Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars. If I did, I'd have had Endor's moon and the Ewoks replaced by Kashyyyk and the Wookiees for the final battle in ROTJ. Heck, imagine the DS2 being constructed in the asteroid remains of Alderaan. Poetry!

Enjoy!

"Your Majesty, I beg you to reconsider your actions!"

"It is not entirely of my own decision, Senator. The people vote in favour of this transference to the Alliance."

Blast the Alliance! But it took all of Padme's willpower and professionalism from vocalizing that very damnation of the opposite cause or what problems it's causing to them. Deeply taking a breath, exhaling, the Senator straightened in her seat while regarding the ruling monarch opposite of the clean golden desk, attempting to make her argument clear and concise as possible.

Regardless how her very soul is furious by this arrangement.

"Queen Jamillia." The Senator of Naboo appealed, hands neatly on her robed lap. "I am asking you to consider this in a very through manner. Seceding from the Republic - out of nowhere - will have devastating consequences for our home. For everything we stand for."

The Queen, in her pale makeup and attire standard for her elected position, appeared directly unfazed from the point. Unfazed, but understanding, knowing the Senator's plight and attempts to reassure. "Senator Amidala, the choice to depart from the Republic was in discussion while you were still in term of office, I believe."

"Only during my last year as Queen." Padme rebuked, calm but still just edging on the hint of passion. Who could blame her? This matter regarding her own home planet just making things a TAD more personal. "Discussions I had particularly put my foot down on, as I recall, and rightfully assumed that was the end of it. How is it I had not heard of these discussions in my first term as Senator?"

The Naboo council, in their own seats making up the throne room, shifted a little on their chairs. Some recalling proposing and agreeing to those very ideas, and the former Queen's passionate response to them.

"You were preoccupied accustoming politics on Coruscant." If she were any other person, the current Queen would have shrugged, smiling faintly in sympathy. "I understand this may feel personal, Senator, after your noble saving of our people years ago. But we have moved on from bitterness over what happened, and decided - very carefully, I would add - what's best for the people, than the interests of a self-serving government, with all due respect."

Wanting what's best for their people, Padme could comprehend well enough; everything she works for is focused entirely on the democracy and freedom of her world and the Galaxy. It is what exactly Naboo intended to turn to, which made the Senator scoff with barely-veiled disbelief, just about muttering beneath her breath.

"Considering one of the companies representing the Alliance harmed our home, I find that a bit dubious..."

Jamillia scarcely batted an eye, her tone cool and measured. "Quite the contrary, it was the Trade Federation who reached out to us as a guiding hand for these negotiations." Padme felt her stomach flip. "They have come to us, numerous times, offering food, supplies and technological advancements which benefit our people. Once the alliance is successful, the Federation intends on issuing a formal, official apology."

She'll believe that when she sees it. "And what have they asked for in turn?"

"Merely plasma reservoirs, as one of three conditions, and a representative of Naboo to oversee our honour-bound agreement." Padme would have rolled her eyes. Of course, it's always the plasma which the Naboo had much that can be exploited. It's what brought so much attention to her home world to begin.

The Senator almost cursed Damask Holdings- Wait... A 'representative.'

Oh no...

The Queen must have sensed her thoughts, and the confirming nod only turned Padme's blood frozen. "We were hoping you would be our representative in this affair, and keep an eye, shall we say, on the Trade Federation's affairs while negotiations between Naboo and the Confederate Alliance commence."

This was a nightmare. This was all becoming a great deal of a migraine, and Padme felt herself close to falling off the chair in an unceremonious heap on the floor. Suddenly she found herself missing Jar Jar; he would had performed some clumsy error during this and prompted a lessening of the current tension.

Look what this has come to.

"Why me?" The Senator shot, before composing herself. Losing her head over this wasn't worth it, she needed to keep her cool and try salvaging something from this entire debacle. "Naboo has plenty of administrators for that sort of role. I could assist in negotiations with the Alliance as Naboo's Senator."

No matter how much Padme Amidala wanted to throw up from the very idea of leaving the Republic indefinitely.

