Bloodlines

by Karen Traviss

  Nothing violent. Mustn’t cause a crush, or a stampede. Innocent people will be hurt.

  The crowd closest to him fell back a few paces, some of them looking around frantically to see what was pushing them back. More missiles rained from farther back in the press of bodies, accompanied by shouting and shoving, but they simply bounced off the Force-shield, and Jacen stood calmly staring back into the mass of people. A breathless silence spread from the line nearest to him like a fast tide engulfing a shore. Even some of the CSF officers seemed frozen to the spot.

  Everyone knew about Jedi, but very few ever saw them in action—or felt them.

  “Go home,” said Jacen. “Just break it up and go home before I have to do something about it.”

  They didn’t run, of course, but he had made his point; the respite gave the CSF line a chance to push the rival groups apart again, and Jacen followed Niathal into the Senate Building and up to the Chief of State’s office.

  Luke Skywalker was already there, Mara sitting beside him, and he didn’t look pleased to see Jacen.

  “We are still not at war,” Omas insisted, staring out the window at the crowds. “Does the council still support the blockade?”

  “As the only alternative to full-scale war or backing down on disarmament, yes.” Luke wasn’t looking at Omas. His gaze was on Jacen. “How much impact is the blockade having?”

  Niathal looked up from her datapad. Jacen wasn’t sure how she regarded Luke; his uncle didn’t feature in their conversations. “We’ve intercepted or turned back around seventy percent of vessels trying to enter or leave the two exclusion rings, but in terms of volume of cargo and personnel, that’s nearer ninety percent. We’re stopping the big vessels but losing some of the small ones. All in all—it’s biting already.”

  “Should we revise our policy on stopping traffic movements around the shipyards?”

  “Nonviolent way of leaning on the civilian population,” said Jacen. “When dad doesn’t come home when he’s due back from the yards, it focuses families, and families lean on governments.”

  Luke stood up and watched from the window with Omas. “And what about these people, Jacen? You’ve cracked down on the Corellians. What about all the non-Corellians I see down there?”

  Mara gave Jacen a careful, don’t-take-the-bait look. He could feel the tension between her and Luke, and he knew it was more about Ben than about politics or personal rights. “If any other national group or species threatens the security of Coruscant or the Alliance, then I’ll deal with that, too.”

  “Within the law.”

  “Yes, within the law. I realize you don’t approve of my methods, but someone has to carry out the damage limitation.”

  “We’ve had a dozen terrorist incidents in a few weeks,” Luke said. “I’m sorry that lives have been lost, but we need to get that in perspective when it comes to how we treat billions.”

  That got Omas’s attention. He turned from the window. “I invite you to tell the Coruscant public that, Master Skywalker. The fact that they won’t see it that way is why terrorism is always so effective. And the Senate doesn’t see it that way, either. The Security and Intelligence Council now has full emergency powers to take operational decisions on the handling of public safety.”

  Luke stood his ground. Jacen had thought he was indecisive and afraid of banging heads together, but when he did take a stand, he was adamant. It was just a pity that he took a position on the wrong issues.

  “I’m still uncomfortable with the armed forces being used against civilians.”

  “Define a civilian with a blaster who doesn’t like the government, then,” said Jacen.

  “The legitimate government has taken the decision.” Luke’s tone was even and controlled. “I’m just dissenting, and as the members of the Jedi council aren’t the elected representatives of the people, then an opinion is all that it is.”

  Niathal was watching the exchange with faint interest. “This is an exquisite ethical argument, but right now I’m more concerned with stopping Corellia repairing an orbital weapon that was capable of taking out the Yuuzhan Vong and that will, if brought back online, ruin the Alliance’s entire day.”

  Omas almost twitched. The power play was luminous in its visibility. “What would you prefer to do, Admiral? We failed to destroy it last time.”

  “We can reduce a planet to molten slag from orbit. Let’s not rule out the possibility of needing to do that to Centerpoint—even if it would be best preserved to defend the Alliance.”

  “It’s populated,” said Luke.

  “So are warships.”

