"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.