Kenobi

by John Jackson Miller

  Ben looked back at Annileen, his eyebrow slightly raised. He smiled, gently. “Does this mean—”

  “I don’t know. Orrin’s been like this lately. How should I know what it means?”

  Kallie clapped her hands, elated. “I know what it means. It means I’m getting a new landspeeder. Mom’s old one, as soon as Gloamer fixes it!”

  “Like blazes!” Jabe yelled out from the LiteVan. “We haven’t settled that!”

  Annileen shrugged. “We’re still negotiating a distribution of assets. Maybe they’ll both get it.”

  “Is that wise?” Ben asked.

  “Oh, yes,” Annileen said. “This way, when they finally decide to run away from home, they’ll get farther. Now, come along with us.”

  “No, really, that’s not necessary.” Ben pointed to a pair of figures by a tower on a distant northern ridge. “I’ll just ask the folks whose land this is for help.”

  Annileen squinted. “Don’t bother,” she said, recognizing them. “This is Wyle Ulbreck’s spread we’re on. After the Tuskens ripped him off yesterday, his sentries are probably chained to the vaporators.”

  “Anything to save the skinflint from joining the Settlers’ Call,” Jabe said from the van. “He’ll learn one day.”

  Annileen pointed at Ben with mock sternness. “And if you keep fighting serendipity, Master Kenobi, it’s going to fight back. Now come on,” she said, walking back to the sledge. “Let’s get this unit into the truck.”

  Surrendering, Ben patted Rooh’s head. “Should we carry her with us?”

  A screech came from the vehicle’s interior. “You’re not putting that animal in my truck!” Jabe yelled.

  “Your—” Annileen sighed. “A minute ago you wanted my landspeeder!”

  The LiteVan went silent.

  “He’s sulking,” she said to Ben. “But that’s okay. I think our expectant mom will be happier at home.” She turned Rooh west and gave her a pat on the behind. Promptly, the animal began loping off, retracing the sandy trail left by the sledge. “She’ll find her way.”

  Ben looked after Rooh, concerned. “You know, I really should go with her. To make sure she’ll be all right.”

  Kallie laughed. “I don’t know what other trouble she could get into!”

  “Don’t worry,” Annileen said, wiping her hands together. “She’ll be home before the happy event. And you’ll be living in a cool and comfortable house.”

  Resigned, Ben turned to help them lift the coolant unit. “I really do hate to prevail upon you to change your plans—”

  “You’re not changing these plans,” Kallie gushed. “We’re going to Mos Eisley!”

  Annileen smiled. Ben’s reluctance was almost charming—the man, she suspected, simply didn’t want to be in anyone’s debt. She’d just have to convince him it wasn’t a concern. “The clan has spoken,” she said. “You’d better come along.”

  Ben responded with a pained smile.

  The Shistavanen had an evil-looking face, Orrin thought—nothing but fangs, pointy ears, and mud-colored hair. And yet Tar Lup was as cheerful a being as he’d ever known. More cheerful still, standing behind the counter of Dannar’s Claim in his neat city-bought jacket.

  “Thanks again for this chance, Master Gault,” Tar said, the natural growl in his voice somehow sounding amiable. “It’s good to be in charge, if even for a day. I don’t get that in my regular job.”

  Standing atop a chair in the dining area, Orrin lowered the holocam he was holding. “That’s fine, Tar. Glad you could come back and help out.” Snapping the device off, he stepped down. He’d made sure he, too, was looking his best today, in the fineries Annileen had ordered from offworld. He needed to.

  Pausing in front of the substitute clerk, Orrin looked down at the holorecorder in his hands. “Oh, this is part of another surprise for Annileen,” he said. “Gonna get her some decent flooring in here for a change.”

  Tar smiled toothily. “That’s wonderful. I was always fond of the Calwells.”

  “Me, too,” Orrin said, stepping past Bohmer at his table. The Rodian had picked a day when Annileen was out to make his return, but she wasn’t missing much. Patched up but heavily medicated, Bohmer seemed even more catatonic than usual. Orrin walked through the gap in the counter. “Tar, I need to get back in there for another second, if you don’t mind.”

  “Certainly.” The Shistavanen stepped out of the way.

