Dark Disciple

by Christie Golden

  Dooku turned, irritated. “I told you to wait outside!”

  “No way,” Vos said. “You said something about an introduction, if I recall.” He faded back into the shadows near the door, gesturing Ventress to move to the other side of the holotable. She pressed back into the corner, hiding most of her noticeable white face with one arm in case for any reason Sidious turned around. The other gripped her lightsaber hilt.

  The count seemed to want to protest, but at that moment a hologram appeared. Dooku fell to his knees, his head bowed. Ventress had seen Darth Sidious before, but had never beheld his face. Nor would she likely see it now. He wore the same heavy robes and dark cowl that he always had, concealing his features even now, when he assumed he would only be talking to Dooku.

  “Darth Tyranus,” intoned Count Dooku’s Master. Even though he wasn’t physically present, the simple sound of his voice—rasping, papery somehow, like the rustling of ancient parchment—sent a shiver through Ventress. This man was steeped in the dark side of the Force, saturated with it, in a way that she was certain Vos, perhaps even Dooku, had never been. She tightened her grip on her lightsaber.

  “Master,” Dooku replied, his voice laced with a tone Ventress had never heard in it: subservience.

  “You seem to have disappeared for quite a while.”

  “My apologies, my lord. I was briefly detained by Republic forces, but have managed to evade them.”

  The cloaked figure turned his head. “Who is there with you? In the shadows?”

  Vos stepped forward. “This…this is my new…assassin,” Dooku replied, his poised demeanor slipping slightly.

  “Assassin?” The papery voice had dropped to a lower timbre, simmering with disapproval and warning. “You know my feelings about the kind of help you are wont to employ.”

  “He’ll be no trouble,” Dooku assured him quickly.

  “I’m sure he won’t.” Darth Sidious’s tone was a dangerous purr.

  Dooku quickly changed the subject. “Master, we are too exposed here on Christophsis. We must find a safe haven. Perhaps you could send a ship?”

  There was a pause. Then, “Perhaps,” Darth Sidious said. His hologram disappeared. Ventress exhaled slowly.

  “Your assassin?” Vos snapped.

  Dooku, once again haughty and contemptuous, replied, “What would you have me say? Your rival?”

  Before Vos could retort, there came a thundering crack and the entire tower shivered. “What was that?” Dooku exclaimed, stumbling to his feet and lurching out the door. It opened onto shambles. The windows that enclosed three-fourths of the space had been blasted away, along with the consoles on that side. Incongrously beautiful chunks of crystal covered the floor. Tongues of flame licked upward, and the room was starting to fill with acrid smoke. Droids were firing, futilely, and as Ventress watched, the Jedi shuttle came around for a second pass.

  “Down!” Vos shouted, and Ventress and Dooku obeyed, dropping to the floor. Ventress propped herself up on one elbow, deflecting debris with her other hand. The tower trembled, again, and then lurched violently.

  “Where are the stairs?” Vos demanded, shaking Dooku.

  “This way!” Dooku got to his feet and went through the door on the opposite side of the lift. Though not narrow, the carved, gleaming stairs were winding, and Ventress knew at once that running down them would take too long. Steeling herself for the pain her wounded leg would experience on impact, she Force-leapt to a spot below. She bit back a cry, noting with satisfaction that Dooku was unable to stifle his. Again and again, the three leapt, following the spiral downward. Ventress only hoped they would make it to the ground before the Jedi brought the whole tower crumbling on top of them.

  —

  This is wrong.

  The still, small voice would not let Obi-Wan be. It kept brushing his thoughts, gentle but persistent. Which part? he wondered. Killing all three of them, even Ventress, who tried to help? Executing Vos without a trial?

  Sending Vos to assassinate Dooku?

  Above, the shuttle and the ARC-170s Kenobi had ordered for reinforcement continued their aerial attack while dozens of troops had joined him and Anakin on the ground. “Fire!” Anakin shouted. The clones obeyed, launching a slew of grenades at the droids clustered at the base of the tower. The attack dropped most of the battle droids, and the cannons blasted a huge hole in the magnificent chunk of crystal. Orange flames sent black smoke spiraling into the incongruously blue, cloud-dotted sky.

