Jabba's Palace
The meeting was made. The bargain set. Now all Grievous had to do was give the fat Hutt some words of false security and the Hutt routes can be easily purchased without any rebellion or revolt. However, the general's stress was at peak and his headache rang at a higher beat with each step he took. Perhaps it was the atmosphere this planet had, or maybe the blubbering of those worthless nobles, but Grievous was sure it was because of his slave – who was two paces behind him.
Carefully, he would listen to the rhythm of her footsteps. Such a precaution was not related to paranoia, but caution. Even with the promises she made to him, she was still the little despicable spoiled brat trying to humiliate him to the eyes of his rivals. Does she honestly think he won't kill her? She's no more special than Viceroy. Even lesser, Grievous sorted. Even still, too, her affection for her master is becoming unhealthy for the general, and he could only wonder how far she would go for the Jedi filth. But the general was aware of the up sides, her being here was vital to whatever sick experiment his master, Count Dooku, has planning for her. And it's taking him a long time to finally take custody and begin his plots. Grievous would want to go as well, for the very image of her suffering filled his beating heart with content.
His eyes hardened, his soul quenching savagely for blood, and his claws clenched to keep the savagery from overtaking his instincts. And the image of a particular dead Jedi mutt was all he could think of as the sliding doors permitted the Grievous and his follower through.
The Main Hanger was the same desolate shape Grievous had left it, its only company being Grievous' vessel., The Soulless One.
"Hurry up. Get in before my mind decides to leave you here at the mercy of the guards," Grievous had threatened, pushing her hard enough for the message to sink in.
The Togruta padawan got in without a fuss, still not speaking a word since the time he retrieved her from the storage room. In a way, it was a childish attempt to get back at him for her mistreatment. Humorous, yet pathetic at the same time.
As the engine pumped with fuel, roaring beautifully as the vessel set into simultaneously. Grievous exited the world of Neimoidia and was now punching in co-ordinates to Tatooine where his client resided.
Vast space, all black with only billions of stars to light the general to his journey. Again he would check for signals nearby, placing his forward blasters on standby. The tips of either side of his wings wielded destructive fire that could bring down a whole Republic formation if he wanted to. But it would remain unused as he scans could detect nothing as a threat, unless meteors were something dangerous – but that was only true so long as Grievous didn't brush against them or – stars help him – indivertibly crash into them. What a way to die.
The meteors, fragments of planets that had possibly died or commonly vanquished by the hands of war itself. Many have died, and many have lost their existence in this vast galaxy. Now left in piece, they could be determined by the minerals the rocks could carry as they floated aimlessly in dead space.
Grievous fell back into his piloting seat, leaving the cruiser to auto-pilot. The headache did not recede, still stinging behind his drooping eyes. He permitted his eyelids to close, and though he lacked the ability of sleep, it felt like he was capable at the moment. Deeper, and deeper, sight fading, body still, and very soon his mind was at ease.
The holocam imputed between the controls of his cruiser beeped repeatedly, alerting the general at an alarming time. Grievous growled, and imputed the transmission.
A holoimage appeared over the holocam, descriptively disgusting as the original.
"General, you are near the destination, I presume?" Nute Gunray said.
"If I was, do you believe that I would inform you at hand?"
"This agreement must come into fruition, Grievous! Not only will this benefit our cause, but also you."
Grievous snarled. "Is this some pity attempt of a threat? Would you like me to return and give you a word of my mind."
Nute Gunray gulped. "J-just make sure you don't cause anything that will ruin our plans."
"I will not, you have my word."
"Good. And while you're at it, why don't you take some spare time domesticating that wretched slave of yours," he then added.
"Mind your own. My slave was fully capable before you decided to be the 'superior' life form."
"You're one to-"
With the smell of burning blaster fires, the navi-computer picked up the 10% damage toll the deflector shields were taking. Grievous could feel his cruiser rock in protest, but only for a short while for the inpervium coated at the hull of the pronged vessel protected the more important features. Grievous switched to forward scanners.
Two pursuers were approximately 10 yards away from his cruiser, both modified with twin-turbo laser cannons. Though it would cause Grievous some delay, his cruiser was far advanced for such a distracting attack. Grievous was certain his cruiser could sustain even against the heaviest attacks.
He forced his Auxiliary thrusters to howl and pushed the speed up a notch, dodging a coming blast.
The first blue cruiser fell behind the yellow, tailing after the other in a line. Soon after, the blaster came showering over the Grievous cruiser, his deflector shield deflecting most of the blasts. Grievous scoffed and ventured into a nearby Meteor trail to throw them off, and led them to his trap. The two followed after him just as Grievous predicted and continued their formation with the blue one leaving the work to the yellow.
