Chapter 31: Captured

"No, I already scouted this sector."

“Pew.”

"What do you mean 'no'? It’s your scanners that are acting up."

“Pee-boo-wip.”

"Go get a maintenance check yourself; my head is perfectly fine. Look, three left turns, one right, and then it’s a straight shot, back out the same way."

“Wooo—Pew—Beep.”

"Can you speak more simply? I only started understanding you a couple of days ago."

Leaning over the hologram projecting the explored sections of the labyrinth, I stared intently at the web of passages. I had been wandering through these natural twists and turns for three weeks now.

Grievous certainly knew how to pick a hideout. I don’t know what was in that foul white haze, but all electronics started glitching the moment I moved more than a few meters from the ship. The fog prevented scanning from the ground or the air. Every time, the instruments showed the same thing: no result. There was no communication from the surface either. I had to leave the atmosphere just to send a progress report.

Nevertheless, work moved slowly forward. Recently, there had been a breakthrough. I stumbled upon the metallic remains of a Separatist B1 battle droid—in several locations, in fact. Truth be told, I didn’t recognize them immediately; they were so thoroughly eaten by rust that they literally fell apart in my hands.

It gave me hope for a swift conclusion to my mission. At the very least, I was moving in the right direction.

Due to the constant dampness, the ship was slowly starting to deteriorate. I needed to get out of here soon or head to the nearest planet for a full overhaul. Master only knows what that cursed moisture could have damaged inside.

A couple of times I had to repair R3 because his sensors started acting up. Yeah, taking him along for the scouting wasn't the best idea. It was lucky we weren't far from the ship then, and he was able to report the emerging problems in time.

So, I had to explore the labyrinth alone. That grumpy bucket of bolts stayed behind to watch the ship. Sigh. It would have been so much easier to map this place with him.

It was fortunate I had prepared so thoroughly and brought a large supply of spare parts to fix the datapad. If not for that device, my search would have ended long ago with me lost somewhere in the maze.

The holographic map, earned through sweat, tears, blood, and a mountain of time, rotated slowly, allowing me to examine every nook and cranny from different angles.

"R3, enlarge the last section I scouted. Good. Now, highlight points seven, ten, twenty-four, and thirty-one in red. Interesting..."

The highlighted points were where I had found the droid remains. Suddenly, they aligned into a perfect semi-circle. Moreover, each was located near passages leading in a single direction. Perhaps these were former checkpoints? I had to check.

"R3, is the long-range excursion kit ready?"

“Viuuu-bub.”

"Excellent. I’ll be gone for a few days. Watch the ship; keep it in good condition as much as you can. If everything goes well, we’ll be out of here soon."

Preparations didn't take long. A bulky rucksack went on my back; my moisture-resistant cloak was always on me anyway, except when I was in the cabin. Time to head out.

The ramp opened just enough for me to jump down and head into the depths of the labyrinth. Even that brief action surely let in a lot of moisture. I hoped R3 wouldn't jam up again.

I’d like to say I knew this local stone forest like the back of my hand, but no. The fog gave everything bizarre shapes every time, looking nothing like what I remembered. I had to periodically check the datapad, thankfully I had several of them with me in sealed packaging.

If I missed a turn, I’d be wandering for a very long time before finding one of my markers.

I had to walk for about ten hours, but such treks had become the norm for me. I could have gone faster, but my soles kept sliding on the wet stones. Even at my current pace, I was constantly slipping and catching my balance at the last second.

From around the next bend, a fork appeared. But that wasn't the main thing. Near one of the turns, a small, dark opening loomed.

Tossing my rucksack in first, I climbed in, scratching my face on a jagged ledge in the process. This small natural cave served as one of my waypoints. A specialized tent stood in the center, which at least somewhat held back the encroaching moisture.

Pushing aside the flap, I crawled inside. Lord. Talk about the clear dominance of nature over technology. Or maybe the Imperial suppliers are giving us defective gear—one of the two. Droplets slid slowly and lazily down the inner lining, gathering in small puddles on the floor.

Good thing I had my sleeping bag, mat, and other gear with me. Once, I had been lazy and left all that stuff here. As a result, I had to sleep on the damp ground since, of course, I hadn't brought a spare.

The experience was well below average; I wouldn't recommend it to anyone. If it weren't for my connection to the Force, I would have definitely caught some illness.

After a meal of survival rations, I crashed. My legs were throbbing, and the constant grayness weighed on my mind. My body shut down immediately, trying to recover as quickly as possible.

