Chapter 34: Exchanging Prisoners
Obi-Wan lumbered down the corridor, hugging the wall. His head throbbed. Each pulse racked his head, his vision swimming for a few seconds before clearing. The droids hoovered close, expecting him to collapse any moment. He didn't. At least, not yet. There was still time from here to Satine's room to pass out.
Dooku did a number on him. He invaded Obi-Wan's mind without mercy, drilling into him until he reached the Force bond between him and Anakin. Obi-Wan threw up a quick safety net around Anakin, but Dooku was persistent. It took all of Obi-Wan's strength to keep Dooku out of Anakin's mind until the boy finally ran as told.
Dooku was most displeased, but gave credit to the young man. "Qui-Gon's right," he said, walking away from Obi-Wan, who had fallen on his knees. "You're shielding is stronger."
Then he was dismissed and Obi-Wan picked himself up from the floor, his thoughts resting on Satine. He needed to get her out. It was too dangerous for her to be kept here. The unfortunate part of it all was that there would be no place for her to escape. All the dockings bays at the palace were shut down. Only the city's spaceports and Dooku's private spaceport north of the palace were readily available. But, even if they could sneak out of the palace, the chances of leaving from one of those spaceports were dismal. With countless droids guarding the ports, nothing went in or out without being noticed and catalogued. Qui-Gon or Dooku weren't not willing to let a prize such as the Duchess go free if it was the means to control him.
Obi-Wan shuddered a breath, centering himself within the Force for a sense of balance that was lost to him. An escape must be possible. He only needed to believe. If options did not present themselves before him, then he must make the options presentable.
He fell back against the wall, chin resting on his chest. He cleared his mind, drifting into the Force and listening for its harmony. It swelled around him, bringing back a peace he yearned since he returned to this Sith's hell.
Answers. Please let there be an answer in his reach.
"Do you need a medic?"
Obi-Wan shot his eyes open. A droid stood at attention in front of him. Of course, peace would elude him in a Sith infested place. He pushed himself off the wall. "No, I'm fine," he said, giving the cold shoulder to the droids. "I'll keep walking."
And he did. Obi-Wan strolled down the corridors, glimpsing at opened doors to record each room in his mind. He hoped to spark an idea, but none provided that essence of hope. He turned the next corner, ready to venture down into the next when the droids grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him back.
"You are not authorized to continue."
Obi-Wan flipped a single brow up. "Not authorized? Why not?"
"This is the west wing of the palace," the droid said, monotone. "You do not have authentication to continue."
Obi-Wan's eyebrows slanted. "The west wing?" he repeated, keenly observing the empty corridor for any inclination of the secrets held in the west wing. "What there?"
"You have no authorization to continue."
Droids! Their loyalty was programmed. Not earned. Obi-Wan released a stream of tension out, glancing over his shoulder to look down at the long corridor. Obi-Wan had no memories of ever being denied access when he previously lived in the palace. He had the freedom to go anywhere he wished (except the communication room unless he was with either Dooku or Qui-Gon). He tried to recollect if he ever been down to the west wing when he was younger, but all of those memories burned to ashes, scattered in the Force a long time ago.
A door opened in the corridor and two humans, dressed in Serenno military attire, stepped out. They both pocketed cards, speaking in normal tones until they spotted Obi-Wan standing a few yards away. They stopped talking at once, hands clapped behind their backs as they marched forward, toward him.
"Lord Kenobi," said the human wearing a pair of black boots, smacking the floor with emphasis to garner attention. He bowed deeply before Obi-Wan, a sign of great respect and flattery. "Captain Nev—at your service."
He gave a salute to Obi-Wan as well, before he nudged to his junior companion. "And this here, my Lord, is young Captain Edaric."
Edaric, hair burnt black, offered a stiff and formal bow as well. Obi-Wan stared. The captain was hardly any older than himself! Yet, Edaric puffed out his chest where a few rankings glittered his breast. An insignia was patched on the sleeve of his jacket. Obi-Wan did not recognize the symbol.
He gestured to it. "I'm afraid I do not recognize the insignia," Obi-Wan confessed. "What does it mean?"
"Firebirds, my Lord," Captain Edaric promptly replied. "Cargo pilots."
Cargo pilots? In the forbidden west wing? The thought tickled his mind. "What kind of cargo?"
"I ship quadanium steel."
"Quadanium steel?" Obi-Wan repeated, jaw slacked in surprise. "That's an expensive metal. What is it for?"
"It's for—"
Captain Nev stepped forward. "I don't think Lord Kenobi wants to know the finer details of your work," he tittered, effectively ending the prying investigation work. "I'm sure Lord Kenobi has places to be."
A dismissal. A polite dismissal, but the long side-look Captain Nev gave to the younger man promised reprisal. The young captain spoke too much. Obi-Wan raised his brows in defeat, but did not contradict him. He did have places to be. Thanks to young Captain Edaric.
"Thank for your time," Obi-Wan said with a bow, baffling the two captains with his formal decorum. Yet, despite his humble gesture, Obi-Wan lost balance. His strength had yet to recover and his bow sent him vertigo. He plunged his head into Captain Edaric's stomach, surprising the captain.
Flesh arms and mechanical arms grabbed some part of his body and hoisted him back up onto his feet. Two pairs of solicitous eyes looked at him. Their expressions quizzical and debatable, as if wondering if to send him to the healers or possibly alert Dooku or Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan prayed they chose neither as they were both horrendous ideas to him.
Obi-Wan straightened himself up again. "I'm fine," he insisted, pulling the droids off him. "I just finished a… tiring exercise."
The excuse passed the captains' gullibility. They smiled, pleased to know that he wasn't ill or injured. Obi-Wan thanked them and excused himself, reiterating that he needed to rest. The captains bowed to him and they all went their separate ways, busying themselves with new conversations and tasks.
Like Obi-Wan, who plotted Satine's escape in his mind as he stealthily slid Captain Edaric's identification card in the folds of his sleeves.
Obi-Wan hurried to Satine's room. He didn't even order his guards to stay outside the door, but the droids knew better to enter. He closed the door the moment he set foot inside, eyes ransacking the room until he found Satine curled up on the bed.
Taking long strides, he sped to the bed. His heart aflame with hope. "I have good news," he announced, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "We might… what's wrong?"
Satine hadn't spoken or moved since he came into the door. In fact, she wasn't even paying attention to him. Obi-Wan knew she wasn't asleep. He sensed her mind alive and spinning, and her eyes, daunted, lost in some twisted fog that clouded her vision. Obi-Wan didn't notice it when he first walked in, but he was taking notice now. He placed a hand on her forehead. No temperature, but her skin shined with sweat.
"Satine?" he said, tone softer as he got off the bed and went on his knees beside it. "Are you all right?"
Obi-Wan reached for her hand. The minute his fingers linked with hers, Satine ripped them out of his grasp and out of reach. "It's nothing," she hastily mumbled. "I'm… I'm tired."
She's lying. Her avoidance signaled deception and Satine wasn't a supporter of deceit. Her puffy, red-rimmed eyes told him another story.
