Chapter 24 – Curtain Call
Three years prior
22 BBY – Geonosis
"Because, my friend," Dooku said with an infuriating smirk. "I need to kill you."
Qui-Gon blinked in bewilderment as he internalized the bizarrely blithe delivery of this ominous statement. "You need… to kill me?" he repeated incredulously.
Dooku grinned and nodded his head. "Indeed," he said cheerfully.
Qui-Gon glanced down at Dooku's belt nervously, sure that his old master was about to strike him down. Dooku made no such aggressive move, however. "I would, erm… I'd rather you not," he said awkwardly.
"Likewise, my friend," Dooku said as he spun around abruptly and resumed walking down the winding hallway. Qui-Gon hesitated a moment longer before following after Dooku. "Believe me, it is the last thing I want to do," Dooku told him when he and Qui-Gon fell into step with each other.
"Here's a radical idea," Qui-Gon proposed sardonically. "How about you don't?"
"Oh, I don't intend to, don't you worry," Dooku said with a reassuring smile.
"I don't understand," Qui-Gon said, thoroughly bemused by his old master's contradictions.
Dooku didn't elaborate further. Taking a sharp turn off the main hallway, Qui-Gon followed Dooku down a narrow, naturally-formed corridor. He was beginning to feel somewhat claustrophobic as he maneuvered through the tapering hallway, his ribs grazed on several occasions by rocks that jutted out from the encroaching walls. "Tell me what is going on, Dooku!" he shouted after his former master as he was forced to pirouette around a gnarly looking rock protruding out of the ground. "Where even am I right now?"
"Geonosis," Dooku told him, coming to a stop at a door at the end of the hall. "Lovely planet, isn't it?"
"Not really," Qui-Gon grumbled.
Dooku chuckled as the door in front of him opened vertically and he stepped in. Following Dooku, Qui-Gon exhaled in relief as he took in the spacious chamber they had entered. No longer were they surrounded by craggy walls. Instead, he was standing in a sleek silver room, plates of impenetrable durasteel lining the walls and ceiling.
"What is this? Some kind of bunker?" Qui-Gon asked.
"Quite right," Dooku said, turning back to face him. "You see that door over there?" he asked, pointing to the opposite end of the circular room. Qui-Gon nodded, following Dooku's finger to see a closed door with a control panel inlaid in the durasteel wall next to it. "That is your escape route."
"Escape route?" Qui-Gon asked. "What are you talking about?"
Dooku smiled thinly as he flourished his hand before him. "Take a seat, my old Padawan," he said. "I will explain everything to you now."
Qui-Gon narrowed his eyes and contemplated Dooku for a moment before complying. Sitting down cross legged on the cold metal floor, Qui-Gon looked up at Dooku who loomed over him. He felt very much like a Padawan all of a sudden, waiting for his master's instruction as he taught him about the art of meditation and the ways of the Force. Dooku's eyes twinkled as he too seemed to note the symmetry of the situation.
"Tell me, my friend," Dooku said as he began pacing in front of him. "What is it you most desire?"
Flummoxed, Qui-Gon frowned as his eyes trailed Dooku's figure. "What does that have to do with anything?" he asked.
"Everything," Dooku said at once. "Because whatever it is, I can provide it to you."
"Is that so?" Qui-Gon asked skeptically.
"On one condition, of course," Dooku said cheekily.
"That you get to kill me?" Qui-Gon guessed.
"Indeed!" Dooku said, delighted that Qui-Gon was following his convoluted, incomprehensible logic.
"Well that isn't going to work," Qui-Gon said. "My aspirations are contingent upon my survival, as you might have anticipated."
Dooku chuckled and shook his head. "I'm afraid you are misunderstanding me," he said. "You don't have to die for me to kill you." Unsure of how to respond to this absurd statement, Qui-Gon merely stared back at Dooku blankly. Had Dooku completely lost his mind? "Perhaps I'm not being translucent," Dooku observed with a subtle frown.
"You think?" Qui-Gon asked facetiously.
"Ten years ago, I brought you to meet my master on Serenno. Do you remember it?" Dooku asked.
"Of course I do," Qui-Gon said stiffly. "He stole my wife from me."
"He did no such thing," Dooku said with a shake of his head. "Shmi's decision to join him was entirely her own."
