin appraised Valorum openly as they stepped down into the ballroom, the crowd parting before them.

"It's a rare occasion when anyone involved in Republic politics leaves Coruscant," Tarkin continued. "Something of a prison, isn't it?

Should duty ever call for me to be confined to one place, I will at least demand that I have ample space around me." He waved his thin arms through a broad circle.

Valorum forced a smile. "The trip was short and pleasant." "Yes, but for you to leave the Core, and to come here… It's nothing less than extraordinary."

"Nothing less than necessary," Valorum said.

Tarkin arched a brow as he turned slightly.

"Necessary perhaps, but certainly unprecedented. And I believe it speaks strongly of your desire to do what is best and right for the outlying systems.

"He lowered his voice to add, "I trust you weren't distressed by the riots."

Valorum frowned. "I observed no riots. There was a crowd of protestors at the spaceport, but-was "Ah, yes. Of course, you couldn't have seen the rioters, because your convoy was rerouted at the last instant." Valorum wasn't sure how he was meant to respond.

"May I say how disquieted we were to learn of the recent attempt on your life, Supreme Chancellor. But then, I suppose we all have our local troubles.

Ryloth has its smugglers, King Veruna of Naboo has his detractors, and Eriadu has the Trade Federation and the possibility of taxation of the trade routes."

Valorum was aware of some of the less-than-welcoming looks he was receiving from Tarkin's guests. "News of the assassination attempt doesn't appear to have granted me much sympathy in this room." Tarkin gestured in dismissal.

"Our fears regarding taxation revolve around the potential for increased corruption, as is ever the case when additional layers of bureaucracy are positioned between those with power and those without.

"But that doesn't mean we favor separatism, or encourage open rebellion.

Like other worlds along the Rimma, Eriadu has many Nebula Front supporters, but I am not one of them, nor are any of those in the governor's administration. Threats of insurrection must be met with strong, centralized power. One must seize the moment, and strike." Tarkin lightened his diatribe with a self-deprecating laugh. "Forgive the ravings of a lowly lieutenant governor, Supreme Chancellor. Moreover, I realize that it is hardly the Republic's way to answer violence with violence." "I would have thought the same, until recently," someone nearby interjected.

Disdain and provocation mixed in the genteel, feminine voice, and the speaker was every centimeter a lady, from the train of her priceless gown to her dazzlingly jeweled tiara.

Tarkin smiled thinly as he offered his crooked arm to the heavyset woman and introduced her.

"Supreme Chancellor Valorum, it is my pleasure to present Lady Theala Vandron, of the Senex sector." Taken off his guard, a flushed Valorum nodded his head in a courtly bow. "Lady Vandron," he said without emotion.

"It may interest you to know, Supreme Chancellor, that the hostage situation on Asmeru has been, shall we say, resolved." "Asmeru?" Tarkin said.

"What's this?" Valorum quickly regained his composure. "The Republic dispatched a peace delegation of judicials and Jedi to confront agents of the Nebula Front based there." Tarkin looked at him askance. "Confront or contain?

" "Whichever was deemed appropriate." Tarkin's face lit up in revelation. "So that's why several judicials and Jedi were called away from Eriadu. Well, either way, it appears that our policies are perhaps not so antithetical, after all, Supreme Chancellor." "On the heels of an assassination attempt, the Supreme Chancellor takes direct action in non-Republic space," Lady Vandron said, looking at Tarkin. "We are obliged to commend him on his willingness to venture so far from home in such difficult times." Valorum accepted the left- handed compliment with wellborn reserve. "Rest assured, madam, and Lieutenant Governor Tarkin, that Coruscant is in good hands." While Valorum didn't enjoy universal support even on Coruscant, his absence was felt, especially in the governmental district, where there was a hint of mischief in the air.

The members of the Galactic Senate awarded themselves liberal leave while the trade summit was in progress. But a diligent few reported to their offices in the senate building, if only to catch up on work.

Bail Antilles was one of them.

He had spent the morning drafting a proposal that would ease the trading tension between his native Alderaan and neighboring Delaya. When he broke for lunch, he had nothing more on his mind than a tall glass of Gizer ale at his favorite restaurant near the Courts Building. But politics foiled his plan, in the form of Senator Orn Free Taa, who intercepted him in the senate's most public of corridors.

The corpulent blue Twi'lek was riding a hoversled.

"May I glide beside you for a moment, Senator Antilles?" he asked.

Antilles made a gesture of acceptance. "What is it?" he said, plainly annoyed.

"To come directly to the point, some rather interesting data has found its way to me. I thought to bring it to the attention of Senator Palpatine, but he suggested that you, as chair of the Internal Activities Committee, were the one to whom I should speak." Antilles started to protest, then sighed in resignation. "Go ahead, Senator." Taa's thick head-tails quivered slightly in anticipation. "As you know, I've recently been appointed to the Allocations Committee, and in that capacity I have been delving into precedents and legalities for Supreme Chancellor Valorum's proposed taxation of the free trade zones. Clearly, such taxation will have unanticipated consequences and ramifications, but we're hoping to impede corruption by imagining scenarios of what is likely to occur, should the proposal pass muster in the Senate." "I'm certain you are," Antilles muttered.

Taa took the sarcasm in stride. "The Supreme Chancellor has stated his wish that a percentage of those revenues garnered through taxation of the trade routes — comfor all intents and purposes, taxation of the Trade Federation-butevery allocated for social and technological aid to worlds in the Mid and Outer Rim that may be adversely affected by taxation.

