Star Wars_ The Dark Lord Trilogy - James Luceno [161]
But then Obi-Wan shifted on his shoulder, moaning faintly, and Anakin snapped back to reality.
“No,” he said. “Sorry, Chancellor. My orders are clear. This is a rescue mission; your safety is my only priority.”
“I will never be safe while Grievous lives,” Palpatine countered. “Master Kenobi will recover at any moment. Leave him here with me; he can see me safely to the hangar deck. Go for the general.”
“I—I would like to, sir, but—”
“I can make it an order, Anakin.”
“With respect, sir: no. You can’t. My orders come from the Jedi Council, and the Council’s orders come from the Senate. You have no direct authority.”
The Chancellor’s face darkened. “That may change.”
Anakin nodded. “And perhaps it should, sir. But until it does, we’ll do things my way. Let’s go.”
“Sir?” The thin voice of the comm officer interrupted Grievous’s pacing. “We are being hailed by Integrity, sir. They propose a cease-fire.”
Dark yellow eyes squinted through the skull-mask at the tactical displays. A pause in the combat would allow Invisible Hand’s turbolaser batteries to cool, and give the engineers a chance to get the gravity generators under control. “Acknowledge receipt of transmission. Stand by to cease fire.”
“Standing by, sir.” The gunnery officer was still shaking.
“Cease fire.”
The lances of energy that had joined the Hand to the Home Fleet Strike Force melted away.
“Further transmission, sir. It’s Integrity’s commander.”
Grievous nodded. “Initiate.”
A ghostly image built itself above the bridge’s ship-to-ship hologenerator: a young human male of distinctly average height and build, wearing the uniform of a lieutenant commander. The only thing distinctive about his otherwise rather bland features was the calm confidence in his eyes.
“General Grievous,” the young man said briskly, “I am Lieutenant Commander Lorth Needa of RSS Integrity. At my request, my superiors have consented to offer you the chance to surrender your ship, sir.”
“Surrender?” Grievous’s vocabulator produced a very creditable reproduction of a snort. “Preposterous.”
“Please give this offer careful deliberation, General, as it will not be repeated. Consider the lives of your crew.”
Grievous cast an icy glance around his bridge full of craven Neimoidians. “Why should I?”
The young man did not look surprised, though he did show a trace of sadness. “Is this your reply, then?”
“Not at all.” Grievous drew himself up; by straightening the angles of his levered joints, he could add half a meter to his already imposing height. “I have a counteroffer. Maintain your cease-fire, move that hulk Indomitable out of my way, and withdraw to a minimum range of fifty kilometers until this ship achieves hyperspace jump.”
“If I may use your word, sir: preposterous.”
“Tell these superiors of yours that if my demands are not met within ten minutes, I will personally disembowel Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, live on the HoloNet. Am I understood?”
The young officer took this without a blink. “Ah. The Chancellor is aboard your ship, then.”
“He is. Your pathetic Jedi so-called heroes have failed. They are dead, and Palpatine remains in my hands.”
“Ah,” the young officer repeated. “So you will, of course, allow me to speak with him. To, ah, reassure my superiors that you are not simply—well, to put it charitably—bluffing?”
“I would not lower myself to lie to the likes of you.” Grievous turned to the comm officer. “Patch in Count Dooku.”
The comm officer stroked his screen, then shook his head. “He’s not responding, sir.”
Grievous shook his head disgustedly. “Just show the Chancellor, then. Bring up my quarters on the security screen.”
The security officer stroked his own screen, and made a choking sound. “Hrm, sir?”
“What are you waiting for? Bring it up!”
He’d gone as pink as the gunner. “Perhaps you should have a look first, sir?”
The plain urgency in his tone brought Grievous to his side without another word. The general bent over the screen that showed the view inside his quarters and found himself looking at jumbled piles of energy-sheared