Chapter 12 – The Venestria System

Okay, so uploading chapters to ao3 is harder than I thought it would be. But then again, maybe I've just gotten too used to the format here on fanfic?

Bookshelf94: Nice to hear from you again! I'm so glad you like the story so far! 3

NotABot: Well hello; interesting choice of name, by the way. And thank you!

So, so sorry for the wait but I now only have about 45-ish minutes of typing on only three days of the week. If I'm lucky, it's four days, but those times are few and far between.

Oh yeah, and I should probably mention – I will be holding off updating Soulmate after this until I have gotten all the chapters up on AO3. Sorry, but I will try to get back as soon as possible!

The doors ahead of Grievous slid open and he limped aboard the bridge. Through the transparisteel windows he could see the iridescent blue wormhole the ship was travelling through. He sat down heavily in the chair, inwardly relieved to have the brief rest.

He needed repairs; that was why he was headed to the Clacis Sector. Within it was the Venestria System and within that, was the planet Kryolos. It was a little heard-of place and an out of the way destination. But, it was also the location of Grievous' new lair – he had been forced to relocate after the Jedi had discovered his base on the third moon of Vassek earlier in the war. Wearily, he closed his eyes.

A mild sense of disdain pervaded his otherwise grim mood; weary? He thought spitefully. He did not have time to be weary! But, at the same time, he was trying in vain to keep his thoughts off Ronderu. He was failing at that task. So, he found himself wondering why he had called her that; and what did Kummar even mean? Most importantly, though, where had he heard that name before? It sounded so… so strangely familiar… and yet… He didn't know. Kummar… he had said it with the same ease that came with speaking it several times before.

Grievous badly wanted to know, but he feared it was somehow linked to his sudden, splitting headache. It was worse than the headaches Grievous would sometimes find himself burdened with from time to time. This felt like there was a knife – maybe even a lightsaber – stabbing into his skull, slowly rotating and cutting into the burned and reddened skin he had left. He absently raised his hand to his head, as if holding it would help ease the pain.

Memories – vague and indistinct – floated by, just within reach. Grievous wanted to grab ahold, see what they were, but something held him back. He couldn't tell what it was, but all he knew was that it was not a part of him; whatever was stopping him, it wasn't supposed to be there. So instead, he focused on one memory that he had half-remembered.

The sea. And not just any sea, but the Jenuwaa Sea. He smelled the salt once again and felt spray against his bare skin. There was a rocking motion from the below as the waves rolled beneath his boat, the wind lashing at him as it began to pick up speed. And suddenly, he was in the middle of a tempest. Rain fell in torrents around him, the dark storm clouds above him hanging low and heavy. The very air seemed to throb with each deafening thunderclap and he found himself squinting with every blinding flash of lightning. The sea pitched and spiked below him, threatening to capsize his small vessel. But still he pressed on. He was chilled to the bone by the howling winds and lashing rains, yet still something drove him forwards.

Finally, despite the elements opposing him, he had made landfall.

Where… where had he made landfall…?

It was a beach…? No – it was a coast, a rocky coast – a small island in fact…

The name finally came to him: Abesmi.

Abesmi?! Grievous' eyes opened, what had he been doing there? Had he been there for his dead family…? No, it hadn't been for them; it had been for someone else. Someone who had been so close they had almost been a part of him. She… But who had she been? He thought impatiently.

She was a warrior, a small voice inside his head told him, a great warrior. Worthy of your respect; your equal.

Equal? Grievous thought with a start.

On the battlefield. And even during peace.

Peace, he thought bitterly. When had he ever experienced peace?

She was your soulmate.

Impossible! Grievous stiffened in alarm. His soulmate?! How could that be? – he had none!

Grievous did not. Qymaen jai Sheelal did.

The cyborg General blinked, his eyes coming back into focus once more. They were still in hyperspace… though for how long they'd been this way, he could not tell. Soulmate… He didn't know what to make of that. He couldn't have had a soulmate, could he? Surely, he would have remembered someone of such importance to him, wouldn't he…?

And for the first time in a long while, Grievous found that he was uncertain. It almost felt like ha was missing a large part of his life. Why couldn't he remember? Qymaen jai Sheelal was once him… so had he had a soulmate? But that didn't explain why he had journeyed to Abesmi – those who did went there to typically honour their ancestors or beseech them to let them see a loved one – –

All strength seemed to leave Grievous as he slumped in his chair.

He knew why he had gone to Abesmi.

It was because his soulmate was dead.

The Separatist Destroyer dropped out of hyperspace. It had taken about three standard hours, but they were now in the Clacis Sector, close enough to the Venestria System. A shuttle was prepared for Grievous – he did not intend on taking the entire ship with him; it could help with the war effort on another front somewhere.

