Bloodlines

by Karen Traviss

  “Steady,” said Zekk.

  The Fondorian slowed almost to a halt and then suddenly peeled off to one side. Zekk matched its maneuver instantly and harried it for ten kilometers at close range until it swung around and headed back to the line behind Bloodstripe. Now all the vessels pulled forward to form a line level with the Corellian cruiser.

  “They’re going to go for it, Zekk,” said Jaina.

  “Yeah, I feel it …”

  “Here we go.”

  Jacen said nothing. Bloodstripe didn’t move, but the ships to either side of her did. They spread farther apart, and for a moment he wondered if they were simply going to try to draw Alliance ships away.

  “Hold steady,” said Jacen.

  Then the Atzerri freighter picked up speed and came straight at them. Jacen had it on visual now. It was an old ship and lightly armed to deter piracy. But it was picking up speed.

  “He’s coming right at you, Jaina,” said Jacen. “If he hasn’t changed his mind at two kilometers, give him a reminder who’s in charge here.”

  “I’ll buzz him.”

  “You be careful,” said Zekk.

  The freighter showed no signs of slowing. It was coming at the picket head-on, and its course appeared to be about to take it between the XJ7s and within three klicks of one of the Alliance destroyers. The only question was when it was prudent to block its path.

  “That’s close enough,” said Jaina, and edged forward to skim over the freighter’s casing, nearly shaving its antennae. The freighter didn’t waver.

  “He needs another reminder,” said Jacen, and set off after Jaina to block the freighter’s path.

  “Bonadan cruiser breaking on the far side.” Zekk’s voice was a whisper. “Leave that to me.”

  Resolute, one of the picket destroyers, cut in on the shared comlink. “Laser cannon targeted, Rogue Three, just in case he gets any ideas.”

  The cruiser was a legitimate target; it was an armed warship. The Atzerri freighter, though, needed more careful handling. Firing on a civilian vessel was a political risk, not a military one. Jacen set a head-on course for the freighter’s long panel of viewports set across the width of its nose. Jaina had looped back and was making a second pass to block the ship.

  “Blink …,” said Jacen.

  The freighter held its course.

  “Go on … blink.”

  They were on a collision course. It wasn’t high speed, but in space even a low-velocity collision could be disastrous.

  “Don’t play this game with me, friend,” Jacen said.

  He could now see the figures moving on the freighter’s brightly lit bridge. He was close enough to see the color of their overalls. Not yet. Red, blue, a few green; humans, all of them. Not yet.

  Thirty seconds more on this course would smash him into their viewport.

  Steady …

  If he didn’t pull up in twenty seconds, he’d be dead. He was no longer aware of Jaina, or Zekk, just the rust-streaked ship with its band of white light that now filled his field of view. He became a pilot again: not a Sith Lord-in-waiting, or a Jedi with all the knowledge of generations, but a pilot at one with his fighter.

  Ten seconds …

  Jacen surrendered himself to instinct. He jerked the controls and the XJ7 climbed high and fast just as the freighter made a last-second dip below the plane of collision. Jacen knew he had missed the hull by meters. When he reached the top of his climb he looked down and saw that the freighter’s aft ports had opened: small laser cannons were trained on him. Not all ships had all their armament mounted forward; freighters expected sometimes to be chased in pirate-infested space lanes.

  “Got you,” said Jaina. “Jacen, I’m targeting their cannons—”

  There was a staccato exchange of white and blue streams of fire beneath Jacen as he arced down into a dive and came up behind Jaina. The freighter fired again, and then Jaina was clear of the stream and coming about for a second time. Jacen watched one cannon mounting shatter and break into a shower of shimmering particles, and then the other.

  The freighter slowed and began to turn. Jacen sent a one-word message to Jaina in the Force: Fire.

  He felt her resist him.

  He switched his comlink to Jaina’s channel alone. “Finish it, Jaina.”

  “I’ve disabled both aft cannons. He’s heading back.”

  “He opened fire. Do it.”

  “Jacen, the ship’s damaged and he’s retreating. I can’t continue the attack.”

