Part Five
The ride to the spaceport was tense. Mesagog's face was set and neutral, his reptilian features never having allowed for much expression, but his wide jaw was tight and his taloned hands gripped the steering hard. Dooku and Obi-Wan were in the back, Obi-Wan with an intense look of concentration, arms folded tightly in front of him, eyes far away - likely focused on his Padawan. As for Dooku, he kept his eyes closed, breathing deeply and slowly, determined to keep a lid on his ever-expanding emotions. He didn't know what it was about these two that always left him struggling to put away his feelings.
But, if he was completely honest with himself, he knew exactly why. And he was in utterly no frame of mind to deal with it; and so he suppressed it once again as Mesagog's high-end hovercar slowed to a stop, a small swirl of dust billowing from the exhaust before the engines cut and the machine landed.
The spaceport was the largest one of the planet, but compared to other planets it was modest to the extreme. The northwest corner held the storage facilities, and only the one on the absolute northwest, the least used because of its distance from the rest of the port, was the likely location. Security had already set up a perimeter, their speeders parked but not blinking lights, hoping to avoid tipping off the kidnappers.
All three stepped out - three noblemen in finery made for a conspicuous combination as one of the security officers, a human, stepped up in his tailored uniform and held up a hand. "My lords," he said quickly, "It is not necessary for you to be here."
Dooku stepped up, a pillar of gentility wrapped in anger. "I am Count Dooku of the Reefside Province; my grandson is there, and I intend to retrieve him."
The security officer shook his head, taking a wider stance. "A minor lord from a backwater province on the west continent holds no sway here, 'my lord'," the security officer said, haughty authority in his voice. "Please let us do our jobs."
Mesagog stepped forward, his dura-staff tightly gripped in his fist. "I am Count Mesagog of the city of Einjel Grove in Nighlok Province, sir, and my province is here on the central continent and of much higher stature, since you find that important."
The human eyed Mesagog, clearly impressed, but shook his head again. "It is security's job, my lord," he said, placating; his voice held far less contempt. "The Council makes it clear that family cannot be part of any retrieval, it is too personal, and judgment is impaired. It holds true for friends of the family, my lord. I cannot in good faith let you pass."
Mesagog stood ramrod straight, the colors along his occular ridge brightening to show his displeasure, and Dooku was very seriously considering striking the hurdle down, but to both the noblemen's surprise, Obi-Wan stepped forward.
"Please, sir," Obi-Wan said, his hand flicking slightly. "He is my brother. Let us pass." Dooku's eyes widened when he felt the pulse in the Force. A mind-trick? Here, on Zeltrax? But Obi-Wan kept talking. "I cannot lose him. Don't you have family?"
The security officer's eyes glazed slightly as he muttered, "Your brother..."
"Let us pass. We will bother no one."
"... You may go," the officer said, his gaze far away, before he shook it off. "But bother no one," he added, his color returning. He stepped aside, and though Obi-Wan blew by the other two stared in wonder. "Go," he said, "before I change my mind."
Dooku and Mesagog exchanged a brief glance before darting after Obi-Wan. "You must tell me more about your son," Mesagog said, his gold eyes bright.
"Suffice to say he was a handful," Dooku said, a soft grin on his face, "And it would appear his sons take after him."
"Reminds me of my daughter," Mesagog said, his voice wistful. Dooku glanced at the reptilian but put the thought away, there was too much going on for him to process it all, and he knew he would be spending hours meditating after all this. Hours.
The pair quickly caught up with Obi-Wan, the Jedi knelt by a collection of crates, his eyes closed and brow pulled tightly together in focus. With a deep breath, his eyes snapped open and he ran a hand through his thick red hair. He stood and ducked through a narrow hallway, Dooku and Mesagog following, taking a left and then a right before coming to a complete stop.
"The main hanger is beyond this door," Obi-Wan said. "I imagine there are more than just the two that Tori described, there had to be a separate team to cut the power to the city, plus lookouts for the house. Assuming five members per team there must be ten men down there, plus Anakin."
Dooku nodded, accepting the analysis. Mesagog's coloring was brightening again, and his jaw moved faster than normal as he asked, "How would you know this?"
Obi-Wan gave a long, measured gaze to the Count before answering: "I read."
Dooku did not hide his snort and patted his reptilian companion on the arm. "He is making my library quite diverse," he muttered, hoping that was enough of a cover. With Mesagog here neither of them could use the Force overtly. Obi-Wan was already stretching things with that brilliant mind-trick earlier, subtle enough and complex enough that it almost seemed like a natural change of opinion. Following Anakin's Force-presence may not need explaining as yet, and if it did any number of excuses could be made for Obi-Wan's seemingly intimate knowledge of the layout of spaceport storage facilities, but now there was no question. They were about to fight. He leveled a meaningful look at Obi-Wan, and he held it, nodding his head in understanding, expressing with his eyes that he would not break Dooku's cover.
