Friendship is Grievous

Chapters

A New World
Welcome to Equestria
Houseguests
Meet the Royalty
A Grievous Conspiracy
Welcome to Ponyville
Evening Surprise
Dreams of the Past
General and Princess
Friends?
Incoming
Visitors
Aggressive Negotiations
General and Admiral
A Grievous Betrayal
A Grievous Foe
A Grievous Setback
A Grievous Reunion
Pall of the Dark Side
Alien Invasion
Chaos and Tyranny
The Battle of Canterlot (II)
The Battle of Canterlot (III)
The Battle of Canterlot (IV)
The Battle of Canterlot (V)
Aftermath
Epilogue: A Grievous Triumph
A Grievous Mistake
Nighttime Festivities
The Battle of Canterlot (I)

A New World

General Grievous endured the bumpy ride through the atmosphere in sullen silence, that wishing he had something else to kill. He seethed at the indignity of it all. He had not been able to halt the progress of the Fateful. Instead of earning a glorious warrior’s death on the field of battle, it had seemed he might instead meet some ignominious end in a hyperspace accident, or simply been cut adrift in the vacuum of space to rot, while the war went on around him.

He had been spared such a fate by the surprising appearance of a planet’s gravity well, which had forced the Star Destroyer back into realspace. But things had simply gone from bad to worse, and the crippled ship was caught in the gravity of a nearby moon. With catastrophic damage to every one of its systems, it had failed to pull out and Grievous had once again faced the humiliating prospect of abandoning ship.

The only possible bright spot was that what scans they were able to wrest from the Fateful’s computers suggested that the planet he was heading for not only was life-bearing, but supported some kind of civilization. Of course, it could easily be one aligned to the Republic. Considering how miserably the rest of the day had gone, Grievous would not have been surprised. Or it could be some civilization of worthless primitives, possibly even unable to achieve space flight. Why not? His life had been cursed a thousand times over already. He had had to endure the loss of his mate, his home, his pride, and even his very flesh and blood.

Bitter memories only serving to stir his rage, Grievous growled with impotent fury as the escape pod rattled and took on a fiery aura as the atmosphere strove to burn it to so many ashes on the wind. But the pod had been designed with just such circumstances in mind, and the cyborg held no fear that he and the droids packed in with him would fail to make it to planet’s surface.

No, his thoughts were focused on what to do next.

On the surface, Twilight Sparkle found herself immensely gratified to see that her calculations seemed to have been right on the money. As usual.

The objects detached from the weird triangle-thing had indeed flown straight for the atmosphere above her, created an impromptu meteor shower as they burned. As they came closer Twilight struggled to adjust her telescope’s magnification to just the right size to get a better look at whatever was coming down to Equestria, but they were simply moving too fast for her to get a close up look at them.

On and on they plummeted, the light over the countryside getting brighter and brighter by the second. Twilight looked nervously up at the sky to see if there were any pegasi about at this time of night, but thankfully she didn’t spot any along the trajectory she was calculating for these things. Then, finally, as they were nearing the earth, blue lights flashed along the bottom of each object, slowing their descent dramatically.

“Must be some kind of engine,” Twilight muttered to herself as she watched them descend the last little way. “Rocket perhaps?” She checked again. “No, the profile’s all wrong. Something else then.”

She wrote her observations into her notebook before adding it to the already-packed saddlebags that made up her field kit.

“Spike!” she called out into her home. “I’m going out! If I don’t come back in a few hours, tell my friends and the princesses where I went!”

“Um, ok,” came the reply from wherever Spike had chosen to bed down. There was a pause. “Where are you going?”

Twilight facehoofed at her own negligence. “The Everfree! That’s where the things came down!”

“Uh, are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Of course it is! This is potentially our chance to study extraterrestrial phenomena for the first time! I’m not missing out on that!”

“Okay…” Spike sounded unsure, but Twilight was already caught up in the thrills of discovery.

With a flap of her wings, the alicorn princess took to air, soaring to where she had seen the first of the pods land. She rubbed her hooves together in giddy anticipation.

“This is going to be great!”

Grievous stormed out of his escape pod in an angry huff, almost tearing the door off with the sheer force he used to open it. He leaped nimbly down onto the grassy ground, his cape fluttering in the breeze behind him. As what droids he had been able to cram into the same pod as himself made their own way down, Grievous took stock of his surroundings.

He was in some sort of forest, which was plain enough to see. Not a particularly tall one, at least in comparison to the vast wroshyr trees on the Wookiee homeworld of Kashyyyk, but at least decently-sizable. His escape pod’s autopilot had chosen to land him in a clearing, which was rapidly becoming rather noisy with the sounds of creatures, startled by his appearance and landing, fleeing in all directions.

Grievous snorted with contempt. He’d rather one of them had attacked him, giving him something on which to vent his rage. At the moment, all he had were the lone MagnaGuard and small group of commando droids clambering down after him, as well as the other droid groups in nearby pods. To these, he sent wordless instructions through the antennae on the side of his head, ordering them to converge on his location immediately. With an unknown planet ahead and no source of imminent reinforcements, it behooved the general to maximize safety in numbers.

It was as Grievous was waiting for the remainder of his machines to arrive that his earlier wish was granted. Barging through the underbrush with the confidence of an apex predator, enraged at the disturbance of its territory, came an enormous brown-furred creature the likes of which Grievous had never seen before. It had a feline face and a red mane, but also a pair of odd wings resembling those of a mynock. In addition, its tail clearly resembled those found on insects rather than mammals. Between all this, the cyborg general could honestly say he had no idea what this thing was, in any real sense.

But as it roared its challenge at the intruders, Grievous knew exactly what it wanted.

“Back away!” he ordered his droids, who had aiming their weapons at the creature. “I shall deal with this beast myself!”

Obediently, the machines backed away from their commander. Grievous undid his clasp and shed his black and red cape with a shrug of his shoulders, and reached down to his midsection to select a weapon. He chose his latest trophy, deciding that now was as good a time as any to get a feel for its individual properties in battle. The bronze blade that had once been Master Ceidia’s flickered to life, bathing the clearing in its light. Grievous held it high in a gesture of challenge.

The manticore reacted as its instincts told it to, charging what it now perceived a would-be usurper of its territories and position. Teeth bared and claws fully extended, it took a flying leap at Grievous, meaning to bowl over the cyborg and tear him limb from limb.

Grievous, his reflexes honed by countless practice duels with Count Dooku and real ones with hundreds of Jedi across the galaxy, easily sidestepped the beast’s charge. He might have ended it there, with a swift cut along the manticore’s neck, but he was in no mood to make things so quick. Instead, his lightsaber flicked out and cut the creature’s scorpion-like tail from its body in a single stroke.

The manticore roared its pain and, distracted by the burning, lost its footing and tumbled face-first onto the forest floor. The creature’s sheer momentum forced it onwards, rolling several long meters before it finally to a stop. Driven to ignore the pain by rage and adrenaline, it scrambled back to its feet and looked at its enemy. Grievous simply stood there, waited, his arms wide open, as if daring the monster to come around for another try.

Its fury overcoming its survival instincts, the manticore did just that. Once again, primal challenge behavior dictated its attack, and it hurdled through the air once more at the cyborg general. Grievous deactivated the lightsaber, his two arms splitting once more into four, and met the creature’s charge head-on.

The manticore pounced, claws out and mouth opened wide. Two of Grievous’ arms shot out to grip the beast’s ankles, the other two latching onto its chest. Grievous’ talons dug deep into the earth below and somehow, impossibly, he stopped the multi-ton behemoth dead in its tracks. It roared and snapped with its vicious fangs, trying to break the cyborg’s grip with its flailing. But that did the monster no good, for Grievous was far stronger than his body’s thin metal limbs suggested.

Spitting out a primal cry of his own, Grievous hoisted a flailing manticore above his own head. It struggled, beating its wings hard in a desperate attempt to get free, but that helped not at all. Grievous flung the beast with all four arms at the nearest tree, head first. The impact cracked both tree and bone, and the manticore slumped to the ground. Before it had any chance to recover, Grievous reactivated the lightsaber and took a powerful leap through the air. As he came down on top of it, two hands thrust the blade through the manticore’s chest.

The beast flailed and thrashed wildly in its death throes, its claws scraping its killer many times through pure chance. They did little more than scratch the surface of duranium armor plating on the cyborg, who took it stoically. At last, the beast twitched its last, and lay still. Grievous pulled the lightsaber from its corpse with a satisfied grunt. He always felt better after he had killed something.

In a burst of audible binary, the language of machines, Grievous’ one remaining MagnaGuard alerted him to the presence of another creature in this clearing, one that had neither fled from him in terror nor attempted to attack him, as the larger beast had. Grievous’ head jerked in the indicated direction, and the creature he saw looked like nothing so much as a small, purple, winged horse.

Twilight Sparkle stood frozen in place, held there by awe and by terror. It was one thing to imagine contact with aliens for the first time, it was a whole ‘nother thing to gaze upon a group of metal terrors. The mechanical-looking aliens stood on two legs and had two arms, like her human friends in another dimension, but that was about where the similarities ended. They were tall and intimidating, with broad chests, thin limbs, and no fur or clothing or even skin that she could see. The eyes of the black ones were a sterile white, while the grey one had two red eyes on its head and what looked like a larger third eye in center of its chest. None had any pupils, and they were so still as to bring into question whether they were even alive or not.

And then there was their apparent leader. An enormous horror of what looked to be bone-white armor interspersed with darker gaps, it towered above the rest. Twilight had arrived just in time to watch it get charged by a full-grown manticore male. And then lift the beast over its head without even using magic. She had watched the alien toss it like a ragdoll, and then put what looked to be magical sword straight through its entire body without notable strain. She had seen many intimidating sights in her time, but she had never watched anything kill another creature quite so easily, or so unhesitatingly.

She swallowed. Maybe coming immediately and alone hadn’t been such a good idea after all. Maybe the alien was angry about its apparent crash landing? She hoped that was all it was. She really hoped that.

Then the grey alien with three red eyes blurted out something she couldn’t understand. But the finger pointing her way was clear enough.

The alien leader turned to look at her, and she caught a glimpse of its face for the first time. Most everything about it was the same feature bone-white metal, but its eyes weren’t like the others’. They looked organic, surrounded by red flesh in carved-out areas of the armor. The eyes themselves were a deep yellow, with black reptilian slits for pupils. They stared at her, and she got the feeling of being directly in the sights of some enormous monster evaluating whether or not to eat her whole.

Twilight shuddered visibly. She did not like those eyes.

Then the alien put its arms behind its back and started towards her.

Welcome to Equestria

General Grievous covered the ground between himself and the odd purple creature with only a few long strides of his clawed legs. It remained paralyzed where it was, pupils dilating and ears folding back, but it only looked like it was about to bolt when Grievous was virtually top of it. By which time, of course, it was much too late.

One of the cyborg’s four arms reached down and plucked the creature from the ground by its chest. It kicked, struggled, and beat its wings frantically as he did so, but Grievous completely ignored such feeble blows. It was making some kind of noises at him, but they sounded more like animal grunts than any civilized tongue to his ears, so he dismissed them as well.

It was the bags loaded onto the beast’s back that drew Grievous’ attention. It was immediately obvious that they were made by sapient beings, but examining them more closely might give him an idea of this planet’s technology level. Extra arms held the creature’s struggling wings in place while he gave the things an once-over. To start, they were clearly manufactured rather than woven, which spoke to at least some factory-level technology, which was a good sign. Inside, Grievous saw several primitive paper books, scrolls, and writing implements. That was not so good. Paper was a seriously outdated material in all but the lowest and most backwater planets of the Outer Rim. Neither he nor any of the computers slaved to his brain could understand any of the written symbols, so he carefully replaced the goods inside the bag after a few moments of looking.

He looked at the beast again. It had, remarkably for an animal, noticed that its struggles were futile and ceased while he was examining its items. It was making more noises at him, but again they did not sound like anything remotely resembling language. They did, however, sound less panicked than they had been before. It was on his second look at the animal he had caught that Grievous noted the odd brand on its flank. That confirmed his suspicions.

It was obvious what this thing was: a beast of burden. Most likely it had been part of some sort of baggage train, and through some means become lost in the forest until it had blundered into him. The baggage it carried suggested as much, and the flank brand confirmed it. Because it was used to the presence of likely bipedal sapient beings, it had not instinctively run away from him as had the wilder creatures. That also explained why it had ceased its attempts to wiggle away from him so quickly; wild animals typically never stopped trying to escape until they were too exhausted to make the attempt.

Grievous considered what to do with it for a moment, before opting to put it over his shoulder. It might belong to someone important, in which case its safe return could help speed his exit from this planet. In any case, returning a lost animal to its owner was always an effective means to create a good first impression.

As Grievous replaced his cape around his shoulders, he noted that the creature was simply sitting there and watching him do it, not even trying to struggle anymore. He guessed it was used to being held.

Perhaps it was a juvenile?

Twilight Sparkle was feeling an odd mix of emotions. One was, of course, fear. That, thankfully, has lessened once it had become apparent that the alien wasn’t interested in immediately killing her as it had the beast of the forest. The second, and the emotion presently most preeminent in her mind, was curiosity. The alien had looked into her saddle bags and through her books and notes, but had completely ignored everything she’d said to it. It hadn’t even said anything to her, just flung her over its shoulder like she was a sack of potatoes. She knew the aliens had to be able to talk, since the red-eyed one already had said something, but no more sounds were forthcoming.

As she decided that she wasn’t in immediate danger, the alicorn princess had opted not to simply teleport out of the alien’s grip, and instead wait to see what it would do. Her mind buzzed with exciting possibilities. To her great disappointment, all that the aliens did for several minutes was stand around and do not much of anything. She was just beginning to wonder if she had somehow dissuaded them from whatever they were about to do with her presence, when she caught a glimpse of more shapes emerging from the trees.

First came more of the black aliens with white eyes, looking as unnerving as they ever did. She observed that they advanced nimbly through the forest, making little sound even as they jumped onto and off of tree branches, keeping what looked to be a careful lookout. Though she looked, Twilight didn’t see any more of the red-eyed version of the aliens with the black ones, and she made a mental note of it.

A small amount of time later, two new types of alien showed up. One was ridiculously thin, with an off-white coloration and eyes that did not glow. It looked to Twilight as though stiff breeze might knock over these aliens, though she did note that they carried the same strange devices in their hands that the black ones did. The second type was larger, bulkier, and a silver-grey color. It seemed to have its head directly in its chest, and unlike the other aliens carried nothing in its hands. She wonder what that could mean in terms of status.

It was only when a group of almost three dozen aliens had assembled that their leader spoke. Its voice was gruff, accented, and to Twilight’s ears, distinctly masculine. She couldn’t understand a world it said to its fellows, but when it pointed one of its four arms in the vague direction of Ponyville and the entire group began to set off, the meaning was clear enough. Perhaps they thought to return her there? That was the charitable explanation.

The less charitable was that they meant to sack the town and abduct its inhabitants.

As princess, it was incumbent on Twilight to figure out their intentions and respond accordingly. While the alien group marched through the Everfree Forest, her mind churned as she turned to a spell she had learned for diplomatic purposes.

General Grievous and all the droids he had left to him – far too few, in his opinion – had little difficulty in making their way through the dark forest. Though the canopy blocked out much of what light there was, to cybernetic vision it was not a problem. Grievous could hear animals fleeing in the distance whenever the party got close, which suited the cyborg just fine. With his bloodlust temporarily slaked, now all he wished for was to find civilization and return to the Confederacy as soon as possible. Therefore, he headed towards what scanners indicated was the large concentration of lifeforms nearest this forest. Hopefully, he would find some way off planet from there.

It was a few minutes into the trek that Grievous noticed a purple glow out of the corner of his eye. Turning his head to look for the source, he was surprised to find that it was coming from the little creature he had on his shoulder. More specifically, it was coming from the dull horn atop the animal’s head. Grievous had absolutely no idea what that meant. Some creatures could produce light, yes, but normally not in the manner he was witnessing.

The light soon died away, and Grievous would have looked away and shrugged it off but for what happened next.

The creature spoke.

“Hello?” it said, in a voice that sounded distinctly feminine.

Grievous’ head jerked towards the animal and he blinked in surprise.

“Can you understand me?” it spoke up again. Its mouth was definitely moving, and the sound was coming from there, though to Grievous’ lip-reading skills they did not look as though they matched up.

Feeling slightly crazy at the thought and wondering if he had hit his head on the way down, Grievous nonetheless replied to it. “I can.”

“Phew!” it said, running a hoofed limb over its forehead. “I hadn’t cast that spell in so long, I was worried it wouldn’t work!”

“Spell?” Grievous’ eyes narrowed. He was not unfamiliar with magic, having battled against the Nightsister witches of Dathomir on more than one occasion. It had not been so long since the witch Mother Talzin had perished under his blades, and he knew enough to be wary of practitioners of sorcery.

The creature, seemingly oblivious to his change in mood, nodded its head and continued. “Yeah! I cast a translation spell on you. It allows you to understand and be understood by any thinking creature you talk to.”

Grievous’ eyes narrowed still further, and for a moment he considered tearing the creature limb from limb on the spot. He thought better of it, but still gripped it by the neck and held it directly up to his face.

“Do not,” he hissed, his voice full of menace. “Ever again attempt to work any artifice of sorcery on me without my knowledge or consent! Is that clear?” His yellow eyes bored into the creature’s purple ones, and it nodded hastily.

“Yes!” it said. “Yes, very clear!”

“Good,” he said, shifting and relaxing his grip to make the little thing more comfortable.

“So, uh…” it said, after a slight pause. “Can you put me down now?”

Grievous thought about it. In the middle of a group of his droids, what harm could it do? There was nowhere to run even if it wanted to.

“Very well,” he replied, lowering it gently to the ground.

“Thanks,” it said, regaining its footing after just a slight bit of stumbling. “Now, I suppose introductions are in order?” At Grievous’ nod, it continued. “I am Princess Twilight Sparkle of Equestria,” it put a hoof over its chest and bowed its head slightly in greeting.

Grievous barely refrained from bursting out into laughter. Twilight Sparkle? That was the most ridiculous name he had ever heard, and he had heard more than a few in his time. Equestria? That was almost as stupid. And royalty? This thing? Who had ever heard of a princess being allowed to wander a forest at night without at least a handful of guards on hand?

It was only the thought that he had never encountered nor even heard of the species that this thing appeared to be that stopped the cyborg general from openly mocking her. How was he to know what social expectations there were of a princess in culture of wherever this place was in the galaxy? In the event that she was lying, Grievous resolved to kill her later.

“I am called Grievous,” he replied. “General Grievous, of the Confederacy of Independent Systems.” After a moment, he added. “I hope you don’t expect me to bow.”

Twilight emphatically shook her head. “Of course not! You don’t fall under my jurisdiction, and in any case I don’t demand that of anypony!”

“Anypony”? Hot damn that sounded stupid to Grievous’ ears.

“Um, anyway,” she cleared her throat. “General, huh? You aren’t here to lead an invasion of Equestria, are you?”

“If I were, do you think I would be so stupid as to tell you?” Grievous thought disdainfully.

Aloud, he decided that the truth would be the best policy for the moment, and shook his head. “No. My presence here is but an unfortunate accident.”

Twilight wiped her forehead with a hoof again. “Thank goodness!” she smiled. “In that case, it is my honor and privilege to welcome you, General Grievous, our first extraterrestrial visitor, to Equestria!”

Grievous felt a sinking feeling in what remained of his gut. “First extraterrestrial visitor”? That wasn’t good.

Twilight, cheerfully oblivious to what was going on inside the cyborg’s head and consumed again with the joy that came from discovering something new, continued speaking.

“Would you like to come back to my palace?” she shook her head and muttered to herself, though Grievous’ enhanced hearing easily caught her words. “No, that sounds too pretentious. My house? It’s too big and ornate for that. My treehouse? It’s not even a real tree! Uh…” she looked up at Grievous again. “Would you and your…” she gestured at the rest of his group.

“Droids,” he filled her in.

“Droids like to come back with me to my home? I’m sure we have a lot to talk about, and it would be much more comfortable for you all there.”

For lack of a better option he could think of, Grievous nodded, and the group set out once more.

Tens of thousands of light-years away, on the distant planet of Serenno, in his ancestral palace, Count Dooku, also known as the Sith Lord Darth Tyranus, knelt before a hologram of his Master.

“This turn of events is… unfortunate,” said the hooded, cloaked form of Darth Sidious. “General Grievous is a critical part of my plan for these Clone Wars. He must not remain missing.”

“I understand, my lord,” said Dooku without looking up.

“Much is at stake here, Lord Tyranus. Locate the general, and bring him back if at all possible.”

Dooku was far too immersed in the ways of the Sith to fail to notice the last part of his orders. After what had happened with Ventress, how could he not pick up on the subtext?

“And above all else,” Darth Sidious continued after a moment’s pause. “Do not allow him to fall into the hands of the Jedi.”

Dooku bowed his head even deeper. “It will be done, Lord Sidious.”

“Very good,” came the last reply, and the hologram was gone.

Count Dooku rose to his feet and began to make a holotransmition of his own.

There was work to be done.

Houseguests

The small purple creature – an alicorn, Grievous found that she called herself – was proving as good as her word, at least so far. With her guidance, he and his droids were making even better time through the forest than they had been. The little “princess” was gratifyingly quiet along the way, although he often caught her staring at himself or one of his droids with an expression of awe and curiosity on her face. If she was royalty, perhaps she might be able to trade something that would help him get off of this world for one of his B-1s? That was a deal Grievous wouldn’t hesitate to make, should the chance come.

The cyborg’s estimate of his chances became far gloomier when he saw for himself the town she was leading him to. With wooden buildings and even thatched roofs on many of the houses he could see, Grievous immediately dubbed the place a worthless primitive mud-town, good only for a supply of human shields for use against the Jedi.

Or maybe not-so-human shields. There were few inhabitants out that Grievous could see at this time of night, but those that he could matched the general profile of Twilight Sparkle – quadruped equines of various ridiculous colors, with odd brands on their flanks. He did note that while some had horns on their heads, some had wings, and some had neither, not a one had both wings and horns, as Twilight did. Perhaps this place had a caste system? He filed that particular bit of potentially useful information away for later.

In any event Grievous had little time to study those equines he did see, because as soon as they saw him each and every one ran in the opposite direction as fast as their hooves could take them. This seemed to embarrass the princess to no end, and she kept giving excuses in a tone that suggested irritation. Grievous had no idea what she was upset about – his appearance had been designed to inspire fear, and it was only right and proper that lesser creatures with no business with him should flee before his coming. Soon enough the full village came into view, and Grievous noted that almost all of the buildings were of the wooden and thatched persuasion.

Save one.

Near the center of village rose an enormous dwelling of what looked to be pure crystal. For some reason, it had been molded into the approximate shape of a tree near its base, while higher up the “branches” melded with what looked to be an old-style castle. It was a very odd aesthetic choice, completely clashing with the environment around it, but it certainly showed wealth and power. Working with crystal to such a degree should have been impossible for primitives, though. Grievous considered it. Perhaps this princess had raised it with sorcery? He revised his opinion of her, slightly.

Twilight turned to face Grievous and halted, the cyborg signaling for his droids to do the same thing.

“Welcome, visitors from another world,” she said, a touch melodramatically. “Welcome to Ponyville!”

Grievous once more had suppress the urge to laugh at her.

Instead, he pointed clawed finger at the towering crystal palace. “That is your home, is it not?” he asked, for politeness’ sake if nothing else.

Twilight scratched the back of her head and looked a little embarrassed. “Yeah…” she looked at it. “A little ostentatious, I know, but…” she trailed off.

Grievous waved it off. “Think nothing of it. I’ve seen worse,” he said, truthfully, thinking of the palaces of the loathsome Viceroy Nute Gunray. In any event, it was important to keep her rolling along, at least for now. If she proved useless, he could always just raze this village even with the small force he had to hand. With the thrill of killing the forest creature beginning to fade, he was already tempted to, just for being annoying.

“Anyway,” Twilight continued. “We can sit down and talk there, and you and your friends can help yourselves to any refreshment I can provide.”

As they walked through the mostly-silent village towards the crystal palace, Grievous didn’t bother pointing out how she almost certainly had nothing capable of sustaining him in the first place.

Twilight hurried to make her alien guests feel welcome in her home. For one of the very few times in her life, she wished that she had a paid staff of servants. The crystal palace was quite large and she had to struggle to try and clear space out for her new occupants. Not to mention she had no idea of what their requirements were and really she should have asked that before leaving them waiting and oh Celestia what was she going to do now and-

“Calm down, Twilight,” she thought, catching herself before she devolved into a full-blown panic attack.

A few breathing exercises served to slow the princess’ heart rate enough that it occurred to her that she didn’t have to do everything by herself. Her number one assistant could undoubtedly be of… well, assistance.

Twilight teleported herself to the large bedroom Spike had claimed for his own, finding the dragon asleep as expected. What was slightly less expected was that he was clutching the very same comic book she had confiscated earlier. Normally she would be annoyed, but right now such concerns seemed trivial.

“Spike…” she shook him gently. “Time to wake up.”

“AAAAAHHHHHH!” he screamed at the top of his lungs, throwing his hands up to protect his head. “Don’t dissect me! Don’t dissect me! Don’t di… Don’t…” Spike slowly lowered his hands as he noticed he was not, in fact, in an alien dissection laboratory. He looked up at Twilight, then back down at the comic in his hand. “Uh… I can explain…”

Twilight brushed it off. “No time! We have visitors, and I need your help getting some rooms ready for them!”

“Oh yeah?” Spike hopped out of bed with a yawn. “Who?”

“Aliens,” Twilight answered, completely seriously.

Spike narrowed his eyes. “Are you messing with me?”

Twilight shook her head. “Of course not! This is completely serious!”

“You’re messing with me!” Spike accused. “Trying to “teach me a lesson” or something like that, right?”

“No, Spike, I’m being completely serious. There are extraterrestrial visitors in Ponyville, and we’re hosting them. I need your help to get ready.”

The young dragon crossed his arms. “I don’t believe you.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Go down to the entry hall and see for yourself, then.”

“Riiight,” Spike walked out the door, Twilight following behind. “What will I see? A bunch of posters? Pinkie Pie in last year’s Nightmare Night costume? Or is it something more inventive this time?”

“Spike, for the last time, I’m not lying to you. Check and see if you don’t believe me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Spike walked slowly down the hallway and grasped the door handle to the entry hall. “Last chance to admit you’re lying.”

Twilight frowned. “Just go in there.”

“Alright, I’m going, I’m going…” Spike pried open the door and stepped inside.

Twilight covered her ears. “Three… Two… One!”

“AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!”

She chuckled. “Right on cue.”

Spike rushed right back out the doorway, screaming at the top of his lungs, and slammed it shut with as much force as his arms could generate.

“Twilight!” he panted, gasping from breath and holding on to her chest. “There’s… There’s…”

“Aliens in our house,” she finished his sentence. And she couldn’t resist adding in a little “I told you so.”

“But they’re… they’re…”

“They are beings from another world and thus we must not judge their immediate appearance with our own standards, lest we inadvertently cloud our scientific perspective with undue bias,” Twilight declared firmly.

Spike panted a bit, finally managing to catch his breath. “But that big white one-”

“General Grievous,” Twilight interrupted her assistant. “If this first contact is to go over well, it is imperative that we address our guests with their proper names and titles. The big white one is their leader, General Grievous.”

Spike paused for a second to think. “Let me get this straight: you went into the Everfree alone, and you found aliens?”

“Yep!” Twilight nodded briskly.

“They look like big scary killing machines?”

“I saw Grievous kill a manticore,” Twilight admitted. “In self-defense,” she hastily added, upon seeing Spike’s eyes bulge.

He swallowed. “You know they’re big scary killing machines?”

“I know one of them is scary, and can kill, yes.”

“Their leader is named General Grievous?”

“Yeah.”

“So you invited them into our house?!”

Twilight paused. “I don’t see what’s wrong with that," she answered, a little defensively.

Spike facepalmed.

General Grievous and his droid squads mulled about the entry hallway to Twilight Sparkle’s palace. Or, more accurately, the droids stood at mute attention while their general paced impatiently up and down the hall, hands folded behind his back, deep in thought. Immediately he decided that this was the most pathetic palace he had ever seen. No guards, no servants, not even any walls. He’d wager even a miserable squad of B-1s could take this place.

Far more importantly however, were his concerns about how advanced this civilization was. Altogether, what he had seen of this planet’s technological level suggested that it was incapable of any kind of powered flight at all, much less space travel, and even less of producing a hyperspace-capable craft.

Which left the question of what to do next.

Grievous had nothing but short-range communicators on his person. He could speak to anyone on the planet or in low to mid orbit above it, but without a much larger transceiver that was carried aboard CIS warship, none of his equipment would be able to reach other worlds. The only real chance he had, Grievous decided, was to somehow slap together something capable of multi-lightyear communications. And the only source of technology he could think of that was likely to be able to do that…

Grievous looked out the window at the moon above, and the Star Destroyer that had surely crashed somewhere upon it. It was a slim bet, he realized, but it was the only thing he could think of. If he did not cobble together a longer-range communication device, he would simply have to hope blindly that someone, somewhere would find a way to locate him. And of course that that someone was not affiliated with the Galactic Republic. Elsewise he would most probably spend the rest of his life with primitive equines.

If Grievous could have shuddered at a thought, he would have done so at that moment.

So, he decided, the course was clear. He must find some way to get to the wreckage of the Fateful on the moon, and work from there. Hyperspace travel he had already ruled out, but perhaps somewhere on this planet existed something capable of at least moving him to the moon. It was his best chance.

Some time passed before a door leading out of the entry hall opened up again, revealing Twilight and the same fat-looking purple lizard that had fled screaming from Grievous earlier. That had been a momentary source of amusement, at the very least. Gratifyingly, it still looked very nervous to be near the cyborg. That was good, Grievous decided.

“So…” Twilight began, somewhat awkwardly. “Sorry to have to have kept you waiting.”

Grievous grunted, but said nothing.

“Anyway,” she cleared her throat and motioned the little lizard forward. “This is my dragon assistant, Spike. And he has something he’d like to say to you.” She nudged him once again.

“S-S-Sorry,” he managed, through teeth clearly struggling not to chatter. “F-For running a-away like that. It was r-rude.”

Grievous once again resisted the urge to laugh. The insincerity was so obvious it would undoubtedly have caused a diplomatic incident if he had bothered to care for such things. As he didn’t, he decided to amuse himself instead.

“Apology accepted, little Spike,” he said, lowering himself all the way to the so-called dragon’s level. “I hope in the future we can be the best of friends,”

Spike, who had backed up right into Twilight and was manifestly sweating, merely nodded mutely. Grievous wished that he could smile at the sight. It always felt good to command the fear of lesser beings. He rose back to his feet to a slight frown from Twilight, who quickly suppressed it.

“So,” Twilight continued, while Spike hid behind her legs. “We’ve got some rooms for you and your droids. I’m sorry, but I didn’t expect so many houseguests and all the stores are closed so we only have so many spare beds and we had to set out mats and I’m so sorry and-”

Grievous cut her off. “Neither myself nor my droids require beds to rest on.”

Twilight wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead. “Thank Celestia! I was so worried that you might be angry!”

Celestia? That must be the god these locals worship, Grievous decided.

“There’s one more thing,” Twilight bit her lip nervously. “I hope you don’t mind… I was going to let you rest for the night and try and arrange something tomorrow, but a certain someone,” she glared down at Spike. “Wanted me to contact the others about you tonight.”

“The others?”

“The other two alicorn princesses in Equestria. I mean, there’s one more, but she’s further away and wouldn’t be able to come as readily.”

Grievous’ eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, come as readily?”

Twilight looked sheepish. “I mean they’re on their way right now. They want to meet you.”

Meet the Royalty

Grievous’ hand moved a fraction of an inch closer to the five lightsabers attached to his waist. “Who exactly are these two “other alicorn princesses”?” he asked. “And when do you expect them?” This smelled of some kind of trap to him, although for the life of him he couldn’t imagine a civilization as primitive as the one outside putting up much of a fight if he went against them.

“Princesses Celestia and Luna,” Twilight answered. “My mentor, and her sister, respectively. And they should be here in next few minutes. Canterlot isn’t far from here.”

Grievous blinked, again caught by surprise. Princess Celestia? Hadn’t this little one sworn to her as if she were some kind of deity not a few moments before? She was also a ruler of this land? Did these creatures worship their leaders like gods? It was not unheard in some cultures.

Grievous snorted beneath his mask at the very idea. Every Kaleesh knew that an essential part of ascending to join the ranks of the gods was to die a warrior’s death in battle. The living could not become divine without that essential ingredient. To worship mere fleshy beings was blasphemy. But the cyborg had not been so long in the wider galaxy without being able to avoid getting into religious disputes every time the subject came up.

Instead, Grievous asked the next most obvious question. “Canterlot?” he said.

“Our capital city,” Twilight responded. “You can see it from here if you want.”

“Show me,” Grievous said.

Nodding obligingly, Twilight led him to a nearby window, and pointed a hoof in the direction of the nearby mountain range. Grievous had to bend down to get a good look through it.

“Do you see it?” she asked. “On that mountain right there, most of the ways up.”

Grievous looked carefully, and he did indeed see a cluster of lights on the mountain. Peering more closely, he could make out the outlines of buildings and what looked to be a rather large castle. It was situated on good, defensible terrain, although to his professional eye it looked to be sticking too far out of the mountain – making it too vulnerable to being collapsed with explosives or orbital bombardment. A much better way would have been to carve the city of the rock itself. Still, Grievous felt his respect for these creatures increase by the slightest fraction.

“I do indeed see it,” he said, standing back to his full height. “But how will they get here? That looks to be far greater distance than a mere few minutes. And how did you get message to them so quickly, if they are so far away?”

“Well, to answer your second question: Spike,” she nudged the dragon that was still clutching her legs and trying to keep clear of the cyborg. “Can send letters back and forth between Princess Celestia and I using his magical fire breath.”

“Is that so?” Grievous eyed the nervous little drake. He had seen teleportation before, notably when the witch Mother Talzin had used it to escape his blades the first time they had met, so accepted that as a plausible answer.

“And as to your first: they’ll be taking their chariots. It’s not such a long ride that way.”

“Chariots?” asked Grievous, skeptically.

“Flying chariots,” Twilight hastened to add. “They’re magic.”

The idea that this planet might have some analogue to repulsorlift technology, even if it invoked sorcerous means, sounded like good news to Grievous. Perhaps if he could get his hands on one such device… He brooded on the idea while Twilight continued.

“Anyway, I’m sorry about the lateness of their visit. I’m sure you must be tired from your rough landing, which is why I wanted to wait until tomorrow before introducing you,” she glared at Spike again. “But once they heard what had happened they were really eager to come and see you right away. That won’t be a problem, will it?” she asked, looking nervous.

Grievous waved a clawed hand dismissively. “Not at all, little Twilight.”

The faster he could meet the rulers of this place, the more quickly he could get about the real business of getting off of it.

The lavender alicorn’s face showed relief. “I’m glad to hear it, and I apologize again for the lateness of this meeting.”

“No need,” Grievous answered.

“Be that as it may, my home is your home, until we find something else. Can Spike and I get you or your droids anything? Vegetables? Fruit? Water? Cider? Baths? Change of cape?” she hazarded a guess.

“Nothing,” Grievous replied, his mind mostly elsewhere.

“Nothing?” Twilight repeated.

“Nothing,” said Grievous, with slightly more emphasis.

“Well, ok.” Twilight hesitated for a few seconds, rubbing one foreleg behind the other. “Uh, can I make a request, then?”

“Go on.”

“Well, Mr. General Grievous sir, I’ve got this hobby that I like to do… I like to sketch interesting creatures and… well…”

“You wish to sketch myself and my battle droids,” Grievous finished for her.

She nodded eagerly. “Can I?”

“How do you even use a sketchbook?” Grievous asked, pointing idly at her hooves.

Her horn glowed purple again, but this time a similar aura encased a nearby vase, lifting it off the ground.

“That’s how,” she said.

“Interesting,” said Grievous, actually meaning it for once.

“So… can I sketch you?”

Grievous sighed. Might as well keep the local leader friendly. “Yes, you may.”

Twilight clapped her front hooves together and made a rather squeaky noise. She turned and rushed toward the door, but paused and turned back around halfway there.

“Are you sure your droids won’t mind? They’ve been awfully quiet this whole time.”

“That is because they don’t think,” Grievous answered. “I make all the decisions. They just do what they’re told. I assure you that they are quite incapable of minding much of anything.”

“Alright,” Twilight said, opening the door. “I’ll be right back. Stay right here.” She rushed off, Spike close behind her.

Grievous snorted. It wasn’t as if he had anywhere to go.

The next fifteen minutes or so were a tedious affair of standing in one place and trying to resist the urge to kill that which annoyed him. In this case, it happened to be a rather overenthusiastic alicorn with a sketchpad and an irritatingly cheerful attitude. She spent a few minutes at each angle of the cyborg general: drawing, then erasing, and then drawing it again until the image was just right to her detail-oriented mind.

However, the result, Grievous had to admit, was actually a rather professional-looking portrait of himself from several different angles. Of course, a hologram image capture would be far superior, but at very least she didn’t heap a further humiliation onto a day already full of them.

Still, when she finally moved on to the first of his droids, the sole MagnaGuard of the group, Grievous could honestly say he was relieved. She went about her task with them with seemingly equal relish and attention to detail. It was such that by the time Spike returned from wherever he had been hiding, she was only halfway through drawing the commando droids.

Spike swallowed nervously, looking at Grievous once before fixing his eyes on Twilight. “Uh,” he said. “The princesses are h-here.”

“They are?!” Twilight’s head shot up out of her book with astonishing speed. “Well, don’t leave them sitting there, bring them in!”

“I’m afraid we may be little bit ahead of you, Princess Twilight,” came the sound of soft, motherly voice. “I hope you don’t mind.”

The tallest inhabitant of this world Grievous had yet seen strode through the door Spike had left open behind himself. She was white – not the bone white of Grievous’ armor, but a far softer and less fearsome color – and the mane on her head was a soft rainbow color, flowing gently in some invisible breeze. Grievous was instantly reminded of the tassels on Mother Talzin’s clothing, which had done something similar. His hands moved just the slightest bit closer to the lightsabers on his belt.

Behind her came a second, slighter smaller creature. A dark blue fur to her sister’s white, her mane also flowed with ethereal energies, though it resembled the night sky more than a rainbow. Both of these newcomers, Grievous noted, had both wings and horns, as Twilight did. It would seem his guess of this planet being a caste-based society, similar to the Geonosians, was correct after all.

“Princess Celestia! Princess Luna!” Twilight tossed her sketches and writing implements away. “Not at all! Come in! Come in!”

Twilight rushed up to greet the newcomers. Grievous noted that the interaction between the white one, who was apparently Celestia, and Twilight were somewhat more familiar and relaxed than between Twilight and Luna. Then again, if the white one had indeed been Twilight’s teacher, that was only to be expected. He could not entirely say he was friends with Count Dooku, who had taught him the art of lightsaber dueling, but he was certainly more at ease in his presence than most.

Quickly, though, the attention of the group of three alicorns turned away from each other and more towards the alien visitor in their midst.

“Greetings,” said Celestia with a polite nod. “I am Princess Celestia of Equestria, and I would bid you welcome.”

The darker one – Luna, Grievous reminded himself – was somewhat more forward. She walked straight up to Grievous and extended a hoof. He was somewhat hesitant, but Grievous thought he knew where this was going. When he grasped it, she shook with surprising vigor a being so much shorter than Grievous.

“Welcome!” she said, enthusiastically. “Visitor from beyond the stars! We are Princess Luna of Equestria! You simply must tell us all about where you come from and what’s like there! Uh…” she hesitated. “After we are through here, of course.” With that, she joined the line of princesses facing Grievous; Celestia in the center, Luna on her right, Twilight on her left.

Grievous doubted they didn’t already know who he was, but going through the motions even when there was no reason to was half of diplomacy.

“I am General Grievous,” he said levelly, “Of the Confederacy of Independent Systems. I thank you for your hospitality.”

The two newcomers look slightly nervous when he named himself.

“So it is true,” said Celestia. “You are a general in an army?”

“Supreme Commander of the Separatist Droid Army,” Grievous answered, seeing no reason to lie about it.

“I see,” she continued. “May I ask what your intentions are for our world?”

“Nothing,” he said honestly. “My presence here is a mere unfortunate accident. My only wish is to leave you as soon as possible and return to the war.”

“The war?” Luna was the one who spoke up this time.

So they really hadn’t heard of any of it. Grievous wasn’t surprised, but he was still a little disappointed.

“The Clone Wars they call it,” he explained. “Named for the cloned soldiers comprising the Grand Army of the Galactic Republic. I lead the droid armies of the Separatist Alliance in our bid to be free of the Republic once and for all. It is a stagnant, corrupt institution infested with parasites and fools. It claims to bring justice to the galaxy, but all it and its Jedi guardians bring is ruin!” Grievous noticed that his fists, unconsciously, had clenched some time in his short speech.

“You feel strongly about this war, do you?” Celestia asked, gently.

“You would as well if your homeworld had been decimated, your people forced into poverty and servitude, and all your accomplishments brought to nothing, all for the crime of daring to defend yourself!” Grievous snarled.

The two larger alicorns looked at each other nervously again, before Luna took the initiative to speak up. “Would you mind sharing a bit of your-”

“No!” Grievous cut her off, firmly. “My history is what defines me, what makes me whom I am today. I do not share it with those who have no right to know it. I’m certain you can understand that.”

There was a pause as all parties collected their thoughts. Grievous, when no one else was, decided to take the initiative.

“So,” he said. “Now that I have told you who I am, perhaps you might tell me something of who you are, and what this place is.”

“Luna and I are sisters, and together we are the rulers of Equestria, the nation where the three tribes of ponies have come together as one,” Celestia answered. “I do not know how things are on your planet, but our nation is not the only one in this world. There are others, beyond our control.”

Grievous would have frowned, if he could have. That made things more difficult.

“We also raise the moon,” Luna said, gesturing to herself. “And the sun,” she pointed to her sister. “Each night and day.”

Grievous couldn’t help it. Forget his emotions mere moments ago. Forget the niceties of diplomacy. He’d heard many absurd things since he had arrived here, but that had to be the most ridiculous claim he had ever heard… ever!

He burst out laughing.

“Aha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!” he roared in his booming mechanical voice. “Aha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha-”

Grievous’ laughter was interrupted by a coughing fit, a reminder of the limitations of his cybernetic body. He doubled over, wracked with coughing and wheezing, his lungs struggling to expel wholly imaginary irritations.

Nonetheless, when he looked back up he had to wipe a small tear from his eye. He hadn’t done that in a long time.

Twilight’s eyes were wide, as if she could not believe what had just happened. Celestia’s face looked untroubled, as if the mockery had slid off of her like water off a solid stone. Luna showed the most reaction, her cheeks flushed and her brow creased.

“Heh heh heh heh heh…” Grievous chuckled a little more. “You can’t be serious! I understand the value of propaganda and overstating your own power, but to claim that you can move the celestial bodies?!” He threw back his head and laughed again. “Aha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!”

“’Tis no propaganda!” Luna burst out. “’Tis the truth, thou doubting cur!”

Grievous snorted. “You can’t seriously expect me to believe something so ridiculous?!’

But, looking from the faces of one alicorn to the next, it appeared that they did.

Grievous rolled his eyes. “You honestly think that I am going to believe such an absurd lie? Do me more credit than that!”

“Cease thine insults, alien!” Luna retorted. “If thou wiltst not believe us, we shall show thee!”

Grievous looked her dead in the face. It appeared, impossibly, as if she actually meant what she said.

“Alright then,” he said with another slight chuckle. “Prove it.”

Luna smiled confidently. “Come then, general, and we shall show thee just what our power can do!”

Without hesitation, Princess Luna marched right up to and out the front door of Twilight’s castle. The smaller alicorn moved to follow, but Celestia held her back with a nudge. Snorting his disdain, Grievous followed the smaller alicorn outside.

“Watch the moon, oh visitor from beyond the stars, and behold our magic!”

Grievous obligingly turned his head to face the moon where his best chance of getting out of here lay. It hung brightly in the night sky, bathing all beneath it in a gentle white light. Out of the corner of his eye, Grievous could see a faint blue glow coming from Luna’s horn. And then, without warning, the impossible happened.

The moon moved.

Grievous’ eyes went wide. If he had had a jaw, it would have dropped. The planet’s moon, an orbital body weighing uncounted billions of tons, had just visibly changed its location before his very eyes.

Grievous whipped around to face Luna, who appeared to be smiling smugly.

“Do it again!” he demanded.

“As many times as thou shalt wish, my good general,” said Luna, cockily.

Grievous looked up at the moon again. And again, it moved.

“Dost thou believe us now, oh general most grievous?” came the voice of the dark princess.

As Grievous’ head turned back to the now very smug princess and her sister still within the crystal palace, his eyes narrowed. The gears of his mind were whirring as he felt his mission parameters changing around him.

Lord Sidious would be very interested in these two.

A Grievous Conspiracy

As the smug alicorn princess and the cyborg general reentered the crystal, Grievous’ mind was in overdrive, trying to figure out some way what he had just seen could be possible. And if the other one could truly move the sun – a fusion-power ball of gas millions of times larger than any planet – that was even more impressive. Though he had to consider the possibility that she merely made the planet rotate. Either way, Grievous could think of a dozen ways to weaponize either talent in a heartbeat, and he was sure Lord Sidious would have even more uses for them.

So engrossed was Grievous in his thoughts on how to exploit these two creatures to kill Jedi that he missed hearing what the white one said next.

“Excuse me?” he said, blinking. “I didn’t quite catch that.”

“I said,” Celestia replied. “You mentioned earlier that your only wish was to leave our planet and return to the “Clone Wars”. Had you any plans on how to do it?”

Grievous considered lying about his plan, but then thought better of it. “I need to get to the debris on your planet’s moon. My ship crashed there after experiencing an enemy boarding action,” He decided it would be better not to reveal that he had boarded the Republic ship with the express intent of slaughtering every living thing on board.

It sounded off-putting.

“I was forced to eject,” he continued. “My escape pod made it to this planet, but the ship itself crashed onto the moon. If I can get there, I believe I can make use of whatever equipment survived the crash to create a long-distance communications array. With that, I will be able to call for Separatist ships to retrieve me, and I will be gone from your planet. The question is, of course, how to get there.” Grievous looked pointedly at Luna.

Not seeming to notice the look the cyborg had given her sister, Celestia asked another question. “Have you means to get there? The same way you came down, perhaps?”

Grievous shook his head. “No. The escape pods are designed to be picked up in space or survive a descent into an atmosphere. They lack sufficient thrust to exit one.”

“Unless they could be modified somehow…” he thought to himself. But that was a backup plan at best. The primary idea he’d had so far was standing right in front of him.

“Princess Luna,” he said, looking at her again. “You can apparently cause your moon to move in the sky. Do you have a way to get up there, or no?

“I…” Luna hesitated, taking a quick sidelong glance into her sister’s eyes before looking back at Grievous. “No, I do not. I am sorry.”

“But,” Celestia intercut. “We might be able to research something for you. But perhaps you could excuse us to take a look into that possibility for a moment, General Grievous?”

Grievous eyes’ narrowed. This was very suspicious. But he had little choice but to play along for the moment.

“Go right ahead,” he said.

“Thank you.”

The three alicorns chose to meet together in the library room of Twilight’s castle, which was naturally the largest room in any case. After casting a quick spell of silence to ensure nopony could eavesdrop on their conversation, they began their meeting in earnest.

“Princess Luna,” Twilight was the first to speak out. “Why did you lie to him? You can move ponies to and from the moon – I’m sure you could do the same for him.”

The dark alicorn sighed. “Because… oh forgive us for being so bad at it… we are still not quite back in the habit of modern diplomatic talking…”

“I can explain,” Celestia intervened.

Twilight looked up at her earnestly.

“The simple answer is because we do not trust him.”

“Why not? He’s not from our culture, we can’t just declare him bad because he looks scary.”

“According to what you wrote to us, the first thing you saw him do was kill another living creature,” Luna pointed out.

“In self-defense!” Twilight objected.

“Might he have done otherwise, had he not wished to take its life? Could he have defeated it non-lethally without endangering himself?” Celestia.

“Well…” Twilight hesitated. “Yes, he could have.”

Celestia placed a comforting hoof on Twilight’s shoulder. “Do not let your eagerness to discover something new blind you to what is in front of your eyes, my old student. Think. He could have spared a life, but did not. What does that tell you about his character?”

“He doesn’t take well to being attacked?”

“And what else?”

“He doesn’t have much mercy for his enemies?” Twilight guessed.

Luna nodded. “Exactly. Even Lord Tirek did not kill his enemies once they were defeated, not even ourselves. Yet this General Grievous did so within the first few minutes of his arrival on this world. That alone tells us we must be wary of him.”

Celestia nodded in confirmation. “But there is more to it. This Grievous is a general in an army, an army with access to more than one space-going craft of considerable size. If he is to be believed, he is not only the head of this army, but it is fighting a war on a scale so broad that it can be called galactic. Can you picture what that means, Twilight? Thousands of planets, tens of thousands, maybe even millions, all engulfed by a vast conflict between soldiers like Grievous has out there and these clone armies of the Galactic Republic?

Twilight tried to picture such a war in her head, and found the image utterly appalling. So many dead, and how many worlds snuffed out forever?

“And,” Celestia continued. “Can you imagine what would happen if such a conflict were to be brought here?”

Twilight shuddered. The entire nation of Equestria – no, the entire world – could be drowned in blood and crushed between two vast alien superpowers they knew nothing about.

“We have no knowledge of the character of this Confederacy of Independent Systems, save that they choose to employ a warrior like General Grievous to fight for them. And that does not speak well for their benevolence,” Celestia shook her head. “And as to this Galactic Republic, we have even less knowledge, save what their chief enemy has to say about them. We cannot predict how they might react to us.”

“I shall find and explore this ship of his,” Luna added. “But I do not know how much that will be able to tell us.”

“That is why,” Celestia took over for her sister. “We cannot yet risk allowing General Grievous to contact these powers. Until we can get an idea of what they will do – of what he will do – to Equestria if has a fleet and army at his back, we cannot risk the safety of our kingdom.”

“But what if he finds out?!” protested Twilight. “Wouldn’t that make it even worse for us if they do come?”

“That is why he must not find out, Twilight Sparkle,” Celestia said. “What is said here must never leave our number. Not even your friends must know.”

“Not even Spike?” Twilight asked.

Celestia shook her head. “Not even Spike. Nopony must know.”

“… Alright,” Twilight said. “What’s the plan?”

“As General Grievous does not seem immediately violent, I am prepared to leave him here, under the care of yourself and your friends. After Fluttershy’s success with Discord, it may be that time with you will change him, or at least ensure he bears us no ill-will. However,” Celestia’s face went hard. “He could be quite dangerous. We know little of his capabilities. If he should become violent, do you feel you would be able to contain him, Twilight Sparkle?”

Twilight thought back to the many foes she’d battled. Eventually, she nodded her head.

“Then we are prepared to trust you with his safekeeping,” Luna smiled slightly. “We know you can do it.”

“So, you want me to keep him here… how long?”

“We simply don’t know,” Celestia answered. “Until we have reasonable assurance that he will not order his armies to invade Equestria the moment he is able to do so. You must study his character, and if you can, do your best to show him the magic of friendship. When you feel he is ready, or if he should prove uncontrollable, contact us again.”

