Jedi Apprentice 1: The Rising Force (звёздные войны)

by Дэйв Волвертон

  Jemba pounded his chest. “I will pay in food and dactyl!” he said. “For a day of labor, I will give my workers a day of life!”

  “You offer to pay these people with dactyl that you stole from them?” Obi-Wan asked. He could not believe what he heard. It was all he could do to restrain from launching himself across the room to hack Jemba to pieces.

  Jemba smiled hugely. “Indeed. Those who work for me will live. Those who do not will die. What better pay could I give?”

  The Arconans had been talking softly. To Obi-Wan’s further amazement, some of them immediately began to stride across the room toward Jemba. More followed. Si Treemba hesitated, then joined them.

  “Wait!” Clat’Ha commanded the Arconans. “What re you doing?”

  The Arconans stopped and looked back. “We are miners,” Si Treemba said. “Whether we live under Jemba, or under another, it matters not.”

  “But, Si Treemba, what of your freedom?” Obi-Wan asked. “You can’t just give it up!”

  Si Treemba looked at him sadly. “You are our friend, Obi-Wan. But you do not understand. Humans may value freedom as much as life. But we do not.” As a group, the Arconans turned and headed toward Jemba.

  Obi-Wan struggled to understand his friend’s words. Arconans were hatched in nests where they shared everything. On Arcona, they dug in the soil for deep roots that held water and food. They relied upon one another wholly. Once on Bandomeer, they would mine for Jemba. As long as their community survived, as long as we remained, freedom did not matter.

  “If you go with him,” Clat’Ha warned, “he will take all that he can from you, and give nothing in return except what is already yours by right. Jemba will grow huge, while the Arconans grow weak. Is that what you want?”

  “No,” Si Treemba admitted. “But we do not wish to die.”

  “Then you must fight him,” Clat’Ha urged. “When you are faced with danger, you build walls and hide behind them. That is the Arconan way. But when a daggerlip tears down your walls, you fight. Jemba is no better than a daggerlip. He intends to destroy us. We can defeat him.”

  Clat’Ha drew her blaster, and the Offworld miners raised their weapons and shields, prepared to fight. Obi-Wan studied the fiery woman. Her fierceness filled the room. All it need was a spark to ignite.

  It was a battle they were bound to lose. Qui-Gon was tight. This was not the time or place to fight. Jemba had to be stopped. They could not stop him here.

  “Si Treemba,” Obi-Wan called. “Friend. I ask this one thing of you. Wait.”

  Qui-Gon shot him a look of respect. Obi-Wan did not have time to be pleased by it. He focused all his attention on Si Treemba. Sometimes, the force of friendship could work where the Force could not.

  Si Treemba faced him, torn. It would take an act of great courage for him to divide himself from his fellow Arconans, Obi-Wan knew. He waited, knowing that to speak again would be to insult Si Treemba.

  Slowly, Si Treemba nodded. Then he moved to the other side of the room to stand with Obi-Wan and Clat’Ha.

  A low, anxious hissing filled the room. One by one, the Arconans followed Si Treemba.

  Chapter 16

  The meeting ended in stalemate. There was nothing left to do but leave. Obi-Wan stayed with Qui-Gon. Although the Jedi held himself erect during the confrontation, sweat beaded his forehead and Obi-Wan could only imagine the concentration it took for him to stay focused.

  “I’ll see you back to your cabin,” Obi-Wan told him. He knew Qui-Gon must be feeling weak when the Jedi didn’t try to argue.

  By the time Qui-Gon reached the corridor where his cabin was located, his walk was uneven and his vision clouded. He was grateful for Obi-Wan’s presence at his side. As he rounded the corner, he staggered. Obi-Wan grabbed his arm and held him upright.

  “Are you all right?” Obi-Wan asked, his voice thick with concern.

  “I will be,” Qui-Gon said weakly. “I… just need… to focus.”

  Obi-Wan helped him into his cabin and waited until he was seated. A plan had been growing in his mind since the confrontation. This time, he would not make the mistake of failing to inform Qui-Gon.