Nodding, he looked to Mesagog. "How well do you fight?" he asked in a whisper.
"Well enough," the reptilian said, his gold eyes bright with pride. "And if all else fails, there is the blaster; even if it is... uncivilized."
"These barbarians are hardly civilized for even considering kidnapping," Dooku added, his hand gripping the door. "I suppose it's only fair that they receive a similar comeuppance."
He took a moment. Took a breath. And opened the door.
They spilled out onto an upper catwalk of the main hanger. The lights were low, splashing small halos of light on the floor from above, casting most of the wide-open space in black shadows. There were very few storage units; the heavy footfalls of spacer boots echoed in the cavernous chamber and distorting the source of the sound. One of the circles of light held five men with blasters and rifles, one pacing and making the deep echoes in the hangar.
"When do we send the ransom note?" one of them asked, his voice also echoing but barely heard over the heavy footfalls.
The Sullustran, one of the kidnappers, gave a response in his native tongue.
"I don't like the waiting," a third said, sitting on a crate. "Don't know what the point of this is."
"The point is we're getting paid."
The Sullustran spoke, too, apparently agreeing. Another person, a Twi'lek it looked like, bent down and poked at a collection of cloth. Anakin, most likely. The albino was nowhere in sight, and if Obi-Wan's estimates were correct; half the band of brigands were about the shadows, likely patrolling the perimeter. Not amateurs then, obviously professionals. A glance at Obi-Wan and Mesagog in the dim light showed they had come to the same conclusion.
Weary of the echoes of the hanger, Dooku used his tightest whisper to speak. "Surprise is our greatest advantage. Two of us will see to the lookouts, the other will confront the guards." Blue and gold eyes nodded in assent. "I will confront the brigands."
Obi-Wan immediately spoke up. "No. I will go. My sword style is more effective in direct confrontation like this, I'll last longer."
Dooku leveled dark eyes to the boy, patience at an end. "This isn't about 'lasting,' youngling," he said in a tight voice. "This is about conquering. You presume too much if you assume I'm going to go in there, saber swinging. You clearly haven't learned as much from your father as I thought. You are not yet fully recovered, and so it will be me." He turned to Mesagog, face intent, but the reptilian nodded, and so Dooku stood, letting his senses out to the Force to find a stairwell - one couldn't simply leap over the catwalk - and marched off.
When he was halfway there he stopped hiding his movements and instead allowed his footfalls to be obvious. He could hear the echoing clatter of startled dregs readying weapons, but he walked under one of the lights and stopped, perhaps ten meters away from the five obvious kidnappers, and waited.
The Sullustran said something, but Dooku was a Count on the planet, and so said, "At least have the decency to speak Basic. Your vulgar language is offensive."
The human with the heavy boots stepped forward. "He wants to know why you're here."
"I am here to collect what is mine."
"You the boss, then?"
"No, I'm the Count you thought you could kidnap from. In under two hours I have uncovered your location, surrounded it with security, and informed public channels that you are brigands to be blacklisted from this planet." They didn't need to know the last part was a lie; and instead Dooku offered an imperious grin. "And I am not the most powerful man on this planet."
The Sullustran started talking again, a low whispered tone to the Twi'lek guarding Anakin. Dooku could feel the boy's pulse in the Force, the youngling was awake and aware, but pretending otherwise; his curious surges of Force grated on Dooku's sense of delicacy, but all the same he sent a focused probe to the boy, impressing the word "wait" upon him. Anakin startled, jumping slightly under rough cloth he was cloaked in. No one noticed, not even the Twi'lek.
Elsewhere, Dooku could feel Obi-Wan's tense Force-presence, flitting about the upper catwalks on silent boots and sneaking up on the dimmer presences of the other kidnappers. Two were already down and he was making his way to a third. Mesagog was on the ground level, several meters behind and skulking about, one man having already fallen to his staff. All Dooku had to do was stall, then it would be three on five - four, if Anakin was purged of most of the Force-suppressants, and if he could fight without breaking Dooku's cover. He did not rely on that - not yet, at least, but he was determined to make himself rely on Anakin over something, to do something to show that boy that trust could be meted out, carefully and to a select few, and be rewarded for it. He would not see another child forced through circumstances similar to his own.
The man in the heavy spacer boots threw several meaningful looks to his compatriots, before turning to speak again.
"You're one old man, yer lordship," he said, a haughty grin on his face. "Even if what you say's true, we got five men here, an' more in the shadows."
