Kenobi: Star Wars

by John Jackson Miller

  “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, walking the stairs up 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.

  “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.”

  Annileen smiled as the electronic waiter rattled away. “GG-8 served us when Dannar and I were here on our honeymoon,” she told Ben. “It was the first time a droid had ever brought me anything. I felt like the Queen of Alderaan.”

  Ben took fork in hand. “You could have a droid at the oasis, I’m sure?”

  “The farmhands don’t like to see them. They take away jobs on the range.”

  “Well, you seem kind to them,” he noted.

  “No reason not to be,” she said.

  Ben smiled and began to eat.

  All through lunch, Annileen felt like a tracker losing a trail. Ben still seemed to have that sadness hidden deep within�
��it came out whether he wanted it to or not. But every attempt to nudge him toward a personal revelation resulted in his nimble escape to another topic. She couldn’t become cross with him; even this verbal fencing had the same fun and easiness of their lunch the day of the podraces. Rather, she began to feel sorry for how much work he was putting in, changing subjects.

  Fine, she decided as she finished her dessert. If Ben was going to insist on being more interested in her life than in talking about his, well, she’d make the sacrifice. And Ben did seem willing to listen to her entire litany of worries. About Kallie, and what future she might find. The livery wasn’t yet drudgery for her, but there weren’t many options beyond that. Would she really be happy married to some farmhand?

  And of course, they talked about Jabe. Annileen had kept closer watch on her son since the Tusken massacre. The boy wasn’t out of control, but for some reason Jabe wanted her to think he was. Ben seemed to share her concern. “When people show you signs, it’s important to read them,” he said.

  But mostly, they talked about her. About her childhood, and animals. About her father, and the failed ranch. About her hopes to study, and how that direction had changed. And about the thing that, above and beyond Tusken Raiders, Orrin’s antics, or even her children’s upbringing, occupied the most territory in her life.

  The Claim.

  And Ben wasn’t having any of her complaints about it. “I know you love it. I’ve seen you. You enjoy holding court—being the center that holds it all together.”

  Annileen laughed. “You want the job? It’s yours.”

  “Oh, no,” Ben said, picking at his dessert. “I’ve never been one for the politics of large rooms.” He took another bite. “Or smaller ones.”

  Annileen smiled.

  “Consider parties,” he said. “They’ve always struck me as big uncontrolled experiments in social dynamics. It’s as if you’re stress-testing every relationship you have at once.”

  “You’re having lots of parties out there on the Jundland?”

  “Just me and the eopie—soon to be plural.”

  “And assorted eavesdroppers,” Annileen said. “If you don’t mind my saying so, you don’t seem cut out for the hermit life.”

  Mouth full of cake, Ben stopped himself from laughing. “We were talking about you.”

  “Right. Well, it’s not what it’s cracked up to be.” Annileen looked at the frayed awning above and clenched her fists. Okay, if you really want to hear it, here goes.

  “I’m listening.”

  “You see the Claim as a place to come to,” she said. “To interact, to get away from the nothingness. Well, everyone else around the oasis sees it the same way. Everyone. They show up before the second sun is up in the morning—and then they never leave.”

  “I have noticed a certain resident status for some.”

  “For some?” Annileen’s hands shook on the table, rattling her dinnerware. “Dannar used to joke that the Claim was the tenth largest city on Tatooine, when it was full. And I’m not sure that’s far off.” She looked down at her empty plate. “I’m barely holding together my own family, and yet I’m keeping all these other people going, too. I’m not just feeding and clothing my own. I’ve got everyone!”

  Catching her breath, she looked up at him. He was still listening intently, but she was embarrassed all the same. “Sorry,” she said. “Am I ranting?”

  Ben spoke calmly—that stoic reserve in full evidence. “A life that seems small on the outside can be limitless on the inside. Even a person living in the remotest place can be concerned about hundreds. Or the whole galaxy.”

  Annileen stared at him, mesmerized. “Who are you?”

  “ ‘Crazy Ben,’ your son says.” He grinned. “I actually think I like the sound of—”

  Ben stopped suddenly. Annileen followed his gaze across the street and saw a human in a black uniform and hat standing beside a figure fully clad in white armor.

  A spacesuit of some kind? “What is that?” she asked.

  Ben slid back in his chair, away from the balcony railing. “Well, I’m not sure,” he said, his voice lower and softer than it had been. He looked again out of the corner of his eye. “I would almost say it looks like a clone trooper. I’ve … seen holos of them.” He studied the figure for another second before looking away. “But the uniforms are slightly different.”

  Annileen watched the strange pair. They weren’t looking at her—or even at the festival going on all around them. Instead, they were examining the building they were standing in front of. “That suit’s got to be awful in this heat,” she said. “I wonder why they’re here.”

