Dooku's study was a sanctuary for all that he had gathered throughout his life, which, to say the least, was quite extensive. The room overlooked the soft hills of Sereno, with a breathtaking view of the lush forests below. As a man of refined taste, Dooku appreciated the finer things in life, including art, aesthetics, and intellectual pursuits. Although his time with the Jedi had encouraged him to abandon materialism, he never could quite rid himself of his love for exquisite and valuable objects.
Dooku had a penchant for antique books made of actual paper, as they resonated better with the Force than digital alternatives. The idea of knowledge being imprinted in living matter appealed to him, and he appreciated the weight and history associated with physical books. His study was filled with such items, as well as antiques and artifacts from past eras. Dooku was aware that he shared this interest with his former master, Sidious.
Count Dooku, otherwise known as Darth Tyranus, former Jedi Master and Councillor, gripped tightly the handle of his lightsaber, while balancing precariously in his desk's chair. The news of Darth Sidious' death had caught him off guard and left him with mixed emotions. Dooku had never thought it possible for Sidious to be unexpectedly and permanently removed, after so many years of careful planning and deceitful maneuvers. He was hesitant to believe it and remained suspicious, questioning the possibility of it being a trap. Knowing Sidious' devious mind, he wouldn't put it past him to fake his own death if it would further his malevolent plans.
It seemed odd to him though, as Sidious' grand plan was unfolding as planned. The Clone Troopers had just been deployed, led by their Jedi Generals, despite the fiasco of Geonosis. The steps had been unfolding as planned, even with the odd events derailing somewhat the outcomes of what had been planned.
Dooku knew that he wasn't privy to all of Sidious' objectives, as he had intentionally kept him in the dark to ensure his dependence. As the supposed antagonist in the war, Dooku's role was to exhaust the Jedi and confuse their values and morals. However, he couldn't help but Dooku had taken on the role assigned to him, partly because he had long been disillusioned with the Jedi and their strict, unyielding ways. He saw corruption in their ranks and a lack of true justice, and believed that the galaxy needed to go through a cleansing fire to emerge better. But Dooku was not naive. He knew he was too old and knowledgeable to be a useful apprentice for long, and that once Sidious had no further use for him, he would dispose of him without hesitation. The Sith Master-Apprentice relationship was complex, built on deception and pretense, with each trying to outsmart the other. Failure meant at the thought of it all.
Dooku had taken precautionary measures to ensure his survival, knowing that his movements were being monitored by Sidious' spies and informants. Despite being located far from Coruscant, he had established multiple independent networks to increase his chances of disappearing if necessary. However, the news of Sidious' supposed removal from power raised questions, particularly about the identity of his killer. According to the intelligence and images he had obtained, the individual had engaged in a full-powered fight with Sidious, which was no small feat considering the immense power the Sith Lord possessed.
Dooku realized that this turn of events presented a new opportunity for him. His contingency plans had always included a way to break free from Sidious' influence, but he had never imagined a scenario where he would need to act quickly to seize power. Now, with Sidious gone, the path to ultimate control of the galaxy was open. The Republic was leaderless and vulnerable, with a Senate and a Jedi Order in disarray.
Dooku could use the full force of the Separatist Army to conquer Coruscant and destroy it, even if that wasn't part of Sidious' original plan for establishing his empire. Dooku wasn't concerned about the Core worlds, as he believed that the Confederacy of Independent Systems could thrive without them.
Moving the financial assets he controlled to other worlds would be relatively easy. Dooku planned to decentralize the seat of power and government from Coruscant to another location, such as Sereno or Raxus, to consolidate his control over the galaxy.
However, there was still an elusive obstacle that Dooku couldn't quite figure out how to deal with. The unknown player had intervened in a dramatic fashion without any warning signs, leaving Dooku with very little information. This being must have played their part shrewdly to remain so discreet. It was highly probable that Dooku had met this person before, and maybe they were another apprentice that Sidious was grooming without his knowledge. Dooku was aware that there was someone on Coruscant who had caught Sidious' attention, and he intended to assign a team of analysts to the task of investigating unexplained events from several years back, trying to find any clues that could help him identify this unknown force.
