"More like this place is a frozen rock! Anyway, is that giant furry thing over there some sort of Wookiee? Exactly what kind of company do you keep?"

"No," the Muun man said unhappily. "That's a Griber beast. They're-carnivorous."

The creature roared, and the two characters began running and screaming in opposite directions.

Hill laughed uncharitably. Of course, neither of the characters was going to die-it wasn't that kind of show. But their romance was of course completely doomed to failure. Really, one of the things he liked best about this show was not having to endure the overbearingly sappy romantic tropes so common in human holodramas. Sadly, this genre was not popular with most Muuns.

If any of his high society associates were to discover that he watched tacky holonet dramas like this, he'd never hear the end of it. But he couldn't help what he liked. And he simply didn't understand the appeal of things like the bubble opera. So dull.

The banker had started on his salad-city when he received a communication. Annoyed, he paused his show and put down his golden utensil, pressing a long finger to the communications panel built into the small table in front of him.

"Security and Collections, sir," the voice from the panel said. "There's a bounty hunter here demanding we let them in to see you."

The banker scowled. "Which one? I already paid all of them in full."

"They're not one of the ones you contracted, sir."

"Well, in that case, tell them to leave. If they don't, then kill them."

"Yes, sir," the voice said. Hill switched off the communication, giving an exasperated sigh. Shouldn't that be obvious? Good help is so hard to find. The consequence of promoting the only remaining competent officer I had, I suppose. But Riklon Tost had done as well in his much deserved new position as his old one. I really do need to do something about this deplorable situation, though. It's too bad that I don't have Grievous to deal with these things anymore. He frowned. Dooku just had to go and ruin everything. As much as he despised Grievous' natural unruly attitude, Dooku's changes to the General's mind had been worse. He had barely recognized Grievous in the rage-consumed creature who answered only to the Count. And that last part had been a particularly raw point for the banker. For if Grievous answered only to Dooku, what would stop Dooku from one day using him against San Hill? Certainly not principles, the Muun thought derisively.

And of course there had been the other matter of what Dooku had done to San Hill himself. That had been-unacceptable. At least the Count had been dealt with.

Sidious was still at large, but he was far away, doing whatever it was deposed Sith Lords did. Hill knew that everything Dooku had done had been at the behest of his distant master, and so was eager to see that master eliminated by whatever means possible. But without his apprentice, and without the support of the Separatist leadership, what was the worst that Sidious could do? For all of his fearsome powers, his influence was what had made him truly dangerous. Once Grievous tracked him down, Hill was confident that a simple orbital bombardment would settle that loose end.

He switched the holodrama back on, trying to focus on the simple plot, but found his mind kept wandering back to the bounty hunter. It was hardly the first time someone had tried to kill, kidnap, or maim him. And it was unlikely to be the last. He didn't like to admit, even to himself, that such a thing had any power to distress him anymore. But even with his small army of security officers and droids, it did.

He sighed and switched the channel to one of the Republic's news stations. He needed something a little more substantial to occupy his attention right now. Of course, he had access to the CIS shadowfeeds as well, but he already knew what was on those. He'd paid for half of that propaganda himself.

A twi'lek reporter was covering a story about a clone trooper rescuing some small twi'lek child. How sickeningly maudlin, Hill thought to himself. But also-How delightfully devious. A clever distraction from the larger question of the ethicality of using soldiers born and bred for battle in the first place.

Of course, Hill had taken pains to ensure the shadowfeeds pointed out the obvious hypocrisy in the Republic's use of soldiers trained from birth to fulfill a single role, given their supposed ban on slavery. But he certainly wasn't above taking the low route-it was just harder to make people feel attached to the expendable droid soldiers or to someone like Grievous, who exuded an air of constant deadly menace. On the other hand, we do have children. What was that Bonteri kid's name again? Lup? Lum? I should make sure he's been interviewed on how he's been saved by our fearless General Grievous. And if I can just get Grievous to stand around at the same time, maybe holding a loth-cat or something, we can make him seem-almost sympathetic.

