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My Reason To Live
(A General Grievous "what if" story)
The war of clones and droids was over, yet the galaxy was still at unease. The mighty Jedi have fallen one by one, and the Galactic Republic deteriorated into a strict Empire overnight. Many were uncertain about the future, but none were more uncertain than the people of the Outer Rim planet of Kalee.
The few who knew of Kalee knew its lush jungles and arid canyons. The Huk War created an unforgiving desert wasteland on the western continent, and the Kaleesh tribes were suffering from famine and plagues. It was not a place where one would willingly go to call home, as the planet suffered crisis after crisis.
But for a fallen general of the droid army, home was the only place left to go.
Far from the jungles, canyons and wasteland is the southern ice cap of Kalee which the natives called Grendaju. In the frigid cold, constant snowfall and thin lakes of ice were the tribe of Kaleesh called the Naah. The below zero temperatures and constant snowfall had mostly kept the Huk at bay during the war, but the Naah still struggled as their food supply was diminishing and the gods cursed them with constant blizzards. The Naah were also stricken by the loss of their leader many years ago, and had no one they deemed worthy to give them guidance.
In the Naah village of Krushan, one hunter exited her hut with a spear in hand and clutching her fur cloak tightly around her small frame. She was a female Kaleesh aged twenty eight years, dressed in many layers of tightly woven cloth and her cloak hung to her knees and her face protected by a cloth mask that pulled taunt against her mouth and nose. As she stepped into the village center, those in dress similar to hers stopped to bow their heads for a brief second and resume their various jobs. She was an important person in Krushan for many reasons: her father was the late village leader, she had pale albino skin with pink-tinted eyes, and since she was little she possessed a curious gift.
Her short walk took her to the edge of the village where several beasts had congregated. The carnivorous beasts were tall, thick skinned and sported long white fur on their backs heads and chests. They walked on two muscular legs and were supported by hairy arms and hands and had pushed in faces with glowing red eyes. They were karabback, and they were considered among the deadliest and wildest predators in all of Kalee. There was a clan of six, which included two cubs growing their fuzzy patches of fur on their bodies, sitting near an empty hut that raised their heads at the woman's approach. Any other Kaleesh would flee for their lives or grab their weapons to fight to the death.
But this woman opted to use her gift, as planned.
"Fiina!" she called in a light voice, holding a hand out to them. "Fiina! Fiina!" She accompanied her strange calls with clicks of her tongue and purring. Two grown karabbac lumbered towards her with a similar purring sound and licked at her hand. She laughed and wrapped her arms around one of their heads, cooing to them lovingly. With minimal effort and the animal's quiet permission, she climbed up on its back and took hold of some fur on its neck to act as reigns. A small tug on the right side prompted it to turn and begin walking out into the snowy wilderness. The pack followed the Kaleesh hunter and her temporary steed.
Keeping her spear nearby, the Kaleesh woman started scanning the white horizons taking note of the light snowfall. The summer months were beginning in the warmer continents above them, and Grendaju was preparing for Un'Roksora the "Never Ending Night" that would make hunting food and protecting the village more difficult. She had to find food now and as much of it as possible.
A mile away from the village was a small rock formation that contained caves the Naah once used as emergency shelters. Several wild animals had taken it over when the Kaleesh vacated and it was a prime hunting spot. The woman started here, and her immediate eyesight saw no clues of animals living in the caves. She just made the decision to continue foreword with her small pack before something in the sky caught her eye and she looked up.
Something was dropping from the sky like a diving bird, but it was obviously larger and glinted in the sunlight past the clouds. The woman narrowed her eyes as though doing that would help her get a closer look, but to no avail. She watched as its descent slowed and it began to float to the ground effortlessly. There was only one thing she knew of that could do that.
"Itaah... Itaah shippo..." Is that... Is that a starship?
Clutching her spear, she urged only her mount foreword towards it. Perhaps it was the Seperatists with news of the war, or perhaps it was yet another pack of bounty hunters hoping to steal more slaves for quick money.
There was only one way to find out for certain.
The Nemoidian shuttle landed cleanly in the snow, then the landing gear sunk a couple of feet, rendering it stuck. The pilot, an IG-100 MagnaGuard, pointed this out to a smaller droid at its side.
"Oh, that's just great!" the bronze-colored medical droid groaned through its vocoder. "Master needs to get to a bacta tank immediately, but nooOOOooo, he wants to come here to this backwater planet with no space port, no friendly troops, no recent technology to date... And to top it off we're stuck in the stanging snow!"
The MagnaGuard rumbled at the littler droid in annoyance.
"No, YOU shut up!" the medic snapped at it.
They were both interrupted by a loud coughing fit from the passenger lodge, which prompted the medic to wobble back there on its thin legs.
"Master," the medic lamented, "are you SURE you won't go home to Vassek to finish the repairs?"
"...Yes." came the hushed but harsh response.
"Well, you're home, or at least we think so." the droid prattled, raising its clawed hands up to point a talon-like finger at his cybernetic boss. "But why did you tell us to land on the ice cap? I thought you lived on the western continent."
His master only growled in responce through his vocoder before coughing a couple more times. The droid, not receiving a proper answer, droned on with complaints.
"It's my programing to make sure you're in working condition. And you're not in the best of health, you know! Your gutsack might be leaking, your ribcage is ripped wide open, your breathing is ragged, and your HANDS! Why are you always getting at least two hands cut off every time you come back?!"
Why did I upload A-4D's personality into this model? The cyborg lamented to himself as he put a clawed hand to his broken chest and listened to his own wheezing breaths. His gutsack was just fine, but the parts holding it together were damaged. If anything, his vital organs were going to fall out if he moved too quickly. Still, he glared at the caretaker droid until it quieted and looked right into its master's slitted eyes.
"At least let me secure the gutsack so it doesn't fall out when you get up."
"Proceed." The cyborg relented, leaning back in his seat as the droid's back-mounted first aid kit and work station launched into view.
Another MagnaGuard sitting by his master's side suddenly let out an opinion through its strained rumbles and electronic spats:
"Master, did you come here to die?"
Grievous looked up at one of his four bodyguards surrounding him, his yellow eyes heavy with weariness and depression.
"Not yet." was the only non-complicated answer he could give.
He did not come to Grendaju to die... Not yet at least...
The fallen General Grievous fell asleep during the short operation and dreamed. In all irony, he dreamed of his reason for returning to his homeworld: his defeat at the hands of Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi. To further frustration, he saw only bits and pieces. Everything played before him as if he was watching through someone else's eyes.
Starting in the hanger of Utapau... "Hello there."... The flash and humming of clashing lightsaber blades... Running for his wheel bike... The struggle in the mining shafts... Landing and rolling on the ground by The Soulless One... So close... Robbed of any weapons, forced to use his fists and feet...
...the Jedi still had his lightsaber...
His legs were cut, his other hands were cut...
"It's over, Grievous. Surrender."
"Fool! Jedi fool! I will destroy every last one of you!"
...then, the Jedi made a hand motion... "Surrender..."
Thump, thump, thump...
A light knocking on the ship's hull woke Grievous from his sleep and snapped his eyes open. He sat up, taking brief note that he was physically repaired before turning to his caretaker droid.
"What is that?"
"I don't know." the droid answered honestly. "I thought one of the guards could open the door and look outside." Grievous turned his eyes to a viewport, and noted that it was snowing slightly but growing dark out.
"No need." he decided. "Activate the rear viewers." He stood up and walked to the cockpit to see what was outside himself. The holographic viewer along the ship's windshield flickered on, and the cameras just to the side of the loading ramp captured an interesting sight: a native in a long fur cloak was poking at the ship with the blunt end of her spear. Grievous looked at the view intensely to try and see her face, but his vision started to blur and he coughed violently.
"Typical primitive behavior." his medic huffed. Grievous glared angrily at the droid, receiving a prompt "oh, sorry" from the medic before walking back into the passenger lodge.
"Lower the landing platform." he ordered. "I'm going outside."
"Oh no, you're not!" the little droid immediately objected. "It's negative twelve degrees outside! Prolong exposure to the cold will kill you in your condition!"
"You know my kind are naturally curious. You can either lower the platform and let me out, or let the 'typical primitive' pry open the platform and come in."
"..." The droid was stumped into silence before giving a relenting growl. "Fine! Just shoo it away so you can come back inside!"
One MagnaGuard used the cockpit controls to lower the platform, immediately bringing in a deep, howling wind and thousands of white flakes before Grievous descended. His eyes immediately locked with the woman's, who gasped in shock in seeing him.
Face to face, Grievous recognized her. His eyes lit up for a split second at his last memories of her, then calmed seeing how she had grown.
"Iktaita." he greeted softly. Hello.
He watched as the woman looked into his eyes and heard from his voice that he was Kaleesh. She seemed confused, horrified even, as she responded.
"Iktaita, Gijya..." She responded with a stunned stutter. Greetings, my lord...
"Ygrata maima na, giira?" What is your name, young lady?
"Ussuri. Ussuri kuh Kratlal."
