QUI-GON JINN, Padawan of the Jedi Order, awoke to a knock on his bedroom door. It was a thin wooden thing that guarded this drab little apartment in the Gorelasgan capital of Durregrohd, which their Raelgar hosts had provided. He rubbed his eyes.
"Qui-Gon!" shouted a familiar, if slightly muffled voice, "Are you awake?"
Qui-Gon yawned and groaned a reply: the intention was the word "Yes," and while the actual sound was more of an incoherent gurgle, any vocalization would have sent the same message.
"Good," Dooku said, "ready yourself. We have much to do this morning." His footsteps carried away down the hall.
Great, Qui-Gon thought, lightsaber training is out, and that probably means no Force-kinetics either. Maybe we'll look at more murals, or he'll lecture me on Gorelasgan history.
But that didn't have to be so bad. And maybe today he'd have a chance to talk to some Raelgari who didn't want to beat him and rob him. Each new day brings new possibilities. And what about that Raelgar Jedi?
The young Jedi forced himself to take his time preparing for the day. Part of the 'firm but kindly Jedi way' was looking the part, feeling like you were a wise, detached guardian of Peace and Justice. Someone who knows what he's doing. Qui-Gon ran curled fingers down the edges of his robe, and, with a very fine little vibro-blade from his belt, closed his eyes and shaved the patchy bits of beard he felt sprouting from his lips and chin. It just wasn't growing in quite right. Someday he'd have a neat, full goatee like Master Dooku. He gathered up the credits the Count had given him, and checked the rations in his belt. His lightsaber, from beneath his flat-squashed pillow, was the last to join the ensemble.
He walked out into the hall as solemnly as he could muster, where the older Jedi was waiting for him. Dooku, arms crossed, tapped his foot. "What took you so long?"
"I was—" Qui-Gon breathed, calming his reaction, "I thought it best to carefully prepare myself before I ventured into the day. Only through an inner sense of peace can a Jedi be mindful of all things."
"Very well," said Dooku. He spun and hurried down the hall towards the turbolift, and Qui-Gon kept pace. "It would seem," said Dooku as he entered the lift, "that we have been invited to a private audience with the Turzdorel."
"Finally! I was wondering when we'd… wait, just the two of us? With the ruler of this planet?"
"So quickly does your focus break?" Dooku sighed. "I know, Padawan. It is frightening, to be so close to political maneuvering of such high stakes. I… I am nervous also."
"How can we… I mean, what am I supposed to…"
"It is not so insurmountable a matter, politics. One can achieve mastery only by understanding the challenges. To engage effectively, one must possess a clear understanding of one's own ideological drives, and more importantly, absolute control over how those motives are perceived. And, should one wish to do any kind of good, there will be a need for bravery." Dooku's brows pinched. "Yes… great bravery indeed."
"That's just a bunch of words, Master. I mean, what should we actually say; how should we respond to what she says?"
Dooku looked sidelong at his apprentice. "Words are powerful weapons. All of them have a purpose, an aim, or people would not bother to speak. To weigh their veracity and their value, one must consider what those aims are."
"Huh." That actually makes sense. "But people can lie. How does one weigh any of that, when words can cut from directions unseen?"
"That is the question," said Dooku. They exited the lift; out the glass doors of the lobby, Qui-Gon could see a transport-speeder; a smaller one than they'd arrived here in.
"The answer may well be the eternal study of all thinking beings," Dooku said, "but you are a Jedi, Qui-Gon. Trust the Force."
Well, that was starting to feel like 'just a bunch of words' too, at this point. The Living Force wasn't… well, it was just like floating in a river. You couldn't always see where the river went, or what else was floating around you. Sometimes you could feel if things were true by it, but then, Master Dooku was always talking about 'biases,' and 'emotional blockage,' and other things that somehow made you feel feelings that weren't true. So what could you really trust, if even your feelings (or 'the causes you attribute to them,' or whatever) could be untrustworthy?