Meanwhile, the question of Sidious' legacy remained. Only a handful of individuals knew his true identity as Palpatine. Dooku was aware that Sidious possessed immense power and resources, which he could not let go to waste. The Sith had access to entire planets to advance their dark agendas, but these worlds were heavily guarded and not easily accessible. Dooku needed to obtain the key to these valuable assets.
Fortunately, he had a few trusted informants within the Jedi temple. He needed to cross-check their information and select a competent agent to carry out the mission in the heart of Coruscant. He had just the person in mind for the job - Mister Fett, who had already proven his zeal in opposing the Jedi on numerous occasions.
]o[
Mace entered the Head Quarter. Almost eighteen hours had passed since the event, and the Clones had made a tremendously efficient job at setting up a well-organized crisis center. Different teams worked on specific tasks to advance rapidly in the investigation, and the huge room had been divided into different zones to coordinate the various aspects of the investigation.
There was in particular the area used by Master Vos, who was, logically, directing the investigation mostly concerning items and objects found at the crime scene. The investigation had soon revealed that the affair had ties with Force-related clues, aside from the obvious fact that the perpetrator was Force-trained.
Another area was used to run and crossreference all recordings and testimonies that had been gathered, and a tactical holotable had been set up to pool relevant information. It was diffusing the probable course the criminal had followed during their escape.
The men looked quite fatigued, but efficient and focused, and quietly murmured in good humor to keep themselves alert.
Mace was running himself on adrenaline. He had naped previously, maybe a half hour, after his visit at the Archives, and, while the lack of sleep could be felt in the way his temples rumbled with disquiet, he felt sufficiently energized to continue like that for a while. A part of him thrived in these kinds of events. Despite being Head of the Jedi High Council, he quite loathed flimsiwork and tedious, neverending meetings that were part of his job. He far more preferred the times he took to run odd and far between missions for the Order, even if it was to fight. Mace was a man of action, but his capacity to sense how the threads of events weaved in a coherent tapestry was a skill too precious to waste in mere interventions. His vision was needed to help navigate the Order in these troubled times.
He was greeted with grim expressions, and he could feel great concern that radiated into the Force. Vos was blank in the Force, carefully tucking his emotions behind his shield, but Fox was distinctively troubled. The few times Mace had interacted with the man before the event had been characterized by an imperturbable and cool-headeness demeanor. Mace supposed that for bearing the quirks and whims of the politicians he had to put up with all day long, Commander Fox sure needed steel self-control.
"What is going on?" he asked in lieu of a greeting, not bothering for niceties he knew everyone was too tired to bother displaying.
Quinlan Vos gestured to Fox to let him the task of explaining their findings. They would not have called him here if it wasn't sufficiently important to require his physical presence.
"Master Vos found something interesting. We have combed through the Chancellor's office and began an extensive inventory. Master Vos talent had been precious in selecting et number down items of interests." Fox handed Mace a pad with pictures of the particular items that were relevant. "Master Vos discovered a concealed compartment in this sculpture, one of which contained recording equipment."
Mace felt a spike of interest flushing his tiredness out. "Did you manage to read any content there?"
Fox nodded, "I put my best men in it. The system was rather well protected, but no defense system resists dedicated attention. We managed to access to the relevant part, and we know it will be rather conclusive, for certain critical questions the affair poses, but…." Fox trailed off, visibly not sure how he could convey his opinion.
"And?" Mace nudged.
"We have clear footage of what happened, Master Windu. I... I'm not sure it should be released now, even to the authorities. I need to defer to your judgment."
"Fox is saying we are in a clusterfucked situation," Quilan intervened, examining his nails idly. "What had clear proof of what we all began to suspect, Master Windu. Palpatine was a treacherous motherfucker."
