Star Wars - Kenobi

he’d evidently learned truths in days that had evaded people who worked around Orrin for years. Blameless or not, Ben was a strange character, and few were in any hurry to see him again.
    Under the settlers’ questioning, though, once-tough Veeka had melted into a pathetic, simpering thing, describing in detail Orrin’s embezzlement from the Fund and his attacks against those who wouldn’t subscribe to it. Then, fearing for her life, she’d lashed out at the Calwells, claiming Jabe had been along not just on the staged Ulbreck raid, but all the ones before. And in Veeka’s story, Annileen had known all about it, had profited from the sales of guns and ale.
    No one was overly inclined to believe Veeka—nor the oafish Zedd, who echoed her story when confronted for his role. But the financial records found in Orrin’s home—which he had failed to erase, through lack of time or overconfidence—held damaging facts. They detailed tens of thousands of credits paid from the Fund to the Claim over the years for ale, weapons, and garaging, all the way back to Dannar Calwell’s time.
    All quite legitimate, from Annileen’s point of view; but the sums boggled the minds of many poor prospectors, who saw conspiracy. Several old-timers recalled Jabba trumping up a Tusken war, years earlier, to sell shoddy weapons. Was this like that? Annileen had seemed beyond corruption, sure—but hadn’t they seen Orrin walking behind the counter many times, plucking money from the cashbox with Annileen’s indulgence? And what about all her private financial records, sitting in the datapad right on his desk? How separate were the families, really?
    Annileen already knew: not very separate at all. There were just too many ties to disentangle, ties that Annileen had let grow over the years because it was easier not to argue with Orrin. But where the links between the two families had brought them to a position of respect and relative wealth, it now made them the focus of envy and suspicion.
    It had all transpired just as Ben had said it would; Annileen now counted fortune telling among his other talents. She had already noted that no one had arrived at the Claim for dinner. Her position was untenable. Given time, she might sort it out—if she were on Coruscant, with a lawyer. But this was Tatooine, where rumor and bad feeling spread like sand on the wind, and where minds, once made up, never changed.
    She and Leelee hugged tearfully, Annileen unable to begin to explain to her friend what had transpired, or what her plans were. She simply promised to contact her again.
    And then she shut the door, ready to walk the Claim one last time.
    Light returned to Orrin slowly. When it arrived, it was piercing—and so was the pain.
    The sky shimmered for some reason, a brilliant whorl at the end of a tunnel. He could not feel his legs. They were there, he could tell; his hands were resting against them. But there was no feeling in his feet or toes at all.
    It’s the crash, he thought. I’ve been burned. He’d been through this before. As a child, he’d stayed out on a midsummer day with no hat or skin protection—and had come back with a face so raw and parched that even smiling hurt. His parents had kept him inside for a day, his face bandaged to keep him from picking at it. The fabric on his face now felt like that, only rougher.
    Yes, that was it. He’d been bandaged and taken to Bestine. Doc Mell was probably there, conferring with the local doctors about his case. Orrin breathed in relief.
    And then he heard his breath.
    Something was over his mouth, something metallic, clacking against his broken teeth when he opened wide.
    Another sense memory flooded back, from his one offworld trip. He’d picked up a bacterial infection that had left his limbs raw and scabbing; it had earned him an hour in a bacta tank, something uncommon on Tatooine. He’d worn a breather mask then. He wore something like that now—only tinny, and cold to his lips.
    The light above disappeared. Slowly, the face of a Tusken came into view and vanished.
    No.
    He pushed down with his hands, lifting his torso. He saw his legs, now, bandaged. He felt the gloves on his fingertips. He felt the shroud on his face, and the metallic eyepieces against his eyelids.
    Merciful universe, no.
    Another Tusken stepped into view. “Orringault.”
    Orrin heard it as an animal grunt. But it was his name, and it was definitely the one-eyed Tusken he’d tried to ram.