The old year passed into the new in a surprisingly smooth manner; just when the Republic began to realize the enormity of the danger that it had been in, under the rule of a Sith Lord, Senator Amidala was hastily elected to the recently vacated position, and society was gently put to ease again, like a child awoken in the middle of the night and soothed back to sleep. Ferus at last became a Knight, about which Anakin was very pleased, and Anakin himself became extremely busy.
He was not the only one, either—while the Republic slumbered, blissfully unaware of the fate it had escaped, all the Jedi were working furiously to undo Palpatine's damage and continue with their normal duties at the same time. The most pressing problem on the Council's collective mind, however, was neither of these things. Probably Anakin would have never known this, for they betrayed it to very few, had Master Windu not come to his door one morning.
A short time ago, about a month after anything out of the ordinary had occurred, Anakin had knocked on his Master's door very early in the morning while Windu was meditating, desperate to discuss what he considered to be a very disturbing matter. It was interesting to note that the scenario had changed very little since that time: nothing especial had come to pass in the month since Anakin's trial at the Senate, and the discussion that was to take place very soon was on the same topic of which they had spoken before. The only differences were that this time, it was Windu who came to Anakin, and that his former Padawan was not deep in meditation of the living Force, but sprawled facedown on his sofa, sleeping peacefully.
As soon as he heard Windu's knock, Anakin jerked awake and pushed himself up off the couch. Little lines streaked across his face from the upholstery, a shallow mirroring of the thin, prominent scar beside his right eye that he had borne for over a month now. Anakin hastened to open the door, and frowned in confusion when he saw who it was.
"Master, what is it?" he asked. The barely unspoken question on his lips was, "And couldn't it wait until later?"
Windu made a small gesture toward Anakin's so recently vacated couch. "May I come in?" he asked. Anakin quickly stepped aside, and Windu entered to sit down on the sofa. Sitting beside him, Anakin repeated his question. He had been the apprentice of Mace Windu long enough to know when something was important.
Windu got straight to the point. "Anakin," he said, "have you ever heard the basic principle of the Sith?"
Anakin threw his somewhat dazed mind back in attempted remembrance. "Turn your fear to anger?" he guessed. He thought he recalled hearing the barbaric tenet somewhere, and thought it fit the Sith nicely. Windu gave a conceding shrug.
"Technically, yes, I suppose you're correct," he said. "But that is their principle for themselves, something that they constantly choose to remember. We, on the other hand, choose to remember something else about them, something that is just as deeply important to us as their only adversaries."
Anakin's brain was beginning to clear, but he still wished that Windu would hold off with the riddles for a few more minutes. "I guess I haven't heard it, then, Master," he admitted.
"I'm sure you have," Windu said, watching his face. "The answer I was looking for is, 'There are always two—a Master and an apprentice.'"
Instantly, Anakin knew his Master had been right. He did remember that—he remembered everything about that night. There was Obi-Wan beside him, his faint blue eyes never turning from his Master's body, and across from the two of them, Anakin had heard Yoda speaking to Windu in low tones.
"Always two, there are," he had murmured. "A Master and an apprentice."
Anakin remembered Windu's answer, as well, and he choked. "Do you think that Palpatine trained that—that thing that killed Qui-Gon?" he asked, although he thought he already knew the answer. Windu nodded.
"We think it's safe to assume that Count Dooku is—was his apprentice after that. However, now that Palpatine is dead, Dooku is the Master. It is extremely important," Windu pressed, "that we find Dooku before he is able to sufficiently train an apprentice. The problem with that is, of course, that no one has seen the Count since you and Obi-Wan battled him at the Battle of Geonosis."
"You want me to find him?" Anakin asked.
"Yes—and no." As his former Padawan sat, trying to work his way through this, Windu leaned forward and elaborated. "Anakin," he said, "how many visions have you had so far?"
"Two," Anakin answered, frowning. "You know that." Before Windu could speak again, Anakin anticipated him. "Master, I don't think I can do it," he protested. "They're not that sort of visions—I mean, they've all been in the future so far. I couldn't tell you where he is now. And anyway, I've only had two, and I've never been able to control them."
