Bloodline (Star Wars)

by Claudia Gray

  “I envy you that, Huttslayer.” Rinnrivin leaned closer, avidly watching Jabba’s death all over again.

  Leia suspected that was the first wholly honest thing Rinnrivin had said all night.

  In her mind she replayed what he’d said about “powerful friends.” Rinnrivin’s ego wouldn’t allow him to admit he’d been sponsored into his current position, but with those two words, he’d admitted he had help. Now to find who helped him.

  He continued, “Thoughtfulness is the sign of a good ally.”

  “Yes, it is.” Silently she added, and the sign of a terrible enemy.

  —

  Leia had known the Galactic Senate would still be recovering from the terror, anger, and suspicion ignited by the Napkin Bombing. But she hadn’t prepared for the situation to be even worse.

  “I’ve been going through communiqués ever since we entered range of Hosnian Prime, but I can’t get them sorted.” Korrie’s fingers flew over her datapad, but she lacked Greer’s absolute efficiency. “As soon as I get them prioritized, another dozen come in.”

  “I fear Ms. Sella is correct.” C-3PO sounded as close as a droid could come to mournful. “The competing requests are cross-referenced upon so many vectors, why, there’s no telling which is of primary importance.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Leia settled onto one of the long padded benches of the Mirrorbright. “Just start sending some of the higher-priority ones my way. Make sure we have date and time stamp. We’ll figure out the rest as we go.”

  First Tai-Lin’s face appeared, his usual serenity marred by weariness and doubt. “Princess Leia, I realize that you consider the mission to Ryloth of the highest importance, but this is a time when the Populist candidate for First Senator should be visible. The people would be reassured by your presence. They need to know that you are the rock we can rely on in such troubled times. Please, return as soon as you can.”

  He’d sent this within two days of her departure. Well, so much for being the rock of the galaxy. Leia sighed and moved on.

  Next came Varish, who was propped up in what appeared to be a medcenter bed, albeit one that had been decorated with velvet pillows and a silk coverlet. “Leia! Three days in and I’m still regrowing my arm bones. Still! They keep talking about improvements in bacta therapy, but I have to say, I’ll believe that when I see it, and I am most decidedly not seeing it.” Varish sank back onto her sumptuous cushions, revealing only then some of the pain beneath her cheery demeanor. “Do come and visit me as soon as you get back, won’t you? I’m bored to tears.”

  After this came a set of news files from various sources around the galaxy, arranged in one of the auto-sort sequences Leia had pre-programmed. The sequences rotated at random, ensuring that she would always review a broad spectrum of galactic information and opinion.

  At least, that was how it had always worked before. Now there were two sides, two theories, two diametrically opposed opinions, and no middle ground to speak of.

  Coruscant: “Although no concrete links between the bombing and the Populist faction have been firmly established, sources report several clandestine meetings between Populist senators in the weeks leading up to the Napkin Bombing. Experts have noted that the warning was given only to a single Populist—”

  Gatalenta: “Conflict and discord have long divided the Senate, but few issues have been more injurious than this current bombing. Centrist efforts to assign blame to those very Populist senators most endangered by the explosion continue, in defiance of all logic.”

  Arkanis: “How long must we act out the charade of cooperation with people so depraved that they would risk the lives of thousands only to cast themselves as victims?”

  Naboo: “The Centrists refuse to content themselves with arguing for greater militarization. No, they commit acts of violence in order to scare the populace into voting them ultimate power.”

  Leia cut that off. She knew now how polarized the issue had become; beyond that, nothing any of these broadcasts said was likely to be intelligent or useful.

  Bringing up the next message made her smile as Han’s face took shape. “Leia. Looks like you’re not back from Ryloth yet—hope that means your ‘side project’ is going well.” This was their way of referring to her current investigation. Han knew only the basics, both for his safety and for that of the mission. “You probably know we’re headed to the fourth stage of the Sabers. The sublight relay round means I’m out of comm range for a while.”

  Now Han would be as incommunicado as Luke and Ben. Leia felt a pang of loneliness that she hoped didn’t show on her face.

