Sacrifice

by Karen Traviss

  “How does that thing hunt if it’s got such a strong scent?” Fett asked.

  Jaing bent and ruffled Mird’s neck folds. “Only humanoids can smell it. And don’t be too hard on Mirta for getting ambushed, Bob’ika. Few people can deal with a full-grown strill swooping down on them. These things fly, you know.”

  “I don’t keep pets.” Fett seemed on the edge of a concession. “If you want something to eat, the galley’s through that hatch.”

  Jaing opened a pouch on his belt and took out something dried and dark that looked like leather straps. He threw a strip to Mird and chewed on one himself. “We’re fine, thanks.”

  It took a few seconds for Mirta to work out what was going on. He doesn’t want to leave any DNA. He’s even more cunning than you, Ba’buir.

  Fett turned and swung back through the hatch. Mirta had hoped the two men would find something else to talk about, but the fact they shared a genome clearly meant nothing. Still … this was a relative. This was her relative, a great-uncle, even if Mandos didn’t care about bloodline half as much as most species. The Kiffar half of her cared about it a lot.

  “I feel bad for you, kid,” Jaing said. “I feel bad for him, too, I suppose. But apart from some admiration for his skills, I think he’s the worst excuse for a Mando’ade this side of the Core. On the other hand, he wins, and we need winners. And my dad would have expected me to help him, no questions asked.”

  Jaing spoke as if he came from a totally different family, not a vat that contained the duplicated chromosomes of Jango Fett. He slipped a three-sided knife from his forearm plate and trimmed the dried meat into smaller chunks, utterly at ease.

  “Jango’s not who you mean by ‘dad,’ is he?” Mirta said.

  “No.” Jaing smiled wistfully to himself for a moment. “Genes don’t count. You ought to know that by now. The man who adopted me was my training sergeant. Finest man who ever lived.”

  Jaing sounded like he’d come from a far happier family, a strange thing for a clone soldier. “I seem to be bucking the trend of devoted kids,” Mirta said. “I tried to kill my grandfather.”

  “So did your mother, I hear. Boba’s obviously got this magic touch with the ladies.”

  “You seem to know everything about me, but I don’t know much about you.”

  Jaing just grinned. “That’s my job, sweetheart.”

  “So why did you get involved with Cherit’s gang over the Twi’leks?”

  “Another promise I made a long time ago.” He chewed, looking slightly past her in recollection. “I tend to keep them.”

  He went on chewing, occasionally throwing chunks to Mird. And that was it. Silence descended. She thought he might talk about his family on Mandalore, all the undiscovered relatives she now found she had, but he didn’t.

  Mirta realized she wasn’t going to get anything more out of him, and she didn’t want to look needy. She returned to the cockpit, settled into the copilot’s seat, and clutched the heart-of-fire against her chest plate. Even if it told her nothing, it was still a connection to her mother and grandmother.

  “You fed up with him already?” Fett asked.

  She wanted to think Jaing had given Fett some hope and raised his spirits, but it was hard to tell. “Is your armor really rubbish? Why don’t you use proper Mandalorian iron, like Beviin says—”

  “Don’t push your luck. I let you stick a needle in me. That’s your fun for the day.”

  It had cheered him up. Mirta could tell. She hoped that not only would Jaing’s unspecified “resources” come through, but that Boba Fett would redeem himself so that her only kin wasn’t someone that she wished were someone else.

  GAG HQ, CORUSCANT

  Jacen didn’t want to look too interested in the Policy and Resources Council proceedings. If he showed up for the meeting and sat in the gallery reserved for those hardy citizens who actually cared about the minutiae of government, he might cause questions to be asked.

  On the other hand, he might just have been seen as a micromanaging, interfering colonel who put his troops’ welfare above schools, health, and transport.

  That was fine by him. He did.

  But a low profile was called for, so he stayed at GAG HQ and switched to the HoloNet channel that broadcast Senate proceedings. Lumiya should have been there by now. He waited for the holocam to pan to the public gallery and saw, as he expected, a woman in a sober business suit and veiled headdress. She wasn’t the only one, either. Veils were considered very chic this year. She drew no attention at all.