“Princesses,” Twilight asked. “One more thing: what happens if somepony shows up looking for him before we have our assurance?”

“Then we welcomed him into our midst and provided all available hospitality and aid,” Celestia replied. “And we shall have to pray that that is enough.”

"General Grievous?"

The cyborg looked up from where he paced to see all three princesses emerging from wherever they had been, Celestia once again taking the lead.

"Yes?"

"We are afraid that there is good news, and there is bad news," Luna said. "The good news is that we may be able to use magic to send you to the moon after all. The bad news is that creating this spell may take some time.

Grievous' eyes narrowed. "How long?"

Luna looked embarrassed. "Several weeks? Perhaps longer."

The cyborg's fists clenched.

"But," said Celestia, injecting herself once more. "In the meantime, we would like offer you Equestria's hospitality. In fact, we have a place where you and yours might stay..."

Welcome to Ponyville

It was only mid-morning, but all of Ponyville was out and about, milling around the base of the great crystal palace that now graced their town. It was not, after all, every day when the resident princess stood in the public square and asked everypony to gather ‘round her home at precisely nine in the morning for an important announcement. Word had traveled fast, and so here they were.

Even more unusual was the fact that five of six members of the princess’ Council of Friendship were in the crowd, and they had no better idea of what was going on than anypony else did. Pinkie Pie, Rarity, Applejack, Rainbow Dash, and Fluttershy were milling about with the rest of the commoners. The fact that they had no more information than anypony of course did not stop a certain pink earth pony from speculating most vociferously on the precise nature of what their trusted companion was to be announcing.

At extreme length.

At any rate, by the time the lavender alicorn princess emerged from the palace to stand on the balcony above the crowd, it was safe to say that they were quite eager for her to get on with it already.

Twilight cast a spell to simulate the effects of a more proper microphone system before clearing her throat to get everypony quieted down. Once they had, and had turned their collective attention to her, she began to speak.

“Welcome everypony,” she said, somewhat nervously. Public speaking was hardly her forte, especially for announcements of this magnitude. Still, the princesses had entrusted her with this assignment, and she was determined not to let them down. “First of all, I’d like to thank you all for coming out here today just on my say-so. It means a lot to me that so many of my friends are willing to take time out of their busy days to hear what I have to say.”

That got a polite round of hoof-stomping and a couple of grumbles from the more impatient members of the audience, including a certain rainbow-maned pegasus who shall remain nameless.

“Ahem,” she continued after the applause had died down. “On to the main event. Or should I say, mane event? Huh? Huh?” Twilight looked around.

Absolutely nopony laughed.

“Sheesh, everypony’s a critic,” she mumbled to herself. “Anyway, the reason I’ve gathered you all here today is to announce that Ponyville will, by order of no less than Princesses Celestia and Luna themselves, be hosting a number of very special guests for some time to come.”

That set off a wave of murmurs throughout the audience. Some ponies were excited, some were nervous, some were some were eager, and one particular grey-maned, brown-furred elected official was angry that nopony had bothered to tell her about this. But then again, nopony really cared what she thought anymore.

“In fact, you could say that these visitors are out of this world!”

There was dead silence in the crowd.

“Because they’re aliens,” Twilight continued, irritated.

There was a collective gasp throughout the citizens of Ponyville, who immediately began discussing among themselves the ramifications of this momentous event.

“Ahem,” Twilight said. “If I could have everypony’s attention…”

The chattering did not stop.

“… I could tell you more about them…”

Nopony paid a lick of attention.

“QUIET!!!” Twilight roared in the Royal Canterlot Voice.

That got everypony to stop, if only because they couldn’t hear over the ringing in their ears.

“Now then,” Twilight cleared her throat once more. “I would like to introduce you all to the leader of the first ever extraterrestrial group to come into contact with our world, General Grievous of the Confederacy of Independent Systems! I ask that you please welcome him to our fair town and treat him as if he were one of our own.”

The doors behind Twilight flew open, and out stepped the enormous bone-white cybernetic horror that was General Grievous. Closing the distance between himself and the alicorn princess easily with long, swift strides, Grievous stood on the balcony of Twilight’s castle and gazed down at the inhabitants of this pathetic town. As he had suspected, but refrained from bringing up in his conversation with land’s rulers, not a one of the non-royal ponies possessed both wings and a horn. His caped fluttered gently in the breeze as he and the ponies below stared at one another.

The reaction from the collective population of Ponyville to Grievous’ appearance was immediate. Some gasped in shock. Some shied away in fear. Some whispered hasty gossip into their neighbors’ ears. One or two even fainted on the spot. No matter their specific action, it was safe to say that the reaction of everypony to their new neighbor was generally negative.

Save one.

“Yeah, woo!” cheered an obnoxiously pink pony without wings or horn. “General Grievous, wahoo! Yeah, welcome to Ponyville! Grievous!”

General Grievous hated that one already.

Somewhat later in the morning, Twilight Sparkle had managed to rope all her friends on the Council of Friendship (except Pinkie, who came willingly) into a more private introduction in the council’s chamber within the palace. Rarity and Fluttershy were looking nervous, Applejack noncommittal, and Rainbow outright irritable at the prospects of being in a small room with an alien killing machine. Pinkie, of course, was Pinkie. Spike had found a reason to be out of the house that day.

“Now,” said Twilight to the gathered mares. “I know Grievous may look scary, but I know inside that we can all get along. Don’t forget how even Discord learned the importance of friendship… uh, eventually,” she rubbed her hoof behind her head. “If he can overcome his chaotic nature to make friends with us, then can’t we all overcome our first impressions to make friends with General Grievous?”

That earned a reluctant round of nods from three of the five, and a more eager nod from a fourth.

“Nope, not buyin’ it,” said the lone dissenter, Rainbow Dash. “He’s a bad guy.”

“Rainbow, you need to be more open-minded with regard to alien cultures and-”

The blue pegasus rolled her eyes. “Oh please! Gimme a break! He calls himself General Grievous, Twi,” she got close to the alicorn’s face, putting her hooves on Twilight’s shoulders. “General. Grievous.” Rainbow repeated slowly. “Does that sound like the kind of name anypony but a villain would use?”

“Rainbow Dash, you can’t just judge the names of another culture by our own standards without first knowing the frame of reference from which they were given,” Twilight objected.

“I can and I am, egghead,” replied Rainbow. “I’m only here for you. If it were up to me we’d kick that creep’s flank seven ways to Sunday before we even thought about-”

“And what makes you think that you could, my little blue friend?” interrupted a much deeper, masculine voice.

Six heads turned to face the entryway into the council chambers as General Grievous stalked through the doorway. With his hands clasped behind his back and his black-red cape fluttering behind him, he resembled nothing so much as a prowling predator, ready to strike at a moment’s notice. All but Rainbow Dash and Twilight shied away from his approach, even Pinkie Pie not quite as eager to be near him at that moment.

“Pffft,” Rainbow waved a hoof dismissively. “We’ve beaten bigger bad guys than you! Dragons, changelings, alicorns, that Tirek creep… next to them, you’re small potatoes!”

“Am I now?” Grievous said in a low voice.

“Uh, Dash?” Twilight tugged at her friend’s tail. “You might want to lay off the put-downs. We don’t know-”

“Ah, relax, Twi. I got it covered,” she flew directly up to Grievous’ face. “Besides, this guy doesn’t look so t- ghrrk!”

In the middle of her sentence, one of Grievous’ hands had shot out so quickly as to appear nothing but a blur, grabbing the annoying blue pegasus by the throat. She kicked and struggled and beat her wings as hard as they would go, but Rainbow could not break out of the cyborg’s vicelike grip. In fact, his mechanical arm wasn’t even moving.

“I don’t look so what now?” Grievous asked.

“Gccckk…” managed Rainbow Dash, struggling to breathe.

“Why, little one, it looks as though you’re having trouble speaking to me. Do you have throat problems?”

“Enough of this!” Twilight moved to intervene before this could get any worse. “Grievous, release her!”

“As you wish,” replied the cyborg, letting go of Rainbow Dash’s throat.

The pegasus impacted on the ground with an unpleasant-sounding thunk, gasping for air. Fluttershy quickly pulled her friend away from the general, who watched it happen with a neutral expression.

“Grievous,” Twilight scolded. “I don’t know how things are done on your world. But here in Equestria we do not attack each other over insults!”

“You don’t?” said the cyborg in an innocent tone. He looked to Rainbow Dash, still panting heavily and rubbing her throat. “I suppose you learn something new every day.”

“Apologize to her right now!” the princess demanded.

Grievous got to one knee to get his face closer to his antagonist’s. “I’m sorry that you failed to realize the significance my people place on insults to a warrior’s prowess. I hope that it will not happen again.”

Twilight sighed wearily.

“Uh, Twi?” Applejack leaned in close to whisper into her friend’s ear. “How long is this critter gonna be stayin’ here again?”

“Just until we find a way to send him home, Applejack,” Twilight gazed up at the cyborg general. “Just until we can send him home.”

Once the irritating formalities of the meeting (and strangling) the heads of the local power structure – and some figurehead mayor – were out of the way, Grievous was free to spend the remainder of his day getting to know the Ponyville as he saw fit. Naturally, he chose to storm straight through it, scattering all and sundry out of his path as he saw fit. With his retinue of droids in tow – his MagnaGuard and some commando droids – the cyborg made his way straight across town towards the Everfree forest by the shortest possible route.

Grievous was headed back to where his escape pods had come down. With any hope of getting aid from his “hosts” temporarily dashed, he had proceeded to his backup plan. The general was very skeptical that a being capable of moving a celestial body in the sky would be incapable of reaching it by some means. He was no expert on the field of magic, but the idea just sounded wrong to his gut instincts. From that suspicion, he surmised that the creatures of this land were most likely holding back on him. But he had no means of proving that and no real way of effectively fighting an entire nation, so for the time being he had decided to keep his suspicions to himself and see what came. In the meantime, he had decided to do something productive and see about retrofitting an escape pod instead of wasting time socializing with primitive equines. It was a longshot plan, but it was all he had for the moment.

Grievous marched right back into the Everfree, the terror of Ponyville, as easily as he had marched through the village itself. He had already dispatched one fearsome forest beast, and saw no reason he could not do the same to any other that tried to stand in his way. So it was that the general and his retinue crashed unsubtly through the undergrowth, following the escape pod’s homing beacon by the most direct means available.

It was several minutes into the forest when Grievous heard screaming.

Raising his hand to call the droids behind him to halt, General Grievous listened. There was definitely screaming in the air, high-pitched and coming from close by. Resolving to see what all the fuss was about, Grievous took several swift strides through the bush in the direction of the noise.

He very quickly found what he was looking for. In a clearing in the thick woods, three apparently juvenile equines – one yellow, one white, and one orange – were pinned up against an enormous rotten log by what appeared to be several bizarre assemblages of wood in the shape of canines. The bright green lights in the canines’ eyes instantly reminded Grievous of the similar light he’d seen in the eyes of the Nightsister zombies he had fought on Dathomir. He wondered idly if there was a witch nearby, controlling them.

The juveniles shrieked even louder as the canines advanced on them. For a moment, Grievous considered letting the equines be eaten – it sounded vaguely amusing. But he quickly realized the potential gains from being perceived as a rescuer of children far outweighed the momentary entertainment value of watching these creatures be torn limb from limb.

Shedding his cape in one swift, easy gesture, General Grievous leaped into the air.

Before Grievous’ feet touched the ground in front of the children, several things happened. First, his two arms had once again split into the full four, for maximum devastating impact. Second, these four arms had seized four of the five lightsaber trophies from his midsection, and ignited them into blazing blades of blue and green energy. Third, his mechanical wrists began to rotate at absurd speeds, giving each lightsaber the appearance of not so much blade, but a fully-circular fan.

And then Grievous hit the ground, and the killing began.

The first two timberwolves were in some ways the most fortunate. They had been in the beginning of their own leaps at the cornered prey, and found that they could not stop even as an enormous new shape appeared in front of them. Their momentum carried them forward into the whirling lightsabers, and there they perished.

Grievous lashed out as he always did: with random, unpredictable attacks from all angles meant to confuse and overwhelm an enemy. Many Jedi had failed to defeat that particular trick, and these lowly forest creatures stood absolutely no chance. The first was beheaded before it had time to realize what was going on. The second took a pair of lightsaber thrusts through the back and out of its midsection.

Grievous waded into the confused and considerably smaller pack without pause. Here a cut, there a slash, here a stab, there a kick. His entire body was his weapon, and a potent one it was. One, two, three, four, five more timberwolves he destroyed in as many seconds. One, which by luck had managed to get behind him, took a flying leap at his backside. Without even looking at it Grievous seized its head in his taloned foot, then flipped it over his own head to smash it to splinters on the forest floor.

What was left of the pack fled before this avatar of death, desperately seeking a way to escape with their lives. It was not to be. At a gesture from the cyborg general, his attending commando droids gunned down each and every remaining timberwolf in a flurry of blasterfire before they could even get beyond the clearing.

With a grunt of irritation that the fight had not proven to be more challenging – even Republic clone grunts put up a better show – Grievous switched off his lightsabers and turned to regard the three juveniles he had just rescued.

They were staring up at him with awe in their eyes.

Evening Surprise

“Whooaaa…” all three of the tiny equines breathed up at their fearsome-looking savior.

“That. Was. Awesome!” the little orange one squeaked. “Almost as awesome as Rainbow Dash! But not quite!” she hastily added.

Grievous was vaguely annoyed by the little equine’s voice and its praise of his earlier antagonist, but he opted to overlook that.

“What are you doing out here?” he demanded of the children. “I am told that this place is held to be dangerous – no place for young ones, as you have just discovered.”

“Uh, well, you see…” the white one rubbed a hoof behind the purple-pink mane on her head, looking down at Grievous’ feet.

“We were… tryin’ ta earn our alien hunter cutie marks,” the yellow one answered for her compatriot.

“Alien hunter?” if Grievous had had any eyebrows to raise skeptically, that would have been the time. This creatures did not look capable of successfully hunting an infant bird not yet out of the nest, much less anything that could fight back.

“Yeah, we sorta heard that, uh… your ship kinda landed in the Everfree… Mister General Grievous, sir…” said the orange one.

“I may have been listening in on Princess Twilight and my big sis when they said that,” admitted the white one, looking guilty.

“And so we came out here ta see if we could find yer ship and maybe earn our cutie marks tryin’,” said the yellow child. She looked up. “Please don’t be too mad, Mister General. We didn’t find it or nuthin’.”

The orange child nodded eagerly. “Yeah, we just wound up getting lost in the forest and chased by timberwolves! And that’s when you found us!”

“Please don’t suck our brains out and eat them,” the white one squeaked, looking fearfully up at the cyborg.

For his own entertainment, Grievous pretended to consider the idea, putting a hand on his mask’s “chin” and looking thoughtful. “Hmmm…” he said, drawing it out. The three children held each other tightly as they awaited his “verdict”.

“Very well, I shall spare you,” he said at last, to multiple sighs of relief. “But-”

He was interrupted by the sounds of three young ponies wrapping themselves his legs. “Thank you Mister General Grievous sir!” they chanted in a practiced-sounding unity.

Grievous, however, was more concerned with something else.

“Get off of me!”

Grievous’ group marched back through the forest, the same way that they had come, with an additional three hangers-on. To the general’s infinite annoyance, it seemed that their curiosity had very quickly surpassed their fear of him.

“Wut are those things ‘round yer middle?” asked the yellow child, whom he had learned was called Applebloom, from her perch in a commando droid’s arms. Grievous had quickly realized that it was the best way to keep them from scampering about underfoot.

“Lightsabers,” he answered, gruffly.

“Were those the cool spinning, glowy swords you used when you rescued us?” asked the one called Scootaloo.

“Yes,” he said.

“Oh…” she replied, looking down. Then she looked back up, a light in her eyes. “Can I have one?”

“No.”

“Can I hold one?”

“No.”

“Can I touch one?”

“No.”

“Can I see one?

“No!”

Scootaloo paused for a moment to think. “Do you know where I can get one?”

Grievous threw his hands up in the air. “NO! What about the word “no” do you not understand?”

The little pegasus pony shrank back into the commando droid’s black, armored chest, and for once there was quiet. Grievous breathed a sigh of relief as he was finally left alone with his thoughts and schemes.

It was not to last.

The white one, Sweetie Belle, was the one to ask the next question. “Mr. Grievous, can we fly your spaceship?”

“No,” Grievous answered.

“Oh,” she paused for thought. “Can we go for a ride in your spaceship?”

“No.”

“Can we… get in your spaceship?”

“No.”

“Can we… climb on your spaceship?”

“No.”

“Could we maybe… touch your spaceship?”

Grievous sighed.

It was going to be a long march back to Ponyville.

When Grievous and his retinue finally burst out of the Everfree Forest, he could quite honestly say that he had heard more than enough talk of cutie marks to last a lifetime. Though the concept was somewhat interesting – the creatures were assigned a role for life through a magic brand at a very young age – the endless high-pitched babbling about them had rendered the entire subject one of instinctive annoyance to him. Especially in reference to getting a cutie mark in piloting alien spaceships.

The thought of just killing the children to shut them up had occurred to Grievous, but he again dismissed it as short-term thinking. Gratifying as it would be to stab anything that annoyed him with a lightsaber, as he had done on more than one occasion in the past, it would not get off this wretched planet any faster. It could even slow down the process. Few communities took the slaughter of their offspring for petty offenses well.

Besides, once he was back in his command ship he could always have the entire nation vaporized from orbit if he wanted to. The thought made what was left of his facial muscles twitch into a smile.

Grievous hadn’t been out of the Everfree for five seconds before he heard a certain prissy voice calling on the wind.

“Sweetie Belle? Sweetie Belle? Sweetie Belle, where are you?” the voice asked. “It’s time to come home for dinner!”

Grievous recognized the sound of Rarity’s voice. She had been appropriated cowed and quiet during the brief meeting he’d endured with Twilight’s Council of Friendship, and so he liked her slightly more than the others. Not that that was saying very much.

The little white unicorn, already perky, got even more excited at the sound.

“Rarity!” she called back. “I’m over here! With Mr. Grievous!”

“Stay right there!” came the response. “I’m coming to get you!”

“Uh, will do!” Sweetie answered, before looking to her cyborg companion.

Idly, Grievous raised a hand to call the droids behind him to halt, before clasping both hands behind his back and settling in for the wait.

At the very least he was not required to stand around for long. Over the horizon, out of a nearby orchard of apple trees, came running a bright white unicorn with deep purple hair styled into a fancy coiffure. Her face was a mix of worry, anger, and exhaustion.

“There you are,” Rarity said as she ran towards the group. “Where have you – put them down, you brutes!”

Grievous nodded, and the commando droids released their three charges onto the ground as gently as purpose-built killing machines could. The three fillies rushed to the side of Rarity, who looked them over quickly.

“There, there,” she said, a look of concern on her face. “None of you are hurt, are you?’

When all three replied in the negative, Rarity’s attention went to Grievous, and her face became a mask of anger.

“You! How could you?! After we welcome you into our town and Princess Twilight lets you stay in her castle, you have the nerve to drag fillies with you into the Everfree Forest! It’s not safe in there for adult ponies, much less foals! How could you be so ungrateful?! How-”

Rarity was cut off by a small hoof tugging at her chest. “Uh, big sis?”

Rarity looked down at the fillies. “Yes, what is it?”

The three were looking down at their hooves.

“Um… Mr. Grievous didn’t drag us into the forest,” Sweetie Belle said, shamefaced.

“Yeah, we kinda… went on our own,” Applebloom added. “We just wanted ta get our cutie marks and we thought maybe finding alien spaceships was a good way ta do it.”

“Mr. Grievous had to save us,” admitted Scootaloo. “From a pack of timberwolves. And then he took us back out.”

“…Oh,” Rarity blinked, looking surprised. Her gaze shifted from the fillies to Grievous, then the fillies, and then Grievous again. “Is this true?” she asked.

Grievous nodded.

“Well then…” Rarity looked at a loss for words. “It seems I owe you any apology, general,” she bowed her head slightly, looking graceful. “For it seems I misjudged you. You have my deepest gratitude for rescuing my sister and her friends.”

Grievous grunted noncommittally.

“Yes, well then,” Rarity appeared uncomfortable. “If it’s alright with you, I shall see these fillies safely home. Their families will hear of what you did, I promise. And I will make certain that these three are appropriately disciplined for their actions,” she gave the fillies a glare, and they cringed.

Grievous once again nodded, and Rarity set off with the downcast fillies in tow.

The cyborg turned back to the way he had come. He still had work to do.

It was very late in the night when General Grievous once again stomped his way out of the Everfree Forest, his thoughts racing with what he had discovered. As he had suspected, the escape pods were relatively undamaged from the trip. Scavenging parts from some of the others would be more than sufficient to repair what little needed repairing on the pod Grievous had landed in. It should easily survive a second trip through the planet’s atmosphere.

The trick was getting it there. The jets on the escape pods were meant for maneuvering through the vacuum of space, or making a safe landing inside a planetary atmosphere. They had not been designed with getting out of one in mind. The maximum thrust the unmodified craft could attain would not be adequate to see Grievous to the planet’s moon, which left him the task of improving it with what tools he had to hand. He had resolved to return to this Princess Twilight and see what she could tell him about the local state of rocketry.

Grievous was so occupied with his thoughts that he barely noticed the village of Ponyvile go by him. He made it quickly to the crystal palace in the center of the town, throwing open the heavy door like it was made of plywood.

“SURPRISE!!!”

“GAH!”

Grievous jumped, startled out of his reverie by the sudden influx of light and noise. Instinctively, his hands grasped a pair of lightsabers and activated them, holding up the blue and green blades defensively before him. Mentally, he readied himself to slaughter everything in the room.

“Uh, surprise?!” came a much weaker sound.

Grievous blinked, lowering and then shutting down his weapons when he realized that he was not, in fact, being ambushed. As he returned the lightsabers to his belt, he realized that this was in fact some sort of celebration, apparently in his honor. At least, if the giant “Welcome to Ponyville” sign was any indication, it was.

Grievous eyes swept the room. He saw a surprising number of equines turned out for this event. Some he knew by name or sight, some he did not. There were pastries and bowls of what Grievous presumed was liquid refreshment and banners and balloons and…

Grievous blinked, startled. He looked again to be certain.

Yes, yes, there they were.

Several of his B-1 battle droids.

In party hats.

What.

Dreams of the Past

Princess Celestia reclined against her cushioned throw rug, listening intently as Princess Luna described what she had seen on the remains of the alien ship. The lunar princess was especially careful to emphasis the sheer number of bodies she had seen – easily into the thousands, on both sides. Even the worst wars in Equestria’s history, Luna noted, had not been as bloody as one mere battle of these Clone Wars. Princess Celestia looked both alarmed and disgusted by what her sister described.

And then Luna told Celestia of the ship’s bridge, and what she had seen there.

“He lied to us, sister!” she fumed. “We welcomed him into our midst, and he lied to us!”

“We lied to him as well,” Celestia pointed out.

“That’s different! We lied to protect our people. He lied to cover up his own murders!” Luna’s face was a mask of righteous anger. “I saw them, Tia! Bodies everywhere! And not just the soldiers, the crewmen as well! Cut down while they were unarmed, helpless! By these.”

Luna’s magic lifted up a certain souvenir she had obtained from her exploration of the Fateful: a working blaster rifle, prided from the metal fingers of downed commando droid. She tossed a metal plate into the air and telekinetically pulled the trigger, sending a red blaster bolt up after it. It burned a hole clean through the thick plate and impacted on the ceiling in a shower of sparks, leaving a very nasty-looking burn whole.

Celestia took a moment to consider her sister’s revelations before answering her. Her head stared down at her hooves and the floor beneath them.

“Thank you for discovering all of this, Lulu,” she said in a low voice, before sighing wearily and looking up to meet her sister’s gaze. “But what does this truly change?’

Luna was aghast at what she had heard. Didn’t Tia see?! Couldn’t she understand?! This General Grievous was a murderer, a monster who butchered the helpless without pity or remorse! They now knew that a viper of the worst sort rested in their home, and Celestia didn’t understand how that changed things?! Luna’s insides were aflame with righteous fury. She burned to call down magic from the heavens and smite the wretched murderer from existence in a blazing column of light!

Celestia doubtless saw this in her sister’s eyes, or perhaps simply knew her well enough to guess how she was feeling.

“Lulu,” she said. “Tell me how you think this changes our situation.”

“Now we know the character of this monster we have so foolishly welcomed into our land! He is a villain worse even than Lord Tirek!”

“And how does that make a difference to where we stand? Think, Lulu, think. If he is the one this Confederacy chooses to lead its military forces, how do you think it will react if it learns that we welcomed him to our world with imprisonment or execution?”

Luna paused. In her anger, she truly had not considered what she and Celestia had already concluded. She had wished only for justice for the victims of Grievous’ crimes.

“They need not know,” she said, defensively. “We are quite capable of ensuring nopony finds him ever again!”

“And you know that for a fact, do you?” Celestia asked. “You know what magicks, what technologies the Confederacy of Independent Systems has at its disposal for locating its general?”

“I…” Luna hesitated.

“And you know for certain that should they track him here and not be able to find him, they will not react by destroying our planet, just in case?” the white alicorn demanded. “Are you willing to bet every life in Equestria on that?”

Luna gritted her teeth. Celestia was right, damn her. She didn’t want it to be the case, but her logical mind told her that it was. Celestia was always right. Luna had always known it, and in her more candid moments even admitted it. Once, she had even been driven mad and embraced darkness out of the jealously she had engendered.

But Luna had learned since her long imprisonment on the moon – learned humility, and how to admit when she was in the wrong.

“I just…” she said, hanging her head. “I just…”

Celestia smiled sadly, getting to her hooves and putting one comforting hoof on her sister’s shoulder. “You just want justice.”

Luna nodded.

“And justice is a fine thing to want, sister mine. But we must not allow anger, even the most righteous of anger, to blind us to consequences for all we hold dear. We must keep our heads.”

Luna nodded as the two embraced. But though her outer self and her mind embraced her sister’s firm logic, her heart was not mollified. Grievous had committed crimes beyond the pale of all forgiveness, and she yet heard the voices of the slain, crying out to her for justice.

She wanted Grievous to suffer.

The next several days were yet another exercise in frustration for General Grievous’ already notoriously irritable mind. Word got out, as he had hoped, that he had “heroically” come to the rescue of some of the local children, but it not seem to open any doors for him. Or, to be more accurate, any doors that he had wanted open. Instead, it had opened the floodgates.

Ponies were coming from far and wind to see him. It had not taken long for the word of the first ever alien to visit Equestria to get around. Not just in Ponyville, but across the nation and even beyond it. Many were scared of his appearance, but upon hearing inflated tales of his heroism in the Everfree, concluded that it was safe to be around him. And take pictures. And ask for autographs. And interviews. And write newspaper articles. And propose book deals. Soon it came to the point where the general hadn’t a moment’s peace the instant he stepped outside – or even in front of a window. The boldest ones would even follow him into the Everfree. That meant even his work on the escape pods had to be halted, lest they be located and similarly swarmed over. Who knew what damage hundreds of untrained idiots could do to irreplaceable technology? And to Grievous’ infinite ire, he couldn’t simply solve the problem by killing everyone.

Not that the thought wasn’t tempting.

To invite death here by starting violence would be pointless. He would die a wretched death far from his true enemies. The Jedi, if they ever heard of what had become of him, would laugh. His honored ancestors would look upon his soul in shame. The only death he could accept would be in proper battle against the filthy Jedi who had brought his homeworld to ruin. By these thoughts, he controlled his inclination to deal with the crowds that besieged him with indiscriminate murder.

So passed several of General Grievous’ first days on Equestria: caged in a crystal palace, bored, and irritable. As when Twilight had claimed that she had no spell that would allow him to read the local language, he opted to pass the time by attempting to learn the written language of Equestria for himself. Even with the computers slaved to his brain, it was very different from anything else he knew. Learning to read would take some time.

Eventually, it came to pass that even the prodigious stamina afforded to Grievous by his cyborg body was not enough, and he was required to enter one of his rare periods of sleep.

And when he did, there was a certain pony waiting for him.

General Grievous dreamed.

No, that wasn’t right. His name was not Grievous, it was Qymaen jai Sheelal, warrior of the Kaleesh. He was on his harsh homeworld, battling against revolting mantis-like Huk invaders. With his rifle in his hands, and the sword-wielding Ronderu lij Kummar at his side, the Kaleesh fought back against the ravenous insects. The greedy bugs sought only to conquer and pillage everything that was not their own. The warriors of Kalee were neither wealthy nor technologically advanced, but they were brave, and they fought for their homes and young ones.

And then Ronderu was dead, slain by the Huk far from her mate. Her body washed out to sea, beyond Qymaen’s reach. And then he was no longer Qymaen, he was Grievous, the undisputed leader of his people. His loss and sorrow fueling his wrath, Grievous led the Kaleesh to victory after victory against the Huk. Not only did he push them off of Kalee, he chased them back to their own planets. There, he visited the just revenge of his people on the insects, tearing down their cities, poisoning their waters, putting to death every single insect he could get his four-fingered hands on. Wherever his armies marched, the Huk were cast down and butchered like the filthy animals that they were.

The scene shifted. Grievous was on the verge of total victory, of driving the insects into oblivion. But then they came.

Jedi.

The Huk, cringing cowards that they were, had appealed to the Galactic Republic for aid. They had claimed themselves the victims of Kaleesh aggression, and they had greased the palms of so many of the Republic’s degenerate “leaders” that they had been believed. The Republic Senate had dispatched the Jedi and their paramilitaries to end the conflict. The Jedi, with their lightsabers and their Force, had proved unstoppable. The Kaleesh were forced back, and the subjected to devastating financial sanctions.

After the war, Grievous looked upon his people and saw only ruin. Their best and brightest lost in the war and their cut off, the Kaleesh were reduced to poverty and destitution. Grievous knew in his heart who was responsible: the Jedi. They had done this to his people. They and their Republic, which claimed to serve to serve justice but dealt only in corruption. When the InterGalactic Banking Clan offered to take on the planet’s debts in return for his service as their leg-breaker, Grievous out of desperation accepted.

The scene shifted again. Grievous was in his shuttle, the Martyr. Without warning, an explosion wracked the aircraft. Grievous felt his bones break, muscles tear, and skin catch flame before merciful unconsciousness hit.

Then he was floating in a tank, his legs and skin and hands gone. His body was kept alive only by extreme medical treatments. Count Dooku, a Jedi who had abandoned the Order for its failure to hold the Republic to any standard, explained to him what had happened. The corrupt Jedi, he said, had still feared that Grievous might one day seek righteous vengeance against them, and had tried to kill him by treachery. But by his indomitable will, he had survived.

Then San Hill, the chairman of the IGBC, was before him. He had a proposal, he said. He would return Grievous to life, with a new body. A better body. And all he asked in return was that the proud warrior of Kalee take his revenge against the Jedi and Republic that had so wronged him. Without hesitation, he agreed.

And so General Grievous was born anew.

But throughout all of his dream, Grievous never once noticed a certain dark blue alicorn in the distance.

Watching.

Far from where the cyborg general endured his troubled sleep, the Venator-class Star Destroyer Peacemaker floated serenely through the vacuum of space. Around the great behemoth flew patrols of Z-95 Headhunter and ARC-170 starfighters, ever alert for Separatist forces that could choose any moment to spring an ambush, especially this far in to the Outer Rim. Inside, thousands of clones in armor and uniforms worked around the clock to keep the ship’s many systems up to speed and battle-ready. Like all its kind, the Star Destroyer was a floating city unto itself.

On the command bridge of the Peacemaker, Jedi Council Master Obi Wan Kenobi was pouring over a holographic map of surrounding sectors, his brow creased into a frown and his hands stroking his neatly-trimmed brown beard. Several points were glowing on the map in front of him, and he was obviously considering the markings and what they meant.

“Something’s… not right,” he muttered, frowning.

“Sir?” asked Commander Cody, the clone trooper who had served as Kenobi’s second-in-command since early days of the Clone Wars.

“It’s Grievous,” Kenobi answered without looking away.

Cody nodded understandingly. Grievous and Kenobi had crossed blades on more than one occasion in the past. Kenobi had been instrumental in destroying the cyborg’s massive superweapon battleship, the Malevolence. In return, it had only been a few short months since Grievous had boarded and forced Kenobi to self-destruct his previous flagship, the Negotiator. Those were hardly the only times they had clashed – there had been battles on Saleucami, Kamino, and many other locales – to the point that Kenobi was said to be Jedi that Grievous hated more than any other.

“He hasn’t been seen on the battlefield in quite some time,” Kenobi continued. “That’s not like him at all. He doesn’t like to be away from the war.”

Cody didn’t quite grasp where his general was going, but he knew him well enough to know that the Jedi was using the clone for a sounding board.

“Do you think he might have been injured in battle, sir?” Cody asked.

“That’s just it,” Kenobi tapped a single point on the hologram, which magnified into a map of a single star system. “The last confirmed sighting of his flagship, the Invisible Hand, was here in the Ariadana system when it ambushed Master Ceidia’s task force. Since then, it’s gone off the grid.”

“Do we know why?”

“That’s the interesting bit,” Obi Wan answered. “According to the fightercraft that managed to escape the system, Master Ceidia’s ship - the Fateful - was hit by several waves of boarders before the battle’s end. We don’t know for certain that Grievous was with them in person, but it would definitely be his style.”

Cody nodded. He had been present when the cyborg general had boarded the Negotiator, after all.

“So, what? Did the ship self-destruct?” Cody asked, feeling embarrassed for the lack of knowledge. He made a mental note to check the after-action report later.

“No. In fact, it made an emergency jump to hyperspace, following no known route.”

“So, you think Grievous is dead, then?” Uncalculated hyperjumps could take you absolutely anywhere, and death was a very realistic possibility.

Kenobi shook his head. “No, I’m certain we would have sensed something if that had happened.” A slight glimmer appeared in his blue eyes. “But I do think he’s vulnerable. If the Separatists had found him, he would be back in the fight. We can conclude from the fact that he isn’t that Count Dooku’s henchmen have yet to locate him. I’m certain they’re searching.”

“I see,” Cody said.

“But if we can find him first…” Obi Wan ran his fingers through his beard once more. “Capturing General Grievous could be the key we’ve been looking for to putting an end to this war for good… and revealing its true architects.”

General and Princess

General Grievous sat alone in the library of Twilight Sparkle’s crystal palace, an irritatingly cheerful-looking book in his hand. He had borrowed it from his host, who had informed him that it was meant as a basic guide to Equestrian words and grammar. Having already memorized their alphabet, he had roughly translated the cover as The Little Foal’s Guide to ABC’s.

Needless to say, this revelation had only made Grievous more frustrated.

Outside of the palace was a crowd of ponies, all eager to see and be seen with the first ever alien visitor to Equestria. Princess Twilight had insisted that she could not disperse them, though Grievous saw no reason cracking heads wouldn’t do the job. He suspected that she simply did not want to – a suspicion that was reinforced when she urged him to go outside and socialize with them. Needless to say, he had not. Instead, a pair of black-armored B-X Commando Droids stood a silent sentinel over the entranceway, keeping at least some of the attention on themselves. Grievous grudgingly admitted that they were among the better droid models in the CIS arsenal – he could at least trust them not to embarrass him in front of a crowd of aliens by doing something stupid, as the B-1s might.

There was, unfortunately, nothing else for it. The princess could not – or would not – disperse the crowd, and short of ordering the droids to open fire, Grievous had no way of doing it himself. Working on his escape pods while they were following him around was out of the question, as they could easily do irreparable damage with their idiot fumbling about.

And so Grievous was stuck in a library, learning to read from a children’s book. He was less than pleased by this.

Grievous imagined how the war could be going without him. The Outer Rim campaigns were in full swing, hundreds of planets being contested by billions of troops. Without him there to coordinate the Separatist fleets and armies, the efforts would fall to lesser commanders and T-series tactical droids. He wondered how many blunders had already been made – how many battles needlessly lost – in his absence. It made him furious at the idiots delaying his progress, and at the princesses he suspected of duplicity.

More than anything, Grievous hated how helpless he felt.

It was with some surprise that Grievous caught a flash of movement in the corner of his eye. Turning his head rapidly, he reached for a lightsaber. But when he looked, he saw nothing in the corner where the movement had come. Nothing but darkness.

Grievous' eyes narrowed. Too much darkness.

And then the darkness started to move.

It flowed liked water across the blue-white crystalline floor of Twilight’s palace, moving over and around the furniture and bookcases, closing on the general’s position. Grievous gripped one of his lightsabers in each hand. Far from being afraid, he was almost eager for this to be some sort assassination attempt. At least that would be a foe he could lash out against in open battle.

The shadows burst out of the floor, looking for all the world like some geyser of inky black tentacles. They writhed momentarily in the air, before collapsing in on themselves and coalescing into a single figure.

Princess Luna stepped out of the shadow, and it faded away around her.

Grievous did not put away his lightsabers.

“General,” said Luna, with a slight nod of greeting.

“Princess Luna,” he answered. “What are you doing here?”

“We heard that thou wast having difficulties, and we came to offer our aid.”

“You can aid me by finding me a way to get to the moon,” Grievous growled.

“That is yet beyond us,” Luna said, levelly. “But we heard that thou needest to escape these crowds, no?”

“Where did you hear that?” Grievous asked, suspiciously.

Luna held up a newspaper. Grievous read the title roughly as Canterlot Times. But more important was the large picture on the front: one of Grievous being mobbed by ponies. He was trying to push them off, but clearly failing.

“We guessed,” she deadpanned.

Reluctantly, Grievous returned his unlit weapons to his waist. “And how can you help with that?”

Luna smiled coyly. “We are experienced in the arts of stealth, and have many magicks to aid thee. Simply ask where thou wishest to go, provided it not be too far.”

Grievous narrowed his eyes. “And why would you do that?”

“Is hospitality for our guest not enough reason?”

Grievous simply stared.

“Alright,” Luna coughed. “We have not yet found what it is that thou seekest, and we feel guilty. When we read that thou couldst use our help, we decided to try. Does that satisfy thee?”

Grievous was still suspicious, but nodded. He was willing to take a chance to get out of here more quickly.

“Where wouldst thou like to go?”

“The Everfree. Put us a good distance in.”

Luna smiled. “So be it.”

Her horn glowed, and darkness consumed them both.

And they were gone.

Grievous lay flat on his back on the forest floor, underneath the inactive thrusters of one of his escape pods. Around him were spread an array of mechanical parts and tools scavenged from the other pods. His two arms were once again split into four, though this time for ease of mechanical work. His task was to grant this pod adequate thrust to make it to the moon. The first thing to do, he had decided, was make sure it was capable of enduring that thrust without being torn to pieces.

So it was that Grievous was welding additional reinforcement into the thrusters, while Princess Luna paced around the perimeter of the clearing, watching him in silence. For Grievous’ part, he was content to ignore the alicorn. For some time, it appeared all she was interested in doing was watching.

Suddenly, without warning, Luna spoke up. “So…” she said, carefully. “How is it going?”

“Fine,” Grievous answered, not looking at her.

“Dost thou want to talk?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I am tired of talking. I am a man of action!”

Luna paused, considering, before she continued. “Could thou tell us more about thyself?”

“No,” Grievous grunted.

“We are willing to trade stories with thee.”

“What makes you think I care about your story?”

“Thou art on a whole new world full of untapped knowledge that thou mayest never have the chance to hear again, and thou art not the least bit curious?”

“Not in the least,” Grievous answered. He still had not bothered to look at the princess.

Luna frowned irritably, but continued. “Nonetheless, we shall share something of our past with thee.”

Grievous grunted noncommittally.

“We are much older than we look, General Grievous. In fact, we are millennia old.”

That actually got a glance from the cyborg general. Species of such longevity were not unknown – indeed, Durge, a former ally of the general, had been a member of one such – but they were very rare, and invariably few in number.

Luna smiled slightly, sensing she now had at least part of his attention, continued. “For many years we ruled Equestria in conjunction with our sister. Celestia brought the day, we brought the night. But…” she closed her eyes, looking sad. “Our sister was… more loved than us. The ponies of our land frolicked during the day and praised our sister for her work in bringing it about. But during the night, all was still. Everypony slept through it, night after night. We were unnoticed by the masses, un-thanked for our efforts. And-”

“Is your species nocturnal?” Grievous interrupted, simultaneously welding a new piece of shielding into the thrusters.

“What?” Luna blinked, surprised.

“I said: is your species nocturnal by nature?” Grievous said, not taking his eyes from the task at hand.

“Uh, no.”

“Then why would you ever expect anything else?” Grievous asked, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Species that are not nocturnal do not typically do very much at night.”

“Yes…” Luna felt offended by his insensitivity, but decided to continue. “Anyway, we became envious of our sister. Of the love our ponies bore her.”

“That’s grand,” Grievous grunted.

“We nurtured our jealousy in our heart for a very long time. Until eventually,” she sighed, hanging her head. “It consumed us. We embraced dark magic to try and overthrow our sister. We intended to destroy her and rule alone over a night eternal. We took up a new name: Nightmare Moon.”

“You failed, I take it?”

Luna’s cheeks went flush, but she restrained her temper and continued her story. “Yes, General Grievous, we failed. Our sister had the magic of harmony on her side, and she bested us. We were banished… far away from here, for a thousand years. We eventually escaped, but we again were bested by Twilight Sparkle her friends – now her Council of Friendship – and the magic of harmony stripped us of our dark powers. We have been… struggling to reintegrate ourselves into the new Equestria that has come about since. We find that we do not fit in well anywhere any longer.”

She looked expectantly at Grievous, desiring some kind of reaction.

She was disappointed.

After a moment had passed, Luna spoke up again, her temper rising. “Hast thou nothing to say?”

“What do you want, a cookie?’

Luna gritted her teeth. “What dost thou think of our story?”

Grievous snorted. “What is there to think about? You were treacherous enough to betray your closest kin, and weak enough to fail. Where I come from, you would have lost your head for such base treachery.”

“Thou… thou…” Luna ground her teeth and pounded her hoof into the ground. “Thou ungrateful whelp! We aided thee! We poured out our heart to thee! And thou hast nothing to say to us but insults?!”

Grievous turned his head to look away from the escape pod. “There is nothing to say, princess. You are weak, as your planet is weak. You tell me of a pathetic incident in your past and expect me to sympathize. I have suffered far worse than you, and I do not complain about it. You are soft and weak and fat.”

“Thou… Thou… Thou…” Luna snarled, struggling to find words to express her outrage. “We are not weak!” she denied.

“No?” Grievous slid out from where he lay, rising to his feet. “Prove it.”

“Thou meanest…”

“You and me. Right here. Right now. Warrior to warrior. No lightsabers. No magic,” he clutched all four of his three-fingered hands into fists. “Just ourselves.”

Luna smiled darkly. “Thou hast a duel then, General Grievous.”

Grievous tone seemed to grow more excited. “So be it, Princess Luna.” With a shrug of his mechanical shoulders, he shed his cape, laying his lightsaber trophies atop it. He took a few steps away from where he had been working, spreading his arms wide in challenge. “Come and get me!”

Luna obliged, breaking into head-on charge at the cyborg, horn-first. She moved as quickly as a running horse could be expected to, easily outpacing any human.

But Grievous was faster.

He sidestepped at a blinding speed, which would have been enough on its own to evade Luna’s charge. But that wasn’t enough for the cyborg. Two left arms shot out with perfect timing, seizing the alicorn by the neck and chest and hoisting her upon into the air. As she flailed, Grievous’ other two hands curled into fists and punched the alicorn in the gut. Once. Twice. Three times in rapid succession his fists impacted on her stomach. Then he lifted the struggling alicorn over his head with all four arms, and tossed her clear across the clearing.

Princess Luna impacted head-first onto a tree and slid to the ground. Her head hurt quite a bit, but far worse was the feeling on her stomach. It was as though it had been run over by a herd of stampeding buffalo. A very large herd. She shook her head to try and clear it, working to get back on her hooves.

While the princess struggled to regain her footing, the cyborg was watching, four arms folded across his chest.

“Is her highness having difficultly?” he mocked. “The big mean alien warlord too much for her delicate figure?”

Luna gritted her teeth and forced herself to her hooves in one swift move.

“Let’s see if you can do better this time, princess,” Grievous said, spreading his arms out.

Luna went in more cautiously the second time, stalking towards the general in a manner more reminiscent of a feline predator than an equine. She circled him carefully, looking for a pointed of weakness. He pivoted on the spot to keep himself facing her, but otherwise remained stationary.

Until he didn’t.

Grievous took one long, rapid step forward. His lengthy right leg shot out, the clawed talon at the end of seizing Princess Luna’s face in an iron grip. Before she had time to do more than clutch at it, he flipped the entire alicorn over his head with one swift move, slamming her head down onto the forest floor. A follow-up kick sent Luna rolling across the clearing.

Grievous confidently folded his arms behind his back while Luna struggled back to her hooves. She had not known his feet were prehensile – and she was willing to bet many of his earlier opponents hadn’t either. A clever trick.

“Give up yet?” Grievous asked.

Luna snarled. “Never!”

“Suit yourself then,” Grievous answered, and went on the offensive.

Grievous’ legs twisted rapidly around, and he fell forward. All four arms hit the ground at the same time, arresting his fall. All six limbs moved in rapid succession, propelling him across the forest floor in a manner reminiscent of some gigantic, loathsome metal insect.

Luna growled at his approach, but waited for him to come. When he got close, she jumped, intending to get over him and attack from behind. But all of Grievous’ limbs pushed upwards at once, sending him upwards and directly into Luna’s underbelly. The two tangled in the air, but Grievous landed atop her. Four arms rapidly pinned down all four of Luna’s legs. The opponents locked eyes.

“Surrender,” Grievous said, his face mere centimeters from hers.

Luna growled, but could not move any of her legs. So she did the only thing she could think of: she head-butted him.

Any ordinary bone would have shattered right then, crumpling before the durasteel of Grievous’ faceplate. But alicorn bone is no ordinary bone, and the cyborg’s head flew back. His grip on Luna’s legs loosened just a fraction. But that was all that she needed.

All four of Luna’s legs rose in unison, kicking General Grievous hard in the chest. His grip failed in the face of sheer force, and this time he went flying through the air. But the general was an experienced combatant, and landed easily on two feet. Luna scrambled back to her own, breathing heavily with the effort but grinning nonetheless.

Grievous narrowed his eyes and stomped forward, all four hands curled into fists. Luna came at him head on. She reared up and lashed out with her two forelegs, which the cyborg caught in his four arms. The two struggled for a moment, locked together and pitting strength against strength, limbs shaking with the effort. Luna’s limbs oozed with supernatural might, but Grievous was a machine designed for war. Slowly, his arms forced her legs back.

Without warning, Luna changed tactics. Her rear legs left the ground, using Grievous’ own grip on her forelegs to swing up and kick him solidly in the chest. He staggered, but did not let go, instead twirling his entire body around to build up momentum before flinging Luna across the clearing once again. Her back hit another tree with enough force to crack it. She winced at the pain, wondering if she might have just broken a wing.

Grievous stormed across the forest clearing, not intending to give the princess any time to recover this time. He hoisted the alicorn up to eye level by the scruff of her neck and rammed her repeatedly in the gut with three durasteel fists. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. The bone-shattering blows fell in rapid succession, without pause. A part of Luna wanted to give in, to wither under the pain and admit her weakness.

But she didn’t.

In his haste to attack the alicorn princess, General Grievous had made an important mistake. One of his arms was holding her up, and the other three were focused on attacking. That meant he had nothing restraining her own hooves.

Or protecting his head.

Diamond-hard alicorn hooves slammed into the cyborg general’s durasteel faceplate. With nothing to stop them, they impacted one after another, throwing his head back and temporarily easing the blows landing on Luna’s stomach. With what strength she could muster, she slammed Grievous’ armored chest with her two rear legs. He lost his grip and staggered back a few steps. Luna hit the dirt.

The general shook his head to clear the spots from his eyes before looking back at his opponent. Slowly, despite the protests of her injured body, Luna was rising again. She was covered with sweat, bleeding from numerous places, and breathing heavily, but inch by bloody inch she forced her quivering legs back into standing position.

The two opponents regarded each other warily. Grievous had, amazingly, slight dents in his armor, but otherwise did not seem particularly different than he had been when they had begun their impromptu duel. On the other hand, the alicorn princess was clearly battered and injured from the blows that had been landed on her, but she stood there nonetheless, determined not to back down.

After a few moments of silent staring at one another, Grievous gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod, and folded his arms behind his back.

“Perhaps,” he said. “Not so weak as I thought.”

Onboard the bridge of the Invisible Hand, Count Dooku stared out into space as another wave of hyperspace-equipped probe droids left the Ariadana system en-mas. With only a vague idea of which way the ship carrying his best general had traveled, and absolutely no idea how far it might have traveled, there was nothing for it but to launch wave after wave of probes in the most probable direction until they located something promising.

General Grievous was not dead – the dark side of the Force assured him of that – but frustratingly for the count it refused to divulge more to him. He had spent some time meditating on it, but so far to no avail. Lord Sidious might know, but if he did he had told his apprentice absolutely nothing. A subtle test of his skills, perhaps? Such things were not unknown amongst the Sith.

The former Jedi furrowed his brow, irritated at the slow pace of progress. General Grievous was more than just his most effective weapon against the Jedi Order. The Kaleesh cyborg represented an enormous amount of time and much personal investment. Dooku had spent many years preparing Grievous to be what he was today.

Beginning with the day his associates had planted that bomb on board the Kaleesh’s shuttle.

Friends?

After their short physical bout, Princess Luna summoned her magic to heal her body’s injuries. Wounds flowed shut, bruises vanished, bones knit, and blood vanished into thin air. By the time she was done regenerating, General Grievous had reclaimed his cape and his lightsabers, and returned to work on the escape pod.

The princess sat down on the grass to rest after her wearying exertions, feeling triumphant despite all the pain she had endured. She felt that she had finally gotten a spark of genuine emotion out of the general that wasn’t in a dream. Luna had observed his past and… she oddly, in spite of what she’d seen aboard the Fateful, found herself somewhat sympathizing with him. More importantly, perhaps, was the idea she had had to ensure Equestria’s safety. If she could convince Grievous to, if not bond with her, at least respect her on some level, Luna felt certain that he could be made to leave the planet be if and when his friends arrived.

He truly did not want to be here, she had understood that much. He hated, to the very depths of his dark soul, these sword-wielding figures she had seen in his dreams. These Jedi. He wanted nothing more than to be back in combat with them, and from what she had seen Luna found she could understand. He had been through quite a lot. She had hoped he might sympathize with her own tale, but a bout of fighting would serve just as well if the same ends were met.

“So,” Grievous’ voice cut into Luna’s thoughts. “Why did you really come to me?”

She looked up from her reverie, startled. Grievous was still where he had been, underneath the escape pod and working to modify it.

“Pardon?” she said, more to play for time than anything else.

“You heard me, Princess Luna. For what reason did you truly come before me today?”

“We already told thee, general. We felt guilty at our lack of progress and wished to lend our aid.”

Grievous made a noise that sounded like something halfway between a cough and a chuckle. “And here I thought we had made progress.”

“What?”

“People interested only in helping typically do not blurt out deeply personal life stories on a whim, princess,” he paused, though his hands continued to work. “You came here to learn my life story, didn’t you?”

Not exactly, but getting him to tell it firsthand would be a step in the right direction.

“Alright, we confess,” Luna said. “We did indeed come to you in hopes of learning more about thee. Thou hast been most frustratingly recalcitrant on the details of thine past, and we wished to know more.”

