The Mechanisation of Combat

by adventuresincanon

Before the war, before he would bring destruction to the Outer Rim and send a fleet to the heart of the galaxy, he fell.

Before the war, before he would bring destruction to the Outer Rim and send a fleet to the heart of the galaxy, he fell. He would be slain by a Jedi rich in rage from the death of his master, and as he dove through the depths of the Naboo palace, seeing his lower body floating apart from him, he forsook the anger his Sith teachings called for at this moment and simply wondered how he had gotten here. As the ground rose up to him he did not have to wonder for long.

Against all odds, he woke, although in a very academic sense. He could not see, or hear, and he could barely feel his surroundings, but he knew he was here and that he had not been so certain of this a moment ago. Time passed. One day he realised that the sense he knew as hearing was returning, and that he could make out the faintest of murmurs beside him. He also knew now that he was on a bed of some kind. He also knew, for the Light Side burned here, that he must be very near a great many Jedi, that he was likely in the temple on Coruscant itself. And yet he still could not move, could not reach out with the Force. He could do nothing but wait, as the Sith long had, until the opportunity presented itself for vengeance.

…

Even though it was halved, with the upper body separated from the lower by a transparisteel wall and both firmly secured by the best chains in Coruscant, the Jedi Dooku didn't like being in the same room as this thing. He would have to ask delicately.

"Master, do you think it is wise to keep the Sith in this state?" With Master Yoda, he would also have to be direct.

"Right you are to question this." Though Yoda's gaze was fixed on the top half of the Sith Dooku still felt the twinkle in the old master's eye, as if this was yet another lesson to be learned "But to defeat the Sith, more than Sith we must we be. To kill him is to be like him. To care for him is to defeat him. And besides, learn all we can we must". The old mater lapsed into silence.

"If you Jedi say so, but it would seem to me that there is no saving this creature. The best thing to do would be to put it out of it's misery. And ours". Dooku couldn't help but notice the hardening of the senator for Naboo's tone as he finished speaking.

Master Yoda awoke from the reverie the Senator's voice had evoked in him "Business have I with the Council. Take care of him Dooku, and a better being than him you will be. A better Jedi than you would be otherwise". The Jedi watched as the old Master hobbled out of the room but the Senator didn't move.

"Master Yoda doesn't take the counsel of his Jedi very well" It took a moment for Dooku to realise the Senator had spoken, so softly had his words entered the room.

"He is our Master. We may question his wisdom but we must respect it. And his decisions."

"But what if Master Yoda were to make a decision you knew to be wrong? What then?"

"Well his wisdom allows him to listen to others. I'm sure I could convince him to change his mind, should the truth be on my side".

"Hmmmmm. Tell me Dooku, what do you think of the Senate? I can assure you a great many of its members lack Yoda's wisdom and convincing anyone of anything they don't already think is nigh impossible".

"True, but that is democracy. It may not be pretty but it is better than the tyranny we still see on so many worlds. That that-" he gestured at the prone halves of the Sith in front of him "would use to rule the galaxy".

The Senator regarded him "I see you are passionate about the government you serve Dooku. You must allow me to show it to you some day. But for now I too have pressing matters to attend to".

And with that Dooku was left alone with a near dead Sith and the Living Force for company.

…

The Sith once known as Maul lay still and yet reeled. He had felt his old master, and had felt that he had failed. The Sith truly known as Sidious had penetrated Maul's mind, even as he prattled with the Jedi. He had known instantly of the flagging of Maul's rage had instantly laid down his judgement. Maul would no longer be a Sith apprentice, this he knew. And yet he still possessed the will to survive above all else, and so Sidious knew that Maul could still be of use. Sidious would turn his attention to the Jedi Dooku, and Maul would bide his time until he was freed from the prison of the Jedi, and perhaps the prison of his saber-rendered body.

…

Dooku gazed around the bar he had found in one of the 'quieter' parts of Coruscant. It was typical of Coruscant that quiet merely meant that no one was crafting a deal that would turn the fate of a planet, and that no one had a blaster jammed in their face. It was one of a string of sterile franchise places owned by a friendly looking Rodian who always made the headlines on the business holonet reports. It seemed an odd place to meet a senator, but then again maybe that was the point.

