Song: "Enter the Inquisitor" from Star Wars: Rebels OST

The name of the general reached Ronderu's ears in the first few months. Grievous. Whether this was the name it called itself or an embittered nickname from the Kaleesh, she didn't know, nor care. She called it that out of pure loathing for how it mocked Qymaen's memory.

For a year, she kept up the charade of Ru san Jinn—and all of Kalee with her. But her secret couldn't stay forever, as she painfully discovered that day that a messenger came, telling her they'd seen the Soyoltoi Neg—the Soulless One—docking at the Oslu quarters.

Ronderu's blood froze. "Bent," she said. "Pumunta."

He stood. It's here? He mouthed.

She swallowed her fear and nodded. "Take them somewhere safe. I will turn myself in."

"You will not," Bent said.

"But you can save their lives. Go."

The girls rushed forward, and Ronderu pushed her emotions downward. Rón spoke softly. "Ama, is the scary bad man coming?"

"Yes," she said. "Be brave."

Quemáy toddled into her arms, crying over something she didn't understand. Ronderu bit her lip. "Go to your uncle. He's waiting for you."

She took her electrostaff from the wall and walked out of their home. It had worked against the MagnaGuard. Would it work against Grievous too? Dare she hope that she could end its wicked rule and get revenge for how it had dishonored her in front of the Khaganate?

She dried her eyes. And enact justice on the Separatists, once and for all, for touching my Qymaen.

The general was choking another Grendajese woman when she found it. She scowled behind her mask. "General Grievous, as the true khagan of Kalee, I order you to put her down. I'm the one you want."

✺✺✺

It dropped her and stalked over to Ronderu, a look of slander in those sparkling gold orbs. "There need not be hostility between us. You will be executed under my hand in three days. The length is your choice."

"Duel me," she snarled. "Last time was unevenly matched." She activated the electrostaff and spun the violet blade—completely aware that she could do nothing to halt the progression of its lightsabers.

It chuckled—an animalistic, low laugh that sent chills up her bones. "You can't be serious."

"Try me," she shouted, throwing her weapon in first.

It blocked the first strike with two lightsabers, going on the offensive with a strike to her wrist. She threw the blade up. But there were too many sabers, and too little time to react. It had the pressure. It had the imperial value, being two feet taller.

She had to get to the chest. She had to find a weak spot.

It chased her off of the canyon's underground zone, bringing her out to the landing platforms. Again and again, their weapons clashed—purple against blue, green, white. She allowed utter hatred for it to consume her, spurring her to attack.

But in the instant it threw up those grotesque talons, took her by the neck, and tossed her to the ground, she lost.

Her respirator had endured to the end, but she was once again unable to breathe with its talons clasped around her throat. Her electrostaff fell off the canyon edge.

It let out another laugh. "I look forward to meeting you, Your Grace." It removed her mask—the final symbol of her humiliation. A balled fist spiraled toward her, and she shut her eyes, bracing herself for impact.

✺✺✺

When she regained consciousness, she prayed that she was at Abesmi, so she could be with him again.

Oh, but Rón....and lovely little Quemáy....

With great difficulty, she looked upward. The gold eyes that were inches from her own were beautiful. Eyes surrounded by dark skin, a sleek almond shape.

Qymaen.... She tried to reach for his mask to pull it off and fit her lips to his. There was no longer any need for words between them. They could be happy, whole....

But her hands were bound behind her back. Her jaw throbbed with immense pain. The respirator breathed for her; her heart still beat. She was not at Abesmi, and the creature in front of her was not Qymaen.

The eyes moved away from her. Mechanical whirring, as if underwater, sounded as her wrists were unbound. She fell into metallic arms that lifted her like a small child.

It picked her up by her bonds. "Walk," it ordered, steering her toward a door. She groggily obeyed, limping on her prostheses.

She was driven into a room that reeked of medicine. "Doctor," Grievous snarled. "Fix her."

A higher voice, just as mechanical, protested. "Master, I must protest. After all, you were the one who inflicted these injuries—"

"You were built to obey orders, not to question them."

"That is fair," the medical droid conceded. "Put her on the table, and I will attend to her broken tusk."