  “We need more firepower!” Anakin shouted. “Send in the walkers!”

  This is wrong.

  Abruptly, Obi-Wan was unable to withstand the mild prodding. “Anakin,” he called, “we need to back off. They won’t survive this if we keep firing.”

  Anakin gave him a look of surprise. “You heard what Master Windu said. Kill anyone who gets in our way!”

  “I know what he said,” Kenobi replied, “but I think if it’s a possibility, we should still try to get them out of here unharmed. I’m telling you to pull back!”

  Anakin’s golden brows drew together in a frown. “I’m not going against Master Windu’s orders. Especially not for Dooku, a traitor and a—”

  His words were drowned out by the roar of the walkers, all firing simultaneously at a single spot on the tower. A deafening crack rose above even the cacophony of the tanks. As cleanly as if it had been snapped in two by an unseen giant, the tower broke. The top portion, a good two-thirds of the obelisk, toppled slowly but inevitably. The firing continued, this time at the exposed interior. Smoke plumed upward, joined by sparkling crystal powder, and smaller fires began breaking out.

  “We’ve got to find them!” Kenobi shouted, coughing from the dust that made his throat as dry as Tatooine. “They’re still inside!”

  Ventress came to in darkness. Something heavy was pressing down on her, and her eyelids were sealed shut with a sticky substance. She tried to lift a hand to wipe off whatever was covering them, but pain shot through her at the movement and she almost lost consciousness a second time. The last thing she remembered was being in mid-jump. A sound like nothing she had ever heard had thundered in her ears, and then—

  The tower. It had shattered. Vos…was he…

  “Ventress!” Despite the physical agony, relief washed through Ventress. He was still alive. Maybe the tower had taken Dooku with it to both their demises.

  “Ventress!”

  She tried to call out to him, but her torso was squeezed so tightly she could barely breathe. “Vos,” she whispered.

  “We’ve got to get out of here.” Dooku’s voice, ragged but imperious as always. “They’ll storm through here in a matter of minutes. Leave her!” Ventress couldn’t see Vos’s reaction, but she heard a sharp growl of anger. She found herself smiling. Even when he could reasonably expect her to be dead or beyond help, even when his own life was at risk, Vos would not abandon her.

  “Ventress!” He was closer now, and she tried again. A groan escaped her lips; faint, but sufficient. She heard grating sounds above her and forced her eyes open, tearing off some lashes in the process. Light, awhirl with glittering dust, met her gaze. And then, the beloved face. He’d suffered a head injury, and a trickle of scarlet contrasted vividly with both his dark skin and his bright-yellow tattoo. Ventress didn’t know yet the extent of her injuries, but by his expression, she knew they were serious. He knelt beside her.

  “Put your arms around my neck,” he said. She tried to do so, but she suspected that one arm was broken. The other was heavy, so heavy. Ventress made a sound of frustration, and he soothed her, “That’s all right, I’ve got you. I’ve got you. Come on, we’re going to get out of here to someplace safe.”

  He slid his arm around her shoulders and she bit back a cry. Dooku was glaring at them; doubtless he wished he’d put his lightsaber through both of them at an earlier opportunity. He, too, had been injured in the collapse of the tower. The crystal chunk that had sliced along his chest must have had an edge as s
harp as a finely honed blade. Blood oozed out from a tear in both fabric and skin.

  A too-familiar sound caught their attention—that of booted feet running toward them. “Jedi and their clones,” growled Dooku.

  Vos tossed the count his lightsaber. “You’ll need it,” he said, slipping his other arm beneath Ventress’s knees. “This’ll hurt,” he said to her, “and I’m sorry.”

  A scream tore from her throat. The pain increased when Vos broke into a jog, bearing her out of the ruined building and following Dooku toward a large crystal boulder, a camouflaged outlying building. Ventress felt a flicker of hope that they would be able to buy enough time for Sidious’s ship to reach them.

  If Sidious, whoever he was, was indeed sending a ship.

  If they all survived their injuries.

