Kenobi

by John Jackson Miller

  Annileen sat fully upright. “You believe her?”

  Ben looked directly at her. “Why, exactly, would a Tusken lie?”

  “It could have been another band. There are so many!” Looking back at the closed door, she lowered her voice. “A Tusken can’t know everything that happens!”

  “I think this Tusken knows. More than most, anyway,” he said. Ben knelt before her. “Orrin targeted the holdouts. His strikes never killed. But they frightened and injured, and drove people to buy in. And to complete the illusion, he sent his vigilantes to wage punitive strikes against the Tuskens—and those did kill. Orrin needed a cycle of violence to profit. So he created one.” Ben looked away. “I’ve seen it before,” he said, darkly.

  She looked at him in anguish. “But there are Tusken attacks! We lived through one!”

  “Yes. But how often do you think real Tuskens strike isolated farmers and leave them alive?” Ben stroked his beard. “Do you know Lotho Pelhane?”

  Of course she did. “Tyla Bezzard’s father. He worked for Orrin’s ranch, years ago. The Tuskens killed him the day you and I met!”

  “Lotho was a holdout. Weeks earlier, he was beaten by night raiders. He moved to his kids’ place, where they finally subscribed to the Fund.” Ben looked at her. “That’s in Orrin’s records—along with a notation of problem solved from the night Lotho was originally attacked, allegedly by Tuskens.” He sighed. “There were others. Orrin wasn’t just skimming from the Fund. He made it into something Jabba would understand: a protection racket.”

  Annileen looked into the blackness. “Then he’s betrayed every single person on the oasis.”

  “And the wastes,” Ben said. “Don’t forget that. Sand People have been dying, because killing Sand People was the service he sold.”

  “You’re not going to get me to feel sorry for the Tuskens,” Annileen said indignantly.

  “All life is sacred,” Ben said. “Even life that comes in forms that we don’t understand.” He looked up at her. “You know that, don’t you?”

  She closed her eyes tightly, caught her breath, and nodded.

  “But everything changed today. Mosep wants his money. That’s what the Mos Eisley trip was about,” he said.

  “So you did overhear something!”

  “Yes.” Eyes on her, Ben spoke tactfully. “I … fear the marriage proposal is more about money than love. I’m sorry to have to tell you this.”

  “I found out a couple of hours ago,” Annileen said. “I don’t care. I just wish you’d told me on the way home today!”

  Ben took a deep breath. “I don’t like to interfere. But Mosep said something else about Orrin’s ‘other resources’ that put me to thinking about the Settlers’ Call, and about Ulbreck, his biggest holdout. On a hunch, I rode there and saw Orrin in his disguise. And he saw me. That changes everything.” He spoke gravely. “Right now, if I know his mind, Orrin is planning to have me killed.”

  “Killed!” She laughed. “Orrin might play dress-up, but he’s no killer!”

  Ben disagreed. “He won’t come for me alone. His kind never does. But I can handle it. I have a plan.”

  Annileen sat forward on the bed and appealed to him. “Ben, no. Seriously. You said yourself he hadn’t killed any settlers. He’s not some galactic menace—”

  “There are monsters in all walks of life,” Ben said. “One doesn’t need unlimited power to create victims. One just needs to be desperate.”

  “There’s still good in him,” Annileen said, thinking of the smiling man she’d known for years. “I admit he’s a lying, cheating, out-of-control scoundrel and that it’s hard to see the good—”

  “Maybe there is good,” Ben said, rising from the floor. “There’s good in most. But look at what he’s done. What he’s willing to do. Where do you draw the line?”

  The question made Annileen dizzy. “I thought you two were friends.”

  Ben fixed his gaze on a darkened corner. “I don’t know that we were,” he said, softly. “But even if we’d been friends for years, things would be no different. When friends go wrong, you don’t get a choice about what to do.”

  “It sounds … like you know something about that.”

  “More than I ever wanted to,” he murmured. He looked away.

  Annileen stood. Ben had to be reasoned with. Yes, Orrin’s crimes would hurt the Calwells if exposed, even if Jabe’s role in the Ulbreck attack never became known. The families were linked in the eyes of the whole oasis, and she had been profiting from the Fund’s weapons purchases. All might well be lost for her as well as Orrin. But she couldn’t risk another life being destroyed.

