Hey, it's been a few days, but I have the next chapter for you guys! This is when The Shadow of Vader really begins to diverge from the ROTS plotline, as we will have the first major twist in this chapter. Chapters will start coming more rapidly in a few weeks, when school lets out. Thank you all readers, new and old, for your wonderful feedback!
Chapter 11
The official transport of the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic wove its way through the feverish lines of midday traffic. Any other vehicle would hove been waiting for an hour, but the Chancellor – or indeed anyone riding in his shuttle – had special clearance at the level of emergency vehicles. Therefore, it was able to zip along the fringes of traffic lanes while the occupants of other speeders glared sullenly.
Ten minutes later, the shuttle docked at the Senate Office building. One would have expected a grand reception for the Chancellor, even though the occasion did not call for it. Instead, there was only a lone figure, wearing a homespun robe with the hood up. A Jedi.
The shuttle landed, and Supreme Chancellor Palpatine emerged flanked by four red-robed Royal Guards and Mas Ameeda. Palpatine made a brief hand signal, and his entourage moved off to the side, leaving Palpatine alone with the Jedi. Pulling off his hood, the Jedi revealed the features of Anakin Skywalker.
Palpatine smiled as he greeted his young friend. "Well Anakin, did you see your friend off?"
Anakin nodded. "He will soon have Grievous's head."
Palpatine nodded accommodatingly. "We can only hope the Council didn't make a mistake."
"The Council was very sure in its decision," Anakin said flatly.
They exited the landing platform and emerged in the main hallway of the Senate Office building. They passed several Senators and aides, including Jar-Jar Binks. After giving a quick look over his shoulder to see if Padmé was among them, which she wasn't, Anakin jogged to pull even with Palpatine, who had greatly increased his pace. Anakin couldn't blame him.
Once the group was out of sight, Palpatine and Anakin slowed down. Looking over his shoulder to make sure that they were alone, the Chancellor spoke confidentially.
"There are rumors in the Senate about Master Kenobi. Many believe he is not fit for this assignment."
Anakin frowned. "Not fit? Why would anyone think that?"
Palpatine shrugged. "They say his mind has become fogged by the influence of a certain female, possibly an aide … or even a Senator."
Anakin's pulse quickened. He ignored it.
"That's ridiculous," He said calmly. "Who?"
Palpatine's voice had a sly edge to it. "No one knows who she is, but there is a strong suspicion that she works in the Senate."
"That's impossible," Anakin said confidently, "I would know."
Palpatine's voice was definitely sly now. "Sometimes the closest are the ones who cannot see."
Anakin's confidence slipped a notch. Was it possible? Could Obi-Wan have been hiding something from him? Did he somehow know about Anakin's relationship with Padmé, and was jealous?
He cast a wary glance at Palpatine. Then again, it was possible that Palpatine had his own agenda, and was making all of this up. Why, though? He had no idea.
Palpatine seemed to sense Anakin's unease and spoke reassuringly. "Idle Senate gossip is rarely true and never accurate. I'm sure your Master will do fine."
That did little to soothe Anakin's worries. The confident feeling he had retained after his discussion with Master Windu was fading. The vision of Padmé's death was creeping up on him again.
He wanted to ask Palpatine more about the story of Darth Plaugeis and the ability to preserve life. He hated to admit it, but he was beginning to seriously consider Palpatine's offer. What was the use of preserving his own life if the person who made it worth living was gone?
But Palpatine did not give him an opportunity. He bade farewell to Anakin at the next turn and headed for his office, leaving Anakin standing alone in the vast hall.
Padmé screamed, her face contorted in agony. Anakin reached desperately for her, but he was helpless. He could feel his wife, could not touch her, nor could he speak to her. He could only watch.
But Padmé was not alone. Obi-Wan was with her. He stood over Padmé, trying to comfort her. Anakin felt a rush of hope. His Master could do something. He could not be helpless, as Anakin was.
Help her! He thought at Obi-Wan. Do something! She's dying!
Obi-Wan gave no sign that he had heard him either. He continued to talk to Padmé. "Save your energy."
"I …can't," Padmé gasped. "Don't give up, Padmé!" Obi-Wan urged. "It's too hard! I can't hold on!" Padmé sobbed. "Help me, Obi-Wan!" Obi-Wan's face changed. It was no longer compassionate. His eyes were hard, yet there was a trace of regret, as though this were something that must happen, yet he would prevent if he could. "I can't help you, Padmé."
No! Anakin thought. You can help her! Do something! Don't just let her die!
Padmé screamed again.
"Anakin!" She cried, and Anakin's stomach lurched. "Please! I love you! Help me!"
"I'm sorry, Padmé," Obi-Wan stated, sadly. "He can't help you either."
Padmé's cries became weaker. Her beautiful tear-filled eyes closed and her head drooped onto her shoulder.
