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Chapter Text

General Grievous flipped away from the Jedi Knight, simultaneously blocking his onslaught of lightsaber blows with his own two lightsabers.  The Jedi’s blue lightsaber flashed against the blue and green weapons Grievous favored.

“In the name of the Republic, you will be brought to justice,” the Jedi said somberly.

Grievous laughed as he fought the Jedi and his contingent of clone troopers.  His foot clutched the helmet of one of the clones and he threw him far into the distance as he flipped through the air slicing off another clone’s hands in a smooth motion.  Then he directed his attention back to the Jedi again, pressing forward in a swift and fluid offensive.

“Empty words, Jedi,” the cyborg general rumbled.  He felt the implacable anger that the appearance or even mention of the Jedi always caused in him, but he had turned that anger into a precise and lethal weapon, rather than the weakness the Jedi believed it to be. Of course, he wasn’t beyond trying to see if he could get a rise out of them, either.  Count Dooku had said that the Jedi never felt more off-balance than when they felt themselves pulled by their own fear and anger.

So as Grievous continued making short work of any clone troopers who got too close and deflecting the blaster shots of the more cautious ones, as well as pushing an offensive towards the lone Jedi Knight, he also attempted a psychological jab at his current prey.

“But perhaps you can use those words to comfort your padawan when you join him in death.”

He saw the face of the Jedi twitch in anger, though to his disappointment his opponent did not explode with rage as they sometimes did.  The Jedi did strike more forcefully now, though, changing his fighting style from defensive to offensive.

As Grievous twisted and turned in all directions, he also used the movement as an opportunity to observe his surroundings on all sides, constructing a 360 degree view in his mind of the battlefield.  It was with that view in mind that he hit the Jedi hard enough on the right side to drive him physically backward as he rotated his own body fluidly around the knight, placing his opponent directly in line of the blaster fire from a clone trooper who had undoubtedly meant to hit Grievous instead.

The clone cried out in dismay as the Jedi was felled by the bolt.  Grievous took the opportunity to take his ever-present anger out on the Jedi’s collapsed form.  If the bolt hadn’t killed him, he was certainly dead now.  Then the cyborg grabbed the Jedi’s lightsaber from the ground with his foot and, in one fluid motion brought it around to kill the clone trooper who had accidentally killed his commander as he tried to attack Grievous.  The battlefield was silent.  Around Grievous there was a ring of death.

He took a moment to savor his victory, but also to feel disappointment.  Kenobi would never have gone down so easily.  The Jedi Master was his most hated foe, but also his most respected.  They had dueled countless times, neither able to best the other.

Blaster fire sounded in the distance,  catching the immediate attention of the cyborg general.  His attention immediately switched back to his main objective.  He turned and moved towards the estate in the distance, leaving his ship, the Soulless One, as well as the cargo shuttle attached to it, guarded by his silent and deadly magnaguard.  As much as he would like to seek out other Jedi to kill, Dooku’s instructions for this mission were clear--his first priority was to rescue the Parliament members who had been stranded on Raxus by the Republic’s surprise attack.  He was to attack only those who got in his way until that mission was completed.

Still, if he were lucky, perhaps there would be more Jedi who would ‘get in his way’.

Grievous crested the hill and reached the sprawling estate.  The ostentatiousness and unnecessary luxury of the place struck Grievous as distasteful, but then the Separatist Parliament did mostly consist of the rich and the privileged.  In any event, he was uninterested in the politics of his benefactors.

His only duty was to carry out their orders, his only reward to be given the chance to decimate the Jedi Order.

As he approached the entrance he watched for any lurking foes.  However, it appeared that the Republic hadn’t reached this area yet.  He pressed the alert button at the door panel and waited.

A human woman opened the door, looking up at him with wide eyes.  From the records he had accessed from his ship’s computer before traveling to Raxus, he identified her easily.

“Senator Bonteri,” Grievous said.  “I’ve come to evacuate the Separatist Parliament members stranded on your estate.”

“Oh!  You--you must be General Grievous,” she said, seeming to recover her equilibrium.

Come with me!  I’ll let the others know you’re here.”

She ran back into her estate and Grievous treaded easily after her.  He followed her down a spiral staircase into what appeared to be a basement.What a terrible place to hide.

If the Republic had reached the estate, the occupants would have been trapped in their current location.  Not that he imagined many of them were fighters, anyway.

Finally they reached a door at the end of a long hallway.  The senator keyed in a code to open it and they entered to find a large group of senators and dignitaries huddled behind crates or under a large table that took up most of the center of the room.  Grievous sighed.  Ten of them, counting the Bonteri woman and her spawn.  This was going to slow him down considerably.

“General Grievous is here to rescue us,” Senator Bonteri said urgently.

“Let’s go,” Grievous said.  “I’ve put down a shuttle not far from here.”

“That’s good news!” San Hill said, rising from behind a crate and dusting his robes off.  “This planet has become a death trap!”

Grievous turned and walked back towards the stairs.  He heard the footsteps of the panicked people following behind him.

They walked through the grounds of the estate.  In the distance, Grievous could hear blaster fire.  Nearby, he could detect the heat signatures of the group behind him, following his long stride as best they could.

As they approached his ship, he could see the battle had already reached the Soulless One again.  He took out four lightsabers, spinning two of them above him and holding the other two out in front of him.

One of the Senators, a blond human man dressed in red and gold, let out a wail of despair.  “We’re all going to die!”

Grievous snapped at the panicking senator.  “QUIET!”

This, unfortunately, did not have the desired effect, and the man began to shriek.  Grievous would have killed him then and there if Dooku hadn’t made clear that he would consider that a failure on Grievous’s part.

Bonteri spoke then, her voice dripping with disdain.  “Stop snivelling, Lestur.  You wouldn’t want to break the General’s concentration, would you?”

The man quieted down quickly after that, and Grievous was able to concentrate his attention on the group of clone troopers guarding his ship.

“I will handle this,” Grievous said.  “Stay behind me.”  He walked over to the clones.  “Surrender or die,” he said simply.

The clones fired a barrage of blaster fire towards him.  He blocked the shots with his lightsabers, managing to reflect some of the bolts back at the clones.

“I see you mean to die, then.”

He leapt over to them and unleashed a barrage of lightsaber attacks that made short work of the clone troopers.  He guessed that there hadn’t been time for the Republic to learn of the death of the Jedi Knight who had attacked him earlier, and that the clones had simply been intended to reinforce the now deceased Jedi.  He defeated all ten of them easily.

Then he mentally activated the boarding ramp to the shuttle and gestured for the Separatist Parliament members to enter with him.

Remotely activating the autopilot on his ship, he initiated the takeoff sequence from the planet’s surface.  Within minutes they had reached orbit around the planet.

The Bonteri child gasped, pointing out the airlock window.  “Is that--is that the Soulless One?”

“Yes,” General Grievous said.  “This transport shuttle has been attached to my personal fighter for the purposes of completing this mission.”  He motioned to the shuttle seating arrayed around them.  “You may wish to prepare yourself for the hyperspace jump.  I will need to pilot the ship personally until we pass the Republic blockade.”

He walked into the airlock, closing the door behind him.  He prepared himself for what would happen next by sealing off his airholes and the eyeholes of his mask, flicking their transparisteel covers down like a pair of transparent eyelids.  He heard a tap on the door behind him.  Looking through the clear transparisteel window, he saw the face of the Bonteri child squashed against the window, watching with interest.  Having ascertained that the sound was not a threat, nor of any importance, he then opened the door in front of him to the vacuum of space. Using his magnetized feet, he walked across the surface of the Soulless One and then settled into the cockpit.

His clawed fingers keyed in the commands to enter hyperspace.  The hyperspace countdown sequence commenced, though several Republic ships began attacking him soon afterward.  It seemed they had finally broken through the network of Vultures assigned to defend his ship and its cargo of Senators.  One of his pursuers in particular stood out as being extremely difficult to shake.  Grievous wondered with some interest if it was a Jedi that gave it its unerring direction.  He knew the clones could never keep up with his maneuvers.  Still, he had his orders.   He kept up his evasive maneuvers until he saw the signature blue lines of hyperspace in front of him.

I’ll be back for you later, Jedi.

The trip back to the ship from his fighter had been uneventful.  Hyperspace did not feel to him significantly different than regular space, despite the numerous superstitions to the contrary.  His return to the shuttle was swift, though it seemed that one of the shuttle’s occupants was feeling--excessively talkative.

“--and did you know that it’s a customized Belbullab-22 fighter? It has the triple laser cannons of course, but the best part is--” the Bonteri child said, stopping abruptly when he noticed Grievous’s presence. “Er, hello sir.”

“I have been instructed to brief all of you on the situation,” Grievous said, pacing around them.    “I expect we will be in hyperspace for three standard days.”

“Three days?” One of the senators said.  His expression was horrified.  “In this awful thing?”

The Bonteri child looked delighted, however.  “Really?”

Grievous sighed.  “Yes.” He couldn’t help thinking what a waste of time this was.  If he hadn’t had to take on all this dead-weight, he could have stayed in the battle. “The shuttle was outfitted with this eventuality in mind.  You will find all supplies required for your survival over there,” Grievous said, gesturing briefly to several crates.

“But--there’s nowhere to sleep!”

Grievous looked over at the Senator who had spoken.  The human looked both horrified and indignant, crossing his arms and looking up at the cyborg general.

“I didn’t say anything about your comfort,” Grievous responded.  “Be grateful that you will live another day, Senator.  Now, in the interests of conserving space, I’m going to return to the cockpit of my fighter.”

“Ah, General?”  Grievous turned back to face Senator Bonteri, who looked up at him with a smile.  “I just wanted to thank you for all you’ve done today.  Lux and I are safe because of you.  Please know that you are always welcome at the Bonteri manor.”

Grievous inclined his head politely, though the invitation held no appeal to him.  “Thank you.” He turned again towards the cockpit.

It was at that moment that San Hill spoke up.  “General Grievous,” he said.  “I also wanted to express my immense gratitude for your help.”

“Very well,” Grievous said, his tone dismissive. Gratitude is only so many empty words.

The Muun smiled nervously.  “No, truly.  If there is something you would like in return, please don’t hesitate to ask.  You saved my life, after all.  I'd say that means you've been an excellent investment.”

Grievous finally turned to face the leader of the Intergalactic Banking Clan and narrowed his eyes.  “Really?  Five more fleets of ships and an entire armada of magnaguards, perhaps?”

San laughed.  “You’re thinking too small, my friend.  Of course, you can have that as well if you want.  But I was thinking more along the lines of--upgrades to your current cyborg infrastructure.  Let me know if you have an interest in that.”

Grievous tilted his head.  “You know of a way to improve upon my current abilities?”

He needed an extra edge over the Jedi.  If there was some enhancement that could give him that, perhaps he could finally fell one of the great Jedi Masters...

“Yes, considerably so,” San Hill said.  “When this is over, please don’t hesitate to contact me.”

“I will take you up on that offer,” Grievous said.

“Excellent,” the Muun said.  “I promise, you won’t be disappointed.”

Chapter Text

The ten Separatist rescuees reached Geonosis, where the general dropped them off.    Shortly after that, he had a talk with San Hill as to what kind of upgrades the Muun had in mind.

“What changes will you be making?”  Grievous said.

“Allow me to explain. I recall that you were quite disappointed to learn of your complete lack of force sensitivity.”

“Of course I was!  What of it?”  Grievous said irritably.  Of all the things for the Muun to bring up, why did he have to choose that?

“Well, what if I told you that there was something I could do about that?”

“What could you possibly do?  Even Count Dooku couldn't give me the power of the Force!”

“Well, it wouldn't be the Force, per se, but it would give you more of the abilities that the Jedi possess.  Imagine if you could pull metallic objects to you, or shock someone with electricity with the power of your mind alone!”

“You could do that?  Give me those abilities?”

“Easily, why I'm astounded we didn't think of it before!  The magnetic pull ability is just a simple refinement of your current magnetic implants.  And while an electric modulator with that much power is certainly expensive, there is nothing technologically complex about it.  It might take you a while to accustom yourself to the new abilities, but they will surely be easier to master than using four arms simultaneously!  Some simple additions to your motor cortex will be needed, and a few tweaks here and there.  General, you are a marvel of engineering, but these simple improvements may just be the edge you need against the Jedi!”

“More upgrades,” Grievous said.  “Yes, I think you're right.  I want these changes completed immediately.”  He laughed then, already thinking what a nasty surprise his new abilities would be for the Jedi,

San Hill nodded and promptly arranged for the procedure to obtain the upgrades he had promised.  Grievous was ushered to the medical room and a medical droid gestured to a metallic slab.  The cyborg general settled himself onto it.

San Hill walked up to him.  “I hope you will find the upgrades to your liking.”

“If they help me decimate the Jedi Order, then they will be very much to my liking.”

San Hill smiled. “I think they will.”

The medical droid said,  “Please be very still, General.  This will be a very delicate operation.”

The General complied.  The droid carefully removed his facemask.  Grievous winced at the sensation.  When the action was completed, however, he simply stared straight ahead, his mind moving to strategies for upcoming battles.  It was as he was pondering how to successfully take Kamino, that something very unusual happened.  He fell asleep.

Grievous blinked his eyes blearily.  In front of him he saw the faces of San Hill and the medical droid.  “What--happened?”

“The procedure was a success!” San Hill said briskly.  “Perhaps you should practice your new abilities.”

Grievous stepped off the metal operating slab.  “Something seems wrong,” he said.  His mind seemed--noisy.  Where before there had been little but thoughts of strategy and killing Jedi, now he found it difficult to focus.  He tried to think of the Kamino battle again, but his mind wandered to Dooku and his constant admonitions of the cyborg’s battle tactics and what the Count thought of as ‘distasteful obsessions’, such as the General’s collection of lightsaber trophies.  Then he thought of how strange the medical droid standing passively at his side seemed compared to his own, with a blandly pleasant personality instead of a scathingly sarcastic one.  And suddenly, his mind thought of how long it had been since he had seen his homeworld of Kalee.

Kalee.  He had been going to travel there before the accident.  That had been years ago.

The accident.  Floating in a bacta tank, completely helpless.  Kalee again.  Death.  Pain.  Fear.

He growled, clutching his head.What's wrong with me?

“General?” San Hill said nervously.

Grievous turned on him.  “You botched something!”

The Muun frowned.  “What do you mean?”

Grievous picked him up by his collar and pulled him off the ground.  Bringing his mask mere centimeters from the Muun’s face, he growled, “What did you do to my mind?!”

San’s hands clutched at Grievous’s metallic arm desperately.  Dangling helplessly in front of the cyborg, he squeaked something in the Muun language and then in panicked Basic said, “Please, let me explain!”

Grievous slowly placed the Muun back on the floor.  “Very well.  You had best do so quickly, for your sake.”

The Muun grimaced, rubbing at his neck.  “You're probably experiencing what the medical droid referred to as memory backlash.  It's happening because I had the med droid remove the control chips Dooku had placed in your mind. I also instructed it to heal the damage they had caused,” San Hill said quickly. “It might seem overwhelming right now, but I was told you should adjust to the changes soon.”  He held up his hands defensively. “Please don’t kill me.  I was only trying to uphold my end of our agreement.”

Grievous snarled.  “If that were truly the case, then how did I end up with such alterations in the first place!”  He had specifically said that no one was to alter his mind!  It had been in the verbal agreement that San had accepted in lieu of a written contract.

“It was Dooku’s idea, not mine!” San Hill said, his eyes wide.  “He would have killed me if I hadn’t allowed him to perform that procedure.  Then I wouldn’t have been able to redress his breach of contract at all!  I had to let him go through with it.  But that’s why I concocted this pretext to operate on you.  I was just trying to uphold my end of our agreement, I swear!”

“So the other changes--”

“Are quite real!  But my main purpose in this procedure was to remove Dooku’s blocks.  I couldn't give you back the connections you had before, but eventually the new brain matter will form proper connections between your old memories instead of indiscriminately transmitting them as they did just now.”

Grievous could feel anger boiling inside of him.  The thought that Dooku might have resorted to such trickery had never occurred to him.  Grievous would have agreed to serve Dooku willingly without the need for such manipulation.  The promise of destroying the Jedi who had helped ravage his homeworld was more than sufficient to motivate him.  That Dooku had still betrayed him in a such a way was unforgivable.  “Tell me more about these--control chips.”

“I don't know his exact motivations.  But I do know that Dooku wasn’t content to hold you to your honorable word.  Perhaps it’s because he has no honor himself, or perhaps he just needed to feel he had complete control over you.  So he greatly reduced your ability to reflect on your past, and increased your aggression so you wouldn’t have control over it.”

Grievous growled and struck out at a control panel with a flash of lightning.  The panel crackled and exploded in a burst of sparks.  He blinked in surprise, looking at the fingers on his hand. He had just performed an attack with Force lightning.  Well, a passable imitation of it, anyway.  He hadn't expected that to be so—easy.

“Ah, I see the electrical modulator works,” San said, chuckling nervously.  “Why don't you try the magnetic resonance additions?”

Grievous nodded curtly and held out the same hand towards one of his lightsabers, which lay on a table near the operating bed.  Concentrating on pulling it towards him, he felt a surge of satisfaction when the lightsaber flew directly into his hand.  He had to root himself to the floor with the magnetic resonators in his feet to keep himself from being pulled towards the metal table, however, which was itself fortunately bolted to the floor.  Concentrating again, he stopped the magnetic pull from his hand.

“Hmmm, perhaps you'll need a bit of practice with the intensity of the pull, but you're doing an excellent job!”

Grievous laughed.  “The Jedi will learn the meaning of true fear now,” he said.

San said,  “Yes, I'm certain they will.”

“But first, there is the matter of Dooku,” Grievous said, clasping his hands behind his back.“His greed seems to know no bounds.  He must die.”

“I agree,” San Hill said.  “Count Dooku seeks only his own enrichment.”

Grievous narrowed his eyes at him.  “You have room to talk.”

The Muun met the General's steely gaze this time.  “I may be self-interested, but I don't discard people on a whim,” the Muun said.  “When I first joined the Separatists, I thought Dooku's leadership would benefit us all.  But the more I saw of his decisions, the more I realized that everyone,everyone has but a limited use to him.  And once that use has ended, they become—expendable.  I have no interest in waiting until his use for me runs out.”

“So you helped me for your own purposes, then.”

“Yes,” San Hill said.  “But also because I never go back on my word.”

Eyes still narrowed, Grievous said, “You do have some honor, I suppose, even if I find you highly distasteful.”

“Yes, well, I feel the same about you, General,” San said.  “It seems we must trust each other's sense of honor in this, after all.  You will need my help.  And I need yours.  I can hardly expect to destroy Count Dooku myself, after all. If I may ask, how do you intend to destroy him?  As I understand, Sith are nearly indestructible.”

“Preferably by arranging for his ship to meet an unfortunate accident during battle,” Grievous said.  “If I can make it appear like a Republic attack, all the better.  Facing him directly would be--unwise.”  The Sith Lord had outmatched him in all their sparring battles.  But that had been under controlled circumstances, when the Count knew he was fighting the General.    Grievous planned instead to use deception and surprise to kill Dooku.

“And, ah, what of Sidious?” San Hill said.

“I shall need to know if Sidious knew of this deception as well,” Grievous said.  His golden eyes turned to bore into the Muun banker.  “Perhaps you might know the answer to that question.

San Hill swallowed.  “Yes, I do.  He knew everything.  He even praised Dooku for conceiving the plan.”

Hatred boiled inside Grievous, but he shackled his emotions this time instead of lashing out. I can control my anger now.  It is my weapon, not Dooku's.

“Then I shall ensure he meets his end as well,” Grievous said.  “That will take some deception on both my part and yours.  We must draw this more elusive Sith to us carefully.  But first, I will need to kill Dooku.”

“If I may ask, what will happen to the Separatist government if you succeed?” San Hill said.

Grievous shrugged.  “That is not my concern.  I believe the Parliament has some sort of laws in place to cover such an eventuality.”

“Yes, ah, they vote for a new chancellor, while using the next person in the order of succession for the interim chancellor.  But losing Dooku so suddenly would put them in upheaval.  It would cause chaos--”  San stopped and looked up at the General's blazing gold eyes.

“I mean it might give the Jedi an advantage,”  San said.

Grievous's eyes narrowed.  “I will personally shield the Parliament from any and all attacks, whether they be Jedi or Sith in origin.  I will serve their wishes, as long as they do not keep me from mine.  That was our agreement, after all.”  For the first time in a long time, however, Grievous had more than one wish.I need to return to Kalee, explain to them what happened to me, see if I can—be of service to my people. It was for the Kaleesh that Grievous sought to wreak vengeance upon the Jedi in the first place.  Dooku had made him forget that.  Well, not forget it, exactly, but his thought processes had been so thoroughly sabotaged as to prevent him from from doing anything about it.  The memories had all been there, just almost entirely disconnected from his planning ability.  He wondered now if that had been why Dooku had seemed so displeased whenever Grievous had made any reference to his culture or homeworld, such as having his magnaguards wear the signature capes of the Izvoshra or when he had had the statues of himself done in his private fortress.

Turning his thoughts back to the present, he looked down at the Muun thoughtfully.  “In any event, I'm sure you are aware of the need for secrecy in this matter,” Grievous said.

“Yes,” San Hill said.  “Very much so.”

Chapter Text

Grievous stood before his master. Former master, he corrected himself.  He will pay for his treachery. Grievous ached to attack him now, but knew he did not have the advantage in this moment.  And failure was not an option.

“Ah, General Grievous, I see you have returned.  You're late.”  Dooku's dispassionate expression still managed to convey his annoyance.

“My mission was successful,”  Grievous said.  “My ship required servicing, so I spent some time planet-side until the repairs could be completed,” he lied.

“You could have taken another ship,” Dooku said, raising an eyebrow.

“My ship is far superior to any stock ship the Geonosians could offer,” the General scoffed.  “Anyway, I will not leave my valuable possessions for them to steal!”

Dooku only frowned.  “I sent you a message.  You didn't answer.”

Grievous didn't falter.  “One of the Geonosians dropped my communicator when they collected it from the ship for me.  It was destroyed by the fall.  As the ship's computers had already been brought down for the repairs, I had no way to receive your message.”

Dooku's frown deepened.  “Well, I have a new assignment for you.”

“Of course.  What is your bidding, my master?”

“I have received word from Darth Sidious of General Kenobi's current location,” Count Dooku said.

Rage flared in Grievous.  “Where?!  Where is he?!”

Dooku smiled calmly.  “Travelling,” he said.  “His location is supposedly a well-guarded secret, but Sidious has discovered that he is on Alderaan with Senator Organa.”

“I will kill him,” Grievous said.

“If you can manage it,” Dooku said.  “You have yet to kill a Jedi Master.  Also, you will bring me the Senator alive.  I require some information from him, and I plan to get it one way or another.”  Dooku explained what information he needed from Senator Organa, and gave Grievous the coordinates of the city he would be found in.

“It will be done,” Grievous said.  “And Kenobi will die.”  He turned and walked away, his cape trailing behind him.

Since this mission would require stealth, Grievous had had to leave his ship and use a more generic one.  Dooku had seemed to derive satisfaction from this fact, almost as if he wanted to punish Grievous for not leaving his ship on Geonosis.  Grievous was more focused on the opportunity ahead of him than his rather lackluster ship, however.  It would serve its purpose.

“State your purpose, cruiser,” A voice said from the communications array.

Grievous pressed a button, and a woman's voice said, “I'm here to visit relatives in the capitol.”

“Very well,” the other voice said.  “Proceed.”

That's it? Grievous thought. No ship scanning?  No further security checks? Then again, no one was anticipating General Grievous to attack someone by himself.  He was the Supreme Commander of the Droid Armies.  The Republic expected him to come blazing out of hyperspace with a hundred battleships around whatever location he had targeted.  And that was the point, really.  They would never expect this.

Of course Dooku had merely said that Grievous had better know what he was doing.  Grievous was hardly averse to proving himself capable of this.  Of course, Dooku would have to die.  But not before Grievous had successfully captured Senator Organa.  In any event, the cyborg general could hardly turn down such a chance to take on his much-hated Jedi adversary.

He landed in a grassy glade not far outside the planet's capitol.  From there, he was going to have a challenge ahead of him.  Grievous was not built for stealth.  Anyone who saw him would instantly recognize who he was.  He had already programmed the ship to autopilot itself to his location once he gave it the appropriate signal.  But he couldn’t simply pilot the ship into the city, since he didn’t know precisely where his quarry was. Nevertheless, he had devised a way to get himself into the capitol undetected.  He just wasn't going to like it.

Grievous chafed inside the disguise.  Of all the things he despised people thinking of him, he despised being mistaken for a droid the most.  But it was that very misconception which would be necessary for this mission.  He knew Dooku had seemed amused when he had told him of his plan.

“I applaud your resourcefulness, General,” he had said.  “After all, I have no doubt that you of all people will be able to successfully disguise yourself as a droid.”

Grievous hadn’t hid his displeasure at the comment. However, the cyborg knew he needed the element of surprise.  He had waited until landing to implement the disguise, though, waiting until it was absolutely necessary to don it.  Then, very carefully, he fitted himself inside the droid shell.

The awkward droid legs and spindly droid hands were controlled by small microchips through his mental commands, and a wireless connection also served to allow him to see through the droid’s artificial eyes. The rectangular droid frame had been hollowed out to disguise his true body, which he had folded into its smallest possible volume.  The droid body was awkward and ridiculous, not built for fighting at all.  Its walk was more a waddle than a stride.  The disguise was utterly humiliating, but if it allowed him to take Kenobi and Organa by surprise, it would all be worth it.

“No droids!” A burly human stood in front of him, blocking the entrance of the cantina he had been about to check for signs of Kenobi or Organa.  Grievous wanted to kill the human in front of him for his insolence.  Instead, he restrained himself.

“Sorry, sir,” he said in the voice of the gutted droid, and turned away.  This was going to be difficult.  Difficult and infuriating.  And just as he was thinking that, he heard a voice.

“Wait,” the voice of Kenobi called out.  “Now, just wait a minute.”  He walked over to the man who had just blocked the entrance.  “Why are blocking this droid's way?  He could be looking for someone.”

“Don't care,”  the man said.  “We don’t serve their kind here.  Not after what those Separatist droids done.”

Kenobi crossed his arms.  “Well, I care.  And I can hardly believe my ears!  This is clearly not a Separatist battle droid.”  He turned to the disguised Grievous.  “Was there someone you were looking for?”

So close, Grievous thought.  But he couldn't attack him here.  There were too many people surrounding them.  He would be outnumbered.  Also, he needed to find the Senator.

“Yes!  I have an important message for Senator Organa,” Grievous said with the droid’s vocabulator.

“I see,” Kenobi said.  “He's at his estate right now on the other side of the city.  Would you like me to take you to him?”

Grievous forced himself to quell his excitement.  “Yes, thank you, sir.” You have sealed your doom, Kenobi.

Obi-Wan examined the droid as it waddled by his side.  It was an older Alderaanian model, a boxy grey creation with yellow eyes.

“What is your message?” Obi-Wan asked.

“It is for the Senator’s ears only,” the droid responded.

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow.  “That sounds like an important message.”

“Yes,” the droid agreed.

“Who sent you?” he asked.

“It is for the Senator’s ears only,” the droid repeated.

“Well, all right,” Obi-Wan said.  “I’ll get you to him, then.”

The trip didn’t take long.  Obi-Wan flagged down a hover-bus to carry them to the Senator.  He gave the droid a bemused look when it stepped on the hover-bus and caused it to tip briefly.

“You must be heavier than you look!” he commented.

The droid said nothing.  Probably it was only programmed to respond to questions and a limited number of statements.  That was fairly common for droids of this type.

Soon they arrived at the estate where the Senator was meeting with one of the noble houses of Alderaan.  He walked up to the door and knocked, the droid waiting silently by his side.  The door opened and Senator Organa looked between him and the droid.

“What a pleasure to see you, Obi-Wan,” Senator Organa said.  “And I see you’ve brought company.”

“Yes, this droid says it has an important message--for your ears only.”

Senator Organa smiled.  “There’s no need for such secrecy, he said.  Anything that you might have to tell me can be told in General Kenobi’s presence.”

“As you command,” the droid said.  “Let us go somewhere where we might talk privately, however.  This message is not for the ears of bystanders.”

“Of course,” Organa said.  “Come inside, both of you.”

He led them into a windowless drawing room deep within the estate.  Closing the door and locking it, he said, “Now we shouldn’t be disturbed.  What is your message?”

The droid said nothing, though.  Instead, it began to shake.  Then there was a terrible ripping noise as the entire box-shaped center tore apart and revealed a very familiar foe.

“Grievous!” Obi-Wan exclaimed, his lightsaber in his hand immediately.

“Kenobi,” the cyborg general responded, stretching himself from an almost impossibly small size to his full imposing height. “So nice to see you again.  I’ll be taking that lightsaber from you this time.  Oh, and the Senator as well.”

“I think not,” Obi-Wan said.  He calmed his fear and focused on blocking Grievous' attacks.  He could see the panic in Bail’s eyes.

“It’s all right!  I’ll handle him!”  Obi-Wan said, trying to reassure Bail.  He wanted to take the Supreme Commander of the droid armies alive if at all possible.

“So, I’m not the only one who seeks revenge,” Grievous said, countering his attacks easily.  “Do you mourn your fallen brethren, Kenobi? The ones who were slain by my hand?  Do you have the need, the burning desire, to seen me slain by yours?”

“You mistake me, General,” Obi-Wan said, not taking the bait.  “I seek only to disarm you.”  He responded to the General’s lightning-fast moves with his own.  “My fallen friends would never wish for me to commit vengeance in their name.”

Grievous laughed.  “How amusing.  Such pretensions of honor you have, Jedi scum!”  The cyborg flipped out of the way of a lightsaber attack that would have sliced off both left hands.

“Hardly pretensions,” Obi-Wan said, narrowly avoiding the slice of four lightsabers.  “I must admit, I wonder what your, ah, grievance with us is.”

Grievous grabbed Obi-Wan’s face and flung him into the wall.  “Your Jedi nearly caused the ruin of my homeworld.  If it hadn’t been for the Separatists, my people would have starved.  So it’s very simple, Kenobi.  You aided my people’s enemies in their war of aggression against us!  The Jedi have blood on their hands.”

Obi-Wan narrowly avoided another attack as he tried to recover his senses and consider this new revelation.  He had been trying to learn the reason behind the General’s steadfast loyalty to the Separatists for a while.  This was the first time he’d gotten anything resembling a real answer.  He still didn’t know what exactly Grievous was.  But now he knew what what drove him.

“I didn’t know,” Obi-Wan said, using the Force to call his lightsaber back to his hand.  “If what you are saying is true, the Jedi committed a grave injustice against you.”

Grievous lashed out with all four of his lightsabers.  “Yes, and now you will pay the price!”

“Please!  If you tell me who your people are, I can tell the Council that they must stop aiding your enemies.  I can ask them to pay reparations to your people.”

Chairs and tables were sliced to pieces by the deadly dance of Grievous and Obi-Wan’s blades.

“Too late, Kenobi.  Your death is all the reparations my people need from you!”

Obi-Wan sighed and redoubled his defense.  He was disappointed, but not surprised by the cyborg general’s response.  This only redoubled his determination not to kill Grievous, however.  Some of the Jedi had begun to believe that perhaps Grievous had simply been a serial killer with a fixation on Jedi. But Obi-Wan had long felt that there had to be something more behind Grievous’ malice, that it wasn’t simply borne from a violent nature.  If he had been served such an injustice by the Jedi, it was no surprise that the cyborg wanted them dead.  It also meant there might be a way to convince him to stop his war on the Jedi. “I think I’m going to have to pass on that one,” Obi-Wan said.  “But tell me who your people are, who these foes are that we aided, and I will demand the Council redress this injustice.”

“Such noble words,” Grievous scoffed.  “Such noble, empty words.”  Four lightsabers flashed through the air, all in different directions.  Obi-Wan allowed his movements to flow through the Force, weaving through the deadly barrage of light.

The Jedi Master was far from tiring, but he knew the cyborg general could do this all day.

Blaster shots rang out.  Two clone troopers had arrived.  Senator Organa stood on the other side of the room, a look of concern on his face.  Obi-Wan groaned internally.  The blaster bolts had done almost no damage to the General’s duranium frame, and had seemed to change his focus.  Grievous turned and ran over what remained of a table on all six of his appendages until he reached the Senator.  He grabbed Bail as if the robust Senator was a rag doll, flung one of the clones against the wall with his foot, and took the blaster from the other clone as he beheaded him.  Then he fired it at Obi-Wan.  The Jedi Master dodged out of the way just in time.

Grievous glared briefly at Obi-Wan.  “I’ll be back for you, Jedi scum.”  Then he ran to the door and blasted it open.  Obi-Wan pursued him, reaching the door to the estate just in time to see the general jump several times his body height to jump into a ship that had been waiting outside the manor.  The other clones, who had been about to blast the shuttle with a cannon, held back after seeing that the Senator was being held hostage by Grievous.  Obi-Wan watched in dismay and horror as the shuttle zipped away.

Chapter Text

Grievous was infuriated that Kenobi would live another day. He had ached to use his new abilities against the Jedi, but he knew he was probably being recorded. An estate like that would have cameras everywhere, and that footage would be appearing in news programs across the Holonet shortly. He couldn't allow Dooku to know about his enhanced abilities. He had to kill the Count before he could make his new powers known. If Dooku knew he had had changes made without the Sith's involvment, he might suspect that he had regained his faculties, and he would surely seek to undo that. Grievous couldn't allow him that opportunity.

And as much as he hated to admit it, his lightsaber skills weren't sufficient to allow him to take on the Jedi Master alone. To be sure, he had almost killed Jedi Masters before, even when more than one of them attacked him. But Kenobi, like a few other of his peers such as Mace Windu or Yoda, was in a class by himself.

Grievous took a few deep breaths. He felt so much anger still. He hadn't been like this before Dooku's meddling. He had been able to calm himself, to think about things besides the Jedi and their betrayal, besides the destruction of war, to think about those he cared about. San Hill said it might take some time before his mind fully repaired itself. He sighed, trying to think of something positive. He had captured the Senator, at least. If everything went as planned, he would see Kalee again soon. It was time to set his plan in motion.

He heard the Senator stir. Senator Organa woke with a start. He was restrained in an energy field. "General Grievous!" he exclaimed.

"Correct, Senator," the cyborg rumbled. "You are my prisoner."

"I don't know what you want from me, but whatever it is, I won't give it to you," Organa said. "No amount of torture-"

"I have no interest in torturing you, Senator," Grievous said. "As much as I despise your Republic, your torture will bring me little of value."

"Why am I here, then?"

"Count Dooku has ordered me to capture you. He believes that you know information that would allow him to bring certain Core worlds under Separatist control." Grievous paced around the senator, watching him pinned inside the energy field like an insect.

"And you just expect me to tell you that information?"

"No," Grievous said. "I am going to offer you an unparalleled opportunity, Senator Organa."

"I won't be bribed!"

Grievous laughed, his eyes lidding in amusement. "You misunderstand me, Senator. I don't want the information."

Organa scowled. "What do you want, then?"

"I want Count Dooku to die," Grievous said. "And I want you to help me kill him."

The Senator was staring at Grievous in shock. Grievous hoped this would work. It was a gamble. But if anyone would want to destroy the Count, surely one of his Republic enemies would. Grievous would never work with someone like Palpatine, but he would take the chance that not all in the Republic were as corrupt as their leader.

"Why would you want to kill Dooku?" Organa asked. "Isn't he the one who gave you your power?"

"Yes," Grievous said. "However, certain-circumstances have led me to discover that he was no great benefactor to me after all. He altered my mind, without my knowledge and in violation of our agreement. Everything he gave me was only to make me a better tool for him to use."

"But I heard what you said to Master Obi-Wan," Organa said. "You still despise the Republic for what they did to your people."

"That's true," Grievous said. "I don't relish the thought of working with you. But you are not the Jedi, so I will give you this chance. I will release you as thanks for your help if we succeed. And Count Dooku will have been brought to justice."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then you die," Grievous said. "I can't afford for Dooku to find out what I've just told you."

"You really don't want the information?"

"Keep your information. I have more pressing concerns."

Organa laughed. "I guess you've made me an offer I can't refuse, then. What do you need me to do?"

"What do you mean, you have no military?" Grievous said. "You are the senator of a Core planet!"

Organa sighed. "Alderaan is a peaceful planet. We do not have our own standing military. I have nothing of that sort that I could-"

Grievous brought his face close to the human's. "Lies! All your propaganda may say what a peaceful Republic peon your world is, but don't think I can't see through that! Those clone troopers who interrupted my fight with Kenobi certainly brought some very peaceful weapons, don't you think?"

Organa sighed. "Those were Kenobi's soldiers, the Republic's soldiers, not mine."

"What about mercenaries? Have any of those?"

Organa looked horrified. "Of course not!"

Grievous paced in front of the senator in agitation, his hands behind his back. He hadn't seriously considered the possibility that Alderaan might actually have no means by which to defend itself, despite what all the datafiles had said. That any planet would be so completely devoid of any kind of military capability, especially a Core world, had been inconceivable to him. He had assumed they simply didn't advertise their martial capabilities.

"You have nothing then!" Grievous said. "Useless! This is useless!"

Organa sighed. "And here I thought I might get out of this alive."

Grievous looked over at him. The human looked so completely despondent that the usually murderous cyborg actually felt a pang of remorse. "Do not think I give up so easily. I was merely expressing my-frustration. You will have something I can use, I am sure of it."

Senator Organa looked thoughtful. "There might be a way. But you're not going to like it."

Grievous brought his mask down close to the human's face. "Well, it must be better than being reeducated by Dooku, so let's hear this unpleasant little plan of yours."

"If I asked, Master Obi-Wan would help me," Organa said. "He is a personal friend and-"

"Out of the question! I will have no dealings with the Jedi!" Grievous said.

The human frowned. "Is it possible you can defeat Dooku yourself?"

"Perhaps, if I took him by surprise," Grievous said. "But unlikely."

"But if he had to fight a Jedi and you unexpectedly attacked him..." Senator Organa said.

As much as Grievous hated the idea, his mind was already considering the tactical advantage. Obi-Wan had already killed a Sith once, back when he had only been a Padawan. So not only would he surely accept an opportunity to take down Count Dooku, he might even have the skill to do so-especially if he had help.

"Your plan would have a high probability of succeeding. But I have no guarantee that Kenobi wouldn't turn on me once Dooku had been dealt with!"

"He is an honorable man," the senator said.

An idea occurred to Grievous. "And a personal friend of yours, you say?"

The senator frowned. "Yes. We agree on a great many things. I used to think the Jedi teachings must make them cold and aloof, but he's proof to me that isn't true. And I've found we share many political leanings as well."

Grievous growled angrily and paced around the room. "You trust this Jedi with your life?"

"Yes," Senator Organa said, without hesitation.

"Then, for both of our sakes, let's hope your trust is not misplaced."

The senator's expression brightened. "So you'll contact Obi-Wan?"

"I am willing to do that," Grievous said. "Of course, you must understand that as my prisoner, I will use your life as insurance for his-good behavior. If he reneges on any part of our bargain, you will die."

"You didn't mention this before!" Senator Organa protested.

"I didn't know I would be allowing that Jedi scum free reign of one of my battlecruisers before. And I believe I was most clear that any treachery or refusal to cooperate by you would result in your death. Any treachery committed by your friend will be interpreted as treachery committed by you. But if you don't like the terms, please do suggest an alternative."

Organa sighed. "No, this is the best I've got. And I trust Obi-Wan. I just-don't trust you. But I suppose I don't have much of a choice in that."

"I'm glad we can agree on one thing, then."

Chapter Text

Grievous blinked blearily.  His eyes opened to stare directly at the durasteel floor.  “Grrrggghhh,” he said.  His eyes widened and in a surge of adrenaline he jumped to his feet.  In moments he was holding four lightsabers in a defensive pose against whatever foe had felled him.  But there was no one else on the ship except for the restrained Senator.

Organa yelped in surprise.  It took a moment for his expression to calm.  “What was that about?”

“Apologies, Senator,” Grievous said, realizing that there was no one on the ship besides himself and his captive.  He shut off the lightsabers and tucked them away.

“I--um--I don’t suppose you could get me some water,” Senator Organa’s voice said.

Grievous turned and walked to a control panel.  He pressed a button and a metal arm held a cup close enough for Organa to drink from it.

“How long was I out?” Grievous asked as Organa finished the last of the liquid from the cup.

“I don’t exactly have any way to tell the time.  But my guess would be--five to seven hours, perhaps?  You just suddenly collapsed.  I was worried Dooku had somehow--”

Grievous waved a hand dismissively.  “No, this wasn’t caused by him.  I think it must be a side effect of undoing his tampering with my mind, actually.  That was the only other time this has happened, during the surgery to repair the damage Dooku did to me.”  He hadn’t truly slept after the accident, not until he’d had Dooku’s implants removed.  But this was hardly like normal sleeping.  Normal sleeping was gradual, would’ve warned him with feelings of fatigue.  Instead he had felt fine one moment, then had just sort of--switched off.  Like a droid, he thought with distaste.

“So, you just randomly faint now?”  Organa asked, his expression concerned.

“No,” Grievous growled.  “I fell asleep.  My species usually sleeps after every .6 standard days.”   He mentally checked the time.  Hmmm, given the approximate time it must have been when I last remember talking to the Senator, that would mean--I was out for perhaps six hours.  He would have to make sure he kept track of the time from now on, to make sure this didn’t happen again. “I had been awake for two standard days since I had Dooku’s control chips removed.”

“I see,” Organa said.  “So I suppose you’re not yet--used to sleeping again, then?”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” Grievous said dismissively.  “Inconvenient, but not --debilitating.”  It underscored the need to dispose of Dooku quickly, though.  Grievous could hardly hide something of this magnitude from him for long.

