Star Wars - Kenobi

registered a response. But he seemed detached, or at least respectful of Orrin’s territory. Which was silly, of course. Orrin and Annileen had never been like that—or, at least, she’d never been like that with him. Orrin was married when Dannar hired Annileen; by the time Orrin’s union started going wrong, the Calwells were married themselves, with Kallie on the way. Orrin wondered sometimes what would have happened if Liselle had taken off earlier—but no. The Pika Oasis wouldn’t be what it was today if he and Dannar had been romantic rivals.
    Ben broke the silence. “How did Dannar Calwell die?”
    It was a puzzling turn, Orrin thought. “I’ll get to that,” he said, applying the brakes. “We’re here.”
    The landspeeder came to rest atop a hill overlooking a wide expanse empty, but for vaporators, as far as the eye could see. The men disembarked and studied the scene. Some devices were clustered together, others separated by hundreds of meters.
    “Pretty, isn’t it?”
    “Unusual patterns. The way they’re placed, it’s almost—”
    “An art? Not far from it,” Orrin said. “This is Field Number Seven—but I call it the Symphony.” He pointed toward the nearest vaporator, halfway up the rise they were standing on. “Follow me.”
    At the device, Orrin turned a key in a lock, opening a small door on the vaporator. Inside sat a vial, sealed beneath a tap. Orrin removed it. “You’re the guest, Ben. You do the honors.”
    Ben took the vial and examined it.
    Orrin nodded. “Go ahead. It’s what you had a while ago.”
    Ben raised it to his lips and drank thirstily. A split second later his face showed that had been a mistake. “It’s freezing!”
    “It’s this new Pretormin vaporator model—comes off the compressors like that,” Orrin said, taking the vial back. “But have you ever tasted sweeter water in your life?”
    “I’ll let you know when my tongue thaws out,” Ben said, shaking his head to clear it. “The vial wasn’t that cold—”
    “Things aren’t always what they seem.” Orrin sealed the door on the vaporator and gestured to the horizon. “See, Ben, it’s taken me six years. But we’ve finally brought Tatooine into the new era. All those towers I started with eons ago—they’re gone. Rubbish for Jawas. These Pretormins are gonna change this world, and the oasis will be at the center of it.”
    Ben squinted up at the tower. “I admit I never really understood—I thought water was the simplest thing in the universe to produce.”
    “Maybe in the universe,” Orrin said, “but not on Tatooine. Lots of reasons. Fuel cells make water, but they also make heat, something we’ve got enough of. That’s just for starters.”
    Ben listened, interested. “And you’re too remote to ship anything in.”
    “Right. But who’d want to?” Orrin walked back to the top of the rise. “You see, that’s the secret to this dead old planet. She’s hiding her water. But what she’s got is the tastiest anyone’s ever had. It’s so good, I could see Tatooine being a net exporter of water—if we can just get at it.” His voice grew solemn. “And I can.”
    He traced his hands in the air, connecting the dots that were the faraway towers. “Those little drops can run, but they can’t hide. These machines in the right place, tuned the right way—they knead that sky like clay. They play the notes—and the music comes.”
    “The Symphony,” Ben said, respectfully.
    Orrin nodded. “A lot of pieces have to work together at once. We’re still working at it.”
    “I’m impressed.”
    Ben wasn’t a farmer—or anything else, as far as Orrin had been able to learn. But he seemed to have a feel for what Orrin was trying to do. Maybe, if he turned out to have a skill, he could even be a decent farmhand once Orrin started hiring again.
    Orrin returned to the landspeeder, suddenly weary. Farming, he loved. The rest of his life was just necessary . But he wasn’t out today to farm. So first things first.
    “You asked about Dannar,” he said, gravely. “The Tuskens killed him, eight years ago. He’d stopped to help a rider in the desert—like you did with Kallie. Tuskens killed them both.”
    “I’m sorry,” Ben said.
    “Well, it’s been a while,” Orrin said. He turned back toward the younger man. “Annileen said you were riding in from the east, the other day. I don’t guess you’ve ever heard of the Lars family?”
    Ben cleared his throat. “The