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She took a deep breath, and told them.

Klo Merit—also known as Column and Lens—looked around his office for the final time. The artillery rounds bursting more or less harmlessly against the protective force-dome were no threat, but once again nobody had bothered to let him know precisely when they would begin their real attack, and it was irritating in the extreme. He was a valuable resource to the Separatists—why did they continue to risk him so?

Well. He would take that up with them later. For now, he had a bribed driver standing by. He would sneak out in a supply vehicle and get away from the Rimsoo. Once he was out of range, he would get rid of the driver, then trigger his coded transponder. Any battle droid that came across him would recognize him as a friendly, not an enemy, and he could make his way back through the lines with no trouble. Hardly the same as having a parade thrown in his honor when he arrived, but that was a spy’s lot. In quietly, out quietly, and if you did what you were supposed to do, nobody ever knew who you really were.

“Time to go,” he said out loud. He had done what needed to be done, and while he had some regrets, the situation was what it was. He headed for the door, opened it—

And stopped in surprise. Jos Vandar stood before him, a blaster in his hand, pointed right at him.

39

The mortar rounds fell more often, and Den’s comment about particle beam and laser weaponry was proving to be valid—even in the bright sunshine, the destructive rays of coherent energy were visible in the distance, reflecting off the dust particles and spores in the air. So far, none of them had passed close to the dome, but their luck wouldn’t hold forever. As Barriss hurried to find Vaetes and report her suspicion—her certainty—of Merit’s guilt, she noticed that a thunderstorm was heading their way. That was good—heavy rain interfered with tactical beam weapons, absorbing or deflecting much of their force. Probably didn’t do battle droids any good to be hit by lightning, either. But as the sky darkened, the weaponry flashes seemed to be coming more and more frequently, mixed with those of the natural lightning.

War, in all its deadly aspects, was coming on swift feet.

The sense of impending doom was nearly palpable. It was too late now for the capture of the Separatist spy to do them much good, Barriss knew. He could be made to answer for his crimes—assuming any of the Republic forces survived to do that—but with the attack obviously in full swing, Merit wasn’t Barriss’s biggest worry. The survival of the camp was. Unless a miracle came to pass, the combined mortar and energy weapon attacks would pound them all into paste.

You can stop it.

It was an almost tangible voice in her head. She was carrying a popper of bota in her pocket. Just take it out, inject it into her arm, and in a few seconds she would have the ability to turn the tide of conflict, no question about it. She knew this. She couldn’t say how it would manifest, exactly; probably it wouldn’t be as simple as just waving her hands and watching all the attacking battle droids shut down and fall over. A pity they weren’t controlled by a single orbiting broadcast power source, like the army the Trade Federation had fielded during the Battle of Naboo, but someone had wised up since then. Nevertheless, somewhere in the vast and omnipotent energies of the Force there was a way to stop them, and she could, with the bota’s help, reach it.

She knew this. There was no doubt.

How would it feel to have that much power, to be able to stop a war? To go from being a Padawan to becoming the most powerful Jedi in the galaxy in a matter of moments—one who could use the Force in ways no one had ever been able to even comprehend, much less use, before? To direct vast energies, primal powers, like an active volcano channeling molten rock and hurling it in erupting fountains of lava? Nothing could stand before it. There was nothing in the galaxy that could resist the Force, if it could but be channeled properly, shaped