Here I go again. Back into the shadows. Deeper this time – deeper than ever before.
This is the first time Dooku has given me an assassination job. I've stolen from the Republic, I've sabotaged the Republic, I've probably been responsible for hundreds of deaths in the Republic – but not since I...not since Dooku killed Tinté have I been involved in murder. My hands are red with blood, yet I have spilt none. Because I'm not here to kill people. No matter what Dooku thinks, no matter what the Jedi think, I've not joined the Dark Side. If you put a candle in a dark room, does it make the candle any less brighter? Maybe, but it still glows. I will die before I betray the Jedi to the Dark Side.
Still, I relish the prospect of lethal combat. Eight months ago, when I fought Agen Kolar on Nar Shaddaa, how I wished I could kill him. Once or twice I snapped, and went all out on him. If Agen had been a lesser swordsman – and I must thank the stars that he wasn't – he would have died. I had been instructed not to injure him, but at that moment my instructions seemed like nothing, swept away by the pure intoxication of the moment. The flash and hum of blades, the stink of the air, the thrill of the fight...all this made me just want to break out from my body, to kill Agen, to kill Tookarti, to kill every single person on Nar Shaddaa...
That must be what the Dark Side feels like. That feeling of wanting to exceed your limitations, the feeling of both satisfaction and deep longing, the feeling of wanting power, and not caring how you get to it. But isn't power what the Jedi stand for – power over oneself? This is a tricky line I walk upon – one that seems to be ever shifting.
But I know that it cannot be Dark Side. I'm not looking forward to combat. The electric buzz within me is not anticipation, but nervousness. This job needs to be done. Dooku has to be able to trust me, so that when the time comes I'm in the best possible position to betray him. I need to rise above Skorr, rise above even Ventress, and become Dooku's favoured hand. It is the only way.
Khaleen stands in the doorway. It's time to go. She'll drop me off in the Skorp-ion, and then get to the rendezvous point and wait for me. If I'm not back in thirty-six hours, she's to leave and report back. She won't – she cares for me too much. No worries. I'm not going to die. Dooku has taught me well – shared some of his secrets. With them, I'll be undefeatable in combat. And I know better than to draw on them too heavily – whatever I masquerade as, I'll always be a Jedi. And I'll never join the Dark Side.
Never.