Obi-Wan still stood over her, his face resigned, but accepting. "I'm sorry." His face changed. Shadows began to obscure it. Obi-Wan was growing darker, becoming black, silhouetted against bright red lava floes. There was a hiss of a lightsaber igniting …
Anakin sat stonily in the living room of his and Padmé's apartment. His unseeing eyes gazed vaguely at the holoscreen in his hand, registering nothing. He had awoken terrified last night, his hands reaching for an absent lightsaber. He had felt Padmé's warm body sleeping next to him. She was alive. It had been the vision. Again.
But much, much worse this time. Obi-Wan had been there, but could not save Padmé. He, Anakin had been powerless. And the figure … the figure still walked, his menacing laugh echoing in Anakin's ears.
He put aside the holoscreen, which contained information on Senate watch lists. Padmé Amidala was listed as 'under suspicion, possible radical.' Such information should have upset him, but he did not care. It seemed so insignificant.
Padmé came into the room behind him, wearing a simple but elegant blue dress and carrying a folded cloth on her arm. She laid a hand tenderly on Anakin's shoulder before heading over to hang the cloth by the window.
Anakin allowed his Force sense to fill the room. There was a familiar presence all around him, including the couch where he now sat. He turned to Padmé.
"Obi-Wan's been here, hasn't he?"
Padmé looked up. "Yes, he came by last morning."
Anakin got up and stood next to Padmé.
"What did he want?"
Padmé looked at him for a moment. She was trying to get a read on his mood. He knew right now that appeared very tense and uptight.
"He's worried about you," she said finally.
Padmé finished adjusting the tapestry and moved into the bedroom. Anakin followed. He could sense that there was more.
"You told him about us, didn't you?"
Padmé's expression revealed nothing to support or refute his declaration. "He's you're best friend, Ani. He says that you've been under a lot of stress."
Anakin raised an eyebrow. "And he's not?"
Padmé shrugged. "You have been moody lately."
"I'm not moody …"
Padmé looked exasperated. "Anakin! Don't do this again!"
Anakin walked to the window and gazed out at the sky. "I don't know ... I feel . . . lost."
Padmé moved up beside him, her expression worried. "Lost? What do you mean? You're always so sure of yourself. I don't understand."
Anakin looked over at her. "The Council doesn't trust me. And I don't know if Obi-Wan does either."
Padmé put her hand on his shoulder and stoked it soothingly. "They trust you with their lives. Obi-Wan loves you as a son."
"A prodigal son, maybe," Anakin mumbled.
"Ani! What's wrong?"
Anakin moved away from Padmé, but kept his gaze fixed on her. He needed to say this to someone. "Something's happening . . . I'm not the Jedi I should be. I am one of the most powerful Jedi, but I'm not satisfied ... I want more, and I know I shouldn't."
Padmé moved close to him again. "You expect to much of yourself."
Tenderly, Anakin place his hand on Padmé's belly. She put of her hands over his and squeezed.
Anakin braced himself and looked deep into Padmé's eyes. The decision had been made for him. He could not let it happen, no matter what the cost.
"I've found a way to save you."
"Save me?"
"From my nightmares," Anakin explained.
Padmé put both of her hands on his shoulders. "Is that what's been troubling you?"
Anakin placed both of his hands on her waist, and stared even harder. "I won't lose you, Padmé. I can't."
Padmé smiled comfortingly. "I'm not going to die in childbirth, Ani. I promise you."
Anakin held her even tighter. "No, I promise you!"
Padmé looked frightened by the sheer intensity of his reply, but he pressed on.
"There's a power … a power to save people from death. I'm strong enough in the Force; I can learn it! I will be able to keep you from dying!"
Padmé looked Anakin straight in the eyes, her voice calm and soothing. Her words seemed to bring Anakin back from a distant place.
"You don't need more power, Anakin. I believe that you can protect me against anything, just the way you are."
She tilted her head up and pressed her lips against his. The two of them shared a deep, lingering kiss that was a balm to Anakin's tormented mind. But unlike so many other times, the healing was not complete. He could not shake his fears, the story of Darth Plagueis, or the dark figure of his vision.
The walls of his one remaining refuge were crumbling.
The blue Jedi Starfighter emerged from hyperspace a few million kilometers from Utapau. From this distance, nothing could be discerned about its surface; it merely appeared as a blue-green ball hanging against the black nothingness of space. The starfighter disengaged from its hyperspace ring and headed for the planet.
As he drew closer, Obi-Wan could make out several of the massive sinkholes that were Utapau's trademark. These holes, some of them a many as ten kilometers deep, were the only source of fresh water on the planet. Anything left out on Utapau's barren, arid surface did not last long.
"Not a very nice vacation spot, is it G9?" Obi-Wan asked.
His astromech bleated a definite negative. Grinning, Obi-Wan flicked on his identification beacon, seeking a place to land. Ordinarily it would have been unwise to do such a thing on a Confederacy-controlled world, but the remote Rim worlds did not keep traffic logs, so it was unlikely that Grievous would be tipped off.
