Anakin would never admit it, but his new sparring partner was really starting to grow on him.

General Grievous was utterly unique in his fighting style, flexible and creative, and as fast as a Jedi. There were no other beings like him, and the way he used a lightsaber reflected it. They didn't spar like temple Jedi either. There, training was controlled, calm, but facing the legendary Jedi killer, even in an allied spar, was anything but. The only thing that separated their matches from a fight to the death were that they kept the 'sabers on training mode.

Their blades crackled as they connected, Anakin locking his arms into maintaining the cross as Grievous forced him down with unnatural strength. The light from the General's mismatched sabers blinded him as he desperately held his own. Grievous arched close enough over top of him to feel the searing heat of the blades, to hear the quiet wheeze of his breath. If Anakin were facing a Jedi, he would be all but beaten, but with the Force on his side alone, he had a few more tricks up his sleeves.

Anakin summoned the Force, and threw Grievous clear to the other side of the room. The cyborg hit the opposite wall with a resounding clang, but didn't stay down long. In just barely enough time for Anakin to adjust his stance, Grievous scrambled to his feet and launched, 'saber reignited and cape flying behind him. As he approached, Anakin could see why so many treated him like a creature from a nightmare.

The three lightsabers clashed in sparks of blue and green, faster and faster, until finally on one cross, Anakin managed to spin one of the General's blades out of his clawed grip. For barely a second, he watched the hilt fly, a fatal mistake he had made before. He brought his own to Grevious' neck, stopping less than an inch short. Shaking his sweaty hair out of his face, Anakin deactivated the blade and brought it to his side.

His first round against the General was tense, and not in a simply competitive way. Many of the upper-ranking Separatists still saw him as a member of the Republic, a simple traitor at best, and a spy at worst. Even with the sheer amount of information he turned over, from locations of bases, to top-secret comm channels, to exact capabilities of Jedi and Clone fighters, even Palpatine's office code, hadn't dispelled all the gossip. Truly, having a Jedi in their midst, and a longtime enemy of the Trade Federation, unsettled the hardliners, and neither he nor Padme ever expected that to change.

He couldn't deny he brought that with him on his first trip to Serreno, the desire to prove himself. Still, facing down the Jedi-killer, wielding stolen lightsabers, knowing how many Jedi had died at his blade, almost made him reconsider his entire defection. But, Anakin stood strong, and acted like Grievous meant nothing. He could never be a serious Separatist and back down to their leadership.

That was a little over two months ago now. Padme had settled in well in the Senate and on Raxus, and continued to broadcast galaxy-wide speeches. He hadn't left Separatist space since Felucia, although he was far from confined. Initially, Separatist intelligence wanted to wring him dry of information and vet him, but now, after he had given all they could ask for, and Republic chatter hadn't said his name in weeks, he could only guess the holdup.

Anakin set his water down in a relatively safe spot, although nowhere was completely safe, and asked, "Ready for round three?"

Grievous didn't respond, which he had come to interpret as agreement. He began to shift into his ready stance, when he heard his comm buzz from across the room. Anakin blew out a sharp breath, and went to pick it up. The message was a summons, to speak with Dooku. He re-clipped his 'saber to his belt, and nodded at the general, who had stowed his weapons as well.

Dooku's complex on Serreno was practically a maze, but his half-office, half-throne-room, sat at the near exact center, as to be expected from a man like him. And people used to call him a drama queen.

Dooku's grandfatherly routine unsettled him, less that he did it, and more how genuine it seemed, coming from the reason he had a prosthetic hand. So when Dooku rested his and on his shoulder like an honored grandson, Anakin nearly cringed. He asked, although not really a question, "I take it training with the general goes well?"

Anakin nodded.

"Grievous is a crude instrument, but he has his uses. The Banking Clan was wise to use him as an enforcer."

Anakin didn't openly disagree, but as a former enforcer himself, he knew Grievous was capable of much more than what Dooku credited him for. He let him continue, "Still, we must both tolerate him, at least for the time being. I have an assignment for you."