"This, however, presents a dilemma. If the motion is ratified and the Trade Federation is forced to surrender some of its hold on the space lanes, many smaller shipping concerns stand to profit-not only as a result of a newly fashioned competitive market, but also from those tax revenues earmarked for outer system development." Antilles allowed his puzzlement to show. "I'm not sure I see the dilemma." "Well, then, permit me to illustrate a specific case. The Allocations Committee database conducted a search for Outer Rim corporations poised to benefit from taxation, and crosschecked the results of the search with data on file with the Appropriations Committee, of which I am also a member. Out of the compiled list of thousands of corporations, one concern was singled out: A shipping concern based on Eriadu that has received a sudden and, may I add, substantial inflow of capital." "That doesn't surprise me," Antilles said.

"Investors with their noses to the air are doing the same thing your committee is doing, except that they're looking for financial opportunities."

"Exactly," Taa said. "Investor speculation.

But in this case the dilemma arises from the fact that the concern is owned by relatives of Supreme Chancellor Valorum." Antilles came to a halt and turned to the hovering Twi'lek.

Taa showed the palms of his big hands. "Let me make per fectly clear that I am not suggesting impropriety on the part of the Supreme Chancellor. I'm certain he is aware that anyone with privileged information about legislative proposals or construction contracts and the like is constrained by Statute 435, Sub — statute 1759 of the Amended Proprieties Bill, to refrain from profiting by such knowledge, by investment or other means." Antilles narrowed his eyes. "But you are suggesting something by not suggesting it." Taa shook his head. "I merely find it curious that the Supreme Chancellor has not brought this seeming conflict of interest to the attention of the senate. I'm confident that the dilemma will disappear once we have determined the origin of the investment and are satisfied that there is no link between those investors and Supreme Chancellor Valorum himself." "Have you learned anything?

" Antilles asked.

"That's the other peculiar thing," Taa said. "The deeper I dig for the source, the more dead ends I encounter. It's almost as if someone doesn't wish to have it known where or with whom the investment originated. My lack of success is partially explained by the fact that I lack the necessary clearance to access the relevant financial files. Access of the sort to which I refer requires someone of high standing. Someone, well, like yourself." Antilles stared at him. "I assume that you've collected the pertinent data, Senator."

Taa restrained a smile. "As a matter of fact, I happen to have a copy with me.

" He proffered a data holocron.

Antilles took it. "I'll see what I can find out." The commandeered Hawk- Bat streaked toward Karfeddion, a mottled green semicircle filling the gunship's forward viewports. In the slung cockpit, Qui-Gon sat at the controls. Dressed in a poncho, scarf, and boots borrowed from Asmeru, he looked every part a member of the Nebula Front.

Obi-Wan stood behind the copilot's chair, shrugging out of his brown cloak.

"Put your robes there," Qui-Gon said, gesturing to the empty navigator's chair. "Along with your lightsaber." Obi-Wan froze. "My lightsaber?" "Once we land, we want to be sure to give the wrong impression." Obi-Wan thought about it for a moment, then nodded uncertainly and unclipped the cylinder from his belt.

Setting the lightsaber down, he eased back into the copilot's chair.

"Master, did we take the right action on Asmeru?" he asked, breaking a prolonged silence.

"Could the violence have been avoided, as Master Yaddle wished?" "What can be avoided, whose end is purposed by the Force?" Obi-Wan fell silent for another long moment.

"Is it dangerous to give too much thought to the dark side?" "I keep my gaze fixed on the light, Padawan. But to answer your question: Thought and action are very different things." "But how can we be certain our thoughts don't color our actions? The path we walk is at times so narrow." Qui-Gon put the Hawk-Bat on autopilot and swung to face his apprentice.

"Shall I tell you how Yoda explained it to me when I was even younger than you are?" "Yes, Master." Qui-Gon gazed out the viewport while he spoke.

"On distant Generis stands an especially dark, dense, and near impenetrable growth of sallap trees. For many generations it was necessary to travel a long distance around the forest to reach the glorious deep-water lake on the far side. But then a Sith Lord thought to blaze a trail directly through the trees, in the hope of providing a quicker route to the lake.

"As you might imagine, only a few have taken both routes and lived to tell of their experiences. But all agree that while the path through that dark wood is shorter, it actually fails to arrive at the lake.

Whereas the path that skirts the forest, though long and arduous, not only arrives at the shore, but is, in itself, a destination." Without glancing at Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon asked, "On As — meru, did you venture into t dark wood, or did you remain in the light, with the Force as your companion and ally?" "I had no destination in mind, other than to follow where the Force led me."

"Then you have the answer." Obi-Wan swung to face the starfield. "The Sith were before Master Yoda's time, were they not, Master?" Qui-Gon came close to smiling. "Nothing was before Yoda's time, Padawan." Obi-Wan turned to glance toward the gunship's forward cabin. "Master, about Cindar-was "No, I don't trust him at all." "Then why have we come to Karfeddion?" "We have to begin somewhere, Obi-Wan. In time, even Cindar's lies will betray his true intentions." "In time for us to prevent Captain Cohl from doing whatever Havac has tasked him to do?" "That, I can't say, Padawan." Just then, Cindar wandered forward, his gaze falling on the discarded Jedi robes and lightsabers.

"Won't you feel naked without them?" Obi-Wan swung away from the console to face him.

"We want to be certain to give the wrong impression." "That's good planning," the Nikto said.

"Especially since I'm new to Karfeddion myself, and haven't an idea where to begin looking for Cohl or Havac." Qui-Gon glanced at him. "Don't concern yourself about that. I suspect we've already made a beginning." With the gunship grounded in the docking bay, Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, and Cindar descended the boarding ramp and set out to make inquiries at some of the disreputable cantinas and tap — cafs that surrounded the spaceport. They weren't twenty meters from the ship when a pair of maintenance technicians intercepted them at the exit to the street.

