The brutal Geonosian sun continued to batter their heat into the battlefield, long shadows stretching across the war-wrecked plain. Count Dooku stood his ground; though the very air itself seemed streaked with red dust, his armor shone in brilliant blue and white spots, unbeaten, untarnished—spotless, except for the silverness of his beard and hair.

Yoda and Mace Windu approached, their combined being pressing into power through the Force. Dooku's heightened senses picked up every tick and every shudder in the air around them.

"Ah, Master Yoda. Master Windu," Dooku greeted from his heart, his voice carrying a note of his newfound charisma. "The Jedi Council has sent its finest."

Mace's eyes hardened. "Your betrayal ends here, Dooku. It can go on no longer."

Yoda's ears twitched while his eyes remained transfixed on Dooku. "Changed you have. Sense it, I do. But the dark side, I feel in you."

Dooku smiled. "Perhaps, my old master, it's not I who has changed, but your perception that has remained stagnant."

With a flick of his wrist, Dooku ignited his blue blade, its hum filling the air. The interface in his vision flashed and flickered as it should: the readouts showing his increased midichlorian count and his mastery over the seven forms of lightsaber combat.

Mace activated his purple blade, and Yoda's green saber sprang to life; three of them stood in a taut triangle, each waiting for the other to make the first move.

Dooku ever so slightly broke the deadlock, lunging in at Mace with a precise Makashi strike. Mace parried, the force of the blow pushing him back a step.

"Impossible," Mace muttered, surprise evident in his voice. "Your strength."

Dooku smirked. "You'll find I'm full of surprises, old friend."

Yoda leaped into the action, his small form a blur of motion. Dooku switched seamlessly to Ataru, matching Yoda's acrobatics with fluid grace.

"All forms, you have developed a skill for," Yoda observed, backflipping away from a sweeping strike. "Curious, this is."

Dooku's mind raced—the memories of his college student self merging with his vast experience. He felt invincible yet so grounded, a perfect balance of youth and wisdom.

"The Force works in mysterious ways, Master Yoda," Dooku replied when he deflected another attack, this time on both Jedi. "Perhaps it's time for the Order to evolve beyond its rigid doctrines."

Mace pressed forward, his Vaapad form a whirlwind of aggression. "The dark side offers nothing but destruction, Dooku. You've lost your way."

Dooku parried and counterthrust, his motions a symphony—an amalgamation of all seven forms. "Or perhaps I've found a new way, one that surpasses your limited perspective of the Force."

The duel was immediately on fire—the flash of lightsabers clashing in brilliant opposition of skill and strength. Dooku's enhanced physique allowed him to fight on equal footing with the Jedi Masters, his confidence and forcefulness propelling him ever forward.

Yoda's eyes widened as he felt all the power Dooku now held behind him. "Grown strong, you have. But at what cost?"

Dooku's blue saber locked with Yoda's green. "The cost of progress, my old master. The galaxy is changing, and the Jedi must change with it or be left behind."

The Geonosian landscape melted, re-blurred by speed into a tapestry of reds and oranges. At their apex, Count Dooku, Mace Windu, and Yoda moved at speeds beyond comprehension, lightsabers clashing in a ballet of impossible blue, purple, and green fire—incandescent and deadly.

Dooku felt the strain, the limits of his accelerated physique pushed into overdrive. The Attraction System in his peripheral vision flashed alerts — his energy reserves were dropping. His powerful abilities might not be toppling him, but two of the deadliest Jedi in the galaxy were quite a strain on even augmented systems.

"Your newfound power cannot sustain you forever, Dooku," hissed Mace Windu's voice in the darkness around him. His purple blade was a tempest of aggression.

Dooku parried the strike, his blue saber humming with intensity. "Perhaps not, Master Windu, but it has definitely leveled the playing field."

Yoda, as a green blur of motion, sensed the turmoil raging within Dooku. "Struggle within you, I sense. The path you've chosen, clouded it is."

Realization that he could not keep this going forever had Dooku's mind going a mile a minute to think of an escape strategy. The Attraction System thus provided information regarding tactics, stressing the points that might be his way out in the middle of the battlefield.

