Huulik: I still think this is a bad idea.

Eakar: I'm not so sure. No one would expect us to do these.

Huulik: That's exactly why it's a bad idea.

The two masters moved through the streets of the city, using their robes and expert discretion to go unnoticed, like two more of the thousands of passers-by who crowded the streets of the capital of Lorrd. They were heading north, where the structures were increasingly more luxurious, and the patrols more numerous.

However, not even their disguise allowed them to freely explore every corner of the city, as there were places where the most humble passers-by were not allowed to pass. And just a few meters from where they were, there was a patrol of B1 droids guarding a ship and a fundamental part of their plan. And after finding a secluded position, the Rodian contacted the rest of his team.

Huulik: We are in position. And apparently the Padawan was right. Surveillance is minimal.

Nunes: No one in their right mind would try to steal the ship of a Trade Federation official.

Huulik: A Sheathipede shuttle. No weapons.

Nunes: It's our best option. Is the rest in position?

Pablo: Affirmative. Waiting for the signal.

Nunes: Very good. Master Huulik, Master Eakar, you may proceed.

Eakar: Arg... I'm going to hate this.

Huulik: Heh... Don't be a party pooper, it'll be fun.

Eakar: You can be quite irritating at times.

The calamari sighed regretfully, but they didn't have much choice. Still resigned to the danger of the plan, he removed his tunic, revealing a rather elegant garment that he had "borrowed," which gave him the bearing of an illustrious scholar. One, who with a firm step and a magnificent bearing, approached the shuttle with a forced smile and a self-sufficient walk.

B1 (1): High. This is a restricted area. Please turn around and come back.

Eakar: Oh. Don't worry, my metal friend. My name is Victus Pontrius, and I am a great starship designer of the Banking Clan. And really, I couldn't resist seeing a wonder like that from our business partners.

B1 (1): The Banking Clan?

Eakar: That's right, my mechanic friend. I just wanted to admire that gem of engineering. If it's not too much trouble.

B1 (1): Is that allowed?

B1 (2): I don't know. It's not part of my program.

While the calamari took advantage of the low level of processing of the B1 models to capture the attention of the droids present, Huulik slunk away like a shadow, throwing off glances until he was positioned on the other side of the ship. A quick glance, and he could see that he didn't have much time, as his companion's distraction wouldn't last long, so he quickly opened an exterior panel of the ship, dismantling circuits, and connecting it to a transmission device. The same one they used to communicate with each other. But he had to hurry.

Eakar: Oh. Don't be so "square" in thinking. I just want to admire the interior a little. It is surely filled with luxuries worthy of an illustrious leader of the Trade Federation. I'm sure the higher-ups in the Banking clan would be more than grateful... They might even promote me for that.

B1 (3): Hey! I also want a promotion.

B1 (4): They don't give us promotions, idiot.

B1 (1): We're sorry, sir. But you are not authorized to enter this ship. Please, I ask you to leave.

Eakar: But...

B1 (1): Immediately.

It was enough for the droid to take a step forward, followed by his fellow men, to make the Jedi master understand that there would be no second warnings. He feigned fear, and immediately took a step back, seeming to be intimidated. And with a shaky voice, I speak.

Eakar: It's... It's okay. Excuse my insistence. Now... I'm leaving now.

The Rodian took a few steps back before turning around, shoulders hunched as he walked as quickly as possible towards the nearest detour. On the other hand, the B1 droids guarding the place turned around and returned to their positions, resuming their surveillance role without noticing anything strange or out of the ordinary. Meanwhile, the Rodian put his hood back on, while leaving that uncomfortable rich people's clothing in the corner of an alley in the city.

Huulik: I see you haven't lost your touch. - He mentioned with a mocking tone.

Eakar: This is no time for jokes. - He took his communicator. - Everything ready. You can continue.

Nunes: Understood. Master Pablo, you can continue.

Pablo: Understood. Ready, Padawan?

Roy: The best I can be.

In a different area of ​​the city, Pablo was still carrying the young Padawan on his shoulders, covered in the robe that gave him the appearance of a merchant carrying a large piece of equipment on his back. However, reaching your goal would be somewhat more complicated.

As was well known, the port of the capital city of Lorrd ceased operations since the arrival of the Separatist delegation, and no ship would be authorized to take off. The hangars were guarded by the local guard and B1 droids. However, the number was limited, since the Separatists had come with the intention of uniting the planet between their worlds, so military intimidation was not an option. Of course, one could not rule out the idea that Grievous would be watching in the shadows, ready to hunt down every last Jedi with his own lightsabers.

However, the darkness of the sewers and the bad smell was not something that poor Oongre tolerated so eagerly.

Pablo: How come you don't feel this stench?

Roy: I turned off my sense of smell since we came in.

Pablo: Damn... There are times when I really envy that body of yours. We should be close by now, right?

Roy: Yes. Next intercept to the right and we should be under the control tower.

Pablo: I hope so. I'm dying to get out of here.

It didn't take them long to reach their goal. A control panel, generally used by the maintenance team to carry out periodic checks, and have access to some systems of the structure such as the toilet. And the key point for the next step of his plan, covered in a disgusting layer of mold and who knows what else.

Pablo: Arg... How can you even touch that thing without feeling disgusted? - He asked the Padawan when he saw him removing that layer of "mold" with his hands. - Yes... I know, you turned off your sense of touch.

