"Three kilometers," Doriana said, peering off that direction at the deceptively cheery city lights in the distance. "Isn't that a little close?"

"It's extremely close," Roshton agreed. "And deliberately so. If you'd ever fought the Neimoidians before, you'd know they dearly love overwhelming odds. I'm betting that the chance to catch our group in a crossfire will be too tempting for them to pass up."

He turned to Tories. "Any last thoughts or suggestions, Master Tories?"

For a moment, Tories gazed out toward the wall of the plant, now little more than a vague shape against the darkening sky. Doriana gazed in turn at the outline of Tories' profile, watching the glint of his white hair in the dim light, wondering what kind of thoughts were going through that Jedi-trained mind.

How did Jedi think, he wondered suddenly. He knew something of how they acted and reacted, and as the man who often delivered Palpatine's messages to the Jedi Council, he had long since learned how to use their concerns and priorities to persuade them to do what he wanted.

But how exactly did they think'! Was it basically the same as normal people? Or was there something about their training that left them more alien than any of the species making up the Republic?

In the distance to the south came the faint sound of multiple explosions.

As it was joined by the stutter of blaster fire, Tories seemed to straighten fully up. "Nothing comes to mind, Commander," he said, sliding his lightsaberfrom beneath his robes. "Let's do it."

He set off toward Spaarti Creations, walking with a swift, firm pace.

Three steps into the trip, he ignited his lightsaber, the green blade blazing upward like a beacon as he strode off into the darkness. "Well, don't just stand there, Lieutenant," Roshton said.

"Yes, sir," the other said, sounding a bit startled by the Jedi's bold move. "All troops: advance."

Doriana felt his breath catch in his throat. Suddenly, the area around them was swarming with clone troopers, emerging from shadows or piles of leaves or from beneath camouflage ground covers. They set off behind Tories, forming into neat ranks as they went.

Roshton was saying something. "I'm sorry?" Doriana said, tearing his eyes away from the silent soldiers.

"I asked if the Supreme Chancellor's representative would care to join us," the commander repeated as he slipped on a clone trooper headset.

"Thank you, but I think I'll stay here," Doriana said, getting his mind back to business. "I've already seen your men in action, but I haven't had a chance to observe General Tiis's troops."

He couldn't see Roshton's expression in the darkness, but there was no mistaking the cynical edge in his voice. "Of course," the commander said.

"Shall I leave you a guard?"

"That won't be necessary," Doriana said. "But I'd like to borrow your other comlink, if I may, so I can keep up with what's happening." "Sure,"

Roshton grunted, pulling out his belt comlink. "Over there behind that thick tree would probably be a good place to observe from." Doriana smiled to himself. It amazed him sometimes how easily people seemed to think they could offend him. "Thank you, Commander," he said calmly. "I'll expect a full report when you return."

They'd made it perhaps halfway to Spaarti Creations when the first response came from the picket line around the plant. Blaster bolts began to sizzle across the distance as the droids opened fire, passing harmlessly between the marching soldiers or bouncing almost as harmlessly off their armor. Tories peered ahead into the gloom as his lightsaber deflected away the bolts that came his direction, using the light of the enemy's own fire to see how they were configuring their battle line. The droids directly between them and the plant's east door were standing fast, while more droids were hurrying from north and south of that position to join them.

"Looks like this whole section of the picket line is pulling in to face us," Roshton murmured from beside him.

"Yes," Tories agreed, looking back over his shoulder. All he could see back there were the lights of the city and spaceport. "Any sign of that crossfire yet?"

"Two AATs and about fifty droids have just headed northeast," Roshton said. "We should see them soon. Ah."

Tories turned back. The plant's east door had opened, revealing a new set of droids hurrying through to join the picket line. "Here come the reinforcements," Roshton said. "I'd guess we'll be seeing those AATs very soon."

And with that, Tories knew, it was time to go. "How long can you hold out against them?" he asked, deflecting one last bolt and then closing down his lightsaber.

Roshton threw him a sideways look, wrapping his free hand around his headset's voice pickup. "What do you have in mind?"

"We're assuming they've largely emptied the plant of combat droids,"

Tories told him. "If I can get inside, I should be able to get the drop on the Neimoidians. If they're as cowardly as you say, maybe I can persuade them to surrender even if Tiis isn't able to take out the command ship."

"How do you expect to get in?" Roshton asked. "They'll have picket lines at all the doors."

"Leave that to me," Tories said, nodding to the left. "But I have to go before they close off that gap. So again: how long can you hold out?"

"As long as necessary," Roshton said, glancing around as he released his grip on his voice pickup. "Lieutenant: looks like there's a small hollow ahead and to the right. We'll deploy in defensive formation there." He looked at Tories again. "Good luck."

Tories nodded and turned to the left, taking a moment to get his bearings. Then, stretching out to the Force, he dropped into a crouch and ran.

Jedi were capable of incredible bursts of speed when necessary, at least over short distances. Tories used every bit of that capability, his legs pumping in a blur against the ground as he slipped around the end of the picket line now beginning to close into a semicircle around the beleaguered clone troopers. A pair of droid stragglers suddenly loomed in front of him in the darkness and then collapsed into broken rubble as he used the Force to shove them backward. By the time the burst of energy and speed faded and he trotted to a halt, he was standing at the southeast corner of the plant, just clear of the forbidden south lawn, facing a sheer, three-story-high wall.

He gazed up at the dark slab rising above him. Three stories was an impossible jump, at least for him. But halfway up the wall, a distance he could reach, was a line of louvered air vents, each about ten centimeters across.

He could only hope Lord Binalie's father had built the vents and louvers with the same ruggedness with which he'd built everything else in Spaarti Creations. Getting a good grip on his lightsaber, making sure his hand was safely away from the activation stud, he bent his knees, stretched out to the Force, and jumped.

He was near the top of his arc when he spotted the nearest vent, dimly lit by the flashes of laser and blaster fire coming from Roshton's position.

With a quick flick of his mind, he reached out to the louvers, angling them up into a horizontal position.

And as his upward momentum slowed to a halt, he slipped his lightsaber hilt between two of the louvers.

The metal creaked in protest as his full weight came onto the hilt, but to his relief the louvers held. Stretching out to the Force, he pulled down hard against the wedged lightsaber, hurling himself upward again.

He made it with three centimeters to spare, catching the edge of the roof with his outstretched fingertips and heaving himself the rest of the way up to sprawl onto his belly on the cold permacrete. Swiveling around, he leaned partway over the edge, extricating his lightsaber hilt from the louvers and calling it back to his hand.