  She reached for him. “You don’t have to face him, Ben. This isn’t your responsibility.”

  “No,” Ben said, turning his back to her. “It’s in motion. He’ll call out his allies to silence me, and I’ll call on my own.” He didn’t explain who or what they were. “But no matter what the end, your path is clear.”

  “My path?” she asked.

  Ben turned and placed his hands gently on her shoulders. “Annileen, do you trust me?”

  “What?”

  “Do you trust me? To know what to do now?”

  “Yes,” she whispered without pause. “Absolutely.” Like no one since Dannar, she nearly said.

  He looked her in the eye. “What are you prepared to give up, to save your future?”

  Annileen inhaled deeply. “A few hours ago, I was ready to give up everything to rescue my son.”

  “That’s what I needed to hear,” Ben said. He spoke urgently. “Tomorrow, when Orrin comes for me, I want you to clear out. You, and your family. Take what you need, but also take what you don’t want to lose. Because you will never be coming back.”

  Annileen’s heart caught in her throat. “It’s that bad?”

  His eyes bored into hers. “I think you know it is. I said I could handle Orrin, and I will. But if we do what’s right, the lives of you and your children here are collateral damage. I’m sorry.” He looked down. “I’d stop it if I could. I know there’s nothing worse than losing a home you’ve known for years. But I can’t see any future where that doesn’t happen.”

  Annileen’s tears were flowing now. She didn’t know what to say, other than that he was right. She survived entirely upon her neighbors’ trust. When the truth came out, what had taken twenty years to build would vanish in an instant, no matter how they’d felt about her before.

  He dabbed at her cheeks gently with the back of his hand. “It isn’t fair, I know. The order in our lives can simply vanish. Sometimes it’s because we’re not diligent. Sometimes it’s no one’s fault—”

  Sniffling, she looked up at him. “No,” she said, wiping her face. “It was my fault. I wasn’t diligent.” A feeling of resolve came over her. A second wind—or whatever had blown Ben into her world? It didn’t matter. She’d had her low moment. Weakness wasn’t in her. She straightened her shoulders. “All right,” she said, “let’s fix this. I’m ready.”

  Ben brightened. “All right, then.” He turned and hoisted himself up to the windowsill. “Start packing. Make the arrangements you need, but tell no one else. Join me again just before the suns set. My work should be done, then.”

  She handed his cloak to him. “Where will I be going?”

  “My house,” Ben said. “And that’s just the start.”

  Meditation

  I am putting an end to this.

  You see where I am, Qui-Gon. Sitting in the cold, alone on a hillside, waiting for the suns to rise. You see what I’ve been doing, the steps I’ve taken.

  Moreover, you’ve seen why I’ve taken them. I hope you don’t judge me too harshly, because of it.

  “There’s still good in him.” That’s just what Padmé said to me about Anakin. I don’t know whether I believed that about him. Maybe if I had been more aware of his smaller transgressions, I might have seen what they were leading toward. I don’t know. I do know that Orrin Gault hasn’t
fallen as the result of a single act; he’s had a lifetime of small crimes. He smiles, and lies, and people like him. But the bill has come due. And his fear has driven him to ever-worse acts.

  I think there’s a chance for Jabe Calwell, if he can get away from Orrin. I know, I know—it wasn’t Palpatine alone who corrupted Anakin. Anakin had flaws of his own. Flaws I failed to see, that I didn’t prepare him to deal with. But the Emperor played a role. I don’t know if it would have been possible to isolate Anakin from his influence. I tried—but too late. Jabe is another story, I think.

  Another chance to get it right.

  I understand. I am not here to find redemption, saving random youngsters from destruction. I’m not even here to atone, as Annileen suggested earlier. I know I’m here for one reason.

  To protect Luke Skywalker.

  And to be ready when he—and Bail Organa, or whoever supports hope in the galaxy—needs me. If I achieve absolution in that act, fine. But it’s secondary.

  And so, I fear, is everything else around me. Annileen. The oasis. These people. It’s all got to be secondary. The only way I can act on a galactic scale is by doing nothing locally. Nothing at all.

