The Clone Wars

by Lou Anders

  “And while I hold my tongue, the two of you will devise a brilliant strategy for getting off this godforsaken planet?” I asked with no small dose of sarcasm.

  “Yes!” they replied together.

  “Excellent,” I said. Leave it to the Jedi to believe I actually had confidence in them.

  Of course it was neither Skywalker nor Kenobi who freed us from imprisonment. It was I who managed it.

  It happened like this. Our Weequay guard wandered off, leaving a plate of fruit he had been enjoying on a small table. I stretched out with my senses and began to rotate the plate.

  Naturally, young Skywalker could not resist the opportunity to show off his stupidity.

  “Don’t you think our priority should be escape first, eat second?” he said.

  Unbelievable how the Jedi Order had declined in my absence. In my day, I trained Rael Averross and Qui-Gon Jinn. Now they saddled Kenobi with this fool.

  “Do control your protégé’s insolence so I can concentrate,” I told Kenobi.

  “Control your insolence,” Kenobi said to his apprentice. But his reprimand was tempered when he mocked me by adding, “The Count is concentrating.”

  I ignored them both. They soon saw my true goal. Along with the fruit, a knife sat upon the plate. It was the knife that I was after. I lifted it into the air. It was all I could do to restrain myself from sending the blade plunging into either of their smug throats, but that was not my intended purpose.

  Rather, I slid the knife into the control slot, and our prison door opened.

  Even Kenobi had to admit that it was “most impressive.”

  We exited our cell and crept down the corridor. I was first, then Kenobi, then Skywalker. Although we were free of our prison, we were still bound together at the wrists. It was an awkward and vexing experience.

  “We do know where we’re going, don’t we?” asked Skywalker.

  “Hush, Anakin,” his master replied. Then to me, he said, “Do we know where we’re going?”

  “Quiet,” I admonished them both. A guard stood before a door. Before he could react, I kicked him quickly and then struck him savagely as he fell. He dropped to the ground, unconscious.

  “I was brought this way when I was captured,” I explained. “It was open then.”

  “I found the door key,” said Skywalker, retrieving it from the fallen guard.

  I was dimly aware of another of those annoying monkey-lizards—or perhaps it was the same one as before—but it quickly scampered off, so I gave it no further thought.

  “This is the way to the hangar,” I explained.

  “Yes, but are you sure it’s safe?” asked Kenobi.

  “The key works,” said Skywalker, sliding it into the control slot.

  “Is it safe?” Kenobi repeated.

  “Of course it is,” I said.

  I had spoken too soon. The door opened on seven Weequay, who quickly drew their blaster rifles.

  Behind us, that cursed monkey-lizard reappeared. It was leading four more Weequay, who moved to block our retreat. I regretted not crushing the creature earlier. Perhaps all Kowakian monkey-lizards should be exterminated for the good of the galaxy.

  “Hold it right there, Jedi,” one of the the Weequay called.

  “I am no Jedi,” I reminded them. Not that it mattered. We were all dragged back to our cell just the same, and this time we were bound back to back to back in a triangle. There were guards outside, and two guards inside, along with a very disappointed Hondo Ohnaka.

  “What to do? What to do? What to do?” mused Ohnaka. “I don’t want to kill you, necessarily. In fact, you seem like decent fellows. Even you, Count. This is just business, and once I get my money, we can go back to being friends. It’s very simple. Now, try not to complicate things by breaking out again.”

  Ohnaka took his leave, his guards following him out.

  “We have to get out of here before the Republic arrives with the ransom,” said Kenobi.

  “For once,” I said, “I agree with you.”

  It was not long, indeed, before we made our second attempt at escape. The opportunity came when one of our two guards again wandered off, leaving a sole Weequay outside our cell.

  “You do not want to stand guard,” Kenobi said to him.

  “I do not want to stand guard,” the Weequay repeated.

  “You want to deactivate the cell bars and go out drinking,” said Kenobi. It is my opinion that Kenobi is overly fond of the mind trick, especially if it allows him to avoid getting his hands dirty. But I was content to let him use it, rather than blend my own superior intellect with the inferior mind of our guard. I watched as the Jedi used his meager powers to predictable effect on the weak-willed buffoon.

