Qui-Gon raised his gaze to the sky. From the south, a Corellian cruiser was on the approach.

The sight of the descending fighters didn't deter the radicals from continuing their fight for the CloakShapes, however. Three more starfighters lifted out of the plaza. But rather than waste time pouring fire against the slaves, the ships rocketed off to the east, with a pair Lancets in close pursuit. A fourth Cloak — Shape whirred noisily to life, managing, during its reeling ascent, to take out an incoming Lancet.

Off to Qui-Gon's left, the ion cannon pulsed. Dazed by a direct hit, another Lancet rolled over on its back and dived silently toward the parched ground. Shortly, an explosion boiled high into the air behind the southern pyramid.

The cannon continued to send darts of disabling fire skyward, but the alliance of slaves and moderates were already storming the emplacement. A dozen warriors fell to the charge, but the rest persevered, lobbing thermal grenades from where they hunkered behind a toppled monument.

A moment later the gun emplacement belched a column of howling fire and collapsed in on itself.

The ongoing turmoil in the plaza had prevented the cruiser from landing.

While it hovered at the level of the pyramid summits, hatches opened in the underside of the ship and twenty or more figures rappeled down on monofilament cables. Half of them were armed with blasters, and the rest with glowing lightsabers.

The battle raged furiously for several more minutes. Then, hemmed in on all sides, the militants began to surrender their weapons and drop to their knees. Captives of the slaves, other groups were marched into the plaza with hands raised above their heads.

Tiin, Depa Billaba, and some of the Jedi reinforcements started to meander through the devastation, gathering up weapons and tending to the wounded. Qui-Gon saw Yaddle standing at the entrance to the northern pyramid, shaking her head in dismay.

He and Obi-Wan set out to find the Bith.

Shortly, he saw Obi-Wan waving him over to the southwest corner of the plaza.

Qui-Gon clipped his lightsaber to his belt and broke into a jog. He knew before he arrived that calamity was waiting.

The Bith was curled on his side, his long-fingered hands pressed to a blackened hole in his midsection.

Qui-Gon went down on one knee beside him.

"I tried to contact you on Coruscant," the black-eyed alien began in a weak voice. "But after what happened at Dorvalla, Havac and the others suspected that there was an informant among them." "Havac?" Qui-Gon said. "Is he the one who had the slaves executed?" The Bith shook his large head. "He's just a lieutenant. Havac is the leader. But he's not onworld-many of the militants aren't." He paused to take a breath. "They've undone everything we tried to do. They've turned this into a war with the Trade Federation, and now the Republic." "It's over," Qui-Gon said. "You've deposed them. Save your strength, friend." The Bith clamped his hand on Qui-Gon's forearm.

"It's not over. They have something dreadful planned." "Where?" Obi-Wan asked. "When?" The Bith turned Part way to him. "I don't know.

The plan was kept secret from most of us. But I know that it involves Captain Cohl…" The Bith's words trailed off. Qui-Gon felt Obi-Wan's gaze on him. At the same time, all light fled the alien's eyes.

"He's dead, Master," Obi-Wan said.

"Jedi," someone said from behind Qui-Gon. The speaker was a Nikto humanoid, flat-faced and horned.

"I don't mean to intrude, but your friend was my friend, as well." Qui- Gon stood up. "What do you know about this plan involving the one he called Havac and Captain Cohl?" "I know that it had something to do with Karfeddion."

"Karfeddion?" Obi-Wan repeated, while he showed the Nikto his most disapproving gaze.

"The homeworld of House Vandron," Qui-Gon said. "Deep in the Senex." He turned back to the humanoid. "Your name?" "Cindar." "Do you know this Havac on sight?" "I do." Qui-Gon considered something, then said, "Come with us." He led the way to where Tiin, Yaddle, and some of the others were gathered in the plaza.

"There's no time to sort all this out," Tiin was saying, gesturing broadly to ruination. "The High Council and the Judicial Department have ordered us to leave the Senex sector as quickly as possible." "We need to make one stop first," Qui-Gon interrupted. "At Karfeddion." Tiin stared at him, awaiting an explanation.

"Cohl is executing another plan." Qui-Gon indicated Cindar. "This one is going to help us pick up Cohl's trail." Tiin and Yaddle traded brief glances.

"Cohl is no longer working for the Front," Tiin said. "We all heard as much."

"The plan has been a closely guarded secret.

Someone named Havac is behind it. We must go to Karfeddion." "Impossible, Qui-Gon," Yaddle said, shaking her head back and forth. "Leave the Senex, we must." Qui-Gon squared his shoulders. "Then my Padawan and I will go." Obi- Wan's jaw dropped slightly.

"Not in any of our ships, Qui-Gon," Tiin said in challenge.

Qui-Gon glanced around. "Then we'll use the Hawk-Bat." "Making this personal, you are," Yaddle said.

"Defying a direct order from the High Council, you'll be." Qui-Gon didn't argue the point. "My duty is to the Force, Master." Yaddle studied him for a long moment. "To what end, Qui — Gon? To what end?" The holobanner glowing through the t'bac smoke in the cantina read: the tipsy mynock welcomes the karfeddion skull CRACKERS. A smashball team, the Skull Crackers were known throughout the Senex for their blatant disregard for the rules of play and for the lives of their opponents. A boisterous dozen of the local heroes were gathered in a corner of the Tipsy Mynock, raising flagons of fermented drink to one another and whomever happened by, growing more inebriated by the minute, and fairly itching to cause trouble of a major sort.

A few booths away, Cohl and Boiny sat with a hulking human who might have been a member of the Skull Crackers- had he been a few centimeters shorter and a lot less dangerous looking.

A pleasant-looking humanoid female bred on one of the Karfeddion slave farms placed a tall shot of bright-yellow liquid in front of Cohl's guest, who downed the notoriously strong drink in one swallow.

"Thanks, Captain," the human said genuinely, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "It's not often I get a taste of the real article." Cohl appraised Lope, as the man called himself, from across the table that separated them. The fact that Lope could handle himself in a brawl was beyond dispute.

But the Eriadu operation would not turn on brute strength, but on a combination of skill and intelligence.