#colicoids

Many years before The Phantom Menace

 A Test of Faith: Chapter 1

Golden sunlight filtered into a large training hall in the Jedi Temple. Within the streams, hundreds of dust motes danced to an absent symphony. The air hummed with the low murmur of conversation and the buzz of lightsabers. Padawans and Masters were spaced around the chamber, engaged in the morning's lessons and drills: the Masters tutored, some observed, some advised, whilst the apprentices learned and grew. And in one corner, in contrast, a group of younglings clung to each other's robes whilst diminutive Jedi Master Yaddle gave them their first glimpse of the years ahead of them.

A loud yelp sounded from a gangly teenager, Qui-Gon Jinn. The boy winced, lifting his blinding helmet from his head and shaking his hand out. A flush red welt was blooming on his skin where his training drone had infiltrated his defenses and zapped his hand. His nose wrinkled in annoyance. That hadn't happened for weeks. Months. He was good at this. Why now?

"Keep your guard up!" his Master barked.

Why was his Master statting the obvious? Jinn rolled his eyes with that unique impertinence that adolescene brings. At least he was bright enough to keep his back to his mentor whilst he did so, to hide his expression.

When his Master said nothing more, he slipped his helmet back on and grinned. He'd gotten away with—

"And you can sort your face out as well, Padawan." Though it was a censure, there was a smile in it.

Jinn scoffed. Unbelievable! "Master, tell me please. How could you know what my face looked like? It's impossible."

He heard his mentor's low chuckle rumble in his chest. The buzz of the training droid's little repulsorlift faded followed by a light clunk as, he assumed, it reset itself and lowered to the floor. He squinted as his helmet was lifted and his eyes strained in the glare as a full beam of sunlight hit his face.

He took a step to the side to escape the rays and, as his vision settled, he found himself looking straight into his Master's face. Dooku had a wry smile on his lips, half hidden beneath the black trim of his beard.

"There are many things one can see with a clear mind. And a little intuition."

Qui-Gon almost pouted but he caught himself. There was a light dancing in Dooku's dark eyes and he laughed in return. "You guessed."

The corner of Dooku's mouth curled ever so slightly higher. He tilted his head to the side, his long hair drifting across his features, and raised his bushy brows, but said nothing. Leaving but a hint. Perhaps, or perhaps not.

"I don't understand why I failed," Jinn confessed a little more sombrely. His shoulders dropped and he half turne away, heaving a deep breath. He glanced again at the welt on his skin. "I haven't slipped for weeks."

Dooku reached out, lifted Qui-Gon's hand and checked the wound. It was just superficial. A little bacta patch would sort him out in a flash.

He released the boy's hand and bent down so he could look straight into his protégé's face. "You 'slipped' because your focus was elsewhere. Remember, your focus determines your reality. If you are thinking about other things, then there is no one in your head right here, right now, piloting this corporeal vessel." He prodded Jinn lightly in the chest. "And if you are absent from yourself, then tell me this: who is looking after the most important person in your life?"

Jinn gave his master a wry, slightly befuddled smile. "The most important person?" He hesitated. Stammered. As though he feared this was a trap. "Who do you mean? You?"

Dooku straightened back up. Folded his arms and slipped his hands beneath his sleeves. He regarded Jinn for a second with a single arched brow. His eyes travelled up and down his Padawan's seventeen year old frame. Jinn could not fathom the expression. One sometimes couldn't with Dooku.

"Why, you, of course," Dooku said at length.

Jinn scoffed. "That is arrogance, surely? I am no more important than anyone else."

Dooku laughed. Deep and heartily. Mouth wide, teeth onfull view. The laughter reverberated around the chamber, bounced off the walls and ricocheted from the cavernous ceiling. Jinn glanced around. People were turning to look. The Younglings looked terrified.

Jinn's expression began to yield to embarassment, shame threatening to ignite within him. He could feel the burn begin to glow on his cheeks. And yet Dooku's laugh was so infectious, he could not help but feel enthused by such an open display of mirth. Why should he be humiliated to have such a mentor? Let everyone look. Dooku was always unafraid of being the biggest character in a room. Perhaps it was a trait worth cultivating.

"Qui-Gon Jinn," Dooku said at last as his booming laughter abated. He shook his head, as though he could not believe he had a Padawan of such conscience, of compassion. "You show such humility. And also self deprecation, which we must work on." He paused, cleared his throat, lowered his great voice. "No, no. You misunderstand me. When I say you are the most important person it is because, if you have no life, if you err and are mortally wounded then cease to be, then you have no ability to care for anyone else. And so one must take care of one self, if one means to help and preserve the lives of others."

Jinn cracked a wide smile. His hand reached for the back of his neck and he scratched it, glancing away. "Why, then you must live forever, Master."

Dooku's expression was mischievous. "Oh the Council would be most aggrieved to never be rid of me and my impertinence." He patted Qui-Gon on the shoulder. "Perhaps you should live forever instead, young one."

"You'll have to teach me how, first."

Dooku sighed deeply and a brief, strange look passed across his visage. It might have been grief. Or regret. Or even fear. But it was gone before it took root and Qui-Gon couldn't be sure it had even ever existed.