  “Master Jinn,” Obi-Wan began. “I have an idea. I will go back into the air vents, into Offworld territory. I know the layout now. I will wait until Jemba is alone and ambush him.”

  Qui-Gon closed his eyes for a moment, as if Obi-Wan’s suggestion had pained him as much as his wound. “No,” he said flatly. “You will not.”

  Just moments ago, he had been impressed by Obi-Wan’s handling of the Arconan situation, and how he had backed off from Jemba with dignity. Now the boy was making reckless plans again, letting his eagerness take over his judgement.

  Of course, Qui-Gon had to admit the plans were no more reckless than some of those that Qui-Gon had thought up in his youth. Still, he felt a disappointment so keen that it surprised him. Were his feelings continually to take him unaware when it came to the boy?

  Wearily, Qui-Gon raised himself up in the chair. His shoulder flamed where the pirate had struck him. He’d been holding that pain at bay, but now it overwhelmed him.

  “Look, you’re wounded,” Obi-Wan said. “I know you can’t fight now. But I could do it for you! I can hold back my anger and do what must be done. If Jemba were dead —“

  “Nothing would change,” Qui-Gon said wearily. “Obi-Wan, can’t you see? Killing Jemba is not the answer. Jemba is but one Hutt. There are always more, just as evil and greedy as he is. If you kill him, it won’t stop his plan from going forward. Another like him, perhaps someone worse, will take his place. What we must do is try to teach these people that —“

  “But he is evil, isn’t he?” Obi-Wan asked.

  “What Jemba is trying to do is wrong,” Qui-Gon answered carefully.

  “I’ve never seen anyone who was so evil,” Obi-Wan burst out.

  A sad smile touched Qui-Gon’s lips. “and have you been so many places, young Obi-Wan?”

  Obi-Wan fell silent. He had much to learn. His heart cried out that Jemba was evil, and that evil had spread to enslave innocent victims. If anyone deserved to meet a bitter fate, it was the Hutt. But he would listen to Qui-Gon.

  “I’ve seen far worse,” Qui-Gon continued. “If you think of killing in anger, you must know such thoughts come from the dark side.”

  “Then how can we make him give the dactyl back?” Obi-Wan asked.

  “You can’t. You can’t force people to be just and decent. Such qualities arise from within — they cannot be forced from without. For now, I choose to wait. Perhaps Jemba will have a change of heart. Or perhaps some darker fate awaits him. In either case, killing is not the solution.”

  “But… you’ve killed before,” Obi-Wan added hesitantly.

  “I have,” Qui-Gon admitted, ”when there was no other choice. But when I kill, I only win a fight. It’s a small, small victory. There are greater battles to be won — battled of the heart. Sometimes, with patience and reason and by setting a good example, I have won more than a fight — I have turned my adversary into a friend.”

  Obi-Wan considered this. Despite his pain and weakness, Qui-Gon was taking the time to explain his thoughts to Obi-Wan. Only yesterday, the Jedi most likely would have issued a stern order, then dismissed him. Something had changed between them.

  “You’re testing me, aren’t you,” Obi-Wan guessed. “You’ve changed your mind. You are considering me for your Padawan.” He tried to keep the eagerness out of his voice.

  Qui-Gon shook his head. “No,” he said firmly. I’m not testing you, Obi-Wan. Life tests you! Every day it brings you new chances for triuph or defeat. And if you pass the test, it doesn’t make you a Jedi. It makes you human.”

  Obi-Wan stepped back, as if Qui-Gon had slapped him. With a rush of emotion, he saw into his own heart. He had been fooling himself. He had told himself that he had accepted Qui-Gon’s decision, that all he wanted was his respect. But somewhere deep inside, he had hoped that if he
acted bravely and well on this mission, Qui-Gon would change his mind.

  Now he saw the truth.