Grievous pushed his cruiser and back flipped over the two completely and fired his triple-laser cannons on the unsuspecting blue. The Blue dipped to the side and cleverly hid beneath the depths of the meteors, leaving the yellow unprotected from the behind. Again Grievous fired, assuming the blue had fled cowardly, sending the yellow cruiser some exterior damage to its left wing. He aimed for the main thrusters in an attempt to render it paralyzed and become an easy target.
Suddenly the blue cruiser bolted and brushed against the Soulless Ones hull, sending Grievous co-coordinated attack off-target.
"Annoying pest."
Grievous aimed for the pursuer's underbelly and made a devastating damage. The cruisers right wing sparked, trailing to the pilot-seat and at last evaporating in a gust of smoke, the remains crashing into a nearby meteor. Now all Grievous was left with was the yellow cruiser, certain of a future victory.
Pitifully the cruiser was trying to get out of Grievous' range, but the general's cruiser was just too fast for it.
Suddenly the cruiser discarded a bomb, exploding in an instant to the fronts of Grievous. Grievous was shocked, caught off guard, and narrowly dodged the aftermath of the explosion, the impact leaving a crackling scar in space.
"Blasts!"
A low, pounding sounded the back of Grievous' pilot seat, disrupting his world of warfare and bloodshed. Far from recognition, Grievous had forgotten the existence of the Togruta slave girl. A short pause and her voice could be heard.
"What's going on? What barbaric act are you playing at!"
Troublesome, Grievous had thought. All he needed now was a set back from his prey. This girl has proven more than she's worth, and Grievous was losing his patience.
Impatiently he slammed his fist against the back-side to the left of his seat, barking for her to keep quiet. He didn't have time for her, especially when his forward scanners couldn't range in the pursuer, supplying him with the fact that the cruiser had disappeared.
"Damnit, all."
The scanners were unable to pick up a signal, assuring the general that his attacker fled.
Despite the wanting of pursuit, Grievous instantly recalled the lectures of his master to keep himself controlled. And he just couldn't disobey him, no matter how much effort he put in. Whether it was an instinct of fear – which he denies – Grievous couldn't bring himself to raise his blade against the sith lord if it depended on life itself. Such a tendency did no go well with the general, he doubted himself on such a reaction. Sure, he does hold a sense of attachment for the organic human, but for gratitude and nothing more.
Without him, Grievous would very well be scrap metal and remains on a cold dissection table.
Grievous proceeded through the trail, keeping a keen eye out for any suspicious movement. He watched the meteors and their instinctive movements in space, yet nothing out of the ordinary.
Tatooine beheld its disdainful color for a dead world. And once Grievous entered its atmosphere, he could already feel the heat thicken and burn his armor as he landed near Jabba's Palace. The guards were no where to be seen, but Grievous was certain they were most likely inside the palace to get out of the heat. By luck, Grievous came prepared with his cape to protect his inner fluids cool from the tremendous heat, as well. And much to his dismay, the heat only got worse when he exited his pilot seat.
Grievous looked towards the sun and knew he made a terrible mistake taking this mission upon himself.
A black smoke had taken Grievous' eyes away from the rays of the sun and followed the smoke to the left corner of his cruisers wing. His chest nearly clenched.
"Those deadbeat muggers!" He nearly barked, giving out to a rumbling roar that any organic who had heard such a growl, they would have thought it belonged to a crazed beast.
The right wing was producing an odor Grievous could not describe but can determine the smell of burning oil and kept his distance. Without the proper tools he would have to be careful with his flying. But he was furious and shamed to have been inflicted such a blow on his cruiser. He had underestimated the attackers, costing him dearly.
His eyes, in a daze, looked back to the sandy terrain and its everlasting dead. A thought came to mind: this was the second worse way to die.
While the atmosphere will suck a being out of their cozy starfighter and kill them within the matter of seconds, the dessert will burn and give you the illusion of false imagery. The sun, more powerful when there was nothing but sand, was an adversary worse than the general himself. He knew from experience, having lived on a planet where the sun blares and the waters turned murky to bathe or drink from, his only chance of survival was to hide under the trees and nest under the shade it provided. But on this type of terrain, shade was scarce.
A brush of wind caught the cape, the jingling of the headdress filling the sounds of the moaning winds. A faint memory came to mind and Grievous' shoulders stiffened.
The dirt was dry, water was scarce, and the resources of his planet dwindled and died. The small boy began to sweat and was becoming lightheaded. Everything from around moved on its own, but the small boy was vaguely aware of that. He tumbled on his own two feet, falling on his stomach, and at a lost for air. A small tree was only a mile away from where he was within the bounds of the forest. He could hear the Muumu's calling and drawing closer, sensing the presence of an easy meal.
Weakly, the small boy took a clump of dirt in his hand and attempted to drag himself near the tree to hide in. He could hear the animalistic sounds come closer, and closer. And the boy kept pulling himself to survival, but with one final gasp he collapsed as the sounds of crumbled dirt moved nearer.
