Star Wars_ The Dark Lord Trilogy - James Luceno [218]
Somewhere down there was all the power he would ever need.
So no, it wasn’t that he wanted to go. It was more, inexplicably, that he wanted Obi-Wan to stay.
There was a cold void in his chest that he was afraid would soon fill with regret, and grief.
Of course there was no chance at all that Obi-Wan wouldn’t go; he’d be the last Jedi in the galaxy to defy an order of the Council. Not for the first time, Anakin found himself wishing that Obi-Wan could be a little more like the late Qui-Gon. Though he’d known Qui-Gon for mere days, Anakin could almost see him right now, brow furrowing as he gently inclined his head over his shorter Padawan; he could almost hear his gentle baritone instructing Obi-Wan to be mindful of the currents of the living Force: to do one’s duty is not always to do right. Concern yourself with right action. Let duty take care of itself.
But he couldn’t say that. Though he’d passed his trials many months ago, to Obi-Wan he was still the learner, not the Master.
All he could say was, “I have a bad feeling about this.”
Obi-Wan was frowning as he watched a clone deck crew load his blue-and-white starfighter onto the assault cruiser’s flight deck. “I’m sorry, Anakin. Did you say something?”
“You’re going to need me on this one, Master.” And he could feel an unexpected truth there, too—if he were to go along, if he could somehow bring himself to forget about Padmé for a few days, if he could somehow get himself away from Palpatine and the Council and his meditations and politics and everything here on Coruscant that was dragging him this way and that way and sucking him under, if he could just tag along and play the Kenobi and Skywalker game for a few days, everything might still be all right.
If only.
“It may be nothing but a wild bantha chase,” Obi-Wan said. “Your job here is much more important, Anakin.”
“I know: the Sith.” The word left a bitter taste in Anakin’s mouth. The Council’s manipulation had a rank stench of politics on it. “I just—” Anakin shrugged helplessly, looking away. “I don’t like you going off without me like this. It’s a bad idea to split up the team. I mean, look what happened last time.”
“Don’t remind me.”
“You want to go spend another few months with somebody like Ventress? Or worse?”
“Anakin.” Anakin could hear a gentle smile in Obi-Wan’s voice. “Don’t worry. I have enough clones to take three systems the size of Utapau’s. I believe I should be able to handle the situation, even without your help.”
Anakin had to answer his smile. “Well, there’s always a first time.”
Obi-Wan said, “We’re not really splitting up, Anakin. We’ve worked on our own many times—like when you took Padmé to Naboo while I went to Kamino and Geonosis.”
“And look how that turned out.”
“All right, bad example,” Obi-Wan admitted, his smile shading toward rueful. “Yet years later, here we all are: still alive, and still friends. My point, Anakin, is that even when we work separately, we work together. We have the same goals: end the war, and save the Republic from the Sith. As long as we’re on the same side, everything will come out well in the end. I’m certain of it.”
“Well …” Anakin sighed. “I suppose you could be right. You are, once in a while. Occasionally.”
Obi-Wan chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder. “Farewell, old friend.”
“Master, wait.” Anakin turned to face him fully. He couldn’t just stand here and let him walk away. Not now. He had to say something…
He had a sinking feeling he might not get another chance.
“Master …,” he said hesitantly, “I know I’ve … disappointed you in these past few days. I have been arrogant. I have … not been very appreciative of your training, and what’s worse, of your friendship. I offer no excuse, Master. My frustration with the Council … I know that none of it is your fault, and I apologize. For all of it. Your friendship means everything to me.”
Obi-Wan gripped Anakin’s mechanical hand, and