Dear Reader, thank you to my reviewers: Sued13, Ms CT-782, thaismarendaz, Writingfan27, Princess Rey Tano, Eeepeeep, Galaxy000. As always, much appreciated! You will see that I did not go through every single detail of Echo's rescue. But I did insert a few scenes with a . . . secret observer! I hope you enjoy. Peace, CS
Chapter 126 Rescue
"Fall free, freedom's in the air.
It's calling you, your heart is there.
Fall free, blaze across the sky.
The perfect fall, the perfect high."
Fall Free
Alan Parsons
It was the first time Rex was getting a close look at the Bad Batch's ship. He felt his throat tighten.
Beside him, General Skywalker stopped short.
Rex prepared himself. He was not sure whether to be mortified or to laugh. He would take his lead from his commanding officer's reaction.
"What's . . . with the nose art?" Anakin asked.
Hunter, who had come down the ramp to meet them, answered proudly.
"Beauty, isn't it? We found a great artist on Demix Four. We showed him an image, and well . . . he did the rest. And a damned fine job, I'd say," he explained. "That's our girl. A beautiful woman for a beautiful ship."
The beautiful woman was, indeed, stunning. She sat in a one of those poses meant to depict sexiness and strength at the same time. Dark brown hair piled high into an elaborate gold-ribbed bun, clad in a revealing outfit that somehow still managed to leave something to the imagination; she was holding a blaster pistol in one raised hand.
It was a good likeness. One accurate enough to be easily recognizable.
And so it was . . . to both the captain and his commander.
"She's the Naboo Senator," Hunter went on. "We check her out on the holoscans."
Anakin read out loud the accompanying motto, written in Aurebesh.
"Good to be bad?"
"She seems like she's a tough character," Hunter replied. "We think she's make a good Bad Batcher."
Wrecker passed by on his way up the ramp. He gave a lascivious laugh. "Hehe! Yeah! She can negotiate with me anytime. Ya!"
Rex shot a stunned look at his general, embarrassed on his behalf. But to his surprise, Anakin was calm. Then again, he had to be. He couldn't risk giving away his secret by over-reacting to something that was standard practice for many clone pilots – giving their ships the likeness of a woman and sometimes, even naming them. But seeing Senator Amidala emblazoned on the fuselage . . .
Rex cleared his throat. "Eh-hem. Uhh . . . l-let's get on board."
As the Bad Batchers entered their ship, Anakin turned to his captain and said in a low, emphatic voice, "That is not staying there."
It was going to be interesting.
For Anakin, the jury was still out on Clone Force 99. He'd gotten the run-down from Rex regarding the mission to the Cyber Center, and he wasn't quite sure what to make of these peculiar troopers. But he had no immediate reason to hold anything against them. They seemed to have come through for Rex; and that was good enough for Anakin. And in an attempt to give this mission, dubious as it was, the greatest chance for success, he decided it would be best to try and develop a rapport—or at least, an understanding—with these men.
He was about to strike up a conversation when Crosshair, in his gruff, artless manner, approached the general directly and said bluntly, "You have a sniper who supposedly can hit a target from 15 klicks."
The statement came completely out-of-the-blue, utterly unexpected.
"Uh . . . yeah," Anakin replied. "You're talking about Double Barrel."
Crosshair snatched his own sniper rifle from its place in the weapons' rack. "This is the best, the most advanced rifle the GAR has to offer."
Anakin felt a grin beginning to form. He took the weapon and began examining it. "I've never seen a scope like this." He regarded Crosshair down the barrel. "It doesn't look GAR-issued."
"I picked it up on Setar Ki," came the reply. "Your man—this . . . Double Barrel—uses a standard sniper site. He doesn't even use a scope. A bolt from his rifle would lose integrity and trajectory before hitting a target 15 klicks away."
Anakin shrugged. "What can I say? He's got a gift."
"So I hear," Crosshair hissed. "But I don't know of any gift that can deliver those kinds of results."
"That just means you don't know everything," Anakin said flatly, handing the rifle back.
"Give it a rest, Crosshair," Hunter said from where he stood at the tracking screens.
Anakin then turned his attention to Hunter. "So, Sergeant, how many missions has your team been on?"
Hunter straightened up and regarded him with consideration. "Honestly, Sir, I've lost count. All the action sort of blurs together."
Rex put forth, "I know you work with Cody sometimes, but who do you guys report to?"
Hunter thought about it. "Good question. Can't say I've got an answer."
