Before - Legends What They Grow Beyond (One-shot; Yoda, Dooku, Qui-Gon)

Title: What They Grow Beyond
Author: Kadar Ordo
Timeframe: 44 BBY (during the Jedi Apprentice series)
Characters: Yoda, Dooku, Qui-Gon Jinn
Genre: Self-reflection? I'm really not sure.
Summary: Following a bloody battle between the Jedi and Mandalorians, Yoda reflects on how this battle has affected his former Padawan and what, if any, responsibility he holds.

WHAT THEY GROW BEYOND
​

Coruscant, 44 BBY

“It sounds like the operation on Galidraan was an overall success!”

Yoda saw the Chancellor’s lips move, heard the words coming from his mouth. Yet it took him a long while to realize that the words were being spoken directly to him, with the expectation of a response. By the time he realized this, Master Windu had already taken the responsibility of answering, no doubt sensing his elder peer’s unease.

“Indeed, Chancellor,” the young Korun man said. “Your men in the Judicial Forces are to be commemorated for their victory.”

“Ah, but it was the Jedi who won the battle,” replied Chancellor Kalpana, seated at his desk with withered hands clasped before him. “Were it not for their presence, the Mandalorians would have surely proved victorious.”

Yoda’s long ears twitched and he did his best to keep the annoyance he felt out of his voice. “Victory there is not to be had in this for either side. Killed, many Jedi were.”

“Yes, and their losses will certainly be mourned,” the Chancellor said. “But the goal was nonetheless accomplished, was it not? The Mandalorian invaders were crushed and defeated, their numbers reduced to but one man.”

Yoda lowered his head to hide his deep frown. He knew it would be pointless to explain the root of his disquiet to someone like Chancellor Kalpana, a man who saw the Battle of Galidraan as nothing more than fuel for his reelection campaign. To Yoda, it meant something far more deeper, more personal, than even some of his fellow Jedi could grasp.

The Jedi had gone to Galidraan at the personal request of the planet’s governor, who had said that Mandalorian warriors were invading his homeworld and slaughtering his people. This news had come as quite a shock to some in both the Republic and the Jedi Order, as the Mandalorians had been thought to have foregone their warriors ways since the Excision that devastated their homeworld nearly seven hundred years ago. In response, the Republic had sent Master Dooku to lead a task force of Jedi and Judicial Forces to quell the uprising. While the Mandalorians were indeed crushed, killing all save for their leader according to Dooku’s report, eleven Jedi had also been killed in the process along with most of the Judicial Forces that had accompanied them. It was perhaps the bloodiest battle the Republic had ever seen in the past few centuries. Not since the disastrous Nihil conflict had this much blood been shed.

Not for the first time since hearing the debriefing report did Yoda wonder if such violence was even necessary. He understood why Jedi had been sent in the first place, of course; the Order had a long, millennia-spanning history of dealing with Mandalorians. As Kalpana had said, the Judicial Forces would have been swiftly wiped out had they alone been sent to Galidraan. It was perhaps only thanks to Master Dooku’s own knowledge of the Mandalorians’ warrior ways, having studied their history in the Archives, that “victory”—if it could be called that—was achieved.

Yoda was brought back to the present moment when he sensed the door to the Chancellor’s office opening. He peered over his shoulder to see Dooku himself stride into the room, trailed by the young blonde woman that was his current Padawan learner. Komari Vosa was no older than eighteen, and yet her blue eyes carried a heaviness that Yoda had only seen in more experienced Jedi Knights and Masters. It was a heaviness that carried over to her master, whose grave expression was enough to chill even the hottest of environments.

“Ah, Master Dooku!” Kalpana greeted the Jedi, no doubt oblivious to the weight that burdened their shoulders. “Thank you for taking the time to visit me personally. I wanted to congratulate you on your success at Galidraan.”

“There are no congratulations to be had for something like this,” Dooku replied, his deep voice thick with solemnity. “We Jedi find no pleasure in taking lives, even those of our enemies.”

Kalpana nodded curtly, clearing his throat. “I understand, Master Jedi. Regardless, I am sure the people of Galidraan are grateful for your actions in defending their world. And I can assure you that the Republic is grateful in seeing an end to these Mandalorian interlopers.”

“The ensured safety of the Republic is enough, Chancellor.”

