Legacy of the Jedi Page 7

  "Go ahead, attack me," Dooku said, holding his lightsaber at his side, letting it dangle casually. "Show me how much you've forgotten."

  Lorian activated the lightsaber. Even in the midst of a battle Lorian could not win, Dooku could see the pleasure the former Jedi took in holding a lightsaber again.

  He leaped at Dooku. The first strike was easily deflected. Without his connection to the Force, Lorian could not handle the weapon as he once had. Dooku enjoyed this humiliation the most. He parried Lorian's attacks, barely moving.

  "Pity," Dooku said. "You were a worthy opponent once.

  Now a flare of anger lit Lorian's gaze. He suddenly shifted his feet, moved unexpectedly, and came close to landing a blow.

  Dooku decided it was time to stop playing with him. It was time to show him what fear was. Time to show him who the winner was.

  He moved forward in perfect form, gathering the Force and molding it to his desires. His lightsaber danced. Lorian managed to evade one strike and parry the next, but it cost him. He stumbled with the effort.

  "Master!"

  Qui-Gon's voice cut through the heart of Dooku's concentration with the same annoying buzz.

  " Master. Stop."

  Qui-Gon did not shout this time. Yet his tone penetrated Dooku's concentration better than his cry had. Dooku looked over. Bound and helpless, Qui-Gon looked back.

  That gaze. Dooku almost groaned aloud. He saw integrity and truth there, and he could not hide from it. He saw himself through Qui-Gon's eyes, and he could not do it. His Padawan had revealed to him what he should have known already. He could not go down this road.

  He deactivated his lightsaber. Lorian took a deep, shuddering breath.

  "It's over," Dooku said.

  CHAPTER No.13

  Dooku handed over Lorian and Eero to Coruscant security. He didn't speak much with Qui-Gon on the journey back. Dooku knew that there were things that needed to be said, but he wasn't sure what they were. He knew that Qui-Gon had saved him from something, and he was grateful. Yet he did not want to admit that he had come so close to violating the Jedi code he was so proud of upholding.

  They walked past the rows of cruisers in the Temple landing area, the place where he had said good-bye to Lorian so long ago, for what he thought was forever.

  "So what did you learn from the mission, Padawan?" he asked Qui-Gon.

  "Many things," Qui-Gon answered neutrally.

  "Name the most important one, then."

  "That you will withhold facts from me that I need to know."

  Dooku drew in a sharp breath. He did not appreciate a rebuke from his apprentice. This natural assurance of Qui-Gon's could get out of hand. What Qui-Gon needed was a little more fear of his displeasure.

  "That is my decision," he answered severely. "It is not for you to question your Master."

  "I am not questioning you, Master. I am answering you." Qui-Gon's gaze was steady.

  Angrily, Dooku walked a few more steps. "I will tell you the lesson you should have learned." He stopped outside the landing bay doors. "Betrayal should never take you by surprise. It will come from friends and enemies alike."

  He left his Padawan and walked down toward the great hall. He drank in the sounds and sights of the Temple. He was glad to be back among the Jedi. Seeing Lorian again had disturbed him greatly.

  He found himself in front of the Jedi archives. Now he knew why he had felt driven here. What Lorian had left him with was envy, and he realized why.

  Lorian had accessed the Sith Holocron. He had looked upon it. Maybe he had even gleaned some secrets from it. And he wasn't even a Jedi!

  Dooku had put it out of his mind for so many years, and now it had all returned — the same hunger, the same irresistible urge to know the Sith. Was it fair that a non-Jedi had glimpsed the Holocron's secrets, and Dooku, one of the greatest Jedi Knights, had not?

  Dooku stood for a moment outside the archives, drinking in the silence, thinking about what lay within. Now no one could challenge his right to see it. He deserved to know, he told himself. He deserved to see it.

  The massive doors opened, and Dooku strode in.

  Dooku and Qui-Gon's final mission together had lasted two years. It had been difficult and filled with dangers. They had worked together as never before, their battle minds in perfect rhythm. They had succeeded. They returned to the Temple, weary, leaner, and older.

