Part 37 (2/2)
”Yeah. I'll leave you two to sort this.”
Reige's voice sounded shaky. ”Well, this crew will serve her out of respect for the admiral. We'll settle the score for him.”
Jaina edged forward. Fett was talking to a man in his thirties in naval uniform, a lieutenant commander, and there was a body under a blanket laid on the couch. Jaina noted the immaculate boots protruding.
Poor old Pellaeon. This was hardly the first person she'd known well, lost touch with, and then next seen as a casualty of war, but it seemed a terrible thing to reach such an age and then be killed, alone and betrayed.
Reige nodded politely to her. Fett came out of the cabin and walked slowly away. Jaina caught up with him.
”After all those years, ”she said. ”What a terrible thing.” ”It's war, ”Fett said.
”I meant that if you reach your nineties, you should have a reasonable expectation of dying peacefully at home.”
Fett sounded as if he'd snorted. ”Not Pellaeon. He died well. Men like that don't want to fade out quietly.”
Jaina wondered if Fett had that kind of end in mind. She couldn't imagine him sitting on a porch in Keldabe in his dotage.
”Mirta's handy in a fight, ”Jaina said. Why am I trying to be sociable? ”I hope you're proud of her.”
Fett shrugged, still walking. ”She's a fighter. I know.” ”I learned a lot today. I even found myself doing a Beviin. You know. Red mist, crazy, swinging away like a maniac.”
”He'll be delighted.”
”Doesn't it bother you that you've let me learn so much?” she asked. ”I know a lot about how Mandalorians fight now.”
”So what have you really learned, Solo?” Fett re-coiled his fibercord line. It vanished into a housing on his armor, and it didn't seem possible that so much cord could fit in there. It reminded her of a conjuring trick. ”Our weapons? Everything from a Bes'uliik to our bare hands. Our tech-nology? We're still using tech four thousand years old.
Our secret headquarters? We're everywhere. Our numbers? We don't even know. How to a.s.sa.s.sinate our leaders? We don't need any. If I got shot tomorrow, they'd all regroup and carry on without me. The only secret we have is how our metalworkers forge beskar. And we're not even reliant on that.”
Jaina shrugged. ”When you put it like that, it's zero.”
”Everyone can see how we win, but it's another thing to do it.”
”I was saying thank you, actually.”
”You're welcome, Solo. By the way, did you know your brother can change his appearance in a fight, to look like someone else?”
”No, ”Jaina said. Jacen liked his illusions, though; it didn't surprise her. ”I'll keep that in mind. Thanks again, Fett.”
If he walked much farther, he'd end up treading vacuum. He was trying to make some s.p.a.ce to think in, she could tell that.
And he left Jacen for me.
Jaina pondered that for the rest of the day.
AFT ENGINEERING FLAT, FORMER IMPERIAL STAR DESTROYER BLOODFIN.
Daala walked along the row of bodies, looking as if she were carrying out a parade inspection on troops who just happened to be lying flat on their backs.
She paused a couple of times to put her weight on one polished boot, the other leg extended gracefully for balance, and leaned over slightly to frown at a name on a badge. Quille's coup days were over. One Moff earned a closer inspection and an exploratory prod with her boot.
”That's one of the misogynist parasites I wanted to kill personally for Liegeus, ”she said. ”Fett, I'm disappointed.”
”Shab, we always forget to check ID when folks open fire on us...”
Carid lifted his helmet and wiped his fore-head with the palm of his glove. ”We'll fix our quality-control process, ma'am. I can stand him up again, and then you can put a round in him if you like.”
Daala said nothing and didn't take her eyes off the Moffs, but stepped back and patted Carid's helmet with unerring accuracy as he held it in one hand.
Fett understood her, even if the comment was veneered in a joke.
”Ten percent discount for killing the right barve too fast at the wrong time.”
”You're a gentleman, Fett. Come on, we'll leave the san-itation crew to their task. Let's keep this s.h.i.+p immaculate for poor Gil.”
So Bloodfin was her s.h.i.+p now, another toy taken from the squabbling boys who wouldn't let her play the last time. She walked along the pa.s.sageway with the confidence of owners.h.i.+p, but she didn't go into the day cabin where Pellaeon had been murdered. Instead, she carried on through the s.h.i.+p and down a couple of decks to the ward-room, where small cl.u.s.ters of gray-uniformed officers were sitting around small tables, talking in low voices. They looked like men-they were all human males, which no doubt made Daala bristle-who'd suddenly realized what it meant to be exiled a long way from home. They jumped to attention when they spotted Daala. She pressed all their admiral-on-deck b.u.t.tons without even trying.
”As you were, gentlemen.” She gave them a little nod and a hand gesture that said not to bother with protocol right then, and settled herself in one of the more luxuri-ously upholstered seats in a private corner. There were blaster burns everywhere. ”So that's the new Sith approach, is it, Fett? Shooting a man Gil's age, after all the years of service he's given the galaxy. Do you think the Jedi can get rid of them this time?”
Fett thought of Jaina Solo, stuck with the dilemma that removing Sith the permanent way meant becoming like them, at least for a short while. Expedience messed up those high-flown morals. ”If they do, they'll only come back again. Swing of the pendulum.”
”As long as you've got Jedi, you'll get Sith, ”said Daala. ”One begets the other.” Fett tried to recall his history lessons, the sort that Man-dalorians knew even if n.o.body else did. ”Yeah. Gets tire-some.”
”Come on, Fett, you did all right out of Vader.”
”Sith paid Mandalorians for millennia. We had a war with them, too, and guess who didn't win. It's a cycle of sectarian brawls. Everyone else gets. .h.i.t by the flying bottles. I've done my bit to remove the problem, but they just keep coming back.”
”Folks say the same about Mandos.”
Daala examined her nails, deep in thought. A steward darted out from behind the counter with drinks on a tray, a real human steward and a real ionite tray, because the Imperials were particular about that kind of thing. Daala nursed the gla.s.s for a while but didn't drink. Fett didn't touch his at all.
”I think there can be a third way, ”she said. ”No Jedi Council.
Keep them in their box, away from politics, and certainly never arm them.”
”Ordinary barves running their own affairs? You crazy woman, Daala.
It'll never catch on.”
She fondled the gla.s.s again, and didn't put it down this time. ”You have a better idea?”
”No. But arrogant stupidity doesn't always come bun-dled with midichlorians. It's everywhere.”
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