"What's wrong?" he questioned again, moving back onto the bed. The intangible emotions tangled into a knotted mass in the Force, its pressure pressed up against his shields.
"Nothing."
Something. Not nothing. Obi-Wan's never seen Satine desolated. Her Mandalorian personality too strong to succumb to depression. Even when hope was bleak, Satine's stubborn nature refused to let up to the point it caused a few heated rows between them. So, seeing Satine curled in on herself, eyes puffing and barely reacting to anything all, it deeply troubled Obi-Wan.
He scooted closer to Satine. "Well, I think I may have something to cheer you up," he said, a pleased grin spreading his lips as he pulled his sleeves up and carefully revealed the stolen identification card.
Satine's eyes drifted to the card. Her brows crumbled in confusion. "What is that?"
"I stole it from a pilot," Obi-Wan whispered in case the Sith inserted recording devices in the room. "It's your ticket off this planet! You can—"
Satine shoved the card back into Obi-Wan's hand. "I don't want it."
"What?" Obi-Wan gaped at her, flabbergasted by her blunt refusal. He stared, mouth opening and closing in disbelief. "This what you need to get back to Mandalore! To free your people!"
"It's too late," Satine moaned. "Death Watch has control." She flipped her body, changing sides and turning her back to Obi-Wan. "I… I cannot help them."
She must be running a fever. Ill of some sort. Madness overcoming her. Satine wasn't herself and Obi-Wan charged ahead in a plea to reach her. "Of course you can! Satine… you're their rightful leader. They need you!"
"All I did was bring about a civil war and then lost it the moment a new threat showed up," Satine said, dismally. "They don't need me! They need someone better than me.
"Because it seems all I do is let others do my fighting," Satine grumbled, hugging her chest. "Mandalore needs to be saved, but not by me."
The sudden change in Satine alarmed Obi-Wan. A few hours ago, she assaulted him and was eager to find ways for them to escape and now… this wasn't the Satine he knew. Her strength withered and she no longer resembled the proud, stubborn and passionate Mandalorian leader, but a fragile, helpless girl who broke under the weight of emotional upheaval.
Obi-Wan touched her shoulder and gently guided her on her back. Satine's eyes refused to meet his, distantly staring at the wall. Obi-Wan sighed. "That's not true," he assured her. "You're a brave and strong person, who would do anything to spare the life of a single Mandalorian. You led Mandalore into a new age and ruling it without fault for nearly a decade—all by yourself for that matter.
"What I'm trying to say," Obi-Wan went on as he slowly drew Satine's attention away from the wall to him. "Is that you are a far greater leader than Mandalore deserves. And the people know. They adore you and have great faith in you. So much that they know you would never abandon them."
Tears spilled in the corners of Satine's eyes. Obi-Wan, with the use of the Force, floated the tissues to his hand and passed one to Satine. "I did not mean to upset you," he said. "I only speak the truth—"
The water in Satine's eyes evaporated, replaced with an explosion of fury. She snatched the box of tissues and threw them across the room. "I don't care for the truth!" she hissed, shoving Obi-Wan hard enough to knock him off the bed. Only the use of the Force saved him from falling on his face. "Argh! You sound just like him!"
Obi-Wan cocked an eyebrow high up his forehead. "I sound like who?"
Satine scowled at Obi-Wan. "Don't you already know?"
The confusion only lasted for a second. Something foreign made its presence known, a dilution within the normally warm glow of the Force. Obi-Wan got his first sense of the new presence. A lingering odor that wafted in one particular area. A chair in fact, seated far away from the bed. The presence lingered, leaving a stain in the Force where it once coveted.
Obi-Wan barely even noticed that his hands were clenching into fists. "Qui-Gon," he tersely muttered. "He was here? Sitting at the chair." He snapped his head back to Satine. "What did he say to you?"
"The truth and he's not wrong," Satine replied like a blast of cold air striking him across the face. "He's right! So, I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying."
"Satine—"
"I made my peace," she said wastefully, lethargy overtaking her last reserve of strength. Her head sunk into the pillow as a small whisper of breath escaped. "If you cannot, then please leave. I need solitude."
Satine turned away from him again, leaving Obi-Wan exposed to an unimaginable contortion of pain, anger, confusion and sorrow. In all of his years, he would have thought his heart wouldn't be so tender. Expectant of disappointment and heartache a daily dose for him, it should have not affected him. Yet, he was woefully wrong and he left Satine's room in a fury that needed release. And he knew exactly to release it upon.
Qui-Gon meditated in the center of his chamber.
The Force was still. Calm. A tranquility that somewhat eluded Qui-Gon for years. Possibly because of his own disturbance at his losses. His own pestered mind and bleeding heart quaked the Force in his wake until his heart stitched together and his buzzed thoughts slowed in understanding and rest. Everything was coming together and the promise he swore was slowly being fulfilled.
For years, Qui-Gon worried he wouldn't be able to fulfill the promise he swore upon the person's death. It ghosted his dreams at sleep and eyes in wakefulness. He heard the voice over and over again.
Don't let him suffer our fate. Promise me! Promise—he won't suffer like us. Please… promise me, Qui-Gon.
Qui-Gon dropped his chin to his chest. Every time those words were repeated back to him, his heart clenched and he swore he was dying all over again. Shadows played on him, blurred lines of light and dark, grey amassing in waves within the Force. It kept darkening as the years rolled, but since Obi-Wan's return it's gotten lighter and his soul less heavy than before.
His old padawan always made things lighter. When Xanatos broke his spirit and questioned his ability to inspire others, Obi-Wan pieced him back together, returned him to that sense of purpose and rekindled his spirit again. Obi-Wan saved him from the brink of being lost forever.
And when he left, Qui-Gon spiraled back to that same pit of loneliness and doubt. He questioned what he did wrong and how to change it. Long meditations resulted in clarity. The answers filtered in his dreams and he soon became desperate to obtain his wayward padawans. When he found Obi-Wan, the Living Force brightened. He let the Force wash over him, drenching him in warmth and relief all at once.
It was good to have him home even if their relationship was rocky, a source of fear and distrust. In time, Obi-Wan would come around and realize everything Qui-Gon did was for his betterment. He only hoped it didn't take too long for the boy—no, young man—to realize it.
As he reached deeper into the Force through his meditation, a disturbance sliced into him and interrupted his tranquility. A great storm sped through the Force, lightening striking that Qui-Gon withdrew from his meditation and opened his eyes in time to see his bedchamber doors swish open.
"You kriffing, lying chizk!"
Obi-Wan marched, his footfalls a thunderous clap as he surged at Qui-Gon. The Sith Lord rose to meet the hot-headed man when Obi-Wan snatched his tunics in his fists, yanking Qui-Gon to his feet.
Qui-Gon was surprised. Not from the amount of anger that emitted from Obi-Wan's tongue lashing, but the hate that rooted into his soul. A burning passion of hatred flickered in those soft, blue eyes—almost electrifying! It was an alarming look to his young charge and Qui-Gon detested the appearance.
