At the 11th hour, certain members of the Separatist alliance receive a needed wake up call... will it be enough to stop the grand plan from succeeding? Will Nute Gunray ever put justice over credits?
My story has... evolved a little bit since its inception, so I am going to take this time to edit the introduction to better reflect what the story entails .
The Clone Wars approaches its final crescendo. The Sith, long in hiding, now approach their magnum opus, a move that would go on to envelop the galaxy in a shroud of darkness. The Jedi, long their enemy, loyally waltz toward their demise, none the wiser to the shifts in galactic power structures, and the preparations being made in the shadows for a new galactic order. At this point, as long as the Supreme Chancellor Sheev Palpatine remains alive, the fate of the Jedi order, and the Galactic Republic in turn, is all but decided.
The coming storm would usher in an age of true struggle, of stifling imperial overreach, and of suppression and reorganization. Those Jedi who survive will be ruthlessly hunted by the Emperor's right hand, and any loose ends from the old era will be gradually replaced in time. Perhaps first on that Imperial agenda is the issue of those leftover pawns leftover from Sidious' days as a conspirator. Those unfortunate businessmen, politicians, and scapegoats that refused to adhere to his request for their annihilation. This story will follow one of these "stunted slimes": none other than the survivor--Nute Gunray. How did the cowardly Neimoidian manage to survive? That is for this story to answer. Will he remain the puppet of higher powers? Absolutely not. Will he be the hero of this story? You best believe it.
From slight changes to the story of Revenge of the Sith, our favorite Separatists are given room to maneuver, a chance to escape, and an opportunity to continue their resistance against the powers-that-be. Will they put credits over anything else? Sometimes. Will they fight for morally good things all the time? Certainly not. However, with the rise of the Empire, simply fighting that manifestation of evil makes heroes out of all.
Alongside Nute Gunray, a battle-hardened survivor in General Grievous will survive in a ripple of fate, becoming the catalyst for a completely different series of events on Mustafar. While this turning point is too little, too late for the pursuit of total victory against the Republic, it is not too late to form the foundation of a new adventure, with those who were cast aside leading the way toward a new destiny. As the strings of the marionette have been cut, Sidious has unwittingly allowed for a host of enemies to survive his despicable plans, although he will not allow for their lives to be peaceful. All of the characters you know from Star Wars will be greatly changed from these events, from shattered Jedi survivors, to politicians in the Imperial Senate, to Tactical Droids left behind on far off battlefronts.
How these heroes, antagonists, and protagonists react to the shifting galactic reality will depend on their ability to adapt to this second phase of the Clone Wars. While the first half of these wars was filled with Jedi heroism, an evil Confederacy, and plenty of ingenious Republic victories, things will not progress so simply this time. No battle will bend to the storybook whim of Palpatine. The office of the Emperor will not be able to command the Separatists to take the path toward destruction any longer. Perhaps this is the story of the strongest loose ends, those threads that mimic the golden fleece as they seek a way out of Palpatine's labyrinth...
Now, the story begins similarly to the events of Revenge of the Sith, as the Separatist Council is instructed by Grievous to flee to the Mustafar system...
"Safe!????"
~Viceroy Nute Gunray in response to the order to move to the Mustafar system...
Also quick note, I call these entries "chapters", as they are sections that I wrote one at a time. Obviously, true chapters (or arcs) should be more around 10,000 words +, so really the chapters would be broken down as the following:
Chapters 1-4 = Chapter (Arc) 1: A Separatist Sunset
Chapters 5-8 = Chapter 2: The Fires of Mustafar
Chapters 9-11 = Chapter 2.5: Aftermath
Chapters 12-17 = Chapter 3: Shifting Tides
Chapters 18- = Chapter 4: Through the Depths of the Jungle
"The Republic is not what it once was."
―Senator Palpatine of Naboo on the declining state of the Senate and Republic
As the Separatist shuttle touched down on the fiery planet of Mustafaar, Nute Gunray couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. The planet was hostile, with rivers of molten lava flowing freely and a harsh, acrid smell that seemed to permeate everything. It was a stark contrast to the lush worlds of the Trade Federation, of the beautiful Cato Neimoidia, where Nute had spent most of his time. As soon as he set foot on the platform, he could feel the vibrations of the very planet fighting against the existence of this mining station.
The other members of the Separatist Council disembarked from the shuttle, each of them looking around warily. Rune Haako, Nute's trusted subordinate, stood at his side. Poggle the Lesser scuttled nervously, his insect-like features creased with worry. Watt Tambor, the leader of the Techno Union, seemed more interested in the security detail that was patrolling the area.
Nute took a deep breath, let out a cough, and surveyed their surroundings. The Separatist holdout was located in a large complex that had been carved out of the side of a mountain. The walls were made of rough, black stone and durasteel, and the entrance was guarded by several B-1 security droids. The locals, who harvested the lava for resources, watched the council's arrival with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. Although nominally a territory within the Confederacy of Independent Systems, Mustafaar was truly a backward moon, one that could be easily forgotten on a map, or any strategy meeting.
As they entered the base, Nute could sense that the smoky air had been replaced with tension. The council members were all on edge, knowing that they were now hiding from the might of the Republic. Never before had their adversary been more daunting than the present moment, as they laid siege to dozens of CIS strongholds, and had repelled the last desperate attempt at shifting the tide of the war. Meanwhile the Trade Federation, once a powerful force in the galaxy, was nearly bankrupt, and the other companies and organizations represented on the council were in no better shape.
Nute knew that they were running out of options. The Separatists had lost the war, and they were now in a desperate fight for survival. Grievous, their military leader, was still out there, but even he could not save them from the might of the Republic forever. His fight on Utapau represented no more than a delaying action, one that entailed a high risk of his own demise.
As the council settled into their new base, Nute couldn't shake the feeling of dread that had settled over him. He knew that their future was uncertain, and that the days ahead would be filled with danger. He wished for nothing more than his own safety, and yet he was in little more than a holding pen at the edge of the galaxy. While hope was in short supply amongst the council members, they would have to at least attempt to formulate a plan for the coming months, if not days ahead.
Amidst the initial tour of the base, a B-1 security droid approached Rune Haako with a data pad in its metallic grip. Rune took the device and began to scan through the contents. After a moment, he turned to Nute Gunray, who was standing nearby, and said, "It appears we have a busy day ahead of us, Viceroy."
Nute glanced over at Rune, curious about what he had just read. "What does it say?"
"It's an itinerary of the day's events," Rune replied. "We have a war meeting, dinner, and after dinner opportunity for conversation. Following that, we will be escorted to our suites and given time to make personal communications."
Nute snorted in disbelief. "A dinner? After all we've been through, they think we have time for a relaxing meal?" He shook his head. "This schedule is ignorant of the war continuing around us."
He handed the data pad back to Rune and prepared himself for the war meeting. As they made their way to the conference room, Nute couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. He knew that the galaxy was on the brink of destruction, and the idea of a casual dinner seemed absurd.
The war council meeting was held in a small, dimly lit room. As they took their seats around the table, Nute surveyed the rest of the council. Poggle the Lesser was fidgeting with his antennae, and San Hill was staring blankly ahead, lost in thought. Wat Tambor was tapping his metal fingers on the table, and Shu Mai was nervously adjusting her clothing. Meanwhile, B-1 security droids sat at attention near the exits, flanked by Nute's own Neimoidian guards. The council's plan was to go over the latest intelligence reports, which showed that the Republic had made significant gains in several key systems.
Nute couldn't help but wonder if any of them truly understood the gravity of their situation, rather than reflecting on their financial losses. The separatists had lost so much ground in the war, and their organizations were struggling to stay afloat. It seemed like they were just treading water, waiting for something to happen.
But Nute knew that they couldn't just wait for the war to come to them. They needed to be proactive, to take the fight to the Republic. He made a mental note to bring up this point at the meeting.
As the meeting got underway, Nute found himself listening intently to the reports from the various separatist organizations. Despite their setbacks, they were still a force to be reckoned with, and Nute hoped that they could still turn the tide of the war if they played their cards right. While the remaining fleets were spread thin across the galaxy, they could still win engagements if brought together. On this end, it was the split in Separatist power that remained the largest obstacle. Currently, CIS admirals, pirates, and planetary leaders had begun hoarding their remaining assets for themselves, almost resigning to the fact that there would be no unifying leadership left. Moreover, Separatist forces were divided along the Hydian Way and Corellian Run, with fleet concentrations on Mygheeto, Raxus, Cato Neimoidia, and Grievous' fleet around Utapau. The republic strategy of sieging important planets along hyperspace lanes worked twofold--it worked to conquer important Separatist worlds, and cut off fleet movements from one end of the galaxy to the other. Divided in 4, the present council agreed that they would have to win on Kashyyyk at least to be able to retreat to Raxus.
As they continued discussing the situation, a protocol droid entered the room carrying a tray of drinks. The droid made its way around the table, offering each council member a beverage.
"Thank you, TC-14," Nute said as he took his glass of water. "You may go now."
The droid nodded and left the room, leaving the council to continue their discussion.
"The Republic continues to gain ground," one of the council members said. "We need to act fast if we want to turn the tide of this war, regardless of what those fools on Raxus think."
"I agree," Nute said. "But what can we do? Our resources are limited, and our armies are spread thin."