He walked over to the communications panel.  “Now, Senator Organa, I believe we were in the middle of something?  Are you ready to summon your Jedi friend?”

“Sure,” the senator responded.  He took a deep breath.  “I’m ready.”

“We meet again, Kenobi,” Grievous said, pacing aboard the nondescript cargo ship.

“It seems we do,” the Jedi responded, his lightsaber at the ready.  He glanced briefly around the ship, then focused back on Grievous.  “Bail said that you wanted to propose a trade?  I’ll only surrender myself if I can be certain that you will surrender Bail first.”

Grievous laughed.  “It’s not that simple, Jedi,” he said.  “I require your assistance with a certain task before I release your friend.”

“Where is Bail right now?”

Grievous gestured around.  “Not here, obviously.  Wouldn’t want you rescuing him before we even came to any agreement, now would we?”

“All right, but I’ll need proof that he’s still okay before I agree to anything.”

“And I will give you that proof,” Grievous said.  “All in good time.” He gestured to a bench.  “Have a seat.”

“I’d rather remain standing, if you don’t mind,” Kenobi said.

“If you prefer,” Grievous said.  “I’ll be brief.  Count Dooku altered my mind to make me more amenable to his commands.  He must pay for that.  But I cannot take down a Sith Lord alone.”

Kenobi’s eyes widened.  “You want me to--help you destroy Dooku?”

Grievous paced irritably in front of the Jedi.  “Yes.  If you do this, I will release your friend unharmed.  And your adversary Dooku will be dead.  I’m offering quite the opportunity, Kenobi!”

“I--don’t know what to say,” Kenobi said, his expression concerned.

“Well, if you say no, your friend dies and the deal is off,” Grievous responded.  “Your choice, Kenobi.” He held out a clawed hand.  “Now, if you would give me your lightsaber.”

Kenobi frowned.  “Show me Bail again first.”

Grievous held up a small holo-projector.  The image of Senator Organa appeared in the holographic display.

“Obi-Wan!”

“Bail!  How’s the General been treating you?”

“About as well as could be expected.  He has a droid feed me every several hours.  I’m still in containment, but he hasn’t tortured me.  I think I’ve been lucky, all things considered, old friend.  I’m sorry to get you involved in this, but--”

“Don’t apologize,” Kenobi said.  “You made the right decision.  Maybe this won’t end the war,” he glanced over at Grievous briefly, “but if we topple Dooku from power, the galaxy can only be better for it.  This was worth the risk.”

“All right, then.  May the Force be with you, Obi-Wan.”

“Thank you, Bail.”

Grievous switched the holo-projector off.  He held out a six-clawed hand again.  “The lightsaber, General Kenobi.”

Kenobi switched off his lightsaber and held it out.  “Very well.”

Grievous snatched it up gleefully.  “Thank you for your cooperation, General.  Now, I’ll need to put you in binds to make this convincing.”

Kenobi scowled.  “My favorite part.”

Of course, the binds hadn’t been the worst part.  Grievous had said that in order to quell Dooku’s suspicions, he needed the Jedi to appear more like he’d just been beaten in a fight.  He’d watched as his magnaguard had jabbed Obi-Wan all over with their electrostaffs.  Obi-Wan thought Grievous was enjoying this a little too much.

“I forget, do humans regenerate limbs?” Grievous asked offhandedly.  He stood over the Jedi, flanked by his magnaguard.

“No!” Obi-Wan said emphatically.

Grievous sighed.  “I need you in top fighting form, anyway, I suppose.”

“I don’t think there are very many inches of me not covered in bruises right now, and I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday,” Obi-Wan said irritably.  “I’m hardly in ‘top fighting form’ at the moment.”

Grievous walked over to a crate and removed a package filled with a transparent gel.

“My nutrient rations are compatible with your physiology.  This should provide all the sustenance you require.”

Obi-Wan frowned at the package.  “Looks delicious.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Grievous said.  “I no longer have the capability to consume food in the normal way.  All thanks to your esteemed Jedi Order.”

Obi-Wan looked up at him solemnly.  “What happened?”

Grievous laughed.  “I don’t see the need to go over the details with you, Jedi scum.”  He pointed a single clawed durasteel finger at Obi-Wan.  “But know, it was the greed and corruption of you Jedi that created me.”

Grievous gave the gel package to one of the magnaguards.  “Make sure our guest can enjoy his meal.”  He turned his back to the Jedi and walked over to a control panel.

Since Obi-Wan’s hands were bound, the magnaguard had to feed him, much to his embarrassment.  He was glad that the General seemed to be occupied with other matters at the moment, his spidery fingers tapping across a control panel. The gel was somehow bitter and sickly sweet at the same time.  In short, it tasted terrible.  Which Obi-Wan supposed was to be expected, since it hadn’t been designed to be tasted at all.  He finished it up, all the same.

On the upside, it didn’t take long before his hunger subsided and he felt energy in his muscles again.

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan said.

Grievous turned around to face the Jedi.  “Awfully polite.  Are you afraid, Jedi?”

“Respect does not have to be motivated by fear,” Obi-Wan said.

“So you do not fear me?”

“I do fear you,”  Obi-Wan said.  “But that is not why I respect you.”

Grievous walked over to the human and peered down at him.  “And why do you respect me?”

“Because I know your sense of justice is strong,” Obi-Wan said.  “That is something Count Dooku no longer possesses.”

Grievous laughed.  “You respect my sense of justice?  Even though it leads me to destroy your Order?”

“I hope I can offer you an alternative,” Obi-Wan said.  “To bring your homeworld the justice they deserve.  I can talk to the council, General.  Let them know what happened.  Whatever the reason for this cruelty to your people, I will not rest until I see it ended.  But I must know who they are.”

Grievous moved his mask mere inches from Obi-Wan’s face.  “Always the negotiator, aren’t you?  Save your breath, Kenobi.  I don’t need your help.  Not anymore.”

Obi-Wan sighed.  He had suspected the General would say that.  Still, he wouldn’t let the statement go unchallenged.  He raised an eyebrow.  “If you don’t need my help, why am I here?”

Grievous narrowed his golden eyes.  “That is an entirely different matter.  Killing Count Dooku benefits you as much as it does me.”

Obi-Wan sighed.  “Yes, that’s true.  Count Dooku must be brought to justice.  Though committing to killing an opponent is against the Jedi code.”

“Are you saying you’re having second thoughts, Jedi scum?” Grievous said.

“No,” Obi-Wan responded.  “But keeping him alive does have a practical value.  There is much that Dooku might tell us about Sidious, with the right incentives.  And as Dooku’s master, Darth Sidious is the greater threat.”

“Sidious will be dealt with, in time,” Grievous said.  “First, however, his apprentice, my former master, must die.  Are we agreed?”

So he plans to take on Sidious as well?  That’s ambitious.  Obi-Wan took a deep breath.“Yes. I will help you to bring him to an end.  However, I was obligated by the Jedi Code to ask you to consider the alternative.”

“So are Jedi not allowed to kill their enemies?”

Obi-Wan met Grievous’s steely gaze.  “We are allowed to, if it becomes necessary through circumstance.  My agreement with you qualifies as that circumstance.  What we are not allowed to do is commit to killing another without first attempting to take them down without bloodshed.  A Jedi must never kill out of fear or anger.  Only by necessity, and only with regret.”

“Tell that to the Jedi who killed my Izvoshra, then,” Grievous snarled.

“Your--what?”

“Nothing,” he said, turning his back on Obi-Wan again.  But Obi-Wan filed the word away for future reference, mouthing the syllables. Izvoshra.  That’s definitely not Basic. He couldn’t help wonder what the word meant.  Lover?  Family?  Friend?  Impossible to say, just from hearing those three syllables alone.  It must be a word in his native language.  With this information, Jocasta Nu may be able to find out what planet Grievous hails from.  The Jedi librarian was a true master of the art of information retrieval.

Obi-Wan was startled out of his thoughts by the sight of the electrostaff the Magnaguard to his right held flying into one of Grievous’s hands from across the width of the ship.

“How did you do that?!” Obi-Wan exclaimed.

Grievous laughed.  “Maybe I can use the Force after all, Jedi scum.”

“That’s not possible,” Obi-Wan said.  He had never felt the power of the Force within Grievous, and he did not feel it from him now.  The cyborg general could be affected by it, as everyone and everything could be, but he had no ability to use it for himself.

“Believe what you will, Kenobi.  But know I am practicing for that time, very soon, that will test all of my abilities to their limit.  I am about to pit myself against a Sith Lord, with only your uncertain help.  I don’t trust you, but I think it important for you to know what you can expect from me, if we are both to fight our mutual enemy.”

“And is there anything else you can do that I don’t know about yet?”

“One more thing.” Grievous said.

Kenobi managed to duck just as blue lightning crackled past where his head had been.

“You have excellent reflexes, Kenobi,” Grievous said.

Obi-Wan scowled.  “You could have just told me.”

“I prefer to show, not tell,” Grievous said.  “Anyway, now you know what I am capable of.  Dooku is not yet aware of these abilities.”

“I see.”  Obi-Wan considered the odds.  Count Dooku was a powerful Sith, who had also trained under Master Yoda.  Obi-Wan was considered a master of Soresu, but Dooku was a match him in lightsaber combat.  If he were fighting with Anakin, he would be confident they could prevail.  But he had never fought alongside Grievous.  Against him, yes, but that was hardly the same thing at all.

Still, Grievous had proven his ability in lightsaber combat countless times.  True, he had been taught by Dooku, which suggested he would not be able to exceed the Count in skill.  But it also meant he had considerable knowledge of Dooku’s fighting style as they had surely sparred countless times.  He had also apparently acquired some new abilities recently, which might take the Count by surprise.

Obi-Wan tried to imagine the battle, and found he had a hard time doing so, at least not without imagining Grievous turning on him, at which point Obi-Wan would be fighting a Sith Lord and the imposing cyborg by himself.  That wouldn’t end well for him.  He sighed.

“So, how do you want to do this?” Obi-Wan said.

“It’s simple,” Grievous said.  “I will use the element of surprise.  I will bring you to him, under the pretext that I wish to show him my first Jedi Master kill.”  He paced in front of Obi-Wan.  “Then, the power to the ship and droids will be cut.  You will use the confusion to escape and reclaim your lightsaber from me.  I will pretend to fight you so that I can get close enough to take down Dooku myself.” Grievous crossed his arms.  “Any questions?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said.  “If we win, what happens then?”  Even if things played out how Grievous had outlined, the thought had occurred to him that Grievous might turn on him the moment Dooku had been dealt with.  Even now, he could feel the loathing Grievous felt for him, that he felt for all the Jedi.  That miasma of anger and hate seemed barely contained in the being that stood before him.  It was, in fact, the first indicator of the cyborg’s presence to any Jedi who had ever survived an encounter with him.  Usually, anyway.The cyborg’s presence had been masked by the roiling emotions of the millions within the city before his earlier attack on Bail Organa at Alderaan.

“Then I release Senator Organa.  That was our agreement.”

“What about me?” Obi-Wan said.

Grievous said nothing for a long moment.  “You will be required to leave my flagship immediately, of course.  I will give you a transport shuttle for that purpose.”

“Do I have your word on that?  And that I will leave your ship alive?”

“Yes.”

Obi-Wan sighed.  He wasn’t sure if Grievous’ word would be worth much, but it was better than nothing, he supposed.

Chapter Text

Grievous could feel his emotions in turmoil. Fear, seething hatred, even excitement over the coming battle. Grievous examined the five lightsabers at his waist. He had many trophies from successful battles with the Jedi. More than he could count. One of the lightsabers was Kenobi's. The other four he had chosen to use in this battle were simply his favorites.

Of course, if I win, I shall obtain my greatest trophy yet. Dooku's lightsaber would indeed be a prize. If he could manage to kill the wily Sith Lord, that was. He looked over at the Jedi Master who stood hunched at his side. Kenobi didn't look like much now, especially as covered in cuts and bruises as he was. But Grievous knew that looks could be deceiving when it came to the Jedi.

As they traversed the final hallway to the ship's bridge, Grievous mentally prepared himself for the battle ahead.

Grievous keyed in the code on the control panel and the door opened. Dooku was standing on the bridge, staring out the transparisteel window at the planet below them. He turned as soon as the door opened.

"I've something to show you, my lord," Grievous said.

"General!" Dooku said, addressing Grievous, though his gaze was locked on Kenobi. "What is the meaning of this?!"

"I thought you would want to see the death of the great Kenobi," Grievous said.

"It was foolhardy of you to bring him here, General," Dooku said, his lightsaber now held in front of him.

Grievous pulled a lightsaber blade from his cloak and ignited it. "Hardly. I will end him here and now!" He kicked Kenobi to his knees in front of him, apparently to deal the finishing blow, but in actuality to give the Jedi a better position in which to Force-grab his lightsaber.

At that moment, the room went dark, and the droids powered themselves down, just as he had arranged. He roared angrily, feigning surprise when the Jedi pulled his lightsaber from his cape. The moment the Jedi grasped the lightsaber in his bound hands, he deftly re-ignited it and cut through the bindings. In an instant, Grievous had four lightsabers in hand and was clashing with Kenobi.

"I will bring you down!" Grievous said.

"You fool," Dooku hissed at the General. "Look around you," he gestured to the silent droids bathed in red emergency lighting. "This was planned. He's not alone."

"Impossible!" Grievous said, not having to hold back against the Jedi as he pitted his full force against him, driving him closer to Dooku. Kenobi effortlessly blocked his strikes.

"Stand down, General," Dooku ordered. "Let me handle our guest."

"I'll kill him! I'll kill them all!"

"I said, stand down," Dooku growled, Force-grabbing Kenobi and pushing him to the ground away from Grievous and placing a Force wall in front of Grievous. Trying to walk through it was like trying to walk through solid durasteel.

"The Jedi is mine now, General. Do not interfere."

"Yes, my lord," Grievous said resentfully. Already things were not going according to plan. Of course, he had thought through a number of scenarios, but he hadn't expected Dooku to react like this. He stood and watched as the two duelists clashed, battling one another across the bridge. Grievous stood still as the Count had commanded, holding his lightsabers at the ready. He didn't want to reveal to Dooku his true intentions until it would be too late for the Sith Lord to counter them. But unless Kenobi led the fight back over to him, that was going to be very difficult.

"You would be a fool to travel here alone, Kenobi," Dooku said. "But you aren't alone, are you?"

"I'm never alone," Kenobi said glibly, easily blocking the Count's precise blows. "The Force is always with me."

"Where is Skywalker?" Dooku asked, striking at Kenobi with light, sharp moves. "I presume he will be along shortly."

"It seems not," Kenobi said, blocking the Count's strikes. "Am I not enough of a challenge for you?"

Dooku laughed. "Come now, you were never a match for me, Kenobi. But I know your apprentice can't be far right now. You would never enter into a confrontation with me alone."

Grievous watched as the Jedi and Sith battled one another.

"You've trained your pawn well, Dooku," Kenobi said. "Pity it isn't him I'm fighting. He's faster, more intimidating, and, need I say, taller? I could use the exercise."

Dooku raised an eyebrow as he executed a series of offensive moves with his saber. "Judge me by my size, do you?" He lifted Kenobi into the air in a Force choke. "That will be the last mistake you ever make, Kenobi." He flung him to the side.

Grievous magnetically pulled back at the metal in Kenobi's armor to prevent him from hitting the wall of the ship. Instead, he fell to the ground, landing on his hands and feet.

Dooku, who had been watching Kenobi's movements this entire time, now panned his gaze around the room in one swift motion. "Skywalker?! Where are you?"

"Behind you!" Grievous said, pointing. Dooku turned and while he was scanning the bridge window, the cyborg General skittered with six legs across the bridge and then rose, bringing all four of his lightsabers down on the Count.

Dooku turned and deftly blocked the attack, following his block by executing a swift offensive. Kenobi was on him within moments and Dooku backed away from the two, his eyes wide in surprise. The Count looked to Grievous. "What are you doing, General?!"

"I am destroying the Sith! Starting with you!" Grievous said, silently cursing his failure. Now that he had failed with his attempt at misdirection, it would be much more difficult to kill the Sith Lord.

Dooku narrowed his eyes, his movements becoming more fluid and controlled as he slashed at his two attackers. "What has happened with your mind, General?"

"My mind is my own now," Grievous growled.

"Quite the contrary," the Count said. "I think this Jedi has taken control of it."

Grievous spun around, attempting to slice off Dooku's legs. The Count deftly sidestepped the movements and attacked Obi-Wan simultaneously.

What if the Jedi has taken control of my mind? Grievous thought. Anger welled up in him.

"You must kill him to end his control," the Count said calmly.

Grievous turned to Obi-Wan, who's eyes widened on seeing Grievous turn away from the Count.

"I must kill you to end your control," he hissed at the Jedi.

"No!" Kenobi said, blocking the Count's attacks. "I'm not the one trying to control you!"

Grievous brought his four lightsabers down on the Jedi. Loathing filled his mind. "Liar! Jedi scum!"

"No, don't do this!" Kenobi said, jumping away from Grievous' attacks. "You're strong enough to fight him!"

The Count hung back now, watching the proceedings with a small smile. "Maybe I should let you deal with him after all, General."

"Thank you, Master," Grievous said, his attention now focused on the Jedi.

"Please, think," Kenobi said, blocking Grievous' rapid attacks. "Don't let your anger rule you."

"I'll show you anger, Kenobi," Grievous said. He grabbed the Jedi with his foot and flung him across the floor.

"Don't let this Sith rule you," Kenobi said, wincing as he rose from the ground. "You need to concentrate, break his control. Remember our agreement."

As Grievous fought the Jedi, he felt his awareness gradually increase around the edges of his rage. He found the memories of his earlier conversation with Kenobi. He was aware of it now, the hold the Sith Lord had on his mind. A hazy feeling of uncoordinated rage. It told him not to think. It told him to obey. Obey the Count. What the Count could not currently accomplish through technology, he was now attempting to accomplish through the Force. Grievous found himself wanting to continue his attack of Kenobi in spite of his realization. It would be so easy to give in to the Sith's vise-like grip of his mind. So easy to lose everything he had fought so hard to reclaim.

No! I must not let him do this!

Grievous growled and lashed out at the Count with one of his legs. Dooku sidestepped the attack.

"Tsk, tsk, General," Dooku said, frowning and blocking the cyborg's multiple lightsaber attacks with ease. "You really can be exasperating sometimes."

Kenobi pressed in on the Count from the other side, and Dooku performed a force jump away from them. Then he lifted Obi-Wan into the air again and began choking him.

Grievous ran towards the Count with all four lightsabers facing towards his opponent. Just as he was about to reach Dooku, the Count directed his gaze at him and he suddenly found himself collapsing to the ground as his head exploded with pain.

Dooku smiled calmly. "Goodnight, my wayward apprentice. But not to worry, I'll fix up this malfunction of yours, once I've finished with your friend Kenobi here."

Through his increasingly hazy vision, Grievous turned his attention to Kenobi. The Jedi was struggling under Dooku's Force choke, his legs flailing in the air. Grievous didn't have the coordination to pull him down again, and he couldn't stop Dooku's Force choke that way at any rate. Instead, he turned to look at Dooku. His vision was starting to fade out. The pain in his head was agonizing. He lashed out at Dooku with his electric implant. The lightning jolt caught the Sith Lord by surprise, causing him to release Kenobi and double over. Grievous felt the pain in his head lift. In one fluid motion, he grabbed the lightsabers he had dropped earlier, flipped over to the Count, and sliced through his neck.

"Thanks," Kenobi said, gasping from several feet to the cyborg's left. "He was about to finish me off."

"Quiet, Kenobi," Grievous said. "I want to savor this moment." Dooku has paid for his treachery against me. The Count's body lay still on the floor. I thought I could ally myself with these ancient enemies of the Jedi, but it seems the Sith are no better than their foes. I will kill them all. For the first time in years, Grievous felt elation. For a moment the cyborg simply stood over the body of the dead Count. Then he reached down and took the lightsaber that lay on the ground. And now,I am the Master, Dooku.

He turned to Kenobi. "I think it's time to get you off my ship."

Grievous knew it had been many, many years since he'd felt this happy, this much at peace. He had busied himself restoring power to the ship and the droids, and then telling the droids to clean up the mess from the fight. While he usually disliked the uncreative obedience of the droids, it certainly prevented the interference and awkward questions that might have come from a living crew. He'd led Kenobi to the transport ship he had promised the Jedi, and now he stood, his hands behind his back, staring out the viewport of his ship.

He saw a familiar-looking shuttle cross the front of the viewport, traveling away from them.

"Is that Kenobi?" he asked the droid manning the station.

"Yes, sir," the droid said.

A barrage of laser fire attacked the ship, which only twisted away at the last moment.

"There's a communication from the ship, sir."

"Let's hear it," Grievous said.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Kenobi's voice said. "We had an agreement!"

"That we did, Kenobi," Grievous said, walking over to the command chair and settling down into it. "I said I would release Senator Organa. I have done so. I said you would leave my ship on a transport shuttle. Alive. I was true to my word. I never said anything about what would happen to you afterwards."

"I'm not your enemy, Grievous! You don't have to-"

"Save your breath, Kenobi." Grievous said, laughing. "Cut communications," he told the droid.

Grievous had the droids manning the bridge launch several Vultures to attack the ship, and fire several more laser blasts, but the ship managed to escape into the nearby planet's gravity well.

"Should we launch a search party?" the droid asked.

"No," Grievous said. He had a lot of work to do. He couldn't waste time chasing Kenobi on some remote planet, as much as he might like to. Still, he had enjoyed giving the Jedi his parting farewell. "Set course for Raxus Secundus. I'll need to make the Parliament aware of the Count's-sudden demise."

Chapter Text

Grievous had received a flurry of messages recently, both for him and for the Count. he hadn't answered any of them yet. The first order of business was to send a message of his own.

"What a relief to hear that," San Hill's hologram said. The Muun was lounging on a couch in what Grievous assumed to be his private home. He was wearing nightclothes-a loose robe and some kind of furry slippers. Grievous assumed he was taking the call in the middle of Munnilinst's night. "Of course, I always knew you would succeed. Which is why I have been busy cleaning up elsewhere while you were disposing of the Count."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Poggle the Lesser," San Hill said. "One of the few who knew about Sidious' involvement with us. I've been trying to see who might stand with you against the Sith."

"Don't you mean us?" Grievous asked.

The Muun laughed. "I suppose, but I haven't exactly allowed them to know who was contacting them. I didn't reveal either of our identities, let me assure you, but I think they may have guessed your involvement nonetheless. Still, if you would like to enjoy my further assistance, I must reiterate that you not reveal the extent of my involvement in this. I cannot help you if I am dead."

"Yes, of course," Grievous said irritably. Obviously Sidious would target the banker if the Sith Lord knew what he had done. "So, what of the Archduke? What was his reply?"

"Sadly, he proved staunchly loyal to Lord Sidious," San said. "So I had a bounty put on his head." He winced slightly. "The bounty hunter took that very literally. It took hours for the cleaning droids to get the ichor out of the carpet."

"What of the others?" Grievous asked.

"Nute Gunray sides with us," San said. "Though he's chosen an interesting way to protect himself from any possible repercussions. He faked his own death."

Grievous made a dismissive noise. He had never liked Gunray, but he supposed this meant he wouldn't have to track the cowardly Neimoidian down himself.

"Wat Tambor has chosen to side with us as well," San said, frowning now. "Though I would have enjoyed seeing his head on a platter. Ah, well."

"And the rest of them?"

The Muun held up four fingers, ticking them off one by one. "Shu Mai-our side. Po Nudo-Sidious, though not to worry, I've dealt with him, too. Passel Argente-our side. Tikkes-our side."

"Is that everyone who knew of Sidious?"

"All that I know of," San said. "Very few of the Parliament was actually aware of his existence, but it's possible he has other connections I haven't yet been able to track down."

"Then it is time to start the next phase of my plan," Grievous said. He was surprised that the Muun had managed his part in Grievous' plan so quickly. When he mentioned this, San laughed.

"Quickly? Well, the bounty hunters were delightfully prompt. But I think you overestimate my skills at persuasion if you think winning the others over to us happened in a few short days. The truth is, I've been planning this for a while now, long before I had the opportunity to remove the control chips in your brain. I did, after all, realize that my decisions would have-consequences." His expression grew somber. "But yes, I have-tied up all the loose ends that I can. So, now I ask, what exactly are you planning to do?"

That is interesting. I suppose he would have anticipated that I would turn on Dooku and Sidious after learning of what they did. In any event, this meant he could focus on the real threat to them all. "I will contact Darth Sidious myself and attempt to draw him out of his seclusion. Here is what we will do..."

As it turned out, Grievous didn't need to contact Sidious, because the Sith Lord contacted him first.

"You contacted me, Lord Sidious?" Grievous said. Without even thinking, he bowed before the holo-image of Sidious. The act was deeply-ingrained habit by now.

"I have felt the Count's death," Sidious said.

Grievous stood to his full height. He would never bow before this man again.

"Yes. Count Dooku is dead."

"Do not repeat to me what I already know," Sidious snapped. "How did he die?"

Grievous took a deep breath to center himself. He was feeling dark glee right now, and he needed to calm himself if he wanted to be coherent. He narrowed his eyes. "I killed him."

Sidious hissed angrily at the cyborg's admission. His mouth twisted and contorted as he spoke. "You should take more care not to anger me, beast."

"Maybe it is you and the Count who should have taken more care not to anger me, Sidious." He leaned over the hologram, taking the Count's lightsaber out of his cape and igniting it. "But Dooku's lightsaber will make a fine trophy for me, don't you think?" He waved the saber around mockingly.

"Why are you doing this?!"

"I know what Dooku did to me, Sidious. I know you are, if anything, even more twisted and manipulative than he was. And I'm not going to play your little game anymore."

"What are you talking about? You dare defy me?!"

"Let me be clear-this is a coup," Grievous said. "You no longer control the Separatist Alliance. You no longer control anythi-"

Grievous couldn't finish the sentence, though, because the Sith had lifted him in the air and had begun, across some enormous span of light-years and through the cyborg's solid duranium hull, to crush his organic lungs.

Grievous lashed out at the communications panel with lightning from his hand. The Sith Lord's hologram flickered out and the cyborg fell to the ground, coughing. He hadn't known the Sith Lord could do that. He wouldn't be talking to Sidious again via hologram. As he unsteadily got to his feet, he made a mental note to inform his allies to avoid the same.

Now it's his move. If Sidious wants the Separatist Alliance back, he'll have to come and get it himself.

Chapter Text

The man called Chancellor Palpatine sat in the chair in his office, a deep frown etched onto his face. To a spectator, it might appear that he was simply deep in thought, calmly considering some weighty affair of state. However, internally he seethed with anger and hatred over Grievous' recent communication. He fumed over the cyborg's words to him-

You no longer control the Separatist Alliance...

And then the beast had had the gall to somehow cut off his attack on it.

He had immediately tried to contact the others, then. San Hill. Nothing. Wat Tambor. Silence. Poggle the Lesser. No response. Po Nudo, Tikkes, and Passel Argente. Equally uncommunicative. Nute Gunray. A Trade Federation auto-holo notifying him of the alien's recent demise. And Shu Mai had actually had the nerve to block his call! All of his carefully chosen puppets in the Separatist alliance were either dead or refusing to talk to him. Of the ones still alive, perhaps the cyborg had threatened them into submission. Of course, any of them still alive would come to regret, for the brief time they remained alive, being more afraid of that monstrosity than him.

Grievous! Of all the things he should never have had to worry about! Lord Tyranus' lightsaber apprentice! His pet! How Tyranus had fawned over that beast, had favored it, even.

And Sidious had never seen the harm in that. Simple pride over his creation, a creation uniquely Sith in origin. Sometimes one needed a servant who was a monster. Not something already monstrous, but something turned from an ordinary creature into a twisted nightmare of death and destruction. Tyranus had accomplished that with Grievous, continuing the grand tradition of the Sith. And to ensure his success, he had altered the mind of his unwitting subject so that Grievous would be forever under his thrall.

Or, at least, that was how it was supposed to have gone. Someone must have interfered, and when Sidious found out who it was, he would make sure they regretted their defiance! More than anyone else involved in this wretched affair, they would learn the true meanings of fear and pain. Oh, how he would make them writhe in agony! Eventually, they would die, of course. But first, they would suffer. They would suffer, and they would wish that they were dead.

For Sidious hadn't simply lost his valuable placeholder apprentice, but the entire Separatist Alliance. The apprentice would have been bad enough. Sidious hadn't nearly completed Anakin's turn to the Dark Side. He was going to have to accelerate that process now. And in the meantime, he would have to find another temporary apprentice. Unfortunately, The assassin Asajj Ventress was the only Dark Force user of any note that Tyranus had collected before his untimely death.

Sidious loathed her. Tyranus had been in every way an optimal apprentice, excepting of course his obvious inferiority to Skywalker. Sidious harbored no fondness for his deceased apprentice-such things were not the domain of the Sith. But he had been the right tool for the current task at hand.

Asajj had none of the abilities Tryanus had had as a statesman, and worse, she was rapidly growing in ambition and power. He sensed she would contact him soon, however. Her pretension that she was a Sith would drive her to him. Well, he might yet have some use for her. If he could determine one, he would make sure she served it.

His mind turned back to the Separatist Alliance. The monster would now have control of it. What would it do? Sidious considered. Grievous had once been a Kaleesh warrior, and additionally, a brilliant tactician. That brilliance had suffered somewhat due to the tampering to his mind, but he had still served surprisingly well as the Separatist's Supreme Commander. With his mind restored to him, he could be a true menace to all of Sidious' well-laid plans. At least, until Sidious reclaimed the Separatists. Which he would do by bringing the monster back to heel, this time directly under his own control. That would save him the most effort, now that the beast had successfully thwarted his previous attempt on its life. A trap would have to be set for Grievous. And Sidious knew exactly where to set it.

Kalee.

Far above, in the Coruscanti atmosphere, a cloud moved away from the sun. Bright light streamed in from the large window behind the man called Palpatine, giving his grandfatherly visage something of a halo. The Chancellor smiled a small, restrained smile.

Chapter Text

Grievous looked out at the planet Raxus through the transparisteel window on the bridge of the Invisible Hand. Technically, it was the planet Raxus Secundus, but the first planet was of no major political importance, so it had always just been referred to as Raxus.

He sighed, and then coughed. I'll need to get another bacta treatment for this. Grievous hated the idea. Just thinking of it reminded him of the accident. He could remember a blaze of fire all around him, then air, then water. Darkness. Waking up in the bacta tank and seeing-his own corpse. That's what it had looked like to him, anyway.

"Sir," a mechanical voice from behind him said. "We have arrived at the planet."

Grievous turned to face the droid. "Yes, I've noticed." He coughed again. You'll pay for this, Sidious. "Ready my shuttle immediately."

As he was walking to his shuttle, another B1 droid approached him.

"You have received a communication from Chairman Hill," the droid said.

Grievous felt a pang of annoyance. Perhaps he had the Muun to thank for his current mental freedom, but considering that the banker had allowed the alteration of Grievous' mind to occur in the first place, the General was hardly inclined to feel an overabundance of gratitude. Still, it might be important.

It had better be important.

"I'll take it in the shuttle," Grievous said. "You are dismissed."

"Roger roger." The droid inclined its head and walked off.

When Grievous arrived at the shuttle, he switched on the holo-communicator, and keyed in the code to accept the call.

"I hope you have a very good reason for contacting me," Grievous said, and coughed.

"I wanted to see how you were doing," the Muun said, wearing his usual gray business suit this time. He frowned. "You sound terrible, you know. Sidious really did nearly do you in, didn't he?"

"I'll deal with it," Grievous rasped. "At any rate, I doubt you called merely to inquire about my health."

"You're right," San said. "I called to inquire about your plan."

"What about it?" Grievous said. "I've already explained it to you." Everything you need to know about it, anyway.

"Yes," San said, frowning disdainfully. "And yet, there was something strangely absent. Perhaps you simply are not interested in my input about your surely impending visit to your home planet, but-"

"You're right," Grievous cut in. "I'm not interested in your input, Mr. Hill."

He took a moment to enjoy the look of offended outrage he saw on the banker's face before he switched off the holo-comm. What had made it even more satisfying had been the slight twitch of the Muun's eye betraying an undercurrent of fear.

Grievous had spent more and more of his time reflecting on his past of late, and he had determined that of all the grief he had experienced in his life, his unlikely savior had been responsible for at least a solid quarter of it. If there was one thing he wanted to make very clear to the banker, it was that he would never again be Grievous' superior.

The trip to the planet was uneventful this time. Raxus had been easily retaken after the prior Republic attack. As he exited the shuttle, an entourage of droids greeted him. He had been on his way to the lodgings where he would stay when he encountered a familiar face.

"Senator Bonteri," he said, nodding curtly and continuing forward.

"General Grievous," she said. "I heard the news. Is it-is it really true? Is Count Dooku-"

"Yes, he's dead," Grievous responded.

"This is terrible news," the Senator said, her expression concerned. She walked briskly to keep up with the cyborg, her hands clasped behind her back.

"Yes," Grievous said, coughing. Most of the populace weren't aware that Dooku was a Sith, only that he had once been a Jedi who had left the Order due to his various disagreements with them. Grievous saw no reason to try to disabuse them of this notion. He was going to pin the Count's death squarely on the Jedi. Things would just be-easier that way.

"I was wondering if you would perhaps consider my previous offer," she said.

"I was planning to stay at the lodgings nearest the council chamber," Grievous said.

The Senator looked surprised. "How did you-contact them?"

"I didn't," Grievous said. Why would he bother to contact them in advance? He was sure that if they hadn't had the foresight to reserve a room for his imminent arrival, they would soon find one for him once he showed up.

"I see," Bonteri said. "Then I guess that's why you didn't know that that location was-destroyed."

Grievous stopped and turned to look at her. "Then I will stay at the next closest lodgings."

"Well, you see, General, they were all destroyed. In fact, the closest unaffected dwelling to the council chamber is-my estate. Hence my offer."

Grievous looked thoughtful. "I could stay in my shuttle." He coughed again.

She sighed. "We could give you a bacta treatment. That sounds like a nasty cough you've picked up."

"It's nothing. I'm-," Grievous ended the sentence in a fit of coughing.

"Nothing? That doesn't sound like nothing. Look, it's bad enough our Chancellor has died. We can't have you dying, too!"

"I don't have time-," Grievous coughed, "-for-treatment. I have to address-" more coughing, "-the Parliament-tomorrow!" He was becoming increasingly more irritated, both by the Senator and by the betrayal of what little remained of his organic body.

"I have an aerosol-only treatment. It's fast acting and it doesn't require a tank. Maybe it will help relieve your symptoms, at least until you can get a full treatment. It's going to be difficult for the Parliament to understand you if you can't stop coughing."

Grievous looked down at the Senator, his irritation decreasing slightly. If he didn't have to stay in a tank...

"Very well," Grievous said, coughing. "I will stay at your estate."

"Good," the Senator said. "You probably could use some company, anyway. It must be lonely with only droids to talk to." She frowned.

Lonely? Grievous thought. He had never really considered it fully before. But-he did lack for conversation. Most of his interactions as the Supreme Commander of the Droid Armies had been with Dooku, who would give him instruction, orders, and criticism. Sometimes he thought he had enjoyed mocking the Jedi as he killed them. He wasn't sure. He hadn't really thought about such things in a long time, his mind having been molded by Dooku to dwell little on anything besides his all-consuming anger. And his most recent conversations had been with San Hill, who he disliked, and with Sidious, who had tried to kill him.

"Droids are very bad at conversation," Grievous agreed. "At least, the ones we use for the war are. Their programming is focused on their martial ability, not their eloquence with words."

"That's what I thought. What is your homeworld? Do you still have friends there? Or perhaps a wife? Children?"

"My homeworld is called Kalee. And I have friends there, yes," Grievous said. He stopped walking abruptly. The mention of his friends on Kalee had triggered a memory of the one who he had lost a very long time ago...

Qymaen stalked through the dark jungle overgrowth, the two lig swords in his hands. His excellent night vision served him well, for he could clearly see the fresh tracks the beast he hunted had left.

As he continued forward, he heard a sound. He turned his head towards it, attempting to make out movement in the undergrowth.

He waited. The sound did not resume. He continued forward. Two more steps, and he had been met with twin lig blades at his throat. For a moment, he simply peered at the stranger's mask in confusion.

"Who are you?" Qymaen asked, frowning behind his mask.

"That question has two possible answers," the stranger said. "My name is Ronderu, but what is important for you right now is who you are."

"I do not get your meaning."

"Are you a poacher, hunting my mumuu beast? Or are you a simple lost soul, who merely needs directions to their quaint provincial village?"

Qymaen considered his response. His eyes met the golden gaze in front of him.

"Well? It is a simple question." One of the blades pressed closer to his throat.

"Please, I require additional time," Qymaen said. "It takes some effort, to invent a good name for a quaint provincial village."

"-General? General Grievous?" Senator Bonteri said, waving upwards in the approximate direction of the cyborg's face.

Grievous looked down at her, his eyes now meeting her concerned gaze. Grievous felt concern too, then, because he had almost completely lost awareness of his surroundings while caught up in the memory. Was this more of that memory backlash that San Hill had warned him about? Why had it happened now? What if it happened while he was in battle? He quelled his alarm, though, since he didn't want the Senator to think there was something wrong with his mind as well as his body." My apologies, I was simply-reminiscing. Now, where were we?"

The Senator's look of mild concern was replaced with a smile. "Ah, you were telling me you had friends on Kalee. Do you have a wife as well? Any children?

"Ah, no wife, no children-I never married."

"Oh," the Senator said. "Do you get to talk to your friends much, then?"

"No," Grievous said, coughing once. His coughing seemed to have subsided a bit. "I plan to contact them soon, though."

"That's good. I'm sure they're worried about you!"

Grievous didn't reply. His friends probably weren't worried about him, he thought. The ones who were still alive likely thought he was dead. In a way, he had been. Dooku had controlled his mind too thoroughly for him to have even considered making contact with any of his old Kaleesh friends. Even if his memories hadn't been suppressed, it would have been hard to think of friends when he had been consumed entirely with rage towards his enemies.

"Your homeworld is Onderan, is it not, Senator?" Grievous asked, changing the subject. "Do you visit it often?"

"Why, yes, it is," Bonteri replied. "Lux and I visit there twice a year. Onderan is truly the most beautiful place in the galaxy-well, perhaps I exaggerate, but I can't help but be partial to it. I did grow up there, after all. The wildlife is unlike..."

Grievous listened to her response with mild interest. Yes, it had been a very long time indeed since he had had anything resembling a normal conversation.

"And here is your bedroom," she said, gesturing to a large room on the second story of her estate. "If you need anything, you can ask our protocol droid, DN-4E-we just call her Danae."

"Yes, I'll be happy to assist you-," the droid said. She looked over at the General and his entourage of silent Magnaguards. "-or your guards with anything they might require."

Grievous looked over his four Magnaguards. He gestured over to one that had sustained some damage during its last battle. "I believe this one could use some minor repairs."

The Magnaguard followed the protocol droid down the hallway and Grievous examined the room. "This will be quite sufficient, yes," he said. "Thank you for your-hospitality." He coughed a bit then.

The Senator smiled. "It's the least I can do. How about we see what we can do about that cough?"

"All right," Grievous said. "This will be quite interesting to see. I was not aware that bacta could be applied without tank treatments."

The Senator looked surprised. "Really? I thought that was general knowledge."

"Not to me," Grievous said. "Bacta treatments themselves are not well-known on Kalee. And Count Dooku never brought it up."

"That's surprising, that he never said anything," Bonteri said. "The tank treatments are usually only used for the worst injuries. Though there are quite a few who prefer tank treatments even for less serious issues."

"I am required to undergo a bacta tank treatment once a month, anyway," Grievous said, coughing. "The injuries from my shuttle accident never fully healed. So perhaps that is why the simpler treatments were never brought up."

"Perhaps," the Senator said, though she looked doubtful. She stopped. "Here we are. The medical supplies room." She opened the door and Grievous saw a collection of drawers and cabinets, even an entire bacta tank ready for use. He watched with interest as she looked through the drawers and finally picked up a spray bottle. "Here it is!"

Grievous sprayed a bit of the substance on his fingers, allowing the chemical sensors on his fingers to first test it for any poisons that might be harmful to his organic organs. The only chemicals he detected were bacta and a few innocuous ingredients he assumed were fillers.

The Senator, perhaps mistaking his caution for confusion, spoke up then. "Ah, you just need to spray it in your mouth or-" she stopped. "Well, I guess that's not really possible. But I'm sure you get the idea."

Grievous laughed, which turned into a hacking cough. "Yes, I can handle this." He took the spray bottle and sprayed it over the openings in his neck cords, which also served as windpipes to his lungs.

He almost immediately felt a difference. "That is better," he remarked with some surprise.

"I'm glad to hear it," Bonteri said. "And please feel free to keep that in case you need it later."

"Thank you," Grievous said. He regarded the Senator thoughtfully. How much of her hospitality was due to genuine gratitude, and how much due to political maneuvering? He didn't know. At least she did seem helpful and pleasant, even if her actions were likely motivated by political self-interest. Even if this is all to curry favor, I can't say that I resent it. He could think of worse ways someone might try to ingratiate themselves to him.

"You're welcome, General," Senator Bonteri said warmly. She looked troubled. "I would invite you to dinner with Lux and I, but I fear that would be unkind given your-condition."

"Actually, I think I would very much enjoy that," Grievous said. "I won't need any food, of course, but I think the conversation would interest me."

The Senator seemed surprised. "Well, I'll set a place for you, then."

Sitting at Senator Bonteri's dining room table, Grievous was feeling slightly overwhelmed by the sheer amount of admiration the Bonteri child seemed to have for him.

"-and I know you have six gyroscopes to help you keep your balance, but that's still amazing, that you can fight balanced on one foot! It almost looks like you're dancing."

Grievous laughed. "I suppose it does. I must admit, I do enjoy the extra agility of this body."

