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KYBER-PUNK 22BBY Ch.25
🕑 Added 2025-10-02 15:45:25 +0000 UTC[Talks of All to Come]
— David —
In the Gonk warroom, David took center stage. Unc’ Linth opened it up for him and encouraged him to show what he’d learned from the old spacer and their shared efforts molding the fleet into something worth talkin’ about. David took the opportunity for what it was: a chance to prove himself as not just a preem pilot, but an actual commanding captain, too.
“You know what this is, chooms? Moon vs. Planet? With just 250,000 miles of orbital space to work with? This shit is a knife fight in space,” David grinned as he spun up the sitch. “Just like in the streets, scaled up to 12. So all you’ve gotta do is ask… How do you win a knife fight…?”
“Cut ‘em before they can cut you!” Becca eagerly nodded, chiming in with complete understanding. “Even if you don’t cut decisively, first blood always matters.”
“FIRST BLOOD DOESN’T JUST MATTER, PIPSQUEAK. IT WINS, IF YOU AIN’T A MEAT-BRAINED MORON,” Smasher growled. “GET MEAT BLEEDING FIRST AND NEVER LET IT RECOVER.”
“Exactly!” David snapped his fingers to punctuate the point. “Cut ‘em good! Get ‘em wary! Make ‘em bleed! We’ve got, like, no room to actually work with here. So we’ll make what room we do have count, and turn the lack into an advantage for our side.”
“Vibroblade straight to the jugular! That’s my boy!” Maine chuffed.
Dooku nodded approvingly, “Reliance on initiative is a sound strategy, especially for a campaign like this, as you’ve said. Over-reliance, however, can just as easily make you predictable… I would hope this isn’t the only ‘blade’ you have in your arsenal?”
The former Jedi silver fox was a nova old man in David’s eyes. He’d stuck around for a while now, watching and advising their war efforts. David didn’t hate the company from the wider galaxy (Night City was being seen, choom), and big bro Atom didn’t seem to mind, either. So the old man was chilled in David’s mind, and a Hell of a wise advisor, worth bouncing ideas off of.
He wasn’t a Night City Legend, but David would call him a Legend all the same. The old choom had that kinda weight to him. The kind where a single approving nod or raised eyebrow from the old man could make or break a gonk and all their plans.
So David aimed to impress, “It’s not. Our collective advantage in mobility and flexibility also matters, as does our centralization of defense and force projection. We’ve got a single moon, important and preem as it is, to work with. The Hutts have all of their claimed space to worry about.
“But I do think that initiative is the most important advantage we could, and should, focus on here. Even before we stock up on more capital-class void-iron, our fleet has the perfect disposition to strike hard and strike fast, and get away with it where the Hutts really can’t.
“We press ‘em against Nal Hutta and its planetary shields and make ‘em bleed there. They’ll have to fight. They don’t have the option to retreat or regroup, not with their homeworld just below them. So what we really need to do is keep up the pressure, slammit on so heavy and intense that the Hutt fleet is cut to pieces before they can manage to call for reinforcements from the rest of their territory.”
Asajj, the old man’s not-Jedi apprentice, chuckled, “The kid’s got a nice bloodlust to him. He’s certainly not wrong about this, Master. This is going to be a void brawl, and if they don’t take the initiative soon, they’ll never be able to make it to orbit uncontested again.”
“Indeed,” Dooku agreed. “It’s a good, if vague, plan of battle. The objective and methodology are there, however, and that’s what truly matters.”
“I trust Linth and David to work out the details,” Atom said.
“Mostly David,” Linth proudly claimed. “I think it’s about time the younger generation of the Gonk Fleet began to shine like the stars. His strategy will win the day for us. I’ll mostly be stepping back and focusing on tactics so the kid here can take the credit.”
The confirmation of faith from Big Bro Atom and Unc’ Linth made David sit straighter in his seat. He wouldn’t let their Head Gonk down. Not after he’d already done and won so much. Atom had cemented his Legend over the whole of (now-Free) Nar Shaddaa. Now, it was David’s turn to do the same.
The same went for the perpetually drunk spacer who’d quickly become his piloting mentor. Linth was giving him a valuable chance here. David wouldn’t waste it. He’d plan and fly his mostly ‘ganic ass off. The Gonks on the ground had had the most opportunity for rep and cred in the war so far, but now that it was the fleet’s time to shine, David wouldn’t let them fall behind.
“I can get the Nomads prepped and ready to go at a single comm from you, David,” Panam offered.
“I know you can. Nah, I know you will, choom-sis,” David smiled at her. “We’ve worked well together so far, Panam. Let’s continue to do so for a long, long time, neh?”
For some reason, Pretty Panam got even prettier in that moment. A flattering flush of color filled her cheeks. She smiled and chuckled back at him.
“You’re a dangerous one, choom. Keep smiling and saying stuff like that, and half of my Nomad girlies will follow you to the end of the galaxy. Hell, an old lady like me might just join ‘em.”
