Barricades and checkpoints were set up at almost every block. He could see the evidence of battles fought here: blaster and grenade blasts pockmarked the buildings, and many were in ruins. Everyone he saw on the streets carried weapons in plain view. It was like the planets he’d heard about in the far reaches of the galaxy, where no laws were followed.
“We noticed other Halls of Evidence as we flew over Melida/Daan,” Qui-Gon remarked to Wehutti.
“We call our world Melida,” Wehutti corrected Qui-Gon in a friendly way. “We do not link our great tradition to that of the filthy Daan. Yes, even the Daan have Halls of Evidence. Evidence of their lies, we say. We Melida visit our ancestors every week to hear their stories. We bring our children so we keep alive the history of injustices the Melida have suffered at the hands of the Daan. Nobody forgets. Nobody will ever forget.”
Obi-Wan felt a chill at Wehutti’s grim words. Even if the Daan were as bad as he said, how could they continue to wage battle after battle when they were destroying their world piece by
piece? He could see that Zehava had once been a beautiful city. Now it was a ruin. By building these enormous Halls of Evidence, were they keeping history alive, or destroying their civilization?
And there was something else that was wrong here, Obi-Wan thought. Something that hovered at the back of his mind, something he couldn’t quite place.
Obi-Wan’s gaze moved absently down the street to a group of Melidas sitting outside at a cafe. The window of the restaurant had been blown out, and a fire had destroyed the interior, but the owner had set out tables and chairs on the walkway outside. A few tubs of blooming plants with bright red flowers struggled to add a cheerful note next to the bomb-blasted building.
Suddenly, Obi-Wan realized what was wrong. He hadn’t seen anyone on the streets older than twenty or younger than fifty or so. Mostly, the streets were crowded with elders and young people like himself. He had seen no men or women of Qui-Gon’s age except for Wehutti. Even the other snipers had been elders, he realized. Were the mid-life people all working, or gathered somewhere for a meeting?
“Wehutti, where are all the middle-aged people?” Obi-Wan
asked curiously.
“They’re dead,” Wehutti said flatly.
Even Qui-Gon looked startled. “The wars have wiped out the middle generation?”
“The Daan have wiped out the middle generation,” Wehutti corrected grimly.
Obi-Wan had noticed the same lack of the middle generation in the Daan sector, but he didn’t mention it to Wehutti. Obviously, the hatred of the Daan ran so deep in Wehutti that he could see no other sides of the story.
As they passed the blown-out cafe, Obi-Wan noticed graffiti on a partially destroyed wall. Scrawled in blazing red paint were the words THE YOUNG WILL RISE! WE ARE EVERYONE!
They turned a corner and walked through a neighborhood that had once prospered. As they made their way through the barricades onto once-pleasant squares, Obi-Wan noticed more graffiti. It all repeated what he’d seen on the cafe wall.
“Who are the Young?” he asked Wehutti, pointing to the graffiti. “Is it some organized group?”
Wehutti frowned. “Just kids, fooling around. It isn’t enough that we have to live in Daan-destroyed homes and gardens. Our own children have to make our surroundings worse by defacing them. Ah, here we are.”
He stopped in front of a once-luxurious man—
sion. A solid durasteel wall had been erected around it. It was topped with coils of electro-wire. The windows were barred and Obi-Wan was sure they would release an electro-charge if touched. The house was now a fortress.
Wehutti stopped in front of the gate and pressed his eye against the iris-reader. The gate clicked open and he gestured for them to go inside.
They stepped into a walled courtyard. In front of the house was a rack filled with weapons.
“I’m afraid you must leave your lightsabers here,” Wehutti said apologetically. He unstrapped his own weapons from their holsters. “This is Melida headquarters. It’s a weapon-free zone.”
Qui-Gon hesitated a fraction. Obi-Wan waited to see what he would do. A Jedi is never separated from his or her lightsaber.
“I’m sorry, but if you break this rule the negotiations will go badly for you,” Wehutti said in a conciliatory tone. “They need proof of your trust since you ask for theirs. But it is your decision.”
Slowly, Qui-Gon withdrew his lightsaber. He nodded at Obi-Wan to do the same. He slipped it into the rack, then took Obi-Wan’s and slipped it next to his.
Wehutti smiled. “I’m sure this will go smoothly. This way.”
Qui-Gon gestured for Obi-Wan to step in first as he gathered the folds of his cloak more closely around him. Wehutti followed directly behind them.