When the Queen smiled again, more softer, her regal tone filled with acknowledgement, as the council seated behind the Senator murmured amongst themselves. "We believe, given your... Personal history with the Federation's former Viceroy, that it would be a good sign of a hopeful unification to have you personally oversee the tradings. To show that the Naboo are forgiving in nature, and that we hold no personal grudge towards the entire Federation for the actions of a few."

That... Depressingly made sense. Padme leaned back against her chair, bowed her head and sighed wearily. If that is what her people wanted, it was hard to argue against.

As the Senator, she represents her world, not her own interests or personal feelings.

"There is another reason." Puzzled brown eyes, raising back up, met the apologetic, solemn ones of similar shade. And Padme felt a sinking pit in her stomach, having a bad feeling about this. "Given how involved you were with the Naboo crisis, the Federation has requested you be relieved of your Senatorial duties upon return to Naboo, with an immediate replacement."

"What?!"

Suddenly, the (ex)Senator felt all her years of practice in composure and protocol shatter into pieces like a window, leaping up from her chair in pure outrage and horror. Not even the soothing hands of Sabe on her tensed shoulder cooled the boiling waters in her heart.

Only blinking in response to the predicted reaction, Jamillia raised a placating hand, impressively staying calm in the middle of the storm brewing before her very eyes. Explaining herself cordially, "You are too bias, Padme." Using her real word to further emphasize the situation. "You will always be held in revered gratitude for saving our home, but we must look on to the future. We simply cannot risk having one representing our people with too much prejudice against those we seek to ally with... I'm sorry."

...

The worse part of it all? Padme knew the other woman was sincere in her apology; neither liked this arrangement, but it was for the good of Naboo, given the path the people have chosen.

Still, it did little to reassure the now-former Senator. Sinking gently back in her seat, having half the instinct to bury her face in her hands, just managing the very strength left to gaze back at the softened, regretful brown eyes of the ruling monarch. Her voice betraying this bleak hopeless voice.

"When do I officially resign...?"

"You have three days to pack everything from Coruscant and return here to commence your newfound duties." Leaning forward a bit, Jamillia stressed her point, but not without compassion the Naboo were well regarded for. "This is for the best, Padme."

Padme could barely nod once.

Not one day in, and Obi-Wan Kenobi was already having an exhausting day.

The moment he arrived in Balmorra, the main government had moved to another city for business. When the Jedi followed, he was informed for a twelve-hour wait before his appointment with the representatives would occur. Following which, he was guided with a tedious five-hour escort around the planet to finally meet with someone.

Who blatantly told Obi-Wan that the appointment has been postponed to another forty-eight hours, lessened only if the government decides to prioritize speaking with some ambassador the Chancellor had sent.

The Knight didn't put his hopes up.

To make matters worse, the people of Balmorra were concerned over some 'rogue Jedi' haunting the abandoned factory of an old droid manufacture. According to the locals, a team was sent to investigate and never returned, and they were anxious from field reports of a person described to be killing some wildlife with a weapon matching a Jedi's lightsaber.

Knowing this was too enticing to ignore, the Jedi Knight notified the Council of this rumour immediately, having been told to investigate this source himself, and report back ASAP once he discovers anything.

Now, Obi-Wan wandered through the remains of a smelly, revolting corridor and more, exploring through the darkened factory. Hand hovering over his hilt clipped to the belt, not removing it just yet. Paranoia was unbecoming of a Jedi, but Obi-Wan just wished the repulsive odor that ravaged this abandoned building wasn't clouding his senses a little.

Calm. Jedi have endured worse smells and lived through them...

Do not let the physical smell disrupt your focus. A voice in his head sounding like Qui-Gon scolded, and Obi-Wan instantly vanquished it from his mind. He could do this, especially without the needless mental voice of a Jedi Master who abandoned him-

No... No... There is no emotion, only peace.

Though there was no peace to be found here; the smell was near overpowering! Just how long had this station been abandoned? The models on the rusted assembly lines bear resemblance to manufactured droids of the Old Republic. What self-serving Jedi, rogue or not, would conceal themselves here-?

The hilt flew to his hand, the Knight whirling around and peering into the darkness behind the way he came. Grey eyes narrowing with focused concern, having sensed something just then. Something strange... Oily.

