Hangar, Cruiser CSS Elores
BDZ-10
The assembly had finished. The small swarm of mech-droids sorrounding the Vulture opened a path for Commander Epri, who approached the fighter and began in earnest his examination of the resulting machine. After checking carefully the more troublesome points and testing twice that the system analysis came out full green, with a very nice safety margin, the engineer nodded and the mech-droids moved their tentacles and pressed the contacts that activated the device now welded to the belly of the robotic fighter.
The Vulture disappeared and the Commander released the air he had been holding, creating a short lived cloud of moisture in the uncomfortably cold and dry air that filled the vast room.
"Accepted. You are assigned for launch with the fourth group in the third wave."
The giant droid acknowledged the order with a small beep and then moved towards the rest of the group with loud steps. When it moved, a faint outline of the machine could be seen, as the holographic cloak designed for chameleon droids twenty times smaller than a Vulture tried to compensate for the changing environment. The Quarren engineer considered this for a second, his tentacles trembling with worry, but then simply shrugged. In dark, airless space, where the droid was meant to be used, the effect should disappear on its own. And there was much more to be done, no time to waste thinking about a problem that would take too long to solve, so he followed the small robots as they began work in the next Vulture in the line.
Usually, the vast hangar was kept airless. That way some energy wasted in life support was saved for better purposes and things were just a little bit harder for anyone stupid enough to attempt to storm the ship through its main weakness. Usually, the spider-like mech droids kept the systems working in their own. That way, the fifty or so living, breathing passengers of the Elores only rarely had to trek into the many sections of the ship that were considered machine territory.
Now, however, the hangar had an atmosphere and half the engineers in the ship, plus the chief engineer himself, watched intently the intense activity of the droids. With the kind of work they were doing now, there was no place for mistakes. So had spoken Commander Epri after seeing for the first time the blueprints sent by General Grievous himself. Basic maintenance, small repairs, rearming fighters and so on were the kind of things mech-droids could do in their own. Preparing holo-cloaks for the Vultures? Perhaps. Manipulation of high-power explosive warheads that had to be lightened by removing the outer layers and most of the security systems? No way. The mech-droids simply weren't good enough to trust them to do a good job with that.
Cuirded Epri had not joined the Navy to end his days as vapour, because of a stupid technical failure. He had worked in the Pammat shipyards, so the Quarren knew just how bad most baseline droid models were when they needed to detect certain mistakes. And if the blueprints contained one such mistake, in the parts about the exceedingly powerful bombs, the result would be considerably worse for the ship than a direct hit from a heavy turbolaser gun.
Fortunately, it seemed that the droids were aware of his fears and had decided to mock him. They were doing the work flawlessly and swiftly. Each of the dozen swarms were doing in three minutes what the engineers would have needed at least fifteen minutes to do. This was probably the result of having allowed the mech-droids to use a part of the main computer to get some extra computing power, as suggested in the blueprints sent by Grievous.
Really, the only bad thing was the unpleasant things he felt seeing so much mechanical perfection. Who needed engineers with droids this good?
"We are finished with the third wave. We are beginning with the fouth, Cuirded. OK?"
It was an unpleasant voice with an unpleasant owner and the Commander hated to deal with either, but this time it was useful. The unease he had been feeling was replaced by far more mundane annoyance. Lieutenant Esaux Laliar was one of his underlings and also a Neimoidian. The later was not his fault, of course, but that didn't make dealing with him any more pleasant and the Commander had met a number of Neimoidians that were far better than the slimy officer. He was a remote relative of a couple of well connected directors in the Trade Federation or some such thing, so the Commander had found it impossible to have him removed in the ground of his (proven) incompetence.
In addition to his ineptitude, the main problem was that Laliar seemed intent in becoming the living embodiment of every negative cliche about Neimoidians. He was unpleasant, cruel even, with his own underlings, but had reserves of flattery for most senior officers. The "most" would have Epri himself as the only exception to this rather simple classification.
He was the senior officer, but Laliar wanted to become chief engineer and Epri had burned the few political contacts he had had to contain the fallout of his first attempt to remove the Lieutenant. The result was half a year of threading carefully and ignoring wanton disregard for the proper protocol and careless negligence, plus countless small acts of defiance as part of Laliar's campaign. The Neimoidian was waiting for a mistake, but the Commander didn't want to see his career ended because of a capricious idiot. Thus, he had learned to focus on the important parts of the conversation when dealing with Laliar and to be patient.
He had a secret collection where he had filed every little mistake and every small act of disobedience or insolence. In a few months, he would copy all of it and use it as proof in the next disciplinary hearing. And then Esaux Laliar would leave the Elores never to return, in spite of all his political contacts.
