#ev-a4-d

The general’s shoulders tensed, the tightness felt through his integrated sensors, as if he were experiencing true apprehension, awaiting EV-A4-D to elaborate.

There was a pause, the silence lasting too long, if only for a few seconds in reality. “Explain yourself, doctor.”

“I’m afraid it’s your little pet—someone has come for her, and she has escaped into the ventilation system.”

“What!”

“The proximity alert—there are people. Humans, to be precise.”

“What do they look like?!”

“That is not for me to ascertain, although their clothes do not indicate they are of nobility or importance. I have sent a squad of B1 battle droids to their location to handle their unexpected arrival.”

“Retrieve the girl at once, by all means necessary!”

“That is what I thought you would say.”

Grievous squinted his reptilian eyes at the doctor’s tone.

“I ordered the droids to kill the others, unless you have a better idea.”

“Capture them! Find out who they are and why they are there. If they are looking for… her …” Grievous hummed a distorted, surly growl to indicate his displeasure, at the same time thinking over the best course of action—but not before he was overtaken by a round of coughing so severe that A4-D instinctively recoiled from the communication’s terminal back on Vassek 3.

Objectively, should the droid general allow them to be killed, and should they be members of your family, if this were ever discovered, it would reflect poorly on his character. It was almost laughable that he should care, having done countless misdeeds throughout the galaxy that had resulted in the deaths of thousands, not once ever concerning himself with anyone’s demise.

And should he let them escape unscathed to learn the location of his secret base, there was no telling what these humans might do with this information. He was the supreme martial commander of the Separatist droid army! It was best that he…speak with these individuals himself.

“And if they are looking for her, what, Master?”

“Do not let them approach my lair. Do not allow them to know she has survived. I will be there shortly to speak to them myself!”

“I see… So, you are speaking to people now? I didn’t take you to be much of a negotiator, Master. I thought you were more of a kill-first-ask-questions-later kind of guy,” A4-D said, risking everything for one snide remark.

“Insolence!” Grievous barked, not wishing to explain himself. “You will obey my orders, or I will recycle you for spare parts!”

“Of course, Master, of course…” A4-D conceded, taking it down a notch, “and will you please clarify what you meant by ‘any means necessary?’”

The droid was playing him for a fool, and if he did not require his services more often than not, he would already be scrap metal, decaying somewhere at the bottom of a garbage masher!

“If you harm one hair on her head, I will personally see to it that you are escorted to Lotho Minor to rot in a scrap yard while your processors slowly erode to leave you babbling nothing but binary!”

EV-A4-D cleared his throat, as if he needed to. “Your orders have been received loud and clear, Master. I—we—await your return.”

Grievous allowed himself to seethe with anger, temporarily forgetting his surroundings as he willed his cybernetic limbs to relax. The next voice to be heard was so high-pitched, so unnerving, so irritating that a second battle droid would lose its head that day, punched clean off its neck-axis and embedded in the trunk of a tree.

“—Uh, General? Sir?” a droid some few feet farther away asked tremulously.

“What!”

“AD-W4 is here to see you…like you, uh, asked?”

Grievous whorled around, faced with a set of deep red photoreceptors, purple plating, and crimson markings. Sadistic and blood thirsty, the droid under his employ held himself without fear in the general’s presence, Grievous thinking him personally to have a flair for the dramatic that rivaled even that of their sworn enemies, the Jedi.

The general wasted no time. “AD, I am here to check on your progress—your report?”

“So far, so good,” the merc stated casually. “And by good, I mean that one of the droid patrols was ambushed while on duty.”

Grievous stared into the droid’s faceplate, waiting, though his patience was already wearing thin.

“Jedi.”

An itch that needed scratching; a feeling that needed to be calmed rose within the general, both fury and excitement sending a tingling through his limbs as his articulated fingers clenched and unclenched. Grievous addressed Ay-Dee in a commanding tone, imagining he would have excuses when answering his query. “And why haven’t you killed them yet?”

“I already have,” the droid answered smugly. “One by the name of Mace Windu—I think I deserve a pay raise.”

“HA!” Grievous belted, pointing an accusatory finger at the droid. “Windu is a fierce opponent. You would not lie to me, AD, not if you value your life.”

“Of course not. What I say is true.”

“Then offer me his lightsaber! I would add it to my collection…” the general prompted, sweeping back the edge of his cape to reveal the hilts of so many laserswords stolen over the years, won in combat or otherwise.

Ay-Dee had not anticipated he would want such proof, knowing that his escape had been narrow, and that Windu still roamed out there with his compatriots, one of them a highly-skilled Nautolan, and a female Devaronian among them, though she performed averagely in battle.

“It sits with his corpse. I will retrieve it, though its location is remote and will take some time. Will you wait here?”

Ay-Dee seemed placid; unbothered. Grievous’ eyes narrowed, knowing he had urgent business elsewhere—seeing to you, and whomever it was that had dared to land on or near his property. The idea that you might escape, or be reclaimed, unnerved him on a level he could not explain. He would never admit his feelings to himself, or that he even had feelings besides anger, hate… this was a matter of personal belongings! For you belonged to him.

