Clone Wars Gambit: Siege by Karen Miller

Teeba Jaklin?”
    She had a pan on the stove now, with oil poured into it and starting to spit. Holding the bowl of frothy pinkish eggs ready to pour, Teeba Jaklin flicked him a glance. “Four hundred and thirty-seven. There was twice that and more in the old damotite days. With production stepped up again we might see us grow a bit. New times are here on Lanteeb. But what they’ve brung us…” She shrugged, then poured the eggs into the hot pan. “We’ll see.”
    What they’ve brung you, Teeba, is more misery
. In fact, if he and Obi-Wan were successful here, they’d be leaving this woman to a cruel and uncertain future. But he couldn’t tell her that. Indeed, after the disaster that was Bant’ena he wasn’t even tempted. Obi-Wan was right. Getting caught up in these transitory people’s lives was a mistake.
    We’re Jedi. We need to take a longer view. Focus on the big picture and not get lost in the small details
.
    He felt a stir in the Force and a moment later heard banging on the cottage’s front door. Danger? No. They were still safe.
    “That’ll be Rikkard,” said Teeba Jaklin. “You’ll mind your manners, Teebs. He’s a good man and a brave one and his word in Torbel is weighty.” She slid the eggs off the stove and left the kitchen.
    Anakin rolled his eyes. “She makes Master Yoda look cuddly, but I don’t sense she’s a threat,” he murmured. “I just wish I could tell how far she’ll go to help us. Can you?”
    “No,” said Obi-Wan. “All I can say for certain is that events are in flux. Perhaps that’s why—”
    Teeba Jaklin returned with a lanky man in tow. Dressed like their hostess, his close-cropped head was roped and crisscrossed with livid scars. His right eye drooped half closed, and more scar tissue marred his hookish nose.
    “This is Teeb Rikkard,” she announced. “Rikkard, here’s these men I spoke of. The beard is Teeb Yavid, the youth is Teeb Markl. Cousins from distant Voteb.”
    Teeb Rikkard looked to be somewhere in his middle years. “A groundcar accident brings you here, says Jaklin,” he remarked. He had a deep voice, almost lazy, but his brown eyes were sharp. “For sure, Teebs, you look to be sore and sorry. We’ve no fancy doctoring in Torbel. Are you fetching to die?”
    “Not if we can help it, Teeb Rikkard,” said Obi-Wan, smiling, easing his innate aura of authority so that this man, a village leader, would not feel threatened. “We’ve already put you to trouble enough. Haven’t we, Markl?”
    Anakin bobbed his head.
Humble, humble, keep it humble
. “Yes, we have, Yavid. We’re very lucky.”
    “You can talk sitting just like standing,” said Teeba Jaklin. “There’s tea to brew, then I’ll dish the eggs.”
    At the first mouthful of fried egg Anakin nearly gagged, then flinched as Obi-Wan kicked his shin. Courageously taking his second swallow, he thought longingly of the last meal he’d sat down to outside a Temple dining hall. Not only had Padmé been there, his best beloved, but Bail Organa could actually
cook
.
    Don’t be sick. They won’t let you use the comm if you vomit
.
    “Your speech has lost the touch of Lanteeb,” said Teeb Rikkard, spooning down the dreadful eggs as though this were a Senate banquet. “And Teeban men aren’t for beards.”
    If Obi-Wan was struggling with their breakfast, it didn’t show. Swallowing another mouthful, he nodded. “We’ve been away these three years gone, Teeb. Away to Alderaan for to make our fortune.”
    And just like that, he had a proper Lanteeban cadence. Anakin washed down his envy with a scouring mouthful of hot tea. Sometimes he thought his former Master was part Clawdite, a changeling who could become anything or anyone just by wishing.
    “Alderaan,” said Teeb Rikkard, his ropy scars shining in the light through the window. “They let aliens roam free there, I’ve heard tell. All manner of creatures, pretending to be proper men.”
    Anakin gave up on the eggs and took