He should have been prepared for Dooku’s next move, but he wasn’t. The man who had a second before been cowering now seized Vos’s wrist as the green lightsaber descended. A sharp tug, and the roles were reversed. Now it was Vos who sprawled on the ground. Dooku had a knee planted firmly in Vos’s back, using the Force to augment his own not-inconsiderable strength. Vos couldn’t move. The count twisted the arm with which Vos still clutched his humming lightsaber, squeezing down with inhuman strength on the webbing between thumb and forefinger. Vos willed his hand to obey, but it was useless. The lightsaber fell, and the green glow vanished.