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“Going to shoot back, if somebody shoots at us?”

“I guess I’ll have to. But maybe nobody will.” He pulled out Gnosos’s data card. “We’ve been offered the use of a hoverpod.”

“Whose?” Jaina’s eyes narrowed.

“A Sunesi.”

“One of those strange preachers?”

Jacen shrugged. “I’ve never heard of one of them going to the dark side.”

Frowning, Jaina flipped her hand on the blaster’s handgrip and gave it to him—then reached across and pulled a second blaster from her utility belt’s cross-draw holster.

Then she peered out the window again. Her frown slackened. “Uh-oh,” she said. “Maybe we aren’t going anywhere.”

* * *

If Luke had hoped to make a speech, it was too late. Mara heard someone behind her fire a weapon—a little BlasTech DW-5, by the sound of it. Luke swept in and deflected the bolt.

Mara spun around. Spotting the Duros gunman, she plunged through the crowd. Leaning her weight into his balance was easy. She threw him gently to the ground and disarmed him.

Then she heard someone fire a deeper-pitched weapon. A shout went up, inarticulate, plainly hostile. Mara didn’t need to check her danger sense. Newly arrived agitators had turned a harmless crowd of fascinated spectators into a sharp-toothed beast of a mob. Duros who’d looked friendly almost knocked each other down, hurrying out of the middle of it.

Someone grabbed her left arm. She stepped sideways and used his momentum to toss him almost casually against another Duros, who went down. Two more, from behind: she crossed her arms through the leader’s, ducked, and felt him slide over her back into his partner’s face.

She flexed her hands. She was sick of watching Luke and Anakin have all the fun, anyway. It felt unconscionably good to cut loose—and with so many Duros close around her, they couldn’t fire weapons without hitting each other. So it was hand-to-hand, and Mara could do that in her sleep. A high roundhouse kick, fueled by her fury over having to retreat from Nom Anor, sent another holdout blaster up onto the tree limb.

If she fell, though, her child could get hurt. She focused quickly and surely as each threat presented itself. Blaster after blaster flew into the vine-draped tree. A half-dozen Duros rushed her. She let them get close enough to grab—then leapt clear, aiming herself toward the street-sweeping machinery and R2-D2. Not far behind her back, she sensed another knot of closely controlled violence: Luke and Anakin, likewise headed out of the mob’s center.

Another crowd of Duros bore down on R2-D2. His domed head spun left, then right. He let out a frightened squeal.

Mara took the offensive, using the Force to toss Duros aside. One of R2-D2’s attackers made a grab. Mara saw the flash of an electric discharge, and the Duros jumped back. Another Duros tried to grab him, and R2-D2 shocked that one, too.

Then a group of them clambered up the street-sweeping machine, and it roared to life.

Jacen and Jaina avoided the lift and tiptoed down the emergency stairs. With only two flights to go, Jacen heard rustling noises below. He backed into Jaina, who’d donned her enhancement mask. The footsteps plainly were coming up toward them.

Then the sound stopped.

Jacen pressed against the exterior wall, close to his twin. He double-checked the unfamiliar blaster, making extra sure it was set for stun.

By the time he lowered it, Jaina was pushing away from the wall. She placed two hands on the banister, leapt gracefully, and vanished.

Jacen pounded down the next flight after her. He heard a blaster below his feet, and less than a second later, he spotted three Duros in CorDuro Shipping uniforms—two sprawled in the stairwell, one dashing for a door. Jacen stunned that one. Jaina had already fallen past this level, leaping out of the stairwell’s core, headed for a side door.

Jacen followed, not liking what they’d done—not at all. This wasn’t fair! He was Jedi, trained to fight to protect others. And himself.

“This way!” He waved Jaina toward a service garage, then pressed the data card into a wall slot.

A two-seat hoverpod