"But –"
"Let's not rehash the past, Qui-Gon," Dooku interrupted sternly. "Irrespective of how you feel about me or about my master, I am sure you want to know the full truth, do you not?"
"Of course I do," Qui-Gon said without hesitation.
"Then allow me to explain," Dooku said. Ceasing his pacing directly in front of him, Dooku swiftly sat down on the ground and assumed an identical cross-legged pose as Qui-Gon. Placing one finger on the metal floor, Dooku closed his eyes and made a soft humming sound. "The man whom you resent so virulently goes by the name Plagueis," he said, opening his eyes languidly so as to meet Qui-Gon's inquisitive gaze.
"Who is this Plagueis?" Qui-Gon asked.
"Once, he was a very powerful Sith Lord," Dooku told him. "He was the master of another Sith whom I'm sure you are familiar with."
"Sidious?" Qui-Gon asked.
"The very same," Dooku said, bowing his head for a moment. "Sidious betrayed his old master. He tried to kill him in his sleep, and he initially thought he had succeeded."
"Initially? You mean to say he found out that he failed?"
"Oh, yes," Dooku said. "I'm afraid Sidious knows all about Plagueis' whereabouts."
"But Shmi is with him! She could be in danger!"
"Shmi is incapable of being in danger," Dooku said vaguely.
"What is that supposed to –"
"Your wife is gone, Qui-Gon," Dooku informed him gravely. "Under Plagueis' tutelage, she has amassed a power inconceivable to you or me. She is no longer Shmi Skywalker. She has become Darth Elegius."
"Darth Elegius?" Qui-Gon repeated, his eyes widening at this unfamiliar name.
"She still loves you, of course," Dooku assured him. "But you may not recognize her when you see her."
"Will I get to see her?" Qui-Gon asked earnestly.
"Why of course," Dooku said. "But only after I kill you."
Qui-Gon sighed exasperatedly and rolled his eyes. "Dooku, I told you –"
"Sidious wants you dead," Dooku interjected. "He sees you as a threat to him."
"How am I a threat to Sidious?" Qui-Gon asked, confused by this non-sequitur.
"As you already know, Sidious intends to turn your son into his apprentice," Dooku told him. "He has even chosen a Sith name for him: Vader." Qui-Gon gulped nervously at this moniker. Vader and Elegius. Those were two names he rather never have to use. "In order to achieve this, he intends to alienate Anakin from the Jedi Council and convince him to abandon the Order."
"Anakin would never do that," Qui-Gon insisted.
"Not with you by his side, no," Dooku said. "That is why Sidious wants you eliminated."
Qui-Gon looked down sharply, realizing that he had been pressing his fingernails painfully into his knees. Relaxing, he interlaced his fingers and set his hands on his lap. "He wants to take me away from my son," he said in a strained voice.
"He doesn't know that you are his father, but yes," Dooku said. Qui-Gon snarled and looked away, his disgust for the Sith bubbling to the surface. He hated Sidious for what he had done to his wife, and he hated him further still for what he intended to do to his son. "I intend to stop him," Dooku said, detecting Qui-Gon's rage. "But I need your help."
"You want to give him what he wants," Qui-Gon observed. "That's why you want to kill me."
"Yes," Dooku said simply with a bob of his head. "That is what I want."
"But why?" Qui-Gon asked.
"Because, my friend, we must get close to our enemies if we are to defeat them."
Qui-Gon narrowed his eyes and leaned forward a bit as he scrutinized Dooku's face. "You serve him?" he asked, aghast. "You're Sidious' apprentice!"
"Ostensibly," Dooku said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Rest assured, I don't actually intend to assist him."
"But how could you do this, Dooku!" Qui-Gon exclaimed.
"I do what I have to," Dooku said defensively. "You should be thankful. If it weren't for me, Sidious would have tasked someone else with assassinating you, and I can guarantee you they would not have the same qualms as I do with that assignment."
Qui-Gon looked away and pursed his lips, far from convinced by this point. Could it be that Dooku was messing with him? But for what purpose? If he truly was Sidious' stooge, why would he be lying to him like this? He would have killed him when he had the chance.
"So what do you propose instead?" Qui-Gon asked. "How do you intend to kill me without… killing me?"
"Plagueis taught me many things about the Force unknown to both the Jedi and the Sith," Dooku said, his eyes glinting. "I will teach you these powers."