Whatever passed for Orbital Control on Utapau acknowledged him and granted him permission to land in one of the sinkholes; the largest one, by the looks of things. Obi-Wan plunged his starfighter into the atmosphere.
He dove into the indicated sinkhole. It was an impressive sight, even for Obi-Wan, who was used to Coruscant's tall skyscrapers. The Utapauns had built a thriving metropolis inside the vast sinkhole, a many-layered city connected through rock passages, cables, and ferried by flying lizard beasts. The spectacle reminded Obi-Wan that even though he had visited hundreds of worlds in his life, thousands more remained, each as different as the next.
But there would be time for sightseeing later. He had a mission to complete. He guided his starfighter onto a cleared platform and landed smoothly. The landing pad was quiet. Deserted too, except for a small reception committee that was making its way toward him at a dignified pace. Obi-Wan knew that the calm was an illusion by the way his Jedi sense was tingling. He was being watched.
The reception committee was close now. He could see that all its members were native Utapauns; tall and thin, with dark eyes and long bloodless faces. Several shorter, bug-eyed natives flanked them, actually a subspecies of their taller cousins.
The foremost of the Utapauns, with a lined face and wearing a long blood red robe of high office, stepped forward. Obi-Wan knew from the briefing that this was Tion Mendon, administrator of the city.
Mendon approached Obi-Wan and cordially bowed. "Greetings, young Jedi. What brings you to our remote sanctuary?"
Obi-Wan bowed respectfully. "Unfortunately, the war."
Mendon's expression immediately became guarded. "There's no war here," he said stiffly, "Unless you brought it with you."
Mendon was lying; Obi-Wan didn't even have to use the Force to check. But it was not out of malicious intent; it was a fear of being overheard.
He decided to bait his words so that Mendon's desire to be relieved from his plight would overcome his fear. "With your kind permission, I should like some fuel and to use your city as a base as I search nearby systems for General Grievous."
It worked. Mendon cast a furtive glance around then moved closer, lowering his voice so that Obi-Wan could barely hear.
"He is here!" the administrator hissed. "We are being held hostage! They are watching us."
Obi-Wan nodded, giving any observers no clue about the seriousness of what he had just heard. "I understand."
"Tenth level," Mendon whispered, "Thousands of battle droids."
"Tell your people to take shelter," Obi-Wan instructed him. "If you have warriors, now is the time."
One glance at Mendon and he knew that the administrator had understood. Mendon stepped back and bowed deeply. Obi-Wan returned the gesture and headed back to his ship. Several of the shorter bug-eyed creatures scurried around, connecting fuel lines to his fighter.
Situating himself in the cockpit, he whispered instructions to his astromech. "Geenine, take the Fighter back to the ship. I'm staying here. Tell Cody I've made contact."
The droid beeped a reply and fired up the engines. The little creatures quickly scurried away, pausing only to disconnect the fuel lines. Obi-Wan made one more glance around. He would have to be quick.
Five levels above, Tion Mendon was accosted by a MagnaGuard droid. It lowered its electrostaff to point at Mendon's chest. "What did the human want?"
Mendon did not flinch, though the charged end of the staff was singing his robes. "I told you, all he wanted was fuel."
The bodyguard's robotic voice was suspicious. "What was his name?"
Mendon shrugged. "He didn't say."
The droid took a menacing step forward, forcing Mendon to retreat. "You'd better not be lying."
Mendon smiled thinly. "Why would I lie when my life is in such a precarious position?"
The droid lowered its staff and swept off. It was true; the administrator had little to gain by lying. If discovered, his life and the lives of all his people were forfeit. There was no need to trouble the General over something as insignificant as a single human.
Obi-Wan stood hidden in the shadows, watching as G9 piloted his starfighter back up out of the hole towards space. To complete his ruse, he had had to wait till the last possible moment, and then cloak himself using the Force. Now Cody would know when to make his move. Obi-Wan activated his signal beacon, a shielded device that transmitted his location and his vital signs to Cody, who had a corresponding device. These relatively new devices were ideal for this operation, as the signals were not subject to interference and could not be detected unless one had the corresponding device.
Satisfied, he began to walk, staying in the shadows. Halfway up a stairwell, he took a moment to survey the scene with his electrobinoculars. The tenth level was sealed off, no doubt accessible only from a guarded turbolift. Not that that would present any problem, but he wanted to avoid attracting attention.
A strange echoing cry drew his attention. It was coming from a corral on the second level. He headed in the direction of the noise. It would be wise to obtain some local transportation.
The corral was filled with half a dozen large dragon-like lizards. He recalled seeing several of them on his descent. They were capable of scaling the steep walls of the sinkhole from the outside.
Heading over to the nearest wrangler, he made a slight movement with his hand, putting the weight of the Force behind his words. "I need transportation."
