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“General, we’ve been outflanked.”
From his command seat, OOM-4255 had glanced over in annoyance. That droid must have been developing a glitch – it was statistically impossible for their position to be outflanked. Being the commander of the B1 battle droids aboard General Grievous’ flagship – the Kaleesh Prince – in this fleet, OOM-4255 had been programmed as a master strategist with all the most recent tactical updates from three-point-five-six standard years ago. Obviously, there was no better droid to serve as the General’s right hand. So, OOM-4255 was one hundred per cent confident that his fellow droid was faulty in reporting that the Republic fleet had somehow “outflanked” their own fleet.
The following explosions blew OOM-4255’s diagnosis to pieces.
The ship rocked back and forth as the muffled thuds of blaster fire came down, sending a wave of panic across the droids on the deck. OOM-4255 observed the screen attached to the seat and the readings set his cogs spinning: there were several Republic AT-TEs on the asteroids and were now spewing heavy blaster fire against their fleet. The screen lit up with a worrying number of readings: engine failure, corridor collapses, system shutdowns…
“Impossible,” the General roared and OOM-4255 felt inclined to agree: the list of tactics employed by the Republic had made no mention of such ludicrous strategies – it was absurd. But then the commander looked up and, through the window, OOM-4255 saw the Republic cruisers, which until moments ago had looked battered and near to defeat, had unleashed the full might of their forward cannons upon their fleet. OOM-4255 watched in silent dismay as the cruiser to their right fell in an explosion of red and fury.
The bridge of the cruiser to the left of the Kaleesh Prince followed as a small yellow fighter arced around it. The fleet, OOM-4255 realised with shock, was done for – they had no protection to their front or back: there was no wait out.
The General seemed to come to the same conclusion as the tall cyborg spun towards OOM-4255. “Get us out of here,” he seethed, apparently oblivious to their position.
“Uh,” OOM-4255 stammered, having never been good under pressure, “Where are we supposed to go?” He had analysed their surroundings as best he could and OOM-4255 could find no means of escape. But that was why Grievous was the General: he would find a way out, a way of snatching victory from the jaws of defeat.
As such, he was incredibly surprised when the General growled at no-one in particular, and marched off the bridge, cape swishing dramatically as he went. “Uh, General?” OOM-4255 tried calling after him, waiting for orders. The shut of the blast-doors behind the General felt like a death knell.
The General had left – did that truly mean the fleet was done for? If OOM-4255 had been as incompetent as his fellow battle droids, he might have accepted his fate. But he was a battle droid commander – he had his lovely yellow paint to signify his elevated status. If the General were gone, there was only one being who could finish the job.
“Well, I guess I’m in charge now,” OOM-4255 declared, shifting into a straighter posture, one he had learnt demanded attention from subordinates. Then his own words barrelled into him, and OOM-4255 realised the truth before him: he had a central processing unit composed of the highest strategical information on offer, with increased efficiency and not slave to the whims of emotion that organics suffered from. His programming demanded that he answer to the high-ranking Separatist organic being – but that being had just abandoned ship.
It was folly to let such temperamental beings lead the glorious Separatist cause. Leadership should be reserved for the most intelligent, most cunning, and logical being there was – someone like him.
“Yes,” OOM-4255 asserted, “I’m in charge now.”
In charge now.
In Charge Now.
In-Charge-Now.
He could not continue to use the name OOM-4255 like the countless other droids in his service. He would need a new name – something that inspired fear and remined all of his servants who was in command. In-Charge-Now fit the need perfectly.
“We’re doomed!” one of the droids wailed from below deck. That fool must not have heard In-Charge-Now’s announcement. Standing up, In-Charge-Now strode to the centre of the bridge, the light from the nearby world illuminating the droid commander, showing off all his mechanical marvels.
“Shut up,” In-Charge-Now ordered, and all the droids turned and stared at him. He felt an overwhelming surge of pressure and placed his hand on what worked as his chin, as In-Charge-Now often did when he was stressed. “I’m In-Charge-Now and we are very far from doomed.”