  “Make sure you’re taking care of yourself, all right? It’s gonna be a while before I can be back to take care of you, and I know how good you are at getting into trouble.” Han’s lopsided grin made him look, just for a moment, like the dashing young smuggler she’d first met. “That’s what I like best about you, you know.”

  His message faded away to be replaced by more broadcasts, which Leia rapidly flipped through with increasing irritation, several formal Senate notices of debates called and canceled and called again, and another message from Varish, now back home but in a sling and eager for company. Instead of distraction, Varish now wanted to talk about the iniquity of the Centrists; she seemed sure the two of them could single-handedly find the perpetrator.

  C-3PO piped up. “Your Highness, we have an incoming message from Senator Casterfo. A recorded one, rather than live—”

  Leia’s discouragement melted away in an instant. “Bring it up now.”

  Bluish static shifted into the image of Ransolm’s face. “Princess Leia, our mission has proved successful beyond our wildest hopes. Details should wait until we can meet in person, or at least speak via a secured channel, but I wanted to let you know immediately that our investigation has taken a dramatic leap forward.” He sat on the edge of his seat, energized to the point of exhilaration. Whatever had happened on Daxam IV hadn’t only been useful; Ransolm had enjoyed himself immensely. At least someone was having fun.

  As his image faded, Leia murmured, “We’re going to have plenty to talk about.”

  “Shall I queue more messages for you, Princess Leia?” C-3PO asked. “There are—oh, my—nearly four dozen more.”

  “I’ve heard enough for now.” She got to her feet, aware of every aching muscle in her back. All she wanted was to return to her bunk and sleep most of the way back to Hosnian Prime.

  Yet she realized that Joph and Korrie were sitting in the cockpit silently. Korrie hugged herself; Joph kept fiddling with instruments he must have already set and checked. Their youthful confidence seemed to have been drained from them.

  Leia went to the doorway. “Everything all right in here?”

  “Yes, Your Highness.” Korrie sounded even more expressionless than a primitive droid, and Joph simply nodded.

  “Hey,” Leia said. “Come on. What’s the matter? If something’s bothering you about our findings—about any part of this mission—”

  “It’s not that, ma’am.” Joph had never sounded so grave to her before. “It’s just that listening to those news reports, well, things sound bad.”

  Korrie added, “They were bad before. But now—Princess Leia—do you think the New Republic could collapse?”

  Leia had asked herself if the Senate would break down, whether they would come to a constitutional crisis. She’d wondered whether the Napkin Bombing would provoke some kind of conflict on a smaller scale. But she had not consciously believed total governmental collapse could come to pass—

  —and if it did, war would come along with it. Only now did Leia understand that she’d been calculating that risk all along, moving it closer and closer to the realm of the possible within her own mind.

  Korrie’s fear did not shock Leia as much as the realization that she’d been coming to this conclusion herself.

  “I won’t lie to you.” Leia looked down at Joph and Korrie, recognizing anew how young they were. If she could
not act as a mother to her own son right now, she could at least help these two through the difficult days to come. “If the two factions within the Senate continue tearing each other apart like this, schism is a possibility. But just because it’s possible doesn’t mean it’s probable. We still have time to work things out.”

  “But will we?” Korrie asked in a small voice.

  “I hope so,” Leia said.

  What she truly felt was closer to determination than hope. The devastation of the war, the countless lives lost in combat, the sheer terrible waste of it: They couldn’t let that happen again. Surely the other senators from the rest of the galaxy felt the same way.

  Surely.

  There has to be a way out of this, Leia thought. And it’s up to me to find it.

  Leia watched the force pike duel play out on screen, the image bright in her darkened office. Ransolm stood by her side, and although he was obviously attempting to be modest, she could almost feel self-satisfaction radiating from him.

  But if he could fight like that, Ransolm had every reason for pride.

  As the recording of the duel ended, Leia looked up at him over her shoulder. “I’m glad we’re on the same side.”

  He couldn’t entirely suppress his smile. “Now you know how I felt when I saw you taking down Jabba the Hutt.”

