Chapter Text
“It’s a pity our paths have never crossed before, Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon always spoke very highly of you.” Dooku paused for a moment, taking on a more downcast air. “I wish he were still alive. I could use his help, right now.”
Obi-Wan turned slowly in the beam of his prison. “Qui-Gon Jinn would never join you.”
“Don’t be so sure, my young Jedi.” Dooku began pacing around the prison. “You forget that he was once my apprentice, just as you were once his. He knew all about the corruption in the Senate, but he would never have gone along with it if he had learned the truth as I have.”
“The truth?”
“The truth.” Dooku paused again, looking up to meet Obi-Wan’s eyes, before resuming his circuit. “What if I told you that the Republic was now under the control of a Dark Lord of the Sith?”
“No, that’s not possible. The Jedi would be aware of it.”
“The dark side of the Force has clouded their vision, my friend. Hundreds of Senators are now under the influence of a Sith Lord called Darth Sidious.”
I don’t believe you, Obi-Wan almost said. Did say, in a thousand other universes—but not in this one. Instead, he asked, in his most dubious tone, “Do you actually have any evidence?”
“The Viceroy of the Trade Federation was once in league with this Darth Sidious. But he was betrayed, ten years ago, by the Dark Lord. He came to me for help, told me everything.” He looked up, giving Obi-Wan a look of solemn sincerity that would have made any Senator jealous. “I have recordings. Computer logs. Battle plans. As overwhelming evidence as in any court of law.”
“I can’t exactly examine it from here,” Obi-Wan pointed out.
“No, no, of course not. The Viceroy will soon come to his senses, I’m sure.” Dooku stopped in the doorway, glancing over his shoulder at the captive Jedi. “Qui-Gon taught you well, Obi-Wan.”
“You’re not making me feel any more sanguine about this, Dooku.”
“Then I will let the evidence do the talking.” With that, he stepped through the shadowed archway and was gone.
***
Padmé and Anakin stood back-to-back, surrounded by hulking combat droids; Geonosians; and a single bounty hunter, pointing his slim pistol at their heads.
“I don’t think negotiations are going to work here, aggressive or not,” said Padmé, raising her hands in surrender.
“Fortunately for the both of you, that is incorrect,” said a voice, and two of the droids stepped aside to reveal an older human man, silver-haired and bearded, wearing black clothing and a red cape.
“Count Dooku!” Anakin’s first impulse was to go for his lightsaber, which fizzled once, and, as he glowered at it, subsequently flew out of his grip.
Dooku reached up and snatched it from the air, then examined it for a moment. “Broken. What a pity.”
“What are you doing here?” Anakin demanded, clenching his fists for lack of a weapon to brandish.
“Merely smoothing out some confusion,” Dooku replied, sliding Anakin’s now-useless saber into a pocket on the underside of his cape. “It seems there has been a great miscommunication.”
Anakin took a step forward. “Miscommunication? What have you done with Obi-Wan?”
“Anakin!” That was Padmé, one hand now firmly clasped onto his shoulder. “We should at least hear what he has to say.”
“Why? The situation seems quite clear to me.”
“Because, if I know you, you can’t ‘negotiate’ without your lightsaber.” Padmé glanced at the section of cape that now housed the weapon, then back up at Dooku. “He’s a bit reckless,” she explained, perhaps slightly more fondly than the situation warranted.
“As I said, there has been a miscommunication,” Dooku said. “Do follow me.” He half-turned and gestured towards the walkway he’d come from. “We have much to discuss.”
“And Obi-Wan?” Anakin insisted, lengthening his strides to catch up to Dooku, who was now striding towards the door.
“Unharmed. The rest, you will want to hear from him.”
Anakin shot a glance behind him, at the droids and the bounty hunter. The thin silver pistol gleamed under the factory lights. “Right.” Even he could sometimes tell when playing along was the better part of valor.
Padmé came up behind him and gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Better diplomacy than a firing squad.”
“I can’t help but think they’ve got the firing squad on standby,” Anakin muttered.
“That’s diplomacy for you.”
***
Flanked by droids, the three proceeded down the corridor. Dooku was in the lead, of course, his cape fluttering behind him. They turned, turned again, and then there was little hope of keeping track. The Separatist base might as well have been a maze, but for the fact that Dooku seemed to know where he was going. The bounty hunter vanished, somewhere in there, replaced by another droid that loomed as easily as a more organic entity would have breathed.
Anakin was nervous, which he showed by glancing furtively around and twitching at every unfamiliar sound. Padmé hid her fear better; she kept her back straight and her gaze forward. She’d been in enemy hands before.
Another red-lit hallway, shorter and narrower. Quiet, except for the footsteps of droids. Anakin fidgeted. Padmé pressed her lips together. Dooku reached the door at the end of the hall, and it slid open.
