Bloodline (Star Wars)

by Claudia Gray

  Greer pushed up her sleeve, and Joph saw an array of small scars all along her veins. “Sure.”

  Joph backed up to let the doctor do her work. As soon as possible, he reached for the datapad, removing the image of the Ubese bounty hunter and searching for information on hadeira serum. Instantly the answer popped up, and as the light from the screen played across his face, Joph felt the shock hit him as surely as a blow.

  “Well,” Greer said. She lay on the floor looking over at him, paying no attention to Dr. Kalonia’s ministrations. “Now you know.”

  “Greer—you have bloodburn?”

  “Diagnosed three years ago. So you finally found out why I quit racing.”

  Bloodburn was a syndrome that sometimes befell space travelers, particularly those who had begun extraorbital flights young, as Greer had. Nobody knew precisely what caused it, but bloodburn remained rare enough that people didn’t let it stop them from flying. Every space traveler knew it could happen, though: One day your own blood could turn on you and begin the long, slow process of stoking fevers higher and higher until finally your brain was fried, and you were gone.

  Hadeira serum treated bloodburn. It didn’t cure it. No cure had ever been found.

  “There, now. It’s not so bad.” Dr. Kalonia spoke more softly now. It occurred to Joph that the doctor had to have been keeping this secret, too, because Greer probably wouldn’t even be allowed to fly the Mirrorbright on official missions if the higher-ups knew. Bloodburn got you kicked out of starfighter duty, for sure. “You need hydration and rest, Ms. Sonnel. Will you at least try to do that much?” When Greer nodded, the doctor glanced over at Joph, then got to her feet. “If I see you out and about tomorrow, young lady, I’ll have to report you.”

  “If you see me,” Greer added.

  This seemed to be a standing joke between them, because Dr. Kalonia smiled slyly. “I’m rather good at not seeing things I’m not supposed to see, aren’t I?” With that she tucked her medkit under one arm and walked off the Mirrorbright.

  Joph couldn’t wrap his mind around it. Greer, who flew and fought like a champion racer when she got the chance—Greer was dying.

  “They say it helps if you avoid physical stress.” Greer stared up at the ceiling. “So I quit racing. Gave up visiting home, even when I missed it so much I hurt, because if I couldn’t live like a warrior of Pamarthe any longer, what was the point? Captain Solo felt so bad when I got the news that he asked Princess Leia if she had work for me here on Hosnian Prime. That’s why she took me on.”

  “Oh.” Joph felt too numbed to come up with any coherent answer.

  Greer continued, “Being her chief of staff and flying the Mirrorbright once in a while—that, I can handle. I could live an almost normal life span if I stick to an office job and a regular schedule. If I eat right and exercise ever so gently. But you might have noticed that things have gotten a little livelier around here lately.”

  “That’s why Princess Leia always wants you to stay behind with the ship.” Puzzle pieces Joph hadn’t even recognized before began to lock together, revealing the whole picture. “That’s why she gives you a chance to back out, every time.”

  “I tell her I know my limits.” Greer’s expression turned rueful. “She believes me. And don’t you tell her anything different.”

  “Greer, come on.” Joph sat on the floor next to her. “This mission is about ten times more dangerous for you than it is for the rest of us.”

  “I can take it. I’ll be staying behind with the ship, remember?”

  And what if you collapse in the middle of everything? What happens then? Joph could think of another dozen objections, but he couldn’t bring himself to argue with Greer while she lay there, still weak. Still dying.

  “You’ll get some sleep, right?” Joph tried to remember everything Dr. Kalonia had said. “And you need, uh, hydration. We’ll just get you to your quarters, let you nap and drink as much water as you can—”

  “I will. I promise. After all, I’ve got to be in shape for my big day tomorrow.”

  Greer slowly sat up. Joph couldn’t look her in the eyes. He braced his arms against his knees and bit his lip.

  But he didn’t fool Greer. “Oh, Joph. Don’t.”

