Anakin felt his own smile turn melancholy. "Just the other day, you were saying that my power is no credit to me."
"I'm not speaking of your power, Anakin, but of your heart. The greatness in you is a greatness of spirit. Courage and generosity, compassion and commitment. These are your virtues." Obi-Wan said gently. "You have done great things, and I am very proud of you."
Anakin found he had nothing to say.
"Well." Obi-Wan looked down, chuckling, releasing Anakin's hand and arm. "I believe I hear General Grievous calling my name. Good-bye, old friend. May the Force be with you."
All Anakin could offer in return was a reflexive echo. "May the Force be with you."
He stood, still and silent, and watched Obi-Wan walk away. Then he turned and slowly, head hanging, moved toward his speeder. The Chancellor was waiting.
=14=
FREE FALL IN THE DARK
A chill wind scoured the Chancellor's private landing deck at the Senate Office Building. Anakin stood wrapped in his cloak, chin to his chest, staring down at the deck below his feet. He didn't feel the chill, or the wind. He didn't hear the whine of the Chancellor's private shuttle angling in for a landing, or smell the swirls of brown smog coiling along the wind.
What he saw were the faces of Senators who had stood on this deck to cheer for him; what he heard were exclamations of joy and congratulations when he returned their Supreme Chancellor to them unharmed. What he felt was a memory of hot pride at being the focus of so many eager HoloNet crews, anxious to get even the slightest glimpse of the man who had conquered Count Dooku.
How many days ago had that been? He couldn't remember. Not many. When you don't sleep, days smear together into a haze of fatigue so deep it becomes a physical pain. The Force could keep him upright, keep him moving, keep him thinking, but it could not give him rest. Not that he wanted rest. Rest might bring sleep.
What sleep might bring, he could not bear to know.
He remembered Obi-Wan telling him about some poet he'd once read—he couldn't remember the name, or the exact quote, but it was something about how there is no greater misery than to remember, with bitter regret, a day when you were happy...
How had everything gone so fast from so right to so wrong?
He couldn't even imagine.
Greasy dust swirled under the shuttle's repulsors as it settled to the deck. The hatch cycled open, and four of Palpatine's personal guards glided out, long robes catching the breeze in silken blood-colored ripples. They split into two pairs to flank the doors as the Chancellor emerged beside the tall, bulky form of Mas Amedda, the Speaker of the Senate. The Chagrian's horns tilted over Palpatine as they walked together, seemingly deep in conversation.
Anakin moved forward to meet them. "Chancellor," he said, bowing a greeting. "Lord Speaker."
Mas Amedda looked at Anakin with a curl to his blue lips that, on a human, would have signaled disgust; it was a Chagrian smile. "Greetings, Your Grace. I trust the day finds you well?"
Anakin's eyes felt as if they'd been dusted with sand. "Very well, Lord Speaker, thank you for asking."
Amedda turned back to Palpatine, and Anakin's polite smile faded to a twist of contempt. Maybe he was just overtired, but somehow, looking at the curlings of the Chagrian's naked head-tentacles as they twisted across his chest, he found himself hoping that Obi-Wan hadn't been lying to him about Sidious. He rather hoped that Mas Amedda might be a secret Sith, because something about the Speaker of the Senate was so revolting that Anakin could easily imagine just slicing his head in half...
It gradually dawned on Anakin that Palpatine was giving Mas Amedda the brush-off, and was sending the Redrobes with him. Good. He wasn't in the mood to play games. By themselves, they could talk straight with each other. A little straight talk might be just what he needed. A little straight talk might burn through the fog of half-truths and subtle confusions that the Jedi Council had poured into his head.
"So, Anakin," Palpatine said as the others moved away, "did you see your friend off?"
Anakin nodded. "If I didn't hate Grievous so much, I'd almost feel sorry for him."
"Oh?" Palpatine appeared mildly interested. "Are Jedi allowed to hate?"
"Figure of speech," Anakin said, waving this off. "It doesn't matter how I feel about Grievous. Obi-Wan will soon have his head."