The Ryloth story had ended, and he watched the next transmission with rapt attention, and no small amount of loathing for the figure who stood front and center in it-the Republic's Supreme Chancellor Palpatine.

Of course, Palpatine was nominally his political enemy, but that was not the reason for the Muun's virulent hatred of the unassuming human. Unlike many of the others who had joined the Separatist movement, San Hill had no true grudge against the Republic. The fact was, he still did a great deal of business with them, and he had no intention of ever making the IBC banks exclusive to the CIS. No matter which side won this war, he intended to turn a profit.

No, the real reason he hated Palpatine was that he knew, in all three of his hearts, that the man had somehow been responsible for the death of his Uncle Hego. What infuriated him was that he didn't know how, or why, and no one believed him. He didn't have any proof. And that was simply-incomprehensible. He had conducted his own very expensive investigation after seeing how badly the authorities had botched theirs, but to no avail.

Hego Damask had not died from some fluke failure of his transpirator! Especially not on the night before Palpatine's election as Chancellor. What a coincidence! When it had been clear that Hill had been unsatisfied with that explanation, one of the Coruscanti officers had gone so far as to hypothesize that Damask may have initiated the failure as a means to suicide, a suggestion which Hill hadn't even bothered to dignify with a response. No, Hego Damask hadn't killed himself. However, there were quite a few others who might have liked to cut his life short.

Unfortunately, the killer had very meticulously covered their tracks. Hill's own investigators had found nothing to confirm his suspicions. Hego had been killed without the use of any conventional weapons, and without anyone laying so much as a finger on him. And yet he had not been poisoned. He had been drinking a bit more than would be considered moderate, but that was nothing out of the ordinary for him.

Hego had had a great many enemies. But it had been his close associates who San had felt would be the most likely culprits as they would have considerably more ability to access the private apartment where he had died. And none of them more likely than Palpatine the Innocent-Hego's nickname for his most unusual friend.

The problem was, that was very much how Palpatine always appeared-innocent of any crime, the victim and never the aggressor. But since San's uncle had held the human in such high regard, he knew that image to be nothing more than a front. San Hill had known his Uncle Hego very well. The man had been San's family in all but blood, after all, and had raised the younger Muun himself after the abrupt death of his parents. And so San knew that Hego would never have bothered to take in his confidence the man Palpatine appeared to be. Which meant that the man who he actually was must be a very different man indeed.

But that man hid behind a benevolent and charming mask so convincing, that San had been able to find nothing on him. Not only nothing linking him to Hego's murder, but no incriminating or embarrassing information of any kind at all. It was infuriating.

No one, and certainly no politician, was ever that clean.

"So I emphasize that we must place our trust in the Jedi," Palpatine was saying with that ever-earnest expression of his. "And they will end this war."

The Muun bared his teeth in a grimace.

The news segment ended then, and Palpatine's face was replaced by that of a kaminoan senator. Hill's expression relaxed, and he yawned and switched off the news, deciding to check his messages. He brought up the message menu on the HoloNet interface. There were a couple hundred that hadn't been filtered out by his exacting algorithms, but only two had been flagged as urgent. He selected the first message, frowning as he saw the face of a Republic senator. And not just any Republic senator, but really the last one he would have expected to contact him, after that business with him sending her straight into Grievous' clutches. True, it had been a while ago, but surely she hadn't forgotten that?

"Chairman Hill," Senator Amidala's hologram began. "I contact you not as a Senator, but as a client of the IBC."

Hill steepled his fingers. Interesting. By their own laws, the Senators in the Republic were barred from contacting him. However, it was of course still legal for them to conduct business with him. It was a legal grey area for them to send him messages like this directly, however, so it was highly unusual that one of them might choose to do so.

"I have been informed by your associate, Nix Card, that you are the only one with the authority to approve my loan request," she said, frowning.

Which would be Card's not-so-subtle method to reject the request. But it seems she didn't take the hint?

