"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.