"Language, Master Vos. We need to be irreproachable in this investigation, and not display a lack of neutrality." Mace was inclined to think along Vos' lines in the secret of his mind. "Allow me to assess the situation." He eyed the other men in the room, and raised a questioning brow to Fox.
"The men in this room are completely forbidden from communicating any information; you can trust them," answered the Commander clones, a bit rigidly.
Mace nodded. He could sense the good faith and the honesty in these men. In the few months of their surprising deployment, Mace had observed firsthand the sheer loyalty they expressed. The clones, as a rule, genuinely cared about doing their job as well as possible. A part of Mace's mind asked about the origin of this loyalty. Are character and temperament could be selected genetically? Was it their upbringing and their training that had rendered these men so trustworthy?
"Come on, Master Windu," Vos designated a desk, and Mace sat on the chair facing a small display to keep things discreet, while Fox triggered the video playback. The recording device had been apparently placed over the coffee table in front of the luxurious velvety couch, that had been placed in the corner of the Chancellor's office designated to receive distinguished guests. The Chancellor himself could be seen there, seated, with a genial smile plastered on his wrinkled face, and obviously addressing a person who was at the time off-screen.
"We haven't decoded the signal for the sound yet, but the images are telling by themselves," precised Fox.
For a second, Palpatine paused in his apparent speech, and was so static it looked like the video had been put on hold, when suddenly, violence unleashed without warning.
Mace took a breath of surprise, and he barely suppressed an exclamation when he saw that Palpatine had activated a red lightsaber, and engaged in an onslaught of terrible violence.
The second protagonist appeared briefly on screen, shedding a luxurious robe and keeping only a formfitting black uniform and the nondescript mask that was now familiar to the team of investigators. The recording provided however a better close-up of the being, who was clearly a human or near-human of the masculine build. The man had drawn his lightsaber, the color of which was interestingly yellow, and not the red provided by a bled Kyber crystal.
Both fighters were moving enough for the camera to capture only bits of the whole fight. During the second minutes, the sculpture containing the recording device was thrown brutally in a corner with the table, and, while skewing the viewing angle, offered a much better panorama for the unfolding action.
Palpatine showed great dramatic competence, on par with the best fighters the Temple counted. This display squashed any lingering doubts in Mace's mind about the true identity of their seemingly benevolent Chancellor. He was truly the proverbial krayt dragon in disguise, there, in the heart of the power of the Galactic Republic.
The Chancellor's opponent was holding his own, showing surprising nimbleness, and recognizable Jedi form like Soresu, with elements of other forms blending superbly in the flow of parries and attacks. The precise sequences of trading blows were often too fast to be easily readable from the viewing angle.
The fight lasted five, maybe eight minutes in total, and in those few minutes, both sides exhibited such great skill that Mace doubted he would have been able to pull it off on his own if he had to fight either of the combatants. In his career, Mace tried not to take pride in his fighting proficiency because it was not fitting the Jedi way and precepts. Still, he allowed himself to bask in gratification and delight whenever he won a bout against other Masters renowned for their dueling skills.
Opponents fought with their lightsabers, but also with the Force, multitasking and dividing their attention into multiple chains of actions. The furniture flew, transformed into projectiles and weapons, and Force lightning streaked the screen, saturating the light sensors intermittently.
Soon, in a show of mastery hard to fully understand, the Chancellor's opponent provoked the floor's collapse, while continuing to rain down precise and powerful attacks on the Chancellor's defense. After an exchange difficult to analyze, the attacker ended up decapitating Palpatine, whose corpse fell, after staying still for a few seconds, frozen in time for a moment. The Chancellor's opponent, obviously grievously injured –they had clearly seen him taking a hit on his left shoulder–, stayed still for a moment to regain his breath, before diving when the clones arrived on site.