In the blink of an eye, Dooku takes his chances. Leaping high, he rockets himself into the air above the Jedi Masters' reach. Mid-landing, he releases a violent Force push to disintegrate the residual debris, detonating a wave toward the Jedi Masters.

"Get him!" Mace bellowed, barely sparing a moment as he deflected the rain of debris.

Yoda was on the move again, his small legs launching him into the air.

Dooku tore across the landscape, racing with unnatural speed towards his next cover. His senses were cranked to the absolute maximum, every remnant and ruin scanned for obstacles and opportunities. Weaving in and out of the ongoing battle, droids and clones alike dived for cover as the triad of Force users cut a swath through their lines.

As he ran, Dooku formulated a plan. The Attraction System was highlighting weak points in the terrain, and he grinned. "Time to put theory into practice," he muttered.

A sequence of judicious Force pushes and Dooku had the earth beneath them destabilized. The earth shuddered and cracked and the two Jedi had to leap ahead and adjust their pursuit.

In a daring move, Dooku turned to face his pursuers. "It's been enlightening, Masters, but I'm afraid our dance must end."

With that, he released the energy of the Force into a massive telekinetic blast that caved in a near cliff. After it settled, the Count had vanished, with Mace and Yoda left to contend with the altered landscape.

As he fled, he could not help but think how much of a fight this was. Student memories fought Jedi Master memories, presenting a unique point of view of the conflict.

"Maybe," he thought. "Perhaps this is just the beginning of a greater transformation."

Count Dooku stood at the top of a rocky outcropping, his enhanced senses letting him take in every detail of the chaotic battle below. The clash of lightsabers and the acrid smell of ozone filled the air as General Grievous dueled to the death with four of the Jedi Order's most skilled warriors.

"Interesting," Dooku said to no one in particular as he examined the ongoing carnage, his eyes narrowing. The flickering, dancing interface of the Attraction System gave him real-time analysis of the combatants' movements and tactics.

Grievous was a cyclone of durasteel and savage intent, wielding four lightsabers with lethal purpose. Master Kit Fisto, renowned as one of the greatest practitioners of Form I, Shii-Cho, held his ground well enough, though his tentacles swayed and shifted with the movements as he parried and halfheartedly attempted to riposte against Grievous's wide, sweeping strikes.

"Your resistance is futile, Jedi scum!" roared Grievous, his vocoder crackling with malice.

Fisto, for his part, was the eternal optimist. "The Force is our ally, Grievous. It guides our hands and strengthens our resolve."

But Dooku's attention was divided. Ki-Adi-Mundi, Shaak Ti, and Aayla Secura fared slightly better, but even their combined skills were no real threat against Grievous's higher-than-average reflexes and his particular form of fighting.

"Master Mundi, on your left!" Shaak Ti screamed, her own lightsaber a blur of motion as she deflected a volley of blaster fire coming between her and some oncoming battle droids.

Ki-Adi-Mundi spun, his blue blade intercepting one of Grievous's strikes at the last moment, just inches from his elongated skull. The face of the Cerean Jedi Master was etched with determination, but Dooku could sense the fatigue setting in.

Aayla Secura, her lekku snapping from side to side as she tried, at last, to flank Grievous. "We must find a way to overwhelm him!" she shouted, her blue Rutian skin glossy with sweat.

Dooku's twisted lips curled into a smirk. "Ah, young Secura. Always the strategist. But even your tactics are no match for Grievous's programming."

It was as though the gesture had summoned Grievous to unleash a maelstrom of devastation. His upper arms whirled in a deadly arc, keeping the two Jedi securely held, while his lower arms drove forward with crushing force toward Ki-Adi-Mundi.

It was too late. The Cerea Jedi Master, surprised by the sudden shift in Grievous's attack pattern, raised his lightsaber only a fraction too slow. Dooku watched, a mix of fascination and detachment in his eyes, as one of Grievous's green blades found its mark.

"No—!" The sound of Shaak Ti's anguished voice carried through the din of battle, and Ki-Adi-Mundi's body crumpled, leaving a smoking hole in his chest where his heart should have been.

Grievous laughed, a sound more machine than organic, a sound of flawless victory. "One down, three to go!"

Dooku's Attraction System glowed again, honing on this new battle reality in accidental omen. The fall of Ki-Adi-Mundi created a hole in the Jedi's defense, and their vortex began unraveling.

