Chapter 40: Hope
The day was long. After the morning, Obi-Wan spent his time with Anakin, assisting Anakin in reprogramming his new holovideo. In Anakin's excitement, Obi-Wan almost forgot their predicament. If servants were bustling in and out of the room, bringing food and other items to them, then Obi-Wan would have thought they were away on Naboo. Instead, they were locked inside a glorified cage, being prodded and watched endlessly.
Qui-Gon never returned. That worried Obi-Wan a bit. Made him wonder if the Sith Lord was developing a plan, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Though it never came, Obi-Wan kept up his guard. He learned the hard way to never underestimate a Sith Lord.
Night rolled across the skies and Anakin dozed off. Obi-Wan directed Anakin to the refresher, helping him brush his teeth and clean his face in his fatigued state. At the end, Obi-Wan carried him to the bed and tucked him under the covers. Anakin rolled to his side, curling up into a little ball like he normally did.
Unlike Anakin, Obi-Wan couldn't sleep. Too many anxieties rattled his head, keeping his imagination active and alive. He needed to release them into the Force, but it was struggle. The torrid feelings sank deep into him, relentless in not being casted away. He needed a distraction. Something to take away his restlessness. And Obi-Wan only thought of one solution.
Obi-Wan returned to the training salles. It was empty. He didn't expect anyone to be there. It was too late at night for the likes of Qui-Gon or Dooku to be prowling the corridors. Obi-Wan's guards stood at attention next to the door. They didn't even flinch when Obi-Wan took up a staff, the same one he used with Qui-Gon. He stood in front of the training droids, contemplating if he should turn on one or two. He decided on two as he considered one to be too easy for him.
Once situated, Obi-Wan activated the training droids.
Leap. Duck. Roll. Dodge. Parry.
He threw up his staff and blocked the first fire. He spun the staff in his hands. Eyes vigilant on the two training droids charging at him. The droids gave him no leeway, doing their best to keep him from dismantling them. Obi-Wan stayed his ground, dodging or blocking the droids' attempts to strike him.
He somersaulted underneath one of the droids, popping up to block another bolt near his shoulder. He couldn't keep running around in circles. That would only let the droids win.
Obi-Wan retreated, one step behind the other as he studied the droid's movements. His elbow nearly avoided a bolt, and he tucked it close to his side as he kept up his staff. Droids were not particularly clever. They were programmed, ordered to follow instructions. Cannot think on their own. That flaw was the only thing Obi-Wan had going for him.
He needed to get the droids closer together. Or at least one of them. Deciding on a course of action, Obi-Wan eased in his defense techniques, purposefully acting exhausted to lure the droids to him. The training droids edged closer, shooting out bolts left and right to the point they were nearly on top of Obi-Wan. In the exact position he wanted.
He ducked and raised his staff up. Using the Force, he twirled his staff fast to create a fan. The staff struck both droids, hitting them hard to shatter them against the wall. The training droids laid in broken pieces, defeated.
Obi-Wan exhaled deeply as he rose back up. He won.
He took a few deep breaths, feeling a little better upon each exhale. Not enough to keep him at peace, but enough to possible get at least two hours of sleep. First, though, he needed to clean up his mess. Obi-Wan walked over to the dismantled droids. He mulled over the idea of handing the broken droids to Anakin to fix when he became distracted by a suffocating presence that zapped out all warmth he felt earlier in his victory.
He looked behind him, to the doors, and found Dooku. The Sith Lord stood with his arms folded in front, a critical glare fixed on Obi-Wan like he was evaluating a new lightsaber rather than a person.
Dooku must have finished his assessment for he strolled further into the salle. "I see you have no qualms entering the salle on your own accord."
"You never gave explicit orders that we had to ask, Master," Obi-Wan cringed at acknowledging him as his master once again. "And Qui-Gon gave me permission to come whenever I want."
"Did he now?" Dooku raised his silver brows. "And he said you could use a staff in your practice?"
Obi-Wan looked down at the staff in his hand. "It's harmless."
"I know."
Obi-Wan's eyebrows furrowed in puzzlement. "Must I ask permission to use it?"
