The anticipation crackled in the air of Dooku's solar sailer, a tangible energy that mirrored his own. He was waiting for Asajj Ventress's communication, a transmission that would seal the Republic's fate in the eyes of Jabba the Hutt. Sidious had tasked him with framing the Jedi for Rotta's kidnapping, a mission Dooku intended to execute flawlessly, twisting it to further his own agenda. His comlink chimed, the familiar tone piercing the silence of the cockpit. It was Ventress. "Report, Asajj," he commanded, his voice a cool baritone that masked the urgency churning within him.
"My Lord," Ventress's voice, laced with a hint of regret, crackled through the comlink, "I have acquired the evidence you requested. However, I was unable to retrieve Rotta from the Republic's clutches."
Dooku's brow furrowed, a flicker of surprise momentarily eclipsing his satisfaction. Ventress's skills were formidable; her failure to extract the Huttlet was unexpected. "The evidence is the crucial element, Asajj," he reassured her, choosing to downplay her failure. Sidious's primary objective was to frame the Republic, not necessarily to ensure Dooku was the one to return Rotta. Besides, the image of the Jedi working for the Hutts, would only further highlight the Republic's hypocrisy in Anakin's eyes. "Tell me, what hindered your efforts?"
"Skywalker was present, my Lord," Ventress explained, her voice laced with a frustrated respect. "His abilities are impressive. I could not engage him directly without jeopardizing your previous order to ensure his survival."
Palpatine had been right. Skywalker was indeed involved in the rescue mission. A part of him was surprised, for he had anticipated Skywalker's disgust for the Hutts would lead him to refuse the assignment. But perhaps the young Jedi Knight viewed it as a duty, a necessary evil in the grand scheme of the war, or perhaps Palpatine had convinced him that saving Rotta was not the same as siding with Jabba. He could exploit this, use it to further sow seeds of doubt in Skywalker's mind about the Republic and maybe even Palpatine's true nature. He filed that thought away for later, his immediate focus on the task at hand. "You were wise to prioritize Skywalker's safety, Asajj," he commended her, masking the relief that washed over him. Ventress's obedience, her understanding of his ultimate goals, was a reassuring counterpoint to the treacherous currents that swirled around them.
"I anticipated your understanding, Master," Ventress responded, a hint of pride tinging her voice.
"I will update your orders as the situation develops," Dooku instructed, his tone regaining its authoritative edge. "For now, I will handle the Hutt and the Jedi."
"Understood, my Lord," Ventress replied, her voice laced with a quiet acceptance. The transmission ended, leaving Dooku alone with the weight of his mission and the echoes of Ventress's report.
With the manipulated evidence in hand, Dooku piloted his solar sailer towards Jabba's palace, landing discreetly behind a towering sand dune that shielded his vessel from prying eyes. He disembarked, his elegant robes billowing slightly in the hot desert wind, his gaze fixed on the sprawling complex that housed the Hutt crime lord. Approaching the palace gates, he noticed the Gamorrean guards, their brutish forms still clad in mismatched armor, their piggish faces etched with a mixture of boredom and menace. This time, they recognized him, their grunts and snorts laced with a grudging respect as they swung the massive gates open, granting him access to the heart of Jabba's domain. He strode through the dimly lit entrance hall, its air thick with the familiar scent of spice and sweat, a disgusting aroma that made his stomach churn. He entered the throne room, its cavernous space choked with smoke and the raucous laughter of Jabba's courtiers. The Hutt crime lord, his massive form draped across his ornate throne, his eyes gleaming with a cold fury, glared at Dooku's arrival. A wave of revulsion washed over Dooku, a visceral disgust for the creature and the depravity that surrounded him. He longed to strike Jabba down, to end his reign of cruelty and greed, but he knew such an action would be a disastrous blunder. He had to play this game carefully, to manipulate the Hutt without jeopardizing his own plans.
Jabba's guttural voice echoed through the chamber, the protocol droid beside him translating, "Count Dooku. The honorable Jabba the Hutt is displeased by your tardiness. You arrive empty-handed, without his son."