That snapped him back to listening.

"The Republic is planning a massive invasion of Boz Pity. Between you leading our starfighters and General Grievous planetside, they won't stand a chance."

Out of everything Anakin could ask, only one question crossed his mind, "When do I leave?"

"Tomorrow at first light. I suggest you return to your quarters. General Grievous is being alerted as we speak."

Anakin nodded, and stepped out before Dooku could say anything else. To openly oppose the Republic, even behind the anonymity of a command ship in space, had his heart thrumming with excitement.

In his quarters, a set of clothes lay carefully folded on his bed, likely a new uniform. He picked it up to get a better look, and saw it to be nearly identical to his old Jedi armor, which he knew sat in a drawer somewhere in Padme's apartment in the capitol, with a blue instead of red undertunic, silver robes, and a blue shoulderplate. He flipped it on it's side, to see the Confederacy's symbol, emblazoned in silver, in the Jedi symbol's place. Standing in front of the mirror, he could almost see himself on the bridge of a warship, or in a starfighter, leading his droids to victory, even over the best of the clones.

Dawn couldn't come fast enough.

The next morning, right on time, he boarded his shuttle, bound for the orbiting fleet. Grievous had both his own shuttle and cruiser, on the off chance something happened to a ship before they arrived. Even being so new, Anakin ranked below only a few in all of the Confederacy in importance. To lose him and Grevious at once would be akin to losing Dooku himself.

When he stepped on the dark bridge, each and every one of the droids stopped their preparations to watch, what he could only assume was the B-1 equivalent of attention. He took his seat in the command chair, the tactical droid at his side, as a tinny voice called out, "Ready for hyperspace."

The tactical droid nodded, and they made the jump, stars stretching into starlines, and the blue glow of hyperspace filled the bridge. It reflected off the heads of the battle droids, and the computer terminals, lending the room a thoughtful energy, compounded by the silence. With no chatter of clones and officers to fill the bridge, just the quiet clank of droids, even fully battle-ready Republic ships ever got this quiet. Tension hung thick in the air, or maybe just in his mind, as facing the Republic continued to solidify.

Giving their secrets away hadn't felt entirely real, he would simply plug R2 in, direct the intelligence droids to the correct files, and go home to Padme at night. Anakin had only thought of the consequences in grand terms up to this point, defeat the Republic and free the galaxy, not the on-the-ground battles it would take. Still, the Confederacy had the information, second thoughts or not, he couldn't make Grievous unlearn the best counters to forms four and five.

At first, as the swirling patterns collapsed into stars and realspace, there was nothing to see, just his warships and Boz Pity below, but Anakin sensed otherwise. With a flicker of psedomotion, and barely a second after their own arrival, two Jedi cruisers dropped out of hyperspace. With perfect efficiency, faster even than the clones, his gunners sent waves of green blasterfire into the hulls of the Venators. Caught off guard, they attempted to evade, but there was nowhere to go. To turn up was to concede the planet, and to make for orbit was suicide. He commanded, "Launch fighters."

The vulture droids launched by the thousands, blotting out the stars in waves of durasteel. One of the B-1s at a terminal called, "Republic fighters have launched."

Anakin reached out through the Force, as he had done countless times before, and through the loud thoughts of the clones, picked out two bright spots in the Force. Both blazed with fear and confusion, although one much more afraid than the other, the calm one on the furthest cruiser, and the other descending rapidly. They must have been caught entirely off guard. He tapped his comm, linked to Grievous' flagship, "Two Jedi, likely master and padawan, one inbound for Boz Pity."

The general's artificial voice crackled back, "Acknowledged, Skywalker."

The other destroyer began to shift planetward, subtly protecting their dropships. Anakin commanded to his droids, "Keep the Republic cruisers occupied up high, let them think their Jedi slipped through."

The tactical droid began, "By my calculations, General Grievous will-"

He cut it off, "This is my command, and you'll do what I say. Keep the clones in space."