  Qui-Gon saw the change in Obi-Wan’s eyes. The boy finally understood that his decision was final. He should have been relieved. The boy’s anger had left him. But something else was gone as well. Obi-Wan’s hopes for the future had also faded.

  Qui-Gon watched as Obi-Wan turned and wiped his face with his sleeve. Was the boy crying? Had he hurt him so deeply?

  But when Obi-Wan turned back, only sweat was gone from his face. Qui-Gon could see no glistening sign of tears. Instead, he saw the worst kind of defeat.

  It stung him. After all his noble talk of winning the hearts of enemies, he realized that he had just crushed the heart of a boy who only hoped to become his ally.

  Chapter 17

  Obi-Wan left Qui-Gon’s cabin in a daze. He needed rest, but he could not seem to light anywhere. He tried his cabin, then the lounge. At last he wandered the hall aimlessly. He ended up near the engine rooms, staring out at the wasteland of the unnamed planet.

  Five moons, in shades of red and blue, hung like ripe fruits out over a silent ocean. A flight of draigons hovered high in the air, asleep on the wing. The island shore was nothing more than a treacherous bit of waver-carved rock. Farther inland, dark volcanic peaks vented steam, and there draigons perched by the hundreds.

  A door hissed open behind him. A moment later, Si Treemba stood by his side.

  “We have been searching for you,” he said.

  “I needed to think,” Obi-Wan answered. He was glad to see his friend. Si Treemba had showed him the greatest trust in the meeting with Jemba. It had forged their friendship, and they both knew it.

  “May we ask what you are thinking about?” Si Treemba asked hesitantly.

  “I thought that my time in the Temple was hard in many ways,” Obi-Wan said. “The days were filled with study and effort. The very best was expected of us. I respected my teachers so much, and I thought I knew what I needed not only to survive, but to excel.” Obi-Wan took a breath. “Now I see that I had no idea what kind of evil the universe could show me. I’ve never seen real greed before, not like the greed of the pirates or Jemba. It sickens me.”

  “As it should,” Si Treemba agreed. “It is a horrible thing.”

  “And I am wondering… do I have the seeds of the same greed?” Obi-Wan wondered.

  Si Treemba looked at his friend, puzzled. He saw great anguish on Obi-Wan’s face. “Why would you ask that, Obi-Wan?”

  “Because, all my life, I’ve wanted to be a Jedi. I craved it so much. I was willing to fight for the honor, and I became angry when others stood in my way.”

  “A Jedi gives much to his fellow men,” Si Treemba answered thoughtfully. “He protects the weak, he battles for the common good. We do not thin it is evil for you to want to do well. No, that is not greed.”

  Obi-Wan nodded, still looking out at the dark sea. He felt a deep longing to be home, back at the Temple, where things had clarity and purpose. Here, he felt lost.

  “It will be light in a few hours. You have done so much for me already, Si Treemba. But will you help me one last time?”

  “Of course we shall,” Si Treemba said promptly. “But how?”

  “Help me overcome my anger,” Obi-Wan said. His fingers were curled into fists. He looked down at them and uncurled them, then gripped the frame of the view screen. “I feel such rage toward Jemba. He wants to use other people for his own game, and I want to kill him for that. But I don’t like the way I feel right now. Qui-Gon was tight. If I tried to stop Jemba, I would be doing so only to satisfy my own rage.”

  “You seem calm,” Si Treemba observed.

  “Something has just happened,” Obi-wan told him quietly. “I just realized something. Qui-Gon will never take me as a Padawan. He feels I am unworthy, and perhaps he is right. Maybe I wouldn’t be good at it.”

  “And you are not angry?” Si Treemba asked, surprised.

  “No,” Obi-Wan said. “I feel strange, Si Treemba. It’s as if a burden has been lifted from me. Perhaps I could be a good farmer. Ant to be good… to be a good person is more important than being a Jedi.”

  “But what about Jemba?” Si Treemba asked.

