[Legacy Of The Force] - 02(48)

For a moment he thought it was emanating from Jacen, and then he realized it was purely coincidence. The revelation hit him like a body blow. He understood his Force dream perfectly now.

I know who the hooded man is. I know now, and it’s not a man at all.

Luke sensed the barely perceptible trace in the Force of a woman who had once loved him, the Dark Jedi called Shira Brie who had degenerated into Lumiya, a Sith who was more cyborg than human. A woman who hated him, too, but whom he thought had vanished forever.

She was back.

She’s here. I know she’s here.

Lumiya … is here.

Luke tasted the presence of a dangerous, bitter enemy, and knew he had to find her before she harmed him and his family. It was just like her to take advantage of the unrest in the galaxy to cover her movements.

Jacen stared into Luke’s face. “What’s wrong, Uncle?”

Shall I warn Jacen that Lumiya has come back? Will he listen to me?

“It’s nothing,” said Luke. “Just unhappy memories.”





Chapter Eight


Corellian militants have claimed responsibility for contaminating water supplies to parts of Galactic City with Fex-M3. The attack, which left four hundred fifty-six dead and more than five thousand with nerve damage, sparked yesterday’s riots outside the Corellian embassy. CSF has doubled its police presence in Galactic City in a bid to prevent escalation of unrest. Galactic City authorities have declared a full terror alert and are asking the public to remain vigilant, but Admiral Cha Niathal has called for tough action to crack down on potential terrorists.

-HNE morning bulletin

OFFICES OF CHIEF OF STATE OMAS, SENATE BUILDING, CORUSCANT.

The HNE holocam hovered patiently as Chief Omas gave an earnest interview about the safety of Galactic City’s water supply. Jacen stood back and watched from the sofa in the corner of the vast office.

Omas had a Naboo crystal jug on his desk and made a point-with subtle ease-of pouring a glass and sipping it occasionally while talking. There was nothing like a politician’s personal display of confidence in the potability of Coruscant water. He even offered a glass to the reporter, whose expression told Jacen that he knew he was being subjected to a little spin. The man drank anyway. He and Omas looked as if they were playing a child’s game of dare.

“Extra security measures are now in place at all water company stations,” said Omas, cradling his glass. Jacen had learned-fast-that meshing your hands on the desk gave the most reassuring image, so the trick with the glass of water would be far from invisible to HNE viewers. “I’m confident there won’t be a repeat of the sabotage earlier this week.”

“Do you believe we’re facing a genuine terrorist threat, or is this a random act?” said the reporter.

“It’s a genuine threat, and it appears to be escalating.” Omas didn’t hesitate. “Even if we’re not dealing with an identifiable formal terrorist organization.”

“If you’ve identified that level of threat, then, do you feel you’re doing enough to protect Coruscant citizens?”

This time Omas did pause for a breath. Jacen watched him calculate visibly, and he knew the politician was seizing an opportunity. “I can assure you that our security services are taking every possible action.”

“But you’ve been criticized by some politicians for not going far enough.”

“We’ve gone as far as the current law permits.”

“Some of your colleagues are calling for the internment of resident Corellians.”

“That’s a very big step. We’re not at war.”

“By the time we are, won’t it be too late?”

Omas managed a regretful smile. “Let’s not be hasty.”

Internment. That’s my father you’re talking about. Jacen caught himself bristling at the suggestion, and then felt guilty for considering his own family before those who were being caught in the crossfire of something that was a war in all but name. Someone has to get a grip on this situation, and it’s me.

His eye was caught by movement in the outer lobby, visible through a transparisteel panel. The outline was broken by the etched designs, but he recognized Senator G’Sil, chair of the Security and Intelligence Council. As soon as the HNE reporter had finished the interview and left, G’Sil slipped into Omas’s office.

“It’s not my job on the line,” he said, pulling up a chair. “But I think our friend from the media had a point. Sorry. Just a little benign eavesdropping.”

Jacen knew why he had been summoned; he just wanted to see how they would broach the subject with him. Playing political games made him worry that personal ambition was driving him, but he was dealing with people whose stock-in-trade was maneuvering, so if he wanted their backing he had to maneuver, too. A Jedi was nothing if not pragmatic.