The scene, frozen in time, locked in the amber of Mace’s Force-sense: Vastor standing with arms folded, not the slightest hint of threat, his shields pushed high on his arms, those arms still crossed to bury the lightsabers that he held under his massive biceps—

[...]

Vastor’s vine cat reflexes whirled him in the air and latched his hands onto the rock face a meter below the lip of the cliff. His confederate in the jungle poured fire up at Mace to drive him back, while Nick ran out of the cave behind him, shouting “Did I get him? Is he dead? Is he dead?” until Vastor threw himself back up into the meadow, bringing his vibroshields into fighting position with a surge of the Force.

Nick fired as fast as his finger could jerk the pistol’s trigger and bullets clanged off Vastor’s flashing shields—

And Mace just stood there.


- Shatterpoint, Chapter 15