Kenobi: Star Wars

by John Jackson Miller

  “That’s not it,” Ulbreck said. “Got a call. Some blasted Sandies stole one of my new towers before we even put it up!”

  Ulbreck launched into a rant about Tuskens, Jawas, and incompetents everywhere. Orrin didn’t try to hide his own amusement as he waited for a pause. “Sorry to hear that,” he finally interjected. “Anyone hurt?”

  “Just my pocket!” Ulbreck pounded his fist against the dashboard. “What in the suns would Tuskens want with a vaporator, anyway?”

  Orrin had no idea. He’d never heard of such a theft before. Some vaporators were not much taller than a human, but his Pretormins and Ulbreck’s new industrial machines were gargantuan. For the Tuskens to have stolen one, Ulbreck’s vaunted security personnel must’ve fled their hauler and left the motor running.

  The crisis was ready-made. “Maybe time to sack some people—and go with proven professionals,” Orrin said.

  “Don’t start that again!” Ulbreck glared down at Orrin. “You can’t even protect the Claim. How are you gonna protect my place?” He turned and spat into a cup he kept handy. “Pests, these Sandies. Wasting time, costing money—”

  Orrin was undeterred. “Well, let’s see, Wyle. Since the Tuskens attacked the oasis and we answered, nobody’s seen Plug-eye or any other Sand People. But you just got attacked. And yours is the biggest patch that isn’t protected by the Settlers’ Call.”

  “What are you sayin’?” Angered, Ulbreck stopped his engine, causing the repulsortruck to settle on the sand with a thump.

  “I’m saying maybe the few Tuskens we let live have figured out where the weak spots are. And you’re it.”

  Ulbreck swore. “You’re crazy. Tusken’s got a head like a boulder. They’re incapable of thought.” He looked back out at Orrin’s vaporator tower, looming above. “Besides, say it’s true. I can put up my own sirens, same as you.”

  “Yeah, but will anyone respond to them?” Orrin fished in his pocket and found the remote activator. After the oasis raid, he carried it everywhere now. “It’s not just the sound, Wyle. With this, I can get an army here. An army I can send to get your vaporator back—and crack some skulls in the process.”

  “Those bums aren’t an army. They just want the free drinks you—”

  “Whatever it takes.” Orrin looked at him cannily. “Now, I can’t get you in at the old rates. Prices have gone up. And bringing in all your territory is going to incur costs you’re gonna have to bear. Last in, you know.”

  “Make that never in!” Ulbreck restarted his engine. “I don’t care if Jabba the Hutt signs up. Wyle Ulbreck takes care of his own business!”

  Orrin threw up his hands. With a metallic groan, the repulsortruck continued on its way.

  Mullen looked at his father. “Told you it was a waste of time.”

  “Figured it was worth one more shot,” Orrin said. “This close to the harvest, nobody but Wyle has any money.” He thought for a second and chuckled. “And maybe that Kenobi.”

  Mullen raised an eyebrow. “Kenobi?”

  “Ben. Guy that made a fool out of you, remember? That’s his name,” Orrin said. Quickly, he recounted Ben’s questions about extending protection far to the east.

  “Out near Anchorhead?” Veeka asked, climbing down the ladder. “What business has he got out there?”

  “No idea.” Orrin strained to remember details from the conversation. Ben had mentioned the Lars farm. Why he would care what happens out that way?

  Veeka chucked her tool kit into the back of their work vehicle. “You really think he has money—that he wasn’t just talking?” She grinned. “I thought you said he was an idiot.”

  “That I did,” Orrin said, staring at the Jundland peaks far away. “Man lives on the fringe, babbling to himself and dressing like the Tuskens stole his wardrobe. That’s the sort of human driftwood your mother would take in.” And leave with, he did not have to say. “But crazy people need protecting, too. Some even have money.”

  Probably not this crazy person, though. Orrin knew it wasn’t worth wasting thoughts on the man. Ben hadn’t been around in days—and there were bigger problems coming up. He took a last forlorn look at the vaporator. “Let’s pack it in. We’re not going to fix this by the deadline.”

