Bloodline (Star Wars)

by Claudia Gray

  Until then, Greer had hoped her misgivings from the night before were no more than paranoia. But she had seen true, and Casterfo knew it as well: The Amaxine warriors meant to draw blood. Whose blood did they want? “Did you get the base’s location?”

  “Some obscure planet in the Expansion Region called Sibensko. I’ve never heard of it.”

  “I have,” Greer said. Casterfo looked up from the console at that, his hand paused on the fuel gauge. When he raised an eyebrow, she continued, “Free traders from Pamarthe used to fly through there sometimes. It’s a water world, no landmasses to speak of, but there are large areas where the ocean isn’t very deep. Traders built undersea cities as bases for the kind of commerce you’d rather keep secret.”

  Casterfo drew himself upright, seemingly prim once more. “Criminal activity, you mean.”

  “Not originally. Unless you’re counting any business not monitored by the Empire as ‘criminal.’ I’m pretty sure a few rebel pilots stocked up there from time to time; it was a place where you could be sure of remaining hidden.” Greer racked her memory for any more details, but what little she knew came from old fireside stories. “Since the Empire’s fall, legitimate traffic moved out of Sibensko.”

  “Leaving the scum behind.” Casterfo leaned back in the high, narrow pilot’s chair, clearly deep in thought. “Sibensko sounds like the sort of place where a would-be mobster might encounter a would-be warlord.”

  “Exactly.”

  Casterfo rose from the pilot’s seat, motioning for Greer to reclaim her position. “Princess Leia’s team remains on Ryloth, do they not?”

  “So far as I know,” Greer said. “But we haven’t been able to raise them again, and they haven’t sent us any information about the spy satellites yet. The radiation interference must still be too strong.”

  “Then we’ll wait.” He nodded at her and turned back toward his cabin. Meeting over.

  Greer couldn’t let it go at that. “I saw the duel.”

  Casterfo stopped, his hands on either side of the doorway that led to the rest of the ship. “You did?”

  “I watched it begin via the holocam monitor. Thought about flying in to save you, but then you looked like you knew what you were doing.” Greer realized she was smiling. “And you did. Casterfo, that was one hell of a fight.”

  He looked over his shoulder at her, unexpectedly vulnerable to such simple praise. “Do you think so?”

  “You fight like a man of Pamarthe.” That was the highest praise Greer could give, though probably Casterfo wouldn’t get it. “I’d spar with you if I could.”

  He got it. His grin was more genuine than she’d seen from him before. “I’m honored.”

  —

  First priority: to inform someone in the Senate of what he had learned. Leia deserved to be the first person to hear the truth, but she remained incommunicado on Ryloth.

  Besides, Ransolm reasoned, as he sat down in his narrow courier bunk, another Centrist senator needed to hear about this. To judge by the star charts he’d just pulled up, Sibensko also lay within an area of space with mostly Centrist worlds. When the Populists heard about this, the mass of them would not be as judicious as Leia; they would begin crying conspiracy, and the political situation could disintegrate rapidly. But if he could form a small coalition of Centrist senators who would back these findings, then this could become an opportunity for union rather than dissent.

  But whom should he reach out to? Anyone much more powerful than him might well attempt to claim the investigation himself—unlikely, given Princess Leia’s role, but far from impossible. Anyone much less powerful than him would be of no use. He needed a peer, one he could convince. Preferably one who owed him a favor…

  Lady Carise Sindian. Of course. Ransolm smiled as the idea registered. His speech in support of her motion to elect a First Senator had helped to carry the day, and he felt certain Lady Carise knew that as well as he did himself. Her planet, Arkanis, was wealthy and influential. She had every reason to support and believe him, and the ambition to see this through.

  Resolved, he put through a communication request. Assuming it would be hours at least before a return signal came in, he began readying himself for some much-needed sleep, kicking off his boots and peeling off his socks—and then the light began to flash. When he answered, Lady Carise’s face appeared. She wore an elaborate tiara and a frown. “Senator Casterfo?”

