The Vulture booted up the moment someone opened the barn door, allowing the orange light of the double sunrise to stream in. Its own thoughts had kept it active until its own subsystems forced it to shut down for mandatory circuit stress release, but that didn’t stop it from setting up several alarms.

The Twi’lek woman stared at it, holding the door open with a hard crease in her forehead. “Okay,” she started. “I’m taking you to Caut Modal, and we’re gonna see if anyone there knows what you are. Got that?”

The Vulture uncertainly raised its front right leg, not completely certain of what exactly she was talking about. She nodded sharply. “Good. I’m bringing Abbit with us, and we’re using the kybuck wagon. Do you think you can keep up with that?”

…Had she not seen it fly in? It briefly replayed the events of the previous day, trying to figure out what exactly she knew about it. The more it thought about it, the more it realized that these two people knew next to nothing about it.

That wouldn’t do. For the time being it was the sole Separatist operative in the area (and possibly the galaxy, but it tried not to think about that), and while it had less than no desire to build a plan of any kind, it knew it had to do something to bring them back. It was a Separatist droid. There was no Separatist base on the planet. Therefore, it needed to fulfill its duty.

It was fully aware that the thought process was illogical, but short of being a Separatist droid it had no idea what it was supposed to be. More than that, if the Separatists were truly gone, then it would have to make a plan on what to do next.

Next to that, denial was preferable.

In addition, she’d mentioned a place called Caut Modal, and had associated people with it. The workforce would hopefully experience some growth today, and perhaps it could acquire some information on what had happened to the Separatists while it was there.

As it finished its train of thought, it realized the Twi’lek had left, and it wasn’t sure how long she’d been gone. A note of concern lit up somewhere in its head. What else did it miss while it was thinking? And how often did it lapse?

It was shaken from its confusion as the woman opened the barn door once more. “Are you coming?”

Still trying to catch up with its own thoughts, the Vulture absently walked out of the barn, careful to note any sort of alteration in ground cover, or perhaps some hiding soldiers. It found no such thing. Instead, Zeh’tocu was waiting on what was essentially a well-decorated hoverpad tied to two pacing kybucks. He gave the Vulture a giant grin, showing off slightly yellowing teeth. The Vulture made a mental note to eventually request that he take better care of his dental hygiene; an unhealthy work force was an inefficient work force.

The Twi’lek woman hopped onto the hoverpad and picked up the reins, glancing at the Vulture. “Keep up. We can’t afford to lose any time if we’re going to get back in time to feed the animals, and I’m not losing any livestock over a droid.”

The Vulture ignored the warning, raising its right limb in confirmation. With a sharp nod, the Twi’lek gave the reins a tug, and the kybucks set off at a quick pace.

It wasn’t anywhere near quick enough. The Vulture set its limbs into flight position and took off, the ground dropping away as objects that had been large shrank in perspective. Wheeling about in the sky, it was careful to continue watching both of its subordinates from the sky.

Zeh’tocu was a speck on the hoverpad, the smallest of entities pointing an outstretched arm at the Vulture flying above. His mother glanced up every now and then, as if surprised that the Vulture could fly at all.

The kybucks were fast and the weather was good, two factors which cooperated to make the trip go by a little faster. After about half an hour of flight, the Vulture was forced to land and allow its reserves to passively refill. Their pace slowed noticeably for nearly an hour afterwards, the Vulture shambling along behind the Twi’leks’ hoverpad with a frankly embarrassing wobble. Any Separatist officer would have had it decommissioned, just for presenting itself in such an awkward manner.

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Granted, it was technically an officer, or at least a superior, which meant the Vulture could either punish itself… or do nothing.

It opted for the latter, although it had to force itself to avoid thinking about any positives regarding the disappearance of all Separatist commanders.

Once it was done recharging, the Vulture took to the air again, and they kept going. The grassy fields and endless meadows gradually turned into sparse woods and open flatlands, with an occassional house popping up every now and then. Ten minutes after that, the Vulture became aware of a signal being pinged off it, and it accepted the communications request.

