(A/N) Yo, way more action focused, lot of fighting and mission stuff going on here. More of our favorite pair there at the end. Thanks for the reviews, favorites, and follows! Love to hear from you all, R and R, let me know what you think!
Yoda had been right. This place was Hell. All of his clothes had holes burned in them, or were torn to expose his skin to the ash and fire and smog they had been surrounded by. It was only through severe determination that he and Qui-Gon had not already left; he would not leave this unfinished, but he had to wonder at the cost.
There had been nights when the glint of humor he could still catch from Qui-Gon, who still had managed to hum with the living force, had been what had pushed them through until morning. Then the firebombing of civilians had started; they had pulled burned children and innocent people from debris that was all that remained of their homes. The light in Qui-Gon had dimmed, his face was more fixed in a hard mask. Dooku had found him meditating the night before, on an outcropping from the cave they were staying in.
He had simply watched him, not wishing to disturb any peace the boy might finally have found. "Master," He had said softly. "Why does the Order allow for such things?" And he had not had a real answer. Only the one he had always been instructed to give. The Order didn't condone these things. They had sent them. But he saw the boy's doubt clearly; they had managed to accomplish very little. If the Order truly meant to stop this, wouldn't they have sent more help?
Since then, Qui-Gon had been exceptionally quiet. The same was for now; they were heading in disguise into the heart of the city. They were wearing the dark gear off two of the dictator regime's soldiers they had found dead in the street. Once, his apprentice might have been horrified at the thought of such, but now the boy only moved in quiet, abandoning his own burned and blood soaked clothes in the dirt without a final word.
They reached the palace only thanks to a blessing of the force, avoiding three military convoys by mere moments, dodging around soldiers, incapacitating one man before he could alert others to their arrival. They had set the plan in rudimentary motion the night before, to seize the Dictator or control of his operations meant at least a cease-fire for Boromir. Failing to do so meant they would join the hundreds that had died by public execution.
Qui-Gon, as tall as he was now at only fifteen, walked strongly next to him. They moved, not with the gait of Jedi, but the gait of hardened soldiers, and were not questioned. Then there was hand on Dooku's shoulder. He resisted the instant urge to flip the perpetrator over his shoulder and run through the palace to the conditional freedom outside; but instead he simply paused, probing the man's mind with the force.
"Is there a problem, Captain?" He asked, staying turned away.
"A small one." The man snarled. Dooku could feel his confusion more than his anger rolling off of him. "You were reported dead two days ago." He felt a surge in the force, Qui-Gon was reacting, having moved ahead of them, but now was turned to the man who was tightening his grip on Dooku. His apprentice waved his hand, and he felt the hand loosen.
"You have mistaken him for someone else." Qui-Gon said firmly.
"I have mistaken him for someone else." The guard repeated slowly.
"You will release him and tell no one about this."
"I will release him and tell no one about this."
"You will forget this meeting after we are gone."
"I will forget this meeting after you are gone." And with that, the hand dropped from his shoulder, and Dooku glanced to see the man looking at the two of them dazedly. They stepped forward, moving towards the turbo-lifts, where Dooku only spoke after the black door had slid shut behind them.
"Excellent use of affect mind, Qui-Gon." He straightened his uniform. His small praise earned him the first small smile he had seen from Qui-Gon since the bombings. It was just as well, they had business to attend to.
The scene the lift opened up on was one that made him want to cringe uncomfortably. He had expected this part of the palace to be only para-military personnel. Instead, the room they opened up to was full off people and couches and beds, almost all of them occupied. There were pleasure slaves, both male and female, in a variety of humanoid species. There were military members, entwined with the beings on couches and beds. He could feel Qui-Gon's reaction, the boy was somewhat stricken, though he was happy he had managed to avoid showing it. At the end of the hall, past all of the debauchery going on, was a short man, humanoid with thinning black hair and a pointed moustache. He was lounged haphazardly over a chair; a woman, dressed in fine clothing on his right, another, clearly a slave by her tattered clothes, on his left. The Dictator, taking in this seen with what seemed to be only mild interest.
