• Published 14th Jan 2015
  • 20,126 Views, 2,190 Comments

Friendship is Grievous - Snake Staff



All welcome the latest visitor to Equestria... General Grievous?

  • ...
91
 2,190
 20,126

Dreams of the Past

Princess Celestia reclined against her cushioned throw rug, listening intently as Princess Luna described what she had seen on the remains of the alien ship. The lunar princess was especially careful to emphasis the sheer number of bodies she had seen – easily into the thousands, on both sides. Even the worst wars in Equestria’s history, Luna noted, had not been as bloody as one mere battle of these Clone Wars. Princess Celestia looked both alarmed and disgusted by what her sister described.

And then Luna told Celestia of the ship’s bridge, and what she had seen there.

“He lied to us, sister!” she fumed. “We welcomed him into our midst, and he lied to us!”

“We lied to him as well,” Celestia pointed out.

“That’s different! We lied to protect our people. He lied to cover up his own murders!” Luna’s face was a mask of righteous anger. “I saw them, Tia! Bodies everywhere! And not just the soldiers, the crewmen as well! Cut down while they were unarmed, helpless! By these.”

Luna’s magic lifted up a certain souvenir she had obtained from her exploration of the Fateful: a working blaster rifle, prided from the metal fingers of downed commando droid. She tossed a metal plate into the air and telekinetically pulled the trigger, sending a red blaster bolt up after it. It burned a hole clean through the thick plate and impacted on the ceiling in a shower of sparks, leaving a very nasty-looking burn whole.

Celestia took a moment to consider her sister’s revelations before answering her. Her head stared down at her hooves and the floor beneath them.

“Thank you for discovering all of this, Lulu,” she said in a low voice, before sighing wearily and looking up to meet her sister’s gaze. “But what does this truly change?’

Luna was aghast at what she had heard. Didn’t Tia see?! Couldn’t she understand?! This General Grievous was a murderer, a monster who butchered the helpless without pity or remorse! They now knew that a viper of the worst sort rested in their home, and Celestia didn’t understand how that changed things?! Luna’s insides were aflame with righteous fury. She burned to call down magic from the heavens and smite the wretched murderer from existence in a blazing column of light!

Celestia doubtless saw this in her sister’s eyes, or perhaps simply knew her well enough to guess how she was feeling.

“Lulu,” she said. “Tell me how you think this changes our situation.”

“Now we know the character of this monster we have so foolishly welcomed into our land! He is a villain worse even than Lord Tirek!”

“And how does that make a difference to where we stand? Think, Lulu, think. If he is the one this Confederacy chooses to lead its military forces, how do you think it will react if it learns that we welcomed him to our world with imprisonment or execution?”

Luna paused. In her anger, she truly had not considered what she and Celestia had already concluded. She had wished only for justice for the victims of Grievous’ crimes.

“They need not know,” she said, defensively. “We are quite capable of ensuring nopony finds him ever again!”

“And you know that for a fact, do you?” Celestia asked. “You know what magicks, what technologies the Confederacy of Independent Systems has at its disposal for locating its general?”

“I…” Luna hesitated.

“And you know for certain that should they track him here and not be able to find him, they will not react by destroying our planet, just in case?” the white alicorn demanded. “Are you willing to bet every life in Equestria on that?”

Luna gritted her teeth. Celestia was right, damn her. She didn’t want it to be the case, but her logical mind told her that it was. Celestia was always right. Luna had always known it, and in her more candid moments even admitted it. Once, she had even been driven mad and embraced darkness out of the jealously she had engendered.

But Luna had learned since her long imprisonment on the moon – learned humility, and how to admit when she was in the wrong.

“I just…” she said, hanging her head. “I just…”

Celestia smiled sadly, getting to her hooves and putting one comforting hoof on her sister’s shoulder. “You just want justice.”

Luna nodded.

“And justice is a fine thing to want, sister mine. But we must not allow anger, even the most righteous of anger, to blind us to consequences for all we hold dear. We must keep our heads.”

Luna nodded as the two embraced. But though her outer self and her mind embraced her sister’s firm logic, her heart was not mollified. Grievous had committed crimes beyond the pale of all forgiveness, and she yet heard the voices of the slain, crying out to her for justice.

She wanted Grievous to suffer.


