Chapter 15 – Laying a Foundation, Part I
insert gif of Mushu rising from cloud of smoke saying "I LIVE!"
But of course, since I don't know how to insert a gif, I'm just going to leave it at that. And yes, that's right, everyone, after approximately nine months, I am back! I won't hold you up any longer so go right ahead and enjoy the chapter. Hopefully, the wait was worth it :)
It was well past noon (or so she assumed) when Ronderu awoke the next day.
From where she lay on her 'bed', she stretched, yawning so hard it brought tears to her eyes. In all honesty though, she was surprised that she'd even managed to sleep at all. Sitting up, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and slowly got to her feet, shuffling into the refresher.
The water she splashed onto her face was positively freezing, and as such, brought her back to her senses quite quickly. Last night had been…eventful, to say the least.
Grievous had denied being Kaleesh – well, at least that explained his willingness to keep her as a slave. But did that mean he had been? That he had been Kaleesh, or at least, considered himself one before…before whatever it was that had made him into a cyborg? She wondered if it was wrong that she almost felt a degree of pity towards him now. But last night, there had been no pity – instead, his response had only served to outrage her, leading Ronderu to snatch a crumbly piece of burned wood from the extinguished fire and throw it at him. The charred log had struck him in the back, shattering on impact, and Grievous did not even react to it. Possibly even hadn't noticed it. She didn't know at the time, and still didn't know even now. Not that she cared. But afterwards, he'd grabbed hold of her arm and dragged her back to her room even as she screamed insults at him – insults that she had picked up both on Kalee and during her time belonging to others – it was undignified for sure, but she was long past caring. Why bother maintaining an image with someone she couldn't care less about, after all?
Leaving the refresher scant minutes later, she paused at its doorway, more than a little surprised upon noticing the new additions to her room. She approached the new piece of furniture that had been left in her room – a table – that had on it a large jug filled with a strange, thick blue liquid along with two bowls of what was unmistakably food. Though what food exactly, she couldn't tell. What's more, this food had not been prepared by her, nor had she seen it being prepared.
So she eyed the new addition with some amount of suspicion.
After all, it could easily be drugged and there was no way for her to know. While it was true she was hungry, she didn't want to take the risk of being drugged. She didn't want to be at anyone's mercy, regardless of who they were – but especially not Grievous. Was he even capable of showing mercy? She involuntarily shuddered, unwilling to take the risk and find out. Ronderu decided to give the food a pass, instead making her way over to the floor-to-ceiling windows and staring out of them, deep in thought. After a while, she sat down taking in the sight of the lake the windows happened to overlook. Her thoughts strayed to Qymaen. How was he? Where was he – back on Kalee? She wondered what he was up to. Maybe he had succeeded in driving out the Huk from their homeworld, just like he'd always dreamed of doing. She hoped he had. She also wondered if he missed her. No, of course he'd miss her – but did anyone else? Did they…remember her…?
Ronderu huffed, a mixture of irritation and nostalgia bubbling inside her. But eventually it was the combination of boredom and hunger – but mainly boredom – that drove her to the food. The blue liquid turned out to be milk, albeit strangely coloured, and the food itself was passable. It wasn't the best meal she'd ever had, but it certainly wasn't the worst; granted she wasn't the best cook in the first place, with her skills only covering about the most basic of meals. She wolfed down the food and sat back, trying to remember the last time she had felt so…satisfied. To her surprise, she could not come up with an answer.
Not long after she'd finished eating, the door to her room unexpectedly opened and she was instantly on guard. But to her surprise – and infinite wariness – it was two Magnaguard droids that appeared in the doorway instead of Grievous. One remained by the door, electrostaff at the ready in its hand, while the other had its electrostaff slung over its back as it entered the room, prompting Ronderu to tense up as she stood her ground. However, all it did was pick up the empty bowls and jug, appearing to stare her down for a moment before walking back out, the first droid moving aside to let it pass. But as one droid left, another entered – this one a different make and model from the Magnaguards.
For one thing, this droid was much shorter than them, bronze-coloured in place of the usual dull grey. Its photoreceptors were white as opposed to red and there was a strange mark that seemed to stretch around its body, reminding Ronderu of a bad weld. Besides the usual sets of limbs, Ronderu could make out another set of arms folded compactly against the pack on its back.
"Ah, so our guest is awake," it said in a distinctly male voice, managing to sound condescending.
"I suppose it must look that way," Ronderu replied with a flat smile.
"Indeed," the droid observed. "I am EV-A4-D, your host while my Master is absent."
"Master?" Ronderu echoed with amusement. "You mean Grievous?"
"That is correct – and it's General Grievous to you," the droid sounded disapproving, "don't tell me you weren't paying attention?"
"Alright, metal-head, why are you here?" Ronderu frowned, feeling her patience stretch thin.