"Anakin, Anakin—" Windu held up a hand to stem the flow of objection. He looked almost amused at Anakin's alarm. "The Council has discussed this, and we feel that such a gift should be put into practice for the Jedi Order."
"But I can't!" Anakin repeated fervently, deciding not to press the point that his 'gift' had certainly already been useful.
"Anakin," Windu said again, "I understand that this will certainly be difficult for you. I also understand that you may quite easily fail. This is a very important matter, but no one will be angry if you don't succeed. It may be that we expect far too much of you."
Feeling very doubtful, Anakin shook his head, but said, "I'll do my best, Master."
Windu left, and Anakin leaned back into the couch. Half of him was wishing that he could just go back to sleep, and the other was submerged in helplessness. Sinking his head into a hand, Anakin ran his fingers roughly through his hair, thinking hard.
Both times before when a vision had permeated his sleep, it had been completely involuntary. Anakin had no idea how to make one come to him, much less control its contents. They visited him, not the other way around.
Anakin thought back, racking his brain to bring back the memory of Dooku's face. He recalled white hair, eyes that were cold and amused and drowned in Darkness, a smooth and hardened face. He vaguely remembered a low voice that was delicately accented, but not without a growl hovering at its edges, and a swiftness and power in battle that belied his years. So this was the Sith Master, the new guardian of the Dark Side. Anakin thought it a bit unfair of Windu to expect him to be able to locate such a man, especially since the Sith prized secrecy and mystery so highly.
Closing his eyes, Anakin lay back down on the couch and brought back Dooku's face. If only he could concentrate on that picture, then maybe he could compel a vision to appear. With that image before his mind's eye, Anakin allowed himself to fall back into his interrupted sleep, unconsciously burying his face in the pillow again.
Anakin's efforts in this matter, diligent as they were, produced frustrating results. He could not help but dream of Dooku's face, thinking about it as often as he did, but these were not the visions he sought. They were simply snatches of faint memories, and Dooku spoke no words but what Anakin had already heard him say, unless the Sith drifted into an entirely different dream, and then there was no telling what might happen.
By the time a week had passed, he was feeling somewhat disheartened. It was impossible to forget the urgency which Windu had done his best to downplay for Anakin's sake—they both knew the importance of finding Dooku quickly. So when Anakin was summoned to the Council Chamber, he was certain that he knew the reason why, and he dreaded having to tell them that there was nothing he could do.
Standing before them, as he had done so many times before, Anakin bowed. He did his best not to show his anxiety, but knew that it showed on his face. Windu spoke first.
"Anakin, have you made any progress?" he asked. Anakin shook his head.
"I haven't, Master, I'm sorry," he said helplessly. "I have been trying, but I don't think it's possible. The Force refuses to let me see anything beyond what it gives me."
If Windu was disappointed, he did not show it, and for that Anakin was grateful. He instead inclined his head toward Master Yoda.
"An assignment of a different sort, we have for you, Master Skywalker," Yoda said, taking his cue. "Recall, do you, that left on Utapau General Grievous was, until further notice?"
Anakin nodded, a bit surprised at the abrupt turn this exchange had taken. Yoda leaned forward, his clawed, four-fingered hands clutching the head of his walking stick. "Missing, he is," he said meaningfully. Anakin's eyebrows shot up.
"Missing—you mean, he's left Utapau?" he questioned, aghast. Yoda leaned back in his seat; Anakin had the impression that the little green Jedi Master enjoyed the impression he had made.
"Know, we do not," he admitted. "On Utapau, he may be, or elsewhere. Lost track of him, the Council has, only yesterday. We cannot afford not knowing where he is."
Before Anakin could speak, Windu broke in. "This has nothing to do with your Force-abilities," he assured quickly. "We need you to go to Utapau and all its surrounding planets. We knew Grievous had a ship, but we did not think he would dare to use it. See what you can find."