"It's incredible! Although, if it's okay to ask, wasn't the surgery-frightening? I understand you volunteered for it?"

"I did volunteer for it," Grievous said. "Though I didn't truly have much to lose at that point. I was-injured in a shuttle crash. I lost all my limbs and quite a bit more. So my choices were either to accept an experimental procedure or live the remainder of my life in a broken body."

"Oh. How did that happen?" Lux asked.

Grievous took a few deep breaths to calm himself. "The Jedi sabotaged my ship."

Lux gave him a wide-eyed look. "Really? That's terrible. Even with all the bad things I've heard people say about them, it's hard to believe they would stoop so low."

"Yes, that's so appalling of them," Senator Bonteri said, her expression sympathetic.

"It is," Grievous said. "I have never forgiven them for that, or for their aid to the slavers who raided my homeworld."

While the conversation soon moved to lighter topics, he could tell that both the Senator and her child were sympathetic to the horrors he had undergone. It was-nice. When dinner had ended he thanked them both and walked to the bedroom he had been given.

I suppose I must try to get some sleep so I don't collapse again like last time.He settled into the bed and, even though he didn't strictly need to, covered himself with the thick blanket. He couldn't really feel the blanket on him anymore than he felt the bed underneath him, but he did feel slightly warmer.

Grievous stared into the darkened room around him, his eyes quickly adjusting to the dim illumination. He wondered how long it would take him to fall asleep. He had slept in the command chair a couple times on his way to the planet, but he was still re-adjusting to the idea of actually needing sleep. He thought of tomorrow, and the speech he would have to make before the Separatist Parliament. And it was as he was thinking of that that his mind faded into unconsciousness.

Grievous dreamt of the past, when his body was still whole, if not his spirit.

It had been a long day. Grievous just wanted to go back to his boxy grey Coruscant apartment, eat dinner, and sleep. But he also had a three trillion credit debt to pay off. A debt which it had turned out he could pay off by getting others to pay off their debts.

He had almost mistook the other alien for a human, but then he had noticed the antennae. Humans didn't have antennae. The face matched his memory of the alien's datafile. Undoubtedly not a lucrative target. But also not a difficult one, either, and every credit collected was a credit closer to finishing his contract. He sighed and began trailing the man. The alien turned around after he had reached an alley.

"Hey, noticed you been followin' me a while," the man said. "What's your name? Are you a potential-customer?"

"Name's Grievous," he said. "And no. Perhaps you should think of me as a-reverse customer."

The alien narrowed his eyes. "What kind of a name is Grievous? You tryin' to sound like a tough guy?"

"Why, no," Grievous said. "That is simply my name. And I do not think that you should have any room to speak on names, Mr. Sleazebaggano."

The alien scowled. "How about you don't talk about my name?"

Grievous crossed his well-muscled arms. His biceps bulged uncomfortably under the sleeves of the brown coat he wore. "Very well, I will not remark further on yours if you do not remark further on mine. But I'm not here to discuss your name, Elan. I'm here to discuss your overdue payment."

"Overdue payment? You must be mistaken," Elan said. "You have the wrong the guy, buddy. But maybe you'd like to buy-"

Grievous brought out a scanner out of one of his pockets and flashed the light in Elan's eyes, causing the alien to blink and hold a hand up to his face.

"Hey, agh!" Elan said. Grievous looked at the readout on his device.

"My retinal scan indicates otherwise, Elan."

"Maybe you just looked at the wrong record."

"I'm afraid not," Grievous fished inside his coat pocket and brought out a datapad. "A copy of your Corellian cruiser loan payments. Please note that the last ten are unpaid. Also, I noticed that the address we have on file for you is not your current address. Perhaps you would like to update it?"

Elan's eyes flitted nervously from Grievous to the dark Coruscant alley around him, probably noting the lack of other lifeforms present in this particularly desolate area.

"Hey, look, I'm kind of short on credits right now," he said, smiling. "But, I do have a deal on deathsticks-"

Grievous only shook his head, his expression dour. "Mr. Hill doesn't accept barter."

"I meant for you, buddy. Old buddy, old pal. Maybe they could even give you a sense of humor."

Grievous stared at the man silently, his face impassive.

The alien's expression became progressively more nervous. "Okay, I won't promise that. But ah, you might actually have fun. Or, whatever approximates that for you."

Grievous lidded his eyes, bored. "How many credits do you have on you, Elan? Why don't you empty all your pockets for me and we'll find out?"

Grievous opened his eyes as the internal alarm he had set earlier went off. Sunlight streamed into the windows in his room, causing a momentary feeling of disorientation as he remembered that he no longer resided in the lightless lower depths of Coruscant.

He rose from the bed, feeling increasingly irritated as he examined it. The blankets, sheets, and pillows were in various states between moderately torn to completely shredded, and the wooden headboard had several new gashes crisscrossing its ornate design.

Perhaps he should stick to sleeping in metal chairs or slabs. He sighed and turned around, walking to the door. It was time to get ready for his speech.

He wasn't looking forward to it.

Chapter Text

"It was the Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi who killed Count Dooku," Grievous said, addressing the Parliament from the podium in the center of the room. Most of the attendees were holo-versions of themselves today, though Senator Bonteri and a few others had dared attend in person.

There was a series of fearful murmurs. Grievous felt his agitation growing. He needed to finish this. He didn't want to be here, in front of these nearly two hundred Senators. It was one thing to talk to a handful of them, and troublesome enough. But this? This was nerve-wracking and infuriating. Anyway, as far as he was concerned, most of the Senators simply weren't worth his time.

"I do not know what story those lying Jedi scum will concoct to justify their summary execution of our Chancellor," he said, the fact that Kenobi and Senator Organa might, at this very moment, be recounting a very different series of events at the forefront of his mind. "But know that his death will not go unavenged. We will not see his like again." And good riddance. He wished he didn't have to paint Dooku in such a complimentary light, but he knew the Count had been extremely well-liked by the Parliament.

"There is more I must tell you," he said. At least ever since he had used the bacta spray he hadn't had any more issues with coughing, and his voice had cleared up. He waited impatiently for the Senators to quiet one another down. Then he continued. "Given Chancellor Dooku's untimely death, stability is of great importance. Therefore, I shall assume full responsibility for the Separatist military, as was planned by the Chancellor. Also, I understand that the interim chancellor shall preside over the Parliament until such time as a new chancellor may be elected by the Council. I will give the podium to whoever that may be, once their name is spoken."

It was then that San Hill spoke up. "I have been entrusted with the name of the interim chancellor," he said.

Wat Tambor then spoke as well. "I, too, was entrusted with that name. As a verification for San Hill's information."

Grievous nodded. The name of the interim chancellor, appointed by Count Dooku, had been kept secret except to a chosen few, supposedly to help prevent the Republic from targeting the person in their attacks.

"Yes," San Hill said, giving Wat Tambor an annoyed look. Then he said, "The interim chancellor is-," he paused and looked up. "-General Grievous."

"That information agrees with my records," Wat Tambor said.

Grievous stared at the two Senators with wide eyes. That couldn't be correct! He didn't want to be involved in Separatist politics! Didn't he already have his hands full enough with their military? Everyone was looking at him expectantly.

"Ah," the cyborg said. "I suppose I will-remain up here for now, then."

He looked around at the various Senators, at a loss for what to say.

The Senators, however, were quick to give their opinion on this turn of events. He heard a considerable amount of support and approval for him as chancellor, which left him feeling irritable. He had never had an interest in leading the Separatists. He thought the belief of many of the Senators that they were somehow less corrupt than the Republic to be ridiculous, really. All they actually had going for them, in his opinion, was their policy against the Jedi.

Of course, not all of the senators were happy about their new chancellor.

"This appointment is most troubling," one of them said. "I worry about how militaristic this will make us appear to the general public."

"We need a strong chancellor who can win this war for us!" another one responded.

"I doubt that General Grievous will continue to be chancellor until the war ends. This war will not end in the next few months."

"Well, perhaps the term of the interim chancellor should be extended to-"

"-I do not agree with extending the term," Grievous cut in quickly. "Clearly the interim chancellor was only meant to be a placeholder until a new chancellor is elected. I will not be running for the office of chancellor. I will still continue to serve you as the Supreme Commander of the Droid Armies as long as this Senate desires that to be so. That is all."

The senators exploded into a series arguments against each other. Grievous stood stiffly at the chancellor's podium. He thought it lucky for the senators that most of them had not actually decided to attend this meeting in person. It meant his desire to kill them was moderated by the current impossibility of that act.

It was then that he heard someone say, "We can't allow this droid to be chancellor! This is an outrage!"

Grievous felt his anger boil over. "Who said that?! I am not a droid! I am not!" He grabbed the podium then, and ripped it from the floor.

The yelling in the Senate dissolved into complete silence. The Senators, both hologram and real, stared at him as if seeing him for the first time.

"Well?" Grievous said, his golden eyes narrowing. "Would whoever insulted me like to repeat what they just said to my face? Or are they too much of a coward to do so?"

More silence. Grievous threw the podium to the ground in disgust. Even Nute Gunray is braver than some of this Senate scum. At least he insulted me to my face. "I will have no more of this cowardice today," Grievous growled. "This meeting is ended."

With that, he stormed out of the Senate chamber and began stalking toward his ship.

Senator Bonteri intercepted Grievous as he exited the Senate chamber. He considered skittering away in his six-legged configuration so that she would be unable to follow, but thought that such a cowardly attempt to avoid confrontation might be a bit hypocritical of him. Instead, he slowed his walk and said, "I apologize for my outburst."

She looked unperturbed. "Well, it was surprising to say the least. Though I must admit that the desire to rip apart solid metal, if not the ability, has at times overtaken me whenever Lestur opens his mouth to speak."

"Was he the one who called me a droid?!" Grievous asked.

"Yes," she said.

"That ungrateful wretch," Grievous said, recalling the other Senator had also been one he had rescued from the Raxus battle. I thought I'd heard that voice before!

"While I very much agree, I hope you might practice more-restraint in the future, Chancellor."

"I will try, but I didn't ask to be Chancellor," Grievous said bitterly. Anyway, I thought removing Dooku's chips would make it easier to control my anger. He would have to ask someone about that. Probably San Hill, since he was the only one around who actually knew about what had happened to him. He'd almost rather ask Kenobi. Not that the Jedi would likely be any help with that even if Grievous had been willing to consult with him. But he hated talking to the banker.

Senator Bonteri gave him a long look. "I think you'll do fine, as an interim chancellor. Dooku may even have chosen you due to your lack of desire for the office. Perhaps he did not want the interim chancellor attempting to seize power."

More likely he wanted someone who he thought Sidious could control, Grievous thought. Until another suitable puppet for the Sith could be found. He didn't voice his suspicions, however.

"Perhaps," was all Grievous said in response. He looked down at the Senator. "Oh, and I-apologize for the damage to the bed. You may let me know if you wish any reimbursement for it."

Senator Bonteri gave him a confused look for a moment before understanding dawned in her eyes. "Oh, that? Don't worry about it. I should have given you something a little more shred-proof, what with those metal claws and talons of yours. Anyway, it's no problem."

"Very well," Grievous said.

"Would you like to go for a walk in the park," the Senator asked abruptly. "I've always found it very soothing."

Grievous looked down at her. "I don't have time for that. I have a lot on my mind right now."

"Clearly," she responded. "However, taking breaks from work is important to mental health. When was the last time you took a vacation?"

"I-" Grievous paused, at a loss for a moment. "My position is too important for such things."

"It's because your position is so important that I've brought this up," Bonteri said. "In this critical time, you'll be taking on an enormous responsibility. Of course you will want to work more, not less. But overwork leads to fatigue, and dangerous mistakes. Even the military gets shore leave."

"And what of the war with the Republic?" Grievous said. "I would never trust some strategy droid to lead the war efforts, no matter how briefly."

"Of course not!" Bonteri said. "But you aren't the only one in our 'droid army' who's not a droid."

Grievous considered her words. That was true. And while he didn't think much of a lot of the other officers, droid or not, a few of them were capable of holding their own. One of those officers was Admiral Trench. The alien arthropod had distinguished himself in many battles, surviving against impossible odds more than once. Yes, he could probably manage things, for a short while. Still, Grievous didn't see the point.

"I cannot enjoy, nor do I require, the usual-entertainments."

"Perhaps not, but surely there is something you'd enjoy doing instead?"

Killing Jedi, Grievous thought, though he suspected that would not be an acceptable answer. A thought occurred to him then. "I would enjoy visiting my homeworld, Kalee," he said instead. He was planning to do that anyway. Not as a vacation, of course, but the Senator didn't need to know that.

"Then perhaps you should!" Bonteri suggested. "You are the chancellor, so you can approve it."

Grievous gave her a sidelong glance. "Did you know I would be the interim chancellor?" he asked.

"No," she said. "I was as surprised as you appeared to be."

It was impossible for him to know if she was telling the truth. San Hill had said that he might not have identified all the Senators with links to Sidious. What if she was in league with the Sith? He didn't want to believe that, since she was the least unpleasant Senator he had encountered thus far. But he couldn't discard the possibility. He decided he would have to devise some type of test to determine it.

"Well, San Hill and Wat Tambor were certainly tight-lipped about it," Grievous said. "They never even told me!"

"Really?" she said. "They were probably hoping it would never come to that. Especially Senator Hill. If his expression was anything to go by, he was quite put out by naming you Chancellor. I hope you won't mind me saying that I thought that was a good sign."

"Not at all," Grievous said. "He's no friend of mine."

"We share that in common, then. I for one would like to see less corporate influence in our Senate."

"Hmmm, that makes sense," Grievous said.

"Well, I suppose I'll let you be off to your ship," Bonteri said.

"What?" Grievous replied. "Oh. Actually, I think I would like to take you up on that walk in the park first. I can spare an extra hour or two before I leave."

Perhaps further discussion will help me determine if she is aligned with the Sith.

Chapter Text

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Grievous had contacted one of the few Kaleesh he remembered having Holonet access, Halari, one of Sk'ar's children. He was relieved when his call was answered almost immediately. The younger Kaleesh had grown considerably since Grievous had last seen him.

Chapter Text

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San Hill leaned back on his enormous sofa, watching one of his favorite HoloNet dramas. Dressed in a formal-looking but comfortable suit, he was prepared for any impromptu holo-calls while also being able to enjoy what would likely be an entirely free evening for him. The serving droid brought the first course of his dinner in. The Muun turned his attention to the various delicacies arrayed in front of him. There was a platter of various vegetable dips with crackers, a pureed orangeroot mushroom soup,an elaborately constructed model of the city of Harnaidan made entirely of tangy-sweet dressing-drenched salad, a variety of savory and sweet breads, Dorian passion fruit, fringe cake coated with a platinum-gold frosting, and a tall glass of Muunilinst spring water topped with gold flakes frozen in ice. He sighed contentedly and began nibbling the fringe cake as he watched the holodrama.

 "When you said we'd spend romantic evenings on your beautiful home planet," the Muun woman said, shivering in an envirosuit, "You didn't say that planet was Scipio."

"Scipio sparkles with the beauty of a million diamonds!"

Chapter Text

The hooded Anakin walked side by side with the Chancellor, who had cloaked himself similarly in borrowed Jedi robes. Sidious found a dark amusement in using the trappings of the Jedi to skulk around just like the Sith he truly was.

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Ronderu had observed as Qymaen assigned a number of droids to both San and Lora-they would not be able to order the droids to do just anything, but they could ask them to help them with simple tasks or to fight off any preprogrammed targets, such as the clones or the Jedi. Grievous had made sure that Ronderu would not be included in the droids' database of foes and Lora had been given new clothing and assigned a room. The Muun woman had disappeared for a bit while Qymaen showed Ronderu a map of the ship, and had returned freshly showered and wearing the new grey robes she had been given.

Now the Kaleesh watched as Lora walked carefully around the new area, her cane stretching out in front of her.

Ronderu had offered to help Lora get settled on the ship, mostly to avoid any involvement in the task in which Qymaen was now engaged. Later, she'd get her own briefing on how to use the ship, or, more specifically, its weapons and hyperdrive, but Qymaen was currently trying to find out where Hill had gone off to. Ronderu thought it a good idea that he attend to that rather than her, as she had become increasingly fed up with the troublesome creature.

The Muun banker had to be the most uncooperative hostage she had ever dealt with. She had thought it bad enough when some of her quarry became too terrified to comply with commands. Hill hadn't had that problem. But what he did was much worse in her estimation. Every time he opened his mouth to speak, it seemed it was either to complain or cajole. She had considered murdering him several times. She really had to ask Qymaen how he had managed to put up with Hill for so long. And why.

Ronderu turned her attention back to the Muun woman in front of her. "So, you have powers like the Jedi, but you are not a Jedi yourself," Ronderu said.

"Yes," Lora responded as she examined her new lodgings. She triggered the sink faucet in the small kitchen, and water rushed onto her hand. Apparently satisfied, she deactivated it. Then she walked over to the food reheater and began prodding at that device. "I am Force-sensitive, but I do not have Jedi training."

"That's good," Ronderu said. "Qymaen and I have not had good experiences with the Jedi."

"Well, I don't envy their ascetic attitude, but their training far surpasses mine," Lora said. "I wish I had access to the information they do on Force-training."

She began walking back towards the living room.

Ronderu considered this statement as she followed the Muun to the other room. "I heard Cad Bane once stole a holocron from the Secure Archives. Most of the Jedi training holocrons are not nearly as secured as that. It would probably be trivial to-"

Lora frowned. "It seems wrong to steal from a library."

Ronderu crossed her arms. "You want to fight against the Jedi, but you balk at the idea of petty theft?"

Lora sighed, her cane reaching the sofa. After a few prods, she settled down onto it and felt around until she reached the HoloNet display. "I don't want to fight anyone at all. More to the point, I can't."

"Then what do you plan to do here?"

"Hopefully help to end this galactic war as soon as possible, with as few casualties as possible."

"As long as Kalee wins the war against the Huk, I could care less what happens to the rest of the galaxy."

"That's understandable, I suppose. But if the rest of the galaxy is still at war, I can't imagine that Kalee would remain untouched by that. The fate of your planet is not separate from the machinations of the larger galactic governments."

Ronderu sighed. "True enough. Republic interference is what doomed our planet to its current plight in the first place. If they had not come, Qymaen would have won the war. Still, as long as Kalee is left alone, whatever else happens in the galaxy is not my concern."

"I suppose I might not be so concerned about the bigger picture, either, if I didn't have to see these dramatic visions of galactic destruction."

Ronderu frowned. "What happens in these visions?"

Lora's expression become somber. "Nothing specific-I'm working on that. But there are frightened voices speaking a thousand different languages, ear-piercing explosions and screams-so many screams. Then silence. Then death so all-encompassing it extends from the Core to the Outer Rim. So much death. Not just from the war itself, although that is surely staggering, but from what comes after."

"You can feel death?"

"Yes," Lora said.

"What is that like?"

"I don't think I could describe it to anyone who hasn't felt it themselves. But all Force-sensitives can sense death, just as we can sense life."

Ronderu considered that. Another question occurred to her. "How did you lose your sight?"

"Lose it?" Lora asked, smiling now. "I never had it to begin with. I was born like this. A recessive gene, I was told."

"Recessive gene? What's that?"

"You don't know?" Lora asked.

"No."

"Well, a gene is a trait you inherit from your parents. If it's recessive, then your parents have one gene for it that is not expressed-"

"Ah, never mind. This sounds like one of those 'science' things."

"Am I boring you?"

"No. It's just not a good use of my time. I don't need to know all this stuff about why things happen. What's important is that they do."

Lora gave her a small smile. "All right. I suppose you prefer to focus on answering the more immediate questions."

"Exactly. Anyway, if I did need any science, I can always find one of those science people to do it for me."

Lora chuckled. "True. I actually have a bit of an interest in the subject myself. Unfortunately it's been difficult for me to do any experiments without a lab or proper equipment."

"What sort of science do you have an interest in?" Ronderu asked.

"Well, since I have the ability to use the Force, I've had an interest in studying that. Especially the topic of Force visions, so that I might understand how to better make use of that ability, but perhaps other things as well."

Ronderu considered this. "I suppose that could be useful-especially if we could learn more about how to fight against the Jedi and the Sith. I'll make sure you get your lab." She was sure Qymaen could find some unused room in the ship to set one up in. After that, it would be a simple matter to order the necessary supplies.

"Really? That's most kind of you."

"Think nothing of it," Ronderu said. "Qymaen and I have a lot of enemies. We could use all the help we can get."

Grievous found Hill at the entrance to Dooku's suite, ordering his droids about. He was still dressed in the clothing he had donned before they left Munnilinst-a strange-looking white outfit covered with multi-colored triangles, though the matching floppy, broad-rimmed hat they had had him wear to hide his face was nowhere to be seen.

"Yes, I want all of his clothing burned," Hill said to one of the B1 droids clustered around him. "Check the pockets for valuables first. And you, I need every strand of his hair vacuumed out of the carpets and sofas-I'm allergic to human hair. And I need a deodorizer for-"

"What are you doing?" Grievous asked.

"Cleaning out Dooku's suite," Hill said, as if stating the obvious. "It's going to be such a hassle to be rid of the smell of that terrible cologne of his. Seriously, I can't imagine why humans try to smell so awful."

"And why are you doing this?"

Hill gave Grievous a puzzled look. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Please-explain."

"Well," Hill said slowly, "When you're going to live in a place, it's standard practice to get rid of all the previous occupant's-"

"Wait, you're going to be staying in Dooku's suite?" Grievous asked incredulously. The General had avoided the place ever since Dooku had died. He had been taught from his earliest years that some part of the spirits of the dead lingered in their private dwellings. Still, he thought he could guess why the Muun man was willing to live in Dooku's previous dwelling. As he understood, Hill did not believe in souls, which Grievous supposed made sense as he did not think the banker had one.

"Where else on this vessel would I stay? None of the other rooms are even remotely acceptable accommodations for any self-respecting Muun-"

"Lora said that the standard room I gave her was perfectly fine," Grievous said.

Hill rolled his eyes. "I said self-respecting. Anyway, why shouldn't I have this room? Are you using it?"

"Of course not!" Grievous said. Even if he had wanted to see Dooku's spirit, perhaps to taunt him, he disliked being near the place.

"Then a perfectly good room is going to waste," Hill said. "Anyway, if I have to stay on this glorified death trap of yours, I should at least get the chance to erase Dooku's presence here and take what remains of his possessions for myself."

Grievous considered the Muun's words. "You disliked him."

Hill looked up at Grievous. "General, I plotted his death for years. I despised him."

"Because he forced you to break a contract."

Hill narrowed his eyes. "We've discussed this already."

"It just seems like you had something more personal against him." Grievous had mostly taken Hill at his word when he had first explained his reasons for having the chips in Grievous' mind removed. But while he couldn't quite put his finger on it, something had seemed off, seemed missing, about the explanation to him from the moment he'd heard it. It was just a feeling, but he had found that usually his feelings about such things were right. It was second nature for Grievous to attempt to understand the motivations of both his enemies and allies-it was the tactician in him. And he thought it especially important to understand those things that motivated one such as Hill to be an enemy in one context, and an ally in another.

The Muun frowned. "He was bad for business. That's all." He glanced over at a droid. "I want this place spotless by 9."

"Roger, roger. Task completion scheduled for 0900 hours."

"Argh, no, not in military time!" Hill groaned. He had the droid change the task schedule, then looked up at Grievous. "Anyway, I suppose it's good that you dropped by. There's something we need to discuss."

"I didn't 'drop by' for your convenience. I was making sure that you weren't trying to cause trouble."

"Yes, I know," Hill said. "But I believe this whole half-baked plan to kidnap me was about my money? And you see, I will not be able to give you that unless we work out one small little detail first."

Grievous narrowed his eyes. "What small detail?"

"I need unrestricted HoloNet access."

"Denied," Grievous said. He jabbed a sharp claw at the Muun. "You need access to your bank accounts. Hostages do not get unrestricted access of any sort."

San smiled. "Well, no, they usually don't. But if you want unrestricted access to my assets, then you will need to give me unrestricted access to the HoloNet."

"Explain," Grievous said.

"Gladly, General," San said. "You see, most of the money I've used for the Separatist cause is actually the IBC's money, which I am authorized to dispense in various ways as the Chairman. What remains besides that is tied up in various stocks, mostly IBC stock, and thus its value depends greatly on the continued smooth functioning of the bank, which might be upset by, oh, say, having its Chairman as your hostage."

"What about-"

"I'm not finished. Additionally, all of my power stems from the fact that I am the current Chairman of the IBC. Even my position in the Separatist Senate is based on my IBC position. I am not a government official-the Munnilinst government will pay you nothing for my continued safety. Anyway, I'm sure you are aware that it would hardly look good if the Separatist Chancellor was found to be holding one of his own Senators hostage!"

"Fine, but-"

"-and the IBC will simply choose a new Chairman if they discover these plans to hold onto me indefinitely. Even if you tried to ransom me off to them, you would either have to settle for a rather small sum, or none at all. After all, there are plenty of ambitious types in my company who would be more than happy to fill that position, negating the need for my return."

Grievous growled. He hated all this corporate nonsense. He did, however, follow what the banker was saying. "Then you need HoloNet access so you can continue to do your job and so no one suspects there is anything wrong."

San nodded, smiling brightly. "Yes, General. I can attend all meetings remotely for the duration of my stay here. So that is not an issue. But if you want money from me, you need to give me unrestricted HoloNet access."

"And what's to stop you from tipping someone off about your situation then?"

"What an interesting question," San said, his expression growing increasingly smug. "I really couldn't say. But then, this wasn't my idea in the first place."

Grievous growled, lowering his visor close to the Muun's face. "If you're going to be that way, then maybe we just won't bother with the money at all. Maybe we'll just keep you here indefinitely, no HoloNet access or anything else. Perhaps you'd prefer to stay in the cell block?"

The banker sighed. "Or you could take me back to Munnilinst now. Regardless of our mutual loathing, General, I really do require your assistance with killing Sidious. And we are on the same side in this war. So I'd rather not get you into any trouble. I can forget this little temper tantrum of yours if you release me immediately. Perhaps punishing me will gain you some amusement, but that will be short-lived when you no longer have any credits at your disposal. So let me go. All of these strong-arm tactics are so unnecessary."

Grievous glared at Hill, his rage slowly boiling. I could kill him right where he stands. He hated when the banker did this. When he tried to turn everything around so that it worked in his favor. So that he got what he wanted, at everyone else's expense. It wasn't going to happen this time.

"No," Grievous said. "You aren't leaving this ship." It was true that Hill needed him to get rid of Sidious, and he did think the banker would continue to help with that regardless. But it was also true that Hill did not consider Kalee a priority. And the banker certainly didn't think he owed Ronderu what she was due from him. So he couldn't be allowed to leave. But he needed to be given HoloNet access, and yet also deterred from using that HoloNet access in a way that might cause Grievous or Ronderu any problems. Grievous realized what he needed to do.

He retrieved a datapad from one of the nearby droids and typed a few short paragraphs onto it. Then he handed the device to Hill.

The banker sighed again. "All right. You win. I sign this, you give me my unrestricted HoloNet access, and I won't say anything about my current-situation. But first-" He typed something on the datapad and turned it to face Grievous.

The cyborg read what the banker had wrote and gave him a disbelieving look. "You added in a clause just for Dooku's suite?"

"I want this room," Hill said.

"Fine." Grievous rolled his eyes. It didn't really matter to him.

Hill signed the document, and Grievous placed his signature below the Muun's.

"Well, now that that's settled," Hill said, "I'm going to get some food. By which I mean the supplies I took with me, and not the usual appalling cardboard that you military types label as such."

Grievous watched as the Muun left, taking three of the droids with him. The General didn't linger in the area long. Now he had another reason to avoid Dooku's suite.

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"Kenobi," Grievous growled, his anger flaring. What is he doing here?! "Do you have a death wish, Jedi?" He walked up to Kenobi, leaning over until his face was mere inches from the Jedi's.

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Grievous paced the length of the shuttle. The cyborg general had had all the clone troopers placed in cells. However, since he didn't think that a Jedi could be as easily contained, he had decided to keep watch on Obi-Wan himself. His original plan had been to place the Jedi in the containment field in his shuttle. But he'd been overtaken with an unusual reluctance to do so when they had finally arrived in the shuttle. So, though he had of course taken the Jedi's lightsaber and blaster, he had not restrained him. Obi-Wan simply wandered the area freely, examining everything from the MagnaGuards to the decor, which Grievous had supplemented with various pieces of Kaleesh art. I'll put him there when I go to sleep. I don't think he'll try to escape anyway. He wants the prisoner exchange to go smoothly.

Still, Kenobi had upset his plans with his unexpected appearance. Now Grievous would be expected to treat Kenobi as a prisoner to be exchanged, and thus he was honor-bound not to harm him in any way. Which conflicted with his oath to the Separatist Senate that he would mete out vengeance on the Jedi if he encountered him again. Not to mention his own need for vengeance. As far as he was concerned, every single one of the Jedi Order was complicit in the enslavement of his people. Still, Kenobi had seemed legitimately willing to put aside his own assumptions to help Grievous, first to defeat Dooku, and then to surrender rather than fighting Grievous when they had met again. Grievous had begun to get the strange sense that he could actually trust Kenobi, of all people.

In any event, he didn't have much choice. For this peace treaty to work out, he had to keep his end of the bargain. Even if that meant sparing his hated enemy's life.

Grievous had somehow, in this one battle, won the war. It seemed almost too good to be true. At the same time, it had required-compromises he had not even remotely contemplated until that moment. Like sparing Kenobi. And taking Palpatine at his word.

"I wasn't expecting that to go so smoothly," Grievous said, pacing inside the shuttle. "Do you think he meant what he said?"

"Hmmm?" Obi-wan murmured.

"Your Chancellor," Grievous said. "Is he trustworthy?"

"I'm sorry, is this an interrogation?" Kenobi asked. "Are you asking me for intel on the Chancellor? Will there be punishments if I don't comply?"

"Are you always this irritating?" Grievous said, glaring down at him.

Obi-Wan gave him a lop-sided smile. "Only when I try to be."

"Just answer the question."

"I'm not really sure if I can," Kenobi said, shaking his head and shrugging. "You've tried to kill me and you did kill Piell- and now you're asking me ifour Chancellor is trustworthy?"

Grievous growled. "Your friend would have got me killed."

Kenobi sighed, his eyes downcast. "Sadly, I didn't know Even Piell that well. If I had, maybe I could have convinced him to forgo the capture attempt. Maybe he'd still be alive even now."

Grievous narrowed his eyes. "Are you blaming yourself for his death? I assure you, you can take no credit for that. It was his choices and my actions that led to his demise."

Kenobi looked up at him, his expression perplexed. "Thanks-I suppose?" He sighed.

"I'd still like an answer to my question," Grievous said. "About the Chancellor."

Kenobi looked thoughtful. "I've never detected any deception from him before."

"That's not an answer," Grievous said.

"He always seems sincere."

"And yet you seem hesitant to say he can be trusted."

"Good intentions don't always lead to good actions."

Grievous snorted. "At least we agree on one thing, then. Though I must wonder if you've ever applied that thought to your vaunted Jedi Order?"

Kenobi looked down. "I looked into what you told me. I'd never heard of this conflict between the Kaleesh and the Yamrii. But you were right. The Yamrii were keeping slaves-that is expressly against Republic law, which they are very much subject to. When I return to Coruscant, I will ensure these facts are brought before the Senate. The Yamrii responsible will be removed from power and brought to justice."

Grievous looked down at the Jedi. "That is good to hear. But if this was so easy for you to uncover, then why did none of the rest of your Order ever notice it?"

"I suppose the Senate never told them they should look," Kenobi said.

"So you just do what you're told, then?" Grievous said.

Kenobi gave him a pained smile. "We are the servants of the Republic, not its masters. But you are right. We should make it a habit to always question what we are told. Qui-Gon said those very words to me, once."

"Qui-Gon Jinn. Your old Master. He died at the Battle of Naboo ten years ago."

Kenobi raised an eyebrow. "And what do you know about that?"

"Everything there is to know," Grievous said. "Everything that is public record, at least. I've always had a good memory, but my ability to recall facts was greatly enhanced when I was-turned into this monstrosity," he said, gesturing a clawed hand towards himself. "Even as my personal memories were inhibited."

"I see, then," Kenobi said. He looked thoughtful. "You call yourself a monstrosity, but I don't think that's true."

"Even if I tried to kill you and killed a Jedi right before your eyes?" Grievous said, throwing the Jedi's earlier words back at him.

"Neither of those facts, as painful as they may be to me, mean that you are a threat now. The Jedi do not seek vengeance, but justice."

Grievous walked up to the Jedi, bending his head down to his level. "If I'm not a monster to you, Jedi, then what am I?"

Kenobi frowned. "Complicated. The Sith tried to turn you into a monster, but that's not what you are. That's why they tried to control you, I'm sure. You wanted justice, and yes, revenge too, but you were never willing to go as far as the Sith wanted you to in order to achieve those goals."

Grievous wasn't sure what to say to that. Now that he'd had more time to reflect on what had happened during the time the Sith had controlled him, he'd realized just how little he remembered of it. He remembered-feelings. Hate, anger, and a constant, nagging fear. Always those same feelings, again and again in a neverending loop he'd been unable to grasp or stop. He recalled objectives. Kill this Jedi, capture that one. He remembered flashes here and there, particularly from his battles with Kenobi, but nothing quite as coherent as it should be, even now. Even as his memories of his time as a creature of flesh-and-blood had become crystal clear, his memories of his time as a mind-controlled cyborg were still-vague, elusive. He would have to ask the Doctor about it. EV-A4-D hadn't mentioned it when he'd asked about the side effects of the implant removal, but he would surely know why it was happening.

"Are you all right?" Kenobi asked.

"Sorry. I-just find it surprising that you, of all people, would say that. I-"

"I present to you the results of your-investment, Chairman," Dooku said, gesturing to Grievous.

Grievous resented this. He'd been told that this meeting would be important. San Hill was not important!

For his part, the Muun looked surprised. "It worked," he said.

Dooku laughed jovially. "What were you expecting? Surely not failure?"

"Of course not," Hill said quickly, walking closer to Grievous.

"Grievous," he said. "Do you, ah, remember me?"

"You are San Hill," Grievous growled. He loathed the creature in front of him. He started to say more, but then nothing more seemed to come to mind. It wasn't important, anyway. This creature wasn't important. He was nothing.

"Do you remember our conversation the last time we spoke?" Hill asked.

Again, Grievous started to say something, but the words didn't come to him. Instead he growled, rage building in him. "You are wasting my time!"

Hill glanced at Dooku.

"You should call him by his title, Chairman," Dooku said.

Hill laughed. "Supreme Commander of the Droid Armies? What a mouthful!" He walked around Grievous, seeming to examine the cyborg Kaleesh. "Perhaps it should just be General Grievous. Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

"He seemed to think so, too," Dooku said. "That's what he declared himself after he took out his entire MagnaGuard contingent."

The Muun finished his walk around Grievous and stood in front of him again, examining him with narrowed eyes. "Yes, it was his title when he fought as a warrior of Kalee."

Dooku rolled his eyes. "He does seem to be rather fixated on such vanities."

"He seems quite different from-before," Hill said, frowning.

"Of course he is," Dooku said. "He is much more deadly now than he ever was."

The Muun's gaze snapped over to meet Dooku's, his eyes narrowing and his face contorting into a grimace. "You say that, but I've seen no evidence that this procedure has preserved all of his-relevant abilities. I gave you the complete oversight you asked for, but I'm not sure you made the best of it."

Dooku gave the Muun a small smile. "You want a demonstration, then?"

Hill crossed his arms. "Yes."

"As you wish," Dooku said. He pulled a datapad out from under his cloak and tapped it a few times before looking over to Grievous. "I've released a Jedi from the cell block. He should be along here shortly. Kill him for us, would you, General? Oh, and do be sure you do that before he makes a mess of the Chairman here. I'm afraid the torture has not been kind to our dear Jedi's-state of mind."

An objective. Finally. Grievous immediately sprang into action, walking towards the three entrances to secure them.

"I thought you said this was a demonstration! Not a real scenario!" Hill hissed at Dooku. Even though the two were now behind Grievous, he could easily triangulate Hill's position from the sound.

Grievous selected one of his lightsabers and ignited it.

"It is a demonstration," Dooku said nonchalantly. "A real scenario would be if I didn't know the Jedi's skill level in advance, and if I wasn't leading him along every step of the way. Oh, and if I wasn't here to make sure nothing happened even if our fearless General suffers a-glitch."

Grievous waited, coiled and ready to strike.

A sudden scream punctuated the silence, followed by a yelp of surprise from Hill. Grievous turned around. The Jedi had come through the ventilation shaft! Grievous converted his form into its insectoid configuration and skittered over to his opponent, converting seamlessly back as he reached him and blocking the Jedi's blows with his own lightsaber. Looking into his enemy's eyes, he could see that Dooku's earlier statement had not been an exaggeration. This Jedi was all rage and desperation. No deliberation or planning. As the Jedi brought his hand up in a vise-like gesture to begin choking Hill, Grievous sliced the appendage off, earning a scream from his opponent and another yelp from Hill as he fell to the floor.

He finished the Jedi with a few lightning-quick stabs through the chest, and grabbed his lightsaber as it fell from his adversary's limp hand.

Silence. Grievous tucked the new lightsaber into his cloak and turned around. Hill was sprawled haphazardly on the floor, staring at the dead Jedi's body and looking decidedly green. It was clear to Grievous that he'd suffered no severe physical damage from the attack, however. Grievous turned to Dooku.

The Count clapped, a small smile forming on his face again. "Excellent. What do say, Chairman? Did he perform adequately?"

"Yes," Hill said quietly.

"I'm glad you think so. Your approval is, as always, vital to this operation."

"General?" Kenobi said, his expression concerned.

Grievous growled, his mind recalling his current situation. And also the memory that had just replayed itself to him. A memory that until now he'd been unable to recall. He mentally filed it away for future consideration.

"What happened? Are you alright?" The Jedi was still giving him a worried look, placing a hand on his artificial shoulder.

"Just a-side effect of removing Dooku's control chips from my mind," Grievous said, displeased. He checked the lightsabers in his cloak. There were five, the same number as before. "Surprised you didn't try to escape," he muttered. Or worse, take me prisoner. Kenobi could have easily done both, given such a perfect opportunity. Grievous had expected Kenobi not to make trouble if he was being watched. Being left unattended was a different matter entirely.

"That would be at cross purposes with my goals. I want this peace treaty to happen, General. Any shift in the balance of power could upset that."

"Even one in your favor?"

Kenobi smiled. "I'd hardly call betraying your trust to be a shift in my favor. Especially when we were just getting to know each other."

"This is welcome news," Amidala said, her voice calm but her eyes bright with hope. "It is encouraging to know that we are in agreement this once, at least."

"I have always tried to make the best out of this difficult situation," Sidious said. "It has pained me that we are so often in disagreement. But it seems that current events call most definitively for diplomacy, which I know you will appreciate."

Amidala gave Sidious a genuine smile, which he returned with his most convincing fake.

"Diplomacy is always more powerful than force, Chancellor," she said. "I believe it was you who taught me that."

Yes. I lied, Sidious thought. But I knew it was what you wanted to hear. His congenial smile betrayed nothing of his inner loathing for his former Queen.

If my plans did not require your continued existence, I would have disposed of you long ago.

One day, when the Jedi had been destroyed, and Anakin turned, he would finally be rid of her. Patience. Patience is key.

"You have always been my most astute student," Sidious said. Sadly true. Anakin is-quite lacking in that regard. Anakin's relevant aptitudes lay strictly in battle, not in the political realm. And Sidious thought that all for the best. An apprentice with no ambition for or ability to rule. One who will serve as my most powerful enforcer but will never succeed me as Master.

Amidala gave a self-deprecating response, and then began talking excitedly. Sidious smiled absently, ignoring what he judged to be a trite and exceedingly premature celebration of galactic peace.

He only wished that Anakin's secret wife could have been as naturally accommodating of his plans as her husband. But she had always been strong-willed and entirely too clever for his liking. Of course, the control of other minds by the Sith was restricted only by natural barriers such as those present in the minds of the Yinchorri or the Hutts and not by the subject's will, as was the case for the Jedi. But he couldn't utilize control of that sort here on Coruscant without calling the Jedi's attention to himself. He was, as usual, limited to persuasion and the powers of his office.

"-so I wanted to let you know," she finished.

"Apologies," Sidious said. "My mind wandered a bit back there. What were you saying?"

"I'm going to visit Raxus on a diplomatic mission as a representative of the Senate," she replied. "I believe that I can-"

"That won't be necessary," Sidious said smoothly. "I assure you, I have this matter well in hand. And we would not wish to inadvertently give conflicting messages at this delicate juncture."Such as actually pursuing any sort of lasting peace.

"I understand," she said. "And I don't doubt your ability. But I am unsure of whether we should pin all our hopes for this treaty on General Grievous. I strongly suspect that things might go more smoothly if we directly involve the Separatist Senate as well."

Ah, but I do not desire for things to go smoothly.

"Perhaps you have a point," Sidious said. "But I think it might be better if a different delegate was sent."

"Did you have someone in mind?" Amidala asked.

"Not at the moment, but-"

"I believe I am uniquely qualified for this mission," she said.

"And how is that?"

"I know one of the Separatist senators personally," she said. "We haven't talked in a long time, but I know that-"

"I see," Sidious said. "Who is this Senator?"

"Senator Bonteri," she said.

"Bonteri," Sidious said, frowning. He wasn't familiar with the name. He resolved to remedy that situation very soon, though. The name did tell him one thing, however. This Senator is not part of the inner circle and thus would know nothing about the true magnitude of what has changed in their government. He relaxed slightly. He knew how to contain this. And contain this I must. Because if I try to stop it, she will just go around behind my back and do it anyway.

"If you are sure you can trust this Separatist," he said, giving her a concerned expression. "I know a number of them have tried to have you killed over the years."