"I'm so glad you asked," he said, sounding the exact opposite of his words. "I am here to lay out some ground rules you are expected to follow during your stay here."
"So you mean I can leave?" She gasped sarcastically.
"Why certainly," EV-A4-D said cheerfully, "as long as you're dead."
Ronderu folded her arms, eyeing the droid before her with disdain and wondering if it was just her bad luck that she kept running into ones that disliked her.
A4-D meanwhile, couldn't help but feel smug as he stood there; perhaps it was because he'd simply had the last word in their conversation. It wasn't often that he got to talk to anyone – much less anyone new – and it wasn't like he could continuously sass off to the General without fear of retribution. Because for all his talk of being invaluable, the droid knew that it would not stop Grievous from taking him apart and having him put back together if he was angry enough. But at the same time, a part of his processor wondered why his Master kept this Kaleesh around. Why, if A4-D didn't know any better, he'd say that his Master actually liked her! But that was preposterous!
…
Wasn't it…?
But A4-D sighed to himself, deleting that particular line of thought before it could go any further. Instead, he resigned himself to explaining the rules that would apply to this organic.
"Rule number one; while you are here, you will only be allowed access to the South Wing of the fortress – naturally, because it's where your quarters are located… Rule number two; you may visit the library but will be accompanied to and from by a guard. Three; you may have limited access to the HoloNet – though why that is, is beyond me," he added in a lower voice. "Four; the West Wing is strictly off-limits, as is the Throne Room.
"And finally," A4-D sounded as though he was explaining this to a defective model of droid – but she was an organic, so that was hardly much better – "and I believe this goes without saying, but I will tell you anyway – try not to make any escape attempts."
"Because that's so obvious," she remarked drily.
"Well certainly," A4-D couldn't help but be amused. "Because a failed escape attempt could mean injury, and serious enough injuries will warrant treatment."
"Who by? Surely not Grievous?" The Kaleesh gasped, feigning shock.
"By yours truly, of course," he chose to ignore her last question. "But I must warn you – as the General is the only one I treat nowadays, it means there is no anesthetic within these walls. And no anesthetic would mean that a surgery would be…quite painful."
"Please, I'm no stranger to pain," she growled, folding her arms. "And don't tell me you're supposed to be a doctor."
"A medical droid, if you would prefer to be more precise," he responded crisply.
"Why would a droid need a droid doctor?" She sneered. "You seem to have done a terrible job fixing that cough of his."
Now A4-D was more than a little annoyed. How dare she? How dare this… this organic come here and question his skill?! The EV droid felt a blow to his pride, something he simply would not stand for!
"Just so you know," A4-D began, his tone clipped, "I am programmed with more medical procedures than would fit in that feeble excuse of a brain you carry around in that skull of yours. And as an extra precaution to ensure your compliance, I was entrusted with this."
Oh, he just could not keep that sadistic glee out of his voice as he spoke those words, at the same time holding up the shock collar's controller for the organic to look upon it with her own eyes. He watched with smug satisfaction as his photoreceptors picked up the slight hitch in her breathing upon the sight of it. There was a sudden, predatory gleam in her eyes as she beheld it and her hand twitched – perhaps involuntarily – something that did not go unnoticed by the Magnaguard at A4-D's side. It immediately stepped forward, its mere presence enough off a deterrent against her trying anything foolish.
Sure enough, the female Kaleesh was no fool. She recognized the clear warning and threat that was presented before her in the form of the Magnaguard. Her hands curled into fists and her face grew stony, but she did nothing more beyond that.
A4-D would be lying if he said he wasn't disappointed.
A part of him wanted her to try something – just so he could watch her fumble in an entertaining if, ultimately futile attempt to escape. Instead, all she did was glare at him.
"So why are you telling me all of this?" Her tone was less than pleased. "Why not your wonderful Master? Or is Grievous too good for me that he won't even speak to me anymore?"
"Actually, my Master had business to attend to offworld," A4-D informed her. "It's no easy task to fight in a war, you know."
For a beat, the Kaleesh looked surprised – confused, even.
"War?"
"You poor thing," A4-D declared sarcastically, "surely you've heard of the Clone War?"
"You don't hear much when you're a slave," was her moody reply.
"Hm, well it seems that someone has some catching up to do on Galactic affairs. Since you're not busy, why not head to the library?"
"No thank you," she replied with a flat smile.
"Oh, it wasn't a suggestion."
