Chapter 103: Hostage

For three weeks, Anakin Skywalker had been flying across the Outer Rim cleaning the Separatists out of the worlds they occupied, but no longer had the strength to hold. With the bulk of their remaining forces concentrated on only a few remaining key systems, it seemed like the best time to bring the rest of the galaxy back into the Republic, especially since the weakening Confederacy stood to rapidly increase the size of the Mandalorian Empire. Already, hundreds of Separatist systems had rushed to sit under Mandalore's protection after the devastating losses suffered at the Battle of Coruscant, which to many spelled doom for the Confederates. So Anakin moved quickly, the full force of his fleet sweeping the galaxy and ridding it of the scum that stood against the Republic. It wasn't difficult work, but it was necessary to secure these systems before the Separatists regrouped. There would be time to go after their key worlds later, when they were shaking from their rapid losses. Those planets weren't going anywhere.

When Anakin had been called back to Coruscant rather urgently by the Jedi, he almost ignored them, but when he got the same call from Tarkin, who still hadn't been cleared for duty after his brush with the Sith, Skywalker turned for home. They didn't tell him why, only that the matter was vastly important and highly sensitive and couldn't be discussed over any channel, be it open or secure. Which was fine. Kenobi hadn't been seen outside of Raxus since he suddenly found himself leading the Separatist movement, left to scramble for the pieces as they fell, but Anakin didn't believe it. He knew this Sith Lord, and knew that he had to be doing something. He needed to check on Padmé, in any case. As she began to enter the second trimester of her pregnancy, he began to feel increasingly worried about her and her condition.

He had checked the medical tests that she had done, and found they confirmed what she had said. The child was his, though he still had difficulty believing it. It was so difficult to feel its presence in the Force, a trait that he knew was associated with the Dark Side, and with Kenobi in particular. When the child was bigger, when she was closer to giving birth, when the child was more than a collection of rapidly dividing cells, he'd have her checked again. Just to make sure. Though he knew there was a possibility, always a chance that the Sith's corrupting influence was somehow still there. He'd have to see when it was born. He'd know for sure then, he knew he would. All his doubts would be gone, his fears ended, and the nightmares would finally stop.

He saw it more often now. Every time he closed his eyes, Padmé lay dying, every time he stood in silence, he could hear her screaming, every time he could see Kenobi with his bloody blade in hand as the woman he loved died. His nightmares had been visions before, had so far always eventually came to pass. It had been true with his mother. It had been true when that vile, awful Sith had mentally manipulated his innocent wife into her own willing rape. It may be true now, with her death so fresh, so vivid, so incessant in his mind. He had to stop Kenobi, he had to kill him, no matter the costs. He would save Padmé, he would. They were going to be together forever, just the two of them to raise their family, and nothing would stand in the way of that. Not the Jedi, not the Sith, not the war, not the Republic, not anything.

The Jedi wouldn't understand, couldn't understand his need to save his wife, and they certainly wouldn't help him. And with Qui-Gon dead, Anakin had nobody. Rage flashed through him, rough and primal and vivid as he remembered the still fresh pain of his Master's death, his denied revenge, the lightsaber that was stolen from him. Qui-Gon would know what to do. The fear of losing Padmé was so overwhelming, so consuming that he thought of little else, the drive to kill spurring him forward, the murder of one to save the life of another motivating him on his quest for justice and revenge, and there was nobody left for him to talk to, to listen to his fears, his concerns without judgement being passed upon him. The Jedi certainly wouldn't listen to him. The Jedi never listened to him. But every now and again, when it was very, very quiet, he thought he could hear his name being gently called, the voice of his Master distant but clear. He shut it out every time. His mind was playing tricks on him. More Sith manipulation to cause him further pain. He wouldn't listen to it, not now and not ever, not when the shock of his death was still so fresh, so new, so painful, and filled him with such hatred.

His long, angry stride took him to the Galactic Senate, and he found Tarkin waiting for him, the Admiral leaning on one of the giant pillars that lined the grand and mighty halls. Anakin quickened his pace when he saw the man, and the Admiral looked up from his datapad as Skywalker drew near, pushed off the pillar and limped to the General. Anakin frowned and caught the man under the arm to lend him support. He knew full well the agony of Force lightning, knew what it could do to a body, had felt the agony of its touch himself and keenly remembered how bad it had been for him. Tarkin, though, didn't have the resilience of the Force, He was just a man, and the damage must have been astounding if three weeks later, he was still feeling the effects, even with the best medical care the Republic could offer. It was a wonder that the man wasn't dead.