Dooku wanted to curl his lips: the Order disapproved of slavery, he despised it. There could be so much potential, strength, labor, intelligence in these slaves, that would never be realized. One mission as a younger man, he had been forced to take the role as a guard to a group of slaves; never would he forget the sort of pain they had endured. Pain he had been forced to allow and support so as not to blow his cover. And to leave them behind when peace was realized. He was surprised by that vivid memory; but the Jedi Order had eventually promoted peace. To have so few in suffering must have been worth the trade of so many being allowed to live. Perhaps peace had also served justice.
"General. Lieutenant." He spoke almost softly, his voice a deep baritone that resonated through the chamber. Only a split second of silence followed, where Dooku felt stares. He gathered the force around them, the others would see them; but their gazes would not linger. He hoped it would be enough to avoid detection. "Take a moment to enjoy yourselves."
One of the women latched on to Dooku's arm, but he shrugged her off. A man took her place, but he shrugged him off as well. "You refuse my hospitality, General Koff? You have been working hard, I would think that there would not be a problem." Dooku sent up silent thanks that he had donned the General's uniform rather than Qui-Gon. His Padawan was talented, but he was only fifteen.
"I actually wondered if we might have a word in private, your Lordship?" He spoke firmly, not sparing a glance at Qui-Gon who was having a fair bit of trouble in detaching a woman from his arm.
"But of course." The small man smirked. "Join me in my chamber; I always have time for my High General." Dooku sent a silent message to Qui-Gon to stay put, even as the younger Jedi was being pulled away. He stepped forward, following the man. The woman stepped between them. "It is of no concern, Miana; I will be fine." She reluctantly stepped back, extending a hand for Dooku to follow the man. He spared her a short bow, one that she did not acknowledge with anything other than a harsh stare.
"I am surprised you have come to see me, General Koff." The man said, as the door to the chamber closed heavily behind them. Dooku felt an unpleasant pricking at his side, but shook it off, deciding that it was hopefully Qui-Gon, learning to deal with the women outside.
"I always take time to report on important business, your Lordship." He said slowly, moving his hand to his lightsaber hilt, hidden in the jacket of his clothes.
"I do take the time to keep up with the dealings of this war and rebellion." The Dictator spoke. Dooku moved to respond, but the small man raised a hand, decorated with a set of black rings and two wires that split between his fingers. "Thus my surprise."
"I'm afraid I don't understand." He thought through what he knew of this man. Formerly an elected official, J. Arnock; never spectacular at anything other than lying and speaking. His revolution had started silent, then his seizure of the military had led to three days of violence and torment. The execution of the other elected leaders. The death of his own brother who had been serving on the other side of the planet as a liaison to a group of sentients. It was a group of rebels who had called for Jedi help. Two days later, the sender of their message had been slaughtered as well, in a public execution at the square.
"For the past three months, I have received reports of two renegades interfering with my business. Saving civilians, diffusing my bombs, moving whole squadrons to support the rebel forces." Dooku felt a surge in the dark side of the force now, they were not alone in this room. "I send General Koff to eliminate them. That was his sole mission."
"Sir, I…" Dooku tried desperately, reaching out with the force, but something was interfering with his abilities.
"And only this morning, I received a report of General Koff's death." He withdrew his lightsaber from his jacket. He supposed there was no point in hiding it now. "And since you're one of the two destroying my perfect plan for this godforsaken world, you can die with the rest of those filthy rebels you've been helping. And don't worry about your friend, when the time comes, my guards will find them." At least they didn't know about Qui-Gon. Dooku didn't consider them to be particularly close beyond at typical master/Padawan bond, but they had been growing closer as the boy matured, and he couldn't stomach the thought of him being killed.
"This fight will not be easy. I am on a mission from the Galactic Republic…" But his words were only met with a laugh. He didn't like being interrupted.
"I have no time for your inexplicable defense, Rebel. Only your death." He waved his arm, and from the shadows came a hulking figure, cloaked, with a crimped hood that hid their face. The being was strong in the dark-side of the force, in his hands was a bastardization of a double-bladed saber. Arnock moved, not far, but enough to be out of the way of the two of them. The being was silent, and when he ignited the twin blades, they were not the blue or green or purple of the Jedi or even the red of the Sith. They were black blades, fashioned in the shape of old sword blades.
The first swing came for his head, and he ducked it easily. He sent out a force call to Qui-Gon, hoping the boy would take the initiative and run; when this fight was over, he would have to find him. The man came back around with another swing, and Dooku could feel the amusement emanating from Arnock. He had not ignited his lightsaber. This man thought him a common Rebel, perhaps their might be an advantage in keeping it that way.
