by Jude Watson
"There were no barricades for five years," Cerasi said softly. "Daans and Melidas mixed in both sectors. In some neighborhoods they even lived side by side. Then the Twenty-Fifth Battle of Zehava began."
"What about your parents, Cerasi?" Obi-Wan asked.
Cerasi's expression was hard for Qui-Gon to read. She seemed to struggle with the decision to share even a part of her story. "Their hatred destroyed them, like so many others. My mother died while conducting a sniper raid. My brother was sent to the country to work in a munitions factory, I have not heard a word from him since."
"And your father?"
Cerasi's face smoothed out, became bland. "He is dead," she said colorlessly.
A story there, Qui-Gon thought. Each of the Young, he realized, would have a similar one, full of sorrow and tragedy, of parents lost too soon, families fractured. That was the bond between them.
Ahead, Qui-Gon saw a glimpse of blue water. They walked down a wide boulevard, leaping over large holes where proton torpedoes had fallen.
"This is Lake Weir," Nield said. "I used to come swimming here when I was little. Now you'll see what the Daan have done."
As they drew closer, the patch of blue Qui-Gon had glimpsed between two buildings widened, and he could see that the lake was quite large. It would have been a beautiful expanse, except for the low, massive ebony stone building that floated slightly above the water by repulsor-posts.
"Another Hall of Evidence," Nield said, disgusted. "This was the last remaining body of water within a thousand kilometers. Now no one can enjoy it but the dead."
The wind ruffled Nield's hair as he gazed at the scene. His disgusted look softened to one of sadness, and Qui-Gon imagined that a memory of one of those swim& had surfaced. He was suddenly struck by how young Nield looked. Underground, his manner had made him seem older than Obi-Wan, but they were about the same age.
Qui-Gon gave a quick glance at Cerasi. Her slender, pretty face was pale, almost drawn, but he could still see the young child she'd once been. They were all so young, he thought in sorrow. Too young for the task they'd set themselves - to right centuries of wrong, to save a world cracked by tension and strife.
"Come," Nield said. "Let's see the happy dead speak."
He strode forward and they followed. He entered the stone door and walked quickly down the aisles, past monument after monument. He activated hologram after hologram but did not stop to hear their tales. Their voices filled the huge chamber, echoing with their stories of revenge and hatred. Nield began to run, pressing globe after globe to activate the ghosts.
Finally, he stopped in front of the last hologram he'd activated. It was a tall man with shoulder-length hair, wearing armor.
"I am Micae, son of Terandi of Garth, from the North Country," the hologram said. "I was but a boy when the Melida invaded Garth and herded my people into camps. There, many died, including -"
"And why did the Melida do that, you fool?" Nield mocked the figure, drowning out the list of the dead. "Perhaps because the Daan soldiers in the North Country attacked the Melida settlements without warning, killing hundreds?"
The warrior's tale went on. "- and my mother died that day without ever being reunited with my father. My father died in the great Battle of the Plains, avenging the great wrong of the Melida during the Battle of the North -"
"-Which had taken place a century before!" Nield scoffed.
"- and today I go to battle with my three sons. My youngest son is too young to join us. I fight today so that he may never have to fight -"
"Fat chance!" Nield jeered.
"We seek justice, not vengeance. And that is why I know we shall triumph." The warrior raised his fist, then opened it in a gesture of peace.
"Liars and fools!" Nield shouted. He turned abruptly away from the hologram. "Let's get out of here. I can't bear their stupid voices any more."
They walked out into the open air. Gray clouds were massing overhead, and the water looked almost as black as the great hall that floated above it, casting a long shadow. It was hard to tell where the building ended and the water began.
"Do you see?" Nield demanded of Qui-Gon. "They will never stop. The Young are this world's only hope. I know the Jedi are wise. You must see that our cause is just. Don't we deserve a chance?"
Nield's golden eyes burned with fervor. Qui-Gon glanced at Obi-Wan. He saw that the boy had been not only moved by Nield's words, but deeply stirred.
That made him uneasy. Though a Jedi's heart could be touched, it was his duty to remain unbiased and calm. The situation here was complicated and volatile. They would need clear heads to navigate it. His instinct told him it was better not to take sides.
