by Jude Watson
The starfighter darted closer to the surface of the planet Melida/Daan. On the rugged terrain below, vast structures made of ebony stone hugged the ground, laid out in enormous perfect squares without windows or doors.
Obi-Wan Kenobi studied them through the viewscreen as he piloted the craft. “What do you think they are?” he asked Qui-Gon Jinn. “I’ve never seen anything like them.”
“I don’t know,” the Jedi Knight replied, studying the landscape with keen blue eyes. “Storage warehouses, perhaps, or military installations.”
“They could conceal tracking devices,” Obi-Wan observed.
“I’m not picking up anything on the scanner. But let’s fly lower just in case.”
Without slowing, Obi-Wan piloted the craft closer to the planet’s surface. Rocks and vegetation rushed past the viewscreen. With the
engines at full power Obi-Wan kept a tight grip on the controls. One tiny adjustment could send them crashing.
“If we fly any lower, I’ll be able to do a molecular scan of the topsoil,” Qui-Gon remarked dryly from the copilot’s seat. “You’re flying too low at this speed, Padawan. If we come across a stray boulder, we may end up making an unscheduled crash landing.”
His tone was mild, but Obi-Wan knew Qui-Gon would accept no argument. Obi-Wan was Qui-Gon’s Jedi apprentice, and one of the Jedi rules was not to question the order of a Master.
Reluctantly, Obi-Wan eased up slightly on the controls. The starfighter rose a few meters. Qui-Gon stared steadily ahead, still searching for a place to land. They were reaching the outskirts of Zehava, the main city on the planet of Melida/ Daan, and it was crucial that their arrival be unnoticed.
The bloody civil war on Melida/Daan had been raging for thirty years. It was a continuation of a conflict that had lasted for centuries. The two warring peoples, the Melida and the Daan, couldn’t even agree on a name for their planet. The Melida called it Melida and the Daan called it Daan. In a compromise, the Galactic Senate used both names separated by a slash mark.
Every town and city on the planet was hotly contested, with territory taken and lost in a continuing series of battles. The capital city of Zehava was under siege much of the time, as the boundaries between Daan and Melida constantly shifted.
Obi-Wan knew that Jedi Master Yoda was depending on them for success in this mission. He had chosen carefully among the many Jedi. This mission was important to him. Weeks ago, one of his brightest pupils, the Jedi Knight Tahl, had come to Melida/Daan as a guardian of peace.
Tahl was renowned among the Jedi Knights for her diplomatic skills. The two sides had been close to a settlement when war broke out again. Tahl had been badly wounded and captured by the Melida.
Just days ago, Yoda had succeeded in getting a message through to his original contact, a Melida named Wehutti. Wehutti had agreed to smuggle Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon into the city and help them to work for Tahl’s release.
The mission ahead was more difficult and dangerous than usual, Obi-Wan knew. This time, the Jedi had not been invited to settle a dispute. They were unwelcome. The last Jedi envoy had been captured, perhaps killed.
He glanced over at his Master. Qui-Gon’s calm,
steady gaze swept the landscape ahead. He betrayed no agitation or worry that Obi-Wan could see.
One of the many things Obi-Wan admired about Master Qui-Gon was his composure. He had wanted to become Qui-Gon’s Padawan because Qui-Gon was well respected for his bravery, skill, and ability with the Force. Although they sometimes had their differences, Obi-Wan had a deep respect for the Jedi Master.
“Do you see that canyon?” Qui-Gon asked, leaning forward and pointing. “If you can land between the walls, we can hide the starfighter there. It’s a tight fit.”
“I can do it,” Obi-Wan promised. Keeping his speed steady, he dipped down lower.
“Slow down,” Qui-Gon warned.
“I can make it,” Obi-Wan said, gritting his teeth. He was one of the better pilots at the Jedi Temple. Why did Qui-Gon always have to correct him?
He zoomed into the small clearing with only a centimeter to spare. But at the last moment - too late - he saw that one of the cliffs had a small outcropping. A groaning sound filled the cockpit as the side of the ship scraped against it.
Obi-Wan set the craft down and powered down the engines. He did not want to look at
Qui-Gon. But he knew that being a Jedi meant taking responsibility for every mistake. He met his Master’s gaze squarely.
He was relieved to see amusement in Qui-Gon’s eyes. “At least we didn’t promise to return the starfighter without a scratch,” he said.
Obi-Wan grinned. They had borrowed the transport from Queen Veda on the planet Gala, where they had successfully completed their last mission.