"[Horn] bey [click] oh zee barote hundit!" (We have to order a retreat!) Poggle exclaimed.
"We could launch a surprise attack on a key Republic planet," Watt Tambor suggested. "Or we could focus on sabotaging their supply lines."
"But we have to be careful," San Hill replied. "We don't want to tip our hand and risk exposing our position here on Mustafar."
The council continued to debate their options, weighing the risks and benefits of various strategies. As the meeting went on, Nute found himself growing increasingly frustrated. The war was dragging on, and he was tired of being on the losing side.
"We need to do something bold," Nute said. "Something that will give us an advantage over the Republic."
"But what?" Watt Tambor asked.
"I don't know," Nute said. "But we need to think outside the box. We can't keep doing the same thing and expect different results."
The council fell into a contemplative silence, each member lost in their own thoughts. As they sat there, Nute couldn't help but wonder if they were truly making a difference in the war. The fate of the galaxy hung in the balance, and he wasn't sure they were up to the task of saving it.
But as the meeting drew to a close and the council began to disperse, Nute couldn't help but feel a sense of frustration. He knew that there was so much more they could be doing, so much more they could be fighting for. And now, they would be relegated to commenting on the quality of their dinner, rather than settle on any plan of action.
Note that this Grievous is certainly more like his legends counterpart. He is still damaged due to Windu's use of force crush, and so is weaker than he would otherwise be, but he is more calculating and fast than the movie lets on.
"Clone intelligence is reporting Jedi General Obi-Wan Kenobi has found and engaged General Grievous on Utapau."
"If he captures or kills Grievous, the Separatist command structure will collapse."
"And most likely the droid armies along with them."
As General Grievous surveyed the battlefield of Utapau, he could see the chaos unfolding below him. The Republic had caught the droid army off guard with a well-executed surprise assault, managing to slip past the droid scans undetected. The 212th Legion, led by Commander Cody, had initiated the attack, with LAAT gunships swooping down to the edges of the sinkhole's levels, rapidly deploying their clone troopers.
As the clone troopers made their descent, they found themselves in a challenging environment: the vertical, multi-layered structure of the sinkhole provided both obstacles and opportunities for both sides. The lower levels were swarming with droids, while the higher ones were subject to the full brunt of the Republic's onslaught. The LAAT gunships provided invaluable air support, raining fire down upon the droid forces below and giving the clones a tactical advantage as they pushed deeper into each level.
AR-RTs, the Republic's light walker vehicles, were dropped in alongside the clones, providing additional firepower and maneuverability. These agile vehicles proved to be critical, allowing the clones to navigate the complex terrain of the sinkhole and secure strategic positions.
The droid army, initially caught off guard, quickly mobilized to repel the Republic forces. Crab droids scuttled forth, their spider-like legs allowing them to traverse the uneven terrain with ease. B-1 battle droids and super battle droids formed the bulk of the ground forces, advancing in waves and firing relentlessly at the encroaching clones. A few AATs, the Separatist's heavy assault tanks, provided additional firepower, their heavy cannons blasting away at the Republic's positions.
In the skies above the sinkhole, a fierce dogfight ensued as droid gunships and Vulture droids poured out of the different levels, fighting their way to the top. The nimble Vulture droids clashed with the Republic's ARC-170 starfighters, while the droid gunships targeted the LAATs, attempting to cut off the clone troopers' air support.
The battle raged on, with both sides suffering heavy casualties. The clones fought valiantly, pushing the droids back level by level. Their superior training and the element of surprise gave them a fighting chance against the seemingly endless waves of droids. However, the Separatist forces were relentless, utilizing their vast numbers and diverse array of weaponry to try to drive the Republic off the sinkhole's levels.
Despite the ferocity of the battle, General Grievous couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. He knew that the outcome of this conflict would be a turning point in the war, and he relished the opportunity to strike a decisive blow against the Republic. With a wicked grin manifesting beneath his metallic mask, Grievous issued orders to his droid commanders, directing them to reinforce their defenses and launch counterattacks against the Republic's advances.
The fighting intensified as the Separatist droids pushed back with renewed ferocity. B-1 battle droids charged forward, using their sheer numbers to try and overwhelm the clone troopers. The super battle droids, with their heavy armor and powerful weaponry, focused on taking out the AR-RTs and providing cover for the advancing crab droids.
The 212th Legion, aware that the tide of the battle could turn at any moment, dug in their heels and continued to push forward. Their resolve was unwavering as they fought to secure each level, with squads of clone troopers working in tandem to outmaneuver the droids and exploit any weaknesses in their defenses.
Commander Cody, at the forefront of the battle and on the opposite end of the sinkhole city, directed his troops with precision and determination, ensuring they maintained their momentum. As the clone troopers moved deeper into the sinkhole, they faced increasingly difficult challenges. The droid army had fortified key positions with heavy artillery and emplacements, making it more difficult for the Republic to gain a foothold.
Amidst the chaos, the roar of engines filled the air as reinforcements from both sides arrived, bringing with them fresh troops and supplies. The battle for Utapau raged on, a testament to the strategic importance of the planet and the unwavering resolve of both sides.
As the battle continued to rage around them, Grievous spotted Obi-Wan Kenobi through the smoke and chaos below, his distinctive blue lightsaber cutting a swath through the advancing droid forces. Grievous cackled in response to his change in fortune, for he had been longing for the opportunity to face the Jedi Knight in combat.
Drawing his four lightsabers, the cyborg general leaped from the platform and landed with a ground-shaking thud, just a few meters away from Kenobi. The Jedi Master turned, his eyes narrowing as he recognized his opponent.
"General Grievous," Obi-Wan acknowledged, his voice steady and calm despite the chaos around them. "You have already given up your high ground advantage. Perhaps you have been losing your edge..."
Grievous let out a sinister chuckle, his metallic voice dripping with contempt. "Ah, General Kenobi, your reputation for wit precedes you. But let's not waste any more time on pleasantries. This will be our last meeting."
The two warriors closed the distance between them, their lightsabers approaching in a spectacular display of skill and power. Grievous's four arms spun and twirled, his lightsabers creating a dazzling whirlwind of deadly energy that made Obi Wan's first strike melt away into nothingness.
Both generals clashed on the platform, their lightsabers blazing through the air in a flurry of strikes and parries. Grievous quickly realized that Kenobi would be a formidable opponent, but he was determined to emerge victorious.
Grievous, still reeling from his injuries sustained during his encounter with Mace Windu on Coruscant, struggled to keep pace with Obi-Wan's masterful technique. His breathing was labored, and the pain from his injuries only served to fuel his rage. As they clashed amongst the chaos of Pau city, the Pau'an warriors fought alongside the Republic forces, giving them a vital advantage against the droid army.
Grievous' eyes constantly scanned the environment, desperately searching for an opportunity to escape the relentless assault of the Jedi Master. He was well aware that his current condition put him at a significant disadvantage, and his chances of victory were quickly dwindling.
In a moment of distraction, Obi-Wan seized the opportunity to strike. With a swift, precise movement, he severed one of Grievous' four hands, sending it spiraling into the depths of the sinkhole below. Furious and in pain, the cyborg general redoubled his efforts, fighting with a newfound ferocity. He recalled the teachings of his late master, who had emphasized the importance of surprise and aggression when confronting a Jedi.
Despite his mounting desperation, Grievous unleashed a barrage of powerful strikes, each more aggressive than the last. His remaining three lightsabers spun and slashed through the air, creating a deadly storm of energy as he attempted to break through Obi-Wan's defenses. The Jedi Master, however, remained unfazed, demonstrating an unparalleled mastery of the Soresu form, a defensive lightsaber technique that allowed him to expertly deflect and counter Grievous's relentless attacks.
As their duel moved across the battlefield, leaping and dodging between the platforms and structures of Pau city, the surrounding battle seemed to fade into the background. The two combatants were solely focused on one another, locked in a dance of life and death. Obi-Wan, calm and composed, appeared to be a bastion of serenity amidst the chaos, while Grievous, fueled by rage and desperation, fought with reckless abandon.
The cyborg general, though undeniably skilled in combat, found himself growing increasingly frustrated as his attacks were met with impenetrable defense. He knew that time was not on his side; with each passing moment, the Republic forces were pushing his droid army further back, and the Pau'an warriors were strengthening their resistance.
Grievous, recognizing that his window of opportunity was quickly coming to a close, used his heightened processing power to contemplate every possibility. The results of such calculation were only horrifying, as his chances of victory dwindled with the loss of the element of surprise, and one of his four arms. In fact, he had already come to terms with the fact that if his enemy was intent on flinging him off of the platform through the force, he would have met his demise long ago. As he continued to process everything, two magnaguards attempted to throw themselves into the battle at Grievous' behest. Without their intervention, Grievous was sure that he would have lost another one of his hands already. From his enemy's style in fighting, Grievous was confident that the Republic needed a sign of his death. Obi Wan was looking to deal the critical blow himself. He nervously glanced again at the sheer drop beneath the two of them, when he came to understand his last chance at survival...
Their duel eventually carried them across the platform and onto a precarious bridge over the deep sinkhole. The wind howled around them as they continued to exchange blows, each trying to gain the upper hand. Of course, Grievous took the battle to this point on purpose. It took everything he had to keep up with the Jedi's foresight and relentless pressure, but he had backpedaled, jumped, and sacrificed enough droids to lead the two of them to this precarious position. It was now or never...