“Old lady? You?” David honestly laughed at that statement. “Panam, I thought you were my age when we met! I’ve still got my suspicions! And you could be pushing a century and still make gonks short-circ while flying circles around them!”
“Careful, mijo,” Mom chortled to herself. “What would Taati say about you winning the hearts and minds of ‘old ladies’ like that?”
David cocked his head in confusion, “Huh? I’m just tellin’ it as I see it, Mom.”
Mom’s laughter only grew, “Yes, and that’s what makes it so effective.”
Sasha smirked knowingly, “Gonk boys are just like that, Mama Gloria. So dangerously, lethally effective~…”
For some reason, that statement got a round of agreeing nods from the women at the war table.
“She’s speakin’ truth, chooms,” Becca nodded matter-of-factly. “Just sayin’ what we’re all thinkin’ and feelin’.”
Asajj chuckled, “I can see it. Must be something in the air around here.”
“It’s the ‘Human bad boy with something to fight for’ charm,” Aayla claimed with a certain sense of certainty.
“O-Oh my…” Fay exhaled the words barely above a whisper.
“Having something to fight for does greatly enhance the… effect,” De’vi agreed, flashing a bright and earnest smile Podry’s way.
“Not only, though. Shank’s pack has doubled in size, and is set to double again, by my sources,” Suunri argued. “Perhaps it would be more accurate to call it a product of youthful energy?”
“I like to think my Maine is still ‘effective’,” Dorio pointed out. “And I doubt Linth has any trouble at all in that area.”
“I don’t see it for those two. Not really into rust…” Lucy said flatly, pointedly not glancing at the head of the table (an act that seemed to have Sasha and Becca cackling… for some reason…). “But generally, I think we’re all in agreement on this ‘oh-so-important’ topic.”
“Don’t bring me into this meat-space-based debate. I’ve got no pod in this race,” Kiwi deadpanned.
“BIT OF A NETHEAD, BUT I CAN WORK WITH THAT…” Smasher’s muttered comment was still loud enough from his steel frame for everyone to hear. “YO, HALF-FUCK-CHROME. PING ME.”
Kiwi paused. And blinked. And asked, “… Does he count as a Gonk? I may have to revise my opinion and weigh in after all.”
David shared a glance with Podry. The leader of the Freest Legion seemed just as confused by the weirdly vague conversation as he was. They both looked to Atom for guidance. Their Head Gonk just rolled his eyes. The rest of the men at the table seemed greatly amused, but they wouldn’t share why, leaving David and Podry in their confusion.
Maine and Linth were chuckling to themselves at whatever inside joke David wasn’t a part of. Shaitan was shaking his steel head with amusement radiating from his frame. Quinlan just sighed. And even Dooku and Emperor Saburo had twitching smiles at the corners of their lips.
“Aaaannd that’s a wrap for this conversation,” V abruptly cut in. “The moment it touches Smasher, I’m out.”
“In-… ahem-! Indeed!” Fay half-stuttered, half-squeaked. “We have… (debatably…) more productive things to be talking about at this moment!”
“Heh~…” Sasha gave a little giggle that David barely caught. “Not even an immortal Jedi master is immune…”
“Such as-!” Fay quickly (very quickly…) continued, and recomposed herself just as quickly. “We’ve only spoken of furthering your war effort so far. But I am curious as to the Gonk Cartel’s plans for all that you’ve already won. Atom? What do you imagine life on Nar Shaddaa will look like going forward — both here at the top and for everyone else who calls this now free moon home?”
It was a good question. David pushed the lingering confusion to the back of his mind to think on it and listen for Atom’s answer. They’d removed a fundamental variable from Nar Shaddaa’s operational equation. Now, did they replace it? Leave the space open for others to fill, perhaps not productively? Or did they commit themselves to changing the whole equation entirely and never looking back?
“Majority stake,” Atom decided with a grunt. “The Gonks and our allies will take 50-some percent of Nar Shaddaa, and leave everyone else to naturally compete and split up the rest.”
“A majority, but not a monopoly, then?” Fay asked for more clarification.
“That does sound fitting, sir,” Sstala said, deep in consideration of the declaration’s implications already. “It’s a method of control and claiming that Nar Shaddaa is already used to. From my calculations, the Hutt Clans and Kajidics have always striven to maintain at least an 80% hold over the moon. The remaining 20% is mostly held by other criminal syndicates, such as the Black Suns or the Pykes, that manage to set down feelers, but not roots.”
Suunri joined the conversation with a matter-of-fact nod, “Of course, considering Nar Shaddaa is the shadowport of the galaxy, that minority stake is still very significantly profitable for them. Even if the other factions on the moon barely dreamed of actually dominating more than that, it’s rather easy to count what they do hold as worth the investment.
“Controlling ‘merely’ 50-odd percent of the Smuggler’s Moon would still put us on the same economic level as the whole Corellia system. Surpass it, even. It certainly surpasses most other Core Worlds, except for the largest ecumenopolises like Alsakan, Empress Teta, Anaxes, and of course, Coruscant.”