"Someone has to have the authority to send you out on missions," Anakin pressed.
"Well . . . most of our assignments come directly to us from contacts within the Joint Chiefs of Staff office," Hunter replied. "But then we get special requests—like the one from Commander Cody. And if we're available, we respond."
"That sounds . . . sketchy to me," Rex opined.
Hunter grinned. "I imagine a lot of what we do would be considered sketchy." A pause. "Which makes this mission right up our alley."
Anakin gave a small laugh, then to Rex, "What do we know about this Skako Minor?"
"The area where we're landing is inhabited by a race of locals called the Poletecs. All we know is they're very primitive," Rex replied.
From up front in the cockpit, Tech interjected, "Primitive is being kind. My intel says the Poletecs worship flying reptiles."
"I've heard of stranger things," Anakin said. "Hopefully, we can get in and out without ever running into them. We want to do this as quietly as possible."
"We're about to enter the atmosphere," Tech announced. "It looks to be a difficult landing. I advise everyone to strap in."
They began their descent.
"Where is General Skywalker? He's already late for this meeting."
Obi-wan met this inquiry from General Windu with a perfunctory show of whimsy. He would not lie, but he had to find a way to take the sting out of the truth. He glanced at the holo images of those remotely attending the briefing: Master Yoda, Master Plo Koon, and two Navy admirals who were enroute to Anaxes with their fleets of valuable reinforcements.
"I believe he is doing some reconnaissance with Clone Force 99," he replied smoothly.
Mace's expression was unreadable. "Reconnaissance of what?"
"Enemy positions."
"And he did this without informing anyone?" Mace pressed.
"He informed me," Obi-wan said, feigning a nonchalance he did not feel. In fact, he was indignant that Anakin would put him in such a position to have to tap-dance before fellow leaders; but then, it was hardly surprising. After all, an unaccountable unit like Clone Force 99 probably sat very well with an unaccountable Jedi General like Anakin.
"He was aware we had this briefing scheduled," Mace stated.
"I'm sure he was," Obi-wan agreed.
It was rubbish. All rubbish. And General Windu knew as much. But he would not call out Obi-wan in front of the others. After all, it wasn't his transgression at the core of the matter; it was Skywalker's. And the reluctance on the part of General Kenobi to divulge the full truth of his former padawan's absence was a matter for a private discussion later on.
Right now, they needed to proceed with the meeting.
At the rate disasters were piling up, there could be no delaying.
Especially not for a head-strong, willful, and impetuous Anakin Skywalker.
That matter would also be dealt with in due time. In due time.
It was fascinating.
And few were the things that had the ability to fascinate Darth Sidious.
But where Anakin Skywalker was concerned, there was a never-ending stream of interesting situations and circumstances.
The young man's arrogant disregard for the rules of the Jedi Order were the building blocks. The foundation was a self-assuredness that highly overestimated his self-control while refusing to recognize the danger presented by his full indulgence of his emotions. Anakin Skywalker actually believed he could handle the attachments he had formed. Even more, he believed he could keep those attachments hidden.
Foolish boy!
Sidious had already seen the future. Yes, the future was not fixed in place. But it could certainly be directed towards a certain outcome. Sometimes, that manipulation worked; other times, it didn't. This time, the future seemed almost certain.
And in his mind's eye, strengthened and enhanced by the dark side, he could see that what he had suspected only weeks ago on Coruscant, was the full reality.
The attachment was indisputable. The general and his captain. It was a bond Sidious never would have expected. The clones were supposed to be commodities, the product at the end of a supply chain. Yet, Skywalker's relationship with this particular clone was powerful. There was an aspect of responsibility that was missing from the master-apprentice relationship Skywalker had with Kenobi. Skywalker felt protective and honor-bound to return, to the same degree, the devotion his captain showed him. And unlike his relationship with the Senator—also not a secret to Sidious—his relationship with the captain had no need for compromise. The two were so alike, they nearly lived inside each other's brain.
And now, they were in pursuit of a man believed long dead. They'd both broken the rules, gone against the Order's decision, and set off with an almost contemptuous disregard for anything other than what they both desired. All for the purpose of easing the captain's injured conscience.
"You would both throw away all caution to save one man that you don't even know is alive . . . just to ease the captain's guilt. Ah, Anakin . . . you would do anything for him. That is very dangerous."
Yes, this brilliant, perfect, wholesome captain would be one more opportune step on the way across the threshold, the journey from light to dark.
It had been a rough initial few hours.
