Star Wars - Kenobi

like sabacc cards in the breeze. Some still hovered, their engines driving them futilely into the nearby walls. Others were upended, or half on top of other vehicles. The settlers were in the dust, gasping for air and grasping for their fallen weapons. At least they were all moving, as far as Orrin could see.
    Into this scene, three remaining creatures emerged from the uplands. A bantha calf trotted down—followed, improbably, by an eopie mother and her kid. The trio of laggards tromped heedlessly through the chaotic scene, following the herd into the open desert to the northwest.
    Orrin found Mullen and Veeka awkwardly getting to their feet. Mullen had taken a horn to the side of his head; he was bleeding from his temple. “Can you fight?” Orrin asked.
    Mullen grunted angrily.
    Orrin took it as affirmative. “Kenobi’s playing games,” he muttered. He turned, blaster in hand.
    But something else came screaming down from the stone fissure. A speeder bike and rider, sizzling down the pathway Kenobi had taken up into the mountains. It soared in a straight line, one that would take it over the heads of the vigilantes and to the open desert beyond.
    “Blast him! Blast him!”
    Quick-witted vigilantes caught the vehicle in a crossfire as it zipped past. Several shots struck true, and the speeder bike flashed with fire, spiraling to the right. Its forward struts struck the ground hard. The vehicle and its passenger flipped end over end, finally smashing into an unoccupied repulsorcraft.
    Orrin rushed forward. Wreckage was everywhere. A body burned in the debris. Excitedly, Orrin approached the rider’s side.
    And saw that it was, in fact, a burlap duffel. Half of the smoking bag had ripped open where it had been tied to the handlebars. Without thinking, Orrin shoved his hand into the smoldering debris and found the fake rider’s stuffing: a bundle of Tusken head wrappings.
    “It’s from your wardrobe, Orrin,” Ben said. His voice echoed all around, louder than the krayt call and certainly louder than the phantom whisper Orrin had heard earlier. “I brought it from your place!”
    Looking about in surprise, Orrin threw the wrappings away. How Ben was saying it wasn’t important. Remembering where he had dropped the loudhailer, Orrin dashed toward his landspeeder, piled up against the rock. He skidded to a stop beside it and reached inside the vehicle, fishing for the amplifier’s handle. Finding something, he lifted it—
    —and stared, mystified, at the gaderffii in his hand.
    “That’s also from your stash,” Ben called from above.
    He’s using the loudhailer, Orrin realized. Somehow, the man had returned to the floor of the rift on foot in the smoky chaos and switched the gaderffii for the loudhailer. But there wasn’t time for Orrin to contemplate that. Half the posse was staring at him as he held the Tusken weapon.
    And wherever Kenobi was, he saw it.
    “They’re interested in your collection, Orrin. The weapons and clothing you’ve taken from Tuskens in the past. That you’ve used—you and your family—in strikes against your neighbors!”
    Aware of the stares, Orrin threw the weapon to the ground, repulsed. “What a crazy story,” he said, forcing a chuckle. “Dancing with Tuskens is Kenobi’s game!”
    “You have me wrong,” Ben said, his voice coming from everywhere and nowhere. “I only wanted to live here in peace. You’re the one who’s making war, all to sell your protection service!”
    “It’s not ours,” Veeka yelled, clearly rattled. “Tell them, Dad!”
    Orrin looked urgently toward her. Shut up, he implored with his eyes. I have to do the talking!
    “He’s wrong,” Orrin said, facing the others. “We keep some trophies, sure. Who wouldn’t? But he got this stuff from his friends back there, who sent the banthas. And the Settlers’ Call Fund isn’t ours, either. It’s a public trust!”
    “Then tell them the balance,” Ben said. “Tell them you haven’t been stealing from it to pay your debts. Tell them you didn’t attack Tyla Bezzard’s father when he wouldn’t join, leaving the man hobbled and unable to save himself later when the Tuskens attacked for real.” His voice grew louder. “Tell them you didn’t attack the Ulbreck place yourself, last night. Tell them you didn’t flee, when I happened along!”
    Orrin straightened, searching for a friendly face on which to fix his gaze. There weren’t many. One settler after another looked angered,