by Cavan Scott
DOOKU:
I do?
JOR:
You know you do. You’re charming, Dooku. Charismatic.
BRAYLON:
Everything Jor is not.
DOOKU:
I hardly think that’s fair, Master Braylon.
JOR:
Please. I am quite aware of my shortcomings. As, it appears, is my former Padawan.
QUI-GON:
(SOTTO) Shortcomings that don’t include her hearing, it seems.
GRETZ:
(SOTTO) You have no idea.
BRAYLON:
There is another option. We could choose not to go.
YODA:
Master Braylon?
BRAYLON:
Why should the Jedi flaunt themselves in front of the glittering masses? It debases the Order, making us no better than…politicians and holostars.
JOR:
I have already accepted the invitation.
GRETZ:
With due respect, Master Braylon, the Candovants are a powerful force in galactic politics.
BRAYLON:
Politics. It’s all about politics these days. Your minds are obviously made up. Very well. I’m sure you’ll enjoy your day at the races. Just remember that you are Jedi.
YODA:
Trust Master Dooku to remember his place, I think we can.
DOOKU:
Naturally. We will be the souls of discretion.
SCENE 90. EXT. SPEEDER.
A speeder soars through Coruscant’s air traffic.
DOOKU: (HOLO-NARRATION)
As always, I played the dutiful Jedi, but the altercation with Braylon had affected me deeper than I realized. I brooded all the way to the air track, forcing a smile as we arrived at our destination.
The soundscape changes to a large hover platform at the starting point of the race. There is the buzz of a party, loud music playing, the clinks of glasses. The partygoers have to shout slightly to be heard.
DOOKU: (HOLO-NARRATION)
I have lost count of the diplomatic functions I have attended since we last saw each other, but for all its glitz and glamour, the hospitality platform was no different from the rest. The Coruscanti jazz band, the obligatory small talk with visiting dignitaries, not to mention the unenviable task of deflecting those who had made good use of the complimentary bar…
DIVAD MASSPUR:
(DRUNK) Hey. Divad Masspur, Coco-Town Sports. You’re a Jedi, right? Can I see your sword?
DOOKU:
(SMILING THROUGH GRITTED TEETH) I’m afraid not.
DIVAD MASSPUR:
Always wanted to have a go with one of those things. In fact, I’ve an amazing idea for a show. Wanna hear it?
DOOKU:
Not really.
DIVAD MASSPUR:
“Celebrity LaserSabers”!
DOOKU:
Lightsabers.
DIVAD MASSPUR:
Whatever. You could be one of the judges. We’ll drop contestants into a tank of live animals, I don’t know, a pack of valkoths or something, and see who makes it out alive—
DOOKU:
It sounds fascinating, but tell me, isn’t that Lekar Hablis over there?
DIVAD MASSPUR:
Lekar? You’re right! (RUSHING OFF) I’ve got to speak to him. But we’ll discuss this later, yes? Yes?
DOOKU:
I look forward to it.
DIVAD MASSPUR: (OFF-MIC)
Lekar! Divad Masspur. It’s an honor to meet you, buddy. Hey, did you bring your swoop bike?
QUI-GON:
And who is Lekar Hablis?
DOOKU:
The nine-time Devaronian swoopdueling champion.
QUI-GON:
I never knew you were a fan.
DOOKU:
I’m not. I overheard an overexcited Ugnaught working up the courage to ask for an autograph. But what about you? Are you enjoying yourself, Qui-Gon?
QUI-GON:
I’m not sure enjoying is the right word. It’s very loud.
DOOKU:
A condition that will only worsen once the race is under way. From what Gretz told me, the course is marked out by those large repulsor rings. The airspeeders must pass through them all to avoid being disqualified. Some of the turns will be quite taxing.
QUI-GON:
Master, please. I know you’re not happy.
DOOKU:
Not happy? About what?
QUI-GON:
About being here. In this place, with these people.
DOOKU:
Nonsense. It will be an…interesting diversion.
QUI-GON:
You can fool the others, but you can’t fool me.
DOOKU:
There’s a part of me that agrees with Master Braylon. Why are we here?
QUI-GON:
It’s good…what’s the term? Public relations.
DOOKU:
And why should we care what the public thinks of us? We have a job to do, and we should do it. Not be wheeled out like exhibits in a freak show.
QUI-GON:
That’s a little harsh.
DOOKU:
But it’s true. And what good are we doing here, sipping avedamé and making chitchat? Our predecessors pushed boundaries, explored the galaxy. They made a difference, Qui-Gon. Today…today we’re anachronisms who only act when politicians give their assent. Half the people here think we’re nothing more than a glorified police force, enforcers for the Senate.
QUI-GON:
And the other half?
DOOKU:
They don’t think of us at all. We’re an irrelevance.
QUI-GON:
Master, you cannot mean this. In a few short months, I will face my trials.
DOOKU:
Which you will pass with flying colors.
QUI-GON:
And what then?
DOOKU:
(AS IF THE ANSWER IS OBVIOUS) You’ll become a Jedi Knight.
