"See? Don't you see? All our signal-jamming controls are at the spaceport, too! Even if you wanted to order your pilots to stand down, you can't. We can't get through-it's out of our hands. We are helpless. Helpless." In the white light from the screens, Geptun looked pale and disheveled. His eyes were red and puffy. His lips were swollen as if he'd been chewing them. Black sweat stained his blouse from his armpits to his belt.
Mace said, "There is one more thing you can try." "Enlighten me." "Surrender." Geptun's laugh was bitter. "Oh, certainly. Why didn't I think of that?" He shook his head.
"Surrender to whom?" "To the Republic," Mace said. "To me." "To you} You're my prisoner. And you're wasting my time." His hand shook when he waved at the lieutenant. "Take them away." The big man shrugged. "You heard him-" the lieutenant began, but he finished the statement with a sudden yelp of surprise and pain when the lightsaber he held ignited in his hand, the blade stabbing downward to drive a smoking hole through his thigh.
His hands opened; the pistols clattered to the floor and the lightsaber flipped into Mace's palm. "You hold it like this," Mace said, sizzling blade poised a centimeter from the end of the big man's nose.
The two regulars behind them cursed and fumbled with their rifles. Nick spun to face them and brought up his arms as both his pistol yanked themselves through the air to smack into his hands. "Let's just not, okay?" The two militiamen, blinking and cross-eyed as they tried to focus on one muzzle apiece, settled on the better part of valor. Pale and grimacing, the lieutenant sagged against the holoviewer at his back, clutching his thigh.
"These are my terms," Mace said evenly. "The planetary militia will immediately cease all operations in the Lorshan Pass. You will turn over to me the starfighter control codes. And, as the ranking military official-and the ranking officer of the Confederacy-you will sign a formal surrender ceding Haruun Kal, and the Al'har system itself, to the Republic." "Colonel-" The lieutenant's growl was thin with pain. "Maybe you oughta think about it.
Y'know? Think about it. I mean, all the guys-we got families here-" Geptun clutched the edge of the table, livid. "If I don't?" Mace shrugged. "Then I won't save your city." "How am I supposed to trust that you will? That you even can?" "You know who I am." Geptun trembled, and not from fear. "This is extortion!" "No," Mace said. "It's war." The formal surrender had been drafted, witnessed, and signed right there in the Intel station.
"You know this has no legal standing," Geptun said as he affixed his signature and retinal print. "I sign this surrender only under duress-" "Surrender is always made under duress," Mace observed dryly. "That's why they call it surrender." Mace set the comm gear to automatically make a number of trans missions the instant signal- jamming abated enough that communications could resume. Many of the transmissions would be simple orders to the various battalions of militia to lay down their arms. More significant would be a HoloNet report to Coruscant with a copy of the surrender agreement, along with an emergency summons for a Republic task force. If the Republic could get here in force before the Confederacy did, their landing would be unopposed. By the time signal-jamming would end, he'd have control of the starfight-ers; even if the Separatists got here first, Mace would be in a position to make the Al'har system uncomfortably hot for them.
And if they tried to land, the spaceport controlled the planetary defenses as well.
Now all he had to do was control the spaceport.
They had the whole platoon plus the armored groundcar squad for escort through the chaos of Pelek Baw.
Geptun got them through the militia perimeter that stretched in a thick arc among the burning warehouses, then Mace stepped out of the groundcar. "Nick. You drive." He shooed away the rest of the militiamen. Geptun started to follow them. "Not you, Colonel. Get in the car." "Me?" The ride to the spaceport had given Geptun time to recover his composure; he looked almost his old self again. "You can't be serious! What do you expect me to do?" "You'll transmit the deactivation codes. To make sure nothing goes wrong." "Why should I have to do anything What will you two be doing?" Nick stared through the windshield at the spaceport gates. "Killing people." Geptun looked at him, blinking as though he were expecting a punchline.
Mace said, "Get in the car." "Really-I mean, please-I don't know what kind of man you think I am-" "I think," Mace said, "that you are a very brilliant man. I think that you have more courage than you have ever guessed. I think that you truly care about this city, and the people in it. I think your cynicism is a fraud." "What-what-really, this is astonishing-" "I think that if you were truly as corrupt and venal as you pretend," said Mace Windu, "you would be in the Senate." Geptun's blank gape hung on for one silent second, then gave way to an abrupt guffaw.
Shaking his head, still chuckling, he walked around to the other side of the groundcar. "Here, young man, shove over. I'll drive." "You will?" "You might have to shoot people, yes?" Nick looked at Mace; Mace shrugged, and Nick slid over to the passenger side. Geptun adjusted the pilot's seat to make himself comfortable behind the control yoke. "I suppose," he said with a vast theatrical sigh, "I am as ready as I will ever be." Mace ignited his lightsaber.
He lifted its blade, and stood for a moment, staring into its blaze as though he could read his future there.
Perhaps he could.
That killing flame might be the only future he had.
He let it drop to his side but held it alight, and walked toward the spaceport gates.
"Follow me." Geptun engaged the groundcar's drive system and let the armored vehicle roll along behind the Jedi Master's deliberate stride.