The next several days were yet another exercise in frustration for General Grievous’ already notoriously irritable mind. Word got out, as he had hoped, that he had “heroically” come to the rescue of some of the local children, but it not seem to open any doors for him. Or, to be more accurate, any doors that he had wanted open. Instead, it had opened the floodgates.

Ponies were coming from far and wind to see him. It had not taken long for the word of the first ever alien to visit Equestria to get around. Not just in Ponyville, but across the nation and even beyond it. Many were scared of his appearance, but upon hearing inflated tales of his heroism in the Everfree, concluded that it was safe to be around him. And take pictures. And ask for autographs. And interviews. And write newspaper articles. And propose book deals. Soon it came to the point where the general hadn’t a moment’s peace the instant he stepped outside – or even in front of a window. The boldest ones would even follow him into the Everfree. That meant even his work on the escape pods had to be halted, lest they be located and similarly swarmed over. Who knew what damage hundreds of untrained idiots could do to irreplaceable technology? And to Grievous’ infinite ire, he couldn’t simply solve the problem by killing everyone.

Not that the thought wasn’t tempting.

To invite death here by starting violence would be pointless. He would die a wretched death far from his true enemies. The Jedi, if they ever heard of what had become of him, would laugh. His honored ancestors would look upon his soul in shame. The only death he could accept would be in proper battle against the filthy Jedi who had brought his homeworld to ruin. By these thoughts, he controlled his inclination to deal with the crowds that besieged him with indiscriminate murder.

So passed several of General Grievous’ first days on Equestria: caged in a crystal palace, bored, and irritable. As when Twilight had claimed that she had no spell that would allow him to read the local language, he opted to pass the time by attempting to learn the written language of Equestria for himself. Even with the computers slaved to his brain, it was very different from anything else he knew. Learning to read would take some time.

Eventually, it came to pass that even the prodigious stamina afforded to Grievous by his cyborg body was not enough, and he was required to enter one of his rare periods of sleep.

And when he did, there was a certain pony waiting for him.


General Grievous dreamed.

No, that wasn’t right. His name was not Grievous, it was Qymaen jai Sheelal, warrior of the Kaleesh. He was on his harsh homeworld, battling against revolting mantis-like Huk invaders. With his rifle in his hands, and the sword-wielding Ronderu lij Kummar at his side, the Kaleesh fought back against the ravenous insects. The greedy bugs sought only to conquer and pillage everything that was not their own. The warriors of Kalee were neither wealthy nor technologically advanced, but they were brave, and they fought for their homes and young ones.

And then Ronderu was dead, slain by the Huk far from her mate. Her body washed out to sea, beyond Qymaen’s reach. And then he was no longer Qymaen, he was Grievous, the undisputed leader of his people. His loss and sorrow fueling his wrath, Grievous led the Kaleesh to victory after victory against the Huk. Not only did he push them off of Kalee, he chased them back to their own planets. There, he visited the just revenge of his people on the insects, tearing down their cities, poisoning their waters, putting to death every single insect he could get his four-fingered hands on. Wherever his armies marched, the Huk were cast down and butchered like the filthy animals that they were.

The scene shifted. Grievous was on the verge of total victory, of driving the insects into oblivion. But then they came.

Jedi.

The Huk, cringing cowards that they were, had appealed to the Galactic Republic for aid. They had claimed themselves the victims of Kaleesh aggression, and they had greased the palms of so many of the Republic’s degenerate “leaders” that they had been believed. The Republic Senate had dispatched the Jedi and their paramilitaries to end the conflict. The Jedi, with their lightsabers and their Force, had proved unstoppable. The Kaleesh were forced back, and the subjected to devastating financial sanctions.

After the war, Grievous looked upon his people and saw only ruin. Their best and brightest lost in the war and their cut off, the Kaleesh were reduced to poverty and destitution. Grievous knew in his heart who was responsible: the Jedi. They had done this to his people. They and their Republic, which claimed to serve to serve justice but dealt only in corruption. When the InterGalactic Banking Clan offered to take on the planet’s debts in return for his service as their leg-breaker, Grievous out of desperation accepted.

The scene shifted again. Grievous was in his shuttle, the Martyr. Without warning, an explosion wracked the aircraft. Grievous felt his bones break, muscles tear, and skin catch flame before merciful unconsciousness hit.

