The Uncertain Path

by Jude Watson

  "One centimeter to the left!" A musical voice rang out from behind them suddenly. Startled, Tahl spilled the tea on her wrist.

  "Stars and galaxies!" she cried.

  Qui-Gon handed her a napkin. He turned to see a droid roll into the room. It had the silver body shell of a protocol droid, but Qui-Gon could see that other features had been included. Extra sensors were built into the head, and the arms were longer. Now they shot out and took the cup from Tahl.

  "You see, Master Tahl, you spilled the tea," the droid said.

  "I spilled it because you startled me, you hunk of recycled tin," Tahl sputtered. "And don't call me Master Tahl."

  "Yes, certainly, sir," the droid replied.

  "I'm not a sir. I'm a female. Who's the blind one here?"

  Qui-Gon tried to hide his grin. "What's this?" he asked, indicating the droid.

  "Meet Yoda's surprise," Tahl said with a grimace. "2JTJ, but call it TooJay. It's a personal navigation droid. It's supposed to help me with domestic matters until I can navigate alone. It scans for obstructions and I can program it to lead me to any destination."

  "Seems like a good idea," Qui-Gon remarked as TooJay efficiently cleaned up the spill and poured more tea.

  "I'd rather walk into walls," Tahl grumbled. "It's thoughtful of Yoda, but I'm not used to having a constant companion. I never did take a Padawan."

  Qui-Gon sipped his tea. Once he had felt as Tahl did. He hadn't wanted a Padawan after his first, Xanatos, had destroyed every bond of honor and loyalty between them. He enjoyed being alone. He liked being responsible for only himself. Then Obi-Wan had come into his life. He had grown used to having him there.

  "I'm sorry, Qui-Gon," Tahl said gently. "That was a careless remark. I know you miss Obi-Wan."

  Carefully, Qui-Gon set down his cup. "If I am not to help you pour the tea, then can I request that you not tell me how I am feeling?"

  "Well, perhaps you don't know that you miss him," Tahl said. "But you do."

  Annoyed, Qui-Gon stood. "Do you forget what he did? He stole the starfighter to destroy those deflection towers. If he had been shot down, you would have died on Melida/Daan!"

  "Ah, so you have a new talent. You can see things that might have been. Must come in handy."

  Qui-Gon paced in front of her. "He would have stolen it again, if I hadn't stopped him. He would have left us on that planet with no way to get off."

  Tahl pushed Qui-Gon's chair out with her foot. "Sit down, Qui-Gon. I can't see you, but you're making me nervous. If I don't blame Obi-Wan, why should you? It's my life you're talking about."

  Qui-Gon didn't sit, but he did stop pacing. Tahl cocked her head, trying to gauge his mood.

  "It was a tough call," she said in a gentler tone. "You went one way, Obi-Wan another. It seems to me that you're the only one who continues to blame the boy. And he is a boy, Qui-Gon. Remember that."

  Qui-Gon was silent. Once again, he found himself discussing Obi-Wan. And he didn't want to discuss his Padawan with Tahl, or even Yoda. No one knew how much of himself he had invested in the boy in such a short time. No one knew how Obi-Wan's decision had grieved him.

  "Maybe we should talk about the investigation," he said finally. "It's a high priority. We're wasting time."

  "True," Tahl said, nodding. "I think the Council is right. We can't treat this lightly. There is danger here."

  "Where should we start?" Qui-Gon asked, sitting down. "Do you have any ideas?"

  "One of the thefts was in a semi-restricted area," Tahl pointed out. "Some student records are missing. Let's see who has access to the Temple registry. When you don't know where to begin, the obvious is a good place to start."

  Obi-Wan strapped a blaster to his hip and made sure his vibroblade was in its holster. He had received a report of holdouts in the Melida sector who had refused to turn over their weapons.

  He, Cerasi, and Nield were still living in the Young's underground vault until accommodations could be found. It wouldn't be right to take housing when so many were without. He walked out into the main vault where his Security Squad waited. He nodded at Deila, his second in command. They were ready.

  They climbed up a ladder to a grate and hoisted themselves onto the street. They had gone only a few steps when Obi-Wan heard the sound of running footsteps behind him. He turned and saw Cerasi.