"Ussuri..." A strange, passive feeling came over him just saying her name. He said it again with a slightly stronger tone, as if to see if he was dreaming. "Ussuri..."
"Gijya?" the woman asked, the hand holding her spear shaking. Grievous could see it in her small form; she could feel that he was no stranger to her. "Ygrata na?" Who are you?
"Kura gre nanabrotoi, epriti gah." I am but a ghost, and nothing more.
Her hand rose from her side and with a timid shiver rested on the side of his metallic mask. He allowed it, watching her own eyes widen and water. He could feel the invisible touch of her "gift" finding his true identity; a name he thought he had forgotten.
"Kura...? Gijya...?" A ghost? My lord... Her hand quickly went to her eyes as she hid them in horror of the man before her. A man she and her people thought had died many years ago. A dear friend, a beloved hero...
"Qymaen..."
Despite the loud and constant protests of the small caretaker droid, Grievous and his bodyguards accompanied Ussuri and her pack back to the village. Ussuri resumed her mount on one of the karabbac as the visitors walked alongside the monsters. The caretaker had to be carried by a MagnaGuard, as it couldn't walk fast enough through the knee-deep snow. Its ranting managed to carry over the wind.
"Master, it's thirteen below zero and you don't have any cold protection in your state! Oh, why didn't we just finish up your repairs back home? The Jedi haven't found that hideout, we would have been safe! Oh, you really didn't come here to die, have you? What about me? What am I going to do if you freeze to death?! There aren't a whole lot of jobs droids like me can do, you know... My circuits are freezing already! Master, let's just turn around..."
Grievous noted that Ussuri was also being annoyed by the medical droid more-so than he; she couldn't speak a word of Basic.
"Is he bothering you?" he asked, suppressing a cough.
"The silence I normally hear bothers me more." Ussuri admitted. "But what is he saying?"
"He is a droid that can talk for hours, but not actually say anything. Leave it at that."
This prompted a smile from the Kaleesh woman.
"I'm happy you are back, alive and well. The others are wanting to hear your tales of the war."
"Why would they?" Grievous swiveled his head away with a snarl. "I lost."
"Not many Kaleesh have been off-world. Just to see the other planets in our system: the giant firetrees of Abbaji, the golden fields of Tovarskl... You must have many stories of planets far away."
"...I have no stories to tell." the general quietly groaned into his vocoder, distracted by his own depression. "I have no need to meet with anyone at the moment."
"Then what is your reason for coming home?" Ussuri watched the rebuilt man a head below her from her mount, as Grievous looked up at her and right into her eyes. While his eyes were tired and sad, there was a slight glint of longing.
"You."
"..." Ussuri remained silent, searching for an appropriate question. There was no time to ask it as they entered the village. Kaleesh men and women were preparing their houses for a heavy snowfall for the night, and were nearly frozen themselves at the sight of General Grievous coming in their direction. Many stared dumbfounded at the cyborg, and after he passed whispered feverishly among themselves. Grievous ignored them, keeping his eyes foreword and staying by Ussuri's side.
Ussuri dismounted and urged the karabbac back to the edge of the village, then lead Grievous and his small party back to her private hut. She lifted the entrance blanket for him and he slid right under hastily. The female Kaleesh let the rest of the droids in before entering herself, then putting in wooden stakes at the bottom of the blanket to lock the entrance up.
The hut was circular and had only one large room. In the middle of the room smoldered a small fire, which was close to going out. Large pelts of mumuu fur lay at the ends of the room, acting as beds for visitors. And the very back of the room was a small dais where metal containers with painted Confederacy seals sat and gathered dust. The hut was humble and plain, but an otherwise satisfactory shelter.
"You may stay as long as you like, Gijya." Ussuri invited, poking at the small fire with the sharp edge of her spear. "But I'm not sure I can be a proper host."
"Why do you say that?" Grievous inquired, taking a seat on one of the pelt beds.
"Because you are... very different from my normal guests." Ussuri admitted, trying to be polite. "Is there anything special you need to eat? Or otherwise be comfortable?"
"I cannot eat." the general shook his head. "Do not trouble yourself too greatly tonight, Ussuri. All I need now is rest."
"Yes..." the female agreed, smiling. "Please rest. We can talk more in the morning."
Grievous put his legs under him and laid back on the pelt. It should have been comfortable, but with his droid body there was nothing he could feel. Putting his head down, he closed his eyes and tried to sleep. His rambling caretaker was already making even falling asleep difficult.
"Oh, this is disgusting! This is no place for you to be resting, Master. Do you even have any idea how many germs that fur might have?! And she's got a FIRE going in here! How can she not DIE breathing in the smoke?! And residue from that smoke might get into your gutsack! Master, why do you insist on making things harder for yourself?! It can't be true that you'll die like thi..."
"SILENCE!" Grievous barked, then pointed towards the metal containers opposite of the door. "Sit there and shut down! You can prattle on about my health when I ask you to!"
"Hmph!" the medic grunted, marching to his designated spot angrily. "Well, that's just fine! But if your innerds freeze and you die, don't come crying to me... because I told you so!" Grievous let out a quiet, displeased growl as the droid sat on one of the crates then slumped as it shut itself off. He instructed his guards to do the same, posting two by the doors on alarm mode. Ussuri watched them in concern, and moved her position by the general's side.
"Qymaen..."
"Don't call me that."
"Gijya... Are you alright?"
"I told you not to worry yourself now."
"You're just so..." She paused to find the right word to use. Her silence prompted Grievous to open his eyes and look at her, and he saw a troubled and sad face. Ussuri was remenicing the years she last saw the warlord of legend, and was no doubt shocked by his newer appearance.
"Don't talk now." Grievous prompted as gently as his vocoder would allow. "You said we should talk in the morning. I would prefer that."
"...Yes." the woman agreed hesitently. "I'll leave you be then, I must go back out and hunt."
"..." He said nothing as Ussuri slowly got up and lifted the entrance blanket.
"Sleep well, Gijya." she wished before letting the thick blanket drop behind her. The two guards on alarm mode replaced the wooden stakes to lock the door, then went back to their temporary sleep.
With silence finally obtained, Grievous again closed his eyes and began to drift off to merciful sleep. After a couple of hours, a small part of him sturred as the wind outside howled fiercely through the cracks in the door. In a state that bordered sleep and conciousness, the Kaleesh warlord found himself in a state of reflection that felt like a dream...
"Army or not, you must realize that you are doomed."
"Oh, I don't think so."
Before Grievous could make another strike, Obi-Wan Kenobi threw a strong Force-push at him, causing the cyborg to hit one of the upper ventilators. He lost his grip on his lightsabers as he fell, landing hands and feet first.
No weapons, two good hands and feet, and his fresh wounds from Coruscant further agitated... there was no other option but to flee. He skittered to his thankfully nearby wheelbike and flipped into the driver's seat. There was no time lost in starting the engine, rotating the tread wheel and launching off. Obi-Wan saw the old bike gunning for him and jumped out of the way. Grievous had instead taken out two clone troopers as he piloted the wheelbike off the platform and further down into the sinkhole. The plan now was to escape through the mining tunnels below Pau City towards his secret hanger and take off in The Soulless One. There was no telling at this point if the Republic knew about Mustafar, but he had to make plans to rendezvous there with the others soon. A last stand had to be made.
There wasn't much longer left to go... Maybe a few miles... Then he heard the cawing of a varactyl behind him, slightly unusual in these caves this time of day, and looked to find Obi-Wan riding one of the dragonmounts and managing to keep up pace. Gunning the engines would do no good on the sharp turns of the narrow road, but Grievous kept the bike going as fast as possible, grabbing the electrostaff behind him. Just as the Jedi and lizard started matching speed, Grievous struck out with the sputtering staff, hitting Obi-Wan in the side. The human kept his grip on the reigns and stayed in the seat, and was ready when Grievous struck out at him again, pulling the staff from its grip and taking a swing himself. Grievous steered the bike away as far as he could on the narrow road as the Jedi swung again, but noticed that he wasn't the actual target of Obi-Wan's swings: it was the bike! The electrostaff crackled and sizzled along the quickly spinning wheel; any more abuse and the bike would crash! Grievous leaned with his bike towards the Jedi to get his staff back when Obi-Wan resumed striking him again. The Kaleesh took that opportunity to grab it and pull. This only let Obi-Wan jump from his mount and into the bike right on Grievous.
Struggling with a foe and driving a vehicle at the same time wasn't the hardest thing he had to do in his campaign against the Republic, but he was either going to crash, die, or both if he didn't act fast. Keeping one hand in the struggle for the staff, he used his free hand to grab the blaster rifle in the holster near his foot. He only managed one poorly aimed shot in the air, but it was enough to surprise Obi-Wan into changing focus before the bike came towards the Soulless One's docking bay. But the struggle in the driver's seat and one wrong lean to the side sent both foes tumbling to the ground and out of the vehicle. The bike launched off the platform and into the sinkhole below.
