Fett detached at that point. He’d learned to do it in the days after his father was killed, a trick of flipping a switch between emotions rubbed raw and complete numbness. He found he could do it with physical pain, too. Anyone could learn to do it if they wanted to escape pain badly enough.
“We had to break it, “he said. “You can get another one.”
Sintas turned her head slowly toward him, and for a mo-ment he expected her to recognize his voice. She certainly looked as if she was pondering something, but she lowered her head and seemed to be focused on the heart-of-fire. Mirta just sat there on the edge of the bed with her shoulder touching her grandmother’s, her face set in that grim way she had when she was determined not to let him see how upset she was.
“And do I know you?” Sintas asked.
Beluine leaned close to Fett. “It might be too much, too soon. The case studies I’ve read say that excessively rapid exposure to their real situation can cause carbonite patients to go into a catatonic state.”
Fett got the picture. He grabbed the excuse.
“A long time ago… Sintas, “he said. The name felt alien in his mouth. He didn’t dare use his pet name for her, Sin. She’d called him Bo. Those were relics of a brief, happy time. “Get some rest.”
He paused to stare at her for a few more minutes, wondering what had happened to his own life in the interven-ing years while she’d slept, and then there was the sound of doors opening. Fett stepped out into the passage and shut the door. The kids squealed in a nearby room: “Ba’buir, the lady’s awake! She’s crazy! And she can’t see!”
“K’uur!” Medrit’s voice was barely audible. He made a shushing sound. “That’s not nice, Briila. She’s not well. That’s the Mand’alor’s wife.”
“But he’s so old, and she’s beautiful.”
Like the irony hadn’t occurred to me. Fett strode into the room, once again impervious to any opinions but his fa-ther’s. That had always been the only constant in his life, the self-esteem and sense of being loved that his father had given him. Everything else was too fragile. Even the sea eel that Fett kept as a pet on Kamino; that poor creature hadn’t escaped his taint, either. He loved it in the way that small boys loved unlikely animals, and when he had to leave Tipoca City with his father for the last time, he let it free in the ocean. It was eaten by a predatory fish before his eyes, in seconds, before it had even tasted freedom. Everything he’d ever loved got taken from him somehow, or was subject to some unknown curse that said Fett was better off alone-for everyone’s sake.
“Kids, “Medrit said.
Fett studied his gloves. “They say I was one, once.”
“Goran just commed to say he’s down at the Oyu’baat and you’re not going to believe what showed up in the X-wing.”
“What?”
“A Jedi. He thinks it’s Jaina Solo. He remembers the holoimages that Sal-Solo was flashing around when he put the contract out on the Solos.”
“Well, well.”
“She wants to see you.”
“Did she bring her credit account?” Fett was almost grateful for the interruption. This was work; he could handle that a lot better than what was going on in that room. “I said I’d sell the Bes’uliik to her scumbag brother in per-son or not at all. But let’s see what she’s offering.”
“So how’s it going with Sintas?”
“Mirta gave her the heart-of-fire. That’s keeping her occupied.”
“Beluine’s a waste of credits, by the way.”
“Not too many doctors see carbonite cases these days.”
“I meant that he hasn’t asked what happened about your terminal illness, especially after being summoned to Kamino about it.”
“He can see I’m still breathing.”
“I’ll let Hayca Mekket know that she might be needed, then…”
Fett let the amusement of the tough nerf-doctor lift his spirits a little. “Let’s see what the Jedi wants. And give her ten bonus points for having the gall to come here.”
OYU’BAAT TAPCAF, KELDABE
It was the last place in the galaxy that Jaina had expected to run into another Jedi. And she definitely hadn’t expected to meet one who would pull a blaster on her, either. But she was staring a blaster in the muzzle right now.
You can talk your way out of this. You have to.
“I’m right, aren’t I?” said the old man. “You’re a Jedi.”
She wasn’t imagining it; the old man made a big disciplined impression in the Force, as if he’d been trained. The other man in the multicolored armor-now, that was harder to pin down, but she was sure he was Force-sensitive. It was like hearing an accent that anyone from out of town wouldn’t catch. The crowd in the tapcaf had suddenly lost interest in the bolo-ball and every single one of them had drawn at least one blaster on her. Some had two.