His tunics still gripped in Obi-Wan's hand, Qui-Gon gently pried himself free with a simple Force shove. Obi-Wan charged again, but Qui-Gon held him off, sending tendrils of the Force to rope around his body and kept him in stasis. Obi-Wan wiggled, doing his best to free himself from the invisible ropes, but it was impossible.
Qui-Gon took a breath to recollect his thoughts. "Now—why don't we try this again," he said, adjusting his clothes to fit him properly. "Hello, Obi-Wan. It's nice to see you again. What's wrong?" Qui-Gon peered over Obi-Wan's head, looking to the door. "And… where are your guards?"
The guards in charge of protecting Obi-Wan had yet to enter through the doors. Either he dismantled the guards with the Force or he outrun them. In whatever case, Qui-Gon realized he needed to replace them with more upgraded droids.
Obi-Wan's attempts weakened, arms surrendering to his sides as he accepted the impossibility of escape. Instead, he settled on glowering at Qui-Gon. "You threatened Satine!"
Threatened? Qui-Gon's eyebrows fell into sharp slants as he mulled over his memories of the previous hours. "I do not recall any threats made to the Duchess," he said, scratching his chin. "She must have been mistaken."
"I know you," Obi-Wan bitterly chaffed, "You have a way of making a simple observation a meaningful threat. Now—" Obi-Wan's eyes shimmered in irritation. "What did you say to her?"
A screech of metal interrupted them as Obi-Wan guards finally arrived on the scene. Qui-Gon flicked his hand to shoo the guards away, wanting privacy for him and Obi-Wan. The guards bowed out, shutting the door as they fixed themselves outside. With the door shut and a promise to not be disturbed, Qui-Gon tilted his head back to meet the challenge.
"I told her the truth," he said, simple and honest. "What she concluded afterwards is of her own imagination. Not mine."
"What truth?"
"The truth of what would happen if she escaped to Mandalore," Qui-Gon answered, folding his arms. "To be honest, I thought it would be you who would have told her, but it was my surprise when she didn't have any idea what I was talking about."
"You had no right to tell her that!"
"And you had no right to deny her," Qui-Gon countered. "The Duchess is a mature adult. She's has a right to know what would happen to her if she decided to leave."
Obi-Wan's face grew long. Blue eyes shifted, a panoply of grief and regret battling. Qui-Gon grew curious. "Why the sudden anger over her knowing as well?" Qui-Gon questioned, fingers cupping his chin as he observed Obi-Wan's avoidance to either answer or even look at Qui-Gon.
And then it clicked. "Ah… yes, of course. I see it now," Qui-Gon smiled thinly as he drew closer to Obi-Wan. "You're angry because she doesn't want to leave."
A flash of righteous anger struck across Obi-Wan's face. His nose flared and his cheeks burned for a brief moment before he extinguished the anger. But it was too late. Qui-Gon's suspicions were confirmed.
"It seems the Duchess understands the predicament far better than you do," Qui-Gon noted, looking up into those weary eyes of his padawan, who seemed to have lived years beyond his actual age. "I will tell you the same thing I told her. This does not have to be a bad thing."
Obi-Wan briefly flickered back to Qui-Gon, squinting dubiously at him. "Not a bad thing?" he testily repeated.
"This isn't the Jedi Order, Obi-Wan. You can indulge and have passion," Qui-Gon said as he slowly rewound the tendrils roped around Obi-Wan. "You cannot tell me you have never imagined yourself and the Duchess together?"
Another shift in the young man's eyes. Qui-Gon's lips twitched to a wry smile. Of course his padawan thought about living on Mandalore as Satine's consort. Qui-Gon never doubted it. His old padawan was an emotional man and every emotional man had needs and desires.
The last tendril loosened on Obi-Wan, but the young man didn't do anything. He slumped where he stood, the Force cracking along his path. A broken man. Defeated.
Qui-Gon rested a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder. The muscles underneath tensed, anticipation heightening. Almost like Obi-Wan was ready to fight if needed. There was no need. Qui-Gon didn't plan to hurt him. Only erase his conflictions brewing in his weeping soul. "It's okay Obi-Wan," he said in soothing tones to calm him. "The Duchess had similar thoughts, you know."
Obi-Wan's chin lifted, crystal blue pooling with hope and truth as a silent plea rung between their shared Force bond. Qui-Gon was pleased that Obi-Wan shared (intentionally or unintentionally) his feelings through their bond. The bond they shared as Master-Apprentice was left in shreds when Obi-Wan ran away. Not broken completely. Qui-Gon held on by a thread and each day since Obi-Wan's return to Serenno, the bond stitched together again. It was still weak, barely alive, but growing stronger.
It gave Qui-Gon the confidence needed to slink his arm around Obi-Wan's shoulders in a half-embrace. "Like I said, this doesn't have to be a bad thing," he reiterated his statement. "You and Satine can finally be together without any obligations to prevent you from doing so."
Obi-Wan's brow furrowed, uncomfortable. He shrugged Qui-Gon's arm off him and retreated to a safer distance. "You're right," Obi-Wan solemnly agreed. "The Jedi are no longer holding me back."
Qui-Gon felt the tide rising in the Force. There was a shift in the Force. And in Obi-Wan's face as a twinkle in Obi-Wan's eyes sparked a rebellion.
It sought attention and it certainly had Qui-Gon's attention now.
Obi-Wan planted his feet firmly, rooted and immobile as his mouth drew up a curl. There was no laughter behind that smile. Only pure rebuttal. "This time it's you," he pointed. "You're the reason Satine and I can never be together."
Qui-Gon's furrowed his eyebrows in scornful confusion. "Did you not hear a word I said to you?"
"I did, but you don't get it," Obi-Wan's eyes fell suddenly sharp, "and you probably never will."
Qui-Gon was not prepared for the coldness in Obi-Wan's voice. It stifled their Force bond, a chill frosting the lumbar of his spine. The cold nipped his heart, hurting him far beyond what he expected. Perhaps because it resulted old memories to flare up. Recollections of moments and feelings that fluttered through him like bats flying out of a cave.
Normally, such remarks hardly bothered Qui-Gon. He always shrugged it off, but these dagger of words was enough to penetrate him deep enough to bleed. And he reacted with an unstable anger fueling his heart. "You are quite mistaken, padawan," he said, pointedly in return. "I understand far more than either you or the Duchess."
"I doubt it," Obi-Wan volleyed, disbelief flurrying those cold eyes. "Because if you did, then you wouldn't have either of us here."
With that, Obi-Wan walked away. Finished with Qui-Gon and done listening.
Qui-Gon wanted to respond. His mind screamed at him to say something, but the cold blast Obi-Wan emitted through their Force bond chilled Qui-Gon's tongue. All he could do was stare at Obi-Wan's back as the young man retreated from his chamber.
He couldn't let Obi-Wan leave like that. Why did Obi-Wan have to blow everything out of proportions? This was not how Qui-Gon wanted the conversation to turn to. Obi-Wan was meant to be grateful and happy. Not this!
The soft pitter patter of slippers slipping away from him revived Qui-Gon to salvage his authority and retake command.
"Dinner will be ready shortly," Qui-Gon called to Obi-Wan's back.
