from cabin to cabin, searching each bunk and storage compartment. A dozen times, Arconans asked, “What are we doing?”
Each time, Si Treemba answered, “We are looking for something that was lost.”
To which the Arconan would ask, “May we help find it?”
And Si Treemba would merely answer, “We need no assistance.” The Si Treemba and Obi-Wan would search the room and leave.
But not all the workers for Arcona Mineral Harvest were Arconan. Some were short, silver-haired Meerians returning to Bandomeer, some Human. Obi-Wan had to treat these carefully. More than once he found himself using the Force to convince some burly miner to let him search.
It was exhausting work for someone who was still recovering, but Obi-Wan ignored his own pain and weariness. A Jedi did not give into such feelings.
After a long day, Obi-Wan and Si Treemba went to the kitchens for a late meal. Obi-Wan ate a full dinner of roast gorak bird cooked in mall petals from Alderaan. Si ate Arconan fungi covered with dactyl, a type of yellow ammonia crystal. The Arconan’s food smelled… well, the fungus wasn’t bad, but the dactyl smelled like poison.
Obi-Wan wrinkled his nose. “How could anyone eat that stuff?”
Si Treemba smiled. His faceted eyes glittered. “Some creatures wonder how Humans can drink water, yet you take delight in it. Dactyl is as necessary to us as water is to you.” Having said that, he took a couple of crunchy yellow stones and popped them into his mouth like candy.
When Obi-Wan reached for salt, Si Treemba pulled his plate away in fear.
“Salt increases our need for dactyl a hundredfold,” Si Treemba explained. “It is a very dangerous substance to Arconans.”
Obi-Wan sprinkled the salt on his gorak bird. “We all have our own poisons, I guess,” he said cheerfully, taking a bite.
Si Treemba grinned at him and crunched on his dactyl. It was almost like being back at the Temple eating with Bant or Reeft, Obi-Wan thought. He missed his friends, but he liked Si Treemba more and more as he spent time with him. The Arconan had courage and determination that impressed him. And Obi-Wan was aware that it took nerve for an Arconan to break off from the group and help a stranger.
“You know,’ Obi-Wan remarked, “there’s one think I don’t understand. Jemba puts on a good show. But I sense he’s afraid of Clat’Ha and the Arconans.”
Si Treemba swallowed a mouthful of dactyl and fungi. “We think you’re right, Obi-Wan. He fears us. Even though it is not or intent, he knows we will destroy him.”
“How is that?” Obi-Wan asked.
“In Offworld mining, the chiefs and overseers make fortunes, while the common workers make nothing. Many of them are slaves. But at Arcona Mineral Harvest, we have no chieftains, no overseers. Each worker shares in the profits. This did not bother Offworld until Clat’Ha began to expand our operations. So she contacts the better workers at Offworld. If they are slaves, she offers to buy them and set them free if they will work for us. If they have signed work contracts, she offers to buy the contracts.”
“That sounds fair,” Obi-Wan said.
“It is fair,” Si Treemba agreed. “That is exactly why Jemba fears us. Many good workers wish to join us, only the bad will stay at Offworld.”
“I see,” Obi-Wan said. “So in a few years, Jemba will have only chiefs with no one to boss around. He’d hate that.”
Si Treemba grinned, then turned serious. “But Jemba has stalled us. He has raised the price on labor contracts and slaves. We can no longer afford to hire Offworld workers.”
Obi-Wan was beginning to see that the galaxy was a far more complicated place than he’d realized. The Temple had prepared him for so many things. But they had not prepared him for this. He had known that most worlds in the galaxy had outlawed slavery, and he had assumed that it was rare. But here were hundreds of workers locked in an illegal practice.
Obi-Wan was horrified at the idea of slavery. Since Offworld had paid good money to buy and train slaves, the company wasn’t likely to sell them cheap — or to let them go without a fight. Clat’Ha had been right when she told Obi-Wan he had stepped into a war. This battle would probably wage through mining camps on hundreds of worlds.
He wanted to race to the other side of the ship, lightsaber in hand, and right every wrong. But that wasn’t the way, he knew. He had to find those thermocoms. Exposure was the only way to fight Jemba.
He pushed his plate away. “We’ve searched everywhere on this side of the ship, Si” he said. “The thermocoms must be in Offworld territory.”
The Arconan boy took a deep breath, then released it slowly. “Good. We are pleased.”
“Pleased?” Obi-Wan asked. “But now we have to invade Offworld territory. I thought you were terrified of Hutts.”
“That we are,” Si Treemba agreed. “But still, we are pleased because if the thermocoms are not here, it means that we are innocent. Someone at Offworld Mining is really trying to kill us.”
“Yes, I can see how that would be comforting,” Obi-Wan teased, though he did understand. The Arconans were hatched from eggs and raised in huge nest — with hundreds of brothers and sisters growing together at the same time. From their youth, they were trained to think of themselves as a group. The thought that any Arconan — any of Si’s brothers or sisters — would do something that might hurt or shame the groups must have filled the young Arconan with dread.
“So are you ready to search in Hutt territory?” Obi-Wan asked. “We’ll have to find a way to sneak over.”
