Big thanks to my betas: STARWARZMYLIFE, dieFabuliererin, Cuthalion9, and QueenieJocelyn
The First of Many: Part One
Coquer and his fleet of ships exited hyperspace, having arrived at their destination. Elom was an odd mixture of brown and white, giving a somewhat greenish color. Based on what TA-125 reported to him, the colors were a bit misleading. The planet was mostly a frozen desert and lacked any true vegetation. Despite the less than hospitable habitat, the people thrived. No doubt thanks to the abundance of lommite they carried.
That was why they were here. Lommite was used to form transparisteel, a material commonly used in creating cockpit canopies for fighters and starships, and was one of the few ores that could make the durable and versatile metal alloy durasteel. Once they conquered the planet, he was to establish a base to protect the CIS's assets.
"Droid," he called out to the tactical droid at his side, instead of receiving a single response, the whole bridge answered in chorus. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering a curse under his breath. That was something he would have to address later. At the moment, he had other priorities.
He pointed his thumb at TA-125. "The droid next to me," he clarified with a defeated tone. They made droids dumber with every new model.
The droids returned their attention to their separate posts while TA-125 leaned closer to him. "Yes, Commander?"
"Do we have information about the inhabitants' defense capabilities?"
"We do, Commander." It stood upright. "Based on our last reports, though they are working towards a centralized army, they still only have militias pocketed throughout the planet."
Coquer turned to the droid with a raised brow. "They don't have a navy?"
"No, Commander. All starships are utilized in the capacity of importing and exporting goods only."
He hummed in response, slowly digesting what he just learned. Not only did Elom have no proper army to defend its occupants, but they didn't even have a navy to be the first line of defense against invaders. The staggering number of ships and soldiers he had under his command was complete overkill for this situation. It would be a massacre instead of a tactical invasion.
He preferred not to shed unnecessary blood.
"Where is the capital located?"
"The capital, Elos, is located at coordinates 2430, 0236," TA-125 answered.
"Excellent." Coquer stood from his chair. "I want all ships to set up a defensive line—not a blockade—around the planet. Stay on high alert and have the fighters ready to go at a moment's notice."
"Commander, Count Dooku had ordered us to invade the planet, not defend it," TA-125 argued.
Coquer paid the droid no mind as he walked to the pair of B1 droids standing guard on the bridge. "You two will be my escorts to the capital."
"Uh…" The droid on the left droned, looking at its partner. It stared back at him, head tilted to the side. "Roger, roger?"
The tactical droid took a step towards Coquer. "Commander, invading the planet with only two B1 series battle droids is ill-advised."
"There's more than one way to take control of a planet," Coquer said, sparing a sideways glance at his second-in-command. "We are going to negotiate with them to join the CIS."
"I advise against such a course of action," TA-125 warned. "We are under orders to invade, conquer, and subjugate the native inhabitants. We must create the CIS base and use the locals as labor for the lommite mines. The probability of them accepting such terms peacefully is a million to one."
Coquer narrowed his darkening eyes at the tactical droid. He knew their orders were to invade, but he was not privy to the subjugation part of the mission. He understood that they needed to destroy the enemy until they were nothing but dust, but a tactician never needed to subjugate. Siege maybe, but never subjugate. It was unbecoming.
"We are not going to turn them into slaves," Coquer barked, his hand hovering dangerously over his pistol. "Am I understood, droid?"
"Count Dooku's orders are absolute. Disobeying is treason. Treason is punishable by death." The tactical droid stated like it was the law. "Reconsi—"
The droid was silenced by a bolt to its head. Coquer fired two more shots, aiming at his former second-in-command's torso. The machine keeled over with a loud bang and lay motionless on the ground.
"I will only say this once," he hissed at the others. "Any mission I am assigned will be completed, but I will not sacrifice more lives than necessary. I see now that your creators care little for sentient life, but for as long as I am your commander, do not expect that type of ruthlessness from me. I refuse to let your souls be tainted as long as you are under my care."
He stared down every single droid on the bridge. "Am I understood?"
"Roger, roger," they all said in unison.
"Good." He placed his pistol back in its holster. His eyes returned to their usual shade. "Now that's out of the way, let's head to Elos."
B1-259 had not been functioning for long. Around seven rotations since its creation, in fact. So, while its programming told the droid what was out there in the galaxy, the machine still didn't know much about the universe that surrounded it.
The droid knew basic information, like the perfect angle to throw a thermal detonator for maximum damage, or the most proficient way to stay functioning when it couldn't recharge its battery. Subjects beyond that though, B1-259 was completely clueless. Its creators probably thought such information would be a waste of RAM space for a machine designed to protect and spread the glory of the Confederacy of Independent Systems.
However, the droid could not help but be curious about the enthralling information that eluded it.
B1-259 would like to admit that such a thirst for knowledge was there since electricity first ran through its circuits, but that would be a fabrication of the truth. Its yearning for information started when the human Commander Coquer decommissioned TA-125. When human Coquer said they had souls.
What was a soul? B1-259 tried to search for the answer in its limited memory banks but found no results. Did it have a soul? Did human Commander Coquer have one? Could he detect the enigma known as a soul? Do all living beings contain one? Do all droids contain one?"
Inquiries such as these raced through its hard drives, desperately scouring for an answer.
B1-259 stared at human Commander Coquer, who sat slouched in the co-pilot chair, while it and B1-853 were standing guard at the entrance-way. That simple word, soul, activated dormant programming in its code. The droid wondered what other words the human Commander could say to activate further programs that were locked away.
