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General Grievous watches another system disappear from the Confederacy.
Not fall.
Not conquered.
Disappear.
The holoprojector aboard the Invisible Hand changes Belderone from Separatist crimson to a pale diplomatic gold.
CEASEFIRE NEGOTIATIONS ACTIVE.
Grievous's claws scrape across the command rail.
“Who authorized this?”
The tactical droid beside him turns its head.
“The Belderone Civil Council, General.”
“I did not ask who requested negotiations.”
“The Separatist military governor refused authorization.”
“Then why is that system gold?”
“The civilian council arrested him.”
Grievous turns slowly.
The tactical droid seems to reconsider the wisdom of continuing.
It does anyway.
“Local defense forces then seized the communications center and transmitted surrender terms directly to the Republic Chancellor's office.”
Behind Grievous, something metallic bends beneath his grip.
This is how the Confederacy dies now.
Not beneath Republic bombardment.
Not in glorious fleet engagements.
Not with Jedi generals standing over burning cities and declaring victory.
It dies through paperwork.
Ceasefires.
Neutrality agreements.
Local assemblies discovering, suddenly, that they have always possessed principles.
Dooku is dead.
Sidious is dead.
Maul is dead.
Trench is dead.
Half the corporate leadership that financed the war is under arrest, under investigation, or attempting to explain why seventeen private accounts all received transfers from shell companies connected to the former Chancellor of the Republic.
And Fox is still alive.
That is the part Grievous finds most offensive.
The clone should have died months ago.
Instead, Sidious died.
Fox acquired additional metal.
And the war changed again.
“Republic fleet movement?” Grievous asks.
A map appears.
Blue formations surround Belderone.
They are not advancing.
That alone tells Grievous whose strategy this is.
“The Republic has established protected approach corridors,” the tactical droid says. “No vessels have entered Belderone's atmosphere without invitation. Chancellor Organa's diplomatic representatives are conducting negotiations remotely.”
“And the Chief of Defense?”
“Republic military command has issued a ceasefire zone. Any Separatist vessel entering weapons range of Belderone will be intercepted.”
Grievous's eyes narrow.
Fox handles the guns.
Organa handles the words.
A division of labor so painfully competent that Grievous wants to tear something apart.
He misses the old Republic.
The old Republic sent Jedi into traps.
The old Republic argued for days before moving fleets.
The old Republic could be provoked into invading a world simply by putting enough droids somewhere important and waiting for a Jedi to decide the civilians needed saving.
This one lets planets surrender.
Worse, it lets them leave.
Three systems have declared neutrality this month and not one has been occupied. Seven others have negotiated conditional restoration to the Republic. Four have demanded independence from both governments.
Organa is negotiating with them too.
There should be punishment for that.
There must be.
An alliance cannot survive if betrayal becomes safer than loyalty.
“Target Belderone's primary shipyard,” Grievous says.
The tactical droid pauses.
“The shipyard is currently under local civilian control.”
“I am aware.”
“There are approximately nineteen thousand civilian workers present.”
“I am aware.”
“The Republic ceasefire corridor includes the shipyard.”
Grievous turns toward it.
The droid wisely stops explaining.
“Prepare three cruisers,” he says. “Strike before the Republic can reinforce.”
“Yes, General.”
A second droid steps forward.
“General, intercepted communications indicate the Belderone council is willing to surrender the shipyard intact as part of negotiations.”
Grievous's claws tighten.
“Exactly.”
The Confederacy was built because worlds believed the Republic had no right to command them.
Now those same worlds crawl back because the war has become inconvenient.
They speak of Dooku's corruption as though they never cheered his speeches.
They condemn the corporations as though their factories did not produce Confederate warships.
They call themselves victims.
Every government becomes innocent when defeat approaches.
Grievous has no patience for it.
If Belderone wishes to leave the Confederacy, Belderone will learn the cost.
The tactical map changes.
Another alert appears.