"No," Dooku responded. "It's there for yours and Anakin's benefit. Training purposes. How does one expect to learn saberplay without some sort of weapon in hand?"
Then what was the interrogation for? Obi-Wan wanted to ask, but knew better than to get snippy with Dooku. The Sith Lord was searching for something. Obi-Wan just hadn't figured it out yet. Best to make an exit to avoid it. "I won't take up anymore of your time," Obi-Wan said to Dooku, bowing as expected, but despised. "I'll be on—"
"Nonsense," Dooku denied Obi-Wan his chance to escape. "I watched you fight off those droids. Seemed like child's play for you. How do you expect to improve if you aren't given any challenges?"
"I added an extra droid," Obi-Wan deadpanned, nudging to the two broken droids pieces.
Dooku didn't even acknowledge it. He lifted his hand and Obi-Wan's staff was ripped from his grip as it flew straight to Dooku's palm. Then, he tossed it aside and unclipped something from his belt. A cold, coalesced matter built up in Obi-Wan's gut.
A lightsaber.
Dooku's dark eyes shimmered as he revealed the lightsaber in his hand. Obi-Wan peered at the lightsaber, noticing the subtle designs. It wasn't as elegant as other lightsabers. Simple and practical. Not at all Dooku's style.
He peered a little closer at the weapon, only to have his blood freeze and eyes widened. It was his lightsaber! Dooku must have stolen it from the Jedi before leaving. And decided to hold it over Obi-Wan.
"I see you recognize this lightsaber," he observed, turning the lightsaber in his hand. "You want it. To strike me down and free yourself." Dooku's grin stretched across his face, humored by thoughts of his murder. "Here."
Dooku tossed the weapon and Obi-Wan instantly caught it. His fingers curled around the hilt, welcoming the familiar grip. But he didn't allow a reprieve to rejoice in the reunion. Obi-Wan's thumb slid over the button and the blue blade shot out, hissing its battle cry.
Dooku didn't even flinch. "Go ahead."
It was a trick. Dooku left himself exposed. Being vulnerable was a sign of weakness and Dooku detested weakness of all sorts. Obi-Wan's eyes shifted around the dojo, searching and feeling for any flares in the Force to use as a warning. He crouched, sliding a step backwards as he surveyed the layout. Was another training droid floating behind him? No, he didn't hear the buzzing sounds of robotics.
Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Except for Dooku's calm, relaxed demeanor. "What are you waiting for boy?" he said. "Isn't this what you wanted? A weapon to strike me down? To free yourself and Skywalker of pain and misery?"
Yes. He did want that. He wanted Dooku dead, or at least, stopped. But Obi-Wan couldn't get shake off the feeling that something wasn't right with the scene. Dooku was taunting him to fight. To strike and kill him.
Obi-Wan slipped another foot back. "What's your game?"
"Game?"
"You want something," Obi-Wan clarified, studying the Force around the Sith Lord, "or to at least prove a point."
Dooku's smile widened. It was the only warning Obi-Wan had before he heard a blare in the Force. Dooku dropped his own lightsaber into his hand and struck near Obi-Wan's face. Obi-Wan blocked, but he quickly spun out of Dooku's war path. The Sith Lord was ferocious in his attacks. Accurate and deadly, his dance left Obi-Wan in a desperate (and sloppily) fight to save himself from injury. He countered all of Dooku's strokes, shoving back to give him space to recuperate and think, but Dooku never let up. No pauses. No hesitations. And Obi-Wan couldn't keep up. Soon, Obi-Wan found himself disarmed and kicked right into his chest that knocked him flat on his back.
Knowing he could not linger on the floor for long, Obi-Wan ready to push himself off only for his face to meet the burning end of Dooku's lightsaber. The lightsaber drew closer and the tip of Obi-Wan's nose burned under the heat. He tilted his head back, moving away from the lightsaber to avoid his face being slashed open. But the lightsaber trailed after until it pinned him back on the floor, under its complete surrender. If Dooku wanted to scar his face forever, there was nothing Obi-Wan could do to prevent him.
Obi-Wan flicked his eyes up from the lightsaber to Dooku's face. Both fixed their glares onto one another, challenging and assessing the other to determine the next step. Obi-Wan determined that, no matter what, he would not look away from Dooku. He would not give the Sith the satisfaction of total submission.