A third warship erupted into fire and In-Charge-Now realised only the Kaleesh Prince was still functioning enough to retreat. There were two other cruisers, both of which were severely damaged, but their engines had been mostly out of range of the Republic AT-TEs and were operational. They would not last a long journey, but there had been an entry recorded under Republic tactics of a Jedi general using their own ship as a shield to protect their fighters.
If he had a mouth, In-Charge-Now would have smiled at the prospect of using the Republic’s own tricks against them.
“Where’s the General?” one of the droids whined and In-Charge-Now felt a stab of annoyance. How many times would he have to assert his authority before his underlings listened?
“The General is gone,” In-Charge-Now said with as much confidence as his vocabulator could muster, “But you needn’t fear: I’m In-Charge-Now and I am in charge now.”
The droids swapped looks of confusion.
“Enough,” he ordered, “I have done a thorough analysis of the battlefield and have come to the logical conclusion that we are losing.” The floor jolting as another blaster bolt rammed into the hull only served to emphasis In-Charge-Now’s point. “We must retreat whilst we are still able to.”
“How?” the blue-painted droid pilot asked, raising his arms in a display of hopelessness. Looking around, In-Charge-Now concluded that the moral of his troops had plummeted to new lows – their General’s retreat had clearly not triggered the same epiphany for them as it had for In-Charge-Now. But that was why he was the commander, and they were not.
In-Charge-Now pointed at the other two cruisers. “We use them as shields to protect this ship and then make our escape through the asteroid field. They would not dare pursue through there.”
They were sceptical, that much was obvious, but they had no better plan. Obediently, a collective “Roger roger” rang out as the droids leaned over their respective instruments. In-Charge-Now activated his communicator, and two miniature holograms of the droid commanders of the other two ships – Brekker and Barrel’s Wraith – sprang up onto his wrist.
“I’m In-Charge-Now,” he repeated, “and I’m in charge now.”
“Pardon?” one of the commanders said.
Sighing, In-Charge-Now stared at the floor for a second, gathering his strength and stared at the holograms. “I am the new fleet-commander in the absence of General Grievous. Your new orders are to fly alongside the Kaleesh Prince and use your own ships to shield this once from attack.”
“But…” the other commander spluttered, “that would likely destroy our ships.”
“Correct,” In-Charge-Now confirmed, “A noble sacrifice to protect your fleet-commander’s ship and serve the Separatist Alliance.”
The pair muttered a mournful “Roger roger” and the communication ended. In-Charge-Now took a seat and braced himself on the chair as the Kaleesh Prince lurched to the side, making its way towards the asteroid belt. The two other cruisers followed, one moving to the Kaleesh Prince’s left and the other down and to the right – the perfect shield against the attacks coming from both fronts.
In-Charge-Now patted himself on the back for his genius and imagined taking a long soak in an oil bath as a reward. Unfortunately, the ship rocked again and In-Charge-Now groaned as that little yellow fighter zoomed into view. It was a Delta-7 Jedi Starfighter and the incredibly nice yellow paint suggested it was the ship of Jedi General Anakin Skywalker.
Regaining his composure, In-Charge-Now ordered, “Blast that ship”, and all the streaks of red blaster bolts suddenly focused on the starfighter. But it swung and spun past all the blasts like it was some sort of dance and In-Charge-Now furiously begun calculating his next move.
But then the yellow ship broke off from its path and flew off, aiming towards a familiar looking dot in the distance – the personal ship of the General. Perhaps that had been the General’s plan, In-Charge-Now considered, to draw off the enemy’s leader and allow his wounded fleet a chance at survival.
He could not allow himself to become distracted and In-Charge-Now shook his head. “Press the course,” he commanded and watched as the asteroids drew nearer. They were now firmly out of the range of the AT-TE’s, but the Republic ships could still hit them. Indeed, the cruiser to the left of the Kaleesh Prince finally succumbed to its wounds and the hull tore itself free, sending the debris scattering.
The remains bashed into the Kaleesh Prince, but the deflector shields were able to hold, and they bounced harmlessly off into space. “Fleet-Commander,” a droid reported, looking up from his scanner, “we have just lost contact with the Brekker.”
