Yoda Read Online Free PDF Page B

impression, as I mentioned to the Senatorial committee years before hostilities even
began
—”
    â€œThe curious incident,” Dooku said impatiently.
    The flustered under-palatine sucked in his cheeks. “I was getting to that. At the end of the session, I was approached by Senator Amidala of Naboo, who asked me to deliver something to you.” With plump, nervous hands he brought out a small box, marked with the Jedi seal. “Let me assure you, we have taken every precaution here, used the most advanced scanning techniques—”
    â€œWe thought it might be a bomb,” his assistant volunteered.
    â€œOr a bug,” another said.
    â€œI still think it could be poisoned,” a fourth said.
    â€œBelieve me when I say, your safety, of course, has been
uppermost…
”
    Dooku reached for the box. He found to his surprise that his hands were shaking. Odd. He had been almost as surprised as Ventress to see himself sparing the gaunt Jedi, Jai Maruk. It had been a sudden whim, sending him back. A hook dropped for Yoda, as he had told Sidious afterward. A hook baited with the pink squirm of an old memory.
    Darth Sidious had given him a curious look, then, one that passed through him like a flush of fever, a weakness inside. “Do you still
love
him?” his Master said.
    Dooku had laughed and braved it out. The idea was ridiculous.
    â€œRidiculous?” his Master had said, in that soft, terrible voice of his. “I hardly think so.” And then, his voice like honeyed poison, “A good student always loves his teacher.”
    There was always a risk, talking with Sidious. Sometimes the conversation would go badly, and Dooku would fail to please somehow. It was a terrible thing, failing to please his Master.
    He shook his head. These were a boy’s weak fears. If Yoda had truly taken his lure, he would come, and if he did—what a gift for Sidious that would be, a nine-hundred-year-old head! That wheezing old half-crippled sage was stuck in the Republic like a cork; pull him out and, with a
pop,
the dark side would come rushing through. Then his Master would see how loyal a servant Dooku truly was.
    He grabbed the box. He could feel Yoda’s touch still lingering on the edges like a distant echo. Vividly his mind went back to their last meeting, on Geonosis: swords drawn at last, and finally
equal.
What a bittersweet moment—to see Yoda again, and be a match, or more than a match for him…but not to be seen by him. No, they had gone their separate ways, and Yoda had newer Jedi to look after. Kenobi and, worse yet, young Skywalker.
    Oh, yes, and wasn’t everyone watching
him.
Even Darth Sidious, with a gleam in his eye, mentioned the boy as one strong in the Force. “Just a little piece in a great game,” his Master had said; but a stab of jealousy had gone through Dooku when Sidious lingered over the name.
Skywalker, yes…The Force is strong in him.
    The same Anakin Skywalker who, he had learned, had recently killed a clone of Count Dooku of Serenno. Poor foolish clone. Another changeling, another Dooku abandoned by his parents, left to be chopped up by some upstart Jedi butcher in the name of a corrupt Republic.
    Dooku rather thought that if he weren’t so old and wise, he would probably hate this Anakin Skywalker. At least a little.
    His flipped back the clasps on the box. Strange that his hands should still be shaking so.
    The under-palatine for the Bureau of Patriotic Defense looked over his shoulder. “We studied it exhaustively,” the diplomat said, flapping his gills in puzzlement, “but all our experts agree it’s nothing more than a plain wax candle.”

2
    O n the top of a dilapidated skyrise in the Temple district of Coruscant, two droids were playing dejarik in the rain. They played extremely fast, moving each piece with blinding speed and precision; their fingers fell and rose like sewing-machine needles