by Karen Miller
Teeba Jaklin turned off the grill and fired up the stove’s two small hotplates. “You. Teeb Yavid,” she said briskly. “Pull the butter and nutpaste from the cool box and put the crisped bread on the table.”
“Of course,” said Obi-Wan. “Anything else?”
Their hostess wore the same brown tunic, trousers, and boots, but her gray hair was caught in a blue scarf this morning. Jaklin tucked a loosened wisp back into confinement and shook her head. “No. Not a man born can make tea or cook eggs in any proper fashion.”
Swallowing a smile, Obi-Wan did as he was told. “There’s an extra place set, Teeba.”
“Good to know you’re not blind,” she said, setting a kettle of water to boil. “Two of us oversee Torbel village. Me and Teeb Rikkard, the head miner. He’s a need to assay you, Teebs. It’s true you’ve not murdered me under my own roof but these are sideways-looking times. You’ll not complain.”
Anakin exchanged another look with Obi-Wan. No, I’m pretty sure we won’t. “How many live here in Torbel, Teeba Jaklin?”
She had a pan on the stove now, with oil poured into it and starting to spit. Holding the bowl of frothy pinkish eggs ready to pour, Teeba Jaklin flicked him a glance. “Four hundred and thirty-seven. There was twice that and more in the old damotite days. With production stepped up again we might see us grow a bit. New times are here on Lanteeb. But what they’ve brung us…” She shrugged, then poured the eggs into the hot pan. “We’ll see.”
What they’ve brung you, Teeba, is more misery. In fact, if he and Obi-Wan were successful here, they’d be leaving this woman to a cruel and uncertain future. But he couldn’t tell her that. Indeed, after the disaster that was Bant’ena he wasn’t even tempted. Obi-Wan was right. Getting caught up in these transitory people’s lives was a mistake.
We’re Jedi. We need to take a longer view. Focus on the big picture and not get lost in the small details.
He felt a stir in the Force and a moment later heard banging on the cottage’s front door. Danger? No. They were still safe.
“That’ll be Rikkard,” said Teeba Jaklin. “You’ll mind your manners, Teebs. He’s a good man and a brave one and his word in Torbel is weighty.” She slid the eggs off the stove and left the kitchen.
Anakin rolled his eyes. “She makes Master Yoda look cuddly, but I don’t sense she’s a threat,” he murmured. “I just wish I could tell how far she’ll go to help us. Can you?”
“No,” said Obi-Wan. “All I can say for certain is that events are in flux. Perhaps that’s why—”
Teeba Jaklin returned with a lanky man in tow. Dressed like their hostess, his close-cropped head was roped and crisscrossed with livid scars. His right eye drooped half closed, and more scar tissue marred his hookish nose.
“This is Teeb Rikkard,” she announced. “Rikkard, here’s these men I spoke of. The beard is Teeb Yavid, the youth is Teeb Markl. Cousins from distant Voteb.”
Teeb Rikkard looked to be somewhere in his middle years. “A groundcar accident brings you here, says Jaklin,” he remarked. He had a deep voice, almost lazy, but his brown eyes were sharp. “For sure, Teebs, you look to be sore and sorry. We’ve no fancy doctoring in Torbel. Are you fetching to die?”
“Not if we can help it, Teeb Rikkard,” said Obi-Wan, smiling, easing his innate aura of authority so that this man, a village leader, would not feel threatened. “We’ve already put you to trouble enough. Haven’t we, Markl?”
Anakin bobbed his head. Humble, humble, keep it humble. “Yes, we have, Yavid. We’re very lucky.”
“You can talk sitting just like standing,” said Teeba Jaklin. “There’s tea to brew, then I’ll dish the eggs.”
At the first mouthful of fried egg Anakin nearly gagged, then flinched as Obi-Wan kicked his shin. Courageously taking his second swallow, he thought longingly of the last meal he’d sat down to outside a Temple dining hall. Not only had Padmé been there, his best beloved, but Bail Organa could actually cook.
Don’t be sick. They won’t let you use the comm if you vomit.
“Your speech has lost the touch of Lanteeb,” said Teeb Rikkard, spooning down the dreadful eggs as though this were a Senate banquet. “And Teeban men aren’t for beards.”
If Obi-Wan was struggling with their breakfast, it didn’t show. Swallowing another mouthful, he nodded. “We’ve been away these three years gone, Teeb. Away to Alderaan for to make our fortune.”