Obi-Wan was the first to his feet, electrostaff in hand. Grievous stood and fired another shot from the rifle. The Jedi dodged it and used the staff to knock the blaster from Grievous's hand. The Kaleesh then blocked the next few strikes with his arms, snarling and wheezing almost uncontrollably. A surprise whack to the side sent Grievous dropping on his back, and then the business end of the electrostaff shocked his chest plates. With a loud growl in pain, Grievous kicked the Jedi away fiercely. The Kaleesh got back to his feet and marched to his enemy armed only with his fists to smash him into the ground. Then, the Jedi stood and drew his...
...lightsaber!
Grievous went back for the rifle, but he reacted too late. The Jedi swiped off his legs and Grievous tumbled to the ground on his chest, creating more hoarse coughs. His clawed hands closed over the rifle and he flipped to fire again, but Obi-Wan cut that hand off. Just as Grievous reacted to that hand, his other one was also cut. The need to keep fighting burned on, but without even his limbs all the warlord could do was inch closer and closer to his ship by his metal stubs. Obi-Wan, all the while, kept the edge of the bright blue blade towards Grievous's face.
"It's over, Grievous. Surrender."
"Fool!" Grievous barked. If he could spit on Obi-Wan, he would have done that too. "Jedi fool! I will never surrender! I will destroy every last one of you!"
A thoughtful look came across the Jedi's face. Then, as if to try an experiment, he waved his free hand in front of him.
"Surrender."
No! NO!
Grievous's head hit the ground hard, squeezing his eyes shut as if he was in greater pain than now. He started growling and cursing, chasing the very thought of giving up out of his head. He would flee from a losing battle, he would escape any trap sprung on him, but he would not give up on this war.
"Don't waste your tricks on me!" Grievous snarled at the Jedi. "This war will end with Jedi blood!"
Obi-Wan tried again: "Surrender."
Stop! No, no, no, no!
Grievous wasn't sure if he was actually beating his own head with the stubs on his arms, or if he was imagining it. His brain felt like it was on fire, to the point where he was screaming. Pushing thoughts of surrender away seemed to increase his pain.
"You will die for this, Jedi filth!"
Obi-Wan tried one last time: "Surrender, and go home to your loved ones."
There was little for Grievous to fight now that he was fully aware. The pain was less in his head, but now more so in his chest. His innards were reminding him that they were injured, and he went into another coughing fit. His eyes opened and the Jedi was still before him, and a new look had replaced the thoughtful one: pity.
This scum pities me! How dare he look at me like that!
What he screamed in retaliation... Was it in anger? Did the pain in his chest addle him? Or was it the thought that he truly believed that...
"KILL ME! JUST KILL ME NOW!"
...he didn't have loved ones...
How much time had passed between then and what happened next? A minute? An hour? Several hours? Time seemed to freeze between the Force user and the one trained in the ways of the Sith. Staring, reflecting, and realizing that in this state he was to be pitied. There was the fleeting inner question of whether he was to die now...
...then the clones burst in, firing all weapons, but not at Grievous...
"Akko, akko, akko..." Grievous muttered to himself as his eyes opened and he stared at the dying fire. "T'kas rhy mutaa?!" Stupid, stupid, stupid... What was I thinking?
He lifted his head to see Ussuri had come back as he slept, and was curled up on her own pelt of fur and tightly wrapped in her fur cloak. By the slow up and down movements of her back, she was in a peaceful sleep. His metal body was stiff and reluctant to move, so he remained laying in his spot and watching the woman across him in her slumber. Suddenly, his lungs lurched and he coughed harshly, grabbing at his chest. He hoped that didn't wake her, but she stirred and opened her eyes.
"Gijya, are you sure..."
"There is nothing you can do for... that." Grievous insisted, then looked at the door and noticed it had grown dark out... and colder. "How long was I asleep?"
"The rest of the day." Ussuri answered, moving herself to a sit and then to a stand, keeping the cloak tightly wrapped around her. "Are you feeling... better? To talk?"
"About what?" Grievous sighed.
"You said that you came to Grendaju to see me again." Ussuri ignored the dying fire to sit by Grievous's side. "Why would I take precedence over your family in Kaleela?"
"..." This was not a question she could get a satisfactory answer to. Yes, Grievous had family in the capital city: his wives and children. But as far as they knew, he died in that shuttle crash. They believed Qymaen jai Sheelal is dead, and General Grievous is another person. Even if he was to go home, he was not the same man and he never would be again. He couldn't give his wives children, he was too strong to play with his own offspring, the others would look at him in disgust... even more so now that he lost a major war. The legend of "the dreaming one" was over, and what legend there could have been of General Grievous vanished when he begged the Jedi to kill him.
"Gijya?"
"They must not know." he instructed the woman. "They..." He struggled for the names of his wives. He couldn't recall them. Not one name. He faintly remembered the jealous one... "They must not know about me. Qymaen died years ago with his Izvoshra, and it must stay at that."
"You may have a new body, but you are still Qy..."
"You are more important right now, Ussuri." Grievous insisted. "You and your gift."
Ussuri's face fell slightly. Her gift was known all over Kalee, it was the reason men were after her for marriage or why families traveled around the world to see her. They wanted to see her heal wounded, to heard karabbac, to see faint visions of the future, and little more.
"There is nothing my gift can do for you." Ussuri shook her head. Grievous chuckled in response.
"No. It is what I can do for your gift." He urged his body up to a sit and it responded in reluctant fashion. "I have seen others with this gift, and I believe there is more you can do."
"What do you mean?"
Grievous's answer was in two parts: First he reached into his cloak to grab something, and when he did, he held it out to her. It was a lightsaber. Then, he gave her a verbal answer.
"I mean, that you are a Jedi, Ussuri kuh Kratlal."
The next day on the outskirts of Krushan, far from curious eyes, Grievous and Ussuri began their basic training. Grievous's cloak was covered by a Naah fur cloak to help combat the cold, and Ussuri wore her deep red training robes. The pack of karabbac kept a safe distance away, watching the one they called their own with the stranger. Ussuri was eager to start, but had many questions.
"Do you have this gift, Gijya?"
"No."
"How many others out in the galaxy have it?"
"Thousands."
"Will any of them come here?"
"I pray not. They are our enemy."
"But the war is over..."
"Let's begin!"
Grievous once again took out the lightsaber her showed Ussuri, but started walking away from her backward. "For your first lesson, I want you to take up this lightsaber."
"And how will I do that?" Ussuri wondered, not sure what the aim was if her mentor wasn't simply going to give it to her.
"With your gift, take it from my hand."
Ussuri was already taken aback. She was faintly able to grab objects with this gift, but moving them at such a distance wasn't something she had done before. The doubt was clear on her face, and Grievous picked up on it.
"I wouldn't ask this of you if you couldn't do it, Ussuri. Concentrate, like you always do. Call it to you, like you do the karabbac."
There was some understanding in this explanation, but Ussuri still had her doubts.
"We may be here all day, Gijya."
"I have all day, Ussuri. Take your time."
He watched her as she bent her legs down and sat cross-legged in the snow, raised her head high and closed her eyes. She was meditating, but he kept patient. Perhaps she was calling her gift to her. He waited, excercising his patience as the hours went on and the weather shifted from light snow to clear skies and back again.
It took a few hours and several coughing fits from Grievous later when Ussuri raised a hand before her and lowered her head slightly. Her fingers quivered and moved slightly, as if she was touching something that might be hot and the lightsaber twitched in Grievous's palm. The cyborg watched in amazement as the lightsaber lifted from his hand and slowly floated towards the woman a few meters away. A smile played across her face, realizing that she was very close to accomplishing her goal. The lightsaber was just half-way to her hand...
...when one of the karabbac pups raced by and grabbed it in its mouth. Ussuri's eyes went wide in alarm while Grievous stood there in surprise. Ussuri jumped up after the cub, but it started chase and ran around the area with its shiny new toy.
"Fiina!" she called, trying to coax it back. "Fiina! Fiina fiina!"
Something stirred in Grievous's mind as he watched the specticle before him. He felt as if his entire being was lighter, his vision didn't seem to blur as badly and the corners of his eyes were turning upward. A little voice in the back of his mind seemed to prod him slightly...
Go on, laugh. It's okay to laugh. It's funny.
"Heh.... Heh, heh, heh..." Small chuckles only came as he continued to watch, but Ussuri was victorious in catching the fuzzy cub and retrieving her prize. The lightsaber was a little slobbery, but she cleaned it with her furs with a laugh.
"Most unexpected." she chuckled back to her teacher.
"You still did well." he congratulated. "Perhaps we'll try again with less... of an audience."
"Yes." Ussuri agreed, shooing the cub back to its parents. "Let's take you back to my home. I think your doctor wants to examine you again."
That made Grievous groan. Why so many examinations? Since when was that droid paranoid?
"Oh, so this is your plan?" the doctor droid sighed in exasperation. "To train that girl into a Jedi or Sith or whatever?"
"..." Grievous decided not to respond, trying to peer down into his open chest cavity. The doctor had opened it up in Ussuri's hut to take the temperature of the gutsack. To Grievous, it was a great inconvenience. Perhaps the droid was getting bored; they were capable of such things.