  No matter what my mind or my heart tells me.

  You’ve heard me these last few weeks. At least I hope you have.

  You haven’t talked to me, but I hope you’ve heard me. You know I’m failing again—this time, at being a hermit. Obi-Wan keeps taking charge of Ben Kenobi’s life. We’re one and the same, of course. But the Obi-Wan part of me wants to help someone, to do something right. To be a Jedi! Only then will I feel that I am able to live in peace while others are suffering.

  I’ve had such trouble, reconciling it all. How can Ben exist if Obi-Wan won’t let him?

  But the Force is showing me the way.

  It will be difficult, but there is a path I can walk among all these influences. One that will provide some justice, while giving me the privacy I need to do my job. It depends on many things going right, and making use of that message drop I mentioned a few weeks back.

  And then there are my “allies.” I can never assume what the Tuskens will do. They are capable of unforgivable things. I know what a group did to Anakin’s mother, a few years ago: Padmé told me that much. I always felt there was something more that she wasn’t telling me—maybe something that had to do with Anakin’s fate. I don’t know that I’ll find those secrets here. But A’Yark, at least, seems to feel responsible for her people. I will hope that Orrin admits his guilt and turns back—but if he doesn’t, I must try to prevent further harm all around.

  So many things to consider.

  But when the suns rise, I think I can make it all work out. I think.

  Well … there is one more potential wrinkle.

  Annileen. She cares for me—and rightly or wrongly, I’ve drawn upon that. Just this hour, I’ve set my plans for her in motion. But what if she doesn’t want to go along with them?

  What then?

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  MORNINGS ON TATOOINE HAD never failed Orrin Gault. And this one was better than his wildest dreams.

  He hadn’t had much time to dream—or sleep—after leaving the Claim the night before. He’d gone home to find an empty house, quiet but for some soft thumping in the office—a sand-mouse behind the shelves, he figured. Mullen and Veeka were out back, burning their Tusken outfits. That had always been the plan, in case of discovery.

  Veeka had bandaged her shoulder where Ben had caught her with the gaderffii; Mullen had a bruised tailbone from his fall. Orrin had stood in the cold with them, working out their next moves.

  Those moves started at the Claim. The second sun had scarcely been up when Orrin activated the Settlers’ Call. After minutes of the screeching siren, the workers of the oasis appeared in front of the garages, waiting to be directed. It hadn’t taken long. Many were headed to the Claim for breakfast and were hungry, which was just how he wanted them.

  Today they’d be fighting for Orrin’s benefit. And someone new.

  “You see, Wyle?” Orrin said, looking across the milling throng of vigilantes. “There’s my army. Your army.”

  “Yeah,” Wyle Ulbreck said. Standing beside Orrin, the old man looked tired beyond measure. His nose was broken and bandaged, and he carried something Orrin had never seen him with before: a small oxygen bottle, which he tapped every few breaths. “We still have to wait for my guys to show up,” he muttered. He spat on the ground.

  Orrin smirked. Ulbreck had been a surprise, a fabulous bonus. Orrin would have triggered the Call anyway, to execute his next move. But moments after first sunup, a driver had brought Ulbreck to a stop in front of him. The old man had spoken grudgingly then, of how his forces had failed him the night before, and how his Magda had nearly died. Then he’d said the words that Orrin had longed to hear for years: “I want in.”

  The plan had worked after all. Amazing!

  It made sense, Orrin thought. Ulbreck had seen Ben’s arrival, but not Orrin’s unmasking. And a scout had sighted Plug-eye leaving the territory. It had been enough to make Tatooine’s tightest miser pay the price for protection. Ulbreck was having the appropriate amount in aurodium-plated ingots trucked in, as soon as someone extricated the filthy things from beneath his refresher station.

  It was enough to pay off a large portion of Orrin’s debt to Jabba. Orrin was going to throw the retaliatory strike in for free.

  And that would take care of yet another matter. Ulbreck’s presence meant Ben hadn’t gone to him to accuse Orrin. At least not yet, presuming he intended to at all. Orrin’s secret could be kept safe. And shortly, the whole chapter would be closed.

