Chapter 13: Lessons
Reformation Year 977.01.07
Serenno
"The work continues apace, my Master. Chief Medical Scientist Nala Se is confident that the change can be implemented without interruption of the program. Chief Scientist Ko Sai has expressed concern that the alteration was introduced after the production of the initial batch and wishes to know if we would like the matter rectified."
"That is of no consequence. I trust the Prime had no objections to this addition?"
Dooku thought of the slow, dangerous grin that had spread over the bounty hunter's face when he'd been informed of the biochips' purpose. The Count had initially held some misgivings about working with Fett, given their history. The expression on the Mandalorian's face after the events on Galidraan had haunted Dooku's sleep for years even as his own faith in the Order's purpose curdled. The younger warrior - then scarcely older than Obi-Wan was now - had been devastated, shell-shocked, and utterly covered in Jedi blood. But the hunter had proven eager, in the end. His thirst for vengeance outweighed any personal debt between them. "None at all, my Lord."
"Good." The word was crooned, savoured, and Dooku suppressed a shiver. "What of young Kenobi?"
Dooku shook his head. "My Lord, he has proved an avid learner and an eager student; he has spent a great many hours studying what texts you have granted me, and mastered the Sith language with astonishing swiftness. But the Darker aspects of what he encounters seem not to affect him at all. He may be more resilient than anticipated."
The Sith Master drew a hissing breath through his teeth in displeasure. "Most disappointing. You have engaged him in further studies?"
"Extensively. He grasps the concepts with ease but the practise…." The Count scowled. With his previous brush with Darkness, Kenobi ought to have found passing the boundary increasingly easy. Perhaps…. "It may be that we lack the proper incentive. From all accounts, his known use of the Dark side happened when he was protecting another." Blast. Dooku struggled to keep from his face the knowledge that he may have just set himself up for an assassination attempt that would be all too real and not at all under his control. It would be very difficult to conceal his own increasing mastery of the Sith arts if Dooku were caught unawares.
Sidious' teeth bared in a malicious grin. "I will keep that in mind, my Apprentice. It may be that your methods are lacking."
Ulic made a point of prodding Obi-Wan's shields daily now that Dooku had returned. His student - the ancient Sith spirit would not dare to claim the young man as his apprentice - had become a swift learner once they had broken down his Jedi-taught notion of what it meant to be Darkened, and it wouldn't do for Dooku to sense the younger man knew more than he let on. One of the vault's occasional visitors, a pompous Twi'leki arse named Pyyra whose holocron Sidious possessed, had grudgingly warned Ulic that the contemporary Sith Lord was too aware of Obi-Wan's presence on Serenno.
Time was running out.
"What's the most important thing about using the Force?" He was pacing just so he wouldn't be standing around awkwardly, passing through the end of the display case full of Sith armour. The Darkness lingering in the ancient mail tingled pleasantly, but the physical objects had no real sensation.
The kid looked like he was about to answer immediately, then frowned and gave it a bit more thought. Reflection; reassessment. Good. "Self-control."
"Exactly. Even before you get to focus on what's outside of yourself, you need to focus and master what's inside yourself. That's why Jedi spend so damn much time on discipline and meditation." Ulic grinned; he knew that long-suffering look too well. "So we're going to spend more time on discipline and meditation, but we're going to do it a bit differently from what you're used to. Might take a bit for you to get the hang of it, so try not to fret too much." Obi-Wan gave him a sour grimace; after years of the Force being so readily at his fingertips, the apparent slowness of his progress often frustrated the kid.
His progress was not slow, but Ulic knew better than to say so. Best case scenario: he'd get cocky. Worst: he'd start pointlessly measuring himself against others.
The spirit settled himself in a half-lotus on the end of the display case. He might as well have floated in the air - gravity had long ceased to be a factor in his existence - but the disrespect to Darth Xaryph's relics amused him. "You're at a very delicate point right now, Obi-Wan; you have a decent understanding of yourself, but little control over it, and if I were anyone else, that could be used to strangle everything good in you. We're going to get a start at untangling that. You're not gonna like this, but I need you to meditate on a time when you felt the Dark side, really felt it, and didn't want to push it away. We're going to explore that moment together. I'm going to touch your mind, but only so I can watch. Okay?"
His mouth pressed into a thin line, Obi-Wan abandoned his position on the hard wooden workstool and settled comfortably on the floor with his back to the door. "Alright."
"Which moment do you want to explore?"
"Honestly, I really don't." They shared a sympathetic laugh. "But...the attack on the slavers. That troubles me far more than the fight with Maul."
"Yeah, you still have some baggage there. That's fine; it's normal, and I'm glad you're not ignoring it. Start your usual meditation, and when you're ready, pull that memory out. It's not gonna be fun, but we'll dissect it together."
Obi-Wan settled into a light trance and Ulic stretched out with his mind, seeking that door the young man had created specifically for him. Eventually that gap would need to be sealed, but it had been useful for the past week and a half while they worked together. His student's mind was a comfortable place, welcoming to one it recognised as a teacher and - Ulic hesitated at the sensation - friend.
Sith didn't claim friends. Allies, yes; lovers, certainly. The close trust inherent in a friendship was perceived as a weakness, leaving one open to betrayal.
But then, he thought with chagrin, allies and lovers can betray one as easily. And it hurt no less when they did.
He felt the shift as his student's focus narrowed; Darkness coiled around him, fierce and destructive. There was a raider, human, male, nothing pretty to look at, zapped unconscious with some sort of disruptor installed in the young man's gauntlet. A woman, another human, whom he recognised barely in time to avoid knocking her out as well. The Shadow receded at his genuine pleasure and relief at seeing her, but came roaring back, licking like flashfire at the edges of his mind as her words warned him of danger and captivity.
Obi-Wan. Can you hear me?
There was a notable pause as he watched Obi-Wan zap and cuff another raider who cowered in the shadows. I hear you.
I can see what's going on here, but you need to pick it apart on your own. Focus on what you're feeling. Where's that rage coming from?