“Yet you won’t dominate the whole moon when you easily could,” Dooku observed. “Some would call that leaving money on the table.”
“I’m not going to make the Gonks into the second coming of the Hutts,” Atom growled. “Securing ourselves is all well and good, but there still needs to be significant levels of freedom. This isn’t a usurpation. It’s a liberation. I want the Smuggler’s Moon to change. I want them to compete, to sink or swim under their own power. We’re just here to… enforce that free market.”
“First among equals, type shit?” Maine asked.
“Nah,” Atom actually chuckled. “The Gonks are first. Full stop. We won that right. But that doesn’t mean we have to stand alone on the moon. I’d hate that shit. Sounds like way too much work, and way too much like oppression. It’d be going against everything we fought for.”
“If Arasaka wished to take, say, a 10% stake, how would that play out?” Saburo asked, less of a request for permission and more of a given that he wanted more details on.
“It’ll come on top of our majority, but essentially included in it,” Atom shrugged. “A 60-odd percent majority, not 50, then. I’m not above tying your corp into my Gonk Cartel even more, Emperor. ‘Course, being tied into our majority like that does come with benefits. Unlike any other corp or syndicate from the rest of the moon, your stake will be guaranteed and backed directly by the Gonks.”
Saburo nodded, “This is acceptable. Opening up competition like this will benefit us greatly, both by eliminating other factions from rising to a truly peer level and encouraging innovation that has otherwise been lacking from the Smuggler’s Moon.
“When your policy gets out, many will come running to get their piece. And thus, the struggle for market share will ensure that any competitors will at most top out at roughly 10% like us, but without the Gonk guarantee. I suspect factions like the Black Suns or Pykes will even find themselves cut down to size, so far from their centers of power, in the new competition.
“I’m impressed. Without outright decreeing anything, you’ll limit the powers at play to single-digit percent stakes of Nar Shaddaa. And the invitation for diversity in the market will most likely cause a significant economic boom. Arasaka considers this an acceptable arrangement of the ‘spoils’.”
“I am also impressed,” Fay spared Atom a smile. “Less for the economic considerations and more for the freedom you still insist on offering to the Smuggler’s Moon.
“It would be so easy to dominate everything, to let greed ruin your victory. Not many would resist in any significant fashion. As you say, you’ve won the right. That you won’t fully take it says very good things about you, Atom, namely that you will stick to your principles even in the face of truly overwhelming wealth.”
Atom glanced away from that bright smile, “… I started this to free me and mine from the Hutts. It grew from there. But ‘freedom’ remains the most important aspect of what I’m fighting for. Not just freedom from oppression and literal chains, but freedom to live and thrive, too. I’m just putting action to word, and doing what I always promised I’d do.”
“Yeah, no duh, gonk-choom,” Becca snorted without much actual bite. “That’s why we follow you. You’re Legend material all the way down. All vision and audacity and execution! Free Gonks!”
“Well, keep followin’,” Atom grunted. “We’re just getting started. There’s still a lot of Hutt Space and beyond that needs to be made slug-free.”
“We’re with you, big choom!” David declared. “Free Gonks! To the Force-damned flatline!”
The rest of the Gonks nodded in agreement, showing Atom that he was far from alone in his ambition. They’d already fought and bled and won together. There was no backing down now.
V smirked, “I’m just here for the murder-fun you seem to find everywhere you go, choom.”
“… SAME, MEAT-CLONE,” Smasher rumbled.
“Arasaka will not abandon such a profitable ally,” Saburo simply said.
“I am similarly committed,” Fay smiled. “Not for profit, but for fate and the Force. The galaxy is watching you, Atom, as you aim for something greater. I’ve pledged myself to follow as you forge your way through and into the ages. So far, I haven’t regretted a single moment of that commitment, and if you continue as you have, I doubt I ever will.”
In the Force, she radiated peace with her choice, and a strange sort of loyalty that David couldn’t quite place. It was just as much loyalty to a vision of the future and a potential yet to be realized as it was loyalty to the freedom they fought for.
Master Fay, David realized, truly, truly believed in Atom. More than any of them, maybe. It felt… religious… and David couldn’t help but shudder at the heavy weight that gathered around Atom there. He’d been chosen, both by Fay and something greater (shining, shining, shining stars striving for freedom…) in the Force.
“… You gave me a chance to bring Mighty Leia’s children back to the stars we all share,” Podry said, so serious that he was almost whispering. “Our stars shine free because of you, Atom. I will follow you until the rest of Mighty Leia’s shared stars do the same.”
“Someone has to keep an eye on events out here in Hutt Space,” Quinlan shrugged. “And I doubt you’d like whatever replacements the Order might send after us.”
“Luckily, this fits within our job descriptions as Jedi Sentinels. Not neatly, but it does fit. By my reckoning, at least,” Aayla laughed. It trailed off into an almost regretful tone.
