Note: Half a year, has it been? If anyone is reading, let me know and I'll update. If not, I'll wait until I've written more and update. No ultimatum there ;)
4. Into the Fire, aka Sarin's Fall
There was a soft buzzing all around her, the darkness performing dervishes under her eyelids
There was a soft buzzing all around her, the darkness performing dervishes under her eyelids. Sarin groaned. The light was far too bright, that sterile white luminescence she associated with medical centers and the smell of kolto. The ceiling floated into focus, some sort of titanium tile. Expensive. She was in a small room, lying on a bunk opposite a droid and a whole tank of kolto. The compact setup looked suspiciously like a ship's medical bay. The med-droid whirred, rolled over to her, withdrew a sinister-looking needle, and injected something into her arm. Sarin tried to flinch away, and found she couldn't.
Her wrists and ankles were bound down to the bunk by some sort of magnetic field emanating from the metal wire. A suspicious prickling at the back of her neck alerted her to a Force-suppressing collar. Trapped and helpless. She swore in the dirtiest Mandalorian she knew. Somewhat redundantly since she knew very little. The injection had cleared her head somewhat. Now that she was awake, she saw that the droid had cleaned her thoroughly of the blood and grit. Her head and side were bandaged tightly, and she was clad in loose grey pants and tunic. And thoroughly confused.
The door slid open. Sarin caught a glimpse of a metal corridor before Count Dooku strode into the Med Bay. He was sporting a new cloak, and carried his left arm gingerly close to his side.
"Kind of you to heal me up, Count. Do you plan on holding me hostage?" asked Sarin, as chirpily as she could.
"I see you are awake," said Dooku, striding to examine a screen monitoring some sort of fluctuating wavelength, his back to her. He turned and considered Sarin. "As much good as taking an insignificant Jedi hostage would undoubtedly bring me, I find myself in the uncomfortable position of having to return you the courtesy of saving my life."
"So why the collar?"
"Simply precautionary measures," Dooku said wryly. "I trust you will not grudge my caution."
"Wouldn't dream of it. So now you're going to drop me off at Coruscant before one of your big rallies? Maybe give a speech to the Senate while you're stopping by?"
"The Republic would not tolerate my presence anywhere near its institutions. They do not condone freedom of expression as the Confederacy does. A pity for you."
Dooku considered Sarin, frowned, then raised a hand and ran two fingers firmly along her jawbone. Sarin flinched, purple bruise smarting.
"More kolto, perhaps? I never did catch your name, m'lady."
"Jedi Knight Sarin Silvern, apprentice to Master Windu. Will you need the spelling for your ransom note?"
"Sarin," said Dooku, ignoring her quips, "I have a proposition for you."
"If this is the 'join me or die' part, can we try to compromise? I-all right!" Dooku had pressed his fingers cruelly into the discolored skin. The left side of Sarin's face was on fire.
"I am not unreasonable," he smiled. "From what I saw of your skill, I may be capable of improving your affinity with the Force. If you rally behind my cause, you may find in me a knowledgeable teacher. You believe in the Confederacy. You displayed your true loyalties on Geonosis. Consider carefully, m'lady."
"My Master is Mace Windu," Sarin retorted defiantly.
"An old friend. He is limited by his inability to see beyond the Council's arrogance. Have you never wished to weigh both sides of the spectrum, to balance your Force abilities? You will never achieve your full potential limited to one philosophy. You may choose to join me, as you yourself proposed, or you may remain a political detainee indefinitely here on my ship. We are two standard days from Null. I expect you to make your decision by then, m'lady. If you do not join me, I do hope you find that collar comfortable."
He walked back over to the console, tapped a switch. Sarin felt the collar tingling before the mild paralysis set in. He turned back to her and added, as an afterthought.
"Your Jedi friend stole one of my ships. He is currently nearing the gravitational field of Nar Shaddaa. I have a tracking device installed on that ship, and a rather efficient safeguard against thieves. Pity it renders the ship useless."
Sarin's muffled protests sounded about as articulate as a Gamorrean's grunts.
"Perhaps I could be persuaded to reconsider and make concessions, should you prove agreeable."
He arched an eyebrow. Sarin really needed to learn a more original trick.
The medical droid whirred beside her head. The hyperdrive hummed. They were streaking through space, light-years from Coruscant and the Council. Time passed in spurts as Sarin drowsed and debated, the droid injecting sedatives and kolto by turn.
The head of the Separatist movement had just offered Sarin the chance of a lifetime. The Council had not once debated letting her join. Dooku was offering her a right-hand position. Apprentice to the Head of State. The Confederacy had the potential to renew the stagnant Republic. Dooku's ideals seemed in check. Sarin hovered, uncertain, for hours. The droid informed her when one day had passed.
"Can you call your master?" Sarin asked the droid, "And how about some water, hmm?" she read off the computer, "M4-D2, is it."
Apparently the droid could transmit messages. Count Dooku didn't rush to her side, but he did stop by some time later.
"I hope you are faring well," he commented, "Once you make up your mind, I'm sure my droid will find it much easier to serve you."
