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“Acceptable.”

Beyond the forward viewports, the smoky vortices of out-raced light.

Grievous ran the fingers of his clawlike hand down the bulkhead.

“Instruct my elite to meet me in the shuttle launching bay on emergence from hyperspace,” he said to no droid in particular. “When all ships have arrived at the rally point, advise Viceroy Gunray that I will be paying him a visit.”

Trained well by Dooku, General Grievous was,” Yoda said. He and Mace Windu were in Yoda’s chambers in the Jedi Temple, each atop a meditation dais. “Entrapped, they strike at the weakest. Force us, they do, to choose between saving lives and continuing the fight.”

Yoda recalled his duel with Dooku in the solar sailer’s docking bay on Geonosis. Dooku bested, left with no alternative but to distract and flee …

“Representatives from Belderone have expressed their gratitude to the Senate,” Mace said. “Despite the losses.”

Yoda shook his head sadly. “More than ten thousand killed. Twenty-seven Jedi.”

The muscles in Mace’s jaw bunched. “Billions have died in this war. Belderone was saved, and, more importantly, we were able to keep Grievous on the run.”

“Know where he jumped to, we do.”

“We’ll chase him to the ends of known space, if we have to.”

Yoda fell silent for a moment, then said: “Speak with the Supreme Chancellor, we must.”

“Without apology,” Mace said bluntly. “Our deference to him has to end.”

“With the war’s end, it will.” Yoda turned slightly to regard Mace. “A terrible warning, Belderone is. Increasing, the power of the dark side is. Rooted out, Sidious must be.”

Mace nodded gravely. “Rooted out and eliminated.”

General Grievous has left the docking bay,” a Trade Federation lieutenant relayed to Gunray in his lavish quarters in the core ship’s port-side command tower.

“Which docking bay?” Gunray said toward the comlink’s audio pickup. “Below, or in the tower?”

“The general’s shuttle availed itself of the tower docking ring, Viceroy.”

Gunray swung around to face Rune Haako. “That means he will be here any moment!”

He turned to a large circular screen that displayed a realtime view of the antechamber outside his suite. The Neimoidian guards stationed there had also been alerted to Grievous’s arrival. Armed with blaster rifles taller than they were, the four wore bulky torso and lower-leg armor, and pot-shaped helmets that left their red eyes and green faces exposed.

“It has to be the mechno-chair,” Gunray said, striding back and forth in front of the screen.

“What did you tell him?” Haako asked.

Gunray came to a halt. “Immediately on being apprised by Shu Mai of the Belderone rendezvous, I contacted Grievous, expressing anger that he hadn’t informed me personally. I accused him of purposely leaving me out of the command loop.”

Haako was horrified. “You said that to him?”

Gunray nodded. “He maintained that he had attempted to communicate through the mechno-chair hyperwave transceiver. I said that I had received no such transmission.”

“They’re coming!” Haako said, aiming a quivering finger at the display screen.

Gunray saw that Grievous was accompanied by four of his elite MagnaGuards. Fearsome bipedal battle droids built to exacting specifications, they stood as tall as the general and were armed with combat staffs tipped with electromagnetic pulse generators. Armorweave capes fell diagonally across their broad-shouldered bodies, swathing the crowns of their heads and lower faces. Benefiting from Grievous’s own programming, as well as from the instruction Grievous had received from Dooku, the elite were trained in the Jedi arts, and more than a match for most.

The four Neimoidians stood their ground, bringing their rifles across their chests in a gesture of warning.

Grievous’s elite didn’t even slow down. Mirroring the Neimoidians, they raised their double-tipped electroshock batons, then swung them forward with such speed and precision that Gunray’s sentinels were literally swept off their feet, as if they were children.

Grievous glared into the lens of the holocam mounted outside the hatch.