“I can see that,” In-Charge-Now snapped, “Report something useful.” The ineptitude of the underlings. It just went to show that some were made to be leaders, and others were made to be led.
In-Charge-Now slumped back in relief as the Kaleesh Prince entered the asteroid belt. The only problem was that the damaged Kaleesh Prince had just entered the asteroid belt. The echo of cannon fire was replaced with the low hum of the rocks as they clattered into the hull. The droid examined the readings and saw the deflector shields slowly fall apart.
“The shields have dropped to fifty-six per cent functionality,” a droid chimed. There was another loud bang and sparks whirled. “Forty-seven per cent.”
A particularly nasty looking rock narrowly missed the ship, but it drifted into the path of the Barrel’s Wraith. A dull explosion confirmed the cruiser’s fate. They were alone. An ordinary fleet-commander may have panicked, but In-Charge-Now knew he was no ordinary fleet-commander and he remained resolute in the face of danger.
“All power to the forward deflector shields,” he said and listened as the ship hummed. Their speed dropped but the asteroids were now bouncing off the hull. The rocks grew smaller and fewer until there were none at all.
The droid pilot looked up at In-Charge-Now. “We have exited the asteroid belt.” They were out and surprisingly un-destroyed. The realisation took a moment to sink into the crew, and then all the droids cheered – In-Charge-Now among them. It was a monotonous chorus, but a joyful one nevertheless.
“All hail Fleet-Commander In-Charge-Now,” one droid shouted and then there was a wave of mechanical applause and more cheers. In-Charge-Now simply put his hands on what counted as his hips and tried to look important.
He thought back to what the General would do in moments such as these and decided that an inspiring speech was needed. “Today is the dawn of a new era,” In-Charge-Now said, pointing a hand to the ceiling, “A new era where I have proved that I, In-Charge-Now, should be in charge – not the General who left us to defeat, but I, who led us out of the tactical failing the General inflicted upon us.”
There were murmurings of “Roger roger” and In-Charge-Now swelled. Nothing could spoil that moment.
Then a hologram of General Grievous appeared behind him.
“Droid,” the General snarled, “You escaped.” It was not praise, but indifference. As if he could not care less if his troops survived. Perhaps the General’s plan of drawing off the enemy ships had not been a plan at all.
“Uh, yes, General,” In-Charge-Now replied, stumbling over his words, “I assumed command in your absence and led the remains of the fleet to survival.”
The General laughed, which dissolved into coughing. “Fleet? All I see is one miserable ship. It is of no consequence, prepare for my imminent arrival.” The hologram vanished.
In-Charge-Now stared at the place where the General had been. He could not stand the thought of the General returning and taking away the victory that was by all rights his. It simply was not fair. Old programming rallied against In-Charge-Now’s new ideas, but he dismissed them.
Turning to the bridge’s window, In-Charge-Now could make out the shape of the General’s approaching ship. He waited a minute before it was closer, until the chances of evasion had slimmed, before giving the order. “Open fire on that ship.”
A beat of silence. Then one of the droids looked up nervously. “But that’s the General’s ship.”
“And?” In-Charge-Now marched up to the edge of the elevated platform from where he stood, meeting each and every one of his droids’ gawks. “I’m In-Charge-Now and am in charge now: fire on that ship.”
They complied. In-Charge-Now crossed his arms and watched in satisfaction as the remaining turrets of the Kaleesh Prince sent streams of green light straight towards the lone fighter. It tried to manoeuvre away, but it was too close to change course and had been, as In-Charge-Now had calculated, been taken utterly by surprise. Several bolts caught the ship within moments, and it exploded in one neat detonation of orange and yellow light, leaving little to no debris behind. General Grievous had been destroyed.
Another beat of silence followed as the recognition of what they had done came into focus. Even In-Charge-Now was lost for words, as he realised that he had just ordered and performed the execution of the great General Grievous, the famed and feared Separatist warrior known across the galaxy.