Roy just smiled in anticipation, although he wouldn't deny that he really didn't feel comfortable with the situation. But time was not on his side, so he quickly grabbed one of the connectors from his hand and plugged it into the metal plate. Now everything depended on him.

Pablo: Will it take a long time?

Roy: I couldn't tell you. I have to look up permissions and paths to access short range communications. This panel does not have direct access to the rest of the station's systems.

Pablo: And that... Wouldn't it attract attention?

Roy: Probably. - It might seem like a joke, but his tone was so harsh that it didn't give him a chance.

The seconds passed, and while the padawan concentrated trying to find a way to send messages to the support droids of the Jedi ships, the master remained vigilant. Something felt strange, or it was a bad feeling on his part.

Roy: Ready. We have thirteen minutes to leave the planet.

Pablo: What!? But...

Roy: They know we're here.

Pablo: Teacher Nunes! Teacher, answer!

Meanwhile, on another side of the city, a cyborg that looked at the entire city from the top of the palace, remained with a rigid posture, arms crossed behind its back, like an eagle that looks at everything from the top of a peak. Waiting, patient. Like the hunter he was, waiting for the slightest carelessness of his prey to pounce on it. And at his side, a dangerous being, whose ambition was almost as great as the power of the Trade Federation.

Haako: I remind you, General, that this treaty must remain hidden for as long as possible. If those Jedi manage to escape, the consequences for our plans would be... counterproductive.

Grievous: Those cowardly Jedi may hide in the city, but they won't escape Lorrd alive. I will personally make sure of it.

Haako: I hope so, General. For your own good. And now, if you'll excuse me, I have a very important meeting to discuss with the regent of Lorrd.

Grievous: I hope your negotiations are as... productive... as you say.

Haako: They will be... My dear general. I can assure you they will be.

A conversation full of hints, threats hidden between pleasant words, but with the murderous intensity of a hungry tiger. Something quite common in the Separatist high command, always in their constant power struggle.

The Neimodian finally turned around, walking away from the place, leaving a cyborg burning with anger, whose only reason why he did not end his life was because he needed it to be able to fulfill his own plans. Eradicate the Jedis who slaughtered their people without mercy. Or at least that was what he was convinced of.

B1: General. We have detected anomalies in the operation of communications in the city.

Grievous: You finally decide to come out of hiding, Jedi scum. Where are such anomalies located?

B1: In the southern sector, sir.

Grievous: Strange. What is relevant in that sector?

B1: Nothing, sir. It is only a residential sector.

Grievous: Prepare a ship. I'll go inspect this anomaly, personally.

B1: Roger, roger.

General Cyborg wasted no time, and as soon as he descended onto the palace's takeoff pads, his personal fighter was ready to depart. His personal and favorite ship, nicknamed the Soulless One, a Belbullab-22 class model modified by himself to be one of the most ruthless combat ships in the galaxy.

The agile ship took off quickly, and sailed through the space inside the colossal dome that contained the city away from the polluted air outside. He was fast, and in a matter of minutes he had already crossed the entire colossal city, receiving a call barely reaching the ringtone.

B1: Sir.

Grievous: What's wrong?

B1: An unauthorized ship has taken off in the southern sector. It corresponds to a Sheathipede shuttle model from our delegation, owned by one of our ambassadors.

Grievous: And where is said ambassador at this moment?

B1: At the meeting with great Rune Haako and the regent of Lorrd.

Grievous: It's them. Hahaha. Alright damn Jedis. Don't think you can escape me so easily.

Almost immediately, the cyborg spotted the shuttle taking flight, and moving away from the position as quickly as possible. Grievous wasted no time, swooping down on his target like a falcon on its prey in mid-flight, launching a powerful laser bolt that immediately pierced the hull of the ship, as a luxury Sheathipede model was not designed for combat, much less to be able to resist the onslaught of the Soulless One.

The shuttle was engulfed in flames, and the Hun trail it left made it fall onto one of the city streets. Some of the poor citizens who reacted too late to see the gigantic mass of metal fall, did not have time to escape their tragic and unnecessary fate. Because when it came to executing Jedi, there was nothing and no one that could stand in the way of the spiteful cyborg.

Grievous: Surround the ship. And if there are any survivors, eliminate them.

Immediately, B1 droids saturated the streets around the crash site, as panicked crowds ran desperately from the scene. The cries of despair of those who suffered from the impact. Those whose limbs had been amputated, or had lost a loved one right before their eyes. THE CRY OF A CHILD. The sepulchral silence of the deaths. The rumble of the footsteps of the droids that monopolized the area. A macabre symphony that sounded for the first time on the surface of Lorrd. The symphony of war.

The B1 droids, unable to feel afraid of the flames, approached with firm steps, their blasters in front, ready to fire at any movement coming from the crashed ship. His feet, stepping on stone, mud and blood alike.

B1: General. We have a problem.

Grievous: What's wrong, you useless piece of metal!?

B1: The shuttle was empty.

Grievous: What!?

B1: That's right sir, there is no body inside the shuttle.

Grievous: Those bastards... - But his fury was interrupted by another call.

B1: Sir, you inform us that seven ships have carried out an unauthorized takeoff in the hangars in the northern part of the city.

Grievous: Damn you... Call everyone home! Don't let them escape!