-these fuckers how dare they not worthy of sentience who do they think they are don't deserve to live after what they've done- It's...hate. I hate them. He sounded ashamed of himself; the Jedi Order might bob their heads and murmur sanctimonious things about how wrong it is to hate, approving of his shame without ever recognising it as hate's paler cousin.
Hate was natural and useful, a way to discern when one encounters something anathema to one's understanding of an ideal world. Its presence, however, did not automatically put one in the right. Ulic kept his distance from Obi-Wan's memory-self, remaining unobtrusive. A solid source of Darkness, but you have to be careful. You feel that heat? Hatred is a virulent poison, it'll burn you up if you try to store it. That shit needs to be analyzed and then used or released into the Force. Don't hold onto it.
Despite the swift dispatch of a group of raiders with a series of moves Ulic warmly approved of, Obi-Wan chuckled. That's the last piece of advice I'd expect from a Sith.
You don't exist as long as I have without learning that we can be our own worst enemies. Hate is the source of the physical corruption many Dark side users experience. Either use up that hate-energy or dispel it the way the Jedi taught you. But remember that feeling; you'll need to identify and leash it or redirect it every time. A laugh of pure delight bubbled up as Ulic watched his student carve a hole through the floor on the second level; the chunk of duracrete couldn't have been aimed better as one of the raiders disappeared entirely.
Okay.
The Dark side purred contentedly here, fed fat with a heady mix of painhatefear and the raw, uncaring malice pouring from the leaders of the pack who were gathered in the room with their victims. Obi-Wan's own Shadow had grown deep with his reaction to what he saw, but the lingering hate dissipated like smoke. Nicely done. You're better than your Council gave you credit for. You're still steeped in Darkness; peel back the next layer. What's its basis?
-children these are children they don't deserve this how dare anyone lay a finger on them- Protectiveness. I'm angry on behalf of the younglings. He had a blaster in his hand now, and used it with vicious precision on the leaders of the pack, even the woman in medical garb who stood wreathed in the horror of her victims. The difference wasn't lost on Ulic; his student perceived a defined separation in responsibility between the pack's casual members and the ones in charge.
Excellent. Your Order claims that attachments are a negative that need to be removed, but when I was a Jedi this wasn't the case; we married, had children, and a Master could train multiple Padawans simultaneously, including their own young if they were so inclined. He winced as Obi-Wan's memory-self was caught by the Wookiee leader; the kid was damn lucky he'd been wearing armour. Attachments can make us strong; our willingness to risk everything for those we care for - and even for those we don't care for but still believe worthy of protecting. Be careful with that, because it can be used against you, but that energy is safe to store and use as needed. It won't destroy you the way hate will. Pull it back, make a place for it in your heart.
Alright. The Wookiee thrashed as Obi-Wan pinned him back against the wall from halfway across the room; the Dark side embraced the young man as one of its own. There's still something… -cannot believe this is allowed to happen how can politicians sit in their pretty offices and know this is happening but do nothing this is not RIGHT-
Ooh. Rage at injustice. That's a good one. That can be stored as well, but be cautious because it too can be warped into hatred. Intellectually, you know where the injustice is coming from?
The politicians who don't see it as a cause that will help maintain their seats. The governors who do nothing, or worse, appropriate funds intended for the anti-raiding divisions. The law enforcement who accept bribes to look the other way. Memory-Obi-Wan was shot in the back, then the head, toppling over onto the floor. The setting faded somewhat, but his imagination filled in the rest: the disguised Jedi woman hauling the Wookiee's dazed bulk over her shoulder to help him walk. Obi-Wan's undercurrent of shame, both for his actions and the raider's escape, intensified; Ulic made a note to help him work that out, as well.
Keep reminding yourself of that. Slavery is a huge problem with many roots and no single individual can be pointed to as the source. Loads of willing participants, but while they're responsible for their behaviour, they aren't truly responsible for the system that encourages it. You can focus on the injustice as a concept to be challenged, but don't take that out on people.
What I almost did. If not for Siri...
Your friend is smart and used you to get further in her own mission. She's aiming higher. Ulic pulled back from his student's mind as the memory fragmented. Through the gap in Obi-Wan's shields, Ulic felt something settle - a banked fire of slow-burning anger rather than the uncontrolled flare it had started as. Better; the tangled, sparking coil of spiked cables knotted around his core still existed, but it had lost some of its substance. If he worked on it a bit at a time, it would eventually disappear. "Listen to me carefully, Obi-Wan. You're holding on to a bit of your own Darkness now, but this is one single meditation session; it won't mean anything in the long run. If you continue to do this, you'll be walking a Darkened path."
The kid took a shaky breath and scrubbed his hands through his hair; tears streaked his cheeks, the tracks irregular under the prosthetic eyepiece. "And if I want to be able to control those feelings instead of releasing them, I'm going to have to do this regularly."
"Like your usual meditation, yeah. You can always release the Darkness later, but it builds more easily every time. Better to keep it and have it under control."
Obi-Wan wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand, laughing softly, and pulled himself back onto the stool. "You keep warning me about this. Do you not want me to try?"
"No, I think you need it, but not without knowing the risks." Ulic felt a rueful smile twist his face. "While many Sith delight in tricking Jedi into a Fall, that isn't my style. I've been there, trust me. An uncontrolled Fall will destroy anyone eventually - remember that hate-burn I mentioned? Far better to walk into the depths with your eyes open and test your limits knowingly. Remember, I have a use for you, and you'll be best suited to that purpose if you're in control of yourself."
"And here I thought it was because you cared."
Ulic chuckled; Kenobi was giving him that sly, knowing look. "The Sith don't have a word for that."
.
It was getting easier. Obi-Wan wasn't certain if that should be a fact to celebrate or dread. He dropped back onto his bed, studying his hand in the low light; he could still feel the tingle of electricity in his fingers, the heady thrill of commanding that much raw energy. The only things preventing his host from noticing Obi-Wan's active use of the Dark side in the salle were the shields he would expend several minutes creating around the room; when he finished, every training droid or remote he'd used had to be meticulously cleaned before he could drop the shields again.