Dooku suppressed the urge to unleash a torrent of Force lightning upon the Hutt, his voice a carefully controlled baritone as he responded, "I have come to deliver an update on Rotta's whereabouts and who kidnaped him."
The protocol droid translated Jabba's curt response, "Speak."
Dooku activated the holo-recording Ventress had transmitted, the image flickering to life, revealing Anakin Skywalker standing near a crib, the Huttlet nestled within its confines. A young Togruta Jedi, Ahsoka Tano, entered the frame, her gaze fixed on the Huttlet with a mix of curiosity and disgust. "He's stinky!" she exclaimed before scooping up the Huttlet and tucking it into her backpack.
Dooku paused the recording, turning to face Jabba, his voice laced with a calculated sincerity. "As you can see, the Republic has your son, but the Separatists still stand ready to help. We offer you the same deal, the same resources, in exchange for the agreement we discussed."
Jabba's eyes narrowed, his reptilian gaze fixed on the frozen image of Skywalker holding his son. His guttural voice, translated by the droid, echoed with a cold fury, "The Republic is full of liars. They promised the rescue of his Majesty's son in exchange for exclusive access to a lucrative hyperspace route. If your claim is true, Count Dooku, and you succeed in rescuing his son, your reward will be increased to the hundred slaves you initially requested."
Dooku hadn't anticipated this development, but he welcomed the unexpected generosity. Jabba's rage towards the Republic was a welcome bonus, a seed of distrust that would further Dooku's agenda. "I am grateful for your generosity, honorable Jabba," Dooku responded, bowing slightly, his expression a mask of respect that concealed his disdain. With a final nod, he turned and strode out of the chamber, eager to escape the stifling atmosphere of Jabba's court. He had played his hand masterfully, manipulating the Hutt while seeming to serve his master's will.
Anakin settled into the pilot's seat of the transport, the familiar hum of the engines a comforting counterpoint to the unease churning within him. Ahsoka, her youthful energy radiating a palpable excitement, bounced into the co-pilot's seat beside him, Rotta the Huttlet cradled securely in her arms. The creature, its reptilian face still etched in a grimace, its beady eyes blinking slowly, emitted a faint, but persistent, odor that made Anakin wrinkle his nose in disgust. He glanced towards the open boarding ramp, his gaze settling on Obi-Wan, his Master's silhouette framed against the backdrop of Teth's bruised twilight sky. "Not joining us again, Master?" Anakin asked, unable to conceal the bitterness that laced his words.
Obi-Wan stepped into the gunship's interior, a wry smile touching his lips. "I'm afraid not, Anakin," he responded, his voice a gentle baritone that echoed the regret Anakin himself felt. "The Council has summoned me back to Coruscant. Urgent matters, it seems, demand my presence." He paused, his gaze meeting Anakin's with a knowing intensity. "I wish I could accompany you, but I have faith in your abilities. Besides," he added, a playful twinkle returning to his eyes, "Ahsoka can't be any worse company than you were as my Padawan."
It wasn't Ahsoka's presence that bothered Anakin, though her youthful enthusiasm could be grating at times, he still enjoyed her company now. It was the destination that fueled his resentment. Obi-Wan was returning to Coruscant, to the heart of the Republic, to the city where Padmé resided. And Anakin, trapped by duty, had to deliver a repugnant Huttlet to a slaver. He yearned for Padmé, her warmth, her laughter, the solace of their shared secret. But he was a Jedi, bound by the dictates of the Order, and his forbidden desires for her had to remain hidden. "I understand, Master," Anakin responded, forcing a calmness he didn't feel. He activated the transport's engines, their throaty roar a welcome distraction from the turmoil swirling within him. As the boarding ramp hissed shut, sealing them within the transport's metallic embrace, he glanced towards Ahsoka, her attention focused entirely on the Huttlet in her arms.
As the gunship ascended into the depth of space, Anakin's gaze drifted towards the looming form of the Resolute, its gray hull shrinking behind them. Soon, they would be hurtling through hyperspace racing towards Tatooine, a world that held both painful memories and a dangerous allure. He thought of his mother, Shmi, wondering if he might find a way to visit her, to share the news of his knighthood, to confide in her about the secret that weighed heavily on his heart. Maybe he could even tell her about Padmé, he mused, a flicker of hope momentarily eclipsing his anxieties.