  That’ll do it, Orrin thought, taking another look at the electronic manifest behind the cashbox. He checked the chrono on the wall. He had everything he needed and plenty of time to get to his meetings. All was going according to plan. Both plans.

  Veeka walked in from the parking area. “Ready when you are, Dad.” She walked to the bar and pulled her flask from her vest. Hopping onto the surface, she reached past the startled Tar to grab a bottle.

  “No, you don’t,” Orrin said, before she could start filling. “Not today.”

  “Whatever.” Irritated, Veeka dropped the bottle, which landed back into place with a glassy clank. Orrin passed her the holorecorder.

  Tar watched, puzzled, as father and daughter walked toward the exit. “Will you be back for lunch, sir?”

  “No, I’ll be out most of the day,” he said, giving the store a last look. “But, uh … tell Annileen I’ll have something to talk to her about tonight.”

  Tar responded, but Orrin didn’t hear. He had things to do.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  FOR THE FIRST HALF of Annileen’s life, Mos Eisley had been no more than a concept. Her father had feared the place, and clerking gave her few opportunities to travel. But the city was always out there: a magnet drawing the starships she occasionally saw high overhead. It had inspired her young imagination.

  Images she had seen depicted Mos Eisley as a knotted web of crowded streets separating dusty domes, used and decaying. She hadn’t wanted to believe the pictures. Those vessels in the sky hailed from cosmopolitan places with shining spires. Why would they visit Tatooine at all, if the city weren’t something special? She’d looked forward to finding out for herself.

  When the day came, it was one that already ran high with expectations: her wedding day. After the raucous sendoff from their friends, Dannar had surprised her by steering Orrin’s borrowed landspeeder past Bestine and continuing east. As the kilometers sped by, the young bride’s anticipation only grew. Spacecraft that soundlessly soared in the oasis sky rumbled and gleamed here, all heading to or from the steaming mirage on the horizon. For a few wonderful minutes, Annileen had allowed herself to imagine that her surprise honeymoon included a trip on one of those starships. To the Core Worlds, perhaps. Or better, to one of the wild places shown in the university safari brochure. Reaching the streets of Mos Eisley, which turned out to be as shabby and hectic as the pictures had shown, did nothing to still her hopes. Her sights were set higher.

  Dannar had pulled the vehicle up to the Twin Shadows Inn, an acceptably clean—if far from posh—establishment off Kerner Plaza. The stay was the gift, all that a rural shop owner starting out could afford.

  But even with her stellar hopes dashed, Annileen soon realized that if she was looking for an exotic locale with strange creatures, Mos Eisley easily sufficed. Kerner Plaza was a relatively upscale neighborhood, with clean showrooms alongside outdoor bazaars. Located near the Republic travelers’ aid office, the streets were safe enough to walk at twilight without blaster in hand. And Dannar had even taken her to dinner at the Court of the Fountain, where she had marveled at every sight. Only a Hutt-owned establishment was rich enough to use water for decoration.

  Mos Eisley was a violent, congested mess, but it was also exciting and surprising, a doorway jammed half open to another dimension of adventure. If Mos Eisley wasn’t the next best thing to going to the stars, it was still several steps closer than anything else on Tatooine. To this day, Annileen remembered every moment of the trip.

  She and Dannar had never made it back to Mos Eisl
ey together; some store emergency always interfered. But Annileen had returned several times since Dannar’s death; usually alone, but once with each child individually. She and Dannar had always talked of bringing the whole family here at some point, but the chance had never come.

  Now she walked the streets of the city with both children at once—and, for the first time, with a new companion. Ben walked behind the group, his cowl pulled low over his head. He stepped quickly to keep up with the Calwells, saying little. They looked like any other family, out on the town—only with a son unhappy to have his father along, and a father who wasn’t too thrilled, either.

  “He could have waited at the repair shop,” Jabe said as the group turned a corner.

  “It was going to be five hours!” Kallie said.

  “I wouldn’t have minded,” Ben said, pleasantly. “There was a chair there.”

