[Legacy Of The Force] - 02(7)
A hundred Mando warriors was still a force to be reckoned with, though. And every Mandalorian was still a warrior at heart, man and woman, boy and girl. They all still trained from childhood to fight.
I’m going to be dead within two years. I’m seventy-one. I should have another thirty in me, at least.
“Fett .”
No.
“Three million.”
I’m not finished yet.
“Two million credits, to find Taun We and bring her back. That is my best offer.”
I’m my father’s son. Death is a risk, not a certainty. Not if you use your fear for focus.
“I’m rebuilding your economy,” Fett said. Kao Ne might have been offended: it was hard to tell with Kaminoans. “Don’t insult me with small change.”
“You talk as if you have no emotional attachment to Taun We at all.”
“This is business. Even if I’m dying.”
“Take the bounty, and we will give you all our intelligence on her.”
And if you had enough of that, you wouldn’t need me. “Three million.”
“Remember that even you cannot succeed alone.”
“They always say that,” said Fett. This was where he walked away for good. “When I find Taun We, I’ll auction the data to cover my expenses. Start saving.”
Fett expected Koa Ne to run after him onto the landing platform, like stubborn customers always did when they saw sense. But when he glanced back behind him, the platform was empty.
Maybe that’s all he could afford. Too bad. This is either my last hunt, or it’s the start of a new fortune.
He liked the odds. Yes, he felt he had a fighting chance. A year was a long time for a bounty hunter.
He slid into Slave I’s cockpit and lowered the canopy. He’d spent a fortune restoring her for the third time-and adding modifications his father Jango would never have dreamed of. Sitting in her pilot’s seat looking out on an endless storm-locked ocean, he was a nine-year-old child again, delighted to be allowed to fly a mission with his father.
This had once been his home. He’d been at his happiest here. He’d never been that happy since.
They said your past flashed before you when you were dying. But then people said a lot of things, and he never took any notice of them unless it paid him to do so.
Fett started up the drive and lifted Slave I into a standard escape trajectory. He needed to get on Taun We’s trail. But Koa Ne was right: what use would his wealth be to him now? Other men left empires: other men had families whose futures their wealth would protect.
He checked his highly illegal and very reliable comm scanner and set it to watch for unusual share trading in bioengineering companies. Taun We had something to sell, and she would sell it … and the ripples would spread far enough for him to detect them sooner or later.
You’ve only got sooner. There won’t be a later for you, not unless you find the data.
Even his father had wanted more than credits from the Kaminoans. He’d wanted a son.
I had a wife and a daughter once. I should have taken better care of them.
He’d have nothing to show for his life except a professional reputation, and a Mandalorian needed more than that. Being the Mandalore-halfhearted or otherwise-didn’t give you a clan.
It was time to look up old contacts. Fett leaned back in the seat, removed his helmet, and stared at his reflection in the viewscreen as Slave I followed the course he had laid in for Taris.
He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed Kamino.
Chapter Two
Is it me?
Is it me?
Am I deluding myself, Jaina? Am I making the same mistake as Grandfather? I have days-most days-when I’m as certain of this as I’ve ever been certain of anything. And then I have sleepless nights when I wonder if the path of the Sith is a lasting solution for peace in the galaxy, or if that’s my ego speaking for me. It terrifies me. But if I were motivated by ambition, then I wouldn’t suffer this doubt, would I? Jaina, I can’t tell you all this, not yet. You wouldn’t see it. But when you do, remember that you’re my sister, my heart, and that part of me will always love you, no matter what.
Good night, Jaina.
DELETE DELETE DELETE
Jacen Solo’s private journal; entry deleted
AIR TRAFFIC CONTROL FREIGHT LANE, CORONET AIRSPACE, CORELLIA.
Han Solo would never get used to having to sneak into Corellian space like a criminal.
It was one thing outrunning real enemies, but to crawl back to his homeworld in the Millennium Falcon under cover of a bogus transponder signal really rankled. He didn’t like the Galactic Alliance any better than the next Corellian; being howled down as a traitor and an Alliance stooge actually hurt. Now he understood what it felt like to be a double agent, always doomed to be seen as the bad guy, never free to boast what a bang-up heroic secret job you were doing for the home team.