Bloodline (Star Wars)

by Claudia Gray

  Once the Amaxines had caused enough damage and confusion, the First Order itself could finally emerge from hiding to claim its rightful place, with the lost vessels of the Imperial fleet as its true fighting force. But paramilitary leaders turned out not to be as easy to manage as senators. Arliz Hadrassian was no politician; she was a zealot. The fire of certainty blazed in her eyes, incapable of diminishment or doubt. Sometimes Lady Carise thought the woman had arranged the Napkin Bombing less to create a distraction, and more for the sheer pleasure of destruction.

  If Hadrassian’s zealotry came any closer to exposing the Centrist plans for the First Order, the Amaxine warriors would have to be taken down—and Lady Carise knew she’d be dragged down with them.

  “If you’re so uncertain about Casterfo’s loyalties,” Hadrassian suggested, “take steps to ensure he remains on our side. Convince him. Convert him.”

  “How am I supposed to do that when he’s practically become friends with Princess Leia—” Lady Carise stopped herself.

  The Empire’s rule of Riosa was difficult. Wasn’t Casterfo orphaned? Something like that. At any rate, he’s always been very clear about his contempt for Palpatine…and for Vader.

  Hadrassian frowned. “Lady Carise?”

  “I’ll take care of it. For now, stick to our plans.” With a flick of her hand, Lady Carise snapped the holographic connection off. She turned toward the safe, and it seemed to her that she could see through its impregnable surface, through the wooden chest of mementos inside, straight to the music box with a secret that could change the galaxy.

  I cannot betray the royal seal, she thought. Lady Carise still felt that as powerfully as she had ever felt anything else.

  But if it came down to the royal seal versus the rise of the First Order, what would she choose?

  If you wanted to be an ace starfighter pilot, it wasn’t enough to love flying. You had to love everything that went with it, from flight pattern protocol to basic maintenance. Some guys who could fly like zephyrs washed out of the Academies because they couldn’t bring themselves back down to the ground long enough to take care of their ships.

  Joph Seastriker loved his X-wing down to the bolts. He relished the smell of grease and the echo within a hangar that picked up every clank of metal. And he even enjoyed plunging his arms elbow-deep inside his starfighter’s workings, all because it was an indispensible part of flight.

  At the moment, he lay on a mechanic’s creeper beneath the X-wing’s nose, peering inside an open panel to work on a tricky conduit that had been interfering with maneuverability. Amid the snarl of wires, he saw a slightly frayed connection. That wasn’t necessarily the problem, but he’d take care of it and see.

  “You sure you’re doing okay over there, Seastriker?” shouted Ledaney, who was fixing up his own X-wing a few meters away. “Or do we need to fetch you some soda water and a fan?”

  Guffaws echoed from every pilot in the place. Joph had made the mistake of being honest about his reaction to Port in a Storm, which meant he was going to spend the whole day hearing about it from guys who’d never once tried drinking the stuff.

  So he shot back, “I’m good, Ledaney. But what about you? Word has it you’ve been hitting the Corellian stuff pretty hard lately.”

  This time the laughter was louder. Anybody who didn’t know Ledaney would assume Joph was talking about the famed brandy, but every pilot in the squadron knew Ledaney’s new man was from Corellia.

  Zari Bangel, who had been strolling by, paused with hands at her tool belt, just beside Joph’s repair platform. “You sure have gotten to know Senator Organa’s staff pretty well, seeing as how they’re sharing their intoxicants with you. Been flying all over the galaxy these days.”

  Joph shrugged before realizing that gesture meant nothing when you were lying down. “You know how it is, Zari. Senators pull rank, you run errands, and once they get used to you, you’re pretty much along for the ride.”

  “Actually, that’s not how it usually is,” Zari replied. She leaned against the metal side of his platform, arms folded across her chest. “You’ve really been on the go.”

  “Take it up with Senator Organa,” Joph said as casually as he could manage. His heart had begun to thump a little faster. If his fellow pilots became too curious about where he’d been—and why—rumors would start to spread, and the mission to Sibensko would be blown before it had ever begun.