  HM-3’s amendment to the procurement regulations was Item 357 on an agenda of 563 mind-bogglingly boring tweaks and changes to laws Jacen didn’t even know were on the statute books.

  I’m going to have to do a lot of delegating when I’m … in charge. A handpicked team of administrators. Led by HM-3, I think.

  The session had already started, and Senators who were happy to do the small routine work—and not be noticed—were on Item 24, having a particularly arcane piece of hazardous waste legislation explained to them. Jacen turned off the audio feed and set the monitor to alert him when Item 357 was up. Then he got on with reading more intelligence reports, with the doors to his office wide open.

  He almost always kept the doors open. It reassured the troops. It told them that he was an accessible officer, always willing to listen.

  But Jori Lekauf peered in, boots still firmly on the corridor side of the doors as if there were a barrier marked OFFICER TERRITORY—DO NOT PASS.

  “Lady at the security gate asking to see you, sir.”

  Jacen, distracted, felt in the Force to see who it might be. “Mara Skywalker.”

  Lekauf grinned. “It’s great the way you can do that, sir.”

  “I don’t get many women coming to see me, so I could have guessed …” Jaina wouldn’t be visiting, not without him feeling her resentment and mistrust marching ahead of her like a vanguard. And it wouldn’t have been Tenel Ka. He missed her, and he missed Allana even more. I don’t have to kill them. I’d know if I had to, wouldn’t I? “Bring her in.”

  “Yes, sir.” Lekauf turned to go.

  “Lekauf …”

  “Sir?”

  “Have you ever considered a commission?”

  “Not sure if I’m officer material, sir.”

  “I think you could be. I’m not forcing you, but we need good officers coming through the ranks, because we’ll have a challenging role in the years to come.”

  Lekauf seemed dubious. “I’m willing to give it a go, sir.”

  “Excellent. I’ll get the adjutant to fix the paperwork. We’ll probably have to delay staff college until the security situation is more stable, but I’m sure Shevu or Girdun will be happy to guide you. And you’ll be able to keep an eye on Ben. He really trusts you.”

  Lekauf blinked, but there was no expression on his face. “Captain Shevu looks after me very well. I’ll learn a lot from him.”

  Non sequiturs said a lot. Lekauf wasn’t naïve, for all his cheerful schoolboy appearance. His careful avoidance of Captain Girdun’s name confirmed Jacen’s observations that the ex-Intel man wasn’t a popular officer with troops from the military and CSF side. Spies had that effect. Shevu had come from the CSF—familiar, visible, reliable folks you were happy to see in a crisis.

  Jacen couldn’t afford divisions. “You might do Captain Girdun good, too. It’s interesting how a good apprentice creates a better teacher.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Lekauf showed not a flicker of reaction. “I’ll show your guest in.”

  Jacen kept one eye on the silent holoscreen while he looked through the reports, one of which he forwarded for Niathal’s immediate attention—the Bothans had a new class of frigate coming into service in a matter of days. The P&R meeting had reached Item 102. A busy day: a lot of rubber-stamping was going on. He opened his comlink and switched the signal to the small bead deep in his ear. Lumiya had a concealed receiver in her cybernetic implants and would hear it in
the depths of her skull, silent as a thought.

  He used her cover name, the one he’d used in front of Ben. It was common enough. It also helped avoid accidental slips. “Are you helping them make decisions, Shira?”

  “Giving them a sense of urgency, that’s all. Not that they don’t have fancy lunches on their minds anyway.”

  “Does it look as if anyone troublesome has read the agenda sheets in advance?”

  “Not as far as I can see. But don’t worry. I can deal with that.”

  Jacen felt Mara approaching down the corridor, a little tornado of determination. Unlike Lekauf, she walked straight in. Jacen projected a veneer of weary good humor in the Force and smiled at her.

  She glanced at the holoscreen. “That looks thrilling.”

  “Just making sure we get our supply issues worked out.” Hiding in plain sight was always the best option, Jacen found. “An amendment so that we can cut the red tape and get our people the right kit. It’s been an issue with the troops.”