"And why should I do this?" Qui-Gon challenged. "What do I get out of it?"
"Why, I already told you," Dooku said. "You will receive what you most fervently desire."
"Oh yeah? And what's that?"
"Your family."
Qui-Gon stared back at Dooku silently for a few moments, his mouth suddenly feeling dry and his tongue unresponsive. Was Dooku really proposing what Qui-Gon thought he was? Was he really saying that he could reunite him with Shmi after all these years? "How?" he asked finally, his voice sounding a bit husky.
"Your wife is training with my master on an asteroid field called Polis Massa," Dooku told him. "Once you have been 'killed,' I will send you there to be with her. I will come along after, of course."
"And Anakin?" Qui-Gon asked, eyes wide.
"I am sure you could convince him to leave the Order," Dooku said, sounding rather blasé about the prospect. "He will be safer with Shmi, anyway. Sidious won't be able to get his hands on your son if he is with her."
Qui-Gon unclasped his hands and began tapping his fingers rapidly against his knees, a sense of giddy anticipation rising within him. Could this really happen? Could his family finally be united for the first time in two decades? He would never doubt his former master ever again if he managed to provide him with this.
Because this was all Qui-Gon had ever wanted: a family. While he had one in sort, the three of them had never lived together at one time. The Jedi, Sidious, and Plagueis had all rendered this an impossibility. Until now, that is. Dooku was offering him the solution he had sought after for ten years.
"What do I need to do?" Qui-Gon asked eagerly.
Dooku's face broke out into an ebullient smile, clearly enthused by the alacrity with which Qui-Gon accepted his proposition. "I will show you," he said. "But be warned, this ability will come at a cost."
"A cost? What kind of cost?"
"The process of projection is extremely strenuous," Dooku said. "There is a distinct possibility that it may kill you if you are not properly trained."
"Projection? What is that?" Qui-Gon asked, dismissing the danger without much consideration.
"The ability to appear somewhere without physically being there," Dooku explained. "It requires the retransmission of your essence across the medium of the Force."
"And how does one do this?" Qui-Gon asked, licking his lips in anticipation as he leaned forward. Above all else, he was a student of the Force. The ability which Dooku was describing was tantalizing to Qui-Gon who always aspired to unlock the seemingly infinite secrets of the Force. The fact that learning this power would enable his family to be together for the first time only served to amplify his excitement.
"With practice, you will learn," Dooku said vaguely. "Unfortunately, time is not on our side."
"How come?" Qui-Gon asked.
"Sidious expects your death within a fortnight," Dooku informed him grimly. "And we may have even less time than that, depending on when the Jedi learn about what happened to you."
"Then let's get started now!" Qui-Gon said impatiently.
"We will, but I need to tell you about the rest of our plan," Dooku said, giving him a stern look. "If we intend to fool Sidious, our execution must be immaculate."
Qui-Gon sighed exasperatedly but nodded in acquiescence nonetheless. Dooku had always been meticulous in everything he did whereas Qui-Gon had never been as assiduous. He preferred taking action in the spur of the moment, which oftentimes led to conflict with his forbearing master.
"Within the next few weeks, the Jedi will arrive," Dooku said. "Whether it be to rescue you or to kill me, I don't know and frankly don't care. All that matters is that they will arrive."
"Alright," Qui-Gon said, nodding his head slowly. "Then what?"
"When the Jedi arrive, the war will finally begin," Dooku presaged. "This is what Sidious wants and that is what I will give him. When the Jedi inevitably refuse my demands that they surrender, I will present them with an ultimatum."
"An ultimatum?" Qui-Gon repeated.
"In exchange for their surrender, I will offer to spare your life."
Qui-Gon scoffed and shook his head. "They'll never accept," he said, a spark of macabre humor causing him to grin humorlessly. "Half the Council probably wants me dead anyway."
"I am well aware," Dooku said. "But I don't mean for them to surrender. I will use their refusal as justification to kill you."
"Except I won't actually be there," Qui-Gon said, beginning to understand the logistics of Dooku's plan.
"You will be here the whole time," Dooku said with a half-smile. "If the projection is performed correctly, you will be severely drained but hopefully still alive. When you regain consciousness, you will leave through that door and get on the ship I will have prepared for you."