Dooku noted the defiance. Those cruel eyes mocking his hopes and dreams. And that smile. Smooth and knowing like all the control belonged to him. Victory in his hands, Dooku savored Obi-Wan's fall an extra minute before he powered the blade down, leaving a little sunburn on Obi-Wan's nose.
Obi-Wan stayed down only for a second before he was whisked off his feet by invisible binds. Hoisted in the air, he became leveled with Dooku's face, toes barely touching the floor. The Sith Lord took his time assessing him. "You share Qui-Gon's defiance," he stated. "There is anger within you too. Controlled anger."
Obi-Wan did his best to glower at the man. It only made Dooku's smirk wider and crueler. "Good. You completed your first step," he said and he released Obi-Wan from his captivity. Obi-Wan dropped, grateful to have his feet on the floor. Dooku hardly looked at him as he moved away.
"Once you shower," Dooku said, using the Force to collect Obi-Wan's discarded lightsaber back to his hands, "I want to see you in my office."
While the pirates and Jedi sat around to make plans, Padmé played the diligent queen role and visited her guest. Satine was placed in one of the palace's rooms to heal and rest from her escape. Since last night's unexpected meeting, Padmé hadn't seen her. She was informed of her medical updates, but nothing else. She wanted to speak to Satine in person. Once time became available, she knocked on the door and waited for a response. A quiet, but welcoming response was returned.
Padmé entered and found the Duchess of Mandalore propped on her bed, staring wistfully out the scene of waterfalls. It was beautiful view. Padmé never got old of them.
She walked over to Satine's bedside, taking a seat in the available chair. "It's good to see you are awake, Duchess."
Satine drew her eyes away from the waterfalls to Padmé. "Please, call me Satine," she said. "I'm afraid I lost my title as 'Duchess'."
"Not to me," Padmé assured her. "You will always be recognized as the Duchess here on Naboo."
Satine smiled through her exhaustion. "You may be the only one," she said, sighing in longing for the past. "What is happening? Are the Jedi going to rescue Obi-Wan?"
Padmé nodded. "They are working out details with our newfound allies."
"Allies?"
"Pirates."
Satine's brows shot up her forehead. "Are you serious?" she gasped and when Padmé gave her a serious expression, she shuddered. "Pirates! I can't believe it. The Jedi are trusting pirates?"
"This particular pirate owes a life debt to Obi-Wan," Padmé explained. "He is our only hope on getting onto Serenno."
Satine lightly snorted. "There is no honor among pirates. They will stab another behind their back if it meant more money."
"This pirate seems different," Padmé said, but she hardly conveyed that assertion. Even she worried that Hondo may not follow through on his honor if the Siths offered more money. Nonetheless, Padmé kept the hope that the pirates would not betray them.
Satine did not share her optimism. "Then I only wish he does not betray our hope," she said. "We all need it."
Padmé agreed. They were entering dark times. Padmé felt it in her bones. The final stage was being set up, determining the ultimate champion. Padmé wanted their side to win. The galaxy needed them to win. "As long as hope is not lost," she said, "then there is a chance we can win."
"You have great passion, Padmé," Satine noted. "You remind me of myself when I was younger."
Padmé hesitated, unsure if it was meant as a compliment or naivety. "Do you disagree?"
Satine shook her head. "No, of course not. Hope is what kept me going all those years ago when my planet was at war," she said, her awareness clouded by old memories.
Padmé watched the Duchess turned in her bed, fingers nimble as she knotted the bed covers. Her face strained, eyes reddening as water brimmed at the surface. She took unsteady breaths, slow and painful. "I feel like I'm back in that place again. Hiding in a cave. Darkness all around and no light to give any warmth," she murmured. "Such cold nights. Long, cold nights. I thought I would die there. I was prepared to die there.
"But Obi-Wan—that stubborn man!—refused to let me go cold or hungry," she said with a fond smile. "He always offered his servings to me whenever my stomach growled. Gave me his robe every time I shivered. Shielded me when blasters were fired and held me afterward when I cried."
Satine returned to Padmé. "Have you ever been in love Padmé?"