"Provided, of course," Palpatine murmured as he took Anakin's arm to guide him toward the entryway, "that the Council didn't make a mistake. I still believe Master Kenobi is not the Jedi for this job."
Anakin shrugged irritably. Why did everyone keep bringing up things he didn't want to talk about? "The Council was... very sure in its decision."
"Certainty is a fine thing," the Chancellor allowed. "Though it too often happens that those who are the most entirely certain are also the most entirely wrong. What will the Council do if Kenobi proves unable to apprehend Grievous without your help?"
"I'm sure I cannot say, sir. I imagine they will deal with that if and when it happens. The Jedi teach that anticipation is distraction."
"I am no philosopher, Anakin; in my work, anticipation is often my sole hope of success. I must anticipate the actions of my adversaries—and even those of my allies. Even—" He opened a hand toward Anakin, smiling. "—my friends. It is the only way I can be prepared to take advantage of opportunity... and conversely, to avoid disaster."
"But if a disaster comes about by the will of the Force—"
"I'm afraid I don't believe in the will of the Force," Palpatine said, his smile turning apologetic. "I believe it is our will that matters. I believe that everything good in our civilization has come about not by the blind action of some mystical field of energy, but by the focused will of people: lawmakers and warriors inventors and engineers, struggling with every breath of their bodies to shape galactic culture. To improve the lives of all."
They stood now before the vaulted door to Palpatine's office. "Please come in, Anakin. Much as I enjoy a philosophical chat, that was not the reason I asked you to meet me. We have business to discuss, and I fear it may be very serious business indeed."
Anakin followed him through the outer chambers to Palpatine's intimate private office. He took up a respectful standing position opposite Palpatine's desk, but the Chancellor waved him to a chair. "Please, Anakin, make yourself comfortable. Some of this may be difficult for you to hear."
"Everything is, these days," Anakin muttered as he took a seat.
Palpatine didn't seem to hear. "It concerns Master Kenobi. My friends among the Senators have picked up some... disturbing rumors about him. Many in the Senate believe that Kenobi is not fit for this assignment."
Anakin frowned. "Are you serious?"
"I'm most serious, I'm afraid. It is a... complicated situation, Anakin. It seems there are some in the Senate who now regret having granted me emergency powers."
"There have been dissenters and naysayers since before Geonosis, sir. Why should it be cause for concern now? And how does it affect Obi-Wan?"
"I'm getting to that." Palpatine took a deep breath and swung his chair around so that he could gaze through his window of armored transparisteel onto the cityscape beyond. "The difference is that now, some of these Senators—actually a large number of them—seem to have given up on democracy. Unable to achieve their ends in the Senate, they are organizing into a cabal, preparing to remove me by... other means."
"You mean treason?" Anakin had enough Jedi discipline to force away his memory of using that word with Obi-Wan.
"I'm afraid so. The rumor is that the ringleaders of this group may have fallen victim to the... persuasive powers... of the Jedi Council, and are on their way to becoming accomplices in the Council's plot against the Republic."
"Sir, I—" Anakin shook his head. "This just seems... ridiculous."
"And it may be entirely false. Remember that these are only rumors. Entirely unconfirmed. Senate gossip is rarely accurate, but if this is true... we must be prepared, Anakin.
I still have friends enough in the Senate to catch the scent of whatever this disloyal cabal is cooking up. And I have a very good idea of who the leaders are; in fact, my final meeting this afternoon is with a delegation representing the cabal. I would like you to be present for that as well."
"Me?" Couldn't everyone leave him alone for day? For even a few hours? "What for?"
"Your Jedi senses, Anakin. Your ability to read evil intent. I have no doubt these Senators will put some virtuous facade on their plotting; with your help, we will pierce that veil and discover the truth." Anakin sighed, rubbing his stinging eyes. How could he let Palpatine down?
"I'm willing to try, sir."
"We won't try, Anakin. We will do. After all, they are only Senators. Most of them couldn't hide what they're thinking from a brain-damaged blindworm, let alone the most powerful Jedi in the galaxy."