"And that will take me to Polis Massa?" Qui-Gon asked.
"Precisely," Dooku confirmed. "Within hours after your death, you will be reunited with your wife." The corner of Qui-Gon's lips curled upward, exhilaration coursing within him at the prospect. Could it really be that he was finally going to see Shmi again after ten years or was he being naïve by getting his hopes up? "The whole purpose of this exercise is to convince Sidious he is getting what he wants when in reality he is getting nothing," Dooku continued. "He will believe that I am his loyal servant, that you are now dead, and Anakin is his for the taking."
Impressed by Dooku's diligence, Qui-Gon arched his eyebrows and tilted his chin upward. "How long did it take you to devise this plan?" he asked.
"Oh… ten years or so," Dooku said with a hint of weariness. "I was only able to delay for so long. Sidious seems to think that the time to strike is now, however, so I have no other choice but to enact my plan now."
"Do you think it will work?" Qui-Gon asked, the trepidatious tone of Dooku's voice giving him cause for concern.
"If all goes to plan, it will," Dooku told him unreassuringly.
Qui-Gon bit on his lower lip and looked away, his incipient excitement fading in the face of a burgeoning apprehension. He knew well that plans had a way of going awry, no matter how much time went into preparing them.
"Let's get started, shall we?" Dooku proposed abruptly, stirring him out of his ruminations.
"Yes, let's," Qui-Gon agreed readily.
Three days later
Qui-Gon had been seated cross legged in the middle of the bunker when he was struck by a wave of raw darkness unlike anything he had ever experienced before. The hair on his arms shot upright as a bitter chill permeated his core. His eyes flew open at once, inhaling sharply as the pain of the odious sensation caught him off guard.
He had been practicing as Dooku had shown him for the projection which he was about to perform in mere minutes. The practice required the utmost concentration as he attempted to transfer his essence through the medium that was the Force, while remaining grounded in the bunker for the time being. The magnitude of this disturbance, however, made him question everything. Whatever caused the disturbance must have been nearby, on the planet he reckoned. There was no way they would be able to carry out the plan now, could they? The only person he could conceive of being capable of producing such a disturbance was the very man they intended to dupe: Darth Sidious. Was it possible that Sidious had uncovered Dooku's treachery? Had he come to kill them himself?
Still breathing heavily, Qui-Gon's head swiveled toward the door when it opened abruptly. Leaping to his feet, Qui-Gon rushed toward a frazzled Dooku who had just walked in.
"What's going on?" he asked urgently. "Who's here? Is it him? Is it Sidious?"
"Settle down, my friend," Dooku assured him as the door to the chamber closed behind him. "It couldn't possibly be him."
"Then who caused that…" Qui-Gon trailed off, unsure of which noun to use. Disturbance wasn't the right word for what he had sensed. It had been more like an eruption, a cataclysmic explosion in the Force.
"I don't know," Dooku admitted, wiping his brow nervously with the back of his hand. "But whatever it is, it will not alter our plans. We must stay with the script."
"Is Anakin alright?" Qui-Gon asked in a high voice.
"He should be fine," Dooku said unconvincingly. "But we will find out soon enough. Are you ready?" Qui-Gon swallowed hard and tapped his fingers against his thigh frantically as he always did when he was anxious. "Do not worry, my friend," Dooku reassured, reaching out and placing his hand atop Qui-Gon's fidgeting one. "Everything will go smoothly if we work together on this."
Qui-Gon nodded and took a deep, steadying breath. "I'm ready," he said. "Let's do this."
Dooku met his gaze for a moment longer before nodding as well and retracting his hand. With a flourish of his cape, Dooku strode out of the bunker and off toward the arena. Qui-Gon watched his old master go, the heavily-armored door closing with a clang behind him.
Exhaling loudly out his mouth, Qui-Gon closed his eyes as he sat back down in the center of the cool metal floor. The trenchant bite of the unexplained darkness continued to afflict him, causing his teeth to chatter and his skin to clam up with goosebumps. Persevering through this unpleasant chill, Qui-Gon focused his energies on himself.