"What do you hope to accomplish doing that? Think you can train her into winning the next war?" The droid shrugged with two free arms, while another one softly poked a small needle into the sack's thick membrane. "Doesn't sound like you. You always lose your patience when dealing with 'apprentices.' Or maybe... Ooooh, I get it now..." There seemed to be a smirk in the doctor's voice as a wild conjecture came up. "You're going to mechanize her, so she'll be you but with Force powers! Very clever, master."
"That's not it at all!" Grievous barked, his head shooting up to glare at his medic. "Where did you get that ridiculous idea?!"
"Please, when you aren't fighting battles, you're doing your weird experiments." the droid explained. "You keep trying to make a small army of soldiers just like you with your metal body but bionic brain, and sometimes you try to use Jedi. Remember those padawans on Gentes you were cursing up and down when you came home? You were going to..."
"Those days are over. There is nothing now but Ussuri."
"Oh, come ON, Master! It's always the battle with you, or your experiments. It's not as though you don't have..."
Once again, Grievous's hard glares shut the droid up but there was something different about this glare. The droid noted access water from the tear ducts, but decided better on vocally reporting it. It once again sighed.
"Temperature normal. But it won't stay that way in a place like this. We'd need a whole new facility to keep you in proper condition. Maybe, if you just want to live here the rest of your days, we can build a new castle in the empty space west of here. I can have my own infirmary space, you can have the whole place to yourself and..."
"Doctor..." Grievous moaned as he closed up the flat panels of his chest. "The war is over. Our allies have been killed on Mustafar. The money and materials needed for my repair will never be made again. Do you understand?"
"Only that if you don't take of yourself in this case," the droid started to scold, shaking a clawed hand at the Kaleesh general, "then I have nothing to repair you with! And..." Then, it started to compute. Grievous was done. Finished. There was nothing left to do, nothing to fight for, nothing to look foreword to. "Then, it really is your intention to live the rest of your days here?"
"Yes. Training Ussuri."
"I don't get it..."
"I didn't ask you to. Now was there any other unnecessary tests you have to run on me?"
"Maybe. I'm trying to figure out why you aren't acting like yourself. You're only angry if I'm talking to you, you're not taking out your frustrations on whatever's around you, you're..." There were no correct words to keep describing the changes in the Kaleesh warlord, except for: "...different."
It was true; Grievous felt like a candle who's flame had gone out. Most of his anger did seem to vanish after the war, but the burning rage against the Jedi was still present. The desire to go back to the battlefield and win the war will still be there, but there was no longer any energy for it. He had realized that now there would be no more wars for him to fight. There was nothing for him in the galaxy anymore, and the shame he felt at his own defeat was a greater pain than any wound to his body. There was no future for him, and no hope. Nothing awaited Grievous further on his path of life, only what he is and what little he cared about.
Grievous closed his eyes, the very thought of his defeat made him tired.
"I feel different," he admitted softly, "but there is no medicine or instrument of yours that can fix me."
"Well, that's just great." his medic huffed. "So, what do you want me to do? Sit here and watch you die the slowest, most horrible death possible?"
"..." Once again, Grievous said nothing. He heard the blanket cover ruffle as Ussuri came in and he turned to her.
"Gijya, I have a question."
"Ask." Grievous invited her.
"I understand that there is more to my gift than I thought, but what I can do has always been enough for me." she began, sitting next to him. "What purpose will my new skills have? Why should I learn things that I may never use?"
"Ah, but you will use them." Grievous surmised, feeling as if he should smile at her naieve question. "I am training you to be a protector... and a warrior far superior to myself."
"But WHY?" Ussuri's attitude suddenly turned from placid to frustrated. Grievous flinched at her change in tone; this wasn't like her at all. "If the war is over and the tribes are at peace with each other, why should I be a warrior?! What is there to fight?!"
"Ussuri!" Grievous barked back at her tone, but she made it clear she was the one who was doing the scolding.
"As I left you to your doctor and visited my neighbors, I had a vision. It was a vision of the past, of you returning to a castle you built on a dead moon far away. Your droid body was being repaired and you felt you had nothing to live for. Then you thought of me and decided to make me a reason to live. You only have faint knowledge of what this 'Force' can do, but you don't have this gift!"
"Ussuri..."
"You wanted that gift more than anything, but it didn't want you. Even with the blood of a dead Jedi coursing in your veins, the Force will not answer to you!"
He wanted to strike her, pummel her face and kill her but with every ounce of inner strength he kept his hands to his sides. Her vision was accurate; every part of it. But why get mad at him? What was wrong with finding a person as a reason to live? Before he could ask her that, she seemed to answer that question.
"What about your family, Gijya? They were your reason to keep going even after the Huk War. Why don't you think of them?"
She was not going to like the answer, but Grievous gave it best he could.
"Ussuri... When I was rebuilt, there was chemical work done on my brain." He indicated this by letting his long, clawed fingers come to rest on his metal scalp. "Most of my memories are gone. Some come back to me, as fleeting thoughts... But the point is that there is much of the Huk War and living here on Kalee I cannot recall, no matter how hard I try. I cannot remember my wives faces, or what their names were. I can remember having a first born son, but I have no memories of him. This is what I meant when I said I don't like being called Qymaen anymore. Qymaen was erased with his memories, he is gone. I am not that man anymore..."
"But you remember me?"
Grievous had to pause. No answer seemed to satisfy her anymore. What caused this anger? What provoked it? This wasn't the Ussuri he met many years ago... Or at least what he remembered of her.
"Yes... I cannot remember my wives, children, or those of my Izvoshra... but I clearly remembered you. You were always very special to me, since we met... You always held a place in my heart, and I must admit I did think of you often..."
"Because of my gift?" She was frowning again.
"It was more than that." Grievous answered truthfully. "Beyond your gift, there was no one like you that I had met. I can remember Ussuri kuh Kratlal as a gentle girl with wisdom beyond her years who never felt hate or greed... who was never touched by sin. My strongest memory is of when we rode to the Altaw Mountains west of here..."
Just as he thought, Ussuri had to smile at the memory they shared of so long ago. Rather than let him describe it, she cut to why that memory held so strong for the powerful and respected warlord Qymaen jai Sheelal:
"You proposed to me, and I said no. I was the first woman who told you no. Do you remember why?"
A cough took over Grievous's speech, which caused him to resort to a little head shaking for "no."
"My gift, Gijya. I was dedicated to practicing it then, and I still am. I tell all the men no; it doesn't matter what they promise me. A husband and children would distract me from my meditations and training."
"But now you talk about it as if it's a curse. Why?"
"I suppose in a way it is a curse. It is all anyone sees in me now, it is now all anyone wants to talk to me about. With your training, it will be more so. I have never minded the attention, but I feel as though no one looks at me for me anymore."
"..." Grievous was quiet. The answer he wanted to give was obvious: he still saw her for who she was and always will, gift or not. To him, she was still intriguing and he still yearned for her. It was beyond his explanation why it was her of all women, but he still felt drawn to her and she was now the only thing more important to him than a battlefield, a war, or fighting Jedi to extinction. There was only one way to put this to words...
He placed a hand on hers next to her side, and gripped it softly.
"Do you want to keep training with me, Ussuri?" Then, it was she who grew quiet, who closed her eyes and bent her head. Was she in thought? He stayed quiet and waited for an answer. The sun outside was starting to set before she gave him one.
"I feel I can do enough with my gift, Gijya."
"Then, that is fine." He nodded.
Very odd, even for him. Rejection was something he took badly, in the most extreme cases even as an insult. But with Ussuri, he felt even more different. It was another kind of different. As though he was slowly reverting back to his old self, back to Qymaen. This different feeling left him with what he could only describe as peace. For once as a cybernetic, he felt at peace by Ussuri's side.
"But then what will you do here, Gijya?" Ussuri asked.
"I have always liked this village." Grievous admitted. "I think I will have my own house here and stay with you." There seemed to be another smile playing behind his mask. "Maybe one day we can..."
"No." Ussuri interrupted with a warning finger. "Whether you are Qymaen jai Sheelal or Grievous, I will not marry you."
"We shall see." Grievous chuckled.
Perhaps there were somethings in life, he thought to himself, that are not unlike a battlefield.
(A General Grievous "what if" story)
The war of clones and droids was over, yet the galaxy was still at unease. The mighty Jedi have fallen one by one, and the Galactic Republic deteriorated into a strict Empire overnight. Many were uncertain about the future, but none were more uncertain than the people of the Outer Rim planet of Kalee.
The few who knew of Kalee knew its lush jungles and arid canyons. The Huk War created an unforgiving desert wasteland on the western continent, and the Kaleesh tribes were suffering from famine and plagues. It was not a place where one would willingly go to call home, as the planet suffered crisis after crisis.
But for a fallen general of the droid army, home was the only place left to go.
Far from the jungles, canyons and wasteland is the southern ice cap of Kalee which the natives called Grendaju. In the frigid cold, constant snowfall and thin lakes of ice were the tribe of Kaleesh called the Naah. The below zero temperatures and constant snowfall had mostly kept the Huk at bay during the war, but the Naah still struggled as their food supply was diminishing and the gods cursed them with constant blizzards. The Naah were also stricken by the loss of their leader many years ago, and had no one they deemed worthy to give them guidance.
