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Narglatch in Shaak's Clothing Chapter 12
62 BBY
Something about massive numbers of screaming, laughing tourists always set Dooku's teeth on edge. The Jedi Knight sits in the central square of Doaba Guerfel, Corellia's finest mountain resort, and studies the endless flow of life around him. The Fourth Galactic Games have brought hundreds of thousands of spectators to descend on this rugged area for many days of fierce athletic competition and many nights of unparalleled revelry.
He feels the bridge of his nose wrinkle in disdain. Those without the Force must entertain themselves somehow, he supposes. Still, these shows of bravado he can do without. The Jedi have no need of proving their prowess; their lightsabers and their strength speak louder than anything else.
Speaking of strength, here comes his padawan, winding a long route around the outer edge of the square. Dooku watches Palpatine strolling through the thick crowd, long arms swinging with easy grace at his sides, a friendly smile on the narrow face. To any other onlooker, the young man appears to be as enraptured with the proceedings as anyone else, but Dooku can see the sharp glint in the pale eyes. Palpatine is lively and honed in the Force, senses stretching into the corners and market stalls of the public place.
He is growing up, with or without my permission, Dooku realizes with a start, and he remembers that it has been ten years since he first found him sparring in the Temple. Ten years of pride and fear and tentative bonds, ten years of feeling accomplished and inadequate at the same time. Dooku sighs. Is this what all masters feel when nearing the end? In this last year alone, Palpatine's strength has dramatically increased in the Force. By all rights, he should be taking his Trials soon.
But Master Yoda came to Dooku a few months ago and, as delicately as his old friend could, had suggested that Palpatine wait a while yet. Dooku had fumed at first: why? Palpatine was twice as skilled as the other padawans his age. Some had already taken their own trials, and he did not tell Yoda how Sheev inwardly chafed at the teasing of those new Knights. Yoda looked at him gently: In doubt, his power is not.
Of course, Master Yoda remained his usual irritatingly enigmatic self and did not expound on the reasoning, and Dooku deferred to his wishes reluctantly. It was clear the old master was worried by his apprentice.
Dooku worries too, but he suspects his reasons are different. Palpatine has moved beyond his brief obsession with the late Qui-Gon Jinn and focused his efforts entirely on his training. The bond between Master and Apprentice has stabilized now: professional and cautiously friendly. Just more evidence in Dooku's eyes that his padawan is ready. He mostly worries that he cannot continue teaching his padawan at the same rate Palpatine is learning. Thankfully, Palpatine is beginning to spend more time in the Senate Building as he prepares himself for the role of a Jedi Consular.
Dooku was not surprised by his padawan's choice. Palpatine has always been a negotiator, transforming from a socially awkward boy into a young man who can now walk the halls with the finest senators and show no discomfort at all in their presence. He is popular with the politicians, with his wide smile and willingness to listen to their pompous declarations. Dooku snorts, an inelegant sound. He would never have the patience for such madness, even though he too is interested in the field, as corrupted as it is.
He limits his interactions with the senators and diplomats to a trusted few, where he knows his advice will receive its just attention and respectful consideration. Palpatine, on the other hand, flits from circle to circle, making connections everywhere he goes and leaving befuddled, delighted admirers in his wake. Dooku laughs, startling the small avian perched on the bench at his side: he has raised a politician.
Of all things…
"Something amusing, Master?" Palpatine slides onto the bench from the side, half-smiling, half-curious, and Dooku flushes to have been caught off guard so easily.
He turns to face his padawan, still so much shorter than himself. He will always be taller, but Palpatine does not need height to make his presence felt. "I was thinking of your friends in the Senate."
Palpatine's grin fades somewhat. "They haven't said anything too condemning, I hope?"
Dooku spears him with a look. "Should I be concerned?"
His padawan shrugs and looks out over the square. "Not at all."
Which means yes. Dooku huffs a low sigh; he will have to sort it out when they return to Coruscant. No use worrying about Sheev's latest escapades now, so he refocuses his attention on their surroundings. "Have you felt anything out of order?"
Palpatine tilts his head. "I feel low levels of hostility and fear, Master, the same as I did when we first arrived. But the emotions are so widespread, I'm having difficulty pinpointing a source."
It amazes Dooku, in the face of the fierce joy of these Galactic Games, how easily his padawan can sense the darker emotions in the beings around them. Even among Jedi, Palpatine is extremely sensitive to the Dark Side of the Force, which Dooku knows has most of the Council deeply concerned. But at the same time, the skill proves incredibly useful, as Palpatine can often judge a suspect's affiliations and intentions with a glance.
"I did learn one interesting thing," Palpatine states, offhanded and gazing into the crowd.
Dooku waits.
"This resort evidently consumes more Corellian ale than all of the neighboring cities combined," he says with a slight smirk.
Dooku stares, disappointed. "And that is going to help us achieve our mission?"
"You never know," Palpatine says. "Drunks can tell marvelous stories, Master. Stories that could lead us where we need to be."
"Well, then, let's hope tonight yields more promising results than the day," Dooku nods.
That evening, Dooku and his apprentice cycle through the many bars and open taps spread throughout the resort town, seeking information. Rumors of a human-centric terrorist cell have brought them to the Games, of threats made against multiple of the attending planets' athletes. Dooku leaves his padawan talking to a promisingly drunken Twi'lek in one bar and glides silently across the night to the next.