The young man paused. He didn't give Qui-Gon the courtesy of engaging face-to-face, but Qui-Gon was quite aware Obi-Wan was listening.
"I expect you and the Duchess to be in attendance."
Only then did Obi-Wan turn around fully to look back at Qui-Gon. It wasn't to argue or to attack him. Rather, in a far more disconcerting manner, Obi-Wan bowed deeply in a mockery of respect to him. As he rose up, Obi-Wan uttered. "As you wish, my Lord."
And then he was gone. The droids taking him out of Qui-Gon's chambers to follow through with their duty to protect him and ensure he didn't fall out of line.
Standing alone once again, Qui-Gon lifted his eyes to the ceiling. "He takes after you," he muttered to no one but the Force. "Far more than me."
The droids never strayed from his elbows. They stayed close and alert, not wishing for another repeated session of them chasing after their charge. That was fine by Obi-Wan. He needed to reserve his strength. He busily plotted, drawing up maps in his head and recalculating the stretches of time needed to go from one point to the next.
By the time he arrived back to Satine's room, he had a good quarter of the plan done and ready for execution. The rest needed to improvisation.
Satine was still on the bed. Tears streaked down her cheeks, leaving red lines of misery along her pale skin. She glanced his way when the door opened, but said nothing. She still continued to be silent as Obi-Wan treaded up to the bed, emotionally exhausted, but he still managed to give her a tender smile.
"I spoke to Qui-Gon."
Satine didn't stir. Only a whisper came out. "Oh."
"I know what he said," Obi-Wan continued, "about you leaving for Mandalore."
"I figured."
"And I know about the other thing too."
Now he got a reaction. Satine's face crumbled in complete bafflement as to what other subject Obi-Wan mentioned.
Obi-Wan pulled up a chair and sat down. "I know that you imagined what your life would be like if you weren't a ruler to a planet," he clarified her confusion. "As I am sure you are aware that I too wondered what my life would have been if I wasn't a Jedi."
They both stared at one another, deeply looking into their eyes and falling straight through them. Crashing and flailing in their attempt to stay afloat in the madness that swarmed. And yet, even then they couldn't help but want to sink in its depths and succumb it all.
Obi-Wan drew breath first. "We both know it won't end well," he said. "We would end up hating each other. I do not wish to hate you, Satine."
"Nor I you," Satine agreed, both reaching to the conclusion that the path they were on would only splinter and rip wounds on their hearts. "It seems we have little choice in the matter."
"There is always hope."
Satine looked doubtful. "You stole an identification card," she said. "Once used, I'm certain they'll find us quick enough."
"Not if we have a generous head start."
Satine spied him. "You already have a plan."
"I do," Obi-Wan confirmed. "Some of it, at least. We may need to improvise along the way."
The Duchess shook her head. "It's too risky, Obi-Wan. The Sith are always watching. They'll know if we try to escape. Then they'll hurt you and I can't… I can't be the reason you suffer." She looked down, somber as her forehead wrinkled in lines of remorse.
Qui-Gon gently hushed her. "And I'll suffer a far greater pain knowing you are locked away here because of me," he added. "It's worth the risk. And if we get caught, I'll make sure to spare you from their wrath."
Satine still didn't looked impressed by the idea. "No, it's still too dangerous. They'll know! They will!" she fretted, interrupting Obi-Wan's reply. "Let's forget about it. At least for tonight. I can't think. I need rest."
Of course. Stress tended to make any one lose their minds. "Perhaps after dinner," Obi-Wan suggested. "I actually stopped by to escort you to the dining hall."
Satine raised a brow. "I'll have my dinner here, thank you."
"I would too," Obi-Wan agreed. He loathed the idea of eating domestically in the presence of the galaxy's most savaged creatures, "but we don't have an option. They requested for both our presences. Don't worry—I'll keep you away from harm."
Satine groaned, the clogs of her minds clicking away as he tried to think of another excuse to get out of the dinner. Obi-Wan watched each idea spring to life only to fall dead shortly after. Running out of ideas, she huffed and sat up on the bed.
"Fine," she said, flattening any wrinkles she saw on her new gown. "I'll go, but I will not engage in any banter to such vile beings."
"Trust me," Obi-Wan said, taking her arm and leading her to the door. "There won't be any bantering. Just subtle threats and mockery."
Satine side-glanced at him. "I see you attended a few of these dinners already," she remarked.
Obi-Wan shrugged, hitting the pad and the door hissed open. "I know the routine enough to expect what's to come. Last time, Dooku choked me."
"He what?" Satine gasped.
Obi-Wan nodded as they left Satine's room, followed by a small squadron of four droids. "For a minute I thought he was going to snap my neck, but I managed to stab him in his hand."
Satine's eyes doubled in size. "You can't be serious?" When Obi-Wan didn't contradict her, Satine looked ahead with grave apprehension. "Are all your dinners that… aggressive?"
"Only when you challenge them."
They walked down the corridor in silence. Obi-Wan sensed the growing apprehension within Satine. She was worried, flashes of her wild imagination filtered into the Force, and Obi-Wan was almost humored by how she pictured dinner. She viewed it as a massacre, but Obi-Wan knew it wouldn't get that far. Blood would most likely be spilled, but no one would be dead. And if so, it would be him.
Traveling through turbolift and turning down a few more corridors, Obi-Wan finally recognized the corridor. They arrived. "Okay, here we are."
Satine looked around, stumped. "Um… are you sure?"
They were standing at a turnoff of to another corridor. There was no door nearby and no aroma of cooked food. In fact, the corridor looked absolutely bare. Then again, it had no need for decorations. After all, it was only the link to the west wing of the palace.
Obi-Wan's lips went wide. "I'm positive."
As the droids shuffled up and prepared to nudge him to move, Obi-Wan spun on his heels. He whipped out his hand, calling on the Force to toss aside the droid in front of him. The droid crashed into the wall, its words cracking until it went dead silent. The discarded droid's blaster shot to Obi-Wan's hand, the abrasive weapon clutched in a firm grip. The other droids hurried to repeal Obi-Wan's attack, but their dim-wittiness kept them slow. Obi-Wan fired three blasts and each one hit its mark.
The droids laid scattered. The blaster's stuns left no evidence of foul play except the firing of the wires. Satine had jumped out of harm's way, crowding up against the wall as Obi-Wan finished off their squadron.
Obi-Wan scooped up another blaster and passed it to Satine. "Take this," he ordered, kicking his slippers off his feet. They would only slow him down. When Satine had not accepted the weapon, he reiterated to her. "It's only set for stun, so don't hesitate to fire."
Satine's fingers shakily took the blaster. "I—I don't believe this!" she blurted, her temper returning. "There was no dinner planned!"
Obi-Wan looked back to her. "On the contrary, Your Highness, there was," he replied with a teasing smikr. "Only we are not attending."
Satine opened her mouth to reply, but Obi-Wan took that moment to grab her hand and run. They hurried down the corridor, jumping into a turbolift. To go onto any of the limited secured floors, it required a keycard.
Obi-Wan pulled out Captain Edaric's card. "Force let this work," he prayed as he swiped the card.