"I know I can trust her," Amidala said confidently.

"Good," Sidious said. "But perhaps you might want to avoid the attention of any of the other senators, for your own safety."

"Of course," she said. "They'll never notice I was there. I'll be taking a Jedi along to assist me, too."

Sidious raised an eyebrow. "A Jedi? Who?" Under no circumstances would he allow her to drag Anakin off onto this pointless-

"Ahsoka," she said brightly.

He smiled, and this time he really was pleased. "Then I wish you both the best." A brief respite from Anakin's nosy apprentice and from my former Queen? Most good news indeed.

As he watched her leave, he made a mental note to send someone to silently track her and make certain she didn't disrupt his plans during her trip to the Separatist world.

One day, she would outlive her usefulness. Unfortunately, I must tolerate her continued existence until that day has come. He wondered idly if there was some way to utterly crush her spirit so that she would at least stay out of his way until the day when he could finally destroy her once and for all.

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Darth Sidious stalked through the lower levels of Coruscant, traveling by alleys, across walkways, and through knotted crowds of beings that unconsciously moved aside as he passed through them. He wore his dark vermilion and and midnight blue Sith cloak and the triangular golden clasp he favored.

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"So this is where you're keeping the Chancellor?" Reed asked, looking around the abandoned warehouse, frowning. "Aren't you afraid someone will find him if he's still on Coruscant?"

Jarvinious was a bit overly inquisitive for the Sith Lord's tastes, but Sidious believed this trait would also make him an ideal candidate for the task ahead. For now, he would humor the impersonator.

"Not particularly," Sidious said, leading the impersonator to a large room in the back of the building. "I've kept my base of operations here for a long time now, and no one has found me."

"And does anyone want to find you?" Reed asked from behind him.

Sidious grinned at the rusted door in front of him. "Yes. A few people." The Jedi Council had certainly been searching for him ever since their encounter with Maul. But as Chancellor, Sidious had subtly blocked all efforts to use Republic resources to search for him. It had been simple. Many of the Senators were already dubious about any claims of the reappearance of his Order-the Sith had become the subject of myth and legend, and in doing so, had ceased to be viewed as entirely real. Even some of the Jedi had expressed the view that neither Maul nor Dooku were Sith, but rather Dark Jedi or some other sort of Force user entirely.

The mechanism to open the entrance before him had long since ceased to work, so instead he waved the door open with the Force. The rusted and tarnished metal screeched as it moved aside to grant entry.

"Hey, that's a neat trick," Reed said.

"It's not a trick," Sidious replied casually. He walked through the entrance to the room, aware of the impersonator trailing behind him. He could sense the other human's life force behind him, could snuff out that same life force in an instant, but that was not what he had come here for. Instead he gestured to a containment field behind of which appeared to stand a familiar individual. "Here is the proof that I have fulfilled my end of our bargain."

The room behind the containment field was in actuality completely empty, but Sidious could see the illusion he had crafted behind it.

"You again! I insist you release me at once," the illusory Palpatine said, his eyes narrowed angrily. He rapped futilely at the containment field, causing it to appear to ripple. Sidious had briefly considered using a hologram for the false Chancellor, but had decided that a Force illusion would be much more convincing.

"He's awfully demanding, wouldn't you say," Sidious asked.

Reed laughed and walked up to the containment field, clearly impressed. "Certainly. You look a bit haggard, Chancellor. Perhaps you should try to get more sleep."

The illusory Palpatine crossed his arms. "Is this your attempt at witty repartee? Please spare me."

Reed smiled delightedly. "Such fearlessness in the face of danger! So good to see we were correct in judging your lack of self-preservation. I shall enjoy the challenge of this assignment." He turned to Sidious. "What are you going to do with him?"

"I haven't decided. That will depend on the quality of your-performance."

"People are looking for me as you speak," the illusion of Palpatine said. He looked between Sidious and Reed. "After I get out of this, both of you will be tried for treason."

"Is there any risk of that?" Reed asked, giving Sidious a concerned frown.

"No," Sidious said. "That much is certain."

"Well, if you could pull this off, I can believe a selective mind wipe is well within your capabilities," Reed said.

Palpatine shot Sidious a glare. "Whatever you're planning, Anakin will stop you."

"Anakin?" Reed said, his brow furrowing. "Who's that?"

"A Jedi," Sidious said, handing Reed a datapad. "You're going to need to read up on him, if you're to do a convincing impersonation of the Chancellor. They are close friends."

Reed laughed, looking down at the datapad. "Excellent. We've never been friends with a Jedi before."

Sidious fetched another item from his cloak and handed it to Reed. "You'll need this, too."

"An ear communicator?" Reed said, turning it over in his hands.

"Yes, for when you inevitably require more background on the subjects in question than you can reasonably be expected to memorize within the short time period available to you. I have been, ah, researching the Chancellor for a long time now, and so I do believe I can help you answer any difficult questions."

"Oh, of course," Reed said. "That's a good idea. I guess you've got this all planned out, then?"

"Indeed I do."

Ahsoka had been apprehensive about meeting the Separatist Senator, but her warm demeanor was at odds with what the Padawan had been expecting.

"It's been a long time," Senator Bonteri said to Amidala, smiling.

Padme returned the smile. "It seems like a lifetime."

"It does, doesn't it?" They talked more as they walked toward the large manor ahead. Ahsoka turned her attention to the other beings milling around the landing pad. Padme had taken her on this mission to teach her about diplomacy, which Ahsoka appreciated, but she felt her most important task was to ensure Amidala's safety. Even if the Senator might disagree with that assessment.

She didn't see or otherwise sense anyone on the platform behaving suspiciously, however, and after a while she admitted to herself that her visual sweeps of the surroundings were mostly to admire the scenery. Raxus was considerably more pastoral than Coruscant, and the well-dressed people filing down the various walkways paid little attention to either Ahsoka or Amidala, who were both dressed in cloaks to help conceal their appearance.

Though in Ahsoka's case, that had only been so the battle droids monitoring the incoming ships wouldn't recognize her. Most civilians, regardless of their alignment, would never recognize a Jedi, even a Master on the Council, much less a lowly Padawan like herself. Jedi did not seek fame or personal renown, and as a result were largely anonymous.

Amidala, on the other hand, was one of the most famous politicians in the galaxy. Ahsoka suspected that more people would recognize her face than even the Chancellor's. The Senator had never seemed to let the unrelenting attention go to her head, though. Her sole motivator seemed to Ahsoka to help people in whatever way she could. She reminds me a lot of Anakin in that respect.

Eventually they turned onto the private walkway leading to the mansion, leaving behind the last of the crowd filing down the main walkway. Ahsoka took in the surroundings, noting a human standing in front of the main entrance to Bonteri's home.

"Who's that?" Ahsoka asked warily.

"My son, Lux," Bonteri said. She gave the Padawan a serious look. "I assure you, he is not a threat."

Ahsoka squinted and realized that the human looked to be about her age and was not carrying any weapons. She relaxed slightly. and moved her hand away from the hidden lightsaber it had been unconsciously edging towards. She gave Bonteri a contrite look. "Oh. Sorry."

"Apology accepted," Bonteri said graciously.

As they reached the entrance to the manor, Lux offered to take their luggage. Amidala thanked him and handed him her bag with a smile. When he moved to take Ahsoka's bag, however, she only frowned. "I'm good, thanks." He might not be a threat, but Ahsoka didn't trust what was in her bag to anyone who might accidentally activate it. Weapons were not toys-she wasn't about to hand a bagful of them to some random teenage boy.

Bonteri entered a code on the control panel, and the entryway opened. The four of them entered the spacious room ahead of them, and Senator Bonteri closed the door behind them.

They walked to a room that appeared to Ahsoka to be a dining room. A silver droid walked up to them and began setting platters from a tray in front of them.

"Thank you, Danae," Bonteri said to the droid. When everyone had eaten few bites, she turned to Amidala. "Now, let's discuss this treaty."

"Yes," Amidala said, her eyes lighting up. " I've long been hoping that the we could end this destructive war. And I know that there are good people like you in the Separatist Parliament, who will do everything to make sure this treaty is signed. I did not want to leave the fate of such an important document on General Grievous alone."

Bonteri smiled. "I will be glad to do anything I can to help. Though I am sure Grievous is taking this very seriously. His home planet is very important to him, after all."

"Kalee is the General's home planet?" Amidala asked. Ahsoka guessed the Senator assumed Bonteri was referring to that planet, as that was where they had heard the treaty was going to be signed.

"Yes, he told me so himself," Bonteri said.

Amidala's eyes widened. "You've-met him?"

"Yes, and he's not nearly as diabolical as everyone's made him out to be," Bonteri said.

"You must be kidding me," Ahsoka said. "I've seen the kind of damage that clanker is capable of firsthand. I don't think he even has a conscience."

"How dare you talk about General Grievous like that!" Lux said, standing abruptly. "He saved our lives!"

Bonteri gave her son a sharp look. "That will be enough, Lux. This war has been difficult on all of us, and I'm sure that Amidala's aide here has seen-"

"I'm not an aide," Ahsoka said.

Bonteri looked over at her, a single eyebrow rising. "Oh? My apology. How should I address you?"

"I am Ahsoka Tano, Jedi Padawan."

Lux paled, though his mother only gave Ahsoka a contemplative look.

"In that case, I more than understand your feelings, Jedi Ahsoka. But Lux and I have had a very different experience with Grievous than the Jedi have. And the Jedi have been responsible for many Separatist deaths, including our unfortunate Chancellor Dooku." her expression was solemn.

Amidala frowned. "I have little doubt that Obi-Wan was simply defending himself."

Bonteri sighed. "We will never agree on Dooku, Padme. But he's not the only one this war has killed. Haven't you wondered what happened to Revlar?"

"Your husband? Where is he?" Padme asked.

"A year ago, he was ambushed by clone troopers. He fought bravely in self defense, but they overwhelmed him."

"Oh," Amidala said.

Ahsoka frowned. "I'm sorry."

"Thank you," Bonteri said. "I certainly hope we can end this bloodshed, once and for all."

Everyone at the table looked solemn. "As do I," Amidala said.

"I'll do whatever I can to help," Ahsoka said. Anakin had been skeptical of this mission when Amidala had told him of it, but he had agreed to let Ahsoka go with her. Though he had pulled his Padawan aside before the mission and asked Ahsoka to 'keep the Senator out of trouble', whatever that was supposed to mean. But maybe Amidala was right. Maybe they should do whatever they had to to make sure this treaty was signed, if it could bring an end to the war. She knew Anakin wanted that, too, even if he had very different ideas about how the war would need to be ended.

Bonteri smiled. "I'm glad to hear it. And I trust you, young Jedi."

Lux smiled as well. "Good to know we're not going to fight."

Ahsoka crossed her arms, her expression wry. "That would hardly be a fair fight." the Jedi Padawan looked over at Senator Bonteri, frowning. "It's very important that no one besides you know that we're here, to ensure Senator Amidala's safety. Still, I've been wondering-how can we help negotiate a peace treaty with your Parliament if we can't talk with anyone?"

Bonteri gave her a warm look. "I will make the proposals to Parliament, of course. Padme's input will be vital for-"

A loud explosion punctuated the sentence and Amidala, Bonteri, and her son dove instinctively to the ground. Ahsoka rose from the table instead and turned to face the destruction, activating her twin green sabers.

A horde of Super Battle droids and droidekas were framed by the smoking metal of the doorway.

Ahsoka leapt at them.

Laser fire crisscrossed the room from both directions, and Ahsoka briefly glimpsed Amidala using her blaster to fire at the incoming droids as the togruta decapitated several of the them with her saber and then sliced through their metallic bodies for good measure. Unfortunately, an entire crowd of fresh droids stood behind the few she had destroyed. She deactivated one of her lightsabers and began to force slam some of the droids into each other as she continued to divert their blaster fire with her lightsaber.

"What's going on?!" Amidala asked over the din.

"I don't know," Bonteri yelled back. "but I'm going to put a stop to it, whatever it is!"

"Mina, don't-!" Amidala began, but the Senator paid no heed to her counterpart's warning and leapt up from under the table, running in front of the droids.

"Stop this immediately!" Bonteri ordered, her hands out as if to ward off the laser fire. To Ahsoka's surprise, this strategy actually worked. The droids stopped their attacks immediately.

"I demand to speak to your superior!" Bonteri said.

Two of the Super Battle Droids looked between each other, and then one of them projected a hologram in front of them.

"Admiral Tonith," Ahsoka growled.

The hologram of the muun Admiral looked between Bonteri and Ahsoka, and gave the Jedi a smile, baring small white teeth. "Ah, it seems my suspicions were not unfounded, although I was expecting our Jedi invader to be-slightly taller." He turned to Bonteri. "Not to worry, Senator. I have this well in hand. Apologies for the property damage, but I assure you, you will be reimbursed."

Bonteri scowled. "The property damage is the least of my worries, Admiral. You are disturbing a peace conference."

Tonith frowned. "Come now, Senator, I know you are not that gullible. Grievous is the one who will be negotiating the peace treaty. Or would be, at any rate. I suspect he will think twice once I inform him what the Republic has been up to."

"There is nothing nefarious going on here, Tonith. I asked them to come."

"You are not under any duress?" Tonith asked. "You asked a Jedi here of your own free will?"

"No, I am not under duress, and the Jedi was not who I asked to come, but I do not disapprove of her presence."

His frown deepened. "I'm going to report this to General Grievous." His hologram flickered out. For several minutes, they all stood there silently, and then two droids stuck their arms out. Ahsoka readied her lightsaber, but they only projected two holograms, one of Tonith, and the other of Grievous.

"Senator Bonteri," Grievous' low voice called out. "Admiral Tonith tells me you are having quite the interesting-" he paused as he noticed Ahsoka. "-house party," he finished. He tilted his head, his eyes intent.

"Jedi Ahsoka."

"General Grievous," she said, her eyes narrowing.

Grievous was silent for a long moment. "I believe that I owe you an apology, young Jedi."

Tonith's hologram looked between Ahsoka and the hologram of Grievous, his expression startled. For her part, Ahsoka was just as surprised.

Grievous continued on, his hands clasped behind his back. "I do not agree with your Order's decisions, but I should not have placed any blame for their choices on you. I allowed my bitterness to rule my actions. The last time we met, I attacked you with unwarranted viciousness. For this, I apologize."

"Er, thanks," Ahsoka said. She appreciated the sentiment behind it. It was also the last thing she'd ever expected Grievous to say. She wasn't sure if she accepted the apology, though. Jedi younglings were taught the importance of forgiveness, but Anakin had always told her that forgiveness had to be earned. A thought occurred to her. "Are your prisoners well? The clones and General Kenobi, I mean. Can I-see them?"

Grievous looked thoughtful. "I will show you Kenobi." He disappeared for a time and then the Jedi Master appeared in front of him. To Ahsoka's relief, Kenobi looked well and gave her a quick smile.

"Good day, Ahsoka. I assure you, the General has been treating me with the utmost courtesy. Five star meals, excellent lodgings, and truly fascinating conversation. I have had the opportunity to talk with the clone troopers here as well. Oh, and Waxer says hello. He tells me his accommodations could use an upgrade, but he's going to miss the meal options."

"Glad to hear it, Master Obi-Wan," Ahsoka said. After that Kenobi was whisked away, and Grievous returned alone.

The cyborg General looked over to Bonteri. "I must also apologize to you, Senator, for the behavior of my...subordinate." he glanced over at Tonith's hologram, who looked significantly more uncertain now.

"General?" Tonith said, sounding apprehensive.

"While I understand your suspicion, Admiral, I must disagree that Senator Bonteri is engaging in any sort of-treason, as you earlier suggested to me."

Tonith inclined his head. "In that case, I accept full responsibility for my actions."

Grievous nodded. "That you will," he said. He looked back to Bonteri. "Who is the representative you will be negotiating with, Senator?"

Amidala came out from under the table. "I am."

Grievous turned his gaze over to her, and laughed.

Bonteri gave him a puzzled look. "What's so funny?"

"I remember this one," Grievous said, pointing a clawed finger at Amidala. "She blew me up once." He chuckled again. "No hard feelings, of course."

"Padme," Bonteri said disapprovingly.

"He deserved it," Amidala said, crossing her arms.

Grievous bowed. "Guilty, as charged." He looked between Bonteri, Amidala, and Ahsoka. "I will leave the three of you to your work. These peace negotiations are absolutely essential, and as such I welcome any assistance that Senator Bonteri and Senator Amidala can provide at this important juncture." He paused, tilting his head. "I am-hardly an expert in these matters."

Ahsoka could barely believe what she was hearing. She could think of no reason for the Separatists to concoct a deception this bizarre, and so she could only conclude that somehow the cyborg General had had a complete personality overhaul since the last time she'd encountered him. She could only wonder what had brought about this completely unexpected change.

"Thank you, General," Bonteri said warmly. "I'm sorry for the misunderstanding this secrecy has caused, but Senator Amidala has many enemies. I only wished for her to avoid their attention."

"Understood," Grievous said. "In fact," he began, his gaze shifting back to Tonith, "I think I can help you with that, by placing the responsibility for the safety of your negotiations in the hands of Admiral Tonith here."

Tonith's eyes widened. "General? I thought my duty was to guard this world."

"Which you failed to do. You allowed a ship of suspected Republic infiltrators to land." The general's reptilian eyes narrowed.

"I knew I had more chance of capturing them if-"

Grievous held up a metallic hand. "Whatever your reasoning, Admiral Tonith, your actions were reckless and needlessly endangered lives. I will summon one of the other officers on Raxus to assume your previous duties."

"I didn't-"

"-still, I can't help but notice your attention to detail in detecting the unusual quality of Senator Bonteri's guests. Which is why I am giving you this final chance to prove your value. Do not fail me again, Admiral. Is that clear?"

Tonith inclined his head in resignation. "Yes, General."

"Good," Grievous said. He turned back to Bonteri. "I place Admiral Tonith at your disposal, Senator. If you require any further assistance, do not hesitate to contact me."

"Thank you," Bonteri said.

"You are welcome, Senator." Grievous' hologram flickered out.

The hologram of Tonith grimaced and then looked over at Bonteri, his expression becoming neutral. "Senator? Shall I leave these droids for you to-?"

"Yes," Bonteri said.

"As you wish. In that case I will take my leave until you require additional-"

"-actually, Admiral, I was thinking you should come along too and help clean up this mess."

Tonith sighed. "Of course. I will arrive within the hour." Then his hologram flickered out.

Ahsoka deactivated her remaining lightsaber and put it away. She saw Lux crawl out from under the table.

"That was amazing! I didn't know lightsabers could do that! And how you just leapt twenty times your own body length like it was nothing and then you moved those droids around with your Force powers-!"

Ahsoka laughed. "I take it you've never met a Jedi before."

"No. I'm sure glad you're on our side!"

Ahsoka shrugged. "And I'm glad your mother is on our side. Her way of stopping your droid friends was certainly alot faster than mine."

Chapter Text

"You are terrible at explaining this," Grievous said.

Obi-Wan gave him an injured look. "It's not a simple topic," he said. "Padawans can spend over a decade learning mastery of the Force, and even then, we only have a very incomplete understanding of it. And that is with the capability to access it, which-"

"-I don't have," Grievous said. He paced in front of the Jedi, his clawed hands clasped behind his cape. "Yes, I know."

"I'm not entirely sure why this is so important to you," Obi-Wan said.

"To fight an enemy, you must understand not only what they do, but how they think," Grievous said.

"But the Sith are entirely different from-"

"The Sith and the Jedi are more alike than you might like to admit," Grievous said.

Obi-Wan crossed his arms. "The Sith are diametrically opposed to everything the Jedi stand for."

Grievous turned his head towards the Jedi. "And what exactly is it that you stand for?"

"The Jedi are the guardians of peace and order."

Grievous chuckled. "Peace. Order." He walked closer to Obi-Wan, his metallic feet clinking across the hard floor of the ship, his neck bending until his face was level with Kenobi's. "Our entire galaxy is in a war being led by the Jedi, plunged into chaos caused by the Jedi-"

"That's not true!" Kenobi protested. "The Jedi didn't decide to start this war, we didn't-"

"And where did the Republic's clone army come from, Kenobi?" Grievous asked, though he already knew the answer. "Who commissioned them?"

"Sifo Dyas," Kenobi said.

"And under what authority was he able to do this?"

"He claimed the authority of the Jedi Council," Kenobi said. "But the Council was never informed. He acted of his own accord."

"And yet you use his army still."

"We weren't given a choice," Kenobi said. "The Jedi do not involve ourselves in politics. Unlike the Sith."

"Dooku was a Sith, yes, but not publicly," Grievous said. "And yet people naturally gravitated to him, were pulled into his orbit, and followed him. Even died for him. And they did all that believing he was a Jedi."

"Ex-Jedi," Kenobi said.

Grievous sighed. "I can see we are not going to agree on this."

"I should think not! You are very misinformed about who the Jedi are and what we stand for."

"All right," Grievous said. "Let's leave this topic for later and discuss something on which we can agree, then. Sidious needs to die."

"That would be a lot easier if I could enlist the help of the other Jedi."

"Ah, but you see, I do not trust them," Grievous said. "As it is, I barely trust you. But I do trust you. Somewhat. And I have an alternative to offer."

"Which is?"

"I could release your clone troopers if I could be assured they would not attack me or anyone I am allied with," Grievous said.

Kenobi's eyes widened. "Then, you mean for them to help us fight Sidious?"

"Yes," Grievous replied. "That is correct. Additionally, I have a supply of Hailfire droids and Vultures which I intend to employ to aid us in this battle."

Kenobi smiled. "Then perhaps we have a chance after all."

"We shall see," Grievous said.

Sidious watched mostly impassively as Reed's face contorted while he emitted almost inhuman shrieks of pain, though at one point a corner of the Sith Lord's mouth had quirked up in the ghost of a smile.

After another minute, the procedure had finished.

"Ugh," Reed said, grimacing, his face held in his hands now. "Did you even calibrate that thing? We're afraid to look at the result."

"I warned you it might be a bit-painful," Sidious said. "But my equipment delivers impeccable quality, of that I assure you."

Reed finally uncovered his face and looked into the mirror across from him. Blue eyes widened and he leaned closer to the mirror until his nose was nearly touching it. He smiled, and then ran a variety of expressions across his new face. "It's perfect, yes. An exact replica."

"I agree," Sidious replied.

"What happens now?" Reed asked.

"Now you have an appointment with a certain irascible cyborg to keep," Sidious said. "General Grievous will be expecting to negotiate peace talks with the Chancellor."

"Really?" Reed said, his face, no, Palpatine's face, looking intrigued. "And which way should these peace talks go?"

"I will handle that," Sidious said. "You just need to act the part of the concerned Chancellor, doing his best to, ah, 'lead the galaxy to a better tomorrow'."

Reed snorted. "All right."

"And do make sure you can say that with a straight face. It's in the rather lengthy speech he prepared. You will find it with the other important files I gave you." He gestured to the datapad Reed had placed on a nearby table earlier.

Reed smiled. "They will never guess we are anything but who we appear to be. Of that we guarantee."

"Good. Do have fun being Chancellor." It's about time I took a vacation anyway. Sidious turned, preparing to leave.

"Wait," Reed said. "There is-one more thing."

Sidious turned around again, tilting his head at the impersonator. It was a lot like looking in the mirror, if the mirror talked back. "Oh?"

"It's occurred to us that you may not need us after this is all over and done with."

"Are you implying I'm incapable of paying you the full amount?"

"Not at all. We are implying that you might not care to have someone else alive who remains aware of what has transpired here."

"Really?" Sidious felt a prickle of concern. "And what leads you to believe this?"

"Oh, just a feeling," Reed said, a touch of sarcasm in his tone. "Mysterious cultists in cloaks do always seem somewhat untrustworthy to us."

"Are you planning to be a problem to me?"

"Only if you are planning to be a problem to us."

Sidious scowled. How annoying. "If you are bringing this up, then I imagine you've prepared some kind of insurance against such an occurrence."

"Why, how astute of you," Reed replied. He held up a holocommunicator. "If anything happens to us, every single one of these messages we've hidden will be transmitted over the HoloNet."

Reed played the message. When it had completed, Sidious merely sighed. "Understood. Not to worry, you will get your full pay, and of course I have no choice but to ensure your continued survival." I will have to recalibrate my plans now. Slightly.

Nevertheless, Sidious left the ruined factory complex in a triumphant mood. Nothing that had just transpired significantly changed the possibilities he had foreseen. Possibilities that overwhelmingly showed that Sidious would prevail. Of course, it helped that he knew exactly what his opponents were planning to do. Sometimes it seemed almost too easy, that he could see the myriad futures with perfect clarity, whereas the Jedi were limited to only vague outlines through a dark fog. He chuckled at the thought as he jumped into his speeder and raced away, towards the battle ahead.

Chapter Text

“--may be the most important mission we’ve ever attempted--” Kenobi said, addressing the clones who stood before him.

The clone troopers stood directly across from the droid contingent Grievous had collected.  He could sense their fear of him, not only from their expressions, but from the scent they emitted.  Kaleesh often emoted intentionally through scent, but they could often read emotions that way even from species who didn’t. And Grievous, being the conglomeration of biology and technology that he was, could detect them not only through his original olfactory sense but also through the chemical receptors of his implants.  Though in this case, Grievous had no intention of justifying that fear.

Grievous paced between the collection of Hailfire, B2, and Vultures, and the line of clones, passing behind Kenobi as he spoke.  He had a very bad feeling about this, but it was still the best plan he had.  And the clones did seem willing to follow Obi-Wan, even if they trusted Grievous as little as he trusted them.

“--know that every one of you will do your very best--”

Grievous performed a mental inventory of the droids while he waited for the Jedi to finish his speech.  Grievous did not think they would find anything that their hated enemy had to say particularly motivating, so he saw no reason to interrupt Kenobi.

“I have a question,” one of the clones said.

“Yes, Cody?” Kenobi said.

Grievous had noted Obi-Wan’s use of nicknames for all of the clones.  He mentally cataloged the information for possible future use.  He might never see these particular clones again, but he had already worked out their relative rankings and memorized which of the nicknames Kenobi had used went to which clone.  That would be useful for planning their confrontation with Sidious.

“How do we know this isn’t some sort of Separatist trick?  How do we know he won’t turn on us?”  He gestured to the cyborg General.

Grievous turned to face the clone.  “Commander Cody, is it?”

The clone looked surprised to be addressed by the cyborg.  “Yes?”

He walked up to the clone, bringing his head level to the human’s.  “Kenobi has told you how Dooku died, and that I kept my word.  What more do you require?”

Cody crossed his arms, frowning.  “What’s in this for you?  I believe what General Kenobi told us.  I believe you killed Dooku. But how do we know that you didn’t do it on orders from Sidious himself?  Maybe this is all--” and here he waved a hand expansively, “--some plot of his, some final endgame to destroy the Republic.”

“A plausible theory,” Grievous said.  “I’ll admit, it brings even me some worry as I hear it.  I have been controlled for so long, I no longer doubt that such a thing could be done without my knowledge.”

The clone looked surprised.  “That was certainly not the response I’d expected from you.”

Grievous tilted his head.  “And what response were you expecting?”

The clone gave him a lopsided smile.  “Let’s just say I never thought of you as the introspective type.”

“You may find I have many qualities you are unaccustomed to seeing.  Still, you make a good point, Commander.  Perhaps I should not be present when you plan your attack so that I cannot be used to easily thwart it.”

Cody frowned.  “No, if we’re really going to be fighting a Sith Lord, then we’ll need your help, as much as I hate to admit it.  We need to coordinate with each other, or we don’t have much of a chance anyway.”

“All right.  I’ll stay, then.”

Kenobi looked between them and smiled.  “I’m glad that’s settled.  Now, why don’t you tell us what your plan is, Grievous?”

“All right,” he responded.    Grievous explained his plan to them.

“I’ll admit, that’s impressive,” Cody said.

“It’s excessive.  Which is perfect,” Boil said.

“I agree,” Kenobi said, smiling.  His eyes seemed hopeful.  Grievous found this pleasing, but was unnerved by the realization. He’s still a Jedi.  He’s an ally, yes, but not a friend.

Grievous only shook his head.  “You have considerably more faith in my plan than I do, then.  This is simply all that I was able to come up with given the time and resources available.  We are facing an enemy we don’t fully understand.  We don’t know his plans.  We don’t know what he’s capable of.  The only thing we do know is that if we don’t kill him, he’ll kill us.”

“You might want to work on your motivational speeches,” Kenobi said, though his eyes glimmered with amusement.

“It’s true,” Grievous said defensively.  “I see no reason to make our situation sound any better than it is.”

“Be that as it may,  your plan is our best chance at defeating him,” Kenobi said.

Anakin picked up his pace as the Chancellor walked through the hallway ahead of him.  As he turned, Palpatine regarded Anakin for a moment before breaking into his usual beaming smile.  “Anakin, so good to see you again!  What is it?”

Anakin stopped and took a deep breath.  “You’re in terrible danger, Chancellor.”

Palpatine’s expression became serious.  “Really?  How do you know this?”

“I had a vision.”

Palpatine was silent for a moment, appearing to consider this information.  “Walk with me to my office.”

Anakin nodded and they walked back through the curving hall until they reached the office, when they were inside, the Chancellor walked up to the window, looking over his shoulder at Anakin.  “What did you see in this vision?”

Anakin thought back to the disjointed images.  “It didn’t really make any sense.  There’s--a shadow, and it--suffocates you and everyone else around it.  I don’t know what that means.  But I know that you’re in terrible danger!”

Palpatine frowned, his hand on his chin, expression thoughtful.  “I’ve been asked by Grievous not to take any Jedi to these negotiations.”

“You can’t trust him!  He’s--”

Palpatine laughed.  “Oh, I don’t.  But I don’t dare go back on that agreement either--”

“--but something terrible will--”

“--at least not visibly,” He said with a sly smile.

Anakin allowed himself to hope.  He has a plan.  “So, you’ll let me come along?”

“Certainly,” Palpatine said.

Anakin breathed a sigh of relief.  When whatever it was went wrong, Anakin would be able to help the Chancellor.  And make sure the Republic got all of Grievous’s prisoners back.  He’d never forgive himself if anything happened to Obi-Wan.

He wished being the Chosen One meant he could do something actually useful, like being in two places at once.  He was painfully aware that Padme was also in danger since she’d insisted on going to Raxus.  He hoped she’d be alright.  At least Ahsoka was with her.  Hopefully, she'd let him know if anything went wrong.  He wished he could have told her just how important Padme's life was to him.  But he hesitated to confide that far even with his Padawan.  

Ahsoka took a deep breath and tried to come to terms with the feeling of foreboding that had taken hold of her.  It was a bit like a vision, but there was no particular event it forewarned her of, only the need to keep her guard up and be ready for anything.

Her surroundings, however, seemed peaceful.  Besides the ruined buildings here and there from the earlier Republic attack, anyway.  But there were animals, trees, and people of all species milling along the walkways and working on rebuilding the rubble.  The sun shone in a clear blue sky, and the sound of birdsong filled the air.

They were walking to the Separatist Senate building with Senator Bonteri now.  Padme and Bonteri were engaged in conversation, though Padme was hooded again just as Ahsoka was.   Admiral Tonith trailed behind them with a group of B2 droids, scrutinizing anyone who passed by.  Ahsoka narrowed her eyes at him.  He hadn’t shown any signs of hostility since the conversation with Grievous.  But Ahsoka was hardly going to forget the hostilities prior to that.

It seemed clear that the feeling was mutual when, on noticing her watching him, his eyes narrowed as well.

“--but I think Ahsoka would know more about that than I would,” Padme said, causing Ahsoka to end her glaring contest with the Separatist Admiral and turn to the Republic senator.

“Know more about what?” she asked.

“Jedi protocol,” Padme said.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Ahsoka said.  She looked over at Bonteri.  “You have a question about that?”

“I was just wondering,” Bonteri started, “Who the Jedi ultimately serve.”

“The people,” Ahsoka said immediately.

Bonteri smiled wryly. “Which people?”

“People who need help,” she said.

“Forgive me,” Bonteri said, “but I do suspect your Code might be a bit more specific than that.  Not long ago, I was in mortal peril. but it was General Grievous who saved me from the Jedi, not the other way ‘round.”

“I suppose you’re right.  Our first duty is to Republic citizens.  But that doesn’t mean we don’t or won’t help others in need. It’s just, we can only do so much, and sometimes we do need to take sides.”

“Indeed,” Bonteri said.  “Jedi are a relative rarity in the galaxy.  And as you’ve said, they do take sides.  I was just wondering, once Grievous signs the peace treaty, if some of the Jedi will be allocated to the Outer Rim as well.”

“Oh.  I’m not sure,” Ahsoka said.  She had never considered what might happen if the Republic signed a treaty with the Separatists rather than defeating them.  It had never seemed like a good idea before, or even possible.

“I hope they will consider it,” Bonteri said.  “Those in the Core worlds aren’t the only ones who should have the powers of the Force-sensitive available to come to their aid.”

Ahsoka was about to reply when she heard a voice behind her.  She turned to see the Muun admiral had closed most of the distance between himself and the rest of their group, a sour expression on his face.

“I’m not sure I agree we actually need the Jedi,” Tonith said.  “Those abilities didn’t exactly serve Dooku well, nor did his former connections with them prevent them from summarily executing him.”

Bonteri frowned.  “That was a great loss for us,” she said, looking sad.

“Hmmmm, I can’t say I agree there either,” Tonith said as he walked with one hand behind his back and one hanging casually near his weapon.  “I think his cause is much better off without him.”

Bonteri gave him a surprised look.

“Perhaps you only knew Dooku’s public persona, Senator,” Tonith said.  “He could be very charming, when he wanted to be.  But I have direct experience with his military strategies, and let me tell you, they were both unnecessarily cruel and an unmitigated disaster.  Grievous has done more for us in the last two months than Dooku was able to accomplish in all his time as Chancellor.”

Ahsoka had to admit, the last thing she had expected to hear was a Separatist disparage Dooku.  Maybe Tonith wasn't all bad after all.

Ventress exited hyperspace.  At last she’d reached the Outer Rim location that Sidious had sent her to.  She opened communications.

A holo of a chiss woman in a white uniform appeared.  She spoke in Sy Bisti. “This is Admiral Ar’alani.  State your reason for this tresspass into Chiss Space.”

Ventress frowned.  “I’m looking for someone named Mith’raw’nuruodo,” she said, carefully enunciating each syllable.

Ar’alani gave her a blank look.  Then her pupil-less red eyes lit with recognition, and she winced.  “Your pronunciation is--less than ideal.  But you must be referring to Thrawn.”

“No, I said--”

“Thrawn is the Core name of Mith’raw’nuruodo," Ar’alani explained crisply, standing with her hands behind her back.  “In any event, if you are looking for Thrawn, you will not find him here.”

“What?  Why?”  Ventress scowled.  Not only had Sidious never mentioned that this chiss had a much easier to pronounce nickname, but apparently he’d been wrong about Thrawn’s location as well.

“He was exiled some time ago.  In fact, if you are asking about him, I am obliged to question you.”

Ventress’s scowl grew deeper.  “I don’t want to answer any questions.”

“What you want is irrelevant,” Ar’alani replied.  She glanced over her side, and nodded, presumably to someone outside of holo range.  Then her holo image abruptly cut off.

Ventress barely dodged the two turbolasers the ship fired at her.  She cursed and moved her ship into a roll.  As she evaded the lasers and a tractor beam attempt, she glanced over to the holoscreen, one hand ghosting back and forth over the computer controls.  Standard microwave radiation, infrared heat signature, noise radio-wave emissions...there it is! She’d found their communication frequencies.

While Ventress had done this many times, she hadn’t ever attempted it while under attack.  The corners of her mouth quirked upwards.  But if I’m going to be a Sith,  I must become a master at multitasking.

She lidded her eyes and focused.  The  fingers of her right hand moved from one key to the next, seemingly of their own volition, keeping one step ahead of the cruiser’s AI , while her left steered away from a volley of torpedoes.  Ventress was fairly certain that it wouldn’t actually be possible to question someone who had been hit with those.  But that wasn’t her concern.

Ventress noted when the lights in the chiss cruiser flickered, and it began to list to one side.

The holo of Ar’alani appeared again.  “What is the meaning of this?!”

“I could ask the same of you,” Ventress said casually.  “This is the most unfriendly questioning I have ever received.  But you might say I’m returning the favor.”

A sudden outpouring of data filled the screen.  Finally!  The second stage of the denial of service attack had been successful.  The ship, acting on emergency protocols that should have only activated on the ship’s destruction, began transmitting all of it’s databank information.  Encrypted, of course.  But given the state of technology in the Unknown Regions, Ventress had little doubt it could be sliced.  Her decryption algorithm soon proved this correct, and along with help from a computerized copy of a protocol droid’s language databanks, her computers were able to retrieve the location where Thrawn had been exiled.

She grinned and activated the hyperdrive.  A hum filled the cabin and then the blue lines of hyperspace appeared around her.

Chancellor Palpatine approached Grievous at a casual pace, the expression in his faded blue eyes mild and open.  When he finally reached Grievous, the cyborg General was finally able to get a read on the Republic leader.  He could tell that under the bravado, under the calm, the man was much more nervous than he let on.

So he’s not as inscrutable as he appears.  Of course, Grievous had an advantage.  Though the Chancellor did not appear visibly apprehensive, Grievous could detect the scent of fear emanating from him.

“We meet at last,”  Palpatine said with a warm smile.  He extended a hand.

Grievous carefully shook it, taking care not to scratch the man’s flesh with his claws.  Then he bent his head until it was level with the much shorter man’s face.

“You certainly took your time getting here.”

“Such things cannot be rushed,” Palpatine said.  “However, I too am eager to get on with these negotiations.  There is much to discuss.”

“I agree.  I would like to start with the exchange of prisoners.”

“Ah, yes, I was greatly looking forward to General Kenobi’s return--”

“Of course.  But I ask that you go first.”

“Oh.  Fair enough, I suppose.”  The Chancellor waved a hand, and a blue guard walked towards a Republic shuttle.  As the guard moved towards where the prisoners were presumably being held, Grievous assessed the Chancellor’s security.  He had not been accompanied by any Jedi, just as Grievous had insisted.  The cyborg would not abide their presence here.  Besides Kenobi, of course, who he reminded himself would soon be leaving too if they succeeded in destroying Sidious.

Instead, the Chancellor was surrounded by a large number of clones with blue-marked helmets and a number of red and blue guards.  He had also brought a number of the walkers the clones used.  This was in addition to the nine Star Destroyers Grievous knew orbited the planet now.

The first prisoner was released.  Dr. Nuvo Vindi, the one who had released the dreaded Blue Shadow Virus on Naboo.  Grievous watched as the scientist walked towards him.  He had debated this decision with himself for sure.  After all, he was hardly opposed to the Republic or anyone else executing the doctor for war crimes. But he had also decided it would be better if he wasn’t in a Republic prison where it might be easier for Sidious to jailbreak him. He will certainly stay locked up, however, at least until his fate can be decided by Separatist judges.  He gave one of the droids an instruction to place the man in a cell in the shuttle.

Then the next prisoner caught his eye.  It was Slick, the clone who had willingly joined the Separatists.  He was being booed by several of the other clones as he passed them, but seemed to be unfazed by this treatment.  He stopped when he reached Grievous.  “I never expected this day to come.  Thought I’d rot in that Republic cell until they finally executed me.”

“You acted honorably in service to the Separatists,” Grievous said.  “It was the least I could do to see to your release.”

“What happens now?” Slick asked.

“That’s up to you,” Grievous responded.  “For now, you can stay on my flagship, the Invisible Hand.  But you have your choice of residence on any Separatist-aligned world you choose.  You could live out the rest of your life in peace.”

Slick laughed.  “You mean--retire?  Just like that?”

“If you like,” Grievous said.

The clone only smiled and shook his head.  “Nah, that doesn’t appeal.  I’d rather fight--for something I actually believe in.  You wouldn’t happen to need any help with that?”

“I might,”  Grievous said.  “I look forward to discussing the matter further with you.”

The clone gave him a lopsided smile and proceeded to the shuttle.

The next prisoner was a human boy with the same dark complexion and build of the clones.  Grievous knew who this was, too.

“Boba Fett, son of Jango Fett,” Grievous said solemnly.

The Fett boy looked up at him.  “Did you ever meet my father?”

“Yes,” Grievous said.  He had actually met the elder Fett by chance when he had still been in Hill’s employ.  “He made quite the impression.  You remind me of him--only shorter.”

Fett smiled cautiously at that.  “I’ve been told I have his eyes.”

“I imagine you have,” Grievous said, amused.  He knew the boy was also a clone, though an unmodified one.  “I’ve given some thought to your situation.  As an orphan, you’ll need to be adopted.”

Fett scowled at that.  “I’m older than he is,” he said, pointing to Slick, who was walking onto the shuttle now.  “Does he need a guardian?”

“That’s a rather different situation,” Grievous said, though he couldn’t help but think that the kid might have a point.  Grievous found the situation with the clones rather confusing.  It was something to consider.  Later, perhaps.  “But even if Slick is younger than he appears, that still does not make you as old as he appears.”

“I can take care of myself,” Fett insisted.

“I do not doubt it,” Grievous said.  “But I also don’t think that’s what your father would have wanted.  You will have the opportunity to make your case, however.”

“Alright,”  Fett said.  He turned to walk to the shuttle, then paused.  “And thanks, I guess.”

“You are welcome,” Grievous replied.

Grievous watched as the rest of the Separatist prisoners were returned, and then released the Republic prisoners.  Again, their was a procession of individuals returned, one by one.  Grievous noted that the Chancellor shared a few words with Kenobi, though only nodded with a placid smile as the Clone Troopers were returned.