And just like that, he had a proper Lanteeban cadence. Anakin washed down his envy with a scouring mouthful of hot tea. Sometimes he thought his former Master was part Clawdite, a changeling who could become anything or anyone just by wishing.
“Alderaan,” said Teeb Rikkard, his ropy scars shining in the light through the window. “They let aliens roam free there, I’ve heard tell. All manner of creatures, pretending to be proper men.”
Anakin gave up on the eggs and took a slice of dry toast instead. Left it dry, deciding not to risk the butter or nutpaste. “We kept ourselves to ourselves, Teeb.”
Teeba Jaklin sat back in her chair, brooding over her mug of tea. “Doing what? I’ve never met a Lanteeb youth wanted to rub clean skin with slimy alien hide.”
He felt his blood leap. Don’t. They’ve lived their whole lives here. This is all they know. “Lumber. It was good money. We lost our farm to the Plough Comet drought.”
“Aaaah,” said Rikkard, and his careful gaze warmed a little with sympathy. “The Plough Comet brought misery hanging on its tail, for sure. A trickle of bad for Lanteeb turned to gushing, thanks to the Plough.”
“That’s true,” said Obi-Wan, his voice artfully close to breaking. “It dried up Voteb and all its farms like salt. So you see, Teeba Jaklin, for me and Markl it was Alderaan or starve. And we had no want to starve.” Lightly, he punched a fist to his chest. “Don’t give us a harsh eye. We’re home again now, which is where we belong.”
As Jaklin closed her lips tight, Rikkard scratched the scar on his nose. “Home after three years. You’ll see a change.”
“They said to us in the spaceport Lanteeb’s joined the Confederacy,” said Obi-Wan, his eyes wide as though he found such a notion impossible to understand. “And how the Republic’s our enemy.”
“That’s politics,” said Teeba Jaklin. “Not for my kitchen. Teeb Markl, you’ve done with those eggs? You’ve not eaten half. You had an appetite. What happened to it?”
“Ah—yes,” Anakin said, after a moment. “Sorry. The groundcar tumble we took. Seems I’m a bit addled, Teeba Jaklin.”
“You’re a lummox to be addled,” she said, and took the plate for herself. “Food’s rationed here like the water. You come up hungry an hour from now you’ll not be moaning to me.”
“Of course not,” he mumbled.
This time Obi-Wan trod on his foot, his message perfectly clear. Shut up, for pity’s sake, before you shove us out in the street. “It’s a fine breakfast, Teeba Jaklin. We’re sitting here most grateful.”
“Where did you tumble your groundcar, Teeb Yavid?” said Rikkard, his own plate empty. “We’ve good men and better tools in Torbel. Fixing machines is a thing we do here.”
Obi-Wan shook his head, regretful. “The groundcar’s not for fixing, Teeb. Bought sloppy, we did. Young Markl here acted without thought. The engine ran wild on us in the dark, took us over bad ground and off a cliff. Broken to pieces it is, klicks and klicks from here, and nearly us with it.”
“Then lucky it is you’ve a seat at this table eating Jaklin’s eggs,” said Rikkard. He was smiling, but his gaze was wary again. “Though if you’re on to Voteb, this is a strange place to find you.”
“Oh, we’re not going back to Voteb,” Anakin said. “Our farm’s dust and bones. Me and Yavid thought to wander until we found a new home.”
Smoothly taking his cue, Obi-Wan smiled. “Would there be a welcome for us here, Teeb Rikkard? Teeba Jaklin? We have money saved and want only to build a good life.”
“Yes,” Anakin said earnestl
y. “And truly Yavid will shave off the beard.”
Teeba Jaklin glanced at Teeb Rikkard. “It’s not ours to say entirely,” she said, guarded. “We’ve not so many here that you Teebs wouldn’t shift the ground if you stayed. So it’s a village thing to talk on.” Another glance at her fellow leader. “Best you sleep under this roof another night or so before you dream more of stopping. Give us time to get a good look at you.”
“That’s fair,” said Obi-Wan. “But we’d not put you to trouble.”
“You’re no trouble on the storeroom floor,” said Teeba Jaklin, shrugging.
Anakin swallowed a groan. The floor? Great. “Thank you, Teeba.”