“So does the little purple princess,” Grievous grunted. “She won’t shut up about it, to tell you the truth. I had to lend her one of my B-1s for study to distract her.”

“B-1s?”

“Baktoid Combat Automata B-1 series battle droid,” Grievous commented. “The thin white ones,” he added after a moment. “Useless things, and annoying too.”

“Mmm…” Luna refrained from observing that she had seen many clone troopers dead at the hands of these “useless” machines.

Grievous seemed to be deep in thought for some time before speaking up once again. “I think perhaps you’ve earned the right to hear at least part of my tale.”

Luna nodded eagerly, wondering inside what he was going to say.

“I was not always the mechanical freak you see before you,” Grievous said, sounding almost… wistful? “I used to be a warrior of flesh and blood, not bolts and circuits. I come from a planet called Kalee. My people are the Kaleesh. Many years ago, we were invaded by a fearsome and greedy foe. Thousands died. But we did not give in. We fought, and through our warrior spirits pushed our enemies back. I lead the counterattack, and pushed them to the brink of destruction. But then…”

Luna noticed that Grievous had stopped all work and clenched his hands into fists, which were shaking. He hadn’t seemed to notice.

“The Jedi came. They called us the aggressors! Us! We who were invaded without cause or mercy! We could not stand before them, and we were driven back to Kalee. Our planet was left in ruins, our people in poverty and starvation! And that was not even the end of their perfidy,” Grievous snarled. “Many years later, when I traveled upon a shuttle, the Jedi bombed it in a cowardly effort to kill me! They knew that if I lived I would one day avenge my people against them! And they would have succeeded, too, had it not been for Count Dooku. He saved my life that day, and it was thanks to him that I was rebuilt. Since then I have lived only to take revenge on those who wronged me: the Jedi and their hateful Republic. That is why I fight! The politics of the Confederacy mean nothing to me, only that the Jedi are cast down and killed to the last, that they might know what my people suffered!”

Luna waited carefully for the general’s most immediate rage to cool before replying. “We see,” she said, simply.

Grievous turned his head to look at her. “Do you now? I doubt it.”

“More than thou knowest,” thought Luna.

“We think so,” she said aloud.

“Hmph,” Grievous went back to work on the pod. “Do you know where I got lightsabers from?”

“Yes.”

“No,” she said.

“Each one of them I took from a Jedi I killed with my own hand. A symbol of victory, and promise to others of what fate awaits them.”

Luna felt revulsion curdling within her, but suppressed it. Her sympathies for him were already limited, and she didn’t particularly like being reminded of his gruesome habits.

“Thank thee, general,” Luna bowed her head when it became apparent that he wasn’t going to say anything more.

She had gotten somewhere on this; he had trusted her with an honest (if partial) story of his life. Now she just needed to cement the deal. If the general thought of her as at least someone he could respect, and to some extent trust, Equestria would be safe from him. Luna was confident in that.

She would help him a few more times, perhaps spar some more, and observe his reaction. If he seemed somewhat amendable to her, she might “discover” the spell he wanted. After due consultation with her fellows, of course.

Yes, Luna reflected, that seemed a good plan.

Jedi Master Obi Wan Kenobi nodded his head respectfully in greeting to the holographic figure taking shape in front of him.

“Master Yoda,” he said politely.

“Master Kenobi,” answered the little green creature with a smile some might describe as grandfatherly. “This pleasure, to what do I owe?”

“I am calling in to the Temple to report on my progress in tracking down General Grievous. You’ll recall I hypothesized that he was aboard Master Ceidia’s ship when it made an uncontrolled hyperspace jump.”

“Remember this I do,” Yoda replied. “Think you that sleep through your transmitions, I do?” he said with the slight hint of a mischievous grin on his face.

Obi Wan chuckled lightly and shook his head. “No Master. I wished to report an update to the hunt. While I have been unable to locate the Fateful’s tracking beacon, I have been able to find Master Ceidia’s personal Jedi homing beacon. From the looks of it, it appears to have crashed on an undiscovered system somewhere in the Unknown Regions.”

“Hmmm…” Yoda put a clawed hand to his chin, considering this. “Yet, more you have say, I sense,” he said, looking up.

Obi Wan nodded. “Yes, Master. I’m afraid my contingent has been badly depleted in several recent battles. I don’t want to go in blindly, especially with Grievous in the area, without proper numbers. Unfortunately it seems all local assets are tied up in the Outer Rim Sieges. Even Anakin is tied up fighting on Felucia. I was hoping you might be able to help me with this.”

“Hmmm…” Yoda tapped his chin and thought for a moment. “Speak to the Supreme Chancellor, I shall,” he said. “Perhaps get you the reinforcements you desire, he can.”

Obi Wan bowed his in thanks. “Anything he is able to send my way would be most appreciated.”

“May the Force be with you,” said Yoda, beginning the traditional Jedi farewell.

“And with you,” replied Obi Wan, completing it.

The hologram faded away.

Incoming

Some time had passed since General Grievous and Princess Luna had had their bout in the Everfree Forest. In that time, he had been back and forth several times between his escape pods and Princess Twilight’s castle with help from the mistress of the night. Much as Grievous hated to admit it, she had proven invaluable with her skill in slipping past the assorted hangers-on. And avoiding the pink one.

Especially avoiding the pink one.

Regrettably, he couldn’t spend all his time away from the castle, lest some clever souls deduce that he wasn’t in there and come looking for him. His affiliation with the Everfree was well-known. If he didn’t put in the occasional public appearance around the town, ponies might start venturing in there in search of his craft. Indeed, some of the smarter – or more stupid, depending on how one saw it – ponies had already started down that path. The monster-infested forest had served to keep them away so far, but for how long?

Grievous wondered if it was possible for Luna to move his equipment to a more secure location. He resolved to ask her next time she showed up.

On the bright side, the yellow pegasus Fluttershy had refused to speak to him ever since she had found out what he had done to the manticore on his first night. Indeed, she had flown away in tears, which had been somewhat amusing. The blue one, Rainbow Dash, had been far more low-profile around him since her near-asphyxiation at his hands.

If only he could get rid of all of them so easily.

Grievous put his hands behind his back and stared out the window into the distance. He ignored the crowds of ponies below snapping their primitive photographs of him and concentrated on the future. He had now been on this wretched planet for nearly three weeks, but the galaxy had not stopped moving to wait for him. Who knew how much the war had changed since he had last seen proper battle? What would be left by the time he returned to the Confederacy? He didn’t know and that, like many other things, angered him. He cursed the fact that one pony who was proving useful to him had other duties and willed her to return swiftly.

Grievous’ head shot around as his audio sensors picked up the sounds of hooves on crystalline floors. For a second he had hope that his wish had been granted in a timely fashion, but when the door behind him opened, that hope was promptly dashed.

Princess Twilight Sparkle walked in, a B-1 droid at her back. “Thank you so much for lending B-1T70 to me!” she said in that irritatingly cheerful tone of hers. “I spend so long diagramming his insides – the technology represented here is staggering! Amazing! Just think of how much there is for us ponies to learn from you!”

Grievous eyed her wearily, not saying anything in hopes that it would encourage her to go away.

“It was fun, sir!” said the B-1 in an almost as cheerful tone.

And take the droid with her.

“So…” she said. “In the mood to go out today?”

“No.”

“You sure? You’ve been cooped up in here for weeks.”

“Yes.”

“Oh come on!” she exclaimed in an exasperated tone. “What does it take to get you out of your shell?”

“Bodily reconstruction surgery,” Grievous deadpanned.

“You don’t want to meet anyone or do anything! Ever! All you care about is getting out here!”

“Yes.”

“You’re on a whole new world that you may never visit again, and all you can think of doing is leaving!”

“What’s your point?” asked Grievous.

“Do I have to kick you out to get you to interact with ponies?”

“Just try it.”

Twilight sighed wearily. “Fine, if you won’t go out, I’ll bring them in. There’s already a pony here to meet you: my brother, Shining Armor.”

Obi Wan Kenobi watched the figure of the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic materialize before him in holographic form. The image was weak and shaky – Coruscant was a considerable distance away, and the Holonet suffered from intermittent Separatist attacks – but the distinguished elderly statesman from Naboo was visible nonetheless.

“Your Excellency,” said Obi Wan, nodding his head deferentially. “I thank you for being so prompt in your response to my petition.”

“Oh, not all, General Kenobi,” said the grandfatherly-looking Chancellor Palpatine with a smile. “You are one of the Republic’s finest defenders. I would be remiss in my duties if I did not hasten to lend you aid, especially for such an important task.”

“You flatter me unduly, Chancellor.”

“Only if the truth is now considered flattery.”

Obi Wan looked out the viewport of the Peacemaker’s command bridge. In the distance, he could make out the vague shapes of ships dropping out hyperspace. Sensor data showed a trio of Venator-class Star Destroyers led by a single Victory-class model. Around them swarmed several Consular and Arquitens-class light cruisers in escort formation. It was a formidable armada, and more than Kenobi had expected to be given.

“Nonetheless,” Kenobi returned his attention to the hologram of Palpatine. “I should hope you didn’t pull these ships from anywhere they were more urgently needed.”

“General Kenobi, nothing could be more urgent than finally bringing General Grievous to justice and ending this terrible war. Of that you may be sure,” Palpatine said, looking serious. Then he smiled. “However, if it will help to ease your mind for the task to come, then know that these ships were taken from patrol duty in a quiet sector in the Inner Rim. There isn’t a Separatist bastion for a dozen parsecs in any direction.”

“The Inner Rim?” Obi Wan was surprised. That was a long way from where he was. “This fleet certainly made good time, then.”

“That will be in part thanks to their commander. He is a very good officer, and as I recall you have worked with him before. I had hoped that might ease the burden of coordination.”

“Really?” Obi Wan raised an eyebrow. He had worked with many Republic officers before, of course, but it was a big galaxy. The odds against seeing any particular man again were high. “May I ask who it is?”

“Of course,” Palpatine nodded. “His name is-”

The Supreme Chancellor paused and turned his head, apparently distracted by something beyond the range of his holocam. He listened to something for a few seconds, nodded his head once, and then turned back to Obi Wan.

“Pardon the interruption, General Kenobi. My aid was just informing me that a third party is joining our holoconference. You should be able to see him shortly.”

As if waiting for its cue, the holoprojector in front of Obi Wan did indeed call up the image of a second man. As Palpatine had promised him, Kenobi did indeed recognize the newcomer. His brow furrowed.

“General Kenobi,” said the man in greeting, his voice as familiar to the Jedi Master as his neat and carefully-groomed appearance.

“Admiral Tarkin.”

Grievous stared down at the little white unicorn, yellow eyes glaring balefully into blue. Shining Armor flinched a little, but held his ground. Grievous held the gaze for just a moment before breaking off, eyes returning to the book he had been reading. He said nothing.

"So..." Shining Armor coughed little awkwardly. "I'd heard that you were a military man."

"Yes."

"Well... uh... I am as too. I thought we could talk about that a bit. I mean, you've fought all kinds of crazy battles in space and alien planets. I've fought all kinds of magical beasts I bet you're not familiar with. I was thinking we could swap stories."

"I'm not interested in the pathetic slapfights you call battles," Grievous said without looking up. "And you aren't worthy of hearing tales of true war."

"Pathetic?!" Shining's voice rose. "I'm not-"

"I've read about your pathetic 'Siege of Canterlot. An utter disgrace."

"Now look here, I-"

"-Am a pathetic idiot who got casually brainwashed by an infiltrating insect," Grievous finished contemptuously. "Then systematically undermined the defenses of my own men and allowed the city to be taken without so much as a single enemy casualty. And was such an uninspiring leader that not a single one of my cowardly men fought to the death."

"You can insult me all you want, but I won't have you insulting my stallions!" The unicorn gritted his teeth.

"Truth hurts, doesn't it?" Grievous looked up. "You're pitifully inadequate even by the weakling standards of this world. Your men are stupid curs that lose to bugs that in turn were beaten up by bridesmaids. They were such cowards that they allowed themselves to be captured one and all, or even surrendered."

"My men are not cowards." Shining hissed, hoof now scratching the ground.

"You want a story?" Grievous put the book aside and stood up. "Fine. When I walked as flesh and blood, I too fought an invasion of insects. My planet was attacked by Huk, cruel and rapacious vermin orders of magnitude more numerous than these changelings. And do you know what we did?" He paused. "We fought, little toy soldier. We fought desperately with everything we had. Not one step back. No city of Kalee was ever surrendered to the aliens, much less without a single casualty! We made them pay in oceans of blood for every inch of ground they claimed, sacrificed thousands of soldiers rather than surrender one foot of our land! That is what a warrior does." His eyes narrowed contemptuously. "And you are no warrior."

Shining Armor looked more than I little ill. "You sent thousands," the word sounded strained, "of your own men to their deaths to avoid losing small amounts of dirt?"

"Kalee is sacred to us," growled Grievous. "I don't expect you to understand.

"Lives are sacred to us," Shining snapped back. "I don't expect you to understand."

"Oh I do," said the cyborg. "I understand your pitiful nation could be conquered by three men with a butter knife and a bad attitude. You'd surrender the moment they threatened a kitten." He turned his back on the prince and began to stalk away.

"I'm not through with you!" Shining called, following.

"But I'm through with you."

"I'm not just going to stand here and let you insult my soldiers and my country." The unicorn caught up. "If you're so-"

Once again he was cut off, this time by a cybernetic claw seizing his chest. Grievous hoisted Shining easily with one arm until they were at eye level.

"Apparently you're too much a fool to take a hint." Yellow eyes bored into blue. "I suppose more direct measures are required."

And that is how a unicorn prince went flying through a crystal doorway.

Count Dooku gazed out at the stars from the command bridge of the Invisible Hand, watching, waiting. The dark side of the Force flowed through his aging frame, feeding off his anger and empowering his weakened limbs. He reached out into the cosmos, seeking the line of fate that would lead him to General Grievous. It was so close, he could almost taste it. But, frustratingly, it kept slipping away from him at the last second. His brow was furrowed in concentration and anger.

Then, with a jolt, he turned. The Force was guiding him… backwards, to a console where a T-series tactical droid was arguing with a B-1 seated at the console itself.

“…scans indicate lifeforms,” the B-1 was saying.

“Could mean anything,” the tactical droid responded. “If we followed up every lead we could-”

“But sir,” the B-1 interrupted. “That subsector is supposed to be devoid of intelligent lifeforms.”

“You found something?” Dooku interrupted them both.

“Yes my lord,” answered the battle droid, bringing up an image of a blue-green planet on the console. It was a beautiful orb, like Dooku’s homeworld of Serenno, pristine and untainted by pollutants or over-industrialization.

Dooku took one look at it. “That’s it. The ship is there.”

“My lord,” said the tactical droid. “There are so many uncharted civilizations. It could be primitives, it could be-”

“That is the system, and I am sure Grievous is with them,” Dooku answered brusquely. “Set your course for the unknown system. General Kalani!” he barked at the orange-eyed super tactical droid standing behind him. “Prepare you men!”

Author's Note

Three updates in one day?! :pinkiegasp: I know.

However, this comes at a price: I'll be away from computer much of tomorrow, so you probably won't get an update. Be patient, and try not to have any fatal heart attacks in the meantime.

Visitors

Author's Note

Well, you're all in luck. It seems I prewrote the entirety of this chapter and have decided to release it on time.

Future updates, however, are still expected to be delayed.

Visitors

The Republic fleet soared through hyperspace in a tight v-formation, the Victory-class destroyer taking point, Venator-class ships flanking it on both sides. It was an aggressive formation, ready to start firing almost as soon as it reverted out of hypserspace. Thanks to Master Kenobi’s positioning of the jump point near the borders of the Unknown Regions, the fleet burst back into realspace to find a system completely devoid of opposition, or, for that matter, any other spacecraft at all.

“Commence your approach vectors,” ordered Admiral Tarkin from the bridge of his Victory-class flagship, Liberator. “Converge on the location of the Jedi homing beacon and begin immediate scanning. Let us put General Kenobi’s theory to the test.”

With that, Tarkin folded his hands behind his back and stared out into the void as the fleet around him moved to execute his orders. Formation shifted, putting two Venator’s ahead of the Liberator, two behind. The lighter, faster cruisers sped ahead of the formation to ensure no surprises awaited the fleet on the way to its destination.

The target area was a large, barren moon orbiting what looked to be a pleasant world of forests and oceans. Tarkin didn’t buy the peaceful facade for a moment. His homeworld, Eriadu, had once been comparably lush, and in undeveloped areas it still was. It was also red in tooth and claw, its jungles ready to devour any who entered unprepared.

“Well, so far so good,” commented the holographic figure of General Kenobi. “At least the Separatists haven’t beaten us here.”

“What makes you think they have not, Master Kenobi? They might well have already seized the general and left the system – assuming he was ever here in the first place.”

Obi Wan shook his head. “No, he’s here. I can sense it.”

“Well then, let us hope we are able to locate him soon.”

“Indeed.”

“He’s no good, Twily,” Shining Armor declared from his seat around one of his sister’s many tables, where the two were drinking cocoa and discussing her alien houseguest. “I don’t think you should be letting him stay here. He’s dangerous and volatile.”

Twilight had asked for her brother’s presence in hopes that at the very least their shared military careers would serve to arouse General Grievous’ interest in their world. That, like most everything else she had tried to get anything but gruff irritation out the cyborg, had not worked out. Grievous had at first been slightly more talkative with Shining than he had with herself and her own friends, and for a while Twilight had dared to hope that she was finally making progress.

And then Grievous had promptly declared Shining Armor a rank amateur in the arts of war. Though her brother was both the highest-ranking member of the Royal Guard and a veteran of several of Equestria’s rare battles, Grievous seemed to think that because he had been defeated by Chrysalis once he knew nothing of war. Going further, he had declared that Equestria was so poorly defended that it could be taken by “three men with a butter knife and a bad attitude”. The ensuing verbal spar between the outraged unicorn and cyborg general had culminated with Grievous bodily hurling the Prince of the Crystal Empire from the room where he had taken up residence.

“He resorts to violence to settle a dispute very quickly, and from what your letters said he doesn’t hesitate to kill, either,” Shining shook his head. “He’s too dangerous. I think he should be locked up before he can hurt anypony. Heck, I could already write him up on assault charges. He definitely shouldn’t be staying in your unguarded castle. And speaking of which-”

“No, Shiny,” Twilight shook her head. “For the hundredth time, I am not taking on a guard contingent in this castle. Ponyville is a peaceful town, and I don’t need any distance between me and my friends.”

“With him around, I wouldn’t say it was so safe,” her brother argued.

“The only time he ever killed was in self-defense,” she countered.

He snorted. “And according to your own letters, he almost strangled one of your friends over an insult until you forced him to let go.”

“I didn’t force him…”

Shining raised an eyebrow. “You think he would have left go on his own?”

Twilight hesitated. “…Yes?”

Her brother’s eyes pierced her own.

“…Maybe?” she offered.

“Uh huh,” he said skeptically. “I can’t order you around, but tell me, why are you defending him? You know as well as I do that he can’t be trusted.”

“He’s an alien from an alien culture and we can’t just automatically dub him evil for following his own customs!”

“Nice story, sis. Now give me the real reason.”

“…Princess Celestia trusted me with him, alright! She wanted me to assess his character and try and show him the magic of friendship!” she shook her head. “But I just don’t know how. He’s angry and reclusive and lashes out whenever he’s annoyed, which is all the time!”

“Well then-”

“And there’s more! He represents an unparalleled opportunity for Equestria, one that we may never see again! His technology is amazing, beyond anything we have on this planet! He comes from a state that’s not made of part of a planet, or even a whole planet, but tens of thousands of star systems, all joined under one umbrella! Can you imagine that, Shining?” Twilight asked, her eyes aglow with passion. “News worlds! Peoples! Technologies! Magicks! Think of the opportunity if we could reach out to them to them all! Imagine Equestria joining this galactic community, taking our first steps into the stars! If we could befriend him, I know he could help us!”

“I also heard he’s leading a bloody war,” the white unicorn replied, deflating his sister slightly. “And that he has every intention of going right back to the Clone Wars as soon as he can. Do you think we should get involved in that?”

“We could stay neutral!” Twilight protested. “We don’t need to fight in a war to join the galactic community!”

“After harboring the Supreme Commander of one of the warring sides on our planet?” Shining appeared skeptical. “I don’t think so. That’d almost certainly be taken for an act of support for one side, which could make us the target for the other. It’s happened on this world, so why not on a larger scale? If we ever let him get back to the moon, mark my words, he’ll be calling down devastation on our heads.”

“Wait,” Twilight’s ears folded back. She cast a spell to prevent eavesdropping. “The moon? You know?”

“Of course I know, Twily! It’s my business to know! Princess Celestia informed Cadence and I all about it some time ago,” he shook his head. “I think she’s doing the right thing keeping him here. But I don’t think he should just be hunkering down in my little sister’s castle. A house arrest would be better. A gilded cage, if you will.”

“We’re not going to imprison him without cause!”

“Animal cruelty, destruction of property, assault, abuse of soldiers under his command…” Shining retorted. “Need I go on?”

Twilight sighed. “We can’t just stick him in a cell over such things. What if his friends arrive for him and take offense?”

Shining Armor bit his lip, looking a bit uncertain at the prospect. Eventually, he sighed.

“I just don’t know, Twily. But I’m worried for your safety as long as he’s around,” he looked at her as he once had when she was a filly. “Call it big brother instinct.”

Twilight softened a bit. “I know. I care about you too, you know?”

The two siblings embraced for a few seconds, hooves wrapped tightly around one another before coming apart again.

“I can keep Grievous in check,” Twilight said confidently.

“I hope you’re right, Twily. I really hope you’re right.”

A clone officer saluted Tarkin sharply. “Preliminary scans are in, Admiral!”

“And what have you found?” Tarkin asked.

“Sir, the Fateful has been located on a crash site on the planet’s moon. Scans suggest that General Ceidia’s body is still on board, but there’s no sign of any kind of life-form or clanker left aboard the ship.”

“Go on,” said the hologram of General Kenobi, stroking his beard.

At a nod from Tarkin, the clone continued. “Reports indicate that several escape pods detached from the ship. Homing signals for the pods are coming from the planet below.”

“I see,” said Tarkin. “Begin moving the fleet into orbit above these signals and do a full scan. Locate any survivors or pods. And prepare all ground troops for a surface attack.”

“Right away sir!” the clone officer saluted, before turning his back and striding off to implement the new directive.”

“A surface attack?” Obi Wan looked skeptical. “You really think that a full invasion will be necessary?”

“General Kenobi, if Grievous is down there, we not permit him to escape. No matter the cost.”

“I see your point.”

Slowly, the vast bulk of the Liberator and its fellows came about, circling around the moon to get into a better position for their scans. It would not be long now.

“I think we’ve got something, sir,” came the sound of a clone’s voice on the bridge of the Peacemaker.

Obi Wan Kenobi walked over to where the officer was sitting and looked down at his console. “Yes, Lieutenant Stal? What is it?”

“We’ve traced the escape pods’ homing beacons to a small forested area on the surface,” Stal said, indicating a number of glowing points on the newly-made map.

“I see,” Obi Wan ran his hand through his beard again, as was his habit while deep in thought. “Please go on.”

“Yes sir!” he saluted. “We’re also picking up readings consistent with a small number of clankers in a nearby area,” he zoomed the map out to show what appeared to be some kind of moderately-sized village by the forest’s edge. “Along with several hundred life-forms.”

“Interesting,” Kenobi replied. “It appears that this planet harbors a sapient species of some kind. Do we have a visual?”

Stal nodded and pressed a few buttons. The holographic table near the center of the bridge generated a 3-D image of some of kind of alien that Kenobi had never seen before. Observing it, the creature was equine in shape, but with a head and eyes that looked far too large for its body, and much smaller muzzle than was found on comparable species throughout the galaxy.

The hologram of Admiral Tarkin was also studying the image, though what he thought of it was not evident from his neutral expression.

“Do you suppose Grievous to be occupying this settlement?” Tarkin asked with an aside glance.

“Patterns aren’t consistent with that, sir,” Stal answered. “The clankers look to be clustered in one place, not on known patrol or garrison patterns. More like they’re guarding something – or someone.”

“Then these creatures have invited our enemy into their midst,” the admiral said, expression darkening.

“It would appear that way,” Obi Wan replied.

“I see,” Tarkin put a hand to his chin and looked thoughtful. “In that case, I recommend we begin an immediate full-scale ground assault on the area. Surround the entire village, then move in to take Grievous by storm.”

“Now hold on,” Obi Wan cautioned. “A full-scale attack on such a backwards village could result in hundreds of civilian casualties, especially if Grievous has them convinced to fight us.”

Admiral Tarkin gave the Jedi General a querying glance, as if to say “So what?”.

“These newcomers are not our enemies,” he continued. “And we must treat them as we would any other neutral people caught up in the Separatists’ grip.”

“General Kenobi, these little creatures have welcomed into their community one of the Republic’s chiefest and fiercest enemies. That should be more than enough to determine whose side they are on.”

“They don’t know who he is, what he’s capable of,” Kenobi retorted. “Out here, with such low technology, how could they? All they know about the war is whatever lie Grievous told them when he arrived.”

“Well then, if you are so concerned with the welfare of these aliens, tell me what you propose to do,” Tarkin said. “Because we cannot simply leave General Grievous sitting where he is now.”

“Of course not,” Obi Wan replied, shaking his head. “I want to go down and negotiate with their leaders. If we can sure the natives’ cooperation in apprehending Grievous, the operation will be much easier – and far less bloody – than if they fight us.”

“You believe you can simply march into a Separatist-occupied township and speak to its leadership?” Tarkin’s expression was incredulous.

“No.” Kenobi pressed a few buttons, and image on the holographic display table changed from a model of the alien species to an image of a mountain with an elaborate-looking city built onto its side. “This is where we will find their leaders,” he declared confidently.

Tarkin looked dubious. “And how can you be sure of that?”

Kenobi smiled knowingly. “I can sense it.”

“I see…” muttered the admiral. “In any case, how do you plan to communicate with these creatures? If their language has evolved in complete isolation from galactic norms, it is doubtful that you will be able to understand a single word that comes out of their lips.”

“Grievous must have found a way to communicate with them,” the Jedi reasoned. “I don’t think I should have much trouble in doing the same. And I’ll bring a protocol droid.”

“I have my reservations as to the feasibility of this plan, General Kenobi. It seems to me as though far too much relies on chance and the cooperation of a species we know nothing about. All simply to avoid a paltry amount of casualties?”

“All innocent life must be defended,” Obi Wan declared adamantly. “May I remind you that that is a founding principle of the Jedi Order and the Galactic Republic, Admiral?”

“Indeed, General Kenobi. Indeed.”

Before the conversation could go any further, an alarmed clone officer looked up from his console.

“Sirs!” he said, “Scanners are picking up an artificial object in space off the starboard bow!”

“Visuals,” ordered Kenobi.

The map of the city faded away, to be replaced by an image Obi Wan found all too familiar.

“A Separatist reconnaissance probe,” he muttered.

“All ships,” Tarkin ordered. “Target that device and open fire!”

Brief flashes of turbolaser fire lashed out from the Republic fleet, lancing out into space to blow the drone into space dust within seconds. Still, the mood inside the ships had changed, and not for the better.

“It appears, General Kenobi,” said Admiral Tarkin after the scanners registered clean of further enemy scouts. “That we may expect company soon.”

“Then I had better hurry, hadn’t I?”

Tarkin’s expression was dark. “Yes, General. You had better hurry.”

Aggressive Negotiations

“Now,” said Obi Wan Kenobi to the clone piloting the Low Altitude Assault Transport – better known as the LAAT gunship – as it left the Peacemaker’s open bay doors. “I want you to be careful plotting our course down. Above all else, do not put the ship in a position where it can be seen from the village marked on your locator for any length of time. The last thing we need is Grievous aware of us and taking hostages.”

“Yes sir!” the pilot answered as the gunship plunged into the planet’s upper atmosphere.

The ride down from space was bumpy – military gunships were hardly designed for comfort – and prolonged. With nowhere to sit, Kenobi, an escort squad of clone troopers, and the 3PO protocol droid he had brought along simply clung to the supports dangling from the ceiling and endured the descent.

Princess Celestia was seated on her throne, considering the latest petition to come before her. The subject was a land dispute between two clans of earth pony farmers on the far reaches of Equestria, and to be perfectly frank she honestly couldn’t tell who was in the right. The competing claims had been in the docket, and the land itself unused, for so long that nopony was quite sure of which came first anymore. Like many legal issues, it would be murky, hard-fought, and likely to take a long time. She added it to the rejected pile with a sigh. It wasn’t as though she didn’t want to help – it just frankly wasn’t important enough to merit a piece of her enormously-restricted time.

It was just as Celestia was picking up yet another formal petition to check it over that one of her guards burst into the throne room at a full gallop. He was breathing heavily from the effort of galloping in full armor, but what worried the princess most was the alarmed look in his eyes.

“Your highness!” he called out, rather unnecessarily, for every eye in the room was already on him.

“Yes Sergeant?” Celestia replied, sounding concerned. “What is it?”

“There are more,” he said in between taking deep breathes of air. “Outside. The courtyard. Now.”

Celestia’s eyes shot wide.

“Everypony out!” she ordered, pointing a regal hoof at the doors. “Rouse my sister at once and tell her to meet me near the courtyard immediately! Make everything ready to welcome guests of the highest importance! Tell the staff that the moment we’ve discussed has arrived!”

As everypony scrambled to carry out the princess’ orders, Celestia made her own way out of the throne room, trying not to look too hurried or frightened. Her subjects needed her to present a calm front, even when she felt anything but. Mentally, she rehearsed the speech she had been preparing for just such an occasion. She had had the foresight to be ready to welcome any further alien visitors in proper style. After hearing of the gruesome massacre onboard the crashed ship, she had further prepared herself to appease any would-be conquerors. Such a policy did not sit well with her, but between humbling herself and seeing Equestria destroyed by war, there was only one real choice.

As Celestia marched to meet her guests, she simply prayed it would be enough.

Obi Wan Kenobi was the first to set foot out of the gunship, leaping easily to the cobblestones of the courtyard below before the ship had even fully touched down. Landing directly in the middle of the ruler’s palace wasn’t a diplomatic tactic he normally used or condoned, but today he was in a hurry and needed more than anything else to grab their attention immediately. Touching down in this area had seemed a decent way to get it, and if the way he could sense the natives hurrying about was any indication, he had judged rightly.

The LAAT set itself down behind the Jedi, doors opening fully to allow the clones and protocol droid within an easier exit. The pilot was to stay with the ship in case they needed to make an urgent takeoff, but from the emotional currents in the Force Kenobi didn’t think it likely. There was fear, of course, and anxiety, but little he could sense in the way of anger or outright hatred.

But the most important thing Obi Wan could sense was the presence of two individuals very strong in the Force. Their power was enough that he had felt it from space, and now that he was much closer the Jedi Master felt sure that his theory that these two were the leaders of this land was correct. It was the attention of these two he had hoped to garner with his dramatic entrance, and from the way that they were coming rapidly closer it seemed he could call that attempt a success.

Obi Wan clasped his hands behind his back and waited patiently for the remainder of his party to file in behind him, keeping his concentration on one particular set of double doors. There, the Force was telling him, would be the place his intended negotiating partners would come from.

He did not have to wait long.

The two doors on the courtyard’s edge were enveloped in soft glows of gold and blue, sliding open easily and almost soundlessly. Though Obi Wan had never witnessed it visibly manifest in such a manner, he recognized Force-based telekinesis when he saw it. Striding through the now-wide doors were a pair of the equine aliens. One was a hair’s breadth taller than the Jedi himself, with a soft white coat, flowing rainbow mane, and golden jewelry. The other was shorter, with a darker coat and jewelry, and a mane that seemed to resemble the night sky. The way both of their manes seemed to flow perpetually in an invisible breeze reminded Obi Wan of his visit to Dathomir, where the Nightsister Mother Talzin had had tassels on her clothing that had swayed to a similar effect.

“Greetings,” said the white one in a soft, motherly voice, to the astonishment of all present. “Honored guests from another world. We of Equestria bid you welcome to our nation.”

Both of the aliens nodded their heads towards the Jedi and his men. It did not escape Obi Wan’s keen eye that the words he had heard and the movements he saw on its lips did not match up.

“I am Princess Celestia,” the white one continued.

“We are Princess Luna,” the dark one added. “We two are sisters, and the rulers of this land.”

Obi Wan gave his own nod. “Your highnesses,” he replied. “It is an honor to meet you both. I am Jedi Master Obi Wan Kenobi of the Galactic Republic. These are my men, Ferrus Squad,” he indicated the armored clone troops. “And protocol droid 49-3PO.”

Kenobi observed a slight stiffening in the princesses’ posture when he had identified his affiliation with the Republic, and wondered what Grievous might have told these two about it. Nonetheless, he didn’t sense any outright hostility, which was good.

“Master Kenobi,” Celestia said. “Would you and your men perhaps care for some refreshment? Or accommodations? I am certain that you must have had a long and wearying journey to arrive at our humble planet.”

Obi Wan shook his head. “Your highnesses’ offer is sincerely appreciated, but politely declined. I am afraid that today we are on something of a tight schedule and therefore must request to immediately adjourn to a location of your highnesses’ choosing for a very important discussion.”

To some cultures, refusing an offer of hospitality was a grave insult. However, Obi Wan didn’t think that it would be the case here, and he had learned long ago that his diplomatic instincts were very trustworthy. There was a reason his peers had nicknamed him “the negotiator”, after all.

The twin princesses glanced at each other, and Celestia gave her sister a small nod.

“Very well, Master Kenobi,” said Luna. “If thou and thy men will kindly accompany us, we shall begin our business at once.”

“Of course,” answered the Jedi.

A short while later found the two rulers of Equestria seated on one side of a long conference table frequently used in diplomatic meetings taking place in Canterlot, with Obi Wan and select group of clones seated on the other. Tea, at Princess Celestia’s request, had been served, although the new arrivals had politely declined on the grounds that they had no idea if pony beverages were even digestible to them. Which, Celestia decided, was fair enough.

“So,” she began after a small sip of her cup. “You said that you had something urgent to say to us?”

“Yes,” Kenobi nodded. “If you’ll pardon my dispensing with the pleasantries, I need to talk with you about the other recent visitor to your lands. The one presently staying in the village not so far from here.”

“So they do know,” Celestia thought. That was a worrying demonstration of technological potency. That they could sense both the presence and general location of the cyborg from space left her wondering what else they were able to observe. Certainly, she reckoned, they would be aware of Equestria’s comparatively low technology and small military force.

“Thou referest to the one who calls himself General Grievous, nay?” Luna asked.

Kenobi nodded. “Yes, he is the one I’m talking about,” his expression hardened somewhat. “In the name of the Galactic Senate and Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, I request the immediate extradition of General Grievous into our custody to stand trial for war crimes including but not limited to: intentional destruction of civilian targets, indiscriminate use of area-affect weaponry, the use of sapient beings as shields, attempted mass-murder, mass-murder, and genocide.”

Celestia swallowed. She’d known from what Luna had told her of the crashed ship that Grievous was ruthless in dispatching his opponents. If half of this was true, it was even worse than she had feared. Nonetheless, she was an old hoof at diplomacy and the art of keeping one’s cool.

“If thou canst see the general from wherever thy fellows are,” Luna reasoned. “Surely thou canst also see that we are in no position to prevent thee and thine from taking him.”

Celestia wouldn’t have been quite so forward about their weakness, but… it was a fair point.

“The Jedi Order does not deal in the murder of civilians, your highness. It is our observation that the general is established in a well-populated area. An all-out assault to take him could result in the deaths of many of your subjects, which we would much prefer to avoid.”

“And what if we cannot reach an agreement, Master Kenobi?” Celestia wondered. “What then will you do?”

Aloud, she answered. “Your desire to preserve life is a noble one, something that we share with you. But what exactly are you asking us to do? Surely you realize that General Grievous will notice if we start depopulating Ponyville around him?”

He nodded. “Of course. He is no fool. What I am asking you to do is invite him here.”

“Here?” Luna said. “Thou meanest for us to lure him into an ambush for thee?”

“Yes, that is what I am asking.”

Celestia took a sip of tea. “You realize of course, Master Kenobi, that you are asking us to become involved in your Clone Wars? From what we have heard from both you and Grievous, this conflict has been both protracted and bloody for many worlds. Is this the case?”

“I am afraid it is, your majesty,” he looked grim. “But the sad fact of the matter is that you became involved in the Clone Wars, whether you like it or not, the moment that General Grievous set foot on your world.”

“We acknowledge neither thine Galactic Republic nor his Confederacy of Independent Systems as our own,” Luna responded.

“Nevertheless,” he said. “You and your world are involved now. The only question is: on whose side? You surely cannot fail to see that if you decline to turn over Grievous to us, you effectively side yourselves with the Separatists and against the Republic?”

“And may I ask what happens if that comes to pass?”

Obi Wan looked troubled. “I am afraid that there are many within the Galactic Republic that would view such a response as an act of war against us.”

“And what would become of us if you did, I wonder?” the sun princess thought.

“Including yourself, Master Jedi?” Celestia asked, cautiously.

“I prefer to take a more nuanced approach than that,” Kenobi answered. “I understand full well that you desire to keep your planet peaceful and beyond the war’s reach. But sometimes life does not give us such easy options. You have a leader and war criminal of extreme value to both sides on your planet now. Neither of us can afford to leave you alone.”

“And yet, if we turn him over to thee, will not we be effectively siding with thine Republic?” Luna questioned. “Will not these Separatists then have cause to seek retribution against us?”

“I wish I could say that weren’t the case,” he sighed. “But yes. I am perfectly willing to say to the galaxy that we removed him from the planet without your consent, but I do not know for certain if that will be believed. Or, for that matter, if Count Dooku and his henchmen will even care.”

“Answer me honestly, Master Kenobi,” Celestia said, her pink eyes boring into his blue. “Do you think the Confederacy of Independent Systems knows or suspects that General Grievous has been stranded here?”

Obi Wan looked sad, and nodded. “I am afraid I must admit that there is a real possibility that they do, your highness. Shortly after we arrived in the system, our fleet destroyed a Separatist probe droid in orbit above your planet. We do not know if it managed to send back any data prior to being vaporized, but I cannot deny that it is certainly plausible that it did.”

Celestia licked her suddenly-dry lips nervously. “So if they should appear on our doorstep and find Grievous gone… and learn that he is in your custody…”

“They might well know, or suspect, yes.”

“I see…” she said, trying to process this new data.

“If we offer up General Grievous to thee,” said Luna. “What measure of protection canst thou offer us in return?”

“As I mentioned earlier, I am perfectly willing to deny that you had any hand in the matter,” Obi Wan replied. “I might be able to offer more, but…”

“But what, Master Kenobi?”

“But it would have to be contingent on your planet’s entrance into the Galactic Republic,” he said with a sad sigh. “I’m afraid with the war being as it is, we simply do not have the resources to spare to protect planets so far out of the way that do not swear allegiance to us. Our forces – and especially the Jedi – are spread thinly across the entire galaxy. The Galactic Senate would never consent to a deployment here unless you were a contributing member world or the Separatists had already invaded. And maybe not even in the second instance.”

“We do not speak for our entire world,” said Celestia, slowly.

“I am afraid that on this matter, you would have to,” the Jedi answered.

“How would we join this Republic, if we wished to?” she asked.

“Well, normally the procedure is quite long and involved. However, as part of his emergency wartime expansion on executive power, Supreme Chancellor Palpatine has the right to accept a willing world into our state without the usual bureaucratic interference. I can get into contact with him, and I am certain that I can convince him to approve such an application, if you will help us arrest Grievous.”

“But thou canst not approve it thyself?” Luna asked.

“I’m afraid not, your highness.”

Celestia considered. “Master Kenobi, can you give my sister and myself a small amount of time to consult in private?”

He nodded. “By all means. But please, make your decision quickly. And be sure it is the right one.”

As soon as they were alone, Princess Celestia dropped the calm, collected image she maintained for such diplomatic niceties and expressed her true feelings. That is to say, she hung her head and let out a weary, almost despairing moan.

“Our attempts to keep Equestria out of this… All for nothing…”

“Aye sister,” Luna looked similarly downcast. “We are between a rock and a hard place, and we doubt Twilight Sparkle and her friends can save us this time.”

“We cannot ask even those six to take on a galaxy alone, Lulu,” Celestia sighed.

“It seemeth as though we have no choice but to pick a side then, Tia.”

“I agree. And I think we both know which it must be.”

“That we do, Tia.”

“The Republic,” said Celestia.

“The Separatists,” said Luna, at the exact same moment.

The two sisters stared blankly at each other.

“Lulu, why would you want to back Grievous and his masters when the Republic is already on our doorstep?” Celestia asked, confused. “Master Kenobi is offering us protection, which is more than General Grievous has ever promised.”

“Why wouldst thou wish to back the Republic when ‘tis obvious the Separatists are the strong horse?” Luna countered. “Equestria needeth the best we can obtain for it, yes? Also, Grievous seemeth to be higher in rank than Master Kenobi. He could do better for us if we return him to the Confederacy.”

“Where do you get the idea that the Separatists are stronger?” Celestia wondered.

“From the battle we saw on the moon,” answered her sister. “And from what we saw in Grievous’ dreams. And ‘tis it not obvious that Master Kenobi fears this as well? Why dost thou think he wishes us to be hasty? He knoweth that the Separatists will be here, and soon. Mark our words, sister, if we give Grievous to him he may well flee the system and leave us to the Separatists’ vengeance.”

“He doesn’t strike me as the type,” said Celestia.

“Even if he is not, what do we know of this Chancellor Palpatine? How do we know he will help us? Thou heardest Master Kenobi: the Republic’s resources are stretched. Why should they defend us? Once we no longer have Grievous, what use is Equestria to them?”

Celestia decided to take the offensive in their verbal duel. “And what of the Republic above our heads?” she asked. “You speak of hypothetical abandonment, but as of right now they can do as they wish. Do you truly think they couldn’t launch a full attack and seize Grievous? The only reason they have not is their concern for the well-being of our subjects. Have you seen the same care from General Grievous? And do you think that, after going through so much trouble to spare our ponies, they would just leave us to the mercy of their enemy?”

“We saw what the Republic did to Grievous’ people,” Luna declared. “We do not trust it with the safety of ours.”

“And you trust General Grievous and his war machines more? You know how callous and violent he is to his own soldiers. Why would you trust the likes of him with Equestria’s safety?”

“He hath not harmed our people,” Luna pointed out.

“Because he is grossly outnumbered, and in need of our help,” Celestia countered. “How long do you think that will last once he has his armies again?

This, both sisters we starting to realize, could take a while.

Obi Wan Kenobi sat patiently where the princesses had left him. His eyes were closed as he meditated on the light side of the Force. It was strong here, he could sense. The peace and tranquility of this world boosted its presence and made him feel years younger. It was a great shame he had no real choice but to involve this peaceful planet in the bloody mire of the Clone Wars. If only Grievous had crash-landed somewhere uninhabited.

Some time passed in that state, with Kenobi simply remaining still and feeling the Living Force around him. Though at first all was light, after a time had passed he found that there were darker undercurrents as well. Worse, these dark presences seemed to be growing, and closing in even on this bastion of light. General Grievous, Obi Wan felt certain, must be one of these.

At last, the door that the two princesses had left from opened up again, and both strode through the door. On the surface, they seemed calm, but the Jedi’s deep immersion in the Force allowed him to gain a sense of great unease in both of them, just beneath the surface. He supposed that he couldn’t blame them.

Kenobi opened his eyes. “Your majesties,” he acknowledged them with polite nods. “Have you reached a decision?”

“I believe we have, Master Kenobi,” Celestia answered, slowly. “We-”

Whatever else the white alicorn was going to say was cut off by a ring from Obi Wan’s utility belt. Recognizing the sound immediately, the Jedi pulled out his portable holoprojector and flicked it on. A small image of Admiral Tarkin flickered to life in front of him.

“General,” he said, sounding serious.

“Who is that?” asked Luna.

“Hmmm?”

Tarkin had clearly heard, but the projector’s camera was still facing Obi Wan. He turned it so that the admiral could see the princesses face-toface.

“Can you understand me?” he asked the two.

“Yes,” said Celestia.

“And you are the leaders of this land?”

“We are,” said the sun princess.

“Excellent. Then I can give you this decision in person. I am Admiral Wilhuff Tarkin of the Galactic Republic, presently in orbit around your world. You have in your lands an extremely dangerous enemy of the state by the name of General Grievous. You will hand him over into our custody at once, or I shall commence immediate orbital bombardment against your planet,” he said, looking calm. “You have one minute to decide. Starting now.”

“Admiral!” Obi Wan yanked the camera back around so Tarkin’s image was facing him. “What are you doing?! This is completely out of line! I order you to stand down, immediately!”

“General Kenobi,” Tarkin folded his arms in front of his chest. “You ineffective negotiating tactics are failing to produce timely results. In lieu of your strategy working, it is time to default to mine.”

“I am in command of this mission, Admiral! You do not have the authority to make that decision!”

“Do I not, General Kenobi?”

Even as Tarkin’s mouth was moving, Obi Wan saw that his left hand, still folded over his chest, was also in motion. It made several patterns that the princesses couldn’t see, but in what the Jedi easily recognized for standard Republic military sign language. The meaning was clear enough.

“Separatist. Fleet. Incoming.”

General and Admiral

That moment found General Grievous standing alone in a dark room, his hands clasped firmly behind his back, his mind deep in thought. As they always did, his thoughts had returned to the galaxy, the war, and above all else, the Jedi. Just thinking about all the filthy Jedi scum that had been granted a reprieve from death because of his absence infuriated Grievous. The knowledge that they had probably pushed his armies back in the meantime only made the situation more insufferable. Idiot ponies that thought themselves soldiers pestering him was just adding a dash of humiliation to the witch’s brew of shame and anger.

For a moment, Grievous felt a series of distant tremors rising up from the earth beneath the castle, rattling the chandelier above his head. He kept his balance easily, and a few seconds later the sensation subsided. The cyborg waited to see if there would be any aftershocks – when there were none in evidence, he dismissed the occurrence as a mere minor earthquake.

That was a mistake.

From the balcony of their palace in the city of Canterlot, Princesses Celestia and Luna peered out through their enchanted telescope at a scene of horror. Many miles to the north of Equestria’s capital had been a small but peaceful woodland by the rather uncreative name of Sunny Glens. It was not especially well-known or near civilization, and certainly no Everfree, but it had supported an abundant variety of flora and fauna within its borders.

Now all the princesses could see was a pit several miles wide charred deep into the ground, from which smoke poured freely. Trees that had stood since the time of Nightmare Moon’s banishment and thousands of animal lives alike had been extinguished in an instant. Both sisters felt their ears folding back at such an awesome display of raw firepower.

“So you see,” said the small hologram of this Admiral Tarkin. “I am quite serious when I say your choices are turning over our enemy or facing destruction on his behalf. If you do not agree to the Republic’s demands at once, the next area targeted will be populated.”

The clone trooper holding the miniature holoprojector hadn’t given the sisters his name, and for that matter hadn’t said a word. The two would have found it quite unnerving had their fears not been turned in an entirely different direction. Save for options that would completely destroy the planet itself, they had no comparable weaponry their arsenal. What’s more, they had no way of targeting spacecraft they could not see in orbit above their planet.

“So,” the human continued. “Will you turn over General Grievous, or will you sacrifice your own people to try and protect him?”

Celestia and Luna looked at one another. Nothing needed to be said between them. They both knew what the only answer to that could be.

“Grievous is yours.”

Onboard the Liberator, Admiral Tarkin was feeling quite pleased with himself as he shut down the transmition. His approach had worked again. It always did. From the time in his youth when he had rid the Seswenna sector of pirates to the present day, force, judiciously deployed so as to cause maximum fear, had always been the most reliable way of inciting obedience. A man – or in this case a pair of alien princesses – that would not hesitate to sacrifice himself for a cause would balk at the idea of his friends and family and nation being annihilated alongside him. It was a pity most Jedi refused to understand that simple reality.

Including, he reflected irritably at the sound of rapidly-approaching footsteps, General Obi Wan Kenobi.

“Admiral Tarkin!” barked the brown-haired man as he entered the Star Destroyer’s bridge.

Tarkin turned to face him. “Yes, General Kenobi?”

The annoyingly moralistic Jedi Master had abandoned the negotiations to return to orbit as quickly as possible the moment Tarkin had issued his ultimatum. As was almost always the case with Jedi, he had the notion in his head that ridiculous ideas of honorable behavior mattered more than swift and efficient victory. The very reason peacekeepers should not be leading a galactic war effort.

“On my authority as High General in the Grand Army of the Republic, you are hereby relived of your command!”

“Oh really?” Tarkin raised an eyebrow. “On what charges?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Kenobi demanded. “Insubordination and terrorism.”

“My mission, given to me by no less an authority than Supreme Chancellor Palpatine himself, is to secure to the capture of General Grievous at all costs. As his authority overrules yours, I can hardly be guilty of insubordination,” Tarkin countered. “And as to the terrorism charge, the Galactic Republic defines such as intentional destruction of civilian targets for the purposes of inciting fear and compelling legal or political change. I destroyed no civilian targets, merely an area of wilderness. The recordings will prove that, if you care to examine them.”

“You leave out that you threatened to attack civilian targets with orbital bombardment!”

Tarkin smirked. “General Kenobi, it seems your Jedi senses do not allow you to detect a bluff when you hear one. There is no law against that, so far as I am aware.”

Kenobi scowled deeply. “That is a ridiculous defense of your actions!”

“Is it? I think I can make it stick in the courts,” the two men stared each other down. “Would you like to find out?”

The Republic’s judicial system, like most else those days, had been swept up in the prevailing political climate. The preservation of the Republic itself came before any abstract ideas of justice. Further, the officers running the military tribunals were very unlikely to convict one of their own for merely strong-arming some primitive aliens out in the Unknown Regions. Not a few would outright applaud the idea, and condemn a Jedi for letting civilians that weren’t Republic get in the way of an important mission.

And both men knew it.

“Further,” Tarkin seized the conversation’s initiative. “There is a Separatist fleet of considerable size that has just translated back from hyperspace on the system’s edge. It will be here within minutes. Are you going to dismiss your most combat-ready commander on the edge of a battle?”

“I am more than capable of commanding the battle on my own, Admiral Tarkin.”

“Is that so?” Tarkin cleared his throat. “While I do not doubt your competence to lead us to victory over these traitors, you would do well to remember that our primary objective is the seizure of General Grievous. Our fleet is not large enough to entirely block the Separatists from the planet. It is quite possible that a small craft could… slip by us in the clash and whisk our target away. Then he would be free to resume his campaigns against the Republic… and your Jedi Order. Is that what you desire?”

Obi Wan’s frustrated stare said everything his mouth didn’t.

“And while it would certainly be possible to dispatch clone troopers to secure the general from the aliens while you commanded the battle in space, I am certain that you are aware that it would likely be quite a bloody matter for them. He is not likely to come quietly, as I am sure that you also know.”

Tarkin paused a moment to allow his logic to firmly sink in to the Jedi Master’s brain. The look on his face told the admiral that he was succeeding.

“Unless of course,” Tarkin smirked. “Their Jedi General was to accompany them to take Grievous into captivity.”

Obi Wan glared daggers at Tarkin for some time before abruptly turning away.

“There will be a reckoning for your actions once this mission is completed, Admiral Tarkin,” said Kenobi as he strode from the bridge. “We are not through with this.”