Finally, Grievous saw his opportunity and took the greatest risk he had ever taken. He aggressively swung his three remaining lightsabers at the enemy, leaving one of his hands open. Kenobi took the opportunity, boldly cutting off another of the General's hands. But, this in turn left the master open himself, and with his two remaining lightsabers, he pushed even closer. With a swift move, he managed to disarm Kenobi, and then kicked the Jedi with all of his might, sending him hurtling over the edge of the bridge, plummeting down into the depths of the sinkhole.
Grievous roared in triumph, convinced that he had defeated the Jedi Knight. But as he turned to leave, a nagging doubt crept into his mind. Could Kenobi have survived the fall? Grievous shook his head, dismissing the thought. It didn't matter. He had won the battle, and he would continue to lead the Separatist forces to victory against the Republic.
Grievous surveyed the battlefield from atop a vantage point, watching as his droids were slowly being pushed back by the Republic forces. His eyes glowed with a mix of anger and frustration. How could they be losing? He had planned this battle down to the smallest detail. Moreover, the republic forces were left without their prized general. As he leaned into his comm link to give out new orders, a rogue shot from an ATTE blew out the ground from under him, sending him flying down to a lower platform. Part of his skeletal suit shattered into pieces from the blast, and Grievous was swept away from the field of battle.
From the other side of the Sinkhole, Commander Cody of the 212th surveyed the shot. "Looks like we got him. General Kenobi succeeded in bringing him into the firing zone, although it seems like we lost him in the process. Push down to level 5 and search for evidence of the kill. I'm going to inform the other Jedi of what happened here."
As the clones pushed deeper, they managed to find mangled remains of the master of Malevolence. Part of his face mask still lay smoldering on the ground, as well as an arm and pieces from his outer suit. To them, this level of damage was undoubtably lethal, and their confirmation of the kill would be the report to change galactic politics forever.
Meanwhile, from a hidden platform, Grievous wheezed and crawled over to an edge, witnessing the clones report of his death. While in other circumstances he would've cackled at their ignorance, his entire body cried out in pain, and the battle was completely lost.
The damaged General crawled away from the vantage point and slowly made his way towards his personal fighter. Some surviving droids tried to accompany him, but he shrugged them off and entered into the cockpit of the Soulless One.
Once inside his fighter, Grievous observed the battlefield one last time. That he survived this far was a miracle, although he was left questioning what was even left to do. Pick up the pieces? Repair and take leadership of the CIS? Sidious had given him assurances, however a younger apprentice to the Sith did not inspire thoughts of another Douku. Instead, Grievous thought of the rogue Sith Maul, more of an assassin than a unifier and leader.
With a flick of a switch, the engines of the Soulless One roared to life. The fighter lifted off the ground and hurtled towards a nearby cavern, weaving through it as he made his ascent. With his inhuman reflexes, he bobbed and weaved through the narrow caverns, dodging both jutting rocks and stray blaster fire from both sides. When one cavern was too narrow to slip through, he fired his fighter's payload forward, and detonated a hole into the surrounding rock. With that providing the room he needed, he slipped through that last obstacle, reaching the end of the cave network. Escaping the republic net, he finally pushed through to the surface, only seeing the green skies above. Grievous breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the ground fall away beneath him. He was finally free of this hopeless battle.
As he soared through the skies, Grievous couldn't help but feel a pang of regret. He had lost so many of his loyal droids in this battle. His personal army had been reduced to scrap, and his Lucrehulk was little more than a theory that he did not wish to explore deeper. Given the nature of the Republic attack, it was better to speculate its complete destruction.
Grievous made a mental note to regroup and come up with a new plan. He was not ready to give up the fight just yet. But for now, he needed to repair and recuperate. His fighter shot off into hyperspace, disappearing from view as it made its way towards the safety of a nearby Separatist stronghold.
Hi everyone who is reading! Thank you for taking the time to check out this story i'm working on
As you can see, the changes will arise from Grievous surviving, as well as Nute taking the position and protections afforded to the protagonist of the story...
Please let me know of your thoughts so far, I have chapter two written and will probably put it up later today or tomorrow. As a writer, I am certainly a novice and am bound to make countless errors when adding to this story. It's all in an attempt to improve, so if you continue reading thank you for putting up with my lacking skills.
With a sigh, Nute shuffled toward the glorified cafeteria with his Neimoidian entourage, grumbling as he went. As he looked at those walking beside him, he noted that the Neimoidians always seemed to be the most populous among the Separatist meetings. Perhaps it was because of their shared ambition, or perhaps it was just the nature of the Trade Federations influence, but he silently thanked the fact that he could always count on his Neimoidian Royal Guardsmen, and of course his two advisors. When he looked back at the direction he was heading, he noticed that they were already there, and it was time to eat.
The Separatist leaders slowly made their way to the dining room, the tension from the war meeting still weighing heavily on their shoulders. They hoped that a meal together might offer a brief respite from the grim realities of the war. The dining room was dimly lit, with a long table set for their arrival. The walls were adorned with various flags representing the different factions within the Confederacy, creating an atmosphere of unity despite their internal struggles.
As they took their seats, the council members exchanged forced smiles and began sharing stories in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere. Nute sat beside Rune, who enthusiastically recounted a tale of a daring escape from a Republic prison camp. "We used a hidden tunnel," Rune explained, "And managed to avoid the Republic's watchful eyes. We barely made it out alive."
Poggle the Lesser, who sat across from them, spoke of his latest experiments with the Geonosian brain worms. "We've been working on controlling the hosts more effectively," Poggle said, his voice filled with pride. "The results have been... fascinating, to say the least."
Nute played along with the others' stories, but he could not bring himself to offer any of his own. The memories of his confrontations with Senator Amidala, Anakin Skywalker, and Cad Bane still haunted him. As Poggle continued to speak about his experiments, Nute couldn't help but think back to the time when Cad Bane had betrayed him, handing over valuable data to Sidious without giving Nute even a glimpse of what the data crystal contained. The Duro bounty hunter's treachery still stung, and Nute couldn't help but wonder if things might have been different had he known the contents of that crystal.
As the dinner progressed, the council members continued their attempts to distract themselves from the pressing concerns of the war. Wat Tambor regaled the group with stories of his latest technological innovations, while Shu Mai shared her plans for increasing the efficiency of the Commerce Guild's factories. San Hill discussed his efforts to secure new financial backers for their cause, hoping to inject some much-needed funds into their dwindling coffers.
Suddenly, the sound of blaster fire echoed through the hallway, and the Separatist leaders immediately jumped to their feet, weapons drawn, ready to defend themselves. They exchanged nervous glances, fearing that their location had been discovered early, and that their fate was sealed. However, as the smoke cleared, they realized it was just a group of battle droids who had accidentally discharged their weapons.
Nute breathed a sigh of relief and sat back down. "Remind me to have those droids decommissioned," he muttered to Rune, who nodded in agreement.
Despite the brief scare, the dinner continued as planned. They delved into discussions of battle strategies, shared rumors of Jedi sightings, and even joked about the quirks of their various droid models. Either way, they all knew that times such as these only served to distract from the impossibility of their current position.
Below: Dianoga Pie, perhaps a Neimoidian staple that was served at the dinner.
Following the dinner, the weary council members retired to their personal suites, each one weighed down by the evening's somber atmosphere and the impending challenges they faced. They took the opportunity to attend to personal business matters and to contact their loved ones before seeking the solace of sleep.
Nute Gunray entered his personal suite, a space that had once symbolized his power and wealth as Viceroy of the Trade Federation. Now, it stood as a stark reminder of the life he had left behind. The room was a shadow of its former self, with only a few remnants of his previous opulence. The walls, devoid of artwork or adornments, seemed to loom over him, while the hastily assembled furniture exuded an air of impermanence.
With a disappointed gaze, Nute stepped into the room, his loyal Neimoidian bodyguard, Drek, following closely behind. The suite's dim lighting cast a gloomy pall over the space, adding to the sense of unease that had settled over the council members.
As Nute sank into a cushioned chair, trying to shake off the day's events, Drek informed him that he had a visitor. Aruteous "Rute" Gunnay, Nute's trusted aide, entered the room, looking visibly anxious. The tension in his features was palpable, and Nute could sense that Rute was bearing important news.
"Viceroy," Rute began hesitantly, "I apologize for the intrusion, but there is a matter that requires your immediate attention."
Nute, his curiosity piqued, straightened in his chair and nodded for Rute to continue. "Very well, Rute. What is it?"
"Viceroy, Sentepeth Findos requests an urgent meeting with you," Rute said, his voice wavering slightly.
Below: Sentepeth Findos
Nute groaned, rubbing his temples. "Can't it wait? I am exhausted."
"I'm afraid not, Viceroy," Rute replied, emphasizing the title to remind Gunray of his position. "Sentepeth says it's a matter of utmost importance."
Nute sighed and nodded, his curiosity piqued. He knew Sentepeth, one of his trusted advisors, wouldn't request a meeting unless it was truly urgent.
With a wave of his hand, Nute activated the holo projector on a nearby table. Rute moved aside as the flickering image of Sentepeth appeared before them. The advisor looked disheveled and worried, and the sounds of nearby explosions punctuated the tense silence in the background.