  “Lady Carise! I wouldn’t have dreamed I would reach you on Hosnian Prime so quickly—”

  “I’m not on Hosnian Prime. I’m on Birren, and rather busy at the moment.” She gestured behind her, where the glint of precious metals outlined elaborate grillwork over arched windows. “The third stage of my inauguration is about to begin. The anointing will commence any moment!”

  Ransolm asked himself if he wanted to know, decided he didn’t, and pushed on. “I’ll keep this brief, then. Our investigation into Rinnrivin Di’s cartel has led us to suspect a connection to a paramilitary group known as the Amaxine warriors, one that might represent a real threat.”

  “A paramilitary group? A few bellicose men making themselves feel courageous by shooting at inanimate targets that will never shoot back? Senator Casterfo, do you hear yourself?” She shook her head as though in pity. “I’m sure some people are willing to break the law to buy themselves a beat-up old X-wing or some such. There were always a few who resisted the demilitarization efforts after the war, but never so many that they warranted any concern. To claim this group of toy soldiers forms a threat to the New Republic, an organization of thousands of worlds—you sound ridiculous. Hasn’t anyone else already told you as much?”

  When she put it that way, it sounded worse than ridiculous, but Ransolm trusted his instincts. “You’re the first I’ve spoken to.”

  “Well, Senator Casterfo, I’m truly flattered—and to be quite honest, relieved. I’d hate to see you sabotage your political career before it’s even properly begun. And if you waste any more time on this, you’ll never get anything else done. Need I remind you we have an important election coming up?”

  “No, you needn’t.” He gave the words just enough emphasis to remind her that the election wouldn’t be happening without him.

  But Lady Carise seemed too caught up in whatever ceremony was beginning to take much notice. “Here come the wardens of the sanctum with the anointing oils. I must go. Do try to move on, won’t you? People like that never act. They only talk.” Her gloved hand skimmed across the screen as she cut communication.

  When the screen went dark, Ransolm sighed and flopped down on the thin mattress. Would any other Centrist senator respond more effectively? He had begun to doubt it. Apathy and inaction had infected both sides of the Senate. Only he and Leia seemed to see the potential disaster looming on the horizon.

  The Mirrorbright slipped free of Ryloth’s gravity, and Joph could feel the increased liberty of the wings, the lack of atmospheric friction holding them back. He loved that moment, when a ship knew itself to be in space again.

  And the Mirrorbright was a beauty of a ship. Joph knew he’d probably never get another chance to fly her again—Greer would reclaim this chair the first chance she got—so he wanted to enjoy it while he could.

  “We’re clear of Ryloth, ma’am,” he called back to Princess Leia. “Ready to lay in a course back to Hosnian Prime.”

  The princess said, “Not yet.”

  “Not yet?” C-3PO toddled closer to the cockpit. “But, Your Highness! We’ve promised to attend Senator Vicly’s next gala, and of course your impending campaign will require due preparation—”

  “I said, not yet.” Princess Leia stepped around C-3PO to stand beside Joph, the many lights on the console illuminating her features in faint shades of red and gold. “Run a scan on the satellites you hijacked the other day, Lieutenant. Let’s see if Rinnrivin Di is still on Sibensko. I suspect he stays on the move, these days.”

  Joph tuned in to the satellites’ signal, trying
hard to keep his pride under wraps. Yeah, okay, he should’ve cleared things with her first, but what really mattered was that he’d had a good idea, she knew it was a good idea, and this investigation was finally getting somewhere. “We’re getting something—okayyy, he’s definitely changed locations already—the last signals went out to—wait. That can’t be right.” He frowned. “Harloff Minor?”

  “Surely you must know Harloff Minor!” C-3PO insisted. “Why, it’s very near Coruscant. A center of commerce and culture—”

  “I know Harloff Minor,” Joph said. “It just doesn’t seem like the kind of place where the head of a cartel would hang out.”

