Ch. 3
NOTE: When Grievous wheezes, it's more of a "kaffing" sound. Therefore, all wheezes will be referred to as "kaffs". That is all.
Construction seemed to be going well. Grievous stalked down the corridors of the soon-to-be Mustafar secret facility. He wheezed as the volcanic ash disrupted his organs. This sulfur was becoming a problem for him. The natives and the droids had no problem with it. The Mustafarians have to live with it everyday, and the droids were just circuitry. He would have to see the Count about extra protection for his organ sacs. If this planet did this to him, he couldn't imagine what worse planets could do. He "encouraged" workers to work harder and faster as he went down the hall. His method seemed to work fine. Since his arrival, productivity has increased by 18. The only downside for him was this wretched ash. He didn't care about the accidents or loss of life during construction or the war. General. Grievous turned to the droid commander behind him. You are wanted in the communications room.
"Is the communications room finished?" Grievous leaned in towards his counterpart, making it lean backwards in response.
Um, well, you see, sir, I- The droid never finished it's sentence as the General's new green lightsaber sliced through its torso.
"Next time I give you a deadline," he put it away and turned right, towards the communications room. "You make it."
As he entered the room, General Grievous noticed that productivity may have increased to 19 in that instant. Bodies flustered with tools to try to work faster, as not to meet the same fate as the messenger. Grievous noted who worked best and who wasn't needed for future references as he approached the control panel. After a few button presses, a holographic image appeared. The General knelt as Darth Sidious appeared on the holo-platform. I trust the project is going well?
"Yes, my lord." Grievous wheezed. He put his head down as he went into a coughing fit. Sidious never moved.
The volcanoes aren't good for your health, General. The Sith warned. We need your abilities on Hoth.
"What would I be needed (kaff kaff) on that wasteland?"
Our scouts report the construction of a Republic Cloning Facility on the northern ridge. We need you to take a legion there, and wipe them out. All of them. Grievous could only nod as his master vanished. He then stood, exited the room, and approached his ship on the landing platforms. This would be too easy.
