[Legacy Of The Force] - 08(44)

Fett respected that. It was the first lesson any bounty hunter needed to learn: to forget the emotional baggage and focus solely on an objective.

If I’d been around for Ailyn, I’d have trained her to fight, to look out for herself, maybe to hunt Jedi, too. Every Mando trains their kids, even other folks’ kids. They say you’re not a man unless you do.

Shysa’s dying voice was back in his head a lot lately after being silent for so long. If you only look after your own hide, then you’re not a man. It joined the chorus that nagged him most days, all advising him on what he ought to do. All his dead were coming back to haunt him in one form or another.

“Okay, I’ll do it, “said Fett. “And it’s going to cost.”

“I wasn’t asking for charity.” Jaina raised a withering eyebrow-she was Leia’s girl, all right-but her shoulders relaxed a fraction. She took a very large-denomination credit chip from her flight suit’s breast pocket and held it between neatly manicured fingertips. “Not even vengeance gets in the way of business, does it, Fett?”

“That’s your first lesson, Jedi. I’ll bill you for it later.” Fett didn’t need the credits, but he had his self-respect to consider, and she needed to hang on to hers. It was going to get pretty battered. “But let’s avoid the tax bill. What else can you do to earn your keep?”

“I’m a fighter pilot. But I’m pretty handy with mechanical stuff, too.”

“We’re all pilots here, “Fett said. “But we can always use mechanics. Lots of exiles coming back, infrastructure creaking under the load. You’ll be useful.”

Fett put on his helmet and turned to go. Jaina called after him.

“When do we start?”

“We already have. I’ll be back tomorrow. Take a room here and get a good night’s sleep.”

She didn’t look like she had anywhere else to go, and Fett wouldn’t ask Beviin to find room for yet another stray. Bal-tan Carid, whose vine tattoo seemed to have’ sprouted a couple of extra leaves, called to the barkeep: “Better kick the strill out of the executive suite, Cham’ika. You’ve got royalty.”

Fett paused outside the Oyu’baat to take stock, then paced across the square to the sheer drop that stared down into the Kelita River. Beviin kept his counsel and waited with him, both of them leaning on the balustrade watching the current as it tossed small freshly broken branches onto the rocks. There was a lot of construction going on upstream.

“Jedi can be healers, “Beviin said. “Now, that’s something none of us can do.”

Fett braced his hands on the top rail. “I don’t want her fixing Sintas. Let’s keep the problems from interbreeding.”

“Just a thought.”

“Thanks anyway.”

“But if you need the Jedi kept in line, there’s always room at the farm.”

Beviin would make a far better Mandalore than Fett ever had. He was more in Shysa’s mold, as ready to boost morale and build alliances as he was to put his beskad through the nearest enemy, and everyone liked him. All Fett had was his record on the battlefield and his dynastic name; he was an image that Mando’ade liked to present to the world, not someone they actually needed, more a living talisman than a leader. Every Mandalore had his own style. In the end, it didn’t seem to change the essence of Mandalore one bit.

“I told Mirta I killed Shysa, “Fett said.

Beviin sighed. “Might as well have all your osik hit the fan at the same time and get it over with, Bob’ika…”

“I didn’t explain. Just told her.”

“You ever going to tell me?”

“Okay, I put Shysa out of his misery. We were surrounded, he was too badly hurt to escape, and I couldn’t leave him to the Sevvets.”

“Tough decision. But we guessed that.”

“He asked me to do it.”

“So you got the top job. Nobody ever argued about it anyway.”

“You can’t blow a man’s brains out without taking his last wish seriously. He made me give my word.’” It was nonnegotiable: Jango Fett had taught his son from the cra-dle that his word was everything. “He made me swear I’d be his successor. He always wanted me to be Mandalore. If I didn’t know better I’d have said he arranged it.”

“No witnesses.”

“You think I wanted this job?”

“Says a lot about you.”

“I said, I never wanted to be Mandalore.”

Beviin sounded a little testy. “I meant, Bob’ika, that you could have sworn anything to Shysa and nobody would ever have known if you broke your word or not.”