The Count had been doing something similar; one of the remotes had carried a lingering hint of Darkness that Obi-Wan knew he hadn't been responsible for. He wasn't certain what to make of that.
It was nerve-wracking; training without Dooku present for seventeen days had given Obi-Wan the much-needed space to be sloppy and learn to clean up after himself. With the Count back in residence, he had a jittering paranoia that he might slip and reveal his knowledge by accident. He knew Ulic wasn't telling him everything - the spirit had never lied, no, but like any Sith of legend had offered only parts of the truth - and it was clear there was more going on that Dooku wasn't saying, either. Was this the life of a Sith? An existence of second-guessing and elision, of not trusting even your allies to not have a plot waiting to unleash if you proved unworthy?
Grumbling under his breath, Obi-Wan rolled over and stared out the long window that took up the full outer wall. Moonlight gave the forest and mountains beyond an unworldly cast, and flashes of bioluminescence from night-hunting creatures flickered in the shadows.
The Jedi were nearly as bad for sharing only parts of the truth, manipulating others into doing what they wished and claiming the result excused their duplicity. Case in point: Qui-Gon telling the Council that Anakin was the answer to a prophecy he himself barely believed in. It had worked - particularly after the nine-year old had helped in the battle over Naboo - but that could come back to hurt Anakin if the Council decided to expect actual miracles of him.
His datapad's available memory chip was rapidly filling with notes; Obi-Wan was going to need to switch to sticks soon. A lot of Sith philosophy seemed like desperate attempts to distance their viewpoint from that of the Jedi, but he'd found a number of points that aligned with the two major - and dissenting - Jedi schools of thought. Ulic's words two weeks earlier about how Light and Dark were abstracts matched Obi-Wan's personal understanding. Many Jedi worried about following the "will" of the Force, but gave little thought as to whether ascribing sentience to something that vast was the right way to address it. If the Force had will, it was likely far beyond the ability of any sentient to grasp, and possessing goals that might not align with any individual sentient's desire to exist; like cells in a living body, sacrificed without thought to destroy a disease.
That was a terrifying thought. He was going to give himself nightmares at this rate. Obi-Wan laughed for the sake of breaking the silence and put the 'pad away. His quarters had a small audio receiver and speakers built into the wall; he messed with the settings until he found a broadcast of the latest ambience from the Core worlds. The experimental use of ancient traditional instruments to replicate modern rhythms and melodies was gaining popularity. Obi-Wan turned the volume down and settled in on the woven rug for light meditation.
Yan Dooku had no regrets regarding his departure from the Order, but the absence of anyone similarly schooled with whom to exchange thoughts and theories had left him somewhat bereft. He took pleasure now in engaging Obi-Wan in a variety of subjects, deeply grateful for the academic companionship.
Kenobi's opinions on the Sith texts were both amusing and enlightening. As a product of a previous generation's training, Dooku was aware that certain standards had shifted, but he hadn't been confronted by it until now. Younger Jedi, it seemed, were now chastised simply for feeling anything; a marked change from what he had learned.
Obi-Wan leaned forward, fascinated, his drink all but forgotten in his hand. "They encouraged you to feel emotions?"
Dooku nodded. "To feel them and examine them before releasing them into the Force. Emotions are a valuable tool for understanding one's relationship with the universe, although dwelling on them too much can blind one to reality."
"I read that, recently. Darth Cheyne's treatise on the humours. Applying ancient theoretical science to modern understandings of chemical production and reception in sentient brains was, eh…"
"Paradoxical?"
The young man laughed, the sound bright and heartwarming. How long had it been since the Count had heard a Jedi express such unfettered delight? The Order was destroying itself. "Oh, it definitely is that. There's a palpable disdain in his tone with regard to the old premedical theory, but he did seem adamant that classifying various emotions under the humours was an effective guide to how best they could be used. I honestly had no idea that different emotions could be used to different effects."
The Count sniffed dismissively. "Because they don't teach younglings to analyze them properly anymore. Certain emotions are directed inwards, others outward. Some are subjectively focused and others more ephemeral."
"The visual charts were enlightening."
Count Dooku regarded the golden glow of lamplight through his brandy before savouring a sip. Despite the occasional presence of a number of entities within the vault, the boy had clearly spent significant amounts of time within, and yet showed no evidence of Dark side taint in his Force presence. If anything, the Shadow he'd arrived bearing had all but faded to nothing in the intervening weeks. "Tell me, how difficult are you finding it to use your own emotional state?"
Obi-Wan sighed, frowning distantly at the display of ancient weaponry. "Difficult, yes. I'm so accustomed to pushing away my feelings that I have to...manufacture them, even to dispel traps. Remembering events that once upset me, or trying to inflate my own ego, runs counter to everything I was taught before. 'Exhausting' is the word, I think."
"Hmm. You're expending more personal energy than you should need for such minor applications." Dooku stroked his beard, considering the puzzle his Grand-Padawan presented. The boy had always been considered volatile by the Council, not lacking in Knightly qualities, but possessing perhaps too much drive to confront when defense was called for. The incidents of his youth - and there were many - indicated a strong objection to injustice and allowing it to perpetuate, both toward himself and others. His few prior contacts with the Dark side had been merely a step further, at times when his emotional response had been uncontrolled. Dooku had little doubt that, confronted with a similar situation in the future, the young man would prove far more adept; it simply involved evoking a genuine emotional response.
A Sith whose strongest actions occurred in the face of injustice was not a Sith who would find comfort in Sidious' service. Dooku didn't want to consider what his Lord might do to the boy; the longer he remained on Serenno, the greater that risk became.
Haunted brown eyes in a field of snow drenched with blood flashed again through his memory.
Sidious would punish him severely if Obi-Wan were to disappear, but the alternative would be harder to bear. The Count cleared his throat. "Perhaps you genuinely lack the ego required to put what you've learned into practice."
The young man nodded, looking resigned. "I did consider that. The ancient Sith were very full of themselves, weren't they?"
"They were," Dooku agreed with a laugh. "When one has that much raw power at their disposal, it is easy to become overconfident."
"I wonder what it's like for Yoda. He's by far the most powerful Jedi alive. How does he stay humble, I wonder."
