A/N
Hello again. I know I told a couple of you that there would be a chapter out a week ago, but I ran out of time to edit and I had vacation all of last week. Sorry about that. It's out now, though!
Also, I should mention that the last few chapters through until the next couple are essentially filler, but they are setting up the rest of the story, so they're important. My apologies if you find political stuff boring; there should be some action coming up sometime soon.
Also, special shout-out to Blood Never Lies for being the 200th reviewer! The support from everyone is always great. Thank you to everyone!
The rendezvous had gone exactly according to plan. Jump in, meet the Black Sun representative, exchange niceties, ships, and credits with the lovely backdrop of a black hole, and now Grievous was the happy owner of four Dreadnoughts and four Carracks.
Okay, maybe he wasn't happy. Satisfied seemed the better word. They had cost a pretty penny, though he had to admit, Black Sun had done the promised maintenance well. He had completed a personal inspection of all of the ships systems, and while it would take some getting used to in order to be comfortable permanently operating on an Imperial vessel, none of the ships had any major malfunctions or errors. Indeed, a couple of the Dreadnought-classes had received some upgrades during their time in the service of the criminal organisation. One in particular Grievous had chosen as his flagship. Oh so charmingly named the Horseman of Death after an old Corellian legend, (the dreadnoughts all fit that motif, actually) it had been the recipient of numerous engine, shield, and turbolaser upgrades.
Now came the part Grievous was a bit nervous about. He still had four Imperial ships, plus the Independence to stash away somewhere, and while he knew the Empire would see through any disguise he put on them due to the agent that escaped with their exact specifications, it still pained him to give up such useful ships. Well, not give up. He would be able to grab them again if he ever needed firepower and didn't care if the Imperials knew he was there, but for the foreseeable future that seemed unlikely.
There was a reason he had chosen this bit of space for the exchange. It was just a couple light years away from a spot he had always kept aside as an ideal spot to stash ships for future use.
It was an excellent test for the new ships' hyperdrives. There were no failures or other issues, and over the hour the journey took, only the minor fluctuations you might expect from any interstellar vessal appeared. Precisely one hour and 12 minutes after they left, the fleet exited hyperspace next to what Grievous had dubbed years ago as the Ethereal Wanderer.
A very low density gas giant, the Ethereal Wanderer was an exoplanet, flung out of it's home system some 3 million years ago when the parent star went supernova. Grievous had discovered it during his days as a Banking Clan debt collector when he met with a smuggler, some 14 years ago. The man had proven... unwilling to part with his money and experienced a nasty accident, so Grievous was fairly certain only he and a few others even knew of its existence, most of whom were dead now.
He had convinced Dooku a month into the war of it's strategic value, successfully lobbying a Techno Union droid foundry be put into low orbit. It provided a great staging point for attacks anywhere within the Atrivis sector, and coupled with the droid foundry, plus communications array and limited shipyard, Grievous planned to use this as home base for the foreseeable future. In hindsight, it might have been better to set up here as opposed to Atrivis VII, but he hadn't been certain the state of the facilities would be up to scratch after being abandoned for half a year. Now, however, he had no choice.
Shuttles launched from the Independence carrying workers, pilots, and several tons of ore and minerals from the Atrivis operation over to the orbital factory. The inspection deemed that it had shut down identically to all the others out there upon the end of the Clone Wars. When no damage or other problems were found, Grievous gave the order to reactivate the factory. It would be pumping out droids, primarily B2s and Commandos, by the end of the standard day.
Like the factory, the shipyard had simply shut down upon receiving the transmission. While it had never been designed to produce anything larger than a patrol corvette, even those would be helpful, especially if this turned into a guerrilla campaign like he planned. And with regards to the comms. array, once the factory was deemed safe, reactivating it was as easy as flipping a switch.
Grievous thought the day had gone about as well as could be expected. He had been planning on departing the bridge and spending some time calculating the path of his wandering planet, but the day simply couldn't end in a standard way. The universe, it seemed, enjoyed keeping him alive just to play with him.
It was about four hours after they had reactivated the factory. The droid stationed at comms. raised his hand, calling, "General, sir!" Grievous, being a tad surprised the communications officer was actually being useful instead of just wasting power, (they were hardly expecting any important calls, after all) strode over to see what the droid was making a fuss about.
"Sir," the thing said, "the droids in factory control say that the comms. dish is picking up a message."