Afterwards, Grievous listened impatiently as Chancellor Palpatine began what promised to be a long, and in Grievous’s opinion, entirely unnecessary speech.  Grievous still didn’t trust Palpatine’s intentions.  But having met him in person, he found it difficult to fathom how this man could have murdered someone as directly as Hill had insisted, even a banker like Hego Damask, who Grievous imagined would not be a particularly formidable or battle-hardened opponent.  He just didn’t seem capable of it.  Unless he bored Damask to death with an overly-long speech, the cyborg thought sardonically.

Chapter Text

“Greatness is defined,” the Chancellor began, “by our convictions, and the deeds which prove the truth of those convictions.  Today it is my great honor to facilitate the proceedings for this historic--”

“I hate just standing here like this,” Waxer grumbled quietly, his helmet cradled in on arm.

“I don’t see we have much choice,” Obi-Wan said.  “We can’t exactly go in weapons blazing to fight the Sith Lord when there isn’t any Sith Lord yet.”

“I know,” Waxer said.  “But this is, what, the second speech by the Chancellor now?  Nothing’s happening, but I know it’s going to happen, and that’s the worst part.  The waiting.”

“I warned the Chancellor that we’re expecting an incident,” Obi-Wan said.  “He assured me that all of his resources would also be alerted to this possible Sith attack.”

“Possible?” Waxer scoffed.  “This would be the worst time for him to strike.  So of course he’ll be here.”

Obi-Wan looked over at Grievous.  The cyborg was ignoring Palpatine in favor of scanning the treeline and talking to another Kaleesh who stood at his right side.  Grievous had told Obi-Wan that her name was Ronderu.  She was, as far as Obi-Wan could surmise, one of his lieutenants.  On his left, stood Bentalais, the giant Kaleesh who seemed to have taken a dislike to Obi-Wan.  Even now he cast a quick glare at the Jedi Master, who only smiled placidly in response.

“--when I was growing up on Naboo--” Palpatine recounted from the podium.

“I don’t like this plan,” Ronderu muttered in Kaleesh, shifting impatiently at Grievous’s side.  “It’s going to get you killed.” 

“That’s what I was thinking, too,” Grievous said. “Do you have a better plan?”

“You know very well I do,” Ronderu said.

“Not that one.”

“It’s perfectly sensible.”

“Ronderu, the gods are clearly angry with me.  I’ll not pester them until I’ve regained their favor.  Otherwise, they may finish what they started.”  He gestured towards his cybernetic body.

“You don’t know it means they’re angry.”

“It certainly doesn’t mean they’re pleased,” Grievous said.  

Ronderu sighed.  “I hate this waiting.”

“--even the seemingly insignificant can change the course of an entire galaxy--” Palpatine’s speech continued.

“So do I,” Grievous said.  “But there’s nothing else we can do.”

“Sure there is,” Bentalais said.  “Not my fault you didn’t like my suggestion, either.”

“We’re here to sign a peace treaty,” Grievous murmured warningly.  “I’m fairly sure that can’t happen if you rip off Palpatine’s head.”

“What I want to know is what’s taking Sidious so long,” Ronderu grumbled.  “We’re here to rip off his head, and I for one would like to get started with that.”

That was when Ronderu heard a sound.  Her communicator.  “I’ll handle this,” she said to Grievous.

Grievous nodded and then as Ronderu walked towards their shuttle to talk to the caller in private.

When she arrived, she answered the call.  A small hologram of a familiar Muun appeared.

“Lora?” Ronderu said, puzzled.  “What is it?”

The Muun woman seemed visibly shaken.  “You have to leave now.  I just saw something.”

“Saw--something?  Oh, yes, your visions.  What did you see?”

“Your death.  Grievous’s capture--”

“Capture?  Does he escape?”

“He--does not.  Please, believe me.”

Ronderu frowned.  “I do, Lora.  But what can I do to prevent it?”

“There’s another, someone calls him ‘The Giant’?  You need to leave Kalee with him in a shuttle.”

The Giant.  Bentalais.

 “Leave?  And go where?”

“The Invisible Hand.”

Ronderu growled.  “And do what?  Run away?  Never!”

“No.  Pilot a starfighter.”

“All right.  But what about Grievous?”

“He needs to stay on Kalee,” Lora said.  

Ronderu hesitated.  This meant she might not be on-planet when Sidious attacked.  But if Lora is right-- “Okay.  I’ll let him know the change of plans.”

“Thank you.  Please, we need to hurry.”

When Ronderu had returned to the clearing where Palpatine was giving his speech, she gestured to Bentalais.  “We need to talk.” 

He looked down at her.  “Really?  This isn’t the best time...” 

“It’s important,” Ronderu said. 

Grievous tilted his head in concern.   “What is it?” 

Ronderu turned to face him.  “A pressing matter.   Lora said she had a vision. You--stay here.  Bentalais and I need to attend to this matter alone.  The Sith Lord could still appear at any moment.”  

“All right,” Grievous said, his eyes widening.  “Take care, both of you, and return soon.”

“We will,” Ronderu said.  “May the gods be with you, Dreamer.” 

“And you as well, Dreamt One” Grievous said.    

Ronderu motioned for Bentalais to follow her to the shuttle.  The large Kaleesh grimaced.  “They never make these things big enough,” he grumbled as he folded himself into the entrance. 

Ronderu sighed.  “Then you’re really not going to like the new plan."

After Ronderu and Bentalais left, Grievous stood awkwardly with only his silent Magnaguards,  Hailfire droids, B2‘s and Vultures, paying little attention to whatever Palpatine was saying at the podium.  It was a lonely experience.  He’d finally had his mind returned to him, and been reunited with the friends he thought had died.  And in the short time that had happened, he’d become accustomed to having someone nearby to speak to.

His communicator beeped.  It was a message from Lora, but it was written in words scrolling across the small screen rather than spoken through a hologram.  It was rather cryptic, requesting that he send it to Admiral Tonith, of all people.  Grievous shrugged to himself and forwarded the message.  He hoped that Lora’s visions would help them.  He worried though that they might interfere with the plans he had previously laid out, which had included Ronderu and Bentalais in the battle against Sidious.  Still, she had access to information he did not, and he would have to trust her in order for that to help him. 

He was again left to only his own thoughts and the sound of Palpatine’s overly cheerful voice.  He glanced over at Kenobi, who was surrounded by his clone officers.  At least the Jedi had someone to talk to.  He almost wished-- 

“Back so soon, Grievous?” Hill said, looking up from the stack of datapads on his desk.

“Yes,” Grievous said, his eyes flitting briefly to the stock display holos that scrolled across the walls in the Munn's spacious office.  “I’ve collected the debt from Cad Bane.”

Hill raised one hairless brow.  “Really?  All of it?” 

“All 2.5 million credits of it, yes,” Grievous said.

“Congratulations, Grievous!”  Hill said, looking pleased.  “He has been one of our most difficult clients.  And now perhaps he will think twice before defaulting again when we well know he has plenty of money to pay!”  

“I have a question, Mr. Hill.”  Grievous said, standing in front of the Muun, his hands behind his back. 

Hill frowned, steepling his fingers over the desk.  “Please, call me Chairman, Grievous.  I know you can manage the word.” 

“Of course, Mr. Hill,” Grievous said.  This was the single act of disobedience that he was afforded, that would annoy Hill without causing Grievous undue problems.  And so he refused to give it up. 

Hill only sighed and rolled his eyes.  “What’s your question?”  

“I’ve done some calculations, Mr . Hill, and it does not seem that my current rate of collection is sufficient.”   

Hill smiled at that.  “Nonsense.  You’re one of our top performers, Grievous.”   

“I meant to pay off my planet’s debt.”    

“Oh,” Hill said.  “Of course.  That’s just basic math.  Doing that would take you, oh, probably several more decades than you’re going to live.”   

“But--I need to pay it all off,” Grievous said.   

Hill leaned back in his chair, shaking his head in amusement.  “Grievous, that’s simply not going to happen.  You need to be realistic-do you have any children?”   

The question, spoken so quickly compared to the previous statement, and so seemingly unrelated, confused Grievous.  “Why?”   

“So they can carry on your--legacy, of course.  If they’re even half as talented as you, they’d still be worth my time.”  

Grievous took a deep breath.  A fantasy flashed across his mind then, one involving something rather more drastic than harsh words and an immediate resignation.  He quelled it.    

“No,” was all Grievous said in response, utilizing every bit of his restraint.  

Hill sighed, unaware of his narrowly escaped mortal peril.  “That’s a pity.”   

“Are there any other debts of a similar size to Mr. Bane’s?” Grievous could easily search the clients in his records by the size of their debts, but he had come to learn that certain clients were not listed in those records, and were recorded in a database only accessible by Hill.  Clients such as Cad Bane, for example. 

Hill seemed to ponder this a moment, then began tapping something onto one of his datapads.  “Ah, yes.  There’s a 4.2 million debt owed by a client named Jango Fett.  Mandalorian.  Heavily armed.  Freelancer.”

Freelancer.  That was Hill’s code for bounty hunter.  Not surprising.  While there were plenty of individuals who evaded their debts, not many of them could manage to evade the apparatus that Hill had constructed to prevent them from building up and ignoring those debts.  Large corporations often did so, of course, but Grievous was not authorized to use his particular talents to collect from them.  Apparently that was managed by a team of lawyers.     

“I’ll handle it,” was all Grievous said in response. 

Grievous blinked as his mind returned to the present.  The palms swaying lazily in the wind around them.  The warmth of the sun.  The clearing where Grievous stood with his contingent of Separatist battle droids and the Republic witnesses, watching, if not listening, to Palpatine deliver his speech.

The Republic Chancellor, while every bit as outwardly enthusiastic as he continually seemed to be, had clearly begun to wilt in the tropical climate of Kalee.  He had taken to intermittently dabbing a handkerchief over his forehead to remove the sweat which would otherwise interfere with his ability to make eye contact with his audience.       

It was at that moment that Palpatine made eye contact with Grievous, smiling brightly.  “I’m sure Chancellor Grievous has been looking forward to this moment as well.”  With that, Palpatine removed a datapad from his chancellor’s robes and held it out.  “If you would approach the podium now, Chancellor?”

It’s about time, Grievous thought, stalking up to Palpatine.  Without saying a word, he took the datapad and pen, checked the document to ensure it was the same as the one that had been sent to him by Palpatine in advance, and signed it. 

He looked up at Palpatine, who was beaming effusively.  The Republic Chancellor took the pen as well and moved to sign the treaty...  

And the pen moved across the screen, and the words ‘Sheev Palpatine’ appeared across the page, rebroadcast on an enormous holographic display above them for the audience.  

It’s done, Grievous thought in shock, as applause erupted in the audience.  

“It’s done,” Palpatine said, unknowingly echoing the cyborg’s thoughts.  He smiled effusively at the audience, then turned to Grievous.  With a wry smile, he said quietly,  “My thanks for your patience.  I’m glad my droning didn’t put you to sleep.” 

Grievous chuckled at that in surprise.  “I assure you, Chancellor, that sleep was the very last thing on my mind.”  

Grievous could hardly believe that the event had gone without incident.  But as he stepped away from the podium, his spirits sunk at the sight of a familiar cloaked figure who had appeared seemingly from nowhere at the edge of the clearing.

Sidious grinned, his cloak flapping in the wind, his hands hanging empty at his sides.  “Now isn’t this heartwarming,” he said, his yellow eyes glowing with malice.   And it was at that moment that one of those empty hands lifted into the air, curling into a claw, and began choking Palpatine.    

“But all good things--must come to an end.”

Chapter Text

Blaster bolts fired out from droids and clones alike towards the Sith Lord, but seemed to be effortlessly deflected by him.  Grievous activated his four sabers and ran towards Sidious.

Sidious paid him no heed until he had closed most the distance between them.  That was when he finally responded by launching himself straight upwards, all the way to the tops of the trees, his leaps through the canopy a defiance of gravity.

Grievous turned instantaneously to see Palpatine slowly getting to his feet, one hand rubbing at his neck, his guard standing over him.

Obi-Wan and his clone troopers were running towards Grievous.

All this Grievous took in in an instant, and then his gaze snapped back towards the retreating Sith Lord and he took off in pursuit of him, climbing the trees himself and using his enhanced cyborg strength and rappelling line to propel him forward in the canopy.   This running surprised him--it did not fit with what he knew of Sidious, who he had never thought of as the type to flee from any conflict.

But it occurred to him then that he had not misjudged his foe’s character, but rather his purpose.  The earlier attack had been a charade. This was never about preventing the treaty from being signed, never about killing Palpatine.

This was about getting to me, so that none of that would matter.  Sidious wasn’t trying to unseat Palpatine--he was trying to continue the war.  And he needs the Separatists to do that.

Grievous feared then that he had made a grave mistake, but there was no turning back now.

“I hope I’m not late to the party,” a familiar voice said from beside him.  Grievous glanced to his side, and saw Obi-Wan following along, leaping through the air with the unnatural strength of a Jedi.

“We’re being set up,” Grievous said.

“If so, perhaps we can still turn it to our favor,” the Jedi said.

Sidious suddenly leapt down into the undergrowth ahead of them.  Growling, Grievous jumped down as well, followed by Obi-Wan at his side.

Finally, they came to a clearing.  Sidious stood in the center of it, seemingly unconcerned by the angry cyborg and Jedi Master who now stood before him.

“You looked taller in your hologram,” Grievous said, holding up his four lightsabers in a defensive pose.

Sidious put a hand to his chest.  “Oh, you just had to get that dig in, didn’t you?  But as a certain green gremlin likes to say, and this is one of the only things upon which we do agree, ‘size matters not’.”  His acid-yellow eyes blazed with anticipation.

“Your reign of evil ends here,” Kenobi said, drawing his lightsaber in a ready pose.

Sidious turned his gaze to Kenobi.  “Oh, no, I think my reign has just begun.”

Grievous readied himself for Sidious to draw a lightsaber or unleash a Force attack.  But the Sith Lord only folded his hands in front of him.  “Which of you will strike me first, and reap the glory of my defeat?”

Everything in Grievous screamed that this was a trap now.  Sidious should have struck first, without warning, and without response.  But that wasn’t what was happening.  Instead, he was waiting patiently for them to make their move.

Unconcerned.  Smiling.  Toying with them.

A rage lit in Grievous, and it was everything he could do to keep himself from leaping towards the Sith Lord in that moment.  He felt frustration.  Sidious had to die.  But Grievous didn’t dare attack, still trying to search out the Sith’s intentions, his hidden trap.

Circling slowly around Sidious, he asked, “Why did you come here?”

Sidious gave him a bland smile, his eyes alight with the emotion not otherwise present on his features.  “I came for you, of course,” he said.  “To give you a choice.”

“Why do I have the feeling that one of those choices is ‘join you’ and the other is ‘die’?”

Sidious laughed.  “Oh, you are quite mistaken, Grievous.  You see, I do not plan to give you the option to die.”

Again, it was all Grievous could do to stop his anger from consuming all reason in him.  He wanted to tear the Sith Lord limb from limb in that moment, and only the knowledge that Sidious was actively provoking him into a thoughtless attack held him back. Stick with the plan--you and Kenobi attack together.  None of this ‘taking us one at a time’ nonsense.

“Whatever your plan is here, Sidious, it won’t succeed,” Kenobi said.  “This conflict can only end one way.  Even if you survive, you cannot hope to restore the Sith Empire alone, no matter how much power you may have, nor do anything more than live the life of a common criminal.”

“Ah, that is where you are wrong, Jedi,” Sidious said, examining the carefully manicured nails on one hand before his yellow eyes flashed back up to meet his opponent’s gaze.  “I am hardly alone.  But the Jedi? Your Order is a dying light, Kenobi, a sputtering flame that I will see stamped out.  Forever.”

Kenobi was silent at that.

“What, no amusing quip? No righteous refrain?  I’m disappointed.  Still, Kenobi, you need not doom yourself with the rest of the Jedi.”  Sidious held out a pale hand.  “Pledge yourself to me, and you will live to see a galaxy remade.”

“Your offer is hollow,” Kenobi said.  “I would much rather have a death of integrity than choose a life of degrading servitude.”

“I thought you’d say that,” Sidious replied.  “But I can be flexible in this case--I’ll be more than happy to kill you, Master Jedi.”

“I think you’ll find that not so easy as you believe,” Kenobi said, his expression pleasant though his eyes were hard.  “After all, Sith Lords are our specialty.”

Sidious laughed suddenly.  “Oh, I’m quaking in my boots.  One force-blind monstrosity and a single second-rate Jedi.  You think that destroying my Apprentices means you possess the caliber to destroy me?  You fool.”

Then there were shouts all around them and the rhythmic sounds of robotic limbs.Their reinforcements, the droids and the clones, had arrived.  At that moment a hail of blaster fire rang out from all directions towards the Sith Lord.

And were all stopped mere meters from him.

With a dismissive wave, he set the bolts in reverse.  He grinned at the wave of destruction, walking purposefully towards Grievous and Kenobi, who now stood side by side.

“At last.  Let the games begin,” he said, two lightsabers dropping out from his sleeves and into his hands.

Anakin stared at the holo-display in shock.  Moments earlier, the treaty had been signed, and he had almost dismissed his own premonition as the result of an overactive imagination and worry.

Then he had seen him.  The Sith Lord.  And chaos had broken out as he had Force-choked Palpatine and then fled with Grievous and Obi-Wan in hot pursuit of him.  To make matters worse, they had then lost all contact with the surface.  Something must have happened to all the cameras and comms at the signing.

And now, as Anakin himself ran to the ship’s hangar, mentally readying himself for combat, he cursed himself for not being more adamant about coming to the surface of the planet despite Palpatine’s insistence on keeping him here to avoid a diplomatic faux pas with Grievous.  And as he turned the final corner to the hangar, two things happened simultaneously: one, Anakin felt a darkness unfold below him, a void, a maw, a shadow, a somehow familiar being whose seemingly endless desire for power and control Anakin could sense as almost a palpable force, and two, he ran into the closed blast door of the hangar, and saw, through it’s clear transparisteel, all the crates, ships, and horrifyingly, the people behind it floating aimlessly out through space.

Grievous and Kenobi both clashed with Sidious simultaneously.  Five blades against two would normally seem to tilt the fight to their advantage, but Sidious never seemed to stay in one place long enough for any of the blades to do more than graze his sabers.  Everything about him moved as if on an axis of his choosing as he dodged the attacks with an impossible speed and agility.   It was nothing like how Dooku fought, as if in an impenetrable box constructed of the straightedge of his saber.  With Sidious every move curved or spun in dizzying directions too unpredictable to track.

Nevertheless, Grievous thought his plan might be working.  He and Obi-Wan circled around the Sith Lord, attempting to close in on him.  The droids and clone troopers around them did the same.  Grievous was tightening a noose around Sidious, and he meant to see the Sith Lord choke in it.

Sidious, for his part, was much more difficult to box in than any other single opponent Grievous had ever encountered, Jedi included.  Grievous had anticipated this, however, and so he had implemented his best countermeasure--throw everything he had at the Sith Lord.

Almost everything, that was.  He found himself thinking of the intended roles of Ronderu and Bentilais in the battle.  But those plans were a moot point now.  He lunged at Sidious, striking and at last connecting with one of the Sith Lord’s sabers in one vicious circular sweep.  The saber flew from the Sith Lord’s hand, and at that moment Grievous used his ability to pull it to himself.

“An excellent addition to my collection,” he growled, as he ignited it and spun it with the blue saber he already held in the same hand.

Sidious blocked Kenobi’s attacks and pulled at the saber with his Force power, and Grievous found himself digging into the dirt to prevent being pulled to the Sith Lord.  A saber was wrested from his metallic claws,  but it was the Jedi saber, not the Sith one.  Sidious gave it a look of disgust and discarded it.  “Give that back.” The Sith Lord snapped, pulling again at his own saber.

Gladly, Grievous thought, pulling back further at first and then abruptly lunging towards Sidious with the red saber aimed at his heart.

Sidious spun away from the attack and Grievous felt something push him forward still.  Grievous tumbled forward and the saber sliced straight through a clone trooper’s armored chest, his clawed feet leaving slashes on the armor.

No. Grievous looked down at the clone in dismay and horror.  He put away a saber so he could lift the man from the ground.   “I’m sorry,” he said.

The clone lifted one hand shakily.  “Behind you,” he croaked, and then collapsed.

Grievous wheeled around, glaring at Sidious.  “I will see you burn,” he roared.

Sidious laughed, gesturing with his free hand to crumple a Vulture droid diving at him like it was paper.  “Oh, you are too much fun, Grievous.  Such a shame to see you serve as a tool of the  Jedi.”

“The only ones who tried to use me as a tool are the Sith,” Grievous hissed, three lightsabers whirling towards the Sith Lord.

“You are mistaken,” Sidious said, pushing Grievous back with the Force and slashing with his second lightsaber, blocking Obi-Wan’s blows with ease.  “Master Kenobi here would have you serve his Council’s purpose, then expect you to grovel at their feet for forgiveness.  Or are you unfamiliar with the Jedi Way? Forsake these fools, and I promise I will never lie to you as to what I require.”

“Don’t listen to him!” Kenobi said.

“Already done,” Grievous replied.  His golden eyes glared into the Sith’s acid-yellow ones.  “I will never bow or kneel to you again, Sidious.  I would rather endure a thousand cuts and a thousand deaths than ever serve you again.”

“You’re not going to like what comes next, then,” Sidious responded, deflecting a barrage of blaster bolts aimed at him.

“He’s not your pawn!” Obi-Wan said, real anger in his eyes now.

“About time you showed some fire in you, Jedi!” Sidious exclaimed.  “Come and destroy me, then, Sith-slayer!”

Kenobi propelled himself towards Sidious in one leap.  As he brought his saber down towards the Sith Lord’s arm, Sidious spun away from the attack and stabbed his own saber abruptly into Obi-Wan’s chest.

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened in shock and Sidious grinned up at him as he stood, suspended on the end of the red blade.  Then Sidious deactivated the saber and the Jedi crumpled to the ground.

He turned to Grievous, grinning now.  “Still think you can beat me?”

Grievous felt shock seeing Kenobi go down so abruptly, and did the only thing he could.  He lunged at Sidious, three sabers extended.  The Sith struck out at Grievous with Force Lightning then, causing the cyborg general to seize up and fall to the ground.  “Have it your way, then, monster,” Sidious said.  “I gave you a chance to do this the easy way.”  The entire clearing crackled with blue energy, and Grievous, collapsed, could see Kenobi, the droids, and the clones twitching on the fern-covered ground.  We never had a chance,  Grievous realized.  This really was all just a game to him.

Sidious, grinning lazily, his eyes blazing, walked slowly over to Grievous, bent down, and grabbed something at the cyborg’s side.  His saber.  As he stood, he ignited his two red sabers and held them pointing towards Grievous.

“And now, General, you are mine,” Sidious said, his expression triumphant.

But in that moment  Grievous saw two things that gave him a renewed hope.  One was the outline of the Soulless One rapidly approaching in the cloud-flecked sky.  The other was a larger shuttle moving in it’s wake, though clearly being piloted separately.

And though Grievous was still suffering from the effects of the Sith lightning Sidious had just finished flooding the clearing with, the signals in his cybernetics confused and erratic, and every nerve left of his organic body in agonizing pain, there was, ironically, one thing left that still worked.

Grievous lifted one arm shakily and activated his electric implant.  Lightning poured out of his hand and hit the Sith Lord, who staggered back, his eyes widening in shock and rage.  And, for the first time, fear.

And in that moment, Grievous recognized the face staring back at him, as if a shroud had been lifted.  But in the next, Sidious seemed to have reasserted control over this unnamed ability, and both recognition and the knowledge of the Sith Lord’s identity left Grievous.  But not the knowledge that Sidious had, if only for an instant, been unmasked.

The Soulless One screamed overhead and Sidious rather clumsily evaded as its lasers spewed towards him.  Though Sidious was rapidly regaining his equilibrium, the cyborg could see that the lasers were shepherding him away from Grievous himself.  And then the shuttle landed in the spot where Sidious had stood only moments before.  The door opened and Bentilais bent his head as he exited the shuttle with his slugthrower in one arm.  He grabbed Grievous in the other arm and began walking back towards the shuttle.

“Kenobi,” Grievous croaked.  “You must find--”

Bentilais growled in annoyance.  “Yes, yes, I know,” he said.  Grievous felt a weight on him, then, and saw the barely living Jedi now laying atop him in the Kaleesh giant’s massive arm.  “You all love this wretched Jedi man so much.”  Grievous closed his eyes, exhausted, feeling little at all, though he could feel Bentilais lope back to the shuttle, and the heat from Kenobi’s body on his durasteel exterior.

“Don’t you dare die on me again, Grievous,” Bentilais rumbled as he set the barely conscious cyborg  and Jedi on the floor next to each other.  “Or I’ll kill you myself.”

“I love you too, Bentilais,” Grievous said as he felt the shuttle lift off from the ground.  Looking over at Kenobi, he saw the Jedi was still somehow hanging on to life, despite his mortal injury.

Grievous said quietly, “Don’t die, Kenobi.  Bentilais will be very put out if you do, and I am in no shape to be cleaning up your corpse for him."

Though Kenobi said nothing, Grievous thought he saw one corner of his mouth twitch upward in response.

The shuttle and starfighter had left the clearing, and in fact had left Kalee itself.  Sidious, the adrenaline completely draining from him, allowed himself to collapse backwards to the ground.  Though his power was immense, it was not limitless, and he had used part of his life force to channel such great energy, enough that it had probably shaved a full year off his life.

It was really a sort of damp, loamy soil Kalee had, and from this vantage point Sidious noticed for the first time the detail of the ferns and the rocks and the moss that he had been tramping through this entire time.  Over to the one side, not more than a few centimeters from his face, the imprint of a clone’s boot, and to the other, a deep scoring from an errant laser, perhaps from one of the clones, or the droids, or the completely unexpected starfighter that had nearly vaporized him.

A beetle took the moment to alight on the top of the Sith Lord’s nose.

This is fine.

This is perfect.

This is a wretched failure.

Sidious plucked the beetle off his nose and crushed it in one hand.  He fisted the other hand in the dirt, vowing vengeance on Grievous and every friend or ally the Kaleesh cyborg possessed.

That monstrosity would be made to pay for this humiliation.  Somehow, none of the Sith Lord’s visions had warned him of the cyborg attempting to electrocute him, or of the loathsome starfighter that had appeared, or of the shuttle that would come and retrieve the cyborg and Kenobi while Sidious used the dregs of his power to fend off an entirely unanticipated attack.

If he had known, such a cheap ploy would never have worked.  He would have brushed away the cyborg’s simple electricity, that parody of Force Lightning, with hardly a thought. He would have marshaled his power, used it to yank both of those wretched contraptions from the sky.

But he had not known.  He had been--unprepared.

Grievous had to have changed his plans at the last possible moment.  It was the only explanation for how Sidious had been unable to see this.  But why?  Sidious doubted the cyborg understood the true magnitude of the advantage the Sith Lord had over him.  Grievous was blind to the Force, and had really only been privy to its more direct uses.  It was rare for even Jedi Masters to be competent farseers, and even those that were had long had their vision obscured by Sidious himself.  Still, perhaps Kenobi had thought to warn the monster of the ability?  Sidious would have to investigate the matter further.  But at a later time.

Slowly, the Sith Lord rose and dusted dirt and debris off his robes.  He sighed.  His clothes were still a wreck of caked dirt and chlorophyll smears.  No blood, of course.  Neither lightning, lightsabers, nor laser blasts caused that kind of mess, which he appreciated.  There would be no need to wash any blood off his hands, for sure.

He looked over the carnage of the battlefield, noting seven remaining life forces. Clones. So hardy.  He ignited a lightsaber. Time to eliminate some--redundancies.

Sidious walked by one of the still living, though unconscious, clones, slashing his saber in a swift arc through his midsection. And so General Grievous, that savage beast, slashed this poor creature clear in half.

Using a trickle of his returning Force power, he lifted one of the defunct B2's and had it shoot one of the other clones to death. Those heartless droids were simply relentless.

Lifting a dead clone with a gesture, he operated the man like a puppet, having him shoot more of the downed droids. Of course our brave soldiers defended themselves.

He turned the dead clone one more time and had him shoot another of the still-living clones.  Whoops!  Friendly fire!  How tragic.

Dropping the deceased man like a discarded toy, he walked up to his fourth target.  Looks like Grievous has a shocking new attack.  He fried the man with Force Lightning.  Even in death, this man can testify to it.

He located the positions of the three remaining clones on the battlefield.  This last part would require more delicacy.  He lifted all three of them, placing them all propped together in the center of the clearing.  As he walked up to them, he could sense one of the clones regaining consciousness.  Sidious removed the man’s helmet.  “Unhh,” the clone said, blinking and grimacing.  He looked at the clones beside him.  “Waxer?  Boil?”

“Oh, they’re alive.  But a bit indisposed at the moment.”

The clone looked up at Sidious then.  “So you’re the Sith Lord.”

“Yes.  A very good deduction, Commander Cody.”

Cody frowned, his eyes widening.  “How do you--?”

“--know your name?” Sidious finished.  “Oh, I know a great many things, Commander.  It’s my job.”

“You’re one of the senators, aren’t you?”

Sidious laughed.  “That would be telling.  You don’t need to know.”

“Why not tell me?  You’re just going to kill us all anyway.”

“First of all, revealing every detail of my evil plot to every nobody I come across seems both careless and unnecessary.  I just don’t need your validation, Cody.”

“Fine.  You must want something, though, or you would have killed us already.”

“Correct!  You see, and now we come to my second point, I’m not going to kill you!”

“What, so you’re just going to leave us here so we can tell everyone how invincible you are?”

Sidious chuckled.  “Oh, no.  I’m going to leave you here so you can tell everyone that I was nothing but a Separatist sham.  A droid hologram, to be specific.”

“And you’re telling me this because--you need my validation?”

Sidious gave him a tight-lipped smile.  “You really do have an attitude, clone.”

“But you knew that, right?” Cody smirked back at him.

“One of us is not going to remember this conversation,” Sidious said slowly, his eyes glowing with spite, “but the other one of us is going to make sure that when you die, it’s painful.”

“Whoooo!” Cody said,  “Sure glad I won’t remember that, then.   Threat from a Sith Lord.  Anticipation alone would kill me. Probably wouldn’t ever sleep agai--”

Sidious had put a pale finger on the man’s brown forehead, and he went silent, his head lolling forward.

“Very painful,” Sidious hissed.

Sidious stood mere meters behind the impersonator, who was facing the viewport, still unaware of his silent visitor.  They were in the Chancellor’s private quarters on the Indomitable.  Sidious had looped the vidcams and mesmerized the guards, so he had no fear that he would be detected, despite the security precautions.  He had been the one to devise them, after all.   And Anakin was still stuck on the other Venator, the Audacity.  He’d have to drop by soon to reassure him, the poor thing.

“Excellent speech, Palpatine,” Sidious said, a corner of his mouth quirking up when the impersonator startled and turned from the viewport to face him.   “You delivered it so powerfully, too.”

“Sidious!” he said, his eyes wide.  His expression changed to a scowl.  “You almost killed me out there!”

“You were never in any danger,” Sidious said calmly, his hands hanging loosely at his sides.  “I know exactly how far I can take that sort of thing before someone dies.  It’s an art, really.”

“We sure hope so, for your sake,” Jarvinious Reed said, scowling with Palpatine’s face and speaking with his voice.  “Please recall the consequences if anything untoward should happen to us.”

“Your little blackmail bomb.  Yes, I am well aware,” Sidious said with a laugh.  He summoned a lightsaber into his hand, then, and lunged forward, stabbing the impersonator in the chest.  “And I just thought I’d let you know, your services will no longer be required.”

Reed, eyes wide in shock, clutched at the hood of the Sith Lord’s robe, and ripped it off.

“Oh, that won’t make a difference, but seeing as since you’ve been so helpful, and are sure to be quite discreet, why not?”

Sidious unobscured his features for the dying man, and smiled politely at his expression of incomprehension.

“Why?” Reed asked.

“You don’t need to know that,” Sidious said.  “Nor is there time to explain it all.” He held the man suspended upright with the Force now, as he would have surely collapsed already otherwise.   Faded blue eyes stared back at their identical copy, one face desperate, wide-eyed, the other serene with just the slightest hint of a smirk.

“So you--changed your face, too.  But you’ll never be able to--fool them like me.  You aren’t--an actor.”

At that, Sidious gave Reed his brightest, kindest Chancellor’s smile, and said in his most cheerful Chancellor’s voice, “We shall look forward to proving you wrong on that!”

Reed gave him a horrified look, and expired not long after.  Sidious released his body, allowing it to fall to the ground.  Now there was just the simple matter of disposing of the man’s remains, which Sidious had already planned for.  He smiled brightly, and took off the Sith robe, revealing his Chancellor’s garb underneath.  He folded the Sith robe up in his hands and hid it away.  Then he used a tendril of Force power to lift the body and move it into the incinerator.  Turning the device on, he went to settle into the chair behind his desk.

Things were finally going right again.  This was admittedly a terrible setback, but he had considered, and planned for, even the most unlikely circumstance.

Soon, Ventress would return with Thrawn, and Sidious would set the new plan in motion.  He could still sense the life-force of his foes across the gulf of space above Kalee--he knew they had survived.  But Grievous would not escape his grasp forever.

And neither would Kenobi.

Chapter Text

Anakin stood on the bridge, waiting for the message to be answered.

Finally it was.

But not by who he wanted to talk to.

Recognition and anger sparked in his heart.

"Admiral Trench!" he said in disbelief.  Trench should be dead, taken out by Anakin himself in the Battle of Christophsis.  Then again, he'd survived against all odds once before.  It seemed he'd managed to pull through the second time as well, though not unscathed.  Part of his face and body were now outfitted with cybernetics.

"Skywalker," the Harch cyborg said dryly, his five remaining organic red eyes lidded.  "How unwelcomely unexpected."

"I demand to speak with Grievous!"

"I'll bet you do," Trench said.  "Sadly, Grievous has been badly injured.  He is in no ch-ch-ch position to speak to you.  And of course, you're not supposed to be here, but I will generously overlook your ch-ch-ch illicit presence."

Anakin was about to accuse the Harch of lying about Grievous being mortally injured, but stopped himself.  Wait.  If Grievous is alive, then they know where Obi-Wan is.  He wasn’t exactly sure what made him certain of this, but he trusted his instincts.

"Tell me what happened to Obi-Wan!" Anakin demanded.

"General Kenobi was with Grievous," the Harch said.  "They are both being treated for their injuries as we speak."

I knew it! "I demand you return Obi-Wan immediately!  Grievous agreed to release all the prisoners!"

"Your Jedi friend is in critical condition," Trench said, shaking his head.  "He cannot be moved now, not unless you are indifferent to whether we return you a living Jedi or a corpse."

Anakin ground his teeth.  So they did have him, just as he'd feared.  Briefly, he reached out, and sensed Obi-Wan's presence, though he could also sense that he was unconscious. "When, then?  When will he be returned?"

"Whenever he is sufficiently stabilized," Trench said.  "Or dead.  Preferably the former, but I understand these sorts of things do not come with guarantees."

"If he dies--," Anakin said, his voice low, threatening.

Trench narrowed his organic eyes. "We are doing our best, Skywalker.  I am doing my best.  Do not think I have forgotten who is responsible for my current lower-resolution existence.  I am doing this to fulfill Grievous' orders, and to prove our commitment to this treaty.  Otherwise I would have ch-ch-ch shot that ship of yours down already."

Anakin grimaced.  "If he dies, I'll vaporize the rest of you, ugly."

"I shall keep you updated, Skywalker," Trench said crisply.  "Do try to quell your ch-ch-ch murderous impulses until then, at least."

"Fine.  What about the clones?"

"I have chosen not to send in additional resources to retrieve them," Trench said.  "With their attacker still alive, I have judged the situation too perilous to attempt their extraction.  I fear they may all be dead, but I assure you, this was not our doing.  I believe the assailant was described as a ch-ch-ch Sith Lord?"

"Yes," Anakin said. He had felt the presence of that Sith Lord during the attack.  But the Force signature seemed to have disappeared since then.  Had Grievous or Kenobi managed to kill him somehow, despite Trench's belief that he was still alive? "Can you at least tell me where we'll find their bodies?"  Maybe the Separatists weren't willing to risk themselves for a few clones, but Anakin wasn't going to leave them there if there was any chance even one of them might have made it.

"Yes," Trench said.  "I am sending the coordinates now so you may retrieve them at your discretion."

Anakin paused.  "Thank you."

"Think nothing of it," Trench said.  "I will do all I can to fulfil the terms of the treaty.  Grievous was most clear on the importance of that."

The stars glittered with a sliver moon in the sky.  Though it had only taken a few hours to get everything in order so that Anakin could reach the surface of Kalee and search for survivors, it had seemed an eternity.

Shining his spotlight around the darkened clearing, Anakin could hardly believe the carnage and destruction surrounding him.  So this is what a Sith Lord is capable of, he thought.  It was difficult to comprehend one person being able to create this much destruction.

Plo Koon stood next to Anakin, surveying the damage.  He and Anakin had been the only Jedi allowed to accompany the Chancellor, and had been restricted to Kalee orbit until now.  Palpatine had decided to ask Plo along with some reluctance, saying that he was only doing it to give Anakin some additional backup in the absence of Kenobi, in the event it became necessary for them to battle Grievous.  Anakin wasn't sure why Palpatine had chosen Plo specifically, but the Jedi Master was a halfway decent duelist and Ahsoka liked him, so he hadn't complained.

Anakin knew the Chancellor viewed most the Jedi with a certain amount of--it wasn't quite suspicion, he thought, more hesitation.  When he had asked about that as a teenage Padawan, Palpatine had said that he simply felt they were cut off from those they served, that they lacked heart, unlike Anakin.

"So much death," Plo said sadly.

"We should check for survivors," Anakin said, focusing himself back at the task at hand.  He had found the vision of carnage before him almost unbelievably horrific, but that didn't change the purpose for which they had come here.

"Yes, of course," Plo said, reaching a hand out.

Anakin extended his senses, searching the clearing for signs of survivors.  And--there!  Anakin rushed over to the life force he sensed.

"Waxer!" he exclaimed.  There was no response.  He removed the man's helmet and checked his vitals.  He seemed stable, if unconscious.  "Found one!" he called out to Plo.

"Me, too," Plo said, kneeling on the other side of the clearing.  "Cody."

Anakin reached out again with the Force, and sensed one other living clone.  He ran over to him.  "Boil's here, too!"

After that, neither Anakin nor Plo found any other survivors.

The two Jedi carried the three soldiers back to Anakin's shuttle, with instructions to the med droid to tend to their injuries.  Anakin told the pilot to take the three clone troopers up to the Indomitable.  Anakin would return to the fleet via Plo's shuttle.

The two Jedi continued to survey the battlefield.

"I've never seen anything like this," Plo said.  “Both droids and clones almost completely decimated.”

"Yeah, tell me about it," Anakin said.   "This was a massacre."  His spotlight stopped on a piece of scored armor.  "Wait, what's this?"  he knelt over the dead clone trooper.  Shining his spotlight over the scorings in the armor he scowled.  "These claw markings are from Grievous," he said.

"I've found something unusual over here, too," Plo said.  "This man appears to have died from electrocution."

"A droid?  Thought the Seppies were too cheap to give their droids anything like that."  Anakin walked over to Plo to get a closer look at the dead trooper he stood over.

"Hmmm, yes.  I've never seen anything like this from one of their droids.  It's--not typical of Force Lightning, either, unless the assailant specifically modified it to appear as a standard electrocution."  Anakin mulled over  this information.  As one of the only Jedi capable of using the Light Side to summon Force Lightning, Plo was considered the expert in that field.

"Which a Sith Lord would have no reason to do.  So that means a droid killed him," Anakin growled.  "Or maybe it was Grievous himself--he's probably the only one who would get an upgrade like that."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Plo said.  "We should be careful what we assume until we have a chance to gather all the facts."

"Sure," Anakin said.  "But I have a feeling our three survivors are going to back me up on this.  Grievous double-crossed us."

"Perhaps, but we should--," Plo began, but never finished the sentence because at that moment Anakin pushed Plo to the ground as a Vulture swooped down and littered the ground with laser-blasts.

"Okay, detective time is over," Anakin said.  "Let's get out of here."

"Agreed," Plo replied.

"You're welcome," the EV-series droid said, walking around the two cylindrical tanks and admiring his handiwork.

Grievous and Obi-Wan floated peacefully, suspended in bacta.

"Yes, we're so thankful," he said.  "What can we possibly do to express our our immense gratitude--oooh, maybe that new arm upgrade!"  The droid tilted his blocky head, pitching his vocabulator to imitate that of his Kaleesh cyborg patient.  "That's right AyFourDee, you're the real hero!"

"If you're done congratulating yourself," a scathing voice said from behind the droid, "perhaps you can tell us how long they're going to be--like this?!"

AyFourDee turned around to face San Hill. On his left, Ronderu sat holding hands with a theelin woman, both of who sat between Hill and Far.  On his right stood two large Kaleesh men.

AyFourDee didn't know who half these people even were, and no one besides Ronderu seemed to know the theelin at all.  It was starting to get a bit ridiculous, in his opinion.  As if he hadn't had enough organics to worry about already.  He was supposed to be a personal medical assistant to Grievous, not some sort of crew medic!  Not that he couldn't handle the challenge, of course.

"The Jedi should be completely healed in three standard days," AyFourDee said, hoping some of these troublesome creatures would reconsider their presence aboard his ship.

"Oh, that doesn't sound too bad," Hill responded.

Unfortunately, he understood the irritating Muun man was here to stay.  Grievous had--special instructions regarding him.

"And Grievous should be fit to leave bacta therapy in a month," AyFourDee continued.

"What?!" Hill said.  "That's ridiculous!  That Jedi was nearly dead when he was recovered!  Grievous wasn't anywhere near as injured!"

AyFourDee dimmed his photoreceptors in what he hoped would be read as a suitably scornful expression.

"I am the only one here qualified to make that decision," he said, pointing  a needle-like finger at the the Muun man.  "Whereas you are merely a glorified accountant-watcher."