His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden realization, a chilling premonition that sent a shiver down his spine. The Separatists, he knew, would not simply allow them to deliver Rotta unchallenged. Ventress, Dooku's assassin, would be waiting, her crimson lightsabers humming with a deadly intent. He glanced towards Ahsoka, her youthful enthusiasm a stark contrast to the grim reality that awaited them. "Ahsoka," he began, his voice laced with a newfound urgency, "We can't assume this will be a simple journey. Ventress will try to intercept us. We need to be ready."
Ahsoka, her brow furrowing slightly, glanced up from the Huttlet in her arms, a flicker of concern replacing her initial excitement. "Do you have a plan, Master Skywalker?" she asked, her voice tinged with a nervous anticipation.
"Not yet," Anakin admitted, his mind racing, considering their options. A direct confrontation with Ventress, a lightsaber duel amidst the chaotic skies above Tatooine, would be a risky endeavor, especially with the Huttlet's safety hanging in the balance. They needed a more subtle approach, a means of deception that would catch the Separatists off guard.
"We could use a diversion," Ahsoka suggested, her eyes gleaming with a mischievous glint that mirrored Anakin's own penchant for unorthodox tactics. "We could fill a backpack with rocks, make it look like I'm carrying Rotta, while you sneak him into Jabba's palace."
Anakin's eyes widened, a surge of admiration washing over him. Ahsoka's plan was brilliant, a simple yet effective deception that played on their enemies' expectations. It would also provide him with an opportunity to slip away unnoticed and visit his mother. To let him share the burden of his secret marriage. "That's a good idea, Snips," he commended her, a genuine smile spreading across his face. "Very good." He activated the hyperdrive, the stars outside the viewport stretching into streaks of brilliant white as the ship hurtled into the vast expanse of hyperspace. Tatooine awaited them, a world of both shadows and a glimmer of hope, a world where fate, and the Force, would test him once more.
Back aboard his solar sailer, a sense of urgency settled over him. He would contact Senator Amidala, to plant the seeds of doubt, to reveal the complete details of the Republic's supposed dealings with the Hutts. It was a gamble, a risky move that could backfire if she saw through his deception. But he had to try. Her influence on Anakin was undeniable; swaying her to his cause could be the key to breaking Skywalker free from Sidious's grip. He activated his communicator, establishing a secure connection to Amidala's private channel. A moment later, her image, her brow furrowed with a mix of suspicion and weariness, materialized on the display.
"Count Dooku," she greeted him, her voice laced with a guarded formality, "What do you want now? I told you my position on the Separatists has not changed."
Dooku knew he had to tread carefully, to avoid any hint of manipulation. He had to present himself as a source of information, a messenger revealing the truth about the Republic's corruption. "Senator Amidala," he began, his voice a soothing baritone that masked the calculations swirling within him, "Do you recall our conversation on Geonosis? I told you then that the Separatists would prove, through their actions, that they offered a better alternative to the Republic's crumbling ideals."
"Yes," Amidala responded, her tone clipped, her gaze unwavering.
"I recently uncovered evidence that the Republic is engaging in… morally questionable dealings with Jabba the Hutt," Dooku revealed, watching her expression carefully for any sign of disbelief.
"Yes, I'm aware of that arrangement," Amidala responded calmly, her composure momentarily throwing Dooku off balance. "Anakin- I mean, Chancellor Palpatine, informed me of the situation."
Dooku was momentarily confused. He understood the close bond between Amidala and Skywalker, but why would she hesitate to mention Skywalker's name? Was she trying to conceal the depth of their connection? If true it would only make his persuasion of Amidala more important. He pushed the thought aside, focusing on his primary objective. "Are you aware of the specifics of this deal, Senator?" he inquired, his tone laced with a calculated concern.
"Not entirely," Amidala admitted, her voice softening slightly, a hint of uncertainty replacing her initial composure.