Broken tusk? Is that why I'm seeing the world to the side?

"Alert me when she is conscious again," Grievous commanded. "She must be interrogated."

"Yes, master," the other droid replied wearily. "After, you have a check-up of your own."

"Wait!" Ronderu shouted, fighting her captor's grip. "What check-up? What test? What questions?" A syringe was jabbed into her arm, and the world closed in on her.

✺✺✺

Grievous faltered to catch the imposter khagan as she fell asleep, and he laid her on the medical table. She had drifted into subconsciousness this time. Her thin face carried immeasurable peace—peace he himself had once had....

Peace was a lie. He was a war machine, nothing more. But the look of serenity on her face as she slept intrigued him, just as it had when she awoke the first time, slumped against the wall.

A six-fingered metallic hand reached out to meet her cheek with startling gentleness. His artificial touch receptors received the sensation of her golden scales—cool and like tiny diamonds, interlocking with one another.

He had scales, once upon a time.

His hands flinched away suddenly, and he scowled. This was his enemy, who had toppled him from his rightful rule as khagan of Kalee. Would he have done this to a Jedi captive of his, especially after his humiliation at their hands before the Council? Absolutely not—the idea was worse than disgusting to him.

But there was something different about her....

He narrowed his eyes. "I have business to attend to," he said, casting a hard glare at his medical droid. "Fulfill your duty."

✺✺✺

Ronderu again woke, considerably less disoriented, and gasped. A robotic hand touched hers, and a high metallic voice spoke. "Do not move. You are too weak."

"Why did you help me?"

"Not help. I kept you alive. The general has many questions for you before your death at Kaleela."

"Murdering dissidents," she muttered. "What a tinpot."

"I have notified him. He will arrive soon."

"Him. I mistook him for...." my Qymaen? Gods forgive me. "He's only a half-droid?" And the other half must be Kaleesh. The eyes, anyway.

"I wouldn't call him a droid," the medical droid said. "He gets a bit touchy about that."

The sound of stones being moved echoed around the room. Grievous entered through a sliding door, ducking slightly to avoid the top. His cape billowed behind him as he sat in a chair level to her medical table, looking relaxed as he regarded her.

She gazed straight into his eyes. "Don't gloat. Just kill me here."

"An entertaining idea, imposter," he said coolly. "Are you not aware of how I conduct matters of war?"

She rolled her eyes. "I don't care about your reputation. I'm an imposter and deserve to die. Get it over with."

"Are you curious about me?"

She stared him straight in the eye, hardening her gaze. Yes. "Do you truly understand who I am?"

He reached into a pocket on his cloak and pulled out her karabbac mask. "The false khagan of Kalee, Ronderu lij Kummar, chi khundetge."

"What did Dooku tell you about me?" she tried.

His eyes narrowed. "You are a traitor, and I will destroy you."

"A traitor to whom?"

"The Kaleesh people, of course," he growled, coughing into a fist with a fleeting look of pain in his eyes.

The motherly side of her strangely wanted to find out the cause of his ailment and help; the cold side of her, which dominated her reason, couldn't care less. Even cyborgs become weak.

Her voice crystallized. "I'll have you know that I was elected legitimately by the Kaleesh khaganate after the death of Qymaen jai Sheelal."

At the name Qymaen jai Sheelal, he clenched his fists. "And who were you before that?" he snapped.

"One of the khans of the Kharankhui," she replied. She refused to let his tone or stature intimidate her. "I served alongside Khagan Sheelal—ter khundetge—until the battle of Jenuwaa, in which Kalee thought I was dead. During this time I encountered Dooku." She frowned. "Surely you have heard of me at least once before, if you are Kaleesh."

He narrowed his eyes and stood. "The impression was that you did not exist, and that it was all a hoax to weaken the reputation of Khagan Khetsuu. Get up."

◈◈◈

Did you know....

● Although Qymaen struggled with his Basic earlier in the story, my theory for why Grievous learned it so fast after his cybernetics is that they improved his ability to learn new skills. He mastered lightsaber combat extremely well under Dooku due to the mind enhancements.

Tell me what you think....

● What is the real reason Grievous is concerned?