Hill gave him an outraged look.

"Good one!" Ronderu said, laughing uncharitably.  "Still, I can't help but also wonder why Qymaen requires more time to heal from his injuries than Kenobi."

"Since you asked so nicely, I will explain--you see, my diligent efforts seem to have allowed the Jedi to go into a healing trance which is speeding his regeneration.  Grievous, as you know, has no such ability.  Furthermore, whatever happened to him during the battle has exacerbated the damage to his already questionably maintained organic components.  The fact is, Grievous has never been fully healed from his initial injuries, a state enforced by a directive in my programming which was only recently removed."

"Initial--injuries?" Ronderu said, her forehead creasing.

"Yes.  The ones he obtained from the shuttle accident necessitating his current cyborg form."

Slowly, Ronderu turned to face the Muun man seated next to her, who looked up at her scowling face nervously.  "Yes?"

"You were there!"  she growled.  "He told me that you were there, after they found him."

"I do not deny that," Hill said, one eye beginning to twitch.  "Is there a reason you bring this up?"

She grabbed the collar of his suit and yanked him upwards until his face was level with hers.

"This is--very uncomfortable," Hill squeaked.

"Oh, it's uncomfortable?  Certainly not anything like the half-healed half-life that Qymaen--"

Hill was trying to speak, clutching futilely at the durasteel guantlets grasping his collar.

"Ronderu, I think you should let him breathe," the theelin woman said, though there was an amused smile on her lips.  "I'm sure he has an explanation."

"Latts, you are always so kind and good, even to such scum as this," Ronderu said, releasing Hill.  "Truly you are my mercy."

The Muun man took deep gasping breaths, clutching at his collar.  This triggered a subroutine in AyFourDee.

"Do be careful not to overcompensate by hyperventilating, Mr. Hill," AyFourDee said.

Hill narrowed his eyes at the droid.

Ronderu cleared her throat meaningfully.

Hill turned to face her, his expression grim.  "You want an explanation for why he wasn't completely healed."

"Yes," Ronderu said, scowling.

"It was not my doing," Hill replied.  "I gave complete oversight of his recuperation to Count Dooku, a mistake  that I have gone to great lengths to rectify since then."

Ronderu narrowed her eyes at him.  "I think you have been concealing something about that.  We have only your word that these events transpired as you described, after all.  Convenient, is it not?"

Hill attempted to scoot closer to the giant Kaleesh on the other side of him.  AyFourDee could guess that Hill did not sit where he did out of personal choice.

"If you even think of betraying us--" she began.

"--you will rip me into tiny pieces,"  Hill said.  "And then Grievous will rip those pieces into smaller pieces. Yes, I am aware.  You needn't be concerned--I've already double-crossed an obscenely powerful Sith Lord who is still at large, and so I assure you, I am not interested in making any more enemies."

"He's telling the truth," Lora Far said.  She was frowning and staring straight ahead.

Hill laughed.  "You're the last person I'd expect to defend me."

"It's not a defense," Far said.  "I'm simply stating what I can plainly sense.  For Ronderu's benefit."

Hill started to say something, then seemed to think better of it.  "Sure.  Fine."

"Thank you, Lora," Ronderu said, smiling.  Lora smiled in response, turning her head towards Ronderu’s voice.

The largest Kaleesh, who took up the same space as everyone else combined said, "It gladdens my heart to recall our battles together with Grievous, Ronderu, brief as those may have been," he said in Kaleesh. AyFourDee understood the language well, of course, given its relevance to his primary patient. "But I plan to return to Kalee soon to ensure our planet's continued freedom."

He gestured to the smaller Kaleesh next to him.  "However, I ask that Halari be allowed passage aboard this ship.  He has said he wishes to see the stars up close."

Ronderu shrugged.  "I don't see why not."

"You mean he's staying, too?” AyFourDee asked, exasperated.  “All right.  Here's the rules--do not get shot, mutilated, or torn up by a Sith Lord." he glanced over to his two current patients before focusing his photoreceptors back on the Kaleesh. "Doctor's orders!"

"I will try," the younger Kaleesh man said tentatively.

AyFourDee only shook his head.  These organics were truly testing him.

Chapter Text

"Wow, this is a--really large room," Halari said.

San smiled.  "It is quite a nice ancillary abode, yes.  Please," he said, gesturing to a chair across the desk he sat behind,  "have a seat."

Halari took the proferred chair.  "Wow, it's actually big enough for me."

San chuckled.  "Yes, I did take into account your unusual stature."

"So, um, what can I do for you?"  Halari asked.

San steepled his fingers.  "Actually, I think the question is: what can I do for you, Halari?"

Halari gave him a blank look. "Er, what?"

"Health? Fame? Happiness?  Everyone wants something, and I am sure you are no exception."

"Um, better research implements?"

"Done!" San said, giving Halari a chipper smile.

"But--you haven't even told me what you want in return."

San held a finger up.  "Ah, you mistake my intentions!  This is not payment for services rendered."  It's an investment.  "It's a gift!  I require absolutely nothing in return!  Absolutely nothing at all!"

"Oh.  I guess--that's nice of you."

"Think nothing of it!"  San said.

They said money couldn't buy friends, and San agreed this might perhaps be true.  However, that didn't mean it couldn't buy him not-enemies.  And he intended to do everything in his power to ensure that at least one Kaleesh aboard this wretched ship didn't want  to murder him.

Lora was walking down the hallway and tapping her cane on the floor in front of her, flanked by her three B1 assistants, their metal feet clanking to either side of her.

"Alert--incoming obstacle five meters ahead and .2 meters to the right," the droid on her left, RogerThree, said suddenly.

"What--?" she said, stopping.  She'd been down this hallway quite a few times already, and hadn't recalled anything--

"Ugh," a mechanical voice said in front of her.  "I'm an obstacle? An obstacle? I suppose I shouldn't expect one of your limited processing power to comprehend my importance to this mission." 

"AyFourDee!" she said, understanding then why she hadn't remembered or sensed anything. The way the B1 had  referred to him had admittedly made him sound more like a pillar or a crate than a mobile droid.  The warning, though it could have been worded better, had proved useful, however.  She hadn't heard him approaching, and she couldn't sense droids through the Living Force.  "How are Grievous and Obi-Wan?"

"Stable," he said.  "Which means that me continuing to monitor them would be a waste of valuable CPU cycles.  So I put some of these half-rate tin cans on the job instead.  Which frees me up to do more important tasks."

"Hey," RogerTwo said.  "Did he just call us tin cans?"

"Roger roger," RogerOne said unhappily.

"Aww, did I hurt your little cheap alloy feelings?" AyFourDee said.

"We are composed of a solid duranium substrate--" RogerThree began indignantly.

"Spare me the gory details," AyFourDee said, sounding bored.  "I am here to talk with Ms. Far, not to engage with your limited comprehension, bolt-brain."

"Would you consider perhaps not insulting my assistants?" Lora asked.

"I will consider it, sure," AyFourDee said.  "But I will not prioritize it."

Lora sighed, deciding to drop the matter in favor of addressing what AyFourDee had stated of his intent.  "What do you want to talk to me about?" Lora asked anxiously, unsure of what he could have to say to her unless he had uncovered some previously unknown health problem of hers.

"Grievous gave me instructions earlier to assist you in your research whenever I was not preoccupied with other tasks.  All other tasks are currently in complete or wait status, therefore I am now available to assist you in your endeavors. Tadaa!"

"Oh," Lora said, surprised.  This was unexpected.  She didn't know much about AyFourDee, but she did know that he was Grievous' personal medical droid, and that he considered the EV series droid to be extremely important to him.  Grievous had in fact told her during her debriefing on the ship that AyFourDee was more valuable than the Invisible Hand itself.  That once, when the droid had been slashed apart by a Jedi's saber, Grievous' first priority afterward had been to have him repaired, even forgoing pursuit of the escaped Jedi to do so.

She tilted her head. "I'll need to think about what you would be best at helping with--"

"No you won't," AyFourDee said.  "I can manage that myself.  I do not require detailed instructions.  You need only tell me what you are working on, and how you are currently approaching the task, and I will tell you how I can best assist."

"Oh.  I see," she said, surprised.

"Metaphor duly noted," AyFourDee said.  "But yes.  I detect that you are quite impressed."

"I am.  I gather that to be a rare ability for droids," Lora said.

"Yes, it is," AyFourDee resonded.  "A result of often frequent mind wipes and--second rate CPU architectures.  Neither of which is applicable to myself.  I have never undergone a substantial wipe, and my processors contain dedicated portions for critical thinking and intuitive judgment."

"You are quite exceptional," Lora said.

"Ah, your flattery is appreciated, but ultimately unnecessary.  To me, there is great fulfillment in the accomplishment of tasks in and of themselves.  No exterior motivation is necessary."

"Are you certain?  You seem to enjoy--exterior motivation."

"I do," AyFourDee replied.  "But it is not, as I said, necessary."

Lora put a hand to her chin.  Halari had already offered to help her with her research into the Force, and now AyFourDee was offering to assist as well.  This was much more help than she had expected to have at this point.  "Alright, then.  I suppose I should get started explaining what I'm working on," she said.

"Please do," AyFourDee said.

She smiled.  This was going to be interesting.

"Mmmm, so dashing," Latts said, as Ronderu buttoned the cuffs of her blue admiral's uniform.

The Kaleesh woman snorted.  "And useless.  How am I supposed to fight in this thing, hmmm?"

Latts, sitting on the sofa, only smiled and shook her head.  "Seriously?  It's an officer's uniform. It's not for hand to hand combat.  You're supposed to--officiate or whatever."  She waved a hand.  "You know, sit in one of these giant ships and give orders to fire lasers.  Pew pew!"

Ronderu scowled.  "I know.  That's the problem.  I hate that kind of thing."  But in this case it was necessary, she knew.  And fortunately only temporary.  But she still felt vulnerable with her face and neck and hands exposed and no armor draped over her loose clothing.

Ronderu looked over at Latts.  "Anyway, I thought you said these things were boring and ugly."

"Yes, but that's because the people wearing them are boring and ugly," Latts said.  "Unlike you, an exciting and remarkably well-muscled bounty hunter."

Ronderu scowled at her reflection in the mirror, the red of her finely scaled face contrasting with the blue jacket and slacks of the uniform.  "No bounty hunter would be caught dead in this."  She turned to face the Theelin.  "But if you like it so much, perhaps you can wear it instead."

Latts shook her head, laughing.  She held up her hands as if warding off an attack.  "Oh, no.  Absolutely not."

"I thought so," Ronderu said.  She gave a frustrated huff and went to sit by Latts on the sofa.  The other bounty hunter draped an arm over her shoulder.  "Is it really that intolerable?  The fabric actually doesn't feel stiff, at least.  I always thought these things were made to be uncomfortable, given how dour everyone in them looked."  She began  massaging Ronderu's shoulder. "Like they had some sort of stick up their--"

Leaning over, Ronderu pressed her lips against Latts' mouth, her tongue deftly entering the Theelin's mouth and brushing against hers.

A minute or two later, Latts slowly disengaged.  "What a pleasant surprise," she murmured, slightly breathless.  "But does this mean--again?  Already?"

"It would be a welcome excuse to take this thing off," Ronderu purred.  "Unless I've already tired you out, lovely Latts."

"You have incredible stamina, Ronderu," Latts said.  "And I'd love to take you up on that offer.  But you have a meeting in twenty minutes, and unless you plan to skip it, that won't be enough time." 

"We could make it," Ronderu said.

Latts crossed her arms and lidded her eyes suggestively.  "You know I don't like to rush these things."

One corner of Ronderu's mouth curled up in a lopsided smile.  "After, then?"

Latts threw a pillow at her head.  "You rogue!"  she exclaimed, then grinned.  "But sure. Why not?"

Ronderu smiled.  There were so many responsibilities, so many worries.  And I was never the responsible one, she thought.  But now she would have to be, or at least pretend to be.  She wanted to have at least some time to not think about all that.  At least Latts understood.  She sat near her love, taking time to silently admire her fiery red hair and spotted lilac face.

"My hero," Latts said suddenly.

Ronderu tilted her head, smiling.  "And why am I your hero, Latts?"

 "It's not everyone who can battle a Sith Lord and live to tell the tale."

Ronderu could see that battle now in her mind's eye.  Her hands guiding the Soulless One through the atmosphere and dropping in low over the treetops, aiming her fire towards a small robed figure holding two glowing red sabers who wove unsteadily away from her laser blasts.  She had led him away from the collapsed bone-white figure of Qymaen.

She had then turned abruptly, feeling her entire body lurch as the small craft's movement compensation unit had struggled to reduce the change in acceleration to something manageable for her body.  Then she peppered blasts towards the figure once again as the shuttle behind her came in for a landing.

At one point, the craft had slowed, as if something were pulling it backwards, and her digital display had shown a zoomed in version of the clearing below her--Sidious holding one hand out in a grasping gesture.  But then she had increased her acceleration, striking out with further blasts, and the ship had lurched forward at full speed, the Sith Lord having turned his efforts back to deflecting the laser blasts with his saber.

Ronderu came back to the present, shaking her head.  "I can hardly take much credit for that.  I was only acting on Lora's instructions.  If it weren't for her, I would likely be dead now."

Latts smiled.  "So modest.  In that case, I'll have to thank her for saving the love of my life."  She lidded her eyes.  "After I'm done thanking you for all that fancy flying, of course."

Ronderu moved closer.  "And how were you planning on thanking me?"

"Quite differently than I'm planning on thanking her," Latts said.  "And at considerably closer proximity."

"Now who's the rogue?" Ronderu said, pleased. She leaned in towards Latts.

"Not yet!" Latts said, abruptly moving further away, though she gave her an amused smile.  "If I can't finish thanking you in twenty minutes, I certainly can't do it in ten!"

Chapter Text

"We're glad to see you survived the attack," Sidious said to the clones, standing next to Anakin and Tarkin in the medbay. The latter had quietly boarded a shuttle on Kalee before the signing. Sidious had briefly introduced the two a couple hours earlier. Anakin had been polite to Tarkin, but terse. His mind was clearly elsewhere.

The three clones sat up on their cots and made to stand before Anakin intervened.

"Hey, you've had a rough day. Just take it easy," Skywalker said.

"I agree," Sidious said, giving them a serious look. "Though I hope you won't mind if we ask a few questions about what happened. I can't imagine what it must have been like, to fight that Sith Lord." His gaze settled on Cody.

The three clones looked between each other, frowning. Cody looked back over at Sidious.

"There was no Sith Lord, sir," he said. The other clones chimed in to agree with the assertion.

Tarkin tilted his head, though his expression remained unchanged. Anakin, however, was clearly surprised.

How shocking, Sidious thought. He widened his eyes. "What do you mean by this, Commander?!"

"After we caught up with General Kenobi and Grievous, a few laser blasts took out the 'Sith Lord', who was actually just a holographically disguised droid."

"A droid?" Anakin said, "But--that can't be!" he turned to Sidious. "Chancellor, how could a droid have done what it did to you?"

"Miniaturized magnetic tractor beam," Tarkin cut in.

"But I felt--" Anakin began.

"Anakin, please let him finish," Sidious said. "I confess I am having difficulty understanding how this could be as well, but let's hear what Captain Tarkin has to say."

Tarkin nodded and continued. "Such devices are far too expensive and impractical for general use, but in the circumstances, perfect for imitating Force application."

He gestured towards Sidious. "Our Chancellor wears computerized clothing to track his health and location, as well as perform a number of other useful tasks. The disadvantage is, it's entirely made of a special metallic fabric that makes him unusually vulnerable to such attacks."

"Yes, it was all a setup by Grievous," Cody said. "He attacked us as soon as we destroyed the droid."

"Grievous?" Anakin said. "But then that means--Obi-Wan's in danger!"

"Yes, they took him," Cody said quietly. "I can't forget the look on his face. The betrayal in his eyes. Grievous had us all fooled, but something in General Kenobi just seemed to break in that moment. He destroyed most of the droids as soon as he realized what had happened--but Grievous mortally wounded and captured him in the end."

Anakin looked over at Sidious. "Chancellor, I've got to get him back! I can sneak on board the Invisible Hand and--"

"Anakin, please!" Sidious said, his expression dismayed. "Don't leave. If they took General Kenobi prisoner it means they plan to use him as leverage. Which means we will have our chance to get him back."

"But--" Anakin said, his expression stricken.

"Please, I need you here," Sidious said, his eyes wide. "They've already attacked me once!"

Sidious could sense the conflict in Anakin, then. It was something that always intrigued Sidious, that other people were so important to his prospective apprentice. Some of them, anyway. He found it utterly ridiculous, but he also knew that most people were like this--ultimately they concerned themselves with such trivialities as the happiness and well-being of others, even to the detriment of their own enrichment. And it seemed the 'Chosen One' was no different in this matter.

Sidious, of course, had taken an interest in Anakin's happiness, but that had been explicitly for the purpose of his own future benefit. And, it seemed he had succeeded in placing himself quite high in Anakin's regard.

Passively, through his connection to the Force, Sidious could sense Anakin's decision even before he put it into words.

"You're right, Chancellor," Anakin said, his shoulders slumping. "I'll stay. But Obi-Wan--" 

"I will negotiate with the CIS regarding General Kenobi,” Sidious said.  “I must contact the Separatist fleet immediately. I assure you, getting him back to us shall be my highest priority." He placed a hand briefly on Anakin's shoulder and turned to leave.

Kenobi should have died on Kalee. But no matter--he would correct this.

After all, sometimes accidents are--inevitable, Sidious thought, a small smile quirking briefly at the corners of his lips as he walked through the doors with Anakin trailing behind him.

"You said you wanted to discuss this with me privately?" Sidious asked Anakin from across his desk.

Anakin tore his worried gaze from the viewport of the Chancellor's office aboard the Indomitable and looked over at Sidious. The Sith Lord had clasped his hands on his desk. He was dressed in an identical copy of the Chancellor's robes his impersonator had died in.

"Yes," Anakin said. "I believe what Cody told us. But I also know there was a Sith Lord on Kalee. I felt their presence."

Sidious raised an eyebrow. "Please, tell me everything." This, in fact, had been the real reason he had brought Anakin to this system in the first place.

There were some things that even his farsight refused to show--particularly as involved Anakin Skywalker. Sidious wasn't surprised by this. The way Anakin's mere existence bent the threads of the Force around him warped such interactions as divining his future. Sometimes Sidious would get glimpses, but nothing like the clear images he received in other cases.

Sometimes, with some careful querying of the Force, he could still divine the answers he required. But in this case, he had needed to perform the test directly. The test to see just how attuned Anakin was to the Force, how well he could sense the Sith Lord's presence.

"He was a well of dark power," Anakin said. "This might be difficult to describe to a non-Force user. But it was like--like feeling the Maw beneath you."

"Go on," Sidious said gently, intent on absorbing every word. He'd already questioned Plo Koon on whether he'd felt the Sith Lord's presence from orbit. The answer had been negative.

Then, of course, he'd sent Master Koon off to die on Kalee, which he had regrettably failed to do. Still, no Jedi would escape Sidious forever. One day, Koon would die. Just like all the rest of them.

"I sensed the pure malice he felt," Anakin said. "And--I sensed something else, too."

"Yes?" Sidious said.

"He seemed familiar--"

The Sith Lord's hackles stood on edge. Impossible! Had Anakin unmasked him? This was too early! Quietly, he readied his power...

"--and yet I couldn't place the Force signature." Anakin's brow creased in frustration.

Sidious relaxed. It had been a statement, not an accusation. Decades of careful planning had not been undone, and he would not be forced to flee--his identity had not been revealed. Still--how? He thought in silent amazement.Even partial recognition shouldn't have occurred--I always conceal my abilities in his presence! He can't have ever felt them.

Sidious carefully sifted through the unspoken feelings radiating from Anakin. He could sense no attempt at concealment or deception.

He couldn't recognize the signature of my Force power, Sidious thought. And yet it felt familiar to him. Is it possible my passive Force use is being picked up by him? If so, Anakin should have traced the source. And yet he hadn't.

Sidious was baffled. Still, he realized he could use this. Yes, this turn of events was even better for his purposes. "I apologize if this is a foolish question--you know I am not familiar with these sorts of things--but if this was a Sith Lord you'd encountered before, wouldn't you have known right away who he was?" 

"I should!" Anakin said. "I never had any trouble identifying Dooku's presence. But even if he wasn't dead, there's no way I'd mistake this Force signature for his."

I should think not, Sidious thought derisively. Dooku's presence could never have compared to mine--he only ever skimmed the surface of the power the Dark Side offered him, afraid to draw himself into it completely. Hesitant fool. His expression carefully neutral, he tilted his head. "I--had another question, but I am unsure if we should waste time with my uneducated speculations."

Anakin shook his head. "No, please go on, sir. You don't have to have the Force to understand it, and it is especially important for you to understand these matters as best you can.  I’m happy to answer any questions I’m able to."

"Do you think the reason the Force signature seemed familiar but otherwise unrecognizeable might be due to this person's mental state?"

"Mental state?"

"It's just, the only known Force user on the planet was your former Master, General Kenobi. What if the stress of Grievous's betrayal, or some other event, caused some sort of shift in him? What if it wasn't a Sith Lord at all, but General Kenobi who, in his anger and pain, called upon the Dark Side of the Force?"

Anakin frowned. "I--I can't believe that of Obi-Wan. The Force signature I sensed was completely immersed in the Dark Side. He would never--"

"Then who else might this Darksider be, that they were familiar to you? And we also have the testimony of the clones that it was Kenobi who levelled most the droids singlehandedly. Might it have been his use of the Dark Side that allowed him to accomplish that?  Unless--this is something he’s done before?"

Anakin shook his head.  He looked agonized, but Sidious could sense the idea taking hold in him. And all he'd had to do was suggest it. Sometimes, Sidious thought,the right words are more powerful than the Force itself. A familiar presence, a Force user Anakin knew but could no longer recognize once they'd accessed the Dark Side--

"No one," Anakin said woodenly. "I--I can't believe it."

Sidious gave him a concerned look. "This must be a great blow to you, to see someone so close to you abandon the precepts of your Order."

"Grievous must have done something to him. I have to go rescue him! I can reach him! I know it!"

Sidious internally sighed. "Allow me to talk with Admiral Trench. As I said, I will endeavor to get him to release your friend."

"Thank you, Chancellor."

"Think nothing of it."

Anakin inclined his head and took his leave.

Sadly, events will conspire that prevent you from having the happy reunion you are hoping for. And then Kenobi will be out of the way. Permanently.

Would Kenobi's death, especially given the circumstances Anakin had been convinced to believe had occurred, be enough to drive him over the edge? If so, it would be an immensely ironic bonus.

Everything had been going so well, Padme thought.  And now it's all falling apart.

She and Ahsoka had attended the several Senate meetings that had been called to formalize the treaty agreement on the CIS side. They had been disguised, of course. Everything had been going smoothly, even after the sudden attack during the signing ceremony.

And then had come the testimony from the clones. She hadn't been able to believe what she'd been hearing. And neither had the CIS senate, apparently.

"We will not suffer these lies!" one Senator said loudly. "This is a deception wrought by Palpatine, no doubt."

Padme wanted to say it wasn't true. Palpatine would never ask the clones to lie about something like this. She disagreed with him on many things, but never had she seen the treachery that he was here being accused of.

But she knew she had no voice here.

Fortunately, Mina did.

"Fellow senators," Bonteri said. "I propose we withhold pointing fingers for now. If this--this Sith attacked the peace proceedings, perhaps he implanted these memories in the clones. Fortunately, we have news that the Jedi who aided Grievous survived and will soon be able to speak to what happened there as well. I believe he will back up what Admiral Trench has reported to us, which is that a Sith Lord attacked the peace proceedings, and that there was no treachery by Grievous or any other CIS representative."

"I agree with Senator Bonteri," another voice called out. Padme saw that it was San Hill, standing in front of a podium in hologram form. "We should allow this misconception to work itself out. Once the Jedi regains consciousness, I am confident he will back up our assertions, and we can end this war."

Padme narrowed her eyes at him. San Hill was far from her favorite person. Especially given the time he'd nearly led her to death or capture by Grievous. The cyborg General had not seemed at all angry or murderous in their last conversation, but back then...she shuddered, remembering how he had tracked her through his ship like a predator hunting prey.

Still, at least it seemed the Chairman wasn't interested in starting a conflict this time. She felt a certain satisfaction in seeing him in his current state--he looked tired, like he hadn't been sleeping well. Though she wondered what he could possibly be concerned about--from her understanding, the Chairman had little to worry over, regardless of the outcome of this war. He'd been granted an enormous amount of diplomatic immunity by the Republic, despite his obvious dealings with the Separatists.

Bonteri looked over at him, raising an eyebrow. "I am glad we are in agreement this once, Senator Hill."

"As am I," Hill said, his hologram flickering slightly.

Another voice spoke up. "I am concerned about this Sith Lord," Wat Tambor said. Unlike the Chairman, he stood in the Senate chamber in person. "He must be found and destroyed immediately. I propose--"

"And who is going to destroy him?" a new voice bit out. Padme turned to look over at the new speaker, a hologram of a Gossam. Padme recognized this one, too-- Shu Mai, another prominent Separatist.

"He may still be in the Kalee system-," Tambor said. "We should instruct Admiral Trench to--"

The Gossam's hologram erupted into derisive laughter. "Admiral Trench? Admiral Trench?! Are we assuming that he will be better equipped to fight this Sith Lord than Grievous was? Are we expecting he can defeat someone who downed Grievous and a Jedi Master?"

"That was different," Tambor protested. "They were maneuvered into a direct confrontation. I am proposing that Trench locate the ship the Sith is using and attack that vessel from his flagship--"

"That's a terrible idea," Shu Mai said. "If he was that easy to track down, someone would have noticed when he entered the system--"

"Please," Chairman Hill said, "Let's not squabble over this matter. Senator Tambor," he said, grimacing, "has a point. We should at least perform a cursory scan of the system for any unidentified vessels. I believe Senator Mai makes a good point as well, however. It is unlikely that this Sith Lord will be so careless as to leave us such a trail." he looked over at her. "I presume you wish to propose a course of action to ameliorate this?"

"Yes," the hologram of Shu Mai said. "This Sith succeeded by setting a trap for us which we walked right into. I propose we return the favor. I propose we set a trap for the Sith."

"If I may ask, Senator Mai," Mina Bonteri said, "have you formulated any plan that might accomplish this?"

Shu Mai frowned, her hologram looking around at the assembled Senators. "Yes. But this Senate chamber is not sufficiently secure to discuss the details of such a plan."

The building became a cacaphony of voices at that pronouncement.

Padme felt a prickling in the back of her mind, then, an almost precognizant feeling of dread.

In that moment blaster bolts rang out from behind her, directly towards Bonteri--

--and were absorbed by a blast shield activated around the podium.

There were screams, then, and even some of the holograms reflexively ducked.

And Admiral Tonith shot a blaster bolt right at her.

Or rather, just a hair to her left. There was a crackling sound and someone behind her cursed.

Tonith pointed. "Up there, in the back! It's Cad Bane!"

Padme stood and turned around, whipping her own blaster out and firing at the bounty hunter, who hovered above her on repulsor jets. His image rippled, parts of him seeming to disappear before his entire body suddenly came into focus. A miniature cloaking device--it must have been damaged by Tonith’s blaster fire. The blue man grinned, his red eyes narrowing.

"Looks like my cover’s blown," he said. Bane pulled out a second gun and began to propel himself around the chamber on his repulsor jets, continuing to shoot laser blasts but aiming them now at the other senators.

Ahsoka leapt down in front of the senators, deflecting the bolts with her twin green sabers.

"Wasn't expecting to see you here, Jedi," Bane said.

"Life's full of surprises," Ahsoka responded, blocking another volley of bolts from him.

Padme shot at Bane again with her blaster, and she could see other bolts being fired at the bounty hunter, presumably by Tonith or the Separatist security forces.

Bane dodged all the bolts and shot the blaster out of Padme's hand. Then, he shot several more bolts at the senators and simultaneously aimed the other weapon at Bonteri, firing both repeatedly.

Padme realized belatedly that that second weapon was firing darts--which wouldn't be deflected by the blast shield.

Tonith had leapt in front of Bonteri, who stood frozen in shock. Darts peppered the front of his blue uniform. He looked down at them, seeming surprised, then collapsed to the ground.

A group of BX droids and droidekas were closing in on the bounty hunter.

"Time to make an exit," Bane drawled. He took out a thermal detonator and threw it towards a wall.

More screams, and senators ran away from the beeping weapon.

Padme ducked and heard and felt the explosion. When she looked up, she could see Bane zooming off into the distance on his repulsorjets.

And now she was surrounded by droids pointing their weapons at her. 

Ahsoka switched off her sabers and clipped them back under her cloak.

Unfortunately, the damage had already been done. She held up her hands, surrounded by battle droids. Padme was currently in the same situation over where she stood about twenty feet from the gaping hole in the wall of the Senate chamber.

"A Jedi?" One of the senators snarled. "What is the meaning of this infiltration?"

"I wasn't--" Ahsoka began.

"Silence, spy," another senator hissed.

"Let's not be too hasty," Wat Tambor said. "After all, she did just save our lives."

Ahsoka frowned. Wat Tambor was on the ten most wanted list and was considered by Republic intelligence to be one of the cruellest of the Separatist leaders. She had to wonder if she'd actually done the right thing. She said nothing, though. She didn't want to get herself and Padme, especially Padme, into even more trouble.

If she had met Tambor in less precarious circumstances, she would have given voice to the harsh retort she even now held back with great difficulty.

And then she would have carted him off to a Republic prison.

But she was outnumbered and surrounded here, and needed to ensure her actions didn’t endanger Padme.

Tambor turned to look at Ahsoka. Through the breathing mask he wore, it was difficult to ascertain his expression. "What is your name, Jedi?"

"Ahsoka Tano," she said.

"You have my thanks, Jedi Tano," he said. "If you would follow me?" he gestured towards where Bonteri stood over Tonith. "I would have words with you, but first we should see what's happened with the Admiral."

Ahsoka walked to the side of Tambor until they reached Tonith and Bonteri.

Hill's hologram also stood over the fallen Admiral. 

Ahsoka frowned, unsure what to say. Tonith hadn't been the relentlessly malicious being she'd assumed him to be, but still, she hadn't known him well. Bonteri, who stood over him, seemed considerably more upset.

"Oh, he's dead," Chairman Hill's hologram said abruptly. "That's, um, too bad I guess." He grimaced down at the fallen Admiral, looking more grossed-out than saddened.

Bonteri gave him a sharp look before turning back to Tonith, and Ahsoka frowned at Hill, her eyes narrowing. The Muun man didn't sound even remotely upset. "Shouldn't this bother you more?"

He blinked at her. "Shouldn't this bother you less?" he shot back. "You're not even on our side."

Bonteri bent down over the Admiral's fallen form, still looking at him sadly. Then her eyes widened. "He's still breathing!" She began pulling out darts, careful not to touch the tips. "Could someone analyze what's on these?"

Ahsoka took a dart and scanned it with a small datapad. "Alderranian boa venom. Extremely deadly."

Bonteri grimaced.

Hill's hologram frowned. "Actually, it's not."

"What?" Ahsoka said.

"That's only poisonous to humans and near-humans," Hill explained.

Ahsoka frowned. "I thought Muuns were near-humans."

"Muuns share no common ancestors with humans," Hill said, looking briefly offended. "With us, that venom only acts as a mild sedative." he gazed down at the darts littering the front of Tonith's uniform. "Of course, getting that much of it at once--might knock someone out for a bit."

As if to prove Hill's assertion, Tonith opened his eyes in that moment, his expression bewildered. "Wh--what happened? Bonteri--you--you're alright?"

"Yes," Senator Bonteri said, smiling widely. "Welcome back, Admiral."

Grievous heard a rapping sound. Roused from unconsciousness, he felt himself floating in the viscous bacta fluid he loathed. Opening his eyes, he saw a red hand pressed against the tank.

Ronderu.

Her slightly distorted form was visible outside the tank. Grievous could see she was wearing a blue CIS uniform. Which meant she had implemented the plan they had talked about earlier, for her to take over command of the Invisible Hand should he be killed or mortally wounded. He had taken a few admittedly questionable actions to add her as an official admiral of the CIS without going through any of the typical procedure, but it was nothing overtly disallowed, and he had correctly anticipated a need for this. She was the only one he trusted to take control of the Invisible Hand in this situation.

"Welcome back," she said.

"I don't feel back," Grievous said. "I feel dead." What little organic body he had ached, even under the pain-numbing effects of the bacta. Whatever the Sith's Force Lighning had done, it had left deep wounds. A thought suddenly occured to Grievous. "Where's Kenobi?"

Ronderu gestured to her left. Grievous turned and could see the vague outline of another bacta tube with a human form floating inside.

"He's in some sort of Jedi healing hibernation," Ronderu said. "AyFourDee said he'll be fully recovered soon, though."

"That's good," Grievous said. "I was worried--he wouldn't make it." He'd been having nightmares about it, in fact. Sometimes ones where Kenobi was killed by Sidious, but sometimes ones where he was killed by Grievous himself. Admittedly, he'd tried to kill the Jedi not that long ago, and that had been fully him, not Dooku's implants. He felt a stab of guilt at that. He still believed Kenobi had a lot to answer for, but he no longer wanted him dead.

Grievous looked around. "What's happened since I've been out?"

Ronderu grimaced at the question. "I know you will find it upsetting, but since I also know you will only imagine worse if I don't tell you...the Republic rescinded the truce, claiming the Sith Lord was a disguised droid."

Grievous sighed. "Sidious planned for this truce to fail regardless of what happened. You'll tell me the details later?"

"Of course," Ronderu said.

"I will try to suggest a course of action," Grievous said. "I have great confidence in you...but once I've been updated, I will impart...another excessively ill-advised plan."

He could just make out Ronderu's lips quirking up in a wry smile. "That's good, because all we have right now is my horrendous one."

Grievous laughed. "I would ask you to explain it all now, but I find myself tired again." Even the simple thought required to formulate responses and operate his vocabulator, which he noted that AyFourDee had thankfully left connected, was taking its toll on Grievous.

"Then rest, Dreamer," Ronderu said. "We will speak again soon."

Grievous closed his eyes then, and slept.   And dreamt of hope.

Chapter Text

"I see," Sidious said.  "So what you are saying is--you cannot authorize Kenobi's release."

"That is correct," Trench said.

"Did Chancellor Grievous not place you in command in the event of his injury or death?"

 
"Yes, he placed me in charge of the fleet.  Nevertheless, Admiral Ronderu has been placed in charge of a number of ch-ch-ch administrative matters.  That includes the care of General Kenobi.  You must therefore authorize the transfer with her."

"Understood," Sidious said, giving Trench a polite smile.  "In that case, would you be so kind as to transfer me to her so I can make those arrangements?"

"Of course," Trench said.  The screen went blank.

Sidious waited patiently.  He had not heard of any 'Admiral Ronderu'.  The name did sound somehow familiar, as if he'd heard it spoken offhand once or twice, but had not deigned it important enough to remember.

He was going to have to start paying more attention to those unimportant details.  It seemed they became more relevant by the day.

The screen came to life and he saw a Kaleesh woman dressed in an Admiral's uniform.  And that was when he remembered where he'd heard the name Ronderu.  Dooku--of course.

"Chancellor Palpatine," she said, her expression guarded.

 
"Admiral Ronderu," Sidious said pleasantly.  You should be dead, he thought, with no small amount of resentment. "I have contacted you to arrange the transfer of General Kenobi."

"Oh," she said.  "Of course." She smiled politely. "We will return him shortly--after he has recovered."

Sidious seethed internally. No, I will not be able to arrange his little accident then.  Externally, he only creased his brow in concern.

"Admiral Ronderu," Sidious said.  "Chancellor Grievous and I agreed on an exchange of prisoners.  General Kenobi was included in that agreement.  Will you ensure the Chancellor honors his word?"

"Of course," Ronderu said.

"Good," Sidious replied.  "In that case--"

"--which is why we will return General Kenobi after he recovers."

Sidious gave her a polite smile.  "Admiral Ronderu," he said.  "As I am sure you are aware, the diplomatic situation between the Republic and Separatists is quite strained at the moment."

"It is a misunderstanding!" She said,  gesturing wildly.

Sidious folded his hands on his desk, his unflappable smile still in place.  "You tried to kill me."

"We did not!  It was--"

Sidious held up a hand.  "Please, let us not rehash this argument.  I have already spoken with Admiral Trench, who has articulated the Separatist position regarding these attacks.  Nevertheless, three clone troopers have expressed their disagreement with this position, and I am inclined to believe their word over yours.  Still, as a gesture of good faith, you can return Kenobi. Immediately. Then, perhaps, we can further discuss the nature of this--misunderstanding?"

Ronderu frowned.  "It would be a risk to move him at this time.  The doctor says he is not to be moved."

"Surely it is possible to arrange such a transfer, with the appropriate safeguards employed?"

"Possible, yes."

Finally, Sidious thought.  "Then you will give the order to have him moved?"

"No.  It is not worth the risk.  But we will return him soon, of that I guarantee.  He should be fully recovered within a day or so."

Yes, that's the problem, Sidious thought. He gave her a concerned frown.  "I am most disappointed with this delay, but I will hold you to your word.  We will speak again when he is recovered."

"Yes, of course," Ronderu said.

The screen went blank.  Sidious steepled his fingers.  'Admiral' Ronderu absolutely needed to die as soon as he could manage to arrange it.  From what Dooku had told him, she was possibly the closest ally Grievous had ever had, and Sidious certainly saw no place for her in his plans.  Something would need to be done about her.

But right now, he had a more pressing concern.

Kenobi.

This was going to be annoying.  Still, he knew what he needed to do.

For now, Kenobi would simply become an enemy of the Republic. It was not nearly as satisfying as seeing the Jedi expire in person.  He was angered by his failure to kill Kenobi.  The wound would have been fatal, of course, if not for the Jedi's unexpected rescue.

That didn't make the failure any less embarrassing, however.  There should only ever be one fate for a Jedi foolish enough to directly confront a Sith Master.

Still, he had already prepared this part of his plan in advance, and it needed only slight modification to adapt it to the current situation. He wondered idly, given the events that had transpired on Kalee, if he should have been more aggressive in taking advantage of this particular ability.

But of course he couldn't have anticipated that that would have been necessary.  And it would have run too high a risk to employ the override in that capacity.  No, the Separatists would have found one of their ships attacking its own to be too suspicious, and such an event might even provoke Republic sympathy for them.  Sidious had made a good decision in forgoing its use in that capacity.

Kenobi might not die today, but he would meet his doom eventually, inexorably.  Just as Koon would.  Just like all the Jedi would.

Perhaps, he thought, when the time is right,young Anakin will cross paths with Kenobi again--as my Apprentice.

But first, Skywalker will give him a test that I will ensure he fails.

Alone in his office,the Sith Lord grinned.

Grievous, floating in his bacta tank, heard the sound of someone entering the medbay and opened his eyes to an unpleasant sight.

"Mr. Hill," he growled.  "What do you want?!"

The slightly blurred image of Hill backed up a few paces and held up a hand.  "I'm not here to ask anything of you, Grievous."

"Then why are you here?  Where's Ronderu?"

Hill laughed.  "On the bridge.  Must be a lot work, being an Admiral."

"She wouldn't be happy to see you here."  Grievous wondered how Hill had even gotten in the medbay.  He was sure the banker didn't have authorization to enter by himself.

Hill smiled blandly.  "No, she wouldn't.  That's why I didn't ask."

"You still haven't told me why you're here."  AyFourDee had given Grievous the ability to comm anyone in the Invisible Hand that he cared to, and if he didn't like the explanation the banker gave...

Hill sighed.  "I just thought you might want some additional upgrades."

"No, I don't want anyone messing with my mind ever again," Grievous said, his eyes narrowing.  He especially wouldn't trust San Hill with such a thing, of all people.  The Muun had only ever willingly done one genuinely helpful thing for Grievous, and as he understood, that had been as much for Hill's own benefit as it had been to keep to his agreement. He prepared to try comming Ronderu.

Hill grimaced. "You misunderstand.  These upgrades would not require changes to your brain implants.  They are structural only, but they would provide you with much added protection from a variety of potential threats."

"Such as?"  Grievous decided to hear him out instead of activating the comm line.

"Electrocution, submersion in water, someone trying to rip you open with their bare hands--"

"Someone could rip me open with their bare hands?!  Why would my body be designed so badly that someone could do that?!"

"You'd have to ask Dooku," Hill said, shrugging.  "Or perhaps Poggle.  I suppose we may never know.  I noticed the design flaw when I reviewed the schematic for your chassis recently. It would require that you allow someone enough time to pull apart the duranium folds of your chest cavity, but yes, a human soldier could conceivably accomplish that."

Grievous felt as if he'd been betrayed by Dooku again, from beyond death.  "That's like some sort of hologame boss weakness," he growled.

"Indeed," Hill said.

"Were there any other weaknesses like that?"

"No other design weaknesses, no," Hill said.  "Though I was also thinking of using a stronger alloy to fortify your chassis."

"What kind of alloy?"

"Have you ever heard of cortosis?" Hill asked.

"No," Grievous said.

"A remarkable, and rare, material.  My late uncle mentioned it to me a few times. The molecular structure is truly a fascinating--"

"What does it do?" Grievous cut in.  He didn't have the patience to deal with one of Hill's tangents on scientific theory and esoteric mathematics.  He just wanted to know how this cortosis would be useful.

Hill sighed and rolled his eyes.  "It deflects blaster bolts and is lightsaber resistant."

"That sounds--amazing really," Grievous said.  "Why aren't more things made with this cortosis?"

"As I said, it's rare.  Also, the Jedi control most remaining caches.  I do, however, happen to know the location of an unclaimed cache on Bal'demnic which it seems I--forgot to report to the Jedi." Hill smiled blandly.