"The Republic, desperate for access to a vital hyperspace route controlled by Jabba, has offered to rescue his son in exchange for exclusive access to that route," Dooku revealed, emphasizing the word "exclusive." He paused, allowing the information to sink in, watching her reaction carefully.
"It's understandable that the Republic would seek Jabba's cooperation," Amidala responded, her voice laced with a pragmatic reasoning that both impressed and frustrated Dooku. "We're at war, Count. Difficult choices must be made. And rescuing a child in exchange for access to vital supply lines… I can't fault the Republic for that decision."
"You would be right, Senator," Dooku countered, his voice hardening slightly, "if that were the extent of their bargain. But the Republic has also agreed to pay Jabba a substantial sum for access to that route. They're funding his criminal empire, Senator, an empire built on slavery and exploitation."
Silence met his revelation, a weighty pause that Dooku knew spoke volumes. Amidala, despite her unwavering faith in the Republic, was not blind to its flaws. He could sense her idealism crumbling, the seeds of doubt taking root. He pressed on, his voice softening, laced with a sincerity he genuinely felt. "I, too, offered my assistance to Jabba, but I will not pay him for that privilege. I intend to force him to free a hundred of his slaves."
"How noble of you, Count," Amidala responded, her voice laced with a bitter sarcasm. "You're simply trying to prevent the Republic from gaining access to those routes. This changes nothing, Count. I still believe in the Republic, in democracy."
"I understand, Senator," Dooku responded, allowing a hint of sadness to color his voice. "But I believe, in time, you will see the truth. The Separatists are not the enemy, Amidala. We are the future." He ended the transmission, a sense of satisfaction washing over him. He had planted the seed, he thought. Amidala might not be ready to embrace his cause, but the Republic's actions, their dealings with the Hutts, would gnaw at her conscience, eroding her faith. And in that erosion, in that disillusionment, lay the potential for her allegiance and maybe Skywalker's too.
The Tatooine sun beat down on Anakin's back, the heat a familiar, oppressive presence as he trudged through the swirling sand towards Jabba's palace. The weight of the fake Huttlet, a backpack filled with rocks, pressed down on his shoulders, a physical reminder of the deception he was enacting. He couldn't shake the feeling of wrongness, a dissonance that echoed the unease in his gut. He was a Jedi, a supposed guardian of peace and justice, and yet here he was, working for a slaver, a creature whose name was synonymous with cruelty and greed. He had left Ahsoka behind, her smaller stature and agility making her a perfect candidate to sneak into the palace undetected, while he acted as the obvious, easily intercepted decoy. The plan, hatched in a moment of desperate ingenuity aboard their transport, had seemed brilliant at the time, but now, as he walked deeper into the heart of Jabba's territory, doubt gnawed at him. He didn't want Ahsoka to suffer any harm from Dooku.
His thoughts were interrupted by a flicker of movement in the distance, a figure materializing from the shimmering heat haze. The elegant form, the billowing dark robes, the unmistakable aura of power, all screamed a single name: Count Dooku. The Sith Lord approached him with an effortless grace that belied the harshness of the surroundings. "Skywalker, what a pleasant surprise," Dooku greeted him, a subtle smile playing upon his lips. He stopped a few paces away, his gaze settling on Anakin's backpack, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "We can settle this amicably. Simply hand over the Huttlet, and no harm will befall you."
"No," Anakin responded, his voice hardening as he ignited his lightsaber, its blue blade humming a defiant symphony. He couldn't trust Dooku, couldn't hand over Rotta to a Sith Lord, even if it meant a direct confrontation. His grip tightened around the lightsaber hilt, his knuckles white, his muscles tense.
Dooku sighed, a hint of disappointment momentarily eclipsing the amusement in his eyes. He, too, ignited his lightsaber, its crimson blade a stark contrast to Anakin's blue, illuminating the surrounding dunes with an eerie, blood-red glow. "I must confess, Skywalker, I was surprised to learn of your involvement in this mission. Helping Jabba the Hutt, rescuing his son… It seemed so out of character for you."
