Fett's mind emptied instantly of all superfluous thought. Combat was cleansing; he'd done this so often that it was almost a form of meditation. He was in his natural element again, freed from the alien world of relationships he'd never learned to handle. But he'd learned to master every weapon the galaxy had
to offer, bar one.

"Me, too," said Fett, drawing a lightsaber. "We can teach each other some new tricks."

"I'm no swordsman," Fett said, holding the lightsaber like a hammer as he circled her. Its blade was green. She wondered whose hand he'd taken it from, and how. "And I've never trained anyone. It'll be an education for both of us."-Chpt.7