Mace would have to watch the video many times to understand the action better, but this first viewing already answered the most fundamental question of all : who was really Palpatine.
Considering the skills he had displayed to save his life, Palpatine was clearly a Sith Lord. This explained the breaking of the shatterpoint and the shift in the Force they had all felt at the time of the event.
He ran a tired hand on his smooth cranium, before expelling a breath of air. "Kriff."
Vos nodded in agreement. "Do you understand now? We're in deep shit. Well, maybe not as much as we were when Palpatine was alive and scheming, but…well." He gestured vaguely to compensate for his lack of eloquence.
The implications of this reality were indeed dizzying. Palpatine had risen to the pinnacle of power, probably by lying and manipulating, but Mace felt that the plot probably had roots in many aspects of powers and influences that ran the Republic. That was a repulsive can of worms that Mace was loath to open, but the Jedi Order wouldn't have sadly many choices on the matter. The Jedi would certainly have to clean up this shit, because, in the eyes of the mundane citizen, everything that was Force related was Jedi business and responsibility. The political fall of the event would be horrendous to address. And they still had a war to win.
Mace held the bridge of his nose, feeling the migraine fully kick in. He took out his comm, and sent the emergency signal that urged the councilors to meet in immediate session.
"Commander Fox, come with us, we need to keep the Jedi High Council informed before we make a decision. The Senate had planned to meet in the early afternoon to appoint an interim Chancellor urgently." After a pause, he added. "All the GAR has to prepare to regroup and be ready for a strategic retreat to Coruscant."
]o[
Deathy silence filled the Council room. The recording had been over for several minutes already, but the shock felt by the Council members physically present was stirring the Force, despite their usual proficiency in masking unruly emotions. They all had difficulty digesting facts and information that had been presented to them this morning. Quinlan Vos had presented his finding, while Master Sinube had made a short update on his nightly research to Mace earlier in the morning. Mace stood in the middle of the room, with Fox at attention next to him.
Finally, Yoda stirred out of his unnatural immobility. "Fools, we were. Complacent, we grew."
A few councilors, clearly shellshocked, nodded in agreement. Shaak Ti added, "Palpatine is clearly a Sith Lord. How could we have been fooled so blatantly?"
"The Sith are masters of deception and pretense." Mace answered. "For millennia we have not heard of them. We were stupid to conclude that they must have disappeared, and won the game."
"That was not a game, because we were clearly not aware we were played." intervened Madame Nu, who, despite her sleepless night, seemed neatly put together and alert. Her voice, dry and severe, conveyed both disappointment and tightly controlled anger.
Mace conceded the point, before continuing: "We have to meticulously assess the full extent of influence Palpatine has exerted during his years in power, throughout his career, and well before that. We will have to gather a solid body of evidence against him. Politically, it will be a mess to sort. We must understand how he was able to access supreme power like this, but above all, uncover all of his schemings. No doubt he hadn't stayed idle, and the Jedi has necessarily been a target. We need to understand how and with what means."
There was a pause, when Mace knew everyone began to truly grasp the implication of the High Chancellor of the Republic being in fact their mortal enemy. Suddenly, Coruscant didn't feel as secure as they thought. The Republic they had defended could as well be a tool to prepare for their demise.
Listening carefully until then, Fox spoke up: "I have a team dedicated to evidence gathering . As the head of the Coruscant Guards, I have access to a lot of records and to a part of the Chancellor's archive. I think we will need the Senate's approbation to access more freely to secured records. It will probably take time to analyze all the data, and we will need legal experts and jurists with keen eyes to consult every proposal for laws and decrees."
Various councilors nodded in understanding, while Yoda answered: "Help us, you wish. Thankful to you, the Jedi are."
"This leaves us with the second important point to discuss," said Mace. "We know for a fact that Palpatine was our enemy. So what about the person who attacked him? Is it an enemy or a friend?"