"What about the midichlorians, Master? Don't they have the closest bond with the Living Force?" asked Qui-Gon, as he hopped onto the back seat of the speeder.
Dooku frowned and gripped tight fists. "Enough about the blasted midichlorians, Padawan! They are naught but thoughtless conduits between our flesh and the Living Force. What we make of them should be no different than what we make of the Force itself, so what's the use in worrying?"
"Well, I don't know. They're not quite part of our bodies, right? Maybe there is some way to communicate with them, and so improve our connection to them and the Force."
"We are all one in The Force," answered Dooku. The flat, mantric way he said it, and the way he sat—chin jutted, arms crossed—told Qui-Gon the matter was Resolved. Oh well. Master Yoda enjoyed this line of inquiry, anyway. There'd be time to explore the nature of midichlorians back on Coruscant.
***
This was a hover-speeder, incapable of true flight. The Jedi were stuck in much the same traffic he'd seen the evening before, only now there seemed no way to weave around it. Their driver, a tightly-dressed Raelgar, was attentive to the road, even though they only seemed to move a few meters once every minute or so. These two-dimensional highways must be governed by strange rules, thought Qui-Gon, it seems inefficient, though. So much vertical space, wasted. Dooku was staring at his own feet, and didn't seem interested in conversation. Do I ask him too many questions?
"Wait, Master!" Qui-Gon pointed at a nearby hover-taxi. There was a droid in it, painted brown and gray starting a few inches below its oculators.
"Hush, Padawan. What do you see?"
He whispered to his teacher: "It's a droid. And you said there wouldn't be any droids on Gorelasg." He smiled, satisfied.
"Look again, Padawan. I said," Dooku whispered back, "that the Raelgari were uninterested in the use of droids."
The droid rode in the back of the taxi. The driver was a Raelgar. So it was, what, just another worker? A citizen?
"It's a worker, Master," Qui-Gon answered, "many systems use droid workers. You see them every day on Coruscant. So, maybe it is used. Maybe all workers, organic or droid, are used the same way here."
"Ah, a clever observation, Padawan Jinn." Dooku smiled. "but it begs another question. Who is it that makes use of them?"
Qui-Gon tried not to stare at the droid; no one else was staring. So the Raelgari didn't hate droids, it seemed; that had been his suspicion. The Order wasn't too keen on seeing droids as equals. It wasn't hatred either, but… well, machines didn't have a connection to the Force, even if it seemed like they could think as well as anyone else. So there wouldn't be a reason to allow them to become Jedi, it just wasn't possible. Definitely not hatred, there were plenty of droids on Coruscant, and the other Jedi didn't fuss about them. And there was that one droid who helped them make lightsabers, what's his name...
They came to a low metal bridge; it ran over rows of some sort of train rails a few hundred meters below, in what looked like a natural ravine. There were fifteen seconds of good, forward progress, but at the mouth of the bridge itself, traffic returned to a standstill. A proper speeder could just fly over all this! Instead, it was thick with ground vehicles. Even the people walking across were stuffed tight along the edges; they were lucky for the bridge's high metal railings. And the cool air; a bridge like this on Coruscant would be scorching like a saber-blade in the midday sun. The Jedi's speeder made it maybe three meters onto the bridge and stopped again.
Qui-Gon heard a dull creak from below, then heard (and felt) a more substantial CRACK. Pedestrians scampered off the bridge in both directions, with surprising speed and orderliness for such a crowd. The vehicles were trapped. Dooku stood in their speeder and looked around; Qui-Gon followed his gaze to a trio of emergency vehicles who were trying (and mostly failing) to weave through traffic. Qui-Gon searched the sky, but there were no ships there. The bridge lurched again. The driver stood and shouted at the Jedi in his native tongue; his hands waved back at them—he was urging them out of the speeder and towards safety. Dooku looked down the length of the bridge, sighed, and muttered: "I always have to do everything myself…" He jumped out of the speeder and ran towards the center of the bridge. "Go with him to safety!" he shouted back to Qui-Gon, who didn't.