  Mullen was startled. “No harvest? But those people who came to see you—”

  “Shouldn’t have been allowed anywhere near the Claim,” Orrin said, aggravated. It had been a sore point in the family. Somebody on the work crews should have stopped “Master Boopa” before he reached the Claim. Or at least alerted Orrin.

  Veeka stood beside her brother. She looked serious, for once. “What will you—I mean, what will we do?”

  “Your great-granddaddy told me something,” Orrin said. “Every problem’s got two solutions. You wait until you figure two ways out of a problem—and then you try them both at the same time. Because by the time you need a backup plan, it’s too late.”

  Orrin paused and thought about what was scheduled to happen in the next twenty-four hours—and about the plans he had to deal with it all. “You go see if Zedd’s ready to work,” he said, flashing a reassuring smile as he climbed into his vehicle. “I’ve got some things to prepare.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  LEELEE NEARLY DROPPED HER packages when she opened the door. “Annileen!”

  In the middle of the Claim’s dining area, a scaffold sat tipped at an angle, two of its supports wedged against the domed ceiling above. Annileen clung to the top of the structure, dangling precariously. She looked over her shoulder at her visitor. “Hi, Leelee. What’s new?”

  The Zeltron set her parcels down and rushed over. A bucket lay overturned in the middle of a white, soapy puddle, near where the rickety tower stood. “You’re washing the ceiling?”

  “Not anymore, no.” Annileen’s wet hand slipped again. In grabbing hold, she set the whole structure quaking. “I’ve been calling for Jabe, but I think he’s in the stockroom!”

  “Asleep, you mean.” Leelee pushed a table away to reach the scaffold. She steadied it long enough for Annileen to twist around and reach for one of the vertical supports.

  Carefully, Annileen climbed down. “Thanks,” she said, breathing deeply. “I was afraid I’d have to wait for the dinner rush.”

  Leelee looked around. The afternoon crowd was always thinnest during harvesttime. The store was empty, except for old Erbaly Nap’tee, poking through a basket of remnants. “Didn’t Erbaly offer to help?”

  “No, but she asked me to help her,” Annileen said, drying her hands on her overalls. “I’m pleased to say I know what’s in inventory even in midair.” She turned the fallen bucket upright and searched for the mop, as if nothing had ever happened.

  Leelee marveled. “You decided to wash the ceiling—alone.”

  “Putting up sealant, actually,” Annileen said. “You guys did a good job cleaning up after the raid, but I wanted to get at those blaster score marks on the pourstone before they caused cracks.”

  “What, in thirty years?”

  Annileen shrugged. “I have the time now.” She started mopping.

  Mystified, Leelee walked back to reclaim her packages. “Good thing I came. Though, if you’ve kept that activator on you, you could’ve set off the Settlers’ Call.”

  “That would’ve gone over well with everyone in the fields, for sure,” Annileen said. “I can see the holo now: Woman Summons Militia to Save Her from Own Stupidity.”

  Giving the floor up for later, Annileen walked behind the counter. She looked in wonderment at the stack of packages Leelee had brought to ship. Leelee was a talented sculptor in her spare time, specializing in primitive designs; she had customers on worlds all over the Outer Rim. “How do you find these people?” Annileen asked.

  “Ex-boyfriends,” the Zeltron said, smiling pri
mly. She ran a crimson finger down a digital list of names on the manifest she was holding. “They’re all still fans.”

  “Of your work—or you?”

  “An artist tries not to ask,” Leelee said. “You could use a hobby yourself, Annie. You’ve been a bundle of energy for the last few weeks. What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know,” Annileen said, processing the packages. Leelee was right, of course. Just during the last couple of weeks, Annileen had changed the layout of the packaged goods section, helped Kallie re-fence the dewback run, and streamlined the store’s accounting procedures. That morning, she had built a new table by hand especially for Bohmer and his new hoverchair, when he finally got the okay to return and resume his caf intake. If the facts of her life hadn’t changed in recent days, she’d made sure it felt like a whirl, all the same.

  “I know what’s wrong,” Leelee said.