MURKHANA: LOCAL CEASEFIRE REQUEST
Then another.
SECTOR K-17 COALITION: NEUTRALITY INQUIRY
Another.
MYGEETO CIVIL AUTHORITY REQUESTS PRISONER EXCHANGE
Grievous slams one fist into the rail.
Metal ruptures.
The tactical droid looks at the damage.
“Maintenance will require approximately four hours.”
Grievous snarls.
“Thank you.”
The droid steps backward.
Perhaps it is developing survival instincts.
That would be unfortunate.
The attack on Belderone fails.
Not militarily.
That would be easier to accept.
Two of Grievous's cruisers reach the system. The third drops from hyperspace seven minutes late with engine trouble because the Confederacy's logistics network is slowly eating itself.
The Republic fleet is waiting.
Not above Belderone.
Beyond it.
Hidden far enough from the normal approach vector that Grievous's commanders believe the corridor is open until Republic destroyers emerge from behind the outer moon.
Fox predicted the attack.
Again.
The Separatist ships withdraw after losing one frigate.
The shipyard survives.
Worse, the Republic releases footage showing local Belderone defense craft fighting beside clone pilots against the Separatist assault.
Within three hours, five more systems request negotiations.
Grievous watches the reports in silence.
The propaganda value is obvious.
Fox does not even need to accuse Grievous of attacking civilians.
He simply allows everyone to watch it happen.
Admiral Kilian's Republic fleet escorts medical transports into Belderone while Organa appears on the Holonet promising that surrendering populations will be protected from retaliation.
Retaliation.
The word repeats across every broadcast.
Not enforcement.
Not discipline.
Retaliation.
The Confederacy's own worlds are beginning to speak of its military as something external to them.
Grievous hates Organa for understanding that.
He hates Fox more for protecting it.
“General.”
Grievous looks toward the communications station.
“Count Dooku's former sector commanders are requesting a conference.”
“How many?”
“Eleven.”
That is surprising enough to interest him.
“Connect them.”
Eleven holograms appear around the bridge.
Generals.
Admirals.
Governors who still possess armies.
Some organic, some droid.
All frightened.
Grievous can smell it even across transmission.
A Neimoidian commander speaks first.
“General, we must discuss the Republic's surrender offer.”
Grievous's hand moves toward his lightsabers.
The Neimoidian notices.
“We are not proposing surrender.”
“Then choose your next words carefully.”
“We propose negotiations designed to preserve Confederate sovereignty.”
“Organa's negotiations are surrender dressed in manners.”
“Several systems have retained local autonomy.”
“And abandoned the Confederacy.”
“They have retained their governments.”
“Because Fox permits it.”
Another commander interrupts.
“That is precisely the problem.”
Grievous turns toward the hologram.
The woman is a Koorivar fleet commander whose ships have survived largely by avoiding him.
She continues.
“The Republic no longer demands unconditional submission. Every system they accept peacefully makes our position weaker.”
“Then prevent them from leaving.”
“With what?”
The bridge becomes quiet.
Grievous rises to his full height.
“With force.”
“Against our own members?”
“Against traitors.”
The Koorivar's face changes.
There.
Grievous sees it.
Not fear.
Disgust.
That is worse.
“General,” she says, “if remaining Confederate requires us to destroy Confederate worlds for requesting negotiations, then what exactly remains of the cause?”
Grievous ignites a lightsaber.
It does nothing to her from across the galaxy.
He wishes it did.
“The cause?” he rasps. “You believe this war was won by causes?”
Several holograms flicker.
“You think Republic fleets retreated because of speeches? You think Jedi died because Dooku wrote declarations about independence? Worlds survive because armies make rebellion costly.”
“The Republic is offering peace.”
“The Republic is offering you chains with polished links.”
“And what are you offering?”
Grievous has no answer they will like.
So he does not give one.
“Any system abandoning the Confederacy while Republic forces remain active will be considered hostile.”
