Dooku

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Dooku Page 2

by Cavan Scott


  DOOKU:

  I don’t want to have to do that again.

  VENTRESS: (NARRATION)

  That makes two of us.

  He walks behind his desk, opening a drawer. As I struggle to draw air into my scorched lungs, he retrieves a disk no larger than a coin and tosses it toward me. It clatters and spins before coming to rest on the polished wood. I wait, not daring to move until he nods. Cautiously, I retrieve the disk, turning it over in my hand.

  VENTRESS:

  A data card?

  DOOKU:

  Place it in the holoprojector.

  VENTRESS: (NARRATION)

  I do as I am instructed, a hologram fizzing into existence. It’s a boy, no older than ten years old, wearing the robes of a Jedi Initiate, hair buzz-cut short. There’s something about his face. Something familiar.

  VENTRESS:

  (REALIZATION DAWNING) It’s you.

  DOOKU:

  I’d forgotten I was ever that young. It belongs to my sister.

  VENTRESS:

  Your sister?

  DOOKU:

  I had no idea she kept the recordings. I told her to destroy them. She disobeyed me.

  VENTRESS:

  But I don’t understand. You were a Jedi.

  DOOKU:

  I was.

  VENTRESS:

  But I thought Jedi cut all ties to their family.

  DOOKU:

  They do. But my sister…let’s just say…we found each other…

  VENTRESS:

  How?

  VENTRESS: (NARRATION)

  I tense, waiting for another burst of lightning, but instead Dooku’s eyes drop away, focusing on the hologram of the boy in front of us. I sense conflict in him, memories long buried bubbling to the surface. When he speaks again, there is a…wistfulness in his voice, a vulnerability that I just haven’t heard in him before.

  DOOKU:

  I never knew my family, for the reasons you mentioned. Like most of the Order, I was brought to the Temple by a Seeker, a Jedi who was tasked to scour the galaxy for Force-sensitive infants. I had no recollection of my home, having been transported to Coruscant as a babe in arms, only to be told that I was to return as an Initiate.

  VENTRESS:

  Return to Serenno. Why?

  DOOKU:

  For a great celebration…

  SCENE 3. EXT. CARANNIA. CAPITAL CITY OF SERENNO.

  Atmosphere: As Dooku talks, we hear the sounds of a grand celebration behind the narration, music playing, crowds bustling, demonstrations being made. Think of it as a trade fair for the outer rim.

  DOOKU: (NARRATION)

  Serenno was hosting a showcase for the galaxy, an opportunity for the planets of the Outer Rim to demonstrate what they could bring to the ever-growing Republic. Merchants and traders flocked here to wander the pavilions and gawp at demonstrations. There were ship makers and weaponsmiths, droid manufacturers and agrifarmers.

  VENTRESS: (NARRATION)

  And Jedi?

  DOOKU: (NARRATION)

  The Council had debated the wisdom of sending Initiates to such an event, but it had been argued that the Celebration was too good an opportunity to miss, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for the young Jedi-in-training to observe the galaxy they had pledged their lives to protect…

  What better way could there be for young Jedi-in-waiting to understand the galaxy they would serve, but to see it with their own overeager eyes?

  SIFO-DYAS: (TWELVE YEARS OLD)

  Dooku. Dooku, can you believe this? Look at it all. There are so many people.

  DOOKU: (TWELVE YEARS OLD)

  Too many.

  SIFO-DYAS:

  (LAUGHS) You need to relax. Enjoy yourself. It’s a festival!

  DOOKU:

  I am enjoying myself.

  SIFO-DYAS:

  Then you should tell your face.

  DOOKU: (NARRATION)

  It’s safe to say that I was a…difficult person to know. I struggled to make friends in the early days of my training. On arrival at the Temple, Initiates are sorted into clans, an arbitrary grouping in many ways, but one that is supposed to foster an atmosphere of trust and kinship. Not so for me. I had no need of camaraderie, even then. I was there to train, to be the very best I could be. While my clan-mates huddled together after lessons, swapping tales of the Nameless or whatever phantasmagoria had seized their overactive imaginations, I could be found ensuring my tunic was sharply pressed and boots polished. I had Masters to impress, after all.