Tarkin smiled again. “We shall see, General Kenobi.”

A Grievous Betrayal

On the Invisible Hand’s command bridge, Count Dooku was on one knee before the hologram of Darth Sidious.

“I understand what must be done, my lord.”

“Very good, Lord Tyranus,” Sidious said. “Thus far you have done well, my apprentice. Do not disappoint me at this crucial juncture.”

“Of course not, Lord Sidious.”

Without a further word, the image of the cloaked human disappeared from its place atop the projector.

Count Dooku rose back to feet in one swift move, ignoring the slight protests of his aging body. With one hand he brushed some imagined dirt from the shoulder of his armorweave cape, and then he took several swift strides across the bridge to settle in to the command throne in its center. It was uncomfortable and somewhat too large for him, being designed to accommodate General Grievous’ cyborg frame, but such issues were mere trifles to the former Jedi. Beside the chair lurked General Kalani, his super tactical droid and second-in-command.

“Report,” said Dooku brusquely.

“My lord, we have entered the system. Our scanners have detected a habitable planet with a number of orbiting Republic ships matching the data sent back by our probe droid.”

“Are we still receiving communications from the probe?”

“No sir, all transmitions have ceased and its homing beacon has gone dark. I calculate a 97.83% chance that it was destroyed by the Republic ships.”

“I see,” Dooku considered. “How many enemy ships are there?”

“Five cruiser class, nine escort class,” Kalani answered. “Fighter contingent is unknown, but has a high probability of being substantial.”

Count Dooku smiled. Those numbers were more than manageable. “Initiate approach vectors,” he ordered, pointing his finger in the direction of the blue-green orb in the distance. “And commence attack.”

General Grievous sat sullenly on a chair that was too small and designed for a being with four legs, his faithful MagnaGuard standing protectively over his shoulder. Commando droids covered the room’s exits. He sat in full view of the nearby open window, knowing full well that ponies outside were snapping his picture but pointedly ignoring them. It was an irritating but necessary public appearance to keep the mob from wandering off into the forest. At least in today’s stormy weather the crowd was smaller than usual.

It was the general’s relief when he caught a glimpse of a moving shadow. That was always the way the pony that he probably hated least announced her impeding arrival. Grievous stood up, strode over to the window, and closed it with a firm hand. He then pulled what curtains there were down to ensure their privacy.

Sure enough, the princess of the night soon manifested before the cyborg general in a whirling black mass of magic. As always, she was dressed in her requisite black regalia. Her face bore no expression, but Grievous observed that her ears were occasionally twitching slightly. That meant, if he recalled his lessons on pony body language correctly, that she was on edge about something.

“Welcome, princess,” said Grievous.

“General Grievous. ‘Tis good to see you again,” she replied, offering a grin.

“Let us dispense with the pleasantries,” he said, waving an arm as if to brush away a cobweb. “To the Everfree! I will be finished soon, I know it!” Grievous clenched his fist.

“Actually, we have some good news for thee on that front.”

“You do?” Grievous’ eyes focused in on the alicorn, and he couldn’t keep a certain excitement from his tone. “What is it?”

Luna nodded. “We believe… we believe we have discovered a ritual that will accomplish thy goal for thee.”

“You mean…” to his disbelief, Grievous couldn’t even bring himself to say it, for fear of the sudden hope rising in his chest being dashed.

“We mean we think we have a ritual that can send thee to our moon and back.”

Grievous paused as his rational mind struggled to catch up with his emotions. “You think?” he asked after a moment. “Or you know? I don’t want to end up floating around in the void or burning up in the atmosphere.”

Luna shrugged. “We know it worked for us.”

“That’s about as good as it’s going to get here,” Grievous thought. “But no sense taking too many risks.”

“Then I wish to test this ritual myself before I use it,” he said aloud, pointing to one of his commando droids. “Use it on that droid. I want to be certain it survives the trip there and back.”

“We… we cannot,” Luna replied.

Grievous narrowed his eyes and took step forward, looming over the alicorn princess. “What do you mean you can’t? What’s the good news if you can’t do what I need done?”

“We mean we cannot cast it here,” Luna added hastily. “The ritual doth require specialized components and a prepared summoning circle.”

“Where can you cast this spell of yours, then?”

“We can do it from our chambers in the palace in Canterlot,” Luna answered.

“I assume you can take us there from here?” Grievous asked. He had never cared enough to pay a visit.

Luna nodded. “Aye, we can do that, if thou wishest.”

“I do.”

“So be it, General Grievous.”

The alicorn princess lit up her horn once again, and familiar tendrils of darkness reached up to envelope the cyborg.

General Grievous and Princess Luna, along with the MagnaGuard and a pair of B-X Commando Droids, walked through the halls of the royal palace in Canterlot. The sounds of hooves and heavy metal feet impacting on age-old tiles echoed and resounded throughout the palace walls. The group passed numerous doors, ornate paintings, exquisite statuary, and extremely detailed portraits of famed members of Equestria’s government throughout the ages. But there was one thing that they did not pass.

Other people.

Grievous, while excited by the prospects of finally getting to the moon and making a beacon from the ruined Republic warship, did not allow such feelings to make him careless. He was a veteran of many battles, living on where others had perished, and a large part of his secret was the maintenance of environmental awareness. Knowledge of what was going on around oneself was key to surviving the galaxy’s multitude of warzones.

The cyborg’s yellow eyes swept the palace as the two marched onwards. It was large, well-furnished, and undoubtedly inhabited. But for all that he saw not one servant, guard, or petitioner anywhere around himself. The only sounds he heard were those of their footsteps and the stormy winds wailing outside. Grievous’ eyes locked onto the back of Luna’s head.

“What is she playing at?” he wondered. This smelled of a trap to his military instincts, but for what reason? He couldn’t go anywhere regardless, being effectively confined to a tiny village already. He had not killed or even seriously injured someone. There didn’t seem a reason for turning on him, so he dismissed the misgivings.

Eventually, Princes Luna reached an ornate wooden double doorway painted in black and embellished with artistic silver engravings, whereupon she halted.

“Our chambers,” she explained, putting a hoof on one of them. She looked strangely melancholy for a moment. Then the expression was gone, as if it were never there.

“Please, come in,” Luna continued, pressing one of the doors open with her front hoof. “Make thyself at home, general.”

Taking a step inside, one thing was immediately obvious: Luna’s chambers were dark. Not even the kind of dark one would expect to see in a forest at night. Not even pitch black. Rather, they seemed to be, impossibly, sucking in the light around themselves, rendering it into nothingness. Though all his mental alarm bells were going off, Grievous continued forward. A few more paces inside, even Grievous’ enhanced vision could see absolutely nothing before him, and the open door a short distance behind was barely visible through the gloom.

General Grievous’ hearing alerted him to the fact that his droids were following him inside. Even the glow of their artificial eyes failed to shed any real light into the area, appearing instead to be red and white orbs floating eerily in the shadows. Finally, Grievous heard the sound of the princess’ hooves stepping inside, and the door closing behind her. All was plunged into utter blackness, where not even the droids’ photoreceptors could be seen.

From seemingly right beside him, Grievous heard the sound of Luna sighing deeply. She sounded weary – wearier than he had ever heard her, even after their first sparring match.

“We are sorry, Grievous,” came the mournful sound of the alicorn’s voice. “We had no choice.”

Grievous blinked. “Huh?”

Without warning, the blackness around him vanished. It did not fade away, as one expects a shadow might. Rather, it suddenly and entirely disappeared into nothing, leaving Luna’s chambers as well-lit as if they had never been consumed by darkness. In the sudden light, Grievous could make out a number of shapes he had become intimately acquainted with.

Clone troopers.

The cyborg general acted entirely on instinct, his long years of battle experience propelling his hand towards the lightsabers on his waist. Seizing one entirely at random, he thumbed the activator even as he swung for where he estimated Princess Luna to be. A bronze blade emerged from the hilt and cleaved through the air towards the alicorn.

But Luna’s body had dissolved into a thick black mist. Grievous’ blade passed harmlessly through the inky black cloud, which dissolved into nothingness before his eyes.

General Grievous heard the sound of another lightsaber activating with the characteristic *snap-hiss*, followed by the sound of a very familiar voice.

“Surrender, general!”

Grievous’ head whipped around even as his arms went back towards his waist. His eyes became little more than slits as he took in the image before him.

“Kenobi!"

A Grievous Foe

In Princess Luna’s chambers, in the space of a single heartbeat, three crucial acts occurred.

The first act was committed by General Grievous. Through years of long practice and battlefield experience, his subconscious mind had assimilated a pattern so thoroughly it had become completely instinctual for him. His arms split in two, the three not already holding a lightsaber flying to his waist to grab one for themselves. Three more blades, one green and two blue, joined the two already ignited.

The second act was Obi Wan Kenobi’s. The Jedi Master was very familiar with Grievous’ technique from their multiple engagements, and eager to protect his men from what he could easily sense was coming. He boldly took several steps towards the towering cyborg and assumed the defensive opening stance of Form III, Soresu. The light side of the Force flowed through him as he prepared to meet his nemesis in battle once more.

The third act was that of the clone troopers. They were genetically-engineered from their tubes to be superior soldiers, and their training was among the best in the galaxy. They saw what was happening almost as quickly as Master Kenobi, and were already prepared to respond. Their guns had been trained on Grievous and his droids from the moment the enshrouding darkness had vanished, and at that very moment they collectively pulled the trigger.

And then everything went to hell.

Several hundred pounds of reinforced durasteel and burning rage barreled down on Obi Wan Kenobi faster than any un-augmented organic could hope to match, all four blades spinning wildly. Simultaneously, both clone troopers and commando droids opened fire. Blaster bolts red and blue soared across the confined space in their dozens, exploding in showers of sparks or burning straight through depending on where they impacted. Both of the black-armored droids crumpled in the first seconds, even their sturdy armor unable to withstand the withering barrage of blaster fire with no cover. It was a testament to their superior reflexes and advanced targeting programs that a trio of clones went with them into the grave. The MagnaGuard alone of the machines endured the initial hits, its duranium armor and multiple redundant systems allowing it to survive as its legs propelled it forwards, after its master.

None of this mattered to General Grievous. Indeed, he could hardly have been said to have noticed when blaster bolts hit his armor and exploded ineffectually into showers of sparks, or even when one of his whirling blades nicked a particularly unfortunate clone, sheering off a considerable portion of his helmet and face. Nothing mattered right then, save for the fact that a Jedi was here. And not just any Jedi, but the one the Kaleesh hated more than any other of his wretched Order. The one who had thwarted him time and time again. The one who he could never seem to truly best, no matter how hard he strived.

Kenobi.

Grievous’ charge ended in a mighty double overhand power blow, two sabers descending from on high to carve into the human’s chest. Kenobi caught both blades on his single blue one, the Force granting his muscles the strength to withstand the superhumanly-powerful impact of the hit and even throw the cyborg’s arms back. Nimbly, the Jedi ducked a chop from the third arm at his neck and sidestepped a simultaneous thrust of the fourth lightsaber blade.

“Surrender, Grievous,” Obi Wan managed even as he took a step back and batted aside another lightsaber swing. “And perhaps the Senate will show you mercy.”

“Jedi fool!” snarled Grievous, advancing with a double stab at Kenobi’s chest. “It is you who shall get no mercy!”

“Have it your own way,” said Kenobi through gritted teeth, his lightsaber coming up from below to force both of Grievous’ stabs to go high. He made his own thrust at the cyborg’s face, but Grievous caught the attack in between two of his lightsabers.

Barely pausing his offensive for a nanosecond, General Grievous redoubled his attack on the Jedi Master. He cut, slashed, and stabbed with all his considerable fury. Into the attack he poured every last frustration, indignity, and outrage he had endured over the past weeks. Each blow carried his repressed anger at the aliens for their primitive world and their naïve philosophies, his indignant fury at his own helplessness, and his utter apocalyptic rage at the one pony he had had respect for betraying him. The blows fell without pause or reprieve, faster even than the unaided eye could properly follow. It was almost enough.

Almost.

It is said that a Jedi who truly masters Form III can create a defense that cannot be broken. And if there ever was a man who had mastered the art of Soresu, it was Obi Wan Kenobi. Wherever the cyborg’s blades fell, his own, guided by the Force, was there to meet them. Each attack the Jedi Master caught, batted aside, or simply avoided with easy steps backwards or to the side. Utterly in tune with the harmony of the light side, Grievous’ assault could not break him.

It is impossible to say who might have prevailed in that stalemate had things gone on in that manner. As it was, the MagnaGuard, having dispatched the clone who had sought to keep it back with a thrust of its lethal electrostaff, entered the duel quite suddenly. The droid came around its master’s flank, jabbing hard at Obi Wan’s side. The human took a quick step back, allowing the machine’s own momentum to carry it forward a few more steps. Deftly, Kenobi stepped right back in, the MagnaGuard now between himself and Grievous.

As Grievous growled his frustration and made to step around his droid, he felt a sudden and thoroughly unexpected weight added to his back. A particularly brave – or suicidally stupid – clone trooper had flung himself directly onto the cyborg upon realizing blaster bolts did no good. His arms wrapped around Grievous’ neck, his legs around the general’s waist. The sudden addition caused Grievous to stumble half a pace backwards.

Before more clones could join in an attempt to dogpile the cyborg, two of Grievous’ extremely flexible arms deactivated their sabers and bent over backwards to seize the trooper on his neck. His durasteel fingers enclosed the armored man’s neck and yanked in two different directions. With a sickeningly wet pop, the clone’s head was torn straight from his body. His headless corpse, spouting blood, toppled to the floor behind the cyborg. Grievous held the clone’s helmeted head in one hand, a piece of spinal cord grotesquely dangling from it while blood dripped out.

But the ill-fated clone trooper had given the Jedi Master the time he needed. With only the damaged MagnaGuard for an opponent, he had parried three of the droid’s blows in quick succession. A point blank Force push had unbalanced the machine, and even as the cyborg held up the torn body part, Obi Wan slashed for the staggered MagnaGuard’s midriff. His lightsaber did what blaster bolts had not, cleaving the machine in two. A second Force push sent the halves flying across the room. They smashed into a nightstand, the droid’s red photoreceptors dying out at last. Kenobi pointed his lightsaber’s tip at Grievous in a gesture that was a simultaneous ready position and signal of challenge.

It was at that moment the self-preservation instincts that had seen General Grievous survive more defeats than he cared to remember began to kick in. While his hatred had not diminished, the general’s brain could not help but note that his force had. He was alone by then, while the hated Jedi still had a number of clone troopers to back him up, despite the kills that had been inflicted. And reinforcements could already be on the way.

Grievous growled as his mind processed the odds. He tossed the clone’s head away and reignited his two lightsabers.

“This ends now!” he thought, starting forwards again.

A few blaster bolts impacted on his armor on the way to Obi Wan, but Grievous ignored them. Once more, he swung his lightsabers in a rapid and unpredictable assault on the Jedi’s defenses, and once more Kenobi’s sturdy Soresu wall proved up to the task. It was when all five blades locked together between the two that Grievous spotted a small opportunity. He kicked out with one powerful foot, managing to catch the Jedi Master in the chest. So strong was the blow that Kenobi went flying backwards, impacting heavily against a furnished oak cabinet. He landed on his feet, but doubled over clutching his chest.

Grievous pounced with all four blades extended, hoping to catch Kenobi before he could recover. Though he was fast as he had ever been, it was not fast enough. Obi Wan thrust both of his hands before himself in one move, and all of a sudden it was General Grievous flying backwards. The powerful Force push propelled the cyborg directly into the double wooden doors forming the entrance. He crashed through them easily, continuing back to smash into the solid marble wall opposite Luna’s chambers.

The cyborg landed heavily on both taloned feet, the force of his impact having been enough to leave substantial cracks in the stone behind him. Ignoring the sick feeling in what was left of his gut, Grievous’ eyes took stock of the situation. Kenobi had recovered his breath and was advancing quickly, the clones on his heels taking potshots as they followed. The blue blaster bolts mostly scarred the wall and the beautiful paintings hanging from it, but one of them hit Grievous’ face plate. The sparks raining down seemed uncomfortably close to his eyes.

Though General Grievous burned to stay, to finish the fight with Obi Wan Kenobi once and for all, he was still an able tactician. Much of his ability to survive where others had perished was due to his keenly-honed sense of just when things had become unacceptably bad. Right then, he decided on the spot, was one such situation. He was alone in a barely-explored building with Kenobi and an unknown number of addition hostiles, with more almost certainly well on the way. His priority had to be getting out of here alive.

So Grievous turned and ran.

“After him!” he heard Kenobi shout from behind him. “Do not let Grievous escape!”

The sound of blasterfire rang out through the corridor as the clone troopers emerged after their Jedi General and joined the pursuit. Blue bolts flew over and around the retreating cyborg, occasionally scoring glancing hits on his armor but failing to do any more than cosmetic damage to him. It was the sound of Obi Wan’s rapid footsteps that worried Grievous far more. But he was not so worried that he did not have time for spite.

“Open fire on the pathetic equines!” Grievous barked into the communicator built into one of his wrists as he rounded a corner. “Target their leaders!”

He listened for a moment as he ran. No response. That meant his communications were being jammed – or else the droids he had left behind in Ponyville had already been destroyed.

No matter, he decided. He would deal with that issue later. Right then what was most important was escaping Kenobi’s ambush, and then the city itself. Then he could worry about avenging himself on the treacherous alien filth.

As he rounded another corner, Grievous spied near the opposite end of the hallway a large stained glass window. It was ornate and beautifully crafted, but the cyborg cared nothing for the art of it an only saw it for the escape route it represented. He dashed towards the window at full speed. As his Jedi and clone pursuers were just rounding the corner after him, Grievous smashed through the stained glass at full speed.

His armor protecting him from the razor-sharp shards of glass, the cyborg general plummeted several stories to the ground below, but he landed nimbly on his feet. His durasteel frame easily withstood forces that would have shattered human bones several times over. The force of his landing had been enough to crack the tiles beneath his feet. Without pause, Grievous broke out once more into a run.

And then his world dissolved into fire and wild, incoherent noises.

General Grievous was hurled bodily by the sheer force of the explosion into the side of one of the castle towers, cracking the fine marble exterior. His form blackened and smoking slightly, the disoriented cyborg crumpled to the ground. His mind was as keen as ever, and moved to take stock of the situation. The first thing he noticed was that both of his right arms had been blown off almost entirely, leaving nothing but two small nubs of durasteel. He felt no pain, only outrage and humiliation to have been injured so. The next thing Grievous spotted was that he had lost his grip on the lightsabers that had been in his left hands at some point. The loss of such trophies further galled him.

Quickly, his yellow eyes darted about, seeking the source of the attack. He did not have to search for long. In the sky were a trio of Republic LAAT gunships, their side doors wide open to expose the clone troopers within. One of the troopers was hefting a shoulder-mounted rocket launcher with a slight trail of smoke trickling out.

Grievous growled in impotent fury, but pushed himself to his feet and made to continue his flight regardless of his injuries. But then he felt a pair of blunt impacts against his back, and then something pulling him backwards. Two clones in the gunships had fired magnetically-locked cable guns into his back and were attempting to hoist him backwards.

Grievous snarled furiously. This was the last straw!

The cyborg’s two remaining arms seized both cables and yanked with all his superhuman might. Both clones, unprepared for the sheer strength of his deceptively thin arms, tumbled from their ships with a scream. Before they could even begin to scramble to their feet, Grievous was on them. The first’s head he crushed beneath one of his feet, earning him a messy spray of blood and brain fluid.

The second clone was less lucky. Grievous grabbed him by his armored midriff, hoisting the flailing clone above his own head. Furiously, he plunged his clawed fingers through the clone’s armor and into his flesh. The trooper screamed his agony as the cyborg literally tore him in half before the horrified gaze of his brothers.

“You will never defeat Grievous!” the now blood-drenched cyborg howled his defiance up at the gunships, tossing the mangled corpse of the clone away. “Never!”

“I beg to differ, general.”

Grievous’ eyes darted to the base of the tower where he had jumped from, where Obi Wan Kenobi now stood. Snarling incoherently, Grievous’ two left arms darted for the last lightsaber still attached to his waist. But he was too slow.

Obi Wan Kenobi’s hand was outstretched, and the final cylindrical device flew from Grievous’ waist before he could grab it. The Jedi caught the lightsaber of his fallen colleague in his left hand, igniting the green blade with a *snap-hiss*.

Kenobi’s face was hard as he pointed both of his blades at the damaged cyborg. “Surrender, Grievous.”

Behind him, the cyborg heard the sound of gunships touching down and armored boots hitting the ground. He could sense that he was surrounded. But he was Grievous, warrior of Kalee and the Separatist Alliance, and he would not humiliated!

“Never!” he screamed.

Grievous turned away from the Jedi Master and hurled himself towards one of the grounded gunships. Blaster bolts nicked his badly-battered armor, but it sufficed to protect him long enough for him to reach the LAAT. Then he was in amongst the clones, and the killing began.

Grievous punched, kicked, and headbutted, lashing out with nothing more than his bare hands and feet. Armor and bones alike crumpled beneath his durasteel limbs, further soaking the cyborg in blood. Within seconds, every last clone trooper in the passenger compartment was dead or bleeding out on the ground. Grievous tore the door off the cockpit and punched the pilot’s helmet and skull in without ceremony, intending to try and use it for his getaway.

And then a blue blade came flying from behind to slice through both of his left arms.

Grievous was hurled forward into the gunship’s controls by a powerful Force shove while the blue lightsaber flew back into the hand of the man who had thrown it. The Jedi advanced while the now armless cyborg struggled to right himself. When Grievous finally managed to roll over onto his back, he found a blue lightsaber blade directly between his eyes.

“Now, general,” said Obi Wan Kenobi, looking grim. “I believe we were discussing your surrender.”

A Grievous Setback

Princess Luna stood beside her taller, more stoic big sister while the Republic’s soldiers cleared out their castle. What she saw appalled the night princess. Cloned soldiers, their faces identical to those she had found dead aboard the Fateful, were hoisting the bodies of their dead and wounded onto their ships. The condition of the bodies was revolting – many looked as though they had been brutally maimed. One was missing his head, another looked to have been outright torn in half. The courtyard where Grievous had been captured was in shambles, its cobblestones coated with ash and blood. Seeing such a scene on an alien spaceship was one thing, to see it in her very home was quite another. It reminded Luna of just how fragile the peaceful beauty of Equestria could be. She mumbled a prayer of thanks to the old gods that none of the dead had been ponies, at the very least.

And then Grievous was marched out.

Luna couldn’t help but let out a gasp. If the Kaleesh cyborg had been a horror to look upon before, now he was an outright nightmare to behold. His white armor was scorched black in many places and covered in streams and splatters of reddish-black human blood. His long arms – all four of them – were gone, looking to have been severed near the shoulders. Luna couldn’t imagine how painful that must have been, and still be. His legs were bound by no less than three separate pairs of cuffs, forcing him to walk slowly, Obi Wan Kenobi and a number of clone troopers directly behind him.

But by far the worst thing about him were his eyes. They had already been unpleasant to look into, yellow and slitted and generally reptilian as they had been. But now they were bottomless pools of seething hatred staring back at Luna, making her feel as though she were some insect under the magnifying glass of a cruel god. The misery and loathing she felt pouring from him in waves made the alicorn feel both nervous and, though she tried to suppress it, a little bit guilty.

General Grievous halted his march not far from where the royal sisters stood. His escort immediately began readying their weapons, but all he did was stare at the two. Luna’s ears twitched nervously, and she fought the urge to shy away from the alien she had sold out to save her nation.

“You are all going to die for this, you know,” said Grievous in a voice that seemed strangely calm. “You, your families, your friends, and your people – all of them will die because of what you have done today. That I can promise you.”

“They will be doing no such thing,” said Obi Wan, activating his lightsaber and brandishing it warningly at the cyborg’s back. “And unless you wish to force me to remove your legs and carry you, I suggest you keep moving.”

Grievous snarled at his Jedi captor, but reluctantly continued trudging along at his slow pace without a further word. He was marched up the boarding ramp of a waiting Nu-class Republic attack shuttle. Kenobi and the clones followed him up the ramp, and a short time later the Jedi Master came back down. He strode towards the two princesses.

“Your highnesses,” said Obi Wan, bowing his head slightly. He looked dirty and exhausted. “You have my gratitude for the use of your palace, and for your assistance in leading General Grievous to me. His capture here would not have possible without you. It will save many lives, and perhaps do much more. So, again, you have my sincerest thanks.”

“I am simply thankful that none of our subjects were harmed in this operation,” replied Celestia. “Though I am sorry to say that the same cannot be said of your men.”

Obi Wan sighed wearily. “No, it cannot. We’ve taken the wounded for treatment, and our dead for proper burial. I regret to report that we couldn’t do much about the mess, though.”

Luna’s blue eyes wandered down to Master Kenobi’s utility belt, which she observed now held not one lightsaber but six. With a slight start, she recognized them for the very same weapons Grievous had been wielding.

Obi Wan followed the princess’ gaze. “These lightsabers were taken from Jedi that Grievous murdered in the past. They will be returned to the Jedi Temple, to be buried with honor in our traditional ceremony,” he sighed heavily again. “In many cases I don’t doubt these will be the only things we have left of our comrades. The good general is not known for being gentle to our bodies.”

Princess Luna found herself pitying Kenobi at that moment. For all that Grievous self-evidently loathed the man and his order, and despite the coercion Admiral Tarkin had employed, this Obi Wan didn’t seem to be a bad man. He looked, more than anything, tired. Tired of war and death and burying his soldiers and his fellows. The alicorn found herself wishing she could have met him under different circumstances.

“Regardless,” the Jedi continued, snapping Luna from her thoughts. “I shall see General Grievous up to our ships and ensure that he is properly imprisoned. Then I hope to return as swiftly as possible to conclude our business here,” he paused. “You still wish to join the Republic, do you not?”

“We seem to have no choice now, Master Kenobi,” answered Celestia. “With what we have done, by Grievous’ own words the Separatists will seek our blood. How else can protect ourselves?”

The Jedi’s expression saddened slightly. “Yes…” he bowed his head again. “For anything that it’s worth to you, I apologize in the deepest of manners for Admiral Tarkin’s behavior. I will do everything I can to see to it that he is punished for his actions.”

“We thank thee for thy concern,” Luna said. “When thou returnest, thou shalt contact this Chancellor Palpatine on our behalf, nay?”

“Yes your highness,” Kenobi replied. “I shall personally speak with him before you and urge him to accept your application in the strongest of terms. When I do, I swear I shall not leave the planet until it is granted.”

“That is reassuring to hear,” said Celestia. “We bid you all speed in your journey.”

“Thank you, your highness. May the Force be with you.”

“And with thee, Master Kenobi.”

Obi Wan Kenobi gave a final nod of the head, and then turned and marched back the way he had come. He climbed the shuttle’s ramp and disappeared inside it. Seconds later, the shuttle’s blue thrusters fired up and the ramp retracted inside. It and the LAAT gunships lifted slowly off the ground before zipping forwards and picking up speed and altitude. The group was soon gone from sight, vanished into the storm clouds still covering Canterlot.

“Well sister,” said Celestia, after they had watched the alien ships depart. “I suppose we had better round up everypony and tell them that it now safe to return to the castle,” she looked at the devastated courtyard. “And get a cleaning crew, I think.”

“Wouldst…” Luna shied away slightly.

Celestia looked curiously at her sister.

“Wouldst thou mind doing that, Tia? We… We…” Luna gestured mutely at the castle tower that had been her home, where most of the chase had taken place.

Celestia looked sympathetic. “Of course, Lulu. Take all the time you need.”

“Thank thee, Tia,” Luna embraced her sister. The two held each other for some time before letting go.

Princess Luna wandered through her palace tower for some time. The place had, to put it mildly, been thoroughly trashed. The exterior, needless to say, bore the marks of a rocket launcher and more than one blaster shot. Inside, Grievous’ wild flight through the corridors and blaster bolts that had come after him had taken their toll on the elegant tower marble and many works of art within. Some, even including ones that had been old and valuable when Luna had become Nightmare Moon, were utterly ruined. The priceless stained glass window the night princess had commissioned to mark her return to sanity had also been smashed into so many jagged shards.

The alicorn dreaded what she might see when she came to her own quarters, and her premonition did not fail her. The double doors she had spent so many hours lovely crafting had been blown of their hinges and torn into pieces. Inside was even worse. Everything was a wreck, without exception. If it wasn’t burned by blaster fire or covered in barely-dried blood, it had simply been smashed to splinters by sheer physical force. Her bed, her carpets, her furniture, her antique book collection – all of it was ruined now, beyond repair. Now Luna knew how Twilight Sparkle had felt after Tirek’s attack, only months ago. Had it really been so short a time? Luna shook her head and sighed. It felt like longer.

The night princess stared down at an enormous blood stain covering one of her imported rugs. What had happened to the man who had spilled that blood, she wondered? Was he crippled for life? Did he yet live at all? What kind of life did a clone soldier have to go back to even if he did survive? Without father or mother or sister or brother, or any family at all, how did one even live? To be grown in a lab for the sole purpose of war…

Luna shuddered at the thought.

The more the night princess learned about these Clone Wars, the more she found herself sympathizing with both sides. And, more to the point, the more she feared the idea of them coming to her beloved Equestria. Looking at the clone’s shed blood once more and recalling Grievous’ promise to her, Luna couldn’t help but wonder.

Had they done the right thing?

Onboard the Invisible Hand, Count Dooku sat on the command throne in silent, stoic meditation. All around him droids worked their consoles, struggling to keep the ship going and obey the barked commands of General Kalani. Outside, the blackness of space had been lit up by the sight of turbolasers and explosions, the Republic and Separatist cruisers exchanging fire while countless small fighters zipped between them, chasing one another or strafing the larger vessels.

Dooku ignored all of that. His sole focus was on the currents of the dark side of the Force, and on the mission his Master had given him. What he needed to do next was not as straightforward as it seemed, he could sense that much. The dark side was calling to him, trying to tell him something. His brow furrowed even further as the old man struggled to determine what it was the Force wanted to show him.

Seconds turned into minutes while Count Dooku sat immobile, wholly consumed by his meditation. The battle outside raged on, the thoughts and feelings and pain and death of those participating stirring the currents of the Force around them, though they knew it not.

Then, in an instant, Dooku’s eyes sprang open. He had his answer.

“General Kalani?” he said, rising to his feet and brushing a slight bit of dust from the shoulder of his cape.

The super tactical droid turned his three orange photoreceptors to regard the elderly human. “My lord?” he asked.

“The bridge is yours, general,” Dooku answered, turning and beginning to stride quickly towards the exit. “Ensure that the battle continues. I sense that my presence is required… elsewhere.”

General Grievous sat within the Nu-class shuttle in sullen silence. Normally a troop transport, this particular version had been modified to carry energy cages instead of more clones. The cyborg sat within the cramped confines of one, legs still shackled, clone troopers and Jedi Master alike standing vigil outside.

“You know,” said Kenobi, during the bumpy ride through the atmosphere. “If you cooperate, the Senate may be inclined to show leniency.”

Grievous said nothing.

“If you will tell us the identities of your masters, you might even be granted amnesty,” Obi Wan went on. “We know you are working with a highly-placed Sith Lord by the name of Darth Sidious. Tell us what you know about him, and I am certain we can strike a deal.”

Grievous’ only answer was a burning stare interrupted by a hacking cough.

Obi Wan frowned. “Have it your way then,” he said, stalking off to the front of the shuttle, out of the cyborg’s sight. But Grievous’ keen sense of hearing could still make out the sound of a holoprojector being activated.

“General Kenobi,” came the sound of a new voice with an Outer Rim accent.

“Admiral Tarkin, where are those fighters you promised us? We’re halfway out of the atmosphere and I haven’t seen a single one, much less three squadrons.”

“My apologies, general,” said this Tarkin, sounding to Grievous’ ears insincere. “But I’m afraid the Separatist fleet is pressing us harder than anticipated.”

The cyborg’s augmented heart leaped. Separatist fleet?! They were here?! Now?! Grievous barely resisted the urge to lean in closer to the cage’s bars, as it would make it too obvious to the clone troopers what he was doing.

“The fighters I intended to escort your and our prisoner were caught up in dogfight to protect one of our cruisers from enemy Hyena bombers. I have, however, dispatched alternates from the shipboard reserves. You should be in contact momentarily.”

“My thanks, admiral. Everything is ready shipboard?”

“Yes, general. Our brig is ready to receive the enemy of the state, and the fleet is prepared to jump to lightspeed once you are safely onboard.”

“And leave these people to the Separatists?!” Kenobi sounded incredulous.

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

Grievous wanted to laugh. The worthless alien equines had betrayed him to the Republic and now it sounded as though the Republic was getting ready to betray them as it had his people. His fellows would scour the planet looking for him, and when he was not found destroy the aliens for their impudence. His promise would be fulfilled without his even doing anything. Grievous’ only regret would be that he wasn’t there to see it himself.

Unfortunately, Kenobi insisted on putting a damper on that as well. “Yes that is a problem, admiral!” he was half shouting. “Those people aided us!”

“They are not Republic citizens,” the officer reasoned. “I see no reason that we should waste our resources to defend them now that we already have what we came for.”

“We are not abandoning them, Admiral Tarkin!” Obi Wan declared firmly. “That is an order! Am I clear enough?”

“Yes, general,” Tarkin sounded sour.

In the next second, Grievous heard the sound of the holoprojector switching off. Kenobi returned to the shuttle’s converted brig shortly thereafter.

Obi Wan Kenobi breathed a small sigh of relief when General Grievous was marched into the detention cell onboard the Liberator. He had had a distressingly bad feeling about the trip, but surprisingly not only had Admiral Tarkin been true to his word, everything else had proceeded smoothly as well. Yes, there had been a few flight of Vulture droid starfighters that had come distressingly close, but the clone-piloted starfighters of the Republic had been enough to see them off. They hand landed in one of the Victory-class Star Destroyer’s ventral fighter bays without incident and marched the captive cyborg to the brig. Now that he was enclosed in four walls of solid durasteel, the Jedi Master felt much better.

Obi Wan began making his way towards the ship’s bridge, pondering precisely what the premonition he had felt meant. Perhaps the battle outside was going poorly? Admiral Tarkin was many things, but a coward was not one of them. He wouldn’t have suggested retreat if he didn’t genuinely think there was a serious chance of the Republic losing. He would want the prestige of destroying another Separatist fleet added to his record if he could at all get it. The Jedi stroked his beard in thought.

Kenobi was so busy musing on the potentials that he almost missed the sounds of ship-wide alarms going off. Wails sounded throughout the vast behemoth, and red lights on the ceiling flashed an emergency warning pattern. Torn from his thoughts, Obi Wan struggled for half a second to recognize what specific alarm was going off. When his training kicked in, the Jedi Master turned on his heels in the hurry, biting back a curse. What did he expect, that this was going to be easy? Of course it was that alarm.

The boarding alarm.

A Grievous Reunion

Admiral Wilhuff Tarkin stood confidently on the bridge of the Liberator, his hands clasped behind his back, and observed the battle outside. One of the enemy’s Munificent-class frigates had broken formation to charge into the heart of the Republic fleet and fired several Droch-class boarding ships into the Liberator’s hull from close range. The short distance they had to travel had ensured that the vast majority of the boarding craft had evaded his guns and survived to punch through the Star Destroyer’s outer hull. The four spikes on each boarding ship had opened to disgorge a number of B-2 super battle droids and B-X commando droids into the Republic ship.

The cost of all of this was the fact that the Munificent-class frigate that had broken formation had put itself into the teeth of the Republic’s guns. Badly out of range of enemy help, Tarkin watched with satisfaction as the Star Destroyers of his fleet overwhelmed its shields and silenced its guns one by one. Soon enough a turbolaser battery penetrated the frigate’s armor and outer hull, scoring a hit on its primary reactor core. The frigate exploded in a tremendous fireball that briefly filled the sky with a second sun. And then it was gone, and all that was left were chunks of debris deflecting off the shields of his fleet.

Tarkin smiled confidently. The Separatists had had a slight advantage in the long-distance battle of attrition that the space combat had become. Now, with one of their capital ships destroyed, the odds were weighted in the Republic’s favor again. Yes, it was obvious why they had chosen to do so – the timing of the boarding so soon after Grievous’ arrival was too close to be a coincidence – but it didn’t matter. His crew were well-disciplined veterans of many battles. They had repelled droid boarders before, and they would do so again now. They knew what to do, so he needn’t bother with interfering. His task was to focus on destroying the enemy’s armada and secure the system for the Galactic Republic.

Besides, Master Kenobi was aboard. Whatever their ridiculous notions of honorable warfare, the one thing that the Jedi could be counted on to do well was swing their lightsabers around. He could certainly see off another wave of mindless machines.

Admiral Tarkin smiled once more. Yes, the battle was his now. Still… it couldn’t hurt to be certain…

Obi Wan Kenobi raced through the corridors of the Star Destroyer, the wailing of the boarding alarms ringing in his ears. He had to get to the detention level. He knew, immediately and instinctively, that the boarders would be heading there. The Jedi called on the healing power of the light side to reinvigorate his worn muscles and speed his steps, his lightsaber ready one hand.

Without warning, his wrist comlink beeped, alerting him to an incoming communication.

“General Kenobi?” came the sound of Admiral Tarkin’s voice a few moments later.

“Yes, what is it?” Obi Wan barked into the device, holding his right wrist not far from his face as he ran.

“As you are no doubt aware, we have been boarded. Several Droch-class vessels have punctured our hull and unleashed boarding parties, which have spread out in all directions. My crew is hard at work trying to repel them. I believe, however, that most of these attacks are merely a distraction for an attempt to rescue General Grievous. They don’t have enough droids to take the ship.”

“I agree,” said Obi Wan. “I’m heading to the detention level right now.”

“Good. I trust you can command the defense there without my aid?”

“Anything you could send would be appreciated, Admiral, but I’d ask that you focus on not allowing any more ships to board us.”

“Very well, general. Admiral Tarkin ou-”

Obi Wan Kenobi didn’t quite catch the admiral’s last words, as he had just rounded a corner and come face-to-face with a B-2 super battle droid. The machine immediately leveled its double blaster cannons built into its right arm at the Jedi and opened fire. But Kenobi’s blue blade was already active and in motion, deflecting several of the droid’s shots into the walls, floor, and finally right back at it. The B-2 staggered, its grey armor only partially succeeding in negating the blaster fire.

Before the droid had any chance to recover, Obi Wan leaped forward and sliced off both of its arms at the elbow in one smooth motion. He thrust his left hand into the machine’s face at point-blank range. The powerful Force push hurled the helpless droid back down the corridor where it bowled over two of its fellows. There were more still behind that trio, and these super battle droids also opened fire on the Jedi Master.

But Obi Wan Kenobi was in his element. The B-2s were powerfully-built and well-armed, but compared to the likes of General Grievous their attacks came at a snail’s pace. Further, their cheap processors were simple and predictable, knowing little of tactics beyond marching forwards and firing at the enemy. The Jedi blocked or dodged each blaster shot with ease even while running directly at the droids. They meandered forward with the stupid fearlessness only those lacking in brains could possess.

Obi Wan reached the first droid and sliced it in two with one move. The second got a stab through it face, and then was grabbed by the Force and held between the Jedi and the other droids, getting a volley of blaster shots into its back. Kenobi then dropped the droid and thrust both of his hands forward, generating a powerful Force wave. In the narrow corridors of the Star Destroyer, the battle droids had nowhere to go and were bowled over en-mas. Very top-heavy in their armor, they struggled to regain their feet as Kenobi rushed by, dealing each droid a single, quick finishing blow. The Jedi Master left a full dozen B-2s behind as smoking scrap.

By the time that Obi Wan reached the detention level of the Liberator, it was in chaos. Clone troopers, taking cover around walls, outcroppings, and control consoles, were exchanging blaster fire with B-X commandos. Several bodies of both clones and droids littered the ground, and Kenobi saw that one of the droids was toting a rocket launcher.

It was that particular commando droid that the Jedi targeted first, leaping gracefully over the heads of the others to descend on the rocket-equipped machine. He beheaded it before it had time to do more than look at him, then turned and deflected a trio of red blaster bolts from another. Two of the machines drew vibro-knives and flipped through the air to land before him. Kenobi blocked the first slash, his lightsaber easily cutting through the ordinary durasteel of the droid’s blade. The other droid made a simultaneous stab at him, which he sidestepped.

Obi Wan brought lightsaber down on the second commando’s extended arm, slicing its hand of at the wrist. The claw-like hand and knife hadn’t even hit the ground yet when he followed up by slicing upwards across the droid’s chest. The first commando was frantically backing off, drawing its blaster rifle again and opening fire on full auto. Even at that speed the bolts came too slowly, the blue lightsaber moving in tune with the Force to block each and every one of them. A clone trooper took advantage of the droid’s preoccupation to take aim and put a blue blaster bolt straight through the droid’s head, dropping it.

The last two commando droids turned their entire attention to the Jed Master, firing their blasters on automatic, trying to overwhelm his defenses. But Soresu had yet to fail Kenobi, and it did not this time either. He caught or dodged each and every bolt the droids fired at him, deflecting one right back into the face of the droid that had fired it. The last commando found itself lifted into the air by the power of the Force. It flailed briefly before Obi Wan pulled it directly onto his outstretched blade, impaling the machine through the chest.

The droid’s white photoreceptors winked out, and Obi Wan deactivated his lightsaber, allowing the ruined machine to fall to the floor with a clang. The Jedi took a deep breath while the seven surviving clones slowly got to their feet.

One of the clones, wearing the colors of a sergeant, saluted. “Thanks for coming when you did, sir,” he breathed. “Was gettin’ a bit hairy for a minute there.”

“So I see,” said Obi Wan, taking in the number of bodies littering the floor. He glanced back up at the troopers. “Shouldn’t there have been more of you here? Admiral Tarkin said he was sending reinforcements.”

“That’s what we heard too, sir,” the officer shook his head. “But no one showed up. And nobody’s responding to our communications.”

“What?!” Kenobi’s eyes widened a fraction. Being jammed onboard their own ship? He immediately activated his wrist comm. “Admiral Tarkin, do you read me? Admiral?”

Nothing happened.

“Admiral, do you copy? This is General Kenobi, reporting from the detention cell block. Do you read me?”

Again, there was no response.

“That’s what we got too, sir,” one of the other helmeted clones noted.

Obi Wan shook his head. “Communications cut off on our own cruiser? How is that possible?”

“It seems simple enough to me, Master Kenobi,” came the sound of an uncomfortably familiar bass voice.

Obi Wan Kenobi whipped his head around, his lightsaber already back in his hand. Striding through the entranceway to the detention level was an elderly, well-dressed human man, who moved as though he was on nothing more than a gentle stroll through a park. His features were distinguished and pleasant, complimented well by a full head of white hair and neatly-trimmed beard. He wore a broad smile, showing pearly white teeth.

“Count Dooku,” the alarmed Jedi Master said, taking several steps backwards. The clones behind him leveled their guns at the old man.

“Indeed,” he said, pleasantly. “If you would do me the kindness of releasing my general without further unpleasantness,” he smoothed a small wrinkle from his sleeve. “I should be favorably inclined to accept your surrender.”

“I don’t think so,” answered Kenobi, activating his blue blade once more and falling into a defensive stance.

“Hmmm,” Dooku sighed. “Pity.”

Then his hands shot up from his sides. Dooku’s fingers curled into claws and unleashed a withering torrent of Force Lightning. The blue electricity flew through the air at everything before the Sith Lord. Consoles shorted out, computers went haywire, downed droids twitched spastically with unnatural vigor. But the manifestation of dark side cared nothing for the technology, concentrating on the living things.

Kenobi was able to channel the light side, drawing the lethal forks of lightning that came at him into his lightsaber, dissipating them harmlessly. The clone troopers were not so lucky. They screamed their agony to the world as unnatural electric currents coursed through their bodies, burning skin and armor, searing organs, and boiling blood. By the time the current ceased a few seconds later, the seven clone troopers had become seven smoking corpses, which collapsed to the ground in a heap.

“Now then, Master Kenobi,” said Dooku, his voice still incongruously pleasant. “For the sake of my old apprentice, Qui-Gon Jinn, and the bond you once shared, I shall permit you one more chance to lay down your arms.”

Obi Wan grimaced at the mention of his Jedi Master, murdered years ago on Naboo by the Sith Lord Darth Maul. But his face remained resolute.

“Master Qui-Gon would have rejected everything you stand for, Dooku,” he declared. “As do I.”

Dooku’s face darkened. His curve-hilted lightsaber flew from his belt into his empty right hand, spouting its crimson blade with a *snap-hiss*.

“So be it,” he said, twirling the saber in an elaborate Form II salute. “But remember, Skywalker is not here to save you this time.”

“I won’t need saving, Dooku.”

“We shall see.”

Dooku threw himself forward with speed that would have astounded an unprepared onlooker. Kenobi had seen it before, though, and had been expecting as much. The Count of Serenno immediately fell into the quick jabs, pivots, and slashes of Form II, Makashi. As Kenobi had mastered his chosen form, so too had Dooku perfected the finesse-based dueling style. His attacks lacked the raw physical power of Grievous or the cyborg’s sheer speed, but all the same Obi Wan found them much harder to defend against. Dooku’s blade seemed to be everywhere at once, constantly alternating between attack and defense, keeping his opponent unbalanced.

Slowly but surely, Obi Wan was forced to cede ground to Count Dooku, backing out of the ruined detention level control room and into the hallway with the cells themselves. Dooku never stopped pressing the Jedi Master, coming uncomfortably close to his neck with one jab of his red ligthsaber. Kenobi backed off some more. He couldn’t beat the count in a straight fight, but he didn’t necessarily have to. He needed only to hold him off until reinforcements arrived to secure the area.

But then, as Dooku stepped forward and fell into another rhythmic Makashi attack sequence, Kenobi noticed something. The man was starting to breathe more heavily. It was a slight thing, not particularly serious when one considered Dooku was well into his eighties, but the Jedi Master spotted it nonetheless.

“Maybe…” he thought. “Just maybe…”

Kenobi shifted tactics, throwing himself forward directly into Dooku’s face. His blue lightsaber flashed over and over again, pounding at the count’s defenses with a series of unsubtle overhand power blows. It was not Obi Wan’s specialty, but Makashi’s weakness had always been to overwhelming strength, so maybe…

It was when the two blades were locked together, both of Obi Wan’s arms pressing down hard against the one arm holding Dooku’s weapon, that he noticed something quite different. His opponent wasn’t breathing hard anymore.

And he was smiling.

Dooku’s rancor leather boot shot up without warning, bypassing the locked blades to deliver a potent kick directly into Obi Wan’s Adam’s apple. Instantly, the Jedi stumbled back, clutching his throat and coughing madly. Dooku’s left hand was extended in a heartbeat, and once more unleashed Force Lightning.

Obi Wan Kenobi was enveloped in the agonizing blue forks of electricity. His nerves spasmed wildly as the sheer force of the attack lifted him from the ground and flung him down the long detention cell corridor. He smashed into the solid durasteel wall on the far end at great speed and fell to the ground, smoking.

Weakly, the Jedi Master managed to look up. Count Dooku deactivated his lightsaber and returned the curved hilt to his belt. Reaching out with one hand, he made a simple gesture. Immediately, the hallway’s sets of double durasteel blast doors, meant to contain any would-be escapees, slammed shut between the two, cutting them off altogether.

General Grievous sat sullenly in his cell, brooding on his capture, and on what he would do to the treacherous equines once he was free of this place. There was very little else to do in that confined space, consisting as it did of heavily-angled grey-black durasteel walls, an elevated, matching, flat block for a bed, and absolutely nothing else. He could neither see nor hear anything that went on outside, and so was left with nothing but his own thoughts for company.

To make himself feel better, he imagined crushing Kenobi’s skull between his clawed hands. Slowly, of course. Nothing less for his most hated of enemies. The image was delightfully messy, which was almost enough to make Grievous feel better about his own failure and miserable captivity.

Almost.

And then, without warning, the cyborg was yanked from his thoughts by the sound of the cell door’s hydraulics hissing. The automatic door rose as Grievous looked up, wondering who the Republic had sent in to interrogate its most famous enemy. His yellow eyes widened considerably when he saw who it really was.

“General,” said Count Dooku, taking a few steps down into the cell.

“My lord,” answered Grievous, blinking before bowing his head both out of respect and shame to be seen in such a state. “What are you doing here?”

“Is it not obvious?” the count queried.

“Of course, my lord,” Grievous said, feeling increasingly humiliated by the second. “I just… I just…” he struggled to find the words. “I just was not expecting to see you here,” he finally managed, now positively burning with shame.

“Indeed,” replied Dooku. He grasped his lightsaber and thumbed the activator. With a smooth flick of his hand he severed the shackles binding Grievous’ feet together.

General Grievous got to his taloned feet, wordlessly nodding his thanks.

“Come then, general,” continued Dooku, turning his back and marching right back up the stairs and into the corridor outside. “We must not tarry here.” As Grievous also made his way from the cell, the count paused to add. “Lord Sidious is most eager to hear your account of this place.”

Pall of the Dark Side

General Grievous followed in Count Dooku’s footsteps as the old man walked briskly out of the detention level, his feet brushing aside the corpses of clone and droid alike as he did so. The cyborg, being both larger and feeling more vindictive, made certain to tread atop the mangled remains of his brief jailers on the way out. The feel of armor and clone flesh crushed beneath his talons did the general’s mood some good. He was briefly curious as to why several doors had been deployed further back on the detention level, but reasoned that they probably all had been, and Count Dooku had simply forced the ones in his way open.

Once the pair had exited the detention level, the count made a quick right turn and led his armless general through a winding series of nearly-identical corridors. Grievous noted on the way the presence of a number of clone bodies bearing what he recognized as the distinctive marks of Force Lightning and lightsaber cuts. His yellow eyes flicked back to his lord, feeling inspired. It was hard not to respect his combat prowess, especially considering his species and advanced age.

Dooku said not a word during their convoluted journey through the bowls of the Star Destroyer, and only once raised his hands. When the pair heard the sounds of battle around a bend, the count motioned for Grievous to wait before rounding the corner himself. There was a crackle of electricity and sound of screaming, and then the old man returned and nodded. Grievous was treated to the sight of several sparking, twitching clone corpses being marched over by a unit of super battle droids.

The minions went their own way, as did the count and the cyborg. After a few more minutes’ journey through the ship, they arrived in a secondary hanger bay that had been overrun by battle droids. The thick durasteel doors to space were sealed shut and scarred by blaster fire. B-2 and B-X droids offered their leaders salutes as they passed by, standing at crisp attention. Count Dooku climbed into a slightly-singed Nu-class shuttle, and Grievous followed him inside.

To the cyborg’s lack of surprise, the shuttle had already been crewed by a number of black-armored commando droids. The Sith Lord, as always, had planned for everything. At an unspoken signal, the droids outside triggered a set of explosive charges, rending the bay doors apart and sucking everything in docking bay into the void.

Debris, corpses, and helpless droids alike spun out into the vacuum while the hijacked shuttle raced hastily for the Separatist fleet, and safety. Dozens of Vulture droids swarmed about the transport, driving back enemy fighter attacks and even hurling themselves into the guns of capital ships to buy their masters the time they needed. The Republic’s fleet took a heavy toll on the droid fighters, but at last they broke free, zooming straight for the massive silhouette of the Invisible Hand.

