Джуд Уотсон: Legacy of the Jedi

All he needed was six seconds.

He called ahead, his voice echoing. "You've done well for yourself, Dooku. But did you ever realize that you couldn't have done it without me?"

Dooku stopped and turned, as Lorian had known he would.

"Excuse me, old friend?"

"The Sith Holocron. You accessed it, didn't you? Sometime later. You could never stand it if I knew something you didn't."

"Why shouldn't I have accessed it?" Dooku asked.

Lorian kept moving forward. "Of course you had the right. Yet you never would have had the courage if I hadn't done it first."

Dooku laughed. "You are unbelievable. Don't you realize how tempted I am to kill you? And now you're provoking me. You certainly live dangerously, Lorian."

Lorian had circled around Dooku and stood near the speeder. Dooku was not afraid of him; he would allow him to come as close as he wanted.

Lorian leaned against the speeder, crossing his leg as though he had all the time in the world to chat. "I realize now that I was wrong when I asked you to cover for me about the Holocron."

"An apology at this late date? I'm overwhelmed."

"I should have taken the responsibility myself. I wouldn't have been kicked out of the Jedi Order. I see that now. But now I wonder… why did I think I would?" Underneath the cover of his cloak, Lorian's fingers searched for the panel.

"I find revisiting the past so tedious," Dooku said. "If you'll excuse me — "

He put one foot on the speeder, ready to leap inside.

"Could it be that you encouraged my fears? Looking back, I find that strange. I would not have done that to you. I would not have fed your fears, but tried to allay them." His fingers slid across a seam. He had found the panel.

Dooku's eyes flared. Lorian brought out the blaster and put the barrel against the panel.

The dark side surged in a shocking display of power, and Lorian found himself flung like a child's doll in the air. He slammed against the wall and then hit the floor, dazed. Somehow, he held on to his blaster.

Dooku saw it, of course. "That was your clumsy attempt at a diversion, I suppose," he said, drawing his lightsaber with the curved hilt. "I think I've shown enough mercy. Let us end now what should have ended then."

He had one last chance. One only. He could blast the panel and prevent Dooku from taking off. Obi-Wan and Anakin would have to do the rest.

If he failed, he would die. If he succeeded, he would also die. He had no doubt about that.

Lorian reached out to the Force to help him. He needed it here, at the last. He felt it grow, and he saw Dooku's eyebrows rise.

"So you haven't lost it completely," he said. "Too bad it isn't enough."

He moved toward Lorian. Lorian remembered his footwork. The attack would come to his left. At the last moment, he rolled to the right, and Dooku's lightsaber hit rock and sliced through it. Expecting an easy blow, Dooku turned a second too late, and Lorian had already begun to run. He knew Dooku expected him to turn and try to get behind him. He would not expect him to run to the speeder.

He had the blaster aimed and ready, but he knew he would get only one shot, and it had to be a good one. It had to be dead solid perfect Behind him was a whisper. That was all he heard. He looked down and saw the lightsaber and he thought, how odd, Dooku is behind me, why is the lightsaber in front of me? Then he realized he had been pierced through.

He fired the blaster, but the shot went wild. He went down.

I have failed, he thought. I have failed.

Dooku stood over him. He saw the dark eyes like hollow caves. He did not want this to be his last sight. He had lived so long with hate, he could not die with it in his vision. So with a great effort, he turned his head. He saw the rocks of the corridor, the stones both smooth and jagged, and noticed for the first time that they weren't gray, but were veined with silver and black and red and a blue the color of stars…

The thought pierced him with the same sure pain as the lightsaber had: What else have I missed?

Too late to find out now.

He drew the Force around him like a blanket, and with an explosion of color lighting his vision, he smiled and let go of his life.

Anakin sat on the cold ground, watching the streaks of orange cut through the gray, The sun was rising. "It is time to go," Obi-Wan said.

Anakin rose. He was tired after having moved the hundreds of large stones that had barred their exit.

"I've brought Lorian's body aboard," Obi-Wan said. He stood next to Anakin, facing the rising sun. "We will take him back to the Temple."

They had found him in the corridor with a blaster nearby, his eyes open and, oddly, a faint smile on his face. There was evidence of a struggle in the disturbance in the dirt. Blaster fire had marked the rocks. They could see the acceleration blast marks from a speeder.

Dooku had escaped.

"Lorian went up against impossible odds," Obi-Wan said. "He was never more a Jedi than at the last." "So redemption is possible," Anakin said.

"Of course it is," Obi-Wan said. "As long as there is breath, there is hope. If not, what are we fighting for?"

"I wish I didn't feel that I had failed," Anakin said. "Dooku escaped.

The Station 88 Spaceport is saved for the Republic, but for how long?

What is to stop Dooku from trying to kill them again?"

"We are," Obi-Wan said.

"There is such darkness ahead," Anakin said. He stopped outside the cruiser and looked up at the stars. They were fading in the growing light. "I can feel it. It weighs on me."

You worry too much. Qui-Gon had told Obi-Wan this, more than once. Was that his legacy to Anakin? He had tried to give him so much more.

"You didn't fail here, Anakin," Obi-Wan said. "Our mission was to ensure that the spaceport didn't fall to the Separatists, and to gather information. We succeeded. Dooku's villa contains valuable data."

"A small victory," Anakin said with a curl of his lip. "Can we win a war that way?"

He had not reached him. Anakin had wanted to end the Clone Wars here.

He had wanted to destroy Count Dooku. His ambition would always be greater than every mission. Obi-Wan saw that clearly, and it pierced him. He had taught Anakin everything, and Anakin had learned much — but had he missed the most important things?

I have failed, Qui-Gon. I have failed.

They walked up the landing ramp. Anakin slid behind the controls.

Obi-Wan sat at the computer to enter the coordinates for their journey back. On the surface, everything was as it had always been.

Soon they would be ending their journey together.

They both knew it. He had never had to bid good-bye to Qui-Gon as a Master. He was still Qui-Gon's Padawan when he died. Maybe that was the reason he felt so close to him still.

He did not know if Qui-Gon would have left him with words of wisdom, with a direction to follow. Now he had no way of knowing what else he could give Anakin. He had given him everything he could. It wasn't enough.

Sadness filled Obi-Wan as they blasted into the upper atmosphere. He loved Anakin Skywalker, but he did not truly know him. The most important things he had to teach he had not taught. He would have to let him go, knowing that. He would have to let him go.