  Princess Leia shook her head. “Actually, it makes perfect sense. Rinnrivin Di still hasn’t been charged with any major crimes. Large, heavily traveled worlds like Harloff Minor? The officials there won’t be on the lookout for him. The alerts about my near-abduction on Bastatha won’t even register on their scanners.” She tapped her fingers on the console, deep in thought. “That’s not where Rinnrivin does business. That’s where he goes when he wants to seem respectable. Legitimate.”

  “So as long as he’s there, he’s not doing anything illegal?” Joph said. When the princess nodded, he shrugged. “Guess we have to wait until the satellites tell us something more interesting.”

  “That’s interesting enough.” The princess got to her feet. “Lieutenant Seastriker, lay in a course for Harloff Minor.”

  This mission was even better than he’d dared hope for. It was all Joph could do to keep from grinning.

  “Harloff Minor?” C-3PO protested. “Whatever are we to do there?”

  Princess Leia smiled back at them both as she returned to her cabin. “We’re inviting Rinnrivin Di to dinner.”

  —

  Harloff Minor offered a variety of climates and cities for the discerning traveler, which meant that any number of galactic guides could recommend good restaurants. Leia selected a sophisticated yet informal place in one of the larger equatorial cities, both because of its excellent cuisine and because it offered private tables on small terraces. Any guest would be impressed by the view.

  “Splendid,” Rinnrivin said as he strode onto the terrace that evening, wearing black garments so exquisite Lady Carise Sindian might have asked for the name of his tailor. “Utterly splendid. Your taste is impeccable, Huttslayer.”

  “I’m glad we agree—on this, at least.” Leia rose from her chair to greet him, the breezes tugging at the soft layers of her long green gown.

  Rinnrivin took her offered hand, bent, and kissed it. What Niktos had for lips were rather rubbery, but he was doing the best he could. “On more than this, I hope.”

  “I suppose we’ll see.”

  “Such a relief to know you weren’t harmed in that terrible incident—they’re calling it the Napkin Bombing, I hear. Dreadful.” Oddly, Rinnrivin didn’t only sound sincere. He sounded angry, as if the bombers had insulted him personally. “Such a reckless, childish act. One should never use force when persuasion is adequate.”

  Leia raised an eyebrow. “And what is it you think the bombers wanted to persuade us of?”

  “Their own might,” Rinnrivin said with disgust. “Their determination to seize power by first destroying the Senate. And in the end, was it anything more than a nuisance? The greatest damage was to a mere statue.”

  His attitude toward the bombing and those responsible bore consideration, but Leia needed to steer him toward other matters now. “Let’s change the subject. Don’t you think it would be a shame to waste such a beautiful evening?”

  “You’re right, of course.” He gave her his thin, polite smile, the one that so reminded her of Tarkin. “Such people aren’t worth worrying about.”

  Leia gestured toward their table. “Please, sit down.”

  The restaurant terrace overlooked much of the city, its ornate architecture almost golden in the warm moonlight. A wide river snaked through the scene, capturing that light and reflecting it. Night had fallen, and the illuminated windows of the nearby buildings seemed to hang in the darkness like lanterns.

  “I chose the menu,” Leia said, “though I have nothing to offer you as exquisite as the Toniray wine.”

  Rinnrivin inclined his leathery head. “Should I ever come across another bottle, I promise you, it shall be yours.”

  “No. The one glass was enough. You can’t dwell on the past.” Leia had always known this, had always been aware that she could never, ever look back.

  The server droids presented the meal: tender meats cooked in delicate sauces, salads crisp as cool air, and soups thickened to savory perfection. She had arranged for a few kebabs of Nikto beetles, which she knew to be one of their favorite delicacies, but trusted Rinnrivin wouldn’t insist she try it.

  Other topics interested him more. “To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure, Huttslayer?”

  “There are so many topics we should discuss, Rinnrivin. I hardly know where to begin.” Leia knew the precise fraction of a second she needed to time her pause. “You realize, of course, that I had no idea Senator Casterfo would be arriving that day.”

  “You looked as astonished as I felt.” Rinnrivin’s chuckle didn’t disguise his irritation. “But I know the type. Young. Hungry for glory. Not caring who gets in their way.”

