The Call to Vengeance

17

Qui-Gon had no doubt that within minutes Eritha would send security attack droids after them. He knew that ahead of them, the Absolutes would be well armed. He gave no more thought to the obstacles than to a pesky insect. He did not strategize. He would charge ahead, and he would win.

That was all he knew.

Qui-Gon saw Obi-Wan give a quick glance at him. He told himself not to display the temper he had showed at Mota’s. His Padawan was worried about how quick to anger he was. Qui-Gon himself had been surprised at how his anger had continued to rise. He knew he was feeding it instead of letting it go. It gave him speed and focus.

He knew his attitude was bringing him dangerously close to the dark side. He knew with a chance for silence and stillness he would be able to see this. But he didn’t have the luxury.

He would have to count on his own ability to control his anger at the proper time.

The tunnel ran below the governor’s residence. It had been unused for many years, and was dark and stuffy. Qui-Gon ran by the light of his saber.

He knew Obi-Wan was behind him. His Padawan would give him support, but he knew he did not need it. This was between him and Balog.

Eritha’s words had stunned him, but he had filed them away for the long sleepless nights ahead of him. Balog was his object.

The tunnel ended in a durasteel door. Qui-Gon cut through it and stepped inside. He was in the lower level of the museum.

“Droids behind us, Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan spoke quietly in his ear. “Coming from the residence.”

A nuisance. They would have to be dealt with before they could proceed.

Qui-Gon turned as the first droids tumbled through the opening, already engaging them in blaster fire. They were lucky. The droids were programmed to advance, but they were not programmed to strategize. They simply took the easiest route to their prey and poured through the opening in the door, where Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were waiting.

Obi-Wan deflected fire while slicing at the droids. Impatiently, Qui-Gon swung his lightsaber like a club. He had no time for finesse. He needed to cut down as many droids as possible in the shortest amount of time.

Obi-Wan was a blur by his side. Qui-Gon was grateful for his Padawan’s speed. Soon the floor was littered with smoking droids.

There were only two more left. “Take them down,” Qui-Gon told Obi-Wan, and raced away.

It was lucky that he and Obi-Wan had taken the tour of the museum upon their arrival on New Apsolon. He could remember each level and room.

This level was used for storage, so they hadn’t toured it. The floors and walls were bare and damp. On the floor overhead were the cells and torture rooms, as well as the offices. No doubt the Absolutes were camped there.

Including Balog.

Qui-Gon accessed the turbolift to the next level. He strode out into the hall. He saw a figure ahead. It was a man dressed in a navy tunic. An Absolute. He froze when he saw Qui-Gon. Then he doubled back and ran the way he had come.

Qui-Gon chased after him. No doubt he had gone to spread an alarm.

The Absolutes weren’t expecting invaders, but they would meet them with resistance.

He burst into the room just as the Absolute activated a row of attack droids that had been on display. To Qui-Gon’s surprise, the attack droids immediately lined up. They were operational. The Absolutes had armed the displays in the museum.

This was more sophisticated weaponry than Eritha’s droids. Blaster fire was erratic and came from the droids’ chests, foreheads, and hands.

They could wheel and maneuver and twist themselves into flexible positions.

Qui-Gon was outnumbered, but he refused to be outmatched. Blaster fire rocketed toward him in a fiery curtain. Every part of him was vulnerable. His lightsaber had to keep pace with the rapid fire as he took evasive action. He had a shock when he realized that he might have to retreat.

He felled two droids, but the others were relentless. Some rushed toward him, blasting fire. The others flanked him and aimed as they tried to get behind him. Qui-Gon felt sweat roll down his forehead, stinging his eyes. He used the Force to smash one against the wall, but it reformed and came after him again. He used his lightsaber to cut it in half.

He had never been happier to see Obi-Wan in his life. His Padawan suddenly leaped into the fray, lightsaber swinging. With Obi-Wan’s help, Qui-Gon was able to regroup and smash the two droids to his left. The two Jedi swung wide and came at the droids’ line from each end. They each felled two, then leaped toward the center of the line to destroy two more droids as they shifted into position.

Smoke rose, choking them. Obi-Wan took out the last droid, and they stumbled out of the small room.

Obi-Wan leaned over to take a breath of pure air. “Where do you think Balog is?”