"I've been reading about your exploits," Tarkin said softly, shaking free of the General's grasp, but keeping his one hand on his forearm for support. Their pace was slow, but that was fine. This meeting with the Chancellor wouldn't start without them.

"You must be terribly bored if that's what you're reading," Anakin said lightly. Tarkin shrugged his indifference.

"That, among other things. The rate at which you have been reclaiming the galaxy for the Republic has been astounding. I'm shocked you haven't won the war for us yet."

Anakin beamed. "Well, I was waiting for you to tackle the big stuff. I need my tactician by my side when we finally destroy that filth." Tarkin said nothing, but a small, slight smile crossed the man's thin lips, and Anakin could feel the Admiral's respect for his Jedi commander grow. "And besides, you said we'd do it together. I'm holding you to that, Admiral."

"As you should," he mumbled as the two stepped into the elevator that would bring them to the Chancellor's office. "I meant it."

They were silent for a moment as the doors hissed closed, and when he felt the elevator begin bearing them upwards, Anakin leaned over and asked, "What's this about?"

"Our forces converged upon Felucia," Tarkin said, blinking back surprise. "Haven't you heard? It was nearly two weeks ago." Anakin shook his head absently.

"I've been a little busy, Tarkin, I haven't exactly been keeping track of targets I had no plans of attacking." A pause. "Why, what happened?"

"It would seem," Tarkin drawled as the elevator opened, the two stepping out and crossing the short distance to the Chancellor's office, "that the Confederacy is far more dangerous than we anticipated." The doors slid open, and when they stepped inside, the room was filled with Senators and delegates and Jedi Masters, all talking in hushed, furtive tones, eyes wide and worried. Anakin looked around to see the Jedi huddled close together, all of them highly concerned. Yoda was there, the tiny creature seeing to be lost in thought as Mace Windu spoke with Kit Fisto and Luminara Unduli, the Jedi liaisons to the Chancellor, but Anakin carefully avoided them when he saw Padme, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, her head bowed, her eyes fixed on the floor, her hands folded over her stomach, and Anakin felt himself swell with pride. That was his child, possibly, and if not now, it would be his in the near future. She wasn't showing yet, but she would be soon. They'd have to make up a story before then to explain the "unwed" Senator's sudden pregnancy, but he supposed it wouldn't be difficult to do. There would be scandal, yes, but he supposed that was the price Padmé would have to pay for spreading her legs for a Sith Lord. Even if she was an innocent participation in her own corruption. Kenobi would pay worse than her, but she still had to pay something for daring to even think of Obi-Wan as anything other than an evil beast.

"Padmé," he said softly as he approached, and Amidala looked up, met his eyes, and flushed, her eyes casting down toward the floor again. "What's happening? Tarkin's been locked up in medical, so he's out of the loop."

"We attacked Felucia," she said softly. "That was two weeks ago. We thought the battle was going well. They broke through the Separatist blockade and landed on the planet, and the reports from one of the Jedi serving in the fleet made it seem like we won, but-"

The room fell silent when the Chancellor rose, and Padmé stopped talking as well, turning her attention to Palpatine, who stood nervously fiddling with something in his hands.

"As you all know," he began softly, a tremor in his voice indicating just how concerned he was, a far cry from how confident they had all been when Anakin had left, "we found out yesterday that we have lost the fleet that attacked Felucia." There were quiet mumbles of ascent throughout the room, but Anakin could feel the floor drop out from underneath him. A fleet? The Separatist army was finished, it lay in tatters, how could a massive assault lose.

"How many was in the attacking force?" Anakin asked, leaning over to Tarkin, and instead of answering, he simply handed the Jedi his datapad that, conveniently, had all the relevant information already displayed. Anakin's jaw went slack. Six Star Destroyers attacked Felucia, along with all the heavy and light cruisers that accompanied a fleet of that magnitude. Hundreds of thousands of clones would have been on board, as well as twelve Jedi commanders. Anakin's jaw clenched. This whole thing reeked of Kenobi. He frowned when he looked over the data. The ships hadn't been destroyed, it seemed. They were captured.