The boy, having lost the will to even cry out for help, whimpered sadly with the sun burning the back of his head. He buried his head in the dried dirt, and prayed that the predators will be merciful and eat him quickly.
When he felt the presence of something stopping at his side, he snapped his eyes shut and froze.
Suddenly, a five digit hand was placed over his head, and a shower of water was the next feeling that registered in his nerves. It was the coolest water he had ever felt in his life, cooler and fresher than the water at his village's fountain. Forcing his head up, the boy saw not a Muumu or another dangerous carnivore, but a woman, her species unknown to him at the moment due to over-exhaustion. Her headdress dangled next to her cheek with a warm smile, though the boy didn't trust those dead eyes.
She crouched next to the boy and patted him on the head, placing a pot half filled with water next to her.
"Hello there."
Grievous snapped back to the pounding of metal inpervium, darting his gaze back to the Soulless One. The back compartment thumped and tried to push out the lid. Recalling the Togruta trapped within his cruiser, Grievous stepped to the compartment, admitting the lid to open. More smoke blew out from the compartment with the girl crawling out, coughing uncontrollably, her eyes tearing.
"Can I sit up front for now on, please?"
Grievous shook his head, "Be grateful I didn't let the toxic smoke suffocate your lungs and leave you to burn in the sun."
"Is this confirmation?"
"Take it as security. As I said back on Neimoidia, I will purge you from my cruiser if you become intolerable."
"I'll take that with heed, since I know you take a twisted pleasure making me suffer."
Grievous laughed at her comment. "You know me well, pup."
"I do, unfortunately."
Grievous nudged the child away rudely and inspected the interior of the compartment, deducing that the main thrusters had something to do with it. It would be most horrid if the damage had inflicted defects in his main auxiliary thrusters, but he would have to see it to be sure. He tore out the side plate of the compartment and began ticking with the thruster's hardware. Unaware of his Togruta slave watching his actions over his shoulder.
Two steps closer, and Grievous turned to her and pushed her away.
"One more step and you'll regret it," he growled.
She gave him a nasty glare. "Don't start getting angry at me just because you're blasted cruiser got damaged. I didn't do anything."
Grievous ignored her and kept working. And yet he could feel her stare, annoying as it was, and heard her move not near him, but next to him over the compartments lid, her curious eyes still on him. He was about to threaten her when she interrupted him swiftly.
"You done yet?"
Snarling at her, Grievous scared her off his cruiser, his rage brewing.
"Stop talking!"
The Togruta teen sighed, ignoring his threat, her blue eyes still fixed on him. "I was just trying to break the silence. Its. . . well- it's rather uncomfortable due to the circumstances."
"You'll get used to it," He snapped, annoyed that his threat had no affect.
"How can I? I'm not like you, I'm not. . . "
"Heartless."
"I was going to say lonely, but that suits the description exquisitely," the slave changed her way of seating and raised her arm over her eyes to protect her from the sun. "Are you done yet, now?"
A spark caught on Grievous instantaneously, catching the general off guard. He jumped away and waved his hand to get the electricity from tingling his arm. Anger overtook him at last and released.
"For the last time! Be quiet!"
She fell back and compressed her lips, at last mute to the general's relief .
After thirty or so minutes, Grievous gave up on the thrusters and right wing, returning to the reality of his surroundings. The sun was nearly setting, and Grievous had a meeting to partake in.
Before departing, Grievous donned a cape over his large feature, internally surprised that it managed to cover his appearance completely with the exception of his talon-feet. It even kept his body temperature cooler, he started to like his small disguise, pulling the hood over his as he turned towards the entrance of Jabba's Palace, leaving his cruiser two miles away. Ahsoka followed him when she saw him at last depart from his cruiser, sticking with him uncomfortably close.
The top dome-structure of the palace produced an eerie smog. He heard his slave crinkle her nose and scrunch her brows.
"What is that ghastly smell?"
To be honest he didn't know either, the smell was worse than his dying cruiser. He guessed it was the burning of rubber and metal mixed with burning coal – but that was just a guess. It made him disgusted and wondered how the Hutt can live like this.
The tall doors were as large as the generals' castle, its structure hardly anything to admire. He knocked on the gate impatiently, leaving an abundant of fist marks on the gates metal exterior, until a TT-8L gatekeeper droid presented itself from the peephole through the door. It scanned over the general first, then his slave, till it swiveled a meter away.
"What is you're purpose?" it tooted.
"Personal. Jabba the Hutt is expecting me," Grievous said.
It shivered and shook. "Entrance granted."
After it re-pocketed back inside the peephole, the gates opened at last, shade greeting them graciously. Grievous, for once, felt at ease, knowing that as long as he is inside, the sun can not reach him. He hurried inside with two armored Gamorrean's leading him to the sounds of the music. Before he set another foot, he pulled the girl's hood over her head, covering her features to conceal her from any unwanted peers. Light protruded from the inner chamber of the palace, the music rising and the lights were blaring tremendously as he entered.