  If…

  Droids clattered dutifully behind them, some of them stopping to fire on the approaching clones. Ventress could see red and blue blasterfire streaking through the air, and the occasional flash of green and light blue that denoted the Jedi’s lightsabers. It all became a blur, and she closed her eyes.

  Vos flung himself to the right, sending searing pain through Ventress’s whole body. Her eyes snapped open to see blue fire missing her by a few centimeters, and then they were inside the crystalline building. Another blaster bolt, and this time, it hit. Dooku had just made it to the threshold when he suddenly arched in pain and collapsed. Vos placed Ventress down as quickly as he could and hauled Dooku’s limp form inside with one hand, fending off the blaster bolts with his lightsaber. The doors closed, but Ventress could still hear the sound of the continued onslaught. Outside, the droids strove to protect them. The crystal this time was not part of the building, but merely a second protective layer. The inside looked like someone had gone to great effort to design either the ultimate prison, or the ultimate refuge.

  Ventress chuckled weakly as she stared at Dooku’s body. “It’s taken a few tries,” she murmured, “but finally someone got him.”

  Vos knelt beside Dooku, pressing a finger to his throat. “No, he’s still alive, just unconscious,” he said.

  Ventress closed her eyes, scowling. “Damn.”

  Vos inspected the wound, then rolled Dooku’s limp form over. “There’s nothing we can do now about the blaster burn, but this injury from the crash has reopened.” Gently, Vos picked Ventress up and laid her down beside the unconscious Dooku. He took her good arm and placed it on Dooku’s injury. “Keep pressure on it,” he said.

  Ventress snatched her hand away, not caring that the sudden gesture sent waves of pain through her. “No!” she snapped. “Let him bleed. This is what we want. This is what we need. He must die!”

  Vos shook his head. “No! I need him alive. Keep the pressure steady.” He pressed his lips together. “This place is pretty impregnable. The only weakness is that door. I’m going to go help the droids even the odds—buy us time for the rescue ship to get here.”

  “But—”

  He kissed her, hard, then raced out to the front of the building. Both worried and angry, Ventress watched him go, then heard the sounds of blasterfire and the hum of his lightsaber.

  “Why are you so desperate to save me?” Dooku’s voice was weak, but as always, the sound of it angered her.

  She turned back to her former Master. “Awake now, are you? Actually, I’d rather watch you rot.”

  He smirked. “I doubt that will be happening anytime soon. Vos is a Dark Lord, as I am, and he knows better than to turn against his kind.”

  Ventress stiffened. “A Dark Lord?” Could Obi-Wan have been right?

  “Oh, yes,” Dooku said casually. “He has sworn allegiance to the dark side. He and I will take down Lord Sidious once and for all, and rule the galaxy together.” He added, “Hopefully, you’ll have been disposed of by then.”

  Ventress narrowed her eyes and put an unnecessary amount of pressure on his wound. He gasped most satisfactorily. “I’ve heard that line before. Didn’t we once have similar plans?”

  Through gritted teeth, Dooku said, “No, no. You must have been mistaken. You were never cut out for anything more than grunt work. Vos is different. He was born for the darkness. You”—he smiled cruelly—“you just…flirt with it.”

  Ventress felt doubt creeping into her heart and stole another look at the door. Vos had said he needed Dooku alive. That he had “bigger plans.” Was this really what he meant?

  Dooku pressed his advantage. “If Vos was going to kill me, why does he protect me? Why wait so long? He’s had so many chances…”

  Ventress narrowed her eyes. This was what Dooku did. It was how he controlled people. He planted doubts in soil he found fertile, and the darkness took root from those doubts. Snarling, she arched up and put all her weight into the wound. “You have no idea what he’s planning!”

  Again, Dooku winced, but managed, “Apparently, neither do you.”

  The truth of that bit deep.

  —

  “I think they got Dooku,” Anakin said, looking through a pair of electrobinoculars. “And I don’t see Ventress. But Vos and the droids are more than holding their own.”

  He passed the electrobinoculars to Obi-Wan, who unfortunately agreed with him. “This isn’t working,” Kenobi said with a sigh. “We’re able to damage the concealing crystal outer layer, but the one inside is built like a vault. It was likely designed for precisely this purpose.”