"Hawk-Bat, right?" the taller of the two said to Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon looked the man in the eye. "Who's asking?" "No offense, Captain,"

the other said, showing his grease — stained hands in a mollifying gesture.

"We just wanted to tell you that you just missed him." Obi-Wan started to say something, but thought better of it.

"We just missed him?" "Launched a couple of hours back," the tall one replied, "with a full complement of crew in a beat-up Corellian freighter."

"Oh, that ship," Qui-Gon said.

The shorter tech adopted a conspiratorial look.

"Are you three part of this Eriadu business?" "What do you think?" Qui- Gon said rhetorically.

The two techs traded meaningful glances. "You wouldn't by chance need a couple of spare hands, would you, Captain?" the taller one asked.

Qui-Gon pretended to assess them. "I've no need for technicians. What are your other talents?" "Same as the ones Cohl was flying with, Captain," the tall one said with increasing assurance. "Light and heavy arms, melee weapons, explosives, you name it." "Small wars and revolutions," the other enthused.

Qui-Gon nodded. "I'll pass the word along to Captain Cohl." The taller one nudged his partner in anticipation.

"Much appreciated, Captain." "Can you tell us what's planned?" the other asked.

"Just so we know how to prepare?" Qui-Gon shook his head firmly.

The taller man frowned. "We understand. It's only that we heard it was extermination work." Qui-Gon said nothing in a blank-faced definite way.

"Well, you know where to find us, Captain," the short one said.

Qui-Gon let them take a few steps toward the exit before he called out.

"By the way, was Havac with him?" The question clearly puzzled them.

"Don't know the name, Captain," the shorter of the pair said. "Just Cohl, his Rodian sidekick, and the ones Cohl had hired." The other man grinned broadly. "And the woman." Qui-Gon raised his eyebrows. "So she was there, too.

" The tall one laughed shortly. "If looks could kill, eh, Captain?" Qui-Gon didn't so much as glance at Obi-Wan until the pair had left the docking bay.

But by that time, Cindar had already made his move.

"You're one lucky fellow," the humanoid said, holding his blaster where he could cover both of them.

"Not from where I'm standing," Qui-Gon said.

"You weren't meant to hear any of that," Cindar went on. "I didn't know anything about Cohl's coming to Karfeddion." "So this was just to keep us away from Eriadu." Cindar sneered. "Yeah, and this is as far as it goes, Jedi. Too bad you left your lightsabers on board." Qui-Gon folded his arms. "We had to make you feel confident about drawing your blaster and revealing yourself."

"Huh?" Obi-Wan threw a small sound toward the ship, and Cindar whirled. When he spun back to the two Jedi, they had moved.

Spying Obi-Wan ten meters to his right, Cindar triggered a bolt, but Qui- Gon called on the Force to shove Cindar's blaster hand, and the bolt went wild. At the same instant, Obi-Wan leapt over Cindar's head, landing directly behind him.

Cindar spun on his heel, prepared to fire.

Obi-Wan swept his right leg through a forward circle, knocking the blaster from Cindar's hand.

Crouching suddenly, he whirled one foot, kicking Cindar's legs out from under him.

The thickset humanoid fell hard on his side, but sprang nimbly to his feet and began to advance, throwing combinations of punches and kicks, which Obi-Wan blocked with his raised forearms and knees.

Frustrated, Cindar threw his arms around Obi-Wan in a front-facing hug, only to end up hugging himself when Obi-Wan made himself slender and dropped out of the embrace. Off — balanced, Cindar staggered forward and crashed into one of the Hawk-Bafs landing struts.

Obi-Wan leapt and landed.

Cindar charged-but with hidden purpose.

Anticipating Obi-Wan's next leap, Cindar stopped short, then threw a powerful roundhouse kick. Tagged in the torso as he was landing, Obi-Wan moved with the force of the blow, cartwheeling to one side, and landing square on both feet, facing Cindar. The humanoid charged once more, catching the impact of Obi-Wan's abrupt back flip, full in the jaw.

Cindar blundered backwards into the same strut.

Evading Obi-Wan's follow-up blows with bobs and twists, he squatted and made a sudden grab for Obi-Wan's right ankle. But Obi — Wan distanced himself by executing another back flip.

The momentary lapse in the fighting was all Cindar needed. From an ankle holster he drew a hold-out blaster.

The first bolt nicked Obi-Wan's right leg and sent him down on one knee.

Qui-Gon appeared out of nowhere to drive him out of the path of the next bolt.

Compact packets of energized light ripped through the docking bay, glancing off the walls and ceiling.

Cindar tried to track the Jedi, but they moved too quickly for him. His next blasts caromed from the underside of the HawkBat and recoiled crazily from the floor.

Then the firing ceased.

Standing rigidly in front of Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, Cindar's gaze was unfocused and his mouth a rictus of surprise. When he toppled facedown, they saw the burn of a blaster bolt that had ricocheted into the center of his back.

Qui-Gon went to him and checked for signs of life. "He's told us all he can." Obi-Wan picked himself up from the floor, favoring his sound leg. "What now, Master?" he asked.

Qui-Gon nodded to the Hawk-Bat.

"We race Captain Cohl to Eriadu." "Karfeddion?" Yoda said in puzzlement.

"Off on another quest, is he?" Saesee Tiin glanced at Yaddle before replying.

"None other than the quest that has preoccupied him for the past month."

Yoda touched his forefinger to his lips, closed his eyes, and shook his head in dismay. "Again, Captain Cohl." Eleven of the twelve members of the Jedi Council were gathered in their high tower, with the sun disappearing around the western curve of Coruscant in an eruption of color. Adi Gallia's chair was empty.

"It's not like Qui-Gon to defy the express wishes of the Council and the Supreme Chancellor," Plo Koon said.

Yoda's eyes snapped opened and he raised his cane. "No.