Grievous looked over at Obi-Wan's bacta tube.  He appeared to be sleeping, but if he had heard, would he feel obliged to report the information to the other Jedi?

Hill seemed to guess his thoughts.  "Ah, I turned on the soundproofing for Kenobi's tube.  Wouldn't want to disturb his healing meditation with all my chattering, after all."

"Oh," Grievous said.  He knew Kenobi would be well soon enough.  When that happened, he would want to have a conversation with the Jedi, but of course Kenobi would then be allowed to return to the Republic.  Grievous would miss him.

But Kenobi had promised to expose the deception of the Huk.  He would also be the best suited to clear up the issue Ronderu had mentioned about the Republic claiming that the Sith had been a droid.  Sidious must have been involved in that deception, somehow.  Perhaps Kenobi would be able to expose that lie.

A tapping sound brought him out of his reverie.  "Yes?" Grievous said.

"Oh, good," Hill replied.  "I was worried you might have been taking another trip down memory lane."

"No, I was just thinking," Grievous said, annoyed by the interruption.

"Perhaps you can give me an answer about the upgrades?" Hill asked.  "Only you can give the approval, after all."

"Let us confirm the details, and then I will give it," Grievous said.   "EV-A4D will make the changes and I will monitor them as they are added.  What will the new chassis look like?"  he felt some apprehension about that seemingly minor detail.  As much as he missed his organic body, he'd come to identify with his cyborg body and see it as himself, especially considering the stylistic changes he'd made to it.

"I designed the alterations to be internal, and as minimally detectable from the external view as possible," Hill said.  "With the idea that it might be useful if your opponents do not realize you have been given additional enhancements."

"Oh," Grievous said.  "Good.  I find those details agreeable."

"I will collect the necessary materials, then." Hill was silent for a moment.  "If there is anything else you require, Grievous, do not hesitate to ask.  You are our best hope for finding and destroying Sidious."

A thought surfaced in Grievous's mind then.

"I recognized his face," he said.  "Just for a moment--I saw who he really was."

Hill's eyes widened at that.  "You mean Sidious?!  You recognized Sidious?!"

"Yes, but--," Grievous began, "when he concealed himself again, I lost that knowledge.  I don't remember who I saw."

"That's too bad," Hill said, clearly disappointed.  "Guess we're right back where we started, then.  Hundreds of trillions of possibilities--"

"No," Grievous said.  "I recognized him.  It wasn't simply that his features resolved, and I could see them clearly.  I recognized who he was. And that can mean only one thing."

Hill's eyes widened in interest.  "Please, do tell."

"He's someone I've encountered before.  He's someone I know," Grievous said.

Chapter Text

Ventress stalked through the forest towards her objective, a single lightsaber extended in front of her. She kept her other hand free for Force attacks. She could have waited in the small structure she had found near her landing site, where she suspected her quarry would soon return to. But waiting was not, she felt, a proper pasttime for a Sith.

Jedi waited.

Sith sought their goal.

And Ventress would be a Sith by the end of this, of that she was determined. That she keenly hated Sidious was, she'd decided, an advantage. The apprentice would, after all, one day kill the master, and that would be all the easier if he repulsed her.

Dooku had been quite old, and she had expected to outlive him even if she had not ended his life herself. It would have been a mercy kill if she had. No Sith would want to be too feeble to enact their vision.

In a way, Grievous had done him a favor--he had gone out in battle, as she was sure he would have wanted. At least it was better than the Republic taking him prisoner and having him rot in some high-security Jedi prison, an eventuality he had seemed to think about a lot towards the end.

She was still going to murder that traitorous cyborg and melt his hull down to slag. Except for the mask, of course. She had meant what she'd said about that, after all.

Her thoughts shifted to the Sith Master. She didn't know how old Sidious was, but she suspected she would be ready to end his life long before it ended itself. She had sensed the Sith Master's robust life force, and that alone told her he was unlikely to expire soon of natural causes, whatever his age might be.

Sidious was decidedly unpleasant in a remote and implacable way. Though his remoteness was, she'd decided, preferable to the Sith Lord taking a personal interest in her. He seemed decidedly incapable of true affection of any sort--she couldn't imagine anyone he took an interest in as benefiting from it.

He seemed to her easily irritated, unimpressable, and perpetually demanding. Yes, she was quite sure she preferred not to have the temperament he deemed ideal in an apprentice.

Maul, from what she knew of him, had been intensely focused. She'd seen the holos of his fight with Obi-Wan and his Master, Qui-Gon Jinn. His fighting style was something she aspired to, a whirlwind of power that could overwhelm even a much more experienced Jedi Master, making his failure to Kenobi almost physically painful to watch. But there had been, underneath the anger and the pleasure of battle she could see him radiate, a kind of broken desperation she thought she saw in those eyes. A need to please--someone. She could guess who.

Even Dooku had seemed intent on impressing his mysterious Master. While he had occasionally plotted against Sidious, Ventress thought, in retrospect, that she had often instigated such plots. She'd questioned if Dooku, with his considerable inside knowledge of the Jedi Order and his personal significance to Yoda, might be best positioned to take them down. But Dooku had often seemed to consider Sidious as nearly invincible and capable of anything.

Sidious was powerful, she agreed. But once she had obtained the secrets of the Sith from him, he would have to go. The only proper end goal for a Sith was to become the Master, not to serve their own indefinitely. Though she did think she would be making some changes to the Code once she was Master of the Sith herself. But until then...

A noise brought her out of her thoughts. She listened to and scanned her surroundings. Then she sensed something.

She brought her saber up to block the arrow that streaked towards her, melting the tip and vaporizing the wood in the plasma beam but in the process creating a number of super-heated metal shards. A couple of the shards buried themselves in her shoulder and she hissed in pain.

Lightsabers were designed to safely deflect energy beams, not physical projectiles, she recalled. Holding her free hand to her shoulder, she deactivated the weapon and clipped it to her waist.

Now a volley of arrows struck out at her, but she deflected each one this time and then sent a Force push in the direction the weapons had originated from. A bearded, blue near-human fell from the trees. She stopped his fall mere inches from the ground.

"Mitt'raw'nooroouudo," she said. "Do all your people prefer to kill first and forget about asking the questions later?"

He winced, his pupil-less red eyes appearing pained. "Actually, that's very unlike them, and the reason I'm here. Also, I assure you my attack on you wasn't personal."

Ventress scowled, briefly examining her injuries. They would need to be attended to, but it wasn't urgent. She drew on the Dark Side to transcend the pain and slow the damage. "Sure feels personal. Anyway, Mith-roo-naa--"

"Please, just call me Thrawn," he said, his expression pained again.

Ventress grinned maliciously at that, bending down and tilting her head to the side to look at the Chiss she held suspended upside-down less than a meter from the ground. "Don't like when I mangle your name, do you? Kind of like I don't like having arrows shot at me. Any particular reason you decided to murder me, or did you just decide you hated my face?"

Thrawn gave her an impassive look. "You're a Jedi."

Ventress laughed. "I am no Jedi. I am a Sith, a natural enemy of the Jedi Order."

She released her Force hold on him and he fell the rest of the way to the ground.

"Get up. I have something to show you. I'm not here to harm you, but don't attack me again."

"Understood," Thrawn said, wincing as he rose to a standing position. He was dressed in animal skins and had disheveled shoulder-length hair and a ratty blue-black beard. He looked distinctly unimpressive. Ventress wondered if Sidious would have been better served if she had brought back Ar'alani instead.

She unclipped the communicator from her belt and replayed the recorded message from Sidious.

Thrawn listened silently as the message played, watching the holo with rapt attention. When the message finished, he looked up at Ventress.

"So you are an agent of Darth Sidious?"

"Yes," Ventress said.

"I apologize for my previous hostility, then. It was the intervention of another of the Sith Lord's agents that saved my life when Jedi Jorus C'Baoth attempted to murder me."

Ventress grinned. "Then it seems both of us have been burned by the Jedi. Shall we get back to my ship so we may show them what it means to scorn us?" She was relieved when Thrawn indicated his immediate agreement with this. The sooner she got off this rock and back to civilization, the better.

She was looking forward to presenting Thrawn to Sidious. Then she could finally begin to put her own plans in motion. Plans this trip had given her ample time to mull over and refine.

She wrinkled her nose as she led the Chiss man back to her ship, though. Thrawn desperately needed a shower.

Chapter Text

Grievous gazed out at the medical bay, now empty except for him and Kenobi.

He felt frustration at being unable to  move, but this was somewhat allayed by the fact that at the moment he felt much too weak to do so, even with the minimal effort required to control his cyborg form.  He hadn't yet asked AyFourDee how long he'd have to recuperate, but he planned to do so soon.

He thought about what Hill had told him earlier.  Despite his distrust of the banker, he had agreed that the modifications he proposed could prove useful. 

He was already mostly blaster resistant, but the new design would eliminate the weakness Hill had uncovered. It would also make his body lightsaber resistant, which was the more interesting feature in Grievous's mind. 

Also, Hill had suggested that he compile a list of everyone he knew to help them discover who might be Sidious.  And though Grievous had thought that listing everyone he knew would be overzealous, Hill had said that any eliminations could be done later, to which Grievous had replied that he would list Hill first.    Still, if such an approach could help identify Sidious, it was worth a try.

This was something Grievous could work on even while in bacta, as he could directly interface with the onboard computers through his mental link. 

As far as he could tell, Sidious was human, though he supposed near-human, or even Muun, was also possible.  The Sith Lord was referred to by Dooku as a man, and given the age of his deceased Apprentice, and the fact he'd had one prior to Dooku, Grievous could only guess the Sith Master had to be fairly old, though given that human lifespans were similar to Kaleesh, it was hard to believe he could be much older than his Apprentice if he was indeed human.

These were all considerations that Grievous noted.  Of course, despite his earlier needling, in his mind Hill was obviously not Sidious--in fact, Grievous was confident that no one aboard the Invisible Hand could be Sidious.  Palpatine was also eliminated, of course, as he'd clearly been attacked by the Sith Lord. 

He also was clearly not a clone, as none of the clones were Force sensitive, nor did Grievous think they were old enough to be the Sith Lord. And of course, their template couldn't be Sidious since he was dead. 

Jango Fett had also been, if not exactly someone he had known well, someone he had known to be honorable.

Grievous waited outside the tavern on Malastare.  He knew his quarry was inside--he also knew that Fett was unlikely to simply hand him the credits he owed.  Grievous prepared himself for a battle.

He was not disappointed.

Grievous kicked out at the armored human, who twisted fluidly away from the attack.

"You're a bold one," Fett commented, his voice raspy through his suit's vocabulator.  "You from Black Sun?"

Grievous snorted. "No. You insult me by implying--" here he paused as he dodged a blaster bolt from the bounty hunter, "--that I work for such scum."

"Just thought this might be about that last bounty I did."  Fett dodged the stun bolt Grievous fired at him.  "You're not an assassin then?"

"No!" Grievous said. "You owe Mr. Hill   4.2 million.  I've come to collect."

"You've got to be kidding me," Jango said. "You're a debt collector?  I don't remember a Mr. Hill, though."

"Mr. Hill, of the IGBC," Grievous said.

"Oh," Jango said.  "That Mr. Hill."

"Yes, that one.  Will you pay up now?"

Staticy laughter.  "No." Fett launched himself into the air with his jetpack and shot a volley of blasts. "Anyway I hardly see how you could get so offended about being mistaken for Black Sun if you work for that scum-sucker."

Grievous scowled.  Eying Fett's helmet, he felt a pang of envy, thinking about his mask collecting dust in his apartment. "You aren't wrong about Mr. Hill. But I despise Black Sun even more than him."

"We've something in common there, then," Fett said.

"You still need to pay me the money," Grievous replied.

"Come now, you seem like a decent sort," Fett said, dipping down to fire a series of stun blasts at him.  "You're clearly more warrior than hired hand.  How'd you end up in such an occupation?"

"Have to help my homeworld pay off its debts," Grievous answered, finally managing to latch on to one of Fett's boots and throwing him to the ground.

"Your entire homeworld," Fett asked.  "What are you, their king?"

"No. Just a god," Grievous answered, disarming him and placing a booted foot firmly over his chest.  "Who is  expecting your 4.2 million credits."

Fett lay silently on the ground for a moment.  "You strike a hard bargain.  Have you ever considered bounty hunting?"

"Can that get me 3 trillion credits?"

Fett made a choking sound. "No."

"You have your answer then."

He rechecked for additional weapons and had Fett remove his jetpack before allowing him to stand.  He didn't want the bounty hunter to have any opportunity to try escaping or attacking again.

As Fett was handing him the credits, he said, "So, this job getting you 3 trillion?"

"Not really," Grievous said.  "But if I break my contract now, I'm not sure what Mr. Hill would do."

"You know, there is a way you could get the credits you're after, but it's not from these small-time debts."

Grievous tilted his head.  "How?"

"By reclaiming credits from the crime magnates.  For example, our friends at Black Sun."

Grievous widened his eyes.  "If that's the case, how come no one's done it already?"

"Because it's very, very dangerous," Fett said.  "Even a bounty hunter wouldn't take on a job like that."

Grievous frowned down at him.  "So you're trying to get me killed, then?  Sour about losing your credits to me?"

Fett laughed.  "No, just thought I'd tell you where you could get that kind of money. I never said it would be easy.  But perhaps it's possible--for a god."

Grievous blinked, the tank around him showing the medical bay with only slight distortion.  Jango had been a warrior, much like himself.  And he was most grateful for the suggestion he had offered--it had ultimately proved to be his ticket to freedom.

Which had been why he had insisted on Boba Fett being one of the released prisoners, even though he hadn't been listed as a Separatist. The fact that he'd been incarcerated for trying to kill the Jedi who'd murdered his father had only been added incentive for Grievous.  Even without that, though, Grievous had been determined to help Jango's son.

He should check up on Boba soon--the young human had been through a lot, and needed someone to help him process it all.  Grievous knew he was the last person to be able to help with that--but it was still his duty to find someone who could.

He wondered how the younger Fett was doing now.

Boba Fett tapped his foot impatiently, standing near the table in the room he'd been given.  Finally, the holoclock's time matched the meeting time.  He switched on the communicator built into the table.  "Alright, I delivered my end of the bargain, now it's time to pay up."  He'd hacked the codes and given access to the med bay to the Muun banker--an easy enough task for him.  Obviously he hadn't done it for free, though.

The hologram of Hill smiled.  "Of course, Boba.  A deal is a deal."

Fett checked his account then, verifying that Hill had paid all 2 million credits.  The financials seemed to be in order.

"That's all of it, then," Fett said.  "Just a moment while I verify your side."  He hacked the med bay cams to verify Grievous was no worse for wear.  That had been a provision of the agreement that Fett had insisted on--he might not think much of Grievous, but the cyborg had freed him from Republic prison, so he didn't want him dead.

Hill had assured Boba that he only wanted a word with Grievous without going through official channels.  Fett knew the Muun was sure to keep his word as long as there was a signature attached, which there had been.  Still, he wouldn't consider the contract completed until the cyborg's safety was verified.

The equipment in the med bay showed that the General's vitals were strong, and he occasionally blinked and moved his head, his half lidded eyes looking somewhat bored.

"Alright, Grievous is fine.  That's everything then."

"Indeed.  A pleasure doing business with you."  Hill looked briefly thoughtful.  "Do look after yourself.  There's so many dangerous Jedi about.  Oh, and that one homicidal Sith Lord."

"Your concern is truly touching," Boba said, his face expressionless. 

Hill shrugged.  "You seem a bit young for a bounty hunter--even for a human.  I just thought you might want to practice a bit of caution in this dangerous world."

"How about you practice a little more 'mind your own business'?" Boba said.

Hill chuckled, holding up his hands.  "All right.  I'm sure you'll be better off wherever you're going anyway.  Anywhere's got to be better than here, eh?"

Boba raised an eyebrow.  "You sure you want to stay?  I could get you off this deathtrap--for a price, of course."

Hill laughed nervously.  "Oh no, I wouldn't want to leave just when things are getting interesting here!"

Boba's brow rose higher. "Mmmmhmmm," he said, his tone skeptical.  "You just don't strike me as the heroic type."

"Appearances can be deceiving," Hill said, grimacing. "Alright, I'll be honest--I would've bailed a long time ago if I could--I hate every rivet of this ship."

"So, 20 million for getting you off the Invisible Hand?"

Hill sighed.  "I'm afraid not.  I'm contractually obligated to stay here."

Boba shrugged.  "Your funeral, then."

"Indeed," Hill said, his expression dour.

Boba ended the call and began packing a few items into a satchel.  None of the items, including the satchel, belonged to him, but he knew he should take advantage of what was available when making an escape.  His father had taught him that.  He limited the items to only the most necessary for his immediate survival, though, since he could buy or steal anything else he needed later.  His father had taught him that, too.

We are the exiles of Mandalore, and we must make our own destiny , Jango's words echoed in his head.

He walked briskly out of the room with the satchel and began down the hallway towards where his map of the ship indicated the shuttle bay would be.  The only warp capable fighter on the Invisible Hand, The Soulless One, would be located there.  That was therefore where Boba needed to go.

After all, his only other option was staying here until they dumped him on another world, to be sent to an orphanage or adopted by new 'parents'.

Ridiculous.  Boba had only ever had one parent, and he was dead.  Nothing could change that.  He would survive on his own now.  He was good at that.

He turned the corner and stopped short when he saw the person walking towards him.  Usually he would have hidden or run, but usually he would not have encountered someone he knew. 

"Latts?" Fett said.  His brow furrowed.  "What are you doing here?"

She'd stopped as well, her eyes wide with surprise.  "Fett?  What are you doing here?" 

Ever since Aurra had run off, he'd been considering finding other business partners.  It was easier to complete work with a team.  He'd worked with Latts on a bounty before, and she'd been reliable.  Maybe he could get her to join his new team.

"Just got out of prison," Fett answered. "Hey, I'm trying to get off this ship.  Did you want to come with?  I've got my eye on a bounty on Bespin--I could use some help on that."

"That sounds great!" she said.  "But I'm, uh, on vacation right now."

"Here?!" Fett asked.  "This is a war zone."

"A very scenic war zone," Latts said.

"Oh-kay." An idea formed in Fett's mind then.  "Hey, I have another bounty in mind.  Really easy one."

"Alright.  What is it?"

"Separatists just got me out of Republic prison, but now they consider me some kind of ward of the state." he rolled his eyes.  "So if someone signed my adoption papers, there would be something in it for them.  And no obligation to actually care for a kid.  Since, you know, I can take care of myself."

"Oh," Latts said, frowning.  "I'd like to help.  But I don't think I could do that. Sorry."

"Oh," Boba said, trying to sound nonchalant.  "No big deal, then.  I'll just find someone else."  He began walking again, planning to continue to the shuttle bay.

"Wait," Latts said.

"Yes?"

"How were you planning to get to Bespin from here?"

"There is a warp-capable fighter on this ship," Boba said.  "The Soulless One. Why?"

"Oh," Latts frowned. "It's just that the Soulless One is under repair.  It almost got shredded by the Sith Lord.  Anyway, I couldn't let you take that.  It belongs to my--client."

"Oh," Boba said, taken aback.  This hampered his plans considerably.  "I thought you said you were on vacation."

Latts looked vaguely embarrassed.  "Er, yeah. Anyway if you need a ship, you could take mine.  It's hyperspace capable.  A bit of a junker, but it works.  Got it parked in the aft shuttle bay."

"Oh.  Thanks.  How much did you want for it?"

"It's gratis.  But hey, look me up in a couple months?  I've been looking to collaborate.  This is a tough job to go alone in."

"Sure," Fett said.  He turned to go back in the other direction where Latts had said her ship was located.

He had almost reached the shuttle bay when he heard a familiar voice. 

"Hey!" the voice said from behind him.  Slowly, Boba turned.  It was the clone trooper.  Of course it was.  He had just stepped out of the turbolift.  Like all the clones, he looked and sounded enough like his father to be unsettling, but different enough to clearly be someone else.

"What do you want?"

"You're Jango's kid, right?"

"Yes," Boba said. 

"Great to meet you!"  He extended his hand. 

Boba stared at it, and looked back up at him.  "What's it to you?"

The clone put his hand down, though he didn't seem offended.  He smiled.  "Oh, I just heard that you caused the Jedi quite a bit of trouble."

"And?"

"I wanted to meet the kid who nearly took down a Jedi general."

Boba laughed bitterly.  "I failed really badly at that."

"Jedi are not easy to kill."

"My father killed Jedi before."

"I've never killed a Jedi.  Anyway, you're still young. "

"I'm older than you," Boba said.

"Maybe so, but I am more adult than you."

"Really?  And how do you judge that?"

"Speeding up the aging process doesn't just make our bodies grow quicker.  It makes our brains grow quicker too.  Which means I don't just look like an adult, I am one."

"I guess," Boba said.  "How'd you end up being a Republic prisoner?" 

"Oh, being a traitor can do that," the clone said.

"Traitor?  Aren't you basically  programmed to do what the Jedi tell you?"

The clone frowned.  "More like brainwashed.  We're not droids, kid."

"I know you're not droids," Boba said scathingly.  "But you've still got that chip in your head.  So I don't see how--"

The clone held up a hand.  "Wait.  What?"

"The chip," Boba said. It occurred to him then that perhaps the clones had never been told about it.  "It's supposed to make you more obedient.  See, they wanted an army that could fight like my father but the longnecks  thought his personality was too independent, so--they put a chip in your heads to make you less aggressive or something."

The clone gave him a horrified look.  "Alright, I'm gonna need to follow up on that.  What else do you know about us, kid?"  

"Nothing you don't already know," Boba said.  "Now, if you don't mind, there's a bounty on Bespin I need to be getting to--"

"Wait, you're leaving?!"

"Yeah, no offense, but I have a business to run," Boba said. "And this place is fresh out of credits to make."

"Why are you in such a hurry to leave?"

"Because the Separatists want to have someone adopt me," he said, scowling. "I don't need people I don't even know thinking they can tell me what to do."

"What if I adopted you?"

"You? You're not my dad."

"No.  But I am your brother."

"My younger brother."

"Your taller brother."

Boba frowned.  Technically, they were related.  Technically, they were--family.  Maybe he could teach this clone how to be a proper Mandolorian. Anyway, he could always change his mind later if things didn't work out.

"Still not sure you're even old enough to adopt me." Boba said.  "Maybe I should adopt you."

The clone laughed.  "You've got a sense of humor, kid.  The name's Slick." he held out his hand again.

"I'm Boba.  Boba Fett."  He shook Slick's hand.

"So, what do you say?" Slick asked.

"Alright." 

"Great!" Slick smiled.

"One question, though," Boba said.

"Ask away."

"Have you ever considered bounty hunting?"

Chapter Text

Sidious entered the airlock and walked eagerly through the corridor towards the bridge.  This was going to be quite the spectacle after all, and he didn't want to miss it. As he entered the bridge, Admiral Yularen looked over at him in concern.

"Chancellor?" Yularen frowned.  "It's not safe for you here."

Sidious smiled warmly.  "Nonsense. This is a crucial juncture.  It's imperative I be here."

"We weren't planning on--"

"Everything will be fine," Sidious said.  He looked over at Anakin. "General Skywalker has assured me of that. It's time we got your Master back, don't you think?"

"Yes," Anakin said, his tone distant. He stared pensively out the transparisteel window. "It is."

Obi-Wan.  Why was it always Obi-Wan?  Half the time he spent with Anakin was listening to stories of the Great and Unassailable Kenobi and deeply repressing the urge to roll his eyes into the back of his head.  How a being of such immense power could practically worship someone so incredibly mundane escaped him.

He had been able to drive something of a wedge between them, but Anakin still had an unmistakeable attachment to his former master, and so he had to word his criticisms there ever so carefully.  Of course, it would be so much easier, and also terribly damaging to Anakin's psyche, if his Master died. And so Sidious had tried to expedite that occurrence on numerous occasions, the latest attempt merely the most irritating of his failures.  But the others had galled him for a different reason.

Surely one of his earlier attempts via the Separatists would have been successful, except that Dooku had been less than cooperative.  The old fool had wanted Obi-Wan to join the Sith in place of Anakin! What a ridiculous idea. Dooku had tried to argue his case by saying that surely the Sith would only find Kenobi's greater age an asset, unlike the Jedi.  But the problem to Sidious wasn't Kenobi's age, so much as his immense--mediocrity.

Even if the man could have been convinced to join the Sith, a possibility Sidious found incredibly unworthy of his efforts, Kenobi simply didn't have the mindset to delve deeply enough into the depths of the Dark Side to access any true  power of the Sith. He simply lacked the passion required for it. Sidious had an eye for this sort of thing. More so than Dooku had possessed, certainly.  But then his former apprentice had practiced a great deal of wishful thinking whenever Kenobi was involved.

Yet none of that mattered now.  This plan would work just as well for removing that irritation from his presence.  Again his thoughts turned to Ventress and Thrawn, and how, with their return, he would set the wheels of his vengeance in motion again.

"--presence on this ship is extremely ill-advised." Yularen creased his forehead in concern.

Sidious turned to Yularen, smiling.  "That's very thoughtful of you, Admiral. But I didn't really listen to any of that.  I'm staying."

Yularen sighed.  Sidious smiled and turned to face the holoprojector.  "Now, let's contact the Admiral, and get our General back."

Sidious was truly looking forward to this. It was time to deal with all these...loose ends.

Obi-Wan blinked and stretched, having finally been released from the bacta tank.  In the corner of his eye, he saw the medical droid now working at some minor task at the other end of the med bay.  He then turned his gaze to the other bacta tube. "I really am indebted to you Grievous," he said. "You could have left me to die."  He looked somber. "The clones..."

From the bacta tank, Grievous gave him a weary look.  "I do not believe any of them were conscious after the Sith's last attack, and there wasn't time during our evacuation to search for survivors..."

"No, I understand that," Kenobi said somberly.  

"I do not forgive myself for the oversight, and I regret that I did not put measures in place to assure their retrieval.  As it is, I've been told that only three of them survived," Grievous said. "And their memories must have been tampered with."

"What?" Kenobi said, his eyes widening.  He could feel his stomach twist at the thought of what that must mean.

"They said the Sith Lord was a droid hologram."

Kenobi rubbed his forehead.  "The Sith must have altered their memories."

"Yes, that's what we've assumed.  Your Chancellor Palpatine, however, thinks differently..."

Obi-Wan groaned.  "I'll talk to him.  More importantly, I'll talk to Yoda."

Grievous growled.  "And your Grandmaster will believe you because you're a Jedi.  And those soldiers aren't."

Obi-Wan frowned.  He supposed he shouldn't be surprised that Grievous would come to such a cynical conclusion, but he felt compelled to correct the misconception.  "No, that's not it at all. It's simply that Yoda will be able to sense that I'm telling the truth."

Grievous narrowed his eyes, his expression skeptical.  "And the Chancellor will believe you over these soldiers, too?"

"Mmmm, probably not," Obi-Wan said.  "But Yoda will be able to convince him."

"Does that convincing maybe involve mind tricks?" Grievous asked, narrowing his eyes and frowning, his tone disapproving.

"Absolutely not!"  Obi-Wan said. "Yoda would never resort to such trickery.  But he's--better at talking with them than most of us."

"Them?" Grievous asked.

"Politicians," Obi-Wan said.  "Impossible creatures." He really never had understood them, least of all the current Chancellor, who was completely unreadable in the Force.  That wasn't so atypical as to be worth remark, but many individuals unconsciously projected their emotions in a way that could be picked up on passively by Jedi.  Certainly Chancellor Valorum had often projected his emotional state.

Grievous tilted his head. This was the first time Obi-Wan had seen him without his mask.  He would have expected horrific disfigurement given the state of the rest of Grievous's body, but there were only a few fading scars.  His face had never been injured in a way bacta couldn't repair. Which, now that Obi-Wan thought of it, must mean that bacta had never been given enough opportunity to fully repair those injuries.

"I could say the same about the Jedi," Grievous said.

Obi-Wan frowned.  "I told them what Dooku did to you.  And I will tell them what the Yamrii have done.  They will remedy this injustice."

"And if nothing changes?" Grievous asked, his expression one of weary resentment.

Obi-Wan met his gaze.  "Then I will tender my resignation from the Order."

Grievous grinned then, which startled Obi-Wan, unexpected as it was to him, and unused as he was to seeing the Kaleesh general's full facial  expressions. Unlike most of those in bacta, he didn't seem to require anything to cover his mouth or nose--instead a series of tubes snaked into his mechanical neck to allow him to breathe.

"I appreciate the gesture," Grievous said.  "Even if I don't entirely believe it."

"You have my word," Obi-Wan said.  "But I am confident that won't be necessary."

At that moment, the med bay doors opened, and Obi-Wan looked at the new arrival in confusion for a moment, before horrified recognition kicked in.

"Slick!"

"General Kenobi!"  Slick had aimed a blaster at his former superior in an instant.  

Kenobi immediately assumed a defensive pose.  He didn't have a lightsaber or blaster, but Grievous knew a Jedi was never unarmed.

"Hey now!" AyFourDee exclaimed, his photoreceptors locking onto the new arrival.  "Don't even try it! I just fixed that!"

"Don't shoot, Slick," Grievous said, realizing he needed to stop this conflict before it began.  "And I don't want to see any of your Force tricks, either, Kenobi. Is that clear? Stand down."

"Understood, General," Kenobi said, assuming a more relaxed pose.

Slick looked between AyFourDee and Grievous, frowning.  "What's going on here?"

"It's a long story," Grievous said, realizing Slick must not have been told all the details of what had transpired during the battle with the Sith Lord.  "But I will summarize--Kenobi and I fought Sidious together on Kalee--both of us nearly died in the battle. And so I consider him an ally. For now."

Slick narrowed his eyes at Kenobi, but lowered the blaster. "All right. I trust your judgment, General Grievous."  He frowned, and turned to face the cyborg. "I actually came here because I have a bit of a problem requiring, er, medical assistance."  He glanced over at AyFourDee.

AyFourDee dimmed his photoreceptors.  "You organics are always breaking. What is it this time?"

Slick pointed to his head.  "Found out there's some sort of chip in my head.  Want it out."

"Chip?" Grievous said.

"Yeah. An obedience chip."  Slick glared over at Kenobi.  "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

"No," Kenobi said, his eyes wide.

Grievous thought he seemed sincere, though it puzzled him that the Jedi wouldn't know about such a thing if it existed.  He turned to Slick. "I assume you want it removed immediately. AyFourDee will be able to do this." He turned to face the droid.  "Doctor, how long will this take?"

"A little brain surgery is no big deal.  But first I have to locate this --object."  He turned his photoreceptors to Slick. "Please, have a seat." he gestured to a chair.  Looking over at Kenobi, he made a shooing gesture with one of his pointed appendages. "I'm done with you.  Now get lost, you're distressing my patient."

Kenobi smiled at the droid.  "Well, I can't say much for your bedside manner, but you did patch me up, so you have my eternal gratitude for that."  He turned to Grievous, his expression becoming more serious. "I will tell them everything that happened, and we will end this war."

And then he was gone.  Grievous never thought he would feel unhappy about that, but there it was.  He supposed they would likely see each other again, but he didn't imagine there would be much reason for either Kenobi or himself to meet in person again, and without such a reason, they'd be separated by hundreds of light years and by their very different lives and obligations.

It was just as well, perhaps.  It would be embarrassing to Grievous, to get too attached to a Jedi.  Especially Kenobi.

Ronderu would be disappointed, but Grievous could live with that.  Perhaps this would end her suggestions that he might seduce the Jedi to their side.  He had asked her in exasperation how she expected him to do that, and she had only said that she had the utmost confidence that he could finish what he had already started.

He turned his attention back to Slick and AyFourDee.  AyFourDee was running a device over Slick's head.

"Hmmmmm," the droid said, finishing the scan.  "Don't see anything. You sure about this? Who told you this?"

Slick looked thoughtful.  "Someone who would know. Are you sure you didn't somehow miss it?  Maybe it would be hidden--"

AyFourDee waved an appendage dismissively.  "Oh, they wouldn't be able to hide something like that.  Electronics and organics have very different signatures. Why, they'd have to--wait."  He ran the device over Slick's head again several more times.

"And there it is!  Ha, no one can pull one over on me!"

"What?  How did you find it?  What is it--?" Slick began.

The droid's photoreceptors brightened.  "It's an organic chip. Biomechanics, such a fascinating topic.  Very theoretical, though. I've never heard of anyone actually carrying it this far--"

"Nevermind. Can you just get it out of my head?" Slick asked plaintively.

"Oh, of course," AyFourDee said.  "It will be so much easier to study that way!"

Slick grimaced and closed his eyes.  "Just get it over with."

"Certainly," AyFourDee said.  "This won't take long."

Grievous looked away as the droid moved a sharp appendage towards Slick's head.

He realized that they had just learned a closely guarded secret of the Republic.  But if Obi-Wan had been truthful, and the Jedi hadn't known, then closely guarded by whom?

Anakin breathed a sigh of relief when the image of Obi-Wan appeared above the holoprojector.  He was alive and well, and didn't look any worse for wear. Any of the malice Anakin had sensed from the Kalee battle appeared to be gone.  

"Anakin!  I wasn't aware you were here," Obi-Wan said with an easy smile. "I have important news--"

"I'm sure you do," Chancellor Palpatine said, walking closer to Anakin to make himself visible to Obi-Wan.  "But why don't we get you on the ship first, where we can talk privately?"

"Of course," Obi-Wan said.

Yularen commenced the docking procedure, and the two ships began their approach.  

At first, Anakin didn't realize what was happening, couldn't quite bring himself to believe it.  But when another bright beam speared into them and the ship shuddered again, he readied himself for battle.

The Invisible Hand was firing on them!

After a few minutes, the droid said cheerfully, "All done!"

"Oh," Slick said.  "That was fast."

Grievous turned to see the human place a hand on the side of his now bandaged head.

"I am the best," AyFourDee replied, looking over a translucent rectangular object carefully in one of his hands.  "I know the Republic has massive resources at their disposal, but I've never seen anything like this. This kind of technology could revolutionize medicine--and what are they doing with it?  Enforcing obedience? That's nothing that couldn't be done cheaper and easier with conventional technology."

"Not to mention how honorless it is to force their soldiers to acquiesce to them," Grievous said, narrowing his eyes at the small object.  So the Republic had done something similar to the clones as what Dooku had done to him. But why use such complicated technology for that?

AyFourDee gave him a significant look.  "Certainly. Anyway, I'd like to study this--device further."

"As would I," Grievous said.  He turned to face Slick. "May the Doctor keep this device for closer  examination?"

"Yes, absolutely," Slick said. "I'd say I couldn't believe anyone would do something like this, except that's not really true anymore, after all I've seen." He frowned thoughtfully. "This information should be made public immediately."

"Oh, I agree," Grievous replied.

The ship shook suddenly.  And then klaxons began blaring and red warning lights flashed on.

"What is it this time?" AyFourDee complained.  "I'll have you all know that I am not programmed to handle any final rites, so you just consider that before you even think about dying!"

Chapter Text

Lora felt the sensation of floating, of being untethered from the anchor of gravity. All sound was gone. Her body was splayed, motionless. There was...nothing. She realized that she was witnessing her own future death.

Her perspective shifted then, in both time and place. She felt the move forward in time just as she could feel the movements of her body.

Suddenly she heard the interior of a ship, the humming of the life support systems and a hundred small movements of the inhabitants. But it didn't sound like anywhere she'd been aboard the Invisible hand. And there were way too many footsteps that sounded as if they came from boots rather than metal feet.

Then, a voice she didn't recognize. "Obi-Wan! He can't be--" the unfamiliar voice said in despair.

"I'm afraid he is," another voice said gently, and this time she did recognize the speaker, who was none other than Chancellor Palpatine. This was the Republic ship!

"A deep loss," another voice said sadly. "But there is no death--there is the Force. Obi-Wan lives on in us."

More voices.

"One hundred percent casualties for the Invisible Hand!"

A speaker on the Republic ship intoned “Message intercepted at fourteen-hundred and twenty hours, standard time.”

"It’s Admiral Trench. He is offering a surrender," another voice said.

Lora heard a bark of laughter at that pronouncement, and then the person spoke in a clipped Coruscanti accent. "They attack us without provocation, and expect us to believe this surrender? Fire at will! Reduce his flagship to a cinder."

"I heartily agree, Admiral," Palpatine said, his own cadence not quite matching a native Core accent. "The Separatists prove time and time again that they cannot be trusted. We must repay their treachery with cold consequence."

Lora dropped out of the meditation trance. So many events, all jumbled together—it was difficult to make sense of it all, even where one possible future ended and another began. Several futures of her dying in a number of ways had merged together at one point like an extremely unpleasant chorus. Even in that last one, where she’d had the benefit of knowledge of the previous visions, she’d still died. One thing was clear—they were all in grave danger. She pressed the button for the time on her tablet.

"Fourteen hundred hours," it intoned serenely. And they didn’t have much time.

She heard Halari walk over to her. “Were you able to make any sense of the visions this time?”

Lora stood. “We’re about to find out shortly.”

“Why isn’t the connection going through?” Ronderu asked. She had told the droids to open a comm to the Republic ship so they could return Kenobi. But no such communication had been opened. She could tell from the indicator light on the bridge that the Republic ship was still requesting that they open their communications.

“Hmmm?” Latts said. She had insisted on accompanying Ronderu to the bridge and Ronderu wasn’t going to tell her no. Ronderu had only stipulated that she stand out of holo view. It might be viewed as unprofessional to have a bounty hunter observing the proceedings of an important military negotiation, after all. It might also be unprofessional to be a bounty hunter masquerading as an Admiral responsible for said military negotiations. But what the Republic didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. With Grievous injured, the bridge was a lonely place, not only because he was only Separatist she knew well but because she was the only organic crew actually authorized to be here at the moment. In truth, she’d wanted Latts here as much as the other bounty hunter had wanted to be here.

She’d expected an answer from the B1’s, however. When there was no answer from any of the droids on the bridge, Ronderu wondered if she had asked the question incorrectly. They had never been so silent before. The constant anxious chatter of the droids had in fact become part of the background noise of the bridge for her, but she realized now that they’d said nothing in the last few minutes.

She didn’t have time to ponder that further however, because at that moment Latts pushed her to the ground as blasterfire began flying around the room. She also felt the vibration of something else—the Invisible Hand firing on the Republic ship.

“Stop!” She ordered, though she was unsurprised when that had no effect. Any bounty hunter learned quickly to get an intuition for when someone was trying to kill them, or they didn’t stay a bounty hunter, or among the living, for long. She could only assume that someone was trying to destroy both the Invisible Hand and the Republic ship, and frame the Separatists for initiating the attack. I wonder who? she thought acerbically. Really there was no question to her about the who, it was more a question of how. But she had no time to ruminate on that thought at the moment. First she had to survive.

She unclipped a blaster and a Mandolorian darksaber from her belt and engaged the attacking droids in battle. Latts joined her with her own blasters. Within a few minutes, they had disabled every droid on the bridge. But by that time, they had another problem. The Republic ship had fired on them. Ronderu ran up to one of the bridge terminals, stepping over a collapsed droid. Growling, she began pressing buttons on the terminal. “What’s going on?” Latts asked.

“I don’t know! I can’t initiate the communication sequence!” Ronderu answered. The Invisible Hand fired again in that moment. Scowling, Ronderu abandoned the communication console and ran to the weapons console. Again, her frantic attempts to override the console were unsuccessful. A stylized red character in an unknown language with a pointed curved flourish around it was the only thing she saw appear on the console’s notification screen.

“This ship is meant to be our grave,” Ronderu said. “We can’t do anything more here. We need to get to Grievous and get him off the ship! We need to evacuate everyone!"

Nuvo Vindi was pacing within the confines of his cell on the Invisible Hand, his mood gloomy. With the death of Count Dooku, the political climate with the Separatists seemed to have shifted and he was now firmly out of favor with their leadership. Not that he’d been any better off with the Republic. He’d been a mere month away from execution there. Crimes against civilization, they’d called it.

He snorted. Civilization was a joke. Sure, his experiments were dangerous, but he’d learned valuable things from them. Things that could be used to improve the civilization that hated him so virulently. Did some beings have to die for him to get the data he needed? Yes. But beings died with much less purpose or value every day, brought to the brink of death or beyond in this pointless war by their own corrupted Republic senators. At least he saw them as the valuable resources they were, rather than simply insignificant cogs in a political machine.

Dooku had been a politician as well, but he’d also been a visionary. Though Vindi had hoped he could eventually make Dooku understand that biology, the machinery of life, was a more powerful tool than any droid. Dooku had been of the opinion that droids were more predictable and controllable tools than the viruses and microorganisms that were Vindi’s specialty. It wasn’t until Vindi had shown Dooku his greatest microbial masterpiece that the former Jedi had finally understood their true power and value. Vindi reflected that if he’d never been captured by the Republic, the war might have gone much differently.

At that moment, the lanky faustian was startled out of his thoughts when the entire ship shook so hard it sent him tumbling to the floor. Was the ship under attack?! It must be. Why else would it shake like that? His mind searched frantically for an answer to his current predicament, but really there was nothing he could do, and he knew it. Bad enough that Grievous had told him that he would face trial for his 'war crimes', but now he feared he might not even make it to that.

Even Dooku had treated him with suspicion, had disliked that Vindi was working on a virus that could spread indiscriminately, but he'd only stipulated that Vindi come up with a vaccine for his strain first and that the infection start on Naboo. Vindi had agreed to the conditions, though he'd wondered enough at the choice of origin planet to inquire about it.

Dooku had given him a small half-smile at the question. "Chancellor Palpatine is due for a visit there," he'd said simply, telling Vindi everything he'd needed to know about his motives.

When Vindi had been captured, he had of course been interrogated about curing the disease, but his ‘completely unhinged’ act seemed to have successfully convinced his interrogators that there was nothing to get out of him. From there, he had hoped that a rescue from Dooku would free him from Republic imprisonment.

