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Valorum considered Palpatine’s remarks, then shook his head. “Even if we are successful in securing Senate approval to proceed as you suggest, a show of force at Asmeru could provoke the Nebula Front to kill their hostages.”

Palpatine smiled tolerantly. “Supreme Chancellor, the hostages are Jedi Knights.”

“Even Jedi can be killed,” Antilles argued.

“Then perhaps we should leave it to the Jedi High Council to decide a course of action.”

Valorum stretched the baggy skin under his eyes. “I concur. I will attend to the matter personally.”

The lean air of the plateau was sibilant with the hiss of laser bolts, resonant with the thrum of lightsabers, energized by detonations of artificial light.

Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, and Ki-Adi-Mundi stood with their backs pressed to one another, deflecting a hail of blaster bolts the terrorists poured into the plaza. The blades of their lightsabers—green, blue, and purple—moved faster than the eye could follow, blazing bright as novas as they sent the bolts caroming from the ancient stone walls and ricocheting off the sloping faces of the pyramids.

Elsewhere, standing tall on her extended legs, Vergere led a fleet assault up the staircase of an adjacent structure, her gleaming emerald blade raised above her downy head. Two of the judicials followed in her long stride, discharging their weapons as they ran.

Not far away, Saesee Tiin led another pair of judicials in a charge against a half a dozen terrorists entrenched in a narrow alley between two of the pyramids, his blade a blur of cobalt as it parried bolts and sent blasters flying from outstretched hands.

Yaddle and Depa remained with the injured cruiser captain near the entrance to the northern pyramid. Pinned down by a torrent of fire from the summit of the ion cannon bunker, they swung and windmilled their lightsabers, repulsing bolts as if in some crazed sports contest.

Most of the slaves had scattered with the first bolts fired after the brutal execution of the three who had helped the Jedi. But several of the bioengineered bipeds were being used as living shields.

Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, and Ki-Adi-Mundi began to work their way deeper into the plaza, intent on reaching the grounded CloakShape fighters, or perhaps even the gunship, before any of the terrorists could get to the crafts.

Qui-Gon advanced with determination, scarcely aware of the thrum of his blade, or the chaotic fusillade of blaster bolts. His mind turned with each and every action of his adversaries, whirling right, left, or wherever needed. He left no traces of himself in any particular place or direction, focusing only on what lay ahead, with the past smoothing out behind him like the wake of a settling boat.

He remained subtle and imperceptible, invisible in his detachment, never lingering to watch, or clinging to thoughts of what he might have done.

Wounded by deflected bolts, terrorists fell in his path, though he had yet to meet any of them head-on, and by the looks of things wouldn’t. Already they were retreating fast for the fighters.

“If they launch, we’ll really have our hands full,” he told Obi-Wan in a moment of quiet.

Then a new sound whipped up the frigid air. Around the sharp edge of the southern pyramid came two of the repulsorlift vessels the Jedi had last seen on the lake.

Bolts from the crafts’ repeating blasters lanced into the plaza, carbonizing the cut stones where they hit. In unison, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan leapt for cover, while Ki-Adi-Mundi parried a stream of fire that nearly spun him completely around.

The vessels came about for another run, firing wildly.

Momentarily overwhelmed, the trio of Jedi were forced to fall back. Qui-Gon saw that Vergere’s and Tiin’s teams were also being driven back down the steps and into the plaza. First to hit level ground, Vergere directed the judicials to race for the shelter of the northern pyramid, but only one of the men made it. The other was cut down by fire from a nearby tower.

The two judicials