The sun gone, darkness returning, and the inner sanctums of this intimidating palace made my blood boil and my heart race. And I thought Grievous' castle was horrible, this was where I was proven wrong. I could hear chains, noise, animalistic howls, screams, and death itself lurking. Never have I ventured in a place more disturbing than Grievous' castle, and my headtails tingled cautiously. Instinctively I moved closer to the general, pathetic as it was, I used him as my only means of defense from the guards.
Their pig snouts oozing with dried snot, their tusks poorly hygienic and cracked at the curves, and their armor giving them a bulky appearance. Without my lightsaber, I was at their mercy if it weren't for Grievous.
Caught up, I watched after the cyborg when we passed a chamber filled with scanty slave-girls dancing, bounty hunters, crooks, business people, and other creepy life-forms enjoying a party of some sort. There were musicians and singers creating illuminating music to their hearts end, with the party goers enjoying their drinks and snacks as it went on.
All of a sudden, the song died and everyone stopped in the moment of their activities when Grievous presented himself openly to a Hutt, a slave girl chained to his side. I heard Grievous muttering how lucky I was not being in her position; I took it as another warning. It felt weird, though, being watched by an audience of criminals.
The Hutt, whom I assumed to be Grievous' client, gestured his audience to leave to the next chamber and greeted the cyborg respectively. And yet I felt a disturbance around him, a very unkindly disturbance.
Speaking in Huttese, the Hutt had a white Twi'lek translate for him.
"Greetings, humble guest."
Grievous nodded and greeted in turn.
"We welcome you to our abode and hope you enjoy you're temporary stay," the Twi'lek translated. "And you're name is?. . ."
"For now, I would like to keep my existence classified."
"A little suspicious don't you think. And what makes you think we can trust you to be the real representative."
"I am what I am. You're opinion, nor you're judgment will make me leave," He defended himself.
A loud chuckle came from the obese Hutt, licking his lips tenderly.
"My master trusts you, surprisingly," the Twi'lek translated.
"I don't expect you to trust me; all I ask is for the treaty to be met with."
"He understands."
The Hutt turned to me, curious, and spoke standard Huttese again. His interpreter spoke again.
"Who is this? Another one of you're associates?"
"Hardly." I heard him smirk. "This is my slave. Pay her no mind."
But the Hutt wouldn't take his disgusting mustard eyes off of me; somehow I shifted deeper under my dark hood. I stood there immobile, as I was being inspected as some sort of antique.
"What can she perform?"
"Housekeeping. It's all she can do as she is considerably incapable of performing any other means of skills."
I glared at him. Jerk.
The Hutt, intrigued, asked a question. But I already knew what he said before the interpreter could decipher, gravely.
"Would you be willing to sell her for a more proper slave?"
My eyes nearly popped out of my sockets, and my legs felt like jelly. Weakly I turned to the general and gaped when I noticed his eyes were at thought. Was he really thinking about selling me? And to the likes of this guy? This disgusting creature? A picture of my master came to mind, and sweat was already cascading down my cheek.
"No."
I blinked. No.
"The child is not for sale."
I blinked again. He said no.
"How unfortunate." Spoke the interpreter. "But my master will not pursue the matter; he wants to enjoy his party before business affairs. Please enjoy the party. We are holding such an occasion for the pod racers of the year. Jabba would be most upset if you didn't partake."
"That is unnecessary," Grievous half-barked. "I want this meeting to be admitted immediately for I do not accept any delay."
The Hutt spoke difficulty, licking his lips to give moisture, speaking more clearly this time. The green Twi'lek slave-girl chained to his side jerked away, grossed by his action.
I shuddered.
"My master, unfortunately, would like to further the current events. So please enjoy."
Grievous scowled and retracted his claws within his cloak – I'm guessing for his weapons. I took a step away without his knowing, watching his next move. The force guided me towards a few more steps before the cloak clicked.
"I'm very busy," Grievous hissed.
"Please, sir. It would be wise not to displease my master."
"It would be wise not to displease me!"
The chamber grew tense as was the air in the audience chamber, and I could sense a foreboding conflict. Frantic, and out of fear for my own safety, I did the first thing I could think of.
"I liked you're music! You have excellent taste!" my voice blurted.
Earning the eyes of both the general and the Twi'lek, plus the Hutt, I could only crack a weak smile. But it was worth the embarrassment, the mood had died down and Grievous' attention turned coarse to where I stood.
"Quiet!" He tugged my right headtail. I was expecting that.
I got stared down not only by Grievous – but by the Hutt as well. He looked at me with disgust and muttered something that sounded like a complaint.
"He wonders why you want to keep such a defect. A shame, really."
"She is youthful, and has yet to reach maturity."
"And still, you keep her."
"Temporarily, for reasons that are also classified."