But there was the question of Tahl. Rescue was their primary mission. Nield had promised his help. Could he deliver on his promise?
"I know where Tahl is being held," Nield said, almost as though he'd read Qui-Gon's mind. "She is alive."
"You can get us to this place?" Qui-Gon asked.
"Cerasi can," Nield said. "It is heavily guarded. But I have a plan to take care of that. While you are rescuing Tahl, the Young will launch a surprise attack."
"I am not sure how surprising an attack would be, given that the Melida know that the Jedi are on the loose," Qui-Gon said. "They will be expecting it."
"But they will not be expecting a Daan attack."
"Are the Daan planning to attack?" Obi-Wan asked.
"No," Nield answered. "But that doesn't mean the Melida can't think they are. Our plan is to stage diversionary attacks in both the Melida and Daan sectors. The Melida will think that the Daan are attacking and send their forces out into the streets to defend themselves. The Daan will do the same. I promise you confusion and chaos. Then you can go after Tahl."
"But you have no weapons," Obi-Wan said. "How do you expect to attack?"
"We have a plan," Nield said mysteriously. "All we ask of you is to stay in the vault and not contact the Melida. Right now they are searching for you everywhere. It is better that their forces be busy with that chore so that we can do our work."
"So you see how easy we're making this for you?" Cerasi asked. "All we ask is that you do nothing."
"We'll take care of the diversion," Nield continued. "You take care of Tahl. I also know that her wounds were severe. She needs medical attention."
Annoyed, Qui-Gon gazed out at the water to buy time. He knew Nield was blackmailing him, forcing him to bend to his wishes so that Qui-Gon could fulfill his mission. He had been out-maneuvered by a child.
And Obi-Wan, he saw, was enjoying it. Another curl of apprehension registered along his spine.
He turned back to Nield and Cerasi. "All right," he said. "Obi-Wan and I will wait for you to bring us to Tahl. Our primary objective is her rescue. After that, you're on your own. Is that good enough?"
Nield grinned. "It is all we need."
Back at the tunnel, preparations began. Nield and Cerasi huddled with the rest of the Young, deep in conversation. Obi-Wan sat quietly at the table, watching them. The determination on their faces told him that whatever the outcome, the Daan and the Melida were both in for a big surprise at dawn the next day.
Qui-Gon paced on the other side of the room, displaying a rare show of impatience.
"If you need help with strategy-" he began.
Cerasi turned. "No," she said curtly. "We don't need any help."
"Another opinion can only strengthen your odds," Qui-Gon said quietly.
This time, Cerasi didn't bother to turn. Nield did not even look up.
"We do not want your help, Jedi," Cerasi said, even more sharply than before.
Obi-Wan glanced at Qui-Gon to gauge his reaction. He saw his Master struggle with his irritation. But although Qui-Gon could be impulsive, he was never petty. The irritation left him, and his usual mask of calm returned.
"Padawan, I am going to explore the tunnels," he told Obi-Wan in a low voice. "It is better not to rely totally on the Young to guide us. You r
emain here."
Obi-Wan nodded. For once, he didn't want to accompany Qui-Gon. He wanted to stay and watch the Young plan the battle.
Cerasi divided the young people into teams and assigned them tasks. They worked on makeshift weapons fashioned from scraps. Their most prominent weapon was a powerful slingshot that threw laserballs. The balls could only sting a life-form if they connected, but if they hit a hard object, they made a sound like blaster fire.
Over the course of the afternoon, Obi-Wan tried to grow used to the muffled sound of explosions. War toys were part of the childhood of both Melida and Daan. The Young were modifying them to amplify their sound effects. They worked in the rooms branching off the main tunnel on missile tubes, packing them with pebbles and paint.
Cerasi worked on a pile of slingshots in a corner, honing them with a sharp knife and testing their accuracy with wadded up flimsiplast. The flimsiplast winged across the high space, hitting the same stone block with deadly accuracy. Cerasi worked tirelessly, without a break.
"I'd like to help," Obi-Wan said, approaching her. "Not with strategy,” he added quickly. "I know you have that under control. But I can help with this."