He made his way down to the brig again, stopping outside Ronderu's cell, hesitating for a moment before opening the cell door. Inside, he found her lying the floor, her back to the door with her left arm folded under her head as a support. Her long hair was swept off her back, revealing to Grievous her bare back and he could not help but stare at the lines of scars crisscrossing her back, some looking like burns from electro-whips while others looked… different. From where she lay, Ronderu turned head, spotting him in an instant.

"What do you want now, Grievous?" She asked him bitterly.

"Come with me," he responded.

Taking her own time, she got to her feet and eyed him with more loathing in her gaze than should have been possible.

"Why?" She demanded. "Why do you want me to come with you? Why won't you let me go?! By the gods, what could you possibly want from me?"

Grievous did not respond immediately.

He took a moment to simply stand there in silence and observe the furious Kaleesh before him. He didn't know what to say – what should he say? – that being around her seemed to stir so many forgotten feelings inside him? That he felt as if he knew her from a past life? There were so many reasons – real reasons – that compelled him to keep her here even though she hated it.

But he couldn't tell her that.

He couldn't tell her any of his reasons.

"You are a slave, are you not?" He sneered. "I assumed you would have learned not to ask so many questions – if your scars are not proof enough of lessons learned."

Ronderu's face had darkened, her golden eyes narrowed and there was a barely concealed look of disgust on her face.

But still Grievous knew that what he had just said had cut deep; deeper than any of the scars she carried. Strangely, knowing that hurt him, too. He didn't know why either of them was so affected by that statement. He had a suspicion as to ah this was, but nothing concrete to go by. Grievous didn't want to stake too much hope in it either, for he was tired.

Tired of being denied of anything that gave him joy.

But the way Ronderu looked at him almost crushed him. He did his best, though, to ignore it.

"I am not going to tell you again," said Grievous, all too used to playing the part of the villain, "come with me."

Sullenly and silently, Ronderu stepped forwards and approached the door. Grievous stepped aside to let her pass and closed the cell door behind her with a push of a button. He then proceeded to take ahold of her upper arm in his hand. She glared at him balefully, her feelings all too clear to him. Grievous simply scowled at her from behind his faceplate, conveying his own message that he would not tolerate her trying to escape again. Wordlessly, he then led her to the hangar bay and pushed her aboard his shuttle. Ronderu stumbled in, followed closely by Grievous. The door closed behind them and then the shuttle was taking off, piloted by two droids in the cockpit.

This shuttle had seats and, after a moment, Grievous gestured to one. Reluctantly, Ronderu seated herself on the edge of one seat, holding herself tensely. She sat ramrod-straight, her jaw set and the expression on her face one of indifference. There was a hardness in her eyes that Grievous had not seen before, and she seemed to have made it a point to look everywhere besides him. Grievous too, sat down on a seat that was closer to the rear of the shuttle. Leaning back, he had to suppress a groan.

He was in desperate need of repairs.

Grievous glanced towards Ronderu, only to discover that she was blatantly ignoring him. Well then, let her ignore him! Grievous thought sourly; it's not like he cared! Just then, the shuttle jumped into hyperspace but all was still quiet in side it. He didn't want to be the first to break the silence – it would make him look weak – so he too, waited.

But soon he found his thoughts straying yet again to Abesmi; to vague memories of his soulmate. He pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind, an irritable growl inadvertently escaping his mouth as he did so. One of Ronderu's ears pricked at the sound and she shot a glance his way, a thoughtful look on her face.

"Where are we going now?" She asked, her tone careless.

"The Venestria System," Grievous replied, "a planet called Kryolos."

"What's there?" She sounded thoroughly uninterested.

"It is an abandoned planet," he growled in response. "There are nothing but ruins left."

"Then why are we going there?"

"Because I need repairs and a place for you to stay out of trouble."

"Touching," Ronderu sniffed sarcastically.

"I cannot have you getting in my way when I face the Jedi," Grievous responded coldly.

"Jedi…" She muttered. "I've heard that name before – but what are they exactly?"

"The Jedi are cowards!" He snarled. "They are the ones who should be held accountable for this war – but instead, they cower inside their temple on Coruscant and their troops on a battlefield."

Grievous' eyes narrowed at the mere thought of the Jedi, a haze of anger beginning to descend upon his mind – as it so often did whenever his thoughts turned to the robed Force-wielders.

"They call themselves keepers of the peace," he spat derisively. "Where do they keep the peace? When have they kept the peace?! Even before the Clone War began, they turned a blind eye to the suffering of millions across the galaxy! Their Order is corrupt. The Jedi are not needed in this galaxy."

Ronderu was silent, observing Grievous silently. Once she was certain he was done talking, she folded her arms and shrugged.

"And you think you're better than them?" She asked placidly.

His head snapped around so he was facing her, his eyes livid with anger and disbelief.

"Of course I am," Grievous replied, his voice low and dangerous.

