Jedi Apprentice(11)

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 feetfirst 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.