  Even though they’d each arrived on Hosnian Prime late at night, they’d wanted to meet at once. The Senate buildings were closest to the hangar they both used, so her office it was. Despite the urgency, Leia had been famished and eager for something besides the rations aboard the Mirrorbright, so she’d stopped at a take-out Ivarujari place for some boxes of spicy noodles. Ransolm had turned out to be a fan of Ivarujari cuisine as well, so they’d turned her office desk into a sort of picnic table, eating while they worked by the light of a few candledroids. Each of them wore simple traveling clothes in gray or tan, and Ransolm hadn’t bothered wearing his usual sweeping cloak. All of the useless pomposity of the Galactic Senate had been swept away, leaving her and Ransolm to get down to real work.

  “The Amaxine warriors trust you. They even think they’ve recruited you.” Leia picked up her box of noodles. “We have to use that.”

  Ransolm took his seat again. “Agreed. But how, and when? If we move too quickly, they’ll become suspicious.”

  The timing of all this confused Leia nearly as much as it intrigued her. “When you met with the Amaxine warriors, they were confident. Even triumphant. But Rinnrivin Di had traveled to a world where he’s almost entirely separated from his criminal activities, and the Napkin Bombing made him angry. He prides himself on keeping his temper, but this got to him.”

  “You mean you believe the Amaxine warriors and Rinnrivin Di are at odds? We were so sure they were conspirators.”

  “The two aren’t mutually exclusive.” The various bits of intel they’d gathered swirled around in her thoughts like moths. Leia had to pull together the strings of the plot, to weave a cobweb that would catch them all in their proper places. “We know Rinnrivin Di’s cartel is connected to the Amaxine warriors. Either the Amaxine warriors set Rinnrivin up in the first place, or the same entity is funding them both.”

  Ransolm weighed her words, utensil and noodle box in his hands. “The Napkin Bombing affected each in different ways. The Amaxine warriors were emboldened, while Rinnrivin felt threatened. Do you believe the Amaxine warriors themselves were responsible?”

  “The timing is right. And it feels right.” Leia could sense herself being tugged in that direction as surely as a compass needle was pulled by a magnetic pole. Still, she needed to back up her instincts with logic. “But what do the Amaxine warriors have to gain by the bombing? And why go to the trouble of planting a bomb and then warning the victims when they didn’t even claim responsibility? They risk exposure even though they want to stay hidden.”

  “Hidden for now,” Ransolm interjected. “I doubt Hadrassian would have gone to the trouble of luring me to Daxam Four had she not envisioned finding other allies in the Senate for her group, and soon. Still, even if the Amaxine warriors are nearly ready to emerge, I can’t think what they had to gain by the bombing. The only result has been property damage and a great deal of confusion.”

  The strands came together, weaving their cobweb pattern at last. Leia sat up straight. “That’s it. Confusion. That’s what they were after.”

  Ransolm swallowed. “What do you mean?”

  “Our investigation of Rinnrivin Di was official, public. The Amaxine warriors would have been watching closely from the beginning. Rinnrivin tried to bribe me into complacency on Bastatha, and he failed.”

  He was catching on, nodding as he said, “It was no coincidence we first saw Hadrassian on Bastatha. She was there to watch us. Maybe to orchestrate Rinnrivin’s kidnapping attempt.”

  “Exactly. Then you and I addressed the Senate jointly—a Populist and a Centrist. Even though we could hardly get anyone to listen, we were both publicly pushing for a wider investigation. Finally, word gets out that I’m probably going to be the Populist candidate for First Senator, which would give me the authority to get to the bottom of this in no time.” Leia attempted to imagine herself as Arliz Hadrassian, an Imperial loyalist watching a hero of the Rebellion on the brink of taking power. “They needed a distraction. Something that would paralyze the Senate completely. And they sure got one.”

  “It would explain Rinnrivin’s anger as well.” Ransolm leaned forward, one forearm on her desk. “His cartel only thrives if it remains hidden. If the Napkin Bombing is linked to the Amaxine warriors, Rinnrivin will be dragged into the light along with them.”