Most of the gridlocked vehicles were already empty, doors open, their drivers dashing past the Jedi and towards solid ground. Some of them did stare at Dooku and Qui-Gon now, a bit bewildered at odd strangers running towards certain danger. There was a chunk of road half-dislodged from the bridge, sunk a half-meter downwards, cracking, bending under the weight of a large cargo transport. Its doors were closed. The bridge shuddered again, stumbling Qui-Gon. Dooku planted his feet on a relatively solid spot and reached out with both hands, just as the hefty transport creaked out over the warped railing and dropped off the edge of the bridge. It stopped, suspended in mid-air. Everyone was looking at Dooku. Sweat beaded on his forehead. The transport began to float, slowly, back towards the buckling bridge. Qui-Gon could see the unconscious occupants slouched within.
The vehicle rolled, and there was a thud against the driver-side door. Then, the worst: the door opened, and two Raelgar men flopped out, slid for a moment along the inside edge of the outstretched door (Qui-Gon's breath caught), and fell. Unthinking, Qui-Gon ran out of his robe and leapt over the edge of the bridge, followed by one word from above: "NO!"
The free-falling Jedi Padawan straightened his body and so fell slightly faster than the two limp-flapping transport drivers. He grabbed them, one in each hand, rolled so they would keep close to his own body, and then his mind began to churn: Okay, how am I going to do this, grappling hook? No time—Force-kinetics off the bottom? Gonna have to be—
Qui-Gon and the two unconscious men stopped entirely. He felt a rush of air; the shadow above was growing, and these men had fallen straight down out of the transport, so, uhh—the vehicle rushed past them, and gained even more horizontal distance from them before it crashed explosively against the edge of the ravine-bottom below. It must have been cast aside, quick thinking by the man above: and there indeed was Dooku, leaning over a half-broken railing, reaching desperately towards his Padawan, eyes wide. Then Qui-Gon looked behind himself; a rescue speeder, one that could actually fly, was on its way towards him through the ravine, sirens blaring.
The two Raelgar drivers awoke soon after they were brought aground, nodded once to the Jedi, and carried on about their day. The rescue-pilot, a Dug, offered them a ride, and was confused by their reply. "No hospital?" she asked.
"No," said Dooku, "we have an urgent meeting with the Torzdorel." Besides a tear in his robe and a bit of lost sweat, he was not much worse for wear. Somehow, Qui-Gon was completely uninjured. He'd need a new robe, though, his was lost with the bridge when it caved. The Dug shrugged, and they were off.
Dooku slouched in his seat. "Qui-Gon…"
"What? Oh, I'm sorry Master. I had to—"
"I am not angry, Padawan." Dooku held his head in both hands. "You have… you have such an animating sense of kindness. It is so terribly uncommon in our Order, where the wisest are content to sit around and theorize what might be best to do, instead of actually doing anything." He sunk lower; his eyes were wide, shocked. "Such a lack… in all of us."
Qui-Gon didn't know what to say. He still felt it was reckless, what he'd done. And Dooku had tried to save the cargo hauler, and then actually saved the three of them. What did he have to be ashamed of? The young Jedi stared out the window, confused and forlorn.
***
The emergency speeder reached a building Qui-Gon had not yet seen: a broad, flat, squarish one with a glass pyramid of windows jutting up from its center. It was far from the tallest in Durregrohd—quite the opposite, most of its area only went up two stories—but that area was very large, more than a city block, and that glass pyramid structure was a few stories higher. There were a few scant vines growing up the outer walls, but Qui-Gon guessed that these could be a tolerated coincidence of nature, as likely as they were an intentional decoration. This must somehow be the royal palace, or some other government headquarters. Maybe they have their own Senate? They landed on a broad platform at the building's rear. Ambassador Urbezelle and his human aide were waiting for them.
