Star Wars - Kenobi

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 set far back in 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