by Джуд Уотсон
"Stop, stop! This is a clinic! What are you doing? Don't touch that!
Don't move!" Vero hurried around the counter, upset at the commotion.
With a keen gaze, Qui-Gon saw the woman deliberately upset a flower vase.
"Not my ginkas!" Vero screamed, diving for the flowers.
She was doing it for him, Qui-Gon knew. She was giving him a little time.
He reached over the counter and swiveled Vero's datascreen to face him. Quickly, he clicked in Oleg's name. To his relief, his records showed up. Oleg had given an address close to the clinic. His next appointment was in two weeks.
Qui-Gon quickly swiveled the datascreen back into position. He walked past Vero, who was picking up flowers and scolding the woman for upsetting them. Qui-Gon righted a chair and gave a hand to the woman to help her sit down. He bent close to her ear. "Thanks for your help."
"You know when to give help, and when not to," she said. "That's rare."
"I had a good teacher."
Qui-Gon walked out quickly. The door slid shut behind him, sealing off the commotion. He had memorized the address and remembered the street, which he'd passed on the way to the clinic. Qui-Gon quickly made his way there.
The address was a small hotel. Qui-Gon asked for Oleg and was told he had checked out, but to try the cafc around the corner. A bit surprised that Oleg was not more discreet, Qui-Gon headed to the cafc.
The owner was wiping down tables in the front. Qui-Gon asked for Oleg and was directed to a table in the rear.
A slight, blond man sat at the table, his hands curled around a cup of juice. Qui-Gon sat down opposite him.
"It's about time," Oleg said nervously. "I've put myself in danger every minute."
"I got here as soon as I could," Qui-Gon said. Obviously, Oleg had been waiting for someone he did not know. That explained why he hadn't bothered to use an assumed name. It was just as apparent to Qui-Gon that this young man was not used to dealing with danger. His head constantly swiveled, looking for trouble. Anyone looking for him would have picked him out immediately.
"I have the file," Oleg said. "It's not on me, but it's not far. But I'm warning you, if you try anything, I'm prepared to shoot. I have to up the price."
"Why?" Qui-Gon asked. He would play this out. He assumed, of course, that Oleg was talking about the list. He didn't want to buy it from him. If Oleg still had it, that meant that Balog didn't.
"I have to leave the planet," Oleg said, wiping his wet forehead with his napkin. "Do you think this is easy? Too many people are searching for me now."
"I might be able to come up with more," Qui-Gon said.
"Decide now," Oleg snapped. "I have no time to waste." His comlink signaled, and he listened for a moment. With his eyes on Qui-Gon, he replied, "Yes, that's right. I still have it. Will you meet my price? Good.
I'll meet you there, then. Can't you make it earlier? All right."
He shut off the comlink. "There are others who will pay, as you see,"
he said. "I made an appointment, but you can buy it first. So decide. It's now or never."
"Never," Qui-Gon said. "The price is just too high. Sorry." He stood.
Oleg looked even more nervous. "Listen, I don't have to sell to this guy. I don't like him. He's an Absolute, and I hate them. They ruined my health. I'd rather the list end up with a Worker, believe me. I look like a traitor, but I'm just looking out for myself. Maybe we can negotiate."
"Sorry," Qui-Gon said again. He turned and left the cafc. He positioned himself out of sight of Oleg, but was able to see him through the reflection of the cafc window. Was the bidder on the comlink Balog? He had a strong feeling it was. Oleg had broken out into a sweat. And he had said he didn't want the list in the hands of the Absolutes.
Qui-Gon was close now. He could feel it. All his concentration was centered on that slight, nervous man in the cafc. The anger and grief he had compressed into a burning ball inside him threatened to flame up, and he tamped it down. Patience, he chided himself. Balog would be his very soon.
Chapter 6
Qui-Gon did not think it possible that a being could nurse a glass of juice as long as Oleg. He did not seem to notice the surly stare of the cafc owner, or the press of customers who came in, looking for a table as the cafc grew crowded.
Qui-Gon began to feel conspicuous, so he moved down the alley to another window. After a few minutes he moved to the back, where he could see the interior through a small, grimy window. He kept up his post there, pretending to loiter until people began to come home from work and windows lit up across the alley. Qui-Gon headed back to the front and crossed the street. He stationed himself at a juice bar with a good angle on the front of the cafc. Dusk fell. His patience wore thin. Was the conversation a bluff? Had Oleg merely been trying to get Qui-Gon to meet his price?
Qui-Gon was beginning to consider approaching Oleg again when he saw him head out of the cafc, glancing nervously over his shoulder. Qui-Gon joined the stream of people on the walkway and followed him.
At first, it was easy to keep Oleg in sight. The people on the streets were good cover. But as Oleg crossed over into the Worker Sector, the crowd grew larger. Oleg was a slight young man, and he soon got lost in the crowd. It was difficult to keep him in sight without running into him.
Gradually, Qui-Gon became aware that he was not the only one tailing Oleg. He did not turn his head or alter his stride in any way, but he threw his attention around him like a net. Someone was tailing Oleg from across the street.
