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| - From the cockpit of his starfighter Obi-Wan could see the several depressions on Utapau’s surface where the planet’s cities were contained. The Jedi Master brought his fighter down into one of them, coming rest on a landing platform. Yet before he had opened the cockpit, a tall grey-skinned humanoid figure in red was approaching him. “Greetings Master Jedi, I am Tion Medon, administrator of Pau City,” he said coolly. “What business could you have in our remote sanctuary?” “This war, unfortunately,” Obi-Wan told him, inclining his head slightly. “There is no war here unless you have brought it with you,” Medon retorted. Yet Obi-Wan sensed there was more in what he was saying. For now, he decided to play along. “Very well then,” he said decidedly. “I would like some fuel and to use your city as a base to search the surrounding systems.” Medon gave the nod for several short beings to refuel Obi-Wan’s ship, but he did not leave. “Grievous is here!” the administrator hissed in Obi-Wan’s ear. “We are all hostages, we are being watched!” Obi-Wan nodded as if this were a matter of course. “Thank you for your hospitality, administrator,” he replied with a nod. “I will be departing shortly to commence my search.” “You must depart in truth!” Medon whispered frantically. “I have been ordered to reveal this to you. The tenth level is filled with battledroids, thousands of them!” Obi-Wan nodded again, looking out of the corner of his eye behind them. He could see the tell-tale metal glint of battledroids. “Thank you for the fuel,” he said in a loud voice, noticing that the fighter was finished refilling. “The attack will commence shortly,” he added in a lower tone. “If you have warriors, now is the time.” Obi-Wan and Medon bowed to each other and the administrator retreated. The Jedi bent low over his starfighter for a moment. “Arfour, get back to the ship,” he told he astromech, “and tell Cody I’ve made contact.” Arfour whistled and closed the cockpit of his starfighter. From the shadows Obi-Wan watched his ship fly away, those who had been watching him would no doubt think he had left. Yet he could not shake the thought of what would happen next. “I have a bad feeling about this,” he muttered. Somewhere else in the city Obi-Wan spoke to a dealer for a mount. He hated having to mind-trick his way out of not paying, but he hoped saving the planet for them might suffice. “Boga,” he said, stroking the feathered mane of his mount as he sat astride it. In a curious way he was reminded of the goff birds he and Qui-Gon had rode on the backs of to enter Theed during the Naboo crisis. How he had hated it then, his response had been…well like Anakin’s. He could almost hear Anakin complaining about the fact they had to ride one of those feathered-lizards that he now sat astride on and not for the first time wished his former apprentice was here. But it did no good to dwell on that now. After all, he had a battle to win. He snapped the reins and they were off, scrambling down the walls of the city to where Obi-Wan had spotted the droids. Yet when they were there Obi-Wan went slightly higher, leaving the rock wall and walking along a platform above where many, many battledroids were gathered. “Thank you, Boga,” he said to his mount. “You’ve been a great help, you’re free to go now.” But she refused to leave, prodding him with his nose and whining softly. “Really, I don’t need your help,” he told her. Boga snorted softly and turned her back on him, strutting away and swishing her tail from side to side. Obi-Wan walked to the edge of the platform, directly below he could see Grievous talking to Tion Medon. “What did he want?” the droid general demanded. “He only wanted fuel and then he left,” Medon replied. “What is his name?” Grievous asked. “He didn’t say,” Medon told him. Grievous pushed the administrator out of the way. “Find him!” he growled to his guards. “He couldn’t have left! Bring him here, alive or dead!” Obi-Wan waited until Tion Medon was gone and then he fell to the level below, merely metres from Grievous. “Hello there,” he said in such a polite tone that he knew would infuriate him. Grievous turned around quickly, yet he took this surprise with due course. “General Kenobi, you surely are a bold one,” declared Grievous. “You do realise that you’re doomed?” “I am willing to accept your surrender,” Obi-Wan told him calmly. “Does this ‘surrender’ line of yours ever work, Kenobi?” Grievous asked. “Sometimes,” Obi-Wan admitted. “Or if we like, I can dismantle you part-by-part and ship you back to Coruscant.” “Or,” challenged Grievous deviously, “there is the option where I watch you die.” “Didn’t you listen?” Obi-Wan asked him. “That wasn’t an option.” “I thought not.” Grievous nodded to his droids. “Kill him!” If there was ever that defined Obi-Wan, that revealed him as the Jedi he truly meant to be, it was then. He didn’t need to feel for the Force, he knew it was there. It came of its own accord, unbidden, and totally able to assist him with what was at hand. That was why it was barely a movement for Obi-Wan to bring his lightsaber around and deflect all the blaster bolts launched at him with one blow, and that’s why it was hardly anything more for him to make a gesture so these battledroids fell and hit the ones behind them. Then continued falling, and falling in a ring around Obi-Wan until all that was standing was himself, Grievous and the magna guards. “General, my offer is still open,” Obi-Wan said calmly. “Do you still believe I will surrender to you?” Grievous snarled. “Well I could take you alive,” Obi-Wan pointed out. “I have thousands of troops,” Grievous retorted. “You can’t possibly deal with all of them yourself.” “I don’t have to,” Obi-Wan replied calmly. “What?” “You really should pay more attention to the weather,” remarked Obi-Wan very casually. “It’s about to start raining clones.” Grievous turned as a large shadow moved over the city, it was the Vigilance. Gunships began to descend from the belly, engaging fire with Separatist craft before coming to land around the city. Everywhere the familiar white-on-black uniforms could be seen. The droids were dispersing, engaging fire with the oncoming clones and falling to the ground. Grievous turned back to Obi-Wan. “Enough! I will deal with this Jedi scum myself.” He removed his cape