A resounding chorus of 'roger roger' sounded from the tech bays, and soon, the dark tides of vulture droids began to push deeper into space, drawing the clones with them. It only took one to spot the dropship, and ruin Grievous' advantage, but from that distance, and while in combat, the odds one actually would were slim. Still, they couldn't last forever. The droid army's strength lay in it's overwhelming numbers, not in overall skill. If the Republic could slim the droid fighters to ever or nearly even odds, they would struggle. They needed to overwhelm the Republic now, while they still held the advantage. He called out, "Has Grievous landed yet?"

"No sir."

Anakin shook his head, and gnashed his teeth. The sooner they could withdraw, the better. As he considered his options, the droid's quiet chatter rose to an uproar of callouts. He shouted over the clamor, "What's happening?"

The nearest droid shouted back, "One Republic fighter broke through, it's rallying their forces!"

"What fighter?"

"A- a Jedi fighter!"

The second Jedi had finally decided to join the fight. At least he knew, for certain, it wasn't Obi-Wan, or any other council member for that matter. They never took that long. Droids had no real chance against a Force-sensitive pilot, but Anakin could shift those odds. He ordered, "Bring a fighter squad around for a pass, as slow and as close as possible."

The tactical droid again protested, "But sir-"

He again interrupted, "Can someone get this thing out of here? He's worse than 3PO."

The droid didn't move, but did quiet, hopefully for good. Anakin knew what came next would push him, and would be impossible for a normal Jedi, but after all, he wasn't called the Chosen One for nothing.

The vulture droids began their pass, and he reached out through the Force, delving deep into each and every one's code, taking a firm grip on them all. Once certain he had them all under his control, and ignoring his mounting headache, he spread his focus even further, into the wider battle. Anakin caught sense of the Jedi, a signature he thankfully wasn't familiar with, nearing the dreadnaughts. Only vaguely aware of himself, his hand rose, nearly of its own accord, as he pushed the droids forward.

They reached the Jedi fighter, and he let the precognition begin in full force. Anakin saw the coming shadow of blue blaster bolts, shredding his left flank, to which he sent the entire side into wild, diverging rolls to avoid. Even with the crossfire from the clones, he flew his droids well outside their programmed limits, opening himself entirely to the Force. A handful of the clone's shots landed, and he could feel the occasional droid cut out, but not enough to matter. Anakin continued to push the Jedi in ever risker maneuvers, full flips and spirals at top speed, firing endless rounds all the while.

The pilot flew excellently, he'd give them that. He knew, in this relatively open area, he wouldn't get a serious hit in, but it wasn't like he couldn't change that.

Anakin spread his fighters further apart, but not enough for anything to fit between, and formed a wave. The droids pushed beside and behind the Jedi fighter at full speed, threatening to consume it. The Jedi tried to shake his droids in a series of wild turns up and down, but Anakin didn't let it work. He drove them through some of the thickest fighting, where both took stray shots and dodged other fighters. The Venators, now damaged and smoking, loomed large in his mind's eye, as he drove the Jedi closer. By then, he could sense the fear and uncertainty pouring off the pilot. Their movements changed as well, from sharp, smooth and Force-guided, to messy and uncertain. Their precognition had abandoned them, or, they hit the end of the line.

With a Jedi cruiser ahead, and fighting above and below, the Jedi had nowhere to run. Using only a simple command, a curling of prosthetic fingers, the vulture droids fired in unison, shredding the fuel tanks, and reducing it, and it's pilot, to a ball of flame.

Anakin pulled his mind from the droids as quickly as he could. When fully returned to his body, he opened his eyes to viewports full of fire. The vulture droids viciously hunted the clones, converging on entire groups, not unlike how he defeated the Jedi. He asked, "Is Grievous done yet?"

A tinny voice called back, "He's in pursuit, as of last report."

Anakin sat back again, watching as the battle raged around his command ship. Unexpectedly, the Republic fighters turned tail, almost at once, making for their cruisers, and he could only think of one reason why. He shouted, "Pursue! Don't let them make the jump!"

