Chapter 4: I Would Have Been Your Daddy

2047 hrs, February 24th 2558 (Military Calendar)/

Invisible Hand, CIS Armada

Coruscant System, Coruscant

The Master Chief waited impatiently as the lift ascended into the conning tower. It was patently ridiculous for such a structure to be on a ship, so vulnerable to enemy fire. Then again, megalomaniacs like Dooku and Grievous would like to feel above everything. The Chief thought so at least.

The lift doors opened, and for the first time since he entered this ship he was not greeted by volleys of red blaster fire. Instead, the wreckage of two Super Battle Droids littered the deck, and beyond, he saw General Skywalker literally disarm Dooku. The old man, to his credit, did not scream in pain. He fell to his knees, a look of surprise and fear covering his features. Skywalker discarded Dooku's blade and held his blue one to the defeated Sith Lord's neck.

Chancellor Palpatine, strapped to a chair, looked at the discarded lightsaber and frowned, as if something had happened that wasn't supposed to. But he gathered himself and said, "Good, Anakin! Good! I knew you could do it!" He looked at Dooku. "Kill him. Kill him now."

The Chief frowned. He had researched on the Jedi after his rescue and the Necropolis Incident, and he knew that Jedi would not execute defenseless men. The Chancellor knew what he was asking Anakin to do. But he could do something instead.

Anakin hesitated. When he looked down at Dooku, he did not see a Lord of the Sith anymore; he saw a beaten, broken, cringing old man in pain. "It is not the Jedi way."

The Chancellor's expression turned fierce. "Do it now!"

Anakin raised his blade—

Blam!

Dooku's head suddenly jerked sideways and he hit the deck, missing half of his head. Anakin jumped back, staring in horror at the blood, and looked for the source of the shot.

Master Chief Petty Officer John-117, codename Sierra-117, stood steady, holding a smoking M6G. He flicked the safety back on, holstered the weapon, and simply said, "Area secure, sir. All hostiles have been eliminated."

Palpatine stared at the Chief in blank surprise. "Well…thank you, soldier."

The Chief nodded. But Palpatine's sincerity did not fool him. He already had added the man to the list of people he did not trust. He motioned to Skywalker and said, "Sir, we'd better get moving."

"Yes," the young man said slowly. "Let's go." With a flick of his fingers the Chancellor's restraints popped open, and the old man stood up slowly.

The made for the stairs, but only went half-way before Anakin suddenly said, "Obi-Wan." He saw his master, buried underneath a collapsed platform.

"Leave him, Anakin," said the Chancellor. "There is not time. This whole spire may be about to break free—"

"Then we'll all be adrift together," said Anakin. "His fate will be the same as ours."

"I can help, sir," said the Master Chief. The Spartan strode to the platform, lifted it with one hand, and grabbed the unconscious Jedi with the other. He could easily hold the man. Hefting the Jedi Master over his shoulder, he said, "Let's move sir." He looked at Palpatine. "Try to keep up." He opened a COM frequency to the others. "Omega, Delta, Blue Team: rendezvous at the hangar for evac."

000

Bridge, Invisible Hand

General Grievous was not concerned, despite the approach of a Star Destroyer on his right and a UNSC battleship on his left. At least, he didn't look concerned. There were a lot of emotions playing behind the fearsome mask. "Prepare gun batteries. Concentrate fire on North Dakota. Blast that hulk out of space, and we'll make a hyperspace jump through its wreckage."

"But—the forward towers are already overloading, sir." The senior gunnery officer was on the verge of panic. "They'll be a critical failure in less than a minute—"

"Burn them out."

"But sir, once they're gone—"

The rest of the senior gunnery officer's objection was lost in the wetly final crunching sound his face made under the impact of an armorplast fist. The same fist opened, seized a handful of the dead Neimodian officer's uniform, and yanked him out of the chair, ripping his seat-belt free with him.

Grievous turned to the junior gunnery officer. "Congratulations on your promotion. Take your post."

"Y-y-yes, sir." The newly promoted senior gunnery officer's hands shook so bad he could barely unbuckle himself, and his face had gone deathly pink, a bad sign for Neimodians.

"Do you understand your orders?"

"Y-y-y—"

"Do you have any objections?"

"N-n-n—"

"Very well then." Grievous was all flat, impenetrable calm. "Carry on."

"Sir?" said the COM officer in a quavering voice. "We are being hailed by North Dakota. They propose a cease-fire."

