Star Wars - Kenobi

Plug-eye.
    “I am A’Yark,” the Tusken warlord said. “You lives, Orringault.”
    He clutched at the bumpy surface beneath his body. He realized he was lying some distance off the ground, atop a rectangular pile of stones.
    “This is my son’s burial platform,” A’Yark said.
    Orrin simply shook his head, his eyes too dry for tears. He had seen the things before.
    A’Yark grabbed at his shoulders. “You have work.” She turned him. Orrin saw the familiar stone pillars go past—until, finally, he faced a shorter, metallic cylinder.
    It was a vaporator.
    He knew the model by sight. It was the vaporator the Tuskens had stolen from Wyle Ulbreck. But instead of gutting it for metals, the warrior and her companions had placed it upright. Now, heaving, they brought it closer. As it approached, he realized the funereal bier had been expanded to become something else.
    It wasn’t to be Orrin’s grave. It was his work platform.
    “You gives us water,” A’Yark said. “And you will be fed.”
    Orrin struggled. The parts of his body that could still move were suffocating, they were so tightly wound beneath the wrappings.
    “You will be fed. And we moves you when we move. And you will live—while we have water.”
    Orrin heard his breath rasping louder and louder.
    No. No. No.
    Orrin thought it, but didn’t say it. For no was a word, and hearing his voice through the mouthpiece would confirm what he knew: that he was now one of them .
    A Sand Person.
    He resolved never to speak again.
    The first sun was slipping behind the cliffs to the west when two hovercraft arrived at the foot of Ben’s hill. Gloamer had kept Annileen’s battered old landspeeder and the LiteVan, which Tar would need to run the store. In exchange, he’d provided her with two of his souped-up sports speeders, which she figured would come in handy in the desert—or wherever they and Ben ended up.
    She chuckled to herself as she parked. She’d seen Ben on a hoverbike, but had no idea if he drove a landspeeder. Well, she’d have time to find out—and teach him, if he didn’t. She stepped out of the vehicle, its backseat packed to overflowing with hastily packed luggage and goods. Across from her, Jabe and Kallie emerged from their similarly loaded repulsorcraft.
    So much stuff—but so little, too, worth taking away from a lifetime. It was sad, Annileen thought. But also refreshing.
    Jabe’s face fell as he looked up at the hut. “This is it ?”
    “He still doesn’t have a door,” Kallie noted. Annileen’s daughter had been quiet since closing the livery. But seeing Ben emerge from the home cheered her up. As it did Annileen.
    “Welcome,” Ben said, walking down the slope. Instead of his cloak, he wore a white shirt with long cuffs and light gray trousers, an ensemble she hadn’t seen him in before. He looked refreshed, as if he’d somehow gotten some sleep in the few hours since she’d seen him. He carried a small beige backpack over his shoulder.
    Annileen stepped toward him, glowing. But before she could reach him, Ben’s eopies trotted from inside the house, bleating to him. “Ah,” he said, setting down the backpack. “I found them on the way home.”
    “The gang’s all here,” Annileen said affectionately.
    Ben looked up. “Are your affairs settled?”
    “As much as they’ll ever be,” she said.
    In the vehicle, she had hard currency from her stash. And Gloamer’s payment to her electronic account could be accessed in Bestine or Mos Eisley. It was enough to live on for a long time, especially out here. She didn’t know if that was Ben’s plan: he had only told her to pack for time away. Wherever it was, though, she felt safe in assuming they’d be together.
    As Kallie knelt to nuzzle Rooh and the baby, Ben studied Jabe. “Are you all right, son?” he asked.
    “Yeah. I—I want to thank you for helping us. And for saving me last night.” Jabe looked down, shamefaced. “I didn’t deserve it—”
    Ben shook the boy’s hand. “You were only a few steps down the wrong path.” He looked Jabe in the eye. “You were desperate for something to do. But someone I respect once told me that wise people never make desperate decisions.” He reflected for a moment, then smiled. “Actually, he phrased it a lot differently from what I just said. But the advice is sound.”
    Jabe smiled. Annileen beamed.
    She looked back at the landspeeders. “It’ll be dark soon. Should we unload?”
    “No,” Ben said,