  "I heard about the holdouts," she said as she ran up, fastening her warm hooded tunic. "I'm coming with you."

  Obi-Wan shook his head. "Cerasi, this could be dangerous."

  Her green eyes glinted. "Oh, and the war we fought together wasn't?"

  "You don't carry a weapon," Obi-Wan said, exasperated. "There could be shooting."

  "Relax, Obi-Wan," Cerasi said, buckling a thick belt around her waist. "I have my own bag of tricks."

  Despite his worry, Obi-Wan couldn't help smiling. Cerasi had devised a number of trick "weapons." They were slingshots that gave off the sound of blaster fire.

  "All right," he agreed. "But for once, follow my orders, will you?"

  "Yes, Captain," Cerasi teased.

  It was a cold day, and their breath mingled as it clouded the air. They passed a square where some members of the New History Squad were busy dismantling a war monument. A group of Melida Elders watched, their faces stony.

  "They expect us to put up monuments to ourselves, I hear," Cerasi said. "I can't wait to surprise them. No more war memorials on Melida/Daan."

  "Are you sure?" Obi-Wan asked with a straight face. "I can see you up on a pedestal holding up your slingshot -"

  Cerasi nudged him with her shoulder. "Watch it, friend." She grinned at him. "I didn't know Jedi were allowed to joke."

  "Of course we are." Obi-Wan's face flushed. "I mean, they are." He spoke lightly, but a shadow must have crossed his face because the smile left Cerasi's lips.

  "You gave up so much for us," she said sadly.

  "And look what I received," Obi-Wan replied, swinging his arm to encompass Zehava.

  Laughter bubbled out from Cerasi. "Sure. A destroyed city, bad food, no heat, a home in a tunnel, a job disarming fanatics, and -"

  "Friends," Obi-Wan finished.

  Cerasi smiled. "Friends."

  The large, two-story building where some of the Melida holdouts were living seemed peaceful under the sharp blue sky. It looked perfectly intact from the front, but as they carefully circled it, keeping out of sight, they saw that the back had been completely demolished. A repair job had been attempted with a combination of boards and tough plastoid sheets.

  There was one thing odd about the house, Obi-Wan noted. There was no back door. He pointed it out to Cerasi.

  "Only one entrance to defend," she said, squinting up at the roof. "That way we can't surprise them."

  "I don't want to surprise them," Obi-Wan said. "I have to give them the chance to surrender their arms. I can't go in shooting." He looked at the house, his hand drifting toward his belt. It was still a surprise to feel a vibroblade there instead of a lightsaber.

  "We need a lookout on the street," Obi-Wan continued. "That's you."

  For a moment, Cerasi seemed about to protest. Then she nodded. She held out her hand, palm out. Obi-Wan put his up against hers, as close as he could without touching. "Good luck."

  "We don't need luck."

  "Everybody needs luck."

  "Not us."

  Obi-Wan ducked around the corner, followed by his squad of six boys and girls, the best fighters the Young had.

  He knocked on the door. He heard movement behind it, but nothing happened. He leaned closer to the door and shouted, "We are the Young Security Squad. You are ordered by the acting governor of Melida/Daan to open the door."

  "Come back when your voice changes," someone shouted from inside.

  Obi-Wan sighed. He had been hoping for cooperation. He nodded at Deila, their explosives expert. She quickly set explosive charges near the lock of the heavy door.

  "Stand back from the door," she shouted to th
ose inside.

  The Security Squad had done this before. Many Melida and Daan Elders would not open their doors to them or recognize their authority. This was a quick way to show them who was in charge. No lives were lost - just doors.

  Deila motioned to all of them to step back, then set the charge and jumped back with them. A muffled boom split the silence. The door shook. Deila stepped forward and nudged it with a toe. It fell with a loud thud, and the Security Squad rushed in, with Obi-Wan leading the charge.

  At first, he couldn't see anything. But he hadn't forgotten his Jedi training. He let go of the urgent need to see and accepted the darkness. In only seconds, he could make out shapes.

  Shapes with weapons ...

  The Melida Elders stood at the end of the long hallway. Their backs were to a stairway leading upward. They all wore battered plastoid armor and held their weapons pointed at the squad.

