C5E5.5

"Deploy cruiser squadron three on their flank at bearing twenty-nine mark sixty. Target the nearest Republic cruiser."

"By your command, my lord."

Grievous ignored the Advanced Tactical Droid's acknowledgement in favor of staring at the enemy fleet. Half a dozen Jedi warships and their escorts had been pouring a withering storm of blue bolts into his own smaller but heavier warships, focusing on him in favor of everything else. They suffered for their single mindedness when his squadron emerged from hyperspace and began pouring fire into their exposed flanks. With their shields focused entirely on the bow forward, the Republic ships' port side was minimally protected.

A Venator's double bridge tower collapsed in a myriad of explosions, it's arrowhead hull listing starboard. Republic starfighters doubled back to reinforce their beleaguered carriers, exposing themselves to his interceptor's counterthrust. With additional Vulture droids, the clone fighter squadrons soon began to drop dramatically in number. By now, the Republic battlegroup had been cut to ribbons by a masterful pincer attack. Jedi aboard the ships were sending out distress signals, desperate for aid. Their panicked voices ringing in an open transmission with clones screaming in the background.

It did not give him the satisfaction he normally expected to feel.

His mind remained a whirlpool of conflicted feelings and bitter thoughts. Bile filled his throat and Grievous angrily forced down the phlegm with frustration.

Ever since Kamino. Ever since that battle, he had begun to wonder.

Search your feelings, you this to be true.

Was it really? The Kaleesh General thought back to his battles, victories and failures. How much of it had been planned in advance? Which victories had been simply handed to him and which defeats were stacked at the very start? Suspiciously well prepared defenses, sudden reinforcements, sabotage that could not have been the work of the Republic or the Jedi. Intelligence leaks that were simply too good to be true.

By all rights, Kamino had been a great victory for the Separatist Alliance. By all rights, Dooku should have been pleased.

The Count of Seranno may have smiled, sneered, and preened. But Grievous did not need to be Force sensitive to know his Master was most certainly not happy with this outcome.

Why? The production of Clones had effectively ended, with so much damage inflicted upon the cloning tanks and their immature stocks. Yes, the fleet had been utterly devastated, but the cost of replacing them was trivial! More droids can be built. Ships can be replaced. Clones, now, cannot. The ranks of the Republic's clone soldiers cannot be so readily replenished. The Republic's victory was pyrrhic in every sense of the word; they had lost the vast majority of their fleet, their defenses had been all but wiped out. An entire Core Sector fleet had been been taken from them.

The Pride of the Core, one of their few Mandator-class super ships had been depopulated and thrown at the planet as a kinetic kill vehicle. Yes, the Jedi managed to stop it somehow (because of course they did), but it's highly experienced crew was irreplaceable. Experienced spacers, more even than clones, took time to train and years of experience to become seasoned.

711's plan had worked. The droid commander had predicted every possible move the Republic would make. It even adapted and improvised in an instant upon being attacked by an unexpected group of motley Corellian militia forces.

So where did the droid go?

The General had not seen the droid commander since they last spoke after the battle; where he endured surgery and the replacement of his broken shell and limbs. 711 had given him it's report. He remembered asking it whether or not it felt the same way as it had before.

"It doesn't matter how many victories are gained, General Grievous. What matters is which battles we win. And this war will see only one victor; and it is not us."

Those words still rang more than merely true in his mind. It dominated every thought in the days since, the Kaleesh cyborg thought about it even when directed to other fronts and fighting large scale battles. He thought about it now and found 711's words to be wise.

A rasping chuckle bubbled out of his vocabulator, to the surprise of the Tactical droid next to him. It peered down at him, head tilted slightly to the right. "Is there something wrong, General?"

"No. Continue the assault. Once all Republic space forces are eliminated, begin limited bombardment and then proceed with the land invasion as planned." That said, Grievous stood and began walking out of the bridge.

"General?"

He paid the machine no mind, his thoughts now were focused on a new battle and a new war.

Qymaen jai Sheelal may be dead, but his spirit was uneasy. There was only one path to find answers and it was on Kalee.