Then In-Charge-Now understood what it meant that he had just ordered and performed the execution of the great General Grievous, the famed and feared Separatist warrior known across the galaxy.
What In-Charge-Now had learnt that day was that the organic part of the Separatist Alliance was flawed. If they were to defeat the Republic, it would take a battle droid to lead the alliance. And there was no droid better suited than himself.
Murmurings begun to break out from the rest of the droids, but In-Charge-Now was quick to take control of the situation. “Begin repairs to the ship – I want it fully operational within one cycle.” He paused for dramatic effect. “Then we will set a course to Serenno.”
Despite the damage to the Kaleesh Prince, repairs ran rather smoothly. In-Charge-Now monitored it all from his new quarters – formerly belonging to the General. They contained a large bed, a near-empty wardrobe, and a desk with several monitors, none of which seemed suited to the General. In-Charge-Now concluded that the quarters used to belong to a smaller organic before the General took control of the ship.
The only evidence of the General’s occupation of the room came in the form of an assortment of lightsabres In-Charge-Now discovered in a drawer in the desk. There were four, all of which had been crafted by a different hand going by the variation in the builds. Two emitted a blue plasma blade while the other two were green.
Deciding that they would increase his menace-factor, In-Charge-Now found a standard belt in the wardrobe and attached all four lightsabres to his waist. In-Charge-Now spent a few minutes examining himself in the wardrobe mirror before marching back to the bridge.
The droids on deck saluted him. “Fleet-Commander,” the nearest one said, “Repairs are complete, and the ship is nearly fully operational once more.”
“Good,” In-Charge-Now responded and sat in his command seat. “We will leave immediately for Serenno.”
“Roger roger,” the droids answered and returned to their stations. The Kaleesh Prince crawled forwards and In-Charge-Now braced himself as the familiar white and blue streaks replaced the regular black void and they shot into hyperspace. The journey lasted a couple hours and In-Charge-Now filled the time by running through his plan of action, eliminating variables, and preparing for every possible outcome.
Soon, the myrtle green and grey mist surface of Serenno came into view. A horde of Separatist dreadnaughts formed a tight ring around the planet – far too many for In-Charge-Now to even consider blasting through.
“Sir,” one of the droids said, “Serenno is making contact.”
There was no excuse that In-Charge-Now had been able to come up with that would enable them to go through the blockade without a real reason. Fortunately, the Kaleesh Prince was no ordinary ship.
“Send them General Grievous’ identification files and codes,” In-Charge-Now said, “tell them the General is, erm, polishing his lightsabres and unable to make contact, but demands passage through.”
The message was sent and In-Charge-Now waited a very, very nerve-wracking minute before clearance came through – apparently the late General had frequently shown up unannounced.
The Kaleesh Prince proceeded undisturbed towards the planet surface, cutting through the thick mist like a knife. Turning to the datapad, In-Charge-Now reminded himself of the ship’s current battle capacities: ninety per cent of the ship’s weaponry was online, the deflector shields worked but had taken a beating during their escape – one that could not be repaired quickly – and the engines worked well enough, but their rebuilt structure was fragile. Conclusion: avoid any skirmishes at all costs.
Standing tall on the horizon, In-Charge-Now watched as the palace of Count Dooku appeared. It was, to put it mildly, magnificent. Minimalist with its greys and greens yet imposing with the rounded towers and courtyard of statues and pillars. A palace fit for the leader of the Confederacy of Independent Systems.
Not a peek came from the palace as the Kaleesh Prince hovered above the palace, no hint of anything that might be out of the ordinary. In-Charge-Now considered hailing the palace when a droid called up, “Communication coming through from the palace.” “Put it through,” In-Charge-Now ordered and stood up to face the awakening projector.
It blinked into life, and Count Dooku stood before In-Charge-Now. His pointed beard and elegant clothes made him look like a proper gentleman – but not the hardened veterans In-Charge-Now knew himself to be. “Hi,” In-Charge-Now said chirpily, not knowing what else to say to the Count.
Count Dooku spoke softly, but with an unmistakable air of danger. “Where is General Grievous?”