Grievous stared at the battleship. The UNSC vessel had halted just outside the Hand's kill-zone, and so had RSD Guarlara. A pause in combat would allow the turbolasers to cool, and give the engineers a chance to repair the gravity generators. "Acknowledge receipt of transmission. Stand by to cease fire."

"Standing by, sir." The gunnery officer still had the shakes.

"Cease fire."

The constant shaking of the deck ceased. The enemy battleship was menacingly still, blocking Grievous' escape.

"Further transmission, sir. It's the battleship's commander."

"Initiate."

A ghostly image of a stocky man with close-cut hair appeared on the bridge's holo-tank. Grievous could see a leaf on each shoulder. Behind him, a taller, older looking man stood silently, his four brass bars and a single star denoting his rank as a Captain in the Navy.

The shorter man spoke first. "General Grievous, I am Lieutenant Commander Jeffery Wong of UNSC North Dakota. At my request, my superiors have consented to offer you the chance to surrender your ship, sir."

"Surrender?" Grievous scoffed. "Preposterous."

"Please give this offer some consideration; it's a one-time offer. What about your crew?"

"What about them? I couldn't care less."

"Is this your final reply?"

"Not at all." Grievous straightened up, adding a meter and a half to his already imposing height. "I have a counter-offer. Maintain your cease-fire, move your hulk out of the way, and withdraw to a minimum range of fifty kilometers until this ship achieves hyperspace jump."

"Like you said, sir: preposterous. You didn't seriously think we'd do that, did you?"

"Tell these superiors of yours that if my demands are not met within ten minutes, I will personally disembowel the Chancellor, live on the HoloNet. Am I understood?"

Wong didn't flinch. "Ah. The Chancellor is aboard your ship, then."

"He is. Your pathetic rescue team has failed. They are all dead, and Palpatine remains in my hands."

Wong raised an eyebrow. "Really?" The skepticism was heavy. "Then you will, of course, allow me to speak with him. To, ah, reassure my superiors that you are not simply—to put it charitably—bluffing?"

"I would not lower myself to the likes of you." Grievous turned to the COM officer. "Patch in Count Dooku."

The officer frowned. "He's not responding, sir."

"Just show the Chancellor, then. Bring up my quarters on the security screen."

The security officer tapped a button, but then made a choking noise. "Hrm, sir?"

"What are you waiting for? Bring it up!"

"Perhaps you should see first, sir?"

The urgency in the officer's voice made Grievous move to his station. On the screen, he saw jumbled, lightsaber-sheared piles of wreckage…and no Chancellor.

And that—that there—that looked like it could have been a body lying in a pool of blood…

Draped in Dooku's signature cape.

Grievous turned back to Wong's image. "The Chancellor is…indisposed."

"I see."

Grievous suspected the young man saw entirely too well. "I assure you—"

"I don't need your assurance. You have the same amount of time you offered us. Ten minutes from now, I will have confirmation of your surrender, or proof that the Chancellor is alive and well—and present—or your ship will be destroyed."

"Wait—you can't simply—"

"Ten minutes," the enemy captain butted in, "Or you can put you head in between your knees and kiss your shiny metal ass goodbye. I'm sure you're flexible enough to do it. Mancuso out."

When grievous turned to the bridge security officer, his mask was as always expressionless, but he made up for it with the open murder in his voice. "Dooku is dead and the interlopers are loose. They have the Chancellor. Find them and bring them to me. FIND THEM!"

000

The Master Chief handed the unconscious Kenobi over to Anakin and swept the elevator lobby with his rifle. His Spartans were long gone, but they had left plenty of evidence that they had been here; the group had to pick their way past bullet-ridden droids. R2D2 tagged along, having manipulated the elevator controls.

"Blue Team, come in."

The COM crackled. "Blue Two here," replied Fred. "We've made it to the hangar, but there are no flyable craft in here. Looks like this place took a direct hit. Awaiting orders."

"Shit." He turned to Anakin. "Sir, are there any escape pods on this boat?"

"I should think so," said Anakin, "But they're located close to the bridge, and General Grievous is there."

"Well, that's good," said Palpatine. The Chief's visor hid his expressions, but he stared at Palpatine as if the man had lost it. "We can take out Grievous before we leave, and end this war once and for all."

"Negative," said the Chief. "Your safety is top priority, sir. Taking out Grievous should be a secondary consideration."

