Dooku strode quickly out of the Jedi Temple, unburdened by his last tie to that fading Order and yet shattered by the finality of it. A lifetime of friendships, of camaraderie, of shared adventures. Gone. A way of life, of serving beings throughout the galaxy. Deserted. A path to understanding the mysteries of the Force. Abandoned.
Now, he was a disciple of the dark side of the Force. Proud. Strong. Merciless. Never to return to the light. To know its comforting, healing rays. NO! Dooku would not let himself backtrack. Would not let his mind dwell on the past. Would focus only on the task at hand. Impassioned. Unfettered. Victorious. The Jedi must be destroyed. And he would be the instrument of their destruction. NOW!
Upon his return to the Surgical Reconstruction Center, he ran to the death arena and unleashed his fury on wave after wave of training remotes, battle droids, and slave warriors. Dooku used shards of transparisteel, duracrete, or any other sharp or blunt material lying about in the death arena to rip them apart, then finished off the strongest of them with his lightsaber. Palpatine's hideous grin spread over his face as he watched Dooku's mindless rage being ventilated on each and every target. As he watched Dooku shred his forbidden attachments to the Jedi with his hatred.
In a matter of hours, Dooku had laid waste to the entire training armamentary that Sidious had collected over his months as Chancellor of the Republic. Sidious's cackles echoed through the shadowy chamber as he told Dooku how good it was to see him use his aggressive feelings. Dooku merely slumped down and doubled over against a wall, perspiration coating every inch of his skin, making his dark but dapper clothing cling to his aged skin. He had nothing left inside, could not utter even a grunt in response. His body gasped for oxygen, his lungs swelled and shriveled in their desperate efforts to exchange air with the environment. But at last, Dooku's mind was empty. At last, he knew peace.
For Dooku had finally experienced the the cleansing power of unadulterated hatred rushing through him. Just as Sidious had told him, it focused him, made him stronger. It brought clarity to his mind, made plain the purpose of each strike. He saw every single being, droid, and object around him. He perceived exactly what they were going to do. He anticipated their movements as if they were dancing an elaborate but predetermined choreography. He could turn that choreography against them, leading some of them to their own doom before Dooku had to do a single thing to them.
And Dooku's vision about the destruction of the Jedi Order attained further clarity. He now saw the instruments of their demise, marching in phalanxes of white and black armor. Dispersed across the galaxy on thousands of battlefronts. Surrounded by droid parts and carcasses. Orange explosions with black smoke billows reflected from their visors. If only he could see under their helmets...
It all started, inexorably, with the actions of a single Jedi. But there was no way Sifo-Dyas would be persuaded now. Not through ordinary channels, anyway. Not since Dooku stormed out of the Jedi Council chambers. No, Dooku's dark ingenuity was put to a first diabolical test. He had to consider the ways in which his Jedi and Sith training could help him gain control over Sifo-Dyas. Only then could Dooku set his plan in motion so that the ruin of the Jedi could never be traced back to Dooku. Or the Sith.
So after Dooku straightened up, wicked the perspiration from himself, and returned to his dank Sith quarters to change and meditate, he crafted an encrypted, coded message for Sifo-Dyas. In it, Dooku abjectly apologized for his treatment of his old friend during their last meeting. He nearly groveled with obsequious platitudes regarding how he treasured their friendship, despite his resignation from the Jedi Order. He blatantly lied that he had to leave the Jedi because of pressures being exerted on him within and without the Order. Dooku ended the message with a plea for Sifo-Dyas to meet him at the Galactic Museum to reestablish their friendly ties, supplicating Sifo-Dyas to help him regain his mental footing in those chaotic times. Dooku laughed softly to himself as he pressed a button to send his message, baiting his trap for the Jedi.
Sifo-Dyas received the message during his routine comm check six hours later. His first shock was the identity of the sender of the message – from what Master Windu had told him, Dooku had completely severed all ties with the Jedi. Sifo-Dyas was not entirely surprised at that turn of events; he had wondered whether Dooku would be able to stay the course in the Jedi order since their last meeting. Nevertheless, he was disheartened when he heard nothing at all from Dooku – no visits, no communiques, no second-hand messages delivered from mutual friends.
And now, after all these months, a single message, with such complex encryption that Sifo-Dyas's terminal required several minutes just to decode it. The second shock around the message was that it was only text – he had been certain that Dooku would have transmitted a video message with such intense decoding requirements. It raised klaxons in Sifo-Dyas's mind – why would Dooku go to such length to keep the message contents secure?
The third and final shock was the sycophantic tone of Dooku's message. Never had Dooku seemed so desperate to make amends with him; then again, never had Dooku sent Force lightning coursing through his body. However, there was a desperation to Dooku's tone that Sifo-Dyas had never seen before. Something that seemed utterly foreign to Dooku's otherwise refined, regal bearing. It was congruent with how unbalanced Dooku's mind was during their last meeting. Nevertheless, it seemed inconsistent with the reasoned but vitriolic denunciation of the Jedi less than a day ago that Master Windu had detailed.
Sifo-Dyas was left with a terrible conundrum that the Living Force was no help in solving. Too many conflicting thoughts caromed through his head, which were accompanied by equally conflicting currents in the Living Force. Hours of meditation did not help him achieve a clearer vision of these currents. And the Unifying Force was clouded by the same dark eddies that Dooku had been so insistent on fighting during their last meeting. His Force sense was impotent, and if he made a decision on his own, he would have to use his own faculties to do it.
He recognized that he could bring the message to the Jedi Council to help him decide what to do about it. There was nothing in Dooku's message that forbade Sifo-Dyas from bringing it to the Council's attention; surely, given recent events, the Council would be eager to read it. But if Dooku had meant for his concerns to be brought to the Council's attention, would he have not done so in his meeting with them? Especially with as drastic an action as Dooku took – leaving the Jedi Order altogether, rather than struggling with it – in it – to combat the darkness threatening the stability of the Republic.
Sifo-Dyas made a decision guided by his instincts, the feeling he had about Dooku's plight in his gut. He resolved that no matter how erratic his friend's behavior had been recently, he had to come to Dooku's aid. He reasoned that Dooku's servile importunateness resulted from his consternation about a matter too severe for the Jedi to handle as an order. Perhaps Dooku's researches had finally borne fruit that the Jedi Council was not willing to consider. Perhaps Sifo-Dyas's intimate knowledge of Dooku's methods and findings gave Dooku the framework he needed to share them. Yes, Sifo-Dyas would go to Dooku's aid. He would protect his friend, perhaps even bring him back to the Order.
Sifo-Dyas cast his die for Dooku. The bait was taken. The trap was slamming shut.