Cerasi pushed a lock of hair from her eyes and smiled slightly. "I guess I was hard on your Boss-Master, huh?"
"He's not my boss, really," Obi-Wan said. "That's not the Jedi way. He's more of a guide."
"Sure, whatever you say. But if you ask me, elders always think they know best. They just get in the way." She handed a knife to Obi-Wan. "If you can hone it to the same thickness as the ones I did, we could get these done in a flash."
Obi-Wan sat and began to scrape the knife against the supple wood. "What do you think our chances of success are tomorrow?"
"Excellent," Cerasi said firmly. "We're relying on the hatred of the two sectors. All we need to do is create the illusion of battle. Both sides will react without bothering to verify reports of blaster fire and torpedo launches. They expect warfare at any moment."
"Your battle may be an illusion, but the danger is not," Obi-Wan pointed out. "Both sides will have real weapons to fire."
Cerasi shook her head. "I'm not afraid."
"Awareness of fear can protect you if it does not overtake you,” Obi-Wan replied.
Cerasi snorted. "Is that one of your Boss-Master's Jedi sayings?"
Obi-Wan flushed. "Yes. And I have found it to be true. Awareness of fear is an instinct that warns you to be careful. Anyone going into battle who says they are not afraid is a fool."
"Well, call me a fool, Pada-Jedi," Cerasi said flatly. "I'm not afraid."
"Ah," Obi-Wan said lightly. "You go into glorious battle without fear, confident that your filthy enemy will collapse."
He was repeating the vain boasts of the dead in the Halls of Evidence, and Cerasi knew it. She flushed as Obi-Wan had a moment before.
"More Jedi wisdom. It's a wonder you manage to survive this long, if you keep pointing out what foolish things people say," Cerasi finally said with a half smile. "Okay, I get your point. I'm no better than my ancestors, marching blindly into a battle I will lose."
"I'm not saying you will lose."
Cerasi paused, fully seeing Obi-Wan for the first time. "Well, maybe I'll feel afraid on the day of the battle. But today I feel ready. This is the first step toward justice. I can't wait to take it. Do you have any wisdom about that?"
"No," Obi-Wan admitted. Cerasi was unlike anyone he'd ever met before. "Justice is something to fight for. If I didn't believe that, I wouldn't be a Jedi."
Cerasi put down her slingshot. "Being a Jedi is as much a part of you as being part of the Young is to me," she observed, her crystal green eyes studying him. "I guess the difference is that the Young don't have any guides. We guide ourselves."
"Being an apprentice is a journey that is an honor to undertake,” Obi-Wan replied. But he feared his words were weak. He was used to saying them and believing them with his whole heart. Being a Jedi was at the core of him. But in just a few hours with the Young, he had seen a commitment that had confused him as much as it had stirred him.
Of course, he had seen deep commitment at the Temple among the Jedi students. But with some students, there often seemed to be pride mixed in. They were the elite, picked out of millions to be trained.
Whenever Yoda saw pride in a Jedi student, he found ways to expose it and put the student on the right path. Pride was often based in arrogance, and had no place in a Jedi. Part of the Jedi training was to eliminate pride and substitute sureness and humility. The Force only flourished in those who knew they were connected to all life-forms.
Here in the tunnels, Obi-Wan saw a pureness he had only glimpsed in his talks with Yoda, or his observance of Qui-Gon. That pureness was in people his own age. They did not have to strive for it. They possessed it. Perhaps because the cause they believed in was more than a concept in their minds. It was bred in their blood and bones, born in their suffering.
He felt defensive, as though Cerasi had attacked his dedication to the Jedi way. "Nield is the leader of the Young," he pointed out. "So you, too, have a boss."
"Nield is the best at strategy," Cerasi said. "If we didn't have someone to organize us, we would fall apart."
"And someone to punish you?" Obi-Wan asked, remembering how Nield had almost strangled a boy.
Cerasi hesitated. Her voice softened as she continued. "Nield may seem harsh to you, but he has to be. Hatred was taught to us before we could walk. We have to be firm to stamp it out. Our vision of a new world can only survive if our hatred dies. We must forget everything we were taught. We must begin again. Nield knows this better than anyone. Perhaps because he's had it harder than any of us here."