The mechanical whistle alarmed Obi-Wan and Satine, but the gentle click of acceptance sent them spiraling back down to a calming relief. Obi-Wan hit the main level. "Well, plan is working so far."
Satine glared. "Luck I suppose," she said. "What's the next step in your brilliant plan?"
"Oh that?" he muttered as he brushed his fingers through his hair. "That we may need to improvise."
Satine's shock whiplashed like ice on a raging river. "You don't know what to do next?"
"I'm up for suggestions," Obi-Wan replied in kind.
The turbolift whistled its arrival and once the doors opened, Obi-Wan snatched Satine's hand again. The Duchess groaned. "Not this again," she managed to mumble before Obi-Wan took off running, dragging her along with him in his wake.
They traveled with the shadows, hiding in the dark as they maneuvered their way to the loading dock Obi-Wan sought. A handful of cargo ships took shelter in the docking bay as hordes of soldiers and laborers went in and out, rolling out crates from the ramps.
Careful not to be seen, Obi-Wan and Satine stealthily slinked into the docking bay, hiding behind a small mountain of crates that have been stocked off to the side. Satine immediately discarded her weapon, placing it aside with outrage disgust. Obi-Wan kept his tucked into his belt. He expected they won't be able to hide behind the crates forever before someone noticed them.
Hidden behind the stacks, Obi-Wan peeked a glimpse of the activities happening around the docking bay. There was a lot of movement, which was promising as they could be lost amongst the crowd. The only downside was that there were far too many witnesses and it only took one to stop and question them. And that wouldn't be too hard seeing as they were dressed in finer material than the soldiers and definitely the laborers.
Obi-Wan studied their pattern. Each soldier and laborer were assigned to a cargo ship. Each of them stationed with a certain task such as inventory checking, loading and unloading, and directing laborers and pilots. Managers were all bustling and directing everyone what to do with the crates that were coming onto the floor. Long wooden crates streamlined from the ramp to the designated dump spot as others took over to check the goods. Obi-Wan had an inkling on what each crate contained. And, based off the number of crates, whatever they were building was to be massive.
Satine lifted her head, peering out beside Obi-Wan. "What are in those crates?"
"My guess… quadanium steel," Obi-Wan whispered his answer, spying a young soldier roaming closer to their hide away.
"Quadanium steel?" Satine said, amazed as she eyed all the crates now storing up on the docks. "That's expensive steel. What are they planning to do with all it?"
"Your guess is as good as mine. Though I am certain it's not for the good of the galaxy."
Obi-Wan yanked Satine down with him just as the lone soldier turned in their direction. He placed a finger to his lip to signal Satine to be quiet and still. In an unusual turn of events, Satine obeyed. She huddled close to Obi-Wan as she barely even breathed. He kept a protective arm around her, pulling her close to him. They waited, the apprehension of getting caught making their muscles tensed. Obi-Wan held his breath too, listening with the Force.
The Force stilled, too placid for any sense of comfort. The eerie silence befallen the Force deeply offended Obi-Wan. The Force was never quiet with him. Then again, Anakin was always with him. The Force never left its favorite child alone.
It took a long moment of heightened suspense before a brush of gentle warmth greeted Obi-Wan, letting him know it was safe again. Obi-Wan peeked over the crate. The soldier had wandered off, but not too far. He was no longer interested in the crates behind him; thus, sparing Obi-Wan and Satine.
"Tell me there is far more to this plan besides hiding behind crates," Satine haughtily muttered.
Obi-Wan breathed deeply to restrain the building temper that flared in him. Somehow, Satine's words always flamed his aggravation to the next level. He pressed his mouth into a straight line. "Actually, Duchess, the plan is just getting started," he fended as he got into action. "Wait here."
He slinked away from Satine, crouched as he stalked his prey. The soldier remain aloof of the danger nearing him. His footfalls were silent as he glided across the floor. Seconds. He only had seconds to get this right. If he didn't, well, the next plan was to run.
Close enough, Obi-Wan thought and he sprung. He clamped his hand over the soldier's mouth. The soldier squealed and flailed his arms to throw Obi-Wan off him. But, Obi-Wan was quick. He shoved a Force suggestion into his mind the second he caught him. The man was no match. His eyes battered closed before he slumped unconsciously in Obi-Wan's arms.
No one noticed. All were too focused on the delivery to realize one of their own was being dragged off behind the crates.
Satine's brow fell in a disdainful swoop. "Oh? I see you added another member to our secret clubhouse."
"Humorous as ever Duchess," Obi-Wan replied, dryly, "but no—we are doing a costume change."
"You're going to play soldier? Typical."
Obi-Wan paused. "Actually, Your Highness," he hesitated, knowing the kind of reaction he was certain to receive would not be warmly accepted, "the costume is for you."
Satine gaped at Obi-Wan as if he was joking. "You're not serious!" she chuckled to hide her discomfort. "You are joking?"
"I'm not."
Satine's smile warped into a mortified gasp. "I will not!" she protested, staring at the vulgar uniform in utter distaste. "I'm not going to dress up as a soldier."
"Dressing up as a soldier doesn't automatically make you a soldier," Obi-Wan argued, his words surged with urgency. Time was dwindling and it won't take long for Qui-Gon or Dooku to find them. "Satine, I need you to trust me one last time. Can you do that?"
"I always trust you!"
If only she expressed that more often, Obi-Wan reflected. He let his shoulders sagged. "Then change clothes," he pleaded, undressing the soldier. "You'll blend better."
Obi-Wan removed the double-breasted tunic and passed it to Satine. The Duchess picked at the tunic, disgusted. Her lips soured more when Obi-Wan passed along the undershirt, belt, trouser and black boots.
"Hurry and change," Obi-Wan rushed, waiting on Satine to undo her dress and switch into the soldier. "What is it?"
Satine had yet to start undressing. Her eyes flitted from the uniform to Obi-Wan, shifting uncomfortably as she reexamined the clothes. "I need you to turn around," she said, timid around him like they were teenagers again.
Obi-Wan obliged, turning his back to give her privacy. "Just hurry. I sense Qui-Gon's becoming aware of our deceit."
He heard the clothes ruffling behind him and Obi-Wan kept alert as to not blow their cover. He heard a final zip and clip when Satine announced she was finished. Obi-Wan checked over her. The uniform was a bit baggy even with the tunic tucked and the belt fastened all the way. The boots were a few sizes too large as her legs wobbled due to her feet sliding.
"I look hideous, don't I?" Satine said, rolling back the sleeves from her wrist a bit. "They're not going to believe I'm one of them."
"Of course they will," Obi-Wan insisted, helping her adjust the other sleeve. He dusted off the man's hat and helped stuff Satine's blonde hair into it. "They're not going to challenge your credentials because of your poor outfit ensemble. Just don't draw attention to yourself. Act natural and you'll be great."
Satine's eyes fell into slits. "I don't know how a soldier acts!"
"Act confident and be alert," Obi-Wan advised. "That's about it."
"And start shooting when I deem so?"
Obi-Wan flipped a brow. "Don't go all trigger-finger now, Duchess," he playfully joked. "Save it when you really need it."