  “I don’t know,” Ben said, head down as he scraped his plate. “Er—what are they doing now?”

  Spying the datapad in the hand of the hatted figure, Annileen recognized the behavior instantly. “They’re taking inventory,” she said. “That used to be the Republic’s aid station on Tatooine. I don’t know what it is now, given whatever has been going on out there.”

  “What has been going on?” Ben asked.

  “You’d know more than I would. I’ve never left the planet,” she said. “But if they’re with this New Order or whatever it is, maybe they’re still figuring out what it is they own.”

  “Mmm,” Ben said. He glanced around, newly uneasy.

  Annileen checked her chrono. “I guess we’d better get down there ourselves and get back to the kids.”

  “You know what? I think we should wait awhile.” Ben stretched and patted his stomach. “To go down to the street.”

  A little surprised, Annileen nodded. “Sure. More time to talk, I guess.”

  “And it’s the strangest thing. I’m suddenly developing a chill.” Ben rubbed at his throat. “I hope I’m not coming down with something.” With that, he pulled his hood back over his head and sank lower in his seat.

  Annileen shook her head. Obfuscation Kenobi was back.

  Across town, Mullen signaled from his post near the round building.

  “Nothing yet,” Veeka said, speaking into her comlink.

  In the passenger seat of the landspeeder, Orrin shook his head. “They said Docking Bay Eighty-Seven.” For the third time that minute, he checked to see if his blaster was in its holster. He just felt more comfortable knowing it was there.

  Orrin knew the docking bay wasn’t where the second of his two Mos Eisley meetings was to take place. He had called the meeting; the other party would take every step to place him at a disadvantage. He knew he didn’t need to be worried, given his plans. But still, he wanted Mullen and Veeka nearby, checking things out. Whatever faults his children had, there wasn’t much they couldn’t handle if things came to a fight.

  He was mostly sure things wouldn’t—but he still reached down to pat the handle of his blaster again.

  “You won’t need that,” a voice said from behind him.

  Orrin turned to see Bojo Boopa sitting in the backseat of the USV-5, pointing a blaster at him. He hadn’t heard the Gossam get in, but now he saw the creature’s Gamorrean companions taking station at either side of the vehicle, parting only to permit the entry of a character Orrin had never met before.

  “Nice speeder,” the scaly-faced Klatooinian said, taking the driver’s seat. The bronze-skinned creature then burst into giggles. “I want one! I want one!”

  Orrin looked at the alien—and then back at Boopa with alarm.

  “Just drive, Jorrk,” the Gossam said, lowering his gun and stretching out in the cushy seat. “Our buddy Gault here has somewhere to be. And he’d better tell us what we want to hear.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  “NOW, KIDS,” ANNILEEN SAID, “you realize this will be my landspeeder and not yours, right? Just so we understand each other.”

  “Huh?” Jabe said, sit
ting behind the controls.

  Equally spellbound, Kallie ran her hand across the hood. “Oh, yeah. Sure, Mom.”

  Ben grinned at Annileen. “I think you’re in trouble.”

  “I have been,” she said. “For seventeen years.”

  Annileen looked around the Delroix Speeders showroom. There were models here she’d never seen—nor was she likely to, out in the desert. With its open cockpit and ornate steering vanes up front, the JG-8 seemed the least practical of all; she’d need to keep it in the garage to preserve its ruby color.

  “It’s nice,” Ben said, examining the display nearby. The price was there, at the bottom, listed with options and without. Both figures were in the tens of thousands of credits. He looked up at Annileen. “It’s a generous gift, to be sure.”

  “A gift. Right,” Kallie said, rolling her eyes. “If you can’t win their hearts, buy them. It’s the Gault way.” She looked back at her mother, who was admiring the interior. “But it’s the only way we’d ever get something like this.”

  “Oh, I could afford to buy it myself,” Annileen said. “But I never would.”

  Ben raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t think a frontier merchant did so well.”

  Annileen smiled. “What, did you think the personal deliveries to new arrivals cut into the profits?”

  “I really don’t—”

  “It’s twenty-plus years of scrimping and saving—and avoiding whatever new thing Orrin had for us to invest in.” She ran her hand along the rich fabric on the seats. “But this is amazing. I didn’t think anything like this existed.”

  “It is amazing, isn’t it?” asked a husky voice. The dealer, a happy, squat human in his fifties, patted the rear engine lovingly. He gestured to the backseat. “It’s the extended model, ma’am, straight from Sullust. Extra room in the back for light cargo, or for your children.” The retailer looked at the teenagers fawning over the vehicle, and then at Ben. “Congratulations, sir, on raising such a fine family.”

  Ben stammered. “Oh, no, these aren’t—”