Dooku nodded sagely, as if the man's facts were relevant, even important. "That is true, perhaps, but you fail to understand the gravity of your situation."
"I think we understand 'gravity' pretty well," the spokesman said, the pun lacing his words.
Dooku put on a mocking air of surprise. "Then you know that gravity is a natural phenomenon by which physical bodies attract with a force proportional to their mass."
The five kidnappers openly frowned, not expecting such a literal translation. Dooku held in his smirk and continued. Mesagog had found his second man on the ground and was dealing with him; Obi-Wan needed more time. "Perhaps, as spacers, as foreigners, you fail to understand the significance of gravity in other than the most physical of terms. Of course gravity is an impressive force when studying planetary, even galactic movement, but it has an equally important meaning in living relationships.
"Think about what gravity means: Gravitation causes dispersed matter to coalesce, and coalesced matter to remain intact; it is coalesced matter that creates planets and suns and other galactic phenomena. But the term 'matter' is relative, because matter is everything: planets, trees, gardens, transports, and most importantly, people. The dispersed matter of my dead son, Qui-Gon, for example, has coalesced into three people. One of them is that boy you dare to take; the other is I. By definition then, gravity forces us to remain intact, and your attempt to break our gravitational pull will destroy the galaxy."
"You're crazy."
"No," Dooku said, resolve, determination, and absolute clarity filling his voice, "for the first time in years things make sense. Qui-Gon lives on in those two boys; and frankly speaking, gentlemen, I'll be damned if I let you take either of them away from me."
"Them's fighting words," the Twi'lek said.
Dooku drew his sword and held his Makashi stance. "As you wish," he said simply.
Three blasters rose as one, the Twi'lek and the Sullustran moving to grab Anakin. Dooku send the clean pulse of "now," and young Anakin jerked into motion even as Obi-Wan, up on the catwalks somewhere, found a power panel and flooded the hangar with light. The momentary blindness affected the brigands but not Dooku, as he dashed forward and thrust his sword at one of the kidnappers. The blade sank deep into the man's gut, blood spilling everywhere in a distasteful splatter before the man retreated backward. Holding his wound with one hand and firing his blaster with abandon with the other. Dooku, for his part, sank himself into the Force as much as he dared, fully aware that Mesagog was throwing in on the fight as well, his dura-staff making heavy wooshing sounds as he ploughed into one of the brigands. The false Count was slightly faster, slightly more agile, but not at all like a Jedi, and because of that he pressed his assault, knowing that his age would eventually have to take over and determined not to let it at an inopportune moment. So he put forth three steps, swirling around his current opponent, before landing a blow with a flick of his wrist, cutting the hand holding the blaster.
It was not deep enough to make the opponent drop it, however, and Dooku quickly darted back as he brigand swung his arm to fire - brazen and hasty, and therefore easy to dodge. He deflected one bolt outright, and cursed that he had done that - deflection of blaster bolts was a particularly Jedi trick and he had not spent the last seven months distancing himself from the Jedi for this assignment to forget it in the middle of a duel. He backed up slightly, analyzing his options.
He was at a disadvantage in this fight: he had to hide his true abilities; Form II was meant for duels, not uncivilized blasters; he had to reserve using the Force more than he already was. It would be far better to end this quickly; there was still a third man to defeat before handling the two aliens carting Anakin off to parts unknown. Taking a deep breath, Dooku darted in again, his footwork precise as he moved into a classic feint that the kidnapper fell for, and used that to his advantage as he swung his sword into a more aggressive strike, this time a jab to the shoulder that was effective enough to render the opponent's arm inert. The limb dropped uselessly to the side and Dooku was about to deliver a final strike when a blaster bolt struck as his shoulder, surprising him and ruining his step.
A quick glance showed the third man holding a rifle instead of a blaster, and Dooku was quickly on the defensive, unable to block blaster bolts in sight of Mesagog and hard pressed to regardless because of Form II's lack of efficiency on multiple opponents. His retreat gave his original opponent the chance to switch hands, and his work up to that point was undone as he began firing again, leaving Dooku to run and dive for cover.
Mesagog joined him behind one of the few storage crates as a barrage of fire hailed down on them, also forced back because of the impressive firepower of the rifle.
"This is a tremendous blow to my pride," Mesagog growled, his ocular ridge bright with color. His talons gripped his blaster and with a sigh, he lifted himself up to aim and fire.
"At least you were able to fell one of the brigands." A barrage of fire overtook them, and for several seconds both simply hunkered down and waited. "If we get out of this," Dooku said, hissing as he pressed and arm to his shoulder wound. "No one need know of this embarrassment."
"I've always enjoyed how you think, my lord," Mesagog said, his jaw wider than normal in an appreciative grin, moving to fire again. "When this is over we must endeavor to speak more often."