That earned Obi-Wan a hard jab to the ribs. "It's a good thing one of us is far more civilized here," Satine pointed out. "Now that I have followed your silly plan this far, what's the next step?"
Obi-Wan nudged his head to the closest cargo ship. "You're going to board that ship."
"You mean 'we'."
No. He did not. He hoped the topic wouldn't be broached until after Satine got onto the cargo ship and was blasting out into space. Yet, in a very Satine fashion, she brought it up now. Right when he felt Qui-Gon's bristle through the Force. They were down to a few minutes before droids marched into the docking bay.
"No, Satine," Obi-Wan's voice was soft and slow. "I do not mean 'we'. Only you."
Satine became alarmed. "No—don't! You must come with me."
"I can't," Obi-Wan palliated, looking back into those deep wells of sorrow. "I need to be the distraction. Keep them away from you."
"I cannot abandon you here!"
"You must," Obi-Wan insisted again. Why must she be so stubborn? Was she blindly unaware that all of these sacrifices was to keep her safe and away from danger? Obi-Wan would die a happy man if he knew she was out of Qui-Gon's and Dooku's grasp.
Seeing the way her eyes got smaller, Obi-Wan picked up her hands. Still soft and elegant like the royalty she was. A gentle soul in a foul place ready to tear into her heart. He cradled those hands in his own. "Remember who we are Satine. You a Duchess and I… well, a rogue," he said. "We have our duties. I will fulfill my duty to protect you just like I did on Mandalore.
"And you will free your people from its violent past," Obi-Wan assured her, nearly begging her to do so in his attempt to convince her to leave. "Like last time."
Satine sagged with disappointment. "Not like last time," she quieted. "I won't have you. I'll be alone."
"You are not alone, Satine," Obi-Wan swore as he brought up her hands, kissing the tips of her fingers. "I promise."
The Duchess spared one more glance to Obi-Wan, both rafting on the raw confusion and grief that overflowed the space between them. Turbulent in the sickening madness. Both begging the other to stay or go. A cruel world to which both options separated them, but the question remained which would hurt more. To Obi-Wan, staying was the far worse fate.
Satine let her fingers slip from Obi-Wan's calloused hands. The restraint in her eyes gave her final decision. "What am I to do next?"
Obi-Wan's body sank with relief. He huddled next to Satine. "You want to board that ship over there," Obi-Wan pointed to a massive cargo carrier that was a few yards away from their hideaway. "Once you are on board, stay hidden until they land. Then, when it is your best chance, make a run for it."
"To where though?" Satine inquired. "I cannot contact my allies in Mandalore. If I have any left that is."
"Go to Naboo."
"Padmé?"
Obi-Wan nodded. "Queen Amidala will assist you and her small security force will protect you."
"Shouldn't I go to Coruscant? Seek out Master Yoda? Anakin?"
Obi-Wan shook his head. "No, that's where they'll expect you to go. Their allies there will be warned ahead and you won't get far enough to the Temple to make a report," he said. "It's safer to go to Naboo."
Satine agreed with a single nod. "I'll try to make contact with Padmé as soon as I can," she promised to Obi-Wan. "I think I better get going. Looks like they unloaded the last crate."
The docking bay became less active in the past few minutes. The laborers strolled the last batch of wooden crates to the deposit, unloading it as others began prying the lids off to check the materials inside the crates. Everyone was distracted. Time to go.
Obi-Wan put a hand on Satine's shoulder. "Remember—try to blend in. Don't bring attention to yourself. If anyone asks, say you are doing final checking points on each cargo ship per the instruction so of Captain Nev."
"Who's Captain Nev?"
Obi-Wan shrugged. "A captain," he said, forgetting the man's purpose in the military hierarchy. "Once inside, find a good hiding place until you can escape. And don't—"
"I can take care of myself," Satine interrupted as she did a last minute adjustment with her belt. "I handled an entire planet, Kenobi. I think I can do this one task. Don't start worrying yet."
"I'm always worried when it involves you."
The words slipped out before he could contain them. Awkward silence lulled between, both unsure what to say next after that. But Obi-Wan shook it off, gathering up his wits. "Be careful," he said. "And maybe, one day, we'll see each other in better circumstances."
A subtle flare of hope resigned in the way she stared at him. "I'll keep you to that promise, Ben."
The charging attraction between them electrified. Breaths quickened and the flame in their hearts flickering alive again. Obi-Wan looked on at Satine with affection and love and respect. He did not wish to see her go, but if she stayed their love will darken and turn ill before them. Their flame would rampage and turn their hearts to ash. Their love dead to one another.
With great difficulty, Obi-Wan picked up Satine's blaster and passed it to her. "It's time. You need to go. Now!"
Satine didn't need telling twice. She locked her blaster onto her belt and jumped out of the hiding place. Gulping once, she strolled toward the cargo ship. Hands clamped behind her back, and shoulders straight and rigid, she marched like a soldier down through the busy hanger. Obi-Wan monitored Satine's movements, using the Force to check for incoming dangers.
Already he sensed Qui-Gon growing presence. The Sith frustration was boiling up to aggravation. A jab against his shields warned Obi-Wan that Qui-Gon's patience thinned and he wanted the hiding game ended now. Obi-Wan reinforced his shields and focused on Satine. She trailed up, giving quick, approving nods to others as they walked passed. None of them noticed her ill-fitted outfit or how her legs kept tripping over the over-sized boots.
She reached the end of the ramp, successfully maneuvering her way to her escape pod. As she lingered at the end, Obi-Wan sensed the hesitation within her.
Go! Obi-Wan mentally implored. Don't turn around. Keeping walking.
But she was not Force sensitive and did not hear his distress call through the Force. She turned her head, eyes meeting his across the vast space between them. She held his eyes, an empyrean shine that drew him to reconsider to not abandon her. The Force burned in his heart, a telling of the fates they will be bestowed. It was not one of kindness, but of utter heartbreak.
Obi-Wan's heart twisted, breaking into barbed fragments as he understood what the Force told him. No matter the scenario, he and Satine would never be able to be together. The Force was a cruel mistress. It could never share its love for another. It asked for devotion, but never promised anything in return. Yes, a cruel mistress indeed.
Obi-Wan stared solemnly back at Satine. Goodbye.
Satine got the message. She dropped her chin in a small curtsey. Her face paled considerably like her life was depleting from her body. Their pain pooled their souls as they turned away from one another once again.
Farewell, Satine mouthed in return. She turned away, striding up the ramp and disappearing into the cargo bay without anyone noticing her appearance.
Obi-Wan waited, checking through the Force to sense Satine. Her heartbreak shattered her, but otherwise, she felt secured. Safer than she felt when locked in that glided bedroom.
Another strike against Obi-Wan's mental shields drew his attention away from Satine. He needed to move again. He could not be found in the docking bay. Obi-Wan slunk away, stepping over the unconscious, half-naked soldier. He slipped through the doors again, his feet light that barely a whisper of a pat could be heard. He checked his confiscated blaster. It was fully charged and ready to fire.
Pinned against the walls, Obi-Wan tip-toed down the corridor, relying on memory and the Force to guide him to his next destination. If he could keep Qui-Gon from immediately locating him, he may discover the reason behind the need of the quadanium steel.
