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. They slept in a small anteroom off the vault. Nield put a finger to his lips as Obi-Wan entered.
“The children are asleep,” he whispered. “We should be sleeping as well. We’ll need all our rest for tomorrow.” He put his hand on Obi-Wan’s forearm. “Cerasi told me you will join us. I’m honored.”
“It is my honor to help you,” Obi-Wan answered.
He settled himself on the floor next to Nield and Cerasi. He thought he wouldn’t be able to sleep, but the children’s quiet breathing lulled him.
It was hard to tell what time it was when he awoke. Cerasi rose from her sleeping area and leaned over Nield to touch his shoulder. Nield was already awake and stood immediately.
Obi-Wan stood as well. He was ready. He was acting not as a Jedi, but as a person - a friend. He grabbed his lightsaber and the slingshot Cerasi had given him the night before. There was an entrance from the anteroom directly into the tunnel toward Daan. Qui-Gon wouldn’t see him leave.
Obi-Wan knew he was wrong not to ask permission, but he wasn’t sure how angry Qui-Gon would be when he discovered he was gone. After all, Qui-Gon himself had offered to help with strategy for the battle.
Obi-Wan was glad he’d made the decision as he joined Nield and Cerasi on the deserted streets of the Daan-controlled Outer Circle. The three moved as one unit in the chilly early
morning air. They walked purposefully down the deserted streets, their soft footfalls barely making a sound. Nield and Cerasi had already decided on their first targets.
They shimmied up a pipe and climbed onto the roof of a dwelling. From here, they could see the sun, more a suggestion of gathering light than a source of radiance.
“I hate to wake everybody up,” Nield said, flashing a grin.
“It’s time they were out of bed anyway.” Cerasi held up a toy missile tube. “I’m ready.”
Obi-Wan had clipped various projectiles onto his belt. He stuffed one into the missile tube. The projectiles had been fashioned around tiny amplifiers so that the sound they made when they hit would mimic the sound of a real proton missile. Cerasi and Nield had chosen a street that would echo the sound.
“Let’s go,” Obi-Wan agreed.
Cerasi aimed the toy missile at the abandoned building across the street. She fired.
The loud sound of the explosion surprised them.
“Listen to that. It worked!” Nield exulted.
He fit a laserball into his slingshot and fired at the wall across the street. The unmistakable ping ping ping of blaster fire erupted. Obi-Wan quickly stuffed another projectile into the tube