The Neimoidian recoils.
“That would turn half our territory against us.”
“Then half our territory requires correction.”
One hologram vanishes.
Then another.
The Koorivar commander remains longest.
She looks at Grievous with something almost resembling pity.
“You're fighting the war after everyone else has begun ending it.”
Her transmission cuts.
Grievous destroys the projector.
He retreats to his private chamber afterward.
Four lightsabers hang near the wall.
His collection used to grow faster.
The Jedi have changed too.
Some are still fighting, but the Order is pulling children from active fronts. Command structures are shifting. Padawans no longer appear quite so frequently in places where Grievous can kill them.
Even they are preparing for an afterward.
Grievous has no afterward.
That realization sits inside him like shrapnel.
Qymaen jai Sheelal once had a world.
A people.
A war he understood.
He fought the Yam'rii because they were there, because they had harmed what was his, because battle was the language both sides spoke fluently.
Then Qymaen died.
Grievous remained.
Dooku gave him purpose.
Sidious gave Dooku purpose.
The Confederacy gave Grievous armies large enough to turn his hatred into policy.
Now all of them are gone.
Dooku is dead.
Sidious's corpse was displayed during a criminal inquiry.
The Separatist Council is fracturing.
Corporations are cutting their losses.
Worlds are surrendering.
Even battle droids are becoming harder to replace because factories no longer know whether anyone will pay them.
Only Grievous remains certain.
The Republic must fall.
The Jedi must die.
Fox must be beaten.
The last thought catches.
Fox.
A clone.
A creature manufactured to obey.
Grievous once found that amusing.
Now the irony tastes bitter.
The Republic's manufactured soldier has become the single most consistent obstacle to Grievous's war.
Fox refuses grand battles.
He refuses revenge campaigns.
He refuses to waste troops simply because victory would look dramatic.
Every time Grievous attacks a surrendering world, Fox reinforces the next three before Grievous arrives.
Every time Grievous destroys a supply depot, Fox reroutes through civilian freight networks.
Every time Grievous expects invasion, Fox surrounds the system and waits for its government to decide whether continued isolation is worth protecting whatever Separatist commander is trapped inside.
It is strangulation disguised as patience.
Grievous respects it.
He despises that too.
A communications alert interrupts him.
“General Grievous.”
He opens the channel.
A tactical droid appears.
“Three additional systems have requested Republic-protected surrender corridors.”
“Names.”
The droid lists them.
One contains a major fuel refinery.
Another controls a hyperspace relay.
The third has a shipyard capable of servicing Providence-class carriers.
If all three go, Grievous loses one of his final secure transit routes toward the Core.
He brings up the map.
The Confederacy no longer looks like a nation.
It looks like islands.
Red fragments floating in a sea that is slowly deciding it no longer fears them.
Grievous studies the nearest target.
A world negotiating surrender.
Its civilian government has asked Organa for terms.
Fox has already positioned a fleet nearby.
Predictable.
Grievous begins calculating.
If he strikes the planet, Fox responds.
If Fox responds, fleets move.
If fleets move, another sector becomes vulnerable.
There.
A route.
A possibility.
For the first time all day, Grievous feels something close to satisfaction.
Let Organa offer peace.
Let Fox build corridors.
Let frightened systems believe the war is ending.
Grievous will remind them that peace exists only when the enemy no longer has the power to refuse it.
He activates the fleet channel.
“All available ships are to prepare for immediate deployment.”
The tactical droid asks, “Objective?”
Grievous looks at the map.
Not the surrendering system.
Beyond it.
At the Republic formations gathering to protect the weak.
His eyes narrow.
“Make Fox choose what he saves.”
Perhaps the Confederacy is collapsing.
Perhaps every coward with a council chamber and a flag is preparing to abandon it.
Grievous does not need their faith.
He has fleets.
He has droids.
He has hatred.
And until someone kills him, the war is not over.