Chapter 30. Soliloquy on Evil

Evil comes in many shapes and many flavors. It may be a pall across the senses, or the unseen blade that strikes from shadows. It may hide behind the smile of a friend or the leer of the devil.

But evil incarnate takes all these forms and more. It is voracious and infinite, gorging on despair and pain and yet never filling its belly with its feast – it hungers while it takes pleasure in suffering, never satiated and never satisfied.

It is Sith, and it prowls the dark and stalks the unwary. It now stalks – its future. It stalks the Chosen One.

He had been so disillusioned. Once. Now he was – uncertain. Dooku did not like uncertainty.

He had not told Qui-Gon, but he had been on the verge of resignation, on the verge of accepting his hereditary title. Only his wish not to burn any bridges until such might be required had held him silent.

Had his padawan died there, on Naboo, his disillusionment would have been complete. Had Kenobi died there, he might have hesitated.

Both had survived. Everything had changed. His decision, as well?

The Republic was in serious trouble, the Senate mired in committees and resolutions. Though technically the overseer of the Jedi Order – which Dooku vehemently opposed, considering the Senate in question – it had taken the former Chancellor to bypass procedures and send two Jedi to negotiate a settlement between the Naboo and Trade Federation: Jinn and Kenobi.

At least someone had acted. And Valorum had lost his position for doing so. Now his friend Palpatine was chancellor. Could he accomplish what Valorum could not?

Dooku was beginning to suspect change would not be so easy.

Even for Tatooine it was hot.

The heat was stifling, the air unmoving even here within the shadowed walls of Watto's shop. Schmi Skywalker brushed a wisp of hair back from her forehead before again leaning over Watto's scattered receipts, trying to make sense out of the accounting. She still repaired small items at home, but Watto now also had her tending the counter in his shop during his busiest hours.

Normally, that is, because business had been slow since word had gotten around. The kid who could repair anything was not to be found at Watto's shop.

Anakin – her pride and joy. Anakin - her sweet and generous son; a boy with flashes of temper and independence that slavery could not tame. Anakin - such an independent spirit despite the degrading life he had born into. In time slavery would beat him down, turn temper into rebelliousness. By adulthood he would be beaten into submission; a resentful and seething slave did not last long. Shmi would not always be there to sooth the hurt or provide the love, the balm to his restless soul: someday one or the other would be sold or lost in a bet.

She knew it and the Jedi had known it.

Anakin refused the knowledge, finding comfort in pronouncements of someday, promises that he would free them both, to roam the stars. Dreams of power – the power to right wrongs and the power to overcome circumstances – had been peppering his speech more and more often, accompanying shows of truculent temper.

Dreams of power were leading him down a dangerous road for a slave and she would be eternally grateful to the Jedi for freeing Anakin and giving him a better life, a life where his gifts could be encouraged to grow in the right direction – the direction of his giving nature.

The Jedi… he had treated her as a queen in her castle, understood her mother's fears and touched her heart with kindness. His touch had been tender; his presence solace from a storm she hadn't even known was upon her.

Shmi did not regret for one minute that he had taken her son away. Anakin had been meant for greater things than a life on Tatooine, a life as a slave.

Sighing, she bent again to her task, only to straighten as the soft chime signaled a customer.

Even before she could open her mouth in greeting, Watto flew past her, all unctuous courtesy and fawning attention. The frenzied beat of his wings created a welcome draft.

She hoped this customer would buy something. Too many did not, too many that left Watto ranting and raving about the "Jedi thief" who "stole his boy and his business." Not yours, Watto, not any longer. Not even mine. Shmi offered thanks to that same Jedi each day for saving Anakin from this life.

Letting Anakin leave had been the truest test of her heart yet. She had given her heart away once to a young man once who had abused it, though it had taken her years to see it.

A young girl easily wooed with sweet words and gentle kisses, she had willingly lain in his arms, giving herself to his touches and his promises. It had been all she had dreamed it would be, sweet and tender, and oh, so very loving as two became one in that most ancient of dances. When they had at last parted, his lips had curved in a smile; hers as well, for she was sure that she had met the man of her dreams.

And then she had slept, safe and warm, still tucked within the comfort of his arms.

When she woke, the spot where he had laid was cold and empty. He had obligations, he had later explained, duties to attend to. He could not stay the night, but he could steal precious hours with the girl who had stolen his heart. Someday, he promised, someday they would be together. Innocent in the ways of deceit, secure in his love, she had welcomed him back that next night and more.

Then he had vanished from her life.