"I see, well let the party begin! Let us pay a respectful greeting to our new guest."
I didn't know what came after, the painful twist of the arm – or the blaring of the music and dancing. My yelp was sounded out by the saxophone and singing, and was pulled to the side along with the Hutt. For the moment, the two spoke to each other too unintelligible for me to hear. They spoke to each other calmly, as if the conflict from before had never happened. I didn't understand it, but didn't think too hard on it. The pain in my arm was what had my minds attention.
He said, "Fine," and pulled me near the wall. He dropped his head at the same level as mine and glared.
"Stay here and don't do anything you'll regret in the future. You'll get no mercy when in this area. Understand?"
I glared back and reluctantly complied, "fine," after glancing over to the dancers at center stage, their sorrow encouraging my compliance.
"Good. Perhaps if you behave this time, I might ease on the punishment I still have in store for you," He assure, though I wouldn't consider it assurance.
"What punishment!" I demanded icily.
He snatched my throat before I could blink. "Don't get smart with me, brat! You punishment is for the humiliation back on Neimoidia."
"That slime ball had it coming!"
His grip intensified, I choked. "I don't care about you're excuses. You are a slave now, so accept." Finally he let go and turned his back to me and left after ordering me not to move from this spot. This time I did as I was told, sitting down with my back on the wall, massaging my throat as the party continued unaltered.
Grievous followed the white Twi'lek down to a long table occupied to the more malevolent criminals down in the underworld of crime. Grievous was especially given a seat to the right of Jabba the Hutt, a clear sign of champion over the rest of the table. With Jabba at end, making him more aggrandize than his reputation preceded him, he accustomed the clients with one another's names; Grievous included, and guided them to the scanty slaves holding the trays of food.
While the clients were fed with fine wine and foreign dishes, Grievous conversed with the Hutt personally.
"You asked for my company, here I am. State you're business before my attention is tired. I do want to proceed with our arrangement"
Jabba chuckled darkly, amused. He spoke his native tongue once more, which Grievous already knew before his interpreter could – Grievous quickly shoed him away.
"We have a traitor amongst us. Apparently leaking information that would leave most criminals wary of my palace. And it leaves me with a bad reputation."
Grievous was about to suggest his mistake but caught himself, he would instead allow the Hutt to speak blindly of himself.
"I ask for you to find the traitor," the Hutt asked.
Grievous spoke back in Huttese for precaution, feeling the curious eyes of unwanted eavesdroppers. "Are you're guards too cowardly to take the assignment themselves?"
"Not precisely. I do not trust any of them."
"Paranoid?"
"No, it is not uncommon for a crime lord such as me not to trust my own men."
"And instead you ask for the assistance of a complete stranger, whom you hardly trust," Grievous said.
"I told you before the party, didn't I. I trust you, you seem like an honest man." The Hutt said, "Tomorrow, I will be honoring the pod-racers for the Podrace scheduled in the early morning. You will be my hidden bodyguard during the race. This will give you the opportunity to locate the culprit."This sort of strategy was suicidal. But clever. It gave him some time, but Grievous eventually figured out the plot.
Grievous smiled inwardly. "You plan on luring the assassin out, giving him the idea that he has an open target. You do realize the risks?"
"I do, but I'm confident in you're skills. It's obvious why the Separatists would only take in skilled commanders only."
"Yes, I am," He arrogantly held a lightsaber for the Hutt to see, "But I prefer not to make a name for myself until my master gives me the word to do so for now."
"I understand completely."
Grievous chuckled lightly. "And how will this benefit me in return for my services?"
"My full compliance for the free passage of the Hutt system – though the money will be included."
Grievous accepted. "My employers have the money, all we need is confirmation."
"Excellent," Jabba slobbered.
"Also, my cruiser has been badly damaged during a skirmish during the trip here, it's approximately a mile away from here."
"I'll my mechanics haul it in the hanger and work on, in the mean time, enjoy the party."
"Ill try," Grievous muttered lowly.
The clients had already been filled to seven tall glasses by the time their conference ended. Grievous sat back in his seat, sounding out the distracting noises and music. A glass of red wine was brought forth to Grievous, in respect for Jabba, but Grievous did not touch the drink. He placed his claw-tip over the cold glass and gently pushed it a meter away. The minds of the slaves the Hutt owns are clearly poorly minded. But that was on the general's faults as well, he should have informed them that he lacked the ability to depend on nutrition, as his metal incasing and preserved organs were beneficial and were enough to sustain him. Or rather, the glass did provide personal audience for himself. He brought the glass close, tipping it side to side to watch the liquid swirl about, inspecting it before placing it back to its originated position.