"Very well," said the Chancellor. But Anakin looked thoughtful.

"It is an opportunity we may not get again," said the young Jedi. "Grievous has a habit of escaping."

The Chief held back his frustration. "With respect, sir, we don't have to go after Grievous. Once we're off the ship, the Navy can destroy it. And we both have our orders, sir."

"He's right," said Obi-Wan suddenly. Anakin quickly put him on his feet.

"How long were you awake?" asked Anakin.

"Long enough." He dusted off his tunic. "I agree with the Master Chief's reasoning. Grievous is a secondary option. Right now, we have to get the Chancellor off this ship and back into Allied hands."

The Chief was relieved. Kenobi was the superior officer, and he had approved his plan.

Fred sounded impatient. "Chief? What's our new orders?"

"New objective," replied the Chief. "The bridge escape pods."

Before he could say anything else, Cortana said, "Bad news, Chief: they've managed to shut me out of the defensive systems. Auto-turrets won't work, but they still have—"

A shimmering box of energy surrounded the group. "Ray shields," said Anakin. "We're trapped."

"Cortana, get us out of here," said the Chief.

"I'll do my best, but you'll be stuck there for at least five minutes," replied the AI.

Obi-Wan stared down the hallway. "It appears we don't have five minutes." He was right.

Hatches opened, and they were suddenly surrounded by droids. A Magna Guard stepped forward and said, "Drop your weapons."

There was nothing else to do, so the Chief complied. But he had other plans, and they involved a lot of violence.

000

General Grievous cackled. "Ah, the bold rescuers. My pleasure to meet you, Kenobi the Negotiator. And you, Anakin Skywalker." He cocked his head. "I assumed you would be a little…older."

Anakin coolly replied, "General Grievous. You're shorter than I thought."

"We have a job to do, Anakin," whispered Obi-Wan. "Try not to upset him. Yet."

Grievous didn't give the Chancellor a glance. However, he looked at the Master Chief for a long time. "So, you are the famous Master Chief." He tapped his scorched chestplate, the mark of the Spartan Laser. "You gave me this souvenir. It would be rude if I did not give you one in return." He took out a lightsaber, the one he had confiscated from Kenobi. "Let us see how strong those shields are."

"That will not happen," said Obi-Wan suddenly. "I am in control here."

Grievous had to laugh at that. "And how is that?"

Before Obi-Wan had even whispered Artoo's name, the astromech suddenly fired an arc cutter at Grievous. The white hot spray blinded the General despite his reflexes, and he staggered back. The Jedi used the distraction to Force-pull their lightsabers, slicing through their restraints and the Chief's. The Spartan wasted no time, smashing two battle droids to a pulp and duel-wielding their blaster rifles. The bridge became engulfed by chaos as the two sides fought each other and Grievous wondered how he had lost the advantage so quickly. Then he noticed that a squadron of droidekas was forcing the group into a corner. Perhaps he could salvage this after all.

"Squad Two, keep up your attack," he said. "Squad Three, find the Chancellor and take him to my escape pod."

Suddenly the deck rocked. Grievous looked out the windows, and realized he had forgotten about North Dakota and Guarlara. His own ship buckled under the pressure, starting a dive that would intersect with the planet's surface in a very messy fashion.

The gravity generators cut out, and everything not bolted to the ground floated everywhere. The only two individuals not affected were Grievous and the Master Chief. But the bouncing droidekas had wasted their shields, so the total sum output of their generators was one large cloud of smoke. Within seconds, Squad Two was nothing. Worse yet, two commando squads and three more Spartans dashed into the bridge as the gravity regenerated, cutting him off from retreat…or so they thought.

Grievous picked up an electrostaff and powered it up to the max. He raised it and said, "You lose, Jedi!" and hurled it at a window.

The effect was instantaneous. The Jedi's Force-assisted leaps became wild scrambles for handholds as the atmosphere rushed out. Grievous allowed himself to be carried by the gale, and used his magnetic feet to latch onto the hull. From there, he walked carefully to the escape pod area, accessed it from the outside, sat inside, and punched a few buttons. "Time to abandon ship," he rermarked.

Not only was his escape pod jettisoned, but all the pods. The empty pods would deny the interlopers escape and distract the Allied fighters. His own pod streaked towards a ship already primed for jump, leaving Invisible Hand—and her new passengers—to plunge in a death-dive towards Coruscant.

00000