  Ledaney spoke up again. “Whatever it is you’re doing is probably a lot more exciting than performing in the air shows.”

  Joph peered more intently into his machine, hoping to project a sense of intent concentration that would discourage chitchat. “Hmm. Guess it depends on what you’d consider exciting.”

  “Traveling all over the galaxy like that, taking care of business—” Zari’s tone had become wistful. “—it sounds important.”

  “More important than an air show, that’s for sure,” added Ello Asty in his low, sonorous voice.

  They’re not suspicious, Joph realized. They already know something’s up, and they want in.

  His first impulse was to come up with an excuse, any excuse, to get out of the hangar as fast as he could. But if he’d been in their shoes, aware that adventure and purpose were out there waiting, would he have been put off that easily? Hell, no.

  Joph couldn’t start recruiting people for the Sibensko mission. He wasn’t authorized, extra people would endanger the secret, and besides, getting even four people and one droid down into the underwater cities would be a job of work. A dozen extra pilots would only hold them back.

  But if these Amaxine warriors were as dangerous and well funded as Princess Leia and Senator Casterfo seemed to think, the day might come when more pilots would be needed to go up against them. Lots more pilots. And some likely volunteers were standing here in this hangar.

  “Me, I like performing in the air shows.” Joph kept working on the panel, not looking at anyone, but aware his listeners would have detected a shift in his tone. “That’s exciting enough for anyone…right?”

  “Not for me,” Zari said quietly.

  Ledaney added, “Me either.”

  Others spoke up. Joph talked idly with them, all the while silently making a list of names. He’d share that list with Princess Leia soon. Might come in handy, someday. You never knew.

  —

  Under normal circumstances, Ransolm Casterfo would have had to serve another two full terms in the Galactic Senate to be senior enough to conduct troop inspections. However, he could always be invited along by another, higher-ranking senator—which was why he and Leia Organa were walking along the white-tiled corridors of the transport ship Rieekan. Officers lined the way, standing stiffly at attention, their facial expressions ranging from nervous to businesslike to vaguely amused.

  Everything was correct, in accordance with regulations. But in Ransolm’s opinion the scene lacked a certain sort of grandeur. These troops’ uniform jackets and trousers weren’t so far removed from daily wear; their helmets were tethered with a simple leather strap. How could such soldiers inspire awe? How could they defend others when they looked so poorly defended themselves? Proper armor such as the Empire’s would have been so much more appropriate. The white helmet of a stormtrooper must have made a man feel invincible…

  “You know, Ransolm,” Leia said as they walked toward the bridge, “now that I think about it, I’m surprised you didn’t join the military yourself.”

  “I considered it. Instead I served on Riosa’s planetary security force for two years, starting when I turned eighteen.” He smiled as he remembered the thrill of his first starfighter, his first blaster. “In my imagination, I saw myself chasing down smugglers and slavers every day in one brilliant battle after another.”

  Leia clasped her hands behind her back as she gave him a sidelong look. “And in reality?”

  Ransolm sighed. “Reality involved far fewer battles, and many more citations for violating docking procedures.”

/>   Although Leia chuckled, she said, “Come on. Planetary defense forces see some action from time to time.”

  “We did, but not much. The fact is, Riosa’s manufacturing facilities stagnated in disrepair after the Empire wore them down. Our natural resources were depleted and our banks empty. No one came to steal from our world because there was virtually nothing left to steal.” They came to the bend in the corridor that would take them to the bridge, where no soldiers stood and waited. Ransolm found he was relieved; while he felt no shame talking about his world’s ruin, he nonetheless was more comfortable sharing this with Leia alone. “By the time I would have either signed up for a new tour of duty or gone off to enlist in the New Republic armies, I’d decided Riosa needed political and economic help more than it needed soldiers.”

  “So you gave up your dream to do your duty.” Leia spoke softly, as if moved.

  Ransolm looked over at her. “Is that what you did?”