Reflexively, Grievous' eyed his slave under the covers of his cape. She had sat where he had told her, completely hidden from eyes of the guests; he followed her stares to the revealing slave girls performing their seductive dancing. The horrified expression Grievous could easily see gave him a sense of fulfillment, at last she was suffering, perhaps foreboding of her fate ending similar to the rest of the slave girls. Grievous would have been more than happy to hand the brat over, but he had his orders to keep her alive until Dooku would finally come to claim her. She was lucky, this time.
A thought boggled Grievous, and beckoned for the white Twi'lek to his side.
"I ask for a favor in return for my services."
The White Twi'lek, Fortuna, swiftly turned guarded. "That will depend on the favor itself."
"Instead of selling my slave, I ask for you to have you're slaves train her for the time being."
"An excellent suggestion. I'll have her administered when the music dies down a bit."
"Perfect."
Settled in mind, Grievous commanded the white Twi'lek to lead him to a room with a built-in holocam to contact his master. He could only ask for what luck the gods could grant him and hope that his master would accept the terms.
I couldn't take it much longer. My eyes forced away from the obscenity of the performance, my stomach clenched forcefully. I could sense their pain, their torture, and suffering. It was all happening so fast for me to perceive. The clothes, the disgusting purpose of their dance, everything. I can't take this pain, it was unheard of, something I have yet to experience fully to understand, and it ached my entire body both physically and mentally. I don't care if he'll get mad; I wanted to leave this atmosphere.
I brought my legs up, and hurried down the hallway without haste, my forehead creasing under my cloak with anxiety. My stomach churned horribly again, and this time, it forced its way up. I clamped my hands over my mouth, went to the nearest vase, threw back my hood, and vomited. I coughed and wheezed, my world moving on its own. A nasty aftertaste made everything worse, and I was too woozy to fight it back.
I hate this place already; I hate everything, especially that fat Hutt. It was his fault for forcing those poor defenseless women into this horrible lifestyle. Forcing themselves upon craving clients just to make a living, or, to survive even. It was all too painful. And it made me hate myself for not having the power to stop it all. Moreover, why didn't the Jedi stop this? Master Plo Koon did mention the working of the underworld, but he didn't inform me of this. I thought he of all people would do something to stop this. With a preceding reputation the force had bestowed him by birth; my master could easily have these criminals on their knees. It all didn't make sense to me. But then again, my mind failed to make to any rational explanation.
I don't understand.
The Holo-projector was fitted in the center, surprisingly operational despite its poor condition. With what Grievous could determine at mind, everything was in place for a proper transmission with little problems.
"It's the least glitchy." Was what he heard from the snoopy Twi'lek. Grievous had to disagree, just by glance it would look as if it could fall apart if he were to touch it slightly.
But, time was of the essence, and the general would have to chance it. He tacked in the proper keys and transmission input, making sure he was not being secretly recorded before relaying the Holo-image to life.
It took some time until his master finally appeared, yet the image was more blurred than what usual Holo-projectors could compute.
"My lord," his voice said automatically, his body bowing at the same time simultaneously. It felt like a habit, something he was supposed to do when in the presence of his master. He couldn't think too hard about his actions, his mind wouldn't allow it for some reason. Again he didn't think of it, and continued to speak. "I have confirmed a sure agreement with the Crime lord. He is willing to sign the treaty for the Hutt systems."
"Very good. A mission hardly difficult when using money to alter to our liking," his stern, alien eyes wandered past the general. "Where is the youngling?"
"She is occupied with other matters, sir."
"Do not lose her, general. I remind you she is vital to our cause."
"I understand clearly, my lord. I have her on track, she is harmless at the moment."
"Very good." He was about to sign off before Grievous abruptly barked a "Wait," and ultimately earning a silent, scornful glare in response.
"Is there something troubling you, general," he asked, deeply unconcerned. He knew he didn't want to deal with him at the moment.
"I did. . . have to agree to certain terms to meet his approval, however."
Dooku's eyes widened. "Agree to what kind of terms, General?" His master demanded harshly, breaking his calm demeanour in an instant.
"My services, my lord."
"For what?"
"Presently, the Hutt has an assassin set to murder him. He asked for my help for his full compliance. That is all."
"And without my permission you accepted?"
"-only to prevent our treaty from being ruined! If the Hutt were to be killed, then we would have no alternative for trade routes," Grievous shouted, "I did what was necessary to get this mission done, "he said.
Dooku scrutinized his eyes in frustration, anguish and anger was what could be described from his facial expression at the moment. Into which, Grievous held no weight of remorse in his words, it did not leave him faltered or in despair from his baleful masters unholy presence. At this time, there was an indescribable silence befalling them as the tension grew as did the Sith Lord's temper.
All of a sudden, anger was gone and in its place took over peace and dispassion.
"Have you found any evidence leading to the culprit?" Dooku asked, monotone.
"No, my lord. I have yet to conduct any investigation at this moment."
"Proceed without haste. This treaty must be taken care if we are to provide our army with the proper weapons."
"I understand, my lord."
Grievous, again, bowed robotically.
"End transmission."
