Star Wars: Episode III: Revenge of the Sith by Matthew Woodring Stover; George Lucas Page B
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Palpatine said. "Capture Grievous and you will have dealt a wound from which the Separatists may never recover."
Anakin thought blankly: I could do it.
He had dreamed of capturing Grievous ever since Muunilinst-and now the general was close. So close Anakin could practically smell him . . . and Anakin had never felt so powerful. The Force was with him today in ways more potent than he had ever experienced.
"Think of it, Anakin." Palpatine stood close by his shoulder, opposite to Obi-Wan, so close he needed only to whisper. "You have destroyed their political head. Take their military commander, and you will have practically won the war. Single-handed. Who else could do that, Anakin? Yoda? Mace Windu? They couldn't even capture Dooku. Who would have a chance against Grievous, if not Anakin Skywalker? The Jedi have never faced a crisis like the Clone Wars-but also they have never had a hero like you. You can save them. You can save everyone."
Anakin jerked, startled. He turned a sharp glance toward Palpatine. The way he had said that . . . Like a voice out of his dreams.
"That's-" Anakin tried to laugh; it came out a little shaky. "That's not what Obi-Wan keeps telling me."
"Forget Obi-Wan," Palpatine said. "He has no idea how powerful you truly are. Use your power, Anakin. Save the Republic." Anakin could see it, vivid as a HoloNet feature: arriving at the Senate with Grievous in electrobonds, standing modestly aside as Palpatine announced the end of the war, returning to the Temple, to the Council Chamber, where finally, after all this time, there would be a chair waiting, just for him.
They could hardly refuse him Mastership now, after he had won the war for them . . .
But then Obi-Wan shifted on his shoulder, moaning faintly and Anakin snapped back to reality.
"No," he said. "Sorry, Chancellor. My orders are clear. This is a rescue mission; your safety is my only priority."
"I will never be safe while Grievous lives," Palpatine countered. "Master Kenobi will recover at any moment. Leave him here with me; he can see me safely to the hangar deck. Go for the general."
"I-I would like to, sir, but-"
"I can make it an order, Anakin."
"With respect, sir: no. You can't. My orders come from the Jedi Council, and the Council's orders come from the Senate. You have no direct authority."
The Chancellor's face darkened. "That may change."
Anakin nodded. "And perhaps it should, sir. But until it does, we'll do things my way. Let's go."
"Sir?" The thin voice of the comm officer interrupted Grievous's pacing. "We are being hailed by Integrity, sir. They propose a cease-fire."
Dark yellow eyes squinted through the skull-mask at the tactical displays. A pause in the combat would allow Invisible Hand's turbolaser batteries to cool, and give the engineers a chance to get the gravity generators under control. "Acknowledge receipt of transmission. Stand by to cease fire."
"Standing by, sir." The gunnery officer was still shaking.
"Cease fire."
The lances of energy that had joined the Hand to the Home Fleet Strike Force melted away.
"Further transmission, sir. It's Integrity's commander."
Grievous nodded. "Initiate."
A ghostly image built itself above the bridge's ship-to-ship hologenerator: a young human male of distinctly average height and build, wearing the uniform of a lieutenant commander. The only thing distinctive about his otherwise rather bland features was the calm confidence in his eyes.
"General Grievous," the young man said briskly, "I am Lieutenant Commander Lorth Needa of RSS Integrity. At my request, my superiors have consented to offer you the chance to surrender your ship, sir.''
"Surrender?" Grievous's vocabulator produced a very credable reproduction of a snort. "Preposterous."
"Please give this offer careful deliberation, General, as it will not be repeated. Consider the lives of your crew."
Grievous cast an icy glance around his bridge full of craven Neimoidians. "Why should I?"
The young man did
Anakin thought blankly: I could do it.
He had dreamed of capturing Grievous ever since Muunilinst-and now the general was close. So close Anakin could practically smell him . . . and Anakin had never felt so powerful. The Force was with him today in ways more potent than he had ever experienced.
"Think of it, Anakin." Palpatine stood close by his shoulder, opposite to Obi-Wan, so close he needed only to whisper. "You have destroyed their political head. Take their military commander, and you will have practically won the war. Single-handed. Who else could do that, Anakin? Yoda? Mace Windu? They couldn't even capture Dooku. Who would have a chance against Grievous, if not Anakin Skywalker? The Jedi have never faced a crisis like the Clone Wars-but also they have never had a hero like you. You can save them. You can save everyone."
Anakin jerked, startled. He turned a sharp glance toward Palpatine. The way he had said that . . . Like a voice out of his dreams.
"That's-" Anakin tried to laugh; it came out a little shaky. "That's not what Obi-Wan keeps telling me."
"Forget Obi-Wan," Palpatine said. "He has no idea how powerful you truly are. Use your power, Anakin. Save the Republic." Anakin could see it, vivid as a HoloNet feature: arriving at the Senate with Grievous in electrobonds, standing modestly aside as Palpatine announced the end of the war, returning to the Temple, to the Council Chamber, where finally, after all this time, there would be a chair waiting, just for him.
They could hardly refuse him Mastership now, after he had won the war for them . . .
But then Obi-Wan shifted on his shoulder, moaning faintly and Anakin snapped back to reality.
"No," he said. "Sorry, Chancellor. My orders are clear. This is a rescue mission; your safety is my only priority."
"I will never be safe while Grievous lives," Palpatine countered. "Master Kenobi will recover at any moment. Leave him here with me; he can see me safely to the hangar deck. Go for the general."
"I-I would like to, sir, but-"
"I can make it an order, Anakin."
"With respect, sir: no. You can't. My orders come from the Jedi Council, and the Council's orders come from the Senate. You have no direct authority."
The Chancellor's face darkened. "That may change."
Anakin nodded. "And perhaps it should, sir. But until it does, we'll do things my way. Let's go."
"Sir?" The thin voice of the comm officer interrupted Grievous's pacing. "We are being hailed by Integrity, sir. They propose a cease-fire."
Dark yellow eyes squinted through the skull-mask at the tactical displays. A pause in the combat would allow Invisible Hand's turbolaser batteries to cool, and give the engineers a chance to get the gravity generators under control. "Acknowledge receipt of transmission. Stand by to cease fire."
"Standing by, sir." The gunnery officer was still shaking.
"Cease fire."
The lances of energy that had joined the Hand to the Home Fleet Strike Force melted away.
"Further transmission, sir. It's Integrity's commander."
Grievous nodded. "Initiate."
A ghostly image built itself above the bridge's ship-to-ship hologenerator: a young human male of distinctly average height and build, wearing the uniform of a lieutenant commander. The only thing distinctive about his otherwise rather bland features was the calm confidence in his eyes.
"General Grievous," the young man said briskly, "I am Lieutenant Commander Lorth Needa of RSS Integrity. At my request, my superiors have consented to offer you the chance to surrender your ship, sir.''
"Surrender?" Grievous's vocabulator produced a very credable reproduction of a snort. "Preposterous."
"Please give this offer careful deliberation, General, as it will not be repeated. Consider the lives of your crew."
Grievous cast an icy glance around his bridge full of craven Neimoidians. "Why should I?"
The young man did
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