Upon landing, Anakin's team had had a run-in with the Poletecs – admittedly primitive, yet formidable in their own right. The flying reptiles they reputedly worshipped were, in fact, actual creatures. Keeradaks. And they did more than worship them. They rode them. Fully sentient beings that appeared to possess a nobility in their partnership with the Poletecs. It struck Anakin as odd and strangely touching that the very beings the Poletecs worshipped made themselves available as servants. That servitude was the height of devotion.
It engendered a respect on Anakin's part; and when the Poletec leader made it clear that he did not want the war coming to his planet, Anakin honored that. The leader was willing to send a guide to show the team to the city of Purkoll, the last known coordinates from which the live signal had emanated. Rex had explained that their purpose was solely to retrieve a captured comrade, and that sufficed for the leader. And that was the intention.
The guide led them through a steadily climbing rocky terrain, out onto a jutting overhang. He gestured to a series of tall spires reaching up through the clouds.
Anakin thanked him, and the guide left quickly. It was clear he could not get out of there fast enough.
"I hope no one's afraid of heights," Anakin stated, looking at the spires.
Hunter, Crosshair, and Tech all turned their gazes towards Wrecker, who immediately took umbrage.
"Ah, I ain't afraid of nothing! It's just when I'm up high, I . . . got a problem with gravity," Wrecker pushed back.
Tech spoke up. "Well, we all have a problem. I've lost the signal again."
Rex was getting frustrated. This was the fourth or fifth time they'd lost the signal. "I don't understand. You said it was coming from this city. How do we know we're headed in the right direction?"
Tech was not distressed at the captain's obvious aggravation. "I can only speculate, but it could be a latency issue with the frequency caused by all these atmospheric disturbances."
"Or . . . maybe they sent the signal to lure us into a trap; and they're just using Echo as bait," Hunter suggested. At the silence that followed, he added, "I can't be the only one who's thinking that."
"Look, every mission could be a trap," Rex shot back. "This one's no different. And how would they even know who would come looking for him? Why would they want to lure just a handful of us into a trap?"
"Maybe they wanted to lure General Skywalker?"
"They didn't know he'd be part of this," Rex replied. "It makes no sense they'd be trying to trap us. They didn't try to lure us to the cyber center. We chose to do that. They had no reason to suspect we'd even recognize that it was Echo sending the signal. The bottom line is we still need to find the source of the algorithm and shut it down."
"We don't even know if this Echo is really still alive," Crosshair pointed out, his voice containing a doubtful, challenging edge. "And if he is, he might be a traitor."
"He's not a traitor!" Rex retorted angrily. "You hear me?"
But Crosshair wasn't done. "If I was left for dead, I would not be so loyal."
"I had no choice! I couldn't—I couldn't go back for him!"
Crosshair shrugged and chose his words with spite. "I don't blame you. I would have left him, too."
It was the worst thing he could have said to Rex, for it hit perilously close to the wound. Rex sprang towards, striking him in his helmeted temple and knocking him to the ground. He delivered another blow before feeling someone grab him from behind and lift him bodily into the air.
He knew it could only be Wrecker, and the voice that followed confirmed it.
"Hey! Try picking on someone not your own size!" With that, Wrecker threw him down, but Rex kept his feet as he skidded down the rock slope. He turned and stormed back up to Wrecker, unintimidated by the man's size.
"You'll be a whole lot smaller when I'm through with you," he threatened.
Anakin stepped between them, putting his hand against Rex's chest and pushing him gently back. "That's enough!" he ordered. "Sergeant! Take your men and scout the area for an entrance to that tower. I want to talk to my captain alone." He waited until the Bad Batchers had moved off, then he began, choosing his words carefully, making sure his tone was what his captain deserved. "Rex, I hate to say it, but the possibility that Echo's been turned . . . it did cross my mind."
"Sir, I have known Echo since Domino Squad," Rex began, removing his helmet and revealing the tension etched across his face. "He's one of the bravest troopers I've ever worked with. Sure, he can test your nerves repeated every regulation like you're deaf; but I can tell you this: he would rather die than turn against the Republic. And those—bastards—they don't know what they're saying when they make accusations like that about him."
"Just remember, you're the one who invited the bastards," Anakin pointed out. "Everyone who knew Echo knew what a great trooper he was. No matter what the truth turns out to be, it'll be worth it to find out if he's still alive. And if he's a prisoner, we'll get him back." A pause. "And if it's bad news-"
"If it's bad news, I'll deal with it, Sir."