Anakin bowed again, relieved to be given a mission that was far more potentially attainable than groping blindly and crudely in the Force for an ability that he did not possess. He left the Council Room quickly and headed back to his room to pack.
There were many things, Anakin admitted to himself, that he did not like about being a Jedi. That was not to say he did not enjoy the life that he led, and certainly he would not have traded it for any other life at all—but all the same, it did have its downsides. One of these was being wedged into the seat of a Jedi starfighter for near on thirty-six hours. Of course, if you were a Jedi, you could put yourself into a Force trance, which helped to pass the time—but all the same, it was interesting to note how that seat, which always looked so spacious at the beginning of a trip, seemed to shrink dramatically in hyperspace.
When Anakin reached Utapau and stepped out of the cockpit for the first time in a long time, his cramped legs protested vehemently, and he almost toppled over. He managed to regain his Jedi dignity and the use of his lower limbs within a few short moments, however, and walked toward the Utapaun Port Administrator, who had come out to the hangar to greet him.
"Master Jedi," said the Utapaun, making a short bow, "I welcome you wholeheartedly to my planet. I hope we can be of some service to you. My name is Tion Medon."
Anakin bowed in return. "Your cooperation is much appreciated," he said automatically. "I understand that General Grievous was here very recently?"
Medon nodded. His was a very unsettling appearance, with an especially elongated face, dark eyes surrounded by startling red, and grayed skin. When he spoke, his voice seemed almost to seethe from his mouth.
"The general," he said, "was here on Utapau only a few days ago."
"Then you're certain he's not here any longer?" Anakin inquired. Again, Medon shook his head.
"Impossible. Several of us saw his ship leave the planet."
"And you don't know where he has gone?"
"I am afraid not."
It seemed a rather harsh dead end to hit so soon after getting started. As Anakin chewed his lower lip, trying to think of some way to figure out from this scant information where Grievous had gone, Medon spoke up suddenly.
"Master Jedi," he said, "the Separatist established his hideout only a short ways from here. Would you be interested in visiting it?"
Anakin looked up. "Yes, please," he said gratefully. Without another word Medon led him into the walls of the sinkhole, out of the burning sun into the shade. As they walked, Anakin looked up and saw, through the skeletal covering over the hangar, a giant spherical structure protruding from the side of the sinkhole.
"Is that your building?" he asked, indicating the sphere. He wouldn't have asked at all, but the shape and size seemed far different from everything around it. Medon looked up as well, following Anakin's gaze.
"No," he answered. "No, that was the general's building. He was here for several months, remember, and he had time to have it erected. There were meetings—Separatist leaders would come and congregate there. I was afraid for the people around me, but after we surrendered they never harmed us."
There seemed to be a pathway, climbing up the steep side of the cliff, that led to the sphere. It was in this direction that Medon led Anakin, and though the Jedi occasionally saw large, scaled beasts being ridden past them, the Port Administrator seemed to prefer making the journey on foot. Anakin didn't have a problem with that—he loved driving mechanical things, but living organisms not so much. You would never catch an Orva7 speeder bucking its rider to the ground, as animals seemed so wont to do to him.
The interior of the sphere was, as the exterior had promised, enormous. A large section of the wall facing the sinkhole had been left out, creating a view of the entire area around it. Placed near this was a curved table, made to seat several people, and chairs, as though the former occupants of this place had wanted to enjoy the fresh air while they plotted the Republic's downfall. With a quietly murmured "Thank you" to Medon, Anakin moved towards these, the only objects in the place that suggested that any living being had existed here before now.
He brushed his fingertips against the steel, closing his eyes, and layered his touch with the Force. He was rewarded with two quickly-flashed images, the impressions left in the large room by the Separatists, like faint fingerprints in soft clay. It was difficult to register them, but Anakin did it—there was Grievous, standing above the table and obviously angry, shouting at the Neimoidians sitting uncomfortably in their chairs—and there he was again, moving a pen across a scrap of flimsy on the desk with robotic precision, and then shoving it towards the Neimoidians and walking out of the building.
