Star Wars_ The Dark Lord Trilogy - James Luceno [180]
Mace started walking toward the small-craft dock where the Jedi shuttle would land, and the others fell in with him.
“The Sith Lord, if one still exists, will reveal himself in time. They always do.” He hoped Obi-Wan would take the hint and shut up about it; Mace had no desire to speak openly of the investigation in front of the Supreme Chancellor.
The less Palpatine knew, the better.
“A more interesting puzzle is Grievous,” he said. “He had you at his mercy, Chancellor, and mercy is not numbered among his virtues. Though we all rejoice that he spared you, I cannot help but wonder why.”
Palpatine spread his hands. “I can only assume the Separatists preferred to have me as a hostage rather than as a martyr. Though it is of course impossible to say; it may merely have been a whim of the general. He is notoriously erratic.”
“Perhaps the Separatist leadership can restrain him, in exchange for certain …” Mace let his gaze drift casually to a point somewhere above the Chancellor’s head. “… considerations.”
“Absolutely not.” Palpatine drew himself up, straightening his robes. “A negotiated peace would be a recognition of the CIS as the legitimate government of the rebellious systems—tantamount to losing the war! No, Master Windu, this war can end only one way. Unconditional surrender. And while Grievous lives, that will never happen.”
“Very well,” Mace said. “Then the Jedi will make the capture of General Grievous our particular task.” He glanced at Anakin and Obi-Wan, then back to Palpatine. He leaned close to the Chancellor and his voice went low and final, with a buried intensity that hinted—just the slightest bit—of suspicion, and warning. “This war has gone on far too long already. We will find him, and this war will end.”
“I have no doubt of it.” Palpatine strolled along, seemingly oblivious. “But we should never underestimate the deviousness of the Separatists. It is possible that even the war itself has been only one further move,” he said with elegant, understated precision, “in some greater game.”
As the Jedi shuttle swung toward the Chancellor’s private landing platform at the Senate Offices, Obi-Wan watched Anakin pretending not to stare out the window. On the platform was a small welcome-contingent of Senators, and Anakin was trying desperately to look as if he wasn’t searching that little crowd hungrily for a particular face. The pretense was a waste of time; Anakin radiated excitement so powerfully in the Force that Obi-Wan could practically hear the thunder of his heartbeat.
Obi-Wan gave a silent sigh. He had entirely too good an idea whose face his former Padawan was so hoping to see.
When the shuttle touched down, Master Windu caught his eye from beyond Anakin’s shoulder. The Korun Master made a nearly invisible gesture, to which Obi-Wan did not visibly respond; but when Palpatine and Anakin and R2 all debarked toward the crowd of well-wishers, Obi-Wan stayed behind.
Anakin stopped on the landing deck, looking back at Obi-Wan. “You coming?”
“I haven’t the courage for politics,” Obi-Wan said, showing his usual trace of a smile. “I’ll brief the Council.”
“Shouldn’t I be there, too?”
“No need. This isn’t the formal report. Besides—” Obi-Wan nodded toward the clot of HoloNet crews clogging the pedestrian gangway. “—someone has to be the poster boy.”
Anakin looked pained. “Poster man.”
“Quite right, quite right,” Obi-Wan said with a gentle chuckle. “Go meet your public, Poster Man.”
“Wait a minute—this whole operation was your idea. You planned it. You led the rescue. It’s your turn to take the bows.”
“You won’t get out of it that easily, my young friend. Without you, I wouldn’t even have made it to the flagship. You killed Count Dooku, and single-handedly rescued the Chancellor … all while, I might be forgiven for adding, carrying some old broken-down Jedi Master unconscious on your back. Not to mention making a landing that will be the standard of Impossible