Jedi Master Plo Koon intervened for the first time in the meeting. He seemed deeply troubled by the unfolding events. "Maybe he's a Sith too, his apprentice? It seems to me that this is the Sith way of handling... the passing on of their heritage."
"Hmm, that might indeed be the case, but we shouldn't rule out any hypotheses. In any case, this person helped us uncover a conspiracy that likely had its roots in decades of planning."
"Without his intervention, perhaps we would have realized this too late," sighed Master Plo.
An ominous silence hung over, and echoes of what could have been resonated in the Force.
Everyone perceived a disturbing depth in these words, as if this "too late" had a weight, a strange reality.
Mace felt a shiver run up his spine. He felt like they were at a crossroads, in the middle of a pivotal episode so huge that the fates of billions of people had suddenly changed.
"This person must know a lot." Shaak Ti said, showing off her sharp teeth. "We need to find him and capture him, but it is obvious that he will not be easy to neutralize, and, until we know more about his loyalties, we need to exercise utmost caution."
Everyone nodded their assent, and Mace continued with a sigh. "Now, we have to decide on the matter of what to say to the Republic citizens."
]o[
Bant Eerin, Jedi Healer, was consulting some files in her personal physician's office, when she saw his old friend knock lightly on the door jamb. Usually neat and tidy, Obi-Wan looked like a walking corpse. His hair was plastered to his head with sweat, and his bloodshot eyes gave him a crazed look.
"Obi-Wan!" she cried. She rushed over to him, closed the door, and half supported, half dragged him toward the sickbed set in the corner. "What happened?"
"I misjudged an artifact, and caught a Sith trap head-on," he rasped. "I need you to help me lift a curse."
Bant had already come to the aid of her friend numerous time, whom she had the pleasure –and displeasure– of seeing more often lately. Obi-Wan had been part of her Initiates clan, back when they were crècheling. He was like his brother in that they had shared many moments together. Their friendship was strong, even though their respective career choices had driven them apart. Obi-Wan, when he was young, always said he would become a Jedi Knight. He had fire and passion, and he actively cared for the well-being of those around him. With her innocent eyes, Bant did not doubt that he would succeed in carving out the path he desired.
With hindsight and maturity, she told herself that nothing could predict the trajectory of individuals, and that everything could indeed change overnight.
Their small group of more-than-friends, comprising Obi-Wan and herself, as well as Garen Muln and Siri Tachi, had all been taken as padawans. But Obi-Wan far later than usual for someone of his talent. However, that didn't work in the end. Obi-Wan, soon after the beginning of his apprenticeship, had declared a bad neurological condition, which put an end to his ambitions.
His broken dream dimmed his inner fire, and Obi-Wan became quiet and introverted. The change had not been gradual, but sudden, as if he had been replaced by someone else wearing his face overnight.
Bant remembered they had been quite disturbed by the change. It was as if Obi-Wan had lost his spark, and had suddenly become a reasonable, mature, adult person, even though he was still only twelve. He seldom laughed or bantered, and was instead often sporting somber expressions with preoccupied lines marring his face.
Sometimes his face would suddenly light up with a radiant smile when his friends managed to make him forget what was bothering him, and Bant's heart would sink as she realized that Obi-Wan was, at heart, still the same.
He had gone from being a bright, intelligent, emotional child to a dry, dark-tempered adult. Obi-Wan had soon joined the ExplorCorps, first as an Archaeologist, then more recently as an Archivist.
Obi-Wan had always been careful to maintain his rare but precious ties to his friends, however. Bant was one of the few privileged, because she had been quite involved with her Master in Obi-Wan's neural headband conception and set-up. They had succeeded in devising an effective system, greatly improving Obi-wan's resistance to the random seizures he suffered.
Obi-wan had taken the habit of visiting her between his missions, first for his obligatory consultations, then for the pleasure of seeing each other. He took the time to ask about her affairs and her relationships. He would offer her tea, and tell her about his latest research. This often involved the handling of unknown and often dangerous devices and artifacts. He regularly got burns or headaches, but never anything more serious.