The warmth of his own Force presence warded off the darkness plunging toward him. Despite the fact that he was shivering terribly, Qui-Gon's forehead was soon beaded with perspiration as the strain of the process began to take its toll on him. Disregarding the protestations of both his mind and body, Qui-Gon attempted to channel his Force signature out of the bunker and toward the arena…
The deafening sound of an explosion caused Qui-Gon to open his eyes with a start. When he did so, he found that he was no longer seated in the bunker. Instead, he was standing in a dark hallway oriented toward a singular source of light in the distance. Squinting mightily, Qui-Gon took a few tentative steps toward the light, noting with amazement that his footsteps made no sound as he walked forward.
He stopped when the distant sounds of battle stopped abruptly. Tilting his head, Qui-Gon tried to make out what was happening but his efforts were futile.
"Master Windu!"
Qui-Gon looked up sharply, recognizing Dooku's distinct voice. This was the moment they had been waiting for. The bargain was near…
"You have fought gallantly," he heard Dooku say as Qui-Gon resumed walking slowly toward the light. He was close enough now that he could make out Dooku's hazy outline overlooking the arena below. "Worthy of recognition in the Jedi Archives. Now it is finished. Surrender, and your lives will be spared."
Qui-Gon paused once more, hoping to hear the response, yet he was unable. He knew what the response was regardless. The Jedi would never surrender.
"Perhaps one additional factor will encourage you to surrender."
Qui-Gon swallowed hard and took a deep breath. These were the words Dooku had told him to wait for. Now it was time. Summoning his resolve, Qui-Gon marched purposefully toward Dooku's form. Crossing the threshold between the hallway and the platform, Qui-Gon held a hand up to his eyes to fend off the intense morning light.
Dooku turned around to see him approaching and gave him a reassuring nod. Feeling as if he were in a dream, Qui-Gon glided forward to stand by Dooku's side, his feet not leaving any prints in the sandy ground as he passed. Reaching the railing of the platform, Qui-Gon looked down at the carnage below him.
The first person he saw was Anakin. His son was staring up at him with an ashen expression, his mouth hanging slightly ajar and his eyes wide with apprehension. Qui-Gon pursed his lips before giving his son a tentative smile.
As he looked away from Anakin toward the rest of the Jedi, Qui-Gon froze in astonishment. Standing a few feet away from Anakin was Shmi Skywalker herself, yet she looked nothing like how he remembered. In each hand she was clutching an active lightsaber, one red and one blue. Although she was far away, Qui-Gon could see that her face was gaunt and her complexion pallid.
What was she doing here? Dooku had told him that she was with Plagueis on Polis Massa. Could it be that she had been the source of that disturbance? Was it possible that his Shmi could have been responsible for such a colossal disturbance in the Force? Surely that was impossible! But Dooku had told him that Shmi had become more powerful than he could even imagine. Perhaps it wasn't so ludicrous after all. But why was she here at all?
Qui-Gon opened his mouth to ask Dooku this very question when his old master stopped him. "Stick to the plan," he whispered urgently. "I will fix this."
Qui-Gon's eyes didn't leave Shmi as he nodded, feeling too stunned to respond. This was what Plagueis had done to her? He had turned his wife into a Sith in all but name. The power she exuded was unlike anything he had ever believed possible.
"I will offer you a bargain," Dooku proposed, shouting so as to make his voice clear to the Jedi several dozen feet below. "Surrender now, and I will spare Master Jinn's life."
"Never," he heard a familiar voice say. Tearing his eyes away from Shmi, Qui-Gon saw Windu standing in the center of the pit surrounded by two dozen or so other Jedi. "You will not coerce us into submission, Dooku," the Jedi Master proclaimed.
"No!"
Qui-Gon swiveled his head back to the left toward Anakin who was staring at Windu with desperate eyes.
"Master, please!" Anakin begged shrilly.
"Then you give me no choice," Dooku said quickly before Windu could potentially change his mind. Dooku had no need to make haste, however. The stoic Master had unsurprisingly been unswayed by Anakin's impassioned plea.
"Dooku, stop!"
Once more, Qui-Gon diverted his gaze, this time toward Shmi whose formerly fiery glare had transmuted into a look a terror. Qui-Gon met her eyes just as a flash of red appeared in his peripheral vision. Without wasting any time, Dooku thrust upward with his lightsaber toward Qui-Gon's chest. The blade passed straight through his projected form, a faint white glow emitted at the point of contact between the blade and his chest.