“It’s… It’s good to be actually doing something. Affecting actual change in places that need it the most… I haven’t felt this fulfilled or motivated in years, maybe ever… Even if most of the Council would likely count me and Quinlan half-rogue at this point, I don’t think we’ll be backing out now.”
“I definitely get why we’ve been sticking around so long, Master,” Asajj said to Dooku.
Dooku nodded back, “Witnessing greatness is a rare thing, even in a galaxy as large as ours. One day, my apprentice, you will succeed me and match this greatness we observe with greatness of your own. I’ve been counting this working vacation from the rest of our duties as a learning experience more than anything else.”
Asajj’s already pale skin paled even more, “I… I still think that’s… I doubt I could ever live up to the legacy you’ve already left behind, Master.”
Dooku stared at her and flatly said, “I find the lack of faith you hold in yourself… disturbing, my apprentice. It would be best to get used to the idea. You will succeed me. You will be great. Even in my grave, I will accept nothing less from you.”
Dooku’s words landed heavily on Asajj, and she fell silent. David didn’t envy her. A Legendary destiny was being laid out for her, set to take up the reins of whatever galactic power Dooku left behind. Still, Dooku didn’t just reassure her. He stated her place in his vision as a matter of fact, and that certainly seemed to steel Asajj’s will to succeed and even surpass her master.
“Unfortunately,” Dooku turned back to Atom. “Unlike the others here, Asajj and I have commitments to see to elsewhere. There is much work to be done. Important work. And while I wouldn’t count my time here as unproductive, we will likely be leaving you sooner rather than later. We will, however, return when able. History being made in one corner of the galaxy should not ignore history being made in another.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Atom rolled his eyes. “Go foment your rebellion from the Republic, old man. Look out for you and yours. Make your Legend. No need to be so dramatic about it.”
“FUCKIN’ MEAT-NOBLES,” Smasher grunted in agreement.
Dooku spared them a long, slow, imperious blink and nothing more, “I won’t dignify that petty taunt with the reaction you wish from me. You may call it ‘dramatics’. I’ll steadfastly maintain that I merely give such significant and historic events the proper gravitas they deserve.”
“Whatever you need to tell yourself,” Atom smirked.
Sasha interjected there, cutting through his amused smirk with a smirk of her own, “Atom? Baby? You don’t have much room to talk. You’re dramatic as Hell, too. You just go for the ‘hard and heavy’ kind, compared to Dooku’s ‘noble’ kind.”
“… It’s called gravitas,” Atom scowled and looked away as he suddenly and completely reversed his position.
That disgruntled reversal successfully pulled an uncharacteristic laugh from Dooku — a full and earnest belly chuckle that made him seem so very human. It was the first time David had heard him laughing outright. He doubted Dooku opened up that side of himself very easily. A good sign for future relations with him? At the very least, it was a humanizing send-off for the implacable old Jedi Legend.
‘When he comes back around,’ David vowed to himself. ‘The old man won’t even recognize the Gonk Cartel with all the progress we’ll have made.’
IIIII
— Dooku —
It was almost a shame to be leaving just as the next era of history for Hutt Space was set to begin. A great many things were happening, all at once. Nar Shaddaa had been won, torn from the grasp of the Hutts. The beating heart of Hutt Space now stood free of their weight, even as it orbited a still-claimed homeworld. And a declaration of further intent had been sent out, broadcast for all to hear. It was a time of monumental change and much worth being a part of.
Unfortunately, duty called. Dooku had business to attend to. Business that didn’t lose out in importance compared to all that was happening here.
A faction to shake the galaxy to its foundations needed to be guided by his hand, especially now that he’d decided upon a new course of action. He was bucking himself free of his former master’s web and taking control of the Separatist cause in earnest truth, not merely puppetry and theatre.
Dooku and Dooku alone could save the Separatists from themselves. He alone could secure their future, prevent their planned fate. No one else was worthy or willing to take on the task at hand, not truly. Already, it was almost a miracle that his cause hadn’t imploded in his brief absence.
For all their shared ambitions, the Separatists remained a disparate and contentious faction. From megacorporations to downtrodden sectors of the Outer Rim, they were held together by the machinations of greater men. Sidious first, and now, Dooku intended to take up the reins of the movement. In doing so, he would ‘play for keeps’ as it were.
His plans for the galaxy’s future had changed. They no longer included his former master. Instead, he would work to bring about change in his own ways. The corrupt ‘peace’ of the Republic would still fail. The useless stagnation of the Jedi Order would still falter and be forced to evolve. The galaxy would still welcome in a new era, one different from all that came before.
But the galaxy would not do so according to the Sith’s Grand Plan, a millennium in the making. Instead, it would do so with a sincerity his former master fundamentally lacked. It would do so for and from the people of the galaxy who needed it most.