I woke up feeling completely trashed. My body ached, and the surrounding dampness made me sniffle. But it’s fine, not the first time. I had to keep moving.

A short warm-up and meditation helped me feel better.

And once again, I was surrounded by fog, heading into the unknown.

Tiny droplets gathered on the edges of my gear, constantly trying to seep under my clothes. The stagnant air made it hard to breathe normally. Thankfully, I was saved by a specialized oxygen mask, which I used every few minutes to draw in intoxicatingly fresh air. The tank weighed down my rucksack, but over the past few days, I had grown used to its weight.

After five hours of brisk walking, a small clearing opened up before me where the remains of a battle droid lay. Though they could hardly be identified now. The chassis crumbled in my hands, and the arms and legs had practically turned into piles of debris, merging with the surface.

"Let’s see where you came from."

Pulling out the datapad, I began comparing the map with the terrain.

"Aha. I really hope I calculated everything correctly. If so, I need to go that way."

Tossing the device back into the rucksack, I headed in the chosen direction. And just twenty minutes later, I found confirmation of my theory.

Rust had spared neither the droids nor the camouflaging plates. I was stared down by the lifeless muzzles of blasters hidden behind rusted, twisted metal panels the same color as the surrounding rocks.

One blaster stood behind an artificial stone, and behind it, still gripping the trigger with dead hands, was a lifeless droid. Its slumped head had fallen onto its chest, its legs buckled, but it still stood, performing its mechanical duty to its commander.

Truly an echo of war—colorless, dead, sad, yet so real.

Droid remains began appearing more and more frequently. A squad of ten droids frozen forever, some having fallen to the ground and failed to rise.

I walked until I hit a monolithic stone wall. At first glance, there were no signs of a door.

Well, I’d have to investigate this thoroughly and preferably quickly. If I couldn't find a passage, I’d have to head back and waste another day. And that’s a best-case scenario.

Half an hour of searching brought no clues. Absolutely solid rock without a hint of a passage.

Wiping the moisture from my face in thought, I took a few steps back. They say sometimes it's useful to look at a problem from a different angle. And they weren't lying.

My foot clearly began to sink slowly downward. A faint metallic screech rang out, muffled by the fog. But I heard it distinctly.

There’s the answer. It’s not a door, it’s a hatch!

A black flash ignited like a star in the surrounding grayness. A few swings, and the passage was ready.

I stepped through, but instead of landing at a depth of a couple of meters, I stood on perfectly intact metallic plating. It looked as if it had been installed only a couple of months ago. Well, apparently, it was a unique form of moisture protection. The lacquered sheen of the flaps hinted at that.

Now I had to slowly and with effort cut a large piece of steel. Though it was unlikely to be steel; the blade moved through it far too poorly. But finally, the circle closed, a dull boom echoed, and a dark void into the unknown yawned beside me.

"I really hope the local droids have deactivated themselves. I’d rather not fight them. I’ll just look around, grab anything valuable, and vanish into the fog."

The jump ended with a soft landing in pitch darkness. The air, surprisingly, wasn't stagnant but quite fresh. Strange, I thought the purification and air systems should be working at about ten percent of maximum. Maybe a program glitch? Unlikely; where would they even get the power?

Something wasn't right here. Though maybe I was just psyching myself up.

Taking a flashlight from the rucksack, I moved slowly down the corridor, my head constantly swiveling.

Well, I wasn't impressed: a large number of pipes, some blocks through which a little moisture seeped.

My footsteps echoed hollowly off the walls, flying with the echo deep into the corridors. I passed several doors, but all were locked, and I had no desire to mess with them. Nothing interesting or capable of helping my search for the main chamber was visible.

After an hour of wandering back and forth through these catacombs, I had to take a break, as my stomach was clearly hinting at the need for a snack.

Chewing on a tasteless bar, I checked how the datapad had memorized my route and marked symbols and the boundaries of the corridor itself. Well, not bad; I’d made a small detour, but overall, I was moving straight.

Deciding to rest a bit, I leaned against the cool and surprisingly dry wall.

At first, I didn't understand what was happening, but then, listening closely, I began to hear a distant hum more and more clearly. It didn't sound like it was coming from the corridor, but as if it were behind the wall. It could barely be distinguished by leaning against the metal partition.

I caught the rhythmic clanging of something metallic. The sound was familiar, but I couldn't for the life of me remember from where.