At last the Holo-image receded into the projector. Whirring dangerous, the Holo-projector deactivated automatically, moaning in distress as the engine cut off. Grievous cautiously took a step back. He didn't want to be blown to bits.
Stress overtook his breathing, and Grievous was forced into another coughing fit before catching himself. He felt for the headdress for comfort, ailing him in controlling his respiratory.
"Thank the gods," he sighed.
To put it exact, Grievous didn't know what to do. He was getting way over his head, to a point where the most calmest being would have lost sanity and cracked at the pressure if not commit something harmful to end this stress-killing misery. He figured he would have to search the other guests first before anything else.
He shook his head. He went to look for his slave, Ahsoka, to make sure she still obeyed his previous command. But, knowing her short attention span, Grievous half-assumed she was not.
The world pertained to be so little, and too twisted to evaluate.
Everything gained a different objectivity, my legs moving to their own desires. Where then, my back reached concrete wall and the nausea dissipated.
In the mid-second of my fit of grogginess, a different tune, not identical to the music and dancing, lured my eyes to the side-corner of the stairs, about five-steps half reaching the lower floor. A Nautolan, after processing with what left attentiveness I willed, bore a black tattoo around the right side of his face with two recent burnt scars, was speaking to another voice in undertone.
My eyes kept its perspective, guiding me near the conversing of the two, until my brain had the amount of sense of stopping my feet further.
The Nautolan saw me there after I coughed and gagged. To where a voice of danger was what my eyes could not see, my head clarified it as potential danger and drove my legs round, adrenaline pumping them all the way to the other end of the hallway. I felt the man come up behind me, his voice not leaving, only growing.
External senses moved my legs faster, yet the lump in my throat suppressed a sound of cry or assistance. The sores – and bruises, dug inside my thigh muscles, weighing my speed back and furthering my impendent doom. Left of a turn, I ran into a cold immobile white statue. Wobbling a bit, and at a start of catching my breath, I willed back and saw nothing had presented itself in pursuit.
Then came the pain, shortly, in the back of my neck. I pulled back from my pursuer, raising my arm in erect to fight solid. It was caught in vise and twisted over my head, I gasped.
"Where were you?" came a rasped voice.
That voice popped a nerve in my memory. During the time period of loss in reality, I saw in time that the very obstacle I came in contact with – was my wrathful master.
"Speak!" he screeched at my face, grabbing my chin and forcing me to look at him. He inspected my drunken form, and hissed. "Are you drunk?"
"No. . . " I choked, still trying to ease the knot in my stomach. "It's this place. . . the suffering. . . my mind can only handle so much."
My words left the general befuddled. "What?"
"The force allows us to feel the hearts of others," I restated. "I can feel their pain."
"You're connections with the force wears my patience, slave."
"Then . . . you're collar is not completely perfect after all."
I heard a faint smirk. "I'll make sure to modify its security after this mission then."
He tore me out of the darkened familiar hallway, and hauled me away. For some unethical reason, my perspective with my surroundings started to clear. I sensed Grievous' compulsive anger emitting, unable to determine his motives. Forcing me to follow, I weakly took a glance from behind and could not find the Nautolan that chased me. Then I turned to Grievous, who turned a corner into a direction where the faint smell of perfume occupied the air. My headtails tingled.
"W. . . where are you taking me?"
"The Hutt has accepted my favor of placing you amongst his own, and be trained." He stated. "I'll have you trained even if I have to spend every ounce of my strength to break you."
"Fat chance," I breathed, groggily.
He snarled and threw me in the only possible room with the appropriate amount of lights.
There were women, both Twi'lek and human, focused on me, as if, expecting. Their design of outfits, or suits – or whatever, preceded them in their class. I was horrified.
I turned on Grievous angrily
"What is the meaning of this, Grievous?"
He stared at me malignantly. "Isn't it obvious, child? These dancers are going to train you for the time being."
"What kind?"
"The usual."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then I'll sell you to the Hutt," He threatened. He wasn't joking around. "I'm sure he'll treat you very nicely considering you're age and wonderful personality." He cackled.
I glared. "I bet this is the punishment then, isn't it Grievous?"
He patted me on the head tenderly with a vile expression, it sickened me to the core.
"Behave, slave. I'll come fetch you tomorrow morn. Learn well from you're teachers," he said before shutting the door between us, cutting his yellow-crazed gaze from piercing my soul any longer.
Goddamn him.
After a moment to get myself together, I faced what looked like a dozen of slaves, all in scanty clothing – or rags, I couldn't tell, staring back. Bowing, I introduced myself humbly.
"Hello."
They muttered the same, trying to get a good look at my face, viewing me as unimaginable miracle from what I can tell.
The large room, surprising large enough for the girls to fit in, was provided with mirrors and cosmetics for the girls to apply themselves with. I didn't want to be touched by any of those, they'll have to fight me to get that stuff on my face.