  “Yoda once told me that there are trillions of people in the galaxy, and only a few thousand Jedi Knights. He said we cannot try to right every wrong. All creatures must learn to stand for what is right, and not always rely upon the Jedi. Perhaps that is what the Arconans must do. I don’t know about the future. But today I choose not to fight.”

  Obi-Wan turned to Si Treemba. “I asked you to leave your fellow Arconans to give us a chance to help you. I haven’t gone back on that promise. I won’t see you sicken again for lack of dactyl. I stand with you, Si Treemba. Somehow, we will find a way.”

  Chapter 18

  Qui-Gon’s Jedi healing techniques required him to put all his energy toward knitting his torn muscles and fighting infection. Yet time and again he found his thoughts returning to Obi-Wan, to the look of defeat on the boy’s face during their talk.

  Why did they boy exert such a persistent tug? He had seen many boys over the years. Time and again he had gently informed than that they did not have it in them to become a Jedi Knight. He had done it compassionately, and saved them from the difficult struggle of finding out to late. Hadn’t he?

  Resolutely, Qui-Gon settled himself on the sleep-couch. Regrets would keep him awake, and he needed sleep.

  The ship was eerily quiet. Everyone was exhausted from the battle with the pirates. Qui-Gon heard nothing but the slap of waves on the shore and the soft rhythmic murmur of some animals skittering under the ship. He hoped the sound would lull him to sleep.

  But he slept restlessly, due to pain or regret he could not say. Half-awake from a tortured dream, Qui-Gon rose and crossed for a towel to wipe his sweaty forehead. He drank some water, then rested his hot forehead against the cool transparisteel of his small portal. The craggy cliffs in the distance seemed to shimmer and vibrate. Was his fever getting worse? An odd, yellow mist blurred his vision.

  He had risen too soon. Qui-Gon felt his way back to the sleep-couch. This time, he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  When he woke in the early morning, his right arm was stiff but better. A ship’s droid had mended and cleaned his robes. As he donned them, he realized he was hungry. It was a good sign.

  As he headed for the kitchen, he saw that the ship was abuzz. Arconans rushed past him, carrying crates of their personal belongings.

  He asked one what was wrong.

  “The tide is coming in,” the Arconan said, “and it may swamp the ship. The engines are all down for repair, and we won’t get them up in time. We have been ordered to evacuate.”

  “Evacuate?” Qui-Gon asked in surprise. With the draigons outside, that sounded dangerous. “Evacuate to where?”

  “Into the hills, higher up on the island. The ships crew found some caves. We must reach them before the sun is in the sky and the draigons waken.” The Arconans rushed away, heavy packs and boxes in tow.

  From bad to worse, Qui-Gon realized. Shot down by pirates, wrecked on an alien world with Jemba holding a gun on them all. And now they would have to abandon ship, hide in caves with limed supplies. He could feel a rising danger. Perhaps the pirates would come to finish them off, or maybe they’d all starve, or die fighting one another. Perhaps the tides would rise so high that they’d flood the whole island.

  The Arconans rushing past looked weary and battered. They had not gotten dactyl last night, and would have none this morning. Qui-Gon wondered how long they could go without it.

  He strode to Clat’Ha’s cabin and found her hurriedly packing her belongings. Her door was open.

  She looked up when he entered the room. “You’d better hurry and pack,” she said. “The tide is coming in fast and the sun will rise soon. We have to get off the ship.” She grinned as she pushed a strand of red-brown hair out of her eyes. He green
eyes gleamed with mischief. “Jemba is furious. Maybe he’s afraid he won’t fit in a cave.”

  “Why is he so angry?” Qui-Gon asked curiously.

  Clat’Ha shrugged. “Because it’s something out of his control, I suppose. At first he thought the crew was lying. But even he had to realize we could drown if we stayed. It was almost worth it just to see him back down.”

  Qui-Gon frowned. “How soon do the Arconans need dactyl?”

  The amusement in Clat’Ha’s eyes instantly changed to worry. “Some of them are already beginning to fade,” she said quietly. “If they don’t get dactyl by tonight, they’ll start to sicken and die.”