The senator for Naboo walked in, and nobody batted an eyelid. Despite appearance this must've been the kind of place where senators were commonplace.

"Ah Dooku. Thank you for meeting me here. I expect you find this a surprising place for our meeting, but the owner knows that senators on discreet business make for good customers. I would wager that's not something you would know about galactic politics hmmm?"

"Erm, no senator, it's not. In fact, well, I'm not entirely sure why you want to meet me at all."

"Why, you're ideals dear boy, you're ideals. It's not often I meet a Jedi who cares so much for the Republic he guards."

"All Jedi are dedicated to the Republic senator."

"I thought all Jedi were dedicated to the Force?"

"Well they are hardly mutually exclusive Senator."

"True, true. Ah, but I should explain why I asked you to come here Dooku. A matter of some delicacy is brewing in the Senate. You are aware of the activities of the senator for Onderon?"

"Yes of course."

"And do you agree with the senator?"

"Well if Onderon wants the protection of the Republic then it must be prepared to pay the Republic's taxes"

"Quite right Dooku, quite right. Which brings me to my reason for meeting with you. You understand someone in my position doesn't have time for these sort of meetings purely for the fun of it?"

"Ah. Well Senator, what is it I can help you with?"

"I am in need of the services of a Jedi. It is a simple matter, the senator Bonteri has in her possession some documents detailing the taxes that Onderon has actually paid to the Republic. These aren't Onderon's state secrets, they're Republic records that the senator has managed to limit access to, because they show quite clearly that Onderon isn't paying much for the Republic's protection at all. I would like you to get them back for me. Bear in mind these records don't actually belong to the Senator, they belong to the Republic. You would simply be returning to us what is ours, and we could prove that Onderon has no need to complain about taxes, or anything else for that matter."

"... have you talked to Master Yoda about this?"

"In a manner of speaking. Master Yoda has condoned this course of action, but he can't be seen to be taking sides. He has been gracious enough to allow me to deal with this myself, and to assure any Jedi who acts for me that their actions are sanctioned by the council. You may ask Yoda yourself this of course."

"Well Senator I shall have to do that, but I see no reason why I couldn't do as you ask."

"Excellent!"

Under the Coruscant sky, the Jedi Dooku staggered. The Republic he had defended for so long was rotten. He had asked Yoda about the Senator's mission, and found that he could proceed. He had made his way into the senator for Onderon's office via a rooftop hatch and some mind tricks sent the way of the guards. He had found the tax records easily enough, and had found what they meant shortly after. The entire Republic ran on bribery and nepotism; the planets of the galactic senate waged war on each other through arcane economic policy and parliamentary privilege. The result of the votes were decided long before they reached the chamber. The entire system served nothing but itself, and was poised to collapse. Dooku had no idea what to do.

"Hello Dooku."

Dooku started. Senators did not make a habit of emerging in dark alleys as Palpatine just had.

"It's…. it's all broken."

"Hmmm, I know."

"Why… why did you ask me to do this?"

"Dooku, the Republic is in more danger than at any time in the last thousand years. I need people to help me fix it, but in order for them to believe me I have to show them how bad things are."

"They are bad, they are very very bad."

"Yes I know Dooku I know."

"Does Yoda know?"

"I'm afraid he does. But Yoda and the council believe it is not the place of the Jedi to interfere in the running of the Republic, only to defend it. And besides the Jedi order may endure, even if the Republic falls"

"I...we need to fix this."

"We do indeed. will you help me fix the Republic Dooku?"

"Yes. Yes of course."

"Good. In that case I need something from you Dooku."

"What do you need?"

"Tell me Dooku, do you know of Darth Plagueis the Wise?"

"Why would I know of a Sith? And what does this have to do with the Republic?"