  A few weeks ago, I would’ve agreed with you, Leia thought. Apparently we never age out of making fools of ourselves. “He’s still attached himself to the investigation like a mynock—except mynocks are easier to scrape off. So I thought I should seize the chance to speak to you without, shall we say, senatorial interference.”

  “Very prudent of you.” Rinnrivin nodded.

  “You’ve risen to prominence very quickly. So quickly that some would say you must have had help.”

  She’d decided to spring that one question on him—accurate enough to put him on edge, but still so far removed from what they’d learned to date that Rinnrivin would feel secure. The obvious response would be a protest that he was an enterprising man, cunning and capable, someone who could build his empire as swiftly as he chose.

  Instead, he shrugged fluidly and helped himself to another glass of the Corellian brandy. “What can I say? Many wish to become rich, but few are willing to take the risks necessary to do it. For those of us who do not fear risk, opportunities await. Opportunities given to us by those more timid, who will happily accept less than they might have had, only to keep themselves safe.” He pronounced the last word as though it were an obscenity.

  “So you…reached out to like-minded individuals. Found enough to get started.”

  “It wasn’t so simple as that. It took time, Huttslayer. Time and care. What seems like a quick rise to you was, for me, the culmination of many years of work.”

  His explanation was logical and plausible. He delivered it easily, even with charm. Under certain circumstances, Leia might have wondered if he were telling at least a partial truth. Instead she knew he had rehearsed this many times, beginning long ago—well before she had ever begun her investigation.

  I wonder who helped you rehearse?

  Rinnrivin held his goblet in one leathery hand, as if letting the moonlight sink into the wine. “My work bears benefits for all my partners, Huttslayer, whether old or new. Dare I hope that this invitation hints at a potential new partnership?”

  “I don’t take bribes,” Leia said. The next pause was even more delicate than her last, but she knew how to spin it. “Yet—I question whether the Galactic Senate will continue to survive in its present form. The Napkin Bombing has been profoundly destabilizing. When I left, the Senate had degenerated to chaos.”

  “Oh, we know the Senate is poised at the brink of change.” A Nikto grin was a fearsome thing, fanged and too bright. “A First Senator is to be chosen. A single person with true authority. And rumor has it that you are the most likely victor.”

  “Don’t put too much stock in rumors, Rinnrivin. I haven’t even officially said I would run.”


  “We both know your candidacy is inevitable.”

  “Perhaps, but my victory is not.”

  “Ahhh. Now I see. We all need powerful friends, do we not?” Rinnrivin’s beady eyes glinted. “Maybe more than one kind of influence will be needed to win this election?”

  Leia hadn’t even thought of bluffing about that. But she seized on it as a good excuse, one Rinnrivin would believe in completely because it was the conclusion he’d hatched himself. “We’re getting ahead of ourselves. That’s a discussion for a later day. Tonight is simply a matter of…rebuilding bridges.”

  He nodded in satisfaction. “Excellent. I have one point of curiosity, though. However did you find me here?”

  This question she was ready for. “You’re not the only one with contacts, you know. I knew you to be a man of refined preferences, so I put the word out in a few likely places that I’d love to hear when you were next visiting. To have this happen so quickly, however—well. It proves we have similar tastes in some things, at least.” She held out her hand to gesture toward the view.

  Really, it was spectacular. She’d always meant to bring Han here, but they’d never made it happen. Someday, she promised herself. Someday soon.

  “You gave me a gift when we last met,” she continued. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness, and hope you will understand why I feel the need to return it to you.”

  Leia reached into her pocket and pulled forth the holocube documenting her murder of Jabba the Hutt. She flicked it on, activating the scene for the very last time.

  Rinnrivin cocked his head as if scenting prey. “Surely you cannot give up such a treasure.”

  “As I said before, Rinnrivin, you can’t dwell on the past. At least, I can’t. And I would hate to deprive you of the sight of your worst enemy’s death.” As the translucent images writhed above the cube—Jabba’s tail thrashing, her arms straining—Leia set it in front of Rinnrivin Di. “Besides, I don’t need the hologram. I have the memory.”