The Count leaned forward, smiling conspiratorially. "I will tell you a secret, Grand-Padawan: he doesn't."
Ulic was looking troubled the next time Obi-Wan entered the vault; the Sith spirit was fidgeting restlessly.
Obi-Wan returned the book he'd been using to its place, studying the Sith from the corner of his eye. The spirit was cagey with his outside information, but usually he hid his reactions better than this. "All right, Ulic. What's going on?"
The spirit snorted in irritation. "I wanted to wait a bit more on this, but we're running out of time." Cryptic as usual. Obi-Wan composed himself on the workstool to wait for Ulic to get to the point.
Ulic was pacing again, ignoring the bookshelf his arm passed through. "I'm going to ask you some hard questions, kid. For your sake, your answers need to be honest."
"To what end?"
"We've worked on identifying the causes of momentary surges of emotion, you're getting better at it. But everyone has some lingering baggage that can cause more problems later on if it's not at least identified, if not dealt with. You've got a huge knot of Dark emotions - old ones - messing up your psyche, and you don't need me to tell you that. So. You're going to be fucking honest with yourself, because if you don't, you're going to risk everything you're working for."
Taken aback by the fierceness in the spirit's eyes, Obi-Wan braced himself. "Alright."
"What happened when you were an Initiate?"
Clarity was difficult to summon; the memories were painful, often carrying some lingering humiliation even after a decade and more. "The...usual cycle of bullying. Another Initiate and his friends engaged in taunting me repeatedly."
The spirit grumbled under his breath. "Childhood insecurities. How was this addressed by your teaching Masters?"
"I…was told each time that it was my responsibility to not let it upset me." His cheeks burned at the memory of one particular scolding he'd received, in front of several other Initiates while Bruck had gloated silently at him.
"Typical. And they would talk to the other Initiate?"
"Yes."
"Who would seem contrite but never change their behaviour."
His teeth gritted. "Yes."
Ulic's voice snapped like a whip. "Check yourself, Kenobi."
With a muttered curse, Obi-Wan focused, feeling Ulic's light presence watching in the back of his mind. The hate he'd known, both at Bruck Chun and at the teaching Masters for not addressing the situation in a way that might have spared Bruck's life later, was there; so was his outrage at the teaching Masters' unwillingness to deal with the matter. Bruck's death had been on Obi-Wan's hands, but would the Initiate have fallen prey to Xanatos had the Masters helped Bruck work through his insecurities? He shooed the hate out into the Force, and after a moment's consideration sent the outrage after it. The emotions were too alike.
What was left? Residual humiliation at having been so easily riled. Except it hadn't been easy, had it? Bruck had just pushed and pushed until he'd received a response. Obi-Wan had tried speaking to the teaching Masters, the créche master, anyone who had been in a position of authority, and been told not to let it bother him.
As an adult, he understood that a person so determined to think poorly of another would never be convinced otherwise. At twelve years old, that lesson hadn't yet sunk in; his world had been smaller, and the mocking of a few voices had seemed that much louder.
The shame still lingered, though, and now that he'd focused on it, it threatened to swamp his mind. Bruck had been right, after all: so many years later, Obi-Wan had been judged a failure and ejected from the Order. He had somehow cheated fate when he'd convinced Qui-Gon to take him on; his braid had still scattered on the floor of the Council Chamber seven years later.
Easy, kid. Back up. There's no such thing as fate, only possibly. What are you ashamed of?
Obi-Wan struggled back to the earlier memories. Letting them upset me. Losing my calm. Not being able to uphold the Jedi Code even in training.
Hmph. 'There is no emotion; there is peace.' The other kid broke it first. Did you never think that the Order's expectations there were unreasonable?
Sometimes. But how was a twelve year old Initiate to change that?
Ulic's presence rippled with something Obi-Wan hadn't expected: sympathy. The Jedi Code is an ideal, not a law. It's a good place to start, but not if you're taking it literally.
Even for a Sith?
There was a soft laugh that warmed him. The Jedi Code and Sith Code can coexist without destroying each other. Let's look at this from a different angle. You're experiencing residual shame. What kind of humour is shame?
It took him a moment, visualising the charts from Cheyne's book. Subjective and inward-directed.
Shame is a direct kin to self-loathing.
That explained a lot. Just because it's not directed outward doesn't mean it's not still hate.
Good. You know what to do with that.
Releasing the emotion into the Force was more difficult than usual; it clung to Obi-Wan's psyche with numerous barbed tendrils, and he felt the frustration begin to build.
Easy. Self-directed humours are nasty and can't be dealt with in one go. Burn that branch off and leave the rest for now.
It was much easier to separate the tendril of shame associated solely with his memories of Bruck. After a moment's consideration, Obi-Wan applied the rage he felt at how inadequately the Order had dealt with Bruck's needs, driving the other Initiate eventually into Xanatos' machinations; the tendril crisped and turned brittle, crumbling into dust. Obi-Wan shook himself out of his trance, feeling drained.
Ulic was smiling proudly. "You got there eventually! We can deal with the rest of that mess some other time, but now you know what to watch out for."
Obi-Wan heaved a sigh and ruffled a hand through his hair. "I'd rather not face that again without supervision. It's too easy to let that overwhelm you."
"And now you've seen the heart of what could become a severe case of depression, given enough chemical imbalance." The spirit's expression was grave. "I've been there; those vines will choke out everything if you lack the ability to deal with them. There's a reason Mind Healers are so vital."
"I see that, now." Obi-Wan shuddered and picked up a memory that had raised questions. "You said the Sith Code and the Jedi Code don't cancel each other out. How do you reconcile the two?"
Ulic shrugged and took a seat on the end of the armour display case. "Creeds are open to interpretation. A lot of people treat them as absolutes, but there's no chance for improvement if you do that. Sith don't deal in absolutes. Not unless their name is Bane, anyway. It's an actual part of the Sith Code, itself."
A grin tweaked the corner of Obi-Wan's mouth mischievously. "Sith don't deal in absolutes?"