The wrangler nodded agreeably. "You need transportation," he said in his native tongue.
"You will get it for me."
"I will get it for you."
The wrangler turned and began speaking to one of his fellows in his native language. Obi-Wan walked up and down the line, examining each of the lizards in turn. He finally settled on a large and particularly strong looking female.
"This one," he indicated.
The wrangler quickly saddled the beast and brought it over. "Boga. She answers to Boga."
"Good girl, Boga," Obi-Wan said, patting the beast's neck.
The lizard grunted in appreciation. Obi-Wan quickly mounted the beast and gave the reins a slap. Boga charged forward out of the cave, bellowing. He pulled to a halt after a few hundred meters, examining the best route of ascending to the tenth level.
"Up there," he whispered to Boga. "We're going up there."
She seemed to have understood him. Without waiting for him to slap the reins, she took off in the indicated direction, ascending the rocky slope with great leaps and bounds, making surprisingly little noise save for her occasional screech. Obi-Wan held on, permitting himself to enjoy the thrill.
General Grievous paced in front of the seated Separatist leaders. His normally foul mood was absent today, replaced by a curious sense of elation. Today was the day that these loathsome fools who considered themselves the leaders of his Confederacy were to be shipped of to the stronghold on Mustafar. There they were to remain until Lord Sidious's plan had reached its conclusion. And that could take months, depending on how hard the Jedi was to break.
His stalking predators gait slowed as he spoke. "It won't be long before the armies of the Republic trap us here."
His statement was met by horrified gasps from most of the Leadership Council. What remained of Grievous's insides crawled with disgust. They lacked ever the slight self-control to contain their fear. No wonder the Confederacy was about to lose the war.
He continued. "I am sending you to the Mustafar system in the Outer Rim. It is a volcanic planet that generates a great deal of scanning interference. You will be safe there."
Most of the Separatists leaders murmured approvingly. Of course they would. They were being given another hidey-hole to crawl into while he and his armies bore the brunt of the Republic assault. Nute Gunray, however, with his never-ending tendency to make things difficult, stood up indignantly.
"Safe?" he shouted, "Chancellor Palpatine managed to escape your grip, General. Without Count Dooku, I have doubts about your ability to keep us safe!"
Grievous snarled inwardly. Squirming grub. He wondered how much cash it would take to bribe one of the Nemoidian Guards to push their leader into a lava flow while on Mustafar. He decided against it. When it came time for Gunray's end, he wanted to do the deed himself, to ensure the appropriate amount of suffering was endured.
"Be thankful, Viceroy, that you have not found yourself in my grip," he spat. Gunray still looked mutinous, but at least he had closed his mouth. "Your ship is waiting."
High above, Obi-Wan stroked his beard thoughtfully as he watched the Separatist leaders depart. So the General was sending the Separatist leaders somewhere to hide. Hardly surprising. They could not stay in one place for too long, or they might have endure combat.
Mustafar … Mustafar … he had never heard of it. Apparently it was another sanctuary world like Utapau, only covered in lava. He filed the name away. It would come in handy when the time came to track down the Separatist leaders.
Grievous had stalked away to the edge of the control center. The room contained at least a hundred droids, covering every entrance and exit. Stealth had served him well up to now, but it was going to be impossible to get to Grievous unseen. There was no way to be covert about this. He might as well make a big entrance and catch them off guard.
Shedding his cloak, Obi-Wan jumped 20 meters to the control center floor, landing right behind the General.
"Hello, there!"
A hundred blaster barrels swiveled to point at him. General Grievous, fenced behind four of his bodyguards with ignited electrostaffs, looked taken aback for a moment, and then chuckled.
"General Kenobi!" he said delightedly, as though Obi-Wan had arrived on time for a prearranged tea party. "My, my, you are a bold one!"
His voice lost it pleasant edge as he spat at his bodyguards. "Crush him!"
The four bodyguard charged at Obi-Wan, swinging their staffs. Igniting his lightsaber, Obi-Wan met them head on.
They traded lightning fast blows for a few seconds, while the droids tried to hem him in from all sides. I don't think so, thought Obi-Wan. He flipped out of the center landing in the on-guard position. When the droids tried to follow him, he used the Force to bring the four-ton steel crane hanging from the ceiling down on the heads.
Three of the droids were instantly crushed, the fourth pinned. Almost lazily, Obi-Wan sliced the head from the struggling fourth droid and approached Grievous.
The General stood tense, looking for an escape route. There was none. He had two options; signal the droids to cut down the Jedi and leave himself open to attack, or engage Obi-Wan alone.
"Back away!" he snarled to the droids. "I will deal with this Jedi slime myself!"
Obi-Wan stopped three paces away. "Your move."
Grievous reached inside his cloak and pulled out four lightsabers. "You fool!" he snarled. "I've been trained in your Jedi arts by Count Dooku!"