In the Naah village of Krushan, one hunter exited her hut with a spear in hand and clutching her fur cloak tightly around her small frame. She was a female Kaleesh aged twenty eight years, dressed in many layers of tightly woven cloth and her cloak hung to her knees and her face protected by a cloth mask that pulled taunt against her mouth and nose. As she stepped into the village center, those in dress similar to hers stopped to bow their heads for a brief second and resume their various jobs. She was an important person in Krushan for many reasons: her father was the late village leader, she had pale albino skin with pink-tinted eyes, and since she was little she possessed a curious gift.
Her short walk took her to the edge of the village where several beasts had congregated. The carnivorous beasts were tall, thick skinned and sported long white fur on their backs heads and chests. They walked on two muscular legs and were supported by hairy arms and hands and had pushed in faces with glowing red eyes. They were karabback, and they were considered among the deadliest and wildest predators in all of Kalee. There was a clan of six, which included two cubs growing their fuzzy patches of fur on their bodies, sitting near an empty hut that raised their heads at the woman's approach. Any other Kaleesh would flee for their lives or grab their weapons to fight to the death.
But this woman opted to use her gift, as planned.
"Fiina!" she called in a light voice, holding a hand out to them. "Fiina! Fiina!" She accompanied her strange calls with clicks of her tongue and purring. Two grown karabbac lumbered towards her with a similar purring sound and licked at her hand. She laughed and wrapped her arms around one of their heads, cooing to them lovingly. With minimal effort and the animal's quiet permission, she climbed up on its back and took hold of some fur on its neck to act as reigns. A small tug on the right side prompted it to turn and begin walking out into the snowy wilderness. The pack followed the Kaleesh hunter and her temporary steed.
Keeping her spear nearby, the Kaleesh woman started scanning the white horizons taking note of the light snowfall. The summer months were beginning in the warmer continents above them, and Grendaju was preparing for Un'Roksora the "Never Ending Night" that would make hunting food and protecting the village more difficult. She had to find food now and as much of it as possible.
A mile away from the village was a small rock formation that contained caves the Naah once used as emergency shelters. Several wild animals had taken it over when the Kaleesh vacated and it was a prime hunting spot. The woman started here, and her immediate eyesight saw no clues of animals living in the caves. She just made the decision to continue foreword with her small pack before something in the sky caught her eye and she looked up.
Something was dropping from the sky like a diving bird, but it was obviously larger and glinted in the sunlight past the clouds. The woman narrowed her eyes as though doing that would help her get a closer look, but to no avail. She watched as its descent slowed and it began to float to the ground effortlessly. There was only one thing she knew of that could do that.
"Itaah... Itaah shippo..." Is that... Is that a starship?
Clutching her spear, she urged only her mount foreword towards it. Perhaps it was the Seperatists with news of the war, or perhaps it was yet another pack of bounty hunters hoping to steal more slaves for quick money.
There was only one way to find out for certain.
The Nemoidian shuttle landed cleanly in the snow, then the landing gear sunk a couple of feet, rendering it stuck. The pilot, an IG-100 MagnaGuard, pointed this out to a smaller droid at its side.
"Oh, that's just great!" the bronze-colored medical droid groaned through its vocoder. "Master needs to get to a bacta tank immediately, but nooOOOooo, he wants to come here to this backwater planet with no space port, no friendly troops, no recent technology to date... And to top it off we're stuck in the stanging snow!"
The MagnaGuard rumbled at the littler droid in annoyance.
"No, YOU shut up!" the medic snapped at it.
They were both interrupted by a loud coughing fit from the passenger lodge, which prompted the medic to wobble back there on its thin legs.
"Master," the medic lamented, "are you SURE you won't go home to Vassek to finish the repairs?"
"...Yes." came the hushed but harsh response.
"Well, you're home, or at least we think so." the droid prattled, raising its clawed hands up to point a talon-like finger at his cybernetic boss. "But why did you tell us to land on the ice cap? I thought you lived on the western continent."
His master only growled in responce through his vocoder before coughing a couple more times. The droid, not receiving a proper answer, droned on with complaints.
"It's my programing to make sure you're in working condition. And you're not in the best of health, you know! Your gutsack might be leaking, your ribcage is ripped wide open, your breathing is ragged, and your HANDS! Why are you always getting at least two hands cut off every time you come back?!"
Why did I upload A-4D's personality into this model? The cyborg lamented to himself as he put a clawed hand to his broken chest and listened to his own wheezing breaths. His gutsack was just fine, but the parts holding it together were damaged. If anything, his vital organs were going to fall out if he moved too quickly. Still, he glared at the caretaker droid until it quieted and looked right into its master's slitted eyes.
"At least let me secure the gutsack so it doesn't fall out when you get up."
"Proceed." The cyborg relented, leaning back in his seat as the droid's back-mounted first aid kit and work station launched into view.
Another MagnaGuard sitting by his master's side suddenly let out an opinion through its strained rumbles and electronic spats:
"Master, did you come here to die?"
Grievous looked up at one of his four bodyguards surrounding him, his yellow eyes heavy with weariness and depression.
"Not yet." was the only non-complicated answer he could give.
He did not come to Grendaju to die... Not yet at least...
The fallen General Grievous fell asleep during the short operation and dreamed. In all irony, he dreamed of his reason for returning to his homeworld: his defeat at the hands of Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi. To further frustration, he saw only bits and pieces. Everything played before him as if he was watching through someone else's eyes.
Starting in the hanger of Utapau... "Hello there."... The flash and humming of clashing lightsaber blades... Running for his wheel bike... The struggle in the mining shafts... Landing and rolling on the ground by The Soulless One... So close... Robbed of any weapons, forced to use his fists and feet...
...the Jedi still had his lightsaber...
His legs were cut, his other hands were cut...
"It's over, Grievous. Surrender."
"Fool! Jedi fool! I will destroy every last one of you!"
...then, the Jedi made a hand motion... "Surrender..."
Thump, thump, thump...
A light knocking on the ship's hull woke Grievous from his sleep and snapped his eyes open. He sat up, taking brief note that he was physically repaired before turning to his caretaker droid.
"What is that?"
"I don't know." the droid answered honestly. "I thought one of the guards could open the door and look outside." Grievous turned his eyes to a viewport, and noted that it was snowing slightly but growing dark out.
"No need." he decided. "Activate the rear viewers." He stood up and walked to the cockpit to see what was outside himself. The holographic viewer along the ship's windshield flickered on, and the cameras just to the side of the loading ramp captured an interesting sight: a native in a long fur cloak was poking at the ship with the blunt end of her spear. Grievous looked at the view intensely to try and see her face, but his vision started to blur and he coughed violently.
"Typical primitive behavior." his medic huffed. Grievous glared angrily at the droid, receiving a prompt "oh, sorry" from the medic before walking back into the passenger lodge.
"Lower the landing platform." he ordered. "I'm going outside."
"Oh no, you're not!" the little droid immediately objected. "It's negative twelve degrees outside! Prolong exposure to the cold will kill you in your condition!"
"You know my kind are naturally curious. You can either lower the platform and let me out, or let the 'typical primitive' pry open the platform and come in."
"..." The droid was stumped into silence before giving a relenting growl. "Fine! Just shoo it away so you can come back inside!"
One MagnaGuard used the cockpit controls to lower the platform, immediately bringing in a deep, howling wind and thousands of white flakes before Grievous descended. His eyes immediately locked with the woman's, who gasped in shock in seeing him.
Face to face, Grievous recognized her. His eyes lit up for a split second at his last memories of her, then calmed seeing how she had grown.
"Iktaita." he greeted softly. Hello.
He watched as the woman looked into his eyes and heard from his voice that he was Kaleesh. She seemed confused, horrified even, as she responded.
"Iktaita, Gijya..." She responded with a stunned stutter. Greetings, my lord...
"Ygrata maima na, giira?" What is your name, young lady?
"Ussuri. Ussuri kuh Kratlal."
"Ussuri..." A strange, passive feeling came over him just saying her name. He said it again with a slightly stronger tone, as if to see if he was dreaming. "Ussuri..."
"Gijya?" the woman asked, the hand holding her spear shaking. Grievous could see it in her small form; she could feel that he was no stranger to her. "Ygrata na?" Who are you?
"Kura gre nanabrotoi, epriti gah." I am but a ghost, and nothing more.
Her hand rose from her side and with a timid shiver rested on the side of his metallic mask. He allowed it, watching her own eyes widen and water. He could feel the invisible touch of her "gift" finding his true identity; a name he thought he had forgotten.
"Kura...? Gijya...?" A ghost? My lord... Her hand quickly went to her eyes as she hid them in horror of the man before her. A man she and her people thought had died many years ago. A dear friend, a beloved hero...
"Qymaen..."
Despite the loud and constant protests of the small caretaker droid, Grievous and his bodyguards accompanied Ussuri and her pack back to the village. Ussuri resumed her mount on one of the karabbac as the visitors walked alongside the monsters. The caretaker had to be carried by a MagnaGuard, as it couldn't walk fast enough through the knee-deep snow. Its ranting managed to carry over the wind.