Something wrong...

Warily, the Jedi Knight slowly straightened himself, lips pursed in the direction the off-putting presence emanated from prior. Before turning around-

His reflexes had never saved his life so fast before. Azure blue blazing against a pure, malicious red which nearly sliced down him diagonally from the shoulder, the sheer brute force behind the blow staggering the Knight backwards a little, but composing himself swiftly.

A red blade, wielded by a large, unidentifiable shadow not even the crimson saber could illuminate. As though one with the darkness that radiated from its being. Obi-Wan felt his breath turn cold, assuming, by instinct, the Form IV battle stance. The Sith? Here? Now?

Wasting no time in indulging the baffled Jedi's thoughts, the Sith lunged with incredible speed, slamming his sizzling blade into Obi-Wan's defensive own. Managing a few, ruthless onslaughts before the young Knight took advantage of Ataru's acrobatic nature, flipping over the tall humanoid's head to land behind, retaliating for a horizontal impact of the broad hip-

If not intercepted by a second, produced blade, the figure haven't even turned around in the least. A saberstaff.

With stunning grace, the attacker spun his blade around and batted the Knight away, Obi-Wan falling a few steps backwards with quickened breath, part of his outer robes burned from the speedup spin of his opponent. Snarling like a beast, echoing through the hallway, the Sith reared back hands backwards.

Obi-Wan barely having time to put up his shields from the powerful Force blow taking him off his feet, sending the young Jedi flying back. The raw power of the Dark Side smashing open lift doors his back crashed into, falling down the darkness of an abandoned elevator shaft.

The Dark Side seemed to be amusing itself, if the cackling storm outside was of any emphasis to its entertainment. Sidious suspected it had less to do with the weather control Coruscant was known to have.

Standing before the grand office window, the Chancellor of the Republic brushed his fingers together, smiling in self-satisfaction as he observed the storm in amused contemplation. Eyes focused nowhere in particular of the outer reality.

But inwardly.

It appears events on Balmorra were proceeding exactly as he had foreseen. Jedi were ever so often predictable, it was a shame Kenobi followed that righteous dogma to the bitter end. For now at least.

With Montross having finished business on Dathomir, and assassinating the government heads of Balmorra as we speak, all that was left is for his current apprentice to continue testing the young Jedi's capabilities. Sidious desired to learn how well his diamond in the rough could handle against a mere brute like Opress.

A less-than-ideal plan, but desperate times call for desperate measures. These last few years of foundations on Kenobi's mind must prove they weren't for naught, it would have been a complete waste of time for the Dark Lord to have invested so much in the young Jedi Knight, without at least testing his abilities beyond that of diplomacy and wordplay. Sith must be powerful in combat aside from the silver tongue.

Kenobi was an artifact. A rare discover; unpolished treasure which simply needed reshaping and refining, and if all goes smoothly as Sidious designs for, the end of the Jedi and Dooku will be sooner than later.

If Kenobi bests Savage - be it by combat or death - it is a sign the Dark Side favours the Jedi-to-turn.

Should Savage preserve and kill the potential Sith... Well, Sidious could gut the brute like a fish and find a new assassing with more finesse.

Only time will tell. And Darth Sidious was nothing if not patient.

Hmm. I wonder what a good Sith name for Kenobi would be. 'Lumis' has a good ring to it...

Lightning cackled from the darkened skies of Coruscant, and the Sith Master chuckled lightly. Ohh, the Dark Side was reveling.

Pain and discomfort haunted him like a reminder of his own failures. Grunting with effort, Obi-Wan had forced himself to pull out of the bottom wreckage of the former lift shaft, into the bottom hallway of the abandoned facility. Now more blackened than ever.

With the Dark Side all the more stronger here.

Too dark to make out anything visibly, the young Knight resorted to his blade to light the path, slowly moving at an aching, but steady pace. Refusing to allow the pain to distract from the here and now, regardless of the injuries which will require medical attention later in favour of finding a way out of here. Good thing he softened the fall to a degree by help of the Force, however much it could do against making the results more sever for his body.

I don't know which is worse. He thought wryly to himself. Encountering the Sith again or a trip to the Healers...