“There’ll be thinking you need to do,” said Rikkard. “We’re miners in Torbel. Damotite. Tricky stuff. Men die. But there’s no other work.”
“Work is work,” said Obi-Wan, smoothing his beard. “My cousin’s young but he knows how to sweat a full day. I’m not young but I work hard, too. We could learn damotite. Only—” He frowned. “When Markl and I left Lanteeb there were rumors about it.”
“Not rumors. Truth.” Rikkard rubbed his scarred nose again. “Demand for damotite started disappearing three, four seasons ago. A lot of mines closed—but not ours. Torbel’s damotite is the best and what little need there is for it, we mostly supply. And now the government wants it, too, as much as we can pull out of the ground and make safe for transport. Every week they send a droid convoy from the city to take what we produce.”
“A droid convoy?” said Anakin. “No regular men?”
Rikkard shook his head. “It’s not safe for men to ride the shipment so far. For the government we take out only base impurities. Good as raw our damotite is, for them.”
“Raw?” said Obi-Wan, pretending surprise. “There’s a use for it raw in the Confederacy?”
“They don’t say why they want it and we don’t ask,” said Teeb Rikkard, brows lowered. “It’s the government. We send them damotite, they send us food and leave us alone to mine. To live. More, more, more. That’s all they say.”
Anakin felt his belly heave, protesting the implications as well as Teeba Jaklin’s eggs. More, more, more meant Dooku and Durd planned to produce huge quantities of the bioweapon—and that meant the entire Republic was in danger. He imagined Padmé writhing and dying like Bant’ena’s lab rodent and came close a second time to losing what little breakfast he’d eaten.
“You’ve never asked why they suddenly want so much?” He knew he sounded critical, accusing, but he couldn’t help it. Bad things happened because questions weren’t asked. Because people preferred to close their eyes and turn away. “You’ve never wondered what they’re going to do with—”
Rikkard’s fist thumped the kitchen table. “I don’t care about that, Teeb Markl. This village was dying. No future. No hope. All we have is damotite. All we know is mining. But the Republic didn’t care about that. The Republic didn’t care about us. Every day Teeba Jaklin and me, we watched the children’s faces growing thinner and thinner and we knew we couldn’t help them. We couldn’t help ourselves. Almost nobody wanted our damotite anymore. We were facing the end.”
“And then came word from Lantibba City,” said Teeba Jaklin. “From the government. They offered to help us. Food for damotite. We said yes.”
Teeb Rikkard was still frowning. “This is how we live now, in Torbel. Almost every hour mining and cleaning damotite. The government says when it has money again we’ll have money. Until then we have food. I won’t take food from a hungry child’s mouth. If you’re the kind of man who could do that, Teeb Markl, then Torbel is not the village for you. You and your cousin can find another—”
“No, no,” said Obi-Wan hastily. “Teeb Rikkard, you mustn’t have a care for Markl. His tongue rattles. Of course you’re mining the damotite. Your people must eat. We have no quarrel with that. We have no quarrel with you.” He turned. “For shame, cousin, when these good people gave us shelter.”
Blinking, Anakin stared at him. “I’m sorry, Yavid, I—”
Obi-Wan cuffed the back of his head. “Don’t apologize to me, Markl. Apologize to the Teeb and Teeba and then hope we are still welcome in Torbel.”
Anakin dropped his gaze to the table. “I’m very sorry. I was wrong. Please don’t send us away.”
“Rikkard—” Teeba Jaklin took a light hold of the man’s arm. “Let them stay. Let them earn their keep. Bohle’s sick and Dahm’s overgreen, remember, and Brinnie with his wrenched ankle’s no use, either. We’re behind in the mining and the convoy’s only three days away. The government won’t be pleased if the delivery is underweight. They might not send food next time, to punish us.”
“You’re shorthanded?” said Obi-Wan, before Rikkard could answer. “Then please, let us help. You took us in though we are strangers and times are hard. Let us work in the mine to earn our keep while we’re here.”
“Rikkard, this is a sensible plan,” said Teeba Jaklin. “You know it is. A man shows his true face while he’s sweating. We’ll feed and water and shelter these cousins and they’ll prove themselves in the mine and then, after the convoy has come and gone, taking the right weight of mineral back to Lantibba, then we’ll decide if they can remain in Torbel.”