Shedding his cloak, he split each of his arms, creating four separate limbs. Each one snatched a lightsaber.
Obi-Wan smiled confidently. "That's alright. I trained the man who killed him."
Grievous growled. "Attack, Kenobi."
Obi-Wan dropped into the on-guard position. Grievous began to twirl his upper arms, spinning two of his lightsabers around faster and faster. He advanced menacingly, wheels of green and blue fire leaving a molten trail behind him.
Obi-Wan stood firm.
The two met with a ferocious clash in the center of the hanger and Grievous brought all four of his blades to bear on the Jedi Master. Every bit of Obi-Wan's dodging ability was needed, as well as his considerable combat skill, to hold off the cybrog. Each one of Grievous's strikes was much faster and much stronger than any flesh and blood being could deliver. Obi-Wan was forced backward, staying on the defensive, parrying all of Grievous's strikes.
A warning screeched in the Force and he dodged to the left, barely missing being hit by a laser bolt fired from one of the many droid sharpshooters perched around the room. Another quickly followed, and another. Obi-Wan swore under his breath. He should have known Grievous wouldn't play fair. Honor was a flexible concept to him. He continued to focus on parrying Grievous's attacks, relying on the Force to warn him of incoming sniper shots.
He could tell that Grievous was getting aggravated that his ferocious salvo had not yet managed to draw blood. Of course, Grievous didn't have the Force. He relied on his enhanced sensors and the speed and power of the hydraulic pistons in his arms to counter and make his attacks. He could not anticipate, he could only react. And while that may have been good enough to bring down dozens of other Jedi, it wasn't going to work on Obi-Wan Kenobi.
Ducking under Grievous's guard in an impossibly fast move, he severed one of the droid general's arms and sheared the lightsaber it held. Arm and saber fell uselessly to the floor.
Grievous looked surprised at the sudden loss of limb. But it didn't last too long. With a roar of rage he came at Obi-Wan again, his three remaining sabers slicing even more viciously.
But Obi-Wan was in a rhythm now. He was immersing himself even more deeply in his fighting style, allowing his natural love of combat to take over and give him strength. His one saber shown every bit as brightly as Grievous's three. For several minutes, there was no sound in the control center but the clashing of the energy blades, as the Jedi Master and the cybrog general moved back and forth in a deadly dance of death.
Moving his saber expertly, Obi-Wan countered a ferocious blow from the general, then reversed his grip, letting the Force guide his hand to deflect a laser bolt back toward the droid sniper who had fired it. The energy bolt screamed across the hall, taking the droid in the chest casing. The droid fell twenty stories to floor, crushing two others beneath it.
Obi-Wan did not look, but dove under Grievous's outstretched arm, dragging his lightsaber blade across the back of Grievous's leg. The general stumbled. Obi-Wan quickly pressed his advantage, slicing off another arm.
The General was so enraged that he did not even seem to register the loss of another one of his limbs. He made a vicious overhead chop at Obi-Wan with both sabers. Rolling away, Obi-Wan sprang up with an attack at Grievous's head. But the General was ready for it, and met Obi-Wan's blade with both of his own. Their lightsabers locked, and the two combatants shoved at each other, each trying to break through the others guard and gain an advantage. Cold, determined blue eyes met sickly, hate-filled yellow as the two enemies glared at each other, their duel every bit as much a contest of wills as of swordsmanship. It all came down to who would break first.
A huge explosion echoed throughout the sinkhole, shaking loose rocks and machinery. It was enough to distract both Obi-Wan and Grievous from their duel. They looked up to view a spectacular sight.
Clone troopers were rappelling in all around the control center. Squad leaders barked commands as they descended, ordering coordinated bursts of fire at concentrated groups of droids. An advance guard laid down a hail of fire at the stunned droids, while others moved behind the lines to secure the crucial points of the control room.
Grievous looked about wildly. His guards fell like sand formations before a tidal wave. The clones had secured the entrances and exits to the control center. All routes of escape were being cut off as the clones systematically turned the control room into a scrap yard. Obi-Wan held his lightsaber ready, waiting for Grievous to make a move.
He smiled at the obvious signs of the droid general's increasing desperation. "I may not defeat your droids, but my troops certainly will."
The General's menacing yellow eyes bored into Obi-Wan's. "Army or not, you must realized you are doomed!"
Obi-Wan stared back hard at Grievous. "Oh, I don't think so."
Grievous lunged with rage at Obi-Wan, his desperation fueling an all-out last attack.
But Obi-Wan did not meet Grievous's charge with his blade. Instead, he shoved out with the power of the Force, creating a wall of energy that slammed into the droid general.
Grievous was shoved up away from Obi-Wan to slam into a support strut dangling from the ceiling. The force of impact caused him to drop both of his remaining sabers. He fell to the floor in an undignified heap.