Like Qui-Gon, this is. Always forward, the Living Force. Adjust to Qui- Gon's actions, the future will." He shook his head again.

"The only real danger is if he does anything to further a rift between the Republic and the Senex sector," Oppo Rancisis said. "I fear that the events on Asmeru have already placed Supreme Chancellor Valorum in an awkward position." "At a critical time," Even Piell added.

"Vandron and the other Senex noble houses could point to Asmeru as an example of the Republic's disregard for self-governing sectors. Valorum's goal of fostering trust in the Republic among the outlying systems would be subverted." Mace Windu had his mouth open to reply when KiAdiMundi emerged from the turbolift.

"I'm sorry to intrude, Master Windu," the Cerean said. "But we have received an urgent communication from Qui-Gon Jinn." "What is the transmission?" Mace Windu asked.

"He and Obi-Wan are bound for Eriadu in the Hawk-Bat." Yoda made his eyes wide in theatrical surprise.

"Become Captain Cohl, Qui-Gon has!" As a trading port, Eriadu was accustomed to seeing its polluted skies filled with vessels. The trade summit, however, set a new record for traffic, both below and high in orbit.

Among the thousands of ships anchored above the planet's bright side was a run-down Corellian freighter, the current object of interest of a heavily armed picket ship bearing the emblem of Eriadu Customs and Immigration.

Between the picket and the freighter moved a small single-winged craft, twice the size of a standard starfighter.

Rella and Boiny watched the craft approach from one of the freighter's starboard viewports. Dressed alike in knee-high boots, bloused trousers, vests, and soft caps with short brims, they might have been veteran spacers.

"We'll play this by the numbers," Rella said.

"Customs officials aren't trained to be nasty, they're born that way."

She glanced at Boiny.

"Want to go over any of it again?" The Rodian shook his head. "I'll follow your lead." They went to the starboard airlock and waited for it to cycle. Shortly, three humans in flashy uniforms came aboard, accompanied by a mean-tempered saurian quadruped fitted with an electronic collar. The beast's tongue flicked from its slash of mouth, licking the air.

Nearly as tall as Rella, the chief inspector was a slender, light — complexioned woman. Her blond hair was pulled severely back and woven into a long braid behind her head.

"Take Chack aft and work your way forward," she ordered her two companions. "Let him take his time. Tag anything that gets his attention, and we'll deal with it separately." The two customs agents and their sniffer headed for the rear of the ship. The chief watched them go, then followed Rella and Boiny into the freighter's forward cabin.

"Your shipping manifest," she demanded, extending her right hand to Rella.

Rella prized a data card from the breast pocket of her vest and slapped it into the woman's palm. The chief inserted the card into a portable reader and studied the device's small display screen.

From aft came a sudden growling sound. The chief looked over her shoulder.

"Your sniffer must have gotten a whiff of our galley," Boiny said jocularly.

The woman's stern expression didn't waver. "I can't make sense of this,"

she said after a moment, motioning to the reader's display screen with the backs of her fingertips. She eyed Rella with suspicion.

"What, exactly, is your cargo, Captain?" Rella leveled a blaster at her.

"Trouble." The woman's eyes widened. Noises behind her prompted her to glance over her shoulder once more. Two robust humans and a Gotal answered her obvious surprise with pernicious grins.

"We're holding the other two aft," Lope said. "The animal's dead." "Good work," Rella said, deftly disarming the chief.

Pressing the blaster to the woman's ribs, she steered her toward the freighter's communication suite.

"I want you to raise your ship," Rella said while they walked. "Tell whoever's in charge that you've discovered a load of contraband, and that you need the entire inspection crew over here on the quick." The woman tried to turn out of Rella's grip, but Rella only tightened her hold and shoved her down into the chair at the control console.

"Do it," Rella warned.

The woman hesitated, then complied, resignedly.

"The entire crew?" someone on the picket ship asked in disbelief. "Is it that bad?" "It's that bad," the chief said toward the console pickup.

Rella switched off the feed and took a step back to appraise the chief.

"I'm going to need your uniform." The woman stared at her. "My uniform?" Rella patted her on the shoulder. "That's a good girl." She swung back to Boiny and the others.

"Position yourvs at the airlock and be ready to receive company." The mercenaries ena4 their blasters and hurried off.

Not fifteen minutes later, and now wearing the chief's uniform, Rella entered the bridge of the picket ship and swept her eyes over the instruments.

Boiny's charge, the chief, followed, her wrists sporting stun cuffs and the rest of her clothed in Rella's spacer garb.

Boiny motioned the woman into the copilot's chair, then pressed his sucker-tipped forefinger to a communications bead in his right ear.

"Lope wants to know what he should do with the inspection team," he said to Rella.

She answered while continuing to study the instruments.

"Tell him to secure them in the aft hold of the freighter." She eased into the pilot's chair and adjusted it to her liking. Drab Eriadu filled the forward viewport. Rella switched on the communications array and swiveled to face the chief.

"Send a message that you're bringing a load of confiscated cargo down the well. Say that you want the cargo transferred to the customs building for immediate inspection, and to have hoversleds standing by to meet you." The woman smirked. "That's against procedure. They won't do it." Rella smiled.

"Thanks for the warning. But they will do it this time, because the people in the customs building are on my team." She gave it a moment to register.

"Glare at me all you want, chief, but you're going to do it eventually."

The woman bent toward the audio pickup, clearly hoping that Rella would be proved wrong. But after listening to the transmission, the voice on the other end replied, "We'll have the hoversleds waiting." The chief continued to glower at Rella. "You think no one knows we boarded your ship?" "I'm aware of that," Rella said. "But we don't need all day to accomplish what we came here to do." She fastened the chief's seat harness in such a way that the woman could scarcely move. Then she accepted an adhesive strip from Boiny and plastered it over the chief's mouth.