"Master, it's thirteen below zero and you don't have any cold protection in your state! Oh, why didn't we just finish up your repairs back home? The Jedi haven't found that hideout, we would have been safe! Oh, you really didn't come here to die, have you? What about me? What am I going to do if you freeze to death?! There aren't a whole lot of jobs droids like me can do, you know... My circuits are freezing already! Master, let's just turn around..."
Grievous noted that Ussuri was also being annoyed by the medical droid more-so than he; she couldn't speak a word of Basic.
"Is he bothering you?" he asked, suppressing a cough.
"The silence I normally hear bothers me more." Ussuri admitted. "But what is he saying?"
"He is a droid that can talk for hours, but not actually say anything. Leave it at that."
This prompted a smile from the Kaleesh woman.
"I'm happy you are back, alive and well. The others are wanting to hear your tales of the war."
"Why would they?" Grievous swiveled his head away with a snarl. "I lost."
"Not many Kaleesh have been off-world. Just to see the other planets in our system: the giant firetrees of Abbaji, the golden fields of Tovarskl... You must have many stories of planets far away."
"...I have no stories to tell." the general quietly groaned into his vocoder, distracted by his own depression. "I have no need to meet with anyone at the moment."
"Then what is your reason for coming home?" Ussuri watched the rebuilt man a head below her from her mount, as Grievous looked up at her and right into her eyes. While his eyes were tired and sad, there was a slight glint of longing.
"You."
"..." Ussuri remained silent, searching for an appropriate question. There was no time to ask it as they entered the village. Kaleesh men and women were preparing their houses for a heavy snowfall for the night, and were nearly frozen themselves at the sight of General Grievous coming in their direction. Many stared dumbfounded at the cyborg, and after he passed whispered feverishly among themselves. Grievous ignored them, keeping his eyes foreword and staying by Ussuri's side.
Ussuri dismounted and urged the karabbac back to the edge of the village, then lead Grievous and his small party back to her private hut. She lifted the entrance blanket for him and he slid right under hastily. The female Kaleesh let the rest of the droids in before entering herself, then putting in wooden stakes at the bottom of the blanket to lock the entrance up.
The hut was circular and had only one large room. In the middle of the room smoldered a small fire, which was close to going out. Large pelts of mumuu fur lay at the ends of the room, acting as beds for visitors. And the very back of the room was a small dais where metal containers with painted Confederacy seals sat and gathered dust. The hut was humble and plain, but an otherwise satisfactory shelter.
"You may stay as long as you like, Gijya." Ussuri invited, poking at the small fire with the sharp edge of her spear. "But I'm not sure I can be a proper host."
"Why do you say that?" Grievous inquired, taking a seat on one of the pelt beds.
"Because you are... very different from my normal guests." Ussuri admitted, trying to be polite. "Is there anything special you need to eat? Or otherwise be comfortable?"
"I cannot eat." the general shook his head. "Do not trouble yourself too greatly tonight, Ussuri. All I need now is rest."
"Yes..." the female agreed, smiling. "Please rest. We can talk more in the morning."
Grievous put his legs under him and laid back on the pelt. It should have been comfortable, but with his droid body there was nothing he could feel. Putting his head down, he closed his eyes and tried to sleep. His rambling caretaker was already making even falling asleep difficult.
"Oh, this is disgusting! This is no place for you to be resting, Master. Do you even have any idea how many germs that fur might have?! And she's got a FIRE going in here! How can she not DIE breathing in the smoke?! And residue from that smoke might get into your gutsack! Master, why do you insist on making things harder for yourself?! It can't be true that you'll die like thi..."
"SILENCE!" Grievous barked, then pointed towards the metal containers opposite of the door. "Sit there and shut down! You can prattle on about my health when I ask you to!"
"Hmph!" the medic grunted, marching to his designated spot angrily. "Well, that's just fine! But if your innerds freeze and you die, don't come crying to me... because I told you so!" Grievous let out a quiet, displeased growl as the droid sat on one of the crates then slumped as it shut itself off. He instructed his guards to do the same, posting two by the doors on alarm mode. Ussuri watched them in concern, and moved her position by the general's side.
"Qymaen..."
"Don't call me that."
"Gijya... Are you alright?"
"I told you not to worry yourself now."
"You're just so..." She paused to find the right word to use. Her silence prompted Grievous to open his eyes and look at her, and he saw a troubled and sad face. Ussuri was remenicing the years she last saw the warlord of legend, and was no doubt shocked by his newer appearance.
"Don't talk now." Grievous prompted as gently as his vocoder would allow. "You said we should talk in the morning. I would prefer that."
"...Yes." the woman agreed hesitently. "I'll leave you be then, I must go back out and hunt."
"..." He said nothing as Ussuri slowly got up and lifted the entrance blanket.
"Sleep well, Gijya." she wished before letting the thick blanket drop behind her. The two guards on alarm mode replaced the wooden stakes to lock the door, then went back to their temporary sleep.
With silence finally obtained, Grievous again closed his eyes and began to drift off to merciful sleep. After a couple of hours, a small part of him sturred as the wind outside howled fiercely through the cracks in the door. In a state that bordered sleep and conciousness, the Kaleesh warlord found himself in a state of reflection that felt like a dream...
"Army or not, you must realize that you are doomed."
"Oh, I don't think so."
Before Grievous could make another strike, Obi-Wan Kenobi threw a strong Force-push at him, causing the cyborg to hit one of the upper ventilators. He lost his grip on his lightsabers as he fell, landing hands and feet first.
No weapons, two good hands and feet, and his fresh wounds from Coruscant further agitated... there was no other option but to flee. He skittered to his thankfully nearby wheelbike and flipped into the driver's seat. There was no time lost in starting the engine, rotating the tread wheel and launching off. Obi-Wan saw the old bike gunning for him and jumped out of the way. Grievous had instead taken out two clone troopers as he piloted the wheelbike off the platform and further down into the sinkhole. The plan now was to escape through the mining tunnels below Pau City towards his secret hanger and take off in The Soulless One. There was no telling at this point if the Republic knew about Mustafar, but he had to make plans to rendezvous there with the others soon. A last stand had to be made.
There wasn't much longer left to go... Maybe a few miles... Then he heard the cawing of a varactyl behind him, slightly unusual in these caves this time of day, and looked to find Obi-Wan riding one of the dragonmounts and managing to keep up pace. Gunning the engines would do no good on the sharp turns of the narrow road, but Grievous kept the bike going as fast as possible, grabbing the electrostaff behind him. Just as the Jedi and lizard started matching speed, Grievous struck out with the sputtering staff, hitting Obi-Wan in the side. The human kept his grip on the reigns and stayed in the seat, and was ready when Grievous struck out at him again, pulling the staff from its grip and taking a swing himself. Grievous steered the bike away as far as he could on the narrow road as the Jedi swung again, but noticed that he wasn't the actual target of Obi-Wan's swings: it was the bike! The electrostaff crackled and sizzled along the quickly spinning wheel; any more abuse and the bike would crash! Grievous leaned with his bike towards the Jedi to get his staff back when Obi-Wan resumed striking him again. The Kaleesh took that opportunity to grab it and pull. This only let Obi-Wan jump from his mount and into the bike right on Grievous.
Struggling with a foe and driving a vehicle at the same time wasn't the hardest thing he had to do in his campaign against the Republic, but he was either going to crash, die, or both if he didn't act fast. Keeping one hand in the struggle for the staff, he used his free hand to grab the blaster rifle in the holster near his foot. He only managed one poorly aimed shot in the air, but it was enough to surprise Obi-Wan into changing focus before the bike came towards the Soulless One's docking bay. But the struggle in the driver's seat and one wrong lean to the side sent both foes tumbling to the ground and out of the vehicle. The bike launched off the platform and into the sinkhole below.
Obi-Wan was the first to his feet, electrostaff in hand. Grievous stood and fired another shot from the rifle. The Jedi dodged it and used the staff to knock the blaster from Grievous's hand. The Kaleesh then blocked the next few strikes with his arms, snarling and wheezing almost uncontrollably. A surprise whack to the side sent Grievous dropping on his back, and then the business end of the electrostaff shocked his chest plates. With a loud growl in pain, Grievous kicked the Jedi away fiercely. The Kaleesh got back to his feet and marched to his enemy armed only with his fists to smash him into the ground. Then, the Jedi stood and drew his...
...lightsaber!
Grievous went back for the rifle, but he reacted too late. The Jedi swiped off his legs and Grievous tumbled to the ground on his chest, creating more hoarse coughs. His clawed hands closed over the rifle and he flipped to fire again, but Obi-Wan cut that hand off. Just as Grievous reacted to that hand, his other one was also cut. The need to keep fighting burned on, but without even his limbs all the warlord could do was inch closer and closer to his ship by his metal stubs. Obi-Wan, all the while, kept the edge of the bright blue blade towards Grievous's face.
"It's over, Grievous. Surrender."
"Fool!" Grievous barked. If he could spit on Obi-Wan, he would have done that too. "Jedi fool! I will never surrender! I will destroy every last one of you!"