  Omas interrupted, looking at his chrono. “I don’t think this takes us any farther forward. I have a delegation from the Corporate Sector Authority coming to see me soon.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the protest still going on below, which had turned ugly now as far as Jacen could see. CSF officers had waded in with batons, and the telltale cloud of white gas from a recently fired dispersal canister drifted on the air, clearing a space as protesters scattered. “Don’t be surprised if we see the planetary allegiances going on down there reflected on the blockade line.”

  Jacen took the unspoken instruction to leave, and Niathal followed him. As Niathal peeled off to go to her state office, Luke caught Jacen’s arm—just a brief touch, nothing more. But Jacen sensed him flinch as if he’d had an electric shock.

  “Have you got five minutes, Jacen?” Luke indicated a side room.

  Jacen smiled. “Ah, we all fall into corporate euphemisms fast, don’t we?”

  “Sorry?”

  “It’s code for ‘Come in here and let me read you the riot act,’ isn’t it?”

  “It’s code for ‘We want to talk to you about Ben, in private.’ ”

  Jacen inclined his head politely and suppressed his detectable feelings further so that he presented quiet bewilderment to Luke and Mara. The doors of the side room closed behind them.

  “Where is Ben?” Luke asked.

  “Captain Shevu is keeping an eye on him at the barracks.”

  Mara spoke for the first time. She’d been uncharacteristically silent in Omas’s office. It was a sure sign something was wrong, because Mara always had a view, even if it didn’t match Luke’s—especially if it didn’t match Luke’s.

  “Jacen, Luke’s worried about Ben going on these raids with you.”

  “He’s perfectly safe. Safer than when you sent him to attack Centerpoint with me.”

  “Actually, it’s not his physical well-being that concerns me the most,” said Luke. “I’m worried that instead of being taught to use his Force skills for good, he’s using them to bust down doors and round up civilians.”

  “It all depends on your definition of good, doesn’t it?”

  “I want Ben to go to the academy and get himself straightened out for a while.”

  “Normally I’d say that’s your decision to make as his father, but he’s a Jedi, and he has a job to do at which he’s actually very good—identifying threats.”

  “He’s thirteen years old, for goodness’ sake.”

  “And you thought that was old enough to send him on a commando raid. I hate to question your logic, Uncle, but this isn’t making sense to me.” Go on, say it. Tell me that you think I’m turning to the dark side. That’s what you think, isn’t it? Let’s have it out in the open. Accuse me. “He isn’t using violence. Why is it okay for Jaina, Zekk, and me to fly combat missions that end in the deaths of other pilots, but it’s not all right for Ben to find terrorists and help arrest them?”

  Luke pinched the bridge of his nose. Mara’s face was ashen; she looked drawn and strained.

  Jacen decided to make his move. He could carry on without Ben as his apprentice, but sooner or later he would need one, and Ben was progressing by leaps and bounds. He liked the boy; he wanted to see him make the most of his potential. “I don’t want to put you on the spot, Mara, but do you agree with this?”

  “I think we need to ta
lk this through with Ben,” she said carefully. “He’s settled down well, and I think we need to discuss this when we’re not so tired and irritable.”

  “Actually, no,” said Luke. “I think there’s something that needs to be said right now. Jacen, you need to know that Lumiya is on Coruscant. You know who Lumiya is, don’t you?”

  It took all of Jacen’s control to maintain his façade of ignorance and use the past tense, relegating her to history. “Yes. She was a Dark Jedi.”

  “She’s back. She’s here. I had terrible Force dreams about a hooded figure threatening us all, and then I felt her somewhere near.”

  Look patient, as if you’re humoring him. “What’s this got to do with Ben?”

  “I don’t know yet. But I feel it has everything to do with Ben. Don’t put it past Lumiya to engineer events to serve her purposes.”

  “Okay.” Jacen feigned a half smile as if embarrassed. “I’ll be on my guard.”

  Luke appeared slightly deflated, as if he had heard his own words repeated back to him and had second thoughts about them. “When Ben’s finished whatever he’s doing today, ask him to come and see me. He’s not answering his comlink.”