Interesting. Apparently, the station isn't abandoned. Retreat now? No, too little data. My Master already scolded me for the delay, so the more I find out, the better.

Tossing my gear back on, I jogged down the corridor, periodically pressing my ear to the wall to check if the sound had vanished.

I was moving correctly, as soon the noise became clearly audible in the corridor itself. The corridor also changed. The pipes and uneven plates vanished; now it was paneled with metal and vaguely reminded me of standard Imperial architecture.

The next turn nearly ended in a precipitous fall into the unknown. Bright light blinded my eyes unpleasantly, and if not for the Force, I would have certainly tumbled down.

Dropping sharply to the floor, I rolled into a dark corner. I didn't want to attract unnecessary attention, and something was clearly happening here.

Carefully crawling to the edge, I propped myself up on my elbows. What I saw astounded me.

A massive chamber carved right into the rock, which could easily fit several dozen ships, had been turned into a factory... a kriffing droid assembly plant!

Mechanical arms were welding, joining, and moving spare parts. As soon as an assembly was finished, the mechanism was moved and sent down a conveyor belt further inside.

It took me a moment to recover. Who would have thought that on the outskirts of the galaxy, they were still assembling Separatist droids!

It was unlikely Grievous had set up this production himself. The facility looked relatively new. The walls glistened from some kind of gel applied to them, the same stuff that was on the hatch flaps. Very interesting.

A couple of other corridors also ended at a height of several meters, just like mine. Everything indicated that such a room shouldn't be here, but there it was.

So engrossed in examining the unusual facility, I didn't immediately notice the appearance of a sentient accompanied by several droids.

A Neimoidian, a typical representative of the Trade Federation. They weren't rare before, but now you could only see them in their home system.

But he wasn't walking alone; he was accompanied by a tactical droid and a pair of MagnaGuards.

The group slowly moved further and further away from me.

Due to the noise of the plant, I couldn't hear what they were saying, and the distance between us was significant.

Interesting, very interesting. I don’t think the Grand Inquisitor or the Director expected to find something like this here.

So, what to do? Rush forward into the unknown? Stupid. I have zero information, so the best thing now is to retreat and offload this problem from my head onto the heads of the superiors. They’re the bosses; let them think. I’ve done my job here.

Carefully crawling back ten meters into the corridor, I stood up and ran toward the exit, periodically checking the datapad.

But the Force had other plans for me.

Ten meters later, at a turn, I ran head-on into a couple of dozen battle droids.

"Intruder."

"Grab him."

"Roger, roger."

My lightsaber flew out of my long sleeve, snapping into its familiar place.

"It’s a Jedi, kill him!"

A jump, and I was behind them. A swift swing, and a pair of droids fell, sliced in half. I reached for the Force and sent the scrap into the enemies who hadn't even had time to disperse. It was good they were standing in a tight group and hadn't managed to move aside.

All this took only a few seconds, but now I had to act fast. I highly doubted this patrol was the only one here.

Unfortunately, my hunch was confirmed. Very soon, the wail of a siren echoed through all the corridors. Unnoticed by me, speakers hidden deep in the walls spewed out a grating noise. And very nearby, metallic footsteps rang out, approaching me very quickly.

A sense of danger made me duck, letting several shots pass over me.

At least forty battle droids were already running down the corridor behind me.

It was good that the corridors were relatively narrow; at least I wouldn't have to fight them all at once. But I couldn't delay, otherwise they’d pin me down, and I wouldn't be able to handle such concentrated fire. After all, my training had been more dedicated to fighting Jedi, not a large crowd of enemies.

The lightsaber in my hands moved at high speed, reflecting deadly bolts back at the enemies. A few of them fell dead, but others immediately took their place.

Hah. If my plan is to destroy them faster than they can be stamped out, then it’s a lousy plan. I need to get the hell out of here as soon as possible.

I had to retreat under the droids' heavy fire. I couldn't do it quickly because the moment I let my guard down, a bolt hit me. My armor was already scorched in a couple of places, but it was holding for now. I didn't have enough time to focus and call upon the Force. All my attention went toward not acquiring new holes.

A blaster bolt hissed past my cheek and took off the head of one of the droids attacking me.

"Blockhead, watch where you're shooting!"

"Roger, roger."

Hutt's breath! Behind me!

All my skills were barely enough to deflect only the lethal shots. My legs and shoulders were becoming covered in charred wounds. Praise the Force, they weren't critical yet.