Obi Wan Kenobi, supported under one arm by a clone trooper, limped into the medical bay of the Liberator some minutes later. Already overflowing with injured clone soldiers, the doctors present were prepared to offer the Jedi General a bed nonetheless, but he refused to push any of the soldiers from their places of rest. Instead he was given a shot of painkiller and several bacta patches for the worst of his burns, and a rather uncomfortable chair to sit down in.

Very soon after his most immediate treatments, the Jedi Master received a holoprojector from one of the medical officers. A small image of Admiral Tarkin stood looking at him.

“General Kenobi,” the admiral said. “It would seem that despite my men’s repelling of the enemy boarders, General Grievous managed to escape both his cell and the ship while under your guard. Would you care to provide an explanation?”

That was no way for a lesser officer to speak to his superior, but Kenobi wasn’t particularly feeling like squabbling over protocol.

“Count Dooku,” he answered, rubbing one of his lightning burns and wincing. “Count Dooku came onboard. He broke Grievous out.”

“I see,” Tarkin rubbed his chin. “It is a shame that you were unable to contain the general after my tactic lead to his capture and you insisted on our not retreating. Chancellor Palpatine will be disappointed to hear that.”

Obi Wan frowned, already planning his own petition to the Republic’s Supreme Chancellor.

“Still,” Tarkin continued after a moment. “All is not yet lost. If we can win the space battle, we may yet be able to recapture our foe, and perhaps even his master as well. Take your rest, Master Kenobi. I shall see to our victory myself.”

The hologram disappeared. Obi Wan Kenobi leaned back in his seat and breathed a heavy sigh.

Onboard the Invisible Hand, General Grievous was undergoing repairs. As his personal flagship, the Providence-class vessel was well-equipped with spare parts for the cyborg and the appropriate tools with which to attach them. After all, one did not do battle regularly with the likes of Jedi Masters and expect to always come out of it with all of one’s limbs intact.

Medical droids swarmed about the cyborg general, scurrying this way and that in their hurry to bring their master back to full repair. The nubs that remained of his lost arms had been removed at the shoulders, leaving two empty socket joints awaiting parts. Small machines were frantically scrubbing Grievous’ armor with antiseptic cleaning fluids, rubbing away the dried blood and dirt that had coated his bone-white shell. Files were being applied to his taloned feet, smoothing away the wear and tear, as well as making them sharper weapons.

A pair of medical droids entered the med bay, carrying a long white cyborg arm between them. Carefully, they joined the ball at its end with the waiting right socket on Grievous’ body, using a fusion torch to seal it into place. Grievous flexed the new arm experimentally, checking its range of movement before examining the hand at the end. He then split the arm into two, repeating the process with each.

“Good as new,” he pronounced, causing the two arms to merge back into one. “Now go get the other one.”

As the medical droids hurried off to fulfil his orders, another figure stepped through the medical bay’s doorway.

“General,” said Count Dooku, his voice and tone now sounding pleasant once more, if slightly weary. “I take it your recovery is proceeding well?”

“As well as could be expected, my lord,” answered Grievous.

“That is good to hear,” Dooku smiled benevolently. “Lord Sidious wishes to speak with you as soon as you are put back together, but first, I have something for you.”

From somewhere – where exactly, Grievous could not tell – Dooku produced a small box, which he offered the cyborg. The Kalessh took it curiously, not exactly knowing what to expect. Gifts were not something he was accustomed to receiving, especially not from a Sith Lord. He pressed the small button on the side, causing the package to slide open.

Grievous’ yellow eyes widened. Inside the box, laid carefully out inside cloth containers, were five lightsabers. And not just any five, but the very same five he had been carrying on the planet below, that had been taken from him by Kenobi. He knew their stories and appearances very intimately – he could hardly fail to recognize them.

“My lord,” Grievous looked up, feeling an extremely unusual sensation that he couldn’t quite identify. “Where did you get these?”

“I took a small amount of time to retrieve for you them while on board the Republic warship,” Dooku answered with another smile. “I thought you might like them back.”

Grievous blinked and looked back down at the five weapons he had taken as trophies from slain Jedi. Was he actually feeling a bit… touched? It was very rare that anyone showed any concern for him – granted, it was an even rarer occasion that he actually wanted any. Splitting an arm off, he reached down and grasped one of the blades in his new hand. It ignited with the familiar *snap-hiss*, forming a green blade of channeled plasma.

As he stared at the lightsaber, Grievous came to a realization. This moment, and what had happened so recently, he concluded, hammered home yet again a very important life lesson for the warrior of Kalee. Everyone else was faithless, worthless, had abandoned him in his times of need or even sold him out.

He could only trust the Sith.

“So,” said the holographic form of Darth Sidious, rubbing two fingers across his chin. “These creatures. You say they are strong in the Force?”

“Yes, Lord Sidious,” Grievous said from his kneeling position. There were very few beings in the galaxy he would willingly bow to, but Sidious was one of them. The Dark Lord’s plans were always complex and multifaceted, and he often did not know the end to which he worked. Still, they always seemed to lead him to more victories and more dead Jedi, so he wasn’t about to complain. He had also witnessed the Sith’s combat prowess on the one occasion they had met in the flesh, when they had traveled to Dathomir to do battle against the witch Mother Talzin and the rogue apprentice Darth Maul. It had been a very impressive display, to say the least.

“And their leaders? They can truly move celestial bodies through their sorcery alone?”

“I saw it with my own eyes, my lord.”

“And they have allied themselves with the Jedi,” Sidious looked thoughtful. “Hmmm…”

Grievous waited in silence and on one knee while the Dark Lord of the Sith considered what the cyborg had said to him. He had told Sidious everything he had seen, from how a full third of their kind seemed to use telekinesis at will to the way that their leaders could perform epic feats of magical prowess.

“These creatures must not be permitted to interfere in our plans, general,” the hologram declared at last.

“What is to be done, my lord?” Grievous asked, virtually salivating at the answer he knew must be coming.

“Wipe them out,” Sidious commanded. “All of them.”

If Grievous were capable of smiling, he would have done so. “Yes, Lord Sidious.”

General Grievous stormed aboard the ship’s bridge without any particular ceremony, Count Dooku following shortly behind him. General Kalani saluted their arrival and relinquished the command throne to Grievous, who settled into it. Dooku chose to stand in the background, arms folded behind his back, face neutral.

“Sir,” Kalani said to Grievous from his position directly beside the command chair. “Our fleet has fully engaged Republic forces, but our fighter contingent has suffered heavy losses. In addition, one of our frigates has been destroyed. The fleet is now outgunned. I recommend a tactical withdrawal from the field.”

“No,” said Grievous, dismissively. “We have a new mission. Move the fleet into orbit above the planet and prepare to initiate a full-scale bombardment."

“But, the Republic fleet!” Kalani protested.

“Is no longer relevant,” Grievous countered. “Our orders come directly from Lord Sidious. The creatures on the planet are our new target.”

“But sir, our fleet will be torn to pieces while our guns are fixed on the planet!”

“Acceptable losses.”

Kalani looked to Count Dooku for support, but the old man only nodded at the super tactical droid. With both his superiors against him, the meticulous strategist had little choice but to do as bid. General Kalani gave the orders, and the Separatist fleet began to move.

“Sir!” said one of the clones seated in the Star Destroyer’s bridge to Admiral Tarkin.

“Yes?” the admiral glanced at him.

“The clanker fleet is firing up its engines and making a move.”

“They’re retreating?” Tarkin asked, already devising a way to halt such a move.

The clone officer shook his head. “No sir. They’re not trying to get away, they’re coming towards us.”

“Let me see that,” Tarkin said, looking over the display console. Sure enough, scanners were showing the Confederacy warships angling down and in their direction. At their present course, the enemy fleet would pass beneath the Republic’s Star Destroyers and wind up in orbit over the nearby planet. It would put them in a good position to bombard the planet, but they would be an easy target for Republic guns while they passed beneath and exposed their vulnerable engines.

What were they playing at? The Separatists were outgunned and outnumbered, and instead of trying to get away they were going to trap themselves between Tarkin’s fleet and the planet? It didn’t make any sense.

Admiral Tarkin considered for a moment before the solution came to him. General Grievous had presumably just assumed command over the enemy armada. The general was well-known for being both reckless and vengeful, as well as having a great talent for slipping away from the scenes of his defeat.

Tarkin wanted to laugh. The insane cyborg was so consumed with avenging the equines’ betrayal that he was going to sacrifice the entire engagement just for the chance to get revenge on some insignificant primitives!

“Sir, should we move to intercept?” one of the clone officers asked.

Tarkin shook his head. “No. Let them pass and give them everything we’ve got along the way,” he pointed to a large icon representing a Lucrehulk-class battleship near the rear. “Concentrate your fire on that ship. It has seen the least action so far and represents one of their largest assets.”

“Yes sir!” the clones saluted, and began obediently implementing their admiral’s orders.

Letting Grievous trap himself against the planet was clearly the best move. Yes, he would probably get the chance to unleash his cannons against the primitives below, but so what? Every shot he fired against them was one that wasn’t hitting Tarkin’s fleet. While he concentrated on destroying the lowly inhabitants of a strategically worthless backwater, Tarkin could take his fleet apart piece by piece, then swoop in to capture the Separatists’ two primary leaders! And he would even be able to show a relatively light Republic casualty figure to boot!

Master Kenobi might object with the usual Jedi moralistic babble about the inherent sanctity of all life or other such nonsense. He would most likely propose some idiotic scheme of blocking their path, which would not only be sacrificing Republic lives and resources for the sake of backward equines, but would give Grievous and Dooku a much better chance of escaping. He didn’t understand that that the state’s needs came before the needs of the common citizen, much less the needs of unaffiliated primitives in the Unknown Regions. But Master Kenobi was in the medical bay recovering.

He, Tarkin decided with a slight smile, hardly needed to know.

General Grievous sat in his command throne, watching as the planet in the viewscreen grew larger and larger before his eyes. As the Invisible Hand and its accompanying fleet moved into optimal targeting range, he savored the moment. Now the filthy traitors would learn the price of selling him to Kenobi.

Behind the Separatist armada, the Lucrehulk-class battleship had suffered crippling damage to its engines and was being pounded by the guns of all five of the Republic’s Star Destroyers. It would only last a few more minutes, and then the enemy fleet would be on his tail. But it didn’t matter – there was plenty of time to do what Grievous needed done and then be away. The Invisible Hand was more than just a Providence-class carrier/destroyer; it was Grievous’ personal flagship, with all the upgrades that entailed. Among them was an engine more than capable of outracing any Star Destroyer the Galactic Republic could field.

“Sir,” said General Kalani, breaking the cyborg’s silent reverie. “The fleet has assumed bombardment position.”

“All turbolasers target the designated coordinates,” Grievous commanded, clenching his right hand into a fist. “And fire!”

The massive guns of the Separatist fleet swiveled to aim at the targets their commander had given to them. Then, as one, they unleashed hell.

Hundreds of red energy beams descended from the vacuum of space onto the blue-green planet below. They sliced through the atmosphere at unbelievable speeds, targeting cities, villages, forests, plains, and lakes alike, with no distinctions made. They fell to the planet in patterns calculated by unfeeling mechanical minds to most efficiently end all life in the targeted zones.

Where the beams struck, they exploded with tremendous force, smashing trees, vaporizing water, flattening buildings, pulverizing the earth, and setting the world alight. Fires raged out of all control through forests and grasslands, wherever material was to be found. Hundreds of ponies died in the first seconds, vaporized, crushed, incinerated, choked, or otherwise sent screaming into the next life beneath the guns of the Confederacy of Independent Systems. But not thousands. Certainly not the millions Grievous had intended.

For the princesses had not been idle.

From the day the alien visitor had first arrived on their world, the idea that they could come under attack at any time had foremost in the princesses’ minds. There were limits on what they could do, and as always they had hoped first in diplomacy and in friendship to shield their subjects from harm. Shield spells were an ancient and well-practiced form of magic in the land of Equestria. It had been no coincidence that certain groups of unicorns had been seen performing ritual warding around some of the nations most populated and important areas. Nor had it been a matter of chance that Shining Armor, the leading modern-day specialist in such magic, had been paying a visit to more than a few of the nation’s cities in those weeks. There had even been whispers about a certain draconequus getting involved. So it was that the worst of the initial bombardment was absorbed by magic, a very impressive feat.

Unfortunately, there were limits. There was nopony in the world who knew enough to shield the entire nation from orbital attack. The unpopulated areas of wilderness suffered the worst. With nothing to protect them, dozens of square miles of terrain were reduced to smoking craters in an instant. And worse, every strike that hit near the slightest bit of flammable terrain started another fire, all of which spread rapidly. Smaller towns and villages were almost as vulnerable, with several having no protection at all. These were vaporized outright, or set aflame, or crushed in the massive earthquakes that rocked the nation. Thousands more were to die in the minutes after the first strike as much of the environment, so long under equine control, was turned into a blasted hellscape.

By the end of the initial round of bombardment, scanners showed that Equestria was aflame. But she was alive.

“Good,” thought Grievous.

Behind the Separatist fleet, the abandoned Lucrehulk-class vessel at last succumbed to the Republic’s guns, exploding in a spectacular fireball that sent debris flying in all directions. With the enemy’s biggest battleship now dealt with, five Star Destroyers began rapidly accelerating towards the planet and the remainder of the Separatists.

“Sir?” asked General Kalani, urgently. “What should we do?”

Grievous looked up at the super tactical droid. “Begin landing our troops.”

“Sir?” the droid sounded confused.

“Take the fleet,” Grievous ordered, rising from his command chair. “Lead the Republic scum on a merry chase around the planet,” he pointed out into the void. “Keep them occupied. Let them think our invasion is the true distraction.”

“Sir, I have studied Kenobi’s profile. There is a 96.21% chance he will choose to defend the civilians before-”

“And that’s why,” Grievous cut the droid off. “You’re going to continue our bombardments. Target other lands, other places on the planet. It doesn’t matter where. It doesn’t matter what you hit. Don’t bother halting for better targeting. Just make sure something is bleeding, and they’ll chase you to the ends of the galaxy and back!” He let out a bark of laughter. “Even if he recognizes you for what you are, he’ll have no choice but to split his forces if he wants to come down and play.” Grievous rubbed his hands together. “And he has no troop transport ships! We’ll outnumber him on the ground. Best of all, the Jedi would never try to use orbital bombardment on our armies once we’re in among the civilians.” Grievous laughed again and began making for the bridge’s exit.

“Where are you going, sir?” asked Kalani.

Grievous turned his head around. “To finish this personally.”

Alien Invasion

Dozens of quad-winged C-9979 landing craft descended onto the burning land of Equestria at considerable speed. Supporting the landing craft were most of the Separatists’ remaining contingent of fightercraft. Vulture droids swept the skies clean ahead of the descending transports, while Hyena bombers cleared selections of ground with proton bombs, flattening prospective landing sites with ruthless efficiency.

There was panic in the streets of all of Equestria major cities as the naysayers’ worst predictions of alien invasion came to pass. With no warning their nation had been set on fire by an enemy that they could not even see. Now they could make out alien craft swooping down from space, enormous metal monstrosities shooting nearby pegasi out of the sky as they came. As ponies are want to do in situations that distress them, many panicked and bolted in all directions. The authorities everywhere struggled to enforce some sense of control on the populace – that is, when they were not a part of the panicked crowds themselves.

One by one, the transports touched down on the scorched earth, disgorging their cargoes of MTT transports and AAT tanks outside of each and every major population center in the nation. Fighters soaring protectively overhead, the troop transports trundled forward on their repulsorlift engines before opening up their doors. Racks containing hundreds of folded battle droids were extended and, one row at a time, unleashed onto the surface. In eerie, silent unison the droid armies of the Confederacy of Independent System marched on the land of Equestria.

Outside of her humble cottage, Fluttershy was racing around in a tearful panic. For absolutely no reason that she could discern, there had been some enormous, ground-shaking explosion while she had been inside caring for an injured squirrel. Now the air was full of choking dust, while towers of flame and smoke rose from parts of the Everfree. She couldn’t see well and had to wear a mask to breathe, but as ever, the yellow pegasus’ concern was not for herself.

If the pegasus was afraid, her animal friends were absolutely terrified out of their assorted minds. Those that were capable of flying away had already done so, disappearing into the massive black clouds that were blocking out the sun. Her chickens were squawking at the top of their lungs, running around their enclosure and leaping at the fence, frantically beating their wings in a desperate bid to be somewhere, anywhere but there. Her free-ranging pets were bolting uncontrollably in all directions, no matter how frantically she called out to them to stay calm and let her help. She tried to grab one of her friends that was close, a red fox, but it sank its sharp little teeth into her leg. With a yelp as much of surprise as pain, Fluttershy let it go, and it fled hurriedly.

To make matters worse, the animals of the Everfree that could leave the now-burning forest were doing so, stampeding out of the trees past Fluttershy and her cottage. They were not as friendly as those Fluttershy was better acquainted with, nor did they much care for the pleas of a single butter-colored pegasus to be careful with where they were going. To her horror, Fluttershy witnessed more than one large animal simply crush a smaller creature beneath its feet as it ran by, careless of others. Once she spotted a poor little raccoon stumble over a root, only to be immediately stampeded over by several others of its kind before she could do anything to help it. For the gentle-hearted nature lover, the scene was heartbreaking, and tears flowed freely from her eyes.

Fluttershy’s heart leapt as she spotted a familiar face emerging from the smoking woods. It was enormous grizzly she knew fondly as Mr. Bear, whom she had on more than one occasion treated for his reoccurring shoulder tension. He looked scared, one of his back legs had a limp, and his fur was badly singed. Fluttershy raced through the air to try and aid her friend, but before she could another shape emerged from the Everfree. Two-legged and dark, it flipped over Mr. Bear’s head, landing directly in front of him.

Fluttershy belatedly recognized it as one of that horrible alien monster’s minions. Droids he had called them. But what was it doing in the Everfree?

To her surprise, Mr. Bear shrank back before the black-armored droid, seeming almost to whimper meekly. The droid had something long and sharp in its hand, and before she had time to do anything but cry out a warning it drove the massive knife right into his shoulder. Mr. Bear roared in agony, flailing wildly with his powerful front claws, but the nimble machine easily avoided each blow. Backing away several steps, it reached to its back and pulled out another of its strange devices, leveling the weapon at the grizzly bear’s head. The sight of her animal friend in mortal danger drove the fear from Fluttershy’s mind, replacing it with the rage of a mother looking to protect her young.

“HEY YOU!” she screamed at the droid, which paused, turning its glowing white photoreceptors to face her. She stared back into those unnervingly soulless eyes bravely and without flinching. “LEAVE MR. BEAR ALONE, YOU BIG MEANIE!”

But Fluttershy’s real strength was not in her words, but in her eyes. When her friends were threatened, some latent power – Twilight had hypothesized that it was some as-yet unknown form of magic – within her came to the fore. The Stare, as she called it, had intimidated manticores and cowed full-grown dragons. The full out version she now gave the menace looming over her friend was enough to give pause to any living thing.

Such a pity, then, that the droid was not a living thing.

The commando droid pulled the trigger on its blaster rifle, the red energy blast easily burning straight through Mr. Bear’s skull, killing him instantly. Fluttershy let out a scream of horror as her friend’s corpse slumped limply to the ground. The killing machine turned to seek its next victim, leveling its gun at the sobbing yellow pegasus.

“Wrong move, tin-for-brains,” came the sound of a voice over the wind.

The commando droid looked around in manner that could have been described as frantic if it had had any emotions. Its head swiveled this way and that, blaster rifle pointing in all directions. It never saw what hit it.

Without warning, the smoke around the machine’s head flowed together into the shape of a bright red boxing glove, which promptly uppercut the droid’s chin. The impact was forceful enough to send the mechanical soldier flying through the air and directly into a nearby tree. Its head thoroughly smashed, the commando droid slumped uselessly to the droid.

The smoke continued to materialize before the startled pegasus’ eyes, forming a long, almost serpentine body of mismatched parts. Also a pair of boxing gloves and matching shorts.

“He goes down!” cheered the voice from somewhere. “It’s a round one knockout! A round one knockout! Oh, I’ve never seen anything like in all my years folks! A real round one knockout!”

The figure punched the air a few times with its boxing gloves before raising its hands triumphantly to applause that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.

“Thank you, thank you!” he said, blowing kisses in random directions. “Thank you all! You’ve been a lovely audience!” he turned to face Fluttershy. “Especially you, my dear,” he said with wink.

Fluttershy blinked. “Discord?”

“In the flesh,” he said, somehow emerging Fluttershy’s ear.

“Oh thank goodness you’re here!” she wrapped her front legs around the draconequus’ chest, sobbing. “It’s horrible! Everything is on fire and I don’t why and so many animals are dead and nopony will listen to me and-”

“Shhh…” said Discord in an uncharacteristically gentle manner, putting a finger over the pegasus’ lips. She looked up at him with tearful eyes. “Let’s get you and your friends out of here, shall we?”

Fluttershy nodded, Discord snapped his fingers, and the both of them vanished.

In the crystal palace of Princess Twilight Sparkle, there was chaos. Those residents of Ponyville that hadn’t immediately bolted for the hills or cowered in their homes when the sky began to fall on them had mostly chosen to go straight to the local princess and several-time savior of the nation. They were swarming throughout the building, each pressing in on the thoroughly overwhelmed and equally confused young alicorn. A dozen shouted questions, pleas, and demands struggled to make themselves heard over one another, not even giving Twilight time to think.

She had been nervous when Princess Celestia had written to her of the terrible choice they had faced, and their decision to hand over Grievous to this Galactic Republic. She had been more nervous when she had helped a number of clone troopers covertly eliminate the droids that the cyborg had left behind in her castle. It seemed to her an act of war, though when she had turned her own telescope onto the scorched crater that had once been Sunny Glens she had immediately understood why the royal sisters had decided as they did. Protecting Equestria from such devastation had to come before even the ideals of hospitality – she was not so naïve to the ways of the world that she failed to understand that.

Only now, it seemed that they hadn’t managed to protect Equestria from anything. Without warning the world had been pounded from above, and now ponies were yelling about things descending from space on top of them. Twilight genuinely had no idea what exactly had happened, though she guessed that it was the Separatists come to avenge the treachery against their general. How they had known was up for debate, but the way deadly energy beams had pounded against Ponyville’s magical defenses left no doubt as to their intentions.

Everypony and their grandmother, it seemed, was vying for the princess’ attention. She could not in any conscience turn them away, but nor could she force them to be quiet long enough for her to establish any real sense of order. She was wearing her voice out with trying to shout over the other ponies for calm.

It was just as Twilight was charging a spell meant to temporarily freeze everypony around her in place that there was a flash of white light. The alicorn found herself surrounded by all six of her Council of Friendship, plus one towering draconequus. The shouted questions ceased… for approximately three seconds, whereupon they promptly resumed at greater volume than ever, now having eight figures to question rather than one.

Discord was considerably less hesitant to deal with the impromptu petitioners than Twilight had been. With a look of annoyance on his face, he snapped his fingers once and just about everypony in the room found their mouths replaced with sealed zippers. A few of the more desperate or brave souls continued trying to talk anyway.

“QUIET!” the spirit of chaos yelled at the top of his lungs, the force of the shout rattling the tree castle slightly. When everypony was too busy clutching their ears to try and anything, he nodded with satisfaction. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it? Now then, ahem,” he cleared his throat, glancing at the princess and her friends behind him. “Her Royal Sparkleness and the rest of these bunch,” he jerked his thumb backwards at them. “Will need to speak with yours truly for just a moment. So please be good little horses and resist the urge to try something stupid until we get back to you. Sound simple enough? Good, she’ll be right with you.”

With that, Discord grabbed both walls of the room in his hands and pulled them together like curtains, cutting off the mass of ponies from the those he had gathered.

“Discord!” Twilight looked both relieved and angry at the spirit’s sudden arrival. “Where have you been?! We need your help! Equestria is under – mmph!” Whatever the alicorn was about to say next was lost as her own mouth became a sealed zipper.

Discord, looking both irritated and a little less energetic than usual, folded his arms across his chest. “Hmmph! There’s gratitude for you! You know, if I hadn’t spent the majority of my juice defending it, there wouldn’t be an Equestria right now!

“Huh?’ Twilight had managed to dispel the enchantment on her face, and looked up at the spirit.

“What do ya mean by that?” asked Applejack.

Discord sighed. “Look, long story short because we haven’t got a lot of time: ol’ sunbutt came to me a little while back asking for help. She thought this place might be due for an attack sometime soon and asked me to lend a bit of my magic to her unicorn wizards. It’s because of that that every city in this country wasn’t flattened from orbit.”

“Y-You mean that?” asked the still-tearful Fluttershy. “Somepony t-tried to k-kill us all?”

“Yes my dear,” said Discord, looking a little sad. “They did. And they haven’t given up.”

Everypony, even the incomparably cocky Rainbow Dash, flinched back a little at that.

Discord’s tone was uncharacteristically serious. “There are thousands of alien invaders landing all across the country right now. It seems they mean to get the job done from the ground.”

“Well what are you doing here?” demanded Twilight in a frantic tone. “Can’t you go…” she waved her hooves vaguely. “Snap your fingers and make them go away or something?”

“Weren’t you listening?” Discord snapped abck. “I told you, I already used the greater part of what I’ve got keeping millions of your subjects alive!”

“And besides,” said a tiny voice in Twilight’s ear. “To be perfectly honest I haven’t felt quite like my old self since the whole Tirek “incident” a few months back. I haven’t been entirely sure why.”

“Well still,” Rarity took the initiative. “Twilight raises a good point. Of all the places you could be right now, why are you here? Shouldn’t you be in Canterlot, helping Princesses Celestia and Luna?”

“Because,” Discord’s irritation faded back to a trace of sadness. “Celestia made me promise that if anything happened, I’d see to you lot. “Those ponies are the greatest hope Equestria has ever had in its times of peril,” she told me. She said that if anypony would be able to save the day, it would be you lot.” The draconequus paused. “And because of you, my dear Fluttershy,” he continued, a moment later.

“M-Me?” the butter-colored pegasus blushed, shrinking back.

Discord nodded.

“Uh, not that this isn’t touching and all,” interrupted Rainbow Dash. “But can you please tell us exactly what business it is that we needed to know? ‘Cause there’s a lot of ponies out there that could use our help.”

“Yes, right,” Discord’s tone became serious again. “That. You should know that there’s a droid army thousands strong about five minutes from here, marching this way. And judging from what they’re doing to anything else they see, they’re coming to kill you all.”

There were gasps of shock and alarm from the six ponies and one dragon.

“Now listen to me,” Discord said, taking the time to look each pony in the eye. “I want you all to take everypony in Ponyville and run. Go southeast, towards Ghastly Gorge. There aren’t any droids for a good ways in that direction. I’m sure you all know where the old silver mines down that way are, yes?” When the spirit of chaos received nods of confirmation, he went on. “Good. Take every stallion, mare, and foal in this town and lead them there. The area is safe and there aren’t any aliens about. I looked.”

“But…” Fluttershy squeaked. “What are you going to do?”

“Me?” Discord sighed. “I’m going to make sure you have time to get away. What else?”

“No! You can’t!” yelled Fluttershy with unexpected vehemence. “If you’re already tired out and you try to take on so many, you might…” she hesitated. “You might…”

“Die,” Discord finished for her. “A possibility I can’t rule out, however much I might like to. But I’ve already accepted that risk.”

“Come with us!” urged Twilight. “You don’t need to anything stupid!”

“You’re being stupid for eating up time arguing with me when you could be running!” Discord countered. “If you don’t get some more time, they’ll catch up with you and kill every last pony in this town!” he sighed again, more wearily this time. “Look, if I had the juice left for, say, a mass teleport of any significant distance I’d agree with you. As it is, you need some time, and I can give it to you. If I make it, I’ll try and meet up with you again as soon as I can.” He turned away from the ponies.

“Don’t do it!” Fluttershy cried out, tears in her eyes.

But the spirit of chaos was already gone.

Not far from the outskirts of Ponyville, thousands of battle droids marched in eerie, silent unison along the dirt road leading to the village. Alongside them floated a number of AAT hovertanks and scouting commando droids on nimble STAP floating platforms. They had their orders directly from General Grievous: they were raze the village before them to the ground and kill every last living they found there. There would be no mercy, no stopping until every last equine had been slaughtered and burned to ashes on the great funeral pyre of their civilization.

It was not long before the scouts spotted a lone figure standing on the road in front of the army. One of the commando droids went in, firing its STAP’s dual laser cannons as it swooped down, intending to kill the figure as it already had several lone wanderers along the beaten path. And then the droid smashed roughly into the ground and was torn to pieces as its floating gun platform spontaneously became a pile of candy corn.

Discord stood there in overalls, a red flannel shirt, sunglasses, and a cap. In his hands, he cocked a shotgun.

“Let’s boogie.”

Chaos and Tyranny

The commando droids went in first. Soaring ahead of the bulk of the droid army, they reacted to their fellow’s destruction in accordance with their advanced tactical programming: they would encircle and destroy this strange creature. Two came at the draconequus from the front, firing as they went. Three more zoomed around each flank, while a solitary droid did a flying leap from its STAP to land some distance behind him, drawing its blaster rifle. Discord was surrounded.

He grinned. Perfect.

Discord gave them a taste of Ol’ Betsy’s twin barrels. For all their hardened durasteel armor, the droids proved quite vulnerable to high caliber slugs guided by the just the tiniest amount of chaos magic. The gun fired over and over, evidencing an ammo capacity far beyond what should have rationally been able to fit inside. Each bullet found its mark, taking out six commando droids in quick succession. Discord’s body contorted to avoid the blaster fire coming from the droid rapidly rushing him from behind. He pointed Ol’ Betsy over his shoulder and blew the droid’s head off without even looking at it.

Another pair of STAPs swooped towards the spirit, firing their guns wildly. Discord’s body twisted like a snake to avoid the shots. As they zoomed close, the draconequus grabbed one of the flying machines and swung up and onto it, nonchalantly kicking the droid off and into the distance. The droid on the other STAP drew its blaster and fired one-handed at the creature suddenly beside it, but Discord’s head split in two, the beams harmlessly passing through the hole. The return shot tore two enormous holes into the commando’s chest. It and its transport plummeted to the ground while Discord aimed his own hijacked ride in the same direction.

Discord leaped from the machine, landing easily on the dirt road while both STAPs hit the ground behind him with a satisfyingly dramatic explosion. He spun Ol’ Betsy around on his fingers, then blew the smoke emerging from her twin barrels away with a confident expression.

So far, so good.

General Grievous sat in the comfort of his command chair in one of the C-9979 landing craft at the base of a towering mountain. From here, he could monitor developments throughout the entire front, including the battle in space. More pertinently, he thought, looking up through the viewscreen, it would let him watch the equine’s capital and their precious princesses burn from an excellent vantage point. And, when the time came, lead the last charge himself.

But it would hardly do for a leader of his exalted status to go first into the breach to spare the existence of idiotic cannon fodder. That was why he reclined in the landing craft while thousands of B-1 battles droids marched up the mountain road towards Canterlot. Spearheading the attack were AAT tanks and dozens of commando droids on STAPs. Still awaiting deployment were the companies of B-2 and B-X droids, along with a reserve of armor and OG-9 homing spider droids. When the time came, Grievous wanted only the finest soldiers of the droid army at his back.

“Sir!” one of the red-marked B-1s manning the craft’s controls called for the cyborg’s attention.

“Yes?” Grievous turned his eyes away from his marching armies. “What is it?”

“General Kalani reports that the Republic fleet has launched a number of gunships into the atmosphere. They appear to be headed this way.”

“How many?”

“Scanners indicate at least two hundred, sir. Estimate twenty-four to twenty-five hundred enemy troops.”

“So, Kenobi is coming down to play after all,” Grievous said with narrowed eyes, already doing the mental calculations. He had tens of thousands of battle droids scattered across Equestria. But each clone was worth several B-1s, which were the majority. “He’ll have to concentrate his forces in a few areas to have any hope of victory,” he concluded. “Order our fighters to shoot down as many enemy gunships as possible on their way down. And what of their capital ships? Have they taken the bait?”

“Yes sir. General Kalani says that all five of the Republic’s Star Destroyers are in full pursuit of his fleet. He calculates that his flagship will be able to maintain a faster pace than them even while bombarding the planet, but says that the other ships will not. He asks what you want him to do.”

“Tell Kalani to have the Invisible Hand ready to make a break for the system’s edge on my command,” Grievous ordered. “And inform him that the other ships don’t matter now. He may do as he wishes with them. Just order him buy us enough time to complete Lord Sidious’ mission down on the planet.”

“Yes sir!” the droid tapped it control panel, transmitting the cyborg’s instructions to the orbiting fleet. Lights flashed and Aurebesh letters scrolled by on the droid’s screen as the two parts of the Separatist force coordinated their approach. “And sir,” the droid continued after a moment. “There is one more thing.”

“Yes?” Grievous prodded.

“It’s Count Dooku, sir. He says he’s coming down to join us.”

Discord faced the oncoming army with something approaching stoicism on his malformed face. There were almost five thousand B-1 battle droids marching in the fore in perfect rows and columns, with three groups of five AATs each bringing up the rear. Overhead, more commandos atop STAPs zoomed around the army’s flanks. A tactical droid had its head and chest poked out of the hatch of one of the tanks.

“Go,” commanded the tactical droid in a flat, robotic monotone, pointing a finger at the draconequus barring their way. “Go!”

The B-1s in the front rows leveled their blaster rifles at Discord and opened fire in a withering flurry of laser blasts. Discord tossed a handful of dust, which inexplicably became an enormous cloud sweeping down on the droid army. Unable to see their opponent, the droids kept firing regardless, hoping to score a hit by virtue of sheer numbers. Too mindless to consider retreating out of the whirling dust storm, they continued their march towards Ponyville.

At least, they did until dozens of their front ranks were crushed by a giant bowling ball.

“Strike!” shouted Discord, now dressed in a dark blue bowling shirt with a giant image of himself on the front. He reached down and grabbed the head of a wrecked commando droid, eyed the enemy carefully, and whirled his arm around like a pinwheel before tossing it. Mid-flight, it too became a ridiculously oversized bowling ball, crushing dozens of the machines that had so thoughtfully lined themselves up for him. “Strike two!” he cheered.

One of the AATs near the rear, its scanners less affected by the swirling dust than the photoreceptors of the droids, lined up a shot. Its main cannon aimed at the draconequus and unleashed a spectacular red laser burst. The spirit of chaos spun on the spot like a ballerina, moving fast enough to become a blur. Just as the tank’s shot was about to impact, his spin terminated with himself dressed in a white, striped baseball uniform, complete with cap and bat. He swung the wooden bat at the laser, knocking it directly backwards into the AAT’s front armor. It exploded violently, smoking remains digging a trail into the dirt road as its repulsorlift engines failed.

“Strike three!” yelled Discord, now in an umpire’s uniform. “You’re out!”

Princesses Celestia and Luna stared down from the walls of Canterlot as the droid army marched on their city. There were thousands of them walking in perfectly uniform formations, climbing the mountain that hosted Equestria’s capital at an agonizingly slow pace. Overhead zipped scores of fightcraft, not yet attacking the city itself but shooting down anypony attempting to fly off, soldier or civilian.

Communications with the remainder of the nation had been entirely cut off by the bombardment and the sky was choked with thick columns of smoke and ash. The princesses had no idea if any of the other cities had survived at all. If they did, surely they had their own troubles and would not be able to help the capital in time. It was entirely up to the alicorns, their soldiers, and the defenses they had had time to prepare.

The sound of thousands of metal feet marching in perfect unison was beginning to be audible over even the din of hurried soldiers and panicked civilians. It was unnerving in its soulless, mechanical precision, seeming to Princess Celestia to promise the end of all things. Foot by foot, the droids were eating up the distance between themselves and Canterlot’s low outer walls. The floating tanks in front were already swiveling their main guns, seemingly looking for the weakest points to shoot.

Then the first vehicle came into range, firing a bright red energy beam with a resounding crack that echoed above even sound of marching feet. It hurdled through the air at the city, only to explode against a shimmering, light pink energy shield surrounding it.

Princess Celestia swallowed.

Outside of Ponyville, the droid army was in chaos. Their tactical programming accounted for a wide variety of situations, but there was nothing in their databanks about dealing with, say, the dirt road beneath their feet spontaneously becoming slippery vegetable oil. Or an inexplicable stampede of marshmallow bunny rabbits swarming over their tanks from the rear, clogging up critical exhaust vents, causing engines to overheat in sometimes spectacular fashions. And there was certainly no programming suggesting how to react to a heavy rain of singing frogs throwing sensors off and making aim all but impossible.

“The wonderful thing about Discord,” the eponymous draconequus cheerfully sang to himself as he hopped around the confused droid army on a large pair of springs, crushing the head of a battle droid with each jump. “Is Discord’s a wonderful thing! His top is made outta blubber! His bottom is made out of spring! He’s flouncy, trouncy, bouncy, wownsy, fun fun fun fun fun! But the most wonderful thing about Discord is-” he spun in the air, coming down in the outfit of heavy metal musician, complete with electric guitar. “HE ROCKS YOUR SOCKS!!!” The battle droids nearest the sudden burst of noise wobbled and fell, unable to maintain their footing on the slick oil below.

“Yes my lord,” said the tactical droid into a comlink from its position atop the AAT, using one hand to shield its head from the rain of frogs. “We are experiencing a wide variety of unnatural phenomena, our progress has been-” Suddenly, the droid saw two feet in front of its face. It looked up.

“FORE!” shouted Discord, now wearing a golfing shirt and matching hat. He swung a heavy club, knocking the tactical droid’s head from its body, which wobbled uncontrollably and collapsed back into the tank. Its head went flying off into the distance, Discord watching proudly.

That proved to be the straw that broke the camel’s back. The droids had been confused, unbalanced, and completely out of their element. Now they were all of that and leaderless to boot. They could not in any true sense be said to be afraid, lacking as did any real emotion, but they recognized a hopeless situation when they saw one. Absent instructions to fight to the death, the army began to retreat piecemeal. It began with the remaining commando droids peeling off with their STAPs and heading back the way they had come. The surviving AATs, immune to the hazards of the oil-coated earth, were next to call a retreat. The B-1s, ever the cannon fodder of the droid army, had to break away on foot, and many of them lost all balance and collapsed under the constant pelting of frogs and the oil road.

Discord watched them go with an amused expression on his face, taking the time to toss a lit match onto the oil. Those unlucky droids that had fallen and been coated in the stuff quickly found themselves aflame, their circuits burning out in showers of sparks. When the last finally fled the zone of chaos, the ground was littered with the remains of some thirty-five hundred battle droids and eight burnt-out tanks.

When he was certain they were gone, the draconequus snapped his fingers one more time, and the chaotic environment reverted to its natural state, with the addition of wrecked Separatist machines. He then flopped backwards onto a freshly-conjured lawn chair, fanning himself, too tired to even bother with a victory dance.

“Whew!” Discord wiped the sweat off of his forehead. “Haven’t had that much exercise in…” he tried to count out the many years of his life, but swiftly gave up. “However long it’s been!”

For a few minutes, Discord simply opted to sit there, trying to recover a bit of his seriously-drained magic. He had given his pony friends the time they needed, now he needed some for himself. But then, the spirit perceived something on the edge of his senses. It was magic, though not of a type that he was familiar with. And it was coming closer.

A ship appeared on the edge of his vision, soaring through the ash-choked sky. It wasn’t like the others Discord had seen. It was elegant where they were brutal and mechanistic, seeming to slide gently across the sky where they tore through it at a breakneck back. It was long and brown, with two pointed spikes at the front. There was what looked to be a bubble of some kind between the two. As the craft grew nearly, Discord made out the fact that the bubble was actually a transparent cockpit. He stood up in preparation for another fight, but the ship didn’t move to attack him.

Instead, the odd craft touched down not far down the road from where the draconequus stood, crushing the remains of several droids as it did so. The engines audibly powered down, and a ramp extended. Down it strode a cloaked biped clearly of the same species as Obi Wan Kenobi, though obviously much older. Hands behind his back, the newcomer strode calmly towards the wary spirit, carelessly kicking aside droid parts as he did so. Discord’s magical senses told him that this was the source of the power he’d been feeling.

“You are the being responsible for this?” he asked in a neutral tone.

Discord eyed him carefully. “Who’s asking?”

“My name is Count Dooku.”

“Discord, spirit of chaos.”

“I’ll ask again: is this your doing?”

“Yes,” he answered.

“Hmmm,” Dooku looked around. “An impressive display.”

“What’s your point?” demanded Discord.

“Why do you fight for this planet?” Dooku asked.

“It’s being invaded. Duh.”

“I’m sure you are intelligent enough to realize that this world is doomed, irrespective of your actions here. You destroyed many droids, but there are many more,” Dooku said. “But for a being of such clear ability, this need not be the end.”

Discord said nothing.

“There is another path, you know. You can survive this, shed the limitations of this world and become something far greater. All you have to do is-”

“Yeah, stopping you right there,” Discord interrupted. “I’ve heard this line before. I’m sure you’re going to promise me power and the freedom to do whatever I want if I help you, right?” he chuckled mirthlessly. “Well, I fell for that trick once. Not this time. I’m sticking with my friends.”

“Hmmm,” Dooku eyed him. “Pity.”

Far faster than Discord would have bet he was capable of, Dooku’s hands flew up and unleashed a virtual storm of lightning at the spirit. He barely had time to raise his own mismatched paws to catch the lethal-looking stuff, but catch he did. He rolled it into a ball and threw it back at Dooku. The old man simply extended one hand. The ball of lightning impacted against it, forking out once more but flowing harmlessly around the human, instead devastating the landscape and machinery around him.

“Let me guess,” said Discord. “You’re the head honcho behind this whole attack, aren’t you?”

Dooku said nothing, merely waving a hand. A virtual tidal wave of mechanical parts flew from the ground and hurled themselves at the draconequus, who simply vanished in a flash of white light. He reappeared directly behind the count.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Discord said, breathing hard but looking angry. “Well, I have something special for you.”

As Dooku reached for his lightsaber, Discord put one finger on his forehead.

The spirit of chaos dived into the old man’s mind. A world began to form around him, representing the whole of Count Dooku’s personality, experiences, and memories, all blended together into the great essence of what precisely made the one-time Jedi Master and student of Yoda into the man he was. All sapient beings contained such a world in their heads, and in Dooku’s case it took the form of a vast city of towering skyscrapers, countless faceless civilians going about their business in a meticulously organized.

It was Discord’s intention to run amok throughout this mind. This was not a mere brainwashing as he had once inflicted on Twilight Sparkle and her friends. No, he intended nothing less than utter madness for the man who had already killed so many. He was going to drive Count Dooku to total and irreversible insanity, and he was going to do it through a bit of old-fashioned chaos.

Discord let his wildest instincts run free inside the count’s mind. The first thing he did was grab one of the civilians, a man with features so impassive he might as well have been wearing a mask, and turn him into a madly-grinned clown holding a Molotov cocktail. He danced crazily through the city’s streets, slinging chaos magic everywhere he went. People became tutu-wearing cats or potted ferns or chocolate fountains. Smoothly-gliding speeders metamorphed into flying fish and swarms of ravenous deck chairs and jars full of pocket lint and applesauce. The towering skyscrapers transformed from shining towers into mountains of dancing naked mole rats and clocks that went backwards from thirteen and peanut butter crackers doing stand-up comedy. In short, wherever the master of disharmony went, the orderly and efficient cogs of Dooku’s mind were broken down and remade in his own thoroughly insensible image.

So busy was Discord in his antics, so delighted was he to have a chance to really unleash his worst and most insane nature on a man who truly deserved it that he failed to notice another being forming. It started small, with the shadow of one of the countless millions of little people breaking off from its owner and slipping away into the city. Then it was the shadows of two people. Then ten. Then a hundred. Then the shadow of a speeder. The shadow of a soaring transport shuttle. The shadow of one of the city’s man skyscrapers. Exponentially, the shadows broke from their place and flowed together.

Discord sat upside down on an inflatable inner tube full of tapioca pudding in what had been the city’s center, throwing his particular brand of chaotic magic around with total abandon. Everything around him was a wild variety of colors, shapes, sounds, and noises, often thoroughly inconsistent with each other. Purple and green bees sang the songs of blackbirds, while grizzly bear-headed deer did a backwards conga line straight up into the air in defiance of all laws of gravity. The spirit of chaos was howling with delight in his work.

That is, until it started reversing itself.

Slowly, beginning at the edges of the great city, chaos began to give way once more to order. Machete-wielding trees laid down their arms and morphed back into the speeders they had been. A uniformed band of tuba-playing aardvarks flowed together into the towering colossus of steel and glass that it had been before Discord. The lion who juggled parasprites on a unicycle became the jumpsuit-wearing, featureless drone he had been before. Slowly but surely the changes of the chaos spirit were pushed back, reforming themselves into the bastion of absolute order they had been.

So engrossed was Discord in his game, so confident was he in his victory over the count, that he did not even pay the slightest attention anything but the latest object of his demented whim. Indeed, he failed to even notice what was happening until a massive shadow loomed directly over his improvised throne.

“What?!” he said, looking up from his latest entertainment, a jack-in-the-box that had come to life and was attempting to square dance with a yellow polka-dotted shrub. “Who are you and what do you want? And- uh…”

As Discord looked at and around the massive and amorphous humanoid shadow that towered over him, he saw for the first time one of his creations slowly reverting itself. The city around him was becoming once more a place of strict schedule and minute detail. A place of utter and uncompromising order. No, not even order. Tyranny. Absolute and all-encompassing tyranny, where not a single thing happened save by the wish of one being of all-knowing, all-powerful will.

And in tyranny, there is no place for chaos.

Discord actually shrank back slightly, getting a thoroughly unexpected and quite uninvited bad feeling about this.

“My name is Darth Tyranus,” declared the shadow in a booming bass voice that rocked the earth beneath it. “And you are trespassing.”

The shadow extended a great clawed hand. Lightning, black as midnight, forked out from its hand.

Discord screamed.

Back in the real world, the draconequus hit the dirt road roughly, his body crackling and sparking with lightning, his nerves consumed by agony, his senses blurred and wildly distorted. Count Dooku loomed above the spirit of chaos as the shadow had done in the world of his mind, his eyes squeezed shut and his face a mask of concentration. When he opened his eyes to gaze down on Discord, they were a burning, sulfuric yellow.

“What are you?” Discord managed in weak voice, looking helplessly up at the old man, his magic now completely exhausted.

Count Dooku snorted contemptuously, his hand reaching for the curve-hilted lightsaber on his belt.

“Your feeble skills,” the Sith Lord declared as the red blade emerged from the weapon. “Are no match for the power of the dark side.”

Count Dooku plunged his lightsaber into the draconequus’ chest. Discord, the great spirit of chaos, enemy and champion and savior of Equestria, screamed one last time as the burning plasma pierced and incinerated his heart.

And then, he was no more.

The Battle of Canterlot (II)

“Again, Luna,” Celestia said.

The night princess nodded eagerly, putting her horn to her lips once more and giving the signal for a second round of aerial attack. Once again, the pegasi of Canterlot launched into the air and began to dive bomb the droids attacking their city. This time, however, the B-1s were pressed from both in front and behind, and their stream of reinforcements had been shattered by the Republic’s dramatic arrival. Hit from in front by the Royal Guard, from behind by the Jedi and clones, and from above by the flight of Equestrians, the battle droids crumpled like paper.

As she swooped down through the streets of Canterlot, burning away the hateful machines from her city, Princess Luna spotted Master Kenobi. He looked as though he had been burned, badly in some places, but his face was a mask of determination. And his reflexes appeared to have been slowed not at all, deflecting blaster bolts from a dozen battle droids at once before bowling them over with a single gesture of an outstretched hand. His lightsaber cleaved through mechanical bodies like a scythe through what, and very soon he had carved his way straight through the Separatist line and to the positions still held by the Royal Guard. They at first regarded the Jedi Master and his clones a bit warily, but when they turned aside from the ponies to continue cutting into the droids, they gave smiles and even a few ragged cheers.

After the streets of Canterlot had been scoured clean of the mechanical scourge, Princess Luna made it a point to assist in the medical evacuation of the wounded. There were far too many, soldier and civilian alike, who had been badly injured in the Separatist assault. Her heart bled to see many of the ponies she had come to know among the corpses or the wounded. Civilians had been afforded no more mercy than the soldiers, with stallions and mares, adults and foals alike shot by the pitiless droids. Even her distant and rather annoying nephew Blueblood had had the courage to don ancestral armor and fight, only to have much of his foreleg blown off by a blaster bolt. As she watched him carted away on a stretcher, struggling not to cry out in agony, Luna felt her respect for her relative rise immensely.

As soon as she had made certain that the injured were being taken to the dubious safety of Canterlot Castle, Luna next sought out Master Kenobi from the air. Between the smoke rising from the burning buildings and equipment and the many hundreds of clone troopers taking up position throughout the city, it was not an easy task. Eventually she spotted him in the midst of conversation with her sister on a burnt-out Canterlot street, surrounded by a ring of troops from both the Republic and Equestria.

Both leaders took notice when Luna landed inside the circle, with Obi Wan turning to greet her.

“Your highness,” he said respectfully and with a slight nod. “I-”

He got no further, for Luna marched right up and slapped him across the face with a single armored hoof, knocking the Jedi from his feet.

“Luna!” Celestia snapped, hurrying to assist Kenobi even as the clones around them leveled their guns at her sister. “What are you doing?!”

Princess Celestia offered herself as a support while Obi Wan regained his feet, rubbing a now prominent red spot on his cheek. He leaned on the solar alicorn momentarily, signaling his clone troopers to lower their weapons. They did so, if somewhat reluctantly.

“That is for dragging us into thy war!” Luna snarled at the human. “We are a peaceful people, and now because of thee and thy admiral our lands doth lie in ruin! Thousands are dead because of thy Galactic Republic! And now thou hast-”

“SISTER!” Celestia’s Royal Canterlot Voice was enough to halt Luna’s would-be rant in its tracks. She looked back at the man leaning on her and her voice adopted a much more motherly tone. “Are you alright, Master Kenobi? Do you require medical attention?”

“No no,” Obi Wan waved his hand. “I’m quite alright, I assure you.” He glanced up at Luna. “Her highness has quite a powerful arm.”

Luna snorted as Celestia gently released the human, Kenobi resuming his upright posture and folded his arms in front of his chest. Celestia’s gaze fell back on her sister and her continence became wrathful. The solar alicorn marched directly over to her sibling, grabbing her ungently by the neck and pulling her so close that Celestia’s mouth was all but inside Luna’s ear.

“Idiot!” she hissed at the night princess. “You blind little fool! It does not matter why this has come about or what role he played in it! All that matters right now is that he and his army are all that stands between this city and annihilation! So you will show. Some. Bucking. Respect! Am I clear?”

As best she could while in a virtual headlock, Luna nodded meekly.

“Good. Now shut your foal mouth and let me do the talking. Understood?”

“Yes,” Luna managed.

Celestia released her sister with a snort. Luna shook her head to be rid of the uncomfortable feeling that comes with having several hundred pounds leaning on one’s neck. By the time Celestia turned back to Master Kenobi, her face was again pleasant and her tone warm.

“Master Kenobi, I should like to apologize for my sister’s rudeness. Please forgive her, I’m afraid the battlefield has quite got the better of her temper.”

Obi Wan shook his head. “No, I completely understand. I can certainly see how one might seek to blame us for this,” he sighed. “For what it is worth, I am sorry that this happened to you.”

“We do not blame you,” said Celestia with a slight glare at her sister. Luna cringed back. “It is the Separatists’ doing, not yours. You came to help us when you did not need to, and for that we are grateful,” she bowed her head a little.