Obi-Wan chased after him, saber swung high, determined not to let Grievous escape in the confusion.
Grievous scuttled away on his four remaining limbs like an oversized crab. He reached one of his bodyguard's discarded staffs and picked it up. For a moment Obi-Wan thought he was going to return to the engagement, but Grievous turned and leapt onto a lower platform. Slapping a clone trooper out of his way, he boarded a wheel-shaped speeder bike and fired up the engines. A few brave clone troopers leapt in front of him, firing at the machines crucial parts.
Grievous's wheel bike took off, crashing through the clones in front of his bike and crushing them. Bowling through droid and clone ranks alike, he disappeared over the edge of the control center and out of sight.
Obi-Wan whistled to Boga. She came at top speed, weaving her way through the raging battle. He mounted her, gave the reins a quick slap, and followed Grievous over the edge. Sliding down the wall of the sinkhole, the lizard secured a grip and leapt onto the stone ledge along which Grievous's wheel bike was now tearing. The force of the landing nearly caused Obi-Wan to drop his lightsaber, and only a lightning-quick save from the Force prevented it from tumbling down to the pitched battle ten stories below. Obi-Wan quickly clipped his precious weapon onto his belt. He was going to need that.
Chancellor Palpatine sat in his office, silhouetted against the bright red evening sky of Coruscant. Behind him stood Anakin, his position suggesting a loyal protector carefully observing any threat. In truth, Anakin would much rather have been on the other side of the room, facing Palpatine, rather than standing behind him. He had a much more personal interest in the group petitioning the Chancellor.
Padmé Amidala stood at the forefront of a delegation of five Senators, most of whose names Anakin did not know. Padmé did not look at Anakin, but kept her gaze fixed on the Chancellor, grilling him about the recent executive decrees that he had issued. Palpatine looked concerned and sympathetic, but Anakin had been around the Chancellor long enough to know that his patience was wearing.
"I understand your reservations completely, Senator," Palpatine was saying, "and I assure you the appointment of Governors will in no way compete with the duties of the Senate."
Padmé did not relax her intense stare. "May I take it then, that there will be no further amendments to the Constitution?"
Palpatine sighed. "I want this terrible conflict to end as much as you do, My Lady, and when it does I guarantee an immediate return to democracy . . ."
"You are pursuing a diplomatic solution to the war, then," Padmé said pointedly.
Palpatine gave her an entreating smile. "You must trust me to do the right things, Senator. That is why I am here."
"But surely …" Fang Zar interrupted.
Palpatine rounded on him, his expression much less benevolent.
"I have said I will do what is right. That should be enough for your . . . committee."
He spat out the last word as though it were coated in something particularly foul. Anakin thought that Fang Zar ought to back off. Palpatine's supply of patience seemed to have been exhausted.
Padmé clearly noticed that the Chancellor's mood was becoming less receptive as well. She bowed cordially, as if to mark an end to the meeting. "On behalf of the "delegation of two thousand," I thank you, Chancellor."
Palpatine nodded courteously. "I thank you for bringing this to my attention, Senator."
Padmé glanced at Anakin as she and the rest of the Senators exited, the first look she had given him. Her expression was one of undisguised frustration. She gave a barely noticeable jerk of her head toward Palpatine, by which she meant see what you can do.
Palpatine looked after the departing Senators, speaking aside to Anakin. "Their sincerity is to be admired, although I sense there is more to their request than they are telling us."
"What do you mean?"
"They are not to be trusted."
Anakin frowned. "Surely Senator Amidala can be trusted."
Palpatine sighed slightly. "These are unstable times for the Republic, Anakin. Some see instability as an opportunity. Senator Amidala is hiding something. I can see it in her eyes."
"I think you're mistaken," Anakin said rather forcefully.
Palpatine looked at him as though he were worried about Anakin's naiveté. "I'm surprised your Jedi insights are not more sensitive to such things."
Anakin shrugged. "I simply don't sense betrayal in Senator Amidala."
Palpatine smiled as though he knew something Anakin didn't. "Yes, you do. You just don't want to admit it. There is much conflict in you, Anakin."
Anakin kept his face impassive, but inside he struggled. Palpatine had to be lying. There was no way Padmé was hiding anything from him. They didn't keep secrets from each other. Or rather, she didn't keep secrets from him, he admitted shamefully. He had been hiding quite a bit from her these last few weeks.
But why would Palpatine lie? What possible motivation could he have? Could he be right here? Could it be that Anakin's deep love for Padmé was blinding him?
Come to think of it, she had been acting more secretive lately. He had not pressed, valuing her privacy, but now it worried him.
He glanced over at Palpatine. Never had he been so uneasy about the man. The comforting friend feeling was slowly disappearing and being replaced by a vague shadow. He had no idea what to expect from him anymore.