Dooku envisioned competition. A breaking of the Republic’s monopoly over the governing of the galaxy. And that competition would lead to change, lead to alternatives, for the better or for the worse. No longer would the peoples of the Mid and Outer Rim be forced to accept their ‘intrinsic places’ beneath the populations of the Core.
The Republic and the Senate had long since proven that they only had their Core interests in mind. And the galaxy deserved much, much better than that corrupt self-interest without any alternatives.
Dooku firmly believed that their ancestors from a thousand years ago would look at the Republic and Senate and Jedi Order as it was now, and barely recognize them. The thousand years of peace between then and now were a curse disguised as a blessing. It was too much peace, and not nearly enough opposition to enable adaptation, evolution, and innovation.
The galaxy had found something that ostensibly ‘worked’ and utterly stopped striving for something more, striving for something — anything — better. They’d forgotten fundamental truths of improvement by competition and change by necessity. Thus, Dooku would give the Republic something to contend and compete with, something to change for.
He would offer another way, even if it wasn’t necessarily ‘better’ in the beginning. It would be different, and that was all the galaxy needed right now. Refinement of his alternative would come later, after the galaxy was given the rude awakening it so dearly needed.
Ideally, his Separatists wouldn’t have to lean on callous and selfish megacorporations as they currently needed to. It was a flaw baked into the core of his cause, his dream of a better alternative.
Necessity was the death of morality in his case. The people of the Mid and Outer Rim that he served — those he truly hoped to help — could not stand on their own against the overwhelming might of the Republic. For these pivotal early stages, they needed to make deals with not-so-proverbial corporate devils.
Oh, Dooku wished they didn’t have to. But he was pragmatic in the pursuit of his ‘better way’. For a potentially brighter future, he would make a more muddled present. It was those unfortunate but necessary allies that led Dooku to know that he was the only one who could lead the Separatist cause. Without his guidance, the movement would fall into corruption worse than the Senate before it could find its feet.
But for his dreams of change, he would gladly shoulder that burden. A great man with a vision of greatness and the great will to see it through, stepping up to the occasion.
Some would undoubtedly ask ‘what’ gave him the right. ‘What…?’ Dooku would raise his eyebrow in reply. Fate gave him the right. Not merely that; the Force had given him the responsibility. It had a Will for all things, a Way for the galaxy. Force Sensitives were its instruments; blessed, chosen, and worked through.
All of them — from the youngest initiate to the oldest Grand Master, Jedi or Sith — were meant to lead. It was the natural way of things. A ‘way of things’ that the galaxy had pathetically shied away from in its thousand years of peace.
That natural order had long been ruined by jealousy, fear, and selfishness. Sentients who could never live up to that greatness of Force-imbued right and responsibility. They thought they knew better than the very Will of the galaxy, and forced those piddling, insignificant, limited views onto brighter souls meant for greater things.
The Ruusan Reformations were the ruination of the galaxy in Dooku’s eyes. Supposedly freed from their eternal enemy in the Sith and their various empires, the small-minded fools in the Republic turned their gazes inward. They reacted, instead of acting, and worse, did so first to a threat that had already all but passed and then to one that only existed in their fearful imaginations.
Those reformations hadn’t ushered in the millennium-long era of peace as so many credited them with doing. A so-called ‘Golden Age’. Dooku scoffed every time he heard the claim.
Peace would’ve come anyway, with the Sith all but extinct except for the hidden Rule of Two and the Republic without rivals for the first time in its history. All that the Senate of the past did was cripple itself in its overeagerness to disband a military that was ‘no longer necessary’ and sign the delayed death warrant of its Jedi protectors.
In complacency, they did away with their military — an inherent, if not pretty, need of any state. In fear and jealousy, they sought to shackle the Jedi lords and leaders of old — paragons and guiding hands of their age. In response and in their perpetual need for the moral high ground, the Order had accepted the reforms. They accepted their long, slow, shackled death by stagnation.
The Jedi would boast no more lords or ladies. They would birth no more great legacies of Force-invested blood. They would head no more great armies of light. They would lead no more. Merely follow the whims and orders of much more fallible beings. Merely enforce ‘peace’. The Republic’s peace… The Senate’s peace…
If he were alive in that age of change, Dooku imagined he would’ve… well, done much the same as he was doing now. He wouldn’t accept the decrees of small-minded beings, not when he knew the truth of the Force’s Will in his heart, mind, and soul. Jedi or Sith, the Force’s chosen souls were destined to lead — not follow and fester as they had in the thousand years that came next.
Now, he was simply living that truth, right as the galaxy needed it most. He, it seemed, was one of the only ones willing to step up and lead. As they all should. As none of them did.
So be it. Dooku was not afraid of taking on such a weight. Even if he must do so by himself. Even if he must go against all he’d ever known, all he’d ever called home. It was his solemn duty to shoulder the burden of leadership, not just as a Force Sensitive, but also as the only one in the galaxy who’d seen the darkness that was to come and the hidden force of nature who sought to bring it about.
