oasis—could have. The Tuskens took him from us, too, but the siren remains—one of many. That’s part of his legacy to us. Dannar’s gone, but the call still goes out. And it’s our job to answer it!”
Orrin softened his voice. “That’s the key, folks. I know you’re not fighters. I know you have your own fields you should be working right now. And it’s not always easy to find the extra credits that keep the Settlers’ Call going. I’ve sure put plenty into it myself. And not just money.” He choked up for a moment, and paused to clear his throat. “But that’s just it. Many of you know my younger son died a few years ago, answering the Call. He did it to save a neighbor. There’s not a day that I don’t miss him—but I don’t regret at all what he went to do. A community’s a living thing—and our actions together keep it alive.”
Orrin looked up. The settlers were watching him, spellbound. As usual.
“That’s all,” he said, breaking the solemnity. “And before you drink up, a reminder—any of you who haven’t paid your subscription for this season, the Settlers’ Call Fund office is in the back, behind the secondhand clothing. You might need us at your place one day. These speeders don’t run on goodwill!”
Orrin smiled as several of the posse members rushed to shake his hand. He glanced up at the climbing suns. His crews had lost most of a morning in the fields, but this was important, too. Without camaraderie, there was no community—the oxygen that the Settlers’ Call needed to function. Subscriptions always went up after a Tusken attack, but that was nothing compared with what happened after a successful defense and retaliation. He nodded to Mullen, who opened the door to the store for the settlers.
Annileen stormed through it, nearly knocking Mullen down. Orrin spotted something long and black in her hands a second before she found her son in the crowd. Jabe, in the middle of being ribbed by Veeka about something, looked back at Annileen, startled. “Mom, I—”
Brzzaappt! A golden electric flash struck the ground not far from the teenager’s feet. Startled, the boy jumped backward, tripping over his boots and landing on his rear.
Mullen and Orrin stood back. “Yikes,” Mullen said.
Orrin nodded. “Yep.”
Jabe looked up from the sand to see his mother holding a bantha prod. “What the—” Realizing what had happened, his immediate reaction was incredulity. “You almost shocked me!”
“Oh, did I miss?” Annileen snarled. “Maybe I should try again!”
“Mom!”
Behind Orrin, Kallie appeared in the store doorway holding a shorter staff. “Mom, do you want to switch to the training prod?”
“This is training him just fine,” Annileen growled. Taking a breath, she looked at the bantha prod for a moment before rolling her eyes and tossing it away. She turned and loomed over Jabe. “Now, you listen to me! You did not have my permission to skip out on the breakfast prep. You did not have permission to go working in the suns with these roughnecks.” Her voice climbed. “And you sure as blazes don’t have my permission to go out with the posse!”
Jabe coughed, more embarrassed than hurt. “Mom, people were in danger!”
“ You were in danger!”
Smirking, Orrin gestured to the amused vigilantes, who had forgotten about the free spirits. “A wide berth, gentle creatures, if you please. Annileen Calwell is parenting again.”
Hearing his voice, Annileen stood up abruptly and sputtered. “And—and you !”
Orrin outweighed his best friend’s widow by thirty kilos—and yet as she started toward him, he took a step backward. Self-preservation came before public image. Spying the gaderffii resting against the hood of his landspeeder, he playfully picked it up and held it with both hands, in simulated defense. But Annileen kept coming. “Easy there!” he said.
She grabbed at the midsection of the gaderffii and used it to pull him toward her.
Learning to Kill: Stories