  Things were going to be okay.

  Orrin spied Annileen walking from the store to the garages. He hadn’t dared to set foot in the store, but he did note that she must have asked Tar Lup to stay over and work the breakfast shift. That was fine. She probably needed rest, after the night before. He felt bad about that, but he’d make it up to her. Starting now.

  Excusing himself from Ulbreck’s side, he walked over to Annileen. She wore her heaviest-duty work clothes; her hair was pulled back. She looked at him warily.

  “A little bit of good news, Annie,” he said. “I won’t need as much money as I thought.”

  “Fine.”

  “I thought you’d like that.”

  “Fine.” Looking straight ahead, she saw Ulbreck. She stepped forward. “Are you okay, Wyle?”

  Orrin watched nervously as she approached the old man. He knew Jabe might have told Annileen about the raid, but that was all the boy knew.

  Her words put Orrin at ease. “I’m sorry this happened to you and Magda,” she said, clutching the old man’s hand. “Really sorry.” Parting from him, she shot a bitter look at Orrin.

  That was fine, Orrin thought. She would protect her son, and she would be set back some money. But she’d get over it.

  Annileen stopped to look at the mustering masses. “What’s this?” she asked, almost indifferently.

  “You heard the Call,” Orrin said, knowing well that anyone with eardrums had heard it. “You know how it works. There was an attack. There’ll be an answer.” He looked at her. “Is Jabe all right?”

  “He’ll be fine. He’s not working today.” Spying Gloamer at work in the garages, she excused herself.

  “Are you going to wish us luck?” Orrin said, smiling. It was too much, he realized. Annileen simply walked away faster.

  Oh, well, he thought. It’s better if she doesn’t hear the rest, anyway.

  “I can’t belieeeeve this, mistress,” Gloamer said.

  “That’s the offer,” Annileen said, reviewing the document on the datapad. “You’ve been doing a great job with the garages, and I know you’ve had your eye on expanding.”

  With his eyes a tiny feature on his elongated cranium, the Phindian mechanic always looked a little mournful. But now even Annileen could read his surprise. He’d invited her to the garage to tell her
that the parts for her old landspeeder had finally arrived. Instead, he’d gotten the deal of a lifetime.

  “Running a shop!” he said, long arms in the air. “I don’t knoooow. I don’t knoooow how—”

  “I doubt that,” Annileen said, patting him on the back. “You’re good with customers. And there’s not much to hustling power cells and ale. Talk to Tar. He knows how. And he’d like the chance.”

  The mechanic hummed contemplatively. Finally, he nodded, stepping back a meter so he could offer his tremendously long limb in a handshake. “I will maaaake the credit transfer,” he said, taking the datapad.

  “You can’t tell anyone,” she said. “Not until tonight, after we leave.”

  Gloamer nodded. The Phindian’s head tilted ninety degrees. Yellow eyes studied her sadly. “Wheeeere are you going?”

  Annileen smiled gently. “On an adventure.”

  She turned from him and walked back into the hallway to the Claim. Exhaling, she leaned against the wall with a thump. Had she just done that? Did I really just sell the store?

  Even more amazing was the fact that her kids were going along with it—so far. She’d learned upon waking that Kallie and Jabe had heard her talking to Ben, after all; they’d heard the last part, anyway. Jabe was still in such a lather over the raid that he was ready to move to the Corporate Sector. And Kallie had been so smitten with Ben since their first meeting that the prospect of him sweeping in to rescue her family from dishonor perfectly fit the myth.

  Still, the last hour had been tough. On seeing Ulbreck arrive, Jabe had feared the worst; Annileen had coaxed him from hiding and assigned him the job of getting the house packed up. And Kallie, out in the livery, had realized what leaving really meant. There was no obvious successor to take care of her beloved animals, and Annileen’s best idea, letting the people who rented the critters today keep them, wasn’t sitting well with Kallie.

  It wasn’t sitting well with Annileen, either. Walking through the shop, she saw them all there: Bohmer, at his table with his mug; Leelee, hastily addressing another stack of boxes; even Erbaly Nap’tee, counting buttons out loud as she rummaged through a drawer filled with secondhand clothes. How could she leave all this?