Star Wars_ Labyrinth of Evil Part 19

"Then the Council is of the opinion that we must kill the leaders.h.i.+p - - that this war is more a battle within the Force?"

"United we are in that matter."

"You are persuasive, Master Yoda. You have my word that I will bear this conversation in mind when I meet with the Senate to discuss our campaigns."

"Relieved, I am, Supreme Chancellor."

Palpatine reclined in his chair.

"Tell me, how goes the hunt for Darth Sidious?"

Yoda leaned forward for emphasis.

"Coming closer to him, we are."

32.

In a forward hold of Grievous's flags.h.i.+p, Dooku watched the cyborg general duel with his elite MagnaGuards, three of his trophy lightsabers in constant motion, parrying thrusts of the guards' pulse-weaponed staffs, slicing the recycled air a hairbreadth from the expressionless faces of his opponents, incapacitating arm and leg servos when he could.

Grievous was a force to be reckoned with, to be sure, but Dooku deplored his habit of collecting lightsabers. It had merely bothered him that Ventress and lesser combatants such as the bounty hunter Aurra Sing had adopted the foul practice. Grievous's habit struck Dooku as the worst kind of profanation. Even so, he was not about to discourage the practice. The more Jedi that could be dispatched, the better.

The only aspect of Grievous's technique that vexed him more was the general's penchant for using four blades. Two was bad enough - - in the form they had been used by Darth Maul, or in Anakin Skywalker's sad attempt to employ the technique on Geonosis. But three? What was to become of elegance and gallantry if a duelist couldn't make do with one blade? Well, what had become of elegance and gallantry, in any case?

Grievous was fast, and so were his IG 100-series sparring partners. They had the advantage of size and brute strength. They executed moves almost faster than the human eye could follow. Their thrusts and lunges demonstrated a singular lack of hesitancy. Once committed to a maneuver, they never faltered. They never stopped to recalculate their actions.

Their weapons went exactly where they meant them to go. And they always aimed for points beyond their opponents in order to slice clear through.

Dooku had taught Grievous well, and Grievous had taught his elite well.

Coupled with Dooku's coaching, their programming in the seven cla.s.sic forms of lightsaber dueling - - in the Jedi arts - - made them lethal opponents. But they were not invincible, not even Grievous, because they could be confused by unpredictability, and they had no understanding of finesse. A player of dejarik could memorize all the cla.s.sic openings and countermoves, and still not be a master of the game. Defeat often came at the hands of less experienced players who knew nothing about the traditional strategies. A professional fighter, a combat artist, could be defeated by a cantina brawler who knew nothing about form but everything about ending a conflict quickly, without a thought to winning gracefully or elegantly. Enslavement to form opened one to defeat by the unforeseen.

This was often the failing of trained duelists, and it would be the failing of the Jedi Order.

Given that elegance, gallantry, and enchantment were gone from the galaxy, it was only fitting that the Order's days were numbered; that the fire that had been the Jedi was guttering and dying out. As with the corrupt Republic itself, the Order's time had come. The n.o.ble Jedi, bound to the Force, sworn to uphold peace and justice, were seldom seen as heroes or saviors any longer, but more often as bullies or mobsters.

Still, it was sad that it had fallen to Dooku to help usher them out. The conversation he had had with Yoda on dreary Vjun was never far from his thoughts these days. For all his flair with words, all his Force-given personal power, Yoda was nothing more than an old one, unwilling to embrace anything new, indisposed to see any way but his own. Yet how terrible not simply to fade away but to expire in full knowledge that the galaxy had tipped inexorably and at long last to the dark side, to the Sith, and might remain so for as long as the Jedi themselves had ruled.

The unforeseen...

Grievous and his guards were dancing. Going through their programmed motions. An Ataro attack answered by s.h.i.+-Cho; Soresu answered by Lus-ma... Dooku couldn't suffer another moment of it.

"No, no, stop, stop," he yelled, coming to his feet and striding to the middle of the training circle, his arms extended to both sides. When he was certain that he had their attention, he swung to Grievous.

"Power moves served you well on Hypori against Jedi such as Daakman Barrek and Tarr Seir. But I pity you should you have to face off against any of the Council Masters."

He called into hand his courtly, curve-handled lightsaber and drew a rapid X in the air - - a Makas.h.i.+ flourish.

"Do I need to demonstrate what responses you can expect from Cin Drallig or Obi-Wan Ken.o.bi? From Mace Windu or, stars help you, Yoda?"

He flicked his blade quickly, ridding two of the guards of their staffs, then placing the glowing tip a millimeter from Grievous's death-helmeted visage.

"Finesse. Artfulness. Economy. Otherwise, my friend, I fear that you will end up beyond the repair of even the Geonosians. Do you take my meaning?"

His vertically slit eyes unfathomable, Grievous nodded.

"I take your meaning, my lord."

Dooku withdrew his blade.

"Again, then. With some measure of polish, if I'm not asking for too much."

Dooku seated himself and watched them go at it. Hopeless, he thought. But he knew that he was partly to blame. He had made the same mistake with Grievous that he had made with Ventress, by allowing her to fill herself with hate, as if hate could subst.i.tute for dispa.s.sion. Even the most hateful could be defeated. Even the most angry. There should be no emotion in killing, no self, only the act. When he should have been helping Ventress rid herself of self, he had instead permitted her to grow impa.s.sioned. Sidious had once confessed that he had erred similarly in his training of Darth Maul. Ventress and Maul had been driven by a desire to excel - - to be the best - - instead of merely allowing themselves to be pure instruments of the dark side. The Jedi knew this about the Force: that the best of them were nothing more than instruments.