"We'll deal with it together. I'm with you on this, Rex."
Anakin and Rex followed Hunter's signal and caught up with the rest of the team down in the valley at the base of one of the towers.
"We're in business, General," Hunter announced, as if nothing had happened. "We found an entrance, and Tech picked up Echo's signal again coming from this tower. How's it going, Tech?" he asked as Tech worked on cracking on the entrance code.
Tech didn't reply, but within a matter of seconds the massive twin metal doors slid apart.
"Sorry it took so long," he said, standing and turning to face the others.
Crosshair went inside. It was a lift.
"Let's go," Anakin said, nodding towards the entrance.
The others filed in, Wrecker last. "Wait, wait. A lift? How far up are we going?"
"Don't worry, Wrecker, I'll hold your hand," Hunter teased.
As Wrecker entered, Anakin held up a hand and stopped him for a second. "One more thing," he said in a low voice but with a deceptive smile on his face. "Lay a hand on my captain again, and it will be the last thing you ever do. Got it?"
"Got it, General."
It had been a messy operation.
Rex was not surprised.
General Skywalker's call for stealth had gone out the window the moment the team had encountered the first enemy squad. The Bad Batchers seemed incapable of reining in their impulsive style. They were clearly all of the mind that straight-ahead violent confrontation was the only way to carry out a mission. And even direction from a Jedi general was not enough to overpower their ingrained habits.
It occurred to Rex that Clone Force 99 was not used to working with a Jedi. In their isolation, they were unaware of the power a Jedi could bring to bear. That first encounter with the droid squad could have ended within seconds, silently and without sounding any alarm. A simple wave of General Skywalker's hand would have taken care of the situation; but the Bad Batchers had gone all in, blasters blazing.
From that point on, it had been a fight every step of the way.
And, if Rex were any judge, that was how the Bad Batch liked it. They seemed to enjoy creating the worst odds, only so they could overcome them. They weren't interested in doing anything the easy way. They had to make things more difficult.
The team had tracked Echo's signal to a guarded and sealed room. And the Separatists had tracked the team to the same location. The ensuing fire fight made it clear that whatever was inside that room was something the Techno Union and Separatists were ready to protect at any cost.
"Tech! Open that door for Rex!" General Skywalker ordered, realizing that they were running out of time. More and more droids were being brought to bear; they couldn't hold them off forever.
"Yes, Sir!" Tech replied and immediately went to work on the door.
As Rex turned to join Tech, Hunter spoke up. "I hope you find what you're looking for, Captain." It was an apology of sorts for the things that had been said on the overlook.
Rex nodded an acknowledgment and was off.
Tech made short work of the door. Once it was open, he and Rex entered into a short connecting hallway that opened into a large semi-circular chamber. The floor was made of alternating metal and clear panels that radiated out from an horseshoe-shaped bank of control boards. Running beneath the clear panels were bundles of cables, thousands of them, illuminated by glowing junctions along their lengths. Everything was arrayed to draw attention to the one most noticeable—and foreboding—structure in the chamber: a bronze capsule-like tank raised up behind the control boards. Man-sized with a clear portal at face height, yet the interior was obscured by a swirling fog.
"I . . . don't like the look of this," Tech said quietly as he and Rex approached the capsule.
Rex did not reply. He was transfixed. He already knew what he was looking at. He knew what they were going to find inside. The only thing he did not know was the condition of what—or rather, whom—was on the other side of the bronze doors.
"I'm definitely picking up a life form in there," Tech announced, running his fingers deftly over the controls. "It seems to be a stasis chamber. I think I can get it open."
Gasses began hissing from release valves on either side of the capsule doors.
Within the seconds, the doors opened.
From within the gaseous mist, something came forward—fell forward like a tree toppling at its base, but then suddenly its movement halted abruptly and . . .
Rex looked up into the face that had emerged, the face that now hovered above him, hanging by some fog-obscured tether. Gaunt, blank, the open eyes darting back and forth in an empty, calculating rhythm. Glowing implants emitted a staccato static that matched the eye movements, as if marking a transmission—possibly a transmission of what was going on in that chamber at that moment.
For a moment, Rex was frozen.
This was horrific.
Rex hadn't known exactly what he'd expected to find. He'd gone looking for Echo, not giving any thought to what he might actually discover were he successful in his quest. But now he'd found him, and the captain's emotions were moving in a dozen different directions. There was some sense of relief, even a bit of joy at the fact that Echo was, in fact, alive; but how alive? Was there any actual consciousness behind the flickering eyes?