Yoda studied Dooku carefully from where he sat, analyzing his former student’s face. Although Dooku did his best to hide it, Yoda knew him well enough to see the conflict in his eyes, the shame and the remorse. No Jedi ever took pleasure in killing; that much of what Dooku had said was true. But Yoda sensed that there was something more to his old Padawan’s discomfort, something that he could not yet put into words. Perhaps it was not that different from what Yoda himself was feeling in regard to this incident.

Then again, Yoda doubted anyone in this room could ever fully understand or relate to what he was feeling. None of them were as old or as experienced as he was. Even Chancellor Kalpana, whose old age had become a major detriment to his reelection campaign, had nothing on the eight centuries Yoda had lived. Yoda remembered the Mandalorian Excision after all; he had been a mere Jedi Knight back then, but he remembered it nonetheless. He alone fully understood the root of the Mandalorians’ resentment against the Republic and the Jedi. The Battle of Galidraan was perhaps the inevitable culmination of that resentment; a bloodbath that had been unavoidable.

Yoda cast his emerald gaze to the Chancellor, who stared back at him from his warm, wrinkled face. Wise as he was, Kalpana’s eighty years were but a droplet of water in the vast ocean that was Yoda’s life.

“I will not detain you any longer, Master Jedi,” the Chancellor said. “I’m sure you have other matters to attend to. Besides, I am due for a session in the Senate in a few hours.”

Yoda nodded absently and was the first to rise from his seat, with Windu shortly following him. After bowing in farewell to the Chancellor, they turned for the door, where Yoda expected to see Dooku and his Padawan still standing there. However, the two Jedi were already gone, walking ahead of Yoda and Windu before either pair had the chance to acknowledge each other. As they walked out of the Chancellor’s office, Windu glanced at Yoda, a dark eyebrow raised.

“I sense unease coming from those two,” the younger Jedi Master said. “As well as from you.”

Yoda sighed, putting both hands on top of his cane. “Very perceptive you are, Master Windu.”

At twenty-eight, Mace Windu was the youngest member of the Jedi Council, having been appointed not too long ago. Regardless, the young man exuded a wisdom in him that Yoda had seen in few Jedi outside of those already sitting on the Council.

Age is more than a count of heartbeats. Age is how many times you have failed.

If that lesson, one that had been passed down to him by his own teacher long ago, was true, Yoda wondered if that meant he was beyond the years he had physically lived… or if he was still catching up.

“Distress I sense in Master Dooku,” Yoda continued, walking alongside Windu to the turbolift that Dooku and Vosa had just gone through. “In his Padawan as well. A deep scar the conflict on Galidraan has left on them.”

“Indeed,” Windu said gravely. “It has been many years since this many Jedi have been lost in a single year. Between this and the conflict against the Stark Combine, I dread that a pattern is beginning to emerge.”

Yoda grimaced. “Let us pray that it does not become one.”

* * *

Upon returning to the Jedi Temple, Yoda knew right away where to find his former apprentice.

The Room of a Thousand Fountains was where many Jedi went when seeking a place to meditate. Its flowing waterfalls and verdant flora created a serene environment that allowed one to clear their mind and attune themselves with the Force. Yoda himself had come to this retreat more time than he could count, and it was here that he found Dooku sitting alone in the center of the expansive chamber, his back to his former teacher.

As Yoda approached his old Padawan, careful not to disturb his meditative trance, Dooku suddenly spoke, stopping the older Jedi Master in his tracks. “Komari did well on Galidraan.”

Yoda harrumphed, clasping his hands over his walking stick. “Killed many Mandalorians, did she?”

“She held her own against twenty of their warriors. An impressive feat, wouldn’t you say?”

“Impressive?” Yoda grunted. “Impressive, is it, to take lives?”

“A Jedi takes lives only when it is necessary,” Dooku replied. “In this situation, it was necessary for her to strike down her enemies. If there had been any other option, I’m sure she would have taken it.”

“Certain, are you? Much conflict I sense in young Vosa. Desperate to please you, she is.”

Dooku opened his eyes and slowly looked over his shoulder to look at Yoda, a questioning gleam in his dark eyes. “To please me?”

“See it, do you not? Knowing you as well as I have, difficult to please you often are. Make your students desperate for approval, you do.”

Dooku arched an eyebrow. “Do I?”