Precognition was cranked to the limit, but even that wasn't enough.

Kriff! What was the point of all my two years of training if ordinary clankers can corner me?!

Rage gathered into a tight knot in my chest, then radiated outward in an invisible wave, sweeping away everything in its path.

But it wasn't enough. How many droids fell? Fifty, seventy? However, just as many combatants had gathered behind them, if not more. And I didn't have the strength to repeat such a burst again.

I had to spin like a top, trying to deflect every shot.

With a lunge, I closed the distance with the group blocking my exit. I couldn't stand still; they’d just bury me in scrap. I had to break through!

I cranked up my already high pace under the influence of battle fever. Some machines were no match for me. The black blade blurred in the air, creating a protective sphere.

My perception narrowed to the here and now. Duck, step right, nick an approaching droid across its chassis, tilt my head, step, another step, deflect a shot, and repeat.

Some of the reflected bolts struck the droids, but this endless mechanical flow didn't stop. The feeling of inevitable death grew stronger within me. Fear gripped me and gave me the strength to hack further.

But it couldn't go on like this for long. All my reserves of anger, fear, and pain were running out; a heavy, dull exhaustion was setting in.

I don’t know how many droids I put down; I lost count after fifty-two.

Another shot pierced my armor, and a stinging pain gripped my shoulder. With my last bit of strength, using everything I had left, I tried to push the enemy back. And for a moment, I actually succeeded.

Several clankers flew into pieces. And I saw a small gap appear between the enemies, and a clear corridor behind them. I’m going to break through!

A premonition of danger made me swing my saber behind my back. I felt the blade slice through metal. But cold metallic fingers grabbed my throat from behind and lifted me off the ground.

"I need him alive."

I managed to catch sight of an electrostaff a second before I was arched backward.

******

Consciousness returned because of my numb arms. Struggling to open my eyes, I realized the indescribable wretchedness of my situation. I had been taken prisoner. I didn't know by whom, though I had very strong suspicions, I didn't know why, and I didn't know if they’d feed me here.

I hoped they’d soon notice I had woken up and start asking questions; at least then something would become clear. You can get interesting answers from the right questions.

But time passed, and no one came. An hour passed, then a second, then a third. My arms ached because of their unnatural position. I was stretched out, wrists bound at the top, feet at the bottom, and some kind of force field held this construct in place, preventing me from changing position.

The room offered nothing of interest. Minimalism at its best, like all cells in general. Only the walls, the device holding me, and my body hanging in shackles. Nothing that could help me escape in any way.

Reaching out with the Force to my belt, I found nothing there. If my senses were to be believed, my blade was somewhere far away and constantly moving. Precautionary bastards.

At some point, I slipped into meditation to get some rest. The lack of information, any kind of plan of action, the total unknown of where I even was—all this weighed heavily on my consciousness.

Attempts to free myself using the Force led nowhere. The pain in my untreated wounds, my numb arms, and a strong sense of hunger made it hard to concentrate.

I don’t know how long I hung there. Maybe a few days, maybe a few hours. But the sound of the door opening brought relief.

"You weren't exactly in a hurry. What about the rules of a gracious host?"

That same Neimoidian, accompanied by several droids, stood in the doorway and watched me intently.

"I’m very glad you haven't lost your sense of humor. Forty percent discharge."

The droid with the electrostaff approached silently, and I was again arched backward by an electric shock. A muffled scream escaped my throat, and sharp pain pierced my body. All this lasted several seconds until the alien raised his hand.

"Enough. Now you will answer my questions."

"Ask the right questions, get the right answers."

"I’m very glad we’ve found a common language."

"Who are you?"

"A bounty hunter."

"How did you find out about this place?"

"Bought the coordinates on the black market."

"Where did you get a lightsaber?"

"Found it there too."

"Sigh." He even demonstratively shook his head. "We aren't having a productive conversation. Discharge."

This conversation went on for a long time, a very long time. Questions repeated and overlapped, trying to find inconsistencies in my testimony. Maybe it made sense to tell everything, but where were the guarantees that I wouldn't be liquidated afterward?

The cycle of electric shocks and questions was interrupted by a droid entering.

"Master, we have discovered the ship this human arrived on."

"Did you capture it?"

"No, the ship took off before we could get close."

"Bad. Shoot it down. Launch the Hyenas from the third hangar."

"Roger, roger."