It was Balog. He saw him reflected in the shiny surface of an approaching landspeeder. He recognized the stocky frame, the way the muscular legs seemed to power the body forward like a machine, not a man.
Qui-Gon did not know if Balog had seen him. Perhaps his focus was on Oleg. If he was lucky, that would be the case. But he could not rely on luck. His heart began to pound, and he had to discipline himself to keep his focus. He wanted to turn and rush at Balog in a full-scale attack. He wanted to make him pay for every breath Tahl had struggled to take, every second her life systems slowly failed. He would make each moment of Balog's suffering an eternity….
Where did that thought come from? The ferocity of it shocked him. It had risen from the depths of him. It sounded like vengeance. He did not know such an emotion could exist inside him. The knowledge made him uneasy.
I can control it. It will not take me over. I can capture Balog and not let my anger overtake me.
He said the words to himself, just the way he would have said them to Obi-Wan. He was a Jedi. His training would keep him on the right path. It had to.
His hands trembled, and he clasped them together for a moment. Help me, Tahl, he said fervently. He had never said such a thing to her when she was alive, though now he realized how many times he had gone to her for help. She had known that it was hard for him to ask for it. It was the one thing she had never teased him about. Instead, she had simply given him whatever he needed: information, assurance, compassion.
To his left, Balog speeded up. Qui-Gon melted back. Now he must keep both Balog and Oleg in sight.
Oleg entered a warehouse. Balog hurried down an alley to the side of the building. There was no question in Qui-Gon's mind which one to pursue.
He headed down the alley after Balog.
When he got to the back, he found himself in a small fenced area. It was empty. All the windows looking out from the warehouse were dark. Qui- Gon tried the door. It was locked.
It was a flicker in the corner of his eye that alerted him, nothing more. But it was enough. He was already turning and had his lightsaber activated when the first probe droid attacked. Blaster fire pinged by his ear. He felt the scorch near his shoulder. He reached up to bring it down with a swipe, but it veered off.
Blaster fire to his left, then to his right. Behind him, Qui-Gon counted seven droids, now in attack mode. Their sensors glowed red as they pinpointed his location. Blaster fire rained around him like a cage. It was almost im
possible to dodge it.
Qui-Gon ran at the wire fence. He shifted his body horizontally, calling on the Force to help him scale it without using his hands. His balance was perfect as he hit the top. He gave a backward leap and took two probe droids out with one single downward stroke.
Before he hit the ground, he twisted in midair to land a few centimeters away, confusing the probe droid that fired at the spot where he should have landed. He ran at the warehouse wall now, straight up, and then flipped backward, swiping a glancing blow at the third droid. It buzzed, blaster fire erupting in a series of flashes. Then it began to smoke, spiraling down until it crashed.
Qui-Gon fought in a frenzy, mindful that Balog was inside that warehouse. The probe droids were slowing him down, and frustration boiled inside him at their insistent buzzing.
He attacked with a new ferocity. He launched himself off the fence, kicking out with one leg to send one droid flying while thrusting a blow straight into the heart of another. It gave an anguished squawk and fell to the ground at top speed, crashing and bursting into flames.
Qui-Gon hit the ground, lightsaber held high, ready for the next challenge. But to his surprise, the remaining two probe droids suddenly wheeled away and flew off into the darkness.
He didn't hesitate a moment. He cut a hole in the locked door with his lightsaber and charged through. He ran down the corridor, searching room after room. The rooms were filled with tools, equipment, and durasteel bins. He found nothing until he ran into a small room near the turbolift.
There was Oleg, lying on the floor, arms outstretched, mouth open. He had a surprised expression on his face. But he would never feel surprised again.
Chapter 7
Mace had not shown any emotion when Obi-Wan gave him the news of Qui- Gon's disappearance. He had simply nodded. "We will hear from him, I'm sure," he had said.
But when they discovered that Qui-Gon had switched off his comlink, Mace's disapproval was obvious.
"We must proceed without Qui-Gon," he said. "I think we should split up. I'll go to the United Legislature and gather information. Obi-Wan, can you find this medic, Yanci? We need another copy of that list."
"I think so," Obi-Wan said. "She said she was staying with the Workers, and I can trace her through lrini and Lenz."
"Good. Then you and Bant must find her and join Qui-Gon in tracking Oleg. No doubt you could run into Qui-Gon at the same time. As soon as you find either Oleg or Qui-Gon, contact me."
Obi-Wan nodded. Mace left them, hurrying out of Manex's residence and striding down the street. Some of the passersby glared at him, seeing his Jedi robes. No doubt they had heard the rumors being spread of Jedi treachery. Obi-Wan was certain Mace noticed this, but he walked on with no hesitation visible in his stride or expression.
"Where are we headed?" Bant asked. There was a new crispness in her voice.
"The Worker Sector," Obi-Wan said. "We can catch a public transport this way."
As they walked, Obi-Wan thought he could not bear it if they weren't able to be friends again. He needed things to be open and easy with Bant.