  “I want to deactivate the cell bars and go out drinking,” replied the guard. The Weequay smiled broadly. Obviously, this was something he would much prefer to do, even without the influence of the mind trick. It took very little effort on Kenobi’s part to sway him. The guard deactivated our bars and left rapidly.

  “Not bad,” said Skywalker.

  “Yes, most impressive, Master Kenobi,” I added. However, my tone of voice clearly indicated that I felt he did not deserve high praise for a small contrivance that anyone with a passing knowledge of the Force could accomplish. Nonetheless, we were free.

  This time, young Skywalker led the way. I walked slowly, attempting to move with more stealth than in our previous escape attempt.

  “Hurry it up, Dooku,” said Kenobi, misunderstanding my intent. He gave me a push, shoving me behind a cargo container. I opened my mouth to object to this indignity, then I saw the reason for his action. We hid as a guard crossed our path. When the Weequay was gone, we continued. But the young Jedi could not let the chance for one of his imbecilic jokes pass by.

  “You should be more patient, Master,” said Skywalker. “After all, the Count is an elderly gentleman and doesn’t move like he used to.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Kenobi agreed.

  Their facile humor was nearly more than I could bear.

  “I would kill you both right now,” I said, “if I did not have to drag your bodies.”

  Sadly, our escape was not to be without incident. We tripped a hidden alarm and, sirens blaring, were soon running for our lives.

  As might be expected, the Jedi fled without thought or plan, so it was left to me to hinder our pursuers. I reached out to a stack of shipping containers and used the Force to send them tumbling into our captors’ path. Then Skywalker kicked open an outer door and we tumbled to the hot desert ground outside.

  “Now we just have to get beyond that wall,” said Kenobi, stating the obvious.

  Skywalker grabbed a pole, and assisted by the Force, we all used it to vault into the sky. For a moment, we were in harmony, two Jedi and a Sith in perfect synchronicity.

  But the boy’s jump fell short. Alas, shackled as I was to the others, I was limited by their weak efforts.

  Skywalker, in the lead, was the only one to grab the wall. We dangled from our bonds below him.

  “This is not going well,” Skywalker cried, betraying the same tendency to state the obvious as his master.

  “Don’t let them get away!” I heard a Weequay shout, and then a blaster bolt zipped over my head. The shot severed the cord that bound me to Kenobi. For a moment, I fell.

  Remarkably, Kenobi caught me. I would not have done the same for him.

  “Hey, what are you guys doing?” Skywalker shouted at the renewed strain of our combined weight. “You’re too heavy. I can’t do it.”

  We had to swing back and forth, like an ungainly pendulum on a string, to avoid further blaster bolts. Most undignified.

  “Drop Dooku!” Skywalker shouted. Perhaps the young Jedi had more sense than his master possessed.

  But the shooting stopped abruptly. Then, from the wall above, I heard the voice of Hondo Ohnaka.

  “I guess this means we won’t be friends?” the Weequay pirate said.


  And so it was back to our cell a second time.

  “We have to find a way out of here before Senator Kharrus and Jar Jar arrive,” whined Kenobi. As you know, Kharrus was the Gran politician who served as the senator of Kinyen. Together with that walking embarrassment, the Gungan known as Junior Representative Jar Jar Binks, he was coming on behalf of the Republic to deliver the ransom for the Jedi, as well as to take me captive for the Republic. As unpleasant as the situation was, I must say that I delighted in Kenobi’s admission. I might face imprisonment should I be handed over to the Republic, but the Jedi Master feared something worse—embarrassment.

  “I think it’s time to lose the dead weight,” said Skywalker, meaning, of course, me. It was yet another hint of a most un-Jedi-like temperament lurking in the boy’s psyche. As it happened, they did abandon me, though through no efforts of their own. A guard entered and commanded the Jedi to accompany him. The Jedi were led away, while I was left in the cell.

