Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones

by Patricia C. Wrede

  And then there’s Count Dooku to deal with.

  Anakin knew the fight was not over, but he was glad to have a minute to rest. Padmé was safely aboard, and there were no Battle Droids within reach of his lightsaber. The white-armored troopers inside the gunship fired one last time at the few Battle Droids still standing in the arena. Then the gunship lifted, and they were outside at last.

  Outside—but not out of the fight. In spite of himself, Anakin’s hand clenched his borrowed lightsaber. A mass of Trade Federation Core Ships and droids covered the ground around the arena. No wonder they kept coming like that! Anakin thought dazedly. He had no idea there were so many of them.

  But the Trade Federation ships were themselves attacked. Thousands of men in white battle armor were firing into the rows of ships; beyond, Anakin could see Republic Assault Ships landing and more men heading for the battle.

  “Look!” Obi-Wan called from the other side of the gunship. “Over there!”

  Anakin peered out the open side of the gunship. A Geonosian speeder was heading rapidly away from the battle. In the open cockpit was the black-clad figure of Count Dooku.

  “It’s Dooku!” Anakin turned to the gunship’s pilot. “Go after him!”

  The pilot nodded and the gunship began to turn. Suddenly something exploded below the ship. The vessel lurched sideways. Caught by surprise, Padmé fell toward the edge of the ship. Anakin grabbed for her, but he was off balance and too far away, and she tumbled out.

  “Padmé!” he cried in horror, then called frantically to the pilot. “Put the ship down! Down!”

  Obi-Wan ran foward. “Don’t let your personal feelings get in the way,” he told Anakin sternly. Turning to the pilot, he waved toward the fleeing Count Dooku and commanded, “Follow that speeder.”

  Anakin glared at Obi-Wan. “Lower the ship,” he told the pilot.

  The pilot’s helmet swiveled from Anakin to Obi-Wan in confusion.

  Obi-Wan didn’t seem to notice; his eyes were fixed on Anakin. “Anakin, I can’t take Dooku alone,” he said. “I need you. And if we catch him, we can end this war right now. We have a job to do.”

  “I don’t care,” Anakin said. After all they’d been through, to lose Padmé now would be unbearable. “Put the ship down.”

  “You’ll be expelled from the Jedi Order,” Obi-Wan warned.

  Anakin swallowed hard and looked back. Padmé had rolled to the bottom of a dune. The sand was soft; she might be all right. She must be all right. But he couldn’t tell, and there were still Trade Federation Battle Droids nearby. “I can’t leave her,” he said softly.

  “Come to your senses,” Obi-Wan said sharply.

  Anakin looked up, startled, and a little angered by his Master’s tone. Then he saw Obi-Wan’s eyes—full of compassion and understanding, but still unyielding. “What do you think the Senator would do if she were in your position?” Obi-Wan asked softly.

  Anakin fought to deny the answer, but he could not. “She would do her duty,” he said heavily. He turned away as Obi-Wan ordered the pilot back on course. He kept his eyes on the unmoving Padmé until she was completely out of sight.

  They followed Dooku to a hangar tower. The gunship landed just long enough for Obi-Wan and Anakin to jump off, then it started back toward the main battle while the two Jedi headed inside. They found Dooku at a hangar control panel. A small, fast Solar Sailer ship sat in front of the hangar doors, ready for takeoff.

  He’s running away, Anakin thought. Anger filled him. “You’re going to pay for all the Jedi you killed today, Dooku!” he said as the Count looked up from the controls.

  Obi-Wan drew his lightsaber. “We move in together,” he said. “You, slowly on the—”

  “No,” Anakin said. The anger that filled him was changing, becoming like the hate-filled rage he had felt on Tatooine, in the Tusken Raider camp. If he waited, if he went slowly, he would lose control again. I am a Jedi! I can’t feel like this! “I’m taking him now!”

  “Anakin, no!” Obi-Wan shouted as Anakin started forward. Anakin almost hesitated. But Obi-Wan didn’t know about Tatooine and the Tusken Raiders. Obi-Wan must never know. And the only way to keep him from seeing Anakin in the same mindless rage was for Anakin to charge now, while he still had control of himself.