With Qui-Gon gone, things were so confused. He was worried about the reason Qui-Gon left without him. Was Qui-Gon driven by vengeance? Was that why he hadn't wanted Obi-Wan along?
Obi-Wan missed his Master. It was hard to have to miss his friend, too. Especially when she walked beside him.
They swung aboard an almost empty airbus. Obi-Wan looked out at the streets as they passed, hoping to catch a glimpse of his Master.
"He's out there somewhere," he said. He didn't know if Bant was speaking to him, but he was so in the habit of confiding in her that the words tumbled out before he could stop them. "And I don't know what he's thinking or planning. He could be walking into danger. He could need me. If anything happens…"
Bant turned cool silver eyes on him. "If anything happens to your Master, you'll feel as I do." She turned her face forward again.
Obi-Wan felt as though she had slapped him. Of course she was right.
What was there to say? He had already apologized. He felt sincerely sorry he had not considered Bant's feelings. The only thing he could do was agree.
"Yes," he said. "Then I'd know exactly how you feel."
It was rare on a mission when something went exactly the way it should. Yet this time, luck was with them. Obi-Wan remembered exactly where he and Qui-Gon had gone to meet Lenz. It had only been a few days before, but it felt like a lifetime ago. Luckily Lenz was still living in the same quarters. He usually moved often to escape the surveillance of the new Absolutes.
Lenz willingly gave them the address where Yanci was staying a short distance away. Yanci greeted Obi-Wan with tired affection and printed out a copy of the list on a durasheet. They were back on the street and heading for the address of the first med clinic in a short period of time.
They had no trouble with the first three clinics. The clerks freely told them that Oleg was not a patient. But the fourth clinic was staffed by an arrogant clerk named Vero. Puffed up with self-importance, he refused to give out any information.
"I don't know what med clinics do in the Worker Sector," he said haughtily, "but here, we are Civilized, and take our jobs seriously." He eyed Bant with disdain. "Obviously, you are new here. On your planet, things are no doubt more primitive. You might not be familiar with our procedures."
Bant's skin flushed pink with anger. "Listen, you — "
"Thank you," Obi-Wan said quickly, pulling Bant away from the desk.
"Getting into a confrontation isn't going to help," he whispered to her. "We'll have to think of another way."
Bant eyed the clerk. "How about lightsabers? Is that primitive enough for him?"
Obi-Wan grinned. Bant was the most gentle creature he knew, but she had her limits. "He's probably never seen a Mon Calamari before," he said.
"New Apsolon doesn't get many tourists. There are plenty of good Civilized, but I'm sure there are plenty of ones like Vero, too."
"How are you at using the Force to affect his mind?" Bant asked, frowning. "I don't know if I could manage it. Vero is stupid, but he seems stubborn."
Obi-Wan doubted that he would be successful, either. "And the waiting room is so small — everyone would overhear," he murmured.
Bant's silver gaze roved over the. group. "Everyone is staring at us.
" "They've probably never seen a Mon Calamari before, either," Obi-Wan pointed out.
Something sparked in Bant's eyes. "That gives me an idea."
Suddenly, she weaved and began to gasp. "I'm over my limit," she said. "Help me. I need water."
Obi-Wan supported her as she slumped over. "Water!" she cried.
Vero looked over at them, his expression a mix of irritation and alarm. "What is it? The medics are busy."
"She's a Mon Calamari," Obi-Wan said frantically. "She can't stay out of water for more than four hours. We need to immerse her, now!"
"I can't authorize that," Vero said, shaking his head. "She'll just have to wait"
"She'll die!" Obi-Wan cried. Bant cooperated by slumping down even farther.
"I've heard about Mon Calamari," someone spoke up from the waiting area. "What he says is true."
"This will be on your record!" Obi-Wan warned Vero. He'd nearly said conscience, but he wasn't sure if Vero had one. "Do you want that?"
At the mention of his record, Vero looked alarmed. "All right, all right," he said. "There's an immersion tub in back. I'll take her."
Obi-Wan handed Bant over to Vero, who took her arm with distaste. He half dragged her back toward the med cubicles.
Obi-Wan wasted no time. He moved stealth-fully to the desk and quickly accessed the holofiles.
Yes! Oleg had been here, just a few days before. And there was an address listed. Obi-Wan quickly memorized it, then hurried back. He slid into a seat in the waiting area just as Vero returned.
"Your — friend is having her swim," Vero said with a frown.
Bant
emerged a few minutes later, still damp. Obi-Wan nodded at her to let her know he had succeeded. Quickly, they left the clinic and headed for a street map kiosk on a nearby corner. They pinpointed the address. It was only a few blocks away. The address was for a small hotel, but their search ended when they discovered that Oleg had checked out.
"Too many questions about that one," the owner of the hotel said darkly. "And I've got no answers for you."
Disappointed, Obi-Wan stopped on the walkway outside. He had a feeling that Qui-Gon had not given up so easily.
"I guess we could stake the place out," Bant said dubiously. "Or stake out the clinic."