As Dooku pulled his blade back, Qui-Gon closed his eyes and allowed himself to fade. He hadn't realized until that moment how strenuous the process had been. He felt himself falling, slowly at first and then precipitously a moment later. He felt a painful squeezing sensation all around him, making it impossible for him to breathe or scream. Panic engulfed him as darkness overwhelmed his senses…
Qui-Gon inhaled sharply and his eyes flew open. Taking shaky, ragged breaths, he took a few moments to reorient himself. He suddenly noticed a cold, tactile feeling on his neck, the sensation shocking him as it surged through his limbs. Jolting upright, Qui-Gon realized he had been lying supine on the floor of the bunker. The feel of the metal floor on his neck had been the first real sensation he had had since returning to his body and perhaps that was why it had surprised him so much.
As he attempted to get to his feet, however, Qui-Gon found that he was unable. Attempting to move his arms, a dull, throbbing pain ruptured in his shoulders. Qui-Gon's hands which had been supporting him slipped on the slick ground and he fell back down to the ground. Pain radiated up his back and through his limbs, immobilizing him entirely.
Dooku had mentioned that the projection would come at a cost. Could this have been what he had been alluding to? He no longer felt as if he belonged in his own body. He was detached from it in a way. It was as if when his spirit attempted to return to his corporeal form, his body had tried to reject it as if it were fighting off an infection.
With a grimace, Qui-Gon fought against his body as he attempted to reassert dominance over his limbs. His body fought back, sending pulses of paralytic pain up his spine and through his bones. After nearly ten minutes, Qui-Gon finally managed to get back into a seated position. His skin was damp and his robes soaked with sweat. With a colossal effort, Qui-Gon flipped over onto chest and began the arduous process of crawling toward the door at the opposite end of the room, fingernails scraping against the smooth, textureless floor in a desperate attempt to gain some sort of fricative support.
He made it halfway across the room when he collapsed, no longer able to continue. His fingertips screamed with agony, the nails sanded down by the floor. Pressing his cheek against the mercifully cold floor, he breathed heavily out his mouth like a fish out of water. He couldn't die like this! It would be too pathetic, even for a man as humble as himself.
He needed to find the strength to get to that door. On the other side waited the future Dooku had promised him. Anakin and Shmi were through that door! He had to reach them! He would drag his body through if it was the last thing he did.
Summoning the images of his wife and son's faces, Qui-Gon redoubled his efforts. Grunting gutturally, he managed to push himself back upward with his hands. Beads of sweat dripped down his nose and onto the floor, the trail of droplets reabsorbed back into his robes as he hauled his unresponsive torso over the floor. The agony did not relent, but his resolve heightened as the door grew ever closer. Biting down hard on his tongue to divert the pain away from his limbs, he mustered one last Herculean effort by stretching his arm upward toward the remote sensor of the door…
As his fingers waved across the sensor, the door opened vertically. Groaning in relief, Qui-Gon surrendered to the protestation of his back, dropping back down to the ground with a thud.
"Master Jinn! Oh my, are you alright?"
Craning his neck, Qui-Gon saw a flustered protocol droid waddling toward him. Despite the excruciating pain he was experiencing, he found himself smiling as he met the droid's glowing eyes.
"Master Dooku told me you might be frail, but never did I expect this," the concerned droid fretted. "You stay right there. I'll be right back."
Qui-Gon chuckled in spite of himself. Don't worry, he thought to himself, I won't be going anywhere. As the droid hurried off, Qui-Gon took a moment to see where he was. It looked like some sort of hangar, although the cave-like conditions that were ubiquitous on Geonosis made it certainly unlike any other hangar he had ever been in. Several feet away was a small, sleek shuttle. That must be the ship Dooku had had prepared for him. He had to give his old master credit. Dooku sure did account for everything.
He hadn't accounted for Shmi, however. What had she been doing there in the arena? Had she somehow found out that he had been abducted and tried to rescue him? But why hadn't she known about Dooku's plan from the get-go? Had she known what was happening, she would have been waiting on Polis Massa to greet him when he arrived. But she wasn't there anymore. For some reason, she had left Plagueis unbeknownst to Dooku. Did that mean that the plan had failed? Would Qui-Gon not actually be reunited with his family on Polis Massa after all? Had this all been for naught?