"Ah, there you are Master Dooku, Padawan Jinn, at last!" said the ambassador warmly as he walked towards the landed ship. He drew closer and the warmth dropped; furtive anxiety took its place: "Jedi, this is most troublesome. Most troublesome indeed."
Dooku cocked his head. "What seems to be the matter, Ambassador?"
"Well, I expected the Queen to be cold, but this is madness! She is unmoving; she won't make counter-offers, she won't name terms... she hardly deigns to look at me! I tried every charm I could muster—this is about forging relationships, the Raelgari should understand that! But alas, she's shielded against us." Urbezelle shook his head. "It brings me no joy that my naysayers on Coruscant foresaw this outcome. I fear to wonder whether some third interloper has tampered with our accords, or if it is the Raelgari themselves who work from a covert desire to scuttle any attempt at collaboration."
Qui-Gon looked curiously at Urbezelle, then at Dooku. His Master didn't meet the glance.
"We will have to keep these two possibilities in mind, indeed," Dooku said, and he gestured at Qui-Gon, "my Padawan is a kind and curious sort. I trust that he will see the truth, and forge the best way forward in its light." The young man beamed.
Urbezelle smiled at Qui-Gon and patted him on the shoulder, then turned to Dooku. "A compliment just as well given to yourself, Master Jedi. And that's another point to remember: I don't know how to describe it, but the Raelgari seem to have some strange respect for Jedi. It may be that Queen Alpulenya is open to hearing you out. Use that, if you can; whatever footholds you manage to create, despite such impossible odds, would be seen as a great service to the Republic."
"I will do what I can. Ambassador." Dooku nodded, and Am'dur nodded back, smiling. The Jedi continued towards the thick metal doors of the government building.
"Is it true, Master, what you said? You trust me? And what about the Ambassador, didn't he—"
Dooku held up a hand. "Enough. By this I mean: I have said enough, today. Now it is time for you to form your own conclusions. We must both learn to listen."
"Okay, but what if Turzdorel Alpulenya asks questions of us?" Qui-Gon grew anxious. "What should I say, to not offend her?"
"Your own conclusions." Dooku tapped the side of his head, smiled. "Trust the Force, young Jedi."
The Turzdorel's chamber was a spacious but gray affair; the walls were engraved with abstract patterns rather than any sort of color. It was not (as Qui-Gon had supposed) in, below, or anywhere near that glass pyramid structure he'd seen from the outside. There were a few normal windows, and a large square table with many comfortable-looking cushioned chairs. But it was hardly a throne room. Master Dooku had said that Alpulenya was not, in fact, a "Queen," how had he translated the word? 'Greatest Talker?'
She was there, though: the weathered old Raelgar Turzdorel in robes and hat gray-blue, standing at the head of the table. And there was an assistant with her, or, well, a child, anyway: the young Raelgar at Alpulenya's side wore a simple beige frock and matching pants, with a gray-blue sash over top. When the Jedi nodded, this young one returned the gesture, but Turzdorel Alpulenya did not. Curiously, there were no guards in the room, nor even advisors. Qui-Gon had seen two attendants waiting just outside… well, he'd thought they were simple attendants. Maybe they were armed.
"Jedi," Alpulenya said, "sit."
Slowly, reverently, they sat.
"And what is your view, of bridges in Durregrohd?"
The two Jedi shared an uneasy look. I won't speak until he does, Qui-Gon decided then, and so neither did.
"Ha!" said the Turzdorel. "I apologize for the peril you faced. The next bridge will be stronger, or less wide. Any more to say?"
The Jedi just stared at her.
"Good. It may be that you Jedi were expecting congratulations? Some grand party for brave heroes of the Republic, saviors of innocent Durregrohd workers?"
"We, um," Dooku cleared his throat, "we Jedi do not expect excessive celebration as reward for the simple act doing our duty."
"Yes. Most on the bridge could not help, so they didn't. You are Jedi, so you could, so you did. Just as the Hospital-speeder pilot helped where she could, and the speeder itself. This is good."