"You sit tight for a while," Rella said, squatting to eye level with the woman. "We won't be long." She and Boiny went aft to the picket's small rear compartment. Cohl and the mercenaries were already there, pressed in among a half-dozen two-meter-tall cargo tubes that had been conveyed from the freighter.

All of them were wearing rebreathers and extravehicular suits, with armorply vests beneath.

"Is this necessary?" one of the humans was asking Cohl, gesturing to the upright cargo tubes.

"I suppose you'd rather blast your way through customs, is that it?" "No, Captain," the man answered sullenly.

"It's just that I don't like tight spots." Cohl laughed ruefully. "Get used to it. It's going to be nothing but tight spots from this point on.

Now, in you go." Reluctantly the man opened the cargo tube's narrow hatch and squeezed inside. "It's like a coffin in here!" "Then just be happy you're still alive," Cohl said, securing the door from the outside.

With similar aversion, the others began to secrete themselves.

"You, too, Cohl," Rella said.

"Wish I could be joining you, Captain," Boiny said with a smile.

Cohl scowled. "You're lucky there was a Rodian on the inspection team, or I'd have you sharing a canister with Lope." He turned to Rella. "I don't know exactly how we would have pulled this off without your help." She narrowed her eyes at him. "Save it, Cohl. I just want to get us out of it in one piece." He stepped into the canister. "Seriously. I don't deserve you." "That's the first true thing you've said. But that's just who I am." She reached into the canister to fasten the collar of Cohl's space suit. "We can't have you catching a chill." Cohl grinned at her.

She sealed the cargo tube and looked at Boiny.

"Ready the ship to leave orbit." As promised, a half-dozen hoversleds were on hand to meet the customs ship when it touched down at Eriadu's overtaxed spaceport.

Now fettered only by stun cuffs, the chief was the first to step from the picket's hatch. She took one look at the humanoid and alien operators of the hoversleds and inhaled sharply.

"Who are you people?" She asked in utter dismay.

"You don't really want to know that," Rella said from just behind her.

She nodded to Boiny, who placed a small styrette to the chief's neck and injected her with a measure of clear fluid. Instantly, the woman slumped back into Boiny's arms.

"Stow her in one of the empty cargo canisters," Rella said. "We'll take her with us for safekeeping." She hopped down onto one of the hoversleds. "We have to work fast," she cautioned Havac's downside contingent of terrorists.

"It won't be long before the freighter is discovered and searched." Rella rode one of the repulsorlift flatbeds to the picket's aft hatch, which was already open. There, she leapt into the rear compartment and rapped her knuckles against the matte surface of Cohl's container.

"Not much longer," she said quietly.

When the coffinlike canisters had been loaded, the flotilla of hoversleds moved across the spaceport's duracrete apron to the customs warehouse, where more of Havac's terrorists were guarding the roll-away doors.

To all sides, ships were arriving and launching.

Closer to the spaceport terminals, passengers were disembarking from the shuttles that had carried them from transports anchored in orbit. PK and protocol droids were everywhere, as were teams of security agents, waiting to hustle diplomats and dignitaries through immigration. Massed along the spaceport's stun-fenced perimeter, mobs of demonstrators were declaring their discontent, with chanted slogans and crudely lettered signs.

The hoversleds streamed into the warehouse in single file, the roll-away doors closing behind them. At once, the humanoid and alien pilots began to unseal the canisters, which opened with a hiss of escaping atmosphere.

Cohl climbed from his coffin, pulled off his rebreather, and jumped to the sawdust-covered floor, gazing around expectantly. The place smelled of spacecraft exhaust and hydrocarbons.

"Punctual, as ever, Captain," Havac said, as he and a group of his cohorts emerged from behind a palisade of stacked cargo bins. Sporting a colorful headcloth and scarf that left only his eyes exposed, the Nebula Front militant started for the now motionless sleds, coming to an abrupt halt when he saw Rella.

"I thought you'd retired." "I had a memory lapse," she told him. "But I'm about to get over it." Havac appraised the gathered mercenaries and turned to Cohl. "Will they follow orders?" "If you feed them regularly," Cohl said.

"What do we do with this one?" Lope asked, indicating the still- unconscious customs chief.

"Leave her there," Havac answered. "We'll take care of her." He swung back to Cohl.

"Captain, if you'll follow me, we can conclude your part in this." "That suits me fine," Cohl said.

Havac glanced at Lope and the others. "The rest of you wait here. I'll brief you when I return." I n a restricted area of the spaceport, Adi Gallia met Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan as they stepped from the sharp-nosed shuttle that had brought them downside.

"The High Council's favorite Jedi," Adi said as Qui-Gon approached, his long hair and brown cloak stirred by the wind. "I half expected you and your loyal Padawan to come bolting overhead in Captain Cohl's gunship." "We left the Hawk-Bat in orbit," Qui-Gon replied without humor. "What's the situation here?" "Master Tiin, Ki-Adi-Mundi, Vergere, and some of the others are on their way from Coruscant." Qui-Gon planted his hands on his hips. "Did you ask security to run a check on Corellian freighters?" Adi gave him a long- suffering look. "Do you know how many Corellian freighters are in orbit just now? Unless you can provide a registry or a drive signature of some sort, there's little anyone can do. As it is, it will take customs and security a week to search every vessel." "What about Captain Cohl?" Adi shook her head, the tails of her tight-fitting bonnet whipping about her handsome features.

"No one fitting Cohl's description has passed through Eriadu immigration."

"Could we have arrived first, Master?" Obi-Wan asked. "The Hawk-Bat is about the fastest ship I've ever flown in." Adi waited for Qui-Gon's response, which was to shake his head negatively.