Amber light created shadows that danced across paneled walls, but only within the periphery of eyesight, had either of the two men cared to look. Comfortably ensconced within fine synth-leather seats, an expensive brandy at each elbow, their focus was entirely on each other. A slight irritation sharpened the voice of one.

"But my dear Count –"

"That is not decided yet." Dooku – obviously playing the role of Jedi Master Dooku - informed his guest.

That was an unexpected jolt – Dooku had already confided in him his all-but-certain decision to leave the Jedi Order. Had Naboo somehow lessened his resolve? Was it because Jinn lived? Losing his former padawan, close relationship or not, would have left him with no strong ties to an Order he had confessed was archaic and out of touch.

Dooku was no delusional fool as his guest knew; he was very well aware that his deepest loyalty always remained with his own best interest, allied "with the Force" of course. Allied, for the Force was not and would never be his conscience, only a guide to suggest a course which he felt free to follow – or not.

He usually did, finding few areas of true conflict, such was his Jedi training. The conflict, if any, arose with his fellow "servants of the Force."

"Servants of the political lackeys" in his eyes and in truth.

The two men had discussed over the last few years the inadequacies of the current government. It had grown stale and complacent, far more concerned with maintaining the status quo than with actual governing.

Corruption spread, inaction ruled. Competency was hindered, incompetency rewarded.

It was one reason the prior government had fallen – the governed had lost faith in their representatives.

And no one was willing to fight it. Except he – and this man before him.

"A man of principle is needed; you are needed, my friend." The Chancellor leaned forward, eyes earnest. "There are others of principle within your Order, but few outside. The Republic needs such men of principle. The Senate is hopeless; they cannot even agree to disagree. Those who so recently plundered my planet walk as free men and are likely to do so until old age provides the justice we mere men cannot."

A thin smile touched the Jedi's lips. "The Force is often the sole source of justice in many cases. So it has always been."

"Ah, yes, this 'Force' of yours." Palpatine leaned back and eyed the silvering, still very distinguished gentleman before him. Aristocratic, authoritarian, disciplined. Not led by the need for power alone, or even mere possessions. No, what led this man was a need for order, for in his eyes, order curbed aggression and greed. "Even your Order is relying less and less on your Force and listening more and more to the Senate."

Sad regret colored the touché flourish of a brandy snifter; the verbal missile had struck home although one would not know it by the words that followed.

"I fail to see how leaving the Order rectifies this issue."

"And I fail to see how remaining rectifies it either." Quiet frustration infused Palpatine's sonorous tones.

Elegant, well groomed fingers negligently gestured, a dismissal. "It seems either - or neither - course of action resolves anything."

"Perhaps, perhaps not - so take a chance, try something different, my friend. I need you – our Republic needs you. Now that I've replaced Valorum, change is at our fingertips – but I can't do it alone. Help me make this republic prosper or let it slide further into greed and corruption."

Palpatine knew exactly what arguments would sway the Jedi master. He'd spent years getting to know the man's weaknesses and vanities. No matter how well controlled, every Jedi had them; no matter how immune to most persuasions, there was always a path available for one who knew the vulnerabilities to exploit. His appeal could not help but ally Dooku to his side once and for all.

So he got a rather horrible surprise with Dooku's next words.

"The bait you dangle is uncommonly tempting – but ultimately deceptive."

Palpatine stiffened; Dooku's sympathies had been entirely with him up to now. Both agreed that the Republic needed a strong, decisive man in charge of the government, someone who could tame the unruly beast that was the Senate, someone who could push through needed reforms and provide stability in these turbulent times.

It had taken little digging to find the Jedi master's tendency to reduce complex equations to a relatively simplistic approach: If compromise cannot be achieved, impose order. On this the two men were in complete agreement. Chaos was the only consistent result when multiple voices had input. Democracy favored stagnation and procrastination when the tyranny of the minority held the majority hostage; corruption all but inevitable.

Was Dooku's resolve weakening? His protest a last feeble attempt to avoid a decision that would lead him away from his Order – or a ruse to gain concessions, a bargaining tool?

Rueful acknowledgement underlay Palpatine's measured response. "It is a deception in service of the Republic, but I concede that deception must be inconceivable to a Jedi."

"Deception is sometimes required for the greater good, I've often thought," Dooku said mildly. "In fact we practice it rather often while deluding ourselves it is merely a certain point of view."

Spoken like a born politician – or negotiator; concede points and avoid commitment at any cost. What was Dooku bargaining for? Well, two could play at that game for an indefinite period of time. "Yes, yes, but only in the most extreme of circumstances. It is no secret, is it not, that the Queen's attacker was - I'm sorry – I'm sworn to secrecy -"

"A Sith." Dooku supplied, frowning. "Yes, it seems the Sith," he almost spat the word, "have arisen once more to embroil the galaxy into even more chaos than it is currently finding itself."