"Everything Dooku, everything. Plagueis desired power, as all Sith do. But he was a wise Sith, and he knew that the best power was given, not taken. He knew that for his reign to last he would have to win over the people, not oppress them. The result was that Plagueis' little empire was less corrupt and better for its citizens than any other. I dare say that it was better even than our current Republic."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying Dooku, that anyone who wishes to fix the Republic should look further afield than the senate or the Jedi temple. Indeed, maybe you could learn something from that Sith you're guarding?"

As the days had passed Maul had grown stronger by increments. He found that his arms weren't tied down, but that he still couldn't move them. He found he could see, but didn't wish the Jedi to know he could open his eyes. He found that he could feel nothing below his waist, except something hard pressing into him when he tried to move. He hadn't yet dared reach out with the Force. Before he could, the Force reached out to him.

"Master!" It was the first time he had used his voice in close to a year, and his words sounded alien to him.

"My apprentice. You failed me."

"The Jedi were strong Master!"

"Oh I don't doubt it. And yet I know that when they caused you pain that you did not fill with rage, that you did not lash out with whatever you had. Why should I still call you Sith?"

"...how did you get in here Master?"

"Ha! Some wit from you at last. I have taken a new apprentice, snatched him out from under Yoda's nose no less. He's the Jedi who has been taking care of you."

"Why Master?"

"Why him? Because he has ideals (had ideals rather) and that makes him easy to control. Why another apprentice at all? Well you failed me for one thing, and you can hardly do my bidding in your current condition can you?"

"I will serve you again Master."

"Of course you will. Did you think I would come back here if I didn't have a use for you? Dooku is clearing the way, you'll be on Mustafar soon enough."

The travel was hard, and he drifted in and out. At one point he heard Dooku murmur something about their ship being detected, and his master replied with a vivid description of what would happen to it's builders if it was.

The next few days were unrelenting pain. He saw his lower body cast into the planet's fire. He felt the stump that was his torso being stretched and torn and forced into a hard durasteel ring by the hands of droids. He felt his the nerves of his spine being spliced into unknown circuitry, and he felt the shock of electrical current that flowed into him from machines unknown.

Eventually he realised that he had stopped hurting, that even though he still felt constricted the cutting and burning were gone. He finally had the wherewithal to look around him, and realised he was in a plain grey room with a hard bed beneath him and the fires of Mustafar roaring outside.

His body kicked, and he realised there was more to it. He managed to force himself up, and for the first time he saw what he had become. His lower body was pure machine. His fleshed ended neatly at a metal torso, and the kick had come from two metal legs. When he moved he could feel the metal inside him grinding against the flesh that remained.

"Ah good, you're awake. And you haven't killed yourself"

"What have you done to me?"

"Dear me, you don't sound grateful at all. Can't you see that I've made you whole again? The medical droids warned you might well kick yourself to death if you weren't made aware of your new enhancements in the proper fashion. But I knew you'd be useless if you were coddled, and so I decided letting you find out for yourself was best. I'm even glad to see you've survived. This work would've been such a waste otherwise."

'Why? Why did you do this?"

"So you can serve me of course! What use have I for half a failed apprentice?"

"Of course Master" he found the question he had so often asked coming to him again.

'What would you have me do?"

"Good, good. Did you know Dooku has left the Jedi order? He has declared the Republic to be corrupt, and is gathering supporters against it. He's even taken up his old title of Count for some reason."

"But what would you have me do?"

"Do you know what an apprentice is for? Why I ever bothered with you, and why I bother with Dooku now? Because I want to survive, I want to live long after I've died. I need a legacy, and Dooku can give me that. He knows how to use people- now that all that Jedi dogma has been undone- and he is far better suited to running the galaxy as I want it run than you ever were."

He realised his gaze had drifted away from Sidious, that the old Sith's words were just a monotony of harshness now. He wondered when the master would get to the point.

"But, I still need weapons. That is what you can be, and what you will be, and what you likely always were. You will be forged. You will be sharpened to wickedness and aimed at the heart of the Republic. Before you are done you will take the lives of more Jedi than anyone before you, and you will bring me my Empire."

So that was the plan.

