For all of its one year activated and functioning aboard the fleet of General Grievous, B4-OOM5 had been a cleaning droid. It was a humble job, OOM5 had been told. A job fit for a klutz like it, since it had been shown to be defective in its diagnostic tests before it had been allowed aboard the ship. It had almost been scrapped, but on one of the rare days when its general had been in a relatively good mood, it had been selected to be a janitor.
But now, it was stuck in an escape pod with twenty droids and one cyborg, all of which hated it.
The escape pod crashed on the surface of a planet OOM5 had never been to before. Half of his fellow men that Grievous had crammed into the crowded pod were now slumped into the back of the cabin, and the general himself had slammed an audio-receptor hard into the side of the pod, which was now smoking and causing the detector to beep loudly.
Grievous stood up, trembling, his eyes focused on OOM5. The droid shook as it noted the long part of his general's audio-receptor—the part fashioned in the image of a real Kaleesh ear—had fallen off, and the damaged receptor was now smoking, obscuring his face in the thick black material.
Grievous pushed OOM5 into the wall. "Get an extinguisher!"
"But sir, won't that hurt your—"
"Just do as I say!" Grievous bellowed, swatting blindly but missing the droids.
One of the droids in the back of the pod put its head up. "Uh-oh," it muttered as OOM5 took the fire extinguisher from the side of the cabin and sprayed it in the direction he thought the general's smoking audio-receptor to be.
But he was equally in trouble when Grievous started coughing. He snatched the extinguisher from OOM5's hand and used it on his ear. A small electrical zap rocketed from the site, and at the same time, the other began to smoke.
Grievous clenched the extinguisher so hard it broke. He yelled orders at the other battle droids in the back. "Get a way out of this pod!"
One of the B1s reluctantly opened the door. With a grunt, the general picked up his cloak and gestured for the soldiers to follow. OOM5 was the last to exit the ship.
OOM5 trembled as the commander came up to keep a pace next to Grievous. It could tell the general was in a bad mood by the haze in his eyes. Everyone aboard the ship knew it.
"General," the commander said, "the soldiers are starting to lose power."
But Grievous ignored the droid, keeping a stiff pace. "General," the droid said louder. "Where in the galaxy are we?"
No response. "General!" the droid shouted, kicking Grievous' leg.
Grievous turned around, smacking the commander to the ground. "WHAT?" he shouted.
"Commander," OOM5 said, "he's—"
"Shut up!" the commander said, pointing a gun at OOM5. "General, what's wrong with you?"
Grievous rolled his eyes, then pointed at his audio-receptors. "Write!" he shouted, gesturing at the ground.
The commander wrote the message. Where are we?
Grievous shouted over the deafness of his audio-receptors. "Vendaxa! We got stranded on Vendaxa! Move out!"
They set up camp in the jungle, sitting as the rain began to pour on their shelter. Grievous sat beneath his cloak to stay out of the rain, keeping his gaze away from the edge of the thicket.
OOM5 was preparing to power down—it wasn't useful as a soldier or housekeeper—when a growl reached its ears. The din of the rain in its own audio-receptors made it faint, but it was there.
It slowly turned around and came face-to-face with a large alien beast. OOM5's photo-receptors picked up dark, leathery skin, and a mouth full of teeth.
Red flags showed up in its vision. This was a threat. And while it was a battle droid, OOM5 had never done a day of battle in its life.
It screamed, racing back. The general would know how to deal with this creature. Knocking over its fellow men as they shouted curses at him, OOM5 raced toward Grievous, who had his back turned to his soldiers.
It had meant to tap the general's touch-sensitive shoulder, but before it could, it tripped on a large root and fell straight on top of General Grievous, its arms hanging over the cyborg's shoulders and down his chest.
Grievous whirled around, knocking OOM5 to the ground. The droid shook hard, cringing before the enormous half-droid. "What is it?" he shouted.
His eyes snapped toward the giant roggwart. He stood high and proud, ready to attack. "For once, one of your kind is competent. You have saved this whole cohort." And with that, the general ran straight toward the enormous roggwart, lightsabers flashing in time with the bolts of lightning coming down.
OOM5 knew that was the closest it would ever get to affirmation from its general that day. But it was enough, because it was the first time it had ever gotten praise. And as the other droids helped it up, dusting the dirt off and patting it on the back like OOM5 was one of its own, it finally felt like it belonged in the ranks of the Confederacy.