So R3 escaped. I hoped he had enough brains to send a distress signal through all Imperial channels before he was destroyed. Though maybe he’d manage to get away; I didn't know.

"Well, this location is compromised. Order everyone to shut down production; we’re moving to the backup station. Summon the fleet to get us out of here as soon as possible. And you—" Irritated eyes turned to me. "If you don't answer my questions, you’re headed for an agonizing death. Have you ever been left alone on a disabled ship in deep space?"

"No, such luck has passed me by."

"Then it’s your debut, unless you answer the questions. Understand?"

"Roger, roger."

"You understand nothing. Discharge."

******

I came to in another place, but still in the same uncomfortable pose.

This time I didn't have to wait long. The pressure doors slid open, letting in the familiar company.

"It’s so boring here that you decided to dedicate more time to me; how sweet."

"Enough, Fifth Brother."

Whoa. Now that was unexpected. Apparently, I couldn't keep my face neutral, as a light smile touched the Neimoidian’s lips.

"Oh, believe me, I know a lot."

"What brother? I’m an orphan."

"Unconvincing, but I commend the effort. Discharge."

Waiting for the shaking to stop, my executioner continued.

"You can stop pretending. I know who you are and whom you serve. Do you think the Empire can win the war against the New Separatist Union?"

"What the kriff are you talking about? The Separatist Union fell; all systems have come under the Emperor’s control."

"Oh, so they told you nothing? How interesting; they threw you into the line of fire. Let’s clarify the picture just for you."

"I’m all ears. I’d leave, but I don't have that option."

"Do you think taking out the leadership is enough to paralyze our entire war machine? No, not everyone is as naive and stupid as Nute Gunray and his ilk. The Separatists wouldn't have lasted this long if there weren't those among us who understand how the world works. We anticipated such an outcome and prepared everything in advance."

"And you really think your ships can stand against Star Destroyers? That you can hold out against the full power of the Empire?"

"Nice try, but let’s save that for another time. Just keep in mind that the Empire isn't the only one with spies. We know everything that happens within the walls of the Senate, in your intelligence, what the political climate is. Oh yes, we know a great deal."

"How fascinating; you’ve practically convinced me to join you. Going to tell me anything else?"

The Neimoidian’s lip twitched irritably.

"I’ve already told you everything you need to know. You either join us or you die."

"Hmm, in that case, I have no choice. Where do I sign?"

"Nothing is needed; your word is enough. Now tell me: where are all the important Imperial facilities you know of located?"

"How should I know? If you know about my number, you know how they keep us."

"Sigh. A great pity. It seems we won't make a good team. Liquidate him, as promised. Deep space is waiting for you."

"Hey, we had a deal!"

But I wasn't being listened to. Well, that was expected. But kriffing annoying. I didn't have time to finish the thought; another electric shock knocked me out.

This was starting to become a bad trend. My head was splitting, but at least my hands were free. Cold palms helped me come to a little.

Struggling to sit up, I looked around. Well, overall, expected. I’d been jettisoned from the ship in a pod. On one hand, humane; on the other, not. Now I’m forced to die slowly in solitude.

I wonder what will run out first: oxygen or dehydration? Through the wide viewport, several more pods were visible, spinning aimlessly in space. Apparently, this is a common practice for the New Separatists. Or should they be called rebels?

Well, let’s see if I have any living fellow sufferers. Stretching out a hand, I focused on the nearest pod. A small movement, and it rotated toward me.

A human in white clone armor was slumped over the control panel, showing no signs of life. I was suddenly hit by a wave of hiccups.

Imperial troops had long since switched to the new armor patterns. That means he’s been floating here for at least a year and a half. And if in that time even the scavengers haven't taken him...

A surge of panic hit me rapidly, then vanished just as quickly, leaving behind total indifference to the situation. Well, if I’m destined to die here, let it be, but it’s better to try and postpone the meeting with the reaper.

My fingers ran across the control panel, bringing some sensors to life.

Checking the instruments, I was hit by a fit of hysterical laughter. That bastard had only left me a communication device that works in a small radius. Call whoever you want, but no one is coming.

Well, I should try, if only out of spite. Sitting as comfortably as I could, I began to recall all the comm codes I had memorized over the years.

"Calling... this is an Imperial Inquisitor. Does anyone hear me?"

"Calling... this is an officer of the Imperial Army. Does anyone hear me?"

"Calling... this is the Fifth Brother. Does anyone hear me?"

"Calling..."