Anakin bristled, the words striking a nerve, echoing the doubts that had plagued him since the mission's inception. He had tried to rationalize his actions, repeating the Jedi Council's justifications, reminding himself of Palpatine's assurances about the strategic necessity of securing Jabba's favor. But Dooku's words, laced with a knowing cynicism, stripped away those justifications, leaving him exposed, his hypocrisy laid bare. "The Republic is merely rescuing a child and returning him to his parents," he countered, repeating Padmé's words, his voice tight, his gaze fixed on Dooku, a flicker of defiance masking the unease that churned within him. He launched into an attack, a flurry of lightsaber strikes aimed at disarming the Sith Lord, each move fueled by a mixture of anger and a desperate need to prove his own convictions.
Dooku, with effortless grace, deflected each blow, his crimson blade a whirlwind of motion, a deadly dance that countered Anakin's aggression with a calculated precision. He watched Anakin's attacks, sensing the young Jedi's frustration, the internal struggle that mirrored his own battles with the darkness. He recogonized the defense as the same one Senator Amidala had given. "Tell me, Skywalker, did he also enlighten you about the full extent of the Republic's generosity?" Dooku remarked, a mocking amusement returning to his voice. "Did he tell you about the 'fee' they've agreed to pay Jabba for access to his precious hyperspace lanes?"
Anakin froze, his lightsaber arm dropping involuntarily, shock momentarily paralyzing him. The Republic was going to pay Jabba? He hadn't known. Palpatine hadn't mentioned any payment. He felt a wave of betrayal, a sickening realization that the Jedi Council, the Chancellor, the very Republic he was fighting for, had compromised their ideals, had sunk to the level of the Hutts, had become the very thing they claimed to oppose. "The Separatists wouldn't do any better," he muttered, his voice a weak, unconvincing defense as he resumed his attack, his lightsaber strikes now fueled by a blind fury, a desperate attempt to silence the doubts that screamed within him.
"Perhaps not," Dooku responded calmly, deflecting Anakin's attacks with an effortless ease. "But I wouldn't need those hyperspace lanes, Skywalker. All I would have requested was for Jabba to free a few hundred slaves. A small price to pay for his son's safe return, wouldn't you agree?"
Anakin, his heart pounding, his mind reeling, continued his assault, each strike a testament to his growing frustration. Doubt gnawed at him, a persistent, insidious worm that burrowed into the very core of his convictions. The Republic, the Jedi Order, the Chancellor... they had all misled him, and used him as a pawn in their grand game of power. His gaze flickered towards Dooku, the Sith Lord, the enemy, and he saw a glimmer of truth in his words, a reflection of his own disillusionment. Padmé was right. Maybe Dooku wasn't as evil as the Jedi believed. Maybe the Separatists even offered a better path for the galaxy.
A sudden beep from his comlink, a jarring interruption to the duel, shattered his train of thought. He activated the device, Ahsoka's frantic voice filling his ear. "Master! Jabba the Hutt is accusing us of kidnapping his son! He says he has proof! I don't know what he's going to do! He's furious!"
"What proof?" Anakin exclaimed, disbelief tinged with panic. "Isn't us bringing him Rotta enough evidence of our good intentions?"
Dooku, pausing his attack, chuckled, his voice laced with amusement. "Clever, Skywalker. You don't even have the Huttlet in your possession, do you? You're just a distraction for me."
Anakin ignored Dooku, focusing on Ahsoka's frantic voice. "He says he has video footage of you and me kidnapping Rotta. It must have been manipulated by Count Dooku. He says if I can't prove Dooku's lying, he's going to... I don't know what he'll do, Master! He's talking about throwing me in the Sarlaac pit!"
Fear, a cold, constricting serpent, coiled around Anakin's heart. He had to help Ahsoka, to protect her from Jabba's wrath. But how? He had no proof of Dooku's manipulations, no way to counter the fabricated evidence. He glanced towards the Sith Lord, his gaze hardening, a new resolve burning within him. "I'll get you the proof you need, Ahsoka," he said, his voice laced with a steely determination. "Just stall Jabba. Buy me some time." He deactivated the comlink, turning to face Dooku, his lightsaber humming with a renewed intensity. "Dooku!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the dunes. "You will give me proof of your manipulations! You will help me save Ahsoka or die!" He launched into a renewed attack, a whirlwind of blue energy aimed at overwhelming the Sith Lord, at forcing him to surrender.