Qui-Gon purged these terrible thoughts from his mind when he saw the droid returning with a wheelchair in tow. "Sit, Master Jinn," he enjoined with a gesture of his golden hand. Qui-Gon smiled thinly and attempted to pull himself up toward the chair. The droid held the wheelchair firm so that it didn't roll away as Qui-Gon dragged himself up toward the seat. After about a minute, he finally managed to turn himself around and fall down onto the chair.
"Thank you," he said with a heavy exhale, slackening his previously ironclad grip on the leather padded armrests.
"Of course, Master Jinn," the droid said as he began wheeling him toward the shuttle. "It is my pleasure to serve one of Master Dooku's oldest and most esteemed friends."
Qui-Gon chuckled once again, amused yet also flattered by the droid's flamboyance. "What's your name, droid?" he asked in a faint voice, smiling faintly as he recalled Shmi's proclivity to asking droid's their names. She had always been more comfortable conversing with droids than with sentients.
"I am C–3P0, human-cyborg relations," the droid informed him proudly.
Qui-Gon furrowed his brow and glanced up at the droid who had begun pushing him up the ramp. He felt as if he had heard that name before, but he couldn't place where.
"When will Dooku be joining me on Polis Massa?" Qui-Gon asked Threepio when they entered the minute hull of the vessel.
"As soon as he is able, Master Jinn," the droid said. "I will find him after you depart."
"Thank you, Threepio," Qui-Gon said sincerely. "I'm ready to go now."
Threepio bowed his domed head toward him. "Very well, Master Jinn," the droid said. "The coordinates have been entered into the ship's navigational computer. You should arrive at Polis Massa within less than one standard day."
Qui-Gon thanked the expeditious protocol droid one last time as he turned around and left the hull down the ramp. Upon hearing the pattering of Threepio's treaded feet on the floor of the hangar, the ramp began to retract. When it finished, the door sealed itself with a hiss, ensconcing Qui-Gon in the compact main hold of the vessel.
He closed his eyes and sighed deeply as the engines roared to life. A moment later, he felt himself get lifted up off the ground as the automated pilot began flying the ship out of the hangar. Sinking deeper into his wheelchair, Qui-Gon succumbed to his exhaustion and quickly fell asleep.
Polis Massa
Qui-Gon woke up after a couple of hours to find himself in hyperspace en-route to Polis Massa. With nothing else to do during the journey, he passed the time worrying about what exactly had happened on Geonosis. Had Dooku managed to tell Shmi what had happened? If he had, would that mean she would be coming with Dooku to Polis Massa soon? Was it possible that her arrival had not derailed their plan after all?
Yet Qui-Gon couldn't help but feel pessimistic. From her point of view, Dooku had just killed him. He doubted she would ever be able to trust Dooku ever again in light of that. Did that mean she wouldn't be returning to Polis Massa? Qui-Gon couldn't know the answer to that since he hadn't known why she had even left in the first place. In all likelihood, however, she had had a falling out with Plagueis. Why else would she have been on Geonosis without Dooku knowing about it?
Qui-Gon tormented over these questions for hours as he languidly stretched his limbs, jolts of pain occasionally shocking him as he continued his quest to reassert control over his body. The ubiquitous agony had since ceased, but he still didn't feel entirely comfortable in his skin yet. Hopefully with time, this bizarre sensation would abate and he would regain full function over himself, but once again he was unable to get his hopes high. He had an overwhelming proclivity toward pessimism nowadays, and it wasn't hard to explain why. Practically everything in his life had gone wrong over the course of the past ten years. Why shouldn't he expect this to go wrong as well?
He was therefore in an especially surly mood when the automated ship touched down on Polis Massa. As the ramp unfurled on its own accord, Qui-Gon was greeted by a pair of medical droids who assisted him off the ship and into the facility. Feeling debilitatingly weary, Qui-Gon merely propped his head against his fist and allowed the droids to lead him down the bright white hallways. Where they were taking him he had no idea nor much interest. He knew from the moment he arrived that neither Shmi nor Dooku were here. All he could do was wait and hope that they would arrive in time.
Qui-Gon looked up suddenly when a pair of doors opened before him and he was wheeled forward into a dark room. Massaging his neck gingerly, he glanced around as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. A sudden chill penetrated beneath his skin, prompting him to discard his insouciance. Where had the droids taken him?