  Dooku had not spoken of the future. Qui-Gon would now undergo the trials. They both knew he was ready. Qui-Gon waited for some parting words on the long journey home, but none came.

  They passed from the landing platform into the great hallway of the Temple. Almost immediately, Qui-Gon saw a familiar form ahead and his heart lifted. Tahl had come to welcome him.

  They had not seen each other in years. They walked toward each other, and they clasped each other's shoulders in their old greeting. Qui-Gon searched Tahl's striped green-and-gold eyes, needing to see that she was well and in good spirits. She nodded to let him know this was so.

  "You're tired," she said.

  "It was a long mission," he admitted.

  He could feel Dooku waiting impatiently behind him.

  They were scheduled to go straight to the Jedi Council for their report. Tahl, too, felt his Master's irritation. She nodded a quick good-bye and mouthed "later."

  Qui-Gon turned back and walked in step with Dooku. "I see your old friendship has not died, even after all these years," Dooku said.

  "I trust Tahl with my life," Qui-Gon said.

  Dooku was silent for the entire length of the long hallway.

  "You have been an excellent Padawan, Qui-Gon," he said at last. "I could not ask for a better one. I will tell the Council this as you face the trials. But I will not tell them this: You have a flaw. This in itself is not a bad thing. Each of us has one. It is bad when we don't see it. Yet what is far worse is to see your flaw and to think it is not a flaw at all." Dooku stopped. "Perhaps it is my fault that I was never able to teach you my most important lesson."

  Qui-Gon looked at his Master. The long, elegant nose, the dark hooded eyes, the pale skin. It was a face he knew intimately, but he also knew, and had known for some time, that it was a face he did not love. At first this had bothered him — until he realized he did not need to love his Master, merely learn from him. He was grateful to have a Master so strong in the Force. He had learned much.

  "Your flaw is your need for connection to the living Force. Qui-Gon, the galaxy is crowded with beings. The Jedi Order is here to support you. Nevertheless you must carry the following knowledge in your heart," Dooku said. "You are always alone, and betrayal is inevitable."

  Thirty-two Years Later

  Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi

  CHAPTER No. 14

  Qui-Gon was the Master now, and he still remembered the lesson. It was the only one Dooku had given him that he had not heeded. Qui-Gon had come to believe that beings were more complicated than such a simple formula. And he had come to see that to live without friendship or trust was to inhabit a galaxy he did not want to live in.

  Yet hadn't events in his own life proved his Master right?

  Qui-Gon felt the hardness of the bench underneath him. He and Obi-Wan Kenobi were on a space cruiser crowded with beings. His eyes were closed. Obi-Wan was beside him, no doubt thinking that Qui-Gon was sleeping. Behind his closed lids, Qui-Gon imagined he could feel the speed of the ship vaulting through the stars. Every kilometer that passed in a flash carried him forward into an uncertain future.

  Betrayal should never take you by surprise.

  But it did. Every time.

  His first apprentice, who he had nurtured, had betrayed him. Xanatos had turned to the dark side, had invaded the Temple itself, had tried to kill Yoda. Now Xanatos was dead. He had chosen death rather than surrender, stepping off firm ground into a toxic pool on his homeworld of Telos. Qui-Gon had leaped to prevent him even as his heart knew he was too late. He had seen the man Xanatos fall, b
lue eyes blazing with hatred, but at the same time, he had seen the boy he had once known, blue eyes full of eagerness, full of promise. It had cut him, made him grieve. Months had passed since the incident, and Qui-Gon felt the memory as fresh as if it had happened yesterday. Had his former apprentice failed his training? Or had Qui-Gon been the one to fail?

  His second Padawan, whom he also loved, had also betrayed him. Obi-Wan sat beside him now, but Qui-Gon did not feel the old harmony between them. Obi-Wan had left the Jedi Order in order to devote himself to a cause on a planet they had tried to save. Qui-Gon still remembered standing on the rocky ground of Melida/Daan, seeing something in the eyes of his apprentice he had never seen before. Defiance. Obi-Wan would not listen to Qui-Gon's order to leave. He had remained.