  She breathed a sigh of both relief and resignation. “I think we’ve hit on the strongest possible suspect. The question is, how do we prove it?”

  Until this point, Ransolm had been completely with her, but now his gaze drifted down to the table, awkward or ashamed. Leia couldn’t understand his reaction until he quietly said, “We also have to know whether the Amaxine warriors have help. The ties to Centrist worlds could be coincidental, but perhaps not. If anyone in my own faction is abetting this kind of violence, we must be the ones to expose them.”

  Leia took care with her next words. “So I try to steer the official investigation into the bombing in the right direction, while you make sure no Centrist senator is involved.”

  She could not show any suspicion of the Centrists herself, not without solid proof. If she did so, Ransolm’s defensiveness might take over. He put integrity over party loyalty—she knew that about him now—but she also knew how easily his pride could be bruised.

  Her words had been well chosen, because Ransolm nodded. “A good plan. In the meanwhile, I take it, we both find out as much as we can about this mysterious planet that’s so important to both the Amaxine warriors and Rinnrivin Di.”

  “Exactly,” Leia said. “Soon we’ll need to find out what’s on Sibensko. What, or who.”

  —

  Several Centrist senators were avid acquirers of Imperial artifacts; Ransolm’s collection was far from the most impressive in the Senate offices. However, a mask of the Emperor’s Royal Guard would be considered a prize by anyone in collecting circles.

  That gave Ransolm an excuse to throw a party.

  A reception, really—Ransolm supposed a gathering of a few dozen or so senators in his own office hardly counted as a party. A few glasses of Corellian brandy passed around while people looked at historical artifacts: That didn’t live up to the wild indulgence of Hosnian Prime’s most famous hosts, such as Varish Vicly. But it served Ransolm’s purpose, bringing a good thirty Centrist senators together, and loosening their tongues.

  “Like new,” said gray-haired Senator Apolin of Kuat, with great satisfaction. He held his second glass of brandy in one hand. “I remember seeing the Royal Guard in person, once, when I visited Coruscant. Imagine how imposing this looked in life.”

  Ransolm murmured the right things while noting, Visited Coruscant during Im
perial rule. Got close enough to Palpatine to see the Royal Guard. His connections to the Empire have to have been stronger than he publicly admits.

  Senator Fatil of Orinda, a blond woman roughly Ransolm’s own age, wasn’t content with admiring the helmet; she had to inspect and praise every single item in his collection. “Even the uniforms suggest power,” she murmured, standing very close to Ransolm as she traced her fingers over a TIE pilot’s black mask. “They command respect. Awe. Submission.”

  She wants to either bring back the Empire or take me to bed, Ransolm thought. Possibly both.

  The brandy continued to flow, and conversation became more candid:

  “You didn’t hear so much complaining in those days. Worlds knew they were responsible for their own messes. Didn’t come whining to the Emperor about every little cyclone or drought.”

  “The Academies on Populist worlds? They’ve become jokes. Poor imitations of what the Academies were like a generation ago, where the best and brightest trained to serve their leader. Now, on Centrist worlds, we’re rebuilding the old programs of study. Reestablishing standards. About time, too.”

  “If the will of the galaxy were truly so anti-Empire, there’s no way so much of the Imperial fleet could have escaped. No way they wouldn’t have been hunted down no matter where they tried to hide. There are still friends of the Empire out there.”

  “To this day, they’ve never adequately explained what happened to the first Death Star. Yes, we all know the big story, Luke Skywalker single starfighter blah blah blah, but honestly, does that sound credible to you? The Empire had the greatest engineers in the galaxy, and the Death Star was their finest achievement. There’s no way it could’ve been vulnerable to that kind of attack. The Emperor had to have been betrayed by someone on the inside.”

  Ransolm heard nothing that pointed directly to the Amaxine warriors, or any general knowledge of a pro-Empire militia. If any of these senators were linked to Hadrassian’s organization, they were too clever to speak of it, even indirectly, even when slightly drunk.