Obi-Wan was no arrogant fool. He couldn't combat this Sith alone, requiring the assistance of as many Jedi as possible. One Knight against a possible Lord of the Sith? It was suicidal, and Obi-Wan, now in this state, couldn't hope to best this Sith in combat without help.

For now, he needed to escape. Find a distant range from the factory and contact the Council for reinforcements-

This time, the Knight was more prepared. Evidently this creature - this Sith - lacked the patience or subtlety to use the dark to its advantage and increase paranoia and anxiety within its would-be prey. The blue blade whizzed around, meeting the offense head-on.

Red and blue, clashing like the stories of combat between light and dark users of old.

Gritting his teeth, Obi-Wan disengaged the lock by leaping backwards, his quarry wasting no time in pursuing and clashing yet again, beginning the duel of the fates. In such a short time, a Padawan would lack the quick comprehension skills of identifying and retaliating the offense of such a sudden ambush or enemy.

Obi-Wan Kenobi was no novice, recognizing the heavy emphasis of Djem So mixed with a passion of Juyo and Jar'Kai. This Sith fought with outward energy; relying on key overpower and overwhelming the opponent.

Obi-Wan did not have the space or current health to outmaneuver the relentless foe in such a small corridor, so diverted on the defense for now. Beginning to slightly wish, as sweat commenced falling down his head, barely pushing back the forward assaults of the lightsaber staff, he took up Master Luminara's offer of practicing more Form III...

The walls, floor and ceiling of metal sizzled from the reckless movements of the double crimson blades, the Sith hardly wasting any effort in threatening to storm through the Jedi's defenses and saber him to burnt ribbons. Obi-Wan had to rely on the Force to guide him, blocking with every two-handed effort as possible. For every clash, the second saber of the staff whirled and batted off the azure blade.

This creature, this... Animal, was very well trained. Yet... Something was decidedly off about the Sith's movements. They seemed very, for lack of a better word... Basic.

Nonetheless, Obi-Wan found freedom of space again as he was pushed right into an assembly bay, now able to conduct more of Ataru's specialties against the brutish Form V of the Sith's assaults. Rolling to the side, ignoring the brief flare of pain doing so, Obi-Wan directed the single-minded onslaught of his enemy towards the manufacturing line.

One by one, rusted, unfinished droids from the Old Republic era were sliced up like nothing. Obi-Wan taking advantage of the falling machines to Force Push them in the Sith's way, causing the enemy's advancement to falter. A low growl of annoyance from every broken droid part the Jedi Knight threw his away.

With a chilling snarl, the Dark Side had the monster rush forward, forcing Obi-Wan to jump upon the unmoving assembly line. Flipping and dodging the slash after slash of a pursuing saberstaff. Eventually, the Sith attempted a horizontal slice for the ankles, having the Jedi leap overhead back on the equal flooring, the Sith then following this with a whirl of stabbing onto the very spot Obi-Wan stood upon. The Jedi swerving to the enemy's right, and delivering a solid roundhouse kick to the opponent's exposed jawbone.

It barely fazed him. Obi-Wan was, instead, greeted with a strong grip to his right leg, finding his world spinning as he was hurled painfully into a hanging droid display, the aches from before increasing yet again.

This duel couldn't last.

Recovering enough to stand, Obi-Wan was struggling to find his center, the Dark Side suffocating his senses and making the young Jedi doubt his likelihood of survival. The Sith was providing him no leeway, leaping with impressive agility over the assembly line separating them straight for the Jedi's features. Obi-Wan made to defend quickly-

"AGGGGH!"

Half of his vision was filled with red.

The Force howled his agony, one hand clutching his wounded right eye, darkness covering what remained of it. Teeth gnashed, his presence pulsating from the sheer, ruthless anguish which followed from the numbing sensations now overtaking his senses.

Towering over the wounded Jedi, the Sith twirled his blades sinisterly. Bringing them down to finish the beaten, weakling Jedi off-

But in attempting to doing so, aided by the injury he had inflicted upon the Knight, only sealed his own defeat. The darkness from a desperate Jedi throwing the brute Sith off his boots, slamming hard upon the unmoving assembly line with a grunt of disorientation, the fallen staff lightsaber hilt rolling harmless across the metallic floor. Not having expected such sheer raw power.