  Obi-Wan had come to see that he had been wrong. He had done everything he could to rebuild what they'd had between them. They had begun on a long road. Trust was the goal.

  Tahl's disapproving frown rose in his mind. You are always so dramatic, Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan is a boy who made a mistake. Do not hold him responsible for your failure with Xanatos.

  Was that what he was doing?

  Time, you need, Yoda had advised. That is all.

  Qui-Gon accepted that. But how much time was appropriate? When would he know? And would Obi-Wan sense his struggle and come to resent him for his stubborn heart?

  Your flaw is your need for connection to the living Force.

  Qui-Gon saw the truth of this. He had not completely discounted what Dooku had to say. In his daily life he tried to keep that connection in balance with his Jedi path. No attachments. He did not see this as a conflict. He saw it as a great truth — that he could love, but have no wish to possess. That he could trust, but not resent those who let him down.

  Lately, that last one had been tricky.

  "We're stopping for fuel," Obi-Wan said, breaking into his thoughts. They were returning from a routine training mission, and their pace was not rushed. "I'm sorry to interrupt you, Master, but do you wish to disembark? We'll be here for several hours."

  Qui-Gon opened his eyes. "Where are we?"

  "A planet called Junction 5. Do you know it?"

  Qui-Gon shook his head. "Let's disembark," he decided. "It will do us good to stretch our legs. And I bet you could use some decent food."

  "I'm fine," Obi-Wan said, bending for his pack. Qui-Gon frowned. There it was. Once Obi-Wan would have agreed, would have grinned at him and said, "How did you guess?" Now Obi-Wan was intent on being a "correct" Padawan. He would not admit that the days of gray, tasteless food and protein pellets were dismaying.

  Maybe it wasn't a case of forgiveness at all, Qui-Gon thought as they joined the line to disembark. Maybe it was a case of missing what he'd had. He had his correct Padawan back. Now he missed the imperfect boy.

  The planet of Junction 5 seemed to be a pleasant world. The capital city of Rion was built around a wide blue river. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon took a turbolift down from the landing platform to the wide boulevard that was one of Rion's main thoroughfares.

  "Every visitor must register with the local security force," Obi-Wan said, reading off a pass they had been given. "That's unusual."

  "Some societies are tightly controlled," Qui-Gon said. "As the galaxy becomes more fragmented, beings are more afraid of outsiders."

  They strolled down the boulevard, glad to feel the sun on their faces. But Qui-Gon had not gone more than a few steps when he felt that something was amiss.

  "There is fear here," Obi-Wan said.

  "Yes," Qui-Gon said. "We have an hour or so. Let's find out why." He reached for his comlink. Since Tahl had been blinded in a battle on Melida/Daan, she had made her base at the Temple and was available for research. She rarely had to access the Jedi archives; her knowledge of galactic politics was immense.

  "Are you busy?" Qui-Gon asked.

  Tahl's dry voice came clearly through the comlink. "Of course not, Qui-Gon. I am sitting here waiting for you to contact me so that I'll have something to do."

  His smile was in his voice as he answered, "We have a stopover on the planet Junction 5. The Force is disturbed here. Can you give us an idea why?"

  "We have been monitoring the situation," Tahl said. "The planet has not asked for Senate or Jedi help, but we are prepared for it. For many years Junction 5 has maintained a rivalry with its moon, Delaluna. Several years ago Junction 5 discovered that Delaluna was developing a large-scale destructive weapon, capable of wiping out cities with one blow. The citizens of Junction 5 call it the Annihilator. They live in a state of constant fear that it will be used one day."

  "Have they tried to negotiate a treaty?" Qui-Gon asked.

  "The problem is that Delaluna denies the existence of the weapon," Tahl said. "Talks between the two governments are stalled. Because of this great fear that has gripped the population, there are rumors of double agents and spies trying to undermine the government to prepare for a Delaluna invasion."

  "Are they planning an invasion?"