He knew he should clean the blood off the floor, that it could spread a rot through the ship's air that would kill him long before the drop from hyperspace, and yet he found that he didn't really care enough to bother. He had, as instructed, infiltrated the Republic transport. He had, as instructed, sought out the troublesome cadre of bureaucrats on the way home from spinning influence on Coruscant. He had dispatched their guards, and dispatched them, and now he was alone on a ship heading for Mustafar. He had also taken a lucky shot from one of the dying guards in his left arm.

The legs, on the other hand, had performed flawlessly. He had kicked down bulkheads and sprinted through corridors, and found people cowering at the sound his metal claws made on the ship's floor. His stomach still chafed at the metal tubing he could feel moving inside of him, but he had to concede that the machine part of him was more fit for purpose than his flesh. He really could be a weapon, and he could be wielded best without the weaker parts of him. He needed only to determine if that was what he wanted, before Sidious dictated his path for him.

But first, to maintenance. The legends of the Sith didn't mention much about the old masters having to clean up after themselves, and Maul imagined that they would likely have simply strode from their various carnages, leaving the tidying to their lessers. But Maul didn't have that luxury, and was no longer Sith. So he found the ship's cleaning supplies and set about clearing up the blood and the bodies before their deaths killed his lesser flesh.

"Did you enjoy your mission?"

"Yes Master."

"Did you see the benefits of your new improvements?"

"I did Master."

"I see your unimproved self was not so effective."

"No Master."

"Do you think you could be a better weapon than you were today?"

"Yes Master. I wish it to be so."

"And how do you think this will come about?"

"Your guidance Master, and more opportunities to carry out your will."

Sidious gestured at Maul's legs.

"I have improved you. Do you think you could be further improved?"

"Yes Master."

"Do you wish to be further improved?"

Maul knew then what would happen. He would be stripped off his flesh, gradually or abruptly it made no difference. He would lose all opportunity to be anything but the weapon of a Sith.

"I said do you wish it!"

"I… let me prove myself as I am. Then you may gift me with greater ability if it proves necessary."

Sidious leaned closer, his eyes glowing intensely out of his night black robes.

"If I didn't know better I should think you were hesitant. But a weapon cannot be hesitant, cannot be capable of thinking on its actions. A good weapon wants only to strike. You will be a great weapon for me. You will have no other choice."

Afterward, Maul sat in the surgical bay scowling at the wall as one of the medical droids tended to his arm. He didn't even notice the occasional prick of the droid's pincers, such was the extent of the distraction Sidious' words had caused him. Above all, a Sith desired power over others. If Sidious really did see Maul as a weapon only (and from what Maul could see of his mind, that appeared to be the case) then that could only mean that he really had taken Dooku as his apprentice, and that Maul was just another being who served the emperor in waiting. It had been obvious all along, but only now, after he had taken the time to warp his dogma-riddled mind around his new situation, did he see it to be true.

Maul then, for the first time since Sidious had taken him from the home he had inadvertently destroyed and told him that he could one day rule the galaxy, was faced with the choice of what to do with his life. He could of course leave, stealing away in the night leaving nothing but an empty docking bay and some judiciously placed timed charges. He could end it all, for he would never be the Sith he had hoped to be, would never have the power he had once desired.

"Almost done, I just need to dress the wound and then you can go home" the synthesised tranquility of the droid's voice intruded into his brooding.

"Foolish droid! I have no home" Maul didn't normally have a taste for the dramatic but he was in a mood and the droid would hardly tell anyone.

"I am sorry to hear that. Do you have somewhere to stay for the night?"

Maul stopped to consider this. The droid had clearly been programmed to express the optimal concern for its patients, and yelling at it would do no good. But he felt like being malicious anyway, and so he continued.

"Tell me droid, do you care about all your patients?"

"I am programmed to be concerned for all those I care for."

"But what if your patient has had their sickness cured and their injuries healed, and yet still they hurt?"

"How do you mean?"

"What if their soul is wounded, what would you do then?"

The droid considered for a moment. To Maul's disappointment it didn't explode in a mass of paradox driven sparks but instead answered his question.

