Jedi Apprentice 5: The Defenders of the Dead

"I'm not saying you will lose."

Cerasi paused, fully seeing Obi-Wan for the first time. "Well, maybe I'll feel afraid on the day of the battle. But today I feel ready. This is the first step toward justice. I can't wait to take it. Do you have any wisdom about that?"

"No," Obi-Wan admitted. Cerasi was unlike anyone he'd ever met before. "Justice is something to fight for. If I didn't believe that, I wouldn't be a Jedi."

Cerasi put down her slingshot. "Being a Jedi is as much a part of you as being part of the Young is to me," she observed, her crystal green eyes studying him. "I guess the difference is that the Young don't have any guides. We guide ourselves."

"Being an apprentice is a journey that is an honor to undertake," Obi-Wan replied. But he feared his words were weak. He was used to saying them and believing them with his whole heart. Being a Jedi was at the core of him. But in just a few hours with the Young, he had seen a commitment that had confused him as much as it had stirred him.

Of course, he had seen deep commitment at theTemple among the Jedi students. But with some students, there often seemed to be pride mixed in. They were the elite, picked out of millions to be trained.

Whenever Yoda saw pride in a Jedi student, he found ways to expose it and put the student on the right path. Pride was often based in arrogance, and had no place in a Jedi. Part of the Jedi training was to eliminate pride and substitute sureness and humility. The Force only flourished in those who knew they were co

Here in the tu

He felt defensive, as though Cerasi had attacked his dedication to the Jedi way. "Nield is the leader of the Young," he pointed out. "So you, too, have a boss."

"Nield is the best at strategy," Cerasi said. "If we didn't have someone to organize us, we would fall apart."

"And someone to punish you?" Obi-Wan asked, remembering how Nield had almost strangled a boy.

Cerasi hesitated. Her voice softened as she continued. "Nield may seem harsh to you, but he has to be. Hatred was taught to us before we could walk. We have to be firm to stamp it out. Our vision of a new world can only survive if our hatred dies. We must forget everything we were taught. We must begin again. Nield knows this better than anyone. Perhaps because he's had it harder than any of us here."

"In what way?" Obi-Wan asked.

Cerasi sighed. She put down the slingshot she'd been working on. "That last hologram he triggered — the one he mocked — was Nield's father. He went into battle with Nield's three brothers. They all died. Nield was five years old. One month later his mother made preparations to be part of the next great battle. She left him with a cousin, a young girl who was more like a sister to him. His mother went off to fight, and she was killed, too. Then the Melida invaded his village. His cousin escaped and took him to Zehava. He had a few peaceful years, but then the Daan attacked the Melida sector, and his cousin had to fight. She was seventeen, old enough then. She died, too. Nield was left on the streets to fend for himself. He was eight years old. There were those who tried to care for him. He wouldn't live with anyone, but he did take shelter and food when he needed it. He didn't want to depend on anyone ever again. Can you blame him?"

Obi-Wan pictured all those people who loved Nield — all of them dying, one after the other. "No," he said softly. "I don't blame him at all."

Cerasi sighed. "The point is, I was raised to think of the Daan as beasts, barely human. Nield was the first Daan I knew. He was the one who united both the Daan and the Melida orphans. He walked into the care centers and gathered them up, promised them freedom and peace. Then he made sure they had it. If they had stayed in the care center, eventually they'd be taken in a sweep."

"A sweep?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Both Melida and Daan rely on the orphaned children for factory work or conscription, if they're old enough," Cerasi said flatly. "They either work or fight. It's easy to find them in the city care centers. In the towns and villages, the children just run away."

"Where do they go?"

Cerasi frowned. "They live off the land and scavenge. There are whole tribes of children beyond the city's walls. Nield has worked hard to organize them, too. They keep in contact with stolen comlinks. They don't want any more war." Cerasi turned to him. "So you ask me what our chances of success will be, and I know I answered you. But truly, I can't even think of chances or odds. We will succeed because we have to. Our world is becoming a wasteland, Obi-Wan. Only we can stop it."

Obi-Wan nodded. He felt himself begi

"We could use your help, though," Cerasi went on. "You have ties to the Jedi Council, and they have ties to Coruscant. You can show the entire galaxy that our cause is just. Jedi support means everything."

"Cerasi, I can't promise you Jedi support," Obi-Wan said quietly. Surprising himself, he put his hand over hers. "I can only promise you mine."

Her bright gaze held his. "Why don't you come with Nield and me tomorrow? We're doing the first raid into Daan territory."

Obi-Wan hesitated. As a Jedi apprentice, he would be breaking the rules if he agreed without asking Qui-Gon's permission. But if he asked, Qui-Gon would most likely refuse.

He had already broken the rules by pledging his own support to Cerasi and her cause. That promise could conflict with the Jedi mission.

But he couldn't help himself. The cause of the Young spoke directly and urgently to his heart. As a Jedi, he didn't fight for his own family, his own world, or his own people. He fought for what Yoda and the Council — and Qui-Gon — decided he should fight for.

Cerasi and Nield had defined their own struggle. Obi-Wanwas struck with a pang of deep envy for them. He had spent so much time with those older than himself. He had listened so often to their wisdom. Now he felt welcomed back into something different. He could be a part of a community here — he hadn't realized how much he missed a community of boys and girls his own age.

Cerasi's hand felt warm beneath his own. Her fingers were slender and delicate. Suddenly they intertwined with his and squeezed, and he felt their strength.

"Will you come?" she asked.

"Yes," he said. "I will."

That night, the Young rolled sleeping quilts onto the tombs. Qui-Gon found an open space near one of the adjacent tu