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
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 es
pecially
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." B
elow, 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