“Seen it young Qui-Gon, I have. See it now in young Komari, I do.” Yoda sighed, hanging his head low as he shook it. “Important it is to show your Padawan when they are on the right path… just as important it is to show them when they are diverging from that path. A balance to be kept there must be.”

“I fail to see how I am doing things wrong, Master,” Dooku said defensively. “Besides, if I recall, you were rather difficult to please yourself when I was your student. Perhaps we are not so different.”

Yoda’s ears twitched as he reflected on his former student’s words. He thought back to the many times a young Dooku had expressed frustration at Yoda’s way of teaching, which often involved him leaving Dooku to figure things out for himself rather than to tell him plainly how to solve a particular problem. Yoda had known it would have been the best way for his apprentice to learn and become a great Jedi, and become a great Jedi Dooku had. But perhaps Dooku had taken the wrong lesson from that.

While Yoda saw it important to let students figure things out on their own, it was also just as important for their teachers to encourage them and to guide towards the solution rather than to leave them wholly in the dark. Dooku had apparently missed that aspect of the lesson, for it was because of his aloof nature that Padawans like Komari or even Qui-Gon often did foolish, ill-advised things in order to get some semblance of approval from their master. The fact that it had taken young Komari to kill twenty Mandalorians in order to get any form of praise from Dooku was also not an encouraging sign.

Had Dooku failed to pick up on an important aspect of the lesson Yoda had taught him all those years ago? Or had Yoda failed to make it clear to him?

It was not the first time Yoda had asked himself such a question. Having trained as many Jedi as he has, for as many years as he has, it was inevitable that he would one day ask himself the question no teacher ever wanted to ask: Where did I go wrong?

Yoda shook his head to clear it of such thoughts. There was no need to go down that line of thought; Dooku had not yet given any cause for it. There was still room for improvement, yes, but that was true for both of them—as it was for all Jedi, young and old.

After holding Dooku’s gaze for a long time, Yoda said, “Perhaps not. Even so, advise you I do that you not let your Padawan think that killing enemies is the only way to elicit praise from you.”

Dooku nodded sagely as he turned away. “Yes, I plan on a talk with her after I have finished meditating.”

“Disturb you no longer, I shall,” Yoda said, already turning away. “May the Force give you peace.”

“Thank you, Master. And may the Force give you the same.”

Yoda allowed himself a smile as he turned and walk away. Despite the assuring words however, he still could not help but feel that there was still a cloud hanging over him. Perhaps he would need to return to the Room of a Thousand Fountains to clear his mind as well….

* * *

It was not until several hours later, after the funeral held for the eleven Jedi that had fallen at Galidraan, did Yoda find the remaining root of the cloud.

After most of the Jedi had left the chamber, he found Qui-Gon Jinn—Dooku’s first Padawan learner—still standing in the room, looming over one of the sealed coffin chambers. Master Adi Gallia, a close colleague of Qui-Gon’s, also lingered in the chamber, observing her fellow Jedi with a concerned expression. She then met Yoda’s gaze and, with a simple nod of his green head, she too departed from the chamber, leaving the old Master alone with the forlorn Qui-Gon.

As Yoda slowly made his way over to him, Qui-Gon began speaking without looking up from the coffin chamber. “I failed him.”

Yoda looked up at him, tilting his head to one side. “Failed him?”

“If I had been a better teacher—a better Jedi—then Feemor would still be alive,” Qui-Gon elaborated, closing his eyes. “He would not have fallen to those Mandalorian barbarians.”

“Blame yourself for others’ shortcomings, you should not,” Yoda said sternly. “Taught him everything you knew, you did. Passed the Trials, he did. From that point, separate your paths became. Feemor’s strengths and weaknesses became his own, just as have your own you do.”

“That doesn’t explain Xanatos.”

Yoda sighed heavily, bowing his head. “Had this conversation before, we have. A complicated case, your second Padawan was. Too old he was for training; attached to his homeworld, his family, his wealth.”

“Yes, I made a mistake in bringing Xanatos to the Temple,” Qui-Gon said. “Perhaps I made a mistake in even taking on a Padawan in the first place, let alone taking on a third.”

“Ever Jedi makes mistakes, Master Qui-Gon,” Yoda said solemnly. “Defined by their mistakes, some of the greatest Jedi Masters are.”