She is very matter-of-fact, Qui-Gon thought. Either it means I don't have to worry about her lying, or I have to worry even more, because it means she's good at it. Ugh. Master Dooku could also be direct, when he found that approach most amusing.
The Turzdorel pulled out her own chair and sat. Her young companion stood attentively at her side, and Alpulenya pointed to her, saying: "This is Yttriostic, my Chachtessk Nuyepisj. It means 'She Who Holds the Cup, but does not Drink'. She is only a child, but children must learn too. Eh?" She gestured at Qui-Gon.
"...My Padawan was but a child when I was charged with him," said Dooku proudly, "Now he is becoming a man, at nearly twenty years of age."
"Your Republic years, so long, so much time to change. This one would have… ah… perhaps thirteen of them, if she were on your Senate planet. Coruscant." It seemed to be the only Basic word she had trouble pronouncing; instead of the proper Cor-a-sont, she said Coo-roo-scant, with the R rolled. Qui-Gon had never heard someone hard-pronounce the second 'C'.
Qui-Gon fidgeted awkwardly in his chair. He had no idea where this conversation was going. Alpulenya looked at him.
"Hey, Becoming Man. Do not worry. You have not embarassed Jedi yet."
"And you. Serenno," she said to Dooku, "when will you make offers, or begin to seduce me to alliance with your Republic? Or no, I mean convince, not seduce."
'Each word has a purpose,' Qui-Gon thought. He said too many of them by mistake very often, but he suspected this woman would not. Old people seemed to get stingy with them.
"Ahem, you ruin the game too easily, Turzdorel," said Dooku, "you must know that I have heard you to be most… closed, towards deals we of The Republic propose."
"And so you will listen. Am'dur Urbezelle would want it this way: listen for opportunity, and pounce when you find it. That man," she pointed towards the back of the building, "I understood within seventeen Republic minutes of speaking to him. Over hologram, weeks ago. You," she pointed at Dooku, "will take longer."
Dooku huffed a sigh. "Let us cut to the quick, then. I am not listening for some… dull purpose. My curiosity extends beyond that of Am'dur Urbezelle. If there is to be any kind of… collaboration, I would not see it forged prematurely."
"Prematurely for who?" she asked, and grinned. "Ah-h-h! One. Each being is a pattern with many points. I know what it is you seek. You gave little man the same interest."
"What, then?" Dooku asked, "If you can guess my motive, make it known."
"Motive is not a singular thing," she said, "but there can be a primary one. Zdoreil. Ah! And that's another. You speak Ragorlebnan. Such study you devote to our people, our ways."
Dooku picked at one of his fingernails. "It's only diplomatic," he said, "to speak a common tongue, and know what a prospective ally could say behind your back."
"Ally," she said, and turned to Qui-Gon, "you saw posts on the bridge railing? They have allies. One falls, all fall together. And same height." She nodded to him. "Baravteyb. Same height."
"Come now, Turzdorel," Dooku said, half-pleading, "There are things which matter more than size. Let us not think less, nor even over-much of each other, over such surface-level differences."
She nodded. "There is size, and size. What is it they say in Republic-speak, 'the size of the eyes'? Never mind this. Dooku Serenno, you wish to know more about Raelgar Jedi."
Dooku raised his eyebrows. "Indeed."
"And why he was not-Jedi, and why there have not been any more Raelgar Jedi. All good things for both of you to hear."
"And what can we offer in return, Turzdorel Alpulenya?"
"Call me 'Voice Ahead'. I speak your Republic language more cleanly than you speak ours, and this boy wants to hear also. Offer in return?" Her eyes glinted. "You know what we want, Jedi, and you cannot offer it. That may change, and then I hope Dooku Serenno remembers his offer, and honors its spirit. Today, I will accept four ears in exchange for my Voice."
Qui-Gon gulped.