"This news," Palpatine continued, "was confirmed via a diplomatic missive from Obi-Wan Kenobi himself." A few swipes of the datapad on the desk, and the room darkened, the holographic projector activated, and the communication in question was displayed, handwritten in an elegant scrawl instead of typed, as these things so often were. Anakin moved closer and squinted to read it. It didn't seem like much, but Anakin knew what this was. It was a threat. The exact size of the Separatist fleet was detailed, and it was far bigger than what Anakin had been led to believe, explained in the letter an part of an initiative to rapidly expand their fleet for protection against Republic aggressors that threatened the stability of otherwise peaceful Confederate worlds. But more than that, this message was sent to request a meeting, and the word request was being used in the loosest sense of the word. This wasn't a request. In light of the supposed knowledge that a massive fleet was being kept grounded for the time being, the request was more of a demand, a promise that if this meeting did not occur, the war would intensify once again. Tarkin was right. The Confederacy was still a serious threat.

Palpatine held up the small data card he had been fiddling with. "Obi-Wan Kenobi left us a way to communicate with him., and we seem to have little choice. We must know his intentions." There was nervous fidgeting and hushed, concerned whispers, but nobody objected. Anakin held his breath as the Chancellor slid the card into the reader on the desk, the mechanics of the device whirring and feeding the data of the card into the holoprojector, and Anakin saw the Jedi step forward as the other Senators stepped back. Padmé stayed by his side, her breath held and her heart beating quickly. A moment later, the hologram flickered, clearing away the diplomatic missive and in it's place stood Obi-Wan Kenobi, the newly appointed leader of the Separatist movement. Anakin felt himself tense in rage, his hand instinctively flying to the lightsaber on his belt as he looked upon the Sith Lord's hated face. A clever, sly smirk was on the Sith's face, and he folded his hands behind his back and bowed slightly to the Chancellor and the Jedi, who now stood by his side.

"Chancellor Palpatine," Kenobi said calmly. "I regret that I haven't made contact sooner. The change of command is...very complicated, but my advisors said that I should get in touch." He grinned. "As a sign of good faith."

Anakin opened his mouth to protest, but the Chancellor beat him to it. "Good faith?" Palpatine gasped. "You attacked Coruscant, took me hostage, and have recently destroyed our forces on Felucia! You do not get to contact us in good faith when your intentions are clearly hostile!"

Kenobi scoffed and waved a dismissive hand. "Please, it was not my idea to attack Coruscant, that was Dooku, and I didn't take you captive, that was General Grievous and Pong Krell, and, if I remember correctly, Krell and Dooku are dead." He shrugged, uncaring and nonchalant. "I have no quarrel with you, Chancellor. It was Dooku that wanted war, not I." His eyes narrowed dangerously. "And Felicia is a Separatist world. You have no cause to be there. You came as an invading army, and it was our right to force you out. Skywalker's sweep of the Outer Rim is nothing short of an invasion of undefended planets that willingly joined the Confederacy. What you are doing is an atrocity."

"You son of a bitch!" Anakin shouted, rushing to stand before the hologram and glaring into the cold, indifferent eyes of the Negotiator, and he felt rage pulse deep within him. Kenobi simply looked amused.

"And look, you brought your rabid animal to the meeting! I keep my pets outside."

Anakin sputtered in rage, and before he could formulate a response, Palpatine folded his hands upon the table and quietly asked, "What is it you want, Obi-Wan."

The Sith Lord turned away from Skywalker, a small, sad smile on his lips. "Chancellor, I want peace." The silence in the room was deafening. Every rustle, every whisper reduced to nothing as Kenobi held the breathless attention of everyone gathered in the room. Even the Jedi leaned forward. "This was has gone on long enough," he continued. "We have all lost. All of us. The Jedi alone have lost thousands. Millions of lives have been taken from the innocent of the galaxy. Even I..." He took a deep breath and looked down at the ground. "Even I've lost friends, and mentors, and...my future is gone with the death of my lover, and all of it because of the war."

"Why now?" Palpatine asked, his voice tense with suspicions, and Kenobi laughed softly.

"Dooku wanted the war, Chancellor, but I never did. I tried for peace in the beginning, but after that, the Separatists pushed for war and I was ultimately outvoted." Kenobi's eyes narrowed, his features hardening as he stared intensely at Palpatine. "But Dooku's dead, and I'm in charge now, and I want peace. I want to sit down and discuss terms to end this war that will benefit all of use before its continuation gets even worse."