  There was no point having a confrontation. Ben wouldn’t listen to Luke, and Jacen could sense that Mara wouldn’t, either. “Whatever Ben wants, I’ll go along with it,” he said.

  Jacen left and walked out to the turbolift lobby. He was torn between returning to the blockade and concentrating on his security role, but the latter was clearly more urgent. Outside, the protest had been broken up and CSF assault ships were loading handcuffed men and women who had been arrested. The situation was going to get worse before it got better. It was time to get back to the GAG headquarters and have Shevu brief him on progress with the detainees and especially the bounty hunter they had picked up.

  There was one other urgent task, though. He opened his comlink and keyed in the code on his secure link.

  “Lumiya,” he said. “I need to talk to you.”

  GALACTIC ALLIANCE GUARD HQ, QUADRANT A-89, GALACTIC CITY.

  More rioting had broken out in one of the commercial zones, and a couple of the GAG intelligence officers were poring over images being relayed back to them via helmet cams worn by CSF riot squads. Ben watched them for a while, trying to learn how they recognized faces and tracked the movements of what they called “persons of interest” around the city. When a Jedi relied on his Force-senses, he never learned how to do the thinking that regular people had to do to solve problems. Jacen always reminded him about that, telling him not to let his brain rust just because he had Force powers.

  “Are we doing riot control now?” asked Ben.

  One officer turned to him, but his eyes were still on the screen. “That’s CSF’s problem. What we’re looking for are faces we might know from the last job.” The intel officers were ex-CSF Anti-Terrorist Unit. He pointed to a figure masked by the press of bodies. “I think we’ve got an old buddy here who we could never quite nail on explosives charges.”

  They seemed pleased. Ben looked forward to accompanying them when they turned his place over, as they put it. It was interesting to learn how many terrorists had pretty basic criminal backgrounds; Ben’s impression of them as fanatical people with a political cause wasn’t the whole picture. It seemed that a whole range of people ended up getting involved, and for all kinds of reasons. He was learning more every hour.

  “Ben?” Shevu leaned around the open doors. “Colonel Solo’s back. Report to him in the cell block.”

  “Yes, sir.” Ben found himself marching down to the cell block, which happened to be the fastest and most dignified way to move without breaking into a run. He found Jacen with Captain Girdun, having one of those hissed close-quarters conversations that showed they were angry with each other. The words results and unacceptable drifted toward him. Jacen stopped and motioned Ben forward with a crooked finger; Girdun was clearly dismissed for the time being.

  “I saw the news,” said Ben. “Nice shooting.”

  “Shooting’s never nice.” Then Jacen switched from annoyed to benign in an instant. “But sometimes necessary. Look, your parents want to see you. Will you do the diplomatic thing and visit them?”

  “Dad’s mad at me, isn’t he?”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “He always is. I never do things right for him.”

  “He’s worried about you, and he needs some reassurance that I’m not teaching you bad ways.” Jacen put his hand on Ben’s shoulder. “He’d rather I wasn’t teaching you at all, but your mother is okay with it. In the end, I can’t make him or you do anything, but for what it’s worth, try not to have a fight with him.”

  Ben heard the meaning clearly enough: he’d be sent to the academy. He couldn’t face that now. He might have a lot to learn, but he felt he’d passed the point where he could go back to lightsaber drill and meditation. He’d done real work, made a real difference, and he knew he would have no patience with theory again.

  Perhaps Jacen could teach him more diplomacy. It seemed to be almost as handy as Force-listening and disguising your presence, two other things that Ben badly wanted to learn.

  “Okay,” he said, filled with dread. “I’ll visit tonight.”

  “Now let’s see what Ailyn Habuur has to say for herself.”

  The bounty hunter had been in custody for nearly a week, and this was the first time Ben had seen her since Shevu had questioned her. She hadn’t been a glamorous woman to start with, but she looked terrible now; Girdun didn’t appear to have taken good care of her in Shevu’s absence. There were bruises on her face. She was leaning forward, arms braced on the table, breathing with some effort.