"You must teach him illustrative speech, Dooku. Jedi Padawan, I mean to say that I will speak, if you both listen. Listen," she said, wagging a finger, "there is listen, and listen."
"I am listening," Dooku said, "Qui-Gon?"
Qui-Gon nodded attentively. "I will listen. Cheltig."
The two older people turned to him. "Qui-Gon—"
Alpulenya waved a dismissive hand at Dooku. "Young Jedi. He did not teach you this word?"
"Uh, no, Voice Ahead. I guess it just came to me." Qui-Gon pursed his lips. Dooku squinted at him.
"Your Jedi Force. I shall have to learn Qui-Gon Jinn also," she said jovially.
Alpulenya stood. "Now. You are ready to hear? I will tell the tale. There are many details to remember, and I will only tell it once. The Jedi Missionaries recruited the Closvimteol over eight hundred Republic years ago…"
"A Raelgar child trained on Coruscant to be a Jedi Knight. He felt very small and frightened on this alien world, where metal kept you ever from the dirt. The Jedi Leaders told his people that he would be safe and calm, so he could learn the ways of his special Force Powers without accidentally hurting those around him. And the Jedi were many, yedinifkey; few or none of them identical in heritage. They were bound by place, experience, their Force, and the Codes of Jedi Doctrine. This Gorelasgan Padawan took to them easily, and earned the respect of the Jedi around him by his commitment to peace and unity. One of these Codes said that a full-fledged Jedi Knight could make contact with his planet of birth. When he became that, he did this. It was at this time that we say he became Closvimteol.
"He discovered, from the Voice Ahead of that time, that Gorelasg faced the threat of invasion. All at once the feelings associated with his childhood, his people, their ways, returned to the front of his focus. It is said that he also experienced visions of the future from out of the Jedi Force. For these reasons he decided that he would return here, quickly and certainly. And when he told the Jedi Leaders of this, they disagreed with his conviction. Jedi said that his attachments were causing him to act rashly, and that this was un-Jedi-like. They put a choice upon him: stay on Coruscant and follow Jedi Codes, or depart for Gorelasg, and so leave the Jedi Order forevermore.
"But Voice Ahead," said Qui-Gon, "this cannot be true. I know of several Jedi who aide their homeworlds, why, Master Mundi—"
"Listen, Jinn," Alpulenya spat, "let the story flow, and save your questions. If you want a difference, consider the war that invaders brought to Gorelasg. Jedi Codes say that Jedi are to avoid violence, as you know." She huffed.
"Closvimteol made his choice. He reached out to we, his people, with one request: he wanted traditional Gorelasgan clothing, so he could return home as one of us. It was sent easily, despite the invader blockade. Who would second-guess such unremarkable pieces of garb? Him getting there would be more difficult. Invaders did not want more Raelgari to deal with, certainly not Jedi, lapsed or no. First, he slipped away. He had contacts in the Order, and from them, contacts to smuggle himself. In those days it was five hyper-jumps from Coruscant to Gorelasg, a journey of weeks. He made it in a smuggling compartment. It was not comfortable.
"But smuggler ships were not allowed through blockade. Invaders only allowed necessary civilian transports to pass the fleet of their growing siege, and even those were subject to search or—
"I'm sorry... what invaders? And why didn't the Republic offer aide?" Qui-Gon asked. Dooku looked expectantly at the Turzdorel.
Alpulenya shook her head at both of them. "You continue to cut his story up with questions! Republic is not our ally even now. Everything else is answered in the story. Listen with patience, Jedi!"
"But what about the Order?" Qui-Gon continued, "We are peacekeepers! Why wouldn't the Council join Master Closvimteol in the defense of this planet?"
Dooku put a hand on his Padawan's arm. "Qui-Gon. You know the Jedi Order is sworn to neutrality. It's right there in the Codes," he looked solemnly at Alpulenya, "it is a curse of our Order, Voice Ahead. Our desire not to be involved, at times it allows injustice to persist."