  “I can’t help it.” Crying openly was considered a virtue on Gatalenta—proof of a caring heart. Joph had learned the rest of the galaxy tended to prefer it when people tried to hold it together, and he’d gotten pretty good at that, but he had his limits, too. “It’s just, you know, you’re great. And this shouldn’t be happening. It’s not fair.”

  Her expression crumpled. “You know, thank you for saying that. Nobody’s ever said it before, but it’s not fair. It’s not.”

  Joph wasn’t sure which one of them hugged the other first, but they hung on for so long it didn’t matter.

  Just when he thought he might completely lose his composure, Greer let go, stepped back, and mock-punched his shoulder. “That’s the last time you ever feel sorry for me. Ever.” Her smile wavered, but her voice got stronger with each word. “Got it?”

  Pity would kill Greer faster than any disease or serum toxicity. It was the one pain he could protect her from. “Got it.”

  —

  The next morning, Leia stood in front of the holocam in her apartment. She wore a simple black coverall; there would be time to change into the rest of her ragged disguise after she was aboard the junker, where nobody on Hosnian Prime could see her. Through the windows she saw a night sky only just beginning to be brightened by dawn.

  She took a deep breath and began. “Han, it’s me. By the time you receive this, I’ll have left Hosnian Prime for what the rest of the world thinks is my hiding away to contemplate my disgrace.”

  Leia could be wry about it now. She’d poured her heart out in a more heartfelt message yesterday, one so grief-stricken she had hesitated before sending it even to her husband. But if she couldn’t have Han with her to help her through it, at least she could tell him how she felt. And that meant she could focus on other things this morning.

  “I’m not going on any sabbatical. What the rest of the Senate doesn’t know is that I’m traveling to Sibensko, as part of the ‘project’ you and I already discussed. Sibensko can be a dangerous place, I know, but don’t worry. I’m not going alone, and I know what I’m doing.”

  Over and over, Leia spoke into the void, not knowing when or if the people she loved most would hear her. She knew why it had to be this way, but never before had her separations from Han, Ben, and Luke been more difficult to bear. Only once in her life had she felt so lonely—without her father, or her fellow Rebellion officers, or Mon Mothma, or these three men she loved so dearly to support her. That had been on the Death Star in the wake of Alderaan’s destruction.

  Luke and Han had saved her then. Now she would have to stand alone.

  Leia smiled into the holocam, trying to envision her husband’s face. If the mission to Sibensko went wrong, her next words might be the last Han would ever hear her say. The first time she’d had to ask herself what to do in this situation had been at Cloud City, and she said the same thing now as she had then. “I love you.”

  Then she snapped off the holocam, slung her bag over one shoulder, and walked out of her apartments, into danger.

  How was it that danger felt more like home?

  The junker ship came in low over Sibensko’s southern axis. Stretching out in every direction, as far as the eye could see, was nothing but dark, choppy water.

  “Are we completely certain these are the correct coordinates?” C-3PO had become peeved as soon as they’d dirtied him up, and it amused Leia that his mood had only worsened since then. “Rinnrivin Di and his associates are rather low sorts of people, exactly the type to send us in the wrong direction altogether.”

  “They may be lowlifes,” Leia replied, “but they’re lowlifes who want a job done. This has to be the place. Ready, Greer?”

  Greer wore full Mandalorian armor in gray
and black; the helmet hung on a hook in the back, awaiting her departure from the ship. “Sending the codes now.”

  Joph’s voice sounded high-pitched and metallic within the Ubese bounty hunter’s mask. “So how do you let someone into an underwater city?”

  Leia pulled her ragged cloak more tightly around her. “Let’s hope we’re about to find out.”

  The comm unit on the main console erupted into static, through which a low voice said, “Codes confirmed. Prepare to land.”

  “How are we supposed to land without land?” Joph muttered.

  As he spoke, however, the waters churned. From the depths emerged a broad, circular platform, ringed by red stripes. Greer swiftly brought the ship around, swooping in and landing with such lightness that Leia hardly felt the runners make impact. The moment they touched down, the red stripes at the platform’s circumference glowed brightly and the air around them took on the strange, iridescent sheen of a force field.