Such anger. Yet that was not the end of it.

With his free hand, Obi-Wan reached out to the control box, activating the long-abandoned panels which functioned after all these centuries. The brute Sith finding himself escorted across the working assembly cargo line towards the darkened container at the end of the chamber.

Leading straight through the garbage chute.

The threat passing as the enemy's yells of disbelieving rage died down into the darkness, Obi-Wan slumped down against the rusted wall, clutching the wounded eye with both hands and hissing with sheer pain. His tainted soul lightening, now, with the threat passing.

But the Dark Side lingered still, silent, and having displayed its mark on the unknowing boy.

Obi-Wan, in the midst of his anguish, could just barely hear the crude, icy chuckle of a ghost over his left shoulder...

The boy has been here for three days now, and his stifling Force presence was no less irritable.

At first, it was filled to the brim of pain, anguish and anxiety. Now, that soul had been soothed; placated from the maternal gestures of his mother and teacher. Shmi and Qui-Gon had worked tirelessly in coddling the boy, as the latest of medical technology on Serenno put the child's hand back on his wrist.

From what Dooku heard, progress had been tremendous. Not that he intended to see for himself, despite his way towards the medical wing of his palace. No, he had business to attend to, and they should at least be notified of his upcoming absence.

As expected, his former Padawan was waiting by the door to the wing, having sensed his Master's presence heading their direction. The Maverick Jedi keeping stern arms folded, nodding cordially towards the Count. Keeping the pain and sadness well hidden in his eyes. "Master."

He was getting older, Dooku noticed. The graying on Qui-Gon's hair increasing faster, since his previous demise on Naboo never occurred. Dooku personally saw to that, but still, he never truly envisioned his former best pupil would age so much.

A part of his heart panged recalling the more youthful, rebellious version of Qui-Gon, yearning for those younger days. Dooku even imagined the cheeky sod looking up to him and saying You should keep your focus on the here and now, Master.

Blast him, Dooku thought fondly. Unable to fight off the smallest, barest hint of a smile, before nodding back to the Qui-Gon now. Getting right to the point. "I shall be accompanying Master Narec and Master Sifo-Dyas to Rodia; we are negotiating a supply agreement with the inhabitants."

Qui-Gon understood, but barely pretended to be interested. Asking coolly, "So you will be absent for a few standard days."

"Correct. Four, if all progresses as planned." Dooku, surprisingly enough, hesitated slightly. Offering to the Jedi Master in a composed manner. "You are welcome to join us, Qui-Gon. Another Jedi Master may help convince the Rodians of our good intentions."

Now, Qui-Gon was genuinely surprised, and it showed. Man was never good at hiding his real feelings too well. Unfolding his arms, carefully, the Maverick cocked his head, blinking once.

"You know I never had much appreciation for politics, Master."

Don't I know it? The Count would had snorted if he lacked the refined manners. "Yes, frank talk has always been your specialty, amongst other things, my former Padawan." But that was hardly an insult, nor intended to be. "Nevertheless, it would remind us of old times, would it not? And you would see firsthand, my intentions for the good of the Galaxy are nothing short of sincere."

The Jedi Master said nothing. Barely making the most fleeting of glances to the closed door behind him, where the supernova that was Skywalker was still being coddled by his mother. Dooku understood.

"Your Padawan will be safe here." The Count vowed in honesty. "Ventress and Vosa are as loyal to me as they are to Shmi. They will ensure their protection at all costs."

Eyes narrowed, Qui-Gon searched for any doubts to the man's claims. To validate his assurances, Dooku graced his old Padawan to look through his lowered shields, gaining nothing but the pure, desired truth.

After a few seconds of internal debate, the stoic Master nodded once. "Permit me to let Anakin's mother know." And stepped into the medical room without awaiting a response from the Count.

...Some things never changed. Dooku huffed, but continued down to the landing bay of his home, a brief mental image of the boy, for some reason, being the one sent back in time to change things. Perhaps, in some universe, he would have persuaded Dooku to not join Sidious as a child.

