Star Wars - Kenobi

scorched.
    Blaster bolts everywhere, all heading in one direction. This was one of the great battles, Orrin thought.
    Centuries earlier, Alkhara, a researcher-turned-bandit, had turned on his Tusken allies in the Great Mesra Plateau, wiping them all out. Scores of Tuskens had been slain more than a decade earlier, caught up in a battle between Hutts. No one counted bodies those times; of the former, only the legend existed. Orrin was a farmer, not a general, but he had a feeling the Comet Run Day Battle would be high on the list of Tusken takedowns of all time.
    It was dizzying. Lowering his rifle, his eyes went from one corpse to another to another. So many it began to give him pause. “Too much,” he said to his son, under his breath.
    A fellow farmer overheard him and laughed. “What, are you boys afraid we’ll put the Settlers’ Call out of business?”
    Mullen shot his father an anxious look.
    “No,” Orrin said, raising his voice. “There’ll always be Sandies behind every rock in the Wastes.”
    He went back to his crouch and scanned the nooks in the opposing rock face. Tracing a tumble-down upward, he saw movement. His finger brushed the trigger for half an instant before his mind registered what he’d seen.
    “Annie?”
    Mullen stepped up beside him as Orrin stood and pointed. They passed Mullen’s macrobinoculars back and forth. It was Annileen, all right, Orrin saw.
    And Ben. Again.
    “They’re just sitting there,” Mullen said. “Don’t they want a piece of this?”
    Orrin looked back and cracked a smile. “Not everyone’s a fighter.”
    Annileen turned back toward the speeder bike, hovering at the foot of the rocky stair. There wasn’t much else she could do, she thought. Orrin would get Jabe home. And there was so much to take care of back at the store. Her shoulders sinking, she looked at Ben. “My guests are gone. I’m sure we could use a hand on cleanup if you wanted to stay—”
    “I really should fetch Rooh and go home.”
    “Fine.” She didn’t try to argue. She started down the hill, past enormous boulders, toward the vehicle.
    She didn’t get there. A tall Tusken emerged from behind a great rock, gaderffii clutched overhead in both hands. For a moment, she stood motionless, too startled to move.
    The Tusken did the same, recognizing her. “Ena’grosh!”
    Annileen felt Ben’s arm touch hers from behind—and then the world went flying around her. In the next second, Ben was standing where she had been, arms raised and grappling with the Tusken for control of the great weapon. Brown and tan capes spiraled in a stumbling dance across the broken ground, boots just missing Annileen where she had fallen.
    She reached out, hoping to grab the Tusken’s boot and trip him. But in the confusion, she caught Ben instead, sending him off balance. The Tusken surged forward in anger, forcing Ben backward. Knocked to the ground, Ben clung to the gaderffii with both hands, pushing up against the weight of the attacker now trying to crush him.
    Scrambling to her knees, Annileen suddenly remembered the one thing she’d brought with her besides Ben and the speeder bike. Ripping the blaster from her holster, she stumbled toward the Tusken, preparing a point-blank shot—
    —only to see the raider suddenly go limp, a deadweight. Ben heaved at the gaderffii and the figure rolled over, and over again, tumbling down the incline toward the speeder.
    Annileen reached for Ben. “Are you all right?”
    “I’m fine,” he said, brushing himself off. “But I think our friend was almost dead when he got to me.”
    Keeping her pistol pointed at the body, Annileen slowly approached. The Tusken’s robes were singed, the result of a precision blaster rifle shot. “Dying? But he tried to kill you.”
    “He made one last effort,” Ben said, bringing the warrior’s weapon downhill.
    Annileen looked back at Ben in disbelief. Calm as usual.
    Ben passed her and knelt next to the Tusken’s body. “Yes,” he said, examining the body. “Dead for sure. And young, too. Probably Jabe’s age.”
    Annileen’s eyes widened. She had never looked closely at a Sand Person. One didn’t want to linger around them too long—as she’d just experienced!—and there wasn’t much to see. The wrappings, robes, and cape all hid the figure within. But she could see it now as Ben rolled the Tusken over. The warrior’s frame was slight, like her boy’s.
    “Jabe’s age,” she said, staring at Ben