The question threw Padmé off. "Uh… I mean, I love my family. Parents. Sister."
"But have you loved another?"
Padmé shook her head.
"You're lucky," Satine muttered and then, a moment afterward, added, "and also unlucky, I suppose. Love is fickle and deadly. As rulers, we have to put duty above all else. Duty and honor are our true loves. Not another."
Padmé sucked in a deep breath. She understood the strictures and duties of serving ones people. Selfishness was not allowed. One must sacrifice their personal life for their career, and that included any notion of having a marriage or family.
Satine sighed heavily, turning back to the window. "I broke that vow," she confessed to Padmé. "I fell in love with Obi-Wan and he loved me in return. Our love was real and passionate and equal in every way possible. And it was forbidden.
"One may call it a moment of weakness or impurity," Satine continued, waving her hand dismissively as if someone else said them out-loud, "but I am not one. Obi-Wan gave me the hope I needed to keep going, even when all seemed lost. So, on those long, cold nights, in a cave filled with complete darkness, my hope never wavered because I knew I had Obi-Wan standing right beside me."
Her eyes found Padmé's once more. "No matter how dark the moment is, love and hope will find a way," she said, convicted in her words. "The Sith will not have a chance to rise to power. We won't let them."
Padmé understood. A twinge of jealously grew within her, but she smothered it dead. Satine was a lucky woman to have Obi-Wan in her life, to be gifted with good-hearted feelings. It didn't matter wherever Satine was, she always knew she had Obi-Wan. Padmé wished for the same. Maybe one day, she might experience the same love Satine and Obi-Wan have for one another. Yes, maybe one day she will have someone at her side even when the galaxy fell apart.
"Yes, you're right," Padmé said after a quiet reflection. "We won't let the Sith tear the galaxy apart and destroy our friends." She clasped a hand over Satine's hand, initiating a promise between them. "It's time we return the favor."
Satine smiled and squeezed back. "Never underestimate the power of a woman who knows what she wants."
"Never," Padmé agreed and she slipped her hand from Satine's. She rose from her seat. "I should let you rest. The healers say you need another ten hours to purge out the last bit toxins from your body."
Padmé bid Satine a good bye and well-wishes. She left the room and informed the healers to report to her if anything went wrong. Then she retreated to her throne room, where she sat and quietly debated. It felt like it was days ago that her and her council sat in the room to debate Naboo's involvement in the upcoming battle.
The council already came to a conclusion, but Padmé's heart had not. It warred over the two sides, each arguing on its behalf. Yet, Padme already knew which side she chose. Amidala may not agree, but Padmé wasn't answering on her behalf nor was she fighting for her either.
She got up from her throne and marched to her chambers. She passed Sab é on her way out. "Come with me," she said. "There is work to be done."
Dooku stared at the board before him, satisfied by the development. He took a quick glimpse across, spying on Kenobi in deep concentration. The young man sat in his chair, hunched over as he pondered his next move. An hour came and went. No words passed between them. Only pieces.
Despite being in the dead of night, neither Dooku nor Obi-Wan appeared any less exhausted. Not surprising considering they were both insomniacs. Night was their day, unlike Qui-Gon who loved early mornings. The night was one thing Kenobi and he shared between themselves. That and a good game of dejarik with a glass of wine.
Kenobi took a breath and reached a hand for his Ghhk piece. He moved it across and up next to Dooku's own Ng'ok.
Dooku hummed. An unprecedented move. Not a very smart move. Dooku could now easily crush Kenobi and send his army off the board. "Interesting play," he purred, raising a silver brow to Kenobi. "I wonder, though, if you have thought it through."
Kenobi didn't even acknowledge his words. He kept his eyes on the board, indifferent. "I'll improvise when needed," was all Kenobi said.
Dooku huffed just short of a chuckle. He was going to enjoy his victory. He moved his Ng'ok accordingly, striking down Kenobi's Ghhk and Kintan strider, and sending them straight off the board with a simple wave of the Force. "Disappointing," he murmured and he was honest. He thought Kenobi would do better.
Kenobi, however, only grinned. "I imagine so."