"He's lying!" Anakin shouted, rushing to stand before the Chancellor, his hands planted firmly on the man's desk, the Jedi looking at him like he was positively crazy. "The Separatist fleet is in tatters! He's trying to save face before we sweep in and kill them all!" He reeled on Kenobi, the Sith Lord's face expressionless and calm, a stark contrast to Skywalker's unhinged fury. "Is that the plan, Kenobi? Is the Sith Lord afraid?" Anakin smiled cruelly sand slowly drew closer to the hologram, so close that he nearly stood nose to nose with the man, so close that he could see the different shades projected within his eyes. "Your defeat is inevitable, Kenobi. We see through this act of yours. You say you have a fleet, you say you have more ships than we know, but you are bluffing to scare us into negotiations when we are so close to victory, the Separatists' unconditional surrender, and your execution."

"Anakin, stop it!" Padmé snapped from her place near Tarkin, stepping forward into the light of the holoprojector, and Skywalker snarled in irritation and rage when he watched Obi-Wan's eyes dart to her and slowly rove over her, appraising, appreciative...possessive. He was certain of it, he was so sure! Kenobi was sizing her up, taking the measure of her, a predator looking at what amounted to prey for his desires. A moment later, the eyes returned to Skywalker, an amused smile on his lips, but there was danger in the depths of those eyes.

"Would you like to test that, Skywalker? He asked, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "Are you so certain that we are as weak as you believe? If so, by all means, continue to attack us and discover exactly how serious I am. But remember this," he warned, looking away from the fuming Anakin and up to the Jedi Masters that surrounded the Chancellor. "You lost on Felucia, and five of your six Star Destroyers were captured. This isn't the first time we have stolen your ships, and mark my words, it won't be the last."

A sudden pained whimper carried in the air, and both Skywalker and Kenobi looked up to see Jedi Master Kit Fisto, his hands planted on the Chancellor's desk and leaning over, his dark eyes wide. Luminara's hand rested on his shoulder, trying to soothe the Nautolan, but he would hear none of it. "Obi-Wan, please," he whimpered, his shortened head tendrils squirming in aggravation. "Aayla Secura led that fleet, she was chasing Quinlan Vos, she hunted him all the way to Felucia, she contacted me right before she went down to the planet after him!" His arms were shaking under the strain of his emotions, and Windu tried to pull him back toward the Jedi, but the Nautolan shook free and ran to the hologram, stopping before him and breathing hard and frantic. "Please," he said again. "What happened to her..."

Kenobi smiled softly, started to speak, and was interrupted by Skywalker's furious, "She's dead, Kit! They're all dead, all twelve of the Jedi sent to Felucia! Dead or worse, or we would have heard from them!" He pointed an accusing finger at Obi-Wan. "We do not make deals with Jedi slayers. Do you really think you can get away with all you've done with a few words?"

"She's alive," Obi-Wan whispered, his eyes focused on Fisto and pointedly ignoring the furious Anakin. "She's here with me, actually, would you like to see her?"

Kit's frantic, panicked whimper was drowned out by Mace Windu calmly, strongly saying, "If this is some trick, if she's come to any harm at all-"

"No, no," Kenobi said quickly. "Nothing like that. She's fine, and I haven't touched her." He raised a hand, a sly smile on his lips. "My conditions, Jedi."

Anakin scoffed bitterly. "We won't-"

"Anything, anything!" Fisto interrupted, his distress causing Yoda to limp out and stand beside him, the proximity of his presence instantly calming to the Jedi, but not to Anakin, who was growing more and more angry by the second as he watched this Sith Lord twist and manipulate his way into getting exactly what he wanted.

"I'll let you speak now, of course," Obi-Wan said softly. "We'll call it a show of...good will, yes?" Anakin growled, which made Kenobi's smile widen. "And when we sit down to negotiate peace terms, I'll bring her along so I can personally deliver her back to Jedi hands." He shrugged. "We don't even need to reach peace, we just need to try. Agree to this, sit down and help us find common ground to end the war, and I'll give your friend back. Unharmed, untouched, free of my influence."

"Yes, please, just let me see her!" Fisto cried, and a sharp tug on his hand by Yoda reeled him back, the Nautolan biting down on his lip, his tendrils squirming in distress.

"No, we can't!" Anakin snapped. "We can't be manipulated by this man! Not now, not again, not when victory is so close! The life of one Jedi isn't worth making deals with evil!"

"This isn't about the life of one Jedi," Kenobi hissed, his accented tones dripping with disgust. "This is about the lives of the millions that will continue to die if this war continues. This is about finally bringing an end to the violence. You save a life by talking. This one saved life is the prelude to a galaxy saved." Anakin could feel himself burning in rage when he sensed many in the room agreed with this agent of evil.