"Intriguing," Dooku murmured, fingers gliding thoughtfully over his silver beard. "For it is true that the fall of one indeed shatters the spirit of many, a lesson never too late for the Jedi to learn."

As the reconverging Jedi survivors brought together their faces, from expressions of grief to determined resolve, all over again, Dooku felt a rush of dark satisfaction. The Attraction System pulsed, feeding on the emotions of his hatred, enhancing his connection to the Force.

"Well played, General," Dooku murmured, knowing Grievous was distant enough not to hear. "Perhaps it's time I joined the fray and tipped the scales further in our favor."

With a swirl of his cape, bearing the CIS insignia, Dooku activated his blue lightsaber. Its hum was distinct in pitch due to the Attraction System's tinkering. As Count Dooku readied himself to drop from his perch on the rocks, the Attraction System flashed an alert across his vision. A group of clone troopers had caught sight of him; their white armor stood in striking relief against red Geonosian soil. The System highlighted their positions, calculating trajectories and possible threats in real-time.

"Well, well," Dooku mused, a wry smile playing across his lips. "It seems I'll have a warm-up show before I join the main event."

The clones did not waste much time. They were well-trained, sometimes battle-hardened. Their commander barked out orders, his voice cutting through the din of the battlefield.

"Target acquired! Open fire!"

Their weapons belched forth in a storm of blaster bolts, arcing toward Dooku with lethal intent, but of course, deadly intent is all well and good unless aimed at the enhanced Sith Lord, and then it was as if they moved through glue.

He raised his hand high, his connection to the Force surging through him like a tidal wave. The Attraction System pulsed, amplifying his already formidable powers.

"I'm afraid your marksmanship leaves much to be desired," Dooku chided, his voice carrying an eerie calm.

A thought was all it took to assume control over the incoming blaster bolts. Midair, they blossomed into an active constellation of lethality, now suspended between himself and the clone troopers, who grew momentarily stupefied by the spectacle.

The clone officer, wide-eyed with understanding, ordered, "Withdraw! Regroup and—"

But his words were ripped from him, and Dooku merely twitched his wrist; the floating bolts screeched back toward their point of origin. The air ruptured with power, and the redirected shots crashed home with unerring precision.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

The armor of the clone troopers proved woefully inadequate for the task. Not nearly as many managed to avoid the initial fusillade, only to be lifted off their feet by the invisible force and frozen in midair.

Dooku watched the suspended soldiers, his eyes gleaming with a combination of fascination and detachment. "Your loyalty is, I must say, rather entrancing, but misplaced. Perhaps in another life, you might have served a worthier cause."

Dooku bared his teeth, opened his fist, and a sudden rush of energy exploded through the suspension cages. The levies collapsed with impact, clone bodies meeting rock with a crunch of armor and bone echoing over the battlefield.

The Count surveyed the dead clones as the plumes of dust began to clear. An updated readout from the Attraction System gave a body count: clean neutralization of threat. There was no surviving members of the clone squadron.

"Efficient," Dooku purred as he brushed at an imaginary speck of dust on one of the plates of his armor. "But hardly a challenge."

Trying to rationalize it, the one being now, with the combined knowledge and understanding of the Sith Lord and the college student, created a very chilling perspective on the carnage. Part of him felt a twinge of remorse for the lives so casually extinguished, while another part reveled in the display of power.

He shook off his momentary introspection and refocused on the resolute matter at hand. The dark eyes didn't budge from the spectacle of the continuing duel between Grievous and the two Jedi.

"Now," he said, activating his blue lightsaber with a flourish, "for the main course."

And with that, Dooku leaped off the outcropping, his cape fluttering with the wind at his back as he fell head down towards the heart of the battle. The Attraction System hummed with anticipation, ready to assist its master in the coming confrontation.

With a soft landing, his cape billowing dramatically behind him, Dooku fell without a sound onto the battlefield. The Attraction System started its analysis of the pandemonium facing it immediately. Grievous—a whirlwind of cybernetic limbs and lightsabers—was holding his own against the remaining Jedi, but Dooku's arrival would tip the scales decisively in their favor.

"Ah, General," Dooku called out, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. "I see you've started the party without me."