Kenobi moved his own Ng'ok into position, left empty and vulnerable by Dooku's previous attack on the Kenobi's pawn. Dooku watched as Kenobi pushed his piece into place. A smug, victorious smile bloomed on Kenobi's face as his Ng'ok piece declared the territory as his.
The Sith Lord growled low as he came to the dawning realization that he had been played. Dooku searched the board for any play that would override Kenobi's placement, but nothing helped him in one move. The game was certainly leaning to Kenobi's victory.
Dooku dark eyes flipped to him. "Ah—so you have kept in mind what I've taught you years ago."
Kenobi cringed.
"Still sore from the past," Dooku deducted from Obi-Wan's silence. He pressed his pawn onward. "It is a vital lesson one must learn the hard way."
Dooku insured the young man never forgot those lessons. When Kenobi reached his rebellious adolescent stage, Dooku had to stomp out the fire before it reached a certain level of fury. One of these moments included when he and Kenobi got into a heated argument about the importance of sacrifices. Dooku claimed that not all lives were important and thus, not needed saving. Kenobi thought differently and argued on the behalf of the lesser individuals. Dooku squashed that notion out of the boy by throwing him into situations that required him to pick one over another until Kenobi subdued in his arguments.
Kenobi's defiance, however, seemed to have return in the years he was on the run. "There are better ways to learn than through pain."
"Of course," Dooku said, "but only the deepest pain empowers us to grow into our highest self."
Kenobi frowned. "That's not a good enough excuse to abuse a person."
"I need no excuse nor was it abuse," Dooku countered. "I trained you in realistic ways so that you were better prepared for the galaxy's harsh lifestyles rather than the ideologies the Order prescribed to their youths. You have become the very man you are today because of my teachings."
Kenobi crossed his arms. "I am the man I am today because of the hope I carry," he countered. "Not from your teachings." The young man shoved his next piece into a new position.
Dooku surveyed Kenobi with contempt. He should be grateful! Dooku spared his life and took it upon himself to train Kenobi when he was a boy. That alone was a great honor. An honor the boy did his best to disrespect. Yet, Kenobi's attempts to disregard all of Dooku's teachings failed. His lessons resonated deep within the young man. Dooku already took note of the techniques and manners Kenobi displayed, all pointing to the qualities Dooku instilled in him as a boy.
"Hope? Hope does nothing than inflate one's dreams into oblivion," Dooku dismissed Kenobi's statement, "Hope didn't give you the necessary skills to keep you and Skywalker alive from bounty hunters or Jedi," Dooku studied the board and moved a piece. "I did. I instructed you on how to survive and fight. You're only alive because of me. Otherwise, you would have died within days on your own. And Skywalker too."
Kenobi's eyes narrowed. "I'm alive because I refused to give up."
"You're alive because I allow it."
"And why do you?" Kenobi inquired. It was obvious that Dooku held a degree of acrimony against him long before he ran away. "You have Anakin. There is no need to keep me alive or at least, comfortable." Kenobi gestured to the expensive attire and the glass of wine he's left untouched. "Others have been killed for far less than what I have done. So—why do you allow me to live?"
Dooku's elegant hands picked the stem of his wine glass. He didn't take a drink. He cagily observed Kenobi over the rim, thinking again of how different the young man had become. He turned into the very man Dooku wanted and needed.
He finally took his drink and returned the glass to the table. His eyes never lifting from Kenobi's stern face. "You're quite right. I have killed men for far less, but none of them were of great importance," he said. "None of them were going to shape the galaxy."
Kenobi stifled a snort of incredibility. "If I recall correctly, you never thought very much of me."
"Times change. People change."
"But not you," Kenobi turned back to the game and moved his piece. It took out one of Dooku's strongholds, solidifying his victory. Kenobi, however, didn't smug in his victory for the true battle wasn't the board itself. It was the battle of wits playing this very moment. "You always wanted to rule the galaxy and wipe out the Jedi Order. That has never changed.
"Living here, I always wondered what my purpose was," continued Kenobi. "Why did you and Qui-Gon keep me? It baffled me considering it was blatantly obvious I had no desire to join your fight. It wasn't until I met Anakin that I realized what I was supposed to do with my life."