Teeb Rikkard tapped his fingertips over the scars on his scalp, thinking. “It’s a good argument,” he said at last. “If they’re telling the truth. If they can learn fast and work hard.”
“We are,” said Obi-Wan. “And we can.”
“I think they’re truthful, Rikkard,” said Teeba Jaklin, ignoring him. “But you’re the head miner. You’ll know within an hour if they’ve lied. And if they’ve lied we’ll run them out.”
Anakin glanced at Obi-Wan, feeling his tension, his concern.
We can’t afford to get bogged down here. But at least if we stay another day or so we can catch our breath, contact Yoda, maybe even come up with a plan to stop Durd before he launches his first attack… or if we can’t do that, get off this dusty ball of dirt, come back with reinforcements and end him.
The thought of seeing Lok Durd dead gave him an almost physical pleasure. Next to Grievous and Dooku and, of course, the unknown Sith Lord behind all their troubles, Durd was his most hated enemy.
I’m coming for you, General. That cold shiver you feel is my breath on the back of your stinking neck.
He felt Obi-Wan’s foot nudge him again. It was a warning—and an offering of comfort, which meant he was forgiven his rash display of temper.
Teeba Jaklin and Teeb Rikkard, who’d been staring at each other in a kind of communal silence, nodded. “Yes,” said Rikkard. “I agree. You’re sure you can keep them here?”
“As I said, in the storeroom,” said the Teeba. “Safest that way, I think.”
Teeb Rikkard raised a sparse eyebrow. “If we’re thinking of safest, Jaklin…” His hand covered hers. “They’ll be mining.”
“They’ll be mining a few days at most,” said Jaklin, frowning. “I don’t see that it’s needful. There’s such a thing as being too trusting, Rikkard.”
“Every man is different under the ground,” said Teeb Rikkard. “No man sickens the same. You know that. It would be wrong not to. Gone three years from Lanteeb, Jaklin. Gone soft, they’ll be. I won’t have them on my conscience.”
“But Rikkard, it’s secret,” she protested. “It’s ours.”
“And if they’re living with us it has to be theirs, too,” he said gently. “No man or woman or child of Torbel remains in Torbel without it. This is our village rule.”
“They are not of our village!”
Sighing, Teeb Rikkard took hold of the Teeba’s shoulder. “They are until they leave, Jaklin. I’m the head miner. It’s my final word.”
And apparently Teeba Jaklin took that argument seriously, because she closed her eyes, and sighed, and nodded. “You are the head miner,” she muttered, unhappy but acquiescent. “They’ll have it.”
Judging it safe to speak, Obi-Wan cleared his thro
at. “I’m sorry? My cousin and I will have what?”
Casting him a dark look, Teeba Jaklin got up from the table, went to one of the kitchen cupboards and from it withdrew a stoppered clay pot.
“This is a secret, Teeb Yavid,” she said, returning. “It has been a secret for untold generations. It’s not only mineral quality that brings the government to us first, and has it rewarding us with extra food and leaving us alone.”
She unstoppered the pot, carefully tipped two large yellowish brown pills onto the palm of one hand and held them out.
“It’s because we work and we work and we don’t hardly get greensick. No other mining village in Lanteeb can claim that. They don’t know our secret. Not Chukba, not Endvo, not Dee-bin, not even Trahn. It has always been for Torbel and no one else. If ever you speak of this to anyone not from our village, you will ruin us. There are desperate miners who’d kill for our secret. Do you understand that?”
“Teeba Jaklin…”
Obi-Wan stood. Anakin, watching him, wondered how the two Lanteebans could have no idea that a Jedi, one of the greatest ever born, was standing right in front of them.
“Your trust won’t be misplaced.” Obi-Wan’s voice was quiet and thrumming with absolute sincerity. “Turned away from your village, Markl and I might have perished. I promise your secret is safe with us.”
Anakin pushed his own chair back. “My cousin Yavid is the most honorable man I know. Never have I seen him do wrong, or harm. Your secret is safe.”
Teeba Jaklin turned to Teeb Rikkard. “I just hope you’re right and there’ll be no regretting, and no way to take it back.”
Obi-Wan rolled the pill she handed him between his thumb and forefinger. “What’s in this?”
“You don’t need to know,” said Rikkard. “Swallow it and mine. Don’t swallow it and leave. The choice is yours, Teebs. But choose quickly. We’ve a quota to fill.”