"So I've submitted the paperwork to you," the Senator continued. "I know you will see the value in this investment in the next generation of-"

Hill muted the transmission and brought the documents up, glancing over them. Hmmmm, it's for the Naboo educational system. How quaint. I don't see why Card didn't just-

He paused on a line near the bottom of the document. Oh. There, a single signature had caught his attention. Clovis.

Now he understood the problem. Card couldn't officially deny the request because he didn't possess the authority to override Clovis.

That human is becoming more powerful than I would like, San thought. He didn't trust Clovis. Not after how terribly he had botched that one major mission, proving not only how unobservant he was, but also how dangerously sentimental. The human had promised to bring Senator Amidala to the side of the Separatists. But after seeing how the events of that sordid affair had played out via holorecording, Hill had judged that Clovis was much more attached to her than she to him. He should never have been allowed such influence. Unfortunately, it seems our remaining Tonith wishes to use him to rise through the ranks.

And rise through the ranks Clovis had, notwithstanding his recent blunder. And San had watched, growing progressively more concerned, and now certain that this was a power bid by the Toniths. He imagined that family would be all too happy to see himself ousted from power, even, apparently, if the one who did so was not of their blood, or even a Muun. After all, San Hill represented their largest failure, to hold onto the position that had once been theirs.

It appears I must arrange for Clovis' early retirement, he decided. Sighing heavily, he signed the holo-document. But it seems I must also approve this loan, so that he might be less likely to anticipate that. See, we're all friends now, no hard feelings about about your incredible incompetence or your schemes to unseat me at all.

Scowling, the banker hit the send button. I wonder what unpleasant, illegal little secrets Clovis has been keeping? The Muun was certain he could find out, with some digging. Clovis, after all, was no Palpatine. But he would have to unearth a failure that the rest of the IBC leadership would agree was unacceptable. His attempts to get Clovis imprisoned, fired, or even just demoted over the failures and improprieties he had pointed out in the holovid evidence he possessed had failed. The entire episode had been waved off by the others as impulsive mistakes the human would either grow out of or learn to better conceal in the future.

Hill's thoughts were interrupted by an alarming hissing sound. He turned to look at the door. A pair of dark energy blades were cutting through it. His eyes widened, and he hit the panic button under the table several times.

The oval shaped cut-out the blades had created in the door's metal was kicked in and a towering masked bounty hunter stalked into his suite, immediately heading towards him. The chairman scrambled over the back of his couch and ran towards his bedroom. If he could reach it, then perhaps the blast doors could delay his assailant for long enough for the backup security team to arrive.

A blaster bolt grazed his shoulder. Hill yelped and fell onto the carpet. All three of his hearts were pounding as he tried to rise from the floor.

A foot on his spine pushed him back to the ground. "Don't move," a synthesized voice said. "Or I'll shoot you again."

The banker lay prone on the floor, his hearts' rate slowing and his mind racing. A threat. Which means they need something from me. Which means they can't kill me immediately.

"I would like you not to do that," Hill said slowly, one side of his face embedded in his plush red carpet. Stall. Stall for time. "Are you a Mandalorian? Those darksabers are very impressive. Only, your armor doesn't look Mandalorian."

"I've killed a few," the bounty hunter said. "But stop stalling. I need you to contact General Grievous immediately."

"I am, of course, happy to assist you in any way possible," the Muun said mildly. "Unfortunately, that is not currently possible for me in my-present position."

Hill felt a blaster press into the back of his neck. The foot lifted from his back. "If you try to run again, you will dearly regret it. Get up. Slowly."

"Very well," the Muun said. Where are they?! As he was walking towards the communication console near his couch, he said, "I applaud your skill. You've apparently managed to demolish my security. But-if contacting Grievous was all you wanted, wouldn't it have been easier to simply-do that yourself?"

"Would I be asking you to do that if it was?" the bounty hunter said, prodding him in the back with the blaster.