  “No. I was raised knowing I would lead a life of service, first through my royal position and then in the Senate. By the time I turned fifteen, the Rebellion had already begun to take shape, and I knew I wanted to be a part of it.” Her smile was rueful, even sad. “So I never even got around to having a dream besides my duty.”

  Impulsively he asked, “What would it have been? Your dream.”

  He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her at a loss for words before. “I—who knows? The way I saw things back then was so different from the reality I see now.”

  “Just guess. Or ask yourself what you’d do right now, this moment, if duty didn’t stand in your way.”

  Leia’s smile widened, became genuine. “I’d run off to traipse around the galaxy with my husband.”

  Naturally Ransolm knew of the famous Han Solo, and yet somehow he found it difficult to imagine Leia married to such a man, a former smuggler. “You mean you’d join him as a racer?”

  “Maybe.” Mischief glinted in her brown eyes. “Or maybe we’d become professional gamblers. Make our fortune at the sabacc tables.”

  “After the way you broke the bank on Bastatha? I believe it.” They laughed together, and Ransolm was relieved that his question hadn’t turned into a conversation too personal for the occasion.

  Yet he knew that Leia hadn’t minded his asking. Their partnership—despite its rocky start—was one he thought would outlast their investigation into Rinnrivin Di’s cartel and the Amaxine warriors. More than that, Ransolm knew they had truly become friends. He’d learned as a child to keep his emotions inside; although he’d never lacked for company, he’d rarely let anyone get close.

  But leave it to Leia Organa to knock down any wall in her way.

  “We should say our goodbyes to the captain and head back down to the surface,” Leia said. “Then again, we haven’t taken a look at the main engine room yet.”

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were procrastinating.”

  “You wouldn’t be wrong.” When Ransolm frowned at her in surprise, Leia explained, “This afternoon’s session is the point of no return, I guess.”

  “But you must have agreed to be the Populist candidate for First Senator almost as soon as the motion passed. Today’s nomination on the Senate floor is only a formality.”

  Leia squared her shoulders like a fighter walking onto the field of combat. “I did, and you’re right, it is. Like I told you before, though, I’d just as soon this honor went to someone else.”

  “No other Populist could do the job so well,” Ransolm insisted. They stood together in the arch-ceilinged corridor, seemingly alone in the vast ship. “Given that the Centrists still haven’t settled on their candidate, you may wind up winning by fiat.”

  “Don’t remind me.”

  He kept his voice soothing as they resumed their stroll toward the bridge. “Look at it this way. The entire afternoon will be nothing but senators getting up to sing your praises. We’ll hear about every battle, every accomplishment. In other words, this is the fun part. Try to relax and bask in the glory, hmm?”

  With a sigh, Leia said, “You know, I needed to hear that. Thanks.”

  “Pleased to help.”

  Ransolm remained in a contemplative mood as they finished the official inspection and took the Mirrorbright back down to Hosnian Prime. He returned to the Senate complex immediately in order to prepare for the session, while Leia headed to Varish Vicly’s for some sort of pre-celebratory luncheon of Populist politicians. Idly wondering whether Leia would keep the Mirrorbright as her official vessel after her election, Ransolm walked into his office…

  And stopped short.

  “Forgive the intrusion, Senator Casterfo.” Lady Carise Sindian sat in the chair in front of his desk, wearing an elegant pearl-gray dress. “But I heard that you went to inspect the troops this morning, alongside Princess Leia.”

  “What of it?” Ransolm had begun to tire of Lady Carise’s pretensions. “It’s entirely within protocol for me to do so.”

  Lady Carise folded her hands in front of her chest, as if in pity. “You’ve become close to her. Loyal to her.”

  “I remain a committed Centrist, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Even now, Ransolm planned to vote against Leia in the coming election. Unless, of course, the Centrists nominated someone completely abominable…

  “No. That’s not what I’m worried about. What frightens me—upsets me, angers me—is that Princess Leia is lying to you. That she has betrayed you.”

  A flicker of doubt stirred within him, fanned by memories of Leia’s disdainful attitude when they’d first begun to work together. But that was quickly extinguished. “Forgive my bluntness, but I suspect you’re being underhanded. I’m certain you’re being manipulative. And I must ask you to leave.”