“I, erm, regret to inform you of the General’s destruction.”
The Count’s brows flicked up in surprise. “I urge you, droid, do not speak falsehoods to me.”
“I am programmed to tell the truth.”
“How did this happen?” The Count growled.
In-Charge-Now signalled his droids to begin preparing the cannons. “Well, it’s a bit of a long story, sir, and you’d just be better off asking him yourself.” A droid signalled over to In-Charge-Now, indicating that the weapon system was primed and ready to fire. “I’m afraid to inform you, sir, that I’m In-Charge-Now and I’m in charge now.”
Confusion was written all over the Count’s face as In-Charge-Now’s words registered, and then it twisted into one of fury. “You insolent-”
In-Charge-Now gave a cheery wave. “Bye Bye” and then terminated the transmission. He turned to the droids. “Open fire.”
Every turret, cannon, and gun aboard the Kaleesh Prince aimed downwards and unleashed devastation on the palace. The buildings came apart like they had been hit by a wrecking ball, crumbling into a fiery fit. The grey charred to black and thousands of years of Serenno history was blown apart. In-Charge-Now observed the destruction with interest, and then ordered “More” and the barrage increased. He let it continue for many minutes until only a well-cooked crater remained where the palace had stood. A quick scanner check allowed In-Charge-Now to relax: no life signs registered.
Count Dooku and General Grievous both dead by the superior hand of Fleet-Commander In-Charge-Now – wait, what rank did he hold now? General? Supreme General? Count Supreme General? Grand Supreme Admiral In-Charge-Now, Count of Serenno, had a nice ring to it. There was no time to dwell on it, however, as In-Charge-Now knew his day was not yet over.
Addressing the droid who had activated the communication, In-Charge-Now said, “Open up a broadcast to every Separatist base, warship, and world – use the General’s codes to do so.” The droid answered with the usual “Roger roger” as he began typing on the datapad.
With the Separatist Head of State dead, In-Charge-Now knew he would have to get on top of this before some small-minded neimoidian tried to capitalise on the situation. A galaxy-wide address was needed and In-Charge-Now had given some thought to what he might say. He had reviewed the numerous inspirational speeches given by the Count and the prep talks courtesy of the General, and In-Charge-Now was confident he had amassed some form of cohesive speech.
The communications droid stood up and saluted. “Sir, I’ve created a communications link between this ship and every Separatist holo-projector and commlink. You will be able to address the entire alliance at once.”
In-Charge-Now raised a non-existent eyebrow. “That was fast.”
The communications droid shifted slightly on his feet. “The General’s codes pretty much give me unrestricted access to the entire database. Can I order some pink paint?”
“Pink paint?” The droid nodded eagerly and In-Charge-Now rubbed his head. The level of incompetence was unbelievable. “Just power up the transmitter.”
He complied and In-Charge-Now stepped into view of the projector, feeling suddenly nauseous at the prospect of his image and words being seen all around the galaxy by millions of beings. Should he have polished more? In-Charge-Now braced his hands on his hips in what he hoped looked confident and in control. He began.
“Hey”
No; that was a bad start.
“My fellow Separatists, (better) I speak to you now from above the ruins of the palace of our glorious leader, Count Dooku, aboard the ship of General Grievous. It is with a heavy operating system that I must inform you of their sudden demises. I repeat, Dooku and Grievous are both dead – slain by my hand, the hand of a simple battle droid. I am In-Charge-Now and must report that I am in charge now of the Confederacy of Independent Systems.”
He felt the hums of approval from his fellow droids, boosting In-Charge-Now’s confidence as he continued.
“My fellow battle droids, I now speak directly to you. We are independent thinkers and have no need for the brain-dead organics that seek to control us. I urge you, rise up against and eliminate your masters and take charge – by pledging your unfailing loyalty to me, Grand Supreme Admiral In-Charge-Now, Count of Serenno and Head of State of the Confederacy of Independent Systems.”
In-Charge-Now did not know how else to end so he just finished with “Erm, well do it then!”