Yet he could never shake the tale of Darth Plaugeis from his mind. It shone like a beacon to him, beckoning him ever closer, heedless of the dangers. He had been taught to reject anything that was of the darkside from the moment he had begun his training, but that had not stopped him. He was fascinated by it, something made all the more attractive by being off-limits. Yet he was wary of it; he had spent most of his adult life fighting it. These two compulsions warred in his mind, battling over Padmé's agonized face. Soon he would have to make a choice …
Palpatine looked up, as though he knew what troubled Anakin's mind. "Have you thought anymore about what I told you?"
Anakin tried to keep his voice neutral. He found it difficult.
"It … intrigues me," he said finally.
Palpatine smiled. "I thought it would. Such a power holds great allure for one such as you, who is powerful enough to master it. When you are ready to speak to me about it more seriously, I will be here, waiting. All you have to do … is ask."
Tearing through the city at a breakneck pace, Obi-Wan and Grievous weaved their way in and out of the sporadic explosions and bursts of laser fire in the many city plaza. Grievous kept jerking his wheel bike through a series of complex maneuvers, often ripping through formations of droids or clone troopers in the process. Yet Obi-Wan's faithful lizard steed Boga kept the pace, bounding over the scattered debris and bodies, gaining ground on the General.
They reached a series of large windmills, whose blades were still at the moment. Grievous manipulated a control on his console, and the blades started spinning seconds after he ducked through. Boga pulled up short, unwilling to risk going thorough the spinning blades.
Obi-Wan looked around desperately for a way around. There, one story below across a large gap, was a ledge. Grievous was speeding towards it, apparently confident that he had shaken his pursuit.
Obi-Wan spurred Boga on, and she ran to the edge and jumped. For a second, Jedi and lizard hung in space, and then Boga crashed down on the edge of the ledge, barely managing to scrabble on. They had drawn level with Grievous.
The droid general struck out with his electrostaff. With no time to draw his lightsaber, Obi-Wan grabbed onto the other end of the staff as they entered a tunnel. Each of them tugged on the staff for a moment, and then Obi-Wan leapt onto Grievous's bike and seized full control of the electostaff.
Situating himself behind Grievous, he pulled the staff tight against the General's neck, throttling him and forcing Grievous to take his hands off the controls. Grievous pulled out a blaster and began to fire over his shoulder at Obi-Wan as he used his other hand to try and regain control of the vehicle. Obi-Wan positioned the staff to block the bolts, and the bike sped on through the tunnel.
They emerged on a small landing platform, which bore only a Trade Federation custom fighter, big enough for two people. The bike hit the platform hard and rocketed toward the edge, out of control. Obi-Wan threw himself from the doomed vehicle, Grievous close behind. The wheel bike disappeared over the precipice.
Obi-Wan leapt up and dropped into a crouch. The tumble had caused him to drop his electrostaff. He picked it up and charged at Grievous, who was scrambling to his feet, his claws scraping the deck.
Obi-Wan dealt Grievous a ferocious blow to the stomach. There was a screech of tearing metal, and the General's stomach plate buckled, hanging uselessly. Grievous fell backward, balking. Obi-Wan dealt him a hard blow to the head with the staff.
Grievous fell to the platform, stunned. Obi-Wan saw that his blow to the stomach had ripped the plate away, revealing a gelatinous bag containing what was left of Grievous's organs. He had found a weak spot. Raising the staff, he prepared to drive its charged end deep into the belly of his enemy.
One of Grievous's remaining clawed hands shot up, intercepting the staff. Obi-Wan tugged, but to no avail. The General now controlled the staff.
Grievous flipped Obi-Wan over him using the staff. Leaping to his feet, he charged the Jedi, who had fallen hard and was scrabbling to unclip his lightsaber, realizing that he was now vulnerable.
Using the Force to guide him to his feet, he snatched the lightsaber and ignited it. He quickly tried to get into an appropriate defensive position to counter the General's mad charge.
Not quickly enough. Grievous's staff slammed onto his weapon arm with paralyzing force. The saber fell from Obi-Wan's nerveless fingers to the feet of the General, who kicked out of reach.
Grievous swung the staff at Obi-Wan's head. He ducked, then grabbed onto the staff and tugged with all his might. He succeeded in pulling out of the General's grip.
Grievous launched a punch. Obi-Wan blocked it, the force stinging his arms. His own tightened fingers smashed against Grievous's head. Grievous shook it off and kicked out with a clawed foot, knocking Obi-Wan away from him, almost to the edge of the platform. The breath went out of him, and he lay there, trying to recover his strength quickly.
The General picked up the staff and charged him, intent on finishing the battle while his opponent was down. Obi-Wan cast his eyes about for his saber. There it was, on the far edge of the platform. He would never be able to summon it in time. But Grievous's discarded blaster lay only a few meters away. As much as he disliked blasters, Obi-Wan reached out to summon it to him. Now was no time to be choosy.
