"Oh no, not at all. You're quite right. But I have a feel for how he fights now-and for how he runs away. I am certain I can catch him."

"Master-"

"And you, my young friend, have duties here on Coruscant. Extremely important duties, that require your full attention," Obi-Wan reminded him. "Am I being clear?"

Anakin didn't answer. He sank back into his chair and turned away.

"Obi-Wan, my choice is," Yoda said.

Ki-Adi-Mundi's image nodded. "I concur. Let's put it to a vote."

Mace Windu counted nods. "Six in favor."

He waited, looking at Anakin. "Further comment?"

Anakin only stared at the wall.

After a moment, Mace shrugged.

"It is unanimous."

Senator Chi Eekway accepted a tube of Aqualish hoi-broth from C-3PO's refeshment tray. "I am very grateful to be included here," she said, her dewlaps jiggling as she tilted her blue head in a gesture around Padme's living room at the gathering of Senators. "I speak directly only for my own sector, of course, but I can tell you that many Senators are becoming very nervous indeed. You may not know that the new governors are arriving with full regiments of clone troops-what they call security forces. We all have begun to wonder if these regiments are intended to protect us from the Separatists ... or to protect the governors from us."

Padme looked up from the doc.u.ment reader in her hand "I have . . . reliable information . . . that General Grievous has bee located, and that the Jedi are already moving against his position The war may be over in a matter of days."

"But what then?" Bail Organa leaned forward, elbows to knees, fingers laced together. "How to we make Palpatine withdraw his governors? How do we stop him from garrisoning troops in all our systems?"

"We don't have to make him do anything," Padme said reasonably. "The Senate granted him executive powers only for the duration of the emergency-"

"Yet it is only Palpatine himself who has the authority to declare when the emergency is over," Bail countered. "How do we make him surrender power back to the Senate?"

Chi Eekway shifted backward. "There are many who are willing to do just that," she said. "Not just my own people. Many Senators. We are ready to make him surrender power."

Padme snapped the doc.u.ment reader closed. She looked from Senator to Senator expressionlessly. "Would anyone care for further refreshment?"

"Senator Amidala," Eekway said, "I fear you don't understand-"

"Senator Eekway. Another hoi-broth?"

"No, that's-"

"Very well, then." She looked up at C-3PO. "Threepio, that will be all. Please tell Motee and Elle that they are dismissed for the day, then you are free to power down for a while."

"Thank you, Mistress," Threepio replied. "Though I must say, this discussion has been most stimu-"

"Threepio." Padme's tone went a trace extra firm. "That will be all."

"Yes, Mistress. Of course. I quite understand." The droid turned stiffly and shuffled out of the room.

As soon as 3PO was safely out of earshot, Padme brandished the doc.u.ment reader as though it were a weapon. "This is a very dangerous step. We cannot let this turn into another war."

"That's the last thing any of us wants," Bail said with a disapproving look at Senator Eekway. "Alderaan has no armed forces; we don't even have a planetary defense system. A political solution is our only option."

"Which is the purpose of this pet.i.tion," Mon Mothma said, laving her soft hand over Padme's. "We're hoping that a show of solidarity within the Senate might stop Palpatine from further subverting the Const.i.tution, that's all. With the signatures of a full two thousand Senators-"

"-we still have less than we need to stop his supermajority from amending the Const.i.tution any way he happens to want," Padme finished for her. She weighed the reader in her hand. "I am willing to present this to Palpatine, but I am losing faith in the Senate's readiness, or even ability, to rein him in. I think we should consult the Jedi."

Because I really think they can help, or because I just can't stand to lie to my husband? She couldn't say. She hoped that both were true, though she was sure only of the second.

Bana Breemu examined her long, elegantly manicured fingertips. "That," she said remotely, "would be dangerous."

Mon Mothma nodded. "We don't know where the Jedi stand in all this."

Padme sat forward. "The Jedi aren't any happier with the situation than we are."

Senator Breemu's high-arched cheekbones made the look he gave Padme appear even more distant and skeptical. "You seem . . . remarkably well informed about Jedi business, Senator Amidala." Padme felt herself flush, and she didn't trust herself to answer.

Giddean Danu shook his head, doubt plainly written across his dark face. "If we are to openly oppose the Chancellor, we need the support of the Jedi. We need their moral authority Otherwise, what do we have?"

"The moral authority of the Jedi, such as it is," Bana Breemu said, "has been spent lavishly upon war; 1 fear they have none left for politics."

"One Jedi, then," Padme offered to the others. At least let me speak the truth to my love. At least. Please, she pleaded with them silently. "There is one Jedi-one whom I truly know all of us can trust absolutely . . ."

Her voice trailed off into appalled silence when she realized that she wasn't talking about Anakin.

This had been all about him when she'd started-all about her love, her need to be open with him, the pain that keeping this secret stabbed her heart at each and every beat-but when the thought had turned to trust, when it became a question of someone she knew, truly and absolutely knew, she could trust-She discovered that she was talking about Obi-Wan.

Anakin . . . Something was breaking inside her. Oh, my love, what are they doing to us?

Chi Eekway shook her head. "Patience, Senator."

Fang Zar unknotted his fingers from his raggedly bushy beard and shrugged. "Yes, we cannot block the Chancellor's supermajority-but we can show him that opposition to his methods is growing. Perhaps that alone might persuade him to moderate his tactics."

Bana Breemu went back to examining her fingertips. "When you present the Pet.i.tion of the Two Thousand, many things may change."

"But," Giddean Danu said, "will they change for the better?"

Bail Organa and Mon Mothma exchanged glances that whispered of some shared secret. Bail said slowly, "Let us see what we can accomplish in the Senate before we involve the Jedi."

And as one after another of the Senators agreed, Padme could only sit in silence. In mourning.

Grieving for the sudden death of an illusion.

Anakin-Anakin, I love you. If only-But that if only would take her to a place she could not bear to go. In the end, she could only return to the thought she feared would echo within her for the rest of her life.

Anakin, I'm sorry.

The last of the hovertanks whirred up the ramp into the sky-shrouding wedge of the a.s.sault cruiser. It was followed by rank upon immaculately regimented rank of clone troopers, marshaled by battalions, marching in perfect synchrony.

Standing alongside Obi-Wan on the landing deck, Anakin watched them go.

He couldn't quite make himself believe he wasn't going along.

It wasn't that he really wanted to go with Obi-Wan to Utapau-even though it'd be a relief to pull out of the political quagmire that was sucking him down. But how could he leave Padme now? He didn't even care anymore about being the Jedi to capture Grievous, though such a feat would almost certainly bring him his Mastery. He was no longer certain he needed to be a Master at all.

Through the long, black hours of meditation last night-meditation that was often indistinguishable from brooding-he had begun to sense a deeper truth within the Force: a submerged reality, lurking like a Sarlacc beneath the sunlit sands of Jedi training.

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 pa.s.sed 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 a.s.sault 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 Padme 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 Ken.o.bi 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 Padme 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 with his other he squeezed Anakin's arm above the joining of flesh and metal. "You are wise and strong, Anakin. You are a credit to the Jedi Order, and you have far surpa.s.sed my humble efforts at instruction."

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, compa.s.sion 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.

Achill 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.