Then he was floating in a tank, his legs and skin and hands gone. His body was kept alive only by extreme medical treatments. Count Dooku, a Jedi who had abandoned the Order for its failure to hold the Republic to any standard, explained to him what had happened. The corrupt Jedi, he said, had still feared that Grievous might one day seek righteous vengeance against them, and had tried to kill him by treachery. But by his indomitable will, he had survived.

Then San Hill, the chairman of the IGBC, was before him. He had a proposal, he said. He would return Grievous to life, with a new body. A better body. And all he asked in return was that the proud warrior of Kalee take his revenge against the Jedi and Republic that had so wronged him. Without hesitation, he agreed.

And so General Grievous was born anew.

But throughout all of his dream, Grievous never once noticed a certain dark blue alicorn in the distance.

Watching.


Far from where the cyborg general endured his troubled sleep, the Venator-class Star Destroyer Peacemaker floated serenely through the vacuum of space. Around the great behemoth flew patrols of Z-95 Headhunter and ARC-170 starfighters, ever alert for Separatist forces that could choose any moment to spring an ambush, especially this far in to the Outer Rim. Inside, thousands of clones in armor and uniforms worked around the clock to keep the ship’s many systems up to speed and battle-ready. Like all its kind, the Star Destroyer was a floating city unto itself.

On the command bridge of the Peacemaker, Jedi Council Master Obi Wan Kenobi was pouring over a holographic map of surrounding sectors, his brow creased into a frown and his hands stroking his neatly-trimmed brown beard. Several points were glowing on the map in front of him, and he was obviously considering the markings and what they meant.

“Something’s… not right,” he muttered, frowning.

“Sir?” asked Commander Cody, the clone trooper who had served as Kenobi’s second-in-command since early days of the Clone Wars.

“It’s Grievous,” Kenobi answered without looking away.

Cody nodded understandingly. Grievous and Kenobi had crossed blades on more than one occasion in the past. Kenobi had been instrumental in destroying the cyborg’s massive superweapon battleship, the Malevolence. In return, it had only been a few short months since Grievous had boarded and forced Kenobi to self-destruct his previous flagship, the Negotiator. Those were hardly the only times they had clashed – there had been battles on Saleucami, Kamino, and many other locales – to the point that Kenobi was said to be Jedi that Grievous hated more than any other.

“He hasn’t been seen on the battlefield in quite some time,” Kenobi continued. “That’s not like him at all. He doesn’t like to be away from the war.”

Cody didn’t quite grasp where his general was going, but he knew him well enough to know that the Jedi was using the clone for a sounding board.

“Do you think he might have been injured in battle, sir?” Cody asked.

“That’s just it,” Kenobi tapped a single point on the hologram, which magnified into a map of a single star system. “The last confirmed sighting of his flagship, the Invisible Hand, was here in the Ariadana system when it ambushed Master Ceidia’s task force. Since then, it’s gone off the grid.”

“Do we know why?”

“That’s the interesting bit,” Obi Wan answered. “According to the fightercraft that managed to escape the system, Master Ceidia’s ship - the Fateful - was hit by several waves of boarders before the battle’s end. We don’t know for certain that Grievous was with them in person, but it would definitely be his style.”

Cody nodded. He had been present when the cyborg general had boarded the Negotiator, after all.

“So, what? Did the ship self-destruct?” Cody asked, feeling embarrassed for the lack of knowledge. He made a mental note to check the after-action report later.

“No. In fact, it made an emergency jump to hyperspace, following no known route.”

“So, you think Grievous is dead, then?” Uncalculated hyperjumps could take you absolutely anywhere, and death was a very realistic possibility.

Kenobi shook his head. “No, I’m certain we would have sensed something if that had happened.” A slight glimmer appeared in his blue eyes. “But I do think he’s vulnerable. If the Separatists had found him, he would be back in the fight. We can conclude from the fact that he isn’t that Count Dooku’s henchmen have yet to locate him. I’m certain they’re searching.”

“I see,” Cody said.

“But if we can find him first…” Obi Wan ran his fingers through his beard once more. “Capturing General Grievous could be the key we’ve been looking for to putting an end to this war for good… and revealing its true architects.”