Dooku had to laugh by the hypothesis. What were the chances that could ever happen?

Once inside, the Maverick tenderly approached the aged woman tending to her only child. Softly stroking the smooth, blonde locks of her boy whom rested peacefully upon the white clean bed, both hands attached and working, to their immense relief. A small station of equipment and standby droids keeping a respectful distance from the heartwarming, if solemn sight.

"What did he want?" Shmi inquired without turning to the Jedi Master. Voice betraying nothing in the least.

Sighing softly, Qui-Gon folded his arms again, taking a moment before answering smoothly towards the caring parent. "He's asked me to join him in a diplomatic meeting on Rodia. It shouldn't take more than four days, if all goes according to plan."

"And you accepted."

Qui-Gon found himself hesitating upon that knowing statement, and Shmi Skywalker sighed gently, fingers neatly brushing the front strands of her sleeping child's forehead, nodding softly. "He is like a father to you, neither I or Ani will hold it against you. Dooku needs you as much as I need my Ani."

"Anakin needs us both, Shmi." The Maverick protested kindly, sounding weak even to his ears. But the mother shook her head, finally turning to the Master with a gentle, knowing smile, never ridding of compassion or judgment.

"And right now, Dooku needs you more than Ani does, Qui-Gon... I know this."

Qui-Gon frowned, sincerely puzzled by what Shmi was insinuating, even without the Force telling her. Shmi chuckled weakly by his expression, but said nothing more, turning back to her resting son and staying by his side still. Observing the scene for another good moment, Qui-Gon nodded, bowing even though Shmi couldn't see the gesture.

"May the Force be with you, Shmi."

"It's been with me for a long time, Qui-Gon..." The former slave whispered, drenched in sadness but hope, beneath her breath, after the Maverick Master left. Never keeping her eyes off the child she held dear to her heart.

Two other children, whom she came to adopt from her time in the lavish palace, doing their own things meanwhile, just after the Count and Masters departed from Serenno. Asajj was in her room, meditating as instructed from her teacher.

Komari, on the other hand, was requested to the main office of the Count by a servant to answer a call, presumably from one of his employees. Huffing initially, the young Force User headed straight for there, wanting to get it over with on her search for clarity.

Who exactly was Anakin Skywalker? Why did he inject so much malice and vengeance from her former mentor? What was Dooku's endgame in literally disarming the boy and then having him healed? Komari knew torture, but this was something new, and earnestly confusing. Normally, she wouldn't care less about the child or his plight.

But Shmi cared... And that changed everything.

Reaching the head desk of Dooku's, Komari reached the answer button for the hologram to appear. The young former Jedi speaking briskly, "Dooku's not here right now, so you better... Keep waiting...?"

It wasn't Fett. Nor Bane. Not even Durge. No Senator, Confederate representative or any ally she recognizes so far. Force, she could not even recognize the species of the evident male before her.

In crisp unidentifiable uniform, with short hair, a straight posture and arms behind his back. Pupil-less eyes staring down upon the flabbergasted woman expectantly, his tongue smooth and professional.

"I am Mitth'raw'nuruodo. I was instructed to converse with a 'Count Dooku' by his employee."

"I am starting to concur with the Senator." Sifo-Dyas perked up in wry amusement, the quartet of Force Users observing the unloading of supplies by the landing bay into the city. "Three Jedi Masters and a former Jedi Master may have been overkill."

"It deals with the common assumption of Jedi hubris." Dooku replied smoothly, but barely fighting his own smile. "Too often are one or two of your Order are dispatched to deal with an issue; it incites the belief the Jedi deem a situation on a home world lesser than themselves."

None of the other three Jedi said anything to that, watching the simple, disposable battle droids of the Trade Federation unload cargo of supplies and medicine from the fancy shuttles. Needless to say, the Rodians were all too grateful for the extras to contribute to their home.

A rather tranquil, but humid world, the majority of Rodia was coated in thick, dense jungle trees, swamps and fauna. The Rodian home planet, only two major populaces existed on the planet: Iskaayama and Equator City. So, as one would imagine, it wouldn't be too difficult a task bringing food and medicine to the only intelligent species on the planet. The representative - Onaconda Farr - had appealed to the Senate time and time again for more to be done to preserve his planet, only to be met with false promises and scorn by more greedy systems whom also craved more than what they already have.