  Only one boy saw through my bluster, an Initiate as likely to cause trouble as I was expected to excel. Perhaps I needed someone to burst my bubble. Perhaps I just needed a companion. But whatever the reason, we became inseparable…

  DOOKU:

  Sifo-Dyas, remember where we are. People are staring.

  SIFO-DYAS:

  So? It’s the Celebration. We’re supposed to be enjoying ourselves.

  DOOKU:

  No. We’re supposed to be representing the Jedi. What would Master Yoda say if he saw you prancing about like a Floubettean dancer?

  SIFO-DYAS:

  But he’s not going to see, is he? He’s too busy being wise and inscrutable and—

  Sifo-Dyas barrels straight into Yoda, who is knocked from his feet.

  YODA:

  (CRIES OUT)

  DOOKU: (NARRATION)

  My heart sank as Sifo-Dyas wheeled around, knocking into the very Jedi Master he was mocking.

  SIFO-DYAS:

  M-Master Yoda! I’m so sorry.

  DOOKU:

  (HISSING) You idiot!

  YODA:

  Look where you are going, you should, young Sifo-Dyas.

  DOOKU: (NARRATION)

  As if they’d been waiting for disaster to strike, the other Masters appeared from the crowd, rushing to their Grand Master’s aid. There was Tera Sinube, the beak-nosed Cosian who, like Yoda himself, seemed to have been born ancient and wizened…

  TERA SINUBE:

  Master Yoda? Are you all right?

  DOOKU: (NARRATION)

  And then there was Yula Braylon, a Seeker who had brought many of the Order’s new recruits to the Temple doors.

  BRAYLON:

  Who did this? Show yourself.

  SIFO-DYAS:

  It was me, Master Braylon. I…I just got so excited with all the lights and the sounds and…

  BRAYLON:

  And this is why dragging Initiates halfway across the galaxy was a mistake.

  YODA:

  No harm was done. An accident it was.

  DOOKU:

  Sifo-Dyas really is sorry.

  YODA:

  Learned a lesson, young Sifo-Dyas has. Do it again, he will not.

  SIFO-DYAS:

  No. I promise. I’ll…I’ll look where I’m going.

  YODA:

  As all of us must. Yes. Everyone.

  DOOKU: (NARRATION)

  Not all the Masters were as quick to forgive. Braylon fixed us with a suspicious glare, as if convinced we would blunder into trouble the moment her back was turned.

  Her instincts were to be applauded.

  BRAYLON:

  Now, don’t go wandering off. The lightsaber demonstration takes place in less than an hour. Do you understand? Remember why we are here.

  DOOKU:

  To demonstrate the discipline and composure of the Jedi.

  SINUBE:

  See? They were listening, Braylon. Well done, Dooku.

  DOOKU:

  Thank you, Master Sinube.

  DOOKU: (NARRATION
)

  We waited solemnly as the Masters headed back to the stage where the demonstration would be given. It was only when they were out of sight that I punched Sifo-Dyas sharply in the arm.

  SIFO-DYAS:

  Ow! What was that for?

  DOOKU:

  What do you think? Knocking Master Yoda over! You’re lucky they didn’t ship us back to Coruscant.

  SIFO-DYAS:

  I thought that’s what you wanted. Come on, Doo.

  DOOKU:

  (SIGHING) Don’t call me that.

  SIFO-DYAS:

  Why not? It’s your name.

  DOOKU:

  No, it’s not.

  SIFO-DYAS:

  (TEASING, SINGSONG) Doo. Doo. Dooku.

  DOOKU:

  Shut up.

  SIFO-DYAS:

  Doo. Doo. Doo.

  DOOKU:

  (UNABLE TO STOP HIMSELF FROM LAUGHING) You’re an idiot.

  SIFO-DYAS:

  And you’re home! This is Serenno, Dooku. How many Initiates get to visit where they were born?