“-iately, I repeat, land your ship immediately. You do not have an airspace access code. If you do not acquiesce you will be shot down. Do you-”

The Vulture sent back a single confirmation ping.

“...Received. Maintain caution.”

The interaction was a simple acknowledgement of local authority as far as the Vulture was concerned, and it dipped for the ground.

It landed a short distance behind the hoverpad. Zeh’tocu craned his head around as his mother slowed the kybucks’ pace, still somehow smiling. “Hi, droid! Are you taking another break?”

The Vulture raised its forward left limb in a negative gesture. Zeh’tocu blinked. “Wait, so you’re…?”

He trailed off. His lack of communication meant that the Vulture had to figure out what he had been about to say, which would have required its choice in deciding whether the effort was worth it or not. The Vulture immediately gave up on making the decision at all, coincidentally solving the initial problem.

The Twi’lek woman spoke without turning around. “Caut Modal officials are a bit leery about unfamiliar crafts in their airspace at the moment. The droid was probably told to get out.”

Both Zeh’tocu and the Vulture turned their attention to the Twi’lek woman. Zeh’tocu was considerate enough (or oblivious enough, but the Vulture chose to perceive it as consideration) to ask the question they both had been wondering.

“Why don’t they want any ships above the town?”

“They’re scared,” the Twi’lek woman replied, and somewhat ominously left it at that. The Vulture, not one to pass up free information, added a low-priority repeating notification for droid retrieval and repairs for the warehouse. If there was something to be scared of, the Vulture would much rather be the primary culprit.

Their journey continued on without much fanfare, and as they went the Vulture began noticing further symptoms of civilization. An odd house every now and then, better-built and often bigger. A well with a few heavy transports around it, droids loading water into canisters with seamless efficiency. A waterlogged field being drained by half a dozen workers.

Eventually, it noticed the town they were approaching. The Twi’lek woman hadn’t been lying when she’d said it was small. The town hall was two stories, maximum, and the buildings hugging the edge of the street practically leaned over the road. By far the largest construction in the whole place was the skyport, from which a sizeable starship was presently departing. It was in good condition and bore an unfamiliar insignia upon its bay doors.

The Twi’lek woman craned her head around to give the Vulture a serious look. “Absolutely no mischief. If not for Zeh’tocu’s insistence I wouldn’t be doing this at all, so I’m not risking any more than I have to. You owe me for helping you. Do you understand that?”

The Vulture raised its right leg in confirmation. At the moment, she perceived it not as a compatriot or sibling in arms, but as a business transaction. That was alright. She would warm up to it, sooner or later.

Unsurprisingly, the odd caravan attracted a good amount of curiosity as they went down the main street. Two Twi’leks, one young, drawn by a pair of kybucks and riding on a hoverpad, trailed by a forty-foot-tall droid. The Vulture was mildly pleased to see no weapons aimed in their direction, although plenty of the shopkeepers and booth operators held blasters in places they thought it couldn’t see.

They stopped before a blocky building, set into the ground and partially coated in moss. The Twi’lek woman brought the kybucks to a halt and dismounted the hoverpad, folding her arms in front of her chest. “Zeh’tocu, keep an eye on the droid. I don’t want either of you getting into trouble. Droid… I don’t know. Make sure my son doesn’t get hurt.”

That was an obvious priority. It didn’t even require a decision, thank Grievous. The Vulture had no intention of allowing half its work force to sustain injury of any type.

She wasn’t done yet. “It should only take five minutes, it’s not a large cantina. Be ready to head out when I come back - we still have to feed the livestock back home.”

Both droid and boy nodded in sync, acknowledging the command of the (for now) highest authority present.

Her eyes narrowed. “...I feel like I’m going to regret this.”

With that, she headed into the cantina, and the Vulture started the countdown. She had said it would take five minutes. Therefore, it was going to wait five minutes…

…and not a second longer.