"Nute, thank goodness I found you," Sentepeth said urgently, his voice crackling with interference. "Cato Neimoidia is falling to Republic forces. I fear the Trade Federation is no more."
Nute slumped back into his chair, his eyes wide with shock. Cato Neimoidia was one of the Federation's most important trade hubs, and its loss would be a severe blow to their operations. The planet was a Separatist stronghold, with its raised platforms offering little room for Republic attack, while every city was bristling with anti-air defense. That it was falling served as testament to the quality of their enemies on the planet—the feared Wolf Pack under Jedi General Plo Koon.
"How could this have happened?" Nute asked in a hushed tone. "We had every advantage on Cato Neimoidia. The defenses were impenetrable."
Sentepeth shook his head, pain and disbelief etched across his face. "It seems that the Republic forces have found a weakness in our defenses. They launched a surprise attack, and our forces were overwhelmed. Plo Koon's Wolf Pack is relentless, Viceroy. They leave no room for error."
Nute clenched his fists, his mind racing as he considered the ramifications of this loss. Not only was the Trade Federation's power and influence at risk, but the entire Separatist movement would be weakened by the fall of Cato Neimoidia.
"What do we do now?" Nute asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"We must gather what we can of our treasures and escape to the nearest Separatist system," Sentepeth replied, his voice tense.
Nute nodded slowly, his mind racing. He knew the situation was dire, but he couldn't let himself panic. He had to be strong for his people.
"Sentepeth, I want you to lead the evacuation effort," Nute said firmly. "Take as many high-ranking Neimoidians as you can with you."
Sentepeth visibly recoiled at the order, his cowardice shining through. "But, Viceroy, what about you? You can't stay there! Surely you could assist us, for the republic is sure to locate you on Mustafaar soon enough."
Nute looked at Sentepeth calmly. "I will be fine. I have my own escape plan. You must go now, before it's too late."
With a deep breath, clearly hoping for more assistance, Sentepeth nodded and ended the transmission. Nute sat back in his chair, his mind racing with thoughts of how to escape the Republic's grasp.
Nute sat in his seat, lost in thought. The situation was dire, and he knew it. Not only was his time as Viceroy surely coming to an end, but the reports of Republic atrocities on Cato Neimoidia were completely unexpected. The enemy had a policy of taking few prisoners--uncharacteristic of the normally composed clone legions. Their actions had been nothing short of genocide against his people, and he was powerless to stop it. He couldn't even imagine the horrors that were happening to the Neimoidian grub-vats, and the implications of their destruction were too much to bear.
As he looked around his decrepit suite, he couldn't help but feel a sense of loss. Everything he had worked for, everything he had built, was crumbling around him. The Trade Federation was in shambles, and he was stuck on this barren planet with a group of bumbling Separatist leaders who were incapable of managing the war effort.
And then there was General Grievous. Nute had always despised the cyborg, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of frustration at the fact that Grievous was now leading the Separatist forces. Grievous was a brute, a mindless warrior who relied on head-on force rather than strategy. It was no wonder that the Separatist cause was collapsing under his leadership. His spontaneous retreat to Utapau and then his sending of the council to Mustafaar seemed like terrible decisions. It always left the Republic within striking distance of the heart of the Separatist alliance, rather than fully retreating to the relative safety of Raxus Secundus. In this corner of the galaxy, they were completely trapped.
As Nute sat there lost in thought, he mulled over and determined that there was no chance at a truce with the Republic. It was clear that they were willing to do whatever it took to win the war, even if it meant wiping out entire species. He knew that he couldn't stay on Mustafaar forever, but he also knew that there was nowhere for him to go.
For now, all he could do was wait and hope that somehow, someway, the tide of the war would turn in the Separatist's favor. But as he looked out at the desolate landscape of Mustafaar, he couldn't help but feel that his own situation was equally desolate.
Nute then settled into his bed, trying to find comfort in the relentless heat and the constant glow of the volcanic surface. As he closed his eyes, he suddenly received a comms request from Rune, jolting him awake. Nute begrudgingly rose from his bed and answered, wondering what kind of news could be so urgent that Rune would disturb him in the middle of the night.
"An emergency meeting has been called," Rune informed him, "and the origin is Darth Sidious."
Nute's heart raced at the mention of Sidious. The Sith Lord was notorious for his cunning and masterful planning, unlike the reckless and unpredictable General Grievous. A small glimmer of hope entered his mind, wondering if this could be their chance to turn the tide of the war in their favor. However, he was also curious about the purpose of the message, as it had been quite some time since Sidious had directly communicated with them.
Nute reasoned with himself, thinking that this emergency meeting must be related to the recent death of Count Dooku. He knew that the loss of such a valuable ally had weakened their position in the war and left them vulnerable to attacks from the Republic.
With a sense of unease, Nute prepared himself for the emergency meeting and wondered what other surprises the night would bring.
Nute left his chamber, and met with his fellow Neimoidians, then leaving together with their guards back toward the war room. There, the rest of the council was present, clearly unhappy about being asked to attend a meeting before bed. After a droid activated the transmission from their end, they could see the robed silhouette of the Sith Lord Sidious.
"Good evening, council members," Sidious began, his voice reverberating through the chamber. "I come bearing news that I'm afraid will not please you."
The council members murmured amongst themselves, clearly nervous about what the dark lord had to say.
"Grievous has fallen," Sidious declared, his tone cold and matter-of-fact.
Gasps echoed throughout the room, and Nute could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He had hoped against hope that this wouldn't be true, but deep down he knew that Grievous had been left in an impossible situation on Utapau.
"What are we supposed to do now?" San Hill exclaimed, desperation creeping into his voice.
Sidious regarded them all for a moment, his eyes gleaming behind his hood. "Fear not, my friends. I have already taken steps to ensure our victory."
Nute felt a glimmer of hope at these words. Perhaps there was still a chance for them to emerge victorious after all.
"What steps?" Nute ventured to ask, his voice barely above a whisper.
Sidious smirked, almost as if in response to the nervousness of the council. "you have done well to get this far, Viceroy. When my new apprentice arrives, he will... take care of you."
Nute was astounded by the mention of a new apprentice. He had suspected that Sidious would have a plan in place, but to hear that this new agent of Sidious was to arrive was shocking.
"Is there anything we should do to prepare for his arrival?" Nute ventured to ask.
At this, Sidious remained in complete silence, and Nute could feel his stomach drop as the transmission abruptly ended, leaving them all in stunned silence.
Nute returned to his chambers, exhausted and feeling the weight of the day's events. He sank onto his bed and closed his eyes, only to be interrupted by the incessant beeping of his communicator. He groaned in frustration, checking the time and seeing that it's even later than before.
"Who could be calling me at this hour?" he muttered to himself as he begrudgingly answered the call.
To his surprise, it's General Grievous on the other end. Nute can't believe it - he just heard that Grievous had fallen, and yet here he was, alive and well.
"How are you still alive?" Nute asked incredulously.
"It takes more than a Jedi Master to kill me," Grievous replied. While not visible under the mask of the general, Nute suspected that Grievous was smiling proudly at that response. "But Utapau has fallen. I have finally recieved needed repairs, and i'm making haste to Mustafaar and will arrive tomorrow."
Grievous then ended the transmission, leaving Nute to ponder the news. He wondered to himself what he had done to deserve this fate, before finally succumbing to exhaustion and falling into a restless sleep.
Nute's eyes fluttered open as he tried to shake off the grogginess from his sleep. The orange glow of Mustafaar's lava flows still illuminated his chambers. He sat up and yawned, wondering if he had even slept at all. He grabbed his robes and began to dress, but stopped as he saw the blinking notification on his holocomm. He sighed as he saw several urgent messages waiting for him, all requesting his immediate presence in the war room.
As he made his way down the dimly lit corridors of the Separatist base, he wondered what could be so important that he was being summoned this early in the morning. He soon arrived at the war room, where Rune and several other council members were already gathered, looking grave.
Rune turned to him, his eyes filled with concern. "Nute, it's worse than we thought. The Republic has taken Utapau and Cato Neimoidia. Grievous is on his way here."
Nute felt his heart sink at the news. "What of Sentepeth? Did he survive?"
Rune shook his head. "I'm afraid not. His ship was destroyed in the battle."
Nute closed his eyes and took a deep breath, mourning the loss of his trusted aide. He knew he had to stay strong for the rest of the council. "What are our next steps?"
One of the council members spoke up. "We should prepare for Grievous's arrival. We must strengthen our defenses."
Another added, "But we can't hold out against the Republic forever. We need a plan."
Nute nodded, deep in thought. "We must contact our allies and seek their aid. We cannot fight this battle alone."
Rune agreed, "I will send out encrypted transmissions immediately."
As the council began to discuss their strategy, Nute couldn't shake off the feeling of unease. He knew Grievous was a formidable opponent, but with their recent losses, the Separatists were at a severe disadvantage. He wondered if they stood a chance against the Republic's relentless onslaught.
Just as they were wrapping up their meeting, Nute's holocomm beeped once more. He hesitated for a moment, but finally answered the call. To his surprise, it was Grievous on the other end.
"Nute, I'm on my way to Mustafaar. Prepare for my arrival."
Nute's eyes widened in shock. "We will be ready for you General!"
Grievous chuckled darkly. "Be ready for me, Gunray. If I am disappointed by what I see I will have your head." At this, the light faded from the table.