A thoughtful look came across the Jedi's face. Then, as if to try an experiment, he waved his free hand in front of him.
"Surrender."
No! NO!
Grievous's head hit the ground hard, squeezing his eyes shut as if he was in greater pain than now. He started growling and cursing, chasing the very thought of giving up out of his head. He would flee from a losing battle, he would escape any trap sprung on him, but he would not give up on this war.
"Don't waste your tricks on me!" Grievous snarled at the Jedi. "This war will end with Jedi blood!"
Obi-Wan tried again: "Surrender."
Stop! No, no, no, no!
Grievous wasn't sure if he was actually beating his own head with the stubs on his arms, or if he was imagining it. His brain felt like it was on fire, to the point where he was screaming. Pushing thoughts of surrender away seemed to increase his pain.
"You will die for this, Jedi filth!"
Obi-Wan tried one last time: "Surrender, and go home to your loved ones."
There was little for Grievous to fight now that he was fully aware. The pain was less in his head, but now more so in his chest. His innards were reminding him that they were injured, and he went into another coughing fit. His eyes opened and the Jedi was still before him, and a new look had replaced the thoughtful one: pity.
This scum pities me! How dare he look at me like that!
What he screamed in retaliation... Was it in anger? Did the pain in his chest addle him? Or was it the thought that he truly believed that...
"KILL ME! JUST KILL ME NOW!"
...he didn't have loved ones...
How much time had passed between then and what happened next? A minute? An hour? Several hours? Time seemed to freeze between the Force user and the one trained in the ways of the Sith. Staring, reflecting, and realizing that in this state he was to be pitied. There was the fleeting inner question of whether he was to die now...
...then the clones burst in, firing all weapons, but not at Grievous...
"Akko, akko, akko..." Grievous muttered to himself as his eyes opened and he stared at the dying fire. "T'kas rhy mutaa?!" Stupid, stupid, stupid... What was I thinking?
He lifted his head to see Ussuri had come back as he slept, and was curled up on her own pelt of fur and tightly wrapped in her fur cloak. By the slow up and down movements of her back, she was in a peaceful sleep. His metal body was stiff and reluctant to move, so he remained laying in his spot and watching the woman across him in her slumber. Suddenly, his lungs lurched and he coughed harshly, grabbing at his chest. He hoped that didn't wake her, but she stirred and opened her eyes.
"Gijya, are you sure..."
"There is nothing you can do for... that." Grievous insisted, then looked at the door and noticed it had grown dark out... and colder. "How long was I asleep?"
"The rest of the day." Ussuri answered, moving herself to a sit and then to a stand, keeping the cloak tightly wrapped around her. "Are you feeling... better? To talk?"
"About what?" Grievous sighed.
"You said that you came to Grendaju to see me again." Ussuri ignored the dying fire to sit by Grievous's side. "Why would I take precedence over your family in Kaleela?"
"..." This was not a question she could get a satisfactory answer to. Yes, Grievous had family in the capital city: his wives and children. But as far as they knew, he died in that shuttle crash. They believed Qymaen jai Sheelal is dead, and General Grievous is another person. Even if he was to go home, he was not the same man and he never would be again. He couldn't give his wives children, he was too strong to play with his own offspring, the others would look at him in disgust... even more so now that he lost a major war. The legend of "the dreaming one" was over, and what legend there could have been of General Grievous vanished when he begged the Jedi to kill him.
"Gijya?"
"They must not know." he instructed the woman. "They..." He struggled for the names of his wives. He couldn't recall them. Not one name. He faintly remembered the jealous one... "They must not know about me. Qymaen died years ago with his Izvoshra, and it must stay at that."
"You may have a new body, but you are still Qy..."
"You are more important right now, Ussuri." Grievous insisted. "You and your gift."
Ussuri's face fell slightly. Her gift was known all over Kalee, it was the reason men were after her for marriage or why families traveled around the world to see her. They wanted to see her heal wounded, to heard karabbac, to see faint visions of the future, and little more.
"There is nothing my gift can do for you." Ussuri shook her head. Grievous chuckled in response.
"No. It is what I can do for your gift." He urged his body up to a sit and it responded in reluctant fashion. "I have seen others with this gift, and I believe there is more you can do."
"What do you mean?"
Grievous's answer was in two parts: First he reached into his cloak to grab something, and when he did, he held it out to her. It was a lightsaber. Then, he gave her a verbal answer.
"I mean, that you are a Jedi, Ussuri kuh Kratlal."
The next day on the outskirts of Krushan, far from curious eyes, Grievous and Ussuri began their basic training. Grievous's cloak was covered by a Naah fur cloak to help combat the cold, and Ussuri wore her deep red training robes. The pack of karabbac kept a safe distance away, watching the one they called their own with the stranger. Ussuri was eager to start, but had many questions.
"Do you have this gift, Gijya?"
"No."
"How many others out in the galaxy have it?"
"Thousands."
"Will any of them come here?"
"I pray not. They are our enemy."
"But the war is over..."
"Let's begin!"
Grievous once again took out the lightsaber her showed Ussuri, but started walking away from her backward. "For your first lesson, I want you to take up this lightsaber."
"And how will I do that?" Ussuri wondered, not sure what the aim was if her mentor wasn't simply going to give it to her.
"With your gift, take it from my hand."
Ussuri was already taken aback. She was faintly able to grab objects with this gift, but moving them at such a distance wasn't something she had done before. The doubt was clear on her face, and Grievous picked up on it.
"I wouldn't ask this of you if you couldn't do it, Ussuri. Concentrate, like you always do. Call it to you, like you do the karabbac."
There was some understanding in this explanation, but Ussuri still had her doubts.
"We may be here all day, Gijya."
"I have all day, Ussuri. Take your time."
He watched her as she bent her legs down and sat cross-legged in the snow, raised her head high and closed her eyes. She was meditating, but he kept patient. Perhaps she was calling her gift to her. He waited, excercising his patience as the hours went on and the weather shifted from light snow to clear skies and back again.
It took a few hours and several coughing fits from Grievous later when Ussuri raised a hand before her and lowered her head slightly. Her fingers quivered and moved slightly, as if she was touching something that might be hot and the lightsaber twitched in Grievous's palm. The cyborg watched in amazement as the lightsaber lifted from his hand and slowly floated towards the woman a few meters away. A smile played across her face, realizing that she was very close to accomplishing her goal. The lightsaber was just half-way to her hand...
...when one of the karabbac pups raced by and grabbed it in its mouth. Ussuri's eyes went wide in alarm while Grievous stood there in surprise. Ussuri jumped up after the cub, but it started chase and ran around the area with its shiny new toy.
"Fiina!" she called, trying to coax it back. "Fiina! Fiina fiina!"
Something stirred in Grievous's mind as he watched the specticle before him. He felt as if his entire being was lighter, his vision didn't seem to blur as badly and the corners of his eyes were turning upward. A little voice in the back of his mind seemed to prod him slightly...
Go on, laugh. It's okay to laugh. It's funny.
"Heh.... Heh, heh, heh..." Small chuckles only came as he continued to watch, but Ussuri was victorious in catching the fuzzy cub and retrieving her prize. The lightsaber was a little slobbery, but she cleaned it with her furs with a laugh.
"Most unexpected." she chuckled back to her teacher.
"You still did well." he congratulated. "Perhaps we'll try again with less... of an audience."
"Yes." Ussuri agreed, shooing the cub back to its parents. "Let's take you back to my home. I think your doctor wants to examine you again."
That made Grievous groan. Why so many examinations? Since when was that droid paranoid?
"Oh, so this is your plan?" the doctor droid sighed in exasperation. "To train that girl into a Jedi or Sith or whatever?"
"..." Grievous decided not to respond, trying to peer down into his open chest cavity. The doctor had opened it up in Ussuri's hut to take the temperature of the gutsack. To Grievous, it was a great inconvenience. Perhaps the droid was getting bored; they were capable of such things.
"What do you hope to accomplish doing that? Think you can train her into winning the next war?" The droid shrugged with two free arms, while another one softly poked a small needle into the sack's thick membrane. "Doesn't sound like you. You always lose your patience when dealing with 'apprentices.' Or maybe... Ooooh, I get it now..." There seemed to be a smirk in the doctor's voice as a wild conjecture came up. "You're going to mechanize her, so she'll be you but with Force powers! Very clever, master."
"That's not it at all!" Grievous barked, his head shooting up to glare at his medic. "Where did you get that ridiculous idea?!"
"Please, when you aren't fighting battles, you're doing your weird experiments." the droid explained. "You keep trying to make a small army of soldiers just like you with your metal body but bionic brain, and sometimes you try to use Jedi. Remember those padawans on Gentes you were cursing up and down when you came home? You were going to..."
"Those days are over. There is nothing now but Ussuri."
"Oh, come ON, Master! It's always the battle with you, or your experiments. It's not as though you don't have..."
Once again, Grievous's hard glares shut the droid up but there was something different about this glare. The droid noted access water from the tear ducts, but decided better on vocally reporting it. It once again sighed.