The question seemed to echo inside Qui-Gon’s brain. He realized that he hadn’t given much thought to Balog’s whereabouts. He had just charged ahead. That wasn’t like him.

I am not thinking clearly, he told himself. I am reacting, not acting.

He realized this meant he was on the edge of his control. But even as he recognized this, he recognized something equally chilling: He did not care.

And suddenly, he knew where Balog might be. Remembering the tour, he recalled a tech center on this floor. Since Balog had recently stolen the list from Irini, he was most likely accessing it on a datascreen. He would certainly waste no time erasing his name and looking for others to denounce.

Before he could answer Obi-Wan, more droids wheeled around the corner behind them. They felt a warming in the Force before the blaster fire began. Once again, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had to use every particle of concentration to defeat the agile droids. The blaster fire seemed to come from everywhere.

The droids were between them and the data center. Rage filled Qui-Gon at the delay. Every second that passed meant that Balog would have a chance to escape.

He charged at the droids, swinging his lightsaber in a constant arc, hardly noticing when blaster fire zinged near his ears or barely missed an arm or hand. He savagely swung at the droids, destroying one after another.

Obi-Wan tried to protect him as best he could, but even he could not keep up with the fierceness of Qui-Gon’s attack.

Qui-Gon broke through the line of droids, kicking one aside and cleaving it in two. He had always thought that giving in to rage would make him sloppy. Instead, he felt precise. He felt powerful. His rage filled him with purpose.

The droids were defeated, in pieces, smoking around him. He dashed ahead.

“Qui-Gon, wait!”

But he ignored his Padawan. He could not wait.

With this new sharpness of mind, he remembered the exact location of the data room. He did not hesitate but threw open the door. He could hear Obi-Wan only steps behind him, and he felt a stab of disappointment. He wished Obi-Wan had stayed behind.

He wanted to meet Balog alone.

The squat, powerful man sat at a tech console. He spun around in his chair, a look of surprise on his face. So Eritha had not been able to reach him.

Qui-Gon took in the small dark eyes, the small pursed mouth, the round head. He focused his hatred on this man. Here was the man who had watched Tahl’s health deteriorate slowly, day by agonizing day, and felt nothing. Here was the man who had not recognized that he was slowly crushing an extraordinary spirit.

This little, evil man.

The injustice of it staggered Qui-Gon. This man was alive. Tahl was dead. His vision blurred at the emotion that roared inside him.

Balog rose, kicking his chair out of his way. He reached for the blaster on his belt.

Qui-Gon smiled.

Obi-Wan stood next to him, his lightsaber held in a defensive stance, waiting for Balog to make the first move.

With one hand, Balog reached over to activate the comm unit on the tech console. “I need help in the data center. Send attack droids—”

With a casual gesture, Qui-Gon buried his lightsaber in the console.

Sparks flew, and smoke curled from the circuits.

Balog fired. Obi-Wan sprang forward to deflect it.

The blaster fire was nothing to Qui-Gon. It was merely a momentary barrier between himself and Balog. Balog was his prey. A collection of skin and muscles and bones that must be brought down in a heap.

His lightsaber moved like a trick of light, so fast that each stroke was a memory. It was so easy to deflect Balog’s pathetic fire. Panic rose in Balog’s eyes and made him clumsy. He dropped his blaster. He tried to run, but his legs tangled in the chair he had kicked away. He fell with a crash to the floor.

At last, Qui-Gon’s enemy lay at his feet, just as he’d imagined. He stood over Balog, his lightsaber high, prepared for the stroke that would bring him so much satisfaction.

“No, Qui-Gon.”

The voice seemed to come from far away, yet it was so close to his ear. It confused him.

He turned and met Obi-Wan’s eyes. He felt he was seeing him from a great distance. Confusion swept over him.

Then it was as though clouds parted, and clarity came. He saw so much in a moment. In his Padawan’s steady glance he saw both fear and compassion.

He was no longer far away. The distance compressed, and he was in the same room with Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon returned to himself, and saw how far he had gone. The dark side had risen in his blood. He had known it and encouraged it. Shaking, he deactivated his lightsaber and tucked it back in his belt.

He had come close to taking a life out of revenge. Only he would know how close. He would never forget it. He would never allow himself to forget it.

Balog closed his eyes in relief. Obi-Wan stood over him and reached for his comlink as Mace and Bant entered the room.