  Obi-Wan saw his problem at once. He would have to end the conflict here. The group had access to the stairway. More lives could be lost if his squad was forced to follow them upstairs. There could be booby traps. At the very least, it would be a dangerous exercise to try to locate all six Elders upstairs.

  One of them spoke. "We do not recognize your authority."

  Obi-Wan knew the voice. It belonged to Wehutti, Cerasi's father. Cerasi had not seen him in years. Obi-Wan was glad that she was outside.

  "It doesn't matter if you don't recognize it," Obi-Wan answered in a steady tone. "We have it. You lost the war. We've formed a new government."

  "I do not recognize your government!" Wehutti cried sharply. His powerful hand gripped a blaster. He had lost his other arm in an earlier war, but Obi-Wan had seen firsthand that Wehutti could inflict more damage with one arm than most warriors could with two.

  "Young fools!" Wehutti continued harshly. "You talk of peace with weapons in your hands! You are no different from us. You wage war to get what you want. You oppress the people to keep what you have. You are hypocrites and fools. Why should we bend to your authority?"

  Obi-Wan began to walk forward. His squad followed him. "Drop your weapons or we'll arrest you. We've called for reinforcements."

  At least he hoped so. The standard operating procedure was for the last one in to signal the lookout to call if it looked as if there would be resistance. Cerasi should have contacted Mawat on her comlink by now.

  "If you take another step, Jedi, I'll fire," Wehutti said, leveling his blaster.

  Before Obi-Wan could take his next step, blaster fire erupted from upstairs. Obi-Wan sprang backward to avoid it, but he couldn't see where it was coming from.

  Wehutti sprang backward as well. That meant that he didn't know where it was coming from, either.

  Cerasi! Somehow she had climbed into the upper story. Cerasi was an agile, fearless gymnast. She had pulled what she called a "rooftop special," jumping from an adjoining roof onto another and then swinging down to a window.

  Obi-Wan took advantage of Wehutti's surprise and launched himself at the group, his squad on his heels. He leaped into the air, twisting his body in order to bring the hilt of his vibroblade down on Wehutti's wrist. Even a powerful man like Wehutti couldn't withstand the shock of such a blow. He howled and dropped his blaster.

  Obi-Wan scooped it up as he whirled to disarm the next Elder. He saw a flash of movement behind him. It was Cerasi, leaping over the stairway rail into the fray. She dove feet-first into a Melida Elder. The Elder's vibro-ax clattered to the floor, and Deila picked it up.

  Within thirty seconds, the entire group was disarmed.

  "Thank you for your cooperation," Obi-Wan said. It had been decided that if resisters were disarmed without any loss of life, no one would be arrested. If they had to arrest every resister, Nield pointed out, they would have no place to put them.

  "A curse on the foul Youth who destroy our civilization!" Wehutti spat out. His green eyes were similar in color to Cerasi's, but they blazed with hate.

  Cerasi stood rooted to the spot, transfixed by her father's hatred. He had not recognized the slight figure in the brown cloak and hood.

  Obi-Wan tugged on her arm, and she followed him outside. The cold air cooled their flushed cheeks.

  "Deila, take the weapons back to the warehouse," Obi-Wan said wearily. "We'll take a break for now."

  Deila waved. "Good work, chief."

  The rest of the squad headed off. Cerasi walked in silence next to Obi-Wan for a few minutes. It was cold, and they tucked their hands inside their cloaks for warmth.

  "I'm sorry I didn't call for reinforcements," Cerasi said. "I figured we could handle it."

  "Did you know Wehutti was there?" Obi-Wan asked.

  "Not for sure. But when I hear about a bunch of stubborn angry Melida holdouts, naturally my dear dad springs to mind."

  Cerasi tilted her face back to catch the warming rays of the sun. She looked serene, but Obi-Wan had picked up the sad bitterness in her voice.

  "He is wrong," Obi-Wan admitted quietly. "But he knows no other way."

  "I was stupid enough to think this war would change him." Cerasi stooped down to pick up a piece of rubble in her path. She threw it into a pile at the side of the road and tucked her hand inside again. "I thought if we survived the last war we'd ever fight on Melida/Daan, we'd find each other again. Stupid."

  "Not stupid," Obi-Wan said carefully. "Maybe it just hasn't happened yet."