  “You know the rules of engagement.”

  “I won’t do it. It’s a civilian vessel and right now he isn’t presenting a threat—”

  “That’s an order.”

  “It’s outside the ROE.”

  “It’s legitimate. I repeat, take him out.”

  “Colonel Solo, I’m refusing that order.”

  Jaina cut her comlink and swung back to the picket line. Jacen seethed. She was crazy. Civilian or not, the freighter had opened fire. Retreating or not, it still had functioning cannons. It was a clear threat.

  Jacen lined up the icons on his console and sent a spread of five torpedoes into the freighter.

  “Jacen, what the—”

  That was all Jacen heard from Zekk. A ball of gold light plumed from the starboard side of the freighter’s hull, then another and another, and suddenly half its flank was in fragments and hitting ships alongside. The line flanking Bloodstripe broke and scattered. On his screen, Jacen saw the pinpoint images of small lifeboat ships disgorging from the cruiser to go to the freighter’s aid: half of the ship had blown away.

  “Rogue squadron, bang out now.” Resolute’s commander cut in. “We’re opening fire. Get out of there.”

  Jacen dropped immediately under Resolute’s arc of fire and headed back to Ocean, picking up Zekk and Jaina as he went. He could feel Jaina’s fury as she trailed him in silence.

  Zekk opened the comlink. “Anyone want to tell me what happened back there? Jaina, why did you break off?”

  Jacen answered for her.

  “Colonel Solo refused a direct order,” he said carefully. It broke his heart, but he had no choice. My sister. I’ve really lost her now. Why won’t she see what has to be done? “She’s now suspended from duty.”

  PRESIDENTIAL OFFICES, CORONET, CORELLIA: 1830 HOURS.

  “Do take a seat,” said Thrackan Sal-Solo. “I wasn’t expecting to see you back so soon.”

  The doors to the office were open, and a couple of Sal-Solo’s staff sat at desks in the adjoining room. Fett perched on the edge of one of the fine brocade chairs and motioned to Han to sit down. Mirta simply stood to one side, arms folded. Sal-Solo didn’t seem to expect to be introduced to Fett’s new associate.

  He’d meet him soon enough.

  “Did you have second thoughts?” asked Sal-Solo.

  “Just seeking clarification,” Fett said. He noted the position of the door that led to the emergency bunker. “Can we discuss this in private?”

  “How private?”

  “Is this room soundproofed?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then shut the doors and give your staff the rest of the evening off.”

  For a man like Sal-Solo it wasn’t an unusual request. Fett was counting on it; he hadn’t been paid to silence any bystanders. The doors closed, and they were as alone with Sal-Solo as they were ever likely to be.

  There was a panel of comlinks on the desk. Fett was pretty sure one of them would be a priority button to summon help. He was also sure that Sal-Solo carried more than one blaster.

  Don’t make a hash of this, Solo. Clean shot. I should never have let you tag along, but you’re my ticket to my daughter now.

  “Tell me again what you have in mind for Centerpoint.”

  His HUD showed nobody in adjoining offices. Beyond two rooms, the penetrating radar became less efficient. Why will I give anything to see Ailyn now after fifty years? Amazing, the power that mortality has over your mind. He rested his
hand on his blaster rifle. He always carried it rather than sling it across his shoulder; Sal-Solo seemed unperturbed by it.

  Mirta didn’t take her eyes off him. Han was silent but visibly tense. Fett could see it in his shoulders.

  “Once Corellian forces breach the blockade, we can re-supply the station with technical equipment and reactivate it. We’d hope to position your men inside to stop further sabotage. It’s a huge station to make intruder-proof.”

  Okay, watch me carefully …

  “Like I said, one million credits per man per month.”

  Fett counted the seconds. Han twitched.

  “Cheaper than an army, I suppose,” Thrackan said at last.

  “A hundred Mandalorians is an army,” said Fett.

  And then Han leapt from the edge of his seat and slammed across Sal-Solo’s desk, knocking him flat into the wall and upending his chair. Sal-Solo pulled a hold-out blaster from his jacket while they struggled, and Han head-butted him. The blaster went flying.