He somersaulted, to avoid the spinning blades. This being, what he could now tell was a male, was strong, but not particularly quick. Havign two blades, however, was clearly something he used to his advantage. Dooku let the force flow through him, telling him when to dodge in quick sidesteps, and when to leap over the whole of the blade altogether. But he was being backed into a corner; and was left with no choice.
Left hand behind his back, curved hilt in his right, he blocked a strong blow. The force of it reverberated through his arm, but now he could go on the offensive. He spun and twirled, blocking and striking at the man who started to lumber backwards. This being had the force, his connection was strong enough to allow him to wield a saber without injury; but his focus was weak. He was not trained beyond that. Intimidating, perhaps, to all but a Jedi.
He spun, and kicked; feeling the being wear down; but in truth, he was tiring also. He couldn't fight forever, and started looking for a way to finish this. He felt a flicker, a whisper in the back of his mind, and took a step backwards as a blaster bolt blew past where his head had been moments before.
Without turning, he could feel the blaster outstretched in Arnock's hand, unable to focus on it as the black saber threatened to cleave him in half. Another blaster bolt whizzed by, watching the end of the ornate cape he was wearing as part of his disguise. If he had allowed it to overwhelm him, it would have been easy to feel the panic settling in on him, eventually, a bolt of blade would catch him. He could not keep both at bay forever.
He swung harder, pushing the man back, deflecting a bolt and moving to parry a blow in the same motion. "Master!" He heard the cry over the blood rushing to his ears, heard another shot, but no threat came from it. Then no more blaster, no more gun; only the blade. He pressed, full offense; forcing the larger man back against the bed frame that shook with his weight. He kicked out hard, catching the lightsaber blade which snapped off and spun upwards. In a single gesture, he cleaved the blade in half and pierced through the chest of the being, any howl of pain being cut short by a merciful death.
He stopped, retracted his blade. He was breathing hard, his pulse racing, blood pounding. He realized how sore his limbs were from all of their work over the past months. How little rest he had all came to him at once. But he could only take seconds for himself, this was not over. He whipped around, and the sight that greeted him was not what he had expected at all. Or wanted. Or thought would ever happen.
"Master, I didn't mean to…he was going to shoot you. I could feel it." Qui-Gon was on his knees on the floor. The blaster lay in two soldered pieces on the hard floor, next to it lay Arnock, orchestrator of all of this carnage; a hole through his chest. No life came from this man, the force had left him. Qui-Gon was not crying, but Dooku suspected if it had not been for the last months, especially the last days of carnage, that he would have been. He placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, realizing again that he was still only a boy in truth. Now a boy who had seen far more than he had when they had first arrived to a world on the brink of oblivion.
"It is done, Qui-Gon." He said calmly, letting his breath even out. "It is never easy to see a being die, but sometimes a death is necessary for peace. His death will mean the liberation of thousands."
But as they stood, even as Qui-Gon nodded, he could feel the seeds of doubt grow in the boy's mind. Doubts that he, though never vocally, could share.
A week later, and Dooku was glad they could finally return to the temple. They had an escort, piloting them so the wary Jedi could get some rest. Qui-Gon was already asleep, having collapsed onto the first piece of furniture offered to him, and stayed there. Dooku had moved to the small cabin provided for him, but had been unable to rest. This mission had been terrible, in almost every way. The only positives he could see were that the killing had now stopped, and a true government had been implemented. The people of Boromir could start rebuilding.
Qui-Gon was changed. Though the shock of taking another being's life had faded, the questioning lull had not gone on the wayside. He was quieter, though Dooku hoped that meditation and their return to the temple might help. Dooku himself felt changed. It was almost odd to be returning, very strange. Which, he supposed, was why he could not sleep.
They had almost been killed, several times on this mission. He considered that perhaps he was simply in need of comfort. Some sort of reassurance that the Jedi Order was the same as it always had been; that the world he had left behind was still intact. When he allowed them, his thoughts had gone to her, to their parting, their kiss. He wanted to speak with her, to see her again. Three more days aboard this ship seemed like an eternity, and in the end, though he knew it would be late on Coruscant, he commed her in a moment of decisiveness.
Her tiny blue form appeared over his comlink, and for the first time it what felt now like a lifetime, he gave a very genuine smile. "Jocasta?"