"In what way?" Obi-Wan asked.
Cerasi sighed. She put down the slingshot she'd been working on. "That last hologram he triggered - the one he mocked - was Nield's father. He went into battle with Nield's three brothers. They all died. Nield was five years old. One month later his mother made preparations to be part of the next great battle. She left him with a cousin, a young girl who was more like a sister to him. His mother went off to fight, and she was killed, too. Then the Melida invaded his village. His cousin escaped and took him to Zehava. He had a few peaceful years, but then the Daan attacked the Melida sector, and his cousin had to fight. She was seventeen, old enough then. She died, too. Nield was left on the streets to fend for himself. He was eight years old. There were those who tried to care for him. He wouldn't live with anyone, but he did take shelter and food when he needed it. He didn't want to depend on anyone ever again. Can you blame him?"
Obi-Wan pictured all those people who loved Nield - all of them dying, one after the other. "No," he said softly. "I don't blame him at all."
Cerasi sighed. "The point is, I was raised to think of the Daan as beasts, barely human. Nield was the first Daan I knew. He was the one who united both the Daan and the Melida orphans. He walked into the care centers and gathered them up, promised them freedom and peace. Then he made sure they had it. If they had stayed in the care center, eventually they'd be taken in a sweep."
"A sweep?" Obi-Wan asked.
"Both Melida and Daan rely on the orphaned children for factory work or conscription, if they're old enough," Cerasi said flatly. "They either work or fight. It's easy to find them in the city care centers. In the towns and villages, the children just run away."
"Where do they go?"
Cerasi frowned. "They live off the land and scavenge. There are whole tribes of children beyond the city's walls. Nield has worked hard to organize them, too. They keep in contact with stolen comlinks. They don't want any more war." Cerasi turned to him. "So you ask me what our chances of success will be, and I know I answered you. But truly, I can't even think of chances or odds. We will succeed because we have to. Our world is becoming a wasteland, Obi-Wan. Only we can stop it."
Obi-Wan nodded. He felt himself beginning to understand Cerasi. He saw that her brusque-ness masked deep feeling.
"We could use your help, though," Cerasi went on. "You have ties to the Jedi Council, and they have ties to Coruscant. You can show the entire galaxy that our cause is just. Jedi support means everything."
"Cerasi, I can't promise you Jedi support," Obi-Wan said quietly. Surprising himself, he put his hand over hers. "I can only promise you mine."
Her bright gaze held his. "Why don't you come with Nield and me tomorrow? We're doing the first raid into Daan territory."
Obi-Wan hesitated. As a Jedi apprentice, he would be breaking the rules if he agreed without asking Qui-Gon's permission. But if he asked, Qui-Gon would most likely refuse.
He had already broken the rules by pledging his own support to Cerasi and her cause. That promise could conflict with the Jedi mission.
But he couldn't help himself. The cause of the Young spoke directly and urgently to his heart. As a Jedi, he didn't fight for his own family, his own world, or his own people. He fought for what Yoda and the Council - and Qui-Gon - decided he should fight for.
Cerasi and Nield had defined their own struggle. Obi-Wan was struck with a pang of deep envy for them. He had spent so much time with those older than himself. He had listened so often to their wisdom. Now he felt welcomed back into something different. He could be a part of a community here - he hadn't realized how much he missed a community of boys and girls his own age.
Cerasi's hand felt warm beneath his own. Her fingers were slender and delicate. Suddenly they intertwined with his and squeezed, and he felt their strength.
"Will you come?" she asked.
"Yes," he said. "I will."
That night, the Young rolled sleeping quilts onto the tombs. Qui-Gon found an open space near one of the adjacent tunnel entrances, where the air was fresh.
Obi-Wan approached him awkwardly. "Nield and Cerasi have asked me to share their quarters," he said. "They watch over the youngest children."
Qui-Gon gave him a questioning look, but he nodded. "Sleep well, Padawan."
Obi-Wan picked up a sleeping quilt and returned to Nield and Cerasi.