Star Wars_ The Dark Lord Trilogy - James Luceno [167]
“If they are so dangerous, perhaps we should execute them on the spot.”
“No. My orders are clear that the Chancellor is not to be harmed. And the Jedi—”
The general’s right hand slipped beneath his cape to stroke the array of lightsabers clipped there.
“The Jedi, I will execute personally.”
A sheet of shimmering energy suddenly flared in front of them, blocking the corridor on the far side of the intersection they were trotting across, and Obi-Wan stopped so short that Anakin almost slammed into his back. He reached over and caught Palpatine by the arm. “Careful, sir,” he said, low. “Better not touch it till we know what it is.”
Obi-Wan unclipped his lightsaber, activated it, and cautiously extended its tip to touch the energy field; an explosive burst of power flared sparks and streaks in all directions, nearly knocking the weapon from his hands. “Ray shield,” he said, more to himself than to the others. “We’ll have to find a way around—”
But even as he spoke another sheet shimmered into existence across the mouth of the corridor they’d just left, and two more sizzled into place to seal the corridors to either side.
They were boxed in.
Caught.
Obi-Wan stood there for a second or two, blinking, then looked at Anakin and shook his head in disbelief. “I thought we were smarter than this.”
“Apparently not. The oldest trap in the book, and we walked right into it.” Anakin felt as embarrassed as Obi-Wan looked. “Well, you walked right into it. I was just trying to keep up.”
“Oh, so now this is my fault?”
Anakin gave him a slightly wicked smile. “Hey, you’re the Master. I’m just a hero.”
“Joke some other time,” Obi-Wan muttered. “It’s the dark side—the shadow on the Force. Our instincts still can’t be trusted. Don’t you feel it?”
The dark side was the last thing Anakin wanted to think about right now. “Or, you know, it could be that knock on the head,” he offered.
Obi-Wan didn’t even smile. “No. All our choices keep going awry. How could they even locate us so precisely? Something is definitely wrong, here. Dooku’s death should have lifted the shadow—”
“If you’ve a taste for mysteries, Master Kenobi,” Palpatine interrupted pointedly, “perhaps you could solve the mystery of how we’re going to escape.”
Obi-Wan nodded, scowling darkly at the ray shield box as though seeing it for the first time; after a moment, he took out his lightsaber again, ignited it, and sank its tip into the deck at his feet. The blade burned through the durasteel plate almost without resistance—and then flared and bucked and spat lightning as it hit a shield in place in a gap below the plate, and almost threw Obi-Wan into the annihilating energy of the ray shield behind him.
“No doubt in the ceiling as well.” He looked at the others and sighed. “Ideas?”
“Perhaps,” Palpatine said thoughtfully, as though the idea had only just occurred to him, “we should simply surrender to General Grievous. With the death of Count Dooku, I’m sure that the two of you can …” He cast a significant sidelong glance at Anakin. “… negotiate our release.”
He’s persistent, I’ll give him that, Anakin thought. He caught himself smiling as he recalled discussing “negotiation” with Padmé, on Naboo before the war; he came back to the present when he realized that undertaking “aggressive negotiations” could prove embarrassing under his current lightsaber-challenged circumstances.
“I say …,” he put in slowly, “patience.”
“Patience?” Obi-Wan lifted an eyebrow. “That’s a plan?”
“You know what Master Yoda says: Patience you must have, until the mud settles and the water becomes clear. So let’s wait.”
Obi-Wan looked skeptical. “Wait.”
“For the security patrol. A couple of droids will be along in a moment or two; they’ll have to drop the ray shield to take us into custody.”
“And then?”
Anakin shrugged cheerfully. “And then we’ll wipe them out.”
“Brilliant as usual,” Obi-Wan said dryly. “What if they turn out to