No wonder, at that point, they turned to the Alliance. The Rodians merely desire comfort and healthy living for the natives, and they have to secede from the Republic to do so... Well.

Beggars couldn't be choosers.

The two cities themselves were shielded from the outside world by glass-like dome shields, accessed through opening doors leading to the standard landing pads. Speaking of which, doors leading for their particular pad opened up wide, and Ky Narce gazed upwards, his stoic features frowning in soft confusion.

"Did we request another supply shuttle..."

The answer was met with silence, and anticipating jolts from the trio of powerful Force presences emanating from within the now-recognizable Jedi ship landing just before them. Their postures tensing, Dooku's most of all despite somehow appearing the most calm and sophisticated of the lot.

Qui-Gon, with a prickling warning from the Force, idly stepped aside at a good distance, watching the inevitable fireworks without desiring to get involved himself. Not if violence is what initially comes of this.

The ship ramp opening, a trio of experienced, battle-hardened Masters stepping out from the shuttle. One human, one Kel Dor, and one Nautolan. All identified right off the bat.

"Master Windu!" Dooku exclaimed with jovial flavour, even as hilts were unclipped from belts by all six opponents. Three Masters to face three Masters. "What a pleasant surprise. I wasn't expecting you to join us on this relief mission."

Refusing to play along, Mace Windu, Master of the Order, Creator of Vaapad and the sole embodiment of everything wrong with the Jedi, announced in his ever authoritative, strong no-nonsense voice.

"In the name of the Galactic Senate of the Republic: You are under arrest, Count."

Purple, blue and green ignited from some of the Order's best. Assuming their battle stands as robes fell to the Rodian ground, prepared for resistance and battle. The Force was static with anticipation, and Qui-Gon couldn't swallow his concern with what was to come.

His former Master, on the other hand, chuckled softly. "Brave, but foolish." Red, blue and green ignited in turn. Two blades of light, one of dark, versus two blades of light, and one of grey. Dooku initiating the classic Makashi Salute, declaring boldly in his confidence. "You are impossible outclassed."

"I don't think so."

"We'll see."

Nothing to be said, as six Masters of the Force charged simultaneously. Mace leaping with incredible speed, smashing his amethyst blade into the precise red of a fallen Jedi.

AN: Ohh the many references. Not just to Star Wars canon and Legends lore either, but also to some good fanfictions: Lumis is a reference to the Sith Obi-Wan series by Kurenaino. Dooku's mental image of Anakin going back in time as a child, on the other hand, references The Dangers of Foresight by Anne Camp aka Obi-quiet.

Check them out.

Speaking of Obi-Wan, what's a good Darth name for him? Something that isn't Lumis or used for him in other fics. Put up some suggestions, please.

Now, as for the chapter itself, finally: Mace Windu vs Count Dooku! (Hey that rhymed!) Two characters people have wanted to see duel for Force knows how long! I'm stunned, honestly, to have seen not a single fic ever portraying that. Really, in all my years reading SW fics, not once have I seen one where those two powerful combatants duke it out.

Well, I'll try to do them justice in any case, following in the next chapter.

Blah blah love Dooku blah blah hate Anakin. Have I ever told you guys my feelings about Padme? We'll they're mostly... Indifference. I dunno she never made an impression on me in the films, especially ROTS when they made they supposed awesome, arse-kicking passionate Senator into 'housewife.'

I know, I know, deleted scenes of her doing political things, but they weren't added into the final cut, so that's hardly accepted. Padme suffers lack of character like most of the prequel cast, and it's worse in Episode III when they just pretty much have her stand in places to look pretty.

Let's not get started on her laughably changing wardrobe sets every scene. It's worse in AOTC. Good thing Clone Wars, as always, improved what needed to be fixed.

Except for Grievous... But we don't talk about that.

Where was I? Oh right, hope you enjoyed the chapter! Sorry for the delay; interest has been in RP'ing Discord servers of mine nowadays than writing chapters. Hope this was worth the wait! Until next time!