[Legacy Of The Force] - 02(14)

“We’ve had an interesting relationship with what we call attachment.” Was she checking out his loyalties? “My duty as a Jedi is to consider trillions of other lives.”

“If we continue to botch actions like the Corellian engagement, then we could be in for a long war.”

“I’ve thought about how successful an attack on their shipyards might be,” Jacen said.

“I doubt the political will could be bent to more than support for a blockade.”

“Ties up a lot of resources.”

“So do assaults on multiple fronts.”

It was one of those conversations that was test and counter-test; but Jacen didn’t blame Niathal for being wary of a Jedi’s political will, given Luke’s indecisive approach.

The taxi headed south from the Senate, through a city of people beginning the day and others returning after a night at work. They were in the heart of the restaurant district that served the Senate, its skylanes lined with smart places to eat and elegant hotels and private clubs where politicians and senior military officers could find rooms and discreet service.

“I prefer my club to having a home here,” said Niathal, as if Jacen looked curious. He was just feeling distracted by something that began nagging at the back of his mind. “Now, perhaps we can give further thought to this blockade, so-“

Jacen jerked his head around, suddenly seized by such a powerful sense of immediate danger that his instinct was to fling himself on Niathal and wrap the taxi tight in a Force shield. The vessel bucked hard as if it had been hit by a tidal wave. There was a second of silence before a deafening whump shook it like a box and they were caught in an instant blizzard of what seemed to be glittering snow. It hammered the hull as Jacen fought to hold the taxi steady, oblivious of the pilot’s efforts.

Shattered transparisteel.

It seemed to go on for minutes. The pilot was shouting. Jacen straightened up, staring into the rapidly blinking eye of a shaken Niathal, and knew that they had caught the tail end of a huge explosion.

“Ohhh … just look at that … ,” said the pilot. He seemed to be holding the taxi stationary now without Jacen’s unseen assistance.

Niathal swallowed hard. “Well, this changes everything.”

Jacen could feel what had happened, but it was still a shocking sight. Ahead of them, the skylanes seemed to be a gaping hole of nothing-as if a whole mass of speeders had fallen out of the sky, which they clearly had-and for a hundred meters the buildings on either side were like jagged, open mouths. Each transparisteel frontage had been blown out. The Force was torn with anger and fear and shock. The unnatural silence was broken by emergency klaxons and echoing shouts. Jacen realized the taxi’s screens had collapsed into the cabin, although still in one piece.

And Jacen felt anger: real physical anger. This was mindless, indiscriminate violence, and the galaxy might destroy itself in a billion more acts like this if order didn’t prevail. He abandoned his Jedi self-control for a moment and dared to savor his own outrage and his pity for the inevitable victims.

“Corellians,” said the pilot. His voice was shaky. He’d reached an instant conclusion that didn’t even allow for the possibility of an accidental explosion. So would many other Coruscanti. Like Niathal, his first thought was that a bomb had been detonated, and that the skirmishing had escalated into something that would harden everyone’s stance.

Terrorism had returned to Coruscant.

Through the gaping rear window, Jacen saw airspeeders backed up behind them. He hardly dared think about what was happening hundreds of meters below, where debris and vessels caught in the blast had fallen. But he thought, and let anger fire him up and give him purpose again.

“Maybe not,” Jacen said. “And maybe in the end it really doesn’t matter who.”

The driver looked at Jacen as if he were insane.

“Driver, take us back to the Senate Building any way you can,” said Niathal. She’d composed herself fast: it probably took a lot to rattle an admiral who had seen action. She was already tapping codes into her comlink and calling aides to get information from the security forces. “Jedi Solo, I need to talk to our Senator.”

The pilot managed to obey in that odd, quiet way that shocked people did, and spun the taxi around to lift into a higher skylane. Jacen assisted with a few well-timed Force pushes to gently part logjammed speeders.

Yes, Corellians.

I really wanted to be wrong about the war.

“This is going to get ugly very fast,” he said.

“Going to take some strong reassuring action, then,” said Niathal.

“What about the damage to my taxi?” said the pilot.