Dooku nodded. He too didn't consider Kenobi to be of any value until he met Skywalker. That was when all the questionable pieces fit into the puzzle. "Your place in the galaxy wasn't clear at the beginning," he agreed, "but it became apparent soon enough. That is why you are alive. You are needed in this upcoming war. I have foreseen it as did others."
Kenobi caustically raised his brows. "You plan to use Anakin and I as weapons then? Your attack dogs?"
"You?" Dooku darkly chuckled as his lips curled into his enigmatic smile. "No. You aren't nearly as powerful as Skywalker."
It was a scoring hit on Kenobi's self-worth, but the young man shrugged it off. "Then I am merely a bargaining chip for Anakin?"
"In a way, but no."
"What does that mean?"
Dooku regarded him, staring down his aristocratic nose at the young man. "To quote another—a weapon is useless on its own," he said, his inflection edged with irony. "It needs a soldier."
Kenobi went still. Dooku drew in Kenobi's fear, feeding his ego and dominance over Kenobi. He may have lost the silly game, but won the true battle between them. "Skywalker is our chosen weapon," he continued, eyeing the young man in morbid delight, "and you—the soldier."
Kenobi shoved his chair back when he shot to his feet. He was shaking. From fear or anger, it did not matter to Dooku. He got the young man where he wanted. But Kenobi refused to surrender. He shook his head. His throat tightened. "I won't do it."
"Really?" jeered Dooku, folding his hands on his lap. "May I remind you that you already swore an oath to serve us?"
The young man's face twisted in disgust upon remembering that forsaken vow he did to save his lover. He folded his arms, his hands hugging his sides. "Qui-Gon never said..."
Dooku inwardly groaned. He told Qui-Gon multiple times that he was being far too lenient with Kenobi. They needed a tough, disciplined apprentice. A follower who would obey their every command. But Qui-Gon kept babying him and indulging Kenobi with false hopes. It took Dooku a great amount of time to cultivate Kenobi into the rigid figure he needed. "Qui-Gon is well aware of your status," he brushed aside Kenobi's rebuttal. "At the very beginning, he assured me that you would be a great asset to our cause. He wasn't wrong. Your potential needs refinement, but a few lessons will sort that out quick enough."
Kenobi's hands grabbed the edge of the table. He leaned in, eyes fixed on Dooku in cold fury. "I will never—"
"You will do whatever we command you to do," snapped Dooku. He rose to his feet in a single, fluid movement, towering over Kenobi. "If you need motivation, I know a handful of candidates who will be the perfect specimen to help us figure out the much pain a being can bare before death. Maybe I'll have your duchess be our first?"
Shoulders squared and chin tilted upward, Kenobi's eyes burned as he glared across the board. They faced off. The Force thundering around them like a pair of drums, beating into the vast abyss. They stood for what seemed like hours, but only a minute passed before the bravado faded. Kenobi's eyes faltered, casting downwards in acknowledgment that he lost. Dooku revered the surrender, straightening his shoulders back as he basked in his glory.
"Good. You're learning already," Dooku said and he gestured to the door. The door opened and Kenobi's guards entered. "Return him to his chambers and see to it that he does not try to leave the rest of the night."
The droids obeyed, marching over and with their weapons, forced Kenobi to comply. Kenobi didn't resist. With one last disdainful look, Kenobi strode out of the room.
The door closed and Dooku returned to his seat and his wine. He chuckled as he sipped his drink. How odd that a scrawny, awkward boy became a confidant, sharp man. Years ago, Dooku never cared for him. Kenobi was an indulgence for Qui-Gon. Otherwise, Qui-Gon wouldn't join him and his old apprentice was adamant on keeping the boy. He swore Kenobi would be valuable to them in the future. Dooku doubted, but then Kenobi showed his resilience and tenacity, traits Dooku admired and he soon understood what Qui-Gon saw in the boy. And then, Qui-Gon proved right again when it became apparent that the Chosen One developed a Force bond with Kenobi upon their first meeting.
Obi-Wan Kenobi was going to be a great soldier for the upcoming war. Dooku already foreseen it. With Kenobi and Skywalker, Dooku would be unstoppable and crush the Republic and Jedi Order once and for all.