  Then the platform sank under the seas again, and the force field kept the water at bay. Within moments they were plunging into depths almost untouched by sunlight above. In the murky ocean, Leia caught glimpses of movement—enormous sea creatures unbothered by the activity on Sibensko, or used to it. To them, Leia supposed, all the smugglers and thieves that came to this place were only a small, irrelevant part of the vast ocean.

  “Here it comes,” Greer said.

  Beneath them floated what first appeared to be a cloud of green light. As the ship got closer, the light took shape, forming itself into a kind of glass labyrinth. Tubes and tunnels connected undersea domes, fuzzy with algae, but still glowing. Leia looked down to see huge mechanized plates opening wide like a blooming flower, surrounding them.

  The platform finished its descent with a small shudder and thud. The mechanized plates rose again, closing into a secure dome, and then the roar of water pumps began. As Leia watched, the water level descended until only a few puddles remained on the floor.

  “Atmospheric levels outside normalizing.” Greer looked up from her console and smiled. “We’re in.”

  Joph could hardly contain himself. “Okay, I know these people are pure scum, but I have to admit—this is incredible.”

  “Criminals can be as ingenious as the rest of us. More, sometimes.” Leia pulled up the hood of her cloak, then pulled a thin veil over her nose and mouth. She thought that would disguise her, though the cloak was shabby enough to ensure few people would give her more than a glance in the first place. “But I have to admit, this setup is a whole lot larger and more sophisticated than I would have expected. The Hutts could’ve financed something like this at their height, but virtually no one else.”

  “It’s been expanded dramatically, from what we know. This is at least four times the size of the outpost it used to be.” Greer went for her helmet. “And we’re supposed to think Rinnrivin Di put this together in only a few years?”

  She was right. This was bigger than criminal money, Leia realized. Even though the Hutts could’ve built something so extravagant, would they have bothered? Jabba himself had been content to build his palace on a world as obscure and dull as Tatooine. Whoever had built this had deep pockets and high ambitions. The only groups who build on this scale, she thought, are governments. Or would-be governments.

  Maybe the Amaxine warriors aren’t as far out on the fringe as I believed.

  “First things first,” she said, half to herself. “Let’s find Rinnrivin Di.” Their satellite data only told them what planet he was on; she wanted to know his location down to the millimeter.

  Joph turned toward her. “I’ve been wondering how we were going to do that.”

  “Easy.” Leia took the tracker out of her cloak pocket and activated it; sure enough, within moments a sensor began to blink. “He’s not far away. A klick, maybe two?”

  “You put a tracker on him?” Joph said. “How did you manage that?”

  “The first time Rinnrivin Di and I met, he gave me a certain holocube that meant a lot to him.” Leia thought again of the small image of her younger self, seemingly vulnerable, actually preparing to commit murder. “I inserted a microscopic tracker into the cube, then returned it to him. It’s one of Rinnrivin Di’s prize possessions. I knew that if he ever got it back, he’d never let it out of his keeping again.”

  “But the tracker only tells us where the holocube is,” Greer pointed out. “Not where Rinnrivin is.”

  Leia nodded. “True. He may be storing it in a ship or in his quarters here. Still, if we don’t find the man himself, we find a place he’s sure to return to. If we can record him here, particularly dealing with anyone we can trace to the Amaxine warriors, then we’ll be able to link his cartel with the paramilitary group even more closely.”

  “What made you so certain he’d never give it up?” Joph asked.

  She allowed herself one moment to relish her memory of Jabba’s desperate gurgling just before he died. “I was sure. Let’s leave it at that.”

  Greer settled the helmet on her head, and when she spoke again, her voice sounded slightly metallic. “The door’s opening. Let’s get out there and hustle like two pilots desperate for their next meal.”

  “You got it.” Joph clapped his gloved hands together.