A female woman of the human race was the first to come forth. She was very pretty, as pretty as the Female masters back at the Jedi Temple. I couldn't help but be a little jealous by her appearance, despite my tomboyish personality. She led me to a seat and picked out the only outfit that could fit my small frame. Again, I stood in complete shock at what I was suppose to wear.
I shook my head slowly. "No."
"It's the only outfit that'll fit you're size, gal."
"I guess." I gulped. "But does it have to be that. . . "I gulped again. "Revealing."
The other girls gave me a sympathetic pat on the back, they knew my discomfort. I basked in their support and knew that they were trying to help me the best way they can. It was the only way, and I knew that, and so did they.
My shoulders slumped. "Okay."
From the rest of the evening to night, Grievous lounged around with the rest of the audience inside Jabba's humble abode. Presently, there were criminal mastermind abroad, with the exception of slavers Grievous knew all too well, unfortunately. If not distinctive, he would consider one of the representatives to be of Karasak Slavers Guild whose sole purpose in existence was to pillage, waste in liquor, and deem any living organism as products to their desire. They were the most unsettling of all the groups, through the cyborgs eyes. But that was the least of Grievous internal vexation.
Grievous made it an effort to hide all evidence of the drinks of choice provided by the impudent servants. Each time an unsuspecting guest would fill his lust with scanty dancers, Grievous would exchange glasses to keep the illusion that he consumed. However, his efforts had the opposite effect in his favor. The woman would return with more drinks for him, until finally Grievous gave them a direct order not to serve him anymore. In their own defense, they were doing what they had been told to do. Grievous, still, felt no remorse for the girls and shoed them away angrily. They didn't bother him for the rest of the evening, gradually.
As the chorus came to an end, the audience dropped silent in urgency, as elegant scanty women – human and Rutian – exclusively, took center stage of the chamber and performed their seductive and skillful dancing. Having been trained in aerobics and present cultures of dancing, the dancers performed with grace – and beauty they were given at adolescence.
Grievous kept a watchful eye, particularly their movements. He watched as they hovered over the men, whipping around and presenting themselves to the drunken men, all awhile taking their belongings without their knowing – a forceful practice directed by the Hutt.
An unidentified person, outfitted with a chest plate covering the midsection, spaulders, a gorget that reached up to the man's V-helmet, and knee-high plated boots that tucked in the black pants and met the mans tunic. He took a left off the chamber, discarding his presence from the room without anyone knowing. Grievous followed in pursuit, exiting before the dancers could get to Grievous next, having felt their eyes on his lightsabers for awhile now.
Steadily Grievous stalked after the man without leaving any sound of existence, the gears that mobile the general's body moved smoothly – not scratching and wearing. He was as far as three corners away, sensing him around the corners of the halls and corridors. To his surprise, a blaster bolt came in near contact with Grievous' right antenna, burning into the wall with seeping black smoke. Grievous took no haste in ambushing the man, having foreseen the man pull his blaster at hand he caught his arm and pulled him at close range, punching him over the ribcage where the chest plate failed to protect. A sickening crack came as Grievous high-kicked the man with his knee-cap plate, and threw him across the hallway.
Grievous cackled.
"Surrender assassin."
The man shook his head and made a swift move to his side-pouch and released a smoke grenade. Grievous retracted and covered his eyes from the thick smoke; quickly he swiped and found that man had left. A sound was caught by the general's hearing, he followed in time to see the man's retreating form turn a right near another chamber.
Grievous turned, and nearly ran over a small Twi'lek woman alone and frightened. He turned his eyes side to side of the possible exits and saw nothing nor sensed.
He turned to the woman, and demanded, "Did you see anyone come by?"
She shook her head, cowering by his tone of voice, and with the absence of his cloak, was given a full view of his appearance. Grievous swiftly threatened her that she had seen nothing and left after recovering his cape and covering his identity once more.
Mercifully, he left the woman alone in the dark and went back to the party. No one noticed his absence as Grievous found his way back to the audience chamber, lounging in his seat in the nick-of-time when the dancers ended their performance and retreated backstage.
Jabba regarded for Grievous.
Grievous coughed. "Yes. Most entertaining."
While an encored started, Grievous singled the music out and was left with his thoughts.
So the fat Hutt was right with his findings, someone was a betrayer amongst his own. And by the looks of it, the perpetrator was a mercenary for hire, if not then a lowlife bounty hunter.
Smirking under his white mask, Grievous knew he was going to enjoy tomorrow.
Omg its back. Hallelujah. The long await is over. But I hope this chapter wasn't too boring for you guys but I promise that the next and following chapters will be worth while so please bear with it for now.
Its summer. I will be taking a break from all of this, I've already got the 8th chapter close to completion along with several ideas, until then I'm gonna chill and enjoy a well needed cold soda.
Coca-Cola biotch
Enjoy!