Dooku, his brow furrowing slightly, effortlessly deflected Anakin's attacks. He could sense the young Jedi's desperation, the fear that fueled his aggression. "Very well, Skywalker," he responded, his voice calm and measured. He knew, with a certainty that surprised even himself, that he would grant Anakin's request. Anakin's loyalty was worth more than a Huttlet, worth more than a strategic victory. This was an opportunity he couldn't afford to waste. Helping someone Anakin cared about. "I have only one condition."
Anakin, his breath coming in ragged gasps, slowed his attack, his lightsaber arm trembling with exhaustion. He had never faced such a skilled opponent, his every move anticipated, countered, effortlessly neutralized. "What condition?" he asked, suspicion tinging his voice. He couldn't trust Dooku, couldn't believe that the Sith Lord would offer assistance without a hidden motive.
"That you tell no one, except Senator Amidala, about the ease with which I relinquished this proof," Dooku responded, his gaze meeting Anakin's with a knowing intensity. "You can fabricate a tale of a hard-fought victory, of forcing me to surrender, but the truth… that must remain between us and Senator Amidala." He had to maintain a facade of resistance, to ensure that Sidious believed he had played his part.
"Agreed," Anakin responded, his voice firm. He could always reveal the truth later, once Ahsoka was safe. It wasn't like Dooku could undo his confession, and Anakin had nothing against looking better in front of the Jedi. The only person who would definitely learn of this was Padmé. Palpatine maybe too. He reactivated his comlink's audio, speaking to Ahsoka, "Dooku has agreed to help. Connect me to Jabba."
Anakin saw Ahsoka turn the communicator and show Jabba the Hutt on it before she announced, "A fellow Jedi of mine, Anakin Skywalker, has Count Dooku to clear up this issue."
He watched as Ahsoka turned the communicator towards Jabba, the Hutt crime lord's massive form filling the display. "The Great Jabba the Hutt will hear what Count Dooku has to say," the protocol droid translated.
Anakin shifted the communicator, bringing Dooku into the frame. "Honorable Jabba the Hutt," Dooku began, his voice laced with a carefully crafted sincerity, "I must apologize for my previous deception. The evidence I provided, the footage of the Jedi kidnapping your son… It was fabricated. I orchestrated the abduction myself." He paused, allowing his confession to sink in, watching as Jabba's reptilian eyes narrowed, his massive form shifting on his throne. "I assure you that the Republic is innocent of this crime."
Anakin held his breath, his heart pounding, waiting for Jabba's response. The Hutt let out a guttural roar, his voice shaking the very foundation of his palace. The protocol droid translated, "The Great Jabba the Hutt accepts the Republic's proof and will honor his original agreement with the Republic."
Ahsoka's relieved voice filled the comlink. "Thank you, Master. Jabba is furious with Count Dooku, but he seems to believe me now. I'll meet you back at the transport."
Anakin ended the transmission, his gaze meeting Dooku's, a mix of gratitude and confusion swirling within him. Why had Dooku helped? Why had he confessed so readily? It didn't make sense.
"It appears like Jabba hates me now," Dooku remarked, his voice regaining its usual cool composure. "I'll take my leave now." He turned to depart, disappearing into the swirling sand, leaving Anakin alone with the echoes of his confession and the weight of his own uncertainties.
"Thank you," Anakin whispered, his voice laced with a newfound respect. Dooku, the Sith Lord, the enemy, had just saved Ahsoka's life, had protected her from a fate worse than death. Maybe Padmé was right. Maybe there was good in Dooku, a glimmer of light amidst the encroaching darkness. He had to tell Padmé about this, to discuss the implications of Dooku's actions, to try to understand the motivations of a man who seemed to defy all expectations. But for now, he would talk to his mother on Tatooine. He turned and walked of towards the Lar's homestead in the distance. Ahsoka could wait for him.