Today, it seemed, the Lieutenant had decided to forget his task and, instead of returning to work, he followed the Commander, telling rather poor jokes about the Republic, the Jedi and the "idiot" worker drones in Neimoidia. For a brief moment, the Quarren wondered why Laliar had decided to study engineering, no matter how poorly, considering that he came from a culture that was distinctly hostile towards manual labour. After a while, he also considered ordering him to return to work, but decided instead to resist the ordeal. Laliar's "skills" were better used in a place where they would cause no harm. So, every now and then, the Commander nodded and grunted every time the Lieutenant made a pause for effect, while actually focusing in the work of the mech-droids.
The Lieutenant needed no more reason to continue his rant and did so, ignoring the movement of the Commander's tentacles. After all, he considered the Quarren an ugly, disgusting species of beasts good only for heavy labour, with no idea of the importance of a good administration. Their oddities were irrelevant and rather disgusting, so what sane, self-respecting Neimoidian would study about them. Thus, the Lieutenant had never heard about or learned Quarren tentacle language and was unaware of the stream of insults and curses that the Commander had been sending him for months.
Childish. Useless. Oddly soothing, for Commander Epri.
-----
War Room, Underlevel 134, Underground Complex of the Galactic Senate
Senate District, Sector One, Coruscant
BDZ-9
"We have destroyed two of the enemy Tactical Control Units and I have unconfirmed reports that suggest that a third might have been damaged. This should harm cause considerable disruption in the operative capabilities of a droid force of this size and composition. If you can ensure that our reinforcements arrive in time, I think that we will manage to push the enemy out of Sector One within the hour. Although several buildings have suffered significative damage, civilian casualties have been minimal so far. When the droids appeared in this area, most were already in the bunkers," explained Mace Windu or rather his one foot tall holographic image did.
"Good news, Master Windu. Really good news," praised Vice Chair Amedda, relaxing slightly in his airchair. The small droid army that had managed to cross the defenses of Sector One moving stealthily through the Undercity had surprised them all. If not for two nearby clone divisions, this startling development could have had a very different result. It could have been a complete disaster. The image of the Jedi Temple, so close to the Senate, being attacked by the separatist weapons was an image the Chagrian would not forget easily. "You will have those reinforcements, I will see to it personally. Now, I want to ask you something. A few minutes ago, Chief Librarian Nu has stated that she was sure that both Skywalker and Kenobi were alive, on board the Invisible Hand. We intend to attack that ship at the first opportunity and I want to know what kind of fallout I will have to deal with. Can you tell me something else about this?"
"I cannot tell if they are inside that accursed ship, although I suppose that it is the most likely, but they are alive. Both of them are, somewhere in the orbit. They are very strong Jedi and their presence in the Force is intense. If either died, every Jedi in this world would know."
"Very well," said the politician, frowning slightly. "I thank you for the information. We will consider this while designing the attack plans, but I cannot promise that we will be able to save them. If I need anything else or you must contact with me at any moment for any reason, we will use this very line. I will order the technicians to keep it open. That is all."
The holographic Jedi stared at Amedda for an instant, before nodding slightly and vanishing when the communication ended. Did the Jedi suspect? It was possible. If Kenobi and Skywalker were alive, that meant that things hadn't gone according to Palpatine's plan and that everything might collapse once the battle ended... If his worst fears became true, the Chagrian had prepared several escape routes, but he would not have a chance to use any of them from this underground bunker/prison.
But those were things for the future. At the moment, Grievous was the danger and the Jedi allies. Moving the controls in his airchair, Amedda floated towards the central holoproyector of the War Room. The enormous device had showed for fifteen minutes the same image. An image that worried Amedda just by watching it. It was a miniature Coruscant, three meters in diameter, that showed the main troop groups of both sides, the locations with the higher tactical value and assorted information. Now that the droids were being driven out of Sectore One, the seven hundred million combat droids that the Confederation had activated all over the city were the least of his worries.
The truly important thing was the cloud of red points floating about two thousand kilometers above Sector Vincavec, three hundred kilometers north of the Senate building. Grievous' fleet, still pointing every one of its siege guns against the unprotected points in the surface. Around the sinister crinsom glow there was another, larger cloud of blue lights. Yet despite its size, the blue cloud was powerless, trapped between a rock and a hard place. Amedda continued watching the image with something akin to morbid fascination. Then he turned to face the technicians manning the different computer stations.
"Changes?"