  “It had an engine manifold sitting on it,” Annileen said, shaking her head. Jabe’s annoyance at their hooded tagalong hadn’t lessened since the testy ride in from the desert. The boy started walking faster through the crowd, ahead of his mother and sister. “Slow down, Jabe,” Annileen said. “Stay with the group.” She looked back at Ben and smiled. “You, too.”

  Ben gamely followed, but Annileen could tell wandering a busy city wasn’t his first choice for a good time. Strange—he had seemed so well traveled to her. Well, maybe she could change that.

  Turning the corner into Kerner Plaza, however, the foursome encountered a different form of traffic. Dozens of hammer-headed Ithorians thronged the open space, stomping their tree-trunk feet and jubilantly waving sound-makers and silver tassels. Within a second, the crowd of brown-skinned giants engulfed the human visitors.

  “I think we’ve wandered into a wedding,” Ben yelled, straining to be heard over the din.

  “They have a lot of them here,” Annileen called back, smiling.

  A leather-skinned Ithorian danced past on spindly legs. Spying Annileen, the long-necked creature grabbed her by the shoulders and spun with her into the festive crowd. Whirling, Annileen could see Jabe reaching for his blaster—and then Ben placing his hand on the boy’s wrist. Kallie was in the dance, now, too—as was, Annileen saw, just about every poor pedestrian who had wandered past.

  The twirling slowed long enough for her to see a panicked Ben in the arms of a tall female Ithorian bedecked in garlands. The mother of the bride? Annileen didn’t know. As they both spun, she could only tell that Ben definitely didn’t want to dance, and that he just as surely had no choice, as the wave of partygoers surged again.

  Finally, the alien released her, centrifugal force whipping her away to the side of the street. She braced herself against a stone column, laughing between gasps for breath. A delighted Kallie broke free next—followed by Ben. His hood down and hair mussed, he looked like a man who’d just finished a podrace.

  Reclaiming her hat, Annileen scanned the crowd for Jabe. She found him against the nearest building, leaning standoffishly and clearly prepared to pull his blaster on anyone who came near. “I thought you wanted to get out of the store to have fun,” she said.

  “Not my idea of fun,” her son said. His flustered look vanished a second later, however, as a procession of scantily clad Twi’lek women emerged from the building behind him, carrying trays of multicolored drinks.

  Well, we’ve found your idea of fun, Annileen thought. Another group of servers followed. Twi’lek males, their attire even more unsuited to the dangerous suns, brought silver platters with exotic foodstuffs for anyone and everyone.

  “This party is getting better all the time,” Kallie said, smiling. “Can we stay here?”

  Annileen looked over at Ben. He looked gray. She couldn’t imagine he wanted to stay in the festival a second longer. Looking at the building the servers had emerged from, though, she realized where she was. Serendipity, she thought, amused.

  Gesturing for the beleaguered Ben to wait for a moment, she took her children aside. “You kids can have lunch down here. One hour,” she said.

  “Two!” Kallie said.

  “Three!” Jabe added, gawking at the women.

  “An hour and a half,” Annileen said. She jabbed her finger against Jabe’s sternum. “You’re on alert. We’re not going to have another Mos Espa. If you leave Kallie’s sight for an instant—or get near anything stronger than blue milk—she’s going to call me. I’ll be here in a flash—and you’ll be in a world of hurt.” She looked around at the crazed partiers. “And don’t either of you get engaged to—well, anyone!”

  Kallie laughed. Rolling his eyes, her brother nodded. “Where will you be?” he asked.

  Annileen looked back at Ben, standing out of earshot. “I have some questions that need answers,” she said. “You kids have fun.”

  Hat in hand, Orrin walked down the steps from the branch office of the Aargau Investment Trust. There wasn’t any point in being dejected, as the official had said nothing he hadn’t heard once a month for three years. Bankers annoyed Orrin more than lawyers did. What to make of people who had so much money they were willing to drop piles of it on others across the galaxy, just because they had an idea?

  Even a good idea, Orrin thought. But at least the banker had confirmed what he’d wanted to know. He removed the holocam from his satchel and tossed it into the open backseat of the USV-5.

  Mullen was there, snoring. Orrin looked around. He didn’t know where Veeka had flitted. “Wake up,” he said, slapping his sleeping son with his hat.