"Both of you have much to say about half a story!" she smiled, "It is good, though. Three. Now, if you'll let me finish."
Qui-Gon emphatically nodded. He looked over at Dooku, who was staring at the Turzdorel. He looked worried, actually. He never looks worried like this, Qui-Gon thought, but then, that's the second time today.
Alpulenya continued:
"—Invaders only allowed civilian transport ships through their blockade, and inspected those ships thoroughly. Some were seized, or even destroyed, for reasons the invaders lied about. They would say Raelgari were smuggling weapons, soldiers, or even suicidal explosives in these ships. In truth, every ship the Invaders stole or shot down only carried innocent Raelgari. They never caught the ships with weapons and soldiers.
"After he'd been smuggled to a close-by system, Closvimteol traveled in one such perilous craft; as it was with the Jedi on Coruscant, in this matter he had no choice. He had only the clothes on his back and a hammer. A hammer is a very common Gorelasgan tool; it could be used as a weapon, but so could any piece of metal salvaged from a ship. He guessed correctly that the Invaders wouldn't think much of it. They had seen many hammers, and must have tired of confiscating them. Or maybe they thought, when invasion was won, Gorelasgan metalworkers would work for them. Hah! Anyway, it was lucky that they did not open up his worker's uniform to conduct a more complete search. He still wore one of your Jedi Tunics underneath—he had nothing else to wear! The tunics were different then, but still recognizable as Jedi. He made it through the blockade with only his flesh, his clothes, and his tool. And maybe he had food too. But nothing else!
"By this time the invaders had laid their claws into Gorelasgan soil. They were beginning to occupy us. Gorelasg has been invaded many times. Sometimes, invaders even stay a while. It has benefits, being invaded. We learn from them. Their technology, their language, the interests of their allies. These do not outweigh the costs of being invaded, but without other options, we must use what benefits we can. And Raelgari learned long ago how to deal with invaders: be quiet. Go about your business. Maybe it is our size, or our eyes, or the size of our eyes. It is easy for invaders to believe that we are thoughtless, cowering, and accepting of outsiders planting alien flags on Gorelasgan earth. In truth we are accepting of many things. Sadly, these were the last invaders to think that. Luckily, none have come since.
"His 'hammer' was of course just the way he shaped the emitter of his Jedi Sword. And it was a very large sword, but not too large for little Raelgar. When Closvimteol reached Gorelasg, he reconnected with his people. They had quiet plans. And also, invaders got word that the Raelgar Jedi went to return home. But by then he already was home, and could blend in. Which of these identical Raelgari was Raelgar Jedi? Maybe it was that he trained many Jedi, and made many more Jedi Swords. Maybe many Raelgar all shared the same sword, and pretended to be Closvimteol while they fought and died to free us. Either way, in a few short years we killed all the invaders in our home, and they were very embarassed that a Jedi (or many) had beaten them. Only Gorelasgans know when the original Closvimteol died. He helped to free us. As you may know, Dooku Serenno, the word means 'Liberator' in our tongue."
The two Jedi blinked and stared blankly. That was a very abrupt ending, Qui-Gon thought.
Dooku clicked his tongue, balked. "And what of my Padawan's question," he asked, "Which system invaded Gorelasg?"
"Oh, yes," Alpulenya raised one eyebrow, "Coruscant. Republic was the invaders. There's the exciting part."
Qui-Gon waved both his hands, confused. "The Republic? But we fight for peace! I've never heard mention of an invasion of Gorelasg in the histories."
"So you see," she locked eyes with Dooku, whose face had dropped, "It is not always a curse, Jedi inaction. Had your Order chosen to involve itself, it may not have been on the side of 'justice,' as you call it. At least not from the view of Gorelasg." She steepled her fingers and watched the gawking Jedi in silence.
***
"That was… a very long time ago," said Dooku. He was standing now, pacing up and down the Turzdorel's room. "I could see why our Ambassador did not mention it, and—"
"You didn't know, Dooku?" asked the Turzdorel, "did your Jedi Order records not detail these events?"