The spirit laughed. "Yeah, runs counter to everything you've learned, right? But you have only Bane to use as an example, he did a great job of obscuring a lot of the past in favour of his particular philosophy. The Sith Code was written by an ancient Jedi heretic who witnessed the lives of the original Sith race." He grinned, lopsided and wry. "The Sith Code can be viewed as an expression for the natural state of sentient existence, while the Jedi Code is an aspiration to something higher. To merely exist is to live in permanent conflict; with yourself, with your environment, with other sentients. Conflict isn't an inherently terrible thing, it's a natural constant. A living being requires sustenance and an environment that allows it to stay alive; if you're deprived of food or oxygen, you're not going to just say, 'Guess I have no choice but to die,' are you?"
"When you put it like that, no."
"No, you're going to try to acquire food; you're going to struggle to get air. That's what can be interpreted from the line, 'Peace is a lie; there is only passion.' Passion: struggle, conflict. A state of actual, true universal peace - while something to aspire to - isn't realistically viable. There will always be a conflict somewhere. Look at how the Republic works. Maybe individual planets aren't fighting each other, but there's still crime and sentient rights abuses happening every day."
Obi-Wan nodded, remembering what he'd felt on Bespin, New Cov and Concord Dawn. "The Darkness inherent in all life."
"There are only two ways to totally eradicate it: force everyone to comply with specific rules, or get rid of everyone. The solutions are Darker than the existing problem. Is it better to allow a little Darkness to exist than to enact a greater Darkness? One is low-level but persistent; the other will stain the universe permanently. The rest of the Code follows the same vein. Through passion, I gain strength. Yeah, you don't get better if you don't have the drive to improve yourself. Through strength, I gain power. In order to meet your primary goals - even if that goal is merely survival - you need to gain power over that which you're in conflict with. Through power, I gain victory. The conflict is resolved by your ability to overcome adversity." Ulic laughed. "In theory, at least. Some conflicts are perpetual. Through victory, my chains are broken. Being locked into conflict is a sort of prison, when you think of it. You can't improve yourself beyond that point while the struggle exists. The Force shall free me." He opened his clasped hands and held them out, palms up. "What is the ultimate freedom?"
The answer came readily: the Jedi concerned about following the Force's will, the Sith striving to forge their own paths. "To determine your own destiny."
"There's no such thing as fate, only possibility." The spirit echoed his earlier words with a fierce grin. "Prophecies exist, sure, but an individual can choose not to fulfill one."
"Prophecies are absolutes, but there's room for free will?" That was an interesting skew from the debate about the imperative of prophecy within Unified Force circles.
"There always is; the choice just falls to the next poor sod whose existence meets the criteria. At any given time where a prophecy's preexisting stipulations have been met - and that might happen a thousand times throughout the ages before it's fulfilled - there are several sentients who could fulfill the rest if they had the opportunity and the inclination." Ulic laughed at Obi-Wan's perplexed expression. "Yeah, let's save that for another time.
"Look. The Jedi Code is not one of universality but of personal aspiration, and again, it's wide open to interpretation. I'm afraid the current Jedi Order has taken it a bit into orthodoxy." The spirit's face twisted apologetically. "One cannot act with the best interests of those they serve at heart if they are emotionally involved in a given situation; hence the line, 'There is no emotion; there is peace.' It's a temporary peace, intended to provide perspective, distancing the Jedi from the conflict. Sentient brains have emotions wired in by evolution as failsafe measures. It's not an instruction to become a soulless husk, merely a reminder of how Jedi best serve others. Same with 'There is no passion; there is serenity.' The Force is a power not everyone has access to. A Force wielder, trained or not, can exact a terrifying amount of destruction in the heat of the moment, even when it's done for the good of others. Being able to maintain a cool head is essential for both Jedi and Sith, if we want to get anything done. I don't even need to explain the rest; Odan-Urr tried to keep it as simple as possible. And still the context got lost." He snorted. "Well. They tried, right?"
"It sounds like Bane used the Sith Code the way we use the Jedi Code."
"That's exactly what he did. The Sith Code has remained unchanged - its history can be traced clearly - but the Jedi Code has undergone at least half a dozen reinterpretations since the early days of the Jedi Order. As words to live by, they're pretty aspirational, but it's unreasonable to hold anyone to that standard unrelentingly."
As much as Obi-Wan enjoyed Ulic's input and suggestions, the vault wasn't a comfortable place for book work. There had been a sly, mischievous look on the spirit's face when he'd pointed out this particular volume, and Obi-Wan was now hunched over it at the worktable in the other room. The purpose behind the Sith Lord's amusement had rapidly become apparent: the book's contents focused primarily on concealment, enabling a Force user to move unseen in broad daylight as well as undetected by other Force users and even mechanical optics.
It was also brimming with text-based ensnarements. Obi-Wan was getting more practice identifying and subverting Sith spells than he'd ever imagined.
"You're an arse, Ulic," he grumbled to the spirit, who was lingering at the threshold of the open vault door, the furthest he could move whilst his crystal remained behind the shields.
"Heard that before."
"Not nearly often enough."
The only warning he had was Ulic's hiss of displeasure; when Obi-Wan glanced up, there was an ancient Twi'lek woman sitting across the table from him, eyeing him measuringly. The deep violet and grey scarves that draped her head and shoulders fluttered into smoky wisps at the ends, as if she were caught in a light breeze. She smiled, baring sharp teeth.
"Hello, young one." She spoke the common Sith tongue with an accent that lilted gently despite the hoarse nature of her voice. Extreme old age was not common for Sith, and the Twi'lek spirit wore hers with pride.
Obi-Wan nodded politely. "Hello. Do you prefer to be called 'Lord' or 'Lady'?"
The woman clapped her hands in delight. "Manners! Ulic, you didn't tell me he was charming."
Ulic growled. "Fuck off, Victis! My student, not yours."
Victis gave a long-suffering sigh, rolling her eyes. "Dear, just because you're stuck here, it doesn't mean you own the place." Her fingers flicked and the door closed in Ulic's face. She met Obi-Wan's eyes with droll humour. "Rude."
It was difficult to keep himself from laughing. "Am I to assume you wrote this?" he asked, gesturing to the book in front of him.