  By reflex, Mullen reached for his shoulder holster—before recognizing his father. “Well?”

  “It’s going according to plan. Plan One, anyway.” Orrin scanned the buildings across from the bank until he found what he was looking for. Locating the cantina, he found Veeka, too—emerging with three scruffy-looking human spacers, all of whom looked quite unable to fly despite the noon hour. Seeing her father, she made her good-byes.

  “She sure makes friends fast,” Orrin said, resigned.

  “That’s because she always buys,” Mullen said, slipping into the front seat.

  Hands on his hips, Orrin glared at Veeka as she approached. “Do you ever listen?”

  “I’m fine,” Veeka said, knocking the holo-emitter out of the way and sliding into the backseat of the landspeeder. “I’ll be ready.”

  She seemed sober enough, Orrin thought. Well, he couldn’t worry about rehabilitating his family now. There’d be a chance for that—after.

  He strapped on his blaster and climbed into the passenger seat. The engine started, and the landspeeder moved back into the crowded streets of Mos Eisley. “Set the windshield to opaque,” he said. “I don’t want to run into Annie today.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  ANNILEEN FOUND THE CAFÉ again easily. She and Dannar had discovered it years earlier, just paces from the Twin Shadows Inn and up the street from the building from which the Twi’leks had emerged. Ben didn’t resist when Annileen took him by the hand, leading him past the crowd and inside.

  “Thank you,” he said in the lobby, exhaling. “I owe you a life debt.”

  “You sure hate crowds,” she said, climbing the stairs to the upper level.

  “When Ithorians dance, it’s best to get off the floor.”

  The master of the house greeted them warmly. Annileen had always enjoyed Café Tatoo II, including it on her solo trips to the spaceport. The kindly old man led her to the awning-shaded balcony, overlooking the plaza. Ben chose a chair at a table away from other diners. She sat across from Ben, ordered the lunch special for them both, and clasped her hands together, ready to study her subject. She had been waiting forever for another chance to talk to him alone. Now she couldn’t figure out which question to ask first—if Ben would let her.

  He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “The clerk at the repair shop did say five hours, no?”

  “Five hours,” she said. “Take your hood off. You’re in a civilized place now.”

  Ben complied.r />
  “I was worried when you didn’t come back to the store,” she said. “It’s been a long time.”

  “Ah. Yes, I’ve been busy,” he said, raising his glass to drink.

  “With?”

  “Things.”

  “Things,” she said, unbelieving. It was amazing how the man could use something as small as a cup to hide behind.

  Seemingly sensing her frustration, he set the drink down and grinned. “You’ve seen the grounds of my palace. I’m still working through the junk that might be toxic.”

  Annileen nodded. “I was afraid we’d scared you off. With Kallie snooping around, telling everyone your last name.”

  “Most people have one,” Ben said. “Why shouldn’t I?”

  Annileen put her elbows on the table and leaned over toward him. “I was also worried that maybe Orrin had scared you off,” she said in a quieter voice.

  “Oh, no.” Ben sat casually back in his chair, putting some distance between them. “I like Orrin. And … he seems to like you.”

  “This week,” Annileen said. “Usually, that means he wants something.”

  “The landspeeder’s a nice gesture. Perhaps he’s in earnest.”

  Annileen sat up straight, regarding him skeptically. “Really.”

  Ben shifted again, tracing his finger around the circumference of his glass. “You know, I don’t know much about these things. But sometimes people’s attitudes can change over the years. They can get closer.” He smiled at her, awkwardly.

  “Unh-huh.” Annileen reached for her glass and drank; now she was the one hiding her expression. Inwardly, she was amused to no end. She didn’t know if Ben was trying to palm her off on Orrin or not, but he had just revealed some truth. He might stop runaway dewbacks and talk to Tuskens, but Ben Kenobi was on completely foreign territory when it came to discussing matters of the heart.

  A rickety server droid approached from behind Ben, saving him from further embarrassment. Annileen recognized the mechanical. “Hi, Geegee.”

  The bipedal violet-colored droid set down the food and bowed. “It is nice of you to remember, madam.” The droid was an ancient model; its hands quivered slightly as it placed the plates before the couple. “Good appetite to you, patrons.”