Grievous's yellow eyes fixed on Dooku for a split second before returning to the battle. "Lord Dooku," he rasped, his vocoder crackling with exertion. "Your timing is impeccable."

Kit Fisto, his tentacles swaying at every movement, called to the other Jedi, "Be wary! Dooku's presence changes everything!"

As Dooku ignited his blue lightsaber, spilling out the expected hum, his lips curled into a smirk. "Oh, Master Fisto, you have no idea how much has changed."

In a burst of Force-quickened speed, Dooku charged at them. The blue blade he bore clashed against that of Shaak Ti's, and her eyes widened in surprise at the familiar color.

"Dooku?" she gasped, pushing back against his blade. "What trickery is this?"

"No trickery, my dear," Dooku replied, his voice smooth as silk. "Merely... evolution."

The Attraction System of Dooku used to point the defenses of Shaak Ti, one by one, in each of its swats, which allowed him to follow with new strength in his attacks. On the other side, Grievous had sent his fight against Kit Fisto and Aayla Secura to literal new heights.

The cyborg general, in that moment would have brought a proud smile to his counterpart from 2003, began using not just his arms but his legs to wield lightsabers. He pulled himself up to the crag, clawed feet digging into the stone as two of his lightsabers slashed at the pursuing Jedi.

"Impressive acrobatics, Grievous!" Aayla shouted, simultaneously parrying a blow with one of the General's foot-wielded sabers with her own blue blade. "But they won't save you!"

Grievous roared his laugh. "Save me? Foolish Jedi, it is you who needs saving!"

With that he threw himself off of the rock, his body spinning in mid-air like some sort of deadly lightsaber-wielding pinwheel. Kit Fisto just got low in time for the attack to soar harmlessly over him, but Aayla was not so lucky. One of Grievous's blades scarred her shoulder, and she cried out, spinning aside.

Dooku, meanwhile, continuing to fight Shaak Ti, called across the expanse to Grievous, "Excellent form, General! Perhaps we should consider adding dance lessons to your training regimen."

Shaak Ti was so taken aback by that playful quip, so unlike the normal demeanor of a Sith Lord, that Dooku was able to press his advantage and disarm her by the speed of Makashi and riposte.

"I am afraid your time is up, Master Ti." The blade hovered an inch from her throat, though the blue fire betrayed his eyes.

On the other side of the battle, Kit Fisto attempted to fight his way over to the side of Shaak Ti, but his path was barred by Grievous, who closed a cage of whirling lightsaber blades around the Nautolan Jedi. Countless arms and legs all moved in perfect, deadly synchronization.

"Your resistance is futile," Grievous growled, his eyes alight with malevolent glee. "Surrender now, and I might grant you a quick death."

Fisto's usual jocular grin was absent, replaced with grim determination. "A Jedi never yields to the dark side, Grievous. We fight to our dying breath."

Dooku, still holding Shaak Ti at bay, laughed. "How quaint. Your sense of duty to a dying order is almost admirable. Almost."

Something in the Attraction System flashed a noise of a mental vision behind Dooku at just the right moment, to warn him of the incoming surge of Force energy; injured or not, Aayla Secura was trying a last-ditch Force shove to save her comrades.

He countered it with a mere thought; invisible energies collided in mid-air, dissipating harmlessly. "A valiant effort, Knight Secura," he called out. "But I'm afraid you are out of your depth."

The battle remained desperate—with Grievous and Dooku clearly holding the upper hand, score as it was—yet the reimagined Sith Lord couldn't help but reflect on the strange road of memories that had led him to this moment. The remembrances by the college student combined with his own gave him a new perspective on the conflict.

"You know," Dooku mused, almost conversationally, "in another life, we just might find ourselves debating philosophy in a classroom rather than crossing blades on a battlefield. I suppose that just proves the whimsy of fate."

That only added to the continuing confusion written across the Jedi's faces, but to Dooku, it was merely par for the course in his new, extraordinary life. Then something happened: a sudden ripple in the flow of the Force sent a chill up his spine. The Attraction System flashed a warning; its interface was on full alert and radiating with an urgency so volatile it flickered. With his enhanced senses, Dooku felt some disturbance. For an instant, it seemed to travel through the whole galaxy.