"I am programmed for a purpose. All droids are programmed for a purpose. I do not understand what it is like to be alive, what it is like to have a soul. But I do know that it is better when I have fulfilled my purpose than when I have not. Leaving aside the diagnostic difficulties, if I were to treat a patient for a 'wounded soul' I would seek to have their purpose fulfilled."

Maul was taken aback. That the droid had formulated any kind of coherent argument surprised him. That he found it compelling stunned him.

For decades he thought his purpose had been to rule over others, that he would one day slay Sidious as Sidious had slain Plagueis, and the galaxy would be his. But as he considered his history in the light of the droid's words he found that he had never been meant to rule. There had never been a time when Sidious had ever taught him how to manipulate others the way the old Master did with no effort. he had never been taught how to command. he had been taught only how to hunt and fight and kill. He had never truly been an apprentice, he had been only an assassin serving at the pleasure of his master.

Maul couldn't say if this was truly his purpose. But with half his body gone and nowhere definitive to go, he had few other options. He was an assassin for better or worse, and if that were the case he would be the greatest assassin there ever was. He would bring a higher purity to the art of assassination than the galaxy had ever seen. He would sacrifice everything else about himself to truly become himself. He would be more than an assassin, he would be a weapon.

A weapon made of flesh would soon falter, and Maul looked down at his blaster marred arm with a new disgust. Sidious could improve him, and Maul would see that it would be done.

The Sith master Sidious turned off the camera feed. He had seen that the ploy had worked, and that his weapon was filled with the required vigour. He allowed the droid to regain control of it's vocoder, and muted the feed from the microphones when he realised it felt the need to undertake a whining diagnostic process. Many had sought to gain power by gaining the confidence of those they wished to control. Sidious knew this, but he also knew that people were remarkably susceptible to anything that came from the voice of a trusted authority. He also knew that such a voice could be faked.

"Would you like to kill a Jedi?"

"Yes." The answer came so quickly it was as if his hearing had circumvented his brain and spoken for him.

"Good. Good. There is a Jedi en route to Oba Diah whom I have no further use for. We have arranged for the Pyke syndicate to dispose of him, but I hardly trust them. I wish you to ensure the end of Jedi Master Sifo-Dyas comes to pass."

"Yes Master."

"Have you thought any more about my offer of improvements?"

"Yes Master, I wish to be improved."

"Very well, did you have something particular in mind or shall I just have the droids cut off your arms and give you new ones?"

Maul had thought very long and very hard about what it would take to be weaponry incarnate, and he knew exactly what he wanted.

"Master, I want something far more powerful than new limbs or organs. With those I would still be just one being. I wish to be greater than I am, greater than I could ever be in this shape. I want to be an orbital bombardment, a marching army, a fleet patrolling the entire galaxy. Give me the ability to link my mind with any war machine you have. Put the machines in my brain that will let me control the machines of war"

As Maul met the gaze of Sidious' yellow pit eyes he could see the infinitesimal gears of the Sith's mind clicking into place.

"Very well, if you think you can survive such power then let us see if it is so. The procedure will be long, and painful. I will inform the droids."

Maul hung over the barren moon, the sensors of the ship around him feeding directly into the cold, prodding metal of the implant in the back of his skull, and therefore directly into his mind. Even here, in space empty but for a listless moon orbiting a lifeless planet, he was near overwhelmed. The ship told him everything of its motion, every detail of the multitude of systems that were keeping the position constant and the cloak in place. It told him in painful detail of the thermal signature of the moon and the planet and the far off star, of the few ships that had come and gone while he lay in wait.

A ship dropped out of hyperspace and he spasmed violently as it streaked overhead, the signature red of Republic business arcing across the sky. The drop of the ship from hyperspace had sent tremors in every direction that Maul's sensors were only too happy to let him know about.

With an effort Maul gathered himself and focused on the task at hand. A Pyke Syndicate armed freighter escorted by a brace of fighters was already headed towards the Jedi shuttle with casual intent. Gently he throttled up his engines and pointed himself on an intercept course, gathering speed as the Pyke flotilla closed on the shuttle.

