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Throughout the long night and morning, explosive light strobed through the warehouse’s arched windows as Republic and Separatist forces clashed at sea and in the air. The battle for the landing platform raged well into the afternoon. But now the Separatist forces were in full retreat, streaming across the two intact bridges, leaving the platform’s defense to homing spider droids, hailfire weapons platforms, and tanks.

By the time the Jedi managed to reach the more northern of the pair of bridges, the wide avenue was so closely packed with fleeing mercenaries and other Separatist fighters they could scarcely make any headway against the flow. A crossing that should have taken an hour required more than three, and the sun was low on the horizon when they reached the end of the bridge.

They were just short of the platform itself when a succession of powerful explosions took out the final hundred meters of the span and split the massive hexagon into thirds, sending hundreds of clone troopers, mercenaries, and Separatist droids plummeting into the churning water.

Shryne knew that the Separatists were responsible for the explosions. Before too long, munitions planted under the final bridge would be detonated, as well. By then, though, there would be no stopping the Republic onslaught.

While mercenaries shouldered past him in a frenzy, Shryne surveyed the forest of bridge pylons left exposed by the explosions, calculating their distance from one another and the odds of accomplishing what he had in mind.

Finally he said: “Either we frog-leap for the platform or we head back into the city.” He looked at Starstone. “You decide.”

Her blue eyes sparkled and she put on a brave face. “Not a problem, Master. We leap for it.”

Shryne almost grinned. “Right. One at a time.”

Chatak put her arm around her Padawan’s shoulder. “Let’s just hope no clone troopers are watching.”

Shryne gestured to his pilfered outfit of robe and headcloth. “We’re just a bunch of very agile mercs.”

Chatak took the lead, with Starstone right on her heels. Shryne waited until they were halfway along before following. The first few leaps were easy, but the closer he got to the platform, the greater the distance between the pylons, many of which had been left with jagged tops. On his penultimate jump, he nearly lost his balance, and on his final leap for the edge of the platform his hands arrived well in front of his feet.

A last-moment grab from Starstone was all that saved him from a plunge into the waves.

“Remind me to mention this to the Council, Padawan,” he told her.

The platform was being hammered, but not past the point of utility. On one fractured section gunships were beginning to land, along with a vanguard flight of troop transports. Elsewhere, battle droids were being flattened by magpulse busters, then picked off before they had a chance to reactivate by V-wings and ARC-170s performing lightning-fast strafing runs.

With night falling, the Jedi wove through firefights and fountaining explosions, using their captured blasters rather than their lightsabers to defend themselves against teams of clone troopers and commandos, though without killing any.

They came to a halt at a ruined stretch of permacrete, at the far end of which a squadron of starfighters was touching down.

“Can you pilot a ship?” Shryne asked Starstone in a rush.

“Only an interceptor, Master. But without an astromech droid I doubt I could fly one to Coruscant. And I’ve never even seen the cockpit of a V-wing.”

Shryne considered it. “Then it’ll have to be an ARC-one-seventy.” He pointed to a bomber that was just landing, probably to refuel. “That’s our ship. It’s our best bet, anyway. Enough chairs for the three of us, and hyperspace-capable.”

Chatak watched the crew for a moment. “We may have to stun the copilot and tail gunner.”

Shryne was on the verge of moving when he felt the beacon transceiver vibrate again, and he pawed it from the deep pocket of the robe.

“What is it, Roan?” Chatak asked while he was staring in stupefaction at the device. “What?