Sheekla and Shappa had stayed a few paces back until now. Sheekla stepped forward. "We have sent a message to the Magister," she said. "The ship cannot be delivered until we hear his response."

"We had nothing to do with bringing ships here," Obi-Wan said. "But if there is a hostile force nearby. . How will you defend yourself? Perhaps we can help."

"We trust no one, not even Jedi," Sheekla Farrs said, her expression stony. "We've learned this the hard way."

"We have to stay with the ship!" Anakin cried out.

"You will be near the ship," Gann said. "You will remain here, in fact. But the ship will stay on Zonama. We have no clear picture of the threat. It may be small-petty traders, a troupe of pirates."

"I suspect they are not pirates," Obi-Wan said. Anakin agreed.

"Then why so few?" Gann asked, turning to Obi-Wan. "It doesn't make sense. A Trade Federation invasion force would encircle us with a fleet. They may have made a mistake, or there may be a malfunction."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "We can only help you if you tell us certain things."

Jabitha stood back, eyes wide, frightened by the talk. Shappa pushed between Gann and Sheekla Farrs. "I believe we can trust these Jedi," he said. "Perhaps it is time to tell the story of Vergere-"

Obi-Wan thought of the brief message carried by the seeds. That Vergere had had to leave Zonama Sekot, to follow an even greater mystery.

"No!" Gann cried. "We must defer to the Magister!"

"No one has seen the Magister for months!" Shappa replied. "He issues his orders from the mountain and defers to us more often than not. Not even his daughter has seen him."

"The Magister is in command! He always has been, and he always will be!"

The two Ferroans seemed about to come to blows. Fitch was embarrassed by their loss of dignity.

"What happened to Vergere?" Obi-Wan asked, thrusting an arm between the two men.

"No one knows," Sheekla Fairs said, her voice high and clear over the grumbling breaking out among the technicians on the platform. "We were afraid you would think we had murdered her."

"We have lived in fear since the Far Outsiders!" Shappa said. "They were the first to challenge our way of life."

"Who are the Far Outsiders?" Obi-Wan asked.

"You do not know?" Sheekla seemed at a loss that Jedi would be so ill-informed. "The female Jedi-" She caught herself and flung her hand over her mouth.

Gann was beside himself. "The Magister must decide!" he insisted.

"Then take us to him," Obi-Wan said, irritated by the confusion. He could sense they had little time to waste. "Let him tell us personally."

A moment of silence among the Ferroans.

"Do we trust the Jedi?" Shappa asked them. "If the Trade Federation is here-"

"Then they are operating illegally, and they might as well be pirates," Obi-Wan said. "The Trade Federation is handing over all its weapons and ships to the senate. The rule of central law is being restored in the Republic."

"That is what we have heard from our factors," Sheekla Farrs said. "But we considered it of no consequence, since Zonama is so far from all that."

"The Magister must be consulted," Gann persisted, but his voice was weakening. He wrung his hands, close to despair. "It has always been our law."

Anakin stood by the Sekotan ship, his hand brushing the surface. His eyes were half-closed, and he seemed lost in a dream, perhaps of flying. Obi-Wan called his name, but he did not immediately respond.

"Anakin!" Obi-Wan called again, more forcefully.

The boy jerked and came to attention. "We're in danger," he said, his voice almost a whisper. "We should leave here."

Obi-Wan needed no more warning, but he stopped as more Ferroans rushed along the bridge, calling for Gann. "There is another!" they cried in unison.

"Another what?" Gann asked.

"A second fleet within the system, even larger than the first!"

"Now, Obi-Wan!" Anakin cried.

Obi-Wan looked up and saw descending flashes of light in the sky-two of them. They were swooping down out of orbit, still trailing hot plasma tails. With his keen vision he could see their glowing outlines. He recognized them instantly.

He had faced them before, on Naboo, with Qui-Gon. The most capable and deadly of all the Trade Federation droids.

"Starfighters!" he shouted, and tugged Anakin down beside him, just in time to avoid four slashes of laser fire. He pulled his lightsaber-Qui-Gon's lightsaber-from his belt, and the glowing green blade hummed to full length. Smoke from the melted rock rose on either side, cutting off their view. Obi-Wan shifted into a state of full-sensory alertness. His ears tracked the engine whine and sonic booms of the maneuvering starfighters. They were turning for another attack. He faced in that direction to deflect their fire with his blade.

"Stay down," Obi-Wan told Anakin, seeing the boy climb to his knees.

"The ship-"

"Forget the ship," Obi-Wan said. "We need to find shelter."

"We can escape in the ship!" Anakin insisted. "She's ready to go!"

Obi-Wan took hold of his shoulder and pushed him low to the smooth rock surface. Thus distracted, he could not raise the lightsaber in time to provide even a partial deflection for the next laser salvo. The blast knocked him several meters and tumbled him over and over. Flecks of broken and molten rock flew through the air, burning his clothes, drilling into his skin. Instinctively, he held up one arm to shield his face and the other to protect Anakin.

But the boy was out of reach. Obi-Wan could not get up. Something had slammed into his solar plexus-a sharp piece of rock. He found blood there and a hole in his tunic.

Then he heard footsteps. People shouting, crying out in pain.

Anakin made a sound through the smoke, a cough and then a sharp grunt, as if he had been struck. Obi-Wan tried to roll over, tried to reach out for his Padawan, but he could not regain control of his body, even with the most extraordinary concentration of effort.

A figure loomed out of the murk and stood over Obi-Wan: tall, dressed in dark blue, many-jointed, with iridescent golden skin. A booted foot came down on his arm and pinned it.

"I could kill you now, Jedi. Your death will restore my honor."

Small black eyes focused on Obi-Wan. He grasped the hilt of his lightsaber and extended the blade. The foot stomped his arm again, nearly breaking it, and kicked the lightsaber out of his hand, out of reach. The blade skittered and sizzled across the rock.