At last, Qui-Gon diverted his gaze from the lowered coffin to meet Yoda’s gaze. His blue-gray eyes, wrought with conflicting emotions, carried an aura of surprise. “Even you?”

Yoda allowed a small smile. “Me, especially. Over eight hundred years have I lived; mistakes I have made, how many do you reckon?”

Qui-Gon shook his head. “To be honest, Master, I find the concept of you making a mistake to be impossible.”

“Impossible, hm? Make mistakes often, I do. Without even realizing it, perhaps.”

“What do you mean?”

Yoda gestured with his walking stick. “Walk with this, I do. Touches the ground everyday, it does. How many insects do you think I have killed with it, without meaning to?”

“I’m pretty sure Coruscant is too sterilized for there to be insects in the first place—”

“Another world, then. Dantooine. Visited there I did, not so long ago. Festering with life it is, big and small. Walked through a garden with my stick, I did. How many lives were lost then, hm?”

Qui-Gon’s expression became one of contemplation as he looked away from Yoda; not at the coffin containing Feemor’s below but rather up ahead, at nothing in particular.

“Learn from our mistakes, every Jedi must,” Yoda went on. “Not the first Jedi are you to have lost a Padawan, nor will you be the last. Many students have I lost; more than anyone can count. But stop me from teaching that does not.”

Yoda allowed those words to hang in the air as he turned to leave the chamber. He walked a few steps towards the exit, then stopped to look over his shoulder at Qui-Gon one last time. The other Jedi Master, deep in thought, managed to meet his gaze.

“We are what they grow beyond, Master Qui-Gon,” Yoda said quietly. “That is the true burden of all masters.”

Qui-Gon acknowledged his words with a simple nod. Yoda then walked out of the chamber, his shoulders straining from the weight put upon them.

 

A great insight into Yoda and what is becoming of Dooku and Komari Vosa

 

@Kadar Ordo
Great style! I liked how you kept the mood grounded overall and would like to see more things developed from this storyline. How you write is very compelling and this one-shot brought a conviction to the prequels that I missed in the movies. I found this to also provide furtherance to:

The Star Wars Trilogy: The Empire Strikes Back, pg 250.

 

This was a very well-written piece. I really liked how you explored the relationships between teachers and their students, as well as the humanity* of each (*or appropriate term for their specific species, heh). Both teachers and students make mistakes, and the best ones are able to learn and grow from them. The line about age being how many times one has failed is especially poignant. Great job!

 

I really enjoyed this because you create complexity of responsibility and regret while setting the stage for what this relationship with Dooku eventually becomes.

 

To echo the other commenters here, this was a very well-written piece with great characterization and great atmosphere. It's very introspective, but with the tension of the wider conflicts and those bigger issues like responsibility, self-doubt, failure, morality, war, what is 'right' permeating the whole story (I hope that makes sense! ).

Really powerful line!

Such a Yoda moment!

And that's really what it comes down to.

Once again, really great work with this story!

 

Superb as Yoda's long history of teaching a vast number of students has led to him realizing his own strengths and weaknesses and those of others like Qui-Gon and Dooku, as he tries to impart lessons learned.

Qui-Gon is mired in the debacle of Xanatos and the loss of his most recent apprentice to the point where he thinks taking on a learner was the biggest mistake he made.

Dooku is something else altogether making his learners feel the harsh sting of criticism but never the warmth of commendation.

 

@amidalachick @WarmNyota_SweetAyesha Thank you!

I should probably mention that the "Age is more than a count of heartbeats. Age is how many times you have failed." line is actually from the novel Yoda: Dark Rendezvous by Sean Stewart (pretty sure at least), so it's not something I came up with. However, I did find it fit well with the general theme of Yoda starting to feel his age.

Thanks again!

 

A powerful story, and deep dive into Dooku and Qui-gon following Galidraan, an event IMO is extremely underrated.
It feels like a defining moment for all involved, and a crossroads of galactic history. That so many Jedi die on a single mission, most by a single man, seems like something that would shock the order to its core. But it doesn't Suprise me that Kapana is selling it as a success, his very essence is that of a politician. Even if the goal is accomplished, this is a moment of change. I'd like to take some inspiration from this for a future chapter of my own fic.

 

Go right ahead! And thanks for the review!