  You moron. You blew it. Han pulled off his helmet with one hand and had his cousin by the throat.

  “You scum—”

  Fett launched himself across the desk and pinned Sal-Solo down. “Just do it, Solo,” he snapped. “Kill him. Or I will. It’s not sport.”

  Mirta covered the doors with her blaster. At least the girl knew what she was doing.

  “I’ve waited years for this, Fett.”

  “Make it fast, then.” Fett assumed Han wanted to make his cousin suffer before he killed him, which was sloppy, but then family feuds were always too emotionally charged. “Remember what you agreed.”

  Han had a stranglehold on Sal-Solo’s throat. The man’s eyes bulged. “Never again, you scumbag.” He dug his fingers into the skin. “You never mess with me or my family again.”

  Sal-Solo found a defiant, strangled voice. “You think the bounty hunter I decoyed you all with on Coruscant is the only one hunting you?”

  “What do you mean?” Fett grabbed Han’s wrist to stop him choking Sal-Solo before he answered. “What decoy?”

  “I tipped them off about her. Too busy following her to worry about the others. They’re coming, Han, and you don’t know how many. You’ll never be able to sleep soundly again.”

  Ailyn. You set up Ailyn. You used my little girl.

  “Back off, Solo—he’s mine,” said Fett, and held the blaster to Sal-Solo’s head.

  “No, he’s mine,” said Mirta, and rolled across the desk to fire three bolts into Sal-Solo’s forehead.

  It was a split second of total silence and then two seconds of chaos. Han was cursing that he’d been cheated; Fett put two rounds into Sal-Solo to be sure he’d finished him. And that’s for Ailyn, too.

  “You should learn to shoot first, Solo,” said Fett. “Now get down that passage fast. Run for it.”

  “But I wanted to take him—for all he’s done to me.”

  “Go on, then—put a few more through him. Have your vengeance. Then shut up and get moving.”

  The room might have been soundproofed, but the sound of blasterfire could penetrate a long way. Fett wasn’t sure Han could do it. But Sal-Solo was dead already and Han no longer had to face shooting him in cold blood. At last he fired. Fett grabbed him and shoved him through the door to the passage as Mirta retrieved the spare helmet.

  She was a smart kid—even if she had taken a shot she shouldn’t have.

  They ran down a single flight of steps and into a long passage lit by yellow emergency lamps. Fett’s helmet sensors picked up movement two rooms above; running feet. Someone was coming. He took the full set of security blades out of his pocket and set their interference pattern to block all comlinks except his own. This wasn’t the time to let anyone call for backup.

  Then he shoved Han ahead of him and forced him to run. The fool was still staring back at his cousin’s body.

  “Now my side of the bargain, Solo,” Fett panted as they ran. “My daughter. I have to see my daughter.”

  chapter eighteen

  The Galactic Alliance is in turmoil this morning as more planets withdraw representatives from the Senate in protest at fighting in the Corellian blockade. Atzerri’s ambassador to the Alliance described the destruction of one of its freighters as “an act of war.” Chief of State Cal Omas told HNE earlier that the exclusion zone would remain in place until Corellia disarmed and that the Atzerri vessel had opened fire after repeated warnings.

  There has been no response from Corellia’s President Thrackan Sal-Solo.

  —HNE morning bulletin

  LUMIYA’S APARTMENT, SAFE HOUSE, GALACTIC CITY.

  Jacen rubbed his eyes, trying to erase the dream he’d had on the flight back from Corellia and that was still vivid in his mind.

  He hoped it was a dream and not a vision. As the turbolift climbed to the three hundredth floor of the apartment tower, he tried to shake the image from his mind and failed. In the dream, he was staring at his hands, lightsaber clutched in one, sobbing.

  That’s what you dream of when you send your own sister for court-martial. Deal with it.