The transmission ended, leaving Nute feeling even more uneasy than before. He knew that Grievous's arrival would bring about a showdown that would decide the fate of the Separatist cause. But with the odds stacked against them, Nute couldn't help but wonder if this would be the final battle for the Confederacy. Would they be led to their own ruin? And what of the conflicting news from Sidious? Nute had never seen the elusive Sidious make a mistake in one of his transmissions, he had always seemed to have all of the galaxy's information at his disposal.
Nute Gunray gazed out of the command center's viewport as the unmistakable silhouette of Grievous' ship, the Soulless One, descended toward the landing platform of their hidden base. The atmosphere on the barren planet was oppressive, with swirling winds and a foreboding landscape stretching out as far as the eye could see. He quickly called for the council members to assemble and greet the cyborg general upon his arrival.
As they gathered, the tension in the air was palpable. Each member of the council was acutely aware of the gravity of the situation, with the war hanging in the balance. Mouse droids scurried around their feet, relaying information about the general's imminent arrival.
The Separatist leaders stood together on the landing platform, watching as the Soulless One touched down with a hiss of hydraulics and a cloud of dust. The ship's top hatch opened, and General Grievous emerged, his hulking form casting a menacing shadow over the gathered council from atop his personal fighter.
Several droids moved to tend to the ship, their mechanical limbs working in tandem as they began their maintenance tasks. Some of the council members, such as San Hill, still expected some semblance of pleasantries from the cyborg general. Nute, however, knew Grievous all too well.
As San Hill stepped forward, seemingly ready to offer a greeting, Grievous ignored him entirely. The general pushed past the council members without a word, his metallic footsteps echoing loudly as he made his way straight to the war room. The other Separatists exchanged uneasy glances before following suit, nervously trailing after the imposing figure.
As they walked, Wat Tambor couldn't help but mutter, "One would think the general could spare a moment for basic courtesies."
Shu Mai, the President of the Commerce Guild, shot him a warning look. "Now is not the time for pleasantries, Tambor. The fate of the war hangs in the balance."
The base was abuzz with activity as various droid models scurried about, attending to their respective tasks. From the lowly mouse droids that had alerted them to Grievous' arrival, to the larger maintenance and combat droids that ensured the base remained operational and safe, each played a vital role in the war effort. Such was the nature of the Confederacy of Independent systems, one completely disadvantaged in manpower, but supplemented by the use of untold numbers of robotic assistants.
The council members entered the war room, where Grievous stood in front of a large holographic display, analyzing the current state of the war. The mood in the room was tense as the Separatist leaders gathered around the table, each hoping that the cyborg general had a plan that could turn the tide in their favor.
After spending this moment gathering data, Grievous sat down heavily in a chair and motioned for Nute to approach him. "Nute, we have much to discuss," he said, his voice tinged with urgency.
Nute looked at the general with a mix of wariness and curiosity. There could be no doubt—there was Grievous, somehow still alive and clearly agitated. "What is it that you wish to discuss?" Nute asked.
Grievous leaned forward, his mechanical limbs whirring softly. "I don't trust this new Sith Lord," he said, his gaze fixed on Nute. "Sidious was all too eager for my demise. I suspect that he has his own agenda, and it does not bode well for the Separatists." Grievous explained how he had narrowly escaped death at the hands of Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi on Utapau, but the fact that Sidious had already reported his death to the Separatist council was highly suspicious.
Nute furrowed his brow, his mind racing with possibilities. "What do you suggest we do?" he asked.
"We must prepare ourselves for the arrival of this new apprentice," Grievous replied. "He may not have our best interests in mind. I suggest we fortify our defenses and make a show of strength. We cannot let him think we are weak."
Nute nodded thoughtfully, taking in the general's words. Grievous had always been a capable leader, and his suspicions about the Sith Lord could not be ignored. Moreover, there could not be any harm in showing some strength in the face of this new apprentice. Perhaps it would build respect and trust going further. "Very well," Nute said. "We will begin preparations immediately."
Grievous rose from his chair, his towering frame casting a long shadow across the room. "Good," he said, his voice echoing off the metal walls. "We cannot afford to be caught off guard." With that, he turned and strode out of the war room.
Nute did not know when the apprentice would arrive, so he made haste on the preparations. They began to guard the landing platform, placing turrets and determining firing lines in case of the worst-case scenario. Perhaps the most important decision was that of deciding to confront the mysterious individual at the landing platform itself, rather than in the war room. Grievous has seemingly stormed off to check the base's defenses, although Nute knew that the general would be extremely disappointed.
As Nute gave out orders, Watt Tambor suddenly let out a loud exclamation. The rest of the council's attention turned towards him, wondering what could have startled him.
Watt braced himself on a nearby table, and said, "I've just received word from the Techno Union. There have been reports of clones firing on their Jedi generals. And not just in one place, but all over the galaxy, systematically." The council was shocked and confounded by this news. The fact that their own soldiers were firing on the Jedi was unexpected and troubling.
Nute struggled to digest this news when suddenly he received a report from the Trade Federation. "What does the Trade Federation report?" asked Watt Tambor.
Nute paused for a moment before replying, "They've intercepted transmissions from the Republic. It seems that this is a planned Republic operation. Droid reports are calling it 'Order 66.'"
"Order 66?" repeated Watt Tambor, incredulously.
"Yes," confirmed Nute. "It's an order to eliminate all Jedi. This explains why the clones are firing on their Jedi generals."
The council members were stunned. They had always believed that the Jedi were the Republic's greatest asset in the war, but it seemed that they were now being eliminated by their own side.
"We need to prepare for this opportunity," said Nute, breaking the silence. "Order 66 means that the Republic is in disarray, and we need to be ready to take advantage of that."
Grievous' arrival and this internal collapse of the Republic left Nute deep in thought once more. Clearly, Sidious' grand plan was in motion, and yet it seemed as if they would not be a part of it. To eliminate the Jedi in this manner suggested that he was a part of the Republic, or at least somehow in control of it. This shook Nute to his core. Their actions did not put a hold on any of the battle fronts, in fact reports from Kashyyyk suggested that the droids were still being pushed back despite this mysterious order. As if to answer all of his fears, Grievous quickly reentered the room and pointed to one of the security cameras. There, clear as day, was a green Jedi interceptor, one that Grievous seemed suspicious of. Whoever it was that had arrived, it seemed as if the coming events would not be peaceful for the Viceroy. Nute could see the panicked look in General Grievous' eyes, as he barked orders at the droids to surround the ship.
"What's going on?" Nute asked Grievous, but the General didn't answer at first, too busy coordinating with his troops. Finally, he turned to Nute with a grave expression.
"Sidious is trying to dispose of us," Grievous said. "That ship belongs to a Jedi. I recently saw two of them when they landed aboard the Invisible hand during the battle of Coruscant."
Before Nute could even ask what he meant, he looked at the security video feed and saw their security forces point everything they had at the fighter. The Jedi's astromech seemed to launch itself out of its position on the fighter, confidently rolling out ahead of its master. Nute hoped more than anything that this was all some sort of misunderstanding, finding himself in fear rather than clinging to any false sense of confidence. It was then that he noticed that the top of the fighter opened, revealing a robed individual underneath.
Grievous turned to him, his voice barely above a whisper. "We have to be careful. It seems that Sidious wants us gone. This looks like a trap."
As they watched the Jedi exit the fighter, Grievous and Nute shared a knowing look. Worse than they could have possibly expected, the individual who had exited was far from any ordinary Jedi. Before them was Anakin Skywalker.
Nute nodded, trying to make sense of everything. Why was he here of all people? Where are his reinforcements, was Sidious' plan for the Jedi to change sides? He shook that thought off—that was impossible. He then narrowed his view. Did the galaxy's hero Anakin Skywalker switch sides? Somehow that seemed even more unlikely. After all, Nute was sure that his goodwill with this Jedi had been exhausted when they were just a child. As soldiers continued to rush toward the landing platform, he called over his fellow Neimoidians, and decided to escape if the Jedi became hostile. After all, would the republic not be nearby to reinforce him?
Meanwhile, on the landing platform, Vader stood tall in his Jedi robes, his blue lightsaber ignited but held at his side. The fallen Jedi eyed up the droids, with their guns pointed but an unsure posture among the B-1s. Vader had seen this countless times—it meant that they had not been given orders to kill him, but rather to see what he would do. Regardless, it was clear that they did not intend to let him make his way inside, where he was hoping to kill all of them at once. He mused that they might be smarter than he thought, although he was hoping that they would simply allow him to exterminate them. After all, he had to return to Padme as soon as possible, and he had just finished killing people who deserved far more mercy than them. The upcoming challenge almost excited him, as he decided to make his move.
Nute watched on the monitor as one nervous advisor from the Techno Union pushed past the droid security forces, attempting to greet the Sith Lord first.
"Welcome, Lord Vader. We received..."
That was all the Skakoan could say before he was eviscerated in two, beginning the battle.
So it begins.
With Vader's eyes glowing a menacing Sith yellow, he put both hands on his lightsaber and dashed towards the nearest group of droids. The droids hesitated for a moment, as if unsure of what to do in the face of such power. But Vader wasted no time, he charged straight into the midst of them, his lightsaber a blur as he cut down battle droids left and right. His movements were effortless, spinning his lightsaber so quickly that the eye could not perceive all of its movements. He twisted and span around as he swung his blade, deflecting shots and cutting enemies who dared to fire or approach behind him without a second thought. The sound of his lightsaber was deafening as it sliced through metal and circuits, the blue blade leaving a trail of destruction in its wake.