The Jedi was aware now that he was about to be attacked, and the shuttle was manoeuvring in such a way as to make it's designer squirm. It pulled through a tight loop and shot through the oncoming formation before the Pykes had a chance to target it, heading for open space and a calculated jump to hyperspace. It was now that Maul acted.

He had been heading towards the shuttle from behind, aiming to fire on it from within the Pyke formation so as to disguise his presence at the engagement. Now the shuttle was headed straight towards him, and so he adjusted his trajectory and began to cycle the cloak. He'd been practicing this for days in the space over Mustafar; turning the cloak on and off again fast enough to give the guns just enough time to fire without exposing the ship to the enemy's sensors. He'd gotten to the point where he cycled the cloak so quickly that it was never truly off, just sufficiently dampened to allow the guns to find a targeting solution. No pilot flying with convention controls nor any astromech plugged into the ship's computer could do this, only the chunk of wires and circuits nestled in the back of his skull allowed him to do so.

He felt the cloak lower as the guns came up to charge. Feeling the ship's every movement down to the shudders in it's frame, he drew a bead on the shuttle's course and opened fire just as the cloak was beginning to build.

He missed. Instead of erupting into the searing white ball of flame he expected, the shuttle's engines sparked and smoked, sending it far off the intended course. The Jedi managed to pull it out of the ensuing flat spin and point it back towards the planet that was now it's only possible refuge, but the Pykes had regathered and gotten turned around and were now bearing down upon it. They harried the shuttle as it dropped out of sight into the planet's atmosphere; they didn't look to be hitting much but there wasn't much need to with the ship in the state it was.

Maul had already jumped to hyperspace, alone with the ship that was his body and the failure that was his to explain.

"Tell me how you failed."

"I did not."

"Yes you did."

"Now the Pykes think they killed the Jedi. They don't know I was there. Your weapon remains hidden, and the Pykes will ensure no one learns of Sifo-Dyas' fate for us."

"Perhaps."

Back at the medical bay that was his home nowadays, Maul collapsed. He daren't tell Sidious the truth. What would a Sith lord think of him were he to learn of the Jedi's effect on him the moment he had pulled the trigger? His mind was already overloaded by the ship's sensors, the presence of another Force user whose death was so near had been too much for him. He had wavered and his aim had faltered.

Now Maul had a choice to make. He could continue as he was, trying to learn to overcome and control the effects of the implant incrementally, until he could pilot any war machine in the galaxy. But he had learned today that the Force could still trip him up, that he was still susceptible to the myriad of Jedi that he would inevitably face in the coming war. This was only so due to his sensitivity to the Force, which was only so due to the Midi-chlorians in his flesh. If he wished to be immune to the effects of the Jedi, he must purge himself of the Force. He must purge himself of the flesh that held it.

Maul gazed down at himself made new. Gone were his scarred arm and his horned skull and his fragile chest. In its place were bones of strongest alloy and muscles of servo-precision. His skull was now an iron death mask that still held his blazing eyes. All that remained of his former life were his mind and the few organs needed to sustain it; the organs were replacements from an unwilling donor and his brain had been sieved of midi-chlorians by tini machines in his blood. He was no longer constrained by the conventions of the humanoid form, and so his joints could twist to a rude degree and his arms could double in number. He was a child's drawing of a killing machine, and now that he was dead to the Force he would scare the life out of wise old men.

"You have a fan"

"Who knows who I am?"

"Someone you knew on Dathomir, the son of Mother Talzin."

"He knows who I am now? What has become of me?"

"Far from it, he still worships my former apprentice. He's quite sick you know. He thinks he must take up your old legacy, now that you've 'died on Naboo'. He truly thinks he is the living incarnation of you. He even cut off his own legs to emulate you. Now he's gone missing, he was last seen headed towards one of the waste planets but no one has seen him since."

"Why would anyone want to be that? Be an imperfect weapon?"

"Why Indeed? I don't know, if only he could see you now."

