by Джуд Уотсон
Now the murmurs he heard from the onlookers were of appreciation for the skill of a Jedi Master. Qui-Gon tuned them out. The battle was not over until the final defeat.
Bruck tried a last assault, but the boy was tired. It was not hard for Qui-Gon to knock Bruck's weapon from his hand and lightly touch the end of his own lightsaber to the boy's neck.
"End point, it is," Yoda announced.
The two exchanged the ritual bows and the customary eye contact. At the end of every match, each Jedi showed respect to the other and gratitude for his lesson, win or lose. Qui-Gon had fought many times in this way.
Sometimes, Jedi students could not control their frustration or anger during the ritual bow.
But in Bruck's steady gaze Qui-Gon saw only respect. That was an improvement.
But he saw other things. Curiosity. Desire.
Bruck was going to be thirteen in a few days. He had not yet been chosen as a Padawan. Time was running out. He was most likely wondering if Qui-Gon would choose him.
Everyone was wondering, Qui-Gon knew. Teachers, students, even the Council. Why had he returned to the Temple? Had he come to choose another apprentice?
Qui-Gon turned away from the speculation in Bruck's eyes. He would never choose a Padawan again.
He returned his lightsaber to his belt. Bruck replaced his in the rack where the senior students left their weapons after training. Qui-Gon quickly walked through the dressing and washing rooms and activated the door to the Room of a Thousand Fountains.
He felt the coolness of the air with relief. Here in the enormous greenhouse it was always refreshing. The sound of rushing water and the many shades of green soothed a restless spirit. He could hear the trickle of the small fountains nestled in the ferns, as well as the gentle thunder of the larger waterfalls down the paths. Qui-Gon had always found the garden peaceful. He hoped that now it would calm his raging heart.
Privacy was greatly respected at the Temple.
Qui-Gon had not been confronted with questions since he'd arrived. Yet he knew that curiosity bubbled beneath the calm surface of the Temple just as the hidden fountains flowed in the gardens. Students and teachers alike wanted to know the answer to one question: What had gone wrong between him and his Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi?
Even if someone asked him the question, would he be able to answer it?
Qui-Gon sighed. The situation whirled with cloudy motivations and uncertain paths. Had he misjudged his Padawan? Had he been too firm with Obi-Wan? Not firm enough?
Qui-Gon didn't have an answer. All he knew was that Obi-Wan had made an astonishing and bewildering choice. He had thrown away his Jedi training like it was a worn-out tunic.
"Troubled you are, if the garden you seek," Yoda said from behind him.
Qui-Gon turned. "Not troubled. Just overheated from the battle."
Yoda gave a slight nod. He did not fully respond if he felt a Jedi had dodged an issue. Qui-Gon knew that well.
"Avoiding me, you have been," Yoda remarked. He settled himself on a stone bench placed near a fountain that ran over smooth white pebbles. The sound of the water was nearly music.
"I've been watching over Tahl," Qui-Gon answered.
Tahl was the Jedi Knight who Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had rescued from Melida/Daan. She had been blinded in an attack and then held as a prisoner of war.
Again, Yoda only nodded slightly. "Better healers we have at the Temple than you," he said. "And in need of constant care, Tahl is not. Welcomes it not, I think."
Qui-Gon could not suppress a half smile. It was true. Tahl was already impatient with the constant attention. She didn't like to be fussed over.
"Time it is for you to speak your heart," Yoda said softly. "Past time, it is."
With a heavy sigh, Qui-Gon sat on the bench next to Yoda. He did not want to unburden his heart. Yet Yoda had a right to know the facts.
"He stayed," Qui-Gon said simply. "He told me he had found something on Melida/Daan that was more important than his Jedi training. On the morning we were leaving, the Elders attacked the Young. They had starfighters and weapons. The Young were disorganized. They needed help."
"And yet stay you did not."
"My orders were to return to the Temple with Tahl."
Yoda leaned slightly backward in surprise. "Orders, they were? Counsel, it was. And always willing to ignore my counsel you are, if suits you it does."
Qui-Gon gave a start. Obi-Wan had flung almost the same words at him back on Melida/Daan.
"Are you saying I should have stayed?" Qui-Gon asked irritably. "What if Tahl had died?"
Yoda sighed. "A hard choice it was, Qui-Gon. Yet willing are you to blame your Padawan. Place the choice before him you did: forsake Jedi training, or children die, friends are betrayed. Thought you understood a boy's heart, I did."
Qui-Gon stared stonily ahead. He had not expected this rebuke from Yoda.
"Impulsive you were yourself as a student," Yoda continued. "Led by the heart, many times you were. And wrong, many times you were as well. This I remember."
"I never would have left the Jedi," Qui-Gon said angrily.
"True that is," Yoda said, nodding in agreement. "Commitment you had.
Absolute it was. Does this mean that to question, others must not? Like you always, they must be?"
