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How?

Qui-Gon, who had died—even though, to his young mind, Jedi weren’t supposed to …

Beside him, Obi-Wan stirred and coughed.

“You’re getting awfully good at destroying things,” he said. “On Vjun, you needed a grenade to do this much damage.”

Anakin shook the vision from his mind. “I told you I was becoming more powerful.”

“Then do us both a favor by getting us out from under all this.”

They used the Force, their hands and backs to extricate themselves. Getting to their feet, they stood staring at each other, dusted white head-to-toe from the debris.

“Go ahead,” Anakin said. “If you don’t say it, I will.”

“If you insist.” Obi-Wan snorted dust from his nose. “Almost makes me nostalgic for Naos Three.”

“Once more, with feeling.”

“Some other time. Dooku, first.”

Scampering over the remains of the dome, droid parts, buried pieces of furniture, overturned shelves of holodocuments, they raced for the landing platform, arriving in time to see Dooku’s sloop, one among dozens of Separatist vessels, streaking for space.

“Coward,” Obi-Wan said. “He flees.”

Anakin watched the sloop for a moment longer, then looked at Obi-Wan. “That’s not the reason, Master. We’ve been tricked. Tythe was never the target. We were.”

Bleeding speed and loft, the mag-lev settled hard onto the guide rail that projected from the skyscraper-lined rim of Sah’c Canyon. Counterpoint to the sobs and moans of the passengers, the two dozen cars—two now with slashed-open roofs—pinged and creaked.

Balanced on the balls of their feet, Mace and Kit hooked their lightsabers to their belts and drifted back down into the vestibule, as gently as the Force allowed. As if buffeted by thermals, the train swayed lazily from side to side. But with traffic halted in both directions, the air at midlevel should have been unruffled.

A quick glance out the right side of the vestibule supplied Mace with the explanation.

The aged, cantilevered supports anchored to the sides of the buildings were beginning to bend under the weight of the train.

In the distance, sirens wailed and dopplered as emergency craft hurried to render aid. Left of the stricken mag-lev, two enormous repulsorlift platforms were making a careful approach. Waiting for the train to quiet, Mace and Kit stood like statues in the vestibule. When the rocking motion had subsided somewhat, they pressed the release stud for the passageway door and eased themselves into the lead car.

The train continued to protest its peculiar circumstance with an assortment of stressful sounds, but the sagging supports held.

Held for a few seconds more.

Then, with explosive reports, the rail supports beneath the center of the train tore away from the canyon rim, taking a lengthy portion of the rail with them. The train V’ed into the sudden gap, and would have plunged completely but for the fact that enough forward and rear cars remained clasped to the rail to support the few that now formed an inverted triangle. Even so, Coruscanti in the rear were propelled forward by the collapse, while those in the lead cars were jerked violently backward.

Steps into Palpatine’s car, Mace and Kit called on the Force to prevent everyone from flailing toward the vestibule door. Farther forward in the car, Shaak Ti and Stass Allie were keeping the Supreme Chancellor on his feet.

Strident sounds issued from the guide rail. The mag-lev lurched, and another two cars slipped into the V-notch, their motion adding a sudden twist to the train that turned some of the cars onto their sides, and sent passengers sliding and tumbling toward the tinted windows. Coruscanti screamed in terror, bracing themselves as best they could, or clawing at one another for support.

Centered in the Force, Mace directed all his energy toward keeping the Red Guards and others rooted in place. He wondered if he, Kit, Shaak Ti, and Allie—acting in concert—could support the entire train, but dismissed the idea immediately.

They would need Yoda.

Perhaps five Yodas.

Unexpectedly, a feeling of relief flowed