"Share war stories, perhaps," Dooku offered, collecting himself. "Cover me," he ordered, and Mesagog fired a third time, a steady barrage that had decent aim as Dooku flew forward and towards the two kidnappers. He had lost sight of the Sullustran and the Twi'lek, and that worried him, but he could feel Obi-Wan's presence in the Force, and Anakin's, too, and knew they had not gotten far. With that in mind he focused on the man with the rifle, using a quick thrust, feint, and then strike to cut the weapon in half with his saber before pressing forward in his footwork to push in a more aggressive slash at the arm - it would have been severed if it had been a lightsaber, but he satisfied himself with the much uglier cut right to the bone, blood grotesquely flying everywhere and instead advancing on the man he had already injured previously.
Panicking, the opponent was firing wildly, not even close to Dooku, and when he was ready to step in and strike Mesagog gave a perfect hit on the man's shoulder, now leaving both his arms inert, and Dooku punched him dead in the mouth, sending the kidnapper spinning to the ground.
Shaking out his fist before rubbing his injured shoulder, he turned to the reptilian. "It would appear that we make a fine team," he said.
"So it would," the reptilian agreed, his gold eyes bright. "Shall we find the last of the braggarts?"
"Of course. After you."
They both paused a moment, ears open, to gain a hint of where to go. Dooku could sense the necessary direction but could not openly say so, and so he looked to his fellow Count and waited for his more acute hearing to pick up the necessary noise. A faint crashing noise erupted from somewhere, echoing off the cavernous hanger and making it difficult to discern, but the reptilian's hearing could, and he pointed in the correct direction. Dooku nodded and the two darted off to the north end of the massive hangar.
Dooku marveled that his compatriot had stuck around this long, and he dimly recalled the reptilian mentioning a daughter. He wondered at the story, and knew he would have to ruminate on many things when this was over. The fallout for this could take days; to say nothing of the effect it would have on his cover. That thought made him growl, and Mesagog apparently heard it, saying,
"Don't worry, friend. I'm certain your grandsons are holding their own. They take after you, after all."
Dooku did not correct him, and instead lead the charge up an extended set of spiral stairs to an upper level. He paused to catch his breath, cursing his age and his self-imposed restriction on using the Force. Mesagog waited patiently, even though he was almost two hundred-fifty years old he was only middle-aged by his species standards.
Carefully they entered a different part of the hangar, likely the main control room. The ceilings were slightly above standard height, and there were some corridors, a collection of offices, perhaps, to maintain the control room. Dooku allowed Mesagog to take the lead again, the reptilian's dura-staff gripped tightly in his claws as he gracefully navigated the hallways, pausing momentarily to listen, before making another turn, getting closer and closer to the Force signatures of Dooku's grandPadawans.
"One move and I'll blast the brat!"
They both froze, thinking they were caught, but for Obi-Wan's voice.
"Anakin, stay still."
"I'm kidnapped! I don't wanna stay still!"
"You're only making things worse."
"Worse! How could it possible get any worse?"
Dooku and Mesagog crouched down, creeping closer to the exchange - scratch that, closer to the argument - and eventually paused on either side of a door. Glancing past it to the room inside, Dooku could see a spacious layout that indicated an executive's office, likely for the manager of the storage facility or carryover for any corporate mogul using the space between flights. Inside Anakin struggled in the grip of the short Sullustran, the Twi'lek having a blaster in both fists, one pointed at the boy and the other pointed at Obi-Wan. Both were ignoring the perpetrators vehemently in favor of their argument. Mesagog saw this and turned confused golden eyes to Dooku, who could only shrug in reply. He had no idea what they were doing, and was hesitant to interrupt at an inopportune moment.
Obi-Wan heaved a great, weary, sigh. "I swear, Anakin, the way trouble seems to find you..."
The boy gave a shriek of indignation. "So you're saying this is my fault? That I caused this kidnapping or something? Are you stupid?"
"I didn't say that-"
"You might as well have!"
"Don't go blaming me when I'm trying to save you!"
"And a fine job you're doing of it! I'm still in the bad guys' clutches!"
The Twi'lek snarled. "And I will-"
"You stay out of this!" both boys shouted.
" 'Clutches'? Who uses such an outdated term anymore?"
"You do with all those stupid adventure novels you read!"
"Like you haven't read every book I ever brought home and whined for more."
"Whine! I do not whine!"
"You are right now, aren't you?"
"That's entirely beside the point! I'm kidnapped, remember?"
"And what a great inconvenience it is."
"Then why don't you do something about it!"
And Dooku could feel the grin in the Force.
