Mace turned his own fall into a flip that landed him on an akk dog’s shoulders. He bounded off into the air—

And Vastor’s Force grip seized him again.

Vastor was on his feet now, and his arms didn’t seem hurt at all. His blood-smeared mouth spread wide in a howl of triumph as he yanked Mace through the multicolored glowvine-shaded night, pulling him in while he opened his arms for that lethal embrace.

Mace thought: Well, if you insist …

Instead of resisting or grounding the power of Vastor’s Force grip, Mace added his own strength to it. The speed of his flight suddenly doubled; Vastor had only time to widen his eyes in dismay as Mace flipped headfirst in the air. The top of his head speared into Vastor’s gut and drove the lor pelek to the ground as though he’d been hit by a concussion missile.

On the other hand, Vastor’s stomach wasn’t much softer than that lammas he’d slammed Mace into; the impact didn’t do Mace’s head a lot of good, either.

Another spiral galaxy blossomed where the first had been as Mace rolled off him, lying on his back while he watched stellar clusters wheel inside his skull. Vastor lay beside him, making faint panting noises while he tried to pull air into his spasming chest.

Vastor’s breath began to return in great whooping gasps, and Mace knew his time was running out. He shook the stars out of his head and reached down to his ankle to unwrap the severed gripleaf trailer. Limp now, dying, it was unresisting as an ordinary rope; Mace took one end in each fist, and as Vastor rolled over and gained his hands and knees, Mace slipped a loop of the trailer over the lor pelek’s head from behind and tightened it around his throat.


- Shatterpoint, Chapter 12