He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers pensively. "The Jedi Council, however, is another matter entirely. A secret society of antidemocratic beings who wield tremendous power individually as well as collectively—how am I to trace the labyrinth of their plots? That's why I put you on the Council. If these rumors are true, you may be democracy's last hope."
Anakin let his chin sink once more to his chest, and his eyelids scraped shut. It seemed like he was always somebody's last hope. Why did everyone always have to make their problems into his problems? Why couldn't people just let him be?
How was he supposed to deal with all this when Padme could die:
He said slowly, eyes still closed, "You still haven't told me what this has to do with Obi-Wan."
"Ah, that—well, that is the difficult part. The disturbing part. It seems that Master Kenobi has been in contact with a certain Senator who is known to be among the leaders of this cabal. Apparently, very close contact. The rumor is that he was seen leaving this Senator's residence this very morning, at an... unseemly hour."
"Who?" Anakin opened his eyes and sat forward. "Who is this Senator? Let's go question him."
"I'm sorry, Anakin. But the Senator in question is, in fact, a her. A woman you know quite well, in fact."
"You—" He wasn't hearing this. He couldn't be. "You mean—"
Anakin choked on her name.
Palpatine gave him a look of melancholy sympathy. "I'm afraid so."
Anakin coughed his voice back to life. "That's impossible! I would know—she doesn't... she couldn't—"
"Sometimes the closest," Palpatine said sadly, "are those who cannot see."
Anakin sat back, stunned. He felt like he'd been punched in the chest by a Gamorrean. By a rancor. His ears rang, and the room whirled around him.
"I would know," he repeated numbly. "I would know..."
"Don't take it too hard," Palpatine said. "It may be only idle gossip. All this may be only a figment of my overheated imagination; after all these years of war, I find myself inspecting every shadow that might hide an enemy. That is what I need from you, Anakin: I need you to find the truth. To set my mind at rest."
A distant smolder kindled under Anakin's breastbone, so faint as to be barely there at all, but even a hint of that fire gave Anakin the strength to throw himself to his feet.
"I can do that," he said. The flame grew stronger now. Hotter. The numb fatigue that had dragged at his limbs began to burn away.
"Good, Anakin. I knew I could count on you."
"Always, sir. Always."
He turned to go. He would go to her. He would see her. He would get the truth. He would do it now. Right now. In the middle of the day. It didn't matter who might see him.
This was business.
"I know who my friends are," he said, and left.
He moved through Padme's apartment like a shadow, like a ghost at a banquet. He touched nothing. He looked at everything.
He felt as if he'd never seen it before.
How could she do this to him?
Sometimes the closest are those who cannot see.
How could she?
How could he!
In the Force, the whole apartment stank of Obi-Wan.
His finger traced the curving back of her couch.
Here. Obi-Wan had sat here.
Anakin rounded the couch and settled into that same spot His hand fell naturally to the seat beside him... and there he felt an echo of Padme.
The dragon whispered, That's a little close for casual conversation.
This was a different kind of fear. Even colder. Even uglier.
Fear that Palpatine might be right...
The apartment's air still hummed with discord and worry and there was a smell of oxidized spices and boiled seaweed hoi-broth, that was it. Someone in the past few hours had been drinking hoi-broth in this room.
Padme hated hoi-broth.
And Obi-Wan was allergic to it—once on a diplomatic mission to Ando, his violent reaction to a ceremonial toast had nearly triggered an intersystem incident.
So Padme had been entertaining other visitors, too.
From a pocket on his equipment belt he pulled a flimsi of Palpatine's list of suspect Senators. He scanned down the list, looking for names of Senators he knew well enough that he might recognize the Force-echoes of their presence here. Many he'd never heard of; there were thousands of Senators, after all. But those he knew by reputation were the cream of the Senate: people like Terr Taneel, Fang Zar, Bail Organa, Garm Bel Iblis—
He began to think Palpatine was just imagining things after all. These beings were known to be incorruptible. He frowned down at the flimsi. It was possible...
A Senator might carefully construct a reputation, appearing to all the galaxy as honest and upright and honorable, all the while holding the rotten truth of himself so absolutely secret that no one would sense his evil until he had so much power that it was too late to stop him...
It was possible.
But so many? Could they all have accomplished that?
Could Padme?
Suspicion leaked back into his mind and gathered itself into so thick a cloud that he didn't sense her approach until she was already in the room.
"Anakin? What are you doing here? It's still the middle of the afternoon..."
He looked up to find her standing in the archway in full Senatorial regalia: heavy folds of burgundy robes and a coif like a starfighter's hyperdrive ring. Instead of a smile, instead of sunlight in her eyes, instead of the bell-clear joy with which she had always greeted him, her face was nearly expressionless: attentively blank.
Anakin called it her Politician Look, and he hated it. "Waiting for you," he replied, a little unsteadily. "What are you doing here in the middle of the afternoon?"
"I have a very important meeting in two hours," she said stiffly. "I left a document reader here this morning—"
"This meeting—is it with the Chancellor?" Anakin's voice came out low and harsh. "Is it his last meeting of the afternoon?"
"Y-yes, yes it is." She frowned, blinking. "Anakin, what's—"
"I have to be there, too." He crumpled the flimsi and stuffed it back into his equipment belt. "I'm starting to look forward to it."
"Anakin, what is it?" She came toward him, one hand reaching for him. "What's wrong?"
He lurched to his feet. "Obi-Wan's been here, hasn't he?"
"He came by this morning." She stopped. Her hand slowly lowered back to her side. "Why?"
"What did you talk about?"
"Anakin, why are you acting like this?" One long stride brought him to her. He towered over her. For one stretching second she looked very small, very insignificant, very much like some kind of bug that he could crush beneath his heel and just keep on walking. "What did you talk about?"
She gazed steadily up at him, and on her face was only concern, shaded with growing hurt. "We talked about you."
"What about me?"
"He's worried about you, Anakin. He says you're under a lot of stress."
"And he's not?"
"The way you've been act
ing, since you got back—"
"I'm not the one doing the acting. I'm not the one doing the pretending! I'm not the one sneaking in here in the morning!"
"No," she said with a smile. She reached up to lay the palm of her hand along the line of his jaw. "That's usually when you're sneaking out.''
Her touch unclenched his heart.
He half fell into a chair and pressed the edge of his flesh hand against his eyes.
When he could overcome his embarrassment enough to speak, he said softly, "I'm sorry, Padme. I'm sorry. I know I've been... difficult to deal with. I just—I feel like I'm in free fall. Free fall in the dark. I don't know which way is up. I don't know where I'll be when I land. Or crash."
He frowned against his fingers, squeezing his eyes more tightly shut to make sure no tears leaked out. "I think it's going to be a crash."
She sat on the wide-rolled arm of his chair and laid her slim arm along his shoulders. "What has happened, my love? You've always been so sure of yourself. What's changed?"
"Nothing," he said. "Everything. I don't know. It's all so screwed up, I can't even tell you. The Council doesn't trust me, Palpatine doesn't trust the Council. They're plotting against each other and both sides are pressuring me, and—"
"Surely that's only your imagination, Anakin. The Jedi Council is the bedrock of the Republic."
"The bedrock of the Republic is democracy, Padme—something the Council doesn't much like when votes don't go their way. All those who gain power are afraid to lose it—that's something you should remember." He looked up at her. "You and your friends in the Senate."
She took this without a blink. "But Obi-Wan is on the Council; he'd never participate in anything the least bit underhanded—"
"You think so?"
Because it's not for the record, Anakin. You must be able to understand why.
He shook the memory away. "It doesn't matter. Obi-Wan's on his way to Utapau."
"What is this really about?"
"I don't know,'' he said helplessly. "I don't know anything anymore. All I know is, I'm not the Jedi I should be. I'm not the man I should be."
Revenge of the Sith Page 22