"Nothing important," answered a voice from his right. Organa, who had been busy discussing something with technicians of Coruscant's planetary defenses, had finished. An odd human. Odder than most. Despite being a politician with a long experience, Organa was more of a man of action, with a good deal of daring and bravery. And he always was true to his word. For example, when the technicians had told him as politely as possible that his suggestions ranged from the unfeasible to the ridiculous, the Senator's only reaction had been frowning. But he hadn't left the War Room and had tried to find something to do, because he had promised to stay with Amedda until the end of the battle and he would abide by it.
A romantic attitude, rather naive for someone in his position, but rather refreshing at the same time. It was no wonder that Palpatine had included him in the list of individuals to be watched closely during the critical days of the revolution. With such a personality he was unlikely to support the kind of changes the Chancellor had planned and as Senator of Alderaan he commanded a great deal of influence. He could have been a very serious enemy.
"The corridor is still clear and our ships are keeping a distance of five hundred kilometers at the least, but they don't seem to be in a hurry."
"Anything new about the shield? About Grievous? Do we know where he is?"
"The shield is still offline. The technicians are making reactivation simulations, but so far the best they have managed is thirty eight seconds. In average, they need fourty three for a full reactivation. I have suggested reducing the shield radius and perhaps this was not quite as idiotic as some of my previous ideas, because Commander Theoffe has explained that they were already considering it. Unfortunately, it appears to be a rather complicated change, that would demand very accurate work and several days of work. There is simply no way to do it with the little time and resources at hand."
"A pity. About Grievous'"
"Yes, yes. If our friend has left the Invisible Hand... we have no idea and no clues about his whereabouts. With our ships in their current position, we can't pick much of rebel comms and most of what we have been able to decypher are routine reports. The rest seems to be protected by a new type of code that we hadn't encountered before this and that we aren't going to break in time. Some have suggested that this new code might be a ruse, random gibberish they broadcast to distract us, while the true orders are sent with those shuttles that keep moving from ship to ship. In the end, Grievous is very well hidden and he doesn't want us to know where."
"That seems a bit odd. It does not sound like his typical behaviour."
"The analysts have noticed. They think that..."
A blaring alarm interrupted the conversation. A technician changed his controls and the holoproyector magnified the red cluster. The individual units of the enemy war fleet grew bigger and with the enhanced image, they saw how tiny red dots were coming out of most of the ships.
"They are launching fighters."
"Many fighters. And if that diagram is right, their jammers are increasing intensity. Things are about to get very interesting. The truce is coming to an end. May the Force be with us all."
-----
Somewhere in the Confederate Battlenet
BDZ-9
Why? Why hadn't he done this before? Grievous knew that it was a good question, but he had no good answer. In fact, he had no answer at all. His cyborg body had offered this possibility for a long time now, but he had never even considered this. Odd.
And why had he decided to use this half forgotten potential now? Again, no answer. Odder. It was very probably connected with the change that had touched his mind, shortly before his ultimatum. He didn't knew the forces, the reasons or the details behind the change, but it was clear that something had happened. And he had a faint idea of who could give him the answers he wanted. He would know the solution to this whole strange episode in a short time. Meanwhile, he would simply waste some time enjoying the freedom his new environment offered.
The General had felt zero gravity often. Here, he felt weightless, but it was completely different. Here he was weightless, because there was no weight to be felt. He floated freely in a vast universe of pure thought, without a painful body or overpowering rage. It was refreshing, delightful, incredible.
Better yet, from this place he could command his forces much better, with greater accuracy and faster than any living commander would ever do. The Battlenet connected several thousand supercomputers and now he had unlimited, instantaneous access. The important things were detected swiftly and with his cybernetic brain, a thousand times faster than its old organic predecessor, he gave the necessary orders in record time. And the machines were faster, more efficient and more polite than the idiots he had to deal with in every battle.
What an interesting fact. After the battle, he would have to consider making some changes in...
Although he had been thinking about other things, Grievous had wished moments before to know more about Count Dooku. The computers had registered this and when new information connected with the Count was avalaible, they dutifully sent it to the General. For almost a whole second, his mental form stared at the image of Dooku's escape pod leaving the Invisible Hand in a hurry. He needed two extra seconds to fully understand its meaning.
In the other hand, giving new, frantic orders to several hundred droid fighters only took around around a milisecond.
-----
Notes: Four months, give or take a day
I think that I have already done enough times the "mea culpa" thing, so I will drop it this time. As always, I would be grateful with anybody who writes me a couple encouraging lines, makes a constructive criticism or has a question to ask. At least, I can say that It lives!, quoting Frankenstein.