"I suppose not." They reached the table and the Muun slowly settled back onto the couch and entered the communication code to contact Grievous. The bounty hunter must have realized that he would have keyed his communication console to respond only to his own commands. It will also be checking for my vitals. Hill hoped the bounty hunter didn't plan to kill him. In the event his sudden death was detected, he had set up his security system to detonate an explosive that would take out the entire suite and anyone in it. It had been done when he'd felt in a particularly vindictive mood about his family's tendency towards death by assassination. Though at the moment it seems a pitifully small consolation.

"I hope you're not planning on killing me when you're done with me," he said.

"That depends on you," the bounty hunter said. "How long do you think before Grievous answers?"

"I don't know," Hill said. "He often delays responding to me."

"But he does respond?"

"Eventually."

"That is what is important, then." The bounty hunter sat down on the couch next to the Muun and picked up one of the plates of food on the table.

"Please, feel free to help yourself," Hill said, trying not to allow too much sarcasm to seep into his voice. Seriously? Are they all dead? The banker was beginning to lose hope that his security was ever going to show up. It was time to try a different tactic.

"Being a bounty hunter is a dangerous business," Hill said. "With uncertain pay. Have you ever considered a more stable career option?"

The bounty hunter set their armored feet on the table. "I prefer the flexibility of my current arrangement. Stability is-overrated." They set the food plate back down.

"If you say so," Hill said. "In that case, whatever your current employer is paying for you to do this, I could pay you a lot more just to leave. Enough for you to retire. Assuming, of course, that you don't kill me."

"Oh, I'm not being paid," the bounty hunter said. "This is personal business."

The Muun frowned. "A grudge?"

"You could say that."

"Against Grievous?"

"Guess again."

"Me? Have I done something to upset you?"

The bounty hunter gave a metallic laugh at that. "To put it mildly!"

"Can this something be solved by very large amounts of credits?" The banker's tone was hopeful.

"You wish! I will not rest until-"

A holo-image of Grievous appeared then. "Yes, Mr. Hill-" he paused and his eyes narrowed. "Who is that with you? What's going on?"

The bounty hunter pressed a button on the side of the helmet to retract the segmented metal mask. Underneath was the face of a Kaleesh.

"Apologies. Do you recognize me now, Qymaen? It has been many years-"

"Ronderu?!" The cyborg's eyes widened momentarily. Then they narrowed. "This is some sort of trick. Ronderu is dead."

San Hill was also trying to understand what was going on. He did know who Ronderu was. Grievous used to talk about her all the time before he'd been turned into a memory-suppressed cyborg. She had died before Hill had ever met Grievous, though. At least, that's what Grievous had believed. The Muun looked over at the hulking bounty hunter who had a blaster aimed towards him. Grievous had said that Ronderu had been an incomparable warrior.

"This is no trick, I assure you," Ronderu said. "The Huk tried to take me as a slave. They waited until you would think I was dead. They told me that you would think I had drowned, died from my injuries. But they placed me in a bacta tank, and then brought me back to their homeworld to parade in the streets like a trophy."

Grievous clenched a clawed fist. "They must suffer."

And if I don't think quickly, I'm going to suffer, San thought. Well, I'm going to be dead, so probably not suffering, but even so...

"Oh, they did," Ronderu said. "The price for their arrogance was paid in blood. I killed all of the Huk who were involved in my capture, and freed their slaves. It was a good revolt. But I knew that I could not drive them from our homeworld, not after the arrival of the Republic, of the Jedi. Not unless I searched the stars for answers. And it seems I have found them."

The two Kaleesh began talking in their native language. Meanwhile, Hill had been trying to gauge whether he should attempt to run again or appeal to Grievous. He didn't think he'd get far if he tried to run. And that might only incite Ronderu's ire toward him. Maybe he should wait to bring the issue up. They would probably be irritated if he interrupted now.

"How did you know who I was?" Grievous asked. Speaking in Kaleesh, the cyborg General at least wasn't concerned their Muun onlooker would understand them. "Why didn't you contact me earlier?"

"So many questions, Qymaen. But I'm more than happy to answer," Ronderu said. "I knew who you were because I saw you on the HoloNet."

"I don't exactly look like I used to."

"True, but I've seen you use a number of the attacks I taught you with those lightsabers of yours."