His Master stretched a hand out to the small marksman training drone and, with a little Force tug, he drew it from the floor into his hand. Qui-Gon picked up his blinding helmet and hooked his lightsaber back to his belt. The lesson was over.

"There are some things I cannot teach you, my young Padawan," Dooku said quietly as they fell into step and made for the double doors. "You may be startled to hear that I do not, in truth, know everything."

Jinn chuckled. "Then I shall have to consult with Master Nu for those things you do not know."

"Master Nu can assist you with knowledge, certainly, but -"

Dooku paused, halted, turned suddenly. His eyes fixed on Qui-Gon and his long, dark hair tumbled over his shoulders like a great mane, making him look imperious and proud. Jinn looked forward to the day he could grow his short Padawan crop out and cut off his braid. Maybe he'd grow it as long as his mentor's.

"But wisdom," Dooku continued. "Wisdom is not something you can gain from the archives."

Qui-Gon blinked. His brow furrowed a little. "And what distinguishes knowledge and wisdom?"

Dooku opened his mouth to reply but his eyes lifted, averted. His face tautened, now all angles, caution and tension where a moment before it had been bright, a little softer, open and honest. Jinn turned to find the source.

Another Jedi approached. Master Jiao. She wore her hood up and marched over with barely a sound, as though her feet didn't touch the floor. Her robes were rich with oranges and russets, contrasting greatly to the pale yellows Dooku wore, and the vapid cream of Jinn's. 'Just a bit of colour would be nice, Master', Qui-Gon had bemoaned to Dooku more than once eveytime he saw the variety in Jedi garb. 'And vanity is not the way of the Jedi', his Master would retort. Though Jinn knew if the Council told his Master to shave his beard and cut off his hair tomorrow, he would not do it.

"Such a long face," Jiao joked as she reached the pair of them, her eyes locked with Dooku's. Despite the jocular tone, the jest didn't reach her eyes.

"The Council?" Dooku asked without preamble.

"Have requested your presence," Jiao nodded. Her eyes flicked onto Qui-Gon. "Both of you. Immediately. As you may have expected from recent murmurings, there is a mission for you."

Dooku was silent, his face still stern. His larynx bobbed as he swallowed.

Jinn could not fathom the change in his Master. Perhaps there had been some foreboding? Something he had not noticed in his master, or news his master had kept from him? Had he perhaps even noticed without really noticing. Was that why the traiing drone had hit him today?

"Is it Colla IV?" Dooku pressed. He folded his arms. Barricading his fort.

Jiao's chest rose and fell as she took a deep breath. "I am not at liberty to say. I am but a messenger."

"Colla IV?" Jinn echoed. He'd never even heard of it. Was it a ship? A system? A person? A trade route?

"Allyaah, they cannot mean for Qui-Gon to come."

"The Council have their reasons. You must raise your concerns with them."

It was Dooku's turn to take a deep breath. His lips formed a hard line. His face had paled. Eye whites flashed with frustration, pupils black and hard. "Yes, yes. Of course. And as always, my doubts shall be cast as dissent and disobedience."

Jinn's eyes moved between Dooku and Jiao like he was watching a rally in a hoverball match.

"Do not defy the Council, Dooku. How many times..."

"I do not 'defy' for the enjoyment of it. I merely insist that I have my reservations heard and not follow process blindly."

"Which is wise. Just…" She sighed again. "Watch that you do not become blinded with presumption. The Council do not intend to provoke and upset you."

"Sifo Dyas does."

Jiao exhaled loudly this time. Exasperated. "Well, the reasons for your tiresome dislike of each other is lost in the midst of time to those of us who came after you, so —"

"Did you just call me old?" Dooku interupted, moving his hands to his hips.

She gave him an earnest look. Eyebrows lifting. "You are no longer young."

Dooku's frame had softened a little. He would not apologise directly for his sharpness, for his little outburst, not in words. But, when he was remorseful toward a friend, he would temper his anger into cheerful exchanges, to gentler gestures. Qui-Gon observed this quaint little ritual many times. One day he would challenge his Master on it.

Dooku turned his eyes onto his Padawan. "Qui-Gon, is your Master old?"

"You do have some grey hairs, Master," Qui-Gon boldly rallied.

Dooku picked up a lock of his long hair and peered closely at it. "Ah. Well. It appears you are correct."

Jiao smiled again and turned to go. "You'll let your Padawan provoke you without consequence, I see, Master Dooku."

"Of course I do," Dooku bantered with his wide grin. "He is learning from the best."

Jiao laughed over her shoulder as she walked away. "Then you had better send him to me if you wish to teach him modesty. I see that is outside your scope." She stepped onward, as silent on her feet as she had been when she arrived. "Do not keep the Council waiting," she added as an afterthought. As though Dooku might dawdle.

"Yes. Force forbid they have to learn patience," he muttered. He patted Qui-Gon's shoulder and drew him in. "Come. Let us get that wound patched up then we shall go to visit the old folks' home."

--------

And if you want to read my recent rehash of the first chapter of my Dooku Padmé insane fic, "Eclipse", then the link to that is here: