Part 29 (2/2)

”Have a look outside.” He pointed his lightsaber toward the archway. ”It's about to start raining clones.”

Grievous said again, turning to look, ”What?” A shadow had pa.s.sed over the sun as though one of the towering thunderheads on the horizon had caught a stray current in the hyperwinds and settled above Pau City. But it wasn't a cloud. It was the Vigilance.

While twilight enfolded the sinkhole, over the bright desert above a.s.sault craft skimmed the dunes in a tightening ring centered on the city. Hailfire droids rolled out from caves in the wind-scoured mesas, unleas.h.i.+ng firestorms of missiles toward the oncoming craft for exactly 2.5 seconds apiece, which was how long it took for the Vigilance's sensor operators to transfer data to its turbolaser batteries.

Thunderbolts roared down through the atmosphere, and hailfire droids disintegrated. Pinpoint counterfire from the bubble turrets of LAAT/i's met missiles in blossoming fireb.a.l.l.s that were ripped to shreds of smoke as the oncoming craft blasted through them.

LAAT/i's streaked over the rim of the sinkhole and spiraled downward with all guns blazing, crabbing outward to keep their forward batteries raking on the sinkhole's wall, while at the rim above, Jadthu-cla.s.s armored landers hovered with bay doors wide, trailing sprays of polyplast cables like immense ice-white ta.s.sels that looped all the way to the ocean mouths that gaped at the lowest level of the city. Down those ta.s.sels, rappelling so fast they seemed to be simply falling, came endless streams of armored troopers, already firing on the combat droids that marched out to meet them.

Streamers of cables brushed the outer balcony of the control center, and down them slid white-armored troopers, each with one hand on his mechanized line-brake and the other full of DC-15 blaster rifle on full auto, spraying continuous chains of packeted particle beams. Droids wheeled and dropped and leapt into the air and burst to fragments. Surviving droids opened up on the clones as though grateful for something to shoot at, blasting holes in armor, cooking flesh with superheated steam from deep-tissue hits, blowing some troopers entirely off their cables to tumble toward a messy final landing ten levels below.

When the survivors of the first wave of clones. .h.i.t the deck, the next wave was right behind them.

Grievous turned back to Obi-Wan. He lowered his head like an angry bantha, yellow glare fixed on the Jedi Master. ”To the death, then.”

Obi-Wan sighed. ”If you insist.”

The bio-droid general cast back his cloak, revealing the four lightsabers pocketed there. He stepped back, spreading wide his duranium arms. ”You will not be the first Jedi I have killed, nor will you be the last.”

Obi-Wan's only reply was to subtly s.h.i.+ft the angle of his lightsaber up and forward.

The general's wide-spread arms now split along their lengths, dividing in half-even his hands split in half-Now he had four arms. And four hands.

And each hand took a lightsaber as his cloak dropped to the floor.

They snarled to life and Grievous spun all four of them in a flouris.h.i.+ng velocity so fast and so seamlessly integrated that he seemed to stand within a pulsing sphere of blue and green energy.

”Come on, then, Ken.o.bi! Come for me!” he said. ”I have been trained in your Jedi arts by Lord Tyra.n.u.s himself]”

”Do you mean Count Dooku? What a curious coincidence,” Obi-Wan said with a deceptively pleasant smile. ”I trained the man who killed him.”

With a convulsive snarl, Grievous lunged.

The sphere of blue lightsaber energy around him bulged toward Obi-Wan and opened like a mouth to bite him in half. Obi-Wan stood his ground, his blade still.

Chain-lightning teeth closed upon him.

This is how it feels to be Anakin Skywalker, right now: You don't remember putting away your lightsaber.

You don't remember moving from Palpatine's private office to his larger public one; you don't remember collapsing in the chair where you now sit, nor do you remember drinking water from the half-empty gla.s.s that you find in your mechanical hand.

You remember only that the last man in the galaxy you still thought you could trust has been lying to you since the day you met.

And you're not even angry about it.

Only stunned.

”After all, Anakin, you are the last man who has a right to be angry at someone for keeping a secret. What else was I to do?”

Palpatine sits in his familiar tall oval chair behind his familiar desk; the lampdisks are full on, the office eerily bright.

Ordinary.

As though this is merely another one of your friendly conversations, the casual evening chats you've enjoyed together for so many years.

As though nothing has happened.

As though nothing has changed.

”Corruption had made the Republic a cancer in the body of the galaxy, and no one could burn it out; not the judicials, not the Senate, not even the Jedi Order itself. I was the only man strong and skilled enough for this task; I was the only man who dared even attempt it. Without my small deception, how should I have cured the Republic? Had I revealed myself to you, or to anyone else, the Jedi would have hunted me down and murdered me without trial-very much as you nearly did, only a moment ago.”

You can't argue. Words are beyond you.

He rises, moving around his desk, taking one of the small chairs and drawing it close to yours.

”If only you could know how I have longed to tell you, Anakin. All these years-since the very day we met, my boy. I have watched over you, waiting as you grew in strength and wisdom, biding my time until now, today, when you are finally ready to understand who you truly are, and your true place in the history of the galaxy.”

Numb words blur from your numb lips. ”The chosen one . . .”

”Exactly, my boy. Exactly. You are the chosen one.” He leans toward you, eyes clear. Steady. Utterly honest. ”Chosen by me.”

He turns a hand toward the panorama of light-sprayed cityscape through window behind his desk. ”Look out there, Anakin. A trillion beings on this planet alone-in the galaxy as a whole, uncounted quadrillions-and of them all, I have chosen you, Anakin Skywalker, to be the heir to my power. To all that I am.”

”But that's not . . . that's not the prophecy. That's not the prophecy of the chosen one ...”

”Is this such a problem for you? Is not your quest to find a way to overturn prophecy?” Palpatine leaned close, smiling, warm and kindly. ”Anakin, do you think the Sith did not know of this prophecy? Do you think we would simply sleep while it came to pa.s.s!”

”You mean-”

”This is what you must understand. This Jedi submission to fate . . . this is not the way of the Sith, Anakin. This is not my way. This is not your way. It has never been. It need never be.”

You're drowning.

”I am not . . . ,” you hear yourself say, ”. . . on your side. I am not evil.”

”Who said anything about evil? I am bringing peace to the galaxy. Is that evil? I am offering you the power to save Padme. Is that evil? Have I attacked you? Drugged you? Are you being tortured? My boy, I am asking you. I am asking you to do the right thing. Turn your back on treason. On all those who would harm the Republic. I'm asking you to do exactly what you have sworn to do: bring peace and justice to the galaxy. And save Padme, of course-haven't you sworn to protect her, too . . . ?”

”I-but-I-” Words will not fit themselves into the answers you need. If only Obi-Wan were here-Obi-Wan would know what to say. What to do.

Obi-Wan could handle this.

Right now, you know you can't.

”I-I'll turn you over to the Jedi Council-they'll know what to do-”

”I'm sure they will. They are already planning to overthrow the Republic; you'll give them exactly the excuse they're looking for. And when they come to execute me, will that be justice? Will they be bringing peace)”

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