"We must...discuss this," Palpatine said, slow and measured. "Show us the Jedi." Kenobi nodded, sharply whistled, and a moment later, Aayla Secura walked into view, her face bright, her eyes clear, her hands unbound. She appeared to be free of any injuries, and by the look of her, it seemed as though she wasn't a prisoner at all, but engaging in a long-overdue, awkward visit with an old friend. Kit Fisto almost sobbed his relief, and when she saw him, her holographic image rushed to meet him. It was a little awkward for the Masters beside him to witness the display, to sense such a rush of affection from two of their members. Anakin understood, but he felt his anger rise all the same. They were playing into the Sith Lord's hands, and he hated it.

"Aayla," Kit gasped, the tenderness in his voice almost palpable. "Are you hurt? Is everything alright? Did he do anything to you, where are you?!"

"Peace, Kit," she said softly. "I'm fine. Things here are...confusing." She looked over her shoulder at the Sith Lord and frowned. "He's not behaving anything like I imagined when he captured me. I thought...after Eeth Koth, after what Saesee Tiin reported..." She shook her head. "We've just been...talking."

"Talking..." Mace repeated, staring at the girl, then looking down at Master Yoda, the little creature frowning deeply, his ears lowered as he thought. Secura nodded.

"Yes. Me and Quinlan and Obi-Wan." She gasped, crossed her arms to glare at the Sith Lord. "He showed up when I was hunting Master Vos! Everything was under control until then!" Kenobi shrugged, a smirk on his face.

"Quin's my best friend, did you expect me to sit by and allow you to take him from me?"

"Secura, the other Jedi that went with you on the mission. Where are they?" Mace asked, serious and somber, and the Twi'lek's face fell.

"Dead. All of them but myself and one other. I don't know what happened to him. He was with us when we left Felucia, but we weren't transferred to the same ship."

"And he's treating you well?" Kit gasped, sick with worry, and the Twi'lek nodded, ger holographic hand reaching out to soothe the Jedi.

"He's been...treating me like a guest. A friend." She wrinkled her nose. "It's really weird."

"Thank you..." Kit said, closing his eyes and lowering his head, his shoulders shaking with emotion. "Thank you..."

"Has he done anything to you, Secura?" Mace said firmly. "Torture, rape, mind control, memory manipulation, any of the things he's been known to do?"

Kenobi scoffed, clearly offended. "Please, you make me sound like a savage. I've never raped anyone."

"Yes you have!" Anakin roared striding forward once again and was only stopped by Windu's powerful grasp on his wrist. "You are a monster, Kenobi, and we don't need you to give her back. We will take her back, after we destroy you!"

"He's done nothing to me," Aayla said swiftly, responding to the tension within her fellow Jedi. "Not so far as I can tell, in any case. The three of us have just been talking, they've been perfect gentlemen." She paused and frowned. "Well, not Master Quinlan. There's nothing about him that even comes close to being a gentleman."

"What have you been talking about?" Mace asked, as if it would somehow give him keen insight into the workings of the Sith Lord, but the girl simply shrugged.

"Reminiscing, mostly. About our training. About the missions Master Vos and I went on. About...the way things were before the war." She looked sad, her gaze drifting to someplace distant, and slowly, Kenobi led her out of the holoprojector's range and returned a moment later, his hands folded behind his back.

"Negotiations," he said softly, "and she will be returned."

"Yes!" Fisto agreed quickly, and Anakin shot him a ferocious glare.

"No!"

"We need to discuss it!" Palpatine said, standing with his arms outstretched toward the two conflicting men. "This is not a matter that can be decided by Jedi."

"Alright, Kenobi," Anakin snarled, tearing away from Windu's grip. "Let's sit down and talk, you pick the time, I pick the place, and I say we meet on Mandalore." They could see Obi-Wan take in a sharp breath and hold it, the pupils of his eyes narrowing into pinpoints, his face clearly paling even over the limited colors of the holographic display, and a wicked, triumphant grin came across Anakin's face. "What's wrong, Kenobi," he drawled. "That's neutral territory, isn't it? It's where we met before." Slowly, Kenobi shook his head, started to speak, and found he could not. Anakin scoffed, staring at disgust at the projection before him. "Not so tough now, are you, Sith Lord."

"Anakin, stop it!" Anakin turned swiftly to see Padme rush before him, her brown eyes narrowed, her entire form tense and shaking, and Skywalker felt his temper spike. She would...defend him?! "You are cruel, Anakin! The Chancellor said we need to discuss it, and that doesn't mean you! This is a Republic matter, it doesn't involve the Jedi!"