That was a tad disappointing. "So we intercepted an smuggler's transmission, or an Imperial one we won't be able to decode anyways. Why did they feel this was important?"
Shaking its head, the droid responded, "No, sir. They say the message was encrypted with one of the old CIS shadowfeed codes."
Well, that certainly grabbed his attention. Why would anyone be using those? He looked over the droid's metallic shoulder to read some of the data onscreen. Apparently, the message had been broadcast to the whole sector, in such a way that only Confederate sensors had been able to pick up. So it was clearly either indented for any confederate supporters in the area, or one person in particular who they didn't know the exact location of. He had a funny feeling it was the latter, and intended for him.
"Have them decrypt the message and put it through. I want to see it."
The decoding only took a moment, before the foundry sent over the message. A hologram appeared from the projector in the centre of the room, facing the command chair. Grievous walked back and sat down, intent on viewing the message the way it was likely meant to be received.
The hologram was of a slender human woman in her mid to late twenties, with red hair and clothes too fancy for Grievous's tastes. "Greetings, General. My name is Mon Mothma," she began, with a polite smile. At least that answered one question; this message was clearly intended for him.
"You may not be aware of this, but a few hours before you're receiving this message, a number of former senators, and some other supporters, declared their secession from the Empire and their intention to reform it. This statement was broadcast from Praesitlyn, to as much of the core and mid-rim as possible.
"As it so happens, I am one of the leaders in that group. I believe that we want the same thing, General. Namely, the removal of Palpatine from power. We feel that he's a tyrant who must be removed. We know you probably don't care about that, but you are, we're aware, already waging guerrilla warfare against the Empire. So clearly our goals align, even if our reasons don't.
"We would, if you'd like, be willing to discuss this further. We have some other points we'd like to bring up, but I'd rather not transmit them halfway across the galaxy. If they were intercepted, it's unlikely anyone alive but you would know the codes, but we're not risking it. Some of it's... rather sensitive.
"If you would like to meet and discuss this further, we can arrange a meeting. Tight-beam a response and meeting coordinates to the attached location within an hour of receiving this message if you would like to discuss terms. We'll get there as soon as we can. And while I understand the need for security, General, I'm sure you'd understand how jumping into a flotilla bearing down on you would be threatening. Please limit any... security measures to no more than a few ships. We'll do the same. If the Empire somehow gets wind of this, I'm sure we'll both have them positioned to escape easily."
Mothma had been talking for a minute and a half now, and she finally paused for a moment to collect her thoughts and catch her breath. She pierced the recording device with a serious look. "You're a military leader, and you made it clear during the war that you had no part in Dooku's politics. I know you're not an ideologue, Grievous. On the other hand, I am. We wouldn't be friends in nearly any circumstance. The rest of the leadership and I are putting aside our beliefs for the moment, simply because we need military commanders and you're too useful to ignore. I do hope you can put aside any distaste you have for us so we can work towards our common goal. I hope we can meet soon. Good day, General."
The hologram finally shut down, leaving Grievous sitting in the command chair pensively. This was a most interesting development, wasn't it?
Obviously, Grievous had no problem admitting he disliked the Empire. He also had significant problems with the Republic. The question raised by the message was whether he hated the Empire or those working to restore the Republic more. That was the determining factor.
Grievous paused. That was just his immediate reaction, wasn't it? Decide who he liked less, and go from there. The thing was, he couldn't just let his whims dictate policy now; there was far too much at stake.
No, now he had to ignore his personal preferences and focus exclusively on the Realpolitik perspective. He may not mind the Empire itself, but he hated Sidious for his betrayal, and those working to restore the Republic could help take him down. They were actually in the same position he was, whether they knew it or not; the Sith had deceived the Republic, too.
So he could work with them, at least for now. Until Sidious was dead, he would swallow his pride and hatred. It would be worth it in the end. That did not mean, however, he was willing to let the politicians walk all over him. He doubted their relationship would last once Sidious was dead, anyways.
That was it, he supposed. If only because he needed resources, he'd work with them until Sidious was dead, then probably split afterwords. He should probably send that reply.
"Comms, pull the attached coordinates from the message. Transmit the location of the singularity where we made the exchange with Black Sun. Also relay to the factory that I want all produced droids loaded up onto the Horseman of Famine and Horseman of Death in 12 hours. We'll be leaving after its finished." With a nod and a 'Yes, sir,' the droid sent the messages.
The die had been cast.