  While I was glad to be rid of their irksome company, I did wonder at what led to our separation. Perhaps freed of their scruples and their weaknesses, I might be better able to escape on my own. I sat down to meditate upon a successful means of extricating myself from the cell, but as it turned out, there was no need. The Force, ever my ally, came to my rescue once again.

  The power in the complex suddenly went out, the barrier to our cell winking off.

  I did not hesitate to take advantage of my good fortune. Stepping from my prison, I strangled the lone guard with the very cord that bound my wrists. Then I quietly made my way down the hallway.

  But my caution was unnecessary. There was a commotion in the main room. I gathered from the sounds of battle that the Jedi had escaped. Doubtless they had been freed by the same power failure and recovered their lightsabers, and were now battling their way to freedom.

  I managed to exit the complex unnoticed, but discovered that something else was occurring. Something beyond the Ohnaka Gang’s squabble with the Jedi.

  I spotted two Weequay sneaking away from the fight and instead heading for the attack shuttle. What were they up to?

  “We’re leaving without the spice?” said one in a nervous voice.

  “It won’t be long until Hondo figures out what’s happened,” replied the other.

  Ah. It was instantly clear to me that these Weequay had deceived their leader. They had planned some sort of double cross that had gone afoul. Perhaps they had even tried to secure the ransom for themselves alone. Though I did not understand the specifics, doubtless the hitch in their plans was somehow related to the loss of power and they were now seeking to flee. But their intended means of escape would become my own.

  Reaching out with the Force, I gripped the throat of the stronger one. As he sputtered in my grasp, I made him draw his blaster and point it at his fellow.

  “What are you doing?” his cowardly companion cried. I gave him his answer. Squeezing my finger, the Weequay tightened his grip on the trigger.

  A single shot, and the nervous Weequay fell over dead. Then I closed my fist and crushed the throat of the other. I released the Weequay’s lifeless body to fall to the Florrum sands.

  It was a small matter then to avail myself of their ship. Away I flew, thinking that one day I might repay this planet for the inconvenience it had caused me, but pleased for the moment to be leaving Florrum and all its aggravation behind.

  And now, my master, you know the whole story. It would be tempting to view this entire excursion as a ridiculous waste of time. But it did afford me the opportunity to study our opponents close up and at length. Kenobi is as soft-hearted as ever, a weakness we can no doubt exploit. But his former apprentice is different. He was frequently impatient, rash, hot-tempered—qualities that could prove his undoing. But he also showed a most un-Jedi-like willingness to sacrifice me on several occasions. It was at these times that I sensed a hint of anger inside young Skywalker, an anger that, if properly stoked, could be used for our benefit. So perhaps my humiliations have some value after all.

  Humiliations. Hmmm.

  On second thought, I think that I would rather not share further details of my embarrassment with you. You already know too much about this regrettable incident. It was merely a ridiculous waste of time. Nothing more.

  Computer, delete this holorecording.

  HOLORECORDING DELETED

  ANAKIN LEANS BACK IN HIS CHAIR, LOCKS his arms behind his head, and looks at Padmé. He sits in front of her, just to the right and out of her line of sight. The bright light of the day streams through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows behind her, but even in shadow she’s beautiful. His wife is a hard worker, sitting at her Senate desk. His wife. He bites his cheek to hold back a smile. Just the thought of Padmé works to quiet the buzzing that’s always in the back of his head. That buzzing has only gotten louder since Ahsoka thwarted an assassination attempt on Padmé’s life. He can’t help obsessing about how he should have been there.

  After one too many close calls, Obi-Wan and the Council recognized Anakin’s distraction, even if they didn’t know the cause, and sent him on a meditative retreat. Eyeing Padmé again, he grins. This is just as good as going on one of those. It could be better, though.

  “Hey, I’m supposed to be on a meditative retreat. We should go away together.”

  He stands up and starts pacing, trying to command Padmé’s attention. They’re alone in her spacious office, but it feels full even with just the two of them.

