Yet all they could do was wait.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The Jedi did not take Joylin’s advice and return to the villa. They remained on the streets to monitor the progress of the revolt, keeping concealed.
Sentry droids were so thick in the air that a constant humming noise filled the streets. Teda’s government was on full alert after the theft in his office.
They knew the instant the CIP had been hit. The sentry droids crashed to the ground, lifeless.
Within minutes, however, the army flooded the streets. The Jedi retreated before them as they headed for Cloudflower Wall, trying to quell the resistance.
They arrived just in time to see the Romin workers burst through the security gates. The mass of beings was like a huge moving mountain. The Jedi were now swept along as the determined group marched toward Teda’s palace, pushing the army back in a hard battle.
Obi-Wan had hoped to see joy and liberation on this dark night. Instead, he saw only rage. Sick at heart, the Jedi watched as the looting and violence began. The Romins had been deprived of too much for too long. They had lived with fear as a constant companion. They had watched their children suffer.
The anger fed on itself and grew. They wanted to destroy what had destroyed them.
Transparisteel shattered. Monuments fell. Even trees were hacked down. Fires were lit in the exclusive shops, the businesses that catered to the wealthy, the banks, the assembly halls, even the hospitals. Citizens who had profited from the Teda regime were dragged into the streets and slaughtered.
The Jedi could not be everywhere. It all got out of control too fast.
Siri and Obi-Wan were shaken. They had taken the risk. They had hoped for the best and seen the worst.
Obi-Wan saw the horror through Ferus’s eyes. Siri’s apprentice grew silent. Obi-Wan saw him shudder as he saw the things he had feared would happen.
“We did this,” Ferus said.
“No,” Anakin said. “They are doing this.”
“We have to help,” Ferus insisted.
“We’ll help where we can,” Siri told him. “We can’t stop it, Ferus.”
They found cowering workers and brought them to shelter. They tended to the wounded and prevented violence where they could.
The night stretched on. The sounds of destruction grew soft as the Romins raged in other parts of the city. They heard the muffled thuds of explosions. The crash of transparisteel. The far-off noise of an alarm. A cry that could have been a bird. But they knew it was not.
By dawn the Jedi had established their villa as an outpost that they guarded from the mob and used to monitor Zan Arbor’s villa, which seemed untouched so far. As long as she remained there, Obi-Wan was content to do likewise. Scores of Romin citizens sat in their garden, refugees from homes that had been looted and burned. The Jedi could not begin to sort out who had been involved in Teda’s government and who had merely lived and worked in the city. They allowed anyone fleeing to come in and take shelter.
The rising sun brought a kind of calm to the streets. The resistance workers patrolled now, trying to restore order. Obi-Wan and Anakin sat outside, ready for trouble, though they had received no threat for hours now.
“A long night,” Anakin said.
“Yes.”
“Even after this night, I still think we weren’t wrong.”
Obi-Wan sighed. He tried to smooth the trampled grass underneath his hand. “Wrong or right - I’m not ready to make that call. We made the decision using the facts we had.”
“But we were right,” Anakin insisted.
Obi-Wan saw the will Ferus had been talking about, the need to bend the situation to Anakin’s own vision of it. The need to be right.
“Anakin, sometimes sureness is not what you should strive for. A little confusion in your mind can be a good thing. Will we be proved right ultimately? I hope so. Did we do the best we could? Yes. That I firmly believe. That’s enough for now.”
Siri called them from the villa. “The vidscreen is broadcasting. The resistance now has control of the communication system. Joylin is going to speak.”
Obi-Wan and Anakin hurried inside. Siri, Ferus, and some of the refugees were crowded around the vidscreen. Others began to pour through the doors, and still others stood outside the windows so that they could hear.
Joylin appeared on the screen. Even on vidscreen, his magnetism was clear. His clothes were stained and rumpled. His face was drawn. Yet strength radiated out from his body, and his eyes were resolute.
“Romin is now in the hands of its people,” he said.
A sound rose from the crowd, half gasp, half cry. No one had liked living under Teda. Yet the liberators had come close to destroying the city. How safe were they?
“The Citizens’ Resistance is now occupying the palace of the tyrant Teda as well as the government buildings. We have control of communications and transportation. Order has been returned to the streets. Some regrettable looting and burning has occurred, but it has been stopped. No one will be granted exit from Romin without the permission of the Citizens’ Resistance. The army of the Great Leader has deserted or joined us. Let us rejoice, citizens, in our victory. Our tyrant is finished.”