  Count Dooku smiled faintly as Anakin approached. Anakin raised his lightsaber—and felt a surge in the Force. Dooku thrust out his arm and Anakin was thrown violently into the air. He had a moment to realize bitterly that he had failed again, and then he slammed hard into the far wall of the hangar and lost consciousness.

  As Anakin slumped to the ground at the foot of the wall, Obi-Wan reached out to the Force. To his relief, he sensed that Anakin was not seriously hurt. But he could not wait for his apprentice to recover; Count Dooku was already moving toward him.

  “As you can see, my Jedi powers are far beyond yours,” Dooku said conversationally.

  “I don’t think so,” Obi-Wan replied. Alone, he knew he had little chance of winning against Dooku. Not only was Dooku a master swordsman, he was rested and fresh, while Obi-Wan was already weary from the fight at the arena. But I have to try, Obi-Wan thought. He raised his lightsaber.

  Dooku smiled and parried the first cut easily. He barely needed to move to parry the second and third strokes as well. “Master Kenobi, you disappoint me,” he said. “Yoda holds you in such high esteem.”

  He’s trying to distract me. Grimly, Obi-Wan fought on. His exhaustion was starting to tell; his breath came in harsh gasps. He backed off, hoping for a respite.

  “Come, come, Master Kenobi,” Count Dooku taunted. “Put me out of my misery.”

  Taking a deep breath, Obi-Wan shifted his grip and dove into the battle once more. Dooku gave ground, surprised by the ferocity of the attack, and for a moment Obi-Wan hoped that he might defeat the Count after all. But even drawing on the Force for strength, he was too tired to keep up the pace for long. The Count began to drive him back.

  As Obi-Wan gave ground, Dooku quickened the pace. His every move was economical and elegant; his lightsaber seemed to be everywhere. Obi-Wan remembered Jocasta Nu telling him, With a lightsaber, in the old style of fencing, he had no match. Now he could see what she meant. Unfortunately.

  Obi-Wan missed a parry, and Dooku’s lightsaber flashed into his shoulder. The pain was incredible. His lightsaber slowed a fatal fraction, and the Count’s weapon hummed out and sliced his thigh.

  The leg gave, and Obi-Wan stumbled back against the wall. His lightsaber dropped from his hand and went sliding away across the floor. He saw the Count raise his arm for the final blow, and he braced himself.

  Count Dooku brought his weapon down—against a brilliant bar of blue light. Anakin stood over Obi-Wan, his face a mask of grim determination, his lightsaber forcing Dooku’s back, away from his Master.

  “That’s brave of you, boy,” Dooku said calmly. “But foolish. I would have thought you’d learned your lesson.”

  “I’m a slow learner,” Anakin said, and charged.

  To Obi-Wan’s surprise, Anakin’s attack caught the Count off balance and forced him back. The Count looked just as surprised as Obi-Wan, but he recovered quickly.

  “You have unusual powers, young Padawan,” Dooku said to Anakin. “But not enough to save you this time.”

  “Don’t bet on it!” Anakin said.

  But Dooku is right, Obi-Wan thought through the haze of pain and exhaustion. Anakin is no match for him…unless Anakin does something unexpected. Using all his remaining strength, he reached out with the Force. “Anakin!” he called, and flung his lightsaber to his apprentice.

  Anakin caught the weapon in his free hand and attacked again. But even with two lightsabers, he could not hold back Count Dooku for long. The Count smiled and began to toy with him, knocking the extra lightsaber out of Anakin’s hand.

  Retreat, Obi-Wan thought. Stall him. But Anakin was not retreating; he was being driven back.
The combat had almost come full circle, back to where Obi-Wan lay. The Count smiled slightly—Obi-Wan was not sure at whom—and his blade flicked out almost too fast to see. Anakin screamed as his right arm dropped to the floor, cut off at the elbow. He fell beside Obi-Wan, curling up in agony. Dooku looked down at the two Jedi and moved in for the kill.

  Yoda pressed the switch to open the hangar doors. The battle with the Trade Federation droids was nearly finished; they no longer needed him there. Here, he sensed, was where he should be.

  The doors slid open reluctantly, and Yoda walked inside. Yes, needed here, I am, he thought as he saw Count Dooku standing over the fallen figures of Obi-Wan and Anakin. He stopped just inside the hangar, waiting.

  Count Dooku saw him and stepped away from Anakin and Obi-Wan. Yoda bent his head in acknowledgment and regret. “Count Dooku.”

