“Aruetiise see a thirteen-year-old as a child.”
“He rather enjoys his power even for a Jedi, this Jacen Solo.”
“You know what they say about him? The older ones who remember the Empire say that it’s like having his grandfather back. They say he fancies himself as the new Vader.”
Ah. Fett’s jumble of memories from nearly forty years earlier fell into place. Ah.
“Anything else?”
“No, Mand’alor. Is there anything else you want me to do?”
“Keep an eye out for a Mandalorian with gray armor and gray leather gloves who claims to be a clone who fought at Geonosis.”
There was an audible pause. “I’ll ask around.”
“And don’t be tempted to go after the Solos’ son. Leave him.”
“If you say so.”
“I say so.”
Fett sat staring at the control panel in Slave I’s cockpit for a long time after Beviin had closed the link. So the Solos had a feud running within their own family-and their son was the man behind the new hard-line politics of the Alliance. He thought he was the new Vader.
And he killed prisoners without touching them.
They didn’t teach that at the Jedi academy on Ossus, Fett was pretty sure of that. He’d taken his father’s advice on learning how his enemies thought very seriously. He knew a lot about Jedi.
I know plenty about Sith, too.
Vader had been the master of causing pain and death without so much as a touch of his finger. Fett had rather liked Lord Vader. He paid well and he paid on time. He never asked his people to do what he wouldn’t do himself. In some ways, Fett missed him.
I’ve seen the galaxy ruled by Sith, and I’ve seen the galaxy ruled by Jedi. I still made a profit. In fact, I didn’t really notice the difference, and the galaxy was still a mess at the end of it. It’s not my problem. And it’s not the Mandalorians’ problem.
So Jacen Solo wanted to be just like his grandfather. Maybe he wanted to be a Sith Lord, too.
Maybe I’ll let him.
There was no better way of exacting revenge on the sanctimonious Jedi than to let them rip themselves apart all on their own.
He wouldn’t have to punish the Solos at all.
It would take time, but that was fine. It was one more reason to make sure he beat his illness. He wanted to be around to see it.
CORELLIAN EXCLUSION ZONE: MILLENNIUM FALCON INBOUND.
Jacen would have been happier flying alone, but with Thrackan Sal-Solo dead there was no longer a reason for keeping C-3P0 and the Noghri away from his parents. Corellia knew the Solos were back.
“Millennium Falcon, this is Alliance warship Revival. You’re approaching a total exclusion zone. Alter your course ninety degrees. I repeat, your course is taking you into a military exclusion zone and we will open fire if you proceed.”
“Oh dear … ,” said C-3P0. “Master Jacen, do be careful.”
“Relax. I can handle this.”
Jacen switched to an open channel. “Revival, this is Colonel Jacen Solo of the Galactic Alliance Guard.”
“Your transponder is showing as the Millennium Falcon, a Corellian-registered vessel.”
“Apologies, Revival.” He sent an encrypted identification code to the warship’s comm officer. “I have a rendezvous to make within Corellian space. They won’t fire on the Falcon now that Sal-Solo is gone.”
“We weren’t advised of this, Colonel.”
“It’s a classified operation. Put me through to your commanding officer and I’ll have him verify it.”
“Won’t be necessary, sir. Just identify yourself clearly on your return.”
“I’ll he back in a different ship. Don’t be too quick to open fire, will you?”
Revival didn’t jump to his command, but that was a good thing. They were taking security seriously. He steered through the line and into the exclusion zone that had trapped an orbiting ring of industrial stations and fleet bases in limbo, cut off both from contact with Corellia itself and from outside supply lines.
It couldn’t have been much fun now on board the shipyard stations. Civilian workers did weeklong shifts and were then shuttled home, but they weren’t going anywhere now, and they weren’t being resupplied. Sooner or later their food would run out. Jacen had heard that they were already on limited water rations: as he’d calculated, recycling water met only some of their normal consumption needs.
When Jacen crossed the planetside limit of the exclusion zone he switched to the civilian transponder, looking to any ground-based traffic control like one more small ship that had beaten the blockade. Lots did. They just didn’t make much of a difference to the overall supply situation, that was all. Once clear, he took up station at the rendezvous point and went aft to the cargo bay for a final check on Ailyn Vel’s body bag, lying in the conservator on a repulsor gurney.