In this one, he locates a human with a baleful glare and an oppressively large chip on his shoulder. Dooku's sharp eyes spot the telltale tattoo peeking out under the left sleeve, one of the many marks with ties to the organization they are hunting. He holds his lightsaber in reserve and lets loose his words instead, chatting the human into complacency, sympathetically clicking his tongue when the man bemoans the sorry state of nonhuman affairs.
The man thinks he has found a friend, and Dooku does not disabuse him of the notion. Instead, he feigns an equal level of drunkenness and eagerness to make things right, and the man pulls him closer to the bar's counter. "You wanna actually do something about it?" he whispers, the alcohol fetid on his breath.
Dooku suppresses a shudder of disgust. "What did you have in mind?" he asks, raising both eyebrows in conspiracy and stroking his beard.
The man chuckles hoarsely. "Follow me, friend."
Dooku opens himself to the Force, and the result is encouraging. This man is indeed up to no good, and if Dooku can infiltrate their cell before they can act… He imagines the gratitude of the Game sponsors, the approval of the Council. He rises and follows the man out the back entrance of the bar into several consecutive, dimly lit alleyways. As he walks, he reaches out for Sheev and cannot feel his presence; he must still be far back in the other bar. The Twi'lek was very vocal, after all.
As they walk, the man tells him about all the wonderful opportunities that these Games are going to create for humans soon, what with all the positions that are bound to be "opening up." Dooku smirks inwardly; what a fool, and a talkative one as well. He has discovered an excellent source of information tonight.
The man stops at the entrance to a dark alley and gestures forward. "You sure you want in on this, friend?"
And Dooku opens his mouth to reply as the man starts to walk forward, and then the Force cries out, and so many things are happening at once that even his Jedi senses are momentarily overwhelmed. The knowing gleam in the man's eyes as he glances back at Dooku, the whine of a powerful engine fast approaching, the gleam turning to sheer horror before being snuffed out in a thump of bones and blood on the pavement.
Before Dooku can even register the human's gruesome death, a pale hand is reaching out and tugging him into the speeder with surprising strength, his padawan staring at him with wild intensity. "We have to get out of here, Master," he snaps and throws the speeder into motion.
"That was my lead," Dooku protests, craning his neck to see the man and the alley quickly disappearing, before the entire scene is engulfed in a massive explosion that shakes the nearby buildings and nearly throws the speeder into the walls. Palpatine grips the steering console tightly, white-knuckled, and guides the machine to a full stop only once they are several blocks away.
They both breathe heavily in the silence.
Dooku runs a shaky hand through his dark hair until he can find his voice, cracking with comprehension. "Dare I even ask what just happened? There was no deceit in that man."
"He was a bigger fool than you thought, Master," Palpatine finally lets go of the steering and sits back. "He would have died right alongside you, killed by his so-called friends, just to get a Jedi Knight." His words are pinched tight with anger and something harder to identify. Dooku does not even try.
"So you killed him instead," Dooku shakes his head.
"He was taking you into a trap, Master," Palpatine says quietly. "I had to act quickly."
"You didn't need to kill him," Dooku snaps, feeling the headache behind his eyes blossom into a full-fledged fire. He is embarrassed too, that his apprentice was more in tune to the situation than he was. "He was unarmed and relatively harmless."
"His friends weren't, up ahead," Palpatine jerks his chin in the direction of the distant dark alleyway, pouring smoke and flame and screaming with city alarms. There is a tenseness in his shoulders, a tightly concealed fear. "They could have killed you, they would have, I… I saw it."
Dooku looks sharply at him. "In a vision?"
Palpatine blinks, then nods. "I couldn't let it happen, Master."
Dooku wraps his cloak tightly around his shoulders and tries to think, but he is more shaken than he would ever like to admit. I could have died. His visions nearly always come true. I would have died. He tries to think. "All the same, we've lost our lead."
Palpatine shrugs, careless and deliberate all at once. "We'll find another one before long."
Dooku sits a long moment in silence until Palpatine turns to him again, a strangely pleading, confused light in his pale eyes. "You are upset with me."
A long pause.
"Someone ought to be," Dooku says at last. "No death is frivolous, Sheev, no matter the level of criminal it may be. You are a Jedi. You will be a Jedi Knight someday. You can't always take the easy way out." He cannot quite hold the next words back even though part of him wishes he can. "And that, back there, what you did. It was too easy for you. You could have saved him."
Palpatine's eyes cloud over, and he lowers his gaze submissively. "I regret it, Master."
Because I called you out on it, not because you killed him, Dooku thinks and cannot help the shiver from running down his spine. There is a difference between regret and remorse, and Dooku sometimes fears that his apprentice does not understand, will never understand. Part of him feels guilty that he has failed to impart such an important lesson so fundamentally critical to human nature. Part of him wonders if he even could.
Now perhaps, he can see why Yoda wishes to wait.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Yes, Dooku, you've missed a few things that might turn out to be rather important in the long run.
Tune in next time for incredibly awkward reunions. Fun fun… :)
Apologies for any typos found within. Leave a review and let me know what you think, if you could.