“The conference room,” Dooku said, motioning toward the doorway. The droids behind them took up positions to the left and right, lining the hall.
Anakin stepped through. It wasn’t, after all, like he had a choice.
The conference room had the same soft orange-red lighting as the rest of the base. The main feature was a hexagonal table in the center of the room, surrounded by metallic chairs. In one of those chairs sat Obi-Wan, leaning forwards and frowning at the datapad that rested in front of him.
“Master!” Anakin’s step quickened, and he was at Obi-Wan’s side in moments. “We came to rescue you, but—” His gaze drifted back to the entrance, and the dull gleam of the droids standing guard outside. “—we ran into some complications,” he finished.
“As did I,” Obi-Wan said, tapping the datapad. “Complications the Council should hear about.”
“What kind of…” Anakin peered over Obi-Wan’s shoulder. Stopped. “Are those financial records?”
“They are,” said Dooku, suddenly behind the pair. “From ten years ago.”
“I don’t understand,” said Anakin. “This doesn’t prove anything! You could have put anything in there!”
“Patience, Anakin,” said Obi-Wan. He looked up at Dooku. “But he’s partly right. I need to bring these back for analysis.”
“No, you don’t.” That was Padmé, leaning over Obi-Wan’s other shoulder. “Let me look at them.”
“You know what these are?” Anakin asked.
“I’m a politician, Anakin.” Padmé smiled. “I know how money works, and what it can hide.”
“We can’t trust Dooku,” he protested. “You know that.”
“You’re not the one he tried to have assassinated!” Padmé shot back. “But I’ll negotiate with whoever I have to if it will end this pointless war!”
“Spoken like a true diplomat,” said Dooku. “Please, everyone—do be seated.”
***
A few minutes later, everyone was seated, Padmé had the datapad, and Obi-Wan was quite a bit less crowded. Dooku was at one end of the table, with Padmé and the two Jedi at the other.
The air was still decidedly uneasy.
“While Senator Amidala is going over the data,” said Dooku, “we must discuss terms.”
“This isn’t a surrender,” Anakin said, “and I’m not agreeing to anything until someone tells me what’s going on.”
“Patience,” said Obi-Wan, with the tired air of someone who has said it many times and will have to do so many more. “Do not be so hasty, Anakin. I was just about to explain.”
Anakin muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “Hasty? You’re the one who jumped out a window.”
“Anakin…” That was a warning tone: they would talk about this later.
He sighed in exasperation. “Then explain, Master.”
Obi-Wan crossed his arms. “Count Dooku believes that a Sith Lord has infiltrated the Republic government.”
“What?” Anakin slammed his palms on the table. “That’s impossible! You can’t possibly believe—”
“Control yourself, Anakin!” Obi-Wan cut him off. “I’m willing to consider the possibility, implausible as it may sound.”
Anakin opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by Padmé. “Shell corporations,” she said, tapping her fingernail on the datapad. “Look.” She turned the device so Obi-Wan could see. “Diados Medical is shipping to hospitals that don’t exist. I’m certain it’s being used to funnel funds. And now that I know that, it’s clear that at least half these logs are partially or wholly illegitimate. Someone was sending money and equipment to the Separatists under false pretenses. The only thing I haven't figured out is who. There’s only a very few people in the Republic who could pull off a deception of this scale, and this level of coordination points to a single actor. Maybe two at most.”
Obi-Wan gestured towards Dooku. “I think it’s time you told us exactly who you’re accusing.”
“Regrettably, this corruption goes all the way to the top.” Dooku paused just long enough for this to begin sinking in. “Darth Sidious is none other than the Chancellor of the Republic.”
Silence.
Anakin broke it. “This is ridiculous,” he spat.
Almost at the same time, Padmé said, “The Chancellor? Are you sure?” She snatched the datapad back from Obi-Wan, who had reached for it, and began poring over the data once more.
Sounding ever so slightly dazed, Obi-Wan said, “I think I’m going to need to see more than financial records.” He recovered the quickest, his expression going from shocked to stern. “There’s no charge more serious than this, Count Dooku. Why didn’t you tell the Council? Why us?”
“Before I lent my assistance to the Viceroy, I had only my own suspicions. Now, I suspect their vision is so clouded as to dismiss out of hand any accusation I might make. Do you see my dilemma, Master Kenobi?”
Anakin interrupted, “This can’t be right. The Chancellor is a good man! If there’s a Sith, it’s—”
“Do excuse us, Count Dooku,” Padmé very politely bit out. “Padawan Skywalker and I need to confer.” She stood, one hand locked around Anakin’s wrist, datapad tucked under her other arm. She strode out of the room, Anakin in tow.
“Wait! Senator?” Obi-Wan made a futile grab for the datapad, then sighed as it vanished through the doorway with Padmé.