"Temperature normal. But it won't stay that way in a place like this. We'd need a whole new facility to keep you in proper condition. Maybe, if you just want to live here the rest of your days, we can build a new castle in the empty space west of here. I can have my own infirmary space, you can have the whole place to yourself and..."
"Doctor..." Grievous moaned as he closed up the flat panels of his chest. "The war is over. Our allies have been killed on Mustafar. The money and materials needed for my repair will never be made again. Do you understand?"
"Only that if you don't take of yourself in this case," the droid started to scold, shaking a clawed hand at the Kaleesh general, "then I have nothing to repair you with! And..." Then, it started to compute. Grievous was done. Finished. There was nothing left to do, nothing to fight for, nothing to look foreword to. "Then, it really is your intention to live the rest of your days here?"
"Yes. Training Ussuri."
"I don't get it..."
"I didn't ask you to. Now was there any other unnecessary tests you have to run on me?"
"Maybe. I'm trying to figure out why you aren't acting like yourself. You're only angry if I'm talking to you, you're not taking out your frustrations on whatever's around you, you're..." There were no correct words to keep describing the changes in the Kaleesh warlord, except for: "...different."
It was true; Grievous felt like a candle who's flame had gone out. Most of his anger did seem to vanish after the war, but the burning rage against the Jedi was still present. The desire to go back to the battlefield and win the war will still be there, but there was no longer any energy for it. He had realized that now there would be no more wars for him to fight. There was nothing for him in the galaxy anymore, and the shame he felt at his own defeat was a greater pain than any wound to his body. There was no future for him, and no hope. Nothing awaited Grievous further on his path of life, only what he is and what little he cared about.
Grievous closed his eyes, the very thought of his defeat made him tired.
"I feel different," he admitted softly, "but there is no medicine or instrument of yours that can fix me."
"Well, that's just great." his medic huffed. "So, what do you want me to do? Sit here and watch you die the slowest, most horrible death possible?"
"..." Once again, Grievous said nothing. He heard the blanket cover ruffle as Ussuri came in and he turned to her.
"Gijya, I have a question."
"Ask." Grievous invited her.
"I understand that there is more to my gift than I thought, but what I can do has always been enough for me." she began, sitting next to him. "What purpose will my new skills have? Why should I learn things that I may never use?"
"Ah, but you will use them." Grievous surmised, feeling as if he should smile at her naieve question. "I am training you to be a protector... and a warrior far superior to myself."
"But WHY?" Ussuri's attitude suddenly turned from placid to frustrated. Grievous flinched at her change in tone; this wasn't like her at all. "If the war is over and the tribes are at peace with each other, why should I be a warrior?! What is there to fight?!"
"Ussuri!" Grievous barked back at her tone, but she made it clear she was the one who was doing the scolding.
"As I left you to your doctor and visited my neighbors, I had a vision. It was a vision of the past, of you returning to a castle you built on a dead moon far away. Your droid body was being repaired and you felt you had nothing to live for. Then you thought of me and decided to make me a reason to live. You only have faint knowledge of what this 'Force' can do, but you don't have this gift!"
"Ussuri..."
"You wanted that gift more than anything, but it didn't want you. Even with the blood of a dead Jedi coursing in your veins, the Force will not answer to you!"
He wanted to strike her, pummel her face and kill her but with every ounce of inner strength he kept his hands to his sides. Her vision was accurate; every part of it. But why get mad at him? What was wrong with finding a person as a reason to live? Before he could ask her that, she seemed to answer that question.
"What about your family, Gijya? They were your reason to keep going even after the Huk War. Why don't you think of them?"
She was not going to like the answer, but Grievous gave it best he could.
"Ussuri... When I was rebuilt, there was chemical work done on my brain." He indicated this by letting his long, clawed fingers come to rest on his metal scalp. "Most of my memories are gone. Some come back to me, as fleeting thoughts... But the point is that there is much of the Huk War and living here on Kalee I cannot recall, no matter how hard I try. I cannot remember my wives faces, or what their names were. I can remember having a first born son, but I have no memories of him. This is what I meant when I said I don't like being called Qymaen anymore. Qymaen was erased with his memories, he is gone. I am not that man anymore..."
"But you remember me?"
Grievous had to pause. No answer seemed to satisfy her anymore. What caused this anger? What provoked it? This wasn't the Ussuri he met many years ago... Or at least what he remembered of her.
"Yes... I cannot remember my wives, children, or those of my Izvoshra... but I clearly remembered you. You were always very special to me, since we met... You always held a place in my heart, and I must admit I did think of you often..."
"Because of my gift?" She was frowning again.
"It was more than that." Grievous answered truthfully. "Beyond your gift, there was no one like you that I had met. I can remember Ussuri kuh Kratlal as a gentle girl with wisdom beyond her years who never felt hate or greed... who was never touched by sin. My strongest memory is of when we rode to the Altaw Mountains west of here..."
Just as he thought, Ussuri had to smile at the memory they shared of so long ago. Rather than let him describe it, she cut to why that memory held so strong for the powerful and respected warlord Qymaen jai Sheelal:
"You proposed to me, and I said no. I was the first woman who told you no. Do you remember why?"
A cough took over Grievous's speech, which caused him to resort to a little head shaking for "no."
"My gift, Gijya. I was dedicated to practicing it then, and I still am. I tell all the men no; it doesn't matter what they promise me. A husband and children would distract me from my meditations and training."
"But now you talk about it as if it's a curse. Why?"
"I suppose in a way it is a curse. It is all anyone sees in me now, it is now all anyone wants to talk to me about. With your training, it will be more so. I have never minded the attention, but I feel as though no one looks at me for me anymore."
"..." Grievous was quiet. The answer he wanted to give was obvious: he still saw her for who she was and always will, gift or not. To him, she was still intriguing and he still yearned for her. It was beyond his explanation why it was her of all women, but he still felt drawn to her and she was now the only thing more important to him than a battlefield, a war, or fighting Jedi to extinction. There was only one way to put this to words...
He placed a hand on hers next to her side, and gripped it softly.
"Do you want to keep training with me, Ussuri?" Then, it was she who grew quiet, who closed her eyes and bent her head. Was she in thought? He stayed quiet and waited for an answer. The sun outside was starting to set before she gave him one.
"I feel I can do enough with my gift, Gijya."
"Then, that is fine." He nodded.
Very odd, even for him. Rejection was something he took badly, in the most extreme cases even as an insult. But with Ussuri, he felt even more different. It was another kind of different. As though he was slowly reverting back to his old self, back to Qymaen. This different feeling left him with what he could only describe as peace. For once as a cybernetic, he felt at peace by Ussuri's side.
"But then what will you do here, Gijya?" Ussuri asked.
"I have always liked this village." Grievous admitted. "I think I will have my own house here and stay with you." There seemed to be another smile playing behind his mask. "Maybe one day we can..."
"No." Ussuri interrupted with a warning finger. "Whether you are Qymaen jai Sheelal or Grievous, I will not marry you."
"We shall see." Grievous chuckled.
Perhaps there were somethings in life, he thought to himself, that are not unlike a battlefield.
My contest entry to 
's contest. I'm not 100% satisfied with it by itself, but looking back into a bigger project I'm doing about Grievous's warlord days, this chapter is a nice epilogue of those future fics. It also gives everyone else a peak at what I've got planned.
It's also a complete italics fest! @@ That was more work than was needed, but what can I say, it's a little hard to convey when people are speaking a different language. Sure, I could have put up some kind of "for simplifcation, all Kaleesh is translated into Basic" but I don't feel it would have the same impact. As for the Kaleesh language... XP made up, following no real rules, pay no mind.
There's direction for this story... I just need to find it. I'll take any suggestions. Thanks for reading!
Star Wars, General Grievous, and Kalee is (c) George Lucas
Kalee's culture is entirely my assumption
's contest. I'm not 100% satisfied with it by itself, but looking back into a bigger project I'm doing about Grievous's warlord days, this chapter is a nice epilogue of those future fics. It also gives everyone else a peak at what I've got planned.It's also a complete italics fest! @@ That was more work than was needed, but what can I say, it's a little hard to convey when people are speaking a different language. Sure, I could have put up some kind of "for simplifcation, all Kaleesh is translated into Basic" but I don't feel it would have the same impact. As for the Kaleesh language... XP made up, following no real rules, pay no mind.
There's direction for this story... I just need to find it. I'll take any suggestions. Thanks for reading!
Star Wars, General Grievous, and Kalee is (c) George Lucas
Kalee's culture is entirely my assumption
© 2009 - 2024 LadyMasquerade
Comments16
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OMG! 
Why had I not commented on this? This is only my favorite "what-if" Grievous fan-fic EVER!!! 
It's amazing! The characters, the settings, and Grievous is so in character. And you even invented a few Kaleesh words! Beyond awesome!!! 
Keep up the great work and keep writing!
Why had I not commented on this? This is only my favorite "what-if" Grievous fan-fic EVER!!! It's amazing! The characters, the settings, and Grievous is so in character. And you even invented a few Kaleesh words! Beyond awesome!!! Keep up the great work and keep writing!