There was no such thing as friendship between Sith. 'Apprentice' and 'master' were far too polite terms for what was essentially a perpetual battle. There could only be one winner. But the pretense still had to be maintained, which was why Dooku was certainly pleased with himself.
Oh, Sidious was bubbling over with fury, to be sure. But it lurked just underneath the surface, because on the face of things, Dooku had been a most loyal apprentice.
He knew Sidious would ask, very soon, for him to do away with Ventress. It was a ritualized power play, forcing Dooku to admit that he was not powerful enough to take on his master, not even with his own apprentice's help. The rule of two would be conserved, ancient traditions would be followed, the status quo preserved. But Dooku had made a preemptive strike. Ventress and Skywalker, in one swift move.
Kenobi, as well. Perhaps not dead, but frightened. Fear was a Sith's greatest power, and Dooku knew just how crippled the Jedi now were. His frustration had been the first step to drive him from the Jedi. They would never admit they were fearful, and so would never confront why they were afraid. It would be up to politicians, pundits and tiresome generals.
And they would lose.
By all accounts, the perfect next move in the intricate dance of the war. The enemy was on the run, frightened, having to re-plan and figure out what came next. But Darth Sidious was furious, and it had never been sweeter. The Sith Master had plans, of course. Dooku knew she was a diamond in the rough, but Ventress was ultimately expendable. No, Sidious had plans for Skywalker, and now they were thoroughly ruined.
They had to play at being allies just enough for Sidious to attempt to bite his tongue. Otherwise, Dooku was quite sure that he would be dead by now for killing his potential replacement. The boy was talented. And now the boy was not an issue. Borrowed knowledge of Sith Alchemy, a sophisticated chemical cocktail... it felt wonderful being so certain that Anakin would never bother him again. He had given the boy proper warning, of course, merely slicing off a hand, but he had continued to force the issue.
He may be a Sith, but let no-one say Count Dooku wasn't a gentleman.
Despite the fact that the craft was tailored to a droid army, the dreadnought was rather comfortable. Dooku walked down the deck, reaching up to smooth his beard before peering out over the wide observation window. Below, Manaan glowed like a sapphire against the black velvet of a queen's dress. Such an insignificant little planet, suddenly thrust into the limelight. The only source of Kolto... and now the only source of healing available to some Jedi. They were scrambling to try and reclaim the planet, as if that was their only hope. Already the panic had begun, as they were busy retrofitting masks for all Jedi against hazardous materials. The high cost of the bioweapon was moot: they could not have another disaster like that happen again, not when it could cripple the Republic army. And, to his great amusement, there were already calls to have Jedi phased out of the Republic army altogether, citing the fact that they were putting other troops at undue risk.
It was everything Dooku could hope for.
For now the fleet drifted lazily around Manaan, a thorough blockade, making sure that no Republic ship came through. As he watched, there was another bright burst off the port side. Vulture fighters scurried after a smuggler's ship, disabling its engines so that it was left adrift. That was the third one this day, captured with brutal efficiency.
"Bring them on board," Dooku said, tone regal as always. "I wish to interrogate them personally."
After all, it might be advantageous to let the smugglers go to carry on a message... once they were suitably terrified.