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More or less rooted in place, he swayed, wobbled, tottered, and reeled, evading or parrying an almost unremitting current of blaster bolts. His singed and burned cloak bore evidence of all the near hits, but the floor—heaped with droids, whole and in parts, bodies sparking and limbs twitching—spoke to the accuracy of his deflections.

He felt at times as if he were merely holding the lightsaber and letting it to do all the work. In one hand, in both, it made no difference. Other times he was able to anticipate the bolts, twist himself aside at the last instant, and allow the walls and floor to handle the ricochets.

Sometimes he actually took a moment to congratulate himself on the skill of his returns.

He was in the Force, to be sure, but deep in some other zone as well, giddy with astonishment, as the world unfolded in slow motion.

Alerted by the commandos that the air was saturated with spores, Anakin had his rebreather in his mouth as he approached the room in which Obi-Wan had held his own against better than fifty droids, all of which lay scattered about the room. A weaving, shuffling, staggering Obi-Wan was dealing with the last of them when Anakin entered.

When the final droid collapsed, Obi-Wan aimed the blade of his lightsaber casually toward the floor and stood swaying in place, breathing hard but almost grinning.

“Anakin,” he said happily. “How are you?”

When Anakin went to him, Obi-Wan promptly collapsed in his arms.

Anakin deactivated Obi-Wan’s blade and inserted a rebreather into his mouth—the same one that had ended up on the floor of the grotto. Then he carried him from the room to where Cody and several commandos were waiting, some with their helmets removed.

“Exactly what lightsaber form were you using back there, Master?” Anakin asked when Obi-Wan had come around and the rebreathers were no longer necessary.

“Form?”

“More the absence of it.” Anakin laughed shortly. “If only Mace, Kit, or Shaak Ti could have seen you.”

Obi-Wan blinked in confusion and glanced around at the carnage of droids in the shipping area. “We did this?” he said to Cody.

“You did most of it, General.”

Obi-Wan regarded Anakin in confusion.

“I’ll explain later,” Anakin said.

Obi-Wan ran his hand through his hair, then, as if just remembering, said: “Gunray! Did you get him?”

Anakin’s shoulders dropped. “The entire entourage escaped the palace.”

Obi-Wan mulled it over for a moment. “You could have gone after them.”

Anakin shrugged. “And leave you?” He paused, then added: “Of course, if I’d known you’d become master of a new lightsaber form …”

Obi-Wan’s eyes brightened. “They’ll be taken in orbit.”

“Maybe.”

“If not, there’ll be other times, Anakin. We’ll see to it.”

Anakin nodded. “I know that, Master.”

Obi-Wan was about to add something when a helmeted commando stepped from a nearby turbolift and hurried over to them.

“General Kenobi, General Skywalker, we’ve found something of interest among the equipment the Neimoidians left behind.”

The fact that the Sheathipede shuttle had managed to thread its way through a storm of turbolaser bolts and dock in the core ship’s port-side command tower was no guarantee of safety. Indeed, while everyone was filing down the shuttle’s tongue-like boarding ramp, the core ship was still being pummeled by fire from Republic warships.

First to set foot on deck, Viceroy Nute Gunray, attired in blood-red robes and sporting a tall, helmet-like miter, asked for a situation report from one of the goggle-wearing technicians who was waiting in the docking bay.

“Even now coordinates for the jump to lightspeed are being calculated, Viceroy,” the nearest one said. “A matter of moments and we will be well away from Cato Neimoidia. Your peers on the Council of Separatists await us in the Outer Rim.”

“Let us hope so,” Gunray said, as the vessel was rocked by a massive explosion.

Behind Gunray walked settlement officer Rune Haako, wearing a crested skullcap; and behind Haako, various financial, legal, and diplomatic officers,