Sacrifice

projects."

"Ah, you Mandalorians have always . . . adopted technology from others. You might forcibly adopt ours now."

"Deal's on the table. You made me notice you. Bad idea."

Sikili was silent again. Verpines had a way of communicating instantly with all hive members through some organ in their chests. Fett guessed that Sikili was consulting the hive.

"Deal accepted. We'll need details."

"I'll get my people to talk to your people." Fett could imagine the reaction on Coruscant—and Corellia. "We look forward to a long and productive alliance with Roche."

"We will announce this happy and reassuring news. Good day, Fett."

The good thing about literal-minded insectoids was that they were transparent in their business dealings: no games, no bluff, and—usually —no skipping out on deals. Fett wondered if he should have talked it through with the clans first, but it was his prerogative to choose Mandalore's allies, and teaming up with the best technologists in the galaxy wasn't going to upset anybody—not on Mandalore, anyway. It would certainly ruin everyone else's day.

So people think we're rearming. We are, but not for the reasons they think. This could be . . . interesting.

He secured Slave I, out of habit rather than mistrust of his own people, and took the speeder bike up to the woodland where he'd re-buried his father's remains after exhuming them on Geonosis.

Ailyn was laid to rest there, too, but Mirta was clearly still uneasy about not returning her to Kiffu. She seemed to see the interment as a temporary stopover. He'd marked the graves with simple stones because it mattered to him to be able to find them again, although he had never been one for