"Oh, my dear man, the Republic has gotten itself into difficulty all on its own. It didn't need the help of the Sith. I know your Order considers them an ancient enemy, thought to be long vanquished, but are they really so evil or just misguided?"

"My dear Chancellor, if the Sith have again arisen there is little doubt they are behind much of the chaos the Republic finds itself in. They do not create but destroy. They are not "bogeymen" to frighten younglings but thoroughly and unrepentantly evil on a level you cannot even begin to contemplate. Do not mistake them merely as beings that are capable of evil deeds; they are so much worse."

It appeared that thousands of years thinking their ancient enemy was wiped from the galaxy had made the Jedi complacent; now terror was held at bay only by iron discipline. Fear, not disdain underlay Dooku's vehemence.

The bogeyman in the closet, indeed.

Master Yoda was disturbed and uneasy; Master Windu truculent and upset, the rest of the Jedi Council in denial.

All the more ammunition for the Chancellor to persuade one of the leading Jedi masters to become a political ally, a warrior against evil in a way he could not should he remain a Jedi.

"Then fight them – fight for us. Unite the disaffected worlds, the unaligned worlds. Be a Force to be reckoned with – and the Senate will have to unite – whether behind you or against you, it does not matter."

Dooku's eyebrows rose. Ah, so he found it an intriguing thought. "A bold plan," he conceded. He sipped from his glass, his gaze never leaving Palpatine's face.

After a moment, he nodded. "It might work. It might have unintended consequences, as well. Very well, I shall reconsider my decision, however, I must insist on a postponement for something more urgent in my view. It seems once again I must intervene and try to heal this rift between Qui-Gon and young Kenobi. I might not have another chance for some time – should I accept your offer."

Ah, yes, Palpatine had researched Jinn and Kenobi in depth once he found out they were Valorum's ambassadors. A formidable Jedi team with an impressive list of missions, a team occasionally at odds with each other, a team usually in synch with each other. He had already known a bit about them both, since Jinn and Valorum were known to be friends. It always paid to know the friends of one's rivals. Connections were useful so very often in a politician's life.

Valorum's actions had been underhanded, if legal.

The Senate was nominally in charge of the Jedi Order, but as usual, posturing and bickering meant the Chancellor's office often quietly stepped in. Usually there was little outcry; this time Palpatine was sure it would have been different, with a baying for a sacrificial victim should a highly respected Jedi master have died pursuing Valorum's "foolhardy miscalculation."

It was quite terribly tragic that during what should have been a moment of triumph for both Jedi, things had gone so horribly wrong. Privileged information, to be sure, but information shared, however reluctantly, with the new Chancellor and few others outside the Jedi Order. Young Kenobi, the "Sith Killer" – oh, Palpatine knew well how these things got around amongst younglings, if not the elders – young Kenobi, the elder Jedi's salvation as well. And supposedly his master had repudiated him nearly at that very moment of triumph.

Could it be?

Certainly something odious had swirled around the two; the effects of their injuries he had perhaps mistakenly thought. His interest quickened. There was indeed something there to tantalize…something perhaps – useful.

Despite discreet inquiries, the Order had not shared either man's current status with his office. He could bypass official protocol and contact Qui-Gon Jinn directly: while asking about the man's health he could also further his interest in young Skywalker. Jinn was terribly proud of the boy and would be thrilled to have the boy befriended by the most powerful man in the Republic.

Jinn – reputed to be one of the best swordsmen in the Order - who had so nearly died at the hand at what was said to be a Sith apprentice, and so improbably lived by the hand of what was said to be an ordinary Jedi apprentice.

"Young Kenobi, yes…." Palpatine would dearly like to know more about this mere apprentice. "Rather an enigma, is he not? He succeeded where your padawan did not. What padawan could accomplish such a task when an accomplished master could not? A veritable miracle worker this young man turned out to be."

"My padawan would not choose one unworthy of his line."

Palpatine nearly snorted. He knew the boy had so nearly not been chosen; he not stood out in any particular way other than a certain proclivity to anger and impatience when young. Had the young man tamed those emotions through his years of training or did they lie beneath, a slumbering dragon that could awaken? Perhaps they had already stirred to life, powering the young man's lethal dispatching of a Sith who should have easily defeated two Jedi.

Young Kenobi most definitely was more than he outwardly appeared.

"And how is your padawan recovering, my friend? Young Kenobi, too, of course? Both looked, quite frankly, rather the worse for wear when your Council whisked them back to the Temple – I have been assured both are doing quite well under the circumstances when I have inquired."