She finally turned his way, to look at him properly for the first time since they had boarded the shuttle. Her gaze was pointed and cold.

"At least the Jedi don't condone slavery."

That statement felt like a hammer blow to Grievous. His anger was gone faster than it had appeared and he stared at Ronderu uncomprehendingly. What she said wasn't true – Grievous despised slavery as much as any other Kaleesh, if not even more so – but then, Ronderu didn't know he was Kaleesh, did she? He didn't like having to act as a villain to her, for some strange reason, but he saw it as being necessary.

But necessary for what exactly?

To stop her escaping? To stop her from knowing who he was? To appear strong and not weak?! Grievous didn't know anymore, but he couldn't let up his façade. Not now.

They dropped out of hyperspace, within the Venestria System and within sight of the planet Kryolos. Neither of the pilot droids said a word as they entered the atmosphere and began their approach to a remote mountain range in the Eastern hemisphere. The shuttle skimmed over vast, grass-filled plains and a strange orange lake. Above the shuttle, the sky was an odd dusky blue, with stars visible even though the star Kryolos orbited was still high in the sky. Slowly, the ground below the shuttle began to rise, the grass was soon replaced by low scrub. Finally, the mountain range was within sight, at its foothills lay the crumbling ruins of what may have once been a town; ruins that nature had long since reclaimed.

The shuttle rose, headed for a fortress that sat imperiously on the top of a strange, flat-topped mountain, part of it even disappearing into the taller cliff that lay behind it. To one side was a natural valley – its opening blocked by an old landslide that had effectively dammed a river, creating a large glacial lake that was a more natural blue in colour. Cut into the mountain below the fortress appeared to be the door to a hangar bay, made of durasteel and painted the same colour as the rock around it, the hangar door was well blended in with its surroundings. The shuttle slowed as it approached its landing site, the door sliding open seemingly of its own accord.

Gliding in, the shuttle began landing procedures as the door slid shut with an ominous noise. Grievous got to his feet just before the ramp of the shuttle descended and shot a look at Ronderu; its meaning clear. Rising in one fluid motion, she followed him out into the hangar bay.

It was a simple affair, large but empty save for some fuel canisters stacked against one wall and now the shuttle occupying less than half of its space. There were large metal brackets bolted into the veined rock walls that housed the lights. To the rear of the hangar, opposite to the bay entrance, was a set of stairs that led up into the fortress. Taking ahold of her arm again – despite Ronderu's hiss of anger – Grievous proceeded to lead her to the stairs. Ronderu could do little more than follow him, so she did; albeit sourly.

The stairs were wide but steep; easy for Grievous to take but uncomfortable for anyone else. In no time they emerged from the stairwell and into a decently-sized, roofed courtyard. In the middle was a disused fountain that looked like it hadn't seen water in years. There may have been grass in other sections of the courtyard but all that remained now was dust. Looking up at the roof, Ronderu realized that it was much newer than the rest of her surroundings – it was made of metal and supported by the same, ugly brackets from the hangar. Walking (or in Grievous' case, limping) upto the main doors that led into the fortress, Grievous reached up and pushed a panel in the thick, wooden doors and they both heard a grinding noise as something moved.

Grievous let go of her arm then, but gave her another look. At that, Ronderu merely shrugged.

"And just where would I go even if I ran?" She asked him.

He growled his irritation and returned his attention to the doors. Pushing another two panels, he then braced his hands against the doors and heaved. With a protesting creak, they began to open slowly, resisting the force applied to them. Grabbing her arm again, Grievous pulled her in as the doors began to close quickly. As she was pulled past them, Ronderu realized that the even though the doors were wooden, they were reinforced with a layer of metal that lay within them, making them as thick as her forearm was long.

Finally, they were inside the fortress and Ronderu frowned into the gloom. There were electric lights set above sconces that would have once held torches, the light they cast was dull and oppressive. The corridor was gloomy, pipes ran along the top of the wall, leading to somewhere deep within the fortress.

Two doors on either side of them – these ones newer and automatic – slid open to reveal two Magnaguard droids. They stepped out of the murk of the rooms behind them – perhaps they had been guardrooms once? – their electrostaffs powering up as soon as they did. Grievous handed her over to them, seemingly confident that they would be able to handle her.

"Take her to a cell!" He ordered. "Do not let her out of your sight and do not hurt her, or else – !"

Grievous broke off, though, as he was seized by another one of his awful bouts of coughing. He waved away the two droids and Ronderu even as he continued to cough. The Magnaguards simply nodded their heads once in acknowledgement before pushing Ronderu between them and marching her further into the bowels of the fortress. She glanced around as she was led into what appeared to be a different wing of the structure; the walls were polished rock, streaked with bands of gold and other colored minerals. The lighting here was better – even the atmosphere was not as heavy. But even so, Ronderu had decided she'd had enough of being pushed around by droids.