Of course. Dooku had tried to train his old style out of him, but it had never entirely been supplanted by the new knowledge. In fact, he had often mixed those attacks in with the Jedi styles he'd been taught in order to surprise and disorient his opponents.

"And I did contact you earlier. Many times. But I never received a response."

But I know if I had seen a message from Ronderu that I would have-a thought occurred to Grievous then. My messages were being filtered by Dooku.

"Ronderu," Grievous said. "I am sorry to have such doubts but-I must be certain you are who you claim to be."

"Of course," Ronderu said. "I would expect no less from you, Qymaen."

"So I must ask you some things that only the two of us would know."

"Obviously."

"How did you get the nick on your left ear?"

Ronderu growled. "A Huk blaster shot when I was a child in Grendaju. I sliced him to pieces, but not for that, but because he'd killed my entire family."

"Where did I master the double diagonal slice?"

"We were in that abandoned Huk warehouse perhaps five miles from Thensdown."

"When was the last time we made love?"

Ronderu laughed. "Only in your dreams, Qymaen."

Grievous chuckled. "There are no more doubts in my mind, then. It is you, Ronderu."

The two Kaleesh had begun to laugh. That must mean they're in a good mood. Maybe even a-merciful mood?

"I'm so glad that I could help bring you two together," San said quickly. He gave the two Kaleesh a nervous smile. "But, ah, I was just wondering if our friend Ronderu here could consider perhaps not killing me?"

Ronderu turned to face him and growled. "You were responsible for forcing Qymaen to leave Kalee. You were responsible for him nearly dying!"

Hill shrunk back from from the blaster she aimed at him. He gazed imploringly at the cyborg's holo-image. "General Grievous, I would really appreciate it if you would-help me out here." Hill's voice had begun to shake. He hated looking this pitiful. But if it kept him from getting a blaster bolt through the head...

The holo-image of Grievous sighed. "He was the reason I left Kalee, but he was not the reason I nearly died. I have the Jedi to thank for that."

Not entirely true, but this would be a very bad time for me to address that little detail, now wouldn't it?

"Nevertheless, should he not pay for what he has done?" Ronderu asked, her gold eyes glaring at the Muun. Hill cringed.

Grievous shook his head. "For all the difficulty and pain he has caused me, he has also assisted me in a vital way. I ask that you not kill him."

The Kaleesh bounty hunter glared at the Muun for a long moment. "You are very lucky, San Hill," Ronderu said at last. "You have caused both of us much trouble. But Grievous seems to think that you are not deserving of death. So I will let you live."

Hill breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm most relieved to hear that."

Ronderu looked back to Grievous. "We will return to Kalee at last, then?"

"Yes," Grievous said. "It should be a simple matter to stop at Munnilinst on my way to Kalee. I will meet you there, and then we shall-retake our homeworld." Their were tears in his eyes. The two Kaleesh began talking in soft voices in their native language again.

How disgustingly sentimental, San thought. He was glad that whatever sweet nothings they had chosen to exchange were not being expressed in a language he could understand. Still, I'm enjoying my continued existence, so I suppose I shouldn't complain.

He frowned as a thought occurred to him. It would take several days for the General to arrive at Munnilinst. Where was Ronderu planning to stay in the interim?

The banker got his answer when Ronderu finally ended the communication, dissipating the hologram. She looked around the suite appraisingly.

"This entire room is yours?"

"This entire building is mine," San said.

"Does anyone else live with you or visit you? Family? Friends? A spouse?"

"Nooo," San said slowly. "No one else ever comes here besides my-personal security." Who was apparently all dead.

"Ah, good. I wouldn't want to inconvenience any innocents." She settled back onto the couch. "This is going to be great! Usually I just get some dingy low-level alley or cantina backroom. This is certainly the nicest place I've had to hide out in."

Hide out-here. San kept his existential horror to himself as he watched the Kaleesh start in on his food, propping her armored feet on his table. Or he tried to, anyway. He wasn't looking forward to the next few days.