  “Master Yoda.” The Count’s tone was almost scornful, but Yoda sensed an eagerness in him—eagerness, and something darker. Dooku face hardened as he went on, “You’ve interfered with our plans for the last time.”

  Plans of conquest, Yoda thought sadly. But a Jedi seeks not power. Truly, Dooku had left the path of the Jedi Order. He felt Dooku gathering power, and he bowed his head in shock and sorrow as he sensed the true source of the Count’s increased ability. An instant later, Dooku raised his hands and sent a stream of deadly Force lightning toward him.

  Yoda blocked the lightning automatically, grieved by this final evidence of Dooku’s change in allegiance. Only those who turned to the dark side of the Force misused their abilities so. This he had feared ever since Count Dooku left the Jedi Order, but only now was he certain. His old student had not just left the path of the Jedi; he had betrayed everything he had once stood for. He had joined the dark side. “Much to learn you still have,” Yoda told him.

  A startled expression crossed Dooku’s face at the utter failure of his attack. Then his eyes narrowed. He lowered his hands and replied, “It is obvious that this contest will not be decided by our knowledge of the Force, but by our skills with the lightsaber.” As he spoke, he reignited his weapon and whirled it in the formal salute that Yoda remembered teaching him some fifty years before.

  Yoda drew his lightsaber and answered the salute. In contests, he had no interest, but in stopping Count Dooku, he had a great deal of interest indeed. And Dooku had left him no other choice.

  Count Dooku charged forward. Yoda sighed. Nothing has he learned. Nothing has he remembered. He closed his eyes, bowed his head, and felt the Force that bound all things, even himself and the Count. His lightsaber moved effortlessly, flowing with the Force to find the balance point between them and block Dooku’s every stroke. He did not even have to step back.

  The Count’s attack grew more desperate, to no avail. Breathing hard, he backed away, but Yoda did not pursue him. To stop Dooku was all that was necessary, and he could not pass Yoda to reach his Solar Sailer.

  The Count slowed once more, then stopped, his blade braced against Yoda’s. Yoda could feel him drawing on the dark side in an attempt to press Yoda’s weapon back, but the dark side was only an easier path, not a stronger one. Backed by the full power of the true Force, Yoda’s lightsaber was unmovable.

  “Fought well, you have, my old Padawan,” Yoda said gently, giving him the truth, though he knew that the Count would not want to hear it. Count Dooku had never been happy to merely fight well; the best he must be, always. But not this time.

  “This is just the beginning,” the Count snarled.

  Yoda felt a great surge in the Force as Count Dooku pulled one of the service cranes off balance. The mass of metal and wire plummeted directly toward Obi-Wan and Anakin. Yoda could feel the two exhausted, injured Jedi reaching for the Force to keep the crane from falling, but they did not have enough strength left. The falling crane slowed but did not stop; it would surely crush them when it landed.

  No decision was necessary. Too many Jedi have we lost today. Yoda bent his mind toward the crane, concentrating. The crane stopped abruptly in midair as if it had landed on some invisible table. Slowly, Yoda moved the crane away from Obi-Wan and Anakin, to an empty part of the hangar where it could settle safely to the ground.

  Behind him, he sensed the engines of the Solar Sailer start, then felt them fade into the distance. The Count had escaped. But Anakin and Obi-Wan were still alive.

  For now, that was enough.

  Cautiously, Count Dooku’s Solar Sailer approached Coruscant. The Count was in no hurry. The important thing was to avoid detection, and he’d had plenty of practice at that. He was sure he wouldn’t be late for his meeting. He had allowed himself plenty of time.

  The ship slid through Coruscant’s warning systems without triggering them, and glided down toward the surface of the planet. The Count steered toward a burned-out section that had been abandoned eight years before. It was still deserted, and it made a perfect place for him to slip in and out of Coruscant unnoticed.

  Dooku flew toward one of the buildings and landed inside, out of sight. As he lowered the ramp, he saw a hooded figure waiting in the shadows. He always knows, the Count thought. But then, he should. That is why he is the Master.

  Leaving his ship, Dooku crossed to the waiting figure. He bowed low. “The Force is with us, Master Sidious.”

  His Master lowered his head briefly in acknowledgment. “Welcome home, Lord Tyranus,” Darth Sidious said in his precise, whispery voice. “You have done well.”