Again, Maul hung in space, wired into the ship around him. But the ship in turn was wired into so much more; he sat not at the console of his familiar Infiltrator but at the heart of a machine that was as much a beacon as a ship, a great scything jaw-beaked vessel, it's fuselage flanked on each side by the largest holonet transmitters ever constructed. Little by little, as the Galaxy darkened and Dooku drew ever more planets to his Confederation, Maul expanded himself into an ever more vast war machine. Free of the Force, he had learned to master his own ship, never so much as flinching as he jumped through hyperspace across the Galaxy, dispatching any who would disrupt Sidious' plans for the coming Empire.

When he could do no more in his Infiltrator he had graduated to a much larger ship, one of the new frigates being built in secret for the coming war. With his wires penetrating through the ship and into the many computers that controlled its systems, he had excelled at the war games that had begun in the more remote parts of the Outer Rim. Many a Confederate captain had come to know the all-black vessel that seemed to fire on them even before it had dropped out of hyperspace and disappeared before the bridge lights had come up at the end of the simulation.

He had grown to command the most coordinated capital ship in the galaxy with very little difficulty, and so Sidious had of course found a challenge that would kill him if he failed. He was given a droid control ship, the kind that had failed above him as he fell so long ago. The ship itself had been easy to control; it had few sensors and fewer weapons, and mastering it was to him as putting on a new pair of shoes was to his lessers. But a bigger ship to fly was hardly the point. A droid control ship was for controlling droids, and he finally had the chance to become what he now wanted to be: the heart of an army.

At first he had been given control of a small force: five hundred basic battle droids and no heavy vehicles. The effort of sustaining it all, of taking a thousand droid eyes and resolving their sight into a singular vision had put him in the care of the medical droids for a month as he concentrated on reconstructing the mind that had been splinted by five hundred bodies. His second attempt had been more successful, a smaller force of twenty droids and the knowledge of what was coming meant he only spent a week in the medical bay. It took a full year for him to master a battalion of droids, to take it out onto the plains of Geonosis and lay waste to the Nemoidian general who opposed him that day. Predictably, Sidious had immediately given him command of the defeated general's forces and expected him to drive them on to the next opponent. And so, with much pain and much attention from the medical droids, Maul had come to control the largest and most cohesive military force in the galaxy. The generals and admirals he had defeated had been sent on leave, and now gathered in the officer's clubs of the hidden bases the Confederacy had stashed across the Outer Rim, muttering to themselves about how Dooku's new battle computer couldn't possibly make them obsolete.

Now he hung in space far from his forces. This ship was Sidious' gift, a massive flying transmitter/receiver to give him unparalleled access to the eyes of his army and to act as its unifying mind. While a regular droid ship could oversee the invasion of a planet below, this ship could oversee the invasion of the galaxy around it, controlling the actions of millions of droids and thousands of ships. Maul had never used this new form, and he was now about to use it to position his forces. He was to coordinate the greatest logistical manoeuvre in history, winning the war before it had even begun by placing the droid army just so in order to overcome the Republic swiftly and viciously.

He could now feel his transmitters warming up, an awesome hum reverberating down the spine of the ship. He adjusted his attitude slightly and found that the myriad of receivers that now fed into his brain were receiving the senses of the droids around him with new clarity. He began slowly, sending pulses through the holonet network to awaken the Confederate ships that hung in space, ensuring his control of them before moving onto the next. He spread himself ever thinner, but his skill at his singular trade was such that it was a long time before his strength began to be tested.

And yet tested it was. Despite the vastness of the forces he had commanded, despite the great leaps in required capability Sidious' demands had made him accustomed to, this was something else. He could feel the quiver in the holonet transmissions caused by the wakes of passing ships. He could hear the shout of a trillion diagnostic results as ever more ships came online. He became ever more disjointed as his command spread ever further and the responses lagged more and more as the signals that were the instruments of his will raced across ever more space. He held on for as long as he could.