QUI-GON:
To what end? If what you say is true, I might as well give up now. I want to make a difference. I want to serve the galaxy.
DOOKU:
And you will. (SIGHS) Pay no heed to me, Qui-Gon, or to Master Braylon. We are old. Past our prime.
QUI-GON:
I hardly think that’s true.
DOOKU:
Well, you should. You’re the future, Qui-Gon. You and Gretz and, yes, even Ky. Master Aerith is wrong. There’s no harm in feeling pride. I’m proud of you, after all. If I never do anything of note ever again, I will watch you rise through the Order, changing it forever.
QUI-GON:
For the better?
DOOKU:
(LAUGHS)
QUI-GON:
What?
DOOKU:
I asked the very same question once. A long time ago. You are wise beyond your years, Qui-Gon Jinn, with a connection to the living Force that may even one day rival Yoda’s.
QUI-GON:
I doubt that.
DOOKU:
I have faith in you. And faith in the Force. As for now, maybe we should enjoy the party. I saw a droid serving opala fruit. Have you ever sampled one?
QUI-GON:
I have not.
DOOKU:
Then now is your…(TRAILS OFF)
QUI-GON:
Master. You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.
DOOKU:
Maybe I have…
DOOKU: (HOLO-NARRATION)
An air racer
was approaching, his drive suit plastered with holographic sponsors and a wine flute in his hand. The hospitality platform was full of pilots, surrounded by equally sycophantic entourages, but this one bore a face I’d thought I would never see again…
RAMIL:
Well, well, well. Look who it is.
DOOKU:
Ramil.
RAMIL:
My friends, may I introduce Jedi Knight Dooku.
DOOKU:
Jedi Master.
RAMIL:
Master! Going up in the world, eh, Dooku? You and me both.
DOOKU:
Qui-Gon, this is Ramil of Serenno.
RAMIL:
His brother.
QUI-GON:
Brother?
RAMIL:
I know. It’s shocking isn’t it? I got the looks, he got the…well, I would say dress sense, but…those robes.
DOOKU:
It was good to see you again, Ramil.
RAMIL:
Don’t be like that. Just a bit of fun. Can’t we let bygones be bygones, and all that? Unless you’re here to fix the race with your magic?
His entourage laugh vacuously.
DOOKU:
Perish the thought. And what of you, Ramil? Are you here representing our father?
RAMIL:
That old gill-goat? Not likely. Why do you think I’m wearing all this?
QUI-GON:
You’re racing?
RAMIL:
Indeed I am. (NOTICES ASTROMECH) Ah. You. Droid. My glass is empty.
The droid burbles and whirs over. Ramil takes a glass from the tray.
RAMIL:
Help yourself, boys.
DOOKU:
Do you think that’s wise?
RAMIL:
What?
DOOKU:
Drinking before a race.
RAMIL:
Don’t you worry about me, baby brother. I have luck on my side.
DOOKU:
And what of Serenno?
RAMIL:
(DRINKING) What of it?
DOOKU:
The trouble with the workers and the droids. Was Father able to reach a resolution?
RAMIL:
(SNORTS) He can barely reach the bathroom, incontinent old grotnix.
DOOKU:
He’s unwell? Shouldn’t you be by his side?
RAMIL:
Dooku, excuse me for asking, but why do you even care?
DOOKU:
You’re the heir of Serenno. Surely you have…responsibilities?
ANNOUNCEMENT:
All racers to their speeders. Repeat. All racers to their speeders.
RAMIL:
And that’s the end of the conversation. What a pity. Enjoy the show, Dooku.
QUI-GON:
May the Force be with you.
Ramil and his crew swagger off.
RAMIL:
And to you, Qwee-Gin. And to you.
QUI-GON:
(WATCHING HIM GO) It’s Qui-Gon, actually.
DOOKU:
Unbelievable.
QUI-GON:
Master?
DOOKU:
It’s true what they say. Power is wasted on the powerful.
Gretz and Jor approach.
JOR:
There you are, Dooku.
GRETZ:
The Candovant ambassador requests our presence in his hoverpod. Apparently, it offers the best view of the race.
QUI-GON:
You sound as if you’re looking forward to it, Gretz.
GRETZ:
You know…I am. Imagine what a Jedi could do at the controls of one of those things.
JOR:
Are you coming, Dooku?
DOOKU:
(DARKLY) Yes. After you.
SCENE 91. EXT. HOVERPOD.
COMMENTATOR: (AMPLIFIED)
Welcome one and all to the forty-eighth annual Dragonfire Air Rally, sponsored by Daystar Entertainment. It’s a glorious day and our brave pilots are already at the starting line, waiting for the off.
CANDOVANT AMBASSADOR:
Rika Carno Jedana? [Would you like a drink, Jedi?]
QUI-GON:
Ah. No, thank you.
DOOKU:
What my apprentice meant to say was, yes, he’d be delighted.
QUI-GON:
Absolutely. Thank you.
He takes a glass.
DOOKU:
Refusing a drink from a Candovant is a great insult. Wars have started for less.
QUI-GON:
Thanks for the tip.
DOOKU:
I just wouldn’t actually drink any if I were you. Cando brandy tastes like bantha slurry.