"The Jedi are the Republic, Padmé!" he shouted back. "We are fighting your war, we should have a say in how we deal with this vile, disgusting menace!"

"Discuss this with the Chancellor, we will," Yoda rasped, looking up at the Sith Lord before him. "Grateful, the Jedi will be, to have Master Secura returned." Kenobi shot Anakin a hateful look and bowed to the Jedi and the Chancellor.

"You know how to contact me," he whispered. "I await your decision." The hologram blinked away and standard lighting returned to the room, and everyone stood in silence, long and awkward, and Anakin shivered in his rage, the Force running cold through him. Surely the Jedi had the wisdom to see what was going on.

"We have a great deal to think about," Palpatine said, his voice shaking and weary. "The Senate will convene tomorrow to discuss these events. I bid you all a good evening." Everyone turned to leave, quietly whispering and discussing all that had happened, and Anakin slowly started to follow the Jedi out, looking through the crowed for Padmé, but he didn't see her. She may have already left. He'd just have to go to see her at home later. He looked behind him to see if the woman was still within the Chancellor's office, but all he saw was Palpatine sitting at his desk, his hands folded before him, and Tarkin, standing beside the elderly man and whispering. It would be...bad form to leave Tarkin alone when the man clearly needed assistance in getting back to his residence. He walked back into the office, the door hissing closed behind him, and in the silence of the empty rooms once filled with the most important politicians in the Republic, he could only hear the hushed whispers of Palpatine and Tarkin, and the frozen rushing of the Force in his ears.

"That was quite a scene you made, General," Tarkin said crisply, and Palpatine smiled at the Jedi and motioned for him to come closer. He did, eventually coming around to stand on the other side of the Chancellor. "I doubt the Jedi will be pleased with you."

"When are the Jedi ever pleased with me?" he grumbled, but smiled softly when Palpatine gave his hand a reassuring pat.

"You're grieving," he said softly. "And that man is the cause of a great deal of pain, not just for you, but for all of us. I understand." Anakin looked at the man like he didn't understand what he was saying, and slowly, he relaxed. Palpatine...understood. He saw exactly what Anakin did. The Jedi wouldn't listen to him. The Jedi would stupidly insist on sitting down with Kenobi and talking, working out a way to get himself out of the very real danger he was in, which would allow the Sith to yet again disappear from the sight of the Jedi. He would get away with everything. But with Palpatine...

"Chancellor," Anakin began quietly. "I think this is a very bad idea. Meeting with this man has never gone well, and this feels like a trap to me. We have the Separatists on the run. Maybe he has captured Republic ships, but the figures he sent us were lies. They have to be. And he doesn't have Dooku's leadership to fall back on anymore."

Palpatine was silent for a moment, his fingers steepling together as he stared at his desk and thought. Slowly, he nodded. "The Jedi will want to meet with him to save their friend."

"Kenobi has been infecting the Jedi Order since before the war began," Skywalker snarled. "This is just another way for him to get in and tear us apart. He needs to be stopped, and ending the war isn't going to stop him. Chancellor..." Anakin pleaded, kneeling beside the man. "We're talking about ending the war in a way where the Separatists get away with all that they have done. There will be no justice if we make peace. I can win this war. I can win it."

Palpatine looked up at Tarkin, and the Admiral frowned. "It's possible that Kenobi wasn't lying about his fleet, but it's unlikely." He shook his head. "No, our assessment earlier was the right one, Chancellor. Kenobi is no Dooku. The Confederacy is falling apart, with or without the ability to fight back. I concur with General Skywalker. The Separatists' days are numbered. All that's left to do is clean up the pile of scraps that is General Grievous, and even the greatest fleet in the galaxy couldn't save them."

The Chancellor nodded. "Very well. I will get a feel for the Senate tomorrow, though I suspect that they will feel as you do. They want peace, yes, but they also want justice." He frowned and took Anakin's hand in his own. "Though...I worry about the rift this will cause between the Jedi and the Senate. Refusing Kenobi will be condemning their friend."

"So what?" Anakin said, shrugging. "The life of a single Jedi should never get in the way of the justice that we all deserve." The Jedi sneered. "What they want doesn't matter anyway. They are sworn to obey the Republic. If you tell them to continue the war, they must obey."

Palpatine nodded. "Go then, Skywalker. Hunt your enemy. Get your revenge. The Republic will support your cause." With a wicked grin, Anakin rose to his feet and strode out the door, leaving Tarkin alone with the Chancellor when it seemed that they were not done. He had to go see Padmé, and then in the morning, he would be gone. He had a man to murder.