  “No advice requested, Leelee.” Annileen stopped transcribing. “Look, I get it. The big things in my world are never going to change. But there’s a lot of little stuff I can fix, and I might as well get to it.”

  “Phooey on that,” Leelee said. “I say you haven’t seen Ben since he ran out of here that time, and it’s driving you up the wall. And onto the ceiling,” she added.

  Annileen rolled her eyes. “Really,” she said icily. “What makes you think that?”

  “Because you’ve just given my latest masterpiece a shipping label for something called the ‘Kenobi system.’ ”

  Annileen looked at the letters she’d absentmindedly printed and blushed. “Oops.”

  “It’s okay,” Leelee said, gesturing to the mislabeled package. “It is a fertility statue.”

  “That’s all I need.” Annileen laughed. She shook her head and corrected the label. “Okay. I admit it. It bothers me that he never came back.”

  She’d almost lost track of how long it had been since the Tusken attack—and the crazy, surreal day after. The visit by “Master Boopa.” The strange change in Orrin’s behavior toward her. And Ben’s vanishing act upon becoming the center of attention. He hadn’t returned since.

  “I guess we scared him off,” she said. Newcomers were like that, sometimes. They didn’t know the locals gossiped about every new arrival, just to forget about them when someone else came along. Only two people had even mentioned Ben to Annileen recently. Orrin asked occasionally whether he had returned. And Kallie asked the same thing, only every five minutes.

  Orrin appeared in the hallway from the garage. Annileen saw him give a moment’s glance to the scaffold before disappearing into his office without a word.

  “That’s another weird one,” she whispered to Leelee. Orrin’s best behavior around Annileen had been a thing of wonder lately; it was the new story captivating the regulars’ attention. “You want to talk to someone, talk to him.”

  Leelee snorted and made a pronouncement. “Annie, my friend, Ben is exactly what you’ve needed.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Because you’ve kept Orrin at arm’s length for years,” Leelee said. “And he got used to it. But now that there’s another suitor for Princess Annie, he’s got to make his move.”

  Annileen cast a horrified glance at the office door. “I don’t want him to make his move!”

  “Is that so?” Leelee smirked. “I think you want Orrin interested—so it’ll force your mystery man to do something.”

  “You’re mentally ill,” Annileen said. “Seriously, what is it with you Zeltrons? You’d matchmake for droids, if they’d listen.”

  “They do listen, Annie. That’s why there are so many droids.”

  Annileen groaned. This really wasn’t what she needed—or was looking for. Things were fine with Orrin as they were. Well, no they aren’t. But Orrin was more an older brother—or, sometimes, a third child. He had been Dannar’s friend, and that was how she still saw him. Why did he want that to change now?

  She started to say something when Leelee shushed her. Orrin emerged from the office, having changed his shirt and neatened his hair after his day in the fields. He saw the women and smiled. “How are my favorite people today?”

  “One of us was nearly burying the other,” Leelee said, gesturing to the scaffold. “You’ve got to get Annie out of this place before she starts alphabetizing the oil cans.”

  Beaming, Orrin strolled behind the counter. “Have no fear. Orrin Gault has the plan, and it’s in motion already.” He put his arm around Annileen and gave her a half hug. “You’re getting tomorrow off.” He grinned down at her. “Happy birthday.”

  Annileen pulled away. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I’ve just talked with Tar Lup,” he said, referring to the Calwells’ onetime assistant. “He’s got some time off from his place in Eisley, and I’ve convinced him to spend tomorrow here, watching the store.”

  “Why can’t Jabe—” Green eyes stared, suspicious. “Wait. Where will I be?”

  “Mos Eisley. You deserve a day in the city,” he said. “And I want you to take the whole family. Kallie can close up the livery—nobody’s around right now, anyway.” His eyes narrowed. “Take Jabe, too. Maybe if you spend more time together as a family, things will improve.”

  Stupefied, Annileen looked to Leelee. The Zeltron was wide-eyed, listening with rapt attention. “You’re going with us, I suppose?” Annileen asked Orrin.

  “Oh, no,” he said, fishing around in his pocket. “Not with the harvest!”