“Your sister is partly right. Some of the blame for dragging your world into this must fall on us, and for that, I apologize. If Dooku hadn’t shown up when he did…” he shook his head.

“Dooku?” Celestia asked.

“The leader of Separatists. He showed up above your planet with a massive fleet and broke Grievous out of prison,” he rubbed a burn mark on his neck. “Defeating me in the process.”

The two sisters glanced at each other. “Grievous is free?”

Obi Wan nodded. “Unfortunately, yes. And he is here. Now.”

Luna swallowed, remembering the promise cyborg had made the last time they had seen one another.

“You have come to try recapture him, then?” Celestia asked.

“No, I have come because your people stuck their neck out for us, even if under circumstances I find extremely objectionable. It is our moral obligation to defend you in turn. If Grievous or Dooku can be captured here, it is merely a bonus.”

“What of the combat in space?” Celestia inquired. “Can we expect another round of orbital bombardment?”

Obi Wan shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. Not today at least. The Separatist fleet has been severely reduced and is on the run from our forces. Admiral Tarkin assures me that the pursuit is going well. There shouldn’t be any more trouble for your nation from that quarter at the very least,” his expression saddened. “But I regret to report that the Separatists appear to be indiscriminately bombing other parts of this planet as they flee. This has forced our ground and space assets to split up. I am afraid we will be receiving no more assistance from there for some time.”

The sheer ruthlessness of such a tactic stoked the already roaring fire of Luna’s anger. Inside, she burned to hunt down and destroy anypony so utterly disregarding the sanctity of life. Beginning with Grievous.

“What of those ships that brought you? Where have they gone?”

“Either shot down or departed for other fronts,” Kenobi informed her. “There are quite a few droid armies on the march in your nation, and we are trying our best to stop them all. However, our clone troopers are seriously outnumbered and stretched very thin. General Grievous appears to be withdrawing air support from other armies to secure the skies here, so we’ve sent our own out to try and make a difference elsewhere. It will do you little good to win here if the Separatists burn down the remainder of your kingdom in the meantime.”

Luna nodded. That seemed sensible to her.

“But does that not trap you in here with us?”

“It does,” Kenobi acknowledged. “But this is war, your highness. We’re all prepared to die.”

The way he said that made Luna feel both respectful and a bit frightened at the same time.

“Sir!” came the voice of a clone trooper in orange markings.

Kenobi turned to look at him. “Yes, Commander Cody?”

“The clankers are on the move!”

The Jedi’s lightsaber erupted into a blazing blade of blue.

Up the now-devastated mountain road to Canterlot marched the army of the Confederacy of Independent Systems. With dozens of Vulture droid fighters soaring protectively overhead to secure the sky, thousands of droids trampled the burnt corpses of their predecessors as they climbed. AATs took the lead, followed by ranked super battle droids. Enormous four-legged homing spider droids occupied the center of the column, while nimble squads of commando droids covered its flanks. After another long column of B-2s, a second group of heavily-armored AATs brought up the rear.

General Grievous marched alongside his droids, firmly encased in the middle of the vast column. Several MagnaGuards surrounded him protectively, spider droids looming menacingly at his back. Commando droids darted here and there ahead of him, ensuring his way was clear. Count Dooku had opted to take a more restrained approach, hitching a ride on one of the rear tanks to spare his limited energies for the actual engagement. Grievous was frankly surprised the count had come at all – it was very rare he personally took to the battlefield alongside the cyborg general.

At the head of the droid army, the first AATs pressed themselves through the shield and immediately opened fire. Their target was not any one individual or unit, but rather the already-devastated outer walls of Canterlot. Their heavy laser cannons and multiple projectile tubes unleashed a barrage of missiles that slammed into the damaged marble in a series of spectacular explosions. It was Grievous’ intention to level the walls altogether, so that the droids could flood the city more quickly and with fewer chokepoints. And, of course, because utterly destroying a city down to its foundations was very satisfying.

The droid army came to a virtual halt while the tanks blasted the walls, the only real movement coming from the commando droids, which were swarming over the AATs with their blasters pointed skywards. Grievous did not intend to allow another pegasi flight to take out his heavy tanks before their work could be completed. More commando droids rushed the shattered main gate, their goal simply to head off any ground-based counterattack. A pair of clone-carried rocket launchers on the wall took out as many tanks, but they were quickly forced to put their heads down or lose them by the commando droids.

Soon, with noises that sounded almost like groans of protest, the ancient enchantments holding the walls of Canterlot together were overcome by sheer firepower. Holes were blasted one at a time into the white marble, ancient towers toppled over into so much rubble. Chunk by chunk the great structure came apart, crumbling before the advanced weaponry of the Separatists. Those clones and ponies attempting to man them either retreated as they began to crumble or else simply perished alongside the age-old architecture.

Grievous gave the signal, and the first column of super battle droids advanced in accordance with the cyborg’s battle plan. They marched around the AATs, which were to remain where they were and focus fire on the distant silhouette of Canterlot Palace. Meanwhile, the B-2s were to march directly into the now-open city and engage the enemy head on. Scores of commando droids remained behind to guard the tanks from any attempt at counterattack. He would put the enemy in a double bind: try to stop the AATs from taking apart their palace piece by piece and allow the B-2s to advance unhindered from the air or else focus all attention on the super battle droids and allow their potential fortress to crumble behind them? They hadn’t the numbers to do both. Once again, overwhelming waves of machinery would allow Grievous an enormous advantage.

As the column in front of him advanced into Canterlot, Grievous let out a malevolent laugh.

Princess Luna watched in mute horror as the ancient walls of the city were being blasted apart. Inside, she yearned to lead another aerial counterattack against the tanks, but her sister quickly moved to put a stop to such a notion.

“No, Lulu,” she shook her head. “We are not going to charge those machines. We would be decimated.”

Her sister had a point. The droids perched around the tanks were almost as numerous as the entire aerial corps they had left.

“But if we do not,” Luna argued. “Will the infernal Separatist devices not simply stay back and take our city apart one building at a time, while we sit helpless and do nothing?”

“No, they will not.”

“How dost thou know?”

“Because they are on a schedule, Lulu,” Celestia said. “Grievous knows as well as we that he only has so long before the Republic’s forces in orbit are able to descend on his armies. We’ve just seen what happens should that occur. He will want his army inside our shield as soon as possible. Our task must be to hold them back. We will need all our strength for it.”

“But, Tia-”

“Lulu,” Celestia broke off observing the battle to look her sister in the eye. “Do you trust me?”

“I…” Luna hesitated, desire to take action warring with her sister’s words inside her. “Yes,” she said after a moment.

“Then please listen to me.”

Luna sighed. “Yes, sister.”

As Celestia predicted, the ranks of the super battle droids had immediately resumed their advance as soon as the wall had been brought down. Dozens, then hundreds, then thousands of grey-armored killing machines advanced into Canterlot proper. Their wrist-mounted double blaster cannons unleashed death onto both the Republic and Equestrian forces as they marched forward, not bothering to stop for even a second. They trampled over any of theirs that fell without hesitation, determined to continue their march until there was nothing left before them.

The AATs, meanwhile, had remained stationary. They rotated their main guns towards the architectural masterpiece that was Canterlot Palace, and began to open fire. Red laser blasts soared above the city to impact on the palace’s walls and towers. Luna felt the floor rattle slightly underneath her as the explosions shook the tower the two sisters stood on. She looked up at Celestia.

“Order the evacuation of all above-ground palace structures,” Celestia said grimly. “Get the wounded out as quickly as possible.”

Luna swallowed, hesitating. She did not want to so casually abandon their home.

“A palace is just a palace, Lulu.”

General Grievous strode through the shimmering pink shield without slowing down. It felt a bit like pushing through some sort of gelatin, and it was rather hard to imagine that this was the thing that had thwarted his orbital bombardment. Still, that meant he got to do the killing in person, so he wasn’t going to complain too much.

MagnaGuards at his side and a pair of massive spider droids following directly behind him, Grievous stomped over the scorched rubble that had once been Canterlot’s outer wall. It was littered with the broken remains of droids, clones, and ponies alike, but the cyborg could not be bothered to care and instead followed the ranks of the super battle droids into the city itself. He found that he liked what he saw. The buildings that he passed were shattered and scorched or outright on fire, their doors torn or blasted open and the inhabitants mercilessly butchered. Broken droids and dead bodies littered the streets and the homes and the stores alike.

All in all, it was a pleasing sight to behold.

Not too far into Canterlot Grievous spied ponies in the air. They were making dive bombing runs on an area not two blocks from where he stood, using both lightning and small explosives to tear into the advancing ranks of the super battle droids. Clones and unicorns were taking advantage of the air support to double down on their improvised barricades or simply shoot the disoriented droids before they could recover.

“Open fire!” Grievous commanded the spider droids, as well as the squads of commando droids behind them. He pointed a clawed finger into the sky. “Target their flyers!”

The sky was filled with blaster bolts as the black-armored commandos did as they were bid. The spider droids’ weaponry was anti-vehicle in nature and so not as easily usable, but the two droids managed to each fire both their upper and lower guns, putting four continuous laser beams into the air. Pegasi began to drop, one by one, as the blaster bolts found their mark. Most of them had the good sense to vacate the immediate airspace as it was flooded with deadly energy blasts.

Most of them.

A certain group of pegasi, dressed in blue uniforms rather than the golden armor the bulk of them wore, made the extremely bold or particularly stupid decision not to break off. Instead, they changed course, flying low to the ground and using buildings for cover to avoid the worst of the droid’s fire. Lightning impacted on one of the spider droids and it staggered, visibly crackling with electricity. But the droid’s systems had been hardened to survive Republic ion weaponry, and the enormous machine was able to right itself before it could topple over. Commando droids jumped and flipped nimbly onto nearby roofs to give themselves a better shot at incoming ponies.

For a moment, Grievous was puzzled as to the strange behavior of these equines, until the answer hit him: he had been a guest here for weeks, and there were many pictures of him in the media. Someone up in the sky had recognized him. So, they wanted to take out the enemy commander, did they? Grievous reached for one of his weapons.

Let them try.

There was an explosion on a nearby roof, toppling commandos from their perch, several in pieces. The droids around Grievous were firing frantically upwards as several pegasi zoomed over his position, dropping several glass orbs filled with strange substances. Wherever these smashed into the ground, they exploded in vicious-looking fireballs, tearing the mechanical Separatist soldiers to pieces.

One of the glass orbs hurdled through the air directly at the cyborg general’s position. Grievous simply reached out his hand and caught the rather delicate sphere with surprising dexterity and grace. Immediately he hurled it right back at the equine who had tossed it. The blue-covered pony had almost no chance to react before she was consumed by the fiery explosion of her own weapon.

Grievous chuckled at the sight.

The attempted attack on the cyborg general had been costly for the ponies. Of ten that had dived in, four managed to pull up, blaster bolts trailing them the whole way. Three of these opted to break away, flying back towards the safer airspace deeper into the city. One showed no such common sense or basic survival instinct, choosing instead to come around for another pass, this time directly at the cyborg himself. Commando droids fired at her en-mas, but to Grievous’ surprise she was able to dodge around the wildly flying blaster bolts in a truly incredible display of agility and control. Grievous narrowed his eyes at the incoming equine and grasped a different weapon.

It was well-known that General Grievous was a superb swordsman, one of the few beings in the galaxy capable of wielding a lightsaber without the need of the Force to guide him. What was less well-known was that the cyborg was almost as capable a marksman.

Grievous fired a single shot from his blaster pistol. The red laser bolt traveled almost straight up with great speed. It impacted precisely where he had aimed it, on the joint between the pegasus’ right wing and the rest of her body. The well-targeted blast outright tore the wing off, sending the screaming, smoking pegasus right into the cobblestone street. She impacted with a tremendous thud.

The cyborg raised a hand to single the rest of the droids to halt, marching over to examine his downed foe. Incredibly, she was still alive, if barely. Blood was leaking from all over her torn blue uniform, and her legs were twisted in clearly unnatural positions. Her body was shaking wildly, though to her credit the pegasus had ceased her screaming. Perhaps the most unexpected thing was the fact that Grievous found that, up close, he actually recognized this particular pony from some inane picture he’d been shown during his weeks in Ponyville.

“Spitfire, isn’t it?” he said, activating a pair of lightsabers and making a scissor formation around her neck. “What a surprise to meet you here! Heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh!”

The equine managed to turn her head just so slightly towards the cyborg, her brown eyes peering out from behind broken flight goggles. Despite the evident pain, her expression was one of pure defiance.

“Buck… you…” she managed, and spit at Grievous’ feet.

The cyborg rolled his eyes. “How original.”

Then the two lightsaber blades came together, and off came Spitfire’s head.

Princess Luna made yet another dive bombing attack on the droid army. She swooped down on a Canterlot street filled with advancing super battle droids, bathing the whole thing in a burst of blue flame. Even the durasteel shells of the B-2s could not repel the extreme levels of heat her mystic fire unleashed, with several of them literally cooking from the inside out, or even exploding like demented piñatas as their electronics went completely haywire. Most of the area was cleared of enemies in mere seconds.

As the princess pulled herself skywards again, however, she saw that some of the droids – the ones far enough from the epicenter of her strike – had survived. Where a sane man or pony might rethink their strategy in the face of such lethality, the notion never even entered the processors of the war machines. They immediately resumed their advance, firing on the Royal Guard Luna had assisted, with more already pouring from an adjacent street to take the place of those that had fallen.

All across Canterlot, the story was the same. Endless ranks of super battle droids marched forward in full parade formations, firing at will and not stopping until they were dead. Their lack of will to live, though it made them careless of their own casualties, was a distinct benefit in that they gladly pressed forward through narrow alleys and prepared kill-zones without hesitation. As it had been with the B-1s, there were just so many of them, but these machines added to that the bonus of being considerably tougher than their smaller cousins and having their weaponry built right into their arms. It was like a scene from some horror film: the zombies just kept coming, no matter what anypony threw at them, no matter how many of them fell, completely obvious to pain and injury. Add to all of this the fact that the Royal Guard was already worn down, and you had a recipe for a rout.

It was Master Kenobi and the Republic’s clone troopers that kept the situation from devolving quite so much. They were experienced veterans of the Clone Wars, and had fought many battles against the Separatist Army. They knew the B-2s in and out, with their simplistic programming and heavy armor. More importantly, they knew just where the weak spots in that armor were. Their blasters were more effective than pony magic or melee weapons, dispatching hundreds of battle droids that came at them. Their presence, and the stoic fortitude they displayed in the face of overwhelming numbers, made all the difference in the world for the equines’ morale.

Master Kenobi himself was virtually a force of nature. Defending one of the city’s main roads with only a small number of clone troopers for backup, he deflected a truly incredible number of blaster bolts every second, sending a number of them right back into the super battle droids. Any that approached his position, as so many did with the courage of the mindless, were cut down with his blue lightsaber, their charred remains littering the street at the Jedi Master’s feet.

But it wasn’t enough. For everything they had done, for all the many droids they had cut down, it still wasn’t enough. Luna gritted her teeth defiantly in the face of this realization, but everywhere she could see it was the same story. The droids just kept coming and coming in endless waves, winning ground inch by torturous inch, but winning it nonetheless. Each time one was cut down, more surged forward to take its place, gradually overwhelming any defenders that tried to stand in their way. Their blasters fired nonstop, cutting down ponies and clones alike as they advanced. Even Master Kenobi was having to slowly retreat down the city street, lest his forces find themselves flanked or even surrounded by the B-2 legions.

Even as Luna made ready to launch herself down to attack the enemy once more, she was desperately trying to come up with some new trick, some better tactic or special surprise.

For if nothing changed, Canterlot was doomed.

General Grievous stood amidst the broken corpses of a squad of unicorns in the golden armor of the Royal Guard. The very last pony in the unit, a white unicorn with a short orange mane writhed helplessly in his one-handed grip, his helmet gone and horn brutally amputated. The other hand held a lightsaber with a humming blue blade.

“Heh heh heh heh ha ha ha ha ha!” Grievous laughed at his captive’s plight. “Enjoying the view?” he mocked. “Don’t worry, you won’t have to see your precious city burn any longer.”

With a grunt, Grievous jerked his lightsaber blade upwards and straight through the unicorn’s heart. His body spasmed briefly as the plasma burned through his vital organs in microseconds, before falling still into the permanent embrace of death. The cyborg tossed the carcass aside carelessly, igniting his second lightsaber once again.

Grievous stomped forward through the remains of the hastily-constructed barricade the Royal Guard had been defending, crushing the wood and metal alike under his talons. Following him came a great procession of MagnaGuards, B-X commandos, and B-2 super battle droids. He soon slowed to allow the minions to get ahead of him, unwilling as ever to risk his well-being for the sake of mindless automata. The super battle droids surged out in front, while the others remained clustered around their leader. Soon a group of them rounded a street corner, whereupon there came the immediate sound of blasterfire.

The cyborg allowed a few more B-2s to enter the danger zone ahead of himself before rounding the corner in person. What he saw both surprised and amused him.

Down the corpse-choked street, defending a large barricade not a stone’s throw away from the walls of the palace itself was none other than Shining Armor. That irritating prince who fancied himself a warrior, and brother to Twilight Sparkle. He was nothing more than a fool who knew nothing of the truth of war, but Grievous was glad to see him nonetheless. Killing the white unicorn stallion would make for entertaining sport, and strike a blow directly at the princesses’ hearts besides.

But, as the sheer number of droid bodies piled up near his barricade showed, that would not be an easy task. The barricade itself was much larger and better manned – with both ponies and clones – than any of the others the cyborg had yet seen. More important, however, was the shimmering dome of pink magic that surrounded it. Blaster bolts exploded against it without harm. The droids that walked through the magical defense were immediately gunned down before they could even bring their weapons to bear. Of course, being brainless machines, that didn’t stop them from marching straight through it anyway.

Grievous raised one hand, and immediately all of the droids on the street ceased moving where they were. Fearlessly, he marched right through the gaggle of machines between him and the pink bubble, walking right up to the front of it. He knew that they couldn’t attack him through it any more than he could them. Shining Armor stared out at the Kaleesh cyborg with hatred in his eyes.

Grievous folded his arms behind his back. “Oh look,” he said, mockingly. “It’s the little draft beast that thinks it’s a soldier! Can you imagine that?” he pretended to ask a MagnaGuard. “A pathetic beast of burden that actually thinks it can be a warrior!” he threw back his head. “Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!”

Shining Armor gritted his pearly white teeth. “Why don’t you come in here and say that to my face?” he snarled.

“If you’re the big tough warrior prince, why don’t you come out here and face me?” Grievous taunted him. “Man to man! Winner takes all!”

“Why don’t you come in here and I’ll fight you? I’ll give my word of honor that it will be one to one.”

“Why don’t you come to me? After all, I’m the big bad alien warlord invading your city. And…” Grievous allowed the word to hang in the air for a moment. “The man who killed your sister.”

Shining Armor’s expression, already wrathful, became almost apocalyptic. He leaned forward against the barricade to such an extent that one of his own men felt the need to put a hoof on his shoulder to keep him from falling over it.

“What did you just say?!”

“You heard me,” Grievous taunted. “I killed Princess Twilight Sparkle. Gutted her like a fish. It was slow and painful. She was begging me for death with tears in her eyes before the end.”

All a lie, of course. He hadn’t even seen her since the day he’d departed Ponyville. But Grievous knew a psychological weak spot when he saw one.

Shining Armor looked ready to run screaming at the cyborg general. His body tensed up, seeming ready to pounce…

And then it deflated.

“You’re trying to trick me,” he said. “You’re an honorless cur. The moment I drop this thing you’ll order your droids to kill me and all my men.”

“Huh,” Grievous was slightly impressed. “Good guess.”

Shining Armor only growled.

General Grievous activated the comlink built into his wrist. “Deploy the droidekas to my position at once.”

The street echoed with the sound of the cyborg’s laughter.

Jedi Master Obi Wan Kenobi was under heavy fire. Super battle droids by the score marched down the Canterlot street, each and every one of them firing at him nonstop. Many of the red bolts he dodged, many he deflected with his lightsaber, but far more simply missed. Missed him, that is. The corpses of more than a few clone troopers could testify to the droids’ collective accuracy.

Slowly but surely, he and his ever-shrinking unit were being forced back. The light side of the Force flowed freely through his limbs, lending them strength and vitality, but he was still only human. Many droids had fallen to him or his men, but many more were still coming. Such was ever their way.

It was as Kenobi was retreating a few more steps that he felt the presence of a powerful darkness. It was very familiar to the Jedi. It was very close.

Count Dooku.

Kenobi waited with baited breath for the count to stride forth from among his droids or leap from some nearby building, only half focusing on deflecting blaster bolts in the meantime. He waited. And waited. And waited.

At last he reached out with the Force again, seeking out the count’s signature. It was still there, in the city, but it was further away. Dooku couldn’t have failed to sense him, Kenobi realized. Not when they had been so close together. There was only one explanation.

Count Dooku was after something else.

The rolling forms of the droidekas – also known as destroyer droids – raced through the rubble of much of Canterlot to converge on their cyborg general’s position. Extremely expensive to produce, the machines were consequently very rare and usually kept back for when they might have the most impact.

Like right now.

Half a dozen rolling machines came to an abrupt halt, unfolding from their ball-like traveling mode into the three-legged standing position they used for battle. Two arms, each ending in twin blaster cannons, unfolded from their bodies to point forward. Most important, however, their semitransparent deflector shields powered up, encasing all six of the lethal machines in small protective bubbles.

General Grievous pointed one finger at Shining Armor and his men.

“Kill them all.”

The droidekas scuttled forward on all three legs. Their pace in this state was slow, but it didn’t matter here. They pushed through the unicorn’s shield at a snail’s pace, their passage making serious ripples in the magic bubble.

And then they were in, and the killing began.

The destroyer droids opened fire at a truly phenomenal pace, all twenty four of their blaster cannons loosing destructive red bolts into the barricade at almost point-blank range. Explosions tore chunks from the fortification and from soldiers without discrimination. All within attempted to return fire, raining magic and blaster bolts and physical projectiles down on the droidekas.

All failed.

The energy shields protecting each killing machine were battle-tested and proven against all but the heaviest of personal weaponry. They were more than up to the task of dealing with rifle fire or primitive projectile weaponry. Ripples covering their shields as the attacks of their foes were harmlessly absorbed, the droids advanced.

In mere seconds the droidekas had blasted apart the crude barricade. Relentlessly firing their guns, the three-legged menaces clambered over the ruins to fire down at the unicorn prince’s rapidly-diminishing force. Clones and ponies alike perished rapidly, until very soon Shining Armor stood alone in a secondary bubble of his own hurried creation. Blaster bolts were harmlessly deflected or simply absorbed, but the droidekas moved rapidly to surround the heavily sweating unicorn. All six stood in a full circle around him, firing constantly in a bid to overwhelm his defenses.

Grievous had his eyes narrowed. It would not be long now.

And it wasn’t.

One moment the droidekas were pounding heavily on the captain’s shield with their blaster cannons, the next the unicorn stood high on his back two legs and bashed his front hooves hard into the ground. Spikes of stone shot up from the very ground beneath the legs of all six droids, taking advantage of the one spot their deflector shields did not cover. The sharp-tipped pillars impaled the droidekas through their vulnerable heads, destroying their processors. All six went limp all at once, their shields fading to nothing.

Shining Armor’s own defenses flickered and died around him as his magic reserves dwindled, exhausted by the power required to cast his spell and defend himself from such an intense assault at the same time.

“I learned that one…” he said through gritted teeth, breathing heavily. “In the Crystal Empire. You’d be surprised… what kind of combat magic those crystal ponies could… come up with… when they put their… minds to it.”

Grievous blinked, genuinely impressed by the unicorn’s showing. He hadn’t thought the prince had it in him to best a half dozen of his best shock troops. He put a hand to his chin and thought for a moment.

“Alright,” he said, drawing two lightsabers. “You’ve earned the right to face me in single combat. Use it well.”

With that, General Grievous stormed forward, sabers at the ready. Shining Armor was still panting with the effort, but gathered pink energy around his horn and fired it at the cyborg in a concentrated beam. Both lightsaber shot up to make an X in front of the general’s body, catching the magic head on. It diffused harmlessly across the plasma blades, and then Grievous was charging again.

Shining Armor took several steps back while his horn glowed once more, still trying to catch his breath. This time, an elegant-looking blade of pure magical energy took rapid shape in front of the unicorn.

Just in time to block a double overhand power blow from Grievous. The three blades clashed together in a shower of sparks, but the magic did not break. Grievous pressed down hard with his cybernetic strength, forcing the magic blade back several inches. Shining Armor’s body was taut with effort, but gradually his sword ceased moving towards him, holding back the general’s strength with his own.

Suddenly, Grievous released the pressure, ducking under the upswing of Shining’s blade and making a one-handed stab for his chest. The unicorn scrambled backwards, clumsily bringing his blade around to bat at the lightsaber from the side. He ducked under the second swipe to his head, which sheared off a portion of his ceremonial helmet instead.

As he blocked the hurried counterattack with both blades, Grievous might have smiled. Whatever else he was, it was evident to the cyborg that the unicorn prince was no duelist of any serious caliber. Perhaps he had focused too much on his defensive magic and not spent enough time in a practice ring. Either way, Grievous knew just what to do.

Shining Armor made an overhand swing, which Grievous caught with both blades. He allowed his arms to be pushed back slightly under the pressure. The unicorn promptly overcommitted, doubling down on the mystic blade’s power and trying to press it down onto the cyborg’s head.

Which left him vulnerable.

Grievous’ right foot shot out, grabbing the prince’s head in his talon. Before he had a chance to react at all, Shining Armor found himself hoisted off the ground, lifted over the general’s head, and smashed headfirst onto the cobblestoned street. His concentration thoroughly broken, his conjured blade faded to nothing. Before the unicorn could recover, Grievous brought one of his lightsaber blades down.

Slicing off Shining Armor’s horn.

The unicorn prince and captain of the Royal Guard screamed his agony as the most fundamental organ for use of his magic was violently amputated by burning plasma. His body convulsed wildly under the strain, sparks flying from the charred stub that had so recently been a proud white horn. His eyes scrunched up against the overwhelming pain, he could do nothing as a mechanical hand reached down and seized him by the throat. Grievous lifted Shining Armor up to eye level with triumphant malice in his eyes.

“Heh heh heh heh heh heh ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha HA HA HA!” Grievous laughed at his crippled opponent.

Shining Armor bit his own tongue to keep from screaming again before slowly forcing his eyes open bit by bit. Blue and yellow stared at one another.

“How pathetic,” Grievous taunted. “The little draft beast thought that because it could beat a few machines it was a true warrior! Hah!” he laughed again. “You are nothing! Your city is nothing! Your nation is nothing! Your whole species are nothing! Do you understand?” he held up his blue lightsaber blade mere inches from the unicorn’s neck. “I will kill them as I kill you now. Die knowing that you have failed, and that very soon all your kind shall follow you into-”

“Put him down, Grievous,” came the sound of a very familiar voice.

General Grievous turned his head. There, landing just beside the walls of her palace, was the armored but unmistakable form of Princess Luna.

“Gladly,” he answered, tossing the crippled unicorn aside without a second thought before turning to face the alicorn. His second lightsaber flared back to life in his hand, blades blue and green humming audibly.

“I’d rather he watch you die.”

The Battle of Canterlot (III)

Princess Celestia soared through the air above Canterlot, dodging and weaving to avoid the intermittent bursts of blaster fire targeted at her. Ahead of the solar alicorn was her target: an enormous spider-like droid with four long legs, a metal orb for a central body, an enormous red photoreceptor, and two dish-shaped guns on its top and bottom. The weapons were unleashing a continuous red laser across the city and into the walls of Canterlot Palace, which were already starting to blacken and crack under the aliens’ weapons. The palace itself remained under heavy AAT bombardment, one of its towers listing badly.

The white alicorn swooped directly down onto the spider droid, dodging nimbly around its clumsy attempts to reorient its anti-tank weapons to fire at her. Celestia grabbed its upper gun with both hooves, and with a snarl on her face she tore it off in one move. As the droid struggled to throw her off, she pointed her horn directly into the newly-created hole atop its body, unleashed a furious stream of golden flame at point-blank range. The spider droid spasmed wildly as its delicate insides were cooked whole. The alicorn took flight again as the hollow, smoking shell of the spider droid swayed and toppled forwards, crushing several super battle droids beneath its bulk.

The B-2s lifted their arms and fired upwards at the princess, but she was already beyond their range. Not to say that stopped the slow-witted machines from trying for several seconds before they eventually gave up and resumed their ground advance. Celestia ignored them, her mind already fixed on her next target. Another spider droid was supporting the Separatist advance along one of Canterlot’s roads, its heavy lasers clearing the way through building, barricade, and soldier alike for the super battle droids marching forward underneath it. This one Celestia simply jammed in the photoreceptor, her long white horn punching directly through its red artificial eye. She unleashed another short burst of flame into its electronic insides, again simply burning it from the inside out. Blaster bolts from B-2s exploded against her armor in showers of sparks as she retreated into the sky once more.

Celestia landed on one of the palace walls, taking a moment to catch her breath and reassess the situation. With two of their spider droids removed from the equation, the Separatist bombardment of the castle’s walls had slacked off to intermittent attacks by super battle droids that did not significantly threaten the ancient and heavily-enchanted structure. Still, the palace itself was under serious threat, AAT blasts threatening to blow it to so many pieces. But the heavy tanks near the city’s edge were still surrounded by dozens of vigilant commando droids, and not even she dared to try a direct attack on them with what she had.

Celestia gritted her teeth. There was nothing for it, the towers of Canterlot Palace were going to have to be sacrificed. She just had to be sure that their inevitable collapse didn’t destroy any of the protective walls around it and then perhaps-

The solar princess’ train of thought was interrupted as she spotted the emergence of yet another threat to her battle line. Several blocks from where she stood, a caped figure was cutting through an entire barricade by himself, a glowing red blade in his hand and lightning flowing freely from his fingers. Ponies died left and right as the white-haired human’s lightsaber danced in elegant one-handed patterns. Behind him, a stalled line of B-2s resumed their advance, crushing the mangled corpses of those droids that had gone before them.

This, Celestia realized, must be Count Dooku.

With a hard look in her eyes, the solar princess launched herself from the castle walls and flew above her men. She took aim at the ruined barricade where the old man stood, droids marching around him in tight ranks. Celestia dived, again dodging around the clumsy efforts of the battle droids to shoot her down. As she passed the street where he target stood, she bathed the entire area in an enormous volume of supernatural golden fire. Buildings of wood and stone alike caught flame as the convection spread throughout. Droids burst apart in showers of sparks as their insides were pressure-cooked.

Celestia gave a satisfied snort and flapped her powerful wings, making to rise again into the sky.

Only, she wasn’t rising.

Princess Celestia strained her wings harder for half a second, struggling to fly. But she was caught in some kind of invisible grip, and her body stubbornly refused to go upwards. Then, before she had any chance to try and work a counterspell, the alicorn felt a harsh tugging sensation that yanked her from the air. She impacted roughly on the cobblestones, though her golden armor continued to hold up.

“Ah, you must be this Princess Celestia,” said a deep bass voice.

Celestia’s eyes widened. Somehow, impossibly, the count was striding out of her inferno, the golden flames parting around him. He had a smile on his face that seemed incongruously beneficent.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he said, spreading his hands broadly. “Welcome.”

“So,” General Grievous said with undisguised malevolence. “The traitorous bitch finally arrives to receive her reward.”

“Finally?!” Princess Luna snorted. “We have been in combat since the beginning! It is thou who cowerest behind thine armies!” she pointed a hoof at the nearby war machines. “If thou hast a shred of warrior’s courage about thee, then fight us thyself!”

The cyborg’s eyes narrowed. “Back away!” he commanded the droids behind him. “I will deal with this equine vermin myself!”

Luna lowered her body and ran one hoof along the ground. “Do thy worst.”

Grievous growled as his hands began to spin on their wrists, moving with such speed that the blue and green lightsabers appeared to be blurry disks rather than blades. With a snarl of hatred, he charged full out at the dark alicorn.

From the lunar princess’ horn emerged a powerful jet of mystic blue fire, which hurdled through the air directly at her enemy. Grievous put one shoulder forwards with a spinning blade held out in front of him and didn’t slow down one step. Though the lightsaber’s blade had some ability to disperse them, the flames engulfed the cyborg regardless. Grievous used one arm to shield his eyes, counting on the thick armor built into his body to protect him from the intense heat that surged around him. His body’s temperature control systems were pushed close to their limits, but his was a form designed to survive the shuttle crash that had almost killed him or volleys of blaster fire or even the vacuum of space. In the end, he made it through.

Grievous burst from the fires with both blades spinning wildly. He took a flying leap from the road, his powerful cybernetic legs propelling him high into the air. As he fell back to the earth, Grievous brought down both blades in a double overhand power stroke, intending to sheer his opponent in twain. His aim as accurate as ever, the burning plasma blades fell directly on where the alicorn was.

Or, rather, where the alicorn had been.

The moment that Grievous had barged through her fire, Luna’s body had dissolved into so much fine black mist. The lightsabers passed through it without harm as it faded away into nothingness, instead burning a pair of gouges into the marble of the palace walls behind. Grievous roared in outrage.

“Get back here and fight!” he screamed out, looking this way and that, his senses picking up nothing of the princess.

“Ha ha ha ha ha ha!” mocked a voice that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. “Whatever is that matter? Canst thou not fight a foe that dost not hold herself back for thee?”

Suddenly, a chunk of ruined building hurled itself through the air at Grievous. The cyborg leaped nimbly to the side, allowing the marble to smash itself to pieces against the palace walls. One of his arms split, the newly-formed limb seizing his blaster pistol from his waist. Rolling over before landing on his feet, Grievous pivoted on the spot and snapped off three speculative shots in the direction that the projectile had come from. They disappeared into a ruined building without effect.

“Thou wilt need better eyes than that, general!”

The road at Grievous’ feet suddenly exploded into life. The heavy grey cobblestones ripped themselves free and rose up to pelt the cyborg by the dozen. His lightsabers whirled, cutting many to pieces, but still pummeled themselves to rubble against his armor. His blaster pistol fired frantically in all directions, but none of the red bolts seemed to hit anything more than rubble or corpses.

Grievous returned the pistol to his belt quickly as his other arm split into two. Both free hands grasped a lightsaber and immediately started spinning, forming a whirling shield of plasma blades around the Kaleesh warrior. Pieces of road were hacked apart into pebbles as they tried to throw themselves at him, but there were hundreds and they kept coming. More relevantly, Grievous still could not make out where any of this was coming from.

Without warning, the cyborg felt a great quaking under his feet. In a flash, a huge chunk of dirt and stone that he was standing on pulled itself out of the ground. Grievous leaped from the enormous thing before it could rise too high, landing on both feet, talons scraping the cobblestones. The rough orb immediately threw itself after him. Grievous swung two lightsabers at it like baseball bats, slicing it into thirds and letting the pieces break themselves against him.

“You speak of warrior’s courage,” said Grievous as he shook off the dirt and looked around. “Yet you attack me from where I can neither see you nor fight back.”

“Thou didst not seem to have a problem with that when it was thou who wast bombarding our helpless nation from space!” Luna’s voice answered indignantly. “Now answer for those deaths and receive a dose of thine own medicine, villain!”

“Villain?!” Grievous snarled as he leapt over a flying chunk of what had once been an ornate classical pillar. “I am here because you betrayed me!”

“We had to forfeit thee to the Galactic Republic lest we suffer their bombardment! We had no choice in the matter!” Luna sounded bitter.

Grievous blinked. That didn’t sound like something Kemobi would do. The next moment he dismissed the thought with a shake of his head.

“Then you are all pathetic cowards! You bent before the first showing of force and betrayed all laws of hospitality without even a fight!” he growled at her. “And now you will suffer for your base treachery!”

“We have no love for the Republic,” Luna’s voice answered from somewhere. “But we hate thee far more, thou despicable hypocrite!”

“Hypocrite?!’ Grievous’ tone was one of outrage.

“Aye, hypocrite! Thou sayest that the reason for thine hatred of the Republic is the fate of thy people at their hand,” the voice accused. “But here thou art inflicting far worse on an innocent land for a far lesser offense! Tell us, did the Republic ever do this to Kalee? Did they attempt the utter annihilation of thy people for the actions of two? Thou madest no attempt to seek redress, or even to seek us out for revenge! Nay, thou began at once with genocide against our ponies!”

“I’m going to gut you like a-”

“The Republic should have wiped out thee and thy wretched people when it had the chance!” Luna’s voice snarled.

Grievous blinked and said nothing. For a moment, all was stillness in the ruined street, the only sounds those of the battle around them. The cyborg’s yellow eyes were clenched tightly shut, all four hands curled into fists around their lightsabers. A man looking closely could have seen that they were trembling.

Without warning, Grievous looked up and screamed to the heavens above. “I’M GOING TO BUTCHER YOU!!!”

The cyborg then turned on the spot and stomped right back up the street, slicing apart another large chunk of masonry that hurled itself at him. Grievous loomed over the downed form of Shining Armor. The unicorn was still suffering badly from the magical backlash resulting from his horn’s amputation, and as a result hadn’t even managed to regain his hooves. The general seized him once more by the neck, holding him up high.

“Come out and face me!” Grievous demanded, holding a lightsaber across the unicorn’s chest. “Or we’ll find out just how much of him I can cut off before he dies screaming!” He looked around the ruined Canterlot street. “How long do you think he can last?”

“Don’t… do it… princess,” Shining managed, only to get a metal fist into his gut.

“Shut your filthy equine mouth,” Grievous snarled at the captive, continuing to look around. “Five…” he said, moving the glowing blue blade closer to Shining’s right foreleg. “Four… Three…”

Black mist rose up out of the shadows of one of the building, coalescing quickly into the wrath-filled form of Princess Luna.

She gritted her teeth. “Thou despicable murderer.”

Grievous laughed. “Your kind are so predictable,” he tossed his unicorn prisoner to a pair of his MagnaGuards. “Hold him!” he commanded, before turning back to the princess. “Time for you to die.”

“I take it that you are Count Dooku,” said Celestia as she rose to her feet.

“Very good,” replied the old man.

Celestia narrowed her eyes. “Then you are the one responsible for this atrocity.”

“I suppose one could say that.”

There was no further need for words then. Celestia’s horn lit up and unleashed a beam of golden energy directly at the human’s head. It ate up the distance between the two faster than a blaster bolt, but somehow the red energy blade of Dooku’s lightsaber rose to stand before it. The magic dissipated against the plasma blade in a bright flash.

“Before we go straight to the unpleasantness,” Dooku said, brushing some ash from his sleeve. “I have a proposal I should like to make.”

“You have nothing I want, murderer,” Celestia answered, unleashing another stream of fire. The old man simply leaped over it, landing nimbly on his leather boots.

“Really?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “What if I told you that you do not have to perish here?”

“I would ask what you mean by that.”

“It is simple. Surrender, and your life will be spared.”

“What of my subjects?”

“Well, I can hardly guarantee their survival if they continue to resist. Of course, if you convince them to stand down I could certainly see about halting my general’s assault,” Dooku looked around and gestured at the burning city. “He is quite angry at you, as I’m sure you have noticed.”

“And where exactly would that put us vis-à-vis the Republic fleet in orbit above our planet? As I understand it, your forces in space are already on the run. To submit to you would mean invoking their wrath against us.” Celestia looked Dooku in the eye. “And I’m sure you’re aware that we have no need for a further orbital bombardment.”

“For that you may thank General Grievous, whom you betrayed into our enemy’s hands,” Dooku replied. “But in any event, I am willing to overlook such minor incidents and welcome your planet into the Separatist Alliance on condition of your surrender, and your turning of your weapons against the Republic.”

“I-”

“And of course, one other minor concession. In compensation for the forces lost engaging your troops in battle, I would require that you personally join a certain organization of mine.”

He bombarded her nation, invaded her city, slaughtered her subjects with his own hand, and now he expected her to pay for it? What madness was this?

Celestia fought to keep the fury from her voice. “What organization?”

Dooku smiled. “A simple group of like-minded individuals with talents like yours working together to make the galaxy a better place.”

The solar princess didn’t believe him for a heartbeat. This Confederacy of Independent Systems had shown no qualms about attempting genocide against an entire species for a single hostile act. Even if the Galactic Republic’s Admiral Tarkin seemed no better, Master Kenobi at the very least had shown a moral compass. He and his men were here in Canterlot, shedding their blood to protect her nation from the very man who stood before her now. Even though they now stood nothing to gain by defending Equestria, they did so regardless. That showed character, and willingness to back up his words with his deeds and to risk his own life to do so. With that in mind, it was clear to the white alicorn which side had done anything to earn her trust or loyalty.

“No deal, Dooku,” she declared. “I simply can’t trust you not to kill us all.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” he said with a sigh, his eyes looking downwards. His lightsaber blade ignited. “Then I’m afraid you must die.”

Grievous once again charged the black alicorn, this time with all four lightsabers spinning in a flurry of blades. Debris picked itself up from the streets to fly at the charging Kaleesh, but he was having absolutely none of it. He sliced, hacked, batted away, or jumped over the rubble as it came, ignoring the dents it made on his armored shell. There was no pain, of course. Such a thing might be distracting.

The cyborg general finally came within range of his hated foe, bringing all four lightsabers down on her from different angles with a great cry. To his infinite frustration, the blades were stopped, one and all, by the sudden appearance of a dark blue bubble around the alicorn princess’ body. Sparks flew wildly and crackling sounds echoed as Grievous pummeled the magic with all four lightsabers in a dizzying series of randomized and unpredictable blows, devised to overwhelm even the Soresu defense of the Jedi. Luna’s face strained with the effort of warding them off.

And then, she smiled.

Luna’s protective orb exploded outwards into a mighty shockwave of blue energy traveling in all directions. It leveled storefronts, tore the much-abused cobblestones from the street, and far more importantly, bowled Grievous over. The cyborg general bounced roughly against the pavement, skidding back a good fifteen feet or so before his talons and lightsabers could dig into the ground hard enough to bring him to a halt. Before he even had a chance to regain his feet, he was engulfed once more in blue flames.

His white armor scorched and blackened, with a pair of his arms protectively warding his squinting eyes, Grievous pushed himself upright with his remaining limbs. Only to be immediately staggered again by a sizable hunk of marble exploding against his armored chest. Driven to one knee, the cyborg looked up to see that the alicorn had taken flight and was hovering high above the city streets.

“That is the way, knave!” she taunted him. “Kneel before thy princess!”

Grievous snarled and began pushing himself back up, only for a destructive beam of dark blue energy to emerge from Luna’s horn. Four lightsabers moved at once to form a protective X over the cyborg, catching and dispersing the attack. But the sheer kinetic force of it made him falter again, sending him right back to his one knee. Two more similar attacks followed, each caught on the blades of his lightsabers, but each forceful enough to push him back and downwards anyway. His talons grasped tightly against anything they could reach, working hard to ground him.

“Thou art no warrior true! Thou art nothing more than a cowardly thug, General Grievous!” Luna mocked him. “Aye, coward we name thee! And hypocrite! And murderer! Thou art unfit to even-”

Whatever the night princess had been about to say was cut off as a sizable chunk of marble impacted against her armored head. While she had been attacking him, one Grievous’ feet had gotten a grip on a decent-sized piece of rubble for support. When the magical attacks had lulled for a moment, the cyborg took advantage of his flexible form to spin his entire body around on the other foot, releasing his improvised projectile at just the right moment to sending it directly into his foe’s face.

Princess Luna’s lightweight form, not anchored to anything in midair, took the full measure of the stone’s kinetic force. She went flying backwards a considerably distance before plummeting back towards the earth. The night princess went down beyond the scorched white walls of Canterlot Palace, vanishing from view.

Grievous grunted in mild approval before activating his wrist comlink again. “Cease bombardment of the palace complex,” he ordered the AATs, not wishing to walk straight into a danger zone. “You two!” he ordered the MagnaGuards bearing the slightly-struggling Shining Armor. “Follow me! The rest of you spread out and secure the area once we get in. But leave the princess to me!”

With that, the fire-blackened cyborg stomped forward down the street and plunged all four of his lightsabers into the marble walls of the Canterlot Palace. The ancient structure had been enchanted to resist almost any type of attack, but the burning plasma and the sheer strength of Grievous pushed them through it one inch at a time. Once they had emerged from the other side in four separate points, the general pulled them slowly through the abominably tough material, carving a crude circle of red-hot marble. With one powerful kick, he sent the section of wall he had carved out flying into the palace courtyard.

Without hesitation, General Grievous stormed through the breach and into the palace of Equestria’s diarchy.

Princes Celestia didn’t waste any more time bandying words with the murderous nobleman. She raised both her front hooves, and then brought them down onto the road with enough force to crack the cobblestones. Immediately ten spikes of stone erupted from the earth at Count Dooku from all directions. The old man leaped into the air as the spot he had just been standing in was impaled by several of the lethal fragments.

Dooku flipped and landed atop one of the angled, spiked pillars, his expression now one of neutrality. He reached out with three fingers of his left hand, and Celestia felt a sudden pressure through the flanks of her armor.

“Come here, little princess,” he said, jerking his hand back towards himself. Celestia yanked from her feet and propelled at extreme velocity towards the human. “I have something to show you.” His red lightsaber stabbed upwards, directly at Celestia’s heart.

Or rather, where her heart would have been, if the white alicorn hadn’t already dissolved into so much golden mist. The ethereal substance passed through lightsaber and count alike without harm before reforming into the princess’ body a good distance away.

“A clever trick,” Dooku acknowledged, raising his hand. “But I’ve seen it before.” A blue lightning storm emerged from his fingers and hurdled through the air towards the princess.

Golden flames shot out from Celestia’s horn right back at him. The two streams of energy met in between the two combatants, and for a moment there was parity as both sides strained at each other. But Celestia had already endured prolonged combat, while Dooku was comparatively fresh. The lightning pushed its way through the fire and coursed through the solar princess’ majestic frame.

Celestia went flying backwards through the air, smashing straight through the glass window of some store that had once sold breakfast pastries. She crushed a table beneath her armored form. Groaning, she resumed her hooves, small crackles of electricity still leaping here and there on her golden armor and white fur.

“Come now, Princess Celestia,” said Dooku, striding casually towards the ruined shop. “You disappoint me,” he let loose another round of lethal electricity. A golden shield enveloped Celestia, deflecting the bolts and sending them instead into the café around her. Much of it simply caught fire under the assault. “I had heard such tales of your strength.”

“I have plenty of strength, Dooku,” Celestia retorted, breathing heavily.

“Yes…” he said, smiling slightly. “I can sense it. You have anger… you have hate…. But you’re not using them.” The count gestured with two fingers, and Celestia was sent flying back. She crashed into the shop’s counter and fell over the top of it.

Dooku stepped in through the smashed oak door and Celestia regained her hooves.

“That way lies a dark fate, human,” she said. “Strength perhaps, but also ruin of oneself and all that one holds dear. I would sooner perish than permit myself to embrace such corrupt magic.”

“Now that is a shame,” he said. “Because only your hatred can destroy me.”

“I beg to differ, count,” interrupted another voice from outside.

Count Dooku turned his head slightly. He his brow creased into a frown.

“Master Kenobi.”

The Battle of Canterlot (IV)

Princess Celestia moved first. Her horn unleashed another ray of golden magic at Count Dooku, hoping to catch him while his back was turned. Such hope was to be disappointed as the old man’s lightsaber once again imposed itself in the magic’s path, where it dissipated as easily as it always did. Simultaneously, his left hand made a three-fingered gesture, emitting a powerful shockwave in the Force that staggered Kenobi several steps backwards.

Dooku lunged abruptly for the princess, his red lightsaber stabbing straight out, with his whole body behind it. But he was no more successful than the alicorn had been, for Celestia had already dissolved once more into golden mist, reforming seconds later at the side of the Jedi Master. The count regarded both of them with a distinctly icy expression.

“Surrender, Dooku,” Kenobi demanded. “You’ve no way off this planet even if you prevail here. Call off your droids and cooperate, and perhaps the Senate will show you some mercy.”

Celestia thought that was more than the man deserved, but bit her tongue.

“Master Kenobi,” Dooku said with a tight smile. “While I appreciate your offer and the sincerity with which it is made, I am afraid it must be rejected. Things have come much too far to be stopped now. The galaxy will be remade in the Sith’s image, whether the stagnant and corrupt Jedi Order likes it or not.”

“I don’t think so,” said Obi Wan, eyes narrowed.

Dooku extended his right hand. Immediately, all the glass in the storefront that had somehow survived was shattered, hundreds of razor-sharp shards hurling themselves through the air at the duo. But a golden sphere took shape around them, weathering the assault as easily an umbrella weathers a light rain.

“I find myself curious, however,” Dooku said, taking a few cautious steps forward towards the entrance. “Has that particular demand ever succeeded?”

Without warning, Obi Wan leaped into the air, flipped, and landed in front of the count with a powerful swing of his lightsaber in the classic pattern of Form IV, Ataru. Red and blue blades waged a contest of strength mere inches between the two men.

“Because when I was a Jedi,” Dooku continued as though they were simply having a friendly chat rather than engaged in a heated combat in the middle of a warzone. “I found that those inclined to actually surrender prior to a battle usually did so of their own accord when it became clear with whom they were faced. Demands to do so almost inevitably resulted in some variety of insult or violence.”

“I happen to believe in observance of the formalities,” Kenobi retorted.

Debris throughout the shop picked itself from the ground in response to Celestia’s bidding and, without warning, threw itself through the air and at Dooku’s back. The count shoved his left palm at the ground, creating an invisible shockwave that spread in all directions. The debris storm was broken and tossed back the way it came, while Master Kenobi was only staggered back a few steps.

Still, Dooku took advantage and made a lunge for the Jedi with a trio of quick Makashi jabs and slashes. Obi Wan’s blue blade parried them all with characteristic Soresu minimalism. The two sword blades seemed to become blurs as both men engaged in a high-stakes, high-speed lightsaber duel.

Celestia had no intentions of being relegated to the sidelines. She vanished in a flash of light, reappearing within the ruined café entrance, hell-bent on dealing with the man who had brought her nation to the edge of annihilation. Her golden fire lashed out one more time, again targeted at the count’s exposed back.

Dooku’s left hand again moved without the assistance of his eyes. Pointed backwards, bolts of all-too-familiar blue Force lightning leapt from his curled fingertips, racing out to meet the incoming flames. This time, however, caught between attempting to duel Kenobi with his right hand and conjure lightning with his left, it was his energy that began to be pushed back.

And then Obi Wan kicked him in the face.

Dooku stumbled several steps back, barely managing to perform a backflip that carried him safely over the jet of magical flames. Kenobi simply took two steps backwards to avoid the fire that came between them. It died away rapidly, Celestia again vanishing from where she stood to reappear at the side of the Jedi Master.

Count Dooku faced them both, a small amount of blood trickling down his upper lip and staining his distinguished white hair with crimson. His face now bore a deep, unpleasant-looking frown. He raised his right hand once again, invoking the Force.

Kenobi shoved both of his own hands forward, calling on the power of the light. Celestia’s horn shone brightly as she added her own magic into the mix. For a moment, nothing happened, the three simply standing there making gestures at one another and looking almost comedic in their intense expressions.

And then it was Count Dooku who was swept from his feet.

The old man was thrown a short distance by the combined push of Jedi and alicorn. He landed on his feet, knees bent and left hand to the ground. He grimaced, appearing for the first time to be slightly in pain. Still, he rose back to his full, regal height and swept his elegant blade in an unmistakable display of challenge.