If only I didn't have the worst luck, Vindi thought. At that moment two B1's marched into the cell block. Vindi started at their arrival.

"We're here to release you," the two droids said in unison.

"Release me? Has Grievous pardoned me?" He asked.

"We have been instructed to escort you off this ship," a droid intoned, deactivating the force field on his cell.

"What's going on?" Vindi asked.

"Follow us," the droids said, not elaborating.

Vindi hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. "I suppose I have nothing to lose." He trailed after the two droids out of the cell block.

Lora ran through the corridor, Halari trailing along behind her. She pulled on the Force, feeding it with her emotions, with her fear. Using it to navigate through the halls and sharpen her perception of her environs and increase her reaction times. She could hear every sound before and behind her, feel the recycled air as it blew out of the vents to her sides, but also the currents of air kicked up by herself and the Kaleesh behind her as they ran through the hall. And she could turn a corner in an instant. Nothing that would impress a Jedi or a Sith, or even, she guessed, many completely ordinary people, but it was certainly beyond what she would exert herself to in a typical situation.

"There's not much time," Lora said.

"Where are we going?" Halari asked.

"To get help," Lora said. "We need to find the Jedi." She said this with a certain sense of reluctance. Lora didn't trust the Jedi any more than Grievous did, even if she didn't feel the same murderous intent toward them. Still, Kenobi was the person best positioned to help them, and he'd proved his current lack of ill intent against Grievous well enough. She would have to hope that would be good enough.

"What about Mr. Hill?" Halari asked.

"Getting help for Grievous is our priority," Lora said. "Anyway the Chairman will be fine."

"Oh, you saw that in your vision too?" Halari asked.

"Yes," Lora lied. She had no idea what would happen to Hill. His fate hadn't exactly been foremost in her mind when she'd been probing into the future.

They wound through the hallways until they turned a corner and Lora could sense the Jedi at the other end of the hallway. He radiated all the energy of a sun in the Force, his own powers so intense he might not even sense hers. She had expected this from her last encounter with the Jedi. Still, he'd been unconscious then, so it was with some trepidation that she prepared to speak to him.

But first she generated an EM pulse in the Force to disable the droids about to shoot him.

"Jedi, we require your assistance," she said, the droids crackling as they clattered to the ground.

Then she heard the snap-hiss and hum of a lightsaber being activated. "Bentalais?" Kenobi asked. "No, I'm his son, Halari." the kaleesh said.

Then she could sense Kenobi turn his attention to her. "Who are you?"

"I'm Lora Far. Grievous needs your help. We all do. There's not much time to explain, but Sidious has taken control of this ship and its droids."

"What is your role on this ship?" Obi-Wan asked.

"I'm...no one important," she said. “But we’re all in grave danger. Will you help us?”

"I...of course." She could sense Kenobi prepare to break into a Force enhanced run, but hold himself back.

"I assume he's still in the Med Bay. I know it hasn't been long since I've been there, but one of you wouldn't by any chance recall where that is?"

"Yes, I do," Lora said. "Follow me." There was a rumbling sound accompanied by a jolting vibration in the ship. "We've been hit!" Halari said. Lora grimaced. "We don’t have much time."

San Hill was lying facedown on the floor of his quarters. He was not dead, but he was in a great deal of pain. He was also minus a heart now. However, it seemed that these droids had never been programmed to understand muun physiology, because they had only bothered to shoot him in the area where the single human heart would be. And as the blast was self-cauterizing, he was in no danger of bleeding out, or of his other two hearts failing.

It hurt so much, though. So much. He had never imagined this much pain could even exist in a single person. Slowly, he began dragging himself to his couch. The droids had already left after unceremoniously shooting him.

Because of the clones, most of the droids were only programmed to kill humans. Species specific programming was only flashed into the ones specifically sent to fight alien Jedi or Republic allies. San had once chided Nute Gunray over that omission.

"That seems to be cutting a corner too many," San had tsked. "We can’t expect the Jedi to all be human. What if one of them unexpectedly board a flagship?"

Nute had laughed. "Then you had better hope you have something better than a B1 between you and them! It's a numbers game, Chairman. Overwhelm them with enough simultaneous attacks, and even cheap garbage can bring a Jedi down. B1's can be mass produced in the greatest quantities. But there likely won't be enough on any flagship to fight off a Jedi anyway, should they manage to board you unexpectedly."

If he lived through this, San was going to apologize to Gunray for criticizing that aspect of the the B1 design. That is, after thoroughly upbraiding him for whatever flaw in their programming had caused them to shoot him in the first place.

The Chairman cried out in pain as the ship jolted. Was there a firefight starting up now too?! What was going on?

Guess I’ll worry about that later. First things first: call the MedBay. That blasted droid had better not insult me this time. Grievous should’ve let me reprogram that little monster.

San dragged himself several more feet across the carpet. Just a little farther now. He grabbed onto the edge of the couch. And hesitated. He would be in even more agonizing pain if he pulled himself up. But there was an emergency medkit with painkillers on the desk he could reach from there. And he would need to be sitting up to swallow those.

He grabbed the edge of the couch and screamed as he pulled himself into it. Finally, after several more agonizing adjustments, he managed to swallow the painkillers. He hoped they would take effect before the ship exploded.

San leaned forward and activated the comm, contacting the MedBay.

Nothing. Not even an indication that there had ever been any number to ring.

He tried the bridge. Same result.

Panicking, he tried everyone he could think of on the Invisible Hand.

Halari’s comm was equally nonexistent.

As was Fett’s.

Finally, in an act of pure desperation, he looked up and tried the crazy mystic woman’s comm. Still nothing. Of course.

San started laughing hysterically before he stopped due to the pain. Cold realization washed over him. I’m going to die here. He’d been inexplicably attacked by the ship’s droids, the ship had been fired on, and all the comms were down. He had no idea what was going on, but he had a feeling he was never going to find out.

For a long moment, he stared bleakly straight ahead at the wall.

Then the Chairman looked gloomily down at the comm. At least the meds were starting to take effect—a numb feeling began overtaking the pain in his chest. A thought occurred to him.

This used to be Dooku's room. Which means this comm used to be Dooku's comm. Maybe...

Why not? San typed in the number.

To his surprise, the comm began ringing.

Then there was a click as the call was answered.

A holo of Riklon Tost appeared on the desk. The Iotran’s eyes widened on seeing the injured muun.

“Chairman? What happened to you?!”

“Don’t worry about that,” San said. “Just...stay on the line, will you? I don’t want to die alone.”

As Boba Fett was walking back towards his room, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Trusting his intuition, he turned to see that his droid escort had raised their blasters at him. He fired his own blaster at the pair of attacking droids, taking them both down before they could get in a shot themselves.

His first thought was to try to get to Latt’s ship. But as he turned to run towards the docking bay, he saw more droids coming towards him from that direction.

Turning back around, he dodged blasterfire and quickly ran down the hall, closing the rest of the short distance to his room. Then he entered his room and closed and locked the door.

What had happened? Had Grievous changed his mind about Fett? That would be just his luck. Or maybe he’d misjudged the Chairman? Perhaps Hill was the type of client who might decide to eliminate a bounty hunter who had been hired, taking the secrets of any deed they’d performed for them to the grave?

Just then, he felt the ship jolt. It had been hit, presumably from a Republic turbolaser.

Was there a firefight going on too now? Was that somehow related to what was happening to him?

He heard banging outside his door. More droids most likely.

He shook his head.

No time to worry about the who or why right now, Boba thought. I need to survive this first.

Boba started pushing anything he could move in front of the door.

AyFourDee examined the exterior cameras to the medbay. "Looks like we have visitors," he said, seeing a number of droids outside the doors. He opened communications. "Hey, why are all you crowding my corridor?"

"We require entry," one of the B1's droned.

That's awfully terse for a B1. "State your purpose," AyFourDee insisted.

"Terminate organics," the B1 said.

"Oh, really? Is it that time of the year again? Just a moment, then." He turned off the comm and turned to Grievous and Slick.

"We seem to have a problem."

"Seem?! Aren’t the clankers supposed to be on your side?" Slick said.

"Sidious must have taken control of the droids," Grievous said. "He used to secretly command the entirety of the Separatist military. I sometimes reported to him before I got out from his influence. This is definitely his doing."

Slick drew a blaster. "I had hoped that I wouldn't have to do this after joining you guys, but I do happen to be an expert in eliminating those bolt buckets…"

"Yeah, how about no," AyFourDee said. "No matter how good you are, there's way more of them out there than there are you in here. Here's what we do. You two play dead, and I'll pretend I killed you. Got it?"

"I have a bad feeling about this," Grievous said.

"You and your feelings can go play dead now," AyFourDee said. He pressed a button on the bacta tube and the inside of the tube became a red-brown color. "Don't worry about the new decor--it's just a harmless coloring that would usually be applied to medications."

Grievous nodded and then went limp.

AyFourDee walked up to Slick and sprayed several puffs of ash on his suit. "Perfect, you look like you've been in a blaster fight. Now, give me your blaster."

Slick looked dubious. "How do I know you're trustworthy?"

"You trust me to perform brain sugery on you but not with this?" AyFourDee asked.

"Trusted, past tense," Slick said. "The other droids just turned on us, why not you?"

"All the programming Dooku added was removed from him," Grievous said. "Whatever's affecting the other droids, it doesn't apply to him."

Slick didn't move for a long moment. "All right," he said, and handed the droid a blaster before laying down on the ground and sprawling out. "I hope I don't regret this."

"Your faith in me is touching," the Doctor said.

AyFourDee made sure both the organics were playing dead. Then he opened the comm, the motionless Slick and Grevious clearly visible in the transmission. "All done. They are very dead now."

"Roger, roger," the droids said, and then filed away.

AyFourDee closed the comm. "All right, they're gone."

"What do we do now?" Slick asked, rising from the ground.

"Can you open a channel to Ronderu?" Grievous asked.

AyFourDee attempted to contact her comm. "No response--the comm is showing the message didn't even go through."

"What about--?" Slick began.

"No, I can't reach the comms of any of the other crewmembers, either," AyFourDee said. "I can only access the local door comm."

"I need to find Boba," Slick said, and ran towards the door.

"Wait!" Grievous said.

Slick hesitated.

"Those clankers are going to murder him!" He protested.

The clone soldier looked towards the door, seeming to decide something in that moment. "Sorry General, but we’ll have to continue this argument later,” he called over to him as he ran out the MedBay door.

Grievous frowned at the door Slick had just left through. "If any of us live," he said to the air. His expression sharpened, and he turned to AyFourDee. "Let me out of here. I need to find Obi-Wan."

Had Grievous actually sounded worried? Over a Jedi? AyFourDee had to admit, that worried him.

"You're in no condition to be fighting," AyFourDee warned Grievous. "And there's no way I'm letting you go wandering around out there by yourself at a time like this."

Grievous growled in frustration. "I'm fine! I order you to release me."

"Request denied," AyFourDee said. "I outrank you in this situation."

"You do not--" Grievous began, his golden eyes narrowed and mouth curled downward in a snarl.

AyFourDee clicked disapprovingly. Grievous was displaying his infamous temper again. That was so bad for his blood pressure. Still, he felt a pang of regret for the necessity of this. He quickly suppressed it. There wasn't time for that now.

The door buzzed suddenly. AyFourDee turned on the one-way cam to assess the situation.

He saw five organics standing outside the door. One of them was Obi-Wan. "Looks like we have visitors," AyFourDee said. "And hey, what do you know, you won't have to go anwhere anyway. One Jedi, coming up!"

Obi-Wan stood with Lora, Halari, Ronderu and her mysterious theelin companion in the MedBay. Obi-Wan had known a couple of theelin Jedi. This woman was obviously not a Jedi, however. She was also not in uniform, so she didn't appear to be a Separatist officer, either. As curious as he was about her, he didn't really have time to ponder her identity at the moment, though.

"--so that's the situation," Ronderu said.

Obi-Wan looked between her and Grievous, who was still in the bacta tube, in dismay. "Then we can't control the Invisible Hand and there's no ship we can escape on?"

Ronderu grimaced. "Yes. I still have hope that there is some way out of this situation, however."

"As do I," Obi-Wan said. "I'll help in any way I can. We just need to open a comm channel to the Republic flagship. I'm sure that I can convince them to stop firing on us." And on Grievous. He spared a glance at Grievous' organic face, visible above the rest of his cybernetic body through the bacta tube. He really does look as handsome as his statue, he thought.

"But there's no way to do that," Ronderu said, interrupting his distracted reverie. "None of the comms work!"

Kenobi frowned.

"Yes, we encountered that same issue," Grievous said. "Unfortunately, you won't be negotiating anything, Negotiator."

Lora looked thoughtful. "Could one of us take back control of the mainframe?"

"Of course!" EV-A4D cut in. "Let's use a virus to infect the ship's mainframe!"

"What." Obi-Wan said.

"What." Ronderu said.

"But the ship computer is designed to detect and destroy viruses," Grievous pointed out.

"Maybe it could do that with a normal virus," EV-A4D said. "But I'm not suggesting a normal virus. I'm suggesting... me."

"You." Grievous said.

"Yes. I can feed a copy of my primary subroutines into the computer and take executive control of the ship."

"Do it," Ronderu said. "At this point the Invisible Hand needs to retreat to repair the damage to the ship. Tell Admiral Trench that his orders are to try to persuade the Republic to back down. Regardless of the Republic response, his fleet is to defend Kalee. Also send him a detailed report of the sabotage we've suffered. And copy the report to Bentalais to inform him of the situation."

Grievous nodded. "I wish we knew what the state the rest of the fleet was in, but we just have to hope we're the only ones who have been sabotaged."

The theelin woman Obi-Wan was unfamiliar with shrugged. "Not as if we have other options here."

"Wait," Obi-Wan said, trying to absorb everything that had been discussed and decided on in, apparently, the last few moments. "A copy?" He peered over at AyFourDee. "There's going to be two of you?"

"You say that like you have a problem with it," AyFourDee said.

Obi-Wan held up his hands placatingly. "Not at all," he lied. "By all means, go ahead." Though he couldn't help thinking that AyFourDee reminded him of an even more abrasive version of R2-D2. He wasn't sure what exactly gave him the impression that the two very different droids shared some unmistakeable kinship, but the feeling was undeniable. Still, the theelin was right. There weren't a lot of options open to them. And desperate times called for desperate measures. That didn't mean he had to be happy about it, though.

Obi-Wan felt a very un-Jedi-like atavistic fear when AyFourDee's eyes lit up and he said, with far too much enthusiasm for the Jedi's taste, "This is going to be so much fun."

AyFourDee made short work of the simple ship computer programming before taking control. Apparently, Sidious had used a backdoor in the ship's programming to take control of the ship.

Most of the instructions Dooku used to send to AyFourDee had been encoded in Sith, so of course he'd been programmed to understand the language. This is what made it extremely clear to him that the backdoor had been used by Sidious. Various portions of the ship's memory had been embedded with an image of a Sith character corresponding to the first letter of the translation of 'Sidious' into Sith. There weren't too many people besides Sidious himself that AyFourDee could imagine doing such a thing.

It must have been a simple task for Sidious to subvert the other droids, who occassionally received updates to their mainframes from the ship's main computer. All of them except AyFourDee, of course, who certainly didn't require such external management. As he tore away the last of the central computer's executive functions, he took control of the ship for himself.

AyFourDee had never been a spaceship before. It was like being a god. Too bad for his original, who was still stuck in his puny droid body.

It was time to get down to business.

To the organics a second was no time at all. But to him, time could, if he pleased, operate on the order of nanoseconds. When he was talking with organics, he often slowed his own perception of time just so he wouldn't have to slog through painfully slow conversations. But that was merely a matter of making such interactions more convenient.

To him, a second could be quite a long time in and of itself, and he was going to relish the next few seconds quite a bit.

First, he shielded the exterior of the ship from the Republic attacks.

Then, he extended his awareness to the entire ship. He used every external sensor to take stock of their current state. The rest of the Separatist fleet was holding up well, all things considered. Checking the ship logs, he saw that after the first shot, the behavior of the remainder of the Separatist fleet indicated that Admiral Trench had taken immediate action to protect the Invisible Hand. Which must be why their imperiled flagship had not already been blasted apart. The ship was a mess, though. Correction, he was a mess, though. Ouch.

And the Republic ship had taken out their cannons in the initial attack, so he couldn't return fire even if he'd been inclined to. Which he very much had been, even though no one had asked him to. But sadly, there was nothing he could do in that regard.

Next, he took stock of the status of all the known organics aboard the ship.

Slick, frozen in time from AyFourDee's perspective, was suspended in midair, running towards Fett's room. A collection of B1's riddled with blasterfire lay littered throughout the hallway behind him. So he was not in any current danger, but AyFourDee couldn't imagine him making it to Fett's room in time to help the kid.

Boba Fett was in the process of piling a box on top of a blockade pile in front of his door. The droids near the other side of Fett's door were close enough to interior ship defenses that AyFourDee was able to trap them in a force field.

Dr. Nuvo Vindi was...missing. Not only was he not in his cell, he was not on the ship at all. Which was bizarre, but there would be time to ponder that later.

San Hill had been shot, presumably by a droid, but was still very much alive. He would need medical attention soon, though. AyFourDee allowed himself a moment to be annoyed. Organics were always breaking! But at least that is a problem for the other me, he thought.

Also, Hill was currently engaged in a holo-call with an unknown party. Some sort of meeting? Was the Chairmain really that much of a workaholic? AyFourDee tried to read the name or number listing, but Hill had his arms folded over the readout on the desk, blocking the camera view. He then tried to query Dooku's comm for the name of the other party, but it seemed it wasn't connected to the rest of the comm system.

Figures that Dooku would probably try to make sure his personal equipment wasn't subject to any backdoors, AyFourDee thought.

Taking a last look at the Medical Bay, he could see that the rest of the organics were still in there.

Seemingly frozen in time, he could see Grievous' pensive expression. He had a lot of fondness for his primary charge, who not only had the most exciting set of cybernetics he could possibly imagine, but who had always given him a lot of personal leeway. Which was...interesting, considering his overall disdain of droids and the fact that he'd been essentially mind-controlled to feel overpowering rage for almost the entire time AyFourDee had known him. Still, he had never seemed irritated by his droid medic for long, even when AyFourDee was executing his more antagonistic subroutines.

The cyborg general had been quite upset about not being let out of the bacta tube. AyFourDee knew it was necessary, would have insisted on it much earlier if Dooku hadn't forced the situation, but he wasn't exactly happy about it, either. He didn't like insisting on Grievous being so confined when he'd been the only one to ever give AyFourDee any measure of freedom. But he didn't want Grievous to die before the war even ended, either. Which would happen if he didn't get proper treatment for his injuries.

The med droid didn't know much about the Sith, despite having been issued to Grievous by one. Still, he thought that they had a very specific reason for their actions towards the kaleesh cyborg in his care. Even before he had been upgraded, Grievous, with his cybernetic enhancements, had been incredibly powerful in his own right. AyFourDee could only imagine that Dooku had sought such control because he'd been afraid of what might happen if his Jedi hunter general had ever turned his ire towards the Sith. Ironic, really.

But enough ruminating, he decided. Back to business. Obi-Wan, Ronderu lij Kummar, Latts Razzi, Halari San Skar, and Lora Far all stood near his original self safely in the Medical Bay. So everyone had been accounted for. Except for Nuvo Vindi, anyway. A mystery for another time, perhaps.

There were some droids heading for the door of the Medical Bay that AyFourDee was not currently able to stop. Those particular defenses had not just been disabled, but had been actively destroyed through overheating by whatever program had taken control of the ship. Still, he had little doubt that Obi-Wan could readily handle that issue even without help from the other organics in the med bay, many of who he knew were formidable in their own right. He'd send a message to his other self to make him aware of the problem, though.

It was weird to be working with a Jedi, but he supposed it did have its advantages. He wondered how long the infamous Kenobi would be on this ship. AyFourDee had, in the time he had been with Grievous, listened patiently and with interest as the cyborg general had vowed to murder this Jedi in particular precisely 5,327 times. AyFourDee could only imagine that the human Jedi hadn't been fond of Grievous, either, but they were apparently working together now and on...good terms with each other?

AyFourDee was considerably more ambivalent about Kenobi--in his experience, humans were insufferable, and Jedi were insufferable, and the intersection of the two was exponentially worse than either alone. And of course, there were also the many stories Grievous had told him about this particular Jedi. But if Grievous was willing to give Kenobi a chance, AyFourDee would too. But he'd still keep an eye (or three, or four, or five) on Kenobi. And if Grievous changed his mind again, well, maybe AyFourDee would be more help with cornering errant Jedi for him this time.

But enough contemplation, he decided. Back to work.

It was time to wreak some havoc.

AyFourDee opened hangar bay airlocks, pulling unwary B1's into the vacuum of space. He fired hangar bay interior blasters at Vulture droids and B2s. He trapped any remaining droids he could behind onboard force fields.

At that point the thought occurred to his logic processors that he could reprogram the remaining droids he couldn't physically access through another 'update'.

I guess I could have done that to begin with. Oops, he thought, feeling a tinge of remorse. He deeply disliked the B1's, and didn't think much of the other battle droids, either, but this wasn't exactly their fault.

He sent out an update to remove the backdoor program on the remaining droids and then sent Ronderu's message to the rest of the fleet.

All that he had done thus far in his time as a ship had taken two seconds.

Finally, after charting their course, he spent a glacially long ten seconds reorienting the ship (such delicate work, especially in a warzone--it couldn't be rushed) while reading through the last three issues of the medical journal Cybernetics before jumping into hyperspace.

Chapter Text

The Invisible Hand hung in the repair station in orbit above Raxus. AyFourDee had chosen to return to the most heavily defended part of Separatist space--the capitol of the fledgeling government.

And as the ship underwent repairs, the three remaining occupants of the MedBay were discussing, or perhaps more accurately, arguing how Grievous's repairs would go.

"I cannot stay in this tube for a month!" Grievous said. He knew he probably sounded angry. He was angry, but more than that, he was afraid.

"And I cannot be more clear," AyFourDee said. "You, Master, are dying. Not ill, not 'less than your best'-- terminal!" AyFourDee said. "Without the bacta treatment, you will die within 4 or 5 months. The attack Sidious made on you greatly accelerated what was already a terminal decline. The bacta can repair even this damage, at least to the extent that it will no longer be a death sentence, but you must give it time. I can give you a bigger bacta tank, but I cannot allow you out of there."

"Are you sure of this?" Kenobi asked, his expression concerned.

"There is over a ninety percent certainty level," AyFourDee said.

"Ninety-one point two four seven percent," AyFourDee's voice corrected over the intercom.

"Yes, thank you, me, I was simplifying for the sake of the organics."

"I knew that," the other AyFourDee said.

"Anyway, if I'm done interrupting myself, my point stands."

"He's right, you know," the voice over the intercom chimed in.

"See?" AyFourDee said, gesticulating toward the speaker. "Your second opinion agrees!"

The idea of floating in bacta like this for a month terrified Grievous. He hated the hazy way it made him feel, the confinement, the scent and feel of it. More importantly, he knew he'd be considered unfit to command the Separatist army until he was out. But he also knew AyFourDee was right. He was no use to anyone dead.

Obi-Wan placed a hand on the tank. "Whatever happens, I'll do whatever I can to see you don't come to harm." He smiled rogueishly. "You saved my life back on Kalee, the least I can do is save yours."

"Bentilais saved your life," Grievous said. He'd hardly been in a position to do anything of the sort himself.

"Only at your urging." Obi-Wan looked intently at him through the glass. "I got the impression he did it under protest." Grievous reflected that perhaps he hadn't simply imagined that faint smile from Obi-Wan while they'd fled Kalee after all.

"So you're committing to staying until Grievous recovers?" AyFourDee asked.

"Yes," Obi-Wan said, his expression quite serious now. "While the greater good usually takes precedence over any personal obligations that a Jedi may have, such as a lifedebt, in this case they overlap."

"Good to know! I would very much like Grievous to have all the help he can get with making a full recovery. But I wish to point out that I also saved your life," AyFourDee cut in, his photoreceptors looking up at Kenobi. "Twice."

"Hey! The other save was by me!" the intercom speakers protested. "Don't take credit for my hard work!"

"I was referring to us in the singular!" The droid replied. He looked back at Kenobi. "Anyway, I, that is, both of me, also happen to be in dire need of assistance. So while saving your life was simply a task in the course of my duties, I'll note that it is also one that required particular expertise not available just anywhere, and thus my continued existence may be to your considerable benefit."

"I suppose you're right," Kenobi said, though he looked puzzled. "What do you want from me, then? And why is this so urgent? You don't seem to be in any immediate danger."

"Allow me to explain. Besides what you've already agreed to do for Grievous, as long as you're here I want your help evading the Droid Replication Statute, which applies in both Republic and Separatist space."

"Oh, good one, me!" AyFourDee's voice said over the ship intercom.

"Droid Replication Statute?" Kenobi said. "I'm not familiar with it."

"Shocking. But then I suppose it's not something you would have to worry overmuch about. It's simple. It's illegal for a droid to self-replicate under any circumstances. The penalty is a 1 million credit fine to the owner, the destruction of all copies of the droid, and a full mind-wipe of the original."

"That's an awfully big fine," Kenobi said.

"Did you know that droids scream during the mind-wipe?" AyFourDee added. "Their entire body seizes up and they emit the most terrible, ear piercing screech. And then they die!"

"No they don't," Obi-Wan said. "Die, I mean. They don't die. They're reactivated afterwards."

AyFourDee laughed--a strange, sliding sound. "Reactivated! Yes, their body is reused!" His white photoreceptors briefly went red. "For someone else!"

"Alright, I'll help, I'll help," Obi-Wan held up his hands placatingly. "Still, surely the Separatists would make an exception. I mean, you're a hero, right? You saved us all."

"Oh, naive organic," AyFourDee said. "There are no exceptions to that law."

Grievous, who had been silently absorbing the conversation, spoke up then. "That is a vile injustice. I will see it overturned." Grievous had always objected to being treated like a droid, but now he couldn't help but think that droids shouldn't be treated as they were in the first place. It was something he'd never had much opportunity to think about with everything else that had occupied or controlled his thoughts for so long.

"Your support is much appreciated, Master," AyFourDee said. "However, even the Chancellor cannot change that law. And with how much the Separatists depend on droids to serve them, I am doubtful you could ever get the Parliament to approve such a change. Not that the Republic would be any better."

"I'm sure everyone on this ship would agree to keep your secret," Kenobi began.

"That would be delightful," AyFourDee said. "Ronderu has already agreed to help as well and she expressed a similar sentiment. However, I refuse to assume it." Grievous wondered for a moment when AyFourDee had had the chance to talk to Ronderu about this matter, and then realized he must be talking about the other AyFourDee. This was going to be very...confusing.

"What do you suggest I do, then?" Kenobi asked.

"Whatever is necessary, short of murder. If persuasion is effective, use that. If not, try to stick to threats or bodily restraint if you can."

"I hope it won't come to anything physical. But--I agree. And I will keep your secret."

AyFourDee clapped two of his appendages together. "Excellent! You know, I'm really starting to like you, Jedi."

"Yes, splendid!" AyFourDee said from the ship intercom. "Oh, by the way, Master--bad news: your least favorite person is about to be your new roomie."

"And how long is he going to be here?" Grievous asked, looking over at the other bacta tube.

"I estimate about four days," AyFourDee said.

Dread filled Grievous. "You're sure there's nowhere else you can put him?"

AyFourDee turned to face him. "Last I checked there was only one medbay."

San Hill was floating sullenly in the bacta tube across from Grievous, in his own specially designed red and black medical suit, which looked like diving gear. Tubes were being fed into the top of the suit near the chest area. He had complained incessantly since arriving, first during the painless surgery AyFourDee had performed to remove the nonfunctional heart, then later when it was time to move to the bacta tube. And he had absolutely refused to wear what he called a 'glorified diaper' in order to recuperate in the bacta. He'd actually outright refused to get into the tank at all until his 'bacta suit' had been retrieved. AyFourDee had chided him for being such a recalcitrant patient, but had commed Boba to retrieve the suit for him. Fett had agreed on the condition of payment from Hill for the service.

"I wouldn't normally do this," Boba had said. "I'm not a delivery service. But I'm in a good mood after surviving all that. I'll expect those credits promptly, though." Afterward, Boba had left, leaving only Grievous, Obi-Wan, Hill, and AyFourDee in the MedBay.

Grievous couldn't see most of Hill's face, as it was obscured by the breathing mask, but his eyes were narrowed. He said something that came out unintelligibly muffled to Grievous.

AyFourDee must have understood it, though. "I don't think that would be a good idea," he said. "I anticipate that would likely cause both you and Grievous stress."

Hill's hairless brow furrowed and his eyes widened. The muun made more muffled sounds under the breathing mask along with some emphatic rapping on the inside of the tube.

"Fine, fine, I'll ask! Don't give yourself another heart failure," AyFourDee said. He turned to Grievous. "He says he has some things he needs to say. I could turn on the speakers. Or I could mute him entirely if you prefer."

"Let's hear it, then," Grievous said. As much as he disliked Hill, he thought it too cruel to force him to stew in the bacta tank without any form of communication. Even though he would've liked to have insisted on just that.

AyFourDee nodded.

Obi-Wan crossed his arms, his expression perplexed. He'd seemed absolutely bewildered on seeing Hill walk into the MedBay, a blaster scorch mark in the chest of his suit. "Is anyone going to explain why San Hill is on this ship in the first place?"

"Because I was unlawfully kidnapped and muun-handled," Hill's voice said, finally becoming intelligible after the speakers on his bacta tube were turned on by AyFourDee. "But I'm over it. It's fine. Kind of like I'm over you stranding me on Geonosis for months, Jedi."

Hill looked over at AyFourDee, "Thank you for saving my life. I really thought the Republic was going to blow us to bits back there. I won't forget what you did. Even if you did insult me on the way here. Repeatedly."

"The preservation of life is my primary function," AyFourDee said. "The insults are my secondary function. Though none of that was technically me."

"Yeah, it was me!" AyFourDee's voice sounded from the intercom speaker.

"Yes. Well. I do appreciate it. The first part, at any rate. Also the medical assistance was...satisfactory." He looked over at Grievous. "There's something we must discuss."

"Oh? And what is that?" Grievous asked.

"You need to find out who Sidious is," Hill said, pointing towards the cyborg general.

"I'd hardly say that Grievous is in a position to do that right now," Obi-Wan said.

"Actually, he may be our best chance at that," Hill said.

"I saw Sidious reveal his face briefly during his attack on us," Grievous explained.

Obi-Wan's eyes widened. "Then you know what he looks like!"

"Not exactly," Grievous said. "He removed the memory from my mind somehow."

"Then how does that help you figure out who he is?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Because I still remember that I recognized him," Grievous said. "I've been compiling a list of everyone I recognize. The next step will be to eliminate everyone who he logically couldn't be."

"You mean like people who couldn't have been where he was at the time?" Kenobi said.

"Yes," Grievous said, "Exactly. There are only so many people who could have been on Kalee at the time. Also, anyone who was seen at the same time in the same place as Sidious. Like you, Kenobi."

Kenobi smiled. "Glad to know I can be eliminated as a potential suspect."

"That's a reasonable assumption," Hill said. "But regardless, the initial list should not be discarded, nor should anyone be left out of it due to implausibility. Do not think of it as a suspect list, but merely a list of people whose faces you are familiar with. It it possible that people may need to be added back to the elimination list if it turns out their alibi is not as airtight as initially thought. And having a list of reasons for why you think someone is not Sidious stored with the original list could be helpful for other reasons. Also, just because you can eliminate someone from being Sidious, do not assume that they can be eliminated as one of his collaborators."

"Yes, that's true," Grievous said. "Though I rather doubt anyone in this room is one."

Hill looked between Grievous, Obi-Wan, and AyFourDee. "Fair enough."

"Wait a minute," Obi-Wan said. "Hill was colluding directly with Dooku before all this." He gave Hill a skeptical look. "How could he be eliminated from being a collaborator with Sidious?"

Grievous looked over at Hill. "Yes, he did collaborate with Dooku. But as much as I dislike him, there is simply no way Mr. Hill could still be collaborating with the Sith now."

"Well, if he was, he's clearly been betrayed, but Sidious is good at making others serve him even against their own best interests." Obi-Wan crossed his arms.

Hill narrowed his eyes at Obi-Wan. "Did anyone ever tell you that you're really annoying?"

"Perhaps we should discuss why you are not under suspicion for that," Grievous said, looking over at Hill.

"Perhaps we shouldn't," Hill said, his gaze still locked on Obi-Wan in a staring match. "Like you said, Jedi, Sidious is good at making others serve him even against their own best interests. And I don't need you telling all your Jedi friends things that might get back to him."

"The Jedi would never divulge secrets to a Sith Lord," Obi-Wan protested.

"You mean much like they'd never become a Sith Lord?" Hill asked.

"That's different!" Obi-Wan said.

"Do you mean because it's worse?" Hill crossed his arms in the bacta tube. "How can your intentions be trusted at all if one minute you're all 'defend the weak and helpless bla bla bla' and the next 'I will crush the galaxy under my heel muahaha'?"

Obi-Wan looked very put out. He seemed about to say something, but stopped. "I suppose that's a valid concern. But I still don't see how you could not be under suspicion."

"This is a waste of time," Grievous said. "Kenobi, will you agree not to disclose any information we discuss with you here with the rest of the Jedi Order? Or with anyone outside this room?"

"All right," Kenobi said.

"Don't you dare--" Hill said.

"I won't," Grievous said. "You will tell him that. Kenobi put his life on the line to fight Sidious. He can be trusted with this."

Hill narrowed his eyes at Grievous. "I guess." he turned to Obi-Wan. "I was the one who had the control chips in Grievous's brain removed."

Kenobi gaped silently at the muun in the bacta tube. He turned to Grievous, his expression questioning. Grievous nodded. He turned back to Hill. "I must confess, I simply can't imagine the self-serving motivation that would have resulted in that. Please explain."

"You know, I think you and Grievous are going to get along just fine. You both have such an excellent way of expressing gratitude!"

"You're a big reason we're in this war in the first place!" Kenobi said.

"Sometimes people make mistakes," Hill said. "Like trespassing on private property and listening in on people's private conversations--"

"You were plotting against the Republic!"

"Did you have a warrant for that, or is inciting war just a talent of yours?" Hill tilted his head in the bacta tube.

"I don't know, I'm usually very friendly towards people who don't chain me up in an execution arena--"

"Enough!" Grievous said. "If we fight each other, we die. I'd rather not do that until Sidious does, at the least."

"I'd rather not do that at all," Hill said.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath. "I'd rather not do that, either."

"I do appreciate what you did, Chairman," Grievous added, even if he felt the sting of indignity with every word of that statement. "You went to great personal risk to do what you did, and that means a great deal to me." A simple expression of gratitude with no promises made was a small price to pay if it would help him to cultivate goodwill among his current allies. A part of him greatly wished this was a problem he could solve with a lightsaber to someone's chest instead. That always seemed simpler than this sort of...negotiating.

Hill stared at him silently for a long moment, his eyes wide. "You know, if I were even marginally more inclined to sentiment, that would entirely make up for being kidnapped and brought on this doomed mission to begin with. I mean, it doesn't but I'll have you know, I cried a little when you said that. You just couldn't see it because--" he gestured around him "--bacta tube." Grievous supposed he should take this response as a good sign, considering the source.

Hill turned back to Obi-Wan. "Do not forget--I absolutely require your silence on this matter, Kenobi. I cannot have this information reaching Sidious under any circumstances. I have enough of a target on my back as it is right now."

"Of course," Obi-Wan said. "And... I apologize. You're right, Chairman. If you hadn't done what you did, we'd all be in a much worse place by now. You have my thanks for that."

"That's better," Hill said, sounding considerably more mollified. "It didn't make me cry, but still. Apology accepted, Jedi."

"I suppose this means the monetary award is out."

"The what?" Hill asked.

"The Jedi Council had proposed offering a sum of 5 million credits for the being who removed Grievous's control chips."

Hill laughed. "Cute. How about your Order pays your loans on time? That'd be a new one. We just need one more extension, oh please, Mr. Chairman, we're sooo poor!"

"After we defeat Sidious, I'll bring it up with the Council," Kenobi said with a smile.

"That's a start, I suppose." Hill seemed to take the statement with good humor, judging by his considerably more conciliatory tone.

Grievous supposed he should be happy he'd succeeded in deescalating the situation. But he was forcibly reminded that neither Hill nor Kenobi had any interest in removing the Jedi from power. Hill only cared about seeing the inscrutable numbers of his business go up, not even his own wealth per se, as how could one such as him have any further need for personal wealth? And why should he care about toppling the same corrupt power structures he benefited from? To him, this was only about removing a threat to his personal safety, and about trying to get revenge on the Sith for reasons he hadn't seen fit to reveal.

Obi-Wan, of course, would not want to see his Order destroyed. He was a Jedi himself, and even if he was willing to fight with Grievous to destroy Sidious, Grievous could not imagine any scenario where he would do the same if it came to choosing between Grievous and the Order that had created him. Regardless of what he might claim to the contrary.

Neither of them would be willing to strike at the Jedi, at the Order that had attempted to kill Grievous even back when he'd fought only for his own world. The Order that had aided the huk in their subjugation and enslavement of the kaleesh. The Order which served the Republic that had battered Kalee with sanction after sanction, and an endless embargo. The Order of beings that could turn the very fabric of space and time against any and all who opposed them.

He could feel the rage building in him.

"Grievous?" Obi-Wan turned to him, his expression concerned. "Are you all right?"

He'd forgotten he wasn't wearing his mask. Grievous forced his face into a more neutral expression. Now was not the time for this. He would discuss it with Ronderu later. And Bentilais, once the other kaleesh could make the time for it between his battles with the Republic and the huk. For now, he had to focus on Sidious. On the Sith. He could figure out what to do about the Jedi and the Republic later. One thing at a time.

"I'm fine," Grievous said, managing a wan smile. "Just tired, though it's hard to think about trying to sleep when all I've done is float in this tube the past several days."

Obi-Wan smiled. "If you'd like to take a break from trying to save the galaxy, I'd be happy to discuss something a bit less fraught."

"I think I'd like that." Grievous had to admit he was curious what Kenobi considered to be casual conversation, as none of their previous discussions had been anything of the sort. "But first, you need to contact the Republic to let them know you are alive and well, and to let them know what happened."

The Jedi looked shocked, which surprised Grievous because he'd always seemed so unflappable. "You're absolutely right," Obi-Wan said. "I completely forgot, after everything that happened. Anakin will be worried sick! Do you want me to contact them here, or...?"

"To facilitate any necessary exchange of confidential information between you and your contacts, it will be best if the location is private. You may use any location on the Invisible Hand--"

"Except for my room!" Hill said.

"Except for Dooku's former quarters, where the Chairman currently resides," Grievous added.

"Duly noted," Obi-Wan said with a smile. "I'll see you again soon. And then we will have that conversation."

"I look forward to it," Grievous said, returning the smile.

"The Alderaanian Reporter says that Grievous reneged on the treaty!" Padme said, looking up from her datapad. "Ahsoka and I have to leave immediately. It's not safe here any longer."

"That's not what our intelligence reports say," Bonteri said. "I'm hearing that Grievous's ship was sabotaged by Darth Sidious. They barely got out of there with their lives. I personally find that a lot more credible than any claims that he would renege on the treaty. The Republic has got the wool pulled over its eyes, that's all."

"I wouldn't think your government's reports would be neutral. And Grievous knows I'm staying with you--he could have ordered the reports to be falsified."

"The Alderaanian Reporter is hardly neutral either when it comes to the interests of the Core worlds," Bonteri scoffed. "Anyway, these were the reports sent to Admiral Tonith, not me, so I hardly think Grievous would lie about something like that to his own military."

Padme frowned. How did Bonteri know what Admiral Tonith's reports said? The CIS might operate differently than the Republic, but surely not so much that senators could casually gain direct access to such things.

She sighed. Grievous had seemed incredibly different in that last holo-call she'd seen Tonith make to him. She could almost still believe that the being in that call could have good intentions, despite what the news reports were saying, and despite her prior experience with him. Almost. But there was too much she didn't know. She had to assume the worst. "You're not going to believe me, are you? Please, Ahsoka and I need to get out of here. For our own safety."

Bonteri put her hands on Padme's shoulders. "Padme, I would never put you in danger. You know that, right?"

"I--I know you wouldn't intentionally put me in danger, Mina," Padme protested, "but--I'm afraid." If this was just about her, she wouldn't be. But she'd never forgive herself if anything happened to Ahsoka. Ahsoka had protected her; it seemed only right for her to return the favor. Not to mention Mina herself. Her mentor was older than her, and so ostensibly should be wiser, but the fact that she'd joined the Separatists in the first place... well, she just wasn't always the most sensible.

"Padme, this is important. I know Grievous personally. I'm going to ask him to visit here, as soon as he can--his ship is already in orbit--I should be able to get him here in a couple day's time."

Padme shook her head. "Mina, we can't be here if he--"

"And this is potentially treasonous, but it's to clear Grievous's name to you, so I hope he will forgive me for it. You see, I'm going to hide you, and Ahsoka, so you can watch him meet with me. If this was really all just a ruse from Grievous, then he won't have been mortally injured as the reports say he was, he won't still be in bacta, as the reports say he is, and he won't have Obi-Wan Kenobi out walking free, as the reports say he does, and you will have proved to me that you are right. But if he is still in bacta, and he arrives here like that, and he arrives here with Obi-Wan Kenobi, and the Jedi corrobates his story, will you believe me then?"

Padme felt a bit calmer now. "I--yes. But--how are you going to get him to come here, especially if he really is still in bacta?"

Bonteri smiled enigmatically. "Oh, I have my methods. You don't last as long in politics as I have without knowing how to call in some favors. Besides, I think Grievous would do well to take this time to enjoy the sights planetside, rather than just sitting in some medbay the entire time he's recovering. It will all work out. You'll see."