COMMENTATOR:
Defending his title is nine-time champion Izal Pre of Cona, who is in pole position just ahead of archrival Thrar of Coachelle Prime.
Thrar, of course, made her name in the Coachelle Burrow Runs before swapping a ground-churner for her trademark M-29 airspeeder.
Next is Drusan of Rodia, flying a Recardian C-18, and Toong Lor Kelasakuroona, former champion and the oldest competitor in the race.
At the rear we find Tanan Vetall of Nithorni and a late entry, Ramil of Serenno, who has been making waves on the Celanon Circuit. Many are suggesting that it is Ramil and not Thrar who could be the real challenger to Pre’s crown.
JOR: (TALKING OVER THE END OF THE COMMENTATOR)
Serenno? Isn’t that where you come from, Dooku?
DOOKU:
Hm-mm. Yes.
CANDOVANT AMBASSADOR:
Kira caravel von manarecan, Jedana-Mastera…[Then we know who you will be rooting for, Master Jedi…]
DOOKU:
Don’t worry. I will be rooting for all the pilots, Ambassador.
COMMENTATOR:
And the track coordinator has confirmed that the course is clear. Coruscant, are you ready to see the greatest rally in the Galactic Core?
A cheer goes up from the crowd.
COMMENTATOR:
I said: Coruscant, are you ready?
An even bigger cheer.
COMMENTATOR:
Then, pilots, start your engines…
Airspeeder engines whine, ready to race.
There are three beeps and then a longer, shriller tone as the airspeeders scream from the starting line.
COMMENTATOR:
And they’re off!
We stay with the airspeeders, engines shrieking as they zip around the course, passing through the rings.
COMMENTATOR:
And Pre holds the lead as they speed through the first ring, heading into the Razda straight.
Thrar is on Pre’s fin, already pushing to take the Arcona on the bend. And at the back we have Vetall positioning herself right in front of Ramil’s T-22. The Serennian can’t get past.
JOR:
I’ve never seen speeders move so fast. The holocams can barely keep up.
QUI-GON:
Can you see, Master?
DOOKU:
Yes. The view is…quite satisfactory, thank you.
Back to the speeders who roar on, banking in the air.
COMMENTATOR:
Would you look at that—Ramil of Serenno has passed Tanan Vetall. I thought he was going to plow straight into the marker, but he’s leveled up and is accelerating wildly. He passes Drusan above the Karflo Tower and takes the corner to bear down on Kelasakuroona.
This is thrilling
flying from Ramil. Kelasakuroona is swerving in front of the T-22. Ramil can’t get past and…yes. Ramil of Serenno has thrown himself into a barrel roll, passing over the head of the former champion. Kelasakuroona can’t see Ramil and the Serennian’s away, rocketing along the Hesperidium straight to chase down Thrar and Pre.
As we near the end of the first lap, our sponsors would like me to remind you that bets can still be placed until the beginning of the final lap. I for one would recommend a flutter on Ramil. I haven’t seen flying like this since the days of Vearacki Dak.
QUI-GON:
Your brother is quite a pilot, Master.
DOOKU:
He is. I hate to say it, but I’m actually impressed.
QUI-GON:
Careful now. You almost sound as though you’re enjoying yourself.
DOOKU:
Perish the thought.
The airspeeders thunder past the hoverpod.
COMMENTATOR:
And Ramil hangs on Thrar’s tail, but the Lepi won’t let him pass. Halfway around the second lap and Kelasakuroona has dropped back into last place, Tanan Vetall picking up the pace. But neither of them stands a chance of catching up with the leaders.
Pre thunders through the Lefex turn, coming up on the Tyerell Ring. He’s pulling in hard and—
Pre’s airspeeder hits the ring, exploding on impact.
COMMENTATOR:
By the stars! Terrible scenes here on the Dragonfire Circuit as Izal Pre crashes out of the forty-eighth Coruscant rally. His speeder is in flames as it plummets into the Bindai district, fire-skimmers rushing to offer assistance.
There’s another explosion as it crashes far below.
COMMENTATOR:
Back on the track, the race continues. Thrar and Ramil are neck and neck, Ramil pulling ahead. What incredible flying. Thrar can’t stop him. Just a few more seconds to place your bets and…that’s it, we’re into the final lap and Ramil takes the lead. No. Wait. He’s losing ground. Thrar is coming up on his flank and…yes, incredible. Thrar has taken the lead.
GRETZ:
What’s Ramil doing? He should’ve kept his throttle open on that last pass.
DOOKU:
I had no idea you were such an expert.
GRETZ:
I’ve flown enough interceptors.
QUI-GON:
It is curious, though. Ramil was looking so strong.
JOR:
Perhaps he’s experiencing repulsor problems.
DOOKU: (HOLO-NARRATION)
I had no idea what was going through Ramil’s head on that final lap. Maybe it was the roar of the crowd, or the thought of the prize. Or maybe he caught sight of me as he rocketed past the ambassador’s hoverpod. I would have been a blur, there one second, gone the next, but perhaps it was just enough to spur him on…