As Vader fought, he could sense two Droidekas closing in on him. He knew he had to act quickly if he wanted to take them down before they opened fire. He used the Force to hurl nearby droids at the Droidekas, forcing them to stop their pursuit. Then, he sprinted towards them, deflecting blaster fire with his lightsaber as he went.
As he reached the Droidekas, he leapt into the air and brought his lightsaber down with a fierce stroke, cutting through one's shields—then slicing it cleanly in half. The other Droideka fired its twin blasters at Vader, but he used the Force to freeze its blaster shots, then with a swing of his blade he deflected the shots back at the droid, overpowering its shields. He then forced his grip around it through the force, and threw it into the side of the Separatist base.
Vader continued to battle his way through the droid forces, his power and skill unmatched by any of them. He deflected incoming blaster fire with ease, sending it careening into other droids and point defense cannons. He sliced through walls and defenses, taking out droids that had taken cover behind them. Unfortunate B-1s slid across the platform uncontrollably, as the power from the raw force around Vader began to warp the platform itself, and began to attract and push the droids with every attack. One group of droids seemed safe behind some of the impromptu defenses, until Vader lifted one of the shuttles on the platform and threw it at them with ease, destroying that part of the platform.
The fight was long and brutal, but Vader showed no signs of fatigue or weakness. His Sith-fueled rage only grew stronger as he continued to fight, the power of the Dark Side flowing through him. By the time he was finished, the landing platform was littered with the broken and smoldering remains of the droid forces. As Vader stood amidst the wreckage, he took a deep breath, his eyes still glowing with the power of the Dark Side.
The war room was filled with tense silence as council members watched the security feed, transfixed by the carnage unfolding before their eyes. The screen showed Vader, now fully consumed by the dark side, cutting through their droid forces with ease. His lightsaber was a blur of blue as he deflected blaster bolts and sliced through metal with devastating efficiency. What was in front of them was no jedi. This was something they did not know was even possible. It rose beyond the power of any being, any machine. It was a force of nature as destructive as the surface of the planet itself.
As more droids sprinted towards the battle from the war room, council members began to panic. Shu Mai cursed the labyrinthine nature of the mining base as she ran off in one direction, while Poggle the Lesser let out a loud shrill before flying off in another. The room erupted in chaos as once prideful members of the council screamed and ran off in different directions with their own entourages. Non-combat droids that had been previously stationed in the war room began to frantically try to leave as well, realizing that nothing was safe.
Nute remained glued to the screen, his eyes wide with fear. He had never seen anything like this before. This was not a battle; this was a massacre. He desperately looked towards General Grievous for reassurance, but the cyborg was still observing the battle with a cold, analytical eye.
Grievous suddenly called two magnaguards to himself, his metal claws tapping against each other in anticipation. He knew that they were going to have to deal with this Sith Lord themselves, and he was as ready as he could be. Grievous had never been one to back down from a fight, and he was not about to start now.
As Vader continued his onslaught, the isolated council members ran for their lives, trying to make sense of what was happening. They could hear the sound of metal being sliced and droids being crushed through the walls, and it sent chills down their spines. They dashed from corridor to corridor, most unsure of where to even go. Their enemy had entered through the only remaining entrance and exit, with the others already impossible to get through due to collapsed rubble. Some ran to collect their wealth, smarter ones tried to hide and get behind the Sith. Others tried to brave the dangerous conditions outside the base, believing in their odds against the volatile lava rivers versus going against Vader.
As Vader finished pushing two remaining droids off the platform, he began to walk into the compound itself. With a face of pure contempt, he stormed in and began the hunt for the separatist leadership. Using the force, he could sense that his prey had scattered throughout the base, some seeming to hide while others ran around incessantly. No matter their actions, Vader would kill every last one.
In the first corridor, several B-1s took cover behind storage boxes and fired on him, while another Skakoan gave orders from behind them. It seemed like his first target was Watt Tambor, who seemed to still think he could find a way to defeat the Sith. Vader calmly walked forward, the force around him twisting and warping the very base around him as he walked. The droids couldn't even control their own weapons, and fired haphazardly in the direction of the Sith, failing to even fire near him. Watt Tambor saw this and tried to flee, only to be pulled backwards and upwards by incalculable power. He disturbingly began to float in the air, watching in horror as Vader continued his stride past him. As he was passed by the Sith, his suit began to scream from outside pressure, only to explode with a sickening pop. The first target was now dead.
By this point, Nute had already begun his own attempt at escape. The only thing going for him at this point was his personal strength in numbers—he had several Neimoidian royal guards, as well as Rune and Rute as his disposal. Their party ran in the direction of his quarters, as he frantically sent a message to TC-14 to try and locate the emergency shuttle. Nute could swear that there was a Sheathipede on the landing platform somewhere, and he would be damned if one of his comrades used it to escape before him. Somehow, he would have to sneak around the incarnation of destruction that was running amok in the base. As he ran, the sounds of screaming and blaster fire only grew louder—this place was a deathtrap.
San Hill flinched with every swing of the lightsaber outside of the storage quarters, where he cowered with a lonely B-1 and mouse droid. His Banking Clan had been shattered and nationalized due to the ineptitude of Clovis, and Confederate forces on his home Muunilinst were melting away at that very moment. He had nothing, and felt nothing when the door finally opened to reveal the monster. Behind Vader were two of San Hill's own advisors, gasping for air until they crumpled to their knees.
"cah-cah-redits" San Hill croaked, before Vader ripped an arm off of the B-1 next to him, impaling the chairman and walking away as another one of his targets slipped away into nothing.
Nute finally arrived at his quarters, gathered his blaster and resolve, and made a break for the landing platform. TC-14 had found it amongst the chaos, apparently managing to be one of the few—living or otherwise—who slipped by the Dark Lord. Nute's entire entourage had looks of desperation, their feet falling heavily on the ground as they trudged either to their salvation or demise. They rounded one corner, only to see Po Nudo slumped against an indent in the wall, clearly deceased. The Aqualish was holding a chest full of valuable items, as well as a holo-portrait of his family. Nute gritted his teeth, and the Neimoidians continued onward, until they reached a heavily damaged corridor which was only illuminated by the erupting magma outside. At the end of their path stood Vader, facing Nute specifically with a look of disgust.
Nute was once again frozen, only saved from his abject fear from Rune, who ordered the Neimoidian guards. "You are the elite of the elite, our very own royal guards!" Rune commanded. "Take that Jedi down!"
The 4 guards present charged at Vader, firing at him as they charged forward. With a flick of his wrist, Vader shifted the angle of their weapons, causing one guardsman to shoot one of the others. Vader then sent his lightsaber flying forward, rotating as it moved toward the unsuspecting guards. The three remaining men were sliced in half, their legless torsos falling forward. The subsequent quiet was only broken by Poggle the Lesser, who flew past the Neimoidians in an attempt to quickly take advantage of the chaos and slip by the Sith. This was cut short when the Geonosian screamed and crashed at Vader's feet. His wings had been ripped from his body, leaving Vader to push his lightsaber down into the Archduke.
Nute and his two companions, Rute and Rune, sprinted desperately down the dimly lit corridors, their hearts pounding as the sound of impending doom followed them. The relentless footsteps of their enemy echoed ominously, like the drumbeat of the Reaper himself. They could sense the dark presence of Vader growing ever closer, and the terror that gripped them was palpable.
Gasping for breath, the trio ducked into a nearby room, their bodies trembling with exhaustion and fear. As they huddled together, they considered the possibility of surrendering to their fate. It seemed as if there was no escape, no way to avoid the inevitable. The very structure of the base groaned under the strain of Vader's relentless assault, and Nute couldn't shake the feeling that even if the Sith Lord didn't get to them, the collapsing base would soon claim their lives.
But fate had one more twist in store. The doorway to the room slid open with a hiss, revealing the dark, imposing figure of Darth Vader. Nute felt his blood run cold, and his companions seemed to wither under the weight of Vader's malevolent gaze. It seemed that the end had arrived.
However, just as Vader moved to step into the room, he suddenly halted, his attention drawn to his right. In a swift, fluid motion, he raised his lightsaber and deflected the first attack from an unexpected assailant. General Grievous, the Separatists' fearsome cyborg commander, had entered the fray.
The two seasoned veterans clashed their blades together, the sound of their lightsabers colliding echoing throughout the corridor. Grievous was relentless, attacking with all four blades at once, forcing Vader to constantly shift and parry. The General knew that without using everything he had, he would fail to keep Vader's attention enough to prevent a response through the force. To counter this aggression, Vader responded with a series of swift, powerful strikes, each one aimed at disabling one of Grievous' many arms. Vader's surprise, however, had left him at a complete disadvantage from the beginning.