Both Dreadnaughts lurched into motion, as all ships raced for the Republic cruisers. The blackness of space again turned bright as all engines were forced to top speed and beyond, and the Dreadnaughts laid down salvos of red fire, raking indiscriminately. The first and second waves of clones made it, but the final wave, mostly mixed with vulture droids, arrived to empty space. The barely-spaceworthy Venators jumped to hyperspace, leaving the remaining clones, and Boz Pity below, to the victorious Separatists.

The battle droids celebrated among themselves, shouting the Republic's retreat into all comm channels. Anakin sat back, waves of relief and post-battle exhaustion washing over him.

He had just won his first battle for the Confederacy.

-bonus-

Obi-Wan straightened his cloak one final time as he walked, or more accurately, rushed, to one of the Temple's numerous war rooms. He hadn't been on Coruscant since the last meeting with the council, now two, hazy months ago. Since then, he and Ahsoka, his official second padawan, had fought back-to-back-to-back campaigns, with no more than a few days rest between each.

He stepped inside to see Master Windu, staring at the holo-display, who didn't acknowledge him until they stood side-by-side. Obi-Wan asked, "You requested me, master?"

"Yes. The siege of Boz Pity was a complete failure. Grievous and two Dreadnaughts came out of hyperspace moments ahead of our ships. We believe they had advance knowledge."

Although a nearly dead planet, the Separatists had a vital staging area there, one that disrupted their entire Mid-Rim offences for most of the war. Obi-Wan knew the Republic had a great deal invested in this offensive, for it to fail completely, could cost them the Kashyyyk sector. He said, "But, the siege was only discussed over Jedi channels."

Windu nodded grimly, "The Separatists now have access to our most secure channels."

Something pinged, deep in his memory, and he nearly gasped, "R2."

"Anakin's astromech, he almost never wiped it, and-"

"-Senator Amidala took it with her." He pinched the bridge of his nose, "How much was in that droid's memory?"

"As much as everything Anakin had access to. It could have the Resolute and the Negotiator's entire computer systems."

His frown tightened, "And why wasn't the droid on Felucia?"

Obi-Wan had never considered it, "I'm not certain, but it wasn't unusual. Senator Amidala regularly used the droid. I doubt it would have made a difference, however. Anakin kept R2-D2 with him on campaigns at all times."

"I see. We must assume everything is compromised now." His grip tightened on the edge of the holoterminal, "Vulture droids are already being reprogrammed. The final field report mentioned a group broke off and targeted the Commander."

"Did she survive?"

"No, and neither did her padawan. Barely a quarter of the clones returned."

Obi-Wan had no response, he just stared, trying to process the information. Windu continued, carefully, "Without Skywalker, and with such a large leak, the coming battles will be… difficult."

His tone clearly said he meant worse than difficult. Since the beginning of the war, a Separatist victory had been considered impossible, but now, it stared them in the face. Obi-Wan had never considered how badly they needed Anakin, not until he and Ahsoka had to do his missions without him. The council had quietly ordered campaigns by difficulty for years, he knew that, and he and Anakin always received the most difficult. The thought embarrassed him, but it had inflated his ego, until now. Now, he saw they only sent him and Ahsoka for support, to keep him on track, or even just for an extra blade. He said, "Ahsoka and I are doing our best, there's just only so much that can be done."

"We know. If Depa were to join the Force-"

He cut himself off, but he didn't need to finish. First with Naheer, and now Anakin, all masters' minds were on their adult padawans. "I understand."

"More than most. The Force has not been kind with you," He took a deep breath, "Commander Ponds and I will provide you reinforcements, whenever needed."

Obi-Wan bowed, and for a moment, he could see the burden Windu carried, visible in the form of tension in his shoulders, new lines around his eyes, and dark bags beneath them. "Thank you, master. This war isn't lost yet."

Windu met his eyes, jaw set, "No, not yet."

Timeline Note: I doubt anyone cares, but this invasion is not the same one from ROTS. This fic takes place 21-20 BBY