Jacen watched the small screen as the encryption program took the plain-language text and wrapped it in a secure algorithm.
ENDEX ENDEX ENDEX.
“End of exercise,” said Niathal. “And the start of the real war.”
SLAVE I, EN ROUTE TO CORELLIA.
“What’s up with you?” Fett asked.
Mirta kept chewing her lip. It was a very discreet habit, but Fett was alert to small detail. Hunters had to be.
“Where are we heading?”
“Corellia.”
“You said Coruscant.”
“No, you said Coruscant.” Fett switched the navigation display to a three-D holochart so that she could see it shimmering above the console in front of the viewscreen. “I’ve got business in Corellia first.”
She fell silent, and seeing as she hadn’t said a great deal on the journey anyway, he wasn’t shocked. But something had agitated her.
Maybe it was the messages she kept sending to Coruscant. Ailyn wasn’t answering. Fett wondered when Mirta would work out that monitoring transmissions to and from Slave I-even those made via private comlinks-was part of the ship’s security system. Maybe it was time to shake Mirta down a little.
“I’ve lost contact with my customer,” Mirta said at last.
Points for honesty, then. “She might not want to pay up. Is it just the necklace, or did you have information for her?”
“Information, too.”
“You weren’t stupid enough to give her that data over the comlink, were you?”
“No.”
“Then she’ll pay up.”
“I’m-I’m more worried about her safety. She was on a job.”
I know. “Yeah, dead customers don’t pay.”
“Exactly.” But Mira’s voice sounded small and afraid for once. Maybe she wasn’t quite the experienced bounty hunter she made herself out to be.
Fett decided that Ailyn was too sharp an operator to risk transmissions when she was hunting someone like Han Solo. She was his daughter, after all: some of his genes must have made her what she was. And few bounty hunters made enough credits to be able to afford Fett’s line in secure communications kit.
She’d be there, somewhere.
He opened his own comlink. It didn’t matter if Mirta heard this. “Beviin,” he said. “Beviin, I have a job I’d like to discuss with you.”
It took awhile for Beviin to answer. “Mand’alor?”
“Beviin, Thrackan Sal-Solo wants us to fight for him. Defending Centerpoint Station.”
“Yes, it’s all over the news. He was on HNE this morning about rebuilding it yet again. War’s about to kick off. Solo’s son is head of the Alliance’s secret police and the Corellians are really a’denla about it-“
“Assemble as many commandos as you can. Meet me on Drall in two days at Halin’s Bar.”
“It closed down five years ago. Try the Zerria. Same street.”
I’m out of touch. Too much time on Taris. “Okay, make it the Zerria.”
“I can probably get half a dozen together by then. Almost everyone else has headed back to Mandalore.”
Six? Six! Too busy to do their duty? “Why?”
“It’s harvest time. Quite a few of us have farms.”
“Aren’t the women supposed to look after that?” Beviin had an adopted daughter. Fett couldn’t recall her name, but he was sure she was old enough to run a farm. “What happened to the rapid response force?”
Beviin’s voice chilled perceptibly. “If there was a real war on, we’d be pretty rapid …”
Fett was almost distracted by the idea of his Mandalorian troops doing something as banal as farming. He’d never thought much about what they did when they weren’t deployed. But they had wives and children, and lives. “Whoever you can get in two days, then.”
Fett closed the link. Mirta stared at him, clearly appalled. “So you disapprove of fighting for Corellia?”
She shrugged. “I was thinking that you don’t know much about what’s happening on your own world, considering you’re supposed to be the Mandalore.”
“I don’t even live there.”
“The Yuuzhan Vong hit the Mandalore sector as badly as anywhere, Fett.” It was the first time she’d addressed him by name. “Everyone’s still rebuilding. You know what your name means? ‘Farmer.’ Vhett. It’s Mando’a for ‘farmer.’ “
“I know that.” Dad came from Concord Dawn. He said his family were frontier farmers. How did he get a Mandalorian name, then? “I’m more of a blaster and jet pack man myself.”
“How can you rule a nation when you don’t know the first thing about it?”