The two warriors never clashed during the Clone Wars, and although Obi Wan recounted Anakin with many tales of his bouts against the cyborg, it was completely different to face his overwhelming power in person. As dozens of strikes were exchanged within seconds, Vader managed to spot the Neimoidians attempting to make their escape. Without a second thought, he backed away from Grievous, and tore down the ceiling of the passage in front of them. Lava began to pour out from the exposed outdoors, and they were corralled deeper into the base. Unable to contain his fury, Vader attempted to eliminate the Viceroy while fending off Grievous' attacks, but his swing fell short—killing instead Rute Gunnay. Vader's distraction left him open, and he took a massive blow from one of Grievous' legs into his chest, sending him flying down a different hallway. It seemed as if the mission would not be so simple after all.
Their duel became a blur of movement and clashing lightsabers, sparks flying with each collision. Vader's rage fueled his attacks, but Grievous was just as fierce, moving with a speed and agility that belied his mechanical form.
In the midst of their heated duel, the base's destruction continued to escalate. As large chunks of debris fell from the ceiling, Vader used the Force to hurl them at Grievous, aiming to slow him down or perhaps even crush him beneath the weight. Grievous, however, deftly dodged the projectiles or sliced through them with his spinning lightsabers, sending molten shards scattering across the floor.
Grievous' eyes suddenly flashed, and with a flick of his wrist, he activated a hidden compartment in one of his mechanical arms. A small object flew out, quickly unfolding into a buzzing electrostaff, which he used in lieu of one of his lightsabers. Grievous caught it with one of his free hands and immediately incorporated it into his attacks, hoping the electrified weapon would catch Vader off guard, as he now used 5 deadly edges against his opponent with supernatural precision.
Vader, however, seemed unfazed. He parried the electrostaff with his lightsaber, the energy from the two weapons crackling and sparking as they met. The Sith Lord focused his power, amplifying his strength and agility, and pressed the attack against Grievous with renewed ferocity. The staff itself was not able to keep up with the ferocity of battle, and through one precise strike, the staff was cut in half, sending its pieces falling helplessly around Grievous. With a disappointed grunt, Grievous once again pulled out another previous victim's lightsaber, and fought onward.
At that moment, a squad of B-1 battle droids and two of Grievous' personal magnaguards emerged from a side corridor, attempting to aid their leader. The magnaguards, armed with their own electrostaffs, charged into the fray, but Vader was prepared. With a swift motion, he used the Force to push the droids back, slamming them into the walls and temporarily disabling them. Meanwhile, the blaster shots from the B-1s did more harm than good, ricocheting aimlessly throughout the corridor, as the power of the force around Vader made any accurate shot impossible. With the corridor being impossibly volatile for any being other than the two duelists, it was not long before either rubble or lava claimed the droids.
As the base continued to crumble around them, the intense duel between Vader and Grievous reached a fever pitch. Grievous unleashed a flurry of attacks, pushing Vader back towards a gaping hole in the floor, where molten lava churned and bubbled below. Vader, however, remained calm and focused, relying on his connection to the Force and his own considerable skill to counter each of Grievous' strikes.
The two warriors danced on the edge of oblivion, their blades flashing and clashing in a dazzling display of deadly skill. Both fighters refused to relent, knowing that a single mistake could be their end. As the foundation of the base weakened further, the combatants found themselves fighting not just each other, but also the environment, as they leapt and maneuvered to avoid falling debris and the ever-encroaching lava.
Vader and Grievous, locked in their fierce battle, seemed evenly matched, but the unstable environment made it clear that they could not continue indefinitely. It would only be a matter of time before the collapsing base forced one of them to make a critical error, deciding the outcome of their epic struggle.
As the duel continued, the base shook and groaned around them. Panels fell from the ceiling, and debris rained down as the two fought. Despite Vader's best efforts, he was now slowly being pushed back by Grievous' never ending assault. It was only through his constant throwing of the base itself at Grievous that he managed to hold off all four blades.
The two warriors traded blow for blow. Both refusing to back away from the other, and both at massive risk of being killed from a single mistake. Grievous took advantage of his full computational power to move at inhuman speeds, while Vader's incredible foresight meant that every incoming strike could be parried. It was impossible to tell who was winning, as both seemed evenly matched in skill and power. But as the base continued to shake and crumble, it was clear that their fight could not go on forever. A deafening sound boomed through the corridor, the sound of one section of the base falling into the lava rivers below. Time was ticking.
Anakin was then pushed back towards the end of one hallway, losing control of the battle to his adversary. Around them, the sound of hissing steam intensified, and the sound of another massive section of the base entering the lava shook the ground they stood on. Neither had time for words or quips, and neither would have had anything to say regardless. This was a battle for their very survival, and Vader's own sanity crumbled away to frustration.
The hallway was filled with the sound of metal on metal, and the clash of lightsabers echoed throughout the entire base for all to hear. From multiple corridors away, council members and droids both kept their distance from the power of the duel. They would retreat away from the sounds wherever possible, understanding that to be anywhere near that fight would be their end.
Despite Grievous' best efforts, Vader managed to hold his ground, his movements graceful and calculated. They were the movements of a true veteran, with the confidence of the chosen one. Grievous remained relentless, as his attacks arrived faster and harder with each passing second. To make a single mistake would be to invite Vader's true power, something even Grievous began to fear. Through the General's best efforts, Vader is pushed back—step by step—towards the end of one hallway.
Finally, Grievous managed to push his foe to where he planned. From behind the sith, emerged two more magnaguards—Grievous' final trump card. In a split second, Vader had been surrounded, and Grievous rushed in for the kill. It was all or nothing as the three droids threw their might in one united blow toward their overwhelmingly powerful enemy. Vader, surprised and desperate, closed his eyes in response. Before Grievous could react, the entire hallway began to shake with the power of the force.
In a powerful surge, Vader's surroundings began to crumple and wilt due to his might. Both magnaguards attempt to take another step toward the Sith, but collapse and short circuit from the pressure. Grievous was not so easy to dispose of, as his feet gripped into the floor below and he compressed his body into a form able to withstand the incredible pressure. Despite this, he is barely able to withstand the power of the force, let alone land the final blow as he planned. In a desperate heave to stave off his destruction, Grievous launched one of his prized lightsabers towards his foe, breaking Vader's concentration. Before the emerald blade found its mark, the lightsaber hovered in midair, mere inches away from Vader's heart. With a calmness bordering on insidiousness, Vader calmly took the blade into one of his hands, and received Grievous' next attack.
Their duel began to move the two of them rapidly through the base, as Grievous, having failed to land the decisive blow, attempted to use his physical speed to defend against his enemy's onslaught. Through this process, they found themselves moving deeper and deeper into the stronghold. Finally, the battle brought them to the war room, where Passel Argente was still cowering in fear.
Unlike most of the members of the council, the Corporate Alliance still retained much of its wealth and prestige, and he had a people to return to. This had only deepened his cowardice, and amidst the chaos he found himself unable to even move. Eventually, he began to delude himself, thinking that the enemy would be eliminated long before reaching the war room, or at the very least would give up far before that. Despite it all, here he now was, confined in a room amidst a ruthless duel, cowering and shaking with fear. Eventually, he finally composed himself, and reasoned that an all-out dash to the landing platform would be better than doing nothing. At least he now could see his enemy, and they seemed distracted enough to allow him to seize this opportunity. Gathering his courage, Magistrate Passel Argente rose from the ground to run for the exit, only to be vivisected by a loose attack from Vader. So was his fate.
With two blades, Vader found himself far more able to defend against Grievous' attacks, even now finding himself more able to predict the General's movements. What he had learned long ago from his master had remained true—that Grievous purposely attacked in a seemingly random order, completely defying the lightsaber styles of dueling. Regardless, every move had to be calculated, and Vader started to truly understand. As Grievous began to rotate his four sabers at rapid speeds to catch the Sith off guard, Vader found an opportunity to strike, and took it. With inhuman accuracy and speed the Sith used his two blades to pry open Grievous' attack, instantly parrying no less than 6 incoming blows from the General to land a massive hit on his enemy. His burning blue blade inserted itself into Grievous' chest armor, carving a path from Grievous' center to his right arm, severing it completely. Grievous, unable to feel any pain from the massive blow, countered with his own massive attack from his left side. Vader, completely committed to his last blow, was only able to raise his other blade to meet grievous' two lightsabers. Grievous managed to break Vader's defense, and landed a deep cut into Vaders face that he combined with a kick to send the Sith reeling backward. Despite this, that would not be nearly enough. A scar wouldn't win the day, after all.
As Vader prepared himself to end his enemy, he glanced at the security viewport next to him. What he saw changed everything, and caused him to sprint back towards the landing platform, completely ignoring his wounded and vulnerable enemy. On the platform was a J-type Naboo star skiff—the ship used by his loving wife.
Now-Emperor Palpatine sat at his desk under the Senate chambers, working with Mas Amedda to secure his newfound grip on the galaxy. Victory had been his so far, but something had been troubling him in the back of his mind. For starters, he knew that the Jedi threat was not yet finished. While that arrogant Master Windu had been dealt with personally, plenty of high-ranking Jedi remained unaccounted for across the vast stretches of the galaxy. For example, he had heard reports of Master Yoda personally executing Commander Gree, meaning that the old gremlin would soon attempt something against him. For tasks such as these, he preferred that his new apprentice focused on them, but that was the more concerning issue. What was his apprentice doing?