  “I really need to know who you were sent to kill,” said Jacen, reasonable and earnest. He sat down at the other side of the table and indicated to Ben to take a seat near the doors. “Was it Chief Omas?”

  “I’m just a debt collector.” Habuur wasn’t quite as defiant as she had been a few days earlier, but she wasn’t cracking, either. “Don’t let the blasters fool you.”

  “You were carrying enough hardware to take out a platoon. You were with a known Corellian agent, so I know which government is paying you.”

  “Like I said, debt collection … it’s a competitive business.”

  “If you’ve come to Coruscant, you’re looking for a high-value Alliance target.”

  “You’ve got all you’re getting out of me. Can I call a lawyer now?”

  Suddenly Habuur’s head slammed down on the table without warning. Ben flinched at the loud crack. Jacen hadn’t lifted a finger. Habuur pulled herself upright again, blood trickling down her chin. She looked more surprised than hurt, although she appeared to have broken a tooth.

  “Nice trick, Jedi boy.”

  “I’ve got plenty of those.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  “Let’s try again. Was Omas your target? And who else is working with you?”

  Ben still didn’t believe what he’d seen. He believed it the next moment when Jacen used the Force to crack her head on the table again.

  “Jacen…,” said Ben. This wasn’t right. And it wasn’t Jacen. “Jacen, should you—”

  “Later.” Jacen glanced back at Ben, startled, as if he’d suddenly remembered he was in the room. “Go and wait outside.”

  Ben realized he should have waited a long way from the interrogation room where he couldn’t hear anything, but he felt he had to stay close, as if distancing himself too much would have somehow allowed Jacen to do worse things than he was already doing. So he hurts people. I was pleased that he shot down an enemy fighter, but that guy’s dead. So why do I feel bad when I see him hurt someone? Ben took out his lightsaber and stared at the hilt, trying not to listen to the interrogation. This is a weapon. He’d been trained to use it to defend himself, but he also knew that it was a blade packed with enough pure energy to slice off someone’s head or cut clean through armor.

  He’d n
ever killed anyone.

  What was a lightsaber for, then, if you couldn’t face the fact that it killed people? He tried to think of Jacen as using a weapon—his Force powers—to defend the Galactic Alliance against people like Ailyn Habuur, but all he could feel was that Jacen, a man he respected more than his own father, was hurting a woman who couldn’t defend herself.

  He heard things he knew no kid should have heard. But still he couldn’t walk away. He sat there for an hour, then two, staring at his hands, hearing the raised voices, then the thuds and occasional cries of pain, and then only Jacen’s voice repeating the same question over and over again: Who sent you, and who were you sent to kill?

  Ben couldn’t bear it. Jacen, you have to stop.

  Girdun and Shevu appeared at the double doors at the end of the corridor and took one look at Ben before walking briskly to the interrogation room.

  “Jacen’s in there,” Ben said weakly.

  “Oh, boy.” Shevu nudged Girdun. “Come on, we can’t let this go on.”

  “He’s the commander.”

  “ ’Dun, you moron, he’s going to kill her. That’s not how we do things.”

  “It was how we did things.”

  “Really? Not on my kriffing watch.” Shevu appeared to have lost his cool. Ben watched, not wanting to stop them because he knew deep down that he should have stopped Jacen somehow. Shevu overrode the lock and Ben tried hard not to look inside the cell. “Medic! Get a medic, someone.”

  Jacen snapped at Shevu to get out, but Girdun bundled in behind him and the two officers laid Habuur flat on the floor and tried to revive her mouth-to-mouth. Ben watched as they took turns pumping her chest, hand on fist, checking her breathing and pressing fingers on her throat to try to find a pulse. Jacen stood back.

  “Where’s the kriffing medic?” Shevu demanded.

  Girdun felt her neck, then her wrist. “No pulse.”

  “Ben, call the medic.”

  Girdun shook his head. “Too late. She’s gone.”

  Ben stared in horror. Habuur looked terrible. He’d never seen a dead person before, not like that, not with his own cousin standing over her as if it was just a little inconvenient for her to die before she’d answered his questions.