… He’d been part of it, even. Part of the shrouding web that engulfed the galaxy and threatened to consume everything for itself. Sidious would bring doom in his image, all for his gain alone. Much of that doom and darkness had already been set in motion. But by stepping away from his former master, Dooku knew he’d be throwing millennium-old Grand Plans into chaos.
War would come to the galaxy. It couldn’t be stopped now. But that war wouldn’t come as Sidious envisioned it, not with Dooku actively and earnestly standing against his former master. Thus, the need to actually prepare his Separatist cause and fight to win, not merely put on a theatre of war that served hidden plans above all.
Dooku wouldn’t ‘play’ the Separatists as a Sith. He would lead them as a Sith. He would fight and build something he could call his own. He would make his cause stand apart from Sidious and his Grand Plans. Shaky foundations be damned, he would make his movement matter, make it last the test of time.
Sidious still didn’t know. His plans were in place, and he expected them to go a certain way as Dooku did his bidding. Now, however, Dooku had… plans of his own. Plans that would ensure events didn’t play out as Sidious anticipated. Soon, Sidious would find himself just as rudely awoken as the rest of the galaxy.
The rage would be legendary. Dooku momentarily regretted that he wouldn’t be there to drink deeply of it in person.
“I wish you luck, Count Dooku, in all your endeavors, big or small. I have a feeling that whatever you have planned will become clear for all to see in short order.”
A surprisingly welcome voice interrupted his meditative musings. Asajj was preoccupied with packing their ship and preparing it for launch. They would leave Nar Shaddaa before the day was out. But in the meantime, her absence had given Dooku valuable time alone with his thoughts.
Now, he opened his eyes to see an incarnation of blinding beauty, both physically and in the Force. Master Fay represented the kind of perfection that many could only dream of. And she did so in all things, form and conviction and greatness.
Her physical appearance was a wonder of the galaxy, sculpted into a visage of eternity by the Force. Where Dooku’s former master, Yoda, clearly showed his long-lived nature, Master Fay did not. She was older than his former master, yet looked as youthful as any maiden.
Flowing hair shone like silver and gold and platinum all at once. Her skin was as pale and flawless as any masterwork porcelain in the galaxy. Elfin ears only added to the ageless appearance. She was a study of shining light, yet that light was all framed by a gothic black — her lips, the shadows of her eyes, and her clothing — for truly gorgeous contrast.
When she moved, the physical world seemed to stop and hold its breath to appreciate her ethereal grace. She could’ve borne wings of pure light on her back, and Dooku would’ve nodded as if it was the only natural state of her being.
Still, all of her physical beauty paled before her beauty in the Force. Light, shining light. Pure, pristine, and powerful, not in a way that was sheltered or untouched by the realities of the galaxy, but in a way that shone despite them. Master Yoda was a similar bastion of the Light Side, but compared to Master Fay, he was almost colored gray.
Dooku held a tremendous amount of respect for Master Fay. Unlike the vast, vast majority of the current Order, she put practice to what they preached. Her purpose in the Force’s Will was one of action, and she didn’t let herself be tied down by the stagnating Order.
Truly, he’d been hoping a chance like this would come, “Master Fay, welcome. I was unsure we would find the time to speak before I departed. Would you like to sit with me in meditation and conversation?”
“I would be honored, Count Dooku,” Fay said, smiling as she took a seat across from him.
“Please, call me Yan. A figure like you shouldn’t be worried about mundane titles, Master Fay. I believe the local vernacular would place you as a ‘Legend’ in my eyes.”
“Then, you may simply call me Fay as well,” Fay replied in kind before chuckling. “Legend, yes. Night City has a fascinatingly unique take on ‘Legends’. It isn’t a cultural phenomenon that I’ve never seen before, but taken to this extent, it is rare. Our hosts live and die by their Legends. Yet it isn’t some kind of religious or folkloric veneration, more… an ideal and a dream that everyone in Night City strives to live, not merely ‘live up to’.”
“I’ve come to similar conclusions,” Dooku nodded. “It’s an interesting culture, one where Legends walk among them more than they exist as stories to be told. A fascinating motivation for greatness, I would say, and it’s clear to see how such a culture has forged a man like our ‘Head Gonk’.”
“Yes, Atom,” Fay nodded back to him. “He embodies the Legends of Night City. In fact, I think ‘Legend’ is just about the only title that fits him. He wears it well, but doesn’t let it sate him. More, more, he keeps pushing for more. By the time he’s done, I firmly believe the whole galaxy will know his name.”
“You are invested here,” Dooku said — a statement, not a question.
“I am,” Fay confirmed. “I wish to see this work done. Our hosts aim to change the galaxy. I aim to change it with them. It won’t be an easy or simple quest. It shouldn’t be. That complexity is what makes it worth doing, worth seeing through to the end.”
Dooku hummed, “Hmm, an impressive feat Atom adds to his belt, to attract and secure the loyalty of one such as you, Fay. I was raised on stories of your deeds and convictions, you know?”
