Star Wars - Kenobi

bashed to bits. Dannar’s secret formula was gone. Orrin had recorded the settings many times over the years, with the Calwells’ permission, but the water from his Pretormins never been as sweet. Old Number One was unique. Some flaw, some short circuit, perhaps even some rewiring Dannar had never told him about. Orrin had feared to pry further into the device, so as not to destroy its magic.
    Now it was gone.
    But the siren had done its job, safe on its mount. It had been Dannar’s notion to place it up there; Orrin would have preferred to see it located anywhere else, in case the thing upset the prized vaporator’s performance. Dannar had safeguarded against that by powering the alarm independently from the vaporator’s grid. That decision by a dead friend had saved them all. Short of climbing to the top or knocking the column over, the brutes had no chance of disabling the clarion.
    Dannar had saved them. And now, the siren would avenge him and his home. Settlers arrived by landspeeder and dewback, eopie and speeder bike. All had been returning from Mos Espa, already bound for the Claim; the siren and digital signal had sped them along.
    Orrin turned to the gathering group. Settlers thronged outside the garages and store. The Tuskens hadn’t caused the initial landspeeder wreck, but the vehicles, scorched by blaster bolts, gave the impression that they were in a war zone. Jabe and Veeka were inside the store, relaying rifles uncovered from the collapsed racks out to the would-be vigilantes.
    Outside, Mullen held up his hands, directing the settlers to form a perimeter. The Tuskens had withdrawn, but they could return at any time. Anyone as crazy as Plug-eye could do anything. Orrin shook his head at his recollection of the vaunted warrior. No vengeful demon, just a Tusken, short and a bit stocky; unafraid of the siren, but unable to calm the others. Well, maybe that would protect the Claim now.
    He looked to where Ben was kneeling with the Rodian. Doc Mell, who had returned from the races with his youngling, approached Orrin. “Bohmer’s alive,” the Mon Calamari said.
    “Alive!”
    “I can’t figure out how. You said that human was tending to him?”
    “As soon as the Tuskens left. I saw … no, I didn’t see what Ben was doing. But he must have dressed the wound.” Orrin breathed a sigh of relief, his first real one in an hour. “Rodian skin must be tough.”
    Doc Mell looked back in wonder. “We’ll still need to get him to Bestine in my speeder right away.”
    Orrin nodded. “We’ll clear a path.” The place had become a traffic jam. Drills prepared farmers to arrive in an orderly manner to arm themselves, departing in the Call Fund’s war-ready vehicles. But everyone had come from one direction this time, and the parking area was a mess.
    “Sir!”
    It was an alien voice, one Orrin had momentarily forgotten all about. The two Devaronian executives appeared next to him, carrying their colleague on a litter. He was dead.
    “We’ve paid someone to return us to Mos Eisley,” the older of the pair said, his voice somber. “There is a funeral to prepare.”
    Orrin lowered his head. “If you’ll wait, I’ll—”
    “No waiting.” The Devaronians moved the corpse toward one of the newly arrived landspeeders.
    “I recognize your loss,” Orrin said, struggling to sound respectful while making himself heard amid the growing commotion. “But after a while, we can discuss things again? You still have a hotel, and I still have—”
    “No,” the younger Devaronian replied gravely. “You brought us to see the Gault farms. We saw a barbaric place. One you can’t defend, even for a day.” He looked down sadly at his dead companion. “Poor Jervett feared this trip was a fool’s errand. It seems, in death, he was right.”
    Orrin raised his hands. “Please, understand—”
    “Excuse us!”
    Orrin watched, plaintively, as his would-be business partners proceeded with their unhappy chore. His mind raced. There still might be some way to salvage the deal. But so much was happening, and now he was aware of a grating voice nearby. Ulbreck was outside, recovered and telling his tale of heroism to anyone who’d listen.
    And people were listening, amazed. There were a dozen dead Tuskens in the shop; everyone near an entrance was taking a look as Annileen and others tried to move the bodies. Blaster bolts had killed some, but others looked seared and scarred. What had Ulbreck found beneath