“Lovely, “she said, letting her Leia state of mind slip for a moment as she watched the two Force-sensitives leave. “I’ll take it as a good sign that none of you came after us.”
“Only Fett’s daughter, “Beviin said quietly. “And for her, Han Solo was just bait for her father.”
Jaina made an effort to imagine her grief over Aunt Mara transferred to Fett, and what state of mind he might be in now. But where was he? How come the Mandalore, the ruler, didn’t have some official residence where she had to seek audience with him? They were meeting in a shabby cantina. She leaned her back against the bar and thought better of trying to make small talk with Beviin, who was managing both to keep her in his field of vision and yet not to meet her eye.
Eventually, patrons holstered their blasters and went back to their ale, muttering about missing the end of the bolo-ball match thanks to a shabla Jedi. In Basic, so that I know I’ve ticked them off. Good start. Then the doors opened, and a man in dull green armor and a tattered cloak stood in the entrance.
Her impression in the Force was one of a lonely man resigned to being that way. Was this Fett? His armor fitted the description, but she’d seen plenty of green armor plates in the last hour or so, every shade from pale warra nut to the deepest forest. A few of the cantina crowd glanced at the man for a moment as if they were just checking who had come in, but they went back to the HoloNet screen and what looked like the postmatch dissection in their own language. It probably wasn’t Fett, then. She’d expected him to be huge, monstrous, iconic; but this man was of average build, and apart from his very confident walk-not a swag-ger, just a sense that he answered to nobody-there was nothing she’d have stopped to check out twice.
He came to a halt a meter in front of her and hooked one thumb in his belt, his other hand steadying an EE-3 blaster that hung from a shoulder sling.
Then she spotted the Wookiee scalps. Oh, it was him.
“You wanted to see me, Jedi?”
“Fett?”
“There have been imposters, but I think I got them all. Let me know if I missed any.”
“I’m Jaina Solo.”
“We know.” He tilted his head a fraction. “You look like your mother.”
Jaina, used to the protocol and twittering, fawning entourages of world leaders on a dozen planets, wasn’t ready for a warlord who walked around unescorted, and whose people could ignore him in favor of a bolo-ball game if they felt like it. Either Fett had the casual confidence that stemmed from huge power, or he was of no importance to them. She’d have bet all her credits on the former. Fett just stood there, waiting. Dad was right; not being able to see his eyes behind that visor was unsettling.
“You saved my father a couple of times, “Jaina said. “I ought to thank you.”
“I handed him over to Jabba, too. But I did time in the Sarlacc thanks to him, so we’re even. What do you want from me?”
Jaina felt the ice thinning under her. She swore she heard it crack. She had to play this carefully. “It’s my brother, Jacen.”
“The cowardly barve who killed my daughter?”
“I’m afraid so. I’m sorry.”
Fett’s voice was all passionless gravel, with not a spare syllable that didn’t have to be there. “So he wants to buy some Mando technology.”
“No, “said Jaina. “I want you to teach me how to capture him and stop him destroying the galaxy.” She paused. “Please.”
Fett didn’t reply. He wasn’t exactly a chatty man, but there was keeping one’s counsel, and then there was stunned silence, and Jaina knew which she was listening to now. In the Force, Fett felt like a sudden torrent of icy water.
She had his attention, then. Now she needed his agreement.
Chapter 6
Haatyc or’arue jate’shya ori’sol aru’ike nuhaatyc.
Better one big enemy that you can see than many small ones that you can’t.
-Mandalorian proverb
CORUSCANT: LON SHEVU’S APARTMENT
“Can you trust Captain Girdun?” Ben asked.
“As much as a Hutt, “Shevu said, sitting with his elbows braced on his knees, head resting on his hands. He stared at the holochart propped against the chair as if he were trying to levitate it. “Heol, bless him, is a career man, and trust has a very different meaning for our colleagues who were recruited from the intelligence services. Let’s say it’s flexible.”
The rift between the former spooks in the Galactic Alliance Guard and people recruited from the police had started opening early, just after 967 Commando was formed. Spies accepted that losing prisoners-as in killing them-was part of the job; CSF-trained personnel didn’t. After that, they’d never quite seen eye-to-eye again.