“Surely, you exaggerate,” Fay demurred.
“I really, truly don’t,” Dooku shook his head and chuckled. “Those stories are shared in every creche, and while some don’t quite believe them to be the truth, Master Yoda always ensured I knew his oldest friend — his senior, even — was very much real.”
An exasperated sigh huffed out from Fay’s lips, “The little green menace… He’s given me much to live up to, I assume?”
“One could certainly say that,” Dooku quirked an amused smile onto his own lips. “Yet, having now met you, I can assure you that he did not boast emptily.”
“Boast? Oh, dear…” Fay seemed put off balance by the prospect. “Personally, I don’t see much to boast about. I simply live as the Force Wills, nothing more.”
“That is more than many in the current Order could truthfully claim,” Dooku retorted seriously. “It is a major part of why I left, that… disconnect. Our brothers and sisters claim guidance from the Force, yet they rarely actually act on it.
“The Council stews within itself. More mistakes are made by the year. Unforgivable mistakes, mistakes that lead to great loss. I felt that sting one time too many, and could no longer abide by action only when ordered by the Senate and their interests. Thus, I made the hardest decision of my career. I left the only home I’d ever known.”
Fay looked at him with understanding and sympathy, but not insulting pity, “A brave decision. One you felt was necessary. Take heart, Yan. You didn’t abandon your home. You didn’t fail the Order. They failed you first.”
Deep, deep within, something Dooku hadn’t even realized was wound tight began to relax and release. A tension, he recognized, that he must’ve carried for years now. A tension… that’d driven him straight into the arms of a hidden Sith. And while he didn’t regret his course through life, that reassurance, from such a storied figure… did help him make peace with all of his choices, great and terrible alike.
“There… There was a time when I withdrew within myself, so sure that I would fail in everything I sought to do,” Dooku slowly shared. “It was after a terribly misguided battle on behalf of the Senate, when I was nothing more than their dog of war. After… I lost a Padawan, and then another as I withdrew. In my time as a Jedi, both of the souls I taught and sought to raise so high… fell to dark forces.
“Sweet, romantic Vosa was lost. Qui-Gon, my maverick, was cut down by the returning Sith. Twice, I failed. I could do nothing, chained by the will of the Senate and the ineffectual Order. Those were difficult days, and I seethed impotently. Oh, did I seethe… It was only after I left the Order that I began to heal and move past my failure. Yet even after 10 years, I know there is much work to do on myself.”
“The paths we walk are rarely straightforward, rarely so cleanly cut,” Fay said. “Even with the Force watching over us all so closely. Especially then, perhaps.”
“Yet, the best we can do is continue walking forward,” Dooku nodded in agreement. “Lingering in the past, blind to the present, and dreading the future — that is no way to live.”
Fay treated him to a sad smile, and shared troubles of her own, “10 years ago… I found myself lost, too, Yan. It was a much more physical disorientation, though. Following the Force as I always have, I found myself stranded on an undiscovered world. The native sentient species was a relatively primitive one. They had civilization and society and even industry, but had yet to reach into the stars.
“I don’t think it’s arrogant to say that many would’ve given up then and there. That they would’ve seen a hundred years of progress that needed to be made and simply accept their new lot in life. I, however, didn’t. I saw the work that needed to be done — the uplifting —, rolled up my sleeves, and got to it.”
“There is nothing more fulfilling, I must tell you, than uplifting a world to the stars,” Fay shared with a satisfied sigh. “On my lonesome, I brought a taste of the wider galaxy. I was welcomed, for they were a curious, curious species of near-humans — the Serpensa of Tama — that yearned for the stars, yearned to join us on the galactic stage. I found Force Sensitives among them, of course, and through those bright souls, gave the world the knowledge they needed to grow and thrive.”
[AN: The Serpensa are mostly a bit of random backstory lore for Fay, but I could see them coming up again]
Dooku nodded along to Fay’s story, listening closely. It just reaffirmed his philosophy, reaffirmed that those most blessed by the Force were meant to lead. Fay, so distanced from the Order, didn’t shy away from that truth. When given the chance, she led a whole species to the stars.
“What became of them, these Serpensa?” Dooku asked.
“I believe they are still exploring their immediate area of the galaxy,” Fay chuckled. “Their homeworld isn’t far from here, actually. Still within Hutt Space, one of thousands of stars off the main hyperlanes. I purposefully did not urge them toward joining the Hutts, for obvious reasons.
“Young and excited as they are, it would only stifle their development. It would be a deathstroke. Perhaps in a century or so, they will look Coreward. But for now, they are self-sufficient and content to explore and establish themselves amongst the stars.”
Dooku bowed his head slightly, “Truly, you live up to all of the stories I’ve heard of you, Fay. It is no meager feat to uplift a world. While I was withdrawing and lamenting my failures, you were affecting real change for the people of the galaxy, even for an undiscovered people. I am humbled by the work you do, and have done for a thousand years.”