Vader had already completed the challenging task of personally assaulting and destroying the Jedi at the temple, doing so with brutal efficiency, and returning uninjured. His second mission was the far simpler one, to go to Mustafar and eliminate the backers of the Separatist alliance. As far as Sidious knew, there was nothing that would constitute a threat to Vader on that entire moon, let alone the unsuspecting Separatists, who he had sensed nothing suspicious from during his holo-call with them earlier. In fact, they had the faces of sheep* awaiting the slaughter, not the kind that would mount some sort of brave defense. This feeling of concern had only grown now that Vader had not yet called, and an ominous sense of danger had now begun to show itself. Just as Sidious readied himself to go over there personally, he heard a thud as the two royal guards flanking his doorway dropped to the ground. In between them was, as he had suspected, Master Yoda.
Emperor Palpatine regarded the diminutive figure of Master Yoda with a mixture of amusement and annoyance. The fact that the Jedi Master had made his way into the very heart of his power was a testament to his abilities, but it also served as a reminder that Palpatine's work was far from complete. His new Empire was still vulnerable, and the remnants of the Jedi Order would not simply disappear without a fight.
As he studied Yoda, Palpatine considered the potential outcomes of the confrontation that was about to unfold. He knew that he could not underestimate the ancient Jedi, whose power in the Force was formidable. But neither could he afford to show any signs of weakness. His control over the galaxy had been hard-won, and he had no intention of relinquishing it to the dying embers of a once-mighty Order.
Palpatine knew that he could not afford to dwell on his concerns for his young apprentice. The immediate threat was standing before him, and he would need to focus all of his dark energies to confront it. The upcoming battle with Yoda would be a test, not just of his own power, but of his ability to maintain control over his Empire.
As Yoda stared him down, a slight smile played at the corners of Palpatine's mouth. For all his wisdom and power, the Jedi Master had walked willingly into the very heart of darkness. In that moment, the Emperor felt a surge of confidence, for he knew that the time had come to prove, once and for all, that the Sith were the true masters of the Force.
With that thought, Palpatine prepared himself for the inevitable clash of lightsabers and the unleashing of the full fury of the dark side. It would be a battle for the ages, one that would determine the fate of the galaxy, and Emperor Palpatine was determined to emerge victorious.
Meanwhile, during the chaos of the duel between Vader and Grievous, Nute and Rune made a break for the landing platform as the base crumbled around them. Their group had been cut down to just the two of them, and yet their resolve to make the most of their opportunity to survive pushed them towards the landing platform. As they continued to try and find a method of escape, they realized just how unstable their surroundings really were. The once-familiar halls of the Separatist stronghold had become a maze of collapsed corridors and lava pools, offering little opportunity to exit. Amidst one corridor that had been blocked by volcanic rock, Nute spotted what may have been their only chance as escape. A small ventilation shaft, one that would allow them to get past the blockages. The ventilation shaft they entered was a tight squeeze, and they struggled to move through it with the base shaking violently. Both of the Neimoidians began to persperate violently, as the heated metal that surrounded them heated. The sound of the collapsing base echoed through the vents, disorienting the two leaders as they crawled their way through the labyrinth.
As they made their way through the shaft, they realized that they were hopelessly lost. The network of tunnels was far more complex than they had anticipated, and they began to worry that they would never make it out. The heat was unbearable, and they were both drenched in sweat, struggling to breathe in the stifling air. Rune cursed their ceremonial robes for their impracticality, and they continued onward.
Their only hope was to keep moving forward, but as they crawled deeper into the shaft, the walls began to buckle under the weight of the collapsing base. They frantically searched for a way out, but every path they crawled through seemed to lead to a dead end.
Their desperation grew as they realized that they were running out of time. They could hear the roar of the lava getting closer, and they knew that if they didn't find a way out soon, they would be consumed by the fiery inferno.
It was then that Nute Gunray's comms device beeped, interrupting his thoughts of escape. He answered it and saw the holo-image of General Grievous flicker to life, illuminating the darkness of the shaft.
"So Viceroy, you managed to live," Grievous sneered, mocking the pitiful state of his former rival.
"I could say the same to you, General," Nute replied coolly. "Did you deal with the Jedi?"
"No," Grievous grunted. "I was left damaged, but he noticed something on the landing platform."
Nute's eyes widened in surprise. "Someone else arrived?"
"Yes," Grievous confirmed. "It's that wretched Senator Amidala."
Nute was shocked, yet grateful for the distraction. "We must use this to our advantage."
"You are correct," Grievous agreed. "Also, I sent an order to the rest of the Confederacy regarding what happened here. They should all be more hopeful now that they know I live. I've also removed any chance of our enemy using the codes available here to shut down the droid army. That it remained on standby within this base is only testament to your ineptitude."
Nute scowled at Grievous' comment, but decided to let it slide. "Excellent work. Let us get out of here while we still can."
"I will see you on the platform, Viceroy," Grievous said, moving to end the transmission. "There is one more thing I must do. Also, take the next right if you do not want to die up there."
Nute quickly turned to Rune. "We have to take the next right. I trust him when he says it's our only chance to survive."
The two pushed down the tube and took the next right turn, finding themselves in a cramped, dark passageway filled with twists and turns. The lava flows were becoming more frequent, and it was difficult to tell which way was up or down. The ventilation shaft continued to loom ahead of them, and they knew it was their only way out. Nute sighed heavily, realizing the danger they were in, but also knowing that they had to take the risk if they wanted to survive. They would get out of here alive.
Padme's heart raced as her Naboo starcruiser exited hyperspace within the Mustafar system. Her thoughts were consumed by her husband, Anakin Skywalker, and the horrifying news she had just received from Obi Wan Kenobi. Were the words of her husband's master true? Obi Wan was not one to lie or mince his words. No matter how hard she tried, she could not shake off the fears that now consumed her. She tried to push away the images of the Jedi Temple in flames and the younglings lying dead at Anakin's feet, but they haunted her every thought.
Her nightmares were temporarily pushed away from C-3PO, who had been scanning the system. "It seems as if this is the place where master is located."
"Thank you 3PO," Padme said with a sigh. "It feels to me like you are right, that must be the place."
With that, a reluctant descent onto the planet began. As desperate as she was for answers, finding out the truth seemed guaranteed to only hurt her more. As the starcruiser descended towards the landing platform, Padme's eyes scanned the area, searching for any sign of Anakin. Her heart sank as she saw the state of the base he was supposed to be at, more than half of it had been consumed by the rivers of lava below. She could only imagine what horrors he had seen and what he had been forced to do in such a hellish place.
As the ship landed and the ramp descended, Padme walked to the back of the ship and made her way onto the landing platform. In person, the destruction only made itself more apparent. The broken bodies of droids were everywhere, more than a quarter of the platform was covered in rubble and pools of lava, and even now the base continued to wither without proper shielding. In the distance, she could see several local creatures leaving the location on their mounts, perhaps disappointed that a prime resource gathering area had been destroyed by a war that wasn't theirs. She looked around frantically, searching for any sign of Anakin. Was he safe? Was he hurt? Her mind was racing with questions. The only clue was the arrival of two security droids, both of which were in awful condition. They were seared black from soot, one was missing an arm, and both moved with a gait that signaled heavy internal damage.
"Th-Th-Th-Situation is n-not safe," One droid managed to say.
As Padme thought of a response, the need for one disappeared. In front of her, both droids began to tear into pieces, withering away from an unknown force. As they crumbled in front of her, she saw that approaching her was a man in black robes, with their blue lightsaber still lit. Anakin was still alive. She looked towards him, and he looked at her, their eyes locking in a moment of mutual longing.
Anakin's eyes were dark and distant, and his voice was cold as Padme ran towards him. "I'm in control here, Padme. Don't worry," he said.
Padme looked up at Anakin's face, noticing the massive scar on his cheek that nearly blinded him in one eye. "What happened to you?" she asked softly, reaching out to touch the wound.
Anakin flinched away from her touch, and his voice hardened. "It doesn't matter, he must be dead by now. More importantly, the Jedi betrayed me, Padme. They were against the Republic."
Padme recoiled, tears welling up in her eyes. "Betrayed you? Anakin, what are you talking about?"
Anakin's eyes flickered with anger, and he took a step closer to Padme. "Obi-Wan and the Jedi Council were plotting against the Chancellor. They were plotting behind by back. I had no choice but to act. As you can see around us, I have almost finished destroying the Separatists! The Jedi traitors will also be dealt with, and the senate will be safe."
Padme shook her head, her voice trembling. "I want to believe you but… Obi Wan said some terrible things."
Anakin glared at her, demanding to know what she is talking about. "What things?"
Padme, with tears, shakily replied. "He said… that you turned to the dark side…that you…killed younglings…"
Their conversation continued, with Anakin sinking deeper into his delusions, and Padme continuing to lose her loved one to the monster that was in front of her now. It all came to a head when, emerging from the J-type, was the very last man Anakin wanted to see. The one person who he had convinced himself to despise more than any other Jedi, the one who he was sure held him back on purpose, denied him of his potential to be the greatest Jedi, the man who was trying to prevent him from saving Padme. It was Obi Wan.
Sorry if this chapter is really confusing! Things are really coming to a head here, as Palpatine thinks about moving to help his apprentice, Padme arrives with Obi Wan in tow, and Nute continues his desperate bid for survival.
*Looks like sheep genuinely exist in the Star Wars galaxy, apparently to account for the same reputation that can be found on a little known planet in the Unknown Regions--Earth.
. 