  “I’m all for that.” Mara sat down in the rickety chair across from his desk—Jacen believed in being seen not to spend budget on himself—and crossed her legs. She’d taken to wearing a gray jacket that looked more like battledress, an indication of her state of mind lately. “I’ve come about Ben.”

  “He’s doing well. He’s doing very well, in fact.”

  “You’ve certainly focused him. Quite the responsible young man now.” Mara glanced at the open doors as if they troubled her. “Let’s get to the point. I know Lumiya’s trying to kill him. Whatever he did or didn’t do, Lumiya thinks he killed her daughter. Now, seeing as we also found evidence that Lumiya has a mole in the GAG, that concerns me somewhat. A lot of somewhat. If anything happened to my boy from inside the GAG, I’d take it pretty badly, I think.”

  Ah. Has she worked it out? Has Mara actually seen what’s coming? Jacen felt a moment of sinking dismay as he wondered if this last mystery about his path was transparent to everyone. She was Palpatine’s Hand. If anyone on the Jedi Council can see it, she will.

  Jacen managed to project genuine concern. His link was still open: Lumiya could hear all this. “I’ve investigated that, and I can assure you I found nothing to support it.”

  “Is Ben around? I don’t see much of him these days.”

  Ben was out on patrol, on routine weapons searches. Mara didn’t need to know that. “He’s doing some research for me.”

  “Okay,” Mara said. “Just asking you to bear in mind that it’s not the Confederation that’s most likely to threaten his life, and even if you don’t think Lumiya has an insider in your ranks, then I’m assuming she has until I’m convinced otherwise.” She stood up slowly, and Jacen was on the edge of believing that she could see what was happening. “Just ask yourself which member of the GAG would ally with Lumiya. I’m not sure you’d see it, being so close to it.”

  Jacen expected to hear some sigh or other reaction from Lumiya, but either she was more concerned with the passage of the amendment or she couldn’t hear after all.

  “I’ll certainly ask that question, Aunt Mara,” he said. “Just bear in mind that Ben’s learning to take care of himself.”

  “And are you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, if nobody else is going to say it to your face, I will. What’s happening to you, Jacen? Why did you run out on your parents like that? Okay, there’s a warrant out on them, but—”

  Jacen wondered why it had taken so long for anyone to confront him. He’d expected Jaina to be the first, given her perpetual sulk with him, but Mara probably felt her defense of him had now made her look stupid.

  “My fault,” he said. “I assumed they were okay and could get to safety, so I decided to get to where I could make a difference to the battle—my ship.”

  “Right,” said Mara. “Just a lapse in judgment.”

  “I’m human.”

  “We all have times when our judgment lets us down. I certainly do.” Mara gave him an unconvincing smile, turning for the doors. “Thanks for your time.”

  She knows.

  She knows because it’s inevitable, and that proves it has to be Ben.

  It wasn’t his parents, or Tenel Ka, or Allana. It was Ben. He wondered how long he could go on facing the boy, knowing that. How would it happen? Would he have to kill him in cold blood? Or would they end up in some violent confrontation, where death was so much easier to deal out?

  Lumiya’s voice was a breath in his ear. If anyone overheard her, she sounded like any bureaucrat having a discreet comlink conversation, not a Sith planning the greatest coup of all time. “I think my former colleague will be looking for me now, with maximum disapproval.”

  Jacen closed the doors with his remote control. “It was you who engineered the attack on Ben on Ziost, wasn’t it?”

  “He’ll never be your successor. He hasn’t got what it takes to be your apprentice. It’s my duty to retire the unsuitable.”

  “Stay away from him from now on. You’ve gone too far, and I think Mara suspects what’s happening.”

  “My former colleague can’t touch you if—wait, they’re taking your amendment out of sequence. Someone has asked to speak on it.”

  “Who?”

  “Someone in the public gallery—they’ve invoked the right to address the council, and they’ve identified themselves as Citizen Watch.”