"Cohl is here somewhere. I can feel him." The three of them glanced around, reaching out with the Force.

"There is so much disturbance just now, it's difficult to focus on any one thing," Adi said after a long moment.

Determination quickened Qui-Gon's gaze. "We must prevail on the Supreme Chancellor to allow us to take the place of his Senate Guards. It's our best hope." Havac led the way down a long corridor. Against one wall were slumped a dozen or so bound, gagged, and blindfolded customs agents, who voiced muffled exclamations of fury as Cohl, Rella, and Boiny passed. Havac continued on to a room that housed the warehouse's small power plant.

He opened the door and gestured everyone inside.

Flickering overhead fixtures illuminated a clamorous generator, along with scores of unopened shipping crates. The room reeked of lubricants and liquid fuel.

Havac's demeanor changed as soon as he shut the door behind him. He unwound the cloth scarf that concealed his face and threw it to the floor.

Cohl regarded him curiously. "What's gotten you so jumpy, Havac?" "You,"

Havac seethed. "You've nearly ruined everything!" Cohl swapped brief looks with his comrades, then said, "What are you babbling about?" Havac fought to compose himself. "The Jedi learned that you've been hiring assassins, and that you're planning something for Eriadu. Your likeness is all over the Holoationet!" "Again, the Jedi." Cohl narrowed his gaze at Havac. "I thought you and Cindar were supposed to keep them occupied." "We did our part. We lured the Jedi to Asmeru, and we managed to lure even more of them away from Eriadu. But you, you left a trail any amateur could follow, and now Cindar's dead because of it." "You'll forgive me if I don't sob," Cohl said flatly.

Havac ignored the remark and began to pace the floor. "I've been forced to modify the entire plan. If it wasn't for the help of our advisor — was "Take it easy, Havac," Cohl cut him off.

"You're going to give yourself a stroke." Havac came to a halt behind Rella and aimed his forefinger at Cohl. "I'm going to have to use the ones you delivered to fashion a diversion." Cohl's features warped into a mask of acrimony. "I can't allow that, Havac. I didn't deliver them here to be killed.

They trust me." "Content yourself that they'll die rich, Captain.

What's more, I don't care what you think you can and cannot allow. I won't have you interfering in this." Cohl laughed shortly. "You're going to stop me?" He turned and started for the door.

"Stay where you are!" Havac made a sudden grab for Rella's blaster. She tried to turn away, but wasn't in time. Havac threw his left forearm around her neck and pressed the blaster to the side of her head.

Cohl stopped dead in his tracks and turned slowly toward him. Boiny was about as far from Havac as he was, but neither of them risked a move.

"You haven't got the stomach for this kind of work, Havac," Cohl said in a controlled voice.

"Put the blaster down and let her go." Havac only tightened his choke hold on Rella. She clamped her hands on his forearm.

"You said it yourself, Captain: anyone can be killed.

I'll do it if you try to leave. I swear, I'll do it." Cohl glanced at Boiny before replying. "Havac, think it through. You're the brains, remember?

You hired us to be the brawn." Havac's face was red with fury and panic; he was trembling from head to foot. "You underestimate me.

You always have." "All right," Cohl said. "Maybe I have. That still doesn't mean-was "I'm sorry it has to be this way," Havac interrupted. "But when it comes to safeguarding the interests of the Outer Rim, people like you and Rella and me are expendable. Our advisor prefers as few loose ends as possible, in any case." The door opened and two of Havac's confederates entered the room with blasters raised.

Cohl saw the sorrow in Rella's dark, beautiful eyes. "Oh, Cohl," she said in a sad, quiet voice.

Abruptly, Havac turned his blaster and fired.

The bolt whizzed past Rella's head, hitting Cohl in the chest.

A second bolt struck the wall behind Cohl and glanced off into the room.

Twisting to one side, Cohl threw himself at the two men by the door, dropping both with a body block.

At the same instant, Rella bent her right leg, raising her foot into Havac's groin. He stumbled backwards, gasping for breath, but managed to hold on to the blaster. Boiny hurled himself at Rella, intent on driving her to the floor, but Havac began to fire wildly, catching Rella in the neck and Boiny in the side of the head.

Wrestling with the two men he had knocked down, Cohl heard the blaster bolts and saw Rella collapse in a heap. Sudden rage rushed to his aid in ripping a blaster from one of the men and killing him with a shot to the face.

The other man rolled and came to his feet in a crouch, loosing a volley of bolts at Cohl.

Cohl felt intense heat sear his thigh, abdomen, and forehead. He flew back against the wall and slid slowly to the floor, the blaster slipping from his grip.

Across the room a groan escaped Boiny, and he turned over onto his back, blood oozing from his head.

Through half-closed eyes Cohl stared at Rella.

A single tear moved in fits and starts down her right cheek to her jawline. Cohl extended his right hand toward her, only to have it fall to his side, like dead weight.

"Havac," he said weakly, before his head fell to his chest.

His back pressed to the wall, a quaking Havac dropped Rella's blaster, as if he had just realized he was holding it. He gazed wide-eyed at his comrade.

"Is-is she dead?" Keeping his blaster ready, the human went first to Rella, then to Boiny, and finally to Cohl. "Yes — comand these two are well on the way. What should we do with them?" Havac swallowed audibly. "The authorities are hunting for Captain Cohl," he stammered.

"Perhaps we should let them find him." "And the others-the ones Cohl brought?" Havac considered it briefly. Then he retrieved the scarf he had thrown to the floor and began to wind it around his lower face.

"They know me only as Havac," he said, and moved for the door.