  "It's funny, Obi-Wan," Cerasi said thoughtfully. "I had no empty places inside me during the war. I was filled up with my desire for peace, my friendships with the Young. Now we have victory, and my heart feels empty. I didn't think I would miss my family ever again. But now I want something to connect to that goes as deep as blood."

  Obi-Wan swallowed. Cerasi continually surprised him. Every time he thought he knew her, another layer would peel back, and he would see a different person. He had met a tough, angry girl who could shoot and fight almost as skillfully as a Jedi. After the war, he had seen an idealist emerge with the power to move hearts and minds. Now he saw a young girl who just wanted a home.

  "You connect to me, Cerasi," he said. "You've changed me. We support each other and protect each other. That's family, right?"

  "I guess."

  He stopped and turned to face her. "We'll be each other's family." He held up his hand. This time, she pressed her palm against it.

  The wind picked up, cutting through their cloaks and making them shiver. Still, they kept their palms together. Obi-Wan felt the warmth of Cerasi's skin. He could almost feel the beating of her blood against his.

  "You see," he said, "I have lost everything, too."

  A tool box from the servo-utility unit. Holographic files and computer records for students with names A through H. A teacher's meditation robe. A fourth-year student's sports activity kit. Qui-Gon stared at the list. It was such an odd assortment of items. He could see no pattern there. He and Tahl were working on the assumption that these were petty thefts. That would be the easy answer. Somewhere there could be a student who seemed to be adjusting but who was hiding resentment or anger. He or she had lashed out.

  But Qui-Gon had learned through long experience that the easy answer usually just led to a harder question.

  The holographic files on the students were kept by Jedi Master Tun. Tun had a record of long years of service. He was several hundred years old, a wizened being of great learning. He had kept the records of the Temple for the past fifty years. Each year he was aided by two student helpers who volunteered for service. Tahl and Qui-Gon had interviewed both of them. They had answered steadily and clearly. Only Tun and other members of the Council had access to the private files. The students were never alone in the filing office without Tun.

  It was typical of their investigation. Every lead had turned into a dead end.

  An urgent knock came on his door. "Qui-Gon," Tahl called softly. "I need you."

  He opened the door. "More bad news," she said with an anxious frown. "The senior t
raining rooms have been vandalized. All of the lightsabers have been stolen."

  Dismay made him slow to respond. Obi-Wan's lightsaber had been in the senior training room. Qui-Gon had left it there. Part of him had hoped that someday Obi-Wan would reclaim it.

  "This is no longer petty theft," he said.

  "Yoda has cordoned off the room until we see it," Tahl explained. "Hurry, before TooJay catches up with me."

  They walked quickly to the lift tube and took it to the training floor. Qui-Gon strode into the changing rooms. He stopped short, and Tahl bumped into him from behind.

  "What is it?" she asked. "What do you see?"

  Qui-Gon couldn't answer for a moment. Sick at heart, he surveyed the room. Training tunics had been ripped to shreds, the pieces flung around the room. Lockers were flung open, their contents spilled onto the floor.

  "I can feel it," Tahl said. "Anger. Destruction." She picked her way through the debris, reaching down to pick up a scrap of fabric. "What else?"

  "A message," Qui-Gon said. "Scrawled on the wall in red." He read it to her.

  COME, YOUR TIME WILL

  BEWARE YOU MUST, TROUBLE I AM

  "It's mocking Yoda," she said. "I know the students imitate him sometimes. Even I do. But we do it with great affection. Qui-Gon, there is hate here."

  "Yes."

  "We have to get to the bottom of this. And the students must know. We must go on alert."

  "Yes," he agreed. "This cannot be secret any longer."

  The Temple went on high-security alert. It was a decision the Council was reluctant to make. It made prisoners out of the students. They needed passes to leave the Temple, passes to use the gardens and to swim in the lake. They needed to account for their time at every minute of the day. It was for everyone's protection, but it violated the spirit of the Temple. The Temple's philosophy was that discipline needed to come from within. Security checks contradicted that concept.

  But Qui-Gon and Tahl had insisted on the measure, and Yoda had agreed. The safety of the students was their primary concern.

  An atmosphere of mistrust grew at the Temple. Students eyed each other with suspicion. As they were called into interviews with Qui-Gon and Tahl, they watched each other for guilty signs. Yet no one could believe that a student could be capable of such vandalism.