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Sometimes she imagined Jacen forty years in the future, either teaching at the academy or ensconced on his own little world, like Yoda. If he survived.

The next repulsor train swept out of its approach tunnel, emerged on the side of the city-canyon, and braked silently. Mara pushed in with the rest of the crowd. By now, she’d counted and cataloged them by species, sex, and threat level. More intriguing than her fellow passengers was the fact that this run would take them right back where they started, toward the governmental zone.

The train traveled smoothly, its minimal noise covered by conversations inside the thirty-passenger compartment. Her target pushed out through standing riders as they approached Embassies Row and the main SELCORE office. Mara caught Anakin’s glance and cut her eyes toward the door. He nodded, then followed the server.

Mara let the pod reach one more station before getting off and doubling back. She caught Anakin’s sense like a shout through the Force.

The quarry was moving more quickly now, up a lane Mara knew to be lower-income housing for embassies’ staffers. She hustled closer, listening for any warning from her finely honed danger sense.

The server finally turned around. Mara kept walking straight, but Anakin stopped and looked aside a little too innocently.

The target ducked down a narrow side passage. Anakin sprinted after him.

Shaking her head in frustration, Mara broke into a run. For all of Anakin’s potential, he had the subtlety of a Hutt in a Mon Cal meditation pool.

He’s barely sixteen, she reminded herself. Still plenty young enough to be trigger-poppy. At least he’d quit trying to wring vengeance for Chewie out of every suspected Yuuzhan Vong in the galaxy.

The cul-de-sac was a high gray corridor that wormed into one of Coruscant’s complex edifices. A few windows, none with ledges, opened overhead. Yellowish light standards hung from the third story. The stranger hunched close to a doorway, bending toward an access panel.

Anakin sprinted forward, drew his blaster, and fired. Flickers of blue energy connected with the bent form.

The server whirled, raising one arm.

Evidently that’s not close enough! Not even the ooglith masquer seemed affected, so far as Mara could tell. Her lightsaber cleared her vest as she came on.

A black shape slithered down out of the server’s sleeve. With his free hand, he flung something toward Anakin. Whatever it was, it screeched as it flew.

Anakin ignited his lightsaber one-handed and lit the cul-de-sac a pale, eerie rose-purple.

Mara couldn’t spare Anakin any more attention. Her danger sense was tingling. The server seized his limp black staff at both ends. It stiffened in his grasp, liquid eyes glittering, reflecting Mara’s blue blade. She swept her lightsaber low, hoping to hobble the enemy agent.

He brought up the amphistaff, blocking her swing, then tried to force the locked weapons higher. Mara gave ground for an instant, shifted direction, and swung again. At the corner of her vision, Anakin swung at a small, black flying object. It swooped at his face, clawing for his eyes.

She disengaged, sidestepped, and aimed a stroke at the amphistaff’s head. Get with it, Solo! Stun him! Until she defanged this amphistaff, she couldn’t spare one hand to grab her blaster, and Anakin’s was in his left hand.

The amphistaff went limp and almost fell out of her opponent’s grasp. In the same instant, he abandoned his hunched posture. His face and torso stretched like something out of a bizarre nightmare.

Mara refused to be distracted. She tried another low cut, this time opening one seam of his pants near the knee. White fluid spattered on stone. She’d cut the masquer. In that moment, the amphistaff straightened again, surprising her with a stream of venom. It splashed on the exposed back of her left hand. Her quarry laughed and swung high, going for her throat. She ducked.

Her hand stung. She and Cilghal had developed a biotoxin drill, and she called