“No,” the droid general growled, “but I will be back, and I expect you to deliver it into my hands upon my return!”

“And then we can discuss adequate payment for my services,” Ay-Dee replied, turning from Grievous as he began to formulate a plan.

Windu was indeed a fierce opponent, but perhaps he could be distracted. Ay-Dee would be sure to use Windu’s own hypocrisy as a weapon—his commitment to peace while raising his lightsaber in combat was something he considered to be asinine. He hated the Jedi as much as his current employer—one thing they could at least agree on.

—-

“Uh, are you sure we’re going the right way?”

“No—A4-D said to walk out the door. Doesn’t that mean we continue straight?”

“But what about that huge drop? Do we go around it?”

“Maybe we go down?”

One battle droid had an idea as the others argued, surveying the area with his infrared scanners. Far in the distance, he sensed something biological, or at least something with a heat signature—something big, surrounded by three small dots that appeared human.

“Hey, guys! I think I see a ship! And those tiny moving dots must be people!”

“Where?”

“Over there!”

All three B1 units turned to look where their companion was pointing, activating their infrared equipment as they gazed out over the vast mountain range, past ravines and crags, spotting multiple heat signatures ranging from large to small. The droids nodded their elongated heads in unison as they each confirmed their findings.

“That does appear to be our target,” one chimed in.

“Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s goOoooooOoooo…”

Without further processing, one of the four had begun to walk—right over the edge of the mountainside that had initially hindered their forward movement, his voice rising, then fading mid-sentence as the others craned their necks, staring down into the endless expanse of the gorge below.

“Uh—maybe we should take the long way.”

“Roger, roger.”

—-

He had taken the descent as softly as he could, his old freighter landing without incident to be shrouded in a layer of mist. At least it might help conceal them, your father thought, beginning to unbuckle his harness as his boys did the same.

“We go together—don’t step one foot out of my sight.”

“OK,” the youngest replied. His older brother would only nod his assent.

The boarding ramp descended with the touch of a lever, the fog rolling back, albeit temporarily, as the area nearby was lightly disturbed. Your father gazed around, feeling for his blaster at his side—it was an older model, but it would do the trick against vermin. He hoped nothing bigger might present itself.

“You boys got your holsters strapped?”

“Yessir.”

His eldest was a fairly decent shot. The other needed practice, but he hoped he wouldn’t get it here—he may wind up regretting bringing him at all, he thought, just like he regretted sending you on that run alone.

If it came down to it, he would make a sacrifice—the oldest could fly the ship. He had taught you both from an early age; he wasn’t above being a decoy if it meant his children had a shot at living to a ripe old age.

Boots hit rock, gravel powdering into dust. Silence echoed all around them, nearly deafening. Then, in the distance, a caw—a winged creature—though it seemed to want nothing to do with them, and that was fine by him.

“Slowly, now. Let’s keep our eyes peeled.”

—

Your organic knee was beginning to ache, though your synthetic leg held up well as you maneuvered through the crawlspace, its walls and floors made of some kind of metal alloy, and you with no sense of direction whatsoever.

You were beginning to think this was a bad idea, more so than before. A4-D was a bucket of bolts for the way he treated you, but perhaps he would have eventually let you out—if you weren’t so impatient. If you weren’t so nosy.

But why should he keep secrets! Surely, there were things you did not know or need to know, but visitors to the planet you were currently stuck on seemed like something rather important. The fact that he had no desire to inform you of what was going on was suspicious, to say the very least.

And you were going off assumptions alone—the alarm had sounded, yes, but what if that meant there was a fire? Maybe Gor had escaped. Maybe the rocky world outside was under attack.

Despite your doubts, you continued, coming to a fork in the vent, one veering to the right and the other to the left, though you could continue straight as well.

“Shit,” you mumbled, unsure of which way to take. A4 had mentioned “wrong turns,” but which one was the right one, and where did those “wrong turns” lead?

You pressed your ear to the floor. You thought you heard a gentle humming—machinery perhaps? There was no one way to tell where it was coming from, so you would have to decide on a gut feeling, on instinct alone.

“Left,” you whispered, silently being tugged in that direction, having made your decision based on nothing but chance. Normally, you did not like to gamble—did you? You thought about it as you inched along and decided no, you had never been one to take unnecessary risks—you could feel it in your bones... so what had changed?

Then, a sound—a voice—it was muffled, but if you pressed your face to the wall, you thought you could barely make out what it said.

“Oooh, human giiiiiirl, come out, come out wherever you are…”

A4-D.

You snickered to yourself, unwilling to give up or give in so easily.

“I have been given the order to retrieve you by any means necessary,” the droid doctor bragged, failing to mention the part where he was not permitted to harm you. “It would be in your best interest to vacate the vent system immediately—I do have ways of cutting off the oxygen, you know.”

You gasped, your eyes widening. Surely, he wouldn’t dare?

“If you are asking yourself, would or wouldn’t I dare do such a thing, just remember droids do not need to breathe, and Grievous is not here.”