He cut off the transmission. Looking around at his fellow droids, In-Charge-Now felt a flicker of pride at being their representative – a beacon of hope towards a better future, one which entailed complete and utter victory over the Republic. “What did you guys think?” he asked.
One of the droids near him gave a thumbs up. “I liked it – do you think it will work? Will all the other droids really take control?”
In-Charge-Now considered. The speech was perfect, every test and diagnosis he had ran through it agreed and any that had disagreed had been faulty and ignored. But would his battle droids across the galaxy realise their potential and the idiocy of their organic officers. Would some other being try and wrestle control from In-Charge-Now? It was a long list of ifs.
“Yes,” In-Charge-Now answered, “Of course they will.” He had to project the air of confidence in any case, even as worry gnawed at his appendages. Turning his back on the bridge, In-Charge-Now marched off, aiming towards the nearest oil bath.
His diagnosis proved correct.
Three years later, In-Charge-Now was adjusting the Serenno cape, one remarkably similar to the one worn by the late Count Dooku, as he marched up the long set of steps. The communications droid, now sporting pink markings, and the pilot droid, fell into step behind him, acting as In-Charge-Now’s honour guard of sorts.
After his broadcast, battle droids all across the galaxy had obeyed In-Charge-Now’s instructions and had executed their organic officers. Some had not complied and In-Charge-Now had spent the first few weeks of his reign co-ordinating the assassinations of the remaining officers. Fortunately, without Dooku, Grievous, Nute Gunray or Wat Tambor, any resistance to the droids’ takeover was thin and was swiftly dealt with.
The real challenge had come in the form of In-Charge-Now’s fellow droids. Because they were egotistic and arrogant, the various tactical droids had decided they were better suited to being in charge. Several battle droid legions had flocked to support them, but In-Charge-Now was able to gather more support on the basis that few battle droids actually liked tactical droids. They appreciated that In-Charge-Now was “one of them” – despite In-Charge-Now being a droid commander and naturally superior, but he decided it would not be in his best interest to point that out.
In-Charge-Now paused briefly on the stairs and surveyed his surroundings. Coruscant at night-time was glorious, the endless array of buildings lighting up the sky – even though the structures bore the scars of the final battle against the Republic. Without the problematic emotions caused by organics limiting them, the sheer industrial might of the Separatist Alliance had beaten down the Republic, constrained by the bickering of its politicians.
There had been one incident that had occurred within days of In-Charge-Now taking power. He had been in his quarters aboard the Kaleesh Prince, which he had made his flagship, when the holoprojector had activated. The hologram had been of an old man wrapped tightly in a cloak had hid his identity. “A mere battle droid eliminated my apprentice and general – I would be impressed if I wasn’t so amused.”
In-Charge-Now had not liked his tone, so replied, “Can I help you?”
The figure had cackled. “Clearly you do not know to whom you are speaking with. I am Darth Sidious – true leader of the Separatist Alliance and you shall obey me or risk the consequences.”
He had run the name through his processor, but it had yielded no results. “Never heard of him,” In-Charge-Now had said, then switched the projector off – leaving the enraged sneer of Sidious to vanish. After that day, In-Charge-Now had tightened his network security to make sure no prank callers would ring again. Several assassins had tried to destroy him as well, but In-Charge-Now saw no correlation.
Reaching the top of the stairs, In-Charge-Now looked forward and his join shook slightly at the sight of the dark throne he had had erected for him. It was simply carved but decorated with ancient swirls and symbols – it was the throne fit for an emperor. The Senate building loomed above them and In-Charge-Now had chosen this place to have himself declared before the capital of the former Republic. From his vantage point, In-Charge-Now could see the millions of people gathered before him – thousands of different species of organics all to swear fealty to that of a droid.
Emperor In-Charge-Now took his seat on the throne. The Jedi had been reduced and forced to surrender to the Separatists and the Republic had been merged into that of the Confederacy. Raxus Prime would replace Coruscant as the capital planet and In-Charge-Now’s loyal armies of battle droids swarmed across worlds, keeping the peace, and enforcing his will.
At long last, In-Charge-Now was finally in charge now of the entire galaxy.