A uniformed detachment of Eriadu security guards escorted Qui-Gon, Obi- Wan, and Adi Gallia to the heavily guarded door of the Supreme Chancellor's temporary quarters in the majestic home of Lieutenant Governor Tarkin.

Sei Taria led them the rest of the way.

"I never got to thank you personally for your actions at the Senate,"

Valorum said to Qui-Gon.

"If it wasn't for you and Master Gallia, I might not be standing here today." Qui-Gon nodded in respect and acknowledgment.

"The Force was with you that day, Supreme Chancellor.

But we're not satisfied that the threat has been removed. There is reason to believe that the assault in the plaza was contrived to lure Republic law enforcement to the Senex sector, and thus distract us from a similar plan the Nebula Front hopes to execute on Eriadu." Valorum beetled his thick brows. "A strike against me here would undermine what little support the Nebula Front currently enjoys in the Outer Rim." "The Nebula Front has no more faith in the Republic than it does in the coalition of outlying worlds," Qui-Gon replied calmly but firmly.

"By attacking you here, the Front may be hoping to induce the Republic to forsake any interest in the free trade zones, and lay the ground work for a separatist movement in the Outer Rim." He compressed his lips. "I know that it defies all reason, Supreme Chancellor, but the Nebula Front appears to have abandoned reason." Valorum paced away from Qui-Gon, then whirled around. "Then it's up to me to convince the delegates of the outlying sectors to loosen the yoke the Nebula Front and Trade Federation have thrown about them." "Supreme Chancellor," Adi interjected, "will you at least consider postponing your opening remarks until we've had a chance to uncover the Nebula Front's plan?

It's possible that assassins have already managed to penetrate Eriadu security." Valorum shook his head. "I won't hear of it.

At this late stage, any change to the proceedings would be interpreted as weakness or hesitancy." He glanced at the three Jedi. "I'm sorry. I realize that you have my best interests in mind. But for the sake of the Republic, I can't allow you to interfere." Adi bowed her head. "We will honor your wishes, Supreme Chancellor." The three Jedi turned and exited the room.

No sooner did the door close behind them than Qui-Gon said, "We must go directly to the site of the summit and see what we can learn." If the attack on Valorum didn't make him the focus of this summit, Asmeru certainly did,"

Senator Bor Gracus of Sluis Van was telling Palpatine as they moved in step with the slow flow of other delegates toward Eriadu Spaceport's immigration scanners.

Human or alien, almost everyone was draped in robes and capes of the finest cloth, including Palpatine and his temporary companion in the snaking line, who were dressed alike in richly adorned cloaks with roomy sleeves and high double collars.

Sate Pestage and Kinman Doriana, also dressed alike in black cloaks, followed closely behind Palpatine.

"Gossip to which I've been privy suggests many of the Core and Inner Rim delegates are whispering that the Supreme Chancellor's actions at Asmeru were a bald attempt to curry favor with the Trade Federation." Gracus was a stout human with protruding eyes and a putty nose. His homeworld boasted a small but flourishing shipyard.

As with other worlds along and in close proximity to the Rimma Trade Route, Sluis Van viewed its future import as preordained.

"Gossip is valuable only if it is accurate, Senator," Palpatine said after a moment.

"Supreme Chancellor Valorum is scarcely an advocate of unfair trade policies." "Unfair, you say? I didn't hear you stand up and cheer when Valorum made his speech championing the advantages of taxation of the free trade zones." "That doesn't mean that I think otherwise," Palpatine said in a composed voice. "But, like you, my station compels me to echo the voice of those I represent, and, at present, Naboo remains undecided." Gracus gave him a sidelong glance. "King Veruna is undecided, you mean to say." "His troubles are on the rise, to be sure. Our regent is too enmeshed in scandal to give much thought to what lies ahead for Naboo. He forgets that our world relies on the Trade Federation for much of its industrial imports, in addition to some of its food.

Naboo risks as much, if not more than any other outlying system in actively opposing the Trade Federation. It was only after much discussion and debate that I convinced King Veruna of the importance of my attending this summit." "You are most judicious, Senator," Gracus said, in a way that mixed mild annoyance with admiration. "You answer my question without actually answering it. You prop Valorum, and yet you don't." When it was evident that Palpatine wasn't going to reply, Gracus added, "It is my understanding that you briefed the Supreme Chancellor on the subject of dispatching an armed force to Asmeru." "A diplomatic delegation," Palpatine amended.

"Call it what you will, you can't change what happened there.

And you can't deny that what happened there doesn't smell more of might than right." Palpatine gestured in dismissal. "The details of the incident are sketchy at best, Senator.

What's more, you are ignoring the fact that, by trying to kill the Supreme Chancellor, the Nebula Front made themselves Republic business." "So Valorum claims," Gracus demurred.

"The delegation came under almost immediate attack, and responded accordingly," Palpatine said.

Gracus sniffed in derision. "The professed justification. Valorum used the incident to launch a preemptive strike, eliminating the Nebula Front's ability to disrupt the summit, and at the same time inveigling the Trade Federation into accepting taxation.

"And I suspect that he had other reasons, as well. Everyone anticipated the Senex Houses to protest the violation of their territory, but they have been very silent thus far. It wouldn't surprise me to learn that a deal has been struck between Valorum and House Vandron. Should House Vandron agree not to protest what happened at Asmeru, the senate-or at least Valorum- — will agree to overlook House Vandron's continuing Rights of Sentience violations and lift the restrictions that have made it impossible for the Senex to trade with Republic worlds." "Whether slavery or spice smuggling, the Core Worlds take little interest in the injustices that plague the Outer Rim," Palpatine said in a world-weary voice. "Violations notwithstanding, the Republic would gladly trade with the Senex, if the Senex had something of value to offer. If that wasn't the case, the Trade Federation would have been disbanded long ago.