"I did. And since you asked so nicely, I am Lord Victis. Too many assume the title 'Lady' to be of lesser status," she sniffed. "But what can you expect from people who take any given opportunity to claim power?"
Obi-Wan grinned. "You're not selling the Sith very well. Why would I want to be part of a culture like that?"
"Ha! Why, indeed?" She bared her teeth again. "We've noticed that, while Ulic has been teaching you - happily, I might add; having a student is good for him - you haven't officially accepted our bargain."
"To disrupt Sidious's plans?"
Victis pulled an expression of distaste. "Bane's plans, Sidious's actions. It's far too dangerous at this time to confront Sidious directly: he has regrettably good prescience and the power to act on it. You could do with honing your abilities in that direction, you know."
Straightening on his perch, Obi-Wan set the book aside. "I assumed such visions simply came when the Force had something to show."
"Hardly. One does need some natural affinity for it - which I regrettably lack," Victis huffed. "But you can spend time learning to pick up subtler cues and clarifying what you already see. My brother Pyyra could help you with that, if he wanted. He hasn't yet decided if this is a good idea."
"To be honest, Lord Victis, neither have I."
"I know, young one. That's why I've chosen to grace you with my presence." Victis looked distinctly unhappy. "Ulic has talked with you about how the Sith Code is more generalized than your Jedi Code, but he hasn't explained why that distinction is so important. In your Jedi lineages, you have some freedom to act against the wishes of your Masters. The Sith have no such freedom: being chosen for a Master's lineage locks one into the course that Master has set. One can only change that fate if they are released by their Master. It's similar to a training bond, but far more permanent."
Obi-Wan's eyes widened at the implication. "Bane's locked his descendants into his path by encouraging them to struggle and kill their own Masters, but that doesn't release them. That's why you're all worried."
"Not so much worried as enraged. It's a perversion of our way," she spat, her delicate features contorted in disgust. "In victory, our chains are broken, but Bane's philosophy has chained generations. Our wish is to see Bane's line end, Kenobi. What happens after that is of no concern. The balance will be kept, the Sith will always exist in some way to counter the Jedi. The universe maintains its own equilibrium independent of sentient actions."
They sat in silence, studying one another. At last, Obi-Wan ventured, "And that's why Ulic hasn't asked to claim me as his apprentice."
"Smart boy. Only a free agent can do what needs to be done. A free agent who can walk in the Light yet fear no Shadow. A Bendu, if you will." She chuckled. "The old ways of the Je'daii are so apt. But do you now understand? What we ask of you will be no easy task, but we have no wish to chain you."
Obi-Wan sighed thoughtfully. "I wonder if any of the old Jedi would agree with you."
Lord Victis cracked a laugh like shattering glass. "They would undoubtedly tell you not to trust us old Sith to have your best interests at heart. But if we did not, would we bother warning you of the danger?"
"Perhaps. If it was known that the best way to get me to do something is to challenge me."
"And is it?"
'Well..." He smiled and Lord Victis chuckled. "I have to admit, talking civilly with Sith Lords is not how I expected this visit to go."
"You thought you'd learn from the Count whilst evading the responsibility you have toward your lover?" Victis pinned him with a pointed and unforgiving look.
Obi-Wan winced. He'd sent Satine a message toward the end of the second week letting her know he'd be staying longer. That had been over three weeks ago. "I...could say I wouldn't put it quite that way, but then it would be a lie, wouldn't it."
"The kind of lie you shouldn't tell yourself." Her golden eyes narrowed. "I'm not going to tell you how to handle that responsibility. But you need to address it, child, and sooner rather than later. Consider it a lesson in not leaving important things hanging."
The trouble with the Houses of Serenno was that every one of them claimed some level of seniority over the others. Rather than seeking equitable solutions, they would fall to squabbling over the rights of the eldest - and none could agree which that was, either. House Dooku maintained the Chair position it had earned twenty generations previous, but all that meant was that he received half a dozen missives every day which were obsequious and threatening by turns.
Yan Dooku was grateful for the Jedi techniques to relieve headaches he had learned, else he would already be struggling with a painkiller addiction.
Houses Malvern and Tynglas were squabbling again on a matter which had literally been on the table for over a century. Dooku let them argue until one of the other Lords signaled her impatience and another seconded, giving him leave to call a recess until the next day.
The holograms projected into the seats in the conference chamber flickered out one after another as the Lords disconnected in various states of pique. Dooku waited to deactivate his own connection until the rest had gone, then took a private moment to sag in his chair, arching his spine against the tension that had built up over the past three hours.
Sathtan was awaiting him outside the conference chamber, bearing a datapad of notes she had taken whilst watching the proceedings from her office. "House Tynglas is likely to send an envoy to beg your favour in the morning."
"Predictable, as always. Intimidation tactics may have worked with my sister, but not with me. What's the true argument, or has it been forgotten?"
His aide kept pace with him as he headed for the 'lift down. "Initially, it was an interfamily matter. Lesser heirs rebelled and eloped, but neither of the sitting Lords at the time could disown their heir without losing claim to their allotments, and both Houses wished to claim the allotment of the other House's heir."
Dooku resisted the urge to curse. "Why Serenno persists with that ancient tradition, I will never understand. There are so many heirs, the allotments' scales are now paltry. Is there an easy way to resolve this? Are those heirs even still alive?"
Her mild expression still conveyed sympathy and exasperation. "No, my Lord, both have since passed and granted their allotments to their children, to be divided equally. Fortunately, they had an even number," she added with an amused smile.
"And to which House do they claim allegiance?"
"That is where the standing dispute arises. The heirs have stated plainly that they don't care, and so the Lords argue."
They emerged from the lift into the residential levels and Dooku paused. "Ridiculous. Please locate the most recent property maps of the allotments in question and those of the Houses in dispute, the contact information for the heirs, and the recorded Wills of the parents. I will review the matter after dinner and hopefully find a solution to that farce."
"Yes, my Lord." Sathtan bowed politely, the train of her robes whispering over the carpet, and departed for the library.