Dooku stood still. Qui-Gon tapped his Master on the shoulder; Dooku ignored him. The older man was very deep in anxious rumination.
Alpulenya turned to Qui-Gon, now: "Young Jedi. What was the first thing I asked the both of you today?"
"Uhhh… you asked about bridges. About the bridge that broke beneath us, I mean."
"Yes. I am one of the Gorelasgans responsible for the operation of this city, and so its failures are mine. What harm my action or inaction could have done to you was the first thing I wished to address. This is the way of my people, as no productive bonds can be forged until all ill effects are laid bare, for all involved to discuss openly."
Qui-Gon nodded slowly. "Master. I think we should go."
Without looking, Dooku pointed back at his seated Padawan. "No, you should—" He stopped himself, sat down heavily, put one elbow on the table, and pressed a fist to his forehead.
Alpulenya turned to her young attendant. "Chachtessk Nuyepisj, see that Jedi Padawan Qui-Gon Jinn is dismissed to his own people, and then dismiss yourself. I would speak to the Master Jedi alone." Qui-Gon stood.
"Padawan Jinn," the young girl said, "The Turzdorel dismisses you. You may exit the Government Center, and return to your affairs. Thank you for your ears." Qui-Gon bowed to both Raelgari, glanced at his Master, concerned, and then stepped out and down the hall. Then Yttriostic bowed to Dooku, and walked calmly out of the room.
Alpulenya spoke with calm resolve: "You have visited Durregrohd's shipyards, Dooku, despite knowing you could be discovered, and that such a covert inspection could be interpreted as an act of war. That is a Fourth, or a one-before-One."
"...Do you mean to say," said Dooku, his face still tightened, "that these 'firm measures' the Republic Senate seek to employ, will only grow firmer when they receive your resistant reply? That your people may face the same fate again?"
Alpulenya let the question hang for a long moment. "I could not know. Ask Senators."
Dooku shook his head.
"And what difference does it make?" she asked, "Coruscant is a planet, Gorelasg is a planet. Both have interests, and now one conflicts with the other. Your interests are bound to Coruscant. Why do you not advance them?"
"What—" he looked up angrily, "you knew that the Archives contained no mention of the Republic's invasion of Gorelasg, and you knew that I—you…"
"It was not my hand that guided you here. That's what worries me most of all, Dooku. Some coincidences are simply too—"
"What do you want of me?" Dooku stood and clasped his hands together. "What must I do? What can be done for Gorelasg?"
"Different questions. Do you ask as one man, or on behalf of your Jedi Order?" The Turzdorel made no movement, but there was a new intensity in her eyes.
Dooku sank into his chair. "...One man," he said, "one man who knows what's right, and struggles to make his own choices."
"Hmph," she said, "'Choices'. 'Knows'. Only a child of the Republic would say such merrunzi. Our Closvimteol had no choice. He was moved by a connection to his people. What power and wisdom passed through him before his ending served the many. There was nothing else he could be, and nothing of him sheltered as his own."
Dooku sighed dejectedly. "When you say it that way, it sounds like a terrible fate. Like he was trapped."
Alpulenya looked out the window, closed her eyes then slowly opened them. She spoke as calmly as she could: "Five. That is not a matter of fact. Such 'entrapment' is the truth of all living things. As we move those around us, so we must be moved by them. There is no true power, no good, without acceptance of this binding." She walked back over to the table, and wagged one finger with her wrist. "And when the chain breaks, a new one must be forged, if the links are to serve any purpose."
The Count of Serenno was focused on his own thoughts. "Perhaps," Dooku said, "this is why Jedi absolve themselves of all attachments, except attachment to The Force. Connections bring power, which the Jedi do not seek."
"They have no desperate need of power," she replied, "up there in the high tower of their Coruscanti temple. Gorelasg does not share this luxury."
"...Yes," said Dooku. He stood and left.