Qui-Gon shifted on the bench. These conversations with Yoda could be painful. The Jedi Master had a way of poking the deepest wound.
"So I should let him make his foolish decision," Qui-Gon said with a shrug. "Let him fight a war he can't win. Let him stand and watch the massacre that will result. He'll be lucky if he escapes with his life."
"Ah, see I do." Yoda's yellow eyes gleamed. "Unbiased by your feeling, your prediction is?"
Qui-Gon nodded shortly. "I see disaster there. The Young cannot win."
"Interesting," Yoda murmured. "For win they did, Qui-Gon."
Qui-Gon turned to him, startled.
"Word we have received," Yoda said calmly. "Won the war, the Young have. Forming a government, they are. Understand now do you, Obi-Wan's decision? Fighting for a lost cause, he was not. A planet ruler, he has become."
Hiding his surprise, Qui-Gon turned away. "Then he is more foolish than I thought," he coolly replied.
Obi-Wan sat between Nield and Cerasi at a huge round conference table.
The Young had taken over the bombed-out Melida/Daan Unified Congress Building. It had stood intact for only three years, during a period where the Melida and Daan had tried to rule together before war had broken out again.
The Young had taken it over as a symbolic gesture of unity. There were certainly more welcoming places they could have chosen. They had tried to clear most of the rubble, but they were forced to leave the heavier fallen beams and columns. The windows had been blown out, and more than half the roof was gone.
Obi-Wan was damp and cold and uncomfortable, but he was thrilled to be here, forming a new government. The days were long and difficult, but he never felt tired. There was so much to think about and so much to do.
The Young had won the war. But the hard part was just beginning.
Before, they had all been in agreement. They had simply wanted peace. But now the Young waged a war of words among themselves. There were too many decisions to make and too many opinions.
The city of Zehava was a ruin. Many people did not have heat, and food was scarce. Hospitals needed supplies. Fuel for floaters and transports was low. But the worst problem was the amount of arms still carried by the citizens, most of them former soldiers. Tensions ran high, and any small conflict could escalate into a serious battle.
The Young were in the majority on Melida/Daan, especially since the decimated Middle Generation had thrown their support to them during the war.
It had been easy to reach an agreement to elect Nield as temporary governor.
In addition, an advisory council of ten members had been set up. Obi-Wan was on it, along with Mawat and other Young leaders. Cerasi
headed the council.
As governor, Nield was required to follow any motion that was voted by a majority. He cast one vote as well.
Nield and the council had gone to work immediately, forming squads to address the separate problems that Zehava faced. Obi-Wan was head of the Security Squad. It was the most dangerous duty, involving a house-to-house weapons sweep of the entire city. Until further notice, only members of the Security Squad were allowed to carry weapons. All others were directed to turn their weapons in to a warehouse until the tensions eased. Obi-Wan had not been surprised when many people did not want to cooperate. Even some of the Young were reluctant to hand over their weapons. They had all lived with conflict for too long.
The policy had been discussed at the first general meeting. There had been shouting and furious arguments.
Cerasi had faced them all down. She had stood in the middle of the ruined building and seemed to meet every eye in the packed house. "Peace isn't just a concept to me," she had said. "It is life and breath. I will never pick up a weapon again. I have seen what they can do. If a weapon of destruction is in my hands, sooner or later that weapon will be used. I will not contribute to one more death on Melida/Daan!"
After a silence, the Young had burst into cheers. Cerasi had flushed with happiness and pride as boys and girls streamed up to the council table and handed over their weapons. It had been a proud moment.
"First order of business," Cerasi now said crisply, breaking into Obi-Wan's thoughts.
"Let's get progress reports from the squad heads. Nield, would you begin?"
Nield stood. He was head of the New History Squad, which was in charge of demolishing the symbols of hatred and division in Zehava — war monuments, military statues, and the great Halls of Evidence, which housed holograms of warriors telling tales of hatred and bloodshed.
"As you all know," Nield began in a ringing voice, "the building of a new society can only take place if the old rivalries are stamped out. How can the fragile peace hold if both Melida and Daan still have places to go to fuel their hatred? I say that the destruction of the Halls of Evidence should be our first priority!"
Many onlookers cheered. But Taun, the head of the Utilities Squad, in charge of bringing back power and heat to the many ruined buildings, raised his hand.
"The people are cold and hungry," he said. "Isn't helping them more important?"
"It's when they're cold and hungry that they blame the other side,"
Nield answered. "That's when the lines at the Halls of Evidence grow long.
People would rather warm themselves with hatred than blankets."
"What about the med centers?" Dor, a quiet boy, spoke up. "The sick can't line up at the Halls. They need medicine."
"And the orphans?" someone else called. "The care centers can't handle the overflow."
"I would say that rebuilding housing is our first priority," Nena, the head of the Housing Squad, spoke up. "There are so many who were displaced by the war."
Nield suddenly brought his hand down on the table with a sharp crack.
The buzz of conversation stopped.