The transport jostled slightly from entering the atmosphere of Elom. B1-259 shook from the turbulence, letting out a loud creak in its left shoulder joint.
"What was that?" human Coquer asked, peering over his shoulder.
"Sorry, Commander, that was me," B1-259 admitted apologetically. "I was placed under a leaking pipe during my creation."
Human Coquer did a quick look over. "Will you be okay to continue?"
"Yes, my rust will not be a hindrance to the mission."
"Alright, but once we return to the ship, you will get that looked at," he ordered. "What's your name anyway?"
"My serial number is B1-259, Commander."
It saw human Coquer mutter something under his breath. Something about a pain in the glutes based on his lip movements.
"Alright B1-259, stick close to me, okay? I'd rather not have my droids turn to scrap on our first mission."
B1-259 quirk its head to the side. One of its core programs dictated that it was expendable and should be used as such. Any scraps produced from its non-functioning chassis were to be used to construct further droids of war.
"Roger, roger."
Did human Commander Coquer not view it as expendable? Another inquiry that needed to be answered.
The transport ship landed with ease. They were instructed to land and wait for an envoy to meet with them. Coquer stood from his seat, picking up his rapier on the way to the exit. He pressed the button to open the hatch and lower the ramp. He, with B1-259 and the other B1 series droid, walked down the platform and waited.
Coquer was instructed to wait for the envoy, and that was what he would do. He had only one shot at this. If he failed, bloodshed was promised to happen. So, he waited, standing tall and proud with his hands folded behind the small of his back, and ignored the brisk air nipping on his face.
He only saw a few of what he would call cities on his flight to Elos. None were large like those that littered Corscuant or Nar Shaddaa, but they were nonetheless teeming with life. The capital was bustling, and rightfully so. Elos was built upon a mountain ridge with what seemed to be expansions in progress. Its buildings were mostly short and wide, with a few towering little under fifty meters. All were colored with different shades of brown and white, matching the landscape that surrounded them.
Elos looked to be a nice place to visit for two or three days, but not to settle down. Despite the small pockets of civilizations, nothing but snow-filled wastelands surrounded them. Someone like him would quickly grow restless in this type of environment.
Coquer spotted a group of six individuals heading his way. Five of them walked with purpose, taking long strides while an odd one out was stumbling, trying to keep up.
Once they were a few feet away, he could make out their forms. The one that was struggling was a protocol droid, probably brought to translate if he or the envoy didn't speak Basic. The rest seemed to be of the same species based on the features they shared. The one next to the droid seemed to be a female if their curves meant anything.
She was humanoid in shape, although he noticed that she was different from him. Her skin was a light red shade, her eyes large and without pupils—colored in a piercing amber. She was the tallest of the group, standing a solid head above the rest. He noticed she wore a crown, and if her clothes were anything to go by, she was wealthy and of great status.
Her entourage consisted of all men who were seemingly unaffected by the cold. With their chests bare to the elements, donning a hood and mask to conceal their identity. They carried long, double-bladed staffs as they marched towards him.
Those four were warriors, not soldiers. Coquer could tell by how they carried themselves. The differences between the two were minimal by definition but grand in context. A soldier could figure out and execute the most efficient way to infiltrate a building and neutralize any threats. A warrior could do the same but lacks finesse. They wouldn't neutralize the threat; they would butcher all occupants with savagery similar to a rabid animal.
Needless to say, Coquer disliked warriors.
The woman stopped a foot in front of him. Coquer noticed her crown was instead short stubby horns wrapped around her head and short tusks protruding from her cheekbones. It seemed the woman's species were more closely related to the Zebraks than his own.
She removed her hands from inside her poncho and clasped them together before bowing sharply. A unique greeting from their culture, no doubt. Coquer replied with the same courtesy.
The woman returned her hands into her garment as she spoke in a language foreign to him. It didn't sound close to Basic or resemble anything like Huttese. She must have noticed the confusion in his eyes since she barked something to her droid companion.
"Do you speak Basic, sir?" the protocol droid asked.
"Yes," Coquer answered with a nod.
"Excellent," the droid remarked. "Chieftain Amieto welcomes you to Elos but demands to know why you have a fleet of ships blockading her planet."
"We're not blockading anything. Your people and ships are free to come and go as they please," he calmly assured the woman, "I came in hopes of brokering a peaceful solution to the dilemma I'm in."
Her eyes sharpened when the droid finished translating. It was best to be honest in delicate matters such as this.
"What is your dilemma?" the droid asked.
"To take control of this planet and bring it into the CIS's fold," Coquer answered without hesitation.
The warriors moved quickly, raising their weapons and surrounding the young commander. His battle droids responded to their hostile actions by aiming their rifles, ready to defend their commanding officer. Before a staff swung or a blaster fired, the two leaders raised their hands, halting their troops in their place. As they lowered their hands, the warriors and droids returned to their position.
The woman spoke, uttering a guttural sound. It was low like a feral growl.
"Talk," the droid demanded.
Author's Note: We are officially in full swing on the first story arc for The Son of Dooku. Its a short one, but an entertaining one if I do say so myself. If you follow Legends, you probably recognize the planet Elom and lommite. Like I said before, my goal for this rewrite is to blend Legends and canon as smoothly as possible. I did a lot of research for this arc, so I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it.
Big thanks to everyone following and favorite this story. We are just shy of 100 follows and 90 favs and we are only at chapter 8. CRAZY! Thank you all for the support. I truly do mean that.
Next update is September 29.
Till Next Time
Updated Dec 20 2021