Grievous paced down the length of his fortress. While he was here, he had decided to check on EV-A4-D and ask the droid a few questions. What San Hill had said about side effects earlier had made him wonder if there weren't other side effects of the surgery that the banker didn't see fit to tell him about. In any event, he'd much rather ask his medical droid these questions than his former boss.

As he was walking, his mind wandered to his earlier encounter with Ventress. That had been-an unfortunate failure on his part. Clearly he was going to need a better approach if he was to be rid of her. Unfortunately, he no longer had the element of surprise. On the other hand, he knew he'd get another chance. Ventress would be intent on having her revenge on him now. So he wouldn't need to find her. She would find him.

Grievous turned a corner.

Ronderu hit Qymaen's left sword out of his hand, knocking it to the ground and then twisted fluidly to his side, kicking him in the shin. Qymaen growled and fell into the leafy jungle undergrowth. His new ally emitted a sigh of frustration. Qymaen looked up at her.

"Do you even know how to use those things?" Ronderu asked, her eyes narrowing. "How have you survived this long, much less gained your reputation, without the ability to execute a simple double slice?"

"I have other skills," Qymaen protested, looking up at her from the ground.

"Like what? Flailing?"

"Flamethrowers," Qymaen replied, indignant. "And slugthrowers. Anyway, no one uses swords anymore except for the hunting ceremonies. You're a relic, Ronderu." Certainly he had been impressed with her ability to kill the Huk who had attacked them with such primitive weapons, enough to ask her to show him how it was done, but he hardly thought it was necessary.

The other Kaleesh rolled her eyes."A relic who's three years younger than you, and at least three hundred times more skilled. In a close range fight a good sword is always better than a projectile weapon. Faster. More reliable. Less expensive, too."

"I've always found that putting a few holes in my enemies and setting them on fire has been more than sufficient. Anyway, salvaging from the remains of my deceased foes supplies me with a steady stream of credits."

"And I've always preferred to spend my credits on myself and not my weapons. But if that's how you gained your legendary reputation, then you can show me how to 'put holes in my enemies and set them on fire', and I'll show you how to dismember, disembowel, and decapitate them. Deal?"

"Sure. But you're getting the better end of that deal."

"So modest!" Ronderu remarked, and laughed.

Grievous looked around, taking a moment to adjust to the sudden transition from the thin streams of sunlight and omnipresent plant matter from the memory to the harsh artificial light and precise architectural lines of the corridor. The memory filled him with sadness, but also a deep pervading fondness. He laughed. I do not think either of us were particularly modest about anything, ever. He looked back up then and continued on his way.

Eventually, he reached the medical room. EV-A4-D looked up at him as he walked in.

"You look perfectly fine," he said, his photoreceptors dimming. "What do you want from me?"

"I had some questions for you, Doctor," Grievous said. He sat down on the metal chair in the room.

"I'm not a psychologist," the droid responded.

"Yes, you are," Grievous said. "Anyway, that's not the type of question I wanted to ask."

"You don't want to talk about your feelings? Good. I don't want to talk about your feelings, either."

"I recently had the control chips Dooku put in my mind removed," Grievous said.

"Yes, I've been informed," the droid replied. "Congratulations, Master. I tried to tell you about them many times, but my programming never allowed me to be direct or remove them myself."

"Yes, I realized what you had been trying to tell me after the implants were removed," Grievous said. "I do-appreciate that."

"Oh, no," the droid said. "You do want to talk about your feelings. Look, I'm not going to give you an inspirational talk. I don't want to know about your childhood. Don't make me do this."

"Are you even capable of giving an inspirational talk?" Grievous asked.

"Yes! Of course I am!" The droid said. "I could bring you to tears if I wanted!"

"I'll take your word for it," Grievous responded, amused. "But I just wanted to know what all the possible side effects of the implant removal are."

"Oh," the droid said. "Well, memory backlash is the most likely. There is also a possibility of particularly traumatic memories surfacing all at once, which could cause long-term psychological paralysis. Basically, you'd be reduced to a weeping hunk of metal and organic bits, Master. Assuming, of course, that you still had the energy left to weep."

"Sounds fun," Grievous said, his eyes lidded. "Can these-flashbacks happen when I'm fighting?"

"Yes, but it's very unlikely," the droid said.

Still, I need to keep that possibility in mind, Grievous thought. "Anything else I should be aware of?"

"Occasional bouts of uncontrollable rage," the droid responded.

"Wasn't that one of the things that removing the implants was supposed to get rid of?" Grievous asked.

"Yes," the droid said. "But certain side effects of a procedure often mirror the effects of the original problem. Anyway, that should be an improvement over constant uncontrollable rage."

"True," Grievous said. Of course, all of this had already been explained to him by San Hill. But he had wanted to hear the droid's explanation of the effects which, as he had suspected, had revealed details to him that Hill's explanation had not.