  “Are we entirely sure this is safe?” C-3PO asked plaintively. Everyone knew better than to pay him any attention.

  —

  Greer led the way, with Joph at her elbow. Although this worked for their cover identities, she suspected he was staying so close in case she collapsed again.

  Part of her wanted to be irritated by his concern. But mostly it touched her. She had told so few people about her condition, precisely because she didn’t want to be treated like some delicate trinket that could shatter at the slightest touch. Captain Solo and Princess Leia had known better than to do that, which meant Joph was the first person to hover around her so protectively. It turned out the hovering was actually kind of sweet.

  At the moment, however, they didn’t need “sweet.” They needed to come across as tough and hardened, ready for anything. She strode ahead of Joph, gaining the lead, just as a man in a black jumpsuit greeted them. His shaggy beard and hair didn’t disguise the sharpness and hostility in his eyes.

  Greer remembered that jumpsuit. It was identical to the ones worn by the Amaxine warriors on Daxam IV.

  “Welcome to Sibensko,” he said with a bow, his elaborate politeness almost mocking. “I’ll need your work codes now.”

  As though exasperated, Greer took out her datapad and sent him the code. Come on, she thought. Come on.

  He nodded in satisfaction. “Good. We’ve been expecting you. My name is Padric; I’ll guide you through pickup and transfer.” Padric’s attention drifted toward the droid and hooded figure behind them. “We hired two. Why have four come?”

  “She’s an indenture we picked up for a few extra credits. The droid keeps her tagged, makes sure she does her master’s bidding. I have her indenture codes if you need to see them.” Greer had found a real set of indenture codes for a woman who almost matched Princess Leia in age and height, but who had recently been freed.

  Sure enough, after another moment, Padric relaxed slightly. “Fine. But she and the droid remain in public areas only. They aren’t to play any part in your work here. Understood?”

  “Understood,” Greer said. “Our passenger’s not asking any questions.” Behind her, apparently feeling he needed to play some role in the drama, Joph nodded. She turned back toward the princess and C-3PO, inclining her head only briefly before she and Joph followed Padric out of the docking station into Sibensko at large.

  If anything, the tunnels were even more impressive from inside. Braced with elaborate arches and struts, they carved enormous spaces out of the water. A crowd nearly as rough as the one on Chrome Citadel mingled about, evidently at ease this far away from any legitimate authorities. Greer even caught a glimpse of a young Hutt slithering disconsolately in the distance.
>
  “We’ll load your shipment as quickly as possible,” Padric said as they walked along, so swiftly that Joph practically had to jog to keep up. “Which will take some time, actually. You know how it is with delicate cargo.”

  “Of course.” Greer didn’t like the sound of this. What did “delicate cargo” refer to? Surely not slaves…

  “Once we’re loaded, you’ll rendezvous with our contacts at the destination point and help transfer the cargo to them. That’s it. Job done.” Padric had an oily smile. “Though if I were you, I’d get offworld in a hell of a hurry.”

  “I usually do,” Greer said as they moved out of the main corridors, through a secure door Padric opened with a transdermal signal key implanted in his wrist. “Doesn’t pay to stick around after a job.”

  “With an attitude like that, you won’t stay broke for long.” Padric said this with genuine approval. “You’re a go-getter. We’ll have need for people like that, once things have changed.”

  Greer turned toward him. “What do you mean?”

  “You’ll see. Everyone will see before long.”

  Padric punched in an elaborate code, and yet another door opened into a small inner sanctum. Greer was grateful for the helmet she wore, which hid the shock on her face at the sight of thermal detonators—thousands of them—all piled high in pallets, ready for transport.

  Her voice remained steady as she said, “I see what you mean about delicate cargo.”

  Smugly, Padric nodded. “Exactly.”

  “We’ll take our time loading.” Greer addressed this to Joph, who stood so still she thought he might be in shock. She turned back to Padric. “So where are these headed?”

  Padric’s smile widened. “Straight to Hosnian Prime.”