  “I bring you good news, my Lord,” Dooku said. Though he knew that everyone on Coruscant must already have heard, his instructions had been to return here with the news—and Darth Sidious had a short and unpleasant way with anyone who disobeyed even the smallest part of his orders. “The war has begun.”

  “Excellent.” Sidious’s dry voice sounded almost enthusiastic, and his lips—the only part of him visible beneath the deep hood—curved in a slight smile. “Everything is going as planned.”

  Count Dooku returned the smile. Darth Sidious plans well, and carefully. Soon we two will rule the galaxy.

  Soon.

  Obi-Wan stood beside Mace Windu, staring out the window at the great plaza below the Jedi Temple. Yoda sat nearby in his Council chair. It was good to be home, Obi-Wan thought, but Coruscant felt different now. Clone troopers in their smooth white body armor were everywhere. The Senate thought that their presence made people feel safe, but to Obi-Wan they were only a reminder of the vicious battle on Geonosis and all the Jedi who had not returned from it.

  Bacta treatments had mended both his wounds and Anakin’s, though even that powerful healing agent could not regrow Anakin’s arm. Anakin would have to make do with a mechanical replacement. He wouldn’t be the first Jedi to have to do so. And he probably won’t be the last, Obi-Wan thought somberly. Count Dooku had gotten clean away; he would undoubtedly make more trouble.

  The thought brought to mind some of the things the Count had told him, and he turned to Master Windu. “Do you believe what Count Dooku said about Sidious controlling the Senate?” he asked. “It doesn’t feel right.”

  “Become unreliable, Dooku has,” Yoda said before Mace could reply. His voice dropped. “Joined the dark side. Lies, deceit, creating mistrust are his ways now.”

  Master Windu held up a hand. “Nevertheless, I feel we should keep a closer eye on the Senate.”

  Yoda nodded. “I agree.”

  Mace Windu turned back to Obi-Wan. “Where is your apprentice?”

  “On his way to Naboo,” Obi-Wan said. “He is escorting Senator Amidala home.” Anakin had told him of Shmi’s death; that was why he and Padmé had gone to Tatooine, he said. Obi-Wan had talked to Padmé later, and she had explained that Shmi had been kidnapped and killed by Tusken Raiders.

  Neither of them had been willing to go into much detail, and from what Obi-Wan knew of the Tusken Raiders, he didn’t blame them. It was no wonder Anakin seemed shaken, if his mother had been tortured and killed. One day, pe
rhaps, Anakin would be willing to tell him the whole story. In the meantime, Padmé’s presence seemed to cheer Anakin up, and it would be good for Anakin to spend a little time on a beautiful planet like Naboo. It might take his mind off the horror of his mother’s death, and of the battle on Geonosis.

  They had lost so many Jedi. Two hundred had gone to Geonosis; barely twenty had returned. Still, they had won. “I have to admit, without the clones it would not have been a victory,” Obi-Wan said.

  “Victory?” Yoda sat indignantly upright in his chair. “Victory, you say?”

  Obi-Wan turned. Yoda looked around the almost-empty Council chamber, and his ears drooped sadly. “Master Obi-Wan, not victory,” he said softly. “Only begun, this Clone War has.”

  The words rang in Obi-Wan’s head. He closed his eyes, remembering the endless lines of clone troopers on Kamino. They were on Coruscant now—tens of thousands of clones, boarding Republic Assault Ships that would take them to fight on the Separatist worlds. There were many times as many troopers as there were Jedi, and the Kaminoans had a million more on the way. It takes more beings to fight a war than it does to keep the peace, Obi-Wan thought gloomily, and realized that Yoda was right. The war had only begun.

  If Padmé had ever thought about her wedding, she had pictured a formal ceremony with her family and friends as witnesses. She had never, in her wildest dreams, expected to be married secretly on an isolated island with only a pair of droids to watch the Holy Man’s blessing. But she was here, and she could imagine no more perfect place to marry Anakin than the balcony of this lake lodge where she had begun to discover her love for him. The roses in the garden below were past their prime, shedding petals at the slightest breeze. The fading flowers drenched the air with their perfume.

  Anakin seemed serious, almost sad, as they exchanged their vows, and for a moment Padmé wondered if they were doing the right thing. But it was too late to change her mind now; the vows were spoken.