Celestia’s eyes met those of Obi Wan for a fraction of a second. Blue and purple glanced at each other, and then at the Sith Lord. With an unspoken agreement, the two went in together.

The alicorn princess shot into the air on her graceful wings before unleashing a massive cone of fire straight at the elderly human. Count Dooku raised a single hand and the flames diverted themselves to flow around him, scorching the surrounding stone and fluttering his cape, but little more. In an instant, the fire stopped, to be immediately replaced by the descending form of Kenobi. The Jedi unleashed a series of powerful Ataru offensive moves in quick succession, all of which were met by the lightning-fast parries of Makashi. The count’s form and finesse were impeccable, and very quickly his defensive parries became whirling offensive slashes at Obi Wan’s torso. The younger man leaped backwards after deflecting one such move and without giving her opponent even a second to recover Celestia launched another beam of magic at him.

Dooku’s lightsaber again rose to parry the magic, but this time Celestia didn’t let up on the pressure. Even as the red blade dissipated the golden magic, Obi Wan made a gesture of his own. A sizable piece of burnt marble picked itself up from the ruin of a Canterlot house and flew at Dooku. The count’s left hand sent it crashing in another direction, but even as he did so Kenobi threw himself forward and stabbed at his chest.

Count Dooku contorted to avoid the blue lightsaber, stepping nimbly backwards out of the reach of both attacks before abruptly deactivating his blade. Celestia’s magic, without anything to block it, impacted on the road and exploded. The shockwave covered both humans in dust and grit, but while Kenobi staggered and used his arms to protect his face from sharp bits of stone, Dooku rode the wave in a graceful backflip, putting some distance between him and his opponent.

Nonetheless, as the Sith Lord took several more steps backwards, it was clear his breathing had sped up substantially.

General Grievous stormed through the hole he had cut into the castle’s wall, an army of droids pouring in behind him. Most of the buildings themselves were already evacuated because of the princesses’ orders, but the courtyard and actual battlements on the walls still hosted some number of Royal Guard and clone troopers. These already-overstretched troops turned to the sudden breach with cries of alarm as B-2 and B-X droids rushed forwards to engage them.

Beyond unceremoniously cutting down a pair of ponies that had made the very bold and deeply stupid decision to charge him, Grievous could not be bothered to interfere in the combat that ensued. His MagnaGuards formed a protective perimeter around him as he advanced through the beautiful – though becoming less so with every second – palace grounds, heading jerking his head this way and that. Around him, ponies, men, and droids alike were falling by the dozen, ancient statuary defaced or blasted to rubble, elegant gardens trampled under metal feet and set aflame, and a certain hedge maze was playing host to a running battle between squads of commando droids and clone troopers. The general had eyes for none of it, his baleful yellow orbs scanning for his true target.

“Oh princess!” the fire-blackened cyborg called out above the din of battle. “Come out come out wherever you are!” When nothing responded, he pointed a blue lightsaber backwards. “Don’t forget about your dear friend here and what I might do to him!”

“Don’t do it!” came the voice of a certain white unicorn stallion. “Save yourself or kill him, but don’t bother with me! I’m not worth it!”

Grievous turned his head back to Shining Armor, still held securely between two MagnaGuards, his face of defiance. “You really don’t know when to shut up, do you?”

Shining Armor met the cyborg’s gaze with resolution and hate in his eyes. “I’m not afraid to die,” he declared.

“So I see,” Grievous glared balefully at him before looking up at the two droids securing the prisoner. “Shut his irritating mouth already.”

The bodyguard droids tossed the unicorn prince roughly to the ground, and before he could do any more than groan, one of them jabbed its electrostaff onto his back. The effect was immediate, Shining’s body jerking wildly as the current overwhelmed and sent his nervous system into an uncontrollable frenzy. Seconds later, his eyes rolled back in his head as his overtaxed body at last collapsed into unconsciousness.

“That’s better,” said Grievous as the two droids again hoisted the prisoner between them. “Now then,” he raised his voice. “Princess Luna! Your kingdom is lost! Your city is taken! Come out and fight like a warrior and I shall grant you a warrior’s death! Continue to hide away and I swear I will make your captain and your people suffer even further before they die!”

“We have hidden nowhere, General Grievous,” came the sound of the princess’ voice.

A commando droid came flying backwards through one of the garden’s flowering bushes, crashing and rolling against the ground to land at the cyborg’s feet. Its chest was covered by an enormous gash that exposed sparking, smoking electronic equipment. Princess Luna stepped through the now-ruined rose bush, a dark blue sword hovering close to her head.

“Finally decided to meet your end with a little dignity, have you?” Grievous narrowed his eyes. “Or are you going to scurry away into the shadows again?”

“That beeth rich, coming from the one who fleeth whenever he is outmatched,” Luna snorted. “But we shall meet thee on thy terms, if thou shalt give us something in return.”

“There’s nothing to be given to the dead.”

“Call off thy droids, Grievous, and we shall face thee in the sword duel thou so clearly desirest.”

“No,” Grievous answered. “Look around you: I’ve already won, there’s no need to do something that stupid.”

Luna looked around at the scene of her palace, bedecked in fresh corpses and rapidly being flooded by ever more super battle droids. She gritted her teeth angrily, remembering the wounded and children sheltering in deeper underground parts. If she could not save everypony, it was her duty at the very least to save as many as she could. What else was there for her to do? Slink away into the shadows and try to save herself like some wretched coward? She would not dishonor herself that way.

“Then call off thy assault on our castle, Grievous,” she said. “And give thy word that if we prevail, our subjects here shall go free.”

Grievous looked around at the scenes of carnage for several seconds before raising his hand. Instantly, the flow of droids through the hole he had cut ceased. The droids already inside lowered their weapons, taking several steps back from the relieved and confused remnants of the palace guards. Yellow and blue eyes locked as their owners stared one another down intensely.

“I accept your terms.”

He was lying, of course. Their fate had already been determined by Lord Sidious. But if it made her stay in one place, he was happy enough to play along with her delusions.

“So be it,” Luna said. “Of course, there is one other thing…”

“Huh?”

“It hardly striketh us as fair that thou shouldst have four of thy swords when we have only one.” Her horn glowed again, causing two additional blades to appear.

“Fine,” Grievous stepped forward, brandishing his lightsabers. “Now then – wha?”

The final cylinder around the cyborg’s waist gave a twitch, and then broke its magnetic bond. The lightsaber that had once belonged to Jedi Master Hera Ceidia flew through the air to the alicorn princess, igniting into a bright blade of bronze.

“Now,” Luna said. “It is fair.”

Four blades spinning and a murderous glare in his eyes, Grievous charged the alicorn.

His attack was ruthless and fast-paced, even by his own standards. Four lightsaber blades spun, danced, hacked, slashed, stabbed, and swiped at complete random. Operating on pure instinct and the powerful computers slaved to his brain, the cyborg general unleashed almost seven blows in the space of a single second and only got faster from there. Hatred empowered him, hunger for vengeance drove him to ignore caution and press directly forward.

The lunar princess staggered under the fury of his assault, her teeth gritted with the effort as she struggled to interpose her blades between herself and the cyborg’s lightsabers. She had an advantage in that she did not have to worry about guarding the hilts of three of her four blades, and played that to its full effect in defending herself. It was immediately clear to Grievous that she was a higher caliber of duelist than Shining Armor had been.

But not high-caliber enough.

What little remained of Grievous’ organic mouth twisted into an obscene parody of a smile underneath his mask. The cyborg stomped forward aggressively, not letting up on his blade-work for even a nanosecond. Luna slowly but surely gave ground, unable to find even the slightest pause in the offensive to catch her breath. Sweating heavily, the alicorn back into the entrance of one of the ruined towers. It was then that two of Grievous’ blades descended in a powerful overhand blow straight into one of her conjured swords.

Shattering it utterly.

The cyborg had already redoubled his attack before Luna had had time to blink, now knowing exactly what to do. As the princess retreated backwards up a grand staircase, Grievous targeted each one of her summoned blades for destruction one by one. They were hardy things of pure magic, but their existence was tied to the energies of the summoner. And after hours of intense combat, Luna’s energy was fading.

One sword shattered when Grievous pinned it to the ground with one lightsaber and brought the other three down on top of it. He gave the princess no chance to create any more, continuing to press her heavily as the alicorn gave more and more ground to the cyborg general. The two MagnaGuards hoisting Shining Armor in tow a good distance behind him, Grievous forced Princess Luna back further and further, to the very open doors of the throne room itself. On the brink of it, he destroyed her final conjured blade with a well-aimed slash to its midsection.

As Grievous pushed her into the throne room, Luna was down to merely her stolen lightsaber.

The bronze lightsaber blade was a blur of motion as it clashed with the blades of green and blue, Luna’s magic proving the equal of Grievous’ cybernetic strength. The throne room was lit up with a dazzling display of color as the plasma blades crashed together in noisy collisions. Impossibly, she was somehow managing to fend off the general’s assault with only one blade despite her exhausted state. Grievous was by then putting out somewhere around fifteen withering attacks per second, a truly prestigious amount even by his lofty standards, his tireless cyborg frame invulnerable to pain or wear.

It was at that moment that the general saw his opponent had made one small but fatal mistake: in the heat of dealing with his four lightsabers, she had forgotten to account for his legs.

They always forgot to account for his legs.

General Grievous’ taloned foot shot out lightning-fast, seizing one of Princess Luna’s forelegs in its grip. With a powerful tug, he pulled the alicorn forward just a few steps. But that was more than enough for the cyborg. His leftmost lightsaber darted in under the princess’ guard in a blur of motion and light.

And sliced the alicorn’s horn right off.

Princess Luna screamed her torment as her own immense arcane energies coursed through her ancient in a spectacular display of magical backlash. The stolen lightsaber dropped to the ground, its blade extinguished. It and its temporary owner hit the throne room’s floor at around the same time with a pair of resounding thuds. The latter did not remain there for long: a clawed mechanical hand reached down to seize her by the scruff of her neck, hoisting her easily despite her size.

“Heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh! Hah hah hah hah hah hah hah hah hah hah hah!” Grievous roared with triumphant laughter. “HAH HAH HAH HAH HAH HAH HAH HAH!!!”

Luna’s eyes were scrunched up against the agony that threatened to overwhelm her, but she could hear the cyborg’s booming voice just fine.

“Little fool,” gloated Grievous as the hum of a lightsaber blade grew uncomfortably loud in her ears. “Only now, at the end, do you understand. You were a fool to betray me! Your cowardice has cost you everything! And very soon it will cost your entire world everything! Do you hear me?”

From the booming sound of his voice, Luna got the distinct impression that the cyborg general had his face mere inches from her own.

“Do you understand what is about to happen, Princess Luna? You have failed. Your sister has failed. Your people have failed. I am going to kill you now, and then I shall kill each and every one of your subjects,” Grievous’ voice was surprisingly level. “Think about that. Really think about it. I want you to go to your grave with the images in your head of every single person you have ever loved… dead. Slaughtered like filthy animals and piled up to be burned like so much garbage. Your people extinct, your planet a wretched ruin, your very existence nothing but a fading memory in an uncaring universe. And all of it, every last miserable equine that is sent screaming into the void this day?” Luna could practically feel the cyborg’s armored mask brushing against her fur. “It is. All. Because. Of. You! Think on that, Luna. Really think hard on it. I want you to suffer as you die.”

So Luna did.

The princes of the night thought of all the little fillies and colts of Ponyville. She thought of adorable little Pipsqueak, her ever-eager young friend. She thought of Scootaloo and Sweetie Bell, whose dreams she had freed of their nightmares. She thought of Twilight Sparkle, the mare who had rescued her first from the curse of Nightmare Moon, and then from her own shackles of social backwardness. But most of all, Luna thought of her sister. Celestia, dear Tia, who had always been there for her. Who had only ever wanted to help her. Who she had rejected. Who she had tried to kill out of petty jealousy. Who had all welcomed her back into Equestria with open arms regardless of it all.

And then she thought of them all, brutally massacred to sate the bloodlust of this mad alien monstrosity. Their bodies mutilated and defiled, burned like rubbish in a landfill or even left out to rot in dishonor. Their homes burned to the ground and trod on by the metal soles of filthy alien butchers. Their hopes and dreams and loves gone, like everything else. No proud legacy left behind, no no descendants or friends to keep their spirits and memories alive. Merely a barren rock floating eternally in the cold void of space.

Many feelings boiled up in Luna’s mind. The first was fear. Not for herself, but for those she loved, those that she would now have to leave behind. She could protect them no more. The second was anger. Anger at Kenobi and Tarkin for roping them into this. Anger at herself, for failing to defeat the horrible creature that now held her when she had had the chance. But most of all, anger at Grievous. For his crimes, for his utterly merciless genocide of her people, and more than anything, for making sympathize with him. He deserved no sympathy, only the most wretched and miserable death the universe could conceive.

The final emotion that Luna felt was hatred. She hated the Republic for bringing this war down on them. She hated herself, her sister, and all of Equestria for being too weak to stop the Separatists. But of course, the uttermost depths of her hate were reserved for the incarnation of all that was evil and wrong in her world: General Grievous.

It was this last feeling that seemed almost to whisper to the princess of the night. In a voice that she found uncomfortably familiar yet at the same time completely foreign, it seemed to speak to her. It said that if she would embrace it, it would save her. It would save her people.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Luna embraced it.

The lunar alicorn opened her eyes again. They were the color of burning sulfur.

Before Grievous had any chance to do anything more than look puzzled, lightning burst from the charred ruin of the alicorn’s once-majestic horn and flew at the cyborg. At point-blank range, it could hardly miss.

It was General Grievous’ turn to scream in agony as the electricity coursed throughout his systems, shorting out cybernetic equipment and sending his limbs into wild spams of uncontrollable movement. Luna felt his grip on her throat melt away, her wingbeats serving to keep her from falling to the ground. Her attack did not stop there, leaping from the cyborg to the two MagnaGuards. They two were enveloped in the wild electrical current, dropping their unconscious captive to the hard floor below as their own systems went completely haywire.

Without letting up on the surging electricity for even a second, Luna pulled her head back and then jerked it abruptly forward. Cyborg and droids alike were blasted by an invisible force of immense magnitude, smashing straight through the stained glass windows of the palace’s throne room.

Screaming wildly and flailing his limbs, General Grievous went sailing straight over the edge of the Canterlot cliffs. He soon vanished from all sight, the sound of his shrieks swallowed up by the winds and the sounds of the battle outside. Inside the throne room, all was, for the moment, still. The night princess breathed heavily, the strength she had so recently felt coursing through her slipping away like a ghost on the wind. Pain replaced hate and adrenaline as her burning yellow eyes faded back to blue.

Still, she had a small amount of strength left.

Luna walked on unsteady, aching legs to the broken stained glass window through which the cyborg had been thrown. She looked out over the edge, to the distant ground at the foot of the great mountain.

She spat.

The Battle of Canterlot (V)

Princess Celestia could see that her opponent’s limited energy withering away under the strain of trying to hold up a simultaneous magic and lightsaber duel, and she moved to exploit his weakness. Taking in a large gulp of air and opening her mouth wide, the solar alicorn breathed out a truly prodigious amount of orange and gold fire. Dooku, still taking steps backwards, raised his hand to deflect it again, but the attack was not aimed at him. Instead, the raging inferno flowed smoothly around and behind the count, shaping itself into a towering sheet wall almost ten meters high, cutting off his line of retreat.

As Celestia breathed heavily with the sheer effort required to cast such a spell, Obi Wan flung out his left hand, sending a stream of rubble soaring at the count. As before, Dooku deflected it with a wave of his own free hand. He looked up at the white alicorn, and his fingers curled into a fist. There was suddenly a great pressure about Celestia’s throat, as if some massive invisible vice had been affixed to it. Her golden neck armor began to crumple inward slightly.

But then Kenobi made another flying Ataru-style leaping attack on the count, and then the sensation was gone as quickly as it had come as Dooku diverted his concentration to deal with the Jedi. Blue and red blades once again clashed in blurry whirls of light as Makashi pitted itself against Soresu. Celestia simply hovered in place for a few seconds, gulping down frantic mouthfuls of air and trying to slow the wild beating of her ancient heart. And then Dooku made another two-fingered gesture with his left hand, and Master Kenobi was sent flying backwards a ways, landing on his back.

The old man instantly refocused himself, sending another round of lethal blue lightning skywards at the alicorn. Celestia simply vanished from the spot, allowing the dark side energy to fly uselessly away. She reappeared on the ground and bashed it with her hooves. More towering spikes shot from the earth at Dooku, who leaped again to avoid them. While he was in midair Celestia followed up with another stream of fire, which clipped the edges of his fine cape, blackening the armorweave fabric. Dooku landed to be immediately attacked again by Kenobi, two hands pressing down against the old man’s one in an overhand power blow. Dooku matched his strength for a moment before taking a quick step back and forfeiting that contest, allowing the blue lightsaber blade to push his own down and scrape against the ruined cobblestones.

Count Dooku backed quickly away from the Jedi and alicorn, now openly panting. Sweat poured down his face from the heat of the fires or the effort he was exerting, or both. As an un-augmented human in his late eighties, the nobleman was transparently finding the effort required to keep up the fast pace taxing. His lightsaber rising to catch yet another beam of golden magic before it could strike his face while simultaneously sending a thrown hunk of rubble spinning away, Dooku snarled openly.

Both of the count’s hands shot forward quite suddenly, generating a powerful Force wave that sent dust and debris flying in all directions as well as bowling over both Kenobi and Celestia. Turning quickly, Dooku put two fingers from each hand together, then tore them apart. Celestia’s wall of flames was torn briefly into two near the top. Without hesitation, Dooku leaped up and flipped through this gap before it could close.

Scrambling quickly back to her feet, Celestia dismissed the spell with a brief flick of her horn. The flames died away, revealing Count Dooku darting down the Canterlot street with surprising speed for one of his age. He turned his waist just a fraction, enough to aim both his hands and face backwards before letting loose another lightning storm. Celestia caught it on a conjured shield, Kenobi on his lightsaber, but it gave the old man a few additional seconds to put distance between them.

The two took off immediately in pursuit, Celestia flying in the air, Kenobi dashing along the ground with Force-enhanced speed. From her lofty vantage point, the alicorn could see through the smoke and haze to recognize that Dooku was headed for one of the city’s edges, near the cliff side. She smiled. The old man was going to trap himself.

Count Dooku rounded a corner and was concealed from her sight by columns of smoke rising from what were once mansions of Canterlot’s nobility. The princess and Jedi swiftly rounded it in pursuit, only to be confronted with a score of super battle droids, which promptly opened fire. Between the two Kenobi and Celestia quickly scrapped the heavy machines, though to Celestia’s dismay she saw that they had already finished dragging the ponies that had been taking shelter in the homes of this neighborhood and executed them. Bodies of those too young or too old to fight littered the street, holes burned through their skulls. It was heartbreaking. A lump rose in her throat and her vision went momentarily blurry.

It was with great difficulty that the alicorn swallowed her grief a moment later, her rational mind reminding her that she still had an enemy to chase down. It also made the morbid suggestion that Dooku had chosen this route specifically because it would be so discomfiting for her. Such cold-blooded heartlessness was difficult for her to contemplate, even after all that had already happened.

“This way,” Kenobi beckoned, a sad look on his own face. “Dooku is going this way.”

The princess didn’t bother with asking how he knew, only chasing after the Jedi Master from the air. She strove to regain sight of the old man, but with the sky so choked with smoke and ash it was difficult to make out any one shape at much distance. Obi Wan seemed to know where the Sith was headed, though, so the princess simply followed him. They encountered super battle droids twice more in the next minute. Distressingly, the machines weren’t even rushing to the fighting anymore, simply hunting down stragglers and burning buildings. Some cold-blooded calculation informed them that they weren’t needed to purge the last isolated bastions of resistance and that they would be more useful performing demolitions and executions.

Canterlot, the ancient capital of Equestria had, for all intents and purposes, fallen.

Celestia wasn’t sure how to take that. In all her years of rule, never had she met an enemy so cruel, so ruthless, and so murderous as this Confederacy of Independent Systems or its General Grievous. Now they had sacked her city, burned her nation, and slaughtered her people. She should be in despair, or consumed with rage. Instead she felt… curiously numb, as though her emotional center was shutting down in response to overstress. The one thing she did feel was an overwhelming urge to catch the human behind all of this.

The pursuit of Count Dooku lasted for perhaps three minutes, the old man showing an incredible amount of stamina in keeping up his Force-assisted sprint the whole way. He maintained his direction towards the city’s western wall and the cliff on the other side of it. Several more groups of droids emerged to oppose his pursuers on their way. Blaster bolts dented and scorched Celestia’s armor and even set a part of her rainbow mane on fire at one point. None of the machines could stand before the two, but they forced them to halt their chase to deal with them.

At last, they caught up with the count standing over the battlements of the western wall. He had his back to them, and appeared to be looking down at the shimmering pink bubble still enveloping the city and the ground far below it.

“Ah,” The old man turned to regard the two. Dooku’s pleasant tone had returned, as had his smile. “Master Kenobi. Princess Celestia. While it has been exhilarating, I am afraid I no longer have the time to entertain you today. Perhaps on another occasion,” he took a step backwards and up onto the battlements themselves. “But what kind of a guest would I be if I didn’t leave my hosts a small… gift?” He spread his hands out widely.

On cue, a full dozen commando droids leaped up from the other side of the wall, blaster rifles in hand. Super battle droids emerged from the smoke of burning buildings, their grey metal armor stained black with smoke and ash. Behind the two another squad of B-X droids took up positions, completing the encirclement.

“Kill them,” Dooku said, then stepped backwards off of the wall.

General Grievous lay still on the scorched ground where he had fallen. Once a fertile grassland, the field at the bottom of Canterlot’s mountain was now an ash-choked ruin thanks to the wildfires that had spread out of control after his orbital bombardment. With his own armor charred to blackness by Princess Luna’s flames, the cyborg general blended in well with his surroundings. Which was perhaps fortunate, considering that he could barely move.

The beating and fall that Grievous had endured was easily enough to kill an un-augmented organic, or even most varieties of droid. Still, his body had been rebuilt and modified at his own insistence with the possibility of an explosion followed by a shuttle crash explicitly in mind. The cybernetics had done their job: they had preserved the life of the Kaleesh within.

That was not to say that he had endured the experience without damage. Taking thousands of volts of supernatural electricity at point-blank range, followed immediately by a several hundred-foot drop onto bare, hard soil had exacted a serious toil on him. Neither of his legs were working at all, and both his left arms had been crushed into uselessness by the rest of his body landing on them. Even the hardened systems of his right arms had been hard-pressed to deal with such overwhelming surges of power as had coursed through him, and so both responded to his mental promptings only intermittently. Finally, his neck joint had ceased to function altogether, keeping his head locked at one awkward angle with one eye able to see little more than black dirt. Had it not been for his emergency redundant life support systems, he would probably have stopped breathing.

What was far worse in the cyborg’s mind than the physical trauma and pain was the sheer humiliation of his position. On the brink of deeply personal and satisfying victory, he had been defeated. By a lowly pony, no less. After he had already crippled her. It didn’t make any sense – the horned creatures were powerless to tap into the Force without their horns, everything he’d learned, read, and experienced during his time on this wretched planet indicated as much. How had the princess done it, then? Surely, if the equines could just pull bolts of lightning from nowhere without their horns, that whelp Shining Armor would have tried it at some point, wouldn’t he? And if Luna could have done it at any time, why had she waited until he had already hacked her horn from her body? Too many questions, not enough answers.

If Grievous could have shaken his head, he would have.

Regardless, the fact of the matter was that the proud warrior had been within an inch of personally killing a hated foe when he had suddenly and inexplicably been defeated and cast down in shame. And it had been partially his fault, for taking his time to make her suffer rather than immediately beheading her. The knowledge burned at Grievous’ soul, but there was nothing he could do. It was a minor consolation to know that the mostly-complete conquest of Canterlot would be finished without him, that his betrayer would be slain by his machines irrespective of her personal triumph. Even idiotic droids could handle a simple mop-up operation. And of course, Count Dooku was there to seal the deal.

Grievous’ shame multiplied tenfold as he remembered Count Dooku’s presence. He had been humiliated in front of his lord, cast screaming and broken to the earth by a lowly primitive equine witch. He would need to be rescued for the second time in a very short period, once again left unable to free himself or return to Separatist forces. The fact that he had led his forces to victory was only a slight balm on the wound – a victory over some primitives and a small Republic contingent was simply not that impressive a victory.

Grievous lay there in the fire-blackened dirt for some time, seething with the shame and indignity of it all, wishing for something to happen. His feelings of helplessness further magnified his overwhelming sensation of burning rage.

It was some time before the cyborg’s damaged audial sensors picked up on the sound of a ship’s engines. Grievous’ yellow eyes flicked upwards as best they were able. He knew the sound of those engines very well, even if he couldn’t make anything out through the haze and his forced perspective. He listened as the sound grew closer, before eventually giving way to the familiar sounds of landing gear deploying and soft boots hitting the ground.

“General,” came the bass voice of his lord. “I see you’ve taken quite a fall.”

“My lord,” answered Grievous, wishing he had teeth to grit. “I’m afraid I require assistance to get up.”

“So I see,” Dooku’s tone was one of neutrality.

Grievous found himself rising from the ground with nothing underneath him. As he rotated in mid-air, the cyborg got a good view of his lord. Dooku looked like he had been sweating, his impeccably-groomed white hair was mussed, his cape’s edge singed, and he sported a small patch of red on his upper lip. Still, his eyes had the same energy they always did, and his ability with the Force was still enough to move the heavy cyborg up through the entrance to his solar sailer and prop him on one of the passenger’s seats.

Dooku climbed in after Grievous, and immediately the pilot droid in the cockpit fired up the engines. As the ship rose, the cyborg quickly noticed that it had gone well beyond the height of the equines’ city, and indeed appeared to be breaking for the atmosphere.

“My lord,” Grievous asked, his yellow eyes flicking to meet the count’s blue. “Are we not headed to rejoin the battle?”

“You are in no condition to do so even if we were,” the human pointed out. “But no, we are not. Our role there has come to an end.”

“It’s over, then?” the cyborg inquired, just to be sure. “We’ve won? The equine city is annihilated?”

“Yes, general, it is over, though the fighting may continue for some time yet. It will not be long before Republic ships retake the skies over the city. The ground must inevitably follow.”

Grievous blinked. “Then… we’ve lost?” The shame of that would be almost unbearable.

Dooku smiled tightly. “No, Grievous, we have not. The equines’ defense of their home has cost them everything. Their military forces are gutted, their capital and much of their nation razed to the ground. They will play no role in this war, I promise you. The Jedi will not be able to make use of those that remain before it is too late.”

“But that means some survived. Lord Sidious’ command…” Grievous objected, though only half-heartedly. He quite honestly did not want to be right in this matter.

“Leave Lord Sidious to me, general. I assure you that he will be most pleased with the results you have obtained.”

“Our fleet in orbit… our armies on the planet… decimated.”

Dooku’s smile became beneficent. “Acceptable losses, general,” he sounded approving. “You have done well.”

All was silence for a time in the small ship as Grievous processed this unexpected praise. He had though that the Sith Lord would reprimand him, especially after he had learned that some of the equines had survived his attack. Instead, he was being told that he had succeeded, and that Darth Sidious would approve. Doubtless Dooku meant what he said – the old man was a harsh teacher and never hesitant to point out flaws or berate failure. After a while, he determined to ask the question that was eating away at his mind.

“Does the betrayer bitch Luna still live?” the cyborg asked.

“I do not know, though I did not sense her death.”

Grievous let out a strangled snarl of outrage, though in truth his feelings on that matter were mixed. As much as he wanted to kill her himself, the idea that she would live to boast of her personal victory over him gnawed at his pride. On the other hand, simply hearing the news that mindless droids had killed one’s enemy was far less satisfying than doing it with one’s own hands.

“We will return, yes?” he queried. “To finish this job?”

“In time, general, in time. The war will be over soon, and then you may return and finalize your vengeance. In the meantime, however, we will be avoiding this place. There are other operations that must be your priority in the days ahead.” Noting the downcast look in Grievous’ eyes, Dooku continued. “More Jedi to be killed.”

Count Dooku, Grievous reflected as the small ship soared up to dock with the Invisible Hand, always knew just how to cheer him up.

Obi Wan Kenobi sliced through super battle droids two or three at a time as they swarmed him, their crude programming identifying the Jedi Master as their priority target. Soresu, as always, was the answer to the clumsy and random blaster technology the mindless machines employed. Red blaster bolts bounced from his blue lightsaber blade and back into the crowd of droids that had fired them, downing more than a few.

Above him, Princess Celestia continued to fight on. The commando droids were targeting her in preference to Kenobi, their accurate blaster fire reflecting off of her shield. She was sending streams of fire back at them, but casting both spells simultaneously was clearly a strain on her tired body, and many of the nimble black machines were simply dodging around the flames. And then, without warning, one red blaster bolt slipped through her magical defense and scored a direct hit in the center of her majestic left wing.

The alicorn screamed out her agony as she plummeted to the hard road below, landing with a painful-sounding crunch. The B-Xs immediately shifted their aim, peppering her prone form with more blaster bolts. Most exploded into sparks against her armor, but more burned further black holes through her beautiful and exposed white wings, their finely-preened feathers no defense against the alien guns.

Obi Wan leaped through the air to land at the princess’ side, cutting down a commando droid that had rushed forward with a vibro-knife to finish her off. The machines shifted their guns to target the Jedi Master instead, adding the weight of their fire to that of the super battle droids’. The air around Celestia’s crumpled form filled with dozens of fast-moving laser shots. So many were there that only Kenobi’s mastery of Form III and the limited precognition granted by the light side enabled him to avoid joining her on the ground.

As the circle of droids slowly advanced on the two from all angles, Obi Wan was uncomfortably reminded of a certain arena on Geonosis the day the Clone Wars began.

“I’m sorry, Master Kenobi,” Celestia’s voice was hoarse and weak, barely audible above the din of battle. “I’ve failed. It seems we’re both to die here.”

For a few seconds, Obi Wan didn’t answer, his thoughts entirely focused on the task of deflecting blaster bolts, his unconscious mind seeking shelter in the harmony of the light side of the Force. Everything seemed to slow down around the Jedi Master as the strength of the Force flowed through him, guiding his limbs to catch lethal bolts of red energy on his saber before they could touch him, sending them back the way they had come. More important, though, was a half-conscious thought that seemed to simply pop into his mind from nowhere, perhaps instinct, perhaps another gift of the light.

Obi Wan Kenobi trusted both.

“Lower the shield,” he said without looking at the princess.

Celestia raised her head weakly. “What?”

“Lower the shield around the city,” Kenobi reiterated.

“That will expose us to-”

“Your highness, do you really think it’s doing anything to protect us now?” Kenobi’s voice was strained from the effort. “Lower it.”

There was something in his tone that brooked no dissent. Besides, Celestia reasoned, it wasn’t as though they or Canterlot could get much more doomed.

The alicorn’s horn glowed with golden magic as Celestia scraped together the last of her strength to undo the very defenses that she, Luna, and Discord had woven. She knew the spell intimately, knew precisely what matrices to cut to get rid of the pink orb with minimal effort. As the world around her became an increasing small field of droids and blaster bolts and pain, the solar alicorn unmade the pink dome above their heads. Without ceremony or flashy effect, it dissolved into nothing under her ethereal touch.

“Alright… Master Kenobi…” she breathed heavily. “It is… done… Now what?”

“We wait,” said the Jedi Master, dodging the attempt of a commando droid to stab him with an enormous knife, beheading the droid in turn. A red blaster bolt grazed his left shoulder and he winced.

The droids around the two advanced closer and closer, having no fear of their own destruction, desiring only to fulfil the command of Count Dooku. Another blaster bolt caught Obi Wan’s armored ankle, exploding in a shower of sparks. The Jedi sent three into the face of a super battle droid, which collapsed. The others ignored it, pressing forwards to eliminate their prey.

Then the world exploded around them.

Kenobi’s mundane senses were blinded by powerful explosions that seemed to ring the road around him, his eyes picking up mere flashes of color, his ears filled with wild ringing. He collapsed to the ground at last as his energy finally failed. With the last of his strength, Obi Wan put his own body over Celestia’s and covered his head with his hands. And then he waited. And waited. And waited. Shrapnel sliced through his robes and cut into his flesh, forming small but stinging injuries and drawing blood. But still, Kenobi did not move.

At last, when the tremendous noises had stopped, when his eyes were no longer seeing solely random flashes of vivid color in all directions, Obi Wan lifted his head to look around again. The droids, along with a considerable portion of the road and neighborhood around them, were gone, replaced with scorched craters of varying depth. The Jedi blinked in surprise, his rational mind telling him that explosions at such close range should have pummeled his body into a paste as easily as they had the droids, the buildings, and the wall.

And then Kenobi spotted the slight golden glow fading away from the alicorn princess’ horn, and he understood.

Getting slowly to his feet and looking upwards, the Jedi made out through the smoke and haze the zooming forms of Republic Y-wing bombers performing diving runs on various parts of devastated Canterlot. Further explosions blossomed out beneath them, sending fresh columns of smoke skyward. Further into the air but getting closer all the time Obi Wan saw the vague outlines of incoming LAAT gunships.

The Jedi Master allowed himself a small sigh of relief as he slumped back to the ground in exhaustion. It was over. It was finally over.

A moment later, his wrist comlink beeped loudly. Slowly, Kenobi brought it up closer to his face and activated the receiver. A very familiar voice issued out.

“This is Admiral Wilhuff Tarkin to General Obi Wan Kenobi, do you copy?”

“I copy,” Obi Wan managed.

“Confirming that Separatist forces are in full retreat across the board,” Tarkin sounded pleased with himself. “It’s over, general. We’ve won.”

Aftermath

Onboard the Invisible Hand, the medical bay was once again a hive of activity. Medical droids were, for the second time in a very short amount of time, swarming over General Grievous. The cyborg was being systemically taken apart piece-by-piece and refitted with fresh white durasteel armor and new cybernetic limbs. His damaged circuits were being replaced, his neck joint already back up to regular operative status.

“Status report,” Grievous demanded over the whirring of droids and the sound of fusion torches.

“Sir,” said a hologram of General Kalani, held conveniently for the immobile cyborg by a nearby MagnaGuard. “Per your orders, our other ships were sacrificed one-by-one to the Republic fleet to give your armies on the surface time. The Invisible Hand is our only remaining capital ship in the system. What is your command?"

“Break orbit immediately and head for the nearest hyperspace jump point. Take us back to Separatist space.”

“And what of our armies on the planet?” the super tactical droid asked.

“Send a signal instructing them to do all the damage that they can,” Grievous answered. “And be sure to wipe all information from our groundside databanks. Then leave them.”

“As you wish, General Grievous.”

On the surface, in the city of Canterlot, Republic forces were pouring in. Liberated from the campaign in space by Admiral Tarkin’s destruction of most of the Separatist battle fleet, fighters and bomber-craft were unleashing hell against the ground-bound droid army. With their air cover destroyed, their leadership seemingly fled, and no shield to protect them, the super battle droids withered under the heavy firepower of the Grand Army of the Republic. LAAT gunships, more than a few fresh from battles in other parts of Equestria, made landings all across the devastated cityscape, depositing fresh clone troopers to reinforce the few surviving pockets of resistance or air lift the survivors.

It was from the passenger compartment of one of these gunships that Princess Celestia watched white-armored clones and their heavy air support take back her city one block at a time. With the droids now apparently lacking central leadership to direct them, and bombs and lasers raining down continuously on their metal heads, they simply could not stand. Within a very short amount of time, the pitched combat had been reduced to a mop-up operation. Celestia knew she should be feeling relieved, but looking out on the smoking ruins of her beautiful capital all she felt was a profound sense of sorrow.

Well, that and tired. Very, very tired.

“Master Kenobi?” she asked in a weak voice.

The Jedi Master, like the solar princess, was lying on a medical stretcher, curious patches of what the humans called “bacta” applied to his wounds, just as they had been to her own. They felt gooey and cold, but they made the pain of her injured wings go away. Her broken front right leg, heavily bound and bandaged by a field surgeon, was another matter.

Obi Wan turned his head to her. “Yes, your highness?”

“Can you please ask the pilot… to take us to see the survivors?” she managed. “I need to see who is left.”

Kenobi looked up meaningfully at one of the clone troopers, who nodded and entered the cockpit. A few moments later, he emerged again and shortly thereafter the gunship changed course. It headed for the silhouette of Canterlot Palace, one of the few structures left in the city that was mostly intact and not on fire.

As they approached, Celestia spied a small clustering of temporary shelters in the ruins of what had so recently been a picturesque garden used for diplomatic talks and parties of the nobility. The gunship sat itself down next to these large field-tents. The solar princess attempted to rise, only for her three weak legs to collapse out underneath her.

“Somepony… please help me up,” she groaned.

“Ma’am, you’re in no condition to be walking,” the clone in a medical uniform declared firmly.

“I… have to,” she breathed heavily from even her minor exertion. “I’m the princess… it’s my duty… to see to the welfare… of my subjects.”

“Ma’am, you’re not getting up from there until I say so,” he said adamantly, folding his arms.

Her purple eyes switched targets, looking to Obi Wan with a pleading expression. “Please… my people…”

Kenobi looked sympathetically at her. “Doctor,” he said to the clone. “Could you at least have someone pull her on the hover stretcher? Surely that won’t exacerbate her injuries too much?”

“I don’t know,” the clone said, putting a hand on his chin thoughtfully. “I’ve never worked with her species before, I wouldn’t want to take too many chances, especially this soon.”

“Please doctor?” Celestia’s pleading gaze turned to him.

After a moment, he sighed. “Alright,” he conceded. “But hover stretcher only. You’re not to set one foot off of it, is that clear?”

The solar princess nodded.

So it was that the exhausted, injured form of Princess Celestia was carried about the de-facto refugee camp on a floating stretcher guided by two clone troopers. What she saw there was enough to break the last shred of her composure.

Dozens. Of all of Canterlot’s many thousands of inhabitants prior to the battle, there were about six dozen left alive. Seventy-odd ponies out of a population that had exceeded fifteen thousand before the battle began. Most of the survivors fell into one of two camps: those who had been extremely young and had sheltered in the palace before the battle started, or wounded members of the Royal Guard that had managed to escape the notice of the prowling mechanical executioners, usually by virtue of being in a pile of dead ponies or destroyed droids. A handful had been plucked from the few hold-outs that had still existed when the Republic’s reinforcements had arrived. These had hollow, haunted looks in their eyes.

In one of the medical tents, the solar alicorn had found none other than her sister. To her infinite relief, Luna was alive and somewhat conscious. To her horror, the night princess’ horn was gone, reduced to a burnt stub sticking slightly out of her forehead. Medical personnel affixed a bacta patch and wrappings to the wound even while she was there, but that did nothing to dim the white alicorn’s horror.

To lose one’s horn was perhaps the ultimate injury that could be inflicted on a unicorn or alicorn, save perhaps death itself. Even that was debatable, as more than one crippled unicorn throughout history had chosen to kill themselves after facing the prospect of life without magic. Ignorant ponies, especially of other tribes, scoffed at the idea, but for a unicorn to lose their connection to magic was often likened to cutting out part of the injured pony’s soul, part of what defined them. Worse still: a lost horn broke one’s power forever. The horn itself might be regrown with time and special potions, but the essential magical circuits it hosted could never be replaced. That was why such a punishment had long been favored by cruel tyrants who ruled over unicorn subjects. Those who feel afoul of their masters had their horns cut off, their ability to tap into the universal field of magic that flowed through all things torn away for all eternity.

Now, this awful fate had befallen not only her nephew, but her beloved little sister as well.

It was too much. The utter ruination of her country by orbital firepower. The burning of her beautiful capital city. The deaths of so many innocent ponies, many near and dear friends or even distant relatives of the princess. The sheer cruelty beyond anything she had ever seen from Count Dooku and General Grievous, the heartlessness they had shown when attacking the weak and helpless. And now her precious sister, long lost and so recently restored to her, had been mutilated beyond all hope of recovery. Even for a mare of her famously composed nature, it was all just too much.

Princess Celestia wept openly.

At around the same time, six ponies emerged from the roaring bonfire formerly known as the Everfree Forest, coated from head to hoof in sweat and ash. As soon as they had seen the ponies of Ponyville to safety they had rushed straight for the Tree of Harmony and the chest within. Its power had been enough to undo Tirek, perhaps it might have been enough to do the same to the Separatists. But they would never know.

Lacking any protections, Grievous’ orbital bombardment had turned the once-lush forest into a nightmarish death trap. Choking clouds of smoke rose miles high into the air, making any attempt at aerial navigation impossible. They had had no choice but to go in on the ground, trusting in magic to shield them from fire and memory to guide them. Destiny, some had dared to think, might be on their side, as it had been so many times before.

It was not to be.

The tremendous explosions that had rocked the forest had done more than set off tremendous firestorms. They had shattered the ground itself, opening deep fissures in some places and sending pillars of earth jutting skywards in others. Streams and rivers had been broken, diverted, or swallowed by the earth itself. Ponds and small lakes had been boiled off or filled with ash and muck. What small dirt paths had existed were now nigh-indistinguishable from the hundreds of impromptu trails carved by the panicked animals as they fled for their lives. Flaming debris, ash, and smoke was everywhere, further obscuring the trail. In the end not one of them had been capable of locating the pathway to the old palace, and at last the flames had grown so hot that even Twilight feared her magic would be insufficient to shield them.

When the six broke out of the inferno at last, they all beheld a sight that none would forget until her dying day. Canterlot, the city of royalty, the home of the eternal sovereigns and beating heart of the nation… was a smoking ruin. Dozens of pillars of smoke rose high into the air, blending with those coming from other areas to form a vast hazy cloud that blotted out the sun itself. What little could be seen of the sacred place from where they stood was empty, blackened rubble where once beautiful white marble had stood. Death and destruction had come to Equestria, as never before.

Princess Twilight Sparkle sank to her knees, hot tears pouring down her cheeks as she sobbed in wordless despair.

She had failed.

Several hours later, Princess Luna wandered through the desolate streets of Canterlot. She took in the empty shells that had once been elegant buildings, the streets now filled with craters and rubble, and of course, the bodies. Bodies everywhere. Thousands of them. Droids and clones and ponies alike littered the streets and homes of the city. Many had been burned beyond all hope of identification by blaster fire or one of the innumerable fires that had swept the capital city during the battle. Others were in pieces, their blood staining what was left of streets even blacker than they already were.

More news had flowed into Canterlot in the hours since the Republic’s arrival had routed the droid army, little of it good. Across the nation, almost every city or town of any serious size had been subjected to droid attacks. Manehatten had been burned entirely to the ground, those inhabitants that had not managed to flee butchered to the very last. Vanhoover had suffered a similar fate. Fillydelphia and Stalliongrad were scarcely in better shape, their infrastructure and population gutted in a similar manner to Canterlot. Dodge City had also been mostly butchered, though its inhabitants had impressively managed to defeat the few hundred B-1s sent to destroy it on their own. Los Pegasus was the largest city in Equestria to remain mostly intact, due to the timely arrival of Republic air support before most of its attackers reached the city itself. Baltimare, similarly, had been spared the worst by the comparatively small size of its attacking army and the arrival of the Republic’s reinforcements.

To the far north, the Crystal Guard under Princess Cadence had been routed in battle with a droid army, though their sacrifice enabled much of the civilian population to escape into the wilderness. The alicorn princess herself had remarkably survived, albeit heavily wounded and buried underneath a pile of her own dead subjects. Traumatized and seriously injured, she had been taken into an orbiting Star Destroyer for intensive care – temporarily, Commander Cody had assured her, though Luna was not sure if she believed him. The again, she supposed that it didn’t much matter what she believed anymore.

Closer to home, Ponyville had been unceremoniously burned to the ground, though curiously an extremely large number of droids had been found scrapped just outside its borders. That mystery had been solved when, miraculously, a passing gunship had located Princess Twilight Sparkle and her six friends right outside the massive hellstorm that had been the Everfree. Once picked up, she had explained what had happened with Discord and Ponyville’s population. The draconequus’ apparent demise was another bitter blow in a day already full of them, though praise all the gods his sacrifice had not been in vain. The full amount of Ponyville’s civilians had been located cowering in abandoned mines to the south, hungry and scared but otherwise intact. The six ponies that had restored her had been apparently making an attempt to reach the Tree of Harmony to retrieve the Elements, but had been unable to penetrate the raging firestorms that had gripped the Everfree.

To put it simply: Equestria had survived the apocalyptic droid invasion, but it had done so at the cost of being virtually gutted. The nation’s strength was gone, the Galactic Republic in a position to demand virtually any terms that it wanted. The diarchy would have little choice but to submit to anything that was asked of them, lest they be left on their own to face another Separatist attack. They could not survive it, and both sides clearly knew it. Indeed, the Republic’s bargaining position was so good that had Luna not known better, had she not witnessed for herself the viciousness with which the Jedi and his clones were attacked by the droids, she might almost have imagined that the two sides had been in cahoots to bring about this very outcome. After what she had seen in Grievous’ dreams, after Admiral Tarkin’s strong-arming, Luna did not trust the Galactic Republic or the Jedi very much. Still, submission to it was better than death for all.

As she wandered through the devastation that had claimed fair Canterlot with a discreet pair of clone troopers in tow, Luna found more and more that she hated herself. She was a princess, it was her duty to protect her subjects. In this duty, for which she had been granted her throne in the first place all those years ago, she had failed, and failed utterly.

Luna had joined her sister in cowing to a display of force by Admiral Tarkin. Granted, she probably would have done otherwise had she known that there was a Separatist fleet in the system as well as the Republic one, but she had still done it. The principle was there. Her own weakness and cowardice in the face of terrorism made her sick.

Further, she had sympathized with a madman and a murderer, rather than scorning him with righteous hatred as her first inclination had been to do. On that basis she had even wanted to throw in with him and his, despite what she knew. Now, the idea of siding with that genocidal beast made her want to vomit out her entire stomach.

Finally, when the chance had come to strike back at the invader, she had failed. Her magic had been too weak, her skills too limited, her strategies unable to counter him. Grievous had bested her in combat and crippled her magic. Yes, she had defeated him at the last second, but it had not been of her own strength, of that much she was sure. And the battle would still have ended in the total annihilation of Canterlot had the Republic not intervened.

The question, of course, was what else was she to have done?

Even if she could go back and do it all over again, how was Luna to have acted differently? She would still be powerless against orbital bombardment, still be too weak to simply dispose of Grievous and endure the consequences. Admiral Tarkin, if he had not been bluffing – as he now rather implausibly claimed to have been doing – could have rained death on her lands with impunity if she had refused to turn the cyborg over. What then? Would she simply have traded a Separatist invasion for a Republic one? Could she have resisted that any better? She doubted it.

Could Luna, knowing what she now did, have somehow won the Canterlot battle? Somehow defeated Grievous earlier, or even repulsed his armies? She knew the answer as well as anypony: no, she could not have. Even with everything she now knew, even should all of the demented cyborg’s plans have been laid out in advance for her, the dark alicorn simply didn’t have what it would have taken to defeat the droid army without Republic help or spare her capital city. Grievous could have given her a guidebook explaining his moves step-by-step and a week to prepare, and Canterlot would still have fallen. Because of her. Because she lacked what it would have taken to defend it successfully.

The princes of the night gritted her teeth as she strode among the ruins, her conscience lashing her over and over again for her many failings. She was the ruler, therefore she was responsible for what had happened. No circumstances could ameliorate or in any way excuse her failure to adequately shield the nation. All the dead and injured and displaced were her fault. Period. Her weakness and failure were to blame for all of this. No matter what seemingly logical arguments could be made otherwise, Luna knew the truth of the matter in the depths of her soul.

But what, her logical mind argued, could she have done? What could she do in the future to make sure nothing like this ever happened again? The answer to the former question she did not know, but the latter had an obvious solution.

If she was to prevent this from ever happening to her beloved Equestria again, Luna would need more power.

Onboard the Invisible Hand’s observation deck, as the ship cruised through the depths of hyperspace, Count Dooku knelt before a hologram of Darth Sidious. The Sith Lord had his arms folded across his chest as he gazed down at his apprentice. His eyes, as ever, were invisible beneath his hood.

“Lord Tyranus,” the cloaked human said after some time. “Is it finished?”

“It is, my lord,” Dooku answered, his head bowed. “The operation went as you commanded. The aliens’ civilization has been utterly devastated by our droid armies. General Grievous performed his role well, slaying many of them and burning their cities in his quest for vengeance. We were then both able to escape capture and enter hyperspace. Our ship will return to Separatist space very soon.”

“Very good,” Sidious. “What of those creatures that survive?”

“Though they do not yet know it, many have taken their first steps down a new path this day,” Dooku smiled. “Through us, the seeds of darkness have been planted in their hearts.”

“And in time, those seeds will grow into crop that will be of great use to us,” his master finished.

Dooku nodded.

Sidious laughed.

Epilogue: A Grievous Triumph

Supreme Chancellor Palpatine of the Galactic Republic sat straight and attentive in his official chair, hands folded atop his desk and attention raptly focused on the hologram standing before him. Outside, the artificial wind and rain battered the roof and window in heavy sheets, making a great deal of noise.

“… and so I regret to report, Your Excellency,” Master Obi Wan Kenobi was saying. “That despite all our efforts General Grievous was able to slip away with the aid of Count Dooku.”

“That is most unfortunate,” said Palpatine with a frown. “Tell me, were you able to trace where they might have gone next?”

Obi Wan shook his head. “I’m afraid not, though initial scans indicate they were headed deep into Separatist space.”

Palpatine’s brow furrowed thoughtfully. “So a pursuit is impossible?”

Obi Wan nodded slowly.

“I see…” Palpatine looked down at his desk for some seconds before resuming eye contact with the Jedi Master. “Have you anything else to report?”

“Yes, Your Excellency. Though the means of acquiring their cooperation I found extremely objectionable – and let me take this moment to petition for Admiral Tarkin to be immediately stripped of rank and dishonorably discharged for conduct unbefitting an officer of the Galactic Republic. I’ll put in more details on my return to Coruscant.”

“Your petition is duly recorded, Master Kenobi. Please, go on,” Palpatine gestured.

“Yes, well…” Obi Wan looked uncertain at the Chancellor’s neutral reply, but continued. “The local creatures here assisted in our initial capture of the general and suffered heavily at the hands of the Separatist Droid Amy. They put themselves in danger because of us and fought valiantly alongside our troops to defend their homes. I ask that you keep that in mind while you listen to the following.”

Obi Wan looked at something off camera and nodded, before stepping outside of the holocam’s field of view. Two equine-looking creatures stepped in to take his place. Though both rendered in standard holographic blue, it was clear that the smaller one was considerably darker than the taller one. Both had long, flowing heads of hair that seemed to blow in an invisible breeze and very feminine features. Despite their clear beauty, they were both looking exhausted and battered from the recent fighting. The tall one had one of her forelegs and both of her wings bound tightly and was using a small crutch to keep her balance. Moreover, the smaller one had a heavily-bandaged stub in place of the larger one’s long horn. More than any of that, though, was the hollow look in the larger one’s eyes.

She looked… broken.

“Thou art this Supreme Chancellor Palpatine that General Kenobi hath told us of?” the smaller one asked, her voice sternly neutral.

The old man nodded. “That I am.”

The tall one spoke up next. “I am Princess Celestia of Equestria. This is my sister, Princess Luna of Equestria,” she indicated her companion. “Though we cannot speak for our entire planet, we…” she bowed her head low with obvious difficulty and sighed. “Request immediate emergency admission to the Galactic Republic.”