But, in fact, the Neimoidians and the rest have set themselves up as irreplaceable, because of what they transport to the Core." Gracus appeared flustered. "Nevertheless," he sputtered, "the Outer Rim worlds are now in turmoil. Even those who don't openly support the Nebula Front are decrying the fact that the Republic took it upon itself to intercede at Asmeru." Palpatine summoned an ambiguous smile.

"I'm certain that the Supreme Chancellor will ease everyone's concerns when he addresses the delegates." "And we'll all be eager to hear what he has to say," Gracus replied contemptuously, "since with one hand he seeks to punish the Trade Federation with taxation, while with the other he strokes them by eradicating the Federation's most dangerous antagonist." Palpatine's seeming good humor didn't falter.

"One must make adjustments as necessary. Despite assiduous planning, not everything can be foreseen." A faraway look came into his eyes. "The landscape we inhabit is an everchanging one, Senator. One moment we are in the light; the next we are in the dark, left to find our own way through.

If events could truly be divined-if one were to be granted such awesome power-then perhaps the future could be directed along one line or another.

But until then, we stumble through, groping blindly for the truth." Gracus snorted. "Perhaps you should consider placing your name in nomination for high office, Senator." Palpatine brushed the remark aside. "I'm content to play my small part behind the scenes." "For the moment, I suspect," Gracus said, as Palpatine hurried ahead of him in the line.

bar Nute Gunray's red eyes meandered over the line of delegates waiting to be scanned by Eriadu's primitive scanning devices. His gaze fell on two human senators-one rotund and plebeian; the other, straight-backed and refined-engaged in what appeared to be a spirited exchange. He looked down from his mechno — chair at Senator Lott Dod.

"Who is the human in the blue cloak-there, speaking with the pudgy one?"

Dod followed the viceroy's raised forefinger.

"Senator Palpatine of Naboo." "A friend of ours?" Dod shook his head dubiously. "He gives all indication of holding to a middle course, Viceroy.

Although I heard that he encouraged Valorum to send judicials to the Senex sector." "A potential friend, then," Gunray said.

"Soon enough, we will know where everyone stands." Behind them, squatting on the duracrete, was the shuttle that had carried them to the surface, an organic-looking ship, with a quartet of clawed and segmented landing gear, a pair of generator vents that resembled eyespots, and a rear deflector shield assembly that rose from the ship's flat body like a raised tail.

Gunray and Dod wore robes, mantles, and headdresses- — crimson and cordovan for the viceroy; deep purple and lavender for the senator.

Fore and aft and to both sides of them marched security droids, their blaster rifles mounted behind their right shoulders. The droids constituted the Neimoidians' reply to Eriadu's offer to provide protection. In addition, the Trade Federation Directorate had insisted that a small shield generator be installed in that section of the summit hall assigned to them.

A mere glance at the protestors who stood five-deep along the perimeter of the spaceport facilities told Gunray that the members of the directorate had made a prudent decision- despite the ridicule to which they had been subjected by their peers in the Galactic Senate.

The directorate's other six, shielded by Eriadu security agents, led the Trade Federation cortege as they neared the terminal. At the head of the line walked the Federation's four human directors — comtwo from Kuat, one from Balmorra, and the other from Filve. And behind them came the directorate's Gran and Sullustan members, all wearing costly tunics and caplets, though a far cry from the extravagant ones affected by Gunray and Dod.

"Can we take this Asmeru business as a sign that Valorum is secretly in our camp?" the Sullustan was asking the Gran.

"Not unless Valorum surprises everyone here by withdrawing his taxation proposal," the Gran replied.

"My attorneys assure me that the Republic has no legal right to tax the free trade zones," Gunray said in Basic, from atop his ambulatory throne.

One of the humans from Kuat looked over his shoulder at the Neimoidian and laughed. "The Republic will do as it wishes, Viceroy. You're a fool to believe otherwise. Valorum is as much our adversary as ever." Gunray suffered the humiliation in silence. What, he wondered, would the Kuati have made of Darth Sidious's assertion that Valorum was the Trade Federation's strongest ally in the senate? Would the Kuati have been so quick to taunt and scoff?

Gunray doubted it.

The arrogant human and the others knew nothing of the covert deal Gunray had struck with the Sith Lord.

They viewed the Neimoidians' continuing purchases of upgraded droid weaponry as wasteful, and symptomatic of the Neimoidians' increasing sense of paranoia. But they rarely contested the expenditures, since the weapons afforded the fleet an added measure of protection. Similarly, they knew nothing of Sidious's plan for the Trade Federation to extend its reach beyond the outlying systems to the galactic rim itself.

And yet, Gunray was anxious.

The Sith Lord had communicated with him only once since arranging the meeting between the Neimoidians and the Baktoid and Haor Chall arms merchants.

The communication had been brief and one-sided, with Sidious stressing the importance of Gunray's attending the trade summit, and assuring him, as ever, that everything was going according to plan.

"The way to defeat Valorum," the other Kuati was saying, "is to persuade our signatory members that they gain nothing by decamping and seeking individual representation in the senate." "Even if that requires offering them lucrative trade incentives," the Sullustan added.

"But our profits," Gunray blurted, despite his best efforts to control himself.

"The Republic taxes will have to be absorbed by the outlying systems,"

the directorate officer from Balmorra said. "There is simply no other way."

"And if the taxes are too exorbitant for the outlying systems to absorb?" the Gran asked.

"Our share of the market will be lost. This could very well cripple us."

This time Gunray managed to stifle himself.

It is all a charade, Sidious had said.

Taxation is but a minor obstacle in our path to greater glory. Allow your counterparts in the directorate to say and do as they wish. But refrain from offering any response-especially at the summit itself.

Our path, Gunray thought.