Rex more readily felt his own fear and anxiousness. Was it even possible to free Echo from the morass of hookups and interfaces now being revealed as the mist dissipated, revealing the extent to which Echo was entangled. And even if they were able to free him, would he survive the uncoupling? Would they be able to get him out safely?
Regret, remorse, guilt. These fought for their own place in his thoughts.
This would not be happening at all had he done what he should have done and made sure Echo wasn't still alive after the explosion at the Citadel. He'd tried. He remembered, he had tried. Commander Tano had pulled him back, using the Force.
"It's too late, Captain."
He had realized she was right. No one could have survived that explosion. No one.
But clearly someone had. Echo had. Or . . . half of him had. The entire lower part of his body was gone, replaced by prosthetics – and not even humanesque prosthetics, but rather mechanical, robotic . . . droid-appearing appendages. One arm was intact. The other was also prosthetic, an interface probe.
"Echo . . . " Rex breathed, the sound of his own voice breaking the spell of inaction. He sprang up onto the control panel. "Tech, we gotta get him out of here. Figure out how to unplug from this-this mess." He reached out and drew him down from the capsule, trailing a series of connecting cables and tubes. He pushed down the shock and revulsion at the feel of ice-cold skin, the bone-thin remnant of what had once been a vibrant, vital man—
"Stop. Stop. This isn't the time," Rex chastised himself. "Stay focused. The priority is getting him out of here. Even if—even if he ends up dying, he's not going to die here in this . . . "
He removed his helmet. He needed to see with his own eyes, without filtered vision. "Fek and all . . . how are you still alive?"
"What have they done to you?" he asked out loud. He was beginning to think death might have been preferable.
But then, to his utter astonishment, Echo spoke.
" We-we have to get to the shuttle, escape the Citadel . . . " His eyes stared off into the distance, seeing something only he could see. But they were no longer in transmission mode, and that was a positive thing. "No, I'll go first . . . no . . . no . . . no . . . " He moved clumsily. Agitated. Reliving the moment of his . . . his destruction."
"Echo . . . Echo, it's Rex," Rex assured him, putting a firm hand on his shoulder, feeling that the touch, the connection was more important than anything he could say.
"Rex?" Echo turned his gaze and regarded Rex with recognition. He returned Rex's gesture and reached up to take hold of his captain's arm. "You—you came back for me?"
And suddenly, Echo was back, cognizant and alert, though confused and bewildered. It was then that Rex knew, for certain, he had made the right decision; and he was more determined than ever to get Echo out of this living hell.
"Yes, I did," Rex said slowly, knowing that it wasn't quite the truth. He had come to look for him . . . but only after discovering that he might still be alive. Up until the moment he'd heard Echo's voice in the algorithm transmission, he'd believed him to be dead. He'd had no reason to have any hope.
"What—happened? Where am I?" A measure of fear crept into Echo's voice.
Rex took Echo's hand in both of his. "It's okay, Echo. You're safe now," he said, although they were hardly safe. "Sit tight, trooper. You're going home." It was a promise full of hope and brotherhood. It was a chance to make things right.
It was a chance to make it up to Echo for leaving him behind.
Would the trooper ever be able to forgive him? Would he even survive this rescue effort? If he did survive . . . what then?
"This can all wait," Rex commanded himself. "The important thing now is to get him free from all this."
"Tech," he called, motioning to him.
Tech came over and crouched down beside them.
"Echo, this is Tech," Rex said. "He's going to get you . . . disconnected from all this. Can you help him? Can you tell him what he needs to do?"
Echo's eyes drifted towards Tech. He did not know this man. His appearance was . . . peculiar. But if Captain Rex trusted him, Echo would trust him, too.
"I . . . I can help."
Rex never strayed once from Echo's side as Tech worked to free him. He listened as Echo talked Tech through some of the more complicated couplings and connections; and he felt his heart racing as each second went by. He feared that their window for escape was growing ever smaller.
At that moment, General Skywalker entered the chamber.
"Situation's almost under control out there," he announced. "How's it going in here?"
Tech turned to reply. "I'm still trying to decrypt Echo's cerebral interface. Until I do, I cannot disconnect him from this computer system."
Anakin turned to his captain. "How is he, Rex?"
Rex got to his feet. "He's too weak to walk. Very disoriented. He doesn't even remember how he got here. He remembers being at the Citadel, but that's about it."