And that was how Ronderu found herself on her way to this library, despite her flat-out refusal. Of course, she wasn't alone – true enough, she was escorted by a Magnaguard. It walked alongside her, silent and immutable as it showed her the way through this labyrinthine fortress. Even so, Ronderu memorized the route they were taking, thinking that it would come in handy later on to know even some of the layout of the place. Who knew? Maybe something would come of it when she finally escaped. Looking around surreptitiously, she realized that they were heading deeper and deeper into the fortress, making her suspect that some of it must be carved straight out of the mountainside behind it. Not for the first time, she spared a look at the pipes that ran against the ceiling, leading somewhere within the walls. As they walked, Ronderu noticed that there seemed to be more and more pipes converging along their route until finally, they passed by a set of massive, intricately carved wooden doors. It was here that all the pipes led into, passing through the wall above the doors.
Ronderu frowned slightly in thought. Was this the throne room that she was forbidden from entering? She wondered what was really behind those doors – because she highly doubted it was a simple throne beyond. Was it the control hub? Something else? Soon though, they had passed these doors as well and were now approaching another set of carved – albeit somewhat smaller – set of doors. The Magnaguard paused to push them open and for a moment, Ronderu entertained the idea of trying to wrest its electrostaff from it and escape. She quickly dismissed this idea, however, reckoning that it was too soon to try anything yet. For now, she would have to wait. The doors were now open and she walked in past the droid, feeling its soulless red gaze following her.
Entering the library, she blinked in surprise upon finding herself in a vast, almost cavernous hall. Looking around, she was momentarily stunned by the number of books housed in the tall, looming bookcases. As if that was enough, Ronderu could see another level of the library, distinguishable by the balcony that overlooked the main section. This room – was calling it a room wrong? The place was easily the size of a large banquet hall – contrasted starkly with the rest of what Ronderu had seen of the fortress's interior. While the rest of it was simple, unfinished rock walls, ceilings and floors, the library was instead paneled with wood. From the looks of it, entire trees would have been cut down to simply make the supports that reached from the floor to the ceiling. There were small windows located higher up – unfortunately too high for her to reach – that allowed natural light to streak in, painting the wood in rich, deep shades. However, located on the ground floor were other, more traditional forms of lighting – lanterns. Giving one a thoughtful look, she found that there was no flame or wick within. Instead, it appeared that the whole thing was instead carved out of some sort of glowing rock.
Turning away from it, Ronderu approached the nearest bookcase instead, pulling out a book at random from the many volumes arranged neatly. She opened it and flipped through a few pages before reaching the conclusion that it was written in a language she did not understand. Closing it with a snap, she returned it to where she'd taken it from and slowly made her way further into the library, running a hand over the exposed spines of the books. As she walked, she paused momentarily at the sound of quickly turning pages. Turning towards the noise, she spotted a table piled high with stacks of several books. But what drew her attention was the open book placed in front of chair, one page settling as though it had just been turned. She eyed it for a moment before glancing around, checking if there was anyone here besides her and her Magnaguard escort. When, after a few moments, she saw no sign of another, she moved on, deciding that it was simply nothing more than a breeze that had stirred the page. Because what else could it possibly have been?
Eventually, she reached the center of the library and found herself looking up at a towering statue carved out of a strange, almost glassy dark rock. Portions of it were gilded with great care and detail, making Ronderu idly wonder if, at some point, the entire thing had been covered in gold at some point. At the foot of the statue, located just in front of its plinth, was a holotable – no doubt the newest addition to the entire library. Ronderu approached it, activating it and immediately accessing the HoloNet.
While browsing through it, she considered the possibility of contacting someone through it. While it was certainly possible, she had no doubts that the General and his droids would have the necessary precautions to ensure that she would be unable to go through with such a plan. Besides, even if she could bypass their security measures, who was she going to contact? She had no allies who could possibly reach her. But despite these sour thoughts, she couldn't tear her mind away from thoughts of escape. A4-D had told her that Grievous was offworld, so what better time than to try and escape?
With him gone, Ronderu was determined to not let anything stand in her way to freedom.
It had been almost two standard weeks since Grievous had regained his lost memories.
Since then, he had yet to return to Kryolos after the surgery. Instead, he had been kept busy having to attend to different battlefronts scattered across a multitude of systems. However, at each battle the Separatists had been at a distinct advantage over the Republic forces. And this of course, was thanks to the fact that the Separatists had a listening facility located close to major Republic space. All this time, the facility had been tapping into Republic comm frequencies, deciphering information and feeding it to Separatist command.
Grievous knew this.
He also knew of the facility's location; the planet it was hidden on, its exact coordinates and even its defences. All of this information – and much more – was stored on small data spike that he now held in his hand. Sitting aboard the bridge of a Providence-Class Dreadnaught, Grievous was slowly turning the data drive over in his hand.