Obi-Wan wasn't a fool though. He predicted his capture would occur sooner rather than later, especially since Qui-Gon's aggravation spiked to ire. Qui-Gon was on patrol, swiftly cutting through the sections in his desperate search to find him. Obi-Wan strangled for a breath. He imagine his capture would not end on a good note. May as well make it worth the time then.
Obi-Wan brushed up against the wall, peaking behind the corner. Barren as he hoped. Obi-Wan slid into the new corridor, scurrying down another path on this labyrinth area of the palace. Not a single sound echoed the hallway except the steady breathing Obi-Wan released. The eerie quietness conveyed a promising suspense that Obi-Wan had a feeling would end poorly for him. Then again, nothing with a Sith ended on a happy note.
As he crossed the halfway point, his anticipation of action came to an end. The chime of a turbolift rang out a warning to Obi-Wan. He only got time to freeze where he walked. Fear struck his legs paralyzed as he shot his eyes to the opening tuborlift doors at the far end of the corridor.
The doors parted, revealing a company of droids and a lone human figure, front and center.
Qui-Gon's eyes augmented as the yellow infusion amplified in his normally grey eyes. "Obi-Wan!"
That single shout of his name jolted Obi-Wan out of his stupor.
In one swift movement, he brought up his blaster and fired at Qui-Gon. He didn't stay to watch where the blast hit. He didn't even know if it hit his target. He fired and whirled around, feet slapping the floor as he bolted away from the corridor. His mind screamed at him to run. Run! Run! Faster!
He got his answer soon enough. Behind him, he heard Qui-Gon throwing out commands and metal clanks of droids giving chase. Obi-Wan dared not to look behind him. He whipped around corners, no longer checking to see if droids or other obstacles would prevent him from escape.
His lungs burned and his heart was in his throat as he sprinted down the corridors. Every strained of muscled begged his mind to stop the madness of running. Blood pumped furiously to keep the aching muscles working, but they protested the sudden abundance Obi-Wan demanded.
But he ignored them, pushing away the resistance and charged full speed ahead. His thoughts too blazed with a desperate need to run away from Qui-Gon. He knew it was inevitable that he was destined to be caught. It was part of the plan after all. He was merely a distraction so that Satine could escape her fate.
Still, it didn't mean that Obi-Wan would surrender to his own fate that easily. Seeing Qui-Gon got him rejuvenated. He did not want to go back with his old Master. He did not want to bow to his demands or be roped into another one of his manipulative lies. He wanted out.
Obi-Wan took another corridor, gambling that it would lead him to a turbolift that he could escape to another level. To his grave misfortune, it was not a turbolift that awaited him. He was graced to a company of armed droids.
He skidded to a halt. Fighting through them was not optional. There was no way he would win a fight against them. Even armed, he still had no chance against them.
Obi-Wan backed up, hoping to retreat, but more droids closed in behind him. All of them carrying a weapon, aimed directly at him.
Obi-wan sagged in defeat. His fingers instinctively curled around his blaster, almost knowing it was going to lose it in a few short seconds. He may have lost his flight to freedom, but at least he still won overall. And that was a good enough victory for him.
The droids in front of him confronted him. "Don't move, Lord Kenobi," one said.
"And drop your weapon," another droid commanded.
Obi-Wan wrangled his grip from the blaster and it dropped with a heavy thud that echoed around them. He slowly lifted his arms, his head tilted in humility. "I surrender"
The droids didn't lower their blasters, which was disturbing. He surrendered. Were they not going to escort him back to the main levels or at least to Qui-Gon?
He got his answer soon enough by a direct command. "Fire," a droid commandeered issued.
Obi-Wan's eyes rounded, unexpected. "No—wait!"
That was all he got before he was struck right in the chest. The bolt hit right in the center of his ribcage, electrifying his nerves to the point of a system shutdown. His breath hitched as his body and mind betrayed him. He fell, but for how long he didn't know.
The flash came and killed the lights. All he knew was that he was still breathing.
Dooku waited.
He was the only one waiting in his family's private spaceport. His guards were stationed outside, blocking any undesirables from entering. The hanger itself was empty. None of the normal workers were on site. Dooku had sent them all away as the matter was extremely private and valuable. He could not have others gossiping about the arriving cargo.
He took another glance at the time. The cargo should arrive soon and still no sign of Qui-Gon. His former padawan busied himself over Kenobi's escape attempt. The droids shot him down. What more did Qui-Gon need to do? The young man was out of commission, unable to do anything other than lay where he was. Keep him locked away and deal with him later.
Then again, Qui-Gon was never fully in the right mind when Kenobi was involved. Qui-Gon's attachment made it impossible for him to think straight concerning the young man. He dotted on him, spoiling him far too much for Dooku's taste. Even when Kenobi was a boy, Qui-Gon sheltered him far too much and Dooku always had to remedy that when Qui-Gon shipped out, leaving Kenobi in his care. Kenobi needed to learn discipline! And it appeared he may need to show a strong hand again.
The whistle of a door sliding open and the clatter of boots scuffing up the tiled floor warned Dooku Qui-Gon finally arrived. That and his old padawan's leaving a muted disturbance in his wake, causing the Force to be tumultuous instead of the peace Dooku was enjoying earlier.
"He's early," Qui-Gon said by way of greeting as he stood beside Dooku, looking out of the opened gates. His eyes searched the stars. "I thought to not see him for another day."
"Then he is better than we were led to believe," Dooku coolly replied. "Is the situation with Kenobi handled?"
Qui-Gon gripped his elbows as his lips thinned. "Rectify to a point."
Ah, still soft on his old padawan. "If you need assistance in discipline —"
"I'm sorry, Master, but I do not wish to discuss Obi-Wan at the moment," Qui-Gon abruptly cut off Dooku, something he would never do. Dooku merely blinked at him, touching his Force presence to get a better reading on the turbulence going through Qui-Gon. Whatever it was, Kenobi did a fine job ruffling his old padawan.
Dooku acquiesced to Qui-Gon's request and kept his comments about Kenobi to himself. They lulled into silence again. Dooku searching for any sigh of an approaching space ship. Qui-Gon? Internally fretting over the predicament titled Kenobi. His mind buzzed with what actions were deemed reasonable and necessary to show Kenobi how serious both Dooku and Qui-Gon meant.
After a quiet period of reflection, Qui-Gon spoke up. "How did he finish the job so early? That's quite impressive."
"Indeed," Dooku agreed. "But as I told you before, Qui-Gon. The Temple may look like a fortress, but it is not."
Qui-Gon smiled, accepting surrender to Dooku's wisdom. He sighed a little, brushing the ends of his beard. "Did he wish to receive more credits to the original offer?"
Dooku nodded. "He asked for a quarter more," he informed Qui-Gon. It didn't come as a surprise for Dooku. Everyone always demands more.
Qui-Gon thought the same thing. "Will you?"
"Oh no," Dooku purred in a satisfactory delight. "A man of Fett's caliber deserves far more than only a quarter extra. I'm offering him triple."