Sarin swallowed several times before she could force her dry lips to form the words, all the while staring at Dooku's boots. "I'll humor you, my lord."
"Excellent. I thought you'd see reason. But there is no need for such formalities from my servants," his lip curved. "Master will do.
"M4, give our guest some water. You will excuse me, Sarin, if I leave you to the ministrations of my droid. We must look after your health, after all."
Between Dooku's smug dismissal and the restraints still imposed on her, Sarin felt very much like she had just sold her soul to the devil.
At least the water was cool.
Dooku lived up to his word eventually. An hour before their landing Sarin was released and escorted by the droid. The ship was as extravagant as she had first guessed. For one, it was carpeted. Beyond exotic for a transport. She caught a glimpse of a large study rimmed with shelves of datapads and numerous computers, a portable library of galactic lore. The cargo hold was stocked excessively, and there was even a set of escape pods. Sarin didn't doubt that the ship's shields and weaponry were optimized to be the best credits could buy.
M4 led her past these rooms onto the bridge. It was compact, as the rest of the ship, but luxurious. Dooku was silhouetted against the immense window which sprawled the circular room, offering them a view of the stars and planets they were passing. The droid sidled off on its wheels, and Sarin approached Dooku.
"We will soon dock at my private retreat on Null," he informed her. "I shall then dedicate some effort to instruct you in the Confederacy's aims and methods."
"You'll teach me the way of the Ysalamiri?"
Dooku glanced at Sarin. "Such eager ambition. You shall address me as Darth Tyranus or Master. As for the second Form, I shall see how well you progress in your other learning among my acolytes. The skills of verbal persuasion are oft more critical for a politician. Conversion is much more effective, and ethical, than slaughter, wouldn't you agree?"
"Yes, Master," said Sarin ironically.
They stood in silence as Null grew out of the darkness before them. The mountains and forests became more pronounced when they entered the atmosphere through billowy lime-white clouds. They descended smoothly beside a towering castle, its grey spires blending into the foliage. It was a cool, green-tinted night when they landed in a dock hidden from view behind a cliff face, through a shield disguising itself as a waterfall.
A crowd of dark-robed acolytes and natives, the humanoid Nulls, all bowed low before Dooku and Sarin who strode off the ramp a step behind him. Sarin felt a strange thrill at their subservience. Dooku looked pleased. He gave her a once-over and beckoned to the most important-looking acolyte, whispering orders. Then he addressed the vast chamber. Standing on the ramp above the crowd of followers, Sarin felt the charisma radiating off Count Dooku. She wondered bleakly as he announced Geonosian progress, thwarting Jedi spy plots, and his newly converted Jedi. Most of the Separatists bowed to her, but she noted a few dark glances from greener acolytes.
After addressing the room, Dooku walked through into the castle. The crowd parted before him. Sarin followed.
The architecture hadn't seemed like much from space, but the detail was exquisite. The spires were woven of ornate masonry, silvered rococo reliefs of strange creatures and scenes. A gargoyle perched on the roof, then twitched. Ugly. Sarin wondered if it was a native creature. A wide stair led them into the rich interior, dimly lit marble floors and a ceiling that stretched to the tip of the spire, where hung a luminescent ball of light. Balconies spiraled up along the walls, offering glimpses of at least a dozen separate floors, looking down on the hall, overarching, balustrade-railed, imposing. Sarin made to follow Dooku, but the robed figure with whom Dooku had spoken intercepted her.
"Darth Tyranus requests we accommodate you." The creature's voice was hoarse. Sarin caught a glimpse of a masked face and a yellow eye beneath the cowl.
"Accommodate me?"
"Show you your quarters and instruct you in behavior befitting your status."
Sarin definitely heard a sneer in there, mixed with the gravel and spite.
"Delightful. Lead on."
Actually, she was surprised they hadn't tested her somehow. The Council had always gone on about the ruthless tests and vigorous training of the Sith. She doubted saving their leader would spare her their wrath for long. He probably considered his debt repaid by bringing her here, to this Sith-infested planet on the edge of space.
Her guide had led her up numerous staircases and into a vast training hall. The marble floor was laid out as an arena here, workbenches lining the walls. A dozen or so acolytes were sitting and tweaking fusioncutters and what looked like proto-sabers. She was led further, and through a door to what was a warped image of her own room in the Jedi temple. Except there was more space. A fresher door beyond a workbench. A bare bunk.
"You shall commence training tomorrow. You will ascend only by your own merit. You will rise at the third moonrise, dress, and report to the training hall." The creature gestured emphatically toward the wardrobe, voice laden with gritty disdain.
"Third moonrise?"
"The yellow one," the acolyte smiled, displaying some sharp teeth. When the creature left, Sarin approached the wardrobe to find several pairs of black acolyte robes and hoods. She walked over to the window. The night glistened green in dim lime-grey mist which had encompassed the planet, jungle covering a mounting, rocky landscape split by gushing rivers and stretching to a range of mountains and out of sight. She grimaced. All three moons hung low in the sky, each a shade of yellow.