It was time to act.

Ronderu yanked her hand out of the grip of the Magnaguard on her right, kicking the back of its foot so it pitched forwards. The other released her arm on its own accord to hold its staff better. The end of its electrostaffs was jabbed at her but she avoided it by twisting to a side. The Magnaguard pressed forwards, driving her back with swings from its electrostaffs. But now, the second droid was on its feet again and they both advanced on her in unison. Ronderu's eyes flicked between the two of them. She knew she needed a weapon; something she could use against those electrostaffs without having to worry about being electrocuted – she didn't fancy on having to relive that experience again.

But then her eyes fell on the sconces set in the wall behind the droids. In them, were two burned-out torches. Without hesitation, she grabbed at the two that were set behind her. Weighing them in her hands, she realized that they were heavy. Though they were wooden, they felt more like they were crudely-fashioned metal clubs than torches. They were certainly no Lig knives, but they would have to do for now. The Magnaguards made the first move.

One thrust its staff at her, forcing her closer to its companion. Ducking under the staff, she spun, cracking one of the torches against its side and sending it staggering. The second droid swiped at her with its staff and she narrowly avoided it by tucking into a roll. She stopped in a crouch and glanced back over her shoulder at the droids. Of course they were still going. Well, they were no Zygerrians, that was for sure.

Ronderu leapt back to her feet just as an electrostaffs jabbed into the floor where she'd been a heartbeat ago. Spinning, she smashed the charred end of the torch into the side of the Magnaguard's head, sending it staggering aside. The other one advanced, seeming more wary – or perhaps more calculating – than its companion.

Soon, though, its processor seemed to have decided on the next course of action to take, and the droid advanced towards her. Ronderu took a few steps back, her eyes not leaving the Magnaguard for a moment as she tried to gauge its next move. Without warning, it lunged at her, spinning its electrostaffs as it attempted to get past her guard. Ronderu blocked its attacks, staying on the defensive as she got a feel for its technique. She was surprised, however, when she realized that its moves were familiar.

Why?

Because they were almost the same as the standard forms of Kaleesh swordsmanship.

That fact alone only reinforced Ronderu's suspicion of General Grievous being Kaleesh. But then if he was, how could he even stand to see slavery? She couldn't help but think. If he was – or had ever been Kaleesh in the first place – how could he even call her, one of his kind, a slave?

But that thought distracted her, and in her distraction, one of the Magnaguard's attacks slipped past her guard and jabbed hard into her uncovered midriff; right into the scar that stretched across her stomach. Her old wound flared with pain, electricity from the electrostaff arcing up to her shock collar and intensifying. Ronderu gritted her teeth against the scream of pain that was building within her. The torches she had been fighting with had dropped to the ground, with her barely even aware of it. Her legs buckled below her as the electrostaff was not removed from her, but was instead joined by a second one that was jabbed into her lower back.

Each and every fiber of her being screamed for the torch to be withdrawn, even as her mouth opened in a soundless scream and her eyes screwed shut, as if that would keep the pain away. Make it stop, her thoughts pleaded.

But she remained that way for an unknown period of time, every agony-filled second stretching into what felt like hours, the Magnaguards refusing to let up.

And then, just as she felt herself slipping into unconsciousness, for one fleeting moment, it felt as if someone was reaching for her – and not just anyone, but Qymaen – or perhaps it was just a lucid thought from a pain-wracked mind. But then abruptly, the pain disappeared as the electrostaffs' ends left her and Ronderu had never been more relieved.

And even as electricity continued to spark along her collar, she slumped forwards into grateful unconsciousness.

*Gasp*! Did I just end on a cliffhanger? Well, that sure is a first for me – not that anyone here minds, though, right?

Well, Ronderu's gone and gotten herself into a fine mess, hasn't she? And the best part? – you'll have to wait until next year to find out what happens next! … okay, that's not a good thing, that was just a bad joke. -_-

But yeah, I'll only be back to Soulmate next year, 'cause for the remainder of 2022 I want to get my stories up to date over on AO3. I can't say for certain when I'll be back next year, so please bear with me – I've got a lot of real-life stuff coming up. Things are gonna be busy!

Oh yeah, quick note – the Venestria system and Clacis sector are real places in SW; I don't know if anything important went down there, or in what media they turned up. I just picked them because they seemed kind of out of the way and generally secluded. As for Kryolos, I made it up; it does not exist in Star Wars. I made it up for convenience and named it after a dinosaur – a Cryolophosaur. Why, you ask? Simple – because the name had been stuck in my head at the time.

And oh boy, has it really been over a year since I started uploading this story? O.O

Wow.

So until next year, folks, take care!

And that's Paladin Stormwind signing off for 2022! Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays and wishing all my readers the best for 2023!