"I will not let this city be torn apart!" Baron Administrator Hyarkis's face was stormy, his eyes bright with fear and malice.
Artel shook his head in a reassuring manner. "Listen, Baron," he said, "we are—"
"We cannot stand up to an army of that size!"
"I can assure you, Baron, that my people—"
"Your people? Your people? Is that what you care about, Master Jedi?" Hyarkis hissed in anger. "Do we not matter to you?"
Artel felt anger rising in him. He took his lightsaber from his belt and weighed it in his hand. "I will do what I must to keep this system out of Separatist hands, Baron."
Hyarkis looked fearfully down at the lightsaber, but his anger was not quenched. "Are you going to kill me then, Jedi?" he snarled.
"I will do what I must."
Hyarkis shook his head. "I will surrender to the Separatists. And there is nothing-"
Artel ignited the 'sabre, holding the blue blade against Hyarkis's throat. "This city will not fall, Baron. Atairis is under my control, as are you. You will do what I command, and nothing more."
Hyarkis looked at him poisonously, then stepped back from the blade and threw his hands down.
"Good." Artel switched off the blade and hooked it back onto his belt. "We have only a few hours until dawn. Gather all the troops you can, Ballo; I'll guard the Baron."
Ballo nodded stiffly. "Yes, sir. I'll meet you back on the wall."
"Very good." Artel watched as Ballo strode off and disappeared into the lift before turning back to the Baron. He walked over to the holoprojector built into the floor and sliced it in two with one clean cut of his lightsaber. "We won't have any talk of peace, Baron. You'll be fighting on the front line, with us."