Dooku grew troubled. Was Sidious thinking the same of him now? Thinking: This is where I failed poor Dooku. Pitiful creature... It was entirely possible, considering how wrong things had gone on Naos III. Standard days earlier, Dooku had sent Sidious a coded transmission that was as much apology as explanation, and had yet to hear from him.

He watched Grievous disarm two of the MagnaGuards. In fact, Grievous was all instrument. And Dooku. What was Count Dooku of Serenno? He glanced at the hold's holoprojector table a moment before a blue holoimage of Sidious appeared above it. My time is at hand, he told himself as he centered himself proudly on the transmission grid, Grievous behind him, down on one knee, with head lowered.

"My lord," he said, bowing slightly at the waist. "I've been waiting."

"There have been matters that warranted my close attention, Lord Tyra.n.u.s.

"Born, no doubt, of my failure at Naos Three. The ones I sent had every opportunity to kill Ken.o.bi, Skywalker, and the Twi'lek pilot. Instead, they decided to attempt their capture, to extract additional funds from me, as well as to bolster their reputations."

Sidious was dismissive.

"Such is the way of bounty hunters. I should have foreseen this."

Dooku blinked. Was this an admission of failure on Sidious's part? Was Sidious's upper lip twitching, or was it nothing more than noise in the transmission?

"The Force is strong in Skywalker," Sidious went on.

"Yes, my lord. Very strong. Next time I will deal with the Jedi personally."

"Yes, that time is drawing near, Lord Tyra.n.u.s. But first we need to provide the Jedi with something that distracts them from hunting me."

Sidious's upper lip was definitely twitching. Was this worry? Worry from someone fond of saying that things were going precisely as planned?

"What has happened, my lord?"

"The Twi'lek's information led them to our rendezvous on Coruscant,"

Sidious said in a scurrilous voice.

Dooku was stunned.

"Is there a greater danger?"

"They think they have my scent, Lord Tyra.n.u.s, and perhaps they do."

"Can you leave Coruscant, my lord?"

From pa.r.s.ecs distant, Sidious stared at him.

"Leave Coruscant?"

"For a time, my lord. Surely we can find some way."

Sidious fell silent for a long moment, then said: "Perhaps, Lord Tyra.n.u.s.

Perhaps."

"If not, then I will come to you."

Sidious shook his head.

"That won't be necessary. I told you that their search for me would benefit us before too long, and thanks to you I begin to see a way."

"What is thy bidding, Master?" Grievous asked from behind Dooku.

Sidious turned slightly toward Grievous, but continued to speak to Dooku.

"The Jedi have divided their forces. We must do the same. I will deal with the ones on Coruscant. I need you to deal with the rest."

"My fleet stands ready, Master," Grievous said, still without raising his gaze from the grid.

"The Republic is monitoring you?" Sidious asked the general.

"Yes, Master."

"Can you divide the fleet - - judiciously?"

"It can be done, Master."

"Good, good. Then move however many s.h.i.+ps are needed to crush and occupy Tythe."

Again Dooku was stunned. So, too, was Grievous.

"Is that wise, Master," the general asked carefully, "after what happened at Belderone?"

Sidious adopted a faint grin.

"More than wise, General. Inspired."

"But Tythe, my lord," Dooku said with equal care. "Less a world than a corpse."

"It has some strategic value, does it not, General?"

"As a jump point, Master. But a dubious prize, regardless, when far better targets exist."

"It may prove costly to us, my lord. The Republic will almost certainly flatten it," Dooku said.

"Not if the Jedi are convinced that it must be retaken rather than destroyed."

Confusion wrinkled Dooku's forehead.

"How will we convince them?"

"We won't have to, Lord Tyra.n.u.s. Their own investigations will lead them to that conclusion. Moreover, Ken.o.bi and Skywalker will oversee the counterattack."

"Indeed, my lord?"

"They will not pa.s.s up an opportunity to capture Count Dooku."

Dooku saw Grievous's armorplast head elevate in surprise.

"What leads you to believe that the Republic will not simply flatten me at this point?"

"The Jedi are predictable, Lord Tyra.n.u.s. I needn't tell you this. Look what they risked on Cato Neimoidia in an effort to capture Viceroy Gunray. They are obsessed with bringing their enemies to justice, instead of merely administering justice themselves."

"It is their way."

"Then you don't mind serving as bait to lure them there?"

Dooku inclined his head.

"As ever, I am at your disposal, my lord."

Sidious grinned once more.

"Hold Ken.o.bi and Skywalker, Lord Tyra.n.u.s. Entertain them. Play to their weakness. Demonstrate your mastery, as you have on previous occasions."

Grievous made a meaningful sound.

"I will do the same with their wars.h.i.+ps, Master."

"No, General," Sidious cut in. "I have something else in mind for you and the rest of the fleet. But tell me, can you tuck your charges somewhere safe for the time being?"

"The planet Utapau comes to mind, Lord Sidious."

"I will leave that to you."