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"They make battlefield dressings," said the assistant. His fixed stare told Fett he rarely sold a hundred thousand credits' worth of shares in one deal, and his hand folded around the chip as if he thought it would escape. "Expecting a war?"

"Always. And I'm never disappointed." Fett made his way to the sparsely furnished apartment he'd bought a year before that would not, for once in his life, become an asset that made a quick profit. Taris wasn't a fast-moving property market, but it was worth paying for the relative privacy. So someone sent Ko Sai home a piece at a time. His helmet sensors told him a human was walking behind him, maintaining a constant distance.

It was a young woman-eighteen, maybe-with dark curly hair cut close to her head. He could see the image in the HUD of his helmet, relayed from the range finder's rear view. And while she had a blaster holstered on one hip-who didn't go around armed these days?-she looked neither local nor hostile. She was wearing gray body armor, basic chest and back plates like a Mandalorian, but without colors or markings. But she's following me. I know it.-Chpt.3

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