At the same time, he gazed out at the swirling blue hyperspace tunnel they were travelling through. Despite his unreadable gaze, his mind was occupied by matters that would be considered treasonous by the Separatist alliance; namely the data drive and the information it held. While it was true that at times, sensitive information was required to be passed between officers physically for fear of transmissions being intercepted, it was never done so in such a haphazard manner as this. It was usually much more low-key – transferred between two points by trusted agents or inconspicuous droids. But then again, this was not a usual situation. For Grievous was not taking this information to another Separatist, oh no.
He was going to pass it on to the Republic.
One way or another, Grievous would have his revenge against Dooku, the Separatists and whoever else had used him in the past and continued to use him to this day. And this was only the first step of his plan. Grievous had deliberately had the droids plot a course through Republic-controlled space. The Dreadnaught would drop out of hyperspace and almost certainly into a confrontation against the Jedi. And even though it had in no way been simple, Grievous had done everything in his power to ensure that it would be Kenobi who would face him. Not Skywalker and his apprentice, not Windu and certainly not any other Jedi. For the plan to work, it demanded that Kenobi be the one he would face. It was simply too risky to try the same with another Jedi.
Arranging their coincidental meetup had been tricky, but not impossible. First, Grievous had had to rely on information from the very same listening facility he was now attempting to expose, to ascertain the location of Kenobi's fleet. Second, he had then sent out only a partially-encrypted transmission to a since-abandoned space station that Republic operatives were sure to notice. Grievous was confident that the Jedi would take the bait but for now, he would have to wait.
One standard hour later, the Dreadnaught dropped out of hyperspace and Grievous' eyes lit up at the sight before them. He knew then, without a doubt, that the Jedi had received his message. For there, blocking the way forwards, were three Republic Venators. Grievous felt himself tense with eager anticipation at what he knew was to come. He got to his feet as the Venators moved forwards into firing range.
"Prepare to engage!" He ordered the droids.
"But General, we're outnumbered!" Pointed out one droid somewhat uneasily. "Shouldn't we retreat?"
"Do as I command," Grievous snarled.
"Roger roger."
"Deploy Vulture droids on my signal," he instructed, "and open fire as soon as we are within firing range."
I hope that's you, Kenobi, Grievous thought to himself, sending a wordless prayer to whichever one of his Gods or Ancestors may be listening.
A shudder ran through the Dreadnaught as the two forces began to exchange fire. Upon Grievous' order, the Vulture droids were deployed, racing to engage the Cruisers at close range and distract some of their heavier artillery from the Dreadnaught itself. As the battle raged on, Grievous had to quell his rising impatience and anxiety. Would Kenobi come, or would Grievous have to take the fight to him? The cyborg didn't know what to do, and that uncertainty made him nervous. It had been many long years since he had been graced by this feeling. It seemed that the chips had done much more than he'd first thought – suppressing memories and emotions alike while enhancing others. The feeling felt alien to him, only serving to make him even more uncomfortable.
But it was not the first time he had experienced the nerves that came with battle, so he closed his eyes and exhaled, slowly feeling some of his tension leave him with each breath he took. His slow, measured breathing brought with it memories from a childhood long past – the feeling of lying flat on his belly in the grass, Czerka rifle propped before him as another, older Kaleesh – his father – instructed him on how to use it. Grievous felt a smile at that memory and opened his eyes, pulling himself out of his past and returning to the present.
Evidently, he had been that way for longer than expected, because upon returning to the present, he was greeted by the sight of chaos and destruction reigning free in the space around and between the opposing battleships. Grievous' well-practiced eye quickly made out that the battle had taken a turn for the worse for the Separatists.
"Sir! Reporting extensive damage to the hull."
"Shields are down – ,"
"Vulture droid numbers are dwindling…"
But none of these battle updates were the ones that Grievous wished to hear. Surely the Republic would not pass up an opportunity to capture him, would they? Unless this wasn't Kenobi, but another Jedi who was more concerned in simply ending him once and for all… Grievous' hands clenched into fists as he deliberated his next move; remain on the doomed Dreadnaught for a little while longer or flee before it was too late? But then, a droid not too far from him suddenly squawked in alarm:
"General! We're being boarded by Republic troops!"
"Ah! Just as I expected," Grievous could not help the grin that twisted his face. "Who is leading the charge?"
"It appears to be Obi-wan Kenobi, Sir," the droid informed him. "What should we do?"
"We wait," he smiled.
Oh my.
Oh my, oh my.
Sorry to end the chapter on this note, but any more and this would have been going for a whole lot longer! As it is, the chapter's already kinda long on its own… Yes, so it's almost three thousand, nine hundred words so I think here was a good place to stop.
So; does Grievous live in a haunted castle? Absolutely. Does he know? Absolutely not, but I think A4-D does. But of course, he's not going to be the one to bring it up with Grievous. What more is there to say at this point besides that I'm already typing up the next chapter? With any luck the wait for that will be much shorter than what it was for Chapter 15. Thanks for your patience and for reading!
See you all soon!