  ARATH: (TWELVE YEARS OLD)

  (APPROACHING) What was that, Sifo-Dyas? This is where His Eminence comes from?

  DOOKU:

  (GROANS) Nice work, Si.

  DOOKU: (NARRATION)

  If I could have willed it, I would have urged the ground to swallow me up there and then.

  From the day we met, Arath Tarrex had been determined to make my life a misery. He seemed to take offense at everything I did. The way I walked. The way I talked. And most important, the way I outshone his pitiful attempts to succeed in each and every one of our classes together.

  Jedi are trained to suppress our emotions, but even then, Arath. He was jealous of me, and for good reason…

  SIFO-DYAS:

  Leave us alone, Arath. We weren’t talking to you.

  ARATH:

  Is this really your home, Dooku?

  DOOKU:

  No. My home is the Temple. Just like you.

  SIFO-DYAS:

  (SOTTO) More’s the pity.

  ARATH:

  What was that?

  SIFO-DYAS:

  Nothing, Arath. Nothing at all. What’s the matter, anyway? Don’t you like it here?

  ARATH:

  Are you kidding? It’s a dump. Who would have thought that for all his airs and graces, little Lord Dooku comes from a shab-hole like this?

  DOOKU:

  I’m warning you, Arath…

  ARATH:

  What? What are you going to do, Dooku? Run off to Braylon like last time?

  DOOKU:

  I’ll show you what I’m gonna do.

  Dooku goes to shove Arath, but Sifo-Dyas stops him.

  SIFO-DYAS:

  Whoa-whoa-whoa! Discipline and composure, remember. Discipline and composure.

  ARATH:

  (WALKING OFF) Good luck with that. See you at the demonstration, Your Highness.

  DOOKU:

  One day I’m going to wipe the smirk off his stupid face.

  SIFO-DYAS:

  And what good would that do?

  DOOKU:

  It would put him in his place.

  SIFO-DYAS:

  Which is exactly the kind of talk that adds coaxium to his engines. Look, I know you’re better than him. He knows you’re better than him. Even the duraslugs back home know you’re better than him, but there’s no need to rub his face in it.

  DOOKU:

  What about rubbing his face in that dewback paddock over there?

  SIFO-DYAS:

  Okay, that I would like to see, but if you do, Braylon will make sure we spend the rest of the Celebration holed up on the Ataraxia. Come on, Doo. When do we ever get out of the Temple, let alone off Coruscant? Let’s forget Arath and explore while we have the chance, yeah?

  SCENE 4. EXT. CELEBRATION. JENZA’S POV.

  DOOKU: (NARRATION)

  I reluctantly agreed, allowing Sifo-Dyas to drag me farther into the crowd, unaware that, not far away, nobility was gracing the festivities.

  HOLOGRAM ANNOUNCER:

  People of the galaxy, welcome to Carannia. Here you will discover all the Outer Rim has to offer. Innovation. Exploration. A brave frontier awaits, worlds of opportunity and adventure, all accessible by safe and reliable hyperroutes…

  We come upon Count Gora, the ruler of Serenno, who is sweeping through the celebration surrounded by his entourage.

  GORA:

  (SNORTS) “Safe and reliable hyperroutes”? What a load of Sith spit.

  ANYA:

  Gora, please! The children.

  GORA:

  What about them? I can’t believe the Assembly talked me into this. It’s an insult. That’s what it is. A damn insult.

  D-4:

  Actually, Count Gora, the Celebration is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for Serenno.

  GORA:

  Anya, kindly remind your protocol droid not to lecture me, unless he wants to be smelted down with the next batch of Malvern’s zersium.

  ANYA:

  Dee-Four, maybe it would be better if you buttoned your vocabulator.

  D-4:

  But Countess Anya, I sought only to remind His Grace that—

  GORA:

  I can still hear it talking!

  ANYA:

  Please, Dee-Four. The last thing we need is for him to go into another rage. Perhaps you could look after the children?

  D-4:

  The children? Countess, I’m programmed for diplomacy and etiquette…

  ANYA:

  And therefore the perfect babysitter for Ramil and Jenza.

