A piece of flimsi was tucked into the gap between one gauntlet and the foam insert that held it. Han pulled it free, unfolded it, and read aloud the words hand-printed on it: “With deepest sympathy.”
Leia frowned. “Sympathy for what?”
A weight settled on Han’s chest. He tried to ignore it. “These are crushgaunts. A Mandalorian weapon. Illegal for generations, plus very hard to make anyway, on account of the Mandalorian veins of beskar mostly ran out. That’s what they’re made of.”
Jag shook his head, not recognizing the term. “Beskar? “
“Mandalorian iron. Tough, tough metal. Legend says armor made from the stuff can take a lightsaber hit and survive. Mechanisms in the gauntlet hands allow them to crush whatever they grip. Necks, heads, blaster rifles, just about anything. I saw a pair once, years ago. Another smuggler showed ‘em off before delivering them to Jabba the Hutt.”
Jaina looked puzzled. “Is this that pair?”
“No, sweetie. These are new. Unscarred.”
The answer did not clear up Jaina’s confusion. “So the armor is a Mandalorian breastplate?”
Han nodded. “Yeah. The back plate is probably under it.” He lifted the front plate, revealing a matching piece of armor, its surface contoured more like a human back, lying there. The front plate was not heavy-it felt more like aluminum than iron. “Uh-huh.”
Jaina shook her head. “I still don’t get it.”
“It’s a present, Jaina. From Boba Fett.”
Han heard Leia’s intake of breath. He sat heavily in his usual chair. Not wanting to worsen Leia’s pain or his own, but unable just to ignore Jaina’s continued curiosity, he held up the piece of flimsi. “Get it? Sympathy for my loss of a son. Something he understands, since he lost a daughter. A daughter tortured to death by my son. He’s saying, So sad you lost your kid. Here’s a little toy you can finish him off with.”
Jaina’s face became impassive. “Oh. Are you going to use it?”
“No.”
“So he’s wasted a lot of money for nothing.”
Han nodded. “A lot of money. Even if the Mandalorians are mining beskar again, this is a lot of credits and effort for a snide joke.” He looked at the case’s contents again. “Except it’s only half a joke. He’d like to help whoever it is kills the killer of his daughter. He’d probably like to do something for whoever takes Colonel Solo out of the equation. He may even feel real sympathy.” He reached over to slam the case lid down. “His message is as complicated, as much of a mess, as Fett himself.”
Jaina, clearly uninterested, shrugged and turned away. “Time for a sanisteam.” She tugged at Zekk’s sleeve. “Then more training.”
He followed, protesting: “How about training first, then the sanisteam? That way we don’t have a pointless sanisteam in the middle.”
Jag remained behind, eyeing the case. “Han, at the risk of sounding insensitive …”
Han snorted. “If you think it’s insensitive, whatever it is will probably take the paint off a Hutt’s refresher.”
Jag gave him a brief, apologetic smile. “You’re really not going to use this gear?”
Han shook his head.
“Armor that stops a tightsaber, with Alema Rar our target…”
“You think it would be useful to you.”
“Not as useful as something you said the other day, but yes. Very much so.”
Han frowned, puzzled. “What did I say?”
“Something about Alema’s tactics.” But Jag did not elaborate.
“All right, kid. Take it, it’s yours.”
Leia broke in on Han’s words: “On one condition.”
Jag stopped in the act of picking up the case. “Of course. Name it.”
“Tell me what’s wrong with my daughter.”
Jag hefted the case experimentally. It was apparently nowhere near as heavy as he had expected. “She is entirely focused on our target. Alema Rar.”
“I know that. But even facing a dangerous enemy Wouldn’t make her so cold, impassive.”
“Emotionless.” Jag looked after the departing Jaina and Zekk. They were walking toward a tree-shaded glade they often used as a sparring site. “Well, it’s the whole Sword of the Jedi thing. She thinks she’s figured out what it is to be the Sword of the Jedi. Going after Alema Rar is just practice for her. She thinks she’s going to have to face her brother. And that one of them’s not going to come out of it alive.”
Han sighed. He reached up to take his wife’s hand. Leia’s fingers gripped his hard. “Sure, kid. A lot of people are looking forward to a showdown with Colonel Solo.”