Anakin's eyes snapped open, content with the knowledge that there was nothing more to be gleaned from that area. Slowly, thoughtfully, he let out his breath.
"Did Grievous leave anything here?" he asked, turning back to Medon. "Intentionally or otherwise?"
"I do not believe so," Medon admitted. "Certainly nothing intentionally, except for that furniture there."
Anakin's mind was already moving past Medon's answer. No, Grievous was not stupid—he would not have been so careless as to leave any hint of his destination where a Jedi could find it. In some ways, he was cleverer than his leaders. But the Neimoidians, they were not so bright. If Grievous had kept that flimsy, then it certainly would have been destroyed, but a Neimoidian might have easily left it behind…lost it…let it carelessly slip from a robe pocket…
Come on, come on, Anakin thought, closing his eyes again and tilting his face upward. Where is it?
He leaned back against the table, his hands closing around its edge to steady himself. He felt a slight rocking motion under his fingers—the table was wobbling, but only a little bit. Yes…yes…prompted the Force, and on that alone, Anakin knelt down, opening his eyes again, and saw the corner of a yellowed piece of flimsy sticking out from underneath the table leg.
His heart was pounding furiously at the prospect of triumph. Carefully, he eased the flimsy out from under the steel, and immediately the table tilted precariously, deprived of its level. Anakin unfolded the paper—and yes, there were words on it, written in what was presumably Grievous's hand.
Had Medon not been standing only a few yards away, Anakin would have given up and laughed, loud, raucous, uncontrollable peals of laughter that would have echoed wildly in this room. As it was, he swiftly pressed the knuckles of his right hand to his mouth, thankful that he was hidden under the table and Medon could not see his face. Grievous had given them orders, instructions, or something of the sort, and—oh, Force, it was too good, too funny to be true!—the Neimoidians had used them to steady the table.
"Master Jedi, is there something wrong?"
Clearing his throat self-consciously, Anakin straightened, clutching the flimsy in his hand. "No—no, there's nothing wrong," he assured the Utapaun. "Thank you very much for your help, Administrator Medon. I can promise you that the Republic will not forget it."
Correctly assuming himself to be dismissed, Medon bowed once more—Anakin returned the gesture—and left Grievous's building. Anakin himself sank into a chair, and, now that he was alone, allowed a few of the mad giggles to escape him. Then, swiftly becoming businesslike once more, Anakin unfolded the flimsy again. At once, he saw what he had been too distracted to see before: namely, that the flimsy was torn haphazardly in two, right down the middle.
He knelt again to check the other legs of the table for the other half, but this proved fruitless; perhaps the Neimoidians had not considered ripping the flimsy in two an adequate security precaution, and had taken the other half with them just in case. Still, this was far more than Anakin had hoped for. Sitting down once more, he read through the note. The part he had in his hands was hardly complete:
…must have adequate troops, but this needs be done…
…far—it is there that he and I will be waiting for you…
…not privileged to know. Do as you are told, and it…
…unt's name must not be mentioned.
Cryptic, at best, Anakin thought disappointedly. Running his knuckle against the scar near his right eye as he rested his elbow on the table, in what had become an absent-minded sort of habit, he attempted to decipher the note's meaning.
Grievous needed soldiers for something—that in itself could hardly be good news, but there was not much to be gleaned as it was. Anakin set it aside in his mind and went on.
Surely Dooku had to be involved in this plan, whatever it was. Grievous mentioned that he would be waiting with someone, and couldn't "unt" be the last part of "Count"? Oh, what Anakin would have given to read the rest of that second line—it had to be Grievous's location! But "far" was not the greatest hint; all that told him was that wherever Dooku and his General were, it was presumably not in the Utapau system.
Anakin sighed—as far as he could tell, there was nothing more to be gotten from this flimsy. It should have been a gold mine, but he knew very little more now than he had before. Carefully he folded the note back up and put it into his pocket, then began the long climb back down the cliff face to thank Tion Medon once more for his help.
Author's Note: Ok, I need to stop making promises as to when new chapters will be out, because quite obviously I can't keep them. Next chapter will be up...when it's finished.