  RAMIL: (FOURTEEN YEARS OLD)

  Mother! I’m not a baby!

  D-4:

  (SNORTS) That’s a matter of opinion.

  RAMIL:

  Oh, shove it up your recharge coupling.

  D-4:

  Countess. Did you hear what he said?

  ANYA:

  (SIGHING) Yes, yes. Ramil, there’s no need to be rude. (TO HERSELF) You’re not your father.

  GORA:

  What was that?

  ANYA:

  Nothing, darling. I was just talking to the children.

  JENZA: (ELEVEN YEARS OLD)

  Can’t we just look around, Mother?

  ANYA:

  Not by yourself, Jenza. You know that.

  JENZA:

  But—

  ANYA:

  But nothing. Dee-Four will stay with you.

  RAMIL:

  This is so humiliating.

  ANYA:

  You could always come to the Assembly and hear your father’s speech?

  JENZA:

  Actually, Dee-Four will make fine company. (POINTED) Won’t she, Ramil?

  RAMIL:

  I suppose. Come on then, Bolt-Head. Let’s look around.

  D-4:

  But I must protest. My duty—

  ANYA:

  (CALLING BACK AS SHE WALKS OFF) Is to look after the children. Have fun.

  D-4:

  (CALLING AFTER HER) Countess. Countess, really. (TO HERSELF) This is too much. I’ve half a mind to…(REALIZES THE CHILDREN HAVE GONE) Where are they? Where have they gotten to? (CALLING) Lady Jenza.

  SCENE 5. EXT. CELEBRATION. THE CHILDREN’S POV. (CONT.)

  We shift farther into the crowd, D-4 now behind us.

  D-4: (OFF-MIC)

  Master Ramil! Come back here.

  JENZA:

  What do you want to see first, Ramil
? I hear there are Jedi here.

  RAMIL:

  Why would anyone want to see those freaks?

  JENZA:

  Don’t call them that.

  RAMIL:

  Father does.

  JENZA:

  Father does a lot of things. Come on.

  They run off, D-4 finally catching up, just a moment too late.

  D-4: (COMING UP ON MIC)

  No. No. Wait for me, you pampered—Oh, what have I done to deserve this.

  SCENE 6. EXT. CELEBRATION—JEDI DEMONSTRATION.

  The children push through the crowds, heading toward the Jedi demonstration. Above the babble of the watching crowd, we can hear Yoda, Sinube, and Braylon performing a ceremonial demonstration in perfect unison, their lightsabers buzzing and swooping. Think of it as Tai Chi for Jedi.

  DOOKU: (NARRATION)

  At the Jedi stage, we stood watching Yoda, Sinube, and Braylon demonstrating basic lightsaber stances, plasma humming as they moved in perfect synchronization, eyes closed and minds calm.

  All around, the crowd gawped, the Masters just another spectacle to experience amid the noise of the revelry, but for one young observer the demonstration would be a life-changing moment…

  Jenza pulls Ramil through the crowd. D-4 has caught up with them.

  JENZA:

  There they are! Wow. Just look at them.

  D-4:

  Yes. Yes. Very good. Shall we find your parents now?

  RAMIL:

  Is that it? Aren’t they supposed to be fighting or something?

  D-4:

  No, the energy blades are purely ceremonial.

  JENZA:

  It helps them meditate.

  RAMIL:

  How do you know?

  JENZA:

  I saw a documentary on the HoloNet. The swords are called lightsabers.

  RAMIL:

  They look stupid.

  D-4:

  They look dangerous. They’ll have someone’s arm off in a minute.

  RAMIL:

  Here’s hoping. At least that’ll be more interesting. (LAUGHING) Look at that one. He looks like a slime-gnome.

  JENZA:

  Shush. He’ll hear you.

  RAMIL:

  I’m not surprised with ears like that. Oh, come on, Jen. This is so boring. Let’s find the Nalroni pavilion. Father says the Celanites are demonstrating their new security droids.

  JENZA:

  You go. I want to look around.

 

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