That's why Bant had to face her dismay when taking inventory of Obi-Wan's injuries. His drawn features were marked by pain, which she assumed was severe, despite the fact that Obi-Wan had, as always, put up impeccable mental shields.
She had always been impressed by his mastery of certain Jedi arts, despite the general mediocrity of his performance when it came to direct force use and martial prowess. Obi-Wan could be surprising in that his skills were highly specialized. He didn't seem to care about much else except his very specific interests in history and ancient arts, not to mention his almost obsessive focus on the Sith language and spells.
He was recognized as a specialist in his field, but was overlooked in everything else, yet Bant knew that he had a formidable intellect behind his somewhat always bewildered appearance.
Obi-Wan gritted his teeth when she demanded that he remove his layers of clothing, but he eventually relented, too exhausted to fight.
When she uncovered his chest, she cried out, "What the hell happened to you? I can't believe this is from a regular work." She stopped, scrutinizing his lesion closer. "Obi-Wan, it looks... it looks like a lightsaber wound!"
Obi-Wan sighed and closed his eyes like he had the worse headache of his life. "Bant, I can't tell you anything right now, we're in the middle of an investigation of the utmost importance... when the subject is less sensitive, I promise to explain everything. I need you to address the most serious of my wounds, while I focus on my psyche. I have suffered a mental attack and a curse is eating away at my defenses."
"Don't you think we should call in a Mind Healer? I'm not sure we should take those things lightly."
"I can try to take care of it; I'm used to these things. If I don't get the desired result, I promise to do what I can to get help. I did come to you, didn't I?" And indeed, it seemed it had cost him dearly to come to see her in her lair. They usually always met elsewhere than in the Healing Halls.
"Hmm, okay, but I'll keep you under observation this morning. Lie down, and let's do what's necessary."
Obi-Wan's speech made sense, and he seemed calm and unaffected by the situation. His composure impressed her, and she allowed herself to be convinced by his arguments.
He closed his eyes as she gently applied her hands to his chest. She summoned the Force, and wrapped it around her fingers like a spool of threads. The process took the form of a tapestry in her mind: she drew the Force fibers into the organic tissues, encouraging them to replenish themselves with her will. She superimposed the mental image of a healthy, vigorous body on reality, which helped the cells to organize themselves according to the suggested pattern.
The wound was deep, and already several hours old. Obi-Wan must have had to keep his important tasks despite being hurt. Through the connection she had made, she could sense the intense exhaustion he was trying to hold at bay, but it menaced to overwhelm his mind and body.
She felt that Obi-Wan's concentration was turned inward, and that he was battling a problematic enemy. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead, indicating that he was exerting himself very hard.
Bant focused on the large wound on Obi-Wan's shoulder. The healing process had begun, and it would now take time, rest, and a decent diet to heal properly. She cleaned the wound and applied bacta before bandaging his shoulder. Other injuries were damaging his skin, but nothing as severe as what she had just dealt with.
She was just finishing applying salve to one of the multiple cuts that marred his forearms when she heard an odd crack in the force, followed by a groan of pain. Obi-Wan rolled onto his side and retched, before collapsing back onto the bed. He pressed his hands to his face and inhaled sharply.
"Kriff."
"Are you alright?"
"I... I should be fine." He peered between his fingers. "I need to sleep."
"I'll keep you under observation, as I said."
"Mrs. Nu will be soon looking for me. It's best if I go sleep where she knows how to find me. I promise to call you in a few hours and let you know how I am."
Bant had expected this, but made a show of putting up her best healer glower. Sadly, Obi-Wan was immune to these attacks, and Bant knew it was useless to insist. She sighed in resignation. He answered with a congenial smile, entirely faked, but so in place amid his features. Bant had always thought Obi-Wan was made for joy and optimism, and not for the sadness that seemed to accompany him unfailingly.