"Ah, Master Jinn," a voice said suddenly, the stentorian tone piercing the silence and echoing eerily in the high-ceilinged chamber. "Welcome to Polis Massa."
Qui-Gon glanced behind him and saw that the droids were no longer behind him. Gulping nervously, he wheeled himself forward toward the source of the voice, his forearms protesting at this feeble motion.
"Plagueis, I presume?" Qui-Gon asked as the tall, lithe figure of the former Sith master came into view. Plagueis was seated on his throne with a breathing apparatus strapped onto his chest just like he had been ten years prior when they had met for the first time on Serenno.
"I am impressed," Plagueis said, disregarding Qui-Gon's unnecessary question. "I thought the projection would kill you."
"It still might," Qui-Gon said as he came to a stop a few feet away from Plagueis' throne just out of the muun's long shadow.
Plagueis narrowed his eyes as he scrutinized Qui-Gon's grizzled countenance. "You will live," Plagueis assured him. "You would be dead already if the process had been too strenuous for you to handle. Although I do suspect that –"
"Why was Shmi on Geonosis?" Qui-Gon interrupted, his jaw clenched angrily as he met Plagueis' probing gaze. "Did you intend for her to sabotage Dooku's plans?"
"Of course not," Plagueis growled, clearly displeased by Qui-Gon's impertinence. "Why would I do that?"
"I don't know," Qui-Gon said. "Why else would she have been there without Dooku knowing about it?"
Plagueis sighed and looked away, his vexation with Qui-Gon ebbing away in the face of his own weariness. Qui-Gon felt his own bellicosity enervate as he considered the old master's expression. He too was carrying the same burden as Qui-Gon. He seemed to be just as fearful of and distressed by what Shmi had become as he was.
"She abandoned me a week ago," Plagueis informed him plaintively. "She had a vision of your death and decided to save you. I tried to stop her, believe me I did. She would not be convinced otherwise, however."
"So you let her go?" Qui-Gon asked incredulously. "How could you? Why didn't you just tell her the truth?"
"I tried to," Plagueis insisted defensively. "She didn't let me explain."
"Then you should have tried harder!" Qui-Gon lambasted. When Plagueis said nothing to this, Qui-Gon felt himself rising out of his chair, his outrage propelling him upward in spite of the objection of his legs. Taking a trembling step toward Plagueis, he raised an accusative finger toward the master's chest. "You stole her from me for ten years and now you tell me that you couldn't so much as keep her here for a week longer so that we could be reunited?"
"I am sorry," Plagueis apologized, drooping his head forward and resting it in his bony hands. "I failed you. I failed her."
Surprised by Plagueis' candor, Qui-Gon stared at him for a moment before falling back into his chair. Breathing heavily from the effort of standing, he looked away from Plagueis' pathetic expression and bit down on his tongue hard. He couldn't believe this was happening. After all this, he and Shmi were still separated. Was there any way to rectify this situation? Shmi thought he was dead and he had no way to find her.
"You're going to make this right," Qui-Gon said in a tremulous, yet nonetheless firm voice. "You're going to find her."
"You know I can't do that, Jinn," Plagueis said snidely. "I am nearly as weak as you are. Neither of us are strong enough to find much less confront her."
"Confront her?" Qui-Gon repeated. "Why would we need to confront her?"
"She must be stopped," Plagueis told him gravely. "She doesn't know it yet, but she is on a path to destruction. I should have seen it sooner, but now it's too late."
"What do you mean?" Qui-Gon asked, eyes wide with apprehension. A path to destruction? That didn't sound good.
"I have seen this happen once before with Sidious," Plagueis said with a grimace as he leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath through his respirator. "The power she commands will consume her in time."
"You're wrong, Shmi is nothing like Sidious," Qui-Gon insisted firmly. Yet thinking back to that seismic disruption she had created in the Force, Qui-Gon couldn't be so sure. The Shmi he had known would never have been capable of wielding such intense darkness. Was it possible that Plagueis knew her better than he did?
"Don't believe me, if you don't want to," Plagueis said with a nonchalant shrug. "In time you will see what she has become."
"You have no one to blame but yourself for that," Qui-Gon accused, lower lip trembling as he fought off both his anger and his despair in a desperate attempt to maintain his composure.
"I know it," Plagueis said heavily. "Believe me, I know."