  "They say not. But we don't know. In the meantime, because of the imminent threat, the government of Junction 5 has instituted a crackdown. With the help of a security force called the Guardians, they have infiltrated every aspect of the citizens' lives. Nothing they do goes unrecorded by the government. All computer use, all comm use, is monitored. At first the citizens voluntarily gave up their privacy in the face of the great threat. But I'm afraid the Guardians have abused their power over the years. Now they really run the government. Citizens are arrested and held without trial, just for speaking out against the government. The prisons are full. The citizens live in fear. Their economy is failing, and there is even more unrest. As a result —"

  "The Guardians have cracked down harder," Qui-Gon said wearily. It was a familiar scenario.

  "So be careful," Tahl warned. "They don't like outsiders. You'll be watched, too. If it's a stopover, treat it that way."

  "I plan to," Qui-Gon said.

  "Qui-Gon? Our connection must be breaking up. I thought I heard you agree with me," Tahl said.

  "Don't get used to it," Qui-Gon replied, breaking the connection. He didn't know what he'd do without Tahl. That was a connection he trusted absolutely. No matter what Dooku told me.

  "Should we go and register now?" Obi-Wan asked. "Let's eat first," Qui-Gon suggested. As long as they were here, he might as well gather information in case a Jedi presence was needed at a future time. It would be easier for now if the Guardians didn't know he was here.

  Besides, he never liked being told what to do.

  He filled in Obi-Wan on his conversation with Tahl as they walked to the closest cantina. There weren't many selections, but Qui-Gon was able to buy some vegetable turnovers for them, along with a drink made from a native herb. As they ate, they listened to the conversations around them. The citizens spoke in hushed tones, as though they were afraid of being overheard and reported.

  Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were able to screen out background noise with the help of the Force, concentrating on a conversation at a table behind them.

  "The rumor started yesterday," a soft voice said. "It could be true, or they could be covering up her death. Jaren is desperate."

  "He must be careful."

  "He is past that. I am afraid for them."

  "She has risked everything."

  "She was always willing to do that."

  The voices lowered further, as if they suspected someone was trying to overhear.

  "Can't we do something to help here?" Obi-Wan asked, just as quiet as everyone else.

  "Our transport is scheduled to depart in less than two hours," Qui-Gon said. "No one has asked for our help. We can't solve the problems of every world in the galaxy." Even while talking and eating, Qui-Gon's gaze had continually swept the cantina. He was not particularly surprised when a security officer in a gray uniform entered and walked straight over.

  "Passes, please."

  "I'm afraid we don't have any," Qui-Gon said.<
br />
  "All visitors are required to register at the Registry Office."

  "We thought we'd eat first. Of course we'll head over that way once we're done."

  "Not possible. Please follow."

  The officer waited politely. Qui-Gon considered resisting, then rejected it. He wasn't on this world to make trouble, merely to observe. He stood and motioned for Obi-Wan to do the same.

  They followed the officer back down the boulevard and down a side street. A large, gray building sat behind an energy wall. It was built of blocks of stone and looked like a prison.

  The officer led them past the energy wall and into the building lobby. There was a small office with a sign reading REGISTRATION ONLY. The officer ushered them inside, clearly intending to make sure they followed through.

  "Visitors to register," the officer said.

  Qui-Gon walked forward and gave their names to a clerk. The clerk's fingers faltered when he gave their homeworld as the Jedi Temple, Coruscant.

  "One moment," the clerk said, her eyes downcast.

  It took more than a moment — almost ten minutes —but the clerk finally slid two cards across the counter. "Carry these with you at all times. You are scheduled to depart in one hour, fifty-three minutes."

  They walked back into the hall, their footsteps loud on the polished stone. A voice stopped them.

  "It is always a pleasure to welcome Jedi to our world." Qui-Gon felt it before he even turned, the sureness that he had heard that voice before.

  The person greeting them was tall, with close-cropped blond hair that was now threaded with gray. His body was still muscular, still strong. Qui-Gon did not even need a second to remember him.

  It was Lorian Nod.

  CHAPTER No. 15

  Qui-Gon did not think that Lorian Nod showing up was a coincidence. The clerk must have alerted him to their presence, which was why it had taken a bit too long to obtain their identity cards.

  Nod was dressed in the same gray security uniform as the officer, but with a variety of colored ribbons woven through the material on the shoulders, indicating a high rank.