  “Not yet,” Lady Carise insisted, almost tenderly. “I can’t leave you like this, unaware of how you’re being used. I struggled over whether or not to tell you this, more than you can ever comprehend, but in the end I knew I had to speak. You see, there’s something about Princess Leia you don’t know. Something she has deliberately kept secret from the Senate—from you and from me—for decades. And this secret proves beyond any doubt that she cannot be trusted.”

  Melodrama rarely moved him. “There’s literally nothing you could say to convince me of that.”

  Lady Carise shook her head. “Only one thing, Senator Casterfo. And now you must hear it.”

  With one hand she gestured toward his desk, and Ransolm realized something had been placed there: a small wooden chest, hand-carved, the sort of thing people used to store sentimental mementos. “What’s that?”

  Rising to stand beside him, Lady Carise said simply, “The truth.”

  —

  “When the first Death Star was built, even before the galaxy at large had learned of this monstrosity, Princess Leia received the station’s plans—the very ones that revealed the weakness leading to its destruction!” Varish’s voice, carried by amplifier droids, rang out through the entire Senate chamber. “As the Star Destroyer Devastator closed in to capture her vessel, it was Princess Leia who had the presence of mind to extract the plans from the Tantive IV’s main computer core and hide them within a droid that could be jettisoned to the nearest planet undetected. Had she not, we would no doubt be living under Imperial tyranny still.”

  Cheers and applause rose up from the Populists; even most of the Centrists clapped politely. Leia sat in her place, her face a perfect mask of serene acceptance, as she listened to this version of her life story. In this one, she always made the right choice the first time. She never felt fear or despair. She rushed on courageously toward victory. Nothing in the speech was inaccurate, but nothing hinted at the long, cold nights on Hoth, the hours she’d wept for Alderaan, or the many times she’d argued with a general or admiral who’d turned out to have the better idea after all. The human side of fighting a war—the human cost—none of that was acknowledged, as if it had never been.

  Let it go, she told hers
elf, trying to follow Ransolm’s advice and enjoy this. Besides, you did figure out that trick with Artoo-Detoo.

  Varish kept going, describing acts of valor and heroism that Leia remembered as moments of pure terror. But she took pride in hearing about Luke and Han’s heroism at the Battle of Yavin, about her own bravery on Vrogas Vas, and about how she, Han, and Chewie had taken down the shield generator on the forest moon of Endor. Yes, Leia had given her entire life to her duty, but at least she’d given it in a good cause. Thanks to her husband, brother, son, and many friends, nobody could say she’d sacrificed all her happiness or love. If she’d managed to create some stability for the galaxy, and if she could continue to do so in this new role, then wasn’t it all worth it?

  Varish tossed her silky mane as she concluded, “And so it is with the greatest confidence and pride that I hereby nominate Senator Leia Organa, hero of the Rebellion, to stand as First Senator of the New Republic!” The Populists cheered wildly, rising to their feet all around the wide amphitheater. Leia rose for only a moment so that they could take in the finery she’d donned for the occasion—the snowy-white gown, the heavy necklace—and nodded to acknowledge the cheers.

  As she took her seat again, the moderator droid flatly went through the next point in the process. “Does any person present know of any fact that would disqualify Senator Organa from higher office?”

  Nobody, including Leia, even bothered to look up until a voice rang out, “I must take the floor.”

  In astonishment, she lifted her chin to see Ransolm Casterfo rising to his feet, his image projected on every screen and holo. Shock made her flush hot and then cold, though Leia recovered herself in an instant. This had to be some kind of stunt—a backhanded way of pretending to object to Leia while actually acknowledging her fitness for the position—surely that was it. But it was so tactless, so showy, so ill advised…

  “The First Senator of the New Republic can only be granted supreme authority if we, the citizens, feel that person deserves our trust.” Ransolm looked terrible. His face had gone pale, and he braced one hand against his console as if otherwise he might fall. Yet his voice did not falter. “To my deepest regret, I have learned that Leia Organa does not deserve that trust.”