Ash filled his breath, burning his throat and setting fire to his lungs. Eyes stinging in the heat and the soot, a horrible ringing in his ears from the initial bombardments. Desperately hungering for oxygen that anguished as it came and searching his way through the thick dust cloud that had formed on the planet's surface. The air around him was deafening with the implosion of shells, each impact wiping out settlements and disrupting the foundation. One hundred earthquakes - all around him. Death from the skies.Each step felt as though it weighed a ton. Shalashaska...No...that name had died with his clan -- Kabal remembered the bombings as though they were yesterday. One does not simply forget genocide like that. The Ubese were a powerful people, strengthened by hatred, by malice. United in their despising of other races, loyal to one another. But little did Kabal know that their hatred of other species could extend to themselves. The Strike against Ubertica not only took everything away from Kabal, but it shook the steadfast belief he held in his own people. In one swift stroke, everything he had based his life upon was demolished, wiped away from the face of the galaxy. If the bombs did not vaporize them, the furious winds tore at them, flayed them. The heat from the blasts incinerated them. The force of the impact sent stone to crush them...No need for bombs...when hate will do.
And here he was, years later, the pain and anguish he felt not satiated; merely masked by years of savagery. In the beginning, each kill felt like a small piece of redemption, of
revenge. He was avenging the loss of his people, projecting it onto his victims...And it had worked...by whatever gods were out there it had worked.
But time had passed, and Kabal realized only too late that mindless slaughter could not cure self-loathing, could not ease his thirst for vengeance. The Empire had scorned him worse than Savax had...They obliterated the True Ubese's fleet, turning their ships into slag and scorched durasteel. They deprived Kabal of his revenge by destroying Savax.
Brought to the present, Kabal was silent. The pressurized breathing from his helmet being the sole indicator that there was something alive underneath his clothing. The restraints mocked him more than his capture did, reminding him of his own helplessness at Imperial hands.
Cowards! A true warrior would unbind him, let skill decide who the victor was. And Kabal relished in the imagery of gruesome massacre that played itself in his mind. Thoughts of maiming, bludgeoning, ripping, tearing, crushing, piercing...He clenched his fists tightly, holding onto his hatred like a crutch. For in his hate came strength, and the determination do whatever he had to to
survive. Ubertica had taught him that.
Kabal all but ignored the rest of the prisoners brought aboard the crawler, but raised his head slightly in response to the pilot's desperate glances and mouthed words. The Ubese sneered behind his featureless helmet. He did not want nor need the Human's pity, his sorrow. Kabal had no intention of staying long at the labor camp. It came down to one single ultimatum. He would either escape or he would die -- die with the honor of a warrior.
Cocking his head towards the large droid that had self-activated, Kabal's internalized indignation was replaced by interest and curiosity. The thing was huge, standing at least seven-feet tall with the bulk of a Bantha. Armed to the teeth with weapons, Kabal had no doubt that this abomination of robotics was designed not for warfare - but for holocaust.
Kabal slowly followed with his head as the lumbering golem approached the antsy pilot of the crawler, wasting no time in asserting its opinion of him and the rest of its mission. Kabal tilted his head to the side, a subtle but overt gesture in his own way. This droid was unique...
sentient. Kabal had only heard rumors of droids capable of achieving effective sentience if left without a memory wipe, but had never seen one in person. A part of him wished to dissect the droid, examine its inner workings to achieve a better grade of knowledge; while another part felt the need to observe the droid's behavior further, understand it, perhaps even communicate with it. But a sentient machine was volatile...dangerous. Not subject to command codes, directives, or predisposed programming. If there was anything on this shuttle Kabal feared...this droid was it.
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