Near a broken window, he paused to listen for a moment.
“And where is the Jedi?” a voice asked coldly. “If this is another dirty Melida trick, I swear by the honored memory of our martyrs that we will retaliate.”
“A dirty Daan trick, more likely.” Qui-Gon recognized Wehutti’s voice. “For it’s a coward’s trick, worthy of your worthless ancestors, to
lure your enemy to a meeting under false pretenses. Our troops can be here in seconds.”
“And what will they do? Throw pebbles?” The other voice was amused. “Didn’t the Melida blow up their own weapons stores, fearing the attacking Daan?”
“And didn’t the Daan allow their own stores to be stolen right under their noses?” Wehutti snapped.
Qui-Gon knew it was time for him to enter. He climbed over a half-demolished wall. The Melida council members stood on one side of the room, heavily armed and dressed in plastoid armor. The Daan stood on the opposite side, almost identically dressed and armed. Each member of each group bore scars and signs of healed wounds. Several were missing limbs, or breathed through breath masks. It was hard to tell the two ravaged groups apart.
“No tricks, no stratagems,” Qui-Gon said, striding to the middle of the room. “And if Melida and Daan will cooperate, I won’t take up too much time, either.”
The Daan council members looked as skeptical as the Melida, Qui-Gon thought as he surveyed the room. At least the two groups had something in common: distrust.
“What news of the Young have you brought us?”
Wehutti
asked impatiently.
“And why should we care what children do?” an elder Daan asked contemptuously.
“Because yesterday they made you look like fools,” Qui-Gon answered mildly. He waited out the indrawn breaths and looks of avid hatred directed his way. “And, on a more practical note, they have stolen most of your weapons,” he added. “They have asked for disarmament, and you have ignored them. Obviously, they are quite capable of getting what they want.”
“All we have to do is walk in and take back our weapons,” the Daan leader said, rasping through a breath mask. “Candy from a baby.”
“I warn you,” Qui-Gon said, turning to catch the eye of everyone in the room. “Do not underestimate the Young. They have learned how to fight from you. They have learned determination from you. And they have their own ideas.”
“Is this what you brought us here to hear?” the Daan leader growled. “If so, I have heard enough.”
“For once, I agree with Gueni,” Wehutti said, referring to the Daan in the breath mask. “This is a waste of time.”
“I must urge you to reconsider,” Qui-Gon said. “If you form a coalition government, you might be able to take control of Zehava, and thus of Melida/Daan. If not, the Young will win
this war. They will end up ruling their elders. And though their aims are pure, I fear for the cost that will bring.”
Wehutti started from the room, followed by the Melida leaders. “Join with the Daan? You’re dreaming!”
Quickly, Gueni followed suit, as though he did not want the Melida to be the first to leave. The other Daan followed on his heels. “Unthinkable!”
Suddenly, the sound of an explosion caused the remaining windows to vibrate. The Daan and Melida looked at each other.
“This is a trick!” Wehutti roared. “The foul Daan are attacking us!”
“The detestable Melida are attacking!” Gueni cried at the same time. “Fiends!”
Qui-Gon strode to the window. He looked out, but could see nothing. As he scanned the area, another explosion ripped through the silence. It had come from the Daan sector, he calculated. But what could it have been?
In the next second, Gueni’s comlink began to beep. The Elder Daan hurried to a corner to take the message in private. While Gueni listened, his back to the room, Qui-Gon began to worry. Obi-Wan had disappeared that morning. He hoped his Padawan wasn’t involved in whatever was going on. Using the Force, he tried to
establish a connection with Obi-Wan. But he could feel nothing. No distress, no confusion, no assurance. Only … a void.
When Gueni turned back to the group, he looked shaken. “Reports have come in that two deflection towers have been blown in the Daan sector.”
One of the Daan warriors went for his weapon. “I knew it! The filthy Melida-“
“No!” Gueni cried hoarsely. “It was the Young.”
Slowly, the Daan’s hand fell to his side. The Melida who had begun to reach for his weapon stopped as well. A babble of conversation rose.
“Those children could not do it on their own! The deplorable Melida are behind this!” one of the Daan council members shouted.