  It was interesting to note how fast things could come unraveled. The civil rights lobby was largely drowned out by events, but he still didn’t want them to point out what nobody seemed to have spotted hidden in his amendment. “You know what you have to do.”

  “Indeed.” Lumiya went very quiet, her voice almost inaudible. “I think … that they’re going to decide … that they wish to ask if this is going to be retroactive legislation … yes, they have. How vigilant.”

  If she thought she’d redeemed herself in his eyes, she was wrong. She was becoming a risk. But that was always the Sith way; always this struggle between two.

  He turned the audio back on while the amendment was discussed. HM-3 was right. Senators chewed over the sums involved and satisfied themselves that the budget wouldn’t be exceeded without authorization from the Treasury. Nobody seemed to see that the finely tuned wording by HM-3 would enable Jacen to change other legislation, too.

  He’d think of things that needed changing.

  Once I kill Ben Skywalker, once Mara and Luke find out that it’s me—and that day will have to come—then they’ll hunt me down. I’ll bring down the whole Jedi order on my head.

  Who would be his apprentice then?

  It’ll finish the Jedi.

  He just wanted things to become clear when the time came. He had to trust his destiny. He was too far along the path to stop now.

  “Item three fifty-seven, carried. Next item, variance of regulations regarding the licensing of air taxis …”

  And that was it.

  The amendment had been passed, and when the revised statute came into effect at midnight, Colonel Jacen Solo—and Admiral Cha Niathal, because it applied equally to her—would be able to order whatever the defense forces needed, and get it fast.

  And change any other administrative legislation within existing budgets, without recourse to the Senate.

  They’d handed him an extraordinary power, and one that he’d use to change the way the galaxy was governed. He’d use it to take down Chief of State Omas: he wasn’t sure of the details yet, but he could do it, and soon. The Galactic Alliance would fall, not with a clash of lightsaber blades, or ion cannons fired, or troops surrounding the Senate, but with a sheet of flimsi and a nod of heads.

  “Well done,” he said softly. “Nicely influenced.”

  “Not me,” Lumiya said. He could hear the smile in her voice. “They reached the decision themselves, without any help from me. I just redirected a little opposition from the gallery.”

  The irony was too delicious sometimes. Jacen didn’t know whether
to be satisfied at the outcome, or angry that Senators were so stupid that they let him get away with this.

  They deserved to be ruled by the Sith.

  They needed to be.

  chapter six

  Reports are coming in of a major battle between Sikan forces and invading Chekut troops on the Sika homeworld. The Sikan administration has called for Galactic Alliance forces to intervene in what it calls “an act of opportunist aggression,” and share prices have tumbled over fears that the invasion will draw more planets in the Expansion Region into the conflict.

  —HNE newsflash

  GALACTIC ALLIANCE WARSHIP BOUNTY, ON STATION WITH ALLIANCE FRIGATE DARING, BOTHAN SECTOR

  It was a tidy-looking vessel, she had to admit that.

  The new Bothan frigate wasn’t even in their database. Admiral Niathal watched it on Bounty’s bridge screen, curving out of Bothawui orbit trailed by five small unarmed tenders. The profile and signature were immediately logged in the ship’s recognition systems.

  “Looks like the Bothans have been shopping after all,” she said. “At least the intel was right on that.”

  “Seems they’re still doing work-ups, too,” said Captain Piris. The warship was being assisted by the tenders, or maybe it was simply feigning helplessness: Niathal never took Bothans at face value. “Let’s see what specs we can collate on them before we scratch the paintwork. I hope they kept their receipts …”

  “KDY construction, do you think?”

  “Tallaan,” Piris said. “We’d know if Kuat was building them.”

  “Well, they’re not going to level Coruscant with those, but they certainly will spread us thin if they’ve got as many as Intelligence estimates.”

  Admiral Niathal shared a number of military philosophies with Jacen Solo, and being seen on the front line was one of them. She also liked to see things for herself, especially if Galactic Alliance Intelligence was involved. The current overstretch gave her cause to wonder what Cal Omas was playing at—an anxiety that might have been visible to the bridge crew as she paced up and down, glancing over shoulders to check screens and readouts.