and threw it to the ground but not before retrieving four lightsabers from the pockets. Then he divided his arms and ignited all the weapons and brought them to an attack-ready position. He meant to look dangerous and intimidating, yet to Obi-Wan he looked like a crazed stick-insect. But Obi-Wan knew better than to say this. Grievous incensed was one thing; Grievous completely mad with fury was something he didn’t want to content with. He brought his lightsaber up in an attack position. “Your move,” he told the General. Grievous whirled his two upper lightsabers like a shield, moving quickly to attack Obi-Wan with his weapons below. It was a four-pronged attack from the one combatant, furious in the way it had little form or art. Yet Obi-Wan deflected this blow with one motion, entangling the blue and green lightsaber blades around his own blue blade. “You know you cannot escape, Jedi,” Grievous growled. “I was trained in your arts by Lord Tyrannus himself.” “Do you mean Count Dooku?” asked Obi-Wan casually. “That's a curious coincidence, I trained the man who bested him.” Grievous lunged again and Obi-Wan responded while all the while the battle raged around them. In the war room of the Jedi Temple, Mace Windu and Yoda received Cody’s report. “We are beginning the attack as ordered,” Cody’s hologram told him. “From my experience with General Kenobi, I have a suspicion that Grievous does not have long to live.” “Thank you Commander,” the Jedi Master said. “Keep us apprised of your progress.” He turned to Anakin who was standing beside him. “Take this news to the Chancellor,” he told him. “And pay specific attention to what he says and what his expression is when you tell him.” “But Master Windu,” Anakin protested, “I don’t understand.” “You don’t have to understand,” Mace barked, “just go and do it!” Anakin bowed his head respectfully. “Yes Master.” When Anakin had gone Mace turned back to the other hologram that had come since then, Ki-Adi-Mundi on Mygeeto. “Now we shall see,” Mace murmured, resting his hands on the edge of the tactical table. “Now the waters will begin to clear.” Yoda murmured to himself, but did not agree. Ki-Adi-Mundi’s voice cut in on his thoughts. “You do realise that if the Chancellor refuses to surrender power, removing him is only the first step?” “I am not a politician,” Mace said in a tight voice. “Removing a tyrant is enough for me.” “But that will not be enough for the Senate, or the Republic,” the Cerean pointed out. “His dictatorship has been legalised, it can be legitimised and the Senate will deny him nothing.” Mace had to admit that he was right. “Corrupt the Senate has become,” Yoda reminded them. “Take further action we must, controlled they must be until replacements can be found—” “Do you hear what you are saying?” Mace burst out, slamming his fist against the table in frustration. “I'm starting to think that Dooku was right, that in order to save the Republic we must first destroy it!” Yoda shook his head. “Hold onto hope, we must,” he urged. “Once destroyed Sidious is, less dire these other concerns will be.” “Yes, yes that is true,” Mace reluctantly agreed, his anger subsiding. “We have put the Chosen One in play against the last of the Sith, in that we must place our faith in the future of the Republic.” Yet Mace would only wish that he could put as much trust in Skywalker as he said he was. Somewhere else in the Temple, R2-D2 and C-3PO were at work at the computer banks. They were involved in processing information gathered from the wreck of the Invisible Hand. Suddenly, Artoo chattered excitedly at the protocol droid. “What is it that you think you’ve found?” muttered Threepio. Artoo told him. “Really Artoo, what basis have you to judge such information to be correct?” Threepio asked doubtfully. “Chancellor Palpatine is above reproach and making accusations such as this will only get you into more trouble.” Yet Artoo would not let up, he played a short holographic transmission. Its contents were quite revealing, and not to mention surprising. “Do the voices confirm on analysis?” Threepio inquired, rather nervously. Artoo beeped affirmatively. “Quick, there is no time to waste!” urged the protocol droid, they left the room as fast as they could. “We need to find Master Anakin.” Fighting Grievous was rather simple, Obi-Wan realised, though it meant a lot of work. He was unlike every opponent Obi-Wan had encountered. Darth Maxah had had art, strength and speed yet Obi-Wan had managed to overwhelm her, Jango Fett had none of these but attacked with brute force and skill. Dooku was different again, there was a certain culture and passion about the way he fought that was formidable in its own right. Yet Grievous was none of these things. He had no art, or strength and neither force or skill, Grievous merely attacked. Sure, he had speed, but that was the only due to his make-up and nothing to do with any sort of ability. So Obi-Wan sought to immobilise him step by step. Firstly he severed one of Grievous’s hands, letting the lightsaber fall to the floor. This infuriated Grievous further and he intensified his attack, yet this was all to Obi-Wan’s advantage. Then he sliced another of Grievous’s hands in half, severing the lightsaber and letting both clatter beneath their feet. This time Grievous paused and examined both the maimed hand and lightsaber. He looked up at Obi-Wan. Then he fled, ordering one of his guards to kill the Jedi as he ran. It didn’t take Obi-Wan long to cut down the droid, but once this was done the droid General was nowhere to be seen. “Grievous?” He looked frantically around at his troops who were engaging fire with Grievous’s droid army. “Where is he? Which way did he go?” One of the clones gestured to a curious wheel-shaped vehicle descending the walls of the sinkhole. Grievous was very good at running away. “Not this time,” Obi-Wan murmured, he cut a path through the droids to the edge of the platform, scanning below frantically for Grievous. Suddenly he heard a low honk above him, he looked up. “Boga?” His mount looked accusingly at him, purring lowly. “Oh, very well,” he conceded, “you were right and I was wrong.” He mounted her quickly. “Can we please go now? We have a general to catch.” Boga gave another honk and broke into a run straight down the wall of the sinkhole.
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