with that he leapt backward, out the window. Yoda bounded after him. In the dark Vjun air it was all he could do not to leap after Dooku, to fall on him like a green thunderbolt and annihilate him utterly.... But already he could feel the missile, too, dropping in a red scream through the atmosphere, two hundred armored kilos of explosive aimed for Chateau Malreaux.
With a snort, Yoda turned his eyes to the sky and picked out the glowing dot racing in from the horizon. Below him, Dooku landed softly on the ground and melted into the rose gardens. The missile was coming in with terrible speed and power: too much coming at Yoda too fast ever to wholly stop it, even if he had time and perfect peace. But he reached out to pull up the Force binding even Vjun's bitter green moss and twisted thorn-trees, and let it flow through him like a wind: the breath of a world, gathered and released in a push-feather game with all their lives on the line, not to oppose the missile's force with force, but to touch it gently on the side-just enough to send it screaming by the broken window casement to plunge a kilometer offshore into the cold and waiting sea. A long instant later, water fountained from the ocean in a blaze of light three hundred meters tall, and then fell back. The chateau and all those inside it had been spared: but Dooku was gone.
Moments later, Yoda trotted down into what had once been the great entryway of Chateau Malreaux, now a shattered and smoking ruin.
Obi-Wan was thoughtfully toeing the remains of a prime combat droid that his partner had cut in half.
"Nice work, Anakin." He looked around generally, surveying the carnage. "If you were considering a career in interior decoration, though, you might want to take a few more classes."
"Oh, no," Anakin remarked.