Sacrifice

"Plan B, then."

"What Plan B?"

"I'll tell you when I've worked it out."

"What was Plan A?"

"Dress you up nice, send you in to play a hand or two, and wheedle something out of Fraig."

"Thanks."

"It'd never have worked anyway. You're not the wheedling type."

It might have been an insult or a compliment, but she had no way of knowing with Fett.

I want to like him. He's not likable, but he's not what you told me he was, either, Mama. How could you even know?

Mirta found herself arguing with a dead woman, hating herself for it, and finding that nothing she thought she knew was solid any longer.

She took one hand off the speeder's grab bar and eased the heart-of-fire from under her chest plate to grasp it. Maybe it would tell her something sooner or later.

"Great painkillers," said Fett. She could see the dried blood on the knuckles of his left glove as he flexed his fist. The stain was bothering him. "Thanks."

There was the faintest tinge of warmth in his voice. It was a start.

JACEN SOLO'S OFFICE, GAG HQ, CORUSCANT

There was a voice in Jacen's head, and he never knew whose it was.