"Certain forms of psychotherapy might alleviate the symptoms, though inspirational talks are not included among those forms. Thankfully."

The droid shined a light in Grievous' eyes. The cyborg blinked.

"Your organic reflex responses appear normal." The droid stepped backward. "I want to see your other responses." The droid pointed with three needle-shaped fingers towards a collection of scrap metal that had dropped down from the ceiling and hung suspended in midair by a thread. "Pretend that is a Jedi Master."

Grievous rose from the metal slab in one fluid motion. His two arms ripped into four and he grabbed the lightsabers at his waist, slicing all four of them through the metal.

The droid's gaze lingered on the red lightsaber. "Very good. How did you get that one?"

"A gift from Count Dooku, after I separated his head from his body."

"Ah. Then I do not think the rest of the reflex tests will be necessary."

"Are there any other side effects I should watch for," Grievous asked.

"One more," the droid said. "Difficulties with concentration, which may surface with or without your other symptoms."

"Very well." He considered the droid for a long moment and finally came to a decision. "I am about to undertake a very important mission. I may have need of your services, Doctor. Please make preparations to join me on the Invisible Hand."

The doctor's photoreceptors brightened. "Really? Oh, excitement! Adventure! I'll make the preparations immediately!" And with that he hurried out of the room.

As Grievous was walking down the corridor, he heard a sound. He drew two of the lightsabers at his waist and ignited them. Opening the door to his right, he saw the intruder looking up at his statue.

"Kenobi!" he growled.

The Jedi looked over at him and ignited his lightsaber. "Don't take this the wrong way, Grievous, but I was hoping you wouldn't be here."

Grievous brought his lightsabers down on the Jedi, who blocked the blow. The cyborg become a whirlwind of attacks then, driving the Jedi backwards.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Kenobi, but it's time for you to die!"

"There may be some damage to the magnaguards at the entrance," Kenobi said. "Sorry about that."

"What are you doing here?!"

"I'm trying to help you!"

"By breaking into my home?!" Grievous yanked at the Jedi with his one of his new magnetic implants, but Kenobi had firmly anchored himself to the ground somehow, probably by using the Force.

"It was the only way! You never told me who your people were!"

Grievous growled. "This again? I told you, I don't need or want your help. You Jedi are nothing but trouble!" Grievous felt his anger flare as Kenobi blocked blow after blow.

And then Obi-Wan's evaded the cyborg's defenses and sliced through one of his wrists. A metallic hand fell to the ground.

"Sorry about that!" Obi-Wan gave the cyborg a look of dismay.

"You're going to be sorry all right!" Grievous attacked the Jedi with all his considerable speed, rotating blades, slicing in vicious diagonals, and lashing out with his feet. The Jedi blocked his attacks and flipped away from him. Grievous attacked him with a blast of electricity then, and saw with satisfaction that he staggered to the ground. He ran toward the Jedi, laughing darkly.

Obi-Wan called the saber Grievous had dropped earlier to his own hand, and blocked Grievous' strike with the two lightsabers crossed in front of him.

Grievous attacked with another electrical blast, but this time Obi-Wan deflected the electricity back at the cyborg with his lightsaber. This temporarily shorted some of Grievous' own components and the cyborg staggered backwards.

Obi-Wan used the opening to cut off another one of Grievous' hands.

"Another accident, Jedi scum?"

Breathing heavily, the Jedi answered, "That one was on purpose."

Kenobi looked tired, but far from exhausted. Grievous wanted to kill his opponent but-he had a battle to get to. Helping Kalee was more important to him than destroying Kenobi. If the Jedi injured him further now, that could delay him from bringing vengeance to the Huk. He backed up, still holding two lightsabers, but only in a defensive pose. "If you leave now, I will allow you to live."

Kenobi smiled. "I'll leave if you tell me-"

Grievous rolled his eyes. "Kaleesh. I am Kaleesh."

Kenobi tilted his head. "I don't believe I've heard of the Kaleesh." He gestured to the statue. "Is that you?"

"Yes," Grievous said.

"Very handsome," Kenobi said.

Grievous growled in annoyance. "Are you going to leave now?"

"Well, I-"

Grievous narrowed his eyes. "If not I just might change my mind about allowing you to live."

"All right. I'm leaving, see?" Kenobi backed up slowly toward the door. " I won't trouble you any more. Nice place you have here, by the way-"

Grievous growled. "Enough! Just go, and take your foolish banter away from me!"

"All right," Kenobi said, still smiling. He reached the door and pressed the control panel to open it. Inclining his head slightly, he said, "I'll take my leave of you, General. But I promise, I will make good use of what you've told me."

"Doubtful. You and I have a very different definition of 'good'," Grievous said.

When Kenobi had left, Grievous sighed. Something would have to be done about his two missing hands. EV-A4-D was not going to be happy about this.