"If I must, I must," Obi-Wan drawled, his diamond-edged sword flicking out with incredible speed, a classic Shi-Cho slash that had enough power to cut off one of the Twi'lek's arms above the wrist. The scream of pain was coupled with Anakin, struggling constantly up to this point, suddenly going utterly limp, making himself utter deadweight to the Sullustran holding him and distracting him enough for Dooku to burst into the room and throw his saber, the sword landing deep in the alien's chest and killing him instantly. Obi-Wan spun around, placing himself in front of Anakin, and blocking a blaster strike from the one-armed Twi'lek before Mesagog swooped in, his dura-staff thunking the alien hard on the head.
For a brief moment, there was silence, save for the occasional sound of breathing.
Then Anakin dashed forward and tackled Obi-Wan in a fierce embrace, and Obi-Wan was quick to kneel down and accept it. Anakin mumbled into Obi-Wan's chest, the other into his hair, before Dooku felt a soft pulse in the Force, likely from Obi-Wan, and the two parted.
"You three look terrible!" Anakin said, his voice a little shaky.
Dooku paused, looking at the party finery that he, Mesagog, and Obi-Wan were wearing, now torn and dirty, bloody and unkempt. They were indeed quite the sight. He gave a delicate shrug.
"Even nobles cannot remain dignified all the time."
Mesagog gave out a feral laugh. "It was an honor to fight beside you, my Lord," he said formally, his lower jaw undulating.
"The honor was mine, to have such a skilled friend by my side," Dooku said, taking a chance and offering the intimate title.
Golden eyes smiled at him, and somehow Dooku knew that his place in Councilor Bridge's inner circle was secure. He smiled, too, and he could not name the list of reasons why he did.
Zeltrax security had burst in, of course, as soon as they heard blaster fire, and were greatly embarrassed that three nobles had worked faster than they to subdue the targets. But, as nobles, the three of them remained dutifully humble and not the slightest bit smug.
That honor was left entirely to Anakin, who was not shy at all about singing the praises of all three of them to any who would listen, a wide-eye preteen rescued by his family.
Dooku refused treatment for any of them, explaining to Mesagog that he held his own maid Dayu in much higher regard than any overworked hospital mouthpiece, and the reptilian nodded, once again impressed, and once more offered to drive them home in his expensive hovercar. Obi-Wan expressed minor concern about ruining the interior with their bedraggled appearance, but Mesagog was too close to the family now to allow that kind of barrier, and Dooku explained such to his grandPadawans on the way back, patiently going over (again) the layers of formality and how one slowly transcends them to levels of deeper intimacy and explaining that often fighting in battle cut through many of those layers.
That conversation went right over Anakin's head, of course, but Obi-Wan, too, seemed to be only half-listening, both were holding each other tightly and often giving meaningful glances at each other, coupled with vibrant pulses in the Force that told Dooku they were reconnecting after a trying experience. He looked to Mesagog, and they both shared a look of understanding and let the conversation die.
Dayu, naturally, nearly had a fit when they four of them returned.
"What kind of idiot noble goes off into battle without having the intelligence to be careful! No consideration whatever to the people who have to clean up after you, no thought to the laborious task of stitching that shoulder closed! No inkling to the worry! The fear! The concern! I thought you were better than that, milord! I want a bonus for this! Don't you believe in hospitals?"
"Wait, wait, 'stitches'?" Anakin looked up, wide-eyed, as Dooku slowly stripped off his layers of finery to reveal the blaster wound to his shoulder. The child glared at the wound, and Dooku could feel a painful spinning in the Force around the boy's signature before he shouted, "Stupid old man!" and disappeared from the drawing room and presumably upstairs to his quarters. Obi-Wan offered an apologetic look, saying his goodbyes to Mesagog before following after his Padawan.
Mesagog, for his part, took it all in stride, and put a three-talon hand on Dooku's good shoulder. "They just lost their father," he said, "I expect this brought up unresolved emotions."
Dooku nodded, the motion hurting now that he didn't have adrenaline to stave off the pain of the blaster shot. "I suspect we will have much to talk about in the morning. Or perhaps the afternoon at this point," he corrected, looking out at the lightening night sky. "Benaag," he said.
"Yes, milord."
"Perhaps this goes without saying, but cancel my meetings for tomorrow - today - and tomorrow as well. Also, call Trip at the service to pick up Lord Mesagog up. I imagine he is exhausted and I hardly expect him to drive home after the favor he's done us."
"Your generosity is hardly necessary, Dooku," Mesagog said his name with no title, proof that they were friends now. "But I graciously accept. I'll likely be spending much of trip making calls of my own. When the dust has settled, we must talk."
Dooku missed the undercurrent at first, tired as he was, but he nodded and said, simply, "Yes."