"Interesting," he murmured, his silver brows furrowing. "It seems our small drama has been stolen by a surprise twist."

Shaak Ti seized Dooku's attention for a precious moment, her breath ragged and her eyes defiant. "What? What do you feel, Dooku?"

The former Jedi Master's lips twisted in a wry smile. "Death, Master Ti. Just not yours. Not today, at least."

Dooku gestured for Grievous to join him. The cyborg general stopped his melee attack on Kit Fisto and Aayla Secura. His mechanical limbs grated in annoyance at the cessation.

"Lord Dooku?" rasped Grievous, eyes glinting with bloodlust.

"We have a... complication, General," Dooku answered, voice measured despite the gravity of the situation. "It appears our associate, Durge, has allowed his personal vendetta to interfere with our plans."

The Attraction System delivered to him a live feed of what was now projected-images visible only to him. Jango Fett, their prized template for the clone army, laid dead at Durge's feet, the bounty hunter's hatred for Mandalorians having finally boiled over.

Grievous turned his head and looked at Dooku in sheer confusion. "The bounty hunter? What of him?"

"He's dead," Dooku's voice was as plain as his. "Durge may very well have changed the direction of this war."

True to that new, foreboding intuition, reinforcements were already rolling up in the strange wave of the Force that had once signaled that one of their own had fallen. Mace Windu and Grand Master Yoda had touched down not even moments ago and were joining the fray, already ignited for combat.

"Master Yoda," said Dooku, and even in his voice there was a mocking humor. "How touching of you to join us."

Yoda's ears twitched as he looked at the scene, his ancient eyes taking in the battered bodies of Shaak Ti, Kit Fisto, and Aayla Secura. "Too late we are not, to save our friends," the diminutive master declared.

The menacing purple blade inched forward with Mace Windu. "It's over, Dooku. Surrender now, and we may yet show mercy."

Dooku's chuckling couldn't be helped, the sound coming from deep within his imposing armor. "Mercy, Master Windu? How very un-Jedi-like of you to offer what you do not truly intend to give."

The Attraction System started sifting through the numbers, making odds and small-talk scenarios. His current tactical data showed him that a meeting of both Windu and Yoda would prove nothing short of disastrous for the current situation, no matter his own augmentations or with the inclusion of Grievous.

"General," Dooku said, his voice low and measured, "I believe it's time we made a strategic withdrawal. We have… larger concerns to address."

Grievous bristled, his mechanical body tensing. "Retreat? We have them at our mercy!"

"Patience, my friend," Dooku replied, with his usual charisma and confidence radiating even in this tense moment. " Sometimes the most decisive victories are won off the battlefield."

Dooku theatrically swept his cloak aside, deactivating his blue blade just before he addressed the ranks of Jedi. "It would seem that destiny has something else in store for us on this day. Verily, this is but an interlude in the greater play."

Yoda stepped forward, casting a deep, otherworldly glow upon his withered face with his shamrock saber. "Fallen far you have, my old padawan. A chance for redemption, maybe there is."

The college student's memories within Dooku stirred, for a moment, a feeling of nostalgia and regret. But the Attraction System quickly squelched these feelings in the name of solidifying Dooku's new persona.

"Oh, my dear master," Dooku replied with such treacle to his voice it was practically oozing, "I have not fallen. I have ascended to heights you cannot begin to imagine."

With well-rehearsed smoothness, he keyed the private signal in his armor. One second later, the whine of welling ships filled the air, and their escape route materialized.

"Until we meet again, my Jedi friends," Dooku called out, and he and Grievous began their retreat. "You'll be able to converse regarding my power with the Council. I'm rather afraid they'll have much talking to do in the days ahead."

As they boarded their ship, Grievous turned to Dooku, his mechanical voice laced with curiosity. "What now, Lord Dooku?"

Dooku's eyes gleamed with a mixture of anticipation and calculation. "Now, my dear General, we adapt. Durge's actions have changed the game, but with change comes opportunity. And I, for one, intend to seize it."

The ship's engines roared into life, pulling Dooku and Grievous back from the fight line. As they dropped into the atmosphere, Dooku's mind was already working overtime, with the Attraction System processing new variables.