Star Wars - Kenobi

aggravated. The last thing he needed was trouble at home. Once, Annileen had barred the entire Gault employee base from dining at the Claim. After a week of lunch box living, Orrin had a mutiny on his hands. There was only one response. “You’ll clean up the store, apologize to Annie, and then get out here and finish your shift!” He deactivated the comlink.
    Standing in the suns, Orrin looked back at the old man in the landspeeder and smiled weakly. Ulbreck still wasn’t paying him any mind. The old man had more hair on his face than his head—and, yes, Ulbreck was using Orrin’s comb to straighten his beard. Lovely, Orrin thought, closing the bonnet on Ulbreck’s stalled repulsortruck. The battered ST-101 would be able to make it to the Claim using the coolant Orrin had brought. Now he had to make the favor pay off.
    “You’re ready, Master Ulbreck,” Orrin said, opening the passenger-side door to his landspeeder. “Sorry about the delay—I had to take a call.” The old man grunted. Orrin gave a rumpled smile. “It was just trouble at home. Do you—uh, plan on having children, Wyle?”
    “I’m seventy-five.”
    “Take my advice,” Orrin said, grimacing. “Don’t. It’s safer that way.” He offered his hand to help Ulbreck stand up, but the old man ignored it.
    Ulbreck was still in good shape for his age. He had recently sworn off liquor, after some event Orrin knew little about. But Orrin attributed Ulbreck’s condition more to his having delegated most of the work on his sprawling ranch to an army of farmhands in recent years, instead of toiling in the hot suns himself. Spreading to the south and east of Orrin’s holdings, Ulbreck’s property was more than twice the size—and Orrin doubted the man had visited a single one of his vaporators in a decade. It hadn’t hurt their production at all. Ulbreck was rolling in wealth he never spent.
    All the more reason to protect it. “Speaking of safety,” Orrin said, conscious of the awkward transition, “I was wondering if you’d thought about joining the Settlers’ Call Fund.”
    “Here we go again,” Ulbreck said, derision evident in his gravelly voice. “Knew that coolant wasn’t free.” He threw Orrin’s comb back inside the landspeeder.
    “I’m not trying to sell you anything. The Fund helps the community protect people. Farmers, just like you—”
    “I got my own security.” Ulbreck tromped across the sand toward his vehicle. “I don’t need to be paying for your people to sit around getting soused.”
    “They’re not mine,” Orrin said. “The Fund belongs to the whole oasis community—I just administer it.” He closed the passenger door to his landspeeder and followed Ulbreck. “Look, you run a business—and you expect results. So do I. I respect that. If you want results, just look at the other day, and what happened at the Bezzard place—”
    “I saw you didn’t save half of ’em!”
    Orrin stepped back. “That’s not fair, Wyle. Those people died before the Call was activated. But the farmer and his wife and child, though—we saved those people.” He tried a different tack. “Look, yours is the largest spread around here not part of the Fund. If you came in, we’d be able to upgrade our equipment. Maybe even put out some patrols to cover your place, as well as some others. Proactive, like.”
    The old farmer stopped at the open door to his repulsortruck and turned his head. Orrin stepped forward, expectantly—only to see the old man spit on the sand.
    “Not interested in anywhere else,” Ulbreck said. “My people watch my place. If Plug-eye comes around, you’ll see a Tusken dance.” Ulbreck climbed up into the cab of the tall vehicle. As he started the engines, he looked down at Orrin, almost as an afterthought. “Eh—thanks for the coolant.”
    Orrin shook his head. Some people you just couldn’t help.
    The repulsortruck gone, Orrin kicked the empty coolant container across the sand. He’d made most reluctant farmers come around, one way or another. Not Ulbreck. The old man knew the Fund based its fee on the amount of land to be protected. Ulbreck balked at paying more than anyone else on pure principle.
    Well, he’ll figure it out … one day, Orrin thought. There were more potential members to sign up; he’d need to check his map. He opened the door to his landspeeder, its engine still running as it pumped out frigid air. He slipped into the driver’s seat, only to find the oily