"Triple!" blurted Qui-Gon, clearly surprised by the announcement. "I would not have thought of you to be a generous man, my Master."
"I'm not, but I do recognize talent," Dooku said. And he knew Jango Fett was not a person to lose. "And I believe Jango Fett would be a highly valuable asset in this upcoming war, don't you think?"
Qui-Gon's head titled down in contemplation. Then with small nod of his head, Qui-Gon said: "He has been most helpful with us. First, with the clones and now, capturing Anakin." Qui-Gon breathed easier. "He certainly makes our progress run smoothly and effectively."
"Which is why I am offering him more than he asked," Dooku insisted. "Make him our man rather than the Republic's."
"Republic's hardly hire bounty hunters."
"Maybe not in peace, but in time of war?" Dooku threw up his brows. "Who knows what the Republic is willing to sacrifice in the name of power?"
Dooku had seen it many times in duels, battles and wars he fought during his lifetime. Everyone was willing to betray their own principles if it meant they could win power. He's seen the Jedi be used as pawns in power-play and witnessed Jedi's lives perish all in the sake of power and wealth for politician who would rather drain the galaxy of sources in order to enrich their own lives. The Republic was full of these cesspool leaders, rotting the Republic from inside out.
This was why Dooku left the Order, forgone the Jedi Code. He would no longer stand beside and let himself be used as a pawn for power play. He was power. And might. And justice. Not those fake politicians who steal, murder, and bribe for power.
Dooku had the Force! It bestowed him with gifts to which he passed on his knowledge down his powerful lineage. They, the chosen lineage of the Force, the prophetic Jedi, were meant to rule the galaxy. And that was what Dooku planned to accomplish.
Qui-Gon peered up at the sky. "There he is."
Dooku fluttered his eyes out to where Qui-Gon stared. Not too far away, he saw a spacecraft flying low over the trees and heading in their direction. Jango Fett finally arrived!
Slave I landed with a deep hiss. Engines powered down as the ship groaned into satisfaction in rest. Dooku sensed a pulse in the Force right in the heart of the ship. It was strong and powerful. The boy was on the ship. Just as Fett promised.
A minute later, the sharp hiss of ramp released grabbed their attention. The ramp lowered. Seconds followed before dark-haired man clad in blue trouser and a light blue tunic strolled down the ramp. Thrown over his shoulder was a small child. Anakin Skywalker swayed behind Fett's shoulder, blissfully unaware that he was being transferred from one custodian to another.
Dooku and Qui-Gon walked forward, meeting Jango Fett halfway. The bounty hunter stopped, his arm locked on the child's legs. He eyed both Dooku and Qui-Gon. "As promised," he said to them. "The safe delivery of one Anakin Skywalker."
Qui-Gon confronted Jango, hurrying to take the child into his arms. "Give me the child," he ordered.
Jango obliged and, careful not to hurt the boy, swung him off his shoulder. He passed the boy to Qui-Gon's opened arms. Qui-Gon cradled the boy, brushing back a knot of hair away from the boy's sleeping face. The moment the boy slid into Qui-Gon's arms, Qui-Gon burst into a smile. A real, genuine smile. One that always seemed to escape him even when things were looking up. Dooku observed the quiet relief and pure joy Qui-Gon held in his soul as he stared down at Skywalker.
Both Dooku and Qui-Gon examined their bounty. One glance and Dooku already mistaken him as a street urchin of the lower levels of Coruscant. Brown-blonde hair tangled in a messy length fitted more properly with orphaned children instead of groomed Jedi Initiates. Like Kenobi, he hardly had any meat on his bones. Too skinny from poor nutrition and stress.
Other than those fickle appearances, Anakin Skywalker was relatively healthy and unharmed.
Dooku turned to Jango. "You did a fine job. We thank you for your services."
"Of course,"Jango uttered. "Now—about my payment?"
Jango called ahead, demanding extra due to complications he did not expect to encounter. Dooku didn't know what he meant by 'complications', possibly meaning Jedi intervention, but Dooku was willing to offer extra money as an incentive for Fett to work exclusively for them in the future. They could use a man as skilled as Fett in the upcoming war.
Dooku pulled out his holopad and brought up a screen. He passed it to Jango. "I think you will find this to be more than satisfactory."
Jango read the holopoad. His eyes widened just a smudge, but other than that, he kept a collective expression. He was a man of complete control. Dooku admired that greatly. Jango looked from the screen back to Dooku. "That's generous of you," he remarked. "I'm guessing that this is no longer a one-time request?"
"Unless you wish otherwise?" Dooku's hand rested on the hilt of his lightsaber.
Jango snorted. "No need to draw your weapon, Count," he said. "I accept the position. I'll only do contract works from you."
"Then you will be significantly well-paid for your timely services."
Jango Fett bowed his head. "Thank you, my Lords," he said, "I must see to my—"
"What is that?" Qui-Gon interrupted, eyes locked on something dangling off Jango's utility belt.
Dooku eyed it as well, immediately recognizing it as a lightsaber. Jango unclipped the lightsaber. "It's a lightsaber," he answered, bluntly. "The boy used it to fight me, but I managed to remove it from him."
Qui-Gon flipped his eyes to Dooku. "It's Obi-Wan's lightsaber."
Dooku raised a single, silver brow. "Is it?" he murmured and he held out his hand. Jango dropped it into Dooku's palm. Dooku felt along the edges, studying it both visually and with the Force. Qui-Gon was right. It was Kenobi's old lightsaber. "Ah… so it is. Well, I think I'll be holding onto it for now."
Dooku clipped Kenobi's lightsaber to his belt. "Thank you Jango," he said, ending the secret meeting. "I look forward working together again."
Jango respectively bowed and retreated to his ship in preparation to return to his home. Qui-Gon fixed his hold on Anakin, moving the boy's head into the nook of his arm. The boy was still unaware what transpired or that he no longer resided at the Jedi Temple. He remained blissfully unaware, content enough to be held.
Qui-Gon stared a little longer at Anakin's face. "He's so young," he noted, examining every line and freckle on the boy. "I know he's only ten, but… it felt so long since I saw him. I thought of him to be a young man too."
Dooku twisted his head to get a good look at Skywalker. On the surface, the boy didn't look anything extraordinary. Through the Force, it was different. He was a supernova. Powerful, bright and magnetized to everything. He was exceptionally powerful Force user and their greatest weapon.
"Let us take him back to the palace," Dooku believed they stayed at the spaceport far longer than they should. They needed to get Skywalker to the palace and restart his training too.
Qui-Gon gently carried the unconscious child to the nearby speeder. He covered Skywalker with half of his oversized robe, treating it like a blanket for Skywalker. The boy had no complaints nor gratitude yet in the manner he was being handled. They made it all the way to the speeder and Qui-Gon still held the boy in his arms as he sat in the back for safety purposes.
Their driver restarted the speeder. The engine growled before turning to a roar. Skywalker shifting in Qui-Gon's arm before settling back down again. The driver turned out of the spaceport, heading straight to Dooku's palace.
It was all coming together. Soon, Dooku would have the entire galaxy under his iron fist.