"All of these problems come from the endless wars!" he cried. "And the endless wars spring from the endless hate! We must destroy the Halls first.
It will give the people hope. Hope that we can bury the past as easily as we bury the symbols of our division!"
A hush fell on the room. Everyone stared at Nield. His words rang true.
"I know destroying the resting places of our ancestors is asking people to sacrifice their memories," Nield continued. "That is why I've chosen the resting place of my ancestors as the first Hall to be demolished. I want to remember my parents as people. Not warriors! I want to remember them with love. Not hate! Come with me now," he urged, leaning over the table, his voice carrying to every corner of the room. "Let me show you what a great mark of unity this will be. Are you with me?"
"We're with you!" the Young shouted.
Nield sprang up and strode down the center aisle. "Then come on!"
Boys and girls jumped up and ran behind him, cheering. Grinning, Obi-Wan and Cerasi followed.
"Nield will always be able to bring us together," Cerasi exclaimed, her face glowing.
The crowd followed Nield to the Daan sector, where a huge Hall of Evidence was located on a large, glittering blue lake. The low black structure hovered on repulsorlifts, covering almost the entire surface of the lake.
Already, workers from Nield's squad were carrying out the stone markers on small speeders. They dumped them in a growing pile.
Mawat waved Nield over as soon as the crowd arrived. "Hey, I made sure they saved these intact," he told Nield in a low voice. "I didn't know if you wanted to keep them."
Obi-Wan looked over at the stone markers. He saw the name micae chiseled on one, with the warrior's birth and death dates. Next to it was a marker for Leidra. They were Nield's parents.
Nield looked down at the markers. "I'm glad you saved them," he murmured to Mawat.
Obi-Wan exchanged a surprised glance with Cerasi. Would Nield reconsider his position now that he was face-to-face with the last evidence of his parents?
Nield caressed the golden globe that activated the projection. His father appeared in hologram form, brandishing a blaster and wearing armor.
"I am Micae, son of Terandi of Garth, from the North Country," the hologram began.
Nield turned and activated the hologram of his mother, Leidra. A tall woman with Nield's dark eyes appeared. "I am Leidra, wife of Micae, daughter of Pei of Quadri," she began.
The two voices combined, each drowning out the other. Obi-Wan could pick out isolated words and phrases about battles fought and won, ancestors dead, villages destroyed.
Nield picked up a beamdrill. Now the crowd had gathered around him. A solemn look was on his face as he turned to the marker for his father.
"I was but a boy when the evil Melida invaded Garth and herded my people into camps," Micae was saying. "There — "
Nield attacked the marker with the beamdrill, shattering it into pieces. The hologram dissolved into glittering fragments, then disappeared.
Only the voice of Nield's mother remained.
"And to my son, Nield, my treasure, my hope, I leave my love and my undying hatred for the filthy Melida — "
Leidra's voice was cut off as Nield set to work on her marker. The hologram wavered, then dissolved. The harsh sound of the beamdrill filled the air. Stone splintered and chips flew, cutting Nield on his arms. He didn't seem to feel it. He operated the drill until his parents' markers were ground to small chunks of stone.
"Now they are gone forever," Cerasi whispered. Obi-Wan saw a small tear trickle down from the corner of her eye.
Nield turned. He wiped the sweat from his brow with a forearm. Blood from his cuts mingled with the dust covering his face. He leaned down to pick up one of the chunks of stone. He held it aloft.
"The remnants of these stones will be used to build new housing for Melida and Daan to live together in peace," he shouted. "Today, a new history is born!"
A great roar rose from the crowd. Many rushed into the Hall to help dismantle it. Others hoisted pieces of stone and cheered.
Obi-Wan stood next to Nield and Cerasi. It was a historic moment. He had helped to shape it.
He had no regrets about leaving the Jedi. He was home.
Qui-Gon was in his quarters when he got the message that he was to report to the Jedi Council immediately. He was most likely being called to report on what had happened with Obi-Wan.
He rose with a sigh. He had returned to the Temple for peace. Instead, he was forced to relive the situation over and over.
Still, a request from the Council could not be ignored. Part of being a Jedi was recognizing that one's own wisdom had limits. The Council was made up of the wisest and best of the Jedi Masters. If they wanted to hear from Qui-Gon directly, he would tell them.
Qui-Gon entered the Council room. It was the hi
ghest room in one of the Temple towers, taking up the entire top story. Outside the windows that ran from floor to ceiling, the spires and towers of Coruscant hovered below. The sun was just rising, brushing the clouds with orange fire.
Qui-Gon stood in the center of the room, bowed respectfully, and waited. How would they begin? Would Mace Windu, whose dark eyes could burn through you like hot coals, demand his reason for leaving a thirteen-year-old boy in the middle of a war? Would Saesee Tiin murmur that Qui-Gon's actions had always come from an impulsive but giving heart? He had been called before the Council more than most Knights. He could guess at what each would say.
