Thank you Ann Jinn. Kaelir of Lorien - You are right. Thanks for the careful reading
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Lights flickered on automatically as he stepped out onto the deserted terrace. Dooku waived them off impatiently. He preferred the darkness, there was nothing here to see but fountains and flowers. Had he been in the mood for pleasant scenery his personal preference would have run more toward the magnificent view of the glimmering cityscape, distant and perfect, far below in the valley.
He stood looking out for some time, so deep in his own thoughts that the lightest touch on his cheek startled him out of his brooding stupor. Glow moths. Their tiny insect song and soft whisper motion of their wings suddenly loud in his ear as they swarmed past him, drawn toward the warmth and light of the reception from which he had fled. Dooku had no such inclination. He moved a step further, out of the light into the shadow, the muted talk and laugher from the party inside followed him.
Dooku released a slow breath of uncharacteristic frustration. Inside, Taylar was in top form, full of flattery and sympathy, wit and good humor, flitting about the room from group to group just like one of these damnable insects. Try as he might, Dooku could not get the man alone.
The solution his dilemma was simple, of course. And it was under that pretence that Dooku had come away from the light and laughter to this dark corner.
He looked down at the comlink in his hand and hesitated. It really was a simple matter. The distance to Coruscant was not so great, he could know the truth of the matter in moments. He had but to ask and his former apprentice would willingly tell him everything. Qui-Gon had never denied his master anything that was within his power to give. It was just that it had been a long time.
Far too long, Dooku admitted with a sigh.
And how did one begin that conversation.
It has come to my attention that you've been in a bit of trouble lately. Come Padawan, the truth now, were you really responsible for the near destruction of the Temple?
But in all truth, he knew that this was not the real issue. Dooku was no more afraid of a few awkward moments than he was of losing a light saber duel to an initiate. No lack of proper words had ever stood between him and his padawan.
No, it was not the words that Dooku dreaded, it was something else. A subtlety so fine it should have been lost within the intricacies of interstellar communication. But it was there, broken down into parts, hurtled across the galaxy and perfectly recreated in the re-synthesized voice of his apprentice, and Dooku always recognized it immediately even though it was a quality he had never thought to connect to himself. Defeat.
That bastard, Xanatos!
With an effort, he quelled some rather un-Jedi-like emotions, and brought his thoughts into focus. He would not go down that road tonight.
Dooku glanced back inside, if anything the crowd around Taylar had grown.
There were other Jedi he could go to for answers. His own former master, Master Yoda, or his friend, Mace Windu both would readily and easily talk to him. But still he hesitated.
After a long moment, he keyed on his com and entered his identification code followed by another series of numbers.
The connection was instant, though no shimmering holographic form appeared before him in the darkness. This communication was strictly audio. There was no reason for a visual, the Temple's assignment system was completely automated. With the proper access codes, the system gave the current status of all Jedi knights. When prompted, Dooku entered the code for Qui-Gon Jinn, it was a long code, but his fingers moved with a deft familiarity across the keypad.
A beat and then confirmation. Active - On assignment. A small green light flashing on screen confirmed the same information.
He closed the link, feeling slightly ridiculous, it was invariably the same. It was true that on a handful of occasions he had felt a sort of hollow justification at the unexpected blink of an anemic yellow alert light. Inactive. Usually followed by contact coordinates for the healer's ward in the Jedi Temple. But these rare occurrences could be measured in the space of days. Or nights, passed with interminable slowness in some far corner of the galaxy.
Entering another code would have allowed Dooku to leave a message or if possible, convey the coordinates necessary for contacting the knight in question. He never did.
With smooth swiftness, he pocketed his comlink and turned toward the door just as the terrace was flooded with unwelcome light.
A shining silver droid stepped outside, carrying a tray of drinks. Its stuttering movements and round visual receptors gave it the appearance of uncertainty. When it caught sight of him, its head tilted slightly to one side, increasing the effect.
"Might I offer you some refreshment, Master Jedi?"
Dooku opened his mouth to politely decline, but was cut off by a familiar voice.
"No, no, no, the master Jedi wants no part of that kdak slime you are serving. Now be off with you, back to the other guests. You are not wanted here."
Senator Taylar brushed past the droid and gave a disparaging look to the tray of brightly hued beverages that the droid politely held up for his inspection. He carefully lifted a rather sticky looking pink beverage and gave an elegant shudder of disgust. "You would do well to serve that to the Honorary Second Jurist's first wife. It will go quite nicely with that disaster of pink confection she is wearing."
Taylar watched the droid shuffle back inside then turned toward Dooku, his face flush with pleasure and his dark eyes sparkling with an emotion Dooku could not quite identify. He wondered if the man was intoxicated, either from drink or something else entirely.
"You must join me in a drink and I promise you this one is well worth drinking." With a flourish, he produced an expensive looking metal flagon covered with intricate carvings and topped with a stamped air-lock seal. From another source under his stylish many-layered short cape, he produced two cut crystal glasses.
"Unless I am interrupting something important?" Taylar feigned a look around although he could plainly see that the master Jedi was alone.
"Of course not, Senator."
With a self satisfied look on his face, Taylar broke the seal on the container with elaborate care, poured out the lovely amber colored liquor and offered a glass to Dooku. The Jedi master accepted it graciously despite his misgivings.
"A toast then," the senator lifted his glass, smiling appreciatively at the glowing amber liquor. "To peace."
"To peace." Dooku raised his glass slightly then lowered it, contemplatively breathing in the volatile complexity of a very fine Corellian Brandy. He waited. He knew the senator was not finished.
"And to the Jedi, may their wisdom guide us and their strength protect us for many generations to come."
Dooku merely tilted his head in slight acknowledgement and drank.
"And to Qui-Gon Jinn, savior of the Jedi Order and protector of the Republic."
It was not a bad brandy. True, the sharp acidity cutting through the subtle sweetness was a merit only a sophisticated palate could fittingly appreciate, but this was a taste Dooku had cultivated long ago. It should have gone down smoothly, not stalled and curdled in his throat, sending hot prickly fumes up his nasal passages, constricting his airway and making his eyes water.
A lesser man might have choked or quite possibly even have spewed a mouthful of the expensive liquid all over his companion's even more expensive clothes, but if his years as a Jedi had taught Dooku nothing else they had taught him to breathe. A steady inhale to quell the muscle spasms in his throat, a thorough exhale to dissipate the fumes, it seemed an eternity before he could trust his voice to speak.
Still, his voice sounded weak to his own ears, or maybe it was just the words he was surprised to hear out of his own mouth. "I fear I am somewhat ignorant of recent events on Coruscant. There have been other matters that have required my attention of late."
The last bit almost refused to come out, this time it was the humble words that caught in his throat. Another breath, "Perhaps you would be good enough to tell me what you know."
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