In twenty minutes an open-mouthed Trip appeared, staring at Dooku as he was being stitched up and looking at the equally bedraggled Mesagog as she escorted him out to the speeders. At Dooku's request she had arranged a small, armed escort, in honor of the recent adventure and a gesture to Mesagog on how highly he was valued as a friend, and when the reptilian left the false Count finally relaxed.
Dayu continued to reprimand him, muttering about pay and expectations and hazard bonuses and hospitals. He tolerated it as much as he could, but in the end he was simply too tired to deal with it. "The reason I go to no hospital, Miss Dayu," he said curtly, "is because your care is far superior to theirs."
That left her gaping for the rest of the treatment, and once the bacta patch was in place he excused her and all but fell into bed.
The next day started at noon. Dooku woke unbelievably stiff and sore, and spent easily an hour stretching and pulling his overworked muscles back to shape before he felt he could walk with even a fraction of his usual grace. Leaving his chamber, he debated at first where to go, but decided not to impose himself on whatever Obi-Wan and Anakin shared together. The three of them needed to talk, but for the first time the Count found himself hesitant to intrude. The bond those two shared was incredibly strong, and in a very quiet corner of his mind he was jealous of the closeness. He had wished for a bond that deep with Qui-Gon - space knew the man had a proclivity towards it - but at the time he had kept his distance, and now he regretted it. He found he could not intrude on his two grandPadawans in that frame of mind, and so he instead went to his office to distract himself until he was mentally prepared for the imminent conversation he was going to have with those two boys.
The report to the Jedi was decidedly not going to be written just yet, and so he instead began writing letters to the people in the inner circle he had constructed for himself, a brief and appropriately worded explanation of the previous night's activities with apologies for canceled appointments and suggestions for further contact. He also drafted a more intimate letter to Count Mesagog, expressing his gratitude once more and offering his own assistance should circumstances ever reverse themselves. Councilor Bridge needed a draft, too, but as he began working through the intricate social network of platitudes and connections to see if he could afford to address her differently, the door opened and Benaag stepped in.
"Your new schedule, sir," the butler said stiffly. "Also, Tori wants you to know the children are up and that brunch, for lack of a better term, would be ready soon."
"I understand. Thank you," Dooku said.
"Milord..."
He looked up. "Yes?"
Benaag's face was completely smooth, lacking in any emotional content, but Dooku could sense Benaag's feeling acutely all the same.
"Milord..." he started again. "It is good that your most recent endeavor was successful."
Dooku nodded. "I am, as well. I wouldn't dream of leaving you with such a mess to clean up."
And Benaag smiled. "Will that be all?"
"Yes, Mr. Benaag. That will be all."
"Yes, milord."
Dooku put his papers down and headed toward what was sure to be a tense brunch.
The staff had already eaten, and for that Dooku was thankful. Nothing happened, at first; they just sat and ate. Dooku was biding his time, he did not wish to disrespect Tori's magnificent cooking by letting it get cold, and he would admit privately to himself that it was another means to stall. The Force was undulating between Obi-Wan and Anakin; why the Count did not know, the emotions were too complicated. But waiting, of course, was not young Skywalker's strong point, and at last he looked up from his meal.
"How do you know Qui-Gon?" he asked, utterly serious.
Dooku gave a deliberate gaze to the doorway and the ears of a passerby. "He was my son. Suffice to say, I spent years with him. We will talk more in my office."
"No, I want to talk now."
"Anakin," Obi-Wan said softly, his blue eyes locked on Dooku. "This must be a private conversation."
Irritation filled the boy. "How's here any different than his stupid office?"
Dooku's first reaction was irritation that the boy never listened, but he schooled that emotion in favor of the fact that he wanted to keep the boy complacent until their conversation truly started. So he explained, "Protocol of the help," before getting up and taking his plate. "Benaag," he said, and the butler swiftly arrived.
"Yes, milord?"
"My grandsons and I will be finish our meal in my office. We will be having a private conversation and are not to be bothered."
"Yes, milord."
"Forward calls to my desk and I'll take them when I can."
"Yes, milord."
"Thank you."
And Benaag departed.
"Come," he said to his grandPadawans. "We have much to discuss." He started moving without waiting for them to get up and follow, instead making the short journey to his tasteful office. The swords were back in their place, but his still had a few traces of blood on it. Dayu would have to clean it later. A petal from the dying bouquet fell to his desk as he sat down, and Dooku suddenly wondered if Qui-Gon would listen to this conversation. He reproached himself for believing in his dreams.
Taking his seat, he gestured for the boys to do the same. Anakin grabbed a chair and boldly placed it behind Dooku's desk, removing the traditional barrier.
