The Jedi wasn’t in any shape right then to use it anyway. Fett beckoned Cham over to give him first aid, but the Jedi tried to fight him off. It took Suvar and Tiroc to hold him down while Cham sprayed bacta over his face and hands. Gratitude wasn’t his strong suit: he brought his knee up hard in Suvar’s groin. Briika stepped in to subdue him with an armlock around his neck.
“Show some respect,” she said, gritting her teeth. “The Mandalore’s talking to you.”
The Jedi’s burned face managed a sneer. “So you’re Boba Fett. And I didn’t believe that Manda-“
“For once, I need a live Jedi,” Fett interrupted. “You’ll do. Cut the speech and listen up.”
“Shoot me. You know what the Vong will do to me.”
“I said shut up.” Fett squatted over him. “We gave you a heads-up on this attack and Vong technology but your people ignored it. I’m offering again. Set up a secure message system and we’ll supply the intel until our luck runs out.”
Cham, still administering first aid, rammed a one-shot of painkiller into the man’s exposed neck. Fett had to hand it to the Jedi. He didn’t even flinch.
“You’re slipping, Fett,” he said hoarsely. “Feeding us misinformation is amateurish.”
“I’m risking the life of every Mandalorian to get
you
this, barve-face.” Fett was so exasperated that he pulled open the Jedi’s jacket and stuffed the latest data chip into his belt. “Do your magic tricks. See what your precious Force tells you about our intentions. Now take it and run. We’ll stall the Vong, but get it back to your intel people and don’t blow our cover. We’re traitors, okay? As long as we’re traitors, we can get intel. Keep your source secret.”
The Jedi struggled to prop himself up on his elbow. His nose was millimeters from Fett’s visor. Fett still didn’t like Jedi, not even real soldiers like this one. “But you’re crippling us. You’re killing people. Why not just fight?”
“Because the mindlessly heroic last stand is great for holovids but it’s not how wars work.” Fett hauled the Jedi to his feet. He was a solid man, vividly gray-haired in the way of those who’d once had jet-black curls. Fett pressed the lightsaber into his hand; the hilt seemed dwarfed by it. “The crabs have to believe we’re serious. A few lives against the whole galaxy, including keeping them away from the Mandalore sector. Do the math.”
The Jedi stared at his weapon. “You finally grew a conscience?”
“No. I rook the job of protecting Mandalore, and a contract is a contract. There’s no future for any of us if the Vong take over.”
“I never-“
“No speeches. Move it. We’ll get you past the Vong.”
Tiroc nudged him. “Crab approaching, Mand’alor. Check your HUD.”
“I see him. Got a vessel, Jedi?”
“That’s where I was headed.”
“Tiroc, see he gets to it and escort him out of the sector.”
The Jedi stopped dead in the narrow exit from the alley, almost jamming Tiroc in it. He turned his head to Fett.
“Kubariet,” he said. “I’m a Jedi Knight. Kubariet. Only the one name.” Then Tiroc shoved him in the back and they were gone.
So far, so good. But it couldn’t last, and it didn’t. In the next breach Beviin came in through the rubble-strewn breach in the wall with exaggerated slowness, a custom Merr-Sonn heavy blaster in one fist and the Yuuzhan Vong subaltern on his heels. The creature pushed past Beviin and one of the claws protracting from his armor caught his shoulder plate, scoring a line in the blue paint.
It could have ripped Beviin open like a canister. But his armor was forged from beskar, real Mandalorian iron that even Yuuzhan Vong weapons might not penetrate. He reached into his belt and drew his ancient beskad, a short razor-edged saber forged from the same
This is going to get ugly fast. There’d be a body, and he’d have to hide it. Fett’s linked icons showed that Cham and the two women had made the same call and started powering their armor-mounted weapons.
“Where is the Jedi?” the warrior demanded. His head weaved from side to side and his amphistaff writhed along his forearm. “He ran in here. I tracked him here.”
“Not here, friend.” Briika stepped between him and Dinua. “Want us to go look for him?”
“What have you done with him? Tell me!”
The warrior wheeled around and nearly hit Beviin with his claw-spiked arm again. The bounty hunter slid his blaster casually into its holster and clasped the leather-wrapped hilt of the beskad.