“You are affecting real change for the people of the galaxy, too, Yan, now that you can,” Fay reminded. “The bad will come of it before the good, I expect, but you are doing something.”
“I am. And it is,” Dooku allowed.
For a moment, he hesitated. But in the end, he had too much respect for the bastion of pure and effective light in front of him to let her go without at least trying to warn her.
“… Darkness is coming for the galaxy. I will not bury my head in the sand in the face of that fact, and I won’t insult you by trying to bury yours, either, Fay. It will come. It is undeniable and unavoidable, for there are forces working to ensure it.”
Fay didn’t seem surprised by the warning, nodding, “Darkness will come, yes. We live in times of great contrast. But what hands will it come from, Yan? Whose hands?”
Dooku stilled, both physically and in the Force. His Force Cloak was still raised, still running at full effect as it had been since he arrived on Nar Shaddaa. Knowing he’d be in such close contact with Force Sensitives like Master Fay and Quinlan Vos had made the Force Cloak one of his top priorities. Still, Dooku couldn’t blind himself to the implications of Fay’s question.
“I assure you, I have no hand in the darkness to come-…” He said.
Fay cut him off with a sad shake of her head, “You do, Yan. If not intimately, then by enabling it. Giving it fertile ground to grow from. Your Separatist cause has already thrown the galaxy into conflict, and it will do so further in the days to come. But… there is more to it, isn’t there?”
Dooku found himself stuck in an unfortunate situation. He knew it would be futile to fully deny Fay’s accusation. And so, he didn’t try. But he also didn’t give her anything more to work with than what she might already have.
“… There is.”
Other Jedi might’ve taken that as confirmation for dark (but mostly true) suspicions. They might’ve leaped at Dooku then and there, with lit lightsabers in hand. Fay… did not. Even now, in such a pivotal confrontation, her Force presence radiated supreme understanding. She’d seen too much over a thousand years of life to leap straight into actions that couldn’t be taken back.
“You’ve turned away from the Light, Yan,” She said, still smiling. “But not completely. You walk a fine line, a tightrope of doom and boon. And lately, more and more, you’ve been leaning away from dark damnation.
“I know. The Force whispers truths to me, truths that you might not even realize about yourself. I won’t damn you for the shadows that have haunted and preyed upon you since you left the Order. Not anymore. A black fate nearly claimed you. A future of death and betrayal. A future as just another pawn to be expended when the time was right…
“Yet here, in this new crossroads of the Force, this crux of black, white, and so much gray… you’ve gone a new way, a way all your own. Before coming to this moon in conflict, you wouldn’t have. Shouldn’t have, perhaps. But now, you have all the same.
“That black fate is lost to you now, by your own choice. Plans — Grand plans, even — will be thrown into disarray. The Force’s Will for the future is now in flux, and it rejoices with the newfound potential. All that may come now is yours to forge, Yan. No one else. You are not being led. You lead. All I can ask of you is that you never forget this truth I share…”
Dooku simply stared, his face and Force presence a facade to mask the turmoil within. Of course. If anyone would realize — would see through him so clearly — it would be Master Fay. Yet the worst-case scenario that he was expecting from being revealed… never came.
Instead, she shared words of understanding, of guidance, and of a fate averted. She saw straight through him, to his very core, and didn’t find him wanting, despite all of his failures. She saw his darkness and knew it wasn’t all there was to him. She, perhaps the most traveled soul in the galaxy, recognized complexity. And when she spoke her wisdom, she met him in a place of Unifying Force, not wholly Dark or wholly Light.
It was… more than Dooku expected. More than he deserved, perhaps. Not merely Lightside compassion, but a fundamental Kindness of Unity. A recognition of him as a person, not a Sith, or a former Jedi. Truly, Master Fay lived up to all of her legends, and well-surpassed them in the flesh and Force.
All Dooku could bring himself to do was give an acknowledging bow of his head as he stood to take his leave, “Thank you, Mast-… Fay. Even as I go to forge this new path, I will not forget. I intend to return soon enough. Perhaps, when I do… we may partake in another conversation as fruitful as this one…?”
Fay, bright as all the stars in the galaxy, smiled at him, “I would like that, Yan. Good luck. And may the Force be with you.”
IIIII
[AN: This is mostly a transitionary chapter. The Interlunar War will begin next chapter and more will be happening quickly after that, including a character introduction that I've been anticipating for a while now. Until then, though, have some bonus Fay art that doesn't really fit with her actual appearance in the story, but is still too good to ignore. The OC she's based on belongs to MORTALAFEMME, and they've commissioned a bunch of really good art for her. I just love the goth elf/angel look, and the art alone makes Fay one of my favorite characters in this story
IIIII
Also, the regularly scheduled Bonus Pics (sauce below)
Comments
Kz3838
thank you for the great chapter, stay safe out there and keep up the good work!
Laplase
Atom needs to lock things down with Fay. Preferably Sooner than later...