"Anakin..."
"No, if we're really going to talk about how he knows Qui-Gon, we're going to talk as equals. As Jedi."
The arrogance of the statement irritated and amused Dooku at once, and he let the latter control as he nodded his head. "As you wish," he said simply. Obi-Wan seemed surprised that someone allowed the defiance, but grabbed a chair and did the same, sitting next to Anakin.
"Now, how do you know Master Qui-Gon?" the youngling demanded. "Obi-Wan said you said he takes after him and you said in the storage hanger that the three of us were the coalesced matter of Qui-Gon and it wasn't a lie you really believed it but that makes absolutely no sense unless you knew him but if you knew him we would know about it or at least Obi-Wan would know about it and he doesn't so you didn't but you did and it's all so stupid!"
Dooku leveled a steady gaze at the boy, serious and contemplative, communicating with his eyes and his presence the gravity of what he was about to say. The irony did not escape him.
"He was my Padawan," he stated simply, and waited.
Anakin of course made the more obvious reaction. His entire face slacked in shock and he sucked in an audible gasp. Obi-Wan's reaction was more subtle, but infinitely more powerful. His eyes widened slightly, but his color faded slightly as he visibly recalled every memory of his dead master he had to verify the sentence.
"He never spoke of you," he said slowly, frowning. Hesitant.
"I would have been surprised if he did," Dooku replied. "His apprenticeship was... trying, on both our parts. I had only just become a Jedi when I met him, my twenty-two to his twelve. I was impressed with his potential, and I was young and arrogant enough to think I knew what it took to raise a Padawan." He leaned back in his chair, slightly, settling in for a long story. "Qui-Gon rather successfully taught me otherwise. He was stubborn, shortsighted, irritating, and so ensorcelled by the Living Force that he could not pay attention for more than three minutes at any given time. He was always dragging home injured animals or digging in the Temple gardens, missions often took twice or thrice as long has he became sidetracked on some pathetic lifeform or other and I had to drag him, kicking and screaming, back to the point of the mission. I have never had such an abomination of an apprentice such as him."
Dooku smiled. Softly. Wistfully. "He was the best apprentice I ever had."
Then, sadly, "He was the only one close to me that never betrayed me."
He waited again, watching the two boys in front of him. He had never, never, talked about this; not to anyone, not even Master Yoda or Chancellor Palpatine. This was a gambit, trusting these two younglings that he barely knew with this sentiment. He wondered, distantly, if Qui-Gon would be proud.
Obi-Wan asked first. "You've suffered betrayal before?"
Dooku breathed deeply through his nose, interlacing his fingers in his lap. "A more accurate question perhaps is when I have not suffered betrayal. A friend as a Padawan, my best friend as an adult, a Padawan I had after Qui-Gon, even the very Senate that we serve. I know that emotional connections will only end in pain, perhaps better than anyone in the Order, and I understand why attachments are so dangerous to a Jedi."
Anakin frowned, hunching his shoulders and looking away. Dooku glared at the boy until he paid attention again - this was too important for the boy to shut down so early on.
"Qui-Gon was the exact opposite in that respect; he made connections left and right, without thought or care, and had a knack for burrowing his way into even the most distant of hearts. Now, with him gone..." He blinked, rapidly, before he could gain control of himself. "I wish I had allowed that bond to be deeper."
Silence settled over them. Long, heavy, deep.
Then,
"Do I really take after Qui-Gon?"
Dooku hadn't expected Obi-Wan to talk first, the young man was so collected and put-together and quietly thoughtful that Dooku had assumed he would just absorb all the information like a Jedi. For perhaps the first time, he realized that Obi-Wan was more than just a Jedi, more than just Qui-Gon's Padawan, and he remembered one of his dreams. "He has a decidedly small sense of self-worth, and that is my fault." Dooku uncharacteristically made a snap decision.
"You are everything that was good about Qui-Gon," he said deliberately, slightly heatedly. "You are competent and proficient, talented, remarkably diplomatic, and open to the Living Force when it confronts you." He watched as the redhead turned slightly pink, hidden in part by his goatee, and look down, the picture of an abashed man. The humility made Dooku press the point. "Force only knows what he did during your apprenticeship to make you doubt that, but know that you more than followed his example and do his memory credit. He would be proud of you."
"So... then... you were serious?" Anakin asked. "When you were talking about gravity and coalesced matter?"
Dooku fixed his gaze on the youngling. "Yes."
"So... dying... it doesn't..."
Dooku frowned, uncertain where the boy was going. He remembered the spinning sensation around the boy the previous night when young Anakin had learned he was injured, and the pressing hug the boy threw at Obi-Wan once he was safe. Did he fear death? Why?