In the end it wasn't a battle that broke him, it wasn't a defeat at the hands of a brilliant adversary or even the inevitable attrition of his forces. It was a wire. One of the ships detected a fault in one of the sensors that oversaw its reactor, and in accordance with the engineering computer's programming it sent out a request for instruction. Maul by this time had his hands full, but things were still going smoothly and he felt he had the ability to deal with the problem directly while the bulk of the fleet was transiting hyperspace; that way he would be freer of distractions when it was time to command the critical positioning of the fleet. At this point one of the Confederate frigates detected an errant comet in its path and dropped out of hyperspace to demand instruction. That new unexpected demand distracted Maul just as he had taken over full control of the reactor with the faulty sensor, and he lost his balance. Free of sufficient control the reactor flashed over, sending a cascade of sun-intense light into its working sensors and so into the mind of Maul.

He couldn't take it. The fleet fell apart as its commander splintered and its strategy evaporated. Ships and droids severed the link to Maul, each taking a part of him with it. The fleet hung dead in space, having gotten little further than the inner borders of the Outer Rim. Across the Confederate territories alerts rang out through the officer's clubs and the idle generals and admirals were mobilised, each given command of a portion the now fragmented army and a sense of their own superiority over Dooku's vaunted computer. The war would begin soon, and it would be they who won it.

Amidst the chaos a shuttle was dispatched to a supposedly empty patch of the sky. It's mission was to investigate the state of the vast communications ship that hung there, and bring back anything that remained of what could have been Darth Sidious' greatest weapon.

The head of state of the Confederacy of Independent Systems Count Dooku of Serenno seethed.

"I don't understand why you even bothered. The last time a centrally controlled droid army tried to do anything of note it was defeated by a slave boy in an artisanal snub fighter. And now your 'great weapon'- that you made out of the scraps of a failed apprentice- has failed as well. Now I have to rely on generals who saw me trust a flawed machine to fight this war."

"So be it." Sidious didn't seem that interested in the conversation.

"So what would you have me do now.? At least let me dispose of this." The Count gestured witheringly at the body that had once been the mechanised form of Maul that lay in front of him.

"Oh no, we can't do that. After all he still lives. And while he lives we can use him."

"Do you really call this living?" Both Sith could feel how faint Maul was, how little of a functioning mind remained in the metal husk before them.

"I call this a blank slate. More than ever we can mould him into whatever we desire. What do you desire right now Dooku?"

"I'd like a general who knows the value of a victory and the cost of a battle droid" Dooku snorted, remembering the Trade Federation Strategic Department's convoluted spreadsheets.

"Then that is what you shall have. He may not remember who he is but his training went deeper than that. I can feel he still knows strategy, knows the taste of victory enough to want it. You shall have your general."

"Fine. And what of the ship we built for him? What should we do with that?"

"The Malevolence? I have already ordered it to be rebuilt. The transmitters have been scrapped and the ionic cannons your Confederates have developed are to be fitted. Why do I have to run your Navy for you?"

The memory surfaced in Dooku then of what the plan really was, of the true purpose of the Confederacy he had built. They would fight this war, whittling down the armies and harshening the lives of the galaxy's population. Then would come the Empire, and the honest order Dooku had always desired.

He awoke. He didn't know where he was. He knew he had two legs and four arms, and claws on each. He knew his face was a mask. He knew his lungs hurt. He knew that he could fight, and he knew he could win. He knew there would be a war soon, and therefore he knew he could win it.

He got to his feet, surveyed the dark windowless room around him. He did not start at the bearded figure in the cape that emerged from the shadows, for he had no idea whether this person was known to him or not.

"You are late" the figure announced.

He found his voice, recoiling from the hoarseness of his own words.

"Late.. for… what?"

"The war. The first battle has been fought. You lost."

"How?"

"The enemy has amassed a great army in secret. The war will be much harder than you expected. And you are late."

"Take… me...to my… army. I wish to review it." His voice was finally familiar to him, even though it still pained him. He resolved to become accustomed to it.

"Very well." The figure in black eyed him warily "However before we go you must answer a question of mine".

"What?"

"Who are you?"

He felt then the pain that he was capable of causing. The people he could kill and the people he could order to be killed. The great Force warriors who would fall before him. The planets that he would rent asunder, the worlds that would be his. He saw the great wound he would rip in the side of the galaxy. He knew who he was.

"I. Am. GRIEVOUS."