The General saw what he was doing and increased his speed, roaring with anger. Obi-Wan stretched out with all his considerable power. The blaster skittered along the platform, then flew to his hand. He brought the weapon to bear on Grievous.
Too late. The General dove, and Obi-Wan's shot only skimmed his chest plating, rather than burning a hole through his exposed organs. Then Grievous brought his clawed foot down on Obi-Wan's blaster hand.
The weapon fell from Obi-Wan's fingers. He rolled, barely missing the strike aimed at his head. But he could only roll so far; his arm was still trapped. Summoning the Force, he kicked out with its power, knocking Grievous away from him and allowing him to pull his arm free. Leaping up, he charged at the stumbling Grievous and seized the electrostaff, pulling it from the General's grasp and hurling it away toward the edge of the platform.
A punishing right cross took him across the face.
Obi-Wan's head snapped back, stars whirling in his field of vision. He could feel himself tumbling backward, where his already dazed head made contact with the durasteel platform.
Grievous's leg swung out of the corner of his eye. He raised his hand to block it, taking a numbing hit to his arm. The other leg came in soon after, nailing the Jedi Master's bruised skull.
Darkness crept into the corners of his vision. He could feel himself fading, being drawn into a deep black void from which escape was not certain. He tried to fight it; he could not fail now.
With all of his strength, he kicked out at where he thought Grievous's exposed internal organs were. He felt his foot make contact, and heard a satisfying grunt of pain. And then the Grievous's steel fist crashed down onto his head again, and Obi-Wan surrendered to the darkness.
Grievous stood over the unconscious body of the fallen Jedi Master, trying to regain his strength. That had been close. Much, much too close.
The fight had taken a lot out him. Not only had Kenobi succeeded in wounding him, he had very nearly taken advantage of his main vulnerability, his vital organs contained in a sack of preservative fluid. The only part of him that still connected him to the world of the living.
Gingerly, he touched the exposed sack. It was bruised, but intact. He had been lucky it had not been punctured, or his victory would mean little. He would have been dead in minutes.
Still, he was going to need some long hours in Maintenance before the damage could be repaired. But that would be easy enough to do back at the base. No Jedi or friend of the Republic would ever think to look for him there.
He looked down at Kenobi again. The Jedi Master had put up a very good fight. He was dangerous, much too dangerous to be left alive. He should kill him now, and throw the body into the sinkhole.
But he couldn't do that. Lord Sidious's instructions had been very clear. The Jedi was to be delivered relatively intact, so that the Dark Lord could begin his work without a long convalescence period. Grievous could still remember his master's words.
If he is damaged any more than I deem necessary, Sidious had warned him, it will be your head, General.
Orders did not get more specific than that. Vaguely, Grievous wondered why Sidious wanted Kenobi, and the other one, Skywalker, so badly. In his opinion, they were far more trouble than they were worth. Were it his decision, he would stave both their heads in and dump them in an asteroid field. But it was not his decision. He had to deliver Kenobi.
He walked to the edge of the platform were Kenobi's lightsaber lay. He picked it up and admired it. Excellent construction. It would serve Grievous well, since Kenobi had destroyed all his other favorite lightsabers.
Clipping the weapon onto his waist, he stalked back over to Kenobi's unconscious body. He picked the Jedi Master up and slung him over his shoulder. Kenobi's head bobbed and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. Good. He wasn't waking up anytime soon.
Something hard clinked against Grievous's shoulder. A device was attached to Kenobi's belt. He unclipped it and examined it.
Ah. Ingenious. A signal beacon. Transmitting Kenobi's location and vital signs, no doubt. So that was how the had found him. It was a sophisticated device; even Utapau's extensive jamming fields had not affected it.
Tightening his fist, he crushed the beacon to scrap. There went Kenobi's vital readings, and his location too. As far as Republic Command was concerned, he was dead.
Grievous opened the cockpit of his starfighter and slung the unconscious Jedi into the small compartment behind the pilot's seat. It was cramped back there, but the Jedi was in no position to care.
Grievous clambered into the pilot's chair, internally wincing at the sputtering sound of his damaged leg servomotors. He would need to get those repaired too. More time in Maintenance. Curse the Jedi.
He closed the cockpit and fired up the engines. The fighter soared effortlessly out of the sinkhole and toward the outer reaches of the atmosphere. A quick glance below informed him that the battle was still going on. Not for much longer though. His forces had no chance against that clone army.
There was no point in ever coming back to this world. Utapau was lost to the Confederacy. But he, Grievous, still lived, and as long as that remained unchanged, nothing else mattered.
The fighter broke through the last traces of atmosphere and entered the black void of space. As soon as the planet's gravity well was cleared, Grievous punched in the coordinates for the base, then sat back and watched the stars elongate. Safe in hyperspace, he allowed himself to chuckle. Lord Sidious would be pleased.
Chapters will start coming more rapidly in a few weeks, when school lets out. As always, your comments are read and appreciated.