Star Wars - Kenobi

be,” she said.
    Ben smiled and began to eat.
    All through lunch, Annileen felt like a tracker losing a trail. Ben still seemed to have that sadness hidden deep within—it came out whether he wanted it to or not. But every attempt to nudge him toward a personal revelation resulted in his nimble escape to another topic. She couldn’t become cross with him; even this verbal fencing had the same fun and easiness of their lunch the day of the podraces. Rather, she began to feel sorry for how much work he was putting in, changing subjects.
    Fine, she decided as she finished her dessert. If Ben was going to insist on being more interested in her life than in talking about his, well, she’d make the sacrifice. And Ben did seem willing to listen to her entire litany of worries. About Kallie, and what future she might find. The livery wasn’t yet drudgery for her, but there weren’t many options beyond that. Would she really be happy married to some farmhand?
    And of course, they talked about Jabe. Annileen had kept closer watch on her son since the Tusken massacre. The boy wasn’t out of control, but for some reason Jabe wanted her to think he was. Ben seemed to share her concern. “When people show you signs, it’s important to read them,” he said.
    But mostly, they talked about her. About her childhood, and animals. About her father, and the failed ranch. About her hopes to study, and how that direction had changed. And about the thing that, above and beyond Tusken Raiders, Orrin’s antics, or even her children’s upbringing, occupied the most territory in her life.
    The Claim.
    And Ben wasn’t having any of her complaints about it. “I know you love it. I’ve seen you. You enjoy holding court—being the center that holds it all together.”
    Annileen laughed. “You want the job? It’s yours.”
    “Oh, no,” Ben said, picking at his dessert. “I’ve never been one for the politics of large rooms.” He took another bite. “Or smaller ones.”
    Annileen smiled.
    “Consider parties,” he said. “They’ve always struck me as big uncontrolled experiments in social dynamics. It’s as if you’re stress-testing every relationship you have at once.”
    “You’re having lots of parties out there on the Jundland?”
    “Just me and the eopie—soon to be plural.”
    “And assorted eavesdroppers,” Annileen said. “If you don’t mind my saying so, you don’t seem cut out for the hermit life.”
    Mouth full of cake, Ben stopped himself from laughing. “We were talking about you .”
    “Right. Well, it’s not what it’s cracked up to be.” Annileen looked at the frayed awning above and clenched her fists. Okay, if you really want to hear it, here goes.
    “I’m listening.”
    “You see the Claim as a place to come to,” she said. “To interact, to get away from the nothingness. Well, everyone else around the oasis sees it the same way. Everyone. They show up before the second sun is up in the morning—and then they never leave. ”
    “I have noticed a certain resident status for some.”
    “For some ?” Annileen’s hands shook on the table, rattling her dinnerware. “Dannar used to joke that the Claim was the tenth largest city on Tatooine, when it was full. And I’m not sure that’s far off.” She looked down at her empty plate. “I’m barely holding together my own family, and yet I’m keeping all these other people going, too. I’m not just feeding and clothing my own. I’ve got everyone!”
    Catching her breath, she looked up at him. He was still listening intently, but she was embarrassed all the same. “Sorry,” she said. “Am I ranting?”
    Ben spoke calmly—that stoic reserve in full evidence. “A life that seems small on the outside can be limitless on the inside. Even a person living in the remotest place can be concerned about hundreds. Or the whole galaxy.”
    Annileen stared at him, mesmerized. “Who are you?”
    “ ‘Crazy Ben,’ your son says.” He grinned. “I actually think I like the sound of—”
    Ben stopped suddenly. Annileen followed his gaze across the street and saw a human in a black uniform and hat standing beside a figure fully clad in white armor.
    A spacesuit of some kind? “What is that ?” she asked.
    Ben slid back in his chair, away from the balcony railing. “Well, I’m not sure,” he said, his voice lower and softer than it had been. He looked again out of the corner of his eye. “I would almost say it looks like a clone