There was too much irritated energy jangling through him, still. The Count made his way down to the ballroom he had repurposed into a training salle. Perhaps young Kenobi would be amenable to a light spar. Not wishing to disrupt Obi-Wan in the middle of a set, the Count entered via the mezzanine gallery.
He froze in his tracks, dark eyes flying wide as his breath caught. The shields he had just passed through were astounding, not least because he hadn't even noticed them before crossing the threshold. They enclosed the entire salle from floor to ceiling, and included a gentle deterrent designed to urge outsiders not to interrupt.
The reason for the shielding was evident: Darkness flooded the room, savage but tightly controlled. The hair at the back of his neck prickled at the sensation, a thrill of genuine fear running through him. If this was what Kenobi had learned in the short time he had spent on Serenno…. Cautiously, keeping to the shadows, the Count moved toward the edge to look down at the main floor.
Obi-Wan was running through an active kata, his lightsaber a blur of blue as it deflected shots from a half dozen remotes that orbited the young man. His features were locked in an expression of serene concentration, but his eyes practically glowed a warm amber as he channeled pure Dark energy into his movements. There was a ferocity Dooku had never witnessed before in their light sparring sessions; it changed the boy's posture from mere grace to the liquid menace of a predator.
It was a meditation, Dooku realised, if a violent one. The Jedi Council had always been so concerned regarding the boy's more fiery nature. Oh, if only they knew how much he had been holding back! That Kenobi had concealed this in Dooku's presence for the last two weeks was incredible; the Count was torn between rage at Kenobi's revealed mistrust in him, and elation at what the young man had accomplished.
He took a breath and released the outrage with it. Obi-Wan was wise not to trust: if any of Sidious' spies had carried this knowledge to their master, the young man's safety would be forfeit. Given Sidious' existent interest in the boy, Dooku was running out of excuses to protect him.
This was both more than the Count would have dared to hope for, and his greatest nightmare. Troubled, Dooku slipped out the way he had come.
When the kid entered the vault, Ulic knew immediately that he'd made a decision; Obi-Wan worried at his lower lip, frowning as he fussed with his datapad between his hands.
"What's up, kid?"
"I.…" He took a breath and leaned against the workstool without really sitting on it. "I had to give some thought to how I could challenge Sidious. He's clearly someone of means and power, in more than just the Force, or the Trade Federation would never have dealt with him. Possibly even political. But...I think I've figured it out."
The Sith Lord settled himself crosslegged on the waist-high data repository nearby. "Don't keep me in suspense, kid. I'm too old for that nonsense."
"Means is the key. He has access to funding in some capacity." He fiddled with the datapad some more and then held it up, displaying a list of financial transactions overlaid with...piracy incidents? Raiding reports? There were correlations in the dates of various events highlighted in similar colours. "Between myself and a couple others, we've been investigating the Trade Federation's rise to prominence, alongside that of the Commerce Guild, the IBC, the Techno Union, and a couple lesser guilds that have ties with them. We think the incident at Naboo last year was merely the most high-profile in a long string of coups and takeovers; Yinchorr seems to have been another, but more subtly." His laugh was dry. "As if anything about that was subtle. Sidious was clearly involved in the Naboo crisis, so he may very well have had a hand in earlier incidents as well."
It made sense. Ulic nodded. "You think you can find him among the numbers."
"No. I think he's too sharp to get caught that easily. Successful con men are not foolish con men," Obi-Wan said with a pointed look. "Just because he's an opportunist, it doesn't make him weak."
"Alright, I get it. No underestimating the frackhead." He shoved down a swell of annoyance, both at Obi-Wan and at Sidious; it rankled to admit Sidious might not be an unworthy adversary, but the kid had a point. "So what's your plan, then?"
Obi-Wan grinned, a feral expression that lit his eyes with playful malice. "To shake his power structure. If enough damage can be done to his support partners to make them back out of further bids, it could decrease Sidious' control of things."
"Mess with their operations enough to make them regret the investment."
"How do you hurt someone who uses money as power? Hit them in the wallet." Obi-Wan closed the datapad with a snap and looked Ulic squarely in the eye. "I accept your deal. This way, I can do some good for the people who truly need it."
Ulic arched an eyebrow. This again? "Not just because you want it?"
The kid shook his head. "What I want doesn't matter, if I have the opportunity to help others. I don't have to be a Jedi to do the right thing."
Ulic pinched his brow between his thumb and forefinger; headaches hadn't been an issue in thousands of years, but Obi-Wan was challenging his existence. "Self-sacrifice isn't the best trait to cultivate, especially when the stakes are this high. It'll wear you out and foster resentment if you feel you have to give up on your own needs. You need to learn to live, Obi-Wan, and in order to do that, you need to want things for yourself."
A quizzical frown punched the young man's face. "But I am living."
"No. You're alive, sure, I'm not disputing that. But you're not really living. Just going from place to place waiting for someone else to give you a purpose. Our deal isn't a purpose, just a side goal. It's okay to be a little selfish sometimes."
Obi-Wan was quiet for a while, processing that. Ulic could see the shifts in his student's thoughts, eddies running through the young man's Force presence. An uncomfortable question was forming, and the spirit braced himself.
"Why did you admit to being lonely?"
Could have been worse; it was still personal enough to make him want to squirm. The smile on his face felt awkward and false. "Because while Sith might exploit the hells out of each other's weaknesses, a weakness only has power if you don't acknowledge it. If you own your weaknesses, nobody can use them against you. I've been alone, more or less, for four thousand years. The occasional passing Sith spirit poking their nose in to see who I am doesn't really count as company."
"Why do Sith exploit each other's weaknesses?"
Ulic shrugged. "Power. Bane wasn't the first to decide that mastery should be held by the strong, and a lot of Sith accept the concept of passion and conflict as a literal truth. That's not to say we're always at each other's throats; alliances happen all the time when necessary."
Obi-Wan tilted his head. "Such as right now."