Dooku's eyebrows drew together; a clear sign of his displeasure. "Qui-Gon is a fool!" Palpatine quietly awaited clarification with a mildly inquiring look that said I hate to inquire but I will of course listen should you wish to unburden yourself.

With a fierce frown, Dooku stared into his glass and suddenly downed the remaining contents. "Quite frankly, I am disturbed. According to my old master, Yoda, my padawan is behaving oddly, more so than usual. He has utterly rejected young Kenobi in favor of young Skywalker and refuses to discuss why. My grand-padawan, while physically well, is otherwise damaged and in need of tending, while a child deemed to be our savior now trains to be a Jedi. A slave boy – and so Qui-Gon dotes on him; yet another stray on which he has taken pity."

"A planet's savior," Palpatine shot back, annoyed at the condescension within the Jedi master's tone. "Fault not the boy for a life he was born into, Master Jedi. Slavery is a most foul and reprehensible condition; it should be condemned, not those born to it."

Dooku's eyes narrowed at the verbal rebuke. A retort died on his lips, locked behind the grim line of his mouth before he finally nodded, conceding the point. "I apologize, Chancellor. His background is perhaps no more sordid than that of numerous Jedi. Past lives are discarded once one is admitted into the Order, but inarguably it is true that many Jedi are in the Order because outside of it they likely would have been considered outcasts of society, 'unfortunate births' for various reasons. Some parents consider it merciful to surrender these 'undesirable children' to the Order. Others, of course, consider it their duty; some, their honor."

"Like young Anakin," Palpatine prodded.

"Like young Anakin." It was a grudging concession. While inside he fumed at the hypocrisy of such self-righteous, such aggravating Jedi, Palpatine plastered a conciliatory smile on his face and sat back, outwardly mollified.

"And despite his 'unfortunate birth' he is a member of your Order now."

"He is."

"Then he is by definition a very worthy young man, indeed. I suppose you know…," Palpatine coughed delicately, "he is not just Naboo's savior, but – "his eyes gleamed as Dooku betrayed the merest hint of irritation, "now acknowledged by your Order to potentially be the savior of our very galaxy? That must make him very powerful in your Force, my friend."

His words were like a spark to dry tinder.

"If the reports are accurate, he certainly may be, but potentiality does not necessarily translate into actuality. One of lesser potential often exceeds those of greater through sheer hard work and determination. Young Kenobi is an excellent example – it's a tragedy, really; what he might now never achieve."

Palpatine's gaze sharpened. "That unfortunate young man…was he so very full of potential?"

Unexpectedly, Dooku chuckled though there was no mirth behind it. "Qui-Gon certainly didn't think so years ago. Refused the boy outright; feared he was a prime candidate to go dark." With little urging other than Palpatine's tilt of the head, he continued, "To look at him, there is nothing outwardly exceptional about him – but he did kill a Sith and somehow saved my padawan from almost certain death – hardly the actions of an 'unexceptional padawan.' The Force all but dances around him; it's quite extraordinary, really."

Exceptional indeed; nearly knighted and now disowned by his master – was there something the Jedi Order was withholding from him? He really should check on the poor boy, perhaps when he checked on young Anakin. Two such young and strong Jedi – oh, yes, a Chancellor wishing to strengthen his Republic could use two such extraordinary heroes on his side, assuming the one did recover and realize this potential that Dooku hinted at.

Still, he was an expert on decoding the unspoken and Dooku was concerned, quite concerned. Dismayed, one might say, at Kenobi's "damage"; dismayed that this potential was – squandered?

Infusing his voice with deep sympathy, he declared, "Then it's such a shame his potential has been destroyed."

"Destroyed?" Dooku shook his head, rejecting the very idea. "I'm not so sure of that. The Force provides many paths to an outcome foreseen, but journey's end is usually the same. Whether or not he taps into the Force, it taps into him and always shall. Kenobi shall always remain a servant of the Force and that, my friend, will always make him a threat to - "

"Yes, yes," Palpatine waved a hand in dismissal. "I understand the boy is your grand-padawan, Dooku, and thus a paragon of Jedi virtue in your eyes. It is only natural you are concerned for his future, as am I. I, too, shall watch his progress with your kind permission, he and young Anakin both. Both shall help shape the galaxy in the years to come."

He leaned back in his seat, gently smiling. Oh, yes, he was most definitely going to keep a close eye on both young men: he would be most remiss should he not. He had much to accomplish, and he had little doubt each could be persuaded to help him achieve it.

It only took the right persuasion.