Choked with anger and frustration, Obi-Wan could not answer Cerasi.
It was Qui-Gon who said gently, “I’m sorry, Cerasi. We must leave tomorrow.”
Obi-Wan didn’t wait to see Cerasi’s reaction. He could only turn away, sick at heart. He had let her down.
It was no use. He couldn’t change Qui-Gon’s mind. Silently, Obi-Wan helped him minister to Tahl. They prepared and fed her broth and tea. Cerasi had brought Qui-Gon a medpac, and he was able to treat some of Tahl’s wounds. Already, she seemed stronger. She would be ready to travel by tomorrow, Obi-Wan knew. The Jedi powers of recuperation were remarkable.
As soon as Tahl was settled, Obi-Wan sat against the wall and tried to calm his raging heart. Something was happening to him that he didn’t understand. He felt as though there were
two parts of him: a Jedi, and a person called Obi-Wan. Always before, he could not separate being a Jedi from being himself.
He had not been a Jedi with Nield and Cerasi. He had been one of them. He had not needed the Force to feel connected to something larger than himself.
Now Qui-Gon was asking him to leave his friends just as they needed him. He had pledged to help them, had battled alongside them, and now he had to go, just because an elder told him so.
Loyalty had seemed such an easy concept back at the Temple. He had thought that he would be the best Padawan it was possible to be. He would meld his mind and body with his Master, and serve.
But he did not want to serve like this. Obi-Wan closed his eyes as his frustration again boiled up inside him. He pressed his hands between his knees to calm their shaking. He felt frightened at what was happening to him. He couldn’t go to Qui-Gon for counsel. He didn’t believe in his Master’s counsel any longer. Yet neither could he oppose it.
Across the room, Nield was just as agitated, prowling around the headquarters silently. Everyone was waiting for the Melida and Daan councils to respond to the declaration of war. The
long evening shaded into night, and still no word came.
“They did not take us seriously,” Nield said bitterly. “We must strike again, and strike hard enough to make them sit up and take notice.”
Cerasi put her hand on his arm. “But not tonight. Everyone needs rest. Tomorrow we can plan.”
Nield nodded. Cerasi lowered the glow rods until they were only faint spots of illumination against the dark walls, like distant stars in a black sky.
Qui-Gon rolled himself up in his cloak and went to sleep by Tahl’s side in case she called for him in the night. Obi-Wan watched as the boys and girls around him settled into exhausted sleep. Over in the corner, he saw Cerasi and Nield huddled together, talking quietly.
should be with them, Obi-Wan thought bitterly. He belonged with them, talking about strategy and plans. Instead he had to sit silently, passively, watching their dedication, their fire. Cerasi hadn’t looked at him once during the long evening. Nield hadn’t either. They werep>
no
doubt disappointed and angry.
Hesitantly, Obi-Wan rose. Even if he left them tomorrow, they had to know that he had no choice. He walked softly among the sleeping children and approached them.
“I wanted to say good-bye now,” he said. “We’ll be leaving early tomorrow.” He paused. “I’m sorry I can’t stay to help you. I want to.”
“We understand,” Nield said in a clipped tone. “You must obey your elder.”
“It’s not obedience as much as respect,” Obi-Wan explained. His words sounded lame, even to him.
“Ah,” Cerasi said, nodding. “My trouble is, I never got this respect thing. My father told me what was right, and he was always wrong. What does it matter, he’d say, if thousands die, or millions die? The sky is still blue overhead, and our world still remains. The cause is what’s important. And so your Jedi boss tells you what you must do, and you do it. Even though you know he’s wrong. And that is called respect.” She looked at Nield. “Maybe I’ve been living in the dark too long. But I just can’t see that.”
Obi-Wan stood awkwardly in front of them. He felt confused. The Jedi way had always shimmered clear as a fountain of pure water to him. But Cerasi had muddied the water, clouded it with doubt.
“I would help if I could,” he said finally. “If there was something I knew I could do that would make a difference -“
Nield and Cerasi looked at each other, then back at him.
“What is it?” Obi-Wan asked.
“We do have a plan,” Cerasi said.
Obi-Wan crouched down next to them. “Tell me.”
Nield and Cerasi leaned closer, their foreheads almost touching Obi-Wan’s.
“You know that there are deflection towers ringing the perimeter of the city,” Cerasi whispered. “There are also towers around the Melida center. These towers control the particle shields, preventing entry, and separating Melida from Daan.”