“Please come quickly,” Si Treemba panted. “Jemba the Hutt has stolen our dactyl!”
Chapter 15
“You won’t get away with this,” Qui-Gon warned Jemba the Hutt. He spoke calmly. Behind Qui-Gon, dozens of Arconans stood silent. Obi-Wan stood among them, watching the Jedi’s back Qui-Gon was sorely wounded, and seemed on the verge of collapse.
Jemba shook in amusement like a giant grey worm. “What can you do, puny Jedi?” he boomed gleefully. “No one can stop the great Jemba! You Arconans were too frightened to face the pirates. They hid, while my men fought and died. Soon these cowards will be my slaves!”
Jemba and his men had taken over the Arconans’ lounge. A wall of Offworld miners — Hutts, Whiphids, Humans, and droids — backed Jemba. The Offworlders stood ready for battle. Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, and Arconans stared down the barrels of at least thirty blasters. Some of the Offworld thugs also held shields and wore armor. Jemba’s men obviously held more than just the Arconans’ dactyl. They held most of the ship’s weapons.
Obi-wan felt outraged. Beside him, Clat’Ha was livid. She held her hands down loosely, ready to draw her weapon. But she and the Arconans were greatly outgunned.
“It is not justice you seek, Jemba,” Qui-Gon tried to reason. “You hope only to satisfy your greed. Nothing will be solved this way. Put down your weapons.”
Qui-Gon called on the Force, trying to coax the Hutt to stop this madness. But for hours now he’d been focusing on his wound, trying to speed its healing, ignoring his own pain. He was too weak to persuade the Hutt.
Jemba waved a hand, as if testing the air. “Ooh, is that your powerful Force I feel? Ha!” he spat. “Your Jedi tricks are so puny, they make me laugh. They cannot work on the great Jemba. And look at you, Jedi. You’d don’t have the sense to stay out of the way of a vibro-ax. Anyone can see you are too frail to fight. There is nothing you can do to stop me.”
Fury filled Obi-Wan at the Hutt’s taunting. He leaped past Qui-Gon, directly in front of Jemba.
“I can stop you!” he shouted. He brought up his lightsaber.
Jemba’s huge eyes narrowed in anger. The thugs who surrounded him stood their ground. They weren’t afraid of a mere boy.
“What, Jedi?” Jemba said contemptuously to Qui-Gon. “You send a child to fight me? Is this some insult?” Jemba looked to his right and left, and raised a huge fist. If he let it fall, Obi-Wan knew that it would be the signal foe his men to open fire. Obi-Wan would not be able to deflect more than a few blaster bolts.
Qui-Gon reached out and touched Obi-Wan’s elbow. “Put your lightsaber away,” he said calmly. “You can’t win like this. If he opens fire, people will die needlessly. A Jedi must know his true enemies.”
Obi-Wan was shaking. He suddenly felt confused.
“What do you mean?” he asked. Sweat streamed down his face. “Which one of them is our enemy?”
“Anger is our enemy,” Qui-Gon said reasonably. He shot a glare across the room to Jemba. “Greed and fear are also our enemies. The Arconans can live without dactyl for awhile. You do not need to fight now. Haste is another enemy.”
Obi-Wan saw the wisdom in Qui-Gon’s words. He powered down his lightsaber, bowed to Jemba as if to a worthy opponent, and stepped back.
“A wise move, little one,” Jemba said. Then the Hutt broke into a deep laugh. He shouted across the room to the Arconans, “I want workers. And I am willing to pay well.”
The Hutt’s voice created a small echo. Behind Qui-Gon, Arconans began to mutter restlessly, almost a humming sound.
Clat’Ha shouted, “Offworld doesn’t pay its workers well!”
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?”