  No, he wasn’t proud of what he’d done to Jaina, but it had to be done. He let the misery wash over him and didn’t flinch from it as he opened the doors of Lumiya’s safe house apartment with a brief focus of Force energy. Inside was a surprisingly comfortable suite of rooms scattered with objects that he thought he recognized from her asteroid habitat. She’d been back home to pick up a few things. Somehow he hadn’t thought of her as needing material trappings.

  “You’re very upset,” she said, emerging from another room. Jacen was startled by her appearance. “Your grandfather found me drifting in my starfighter after Luke Skywalker had fired on it and left me for dead. Vader saved me. So my life is inextricably linked with your family. Did you know that?”

  “You see that as destiny.”

  “Inevitability. Which is why you should stop feeling guilty about your sister.”

  “I’m having bad dreams about it. I wasn’t expecting that.”

  “Do you want them to stop?”

  “No. They are what they are. I have to embrace them.”

  “Be sure you know the fine line between dreams and visions. They may tell you what you need to know—what I can’t tell you.”

  “Which is?”

  “How you progress from where you are now to what you have to become. I can guide you in techniques, but their application must come from you.”

  Jacen sat down, careful not to touch any artifacts in case one had a use he didn’t yet know. “This is what I don’t understand. I spent over five years perfecting my use of the Force, learning techniques from all species—not just the Jedi way. What more can there be? Where does a Jedi adept end and a Sith begin? You see, I never really believed that it was purely a line between good and evil. Some days I can’t even define those terms.”

  “It’s acceptance,” said Lumiya. “The willingness to surrender to what the Force asks of you. To stop denying it by rationalizing denial as self-discipline and avoidance of powerful emotions.”

  “That sounds as if I should simply do the first thing that comes into my mind.”

  “You already know you should.”

  “Why am I different from my grandfather, then? The more I do, the more I feel I’m doing exactly as he did. Was it really only his preoccupation with his wife that stopped him achieving order?”

  “He started his training too late and was still inexperienced when he was exploited by a man who wanted power. You’re a mature man with a lifetime’s training and nobody is using you. You won’t make the same mistakes.”

  “It can’t be that easy.”

  “It won’t be. It’ll be painful.”

  “More painful than turning on your own sister?”

  “Oh, yes …”

  “That’s my destiny?”

  “That’s the price you pay for bringing order to the galaxy. This is your sacrifice. Now do you see why weak men like Palpa
tine saw only power, and why they were defeated?” Lumiya’s hypnotic voice was almost disembodied. Jacen watched her mouth, and had no sense of being spoken to by another living being. It was an oracle, a dispassionate revelation. “There is nothing in it for you as Jacen Solo.”

  He’d lied. There were worse things already than suspending Jaina. There was the look on Ben Skywalker’s face when he saw Ailyn Habuur’s body. He’d gone too far invading the woman’s mind; she hadn’t been up to the physical strain. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. But Ben’s trust in him had taken a body blow. The boy still didn’t understand that doing things his father’s way led to an endless cycle of war and chaos. Luke wouldn’t face the need to take extreme measures. Luke wanted to feel good about himself.

  That was attachment.

  “How do you feel when you see Luke Skywalker now?” he asked.

  “I feel nothing,” said Lumiya. “I only remember.”

  “What should I do next?”

  “I can’t tell you. Deal with what troubles you most.”

  “My apprentice, Ben. He’s wavering.”

  “Don’t seek his approval.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Don’t set an example and hope that he’ll follow it. Put him in a position where he has to discover the truth for himself.”

  She was, as she had been at Bimmiel, painfully right. Ben had to learn what his father never had—that there were necessary evils.

  And there was no better place to learn that than in the Galactic Alliance Guard.

  EMERGENCY MANAGEMENT COMPLEX UNDER KEBEN PARK, CORONET, CORELLIA.

  For a couple of old guys, Han thought, he and Fett were keeping up with the girl pretty well. Then he realized that the underground passage sloped downhill.

  The corridor that ran from Sal-Solo’s Presidential suite to the emergency management bunker stretched for a kilometer under Keben Park. All they had to do was keep running. What happened after that Han had no idea, but it wasn’t the first time he’d run headlong and trusted to his instincts and luck.