"Did you call for the extraction team?" Anakin asked.
Rex looked troubled. "I did, but no word back." He paused. "Em . . . General Windu was not happy to hear where we'd gone."
"That's no surprise," Anakin replied. "We knew when we decided to do this, we'd be on our own. We'll just have to fall back on plan B."
"Winging it, Sir?" Rex inquired knowingly.
"Precisely."
At the entrance to the chamber, the remaining three members of Clone Force 99 retreated inside and closed the doors, sealing them with a plasma torch.
"It's gonna be more difficult to get out of here!" Hunter announced. "There's several squads of droids closing in."
Crosshair used his special targeting scope to see through the metal. "Enemy approaching. Droids. Lots of 'em."
"How long do you think you can hold them off?" Anakin asked.
Hunter replied. "How long do you need?"
Anakin turned to Tech. "Tech, how much longer?" he asked, his voice containing more urgency and even a smattering of frustration than he'd intended.
"Not yet. I need more time," came the calm reply.
Seconds passed. The enemy began to burn through the outer doors, forcing the team to retreat further, closing and sealing the inner doors.
"Hurry the fek up, Tech," Hunter pressed. "We're going to have company—soon."
"Almost there," Tech replied. Less than thirty seconds later, he proclaimed, "I've got it! You can unplug him now."
Echo turned and gave his back to his captain. "The three tubes, Captain . . . just pull them out," he instructed.
Rex drew a deep breath. This would be the moment of truth. Would removing the tubes free Echo? Or kill him? He took hold of one of the narrower tubes protruding from a port inserted into one side of Echo's neck.
And pulled. The tube required a bit of force, but it slid out with a puff of steam or gas or some mist.
Rex removed the tube on the opposite side. Then, with a greater effort, he yanked out the final tube from the back of his head.
Echo collapsed against the bank of computer consoles, coughing and hacking.
"Captain!" he choked out.
Fearful they'd made a mistake, Rex leaned forward urgently. "What is it?"
Echo raised his head, his eyes locking with his captain's, and a smile—an amazing, true smile—crossed his face. "I gotta big headache."
The skeletal appearance, the grey and crystallized skin, even the many dozens of ports and implants that marred his body . . . Rex saw none of it in that one moment of humor. They might all die here in this room, but it would have been worth it.
"Better to feel something than nothing, old buddy," he replied.
"It's a touching reunion, but we need to get out of here. Now." This from Anakin.
"There's an . . . exhaust vent that leads to the cooling systems," Echo announced. "Right there. I can open it. The access port is over there. I just need . . . help getting to it."
Rex helped him to the port; and Echo, using his interface prosthetic, opened the vent.
They were in business.
It was a harrowing escape . . . as escapes went.
But Palpatine had never been in doubt that Skywalker would lead them through it. Granted, the Jedi General had some very impressive help this time around. The Bad Batchers continued to prove their unorthodox effectiveness. The recovered ARC trooper had been instrumental. It was perhaps a bit troublesome that the trooper had had access to every nook and cranny within the Separatist computer network; but no worries. Palpatine did not sense he had gotten far enough to discern the truth of what was happening. No, his friend—the ARC trooper Fives—had gotten much closer. This one was no threat in that area.
Ah, but once again, the most compelling figure—other than Skywalker himself—had been the captain of the 501st. It was almost too good to be true. Too easy. The man showed himself, at every turn, to be so wholly . . . likeable, that it was no wonder Skywalker held him in such high regard.
The time was drawing near. Palpatine had seen it.
All things were coming together, and the turning from light to dark—already well underway—was soon to move into high gear.
"Good," the Chancellor said out loud to his empty room. "I hate waiting." He opened his secure holo-transmitter. A moment later, the figure of Count Dooku appeared.
"My Master," Dooku acknowledged with a deep bow.
"I have a mission for you," Palpatine stated, his voice dripping with anticipation. "You will need to contact the Copian Hegemony."
"The Copians, my Lord? They are distasteful creatures and poor allies. Even you have spoken of your disdain for their race," Dooku replied.
"I can disdain or even despise a race, but that does not mean they can't be useful to my purposes. The Copians are about to become crucial to my plans. They possess the one skill that I need." He smiled at the thought.
Dooku knew the skill of which his master spoke. "I take it, then, that I am to deliver someone to them?"
"Precisely." Palpatine felt his insides flutter. This would be beautiful. "Choose your own means. Make it exciting. I want to be entertained."