Palpatine looked surprised. “Why, whatever for?”

“We have betrayed General Grievous,” Luna said. “When thine admiral forced our hoof, we assisted in handing him over to thy forces. Then we felt the full weight of his retribution when the droid armies attacked Equestria. Had it not been for General Kenobi and the clones, we should all have perished. As it is, our lands lie in ruin.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that,” said Palpatine sympathetically.

“But we fear Grievous is not through with us,” Celestia continued. “He may come back for further revenge, and alone we stand no chance.” She looked up, her eyes moist and pleading. “Please, Chancellor Palpatine, your Republic is our only hope for the survival of our people! Please help us!”

“Well…” Palpatine looked thoughtful. “It is unorthodox, but I believe I might be able to make a wartime exception to normal admissions procedures for your sake. And perhaps authorize some degree of rebuilding assistance, though I’m afraid our finances are stretched very thin.”

“Thank thee, kind Chancellor,” Luna bowed her head in a dignified manner.

“You realize of course, my dear, that there will be a need to establish a Republic garrison in your system?” Palpatine asked. “For your own protection, of course,” he added.

“We do, Chancellor. We are immensely grateful for your gracious extension of protection to our planet in these times of war,” Celestia said, with a deeper and more emotional bow of her own head.

“Let us hope better times come upon the galaxy soon,” Palpatine said.

Both princesses nodded solemnly, and the hologram vanished.

Darth Sidious sat back in his chair and smiled. Since the day his visions had led him to ensure the leak of Jedi Master Hera Ceidia’s next location to General Grievous, everything had gone perfectly. Grievous had killed her, which was a good start, but then, as the dark side had promised him, the chain of events had led to a new source of power being revealed to him. Tarkin had served his purpose in forcing their hand. Then the droid invasion and Grievous’ genocidal tactics had terrified the new planet right into his waiting arms, as expected. Now all that remained was to properly exploit it.

And the Jedi? Suspected nothing. Darth Sidious was almost tempted to laugh aloud.

Everything had proceeded as he had forseen.

Author's Note

That's all, folks! For this story, at least. In the future there may just be a continuation of this tale, but for now I urge those who've enjoyed the show to leave a like if you haven't, and give me some feedback in the comments below letting me know what you thought of our little ride.

And while you await the next chapter in this saga, I encourage you to read my other stories, such as The Dark Ones or Together Forever.

UPDATE: Sequel's here!

A Grievous Mistake

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…

WAR!

The galaxy is wracked by conflict between the Galactic Republic and the Confederacy of Independent Systems. United under the banner of the charismatic ex-Jedi Count Dooku, countless worlds have declared their secession from the Old Republic and raised an army to bring it down. Against this onslaught stands the newly-formed Grand Army of the Republic and Jedi Knights who lead them. Thousands of star systems are riven by battle between the Republic’s clone army and the droid armies of the Separatists.

At the forefront of the Separatists’ bid for galactic supremacy is the Kaleesh cyborg known only as General Grievous. A powerful warrior as gifted as he is merciless, the Supreme Commander of Droid Army has skillfully led his machines to triumphs on many fronts in these Clone Wars. Driven onwards by his all-consuming loathing for the Republic, and the Jedi Order in particular, Grievous relishes every victory, claiming the lightsabers of every Jedi he slays for trophies.

With the war now raging heavily in the Outer Rim sectors, Grievous prepares for his latest attack against his hated enemies…

The Providence-class carrier/destroyer Invisible Hand floated gently through the vacuum of space like some giant predator. The latest in a long line of Grievous’ flagships, it had been personally commandeered for him from the Trade Federation, an ally of the Separatists. Surrounding it were three mid-sized Munificent-class frigates, a powerful Recusant-class destroyer, and even an enormous converted Lucrehulk-class freighter, now a battleship. All told, the fleet was quite powerful, and more than adequate for task General Grievous had in mind for it.

“Sir,” reported the B-1 battle droid sitting behind a sensor panel on the Invisible Hand’s bridge. “Our sensors are detecting incoming ships in sector 7-B. Estimated distance approximately 70 kilometers on 16 degrees starboard.”

The cyborg general nodded approvingly. It was just as the leaked intelligence said it would be. Give or take a few degrees.

“Scramble all fighters and initiate course correction,” Grievous ordered. “I want our forward guns directly facing the Republic ships when they emerge from hyperspace.”

“Roger roger,” the droid answered, and the great behemoth slowly began to come about to its new heading.

Seventy kilometers was a very short distance in the vastness of space, and certainly far less distance than orthodox military tactics suggested being from ships reverting to realspace. It was all too easy for a simple error in calculations to result in catastrophic collisions between warships. But General Grievous had not earned his reputation or his rank by being unwilling to play fast and loose with the normal rules of war. A coward, some had called him, but he had never hesitated to seize the initiative with unconventional tactics.

Leaked intelligence from within the Republic had reported that Jedi Master Hera Ceidia, a human female responsible for several Separatist reversals in the past few weeks, would be aboard a diplomatic convoy headed towards this worthless backwater of a star system. Nominally allied to the Separatists, the Jedi was there to persuade the planetary government of the benefits of backing the Republic in its struggle against the Confederacy. Or rather, she would have been, had Grievous not already executed the entire planetary leadership to illustrate the consequences of attempted defection. Now the General was determined to add the Jedi’s lightsaber to his collection to cement the lesson to this system and any thinking of traveling the same path. And with the very precise coordinates Count Dooku had provided, this deadly ambush had been made possible.

“Sir! Reversion imminent!” the droid piped up again, in its annoying, squeaky voice.

“All forward cannons, prepare to fire,” the General commanded.

Seconds ticked by as the mechanical crew of the warship scrambled to carry out their leader’s orders.

“Republic cruisers emerging from hyperspace in 3… 2… 1.”

“FIRE!”

Three ships, one a vast dagger-shaped Venator-class Star Destroyer that the transponder identified as Fateful and the other two puny Consular-class escort cruisers, emerged from their hyperspace jump blind, with their shields yet to power up. For a few critical seconds, they were completely exposed. And Grievous’ fleet was virtually on top of them. To call what followed a space battle would be an insult to the term.

The two smaller ships, with little armor and absolutely no warning, were blown to pieces in the opening seconds of the Separatist ambush. The vast salvo of turbolasers and torpedoes blew onwards through their wreckage and smashed into the Star Destroyer. Much larger and with better armor, it avoided being destroyed instantly. Instead, vast holes were blown into its hull, and the majority of its guns were silenced before even having the chance to target the enemy. Most importantly, however, its shield generators were targeted specifically for destruction before they could envelope the ship in their protective fields. By the time the opening barrage ceased, fires were blazing out of control in more than a dozen locations, and much of the ship’s port side was full of holes.

Grievous looked on the burning, crippled Star Destroyer with a malevolent sense of satisfaction, pausing for a moment to enjoy the sight before giving his next orders. Destroying a ship was amusing and occasionally even satisfying, but after all that the Jedi filth had taken from him, after the loss of his honor and his home and his organic body... there really could be only one way to deal with them.

“All droid fighters engage the enemy. Knock out any remaining guns and keep the space clear of enemy fighters and gunships.” He looked away from the seated machines, to the black B-X Commando Droid standing behind his command chair. “Prepare a boarding party. I shall kill the Jedi scum face to face!”

The interior of the Fateful was almost as much a wreck as the outside. Grievous’ boarding transport passed through the opened doors to the dorsal flight deck. Dozens of fighter-craft and gunships sat wrecked and smoking on the deck. Only a third of them had managed to launch, and they were even now being swarmed by the Separatist droid fighters. Among the scrapped ships, Grievous noted with no small satisfaction, was a solitary Delta-7 Aethersprite-class Starfighter undoubtedly had belonged to the ship’s Jedi commander. No others in the Republic military used such difficult, expensive ships.

The hanger bay was littered with the broken remains of droids and few clones who had valiantly attempted to fight back the initial wave of borders. Grievous strode across the remains of his soldiers and those of the enemy without pause or ceremony, following the pathways he knew must lead to the command bridge, and his target. The way would not have been difficult even if he hadn’t completely memorized the standard layout of the Venator class – merely follow the trail of corpses. With commando droids taking the lead and a pair of IG-100 MagnaGuards covering the General’s rear, the latest wave of the boarding party made good time.

The double blast doors leading to the bridge were sealed shut, and surrounded by many wrecked B-1 and B-2 battle droids. A small group of clone troopers, undoubtedly dispatched to hold for as long as they could, stood between Grievous and his true foe.

He nodded at the commando droids. “Kill them.”

They didn’t need telling twice. Blaster bolts, blue and red, flew back and forth as the black machines charged the white-armored troopers with all guns blazing. They jumped acrobatically over and around the clones’ improvised barricade, and were in among them with enormous vibro-knives.

Grievous watched with a vague interest as his droids butchered every last clone trooper. One of their number went down to blaster shot between the eyes, but the others were still standing by the time the short skirmish was done.

“Secure the area,” he directed a squad of ten commandoes. “Ensure no help arrives for our Jedi friend.”

“Roger roger,” the droid in captain’s markings saluted, and the designated unit rushed to do the General’s bidding.

“You two,” Grievous pointed to a pair of the droids he had witnessed kill particularly well. “With me. The rest of you remain here and make certain nothing gets in or out of this bridge.”

“Roger roger,” the droids repeated mindlessly, assuming their assigned stations.

Grievous plucked one of his lightsaber trophies from his midsection, igniting the green blade with a pleasing snap-hiss. Relishing the sensation of impeding vengeance on the order that had so wronged him, he plunged it into the blast door, the plasma blade easily burning through thick durasteel.

“Let’s kill a Jedi.”

Inside the bridge, Jedi Master Hera Ceidia was in the middle of frantic argument with two of her clone bridge officers.

“But sir, navigation’s completely shot, we’ll have no control over where we end up! We could go right into a star or through a black hole! Or end up marooned in cold void to starve to death on our own ship!”

“And do you think falling into Separatist hands will end any better for us? Our self-destruct is already offline. We have no other option! So fire up the engines, lieutenant! That is a direct order!” the aging human retorted, her greying blonde hair seeming to flow behind her in anger.

“Sir, we might at least-”

The clone’s answer was cut off by the sight of a green blade emerging from the blast doors, quickly cutting in a wide circle.

Master Ceidia bared her teeth and dropped into a fighting stance between herself and her remaining officers, her bronze-bladed lightsaber igniting in her hand.

Within seconds, the burning circle in the blast doors was complete, and it fell over with a loud crash of metal on metal.

“Lieutenant, get this ship into hyperspace right now!” Master Ceidia demanded. “We’ll take this monster with us if we have to!”

“Oh, I don’t think that will be happening,” announced a deep, heavily-accented voice no Jedi could fail to recognize as its owner stepped through the hole. General Grievous, the infamous hunter of her kind, had come.

“Hera Ceidia, isn’t it?” he asked, taking a step forward. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

The Jedi Master got the distinct impression that behind his mask, the cyborg was smiling.

“Aha ha ha ha ha ha ha!” Grievous’ laughter barked out, and he threw his arms wide.

Above the bone-white cyborg flipped a pair of commando droids. Around his sides came two MagnaGuards, elctrostaffs twirling menacingly. As one, the droids charged the Jedi Master.

Immediately, her lightsaber flew up to deflect a barrage of red blaster bolts from the commandos. Over a dozen bolts she sent flying in all directions. But her distraction allowed the MagnaGuards to close the distance, and they swung their dual-ended electrostaffs at her in synchronized assault patterns. One to her right, one to her left, with the commandoes hanging back and firing into the melee when they saw the opportunity. Master Ceidia was already hard-pressed, and Grievous himself hadn’t even entered the fight.

She settled into the invaluable defensive patterns of the standard lightsaber Form III, Soresu, catching each bolt or swing as it came, deflecting them to one side or another. She was no master of the form, as Master Obi Wan was, but she was practiced enough. The Force guided her to intercept each blow before it could land, her arms moving with supernatural speed. Her initial difficulty leveled out into calm acceptance as she allowed the tranquility of the light side to fill her. Several seconds in, the combatants were at stalemate, but the Jedi Master needed only an opportunity.

And then she got one.

The blaster bolt of a commando droid, aimed at her chest, she caught on the edge of her lightsaber blade and redirected it directly into a MagnaGuard’s face. The droid staggered back, its systems scrambling to readjust itself. Master Ceidia ducked underneath the uppercut swing of the other MagnaGuard and swung her lightsaber to cut the first one in half. Deflecting two more shots from the commando droids, she used the Force to hurl the remains of the droid directly into one of the commandos at high speed, bowling it over and smashing it into one of the walls.

Faster than should have been possible for a human her age, the Jedi Master flipped over the head of the second MagnaGuard and thrust her blade at its back. It spun around and caught the swing just in time, but it had lost its momentum. Master Ceidia took the offensive against the droid with a precise series of jabs and thrusts from the elegant, one-handed, dueling-centric Form II, Makashi, keeping the machine off-balance. The remaining commando droid drew its vibro-knife and leaped in behind her. She ducked beneath a simultaneous knife swing at the back of her neck and staff thrust towards her heart. A Force nudge propelled the MagnaGuard further forward than it intended, and its electrostaff jabbed the commando droid in the chest, shorting it out with a lethal dose of electricity.

And then Grievous went in.

One moment, he was standing there with both arms folded behind his back, simply observing the ebb and flow of the combat. The next, he exploded into motion, two arms splitting into four, each holding a stolen blue or green lightsaber. Simultaneously, he bounded forward on his clawed feet, all four hands spinning their lightsabers impossibly fast: a virtual tornado of blades.

Master Ceidia flung herself hurriedly backwards to avoid the cyborg general’s initial charge, which placed him between her and the MagnaGuard. Despite his great weight and momentum, Grievous turned on a dime to face her. His four arms rained down lightsaber blows at speeds far in excess of what a mere organic could accomplish. His blades spun, slashed, stabbed, and swiped at seeming random, giving the Jedi no chance to recover between strikes. Foot by foot the general forced her backwards, until she was virtually pinned against the wall. Her Soresu kept her alive, the living Force giving just enough warning of where the blades would fall to allow her to dodge or block. But she had no chance the offensive, and worse, the cyborg would take far longer to tire than a middle-aged human woman.

The MagnaGuard prowled the edges of the duel, looking for an opportunity to dart in and deliver a blow. But the lightsabers were moving so quickly that even the advanced combat programming of the droid could not pinpoint any opportunity to strike its enemy without hitting its master. For almost half a minute the frantic duel continued, General Grievous struggling to land a hit on the Jedi Master, she striving merely to hold him off long enough.

Then, without warning, Grievous spun around, abandoning the duel. With as much speed as his legs could generate, he charged the clone officers, still seated at their consoles and frantically trying to bring the ship’s engines to working status. Calling on the Force, Master Ceidia jumped though the after him, trying to interpose herself. Her maneuver came too late to save the closest clone, whom Grievous killed with a single cut across the chest.

“Hold your posts!” the Jedi cried as she once again became the target of the withering rain of lightsaber blows. “Get this ship into hyperspace or we all die for nothing!”

“You’re all going to die for nothing either way, Jedi filth,” Grievous spat, redoubling his efforts to break Master Ceidia’s defenses.

Randomly, he swung at clones, forcing the Jedi to ignore her own protection to save them. Master Ceidia caught a particularly powerful double-handed overhead blow aimed at a clone with her lightsaber. Grievous pressed down hard, and the three blades were locked together in a contest of strength. That gave the MagnaGuard all the opportunity that it needed.

Master Ceidia let out an involuntary shriek of pain when an electrostaff jabbed her in the back, unleashing thousands of amps of electricity across her body. Her nervous system spasming uncontrollably from the sudden input, she had no way of stopping the other two of Grievous’ blades from descending in a wide arc.

And slicing both her legs off.

Jedi Master Hera Ceidia’s face contorted with mute agony as she felt her limbs being burned through the dual plasma blades. Her hands released her lightsaber as she crumpled, its bronze blade flickering out without the continued pressure of her grip on it. She hit the floor hard, but her body was in such shock that she barely felt it. With all the desperation of a drowning man, she clutched for the Force.

Grievous wasted little time. As soon as the Jedi Master went down, he and his remaining MagnaGuard descended on the bridge crew with all the fury of a hurricane. Fully armored, veteran clone troopers were no match for him, still less those in mere cloth uniforms who had rarely seen ground combat. They scrambled desperately to put space between themselves and the cyborg, a handful of them even managing to snap off some blaster shots. It did them no good – Grievous’ armor was far too strong for blasters.

The very last clone Grievous dragged by his neck over to where the fallen Jedi lay. Hoisting him up to give Master Ceidia the “best” view, he impaled the clone right through the heart before tossing the still-twitching corpse aside. She reached out almost pleadingly for her lightsaber, but Grievous scooped it up in a clawed hand first. Next, he reached down and grabbed the Jedi by her own thin neck, lifting her high enough that their faces were level.

“Jedi fool!” General Grievous mocked. “Your sacrifice was for nothing! Ha ha ha ha ha!”

She stared directly into his eyes, despite the unimaginable pain she was enduring. “Not…” she wheezed. “Nothing….”

Two fingers of her right hand managed a small gesture.

“Huh?” Grievous’ followed the direction her hand had seemed to indicate.

At the end of the trail was a control console. A control console with a single depressed button.

Around the pair came the unmistakable sound of engines whining in preparation for something big. And then the Star Destroyer Fateful shot into hyperspace, without guidance or destination, taking the Supreme Commander of the Droid Army with it to parts unknown.

Grievous growled angrily, fixing his eyes on the helpless Jedi Master once more. “You’re going to die for that,” he spat.

A ghost of a smile twitched in the corner of Master Ceidia’s mouth. “There is no death…” she managed. “There is… only… the Force.”

“I think you will find,” Grievous pressed the deactivated hilt of her lightsaber up against her sternum. “That death,” he fingered the activation button. “Is quite real.”

General Grievous pressed the button. A bronze blade shot out of the hilt, impaling Jedi Master Hera Ceidia directly through her heart. Her body twitched once in a death spasm, and then was still.

Grievous tossed her carcass aside, adding her saber to the ones already magnetically attached to his waist. His eyes looked around the ruined bridge, his keen mind racing. He had his victory, even if it had become sour. Now he had to figure out how to stop this thing.

Many light-years away from the tumultuous events unfurling in the vacuum of space, a certain lavender alicorn princess by the name of Twilight Sparkle was peering up through her telescope. The night, as she had requested from the Cloudsdale weather team, was clear and crisp, without a single cloud to mar her view of the stars. The view from atop her recently-obtained crystal palace was excellent, and she was very pleased to note that the amount of time it took her to observe and record each individual section of the sky had decreased by a whole 1.6%!

The stars were beautiful on that night, and she could clearly make out several of the major constellations without even the aid of her personalized telescope. Not that that prevented her from using it at every opportunity, of course. As with many fields of science, Twilight found astronomy to be a truly fascinating subject that was sadly often underrated. Princess Luna, at the very least, had been very pleased with Twilight most recent choice of study.

Sadly, the same could not be said for her dragon assistant, Spike. He was with her on her high viewing platform, true, but he was also curled up on a beanbag chair and reading a comic book. Like most ponies, he clearly lacked adequate appreciation for the fascinating science that was the study of the night sky.

“Hey, Twilight,” he removed his face from the comic without warning. “Do you think there are aliens out there?”

“Aliens? Pffft.” Twilight snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous! Such notions are mere folk superstition invented to explain certain strange anomalies we simply haven’t fully unraveled yet!”

“You live on a world where the sun and moon are driven by two ponies. You’ve fought against the reality-bending spirit of chaos, been to another dimension inhabited by weird two-legged creatures twice, and weaponized friendship into a badguy-blasting rainbow laser cannon, and you don’t believe in aliens?” Spike deadpanned.

“Of course not!” Twilight scoffed. “Science has never unearthed any convincing evidence of life coming into existence on other planets, and until such time as it does we must assume that it has not!”

“You mean besides the other planet filled with weird alternate us?”

“That’s completely different!” Twilight exclaimed, finally looking away from her telescope. “Where are you getting such ridiculous notions from, anyway?”

Spike held open his comic book for her to see. Inside was a full page drawing of gigantic flying saucer, piloted by bug-eyed green pony-things, abducting dozens of screaming ponies from a desolate desert landscape. Twilight flipped through the next several pages, showing ponies being viciously experimented on and mutated into weird, unnameable things by bizarre tools on the end of long, metal arms. The ending showed the same tools descending upon the main protagonist, who was helplessly strapped to table and crying out with all his might.

“Where did you even get a comic like this?” Twilight complained. “This is far too intense for a dragon of your age! You’ll get nightmares!”

“Well… uh… heh heh…” Spike coughed nervously. Then he pointed. “Hey, look! An alien!”

Twilight rolled her eyes, but obligingly turned around anyway. Surprise surprise, there was nothing there. And when she turned around again, Spike was gone and the door was partially open.

“Aliens, hmmph!” she snorted again, placing the confiscated comic on her table beside her research notes. “What a bunch of ridiculous nonsense!”

Twilight peered back through the telescope, carefully studying the constellation dubbed Auroros Major. For several minutes she looked back and forth from the sky to her notes, the conversation with Spike slowing fading from her thoughts as she immersed herself in the glories of astronomy.

Then, without warning, the vision of her telescope was filled a view of pitted, blackened metal. Startled, Twilight took her eye out, dialed back the magnification, and looked again. A vast, grey, triangular thing was flying through the blackness of space. It hull was made of a dull grey metal interspersed with charred holes and a long red stripe down the center. The apparent rear featured numerous large cylinders that glowed a bright blue at the end.

As Twilight watched, the object flew through space at a very rapid pace, heading for… Twilight swung her telescope around to look.

“The moon,” she breathed. “It’s headed straight towards the moon.”

At her estimate, the mysterious thing would crash onto the dark side of the planet’s moon unless it changed course within the next few seconds.

It didn’t.

The gigantic flying object was on the verge of disappearing from Twilight’s sight behind the moon when she noticed several small flashes along its side. Increasing her magnification, she noted several smaller objects detaching themselves from the sides and hurdling towards…

Twilight did a few quick calculations in her head. Her eyes widened.

“Spike!” she called inside. “Can you get me my field kit please? I think I’m about to go out!”

“Huh?” came the response from wherever the small dragon was hiding. “At this time of night? What for?”

“Aliens.”

Nighttime Festivities

Grievous hated battle droids. He really did. Ironic, considering how much of his own body was itself robotic, but he found the war machines he was provided by Count Dooku and the factory worlds of the CIS to be perpetual exercises in frustration. Even the best of them suffered from serious limitations compared to the armies of Kaleesh warriors he had commanded when he was known as Qymaen jai Sheelal, and even the days shortly after he had taken up his current name.

But of all the battle droids in the arsenal of the Confederacy of Independent Systems, the B-1 models were by far the worst in Grievous’ opinion. Weak, stupid, fragile, and only useful in extreme numbers, he often wondered why anyone bothered to build them at all. He himself had often petitioned to decommission the model altogether in favor of more organic armies to fight for the Separatists, but each time he was denied his wish. And so he was stuck with what he considered to be the single most annoying model of droid in existence. Which really was unfortunate, considering that B-1s made up the bulk of the Separatist Droid Army.

It was in that context that Grievous’ next actions had to be understood.

Ignoring the cheerily-dressed equines and their party altogether, General Grievous stormed across the room, hands curled up into fists. He grabbed the first battle droid in a hat that was within his reach, holding it up by its chest.

“Tell me,” he said, in a dangerous tone of voice. “For what purpose were you constructed?”

“To defend the interests of the Confederacy of Independent Systems! To fight and destroy its enemies wherever they may be found, sir!” it said in its high-pitched, squeaky voice. Grievous hated that voice. It was the antithesis of what he thought a warrior should sound like.

Nonetheless, he set the droid down and folded both hands behind his back. “So enlighten me,” he continued. “What does the wearing of party hats and participation in a primitive festival have to do with that?”

“Uh…” the droid paused, tapping its hand to its chin. “The maintenance of our morale?”

Grievous sighed, closed his eyes, and drew back his fist.

And punched the battle droid’s head clean off.

The long, thin, eyeless, mouthless head of the B-1 battle droid, party hat and all, went flying through the air. It hit one of the crystal walls of the palace at high speed and bounced off, clattering to floor below. The body it had left behind wobbled momentarily as it struggled to keep balance, before toppling over and joining its head on Twilight’s floor.

Everypony around the general froze with shook. Even Twilight, who had seen General Grievous execute a living creature as his very first action in front of her, did not expect such callousness towards his own troops from the alien cyborg. Punching one of his own droids’ heads off – over a trivial annoyance no less! To everypony, it looked as though their guest had just committed a public murder. The atomosphere went from celebratory to extremely tense in the blink of an eye.

Who knows what might have happened had another B-1 not reacted when it did. The droid walked over casually and picked up the head of its fallen compatriot, turning it over in its hands like some kind of curiosity, before looking to its leader and speaking up.

“Well, that was rude!”

Twilight Sparkle’s jaw dropped and she blinked, looking shocked. “Didn’t… Didn’t he just kill one of you? Isn’t that a bit more than just rude?!”

“Oh no,” the battle droid shook its head, sounding cheerful. “We have a fusion torch back in the pod! B-1X25 can be reassembled easily. We just have to weld his head back on and everything is a-ok!”

‘Don’t remind me,” said Grievous, his eyes still closed as he struggled not to explode any more than he already had. He could, of course, forbid the repairs from taking place, but on this benighted planet he needed every soldier he could get, including the miserable incompetents of his army.

Regrettably.

The battle droid leaned in towards Twilight, as if letting her in on some kind of secret. “Between you and me, he does that a lot when he’s mad.”

“Not often enough, it seems,” Grievous answered.

“Aw, we love you too, sir,” said the droid. “Grievous! Grievous! Grievous!” it chanted.

The chant was very rapidly taken up by all the other B-1 battle droids in the room and slowly, reluctantly by the ponies in it. Beginning, naturally, with Pinkie Pie.

Grievous fantasized about murdering every single thing, organic or droid, in that room. Vividly. In great detail.

When the chanting began to die away, another battle droid took the stage. “Ok everybody, our friend B-1X25 is going to be just fine! And I know from the bottom of my central processor that he would want us to go on without him and party!”

The ponies and droids alike cheered at that. Somepony blew a streamer very loudly, and confetti floated down from the ceiling. In the corner, a blue-maned white pony in sunglasses fired up the DJ stand as the celebration recommenced.

The cyborg general felt a tugging on his cape, and looked down to see a certain bright pink pony he had already developed a particular dislike for.

“So, Grievy,” said Pinkie Pie, looking up at him. “Do you want your welcome to Ponyville cupcake now, or later?”

“No! And my name is Grievous! General! Grievous! Understand?!”

“So…” Pinkie rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “That’s a later then?”

“No! Go away!” Grievous made to storm off in a huff, but Pinkie Pie clung to his cape.

“Nopony escapes the cupcake, Grievy! Nopony!”

“I hate you all,” thought Grievous.

Far away from the celebration, from the village of Ponyville, and indeed from Equestria itself, another figure was on a mission. Princess Luna soared high above the lunar landscape, seeking the location of the foreign object she could sense on the moon’s surface. It took even the dark alicorn some time to locate even such a large thing on an object as big as the moon, but eventually she found what it was she sought.

The Venator-class Star Destroyer Fateful was an absolute wreck. Battered first by the bombardment of the Separatist fleet, then by its unexpected and wild journey through hyperspace, and then finally from its crash landing onto the surface of Equus’ moon, it was a testament to the sturdy construction of Kuat Drive Yards that there was anything left of it at all. As it was, the port-side command deck was missing, the overall port superstructure was full of holes and completely compromised, and the bottommost decks had been ground off altogether during the ship’s long, slow crash onto the moon.

Princess Luna naturally had little difficulty in finding entrance into a ship so full of holes. It was quite dark inside the Fateful, all power supplies having long since gone dead, so Luna lit her horn to see her surroundings.

What she saw was ruin.

The walls and floor of the ship, where they had not been ground or blasted into hunks of charred metal, were covered in what looked to be burn marks. Some places had them more intensely than others, but almost nowhere Luna visited was devoid of such things. And they were more plentiful where the bodies were lying.

In her millennia of existence, Princess Luna had seen many sights, but very rarely had she witnessed such appalling carnage as she found aboard the Star Destroyer. Bodies – of both organics and droids – were scattered throughout the ship. But far more common were parts of bodies, torn apart by the forces that had been exerted on the ship. Dried blood, crimson and black, stained the durasteel everywhere Luna looked. The droid forces matched up roughly with what Grievous had brought with him – when they were whole enough for such identification anyway.

The other side, the soldiers of what Luna presumed must be the Galactic Republic Grievous had named, somewhat resembled Twilight Sparkle’s description of the creatures that lived on the world beyond the mirror. Humans she had called them, though the ones Luna saw lacked the multicolored skin of their dimensional counterparts. Indeed, they all sported the same tone of brown skin, with solid black hair. When the princess was able to examine their faces, she noted that each soldier had the same face, save for a few cosmetic alterations such as tattoos or variant hairstyles. This seemed to confirm Grievous’ claim that they were all clones. They were, she noted, dressed in white battle armor that looked and felt somewhat like plastic. However, the burn marks indicated it was at least somewhat effective in protecting its wearers.

The fact that they were all dead tended to belay that observation, though.

Luna wandered through the great bay in the center of ship’s superstructure, noting as she did the many wondrous-looking craft around her. This place too was full of bodies, but was also full of the wreckage of dozens of smaller ships, which intrigued the alicorn. Perhaps this ship was meant as a carrier of lesser vessels? Was it intended to support a planetary invasion? Maybe that was why they had been destroyed in the bay when the ship was boarded?

Having no answers to these questions, Luna pressed onwards through the ship. The many scenes of carnage that she passed only hardened the night princess’s resolve that such devastation should not be brought to Equestria. These Clone Wars must not be permitted to reach the surface of the planet below, no matter what must be done to stop it. For if such death was the result of one single battle, how much worse would the entire war be? Equestria would be a charred ruin, if indeed there was anything left of it at all.

It was as Luna began to climb the remaining tower jutting out of the ship’s superstructure that she noticed something odd. Previously, all of the Republic’s clone soldiers she had observed had been dressed in white battle armor. As she climbed, she noticed that some of the clone corpses were dressed not in armor, but in cloth uniforms. The composition of the droid forces, by contrast, did not change as she ascended, except in that far more of the black-bodied ones were showing up. She began to have her suspicions.

It was when Luna reached the bridge that she found her suspicions confirmed. She recognized the area for the control center that it was instinctively, needed nopony to explain that to her. There were spaces for many operators for a dizzying variety of consoles whose function she did not understand, but only pieces of three droids. Two were the black-armored models Grievous had called commandos, and one appeared to be the same model as the staff-wielding droid that had hung close to the general throughout their meeting.

By contrast, the bridge was full of the bodies of clones. They had been killed in variety of ways, to look at it. Some had been beheaded, others cut across the chest, some lacked evident wounds besides general burning, and others had simple, clean-looking holes through their bodies. Luna even found the one human that did not look like the others. It looked female, with blonde hair with streaks of grey. Its legs were missing, and it had a burned hole through its chest. What united all corpses was the fact that they were, to a man, wearing cloth uniforms rather than battle armor. Sending armored troops to take lesser areas and unarmored, light-equipped men to take the bridge made no sense at all. On the other hoof, putting unarmored men in an area where they were unlikely to see combat was perfectly sensible to the alicorn’s mind.

Grievous had lied to them. He had not been boarded. He had been the boarder.

The Battle of Canterlot (I)

The Separatist Droid Army marched relentlessly up the mountain towards Canterlot, following its armored spearhead. The AATs at the fore of the vast column were the first to fire on Equestria’s capital, the sound of their heavy main blaster cannons echoing easily above the nervous whispers and whinnies of the ponies within. The laser blasts tore through the air en-mas, impacting against the city’s protective barrier with tremendous force. Explosions rippled across the magical bubble, but it was built from the magic of alicorns and a draconequus alike under the guidance of the leading expert in such spells, and so did not break.

After almost a solid minute of bombardment from the hovertanks had made no noticeable impact on the shield, a tactical droid with the label T-XB17 poking from the top of one of the AATs raised its hand. Instantly, the every single one of the tanks ceased fire. For a moment that seemed to Princess Luna to stretch out for far too long, all was silence. And then the droid pointed one finger at the white and gold city.

“All units,” it commanded in a dull but somehow feminine-sounding monotone. “Advance and fire.”

Obediently, the orderly lines of B-1s resumed their advance, seeming to flow around the AATs in their dozens, then hundreds, then thousands. The shield would not repulse them, Luna knew. It was a spell designed to deflect energy attacks, physical projectiles moving at speed, and dark magic. The droids were not creatures of dark magic, merely mindless conglomerations of mechanical parts and electricity. And the princesses could hardly have set the spell to repel everything from outside when it had been cast several days after Grievous’ initial arrival. Canterlot was, after all, the capital of the nation and as such had a regular amount of traffic to and from it. And of course, at the time they had had only a guess as to who any potential enemy might be. There simply had not been a way to calibrate it to specifically repel alien machines, as no relevant magical research had been done on the subject.

As Luna predicated, the first battle droids to reach the shimmering pink barrier forced their way through it as though it were simply some especially viscous liquid, their passage causing visible ripples in the shield. They continued their march forward without pause, aiming their blasters at the city’s outer walls and the Royal Guard that manned them. Red laser blasts and beams of unicorn magic flew through the air as the two sides began to exchange fire.

And then the droids walked into the first of the sisters’ surprises.

Over the course of their long, long lives, Celestia and Luna had made many friends and allies. Among them was a water spirit that had taken up residence in the reservoir high atop the mountain where Canterlot stood. Normally shy and reclusive, at their request it had acceded to lay in wait in the small river outside the city gates. When the first droids drew near, the water of the mountain rose up into a titan with an amorphous humanoid head, arms, and chest and a cone of pure water below the waist.

The spirit’s fists lashed out at the intruding machines, sweeping away a dozen in a single blow. The other droids immediately turned their weapons on the giant. At such close range, and with such a large target, even their notoriously poor aiming programs could not fail to find their mark. Red blaster bolts impacted on the creature by the dozen, each hit causing a small flash of steam and a ripple across its surface. But the creature was enormous, and the impacts against it small. Its arms stretched out even further as it swept them across the ground before it. Droids were caught in the currents, crushed by the weight, or thrown off the great mountain altogether. The Royal Guard atop the walls redoubled their own barrage of projectiles, and foot by foot the droid line was forced back. They kept coming with the fearlessness of those lacking any sense of self-preservation, but very soon were being destroyed the moment they forced their way into the shield.

At last, after several hundred droids had been pulped for only a handful of pony casualties, the tactical droid outside called the advance to a halt. With another gesture, she signaled for a trio of AATs to advance. The armored behemoths forced their way through the shield more easily than the droids had, and the hail of projectiles and magic from the wall did little but scorch their armor. Immediately the B-1 advanced resumed in their wake, droids marching through the shield once again.

The AATs concentrated their fire on the water spirit, their far larger cannons vaporizing considerably more of its body with each hit. For a moment it looked as though it were shrinking back, but the next it slammed its fist into one of the tanks. Water poured into the machine from all angles, crushing the droid crew under its pressure and shorting out it internal electronics. The other fist solidified into a virtual mace of ice, which rammed the leftmost tank on the side. The ice shattered into a million pieces, but the tank was sent hurling over the edge of the cliff by the sheer kinetics force of it. It plummeted to the ground far below the city, visibly exploding upon contact. The final tank fired its main cannon directly into the water creature’s “head”, which was vaporized immediately. Far from crumbling, more water flowed out to reform both fist and head, with which it promptly flooded the third AAT. With their armor removed, the droid line was once again slowly but surely forced back towards the barrier by the combined efforts of the water spirit and the Royal Guard.

From where she stood atop the palace battlements, Princess Luna felt a cautious sense of optimism creeping in. The battle, at least so far, seemed to be going well.

“Idiot droids!” General Grievous pounded his fist onto his command chair’s armrest and snarled. “Can’t they do anything right?!”

The cyborg general had been observing the opening stages of the attack via a holoprojector in his transport’s cabin, and he had not liked what he had seen on the three dimensional image. B-1s were expendable, certainly, but they were supposed to at least take down more of the enemy than they had so far. More importantly, time was a crucial factor in this campaign, and he had no idea how much they had.

As always, the general’s moronic subordinates were fumbling about like blind fools, smashing their heads against a brick wall in the hopes of taking it down. Even the so-called “tactical droids” appeared to be oblivious to what the cyborg found ridiculously simple. The water in the river beside Canterlot continued to flow freely from higher up the mountain, but the flow past where the water giant had appeared was virtually dried up, the riverbed containing a slight trickle and the elegant waterfall gone. This fact, combined with the creature’s evident regenerative capabilities, led Grievous to a very simple conclusion.

“You!” he barked at one of the droids standing behind command consoles. “Order Fireheart Squadron to commence a bombing run on these coordinates!” he tapped the holographic image of a cavern near the mountaintop from which the river was flowing down towards Canterlot. The spot his clawed finger touched lit up. “I want a full proton bomb spread into that cave!”

“Yes sir!” the droid answered, hurrying to transmit the general’s commands.

Grievous watched the hologram before him shift as the designated squadron of Hyena bombers adjusted their course and soared towards the mountain. As they approached the target, all five droid ships launched five projectiles at the exact same moment. The Hyena bombers pulled away as the five glowing proton bombs flew into the mouth of the cavern. Seconds later, there was a spectacular explosion. Vast quantities of water were instantly vaporized, sent hurdling into the already dark sky as steam. More importantly, the cavern and a considerable portion of the mountain face around it collapsed, sending streams of debris raining down on pony and droid alike. The planet’s natives deflected the worst of the small landslide before it could strike their city and a number of droids were crushed, but far more important was the fact the water flow had ceased.

“Now order our armor forward,” Grievous directed.

At his command, the remaining AATs outside the city surged forward, driving straight through the shield. Their heavy guns unleashed hell on the water beast, vaporizing enormous amounts of its liquid body with each hit. It fought back as best it could, destroying two more tanks with its tremendous fists even as B-1s advanced behind the armored vehicles. But, deprived of the water flow it needed to regenerate its body, the creature’s fate was sealed. Shot by shot it was worn down by tanks and droids alike, until at last it lost all coherency and collapsed into a thin puddle in the dry riverbed.

“Press the attack,” the cyborg commanded. “Kill them all.”

The water spirit’s demise signaled the start of the true battle for Canterlot. Hundreds of droids and several tanks had already been destroyed, but the Separatist army was still quite large. AATs fired their cannons at the city’s outer walls, while rank after rank of droids marched through behind them. The exchange of fire between the walls and the ground below intensified almost fourfold as the Royal Guard struggled to keep up with the sheer number of enemies pouring in.

Canterlot’s walls had been primarily designed with peacetime in mind, but they had withstood more than one siege in their long years. The heavy blaster shots rocked the ancient stone and burnt away its paint, but did not immediately blow it to pieces. Rather, the Royal Guard atop the wall and within the towers that interspersed the structure were being taken out one at a time. The B-1s were not especially accurate, but there were now hundreds of them inside the shield’s perimeter, all concentrating fire on those brave ponies that were defending their home. There were simply more blaster bolts in the air than magical attacks or projectile weapons, and every droid cut down was immediately replaced by another. One by one those soldiers behind the battlements and in the tower windows were cut down, or else forced to keep their heads to the ground.

Even as Luna watched, one of the AAT shots finally overcame a tower’s enchantments. In a spectacular explosion, much of the structure’s middle was sheared off. The top of the building toppled over in an avalanche of stone, tile, and metal, crushing to death almost a dozen ponies caught beneath it. The alicorn’s heart was simultaneously filled with sorrow and righteous anger at the deaths of her subordinates.

“Now, Tia?” the night princess enquired of her sister.

The solar princess, now arrayed in full golden battle armor, made for a splendid sight. In contrast, her face was grim.

“Not yet,” answered Celestia without looking at her younger sibling. “Wait just a little longer.”

“But our ponies are dying out there!” Luna complained. “Surely ‘tis our duty to be among them!”

“And so we shall be, Lulu,” Celestia replied. “But first we need to time our counterattack for maximum impact.” The white alicorn gestured at the tactical droid, still halfway out of her tank, directing the incoming droid forces from beyond the shield.

Luna could see her sister’s logic, but it still ate at her to sit back and allow her subjects to die on her behalf while she awaited the perfect moment that might never come. Nonetheless, the solar alicorn had more experience with modern warfare than did her sister, so Luna repressed her urges and waited atop the tower of Canterlot Palace.

On the city’s edge, the situation was beginning to turn critical. Rank after rank of battle droids advanced through the protective barrier in a seemingly endless tide, flooding the ground between the outer walls and the shield’s edge. Blaster bolts were flying thick and freely, burning the artistically-carved marble of the city’s buildings and exploding into showers of sparks at every turn. Return fire from the Royal Guard in the area was sparse and isolated, with anypony that stuck their head up for more than a second immediately targeted by a score of droids. Few were left alive long enough to do so in any case.

Then, the great gate that barred the entrance to Canterlot took one more impact than even its heavy and ancient enchantments could endure. Struck by an AAT’s main gun, it exploded in a spectacular fireball, sending chunks of wood and metal flying in all directions. A few droids closest to the blast were shredded, but the soulless automata shrugged off those losses as stoically as they had all their other losses to date.

“Go!” the tactical droid commanded from atop her AAT. “Go!”

At the droid’s command, the remaining AATs surged forward and through the shield, while those already inside made for the now-open portal. As before, ranks of B-1 battle droids followed in the wake, ready to storm Equestria’s capital and put it to the torch.

Celestia turned to her sister and nodded. “Now.”

Grinning viciously, Luna put the silver horn that had hung on her flank to her lips and blew two long notes.

That was the signal. As one, the two alicorn sisters took flight from Canterlot Palace, as did a full two hundred pegasi around them. Mostly Royal Guard, but with small detachment that had been borrowed from the Wonderbolts, the flying ponies soared rapidly over the capital and descended on the heads of the unprepared droid army.

Equestria, though long a nation of peace, had not entirely forgotten the ways of war. Once upon a time, during the days of Commander Hurricane and the Pegasopolis Legions, the pegasi had made war from the sky with the wrath of nature and lightning-fast dive bomb attacks. Now the pegasi of the modern era continued the martial traditions of their ancestors, swooping down with miniaturized storm clouds and potent alchemic explosives to wreak havoc on the invaders. Dozens of lightning bolts struck the massive advancing tanks, overwhelming their electronic systems and shorting out the droids within. Explosions rocked the ground troops as the pegasi tossed their primitive grenades into tightly-packed formations. Mechanical limbs and heads went flying in every direction.

Cut off from their air support by Canterlot’s protective bubble and with their primary focus on the open gateway in front of them, the droids’ first response was clumsy and ill-aimed. Princess Luna’s expression was one of malicious glee as she repaid the droids in full for their defiling of her land. Her horn unleashed blast after blast of mystic blue fire into the battle droids, burning scores to foul-smelling molten slag in a matter of seconds. Dodging their slow attempts to return fire with contemptuous ease, Luna swooped in low over their heads – low enough even to kick at the mechanical soldiers with her armored hooves.

Ahead, Luna spied her true target. Atop one of the remaining AATs, the tactical droid T-XB17 was attempting to coordinate the enemy response, pointed her finger into the sky and shouting for the B-1s to fire upwards in volleys. Grinning wickedly, Luna soared straight at the enemy leader. By the time she turned her head enough to notice the incoming alicorn, it was already too late. Luna stretched out her front hooves and grabbed T-XB17’s head as she passed, her reflexes easily able to time it right. Her supernatural strength proved more than adequate to the task, wrenching the droid’s head from her body without noticeable strain.

As Luna ascended upwards once more, she waved the head proudly, making certain her sister could see her accomplishment. Celestia nodded in acknowledgement as the two alicorns passed one another. Pegasi who saw cheered their princess as they came around for another attack run.

However, even without the coordinating influence of a tactical droid, the B-1s below were still soldiers. Incompetent and stupid they might be, but they had programming enough to know to raise their blaster rifles to the sky during the Equestrians’ next pass. Their aim was still poor, but there were far more blaster bolts rushing up to meet the ponies that time. Luna dodged the lasers with ease, burning more droids with her fire. But not everypony was so lucky. Out of the corner of her eye the night princess saw more than one pegasus burned through with a blaster shot or several. Explosions and lightning still shook the droid army, but less so than they had the first time. And the B-1s kept coming.

To her dismay, Princess Luna heard two short notes from her sister’s own horn. That was the call for a general retreat, which the pegasi around her were happy enough to heed. The air around the princess was thick with blaster fire as the pegasus flight swooped back the way it had come. Of the two hundred that had set out, around one hundred and forty ponies touched back down at Canterlot Castle to rearm and reload.

As Princess Luna settled back down on the balcony of the palace tower to get a fuller view of combat once more, she found her heart beginning to sink. Hundreds – no, thousands – of battle droids littered the ground before and immediately inside of the city, but it was still not enough. There were thousands more packing the mountain road to Canterlot that Luna could see, and they showed no sign of breaking. The battle droids marched remorselessly through the magical shield over piles of their own dead, driving relentlessly into the city proper. The Royal Guard just inside had used the temporary letup to bring in fresh replacements and send the worst wounded to the back, but they were already embroiled in combat once more. And yet again, they began to die.

Luna came to a dismaying realization. “There are too many,” she thought as she stared out at the seemingly-endless tide. “There are just too many.”

Celestia touched down beside her sister, looking grim, with several scorch marks on her golden armor where blaster bolts had impacted. Looking at her own enchanted silver armor, Luna realized with a start that she too had been hit during her flight – she just hadn’t noticed. It was a depressing revelation to a mind that was rapidly becoming gloomy.

“Sister,” asked Luna apprehensively as more and more droids spilled into the city proper, smoke and explosions coming from deeper and deeper inside. “What are we to do now?”

Celestia gritted her teeth and said nothing.

Luna swallowed, her ears folded back. There were other traps, other preparations they had made for the contingency of conflict, but… In the face of so much raw firepower, they seemed to the night princess to be wholly inadequate.

“Is this…” she wondered silently. “Is this the end? For all of us?”

General Grievous observed the tactical hologram with undisguised malice and amusement. It was over, anyone could see that. In spite of everything the equines had done, it was over. It was simply a numbers game at this point, nothing more. And numbers Grievous had in abundance. Almost five thousand droids had fallen since the engagement began, but ten thousand more stood outside the capital and were marching in. They had forced their way through the outer walls and were deep into street-to-street fighting. The droids’ superior numbers would tell even in such confined chokepoints, with each machine that fell being immediately replaced by another. They could not be pushed back. Indeed, the streets they had taken were so packed that B-1s were already spilling over into houses and buildings to execute the civilians within.

Grievous laughed malevolently, clenching his fist. Victory was his!

“Sir?” the annoyingly squeaky voice of a B-1 interrupted his silent gloating.

“What?!” Grievous snapped irritably at the droid.

“Count Dooku is here, sir. His ship has touched down outside our transport.”

“Ah, very good,” Grievous said, his good humor immediately restored. “Invite him to come inside. It will be good to have him witness my revenge.”

“Yes sir,” the droid replied, transmitting the cyborg’s invitation to the count’s ship.

Grievous sat back in his chair, folding his hands together. He felt satisfied, if a little disappointed not to be killing the traitorous bitch Luna with his own hands. Ah well, one couldn’t have everything, he supposed.

“Uh, sir?” came the voice of a different battle droid.

“Yes?” replied Grievous in a much more level tone.

“There’s something here you should really see…”

Princess Luna was just debating with herself whether to continue following her sister’s lead or to strike out on her own to make a land stand among the Royal Guard at a place of her choosing when something caused her ears to stand up.

“Huh?” the night princess looked up from her hooves. “What in…”

There were bright flashes and thunderclaps from among the droid army on the mountain roads.

No, Luna realized as she looked closer. Not flashes.

Explosions.

The alicorn’s head immediately turned skyward, seeking the source of the destruction. What she saw made her heart leap.

Republic gunships. Dozens of them.

The LAAT ships were diving from the sky above, unleashing their own brand of hell on the hapless droid army. Missiles and green laser fire alike rained down upon the ranks of B-1battle droids. Caught unprepared, tightly packed, and in the open, the forces of the Galactic Republic cut down the Separatist forces like they were wheat in a field. The endless flow into Canterlot came to an abrupt halt as the slow machines struggled to reorient themselves to face this new foe. Cluster munitions tore apart entire platoons of droids at a time, littering the mountain road with their dead.

The Republic’s timely arrival had caught the Confederacy’s forces off guard, but they did not have things all their own way. Vulture droids swooped in to engage the Republic’s craft, hitting more than one of them while their attentions were focused on the ground. Nonetheless, the gunships swept much of the area before the shimmering shield clean before touching down. While Republic fighters engaged their droid counterparts in the air, a number of white-armored clone troopers spilled out of the gunships and pressed through the shield. The droids inside Canterlot were completely unprepared for a two-front engagement.

As the Republic’s forces fell on the invaders of her city from behind, Luna saw that at their head was a very familiar brown-haired man with a blue lightsaber.

“It would seem, general,” said Count Dooku in a level tone of voice. “That your declarations of victory were premature.”

“Bah!” Grievous slammed his fist down onto the table beside the holoprojector, momentarily rattling the image. “This changes nothing! I haven’t yet begun to fight!” The cyborg whirled around and snapped orders at a battle droid. “You! Deploy all our reserves immediately! Every last soldier and tank! And you!” he whipped his head to face another droid. “I want twenty squadrons of Vulture droids in the skies above this city, and I want them now!”

“But sir, we don’t have twenty squadrons available! To deploy that many would require pulling them away from other fronts around the-”

“I don’t care!” Grievous snarled. “Get them here, and get them now!”

“Roger roger,” the droid answered, at once setting to implementing the cyborg’s orders.

“What are you thinking?” Dooku asked while the droids around the two were scurrying to obey their general. “Pulling the air cover from our forces across a broad front presents a danger to our objective.”

“Our objective is here,” Grievous retorted. “This is their capital. This is the heart of their nation. This is where their precious princesses reside. When we burn this place to the ground, we will have struck an irrecoverable blow to this wretched species.”

“Hmmm…” Dooku looked thoughtful.

“And besides,” Grievous continued. “Kenobi will be here. I know it. He would not pass up a chance to defend “innocents” from me. We will destroy him and these wretched equines in one swift stroke!” he clenched his powerful, six-fingered fist tightly.

“I see,” said Dooku. He smiled slightly. “Very well, general. You may proceed.”

Outside, the C-9979 landing craft were opening once more, this time to deploy the elite reserves of the Separatist Army. Thousands of B-2 super battle droids dropped from racks in orderly lines, standing at attention. B-X commando droids in their hundreds joined them shortly, as did rows of powerful AAT tanks and towering OG-9 homing spider droids. No longer the weak B-1s, these were the cream of the Confederacy’s forces on Equus, preserved by their cyborg general to strike a devastating and utterly final blow to the land that had sold him out to the Republic. Now the moment for that blow had at last arrived.

Grievous stalked towards the control room’s exit, shedding his cape and reaching for lightsabers. “I am going to go and end this battle, once and for all!”

To the cyborg’s surprise, he heard the footsteps of soft rancor leather boots following closely behind him.

“Yes general,” came the sound of Count Dooku’s voice. “Let us end this.”