  “I know a place far away from here where no one would recognize us.” He can feel the slightest movement as Padmé lifts her head marginally, halfway listening even though she’s trying not to. “Yeah, it’ll be like we’re actually husband and wife.” He stops in front of the window, watching the speeders of Coruscant fly by for a brief moment before turning to look directly at her, hoping his words hit home. “Instead of senator and Jedi.”

  She doesn’t take her eyes off the screen but shakes her head. “I—I can’t, Ani.”

  Anakin furrows his brow in frustration. If they love each other, that should be all that matters. He wants to forget being a Jedi and a senator for once and just be them.

  “What do you mean you can’t?” He rolls his eyes. If they could get away from all this secrecy and have a few moments to themselves, the great weight of their responsibilities would evaporate, even for just a short while. They could spend the time together, being in love, and it would be enough. We’ll be back before anyone notices we’re gone.”

  That gets her attention. She looks up at him.

  “I have to bring this bill before the Senate.” She gestures emphatically at her screen. “It’s important.”

  Anakin loves this about her. Her commitment in the face of chaos. Her belief in democracy, flawed as it is. But he needs more than what they have right now. He needs her to understand. He decides to switch tactics. A Jedi adapts.

  “Uh-huh.” He moves closer to her, leans against her desk, and raises an eyebrow. A full-on charm assault. “More important than the way you feel about me?”

  It doesn’t work.

  Padmé shakes her head again, and the gold mesh holding back her hair catches the light of the sun, bright against the dark strands. Anakin holds in a groan and starts moving again, behind her and past the bustle of the city on the other side of the window.

  “Not more important, but important. The work I do”—she reconsiders and continues—“the work we both do—is in service to the Republic. To protect those who would otherwise be powerless to protect themselves—”

  Anakin nods and lifts his hand toward the ceiling in frustration. He knows this. What else has his life been for? Both their lives have been lost to the Republic, but when they married—Anakin was pledged to Padmé wholly, and nothing would ever matter more. Not the Republic, not the Jedi, not this war.

  He stops and rests an arm on the back of her chair as she goes back to typing.

  “Of course. But those are ideals. Isn�
��t our love more important to you?”

  This is the question between them now: how much she recognizes the tangible thing they brought into being that keeps his darkest dreams at bay.

  She sighs. “But I—”

  “No, no but.” He won’t let her shift to the left, to focus on their duties, when he needs her to see what he means—what she means. “To me, there’s nothing more important than the way I feel about you. Nothing.”

  This seems to get through to her. She stands, finally focusing. But it’s to move the conversation back to where she’s comfortable. He can sense it.

  “Anakin, don’t be so—”

  He won’t let her. He grins again.

  “You don’t believe me?” He moves forward a step and rests against the desk.

  “I didn’t say that I—”

  Closing the distance, he leans down toward her so they can see eye to eye.

  “I’ll prove it. Just watch.” He reaches down to the weapon at his belt, his lifeline in a war against the worst the galaxy can throw at him. He pulls the lightsaber free and lifts it up, feeling its cool metal through the cybernetics hidden by his glove. “When I constructed this lightsaber, Obi-Wan said to me, ‘Anakin, this weapon is your life.’” Softening his tone, he says, “This weapon is my life.” He breaks out a smile and offers the lightsaber to his wife.

  But Padmé holds her hands up, reluctant to take it. “No, no, Anakin, I can’t—a Jedi lightsaber is—”

  Anakin doesn’t let her finish that thought. He pulls her hand up toward him and puts the saber in it. And then he’s defenseless. “Wow, it’s heavier than I thought.” Padmé looks up at him, delighted. But he won’t let her joke away his seriousness.

  “It’s yours.” This is all he wants, for her to understand. “Believe me now?”

  But the light leaves her eyes, and she sighs again. She looks away from him, and he realizes he’s made a misstep. She moves closer in an attempt to bypass him.

  “If all you want to do is make fun of me, I think you should just go.” And for a split second, it’s like they’re back in the fields of Naboo and he’s teasing her—this senator he can’t believe he’s had the good fortune to exist beside. But now they’re beyond that.