"We're not above allying with Jedi, either. The trick," Ulic said, aiming an emphatic finger at his student, "is convincing the Jedi not to kill us, and that we're sincere. There's nothing in the Sith Code that says we have to fight the Jedi, just as there's nothing in the Jedi Code saying they have to fight the Sith. For a while, we were part of the same group; just a bunch of Force users, Je'daii, on the run, building a better life after generations spent enslaved. The arguments over whether Darkness was a bad thing to study came later. I wish I could say the Bogan started that fight-"
"Victis mentioned the Je'daii. What were the Bogan?" He had the kid's interest now; Obi-Wan shifted to sit properly, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. Ulic grinned; history had become one of his favourite topics.
"Early Force users who studied the Dark, named for one of the moons of Tython. Those who practised Light skills were called Ashla, after the other moon. The Bogan just wanted to study. Some Ashla decided this wasn't tolerable, that the Dark was too dangerous to focus on alone. The groups split - violently - and the conflict between what became the Jedi and the Sith has never ended." Ulic shook his head, frowning, and folded his arms. "It doesn't have to be like that."
Obi-Wan was watching him carefully, his expression guarded. "You really believe that?"
"You mentioned your former Master said there were distinct differences between being Fallen, being Darkened, and being evil. You don't even have to be Fallen or Darkened to be Sith. It's just a philosophy."
From the look on Obi-Wan's face, that was a groundshaking revelation. Ulic could sympathise; it had taken him a long time to come to that realization, and it hadn't been comfortable. Not for the first time he wished he was solid enough to pat the kid on the shoulder.
"How do you know all this? This must be...ancient history."
"It predates the Republic by at least ten thousand years. And I know it because I'm dead." He grinned with morbid humour. "You didn't think I just sat around moping for four thousand years, did you? There are old, old spirits who are happy to share their experiences and knowledge with anyone who can listen. Kinda stuck in the past though, they're a little dull and uninterested in recent events."
Obi-Wan's mind was off and running again; Ulic could practically taste the thoughts as they flashed past.
"The Sith - as I was taught - express their philosophy through conquest; the Jedi stand against that. Has that always been the case?"
"Nah. Those are just the ones who make enough noise to land in the history books. Usually as lessons in how not to do things," Ulic said, wrinkling his nose. "Really, my example is a terrible one to follow. For every Sith despot, there are dozens of scholars; for every Sith army, there are hundreds of communities who simply want to live and practise their arts quietly. The last thing we need right now is one Sith overlord wannabe fighting another."
Watching the realization grow in Obi-Wan's eyes was like watching the sun rise. "You want a Sith who doesn't desire power."
"And most of those are residing peacefully with little interest in the rest of the universe." Ulic caught and held the young man's gaze. "What do you want, Obi-Wan?"
"I.…" The kid gave it some real thought. "It's probably cliché, but...I want to be happy."
It was cliché, but also a good start. "What makes you happy?"
Obi-Wan's eye closed; the artificial one didn't give an indication of a lens cover, but there was likely a shutter inside. "Traveling, seeing new places, meeting people." He hesitated, then with a wry smile added, "Helping people. Shut up, Ulic."
"I wasn't even thinking loudly."
"I want...the freedom to go anywhere. I want- I miss...having friends. Living with Booster's crew was…" He shook his head. "I want that. But on my terms."
"Sounds like the start of a plan to me."
When the kid smiled this time, it was with a confidence that hadn't been there before. "It is. And I think I know how to do it."
He always took a moment to prepare himself before entering the vault. Prior to his departure from the Order, Dooku had maintained his collection in a private storage facility on Coruscant, behind several layers of security, but it had only been once he'd re-settled in his ancestral home that the collection had seemed...hostile.
Yan Dooku was not oblivious; he knew a number of his acquisitions over the years had served as some sort of focus objects for the Sith who had owned or created them, and that several had some sort of presence lingering. If he was not mistaken, young Kenobi had spent a significant time in their company, either immune to the dark promises whispered in his ears, or absorbing them so readily he had become deceptively proficient. There had been a notable difference in the young man between the day the Count had departed for Kamino and the day he had returned - a reticence to speak regarding certain subjects, and a reduction in requests for teaching and guidance.
And then there was the performance he had witnessed the week before in the salle, peace and passion in equal measures. No, Obi-Wan had in less than a month learned more than Dooku had from the same sources in two decades.
The Count had never deigned to acknowledge the voices he often heard, the lingering attention he often felt, when in the vault. Perhaps that had been a failing, a lasting wariness of Dark things left over from his Jedi training. He should have pushed those lessons aside years ago.
He opened the door and passed through; the oppressive atmosphere closed in around him immediately. Dooku almost felt unwelcome, an intruder in his own domain, and he scowled darkly.
"I know you're here." He might have felt foolish addressing a room populated solely by books and relics, but for the sudden shift in the still air. He had gained something's attention. Good. "I am aware that you have been guiding young Kenobi in his studies; there is no other plausible explanation. You're a capable instructor, far better than I might have been, and for that I am both galled...and grateful.
"I have a request to make of you: tell Kenobi he must leave Serenno." A sensation of an electric jolt ran through the room; his request had not been anticipated. "My master grows impatient, but I will not allow Kenobi to fall into his hands. He must leave, soon, and I must not know when, or why, or where he goes. It is imperative that he not linger here. I regret that I cannot pass this message personally, but my Lord is somehow able to spy on my household."
He turned to leave but halted mid-step as a faint but clear voice whispered, "Do you want him to know this request came from you?"
After a moment's consideration, Dooku nodded sharply. "Yes, although he should not mention this fact to anyone." He waited to see if there might be any further response, but the vault remained silent.
Two days later, Sathtan interrupted his breakfast with the news that Obi-Wan was nowhere to be found, and his ship was gone from the residential hangar bay. Nothing had alerted the guards overnight, nor had any of the alarms been triggered - and more than one should have been, when Kenobi's Mandalorian shuttle left the hangar. His Grand-Padawan had, indeed, learned more than he'd displayed.
Five books and a datacube were missing from the vault; upon noting the titles of the stolen items, the Count found he could hardly begrudge the boy some easily replaced philosophical materials.
Dooku never noticed that the collection of ancient Sith lightsaber crystals had been reduced by one.