  Anakin gave an unhappy grunt. “I bet Dooku’s arranged for someone to get him. If they can fend us off long enough, we might soon find ourselves outnumbered. There’s got to be another way!”

  Kenobi tugged at his beard, thinking. There seemed to be only one point of weakness—the single entrance. But really, did any well-designed building not have more than one entrance?

  “A cease-fire,” he said.

  Anakin stared at him as if he’d suggested they invite Dooku to a party. With tea. And flowers. “A cease-fire?”

  “You heard me.”

  Anakin shook his head. “No. No, no, no. We are not talking it out with them. The time for discussion is over. Vos has had all of the chances he’s ever going to.”

  Kenobi held up a placating hand. “I didn’t say anything about talking.”

  Anakin narrowed his eyes, but his posture eased. “So, what do you propose?”

  “You will declare a cease-fire. And then, you and I will sneak around to the back and try to find another way in.”

  “Sneak around the back,” Anakin said, skeptical.

  “You’re repeating me an awful lot today.”

  “That’s because I’m wondering if you’re going crazy. Master, this place is a fortress!”

  “And what does a fortress become with only one way in and one way out?” Kenobi asked.

  A slow grin spread over Anakin’s face. “A trap,” he said.

  Vos looked pale but determined when he returned. The blood was drying on his face. “I think they’ve stopped. For now.” Ventress was still in a great deal of pain, but she was accustomed to controlling it. Now she willed herself to get to her feet and limp over to Vos. Concerned, he met her halfway. “Ventress, you should—”

  “Come with me,” she said. He followed her, supporting her, to another room in the shelter. Various supply crates lined the walls, but she had no interest in them. She turned and faced Vos. “Is it true?”

  “Is what true?” He looked genuinely confused.

  “That you’ve joined Dooku? That you’ve—you’ve sworn your allegiance to the dark side?” Despite her effort to speak quietly, her voice rose.

  Vos closed his eyes and held up a hand. “Ventress, this isn’t the time.”

  “Oh, yes, this damn well is the time. This is the only time. We all may be dead in ten minutes, and after all we’ve done, all we’ve been through together, all I thought we meant—you’re going to tell me the truth. You owe me that much.”

  Vos looked away. Cold fear clenched at Ventress’s heart. Finally, he spoke. �
��I did it for us.”

  For a moment she couldn’t speak. “For us?” she finally managed. He nodded. She shook her head, stunned. “Vos—you know what he is. He will destroy you the first chance he gets!”

  “I can handle him. I know what I’m doing. Asajj, I said we’re doing it for us, and I mean that.” He took her good hand in his. “You’ve told me your existence has been nothing but pain and loss. Never feeling secure. Never having a home. You deserve so much, and I can get it for us. The life we’ll be able to have together once—”

  “What kind of life will that be, Quinlan?” Her voice broke. “The kind where we’re slaves to our hatred? Our rage? That’s what the dark side made me. That’s what it does. Nothing is ever enough. You get more, and more, but you’re never happy. It’s a trap baited with all the things you want most. That life—it’s not worth living.” She squeezed his hand, imploring. “I already left that behind. You can, too. You have a choice.”

  All at once, warmth flooded through her. It was as if she were being bathed with soft light. It washed away the pain, and the fear, and the anger, leaving only perfect clarity in its wake. Ventress realized that it was the Force, but it had never felt like this. And it was giving her a gift.

  Time slowed to a crawl as a sudden, calm sense of knowing permeated her. She saw, all at once, every possible outcome of the turn of this fraction of a second. Every convolution, every manifestation, every repercussion that would echo far into the future. Death, and life, and new chances lay down one path. The restoration of balance. Fear and disaster, an existence that could never be called living but merely crawling about in a shell of flesh that had no spark of joy—that, too, could be the future; burning vengeance that only increased the hunger for more.

  She had just told Vos that he had a choice about what path he wished to walk, and the Force was revealing to her the outcome of her own choices, now, this moment, this instant, this breath.