  “Right.” She looked at him, still not fathoming his intent. “Why Mos Eisley?”

  Orrin found what he was looking for: a small sealed envelope. “Here,” he said. “It’s the other part of your surprise, to make sure you go. Open it this evening.”

  Annileen took the envelope. “What are you up to, Orrin?”

  The farmer laughed. “Just make sure I’m around when you open it.” He winked at Leelee and stepped out from behind the counter.

  “My birthday’s the day after tomorrow,” Annileen said.

  “This offer is good for tomorrow only,” Orrin proclaimed, walking toward his office. “I’ve spent all afternoon making the plans. Don’t send poor Tar away!” The door closed behind him and locked.

  Leelee clutched for the envelope. “Give me that! I want to see!”

  “No!” Annileen said, pulling it away. She felt dizzy. What in the world is going on now?

  Meditation

  I had the dream again.

  It was like I’ve described before. I wasn’t myself. But I saw the world through—something. A tunnel, a filter. And then I heard a scream.

  You’re tired of hearing about this dream, I expect—I’ve had it once a week since coming to Tatooine. I always wake in wonder. I always feel it’s about Anakin somehow.

  Only the last couple of editions have changed some. The tunnel is narrower, brighter. Normally the view is hazy and red. This time it was almost like seeing through—well, a Tusken’s eyes, as strange as that sounds.

  And hearing the scream didn’t hit me as hard, this time. I felt more apart, aloof. In the past, it’s had more of an effect on me.

  I don’t know what it means.

  I’m worried the dream represents the smothering of light in the galaxy, and my own misgivings about being far from the scene. Could I really stay here so long that I no longer feel the cries of those Palpatine harms?

  Don’t worry, Qui-Gon—I’m not speaking this out loud. I’m still ashamed at what you must think of that horrendous blunder, when I was overheard. You must think I’m a Padawan all over again.

  But I know how it happened. I’ve been focusing too hard on trying to contact you, trying to replicate the feelings I was having that time you spoke to Yoda and me. I was trying to separate myself mentally from my surroundings, and because of that, I didn’t sense Kallie�
��s approach.

  It doesn’t seem that the girl overheard anything too revealing—or saw me holding Anakin’s lightsaber. The Force was with me there. And there are apparently a number of people around whose names sound like Kenobi, so nobody’s drawn the connection. Yet.

  Still, I can’t take any more chances. I was getting too drawn into the lives of the people at the oasis. It’s ironic. You were the one who always told me to focus more on the living Force—the lives of those around us now, rather than the big picture that Master Yoda ascribed to. Living here, getting involved in this little world, with its little dramas? It’s been enlightening.

  I missed all this while rushing about to save the galaxy. Seeing that, for many people, the smaller struggles are just as important to them as our larger ones are to us. It was a good lesson for me to learn.

  But it has to end there.

  So I’m strictly confining my travels to my mission. I checked on the boy earlier this week; the farm seems fine. I managed to steer clear of Owen Lars this time. The man doesn’t like me at all.

  And I’m going to keep working on the house. I have to do something about this coolant unit, which I think was built in the time of Arca Jeth. But don’t worry—there are other stores on Tatooine besides the Claim. Not many, but they exist …

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ANNIE!”

  Annileen waved back from the window of the speeder truck. “Thanks!”

  There wasn’t any point in telling the farmhand that her birthday was still a day away. Everyone who’d visited the Claim since the night before had heard the reason for her journey. And harvest workers on three previous hillsides had already yelled the same greeting to her, all of them excited for her.

  Annileen was excited, too. Dressed nicely, she was heading to Mos Eisley, her daughter in the passenger seat and son in back—and none of them had argued yet at all. It was a birthday miracle.

  They were in the LiteVan II today. Dannar had brought the retired SoroSuub model back into service the year they married, and it still handled most of the heavy work for the Claim. Orrin had needed his USV-5 landspeeder back for some reason, but Annileen didn’t mind. She was still reeling, not quite believing the contents of the envelope Orrin had given her. Jabe and Kallie were discussing it in the darkened cab, now.