" 'There is not death, there is the Force'," he quoted.
"But that's just stupid," Anakin said, startling Obi-Wan from his deeper thoughts. "Death is stronger than the Force. Even stars die, Obi-Wan said so, and when you're dead you're dead! You're gone, and you're never seen again, and it just hurts. I don't want people to die."
"Anakin..."
But Dooku held up a hand, preventing Obi-Wan from interrupting.
"So were you serious? About coalesced matter?"
Dooku peered at the boy, his gaze piercing as he sized up what the child was talking about. Finally, however, he took a deep breath through is nose and started speaking about theory.
"What is a thought?"
Of course the boy didn't understand at first. "... What?"
"What is a thought?"
"I don't know; a thought is... just a thought."
Found late, indeed. "A thought, at its most basic level," Dooku explained, "is when a neuron or collection of neurons in the brain respond to stimuli. The response is a chemical reaction, and thereby creates energy. The energy is then transferred to whatever action the thought generated, a blink of the eye, perhaps, or a change in regulation of the heart rate. Those are physical manifestations of thoughts, but thoughts are of course more complicated than maintaining our bodies. For example, the scent of a particular dish may bring about memories of childhood. The energy for those thoughts are transferred to memory and do not leave the brain. Working through a test, also, transfers energy mostly in the brain as one works through a problem. The energy of thoughts can also be transferred to others - for example, Obi-Wan and I thought very seriously of rescuing you, and the energy of those thoughts transferred to our actions, and the energy of our actions transferred to you, because you were, in fact, rescued. Our thoughts were transferred, ultimately, to you. For a Jedi, however, there is something else in the brain besides neurons."
"Midi-chlorians," Anakin supplied.
"Yes. How do they affect thoughts?"
"... I don't know?"
Dooku frowned, deciding to back up. "Energy cannot be created or destroyed, do you know that?" Anakin nodded. "Then energy is always going somewhere. Where do the energy of thoughts go? All the energy Obi-Wan expends in teaching you, where is that transferred to?"
"... Me?"
"Very good. You, then, are affected by the energy Obi-Wan has spent on you, the same way he is affected by the energy spent by Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon's energy, his thoughts, his nature, is passed on because of this energy transfer. He is gone, now, and can no longer transfer his thoughts." Dooku kept his dreams to himself. That was something he wouldn't dare mention until he could actually bring himself to believe that it was real. "Qui-Gon's body may be dead, and while his spirit is scattered to the far ends of the Force, all the energy he transferred in his life is still in the galaxy, transferring from one place to another. That is when gravity comes into play."
Anakin's eyes doubled in size as it all suddenly clicked in his head in a classic "ah-ha!" moment. "Qui-Gon: his thoughts, his energy, gravity makes them coalesce in you and me and Obi-Wan!"
"Yes."
"And the Force, the midi-chlorians, they heighten the experience because Qui-Gon's spirit is in the Force! That's why I can sometimes feel Qui-Gon!"
... What?
"It's all 'cause he's living on in all of us, so even if someone dies... There is no death! It all makes sense now, this is great!"
Anakin burst from his seat, a bright smile on his face as his Padawan braid swished back and forth. "I thought you were just some stupid old man," he said brightly, making Dooku wince slightly. "But you really know what you're talking about, and you're my grandfather for real! That's just so... wizard!"
And without warning Dooku was hugged tightly, a shock of pain in his shoulder enveloped in a warm shining hum of the Force, before Anakin pulled back. The boy hugged Obi-Wan, too, perhaps for good measure, before taking his seat again and demanding to know everything there was to know about Qui-Gon. For the rest of the afternoon, Dooku and Obi-Wan shared stories about the man, anecdotes and adventures and lessons and complaints, everyone discovering something new about Qui-Gon. Everyone living through the memory of Qui-Gon.
It took Dooku a long time to realize that, for the first time in years, he was smiling.
Author's Notes: At last a little action. Always a good way to grab reader attention. ^_^ Dooku working at only a percentage of his true strength and still kicking ass. Mwahahaha. We also have a nice bonding piece at the end. Really, the chapter speaks for itself. Given the research we did into how thoughts work and energy transfers and such, we hope the idea of gravity and coalesced matter came across clearly.
Now that Dooku has connected with Obi and Ani, we need to have some sweet bonding scenes.
About review replies, some of you may have noticed last week that we didn't do them like we normally do. That's because, for some reason, fanfiction . net isn't sending them to our email any more, which is how we always did the replies before. We thought we hadn't gotten any reviews. Turns out that this was untrue and we need to poke around and figure out why our email isn't getting reviews any more. Hmmmm. Sorry about that.
Hope you enjoyed! See you next week.