Part 25 (1/2)
A vhe'viin skittered across the floor, a high-speed sc.r.a.p of tan fur that triggered Fett's HUD sensors. The small ro-dents were also enjoying a prosperous time, gorging on the new fields of crops. Everyone was doing better; when Fett walked out of the rear hangar doors, he could see a snaking line of dark soil, excavations to lay a water pipeline to the new settlement five kilometers south. Being Mando, they were digging wells too, ret'lini-just in case, a Plan B.
”So you paid for all that, too, Yomaget.”
The MandalMorors boss stood beside him and took electrobinoculars from his belt. ”Yeah. I s.h.i.+p in food for the workforce, too. Farm output isn't keeping pace with the incoming settlers. It'll catch up in time.”
Fett was fascinated by the way that Mandalorians, who liked credits as much as any species in the galaxy, needed no law to make them share what they had with the com-munity when times were good. It was a survival trait. It didn't come naturally to Fett, but he'd finally learned it.
”If Jaina Solo tells me what barbarians we are, I'll show her all this.” Fett fired up his speeder bike's drive. ”Time for me to continue her higher education.”
He was glad that Beviin had been willing to take her off his hands for a day. It gave him breathing s.p.a.ce, something he needed with Sintas around. Mirta seemed to expect him to sit patiently by the bedside, but there was nothing he could usefully do. He could tell Sintas her life story, minus the years he hadn't been around-most of them-but it wasn't going to aid her recovery.
What if the Jedi could heal her?
Fett did most of his thinking on the speeder now. If he re-treated to Slave 1, laid up on spare land next to his drying-shed quarters, folks came by wanting to ask him things. If he was moving, they couldn't. And there was something therapeutic about just swinging onto the saddle and heading randomly into the wilderness, the same as setting Slave I on a course and heading for the Outer Rim.
They could still comm him via his helmet link, though. The amber icon pulsed in his HUD, and he blinked to acti-vate it.
”Been a long time, Fett.”
It was a smoky patrician voice, one that got his attention a heartbeat before he put a name to it. Twelve years, more or less; she always resurfaced sooner or later.
”Admiral, ”he said. ”Always a pleasure.”
”So you're not dead, and I'm not dead.”
She rarely had jobs for him, but when she did, they were always interesting. ”Want to add a Bes'uliik to your collec-tion?”
”You're so commercial, Fett.”
”Well?”
”Good honest mercenary work.”
That didn't quite offer the relief of filling his time the way it used to; he'd have been rea.s.sured by the offer before, confirmation that he was on top of his game and in demand. Daala was still A-list clientele. But old habits died hard. ”Maybe. What is it?”
”Jacen Solo.”
”Uh-huh.”
”I heard about your daughter.”
”What's he done to you? Wouldn't have thought he was in your circle.”
”I'm back with the Imperial Remnant, ”she said.
Well, that would make every Moff's day, Fett thought. He almost smiled. ”For how long?”
”Depends. Gil Pellaeon's on his way to back up Solo at Fondor. I take it you know there's going to be fleet action there.”
”I have my sources.”
”Want to help me out with your hundred finest?”
”Depends what you want to do.”
”Standby team. I'd like you backing me up for old times' sake-I'm there in the wings in case things go badly for Pel-laeon. The Moffs, of course, can rot, and so can the GA.”
But Sintas is here. And Jaina Solo.
Fett was quietly appalled at the thought. He'd never had to worry about things like that in his life. He had always been able to go where he wanted and do whatever paid him best because there was n.o.body else in his life, not even pe-ripherally.
”Fett? Are you there? Is it a fee issue? I can still pay.”
”Just thinking. My-ex-wife was found alive.”
Now it was Daala's turn to fall silent.
”I'm glad for you, ”she said eventually.
”It's not like that, Daala.” He reacted without thinking farther.
Job. Business. You're in control here. ”Okay. Maybe not a hundred, but I'll show with some handy hard-ware. Send me the data.”
”I'll need you in the next twenty-four hours.”
Fierfek. ”Deal. Usual terms.”
Fett parked by the main entrance to Beviin's farm, still working out how he was going to handle the logistics, nothing more. Thinking about the emotional wreckage was one step too far today. When the doors parted, the big main room where all the cooking and eating and wholly alien family stuff happened was like the arena at Geonosis: exposed to attacks from all sides. Mirta and Jaina sat at the battered wooden table with Sintas between them. Beviin and Medrit both had their boots up on the bench, arms folded, chatting idly.
They all stopped and looked at him. The urge to retreat was almost too much.
Yow're seventy-one. You can't keep running from this.
Fett took off his helmet and nodded at Sintas, even though she couldn't see him.
”Sin, ”he said, completely automatically. It was her pet name. He hadn't used it in decades. It ambushed him, but he blundered right on, hoping she didn't notice. ”How are you doing today?”
”You're Boba Fett, ”she said.
”Yeah.” Here we go. The wheels are about to come off. He glanced at Jaina, because it was easier than looking at Mirta right then. ”So you remember.”
”You told me a day ago... or whenever.” She looked okay: she looked great, in fact, but then she always did. The heart-of-fire necklace hung around her neck. ”I lost track of the last few days. But I'm not forgetting the things people tell me right away.”
She pushed her chair back and stood up, tottering a lit-tle, feeling her way along the backs of chairs and around the table toward him. Mirta jumped up to guide her; Beviin and Medrit scrambled to get their legs out of the way. She managed to walk right up to Fett and grabbed him by his biceps as she almost fell against him.
”Wow, you wear armor.”
Fett could think of nothing except to deal with it as he dealt with combat. He followed the first impulse that came into his head. ”Do you remember what I did to you?”