“No, I’m sure Mon Cal’s high salinity levels won’t be too good for your electronics,” she said. “But it really shouldn’t be too much of a problem, Cappie. I didn’t bring you here to go swimming.”
Kyp Durron met her when she landed. Her former squadron leader looked tired and drawn, seemingly much older than when she’d last seen him a couple of weeks earlier.
“Nice to see you, Colonel,” he said.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said, tugging off her flight helmet and slipping it under an arm. “There were delays making sure Twin Suns was adequately berthed. Did I miss the meeting?”
“Afraid so,” he said as they walked together from the docking bays. “But that’s okay. I get the feeling that everything’s being decided behind the scenes. Gathering us together was just a formality—a way of reminding us that there’s a bigger picture. You know?”
Jaina nodded absently, only half listening.
“Is Tahiri here?” she asked after a few paces.
Kyp looked at her, his brow wrinkling. “No. Why?”
She shrugged as she continued walking, not meeting his eyes. She didn’t want him to see how deep her concern ran. “It’s probably nothing,” she lied. “She left a message for me for when I docked at Ralroost. She said she wanted to talk to me as soon as I arrived. She sounded …”
Kyp waited for her to continue, but when she didn’t he asked, “What, Jaina? What did she say?”
Jaina struggled to remember just how the girl had sounded. “I don’t know, Kyp,” she said. “It wasn’t so much what she said as the way she said it. I just got the impression that something was wrong.”
“Well, if she is here on Mon Cal,” he said, “she didn’t come to the meeting.”
An upwelling of concern for the girl—no, young woman, Jaina corrected herself; Tahiri was a Jedi Knight now—rushed through her. Tahiri had been close to Anakin. If dealing with his loss had been half as hard for Tahiri as it had been for Jaina, then she could certainly understand the odd note of grief that had been evident in her voice. But why now? Why did Tahiri want to speak to her?
“Jag’s here,” Kyp said, and the feeling those simple words inspired surprised her.
“Really? Where?” She kept her gaze ahead as they continued through the maze of corridors, hopeful that this would be enough to prevent him seeing how her cheeks had flushed at the mention of Jag’s name.
“Right now he’s in a meeting with your parents, actually,” Kyp said. “They’re hatching some sort of scheme.” He stopped abruptly and turned to face her. “There’s talk of winning this thing, Jaina,” he said. “A lot of talk. It’s almost hysterical. Before Ebaq Nine we were all but beaten; now you’d think we already had the Yuuzhan Vong on the run.”
Jaina nodded. She understood perfectly what he was trying to tell her, and why. The politicians had no real idea what it was like on the battlefield. They were insulated by layers of command from the action, from how things really were. For all the losses they’d suffered, she’d always tried to maintain a sense of optimism, but even though they had recently made considerable headway, she knew they still had a long way to go. There were no certainties. There never was with war.
But she could sympathize with the politicians wanting to believe that victory was imminent. This war had been hard on everyone. Years of defeats, inexorable advances by the enemies, losses in every quarter—it had all taken its toll. She could see it in Kyp’s eyes and in the way he seemed to have aged. She could feel it in herself, the grief for Chewbacca and Anakin still strong, her descent into the dark side painfully recent …
“I’ll be careful,” she said, vanquishing the memory with a firm nod. People would be taking sides everywhere in the makeshift capital. She wasn’t going to commit to anything without first learning something of what was going on “behind the scenes,” as Kyp had put it.
Kyp resumed their walk, moving confidently through the warren of tunnels. He had obviously been on Mon Cal long enough to familiarize himself with the city. The deeper into the city they went, the more crowded the corridors became, and the more hurried the activities of the people became. Jaina saw beings of varied species, sexes, and sizes going about all manner of duties. Technicians rubbed shoulders with bureaucrats while armed soldiers bumped into secretaries, and through it all trundled myriad droids. The air rang with industry and purpose, which was more than a little overwhelming for Jaina after the confines of her X-wing and only her R2 unit for conversation.
“I’m sorry,” Kyp said, recognizing her discomfort. “Perhaps we should have taken a tunnel cab. I just thought you would have had enough of being cooped up in small spaces.”
“No, that’s okay,” she said. “I did need to stretch my legs a little.”
It wasn’t just the exercise she was grateful for, though. It also gave her the opportunity to ground herself. Had she stepped off her X-wing and walked straight into a meeting, she would never have gained a feeling for the place. There was a vitality here that she found invigorating. Out of the chaos, some sense of order was returning, even if people couldn’t agree on what to do with it. This was what she was fighting for; the future of her civilization was being decided in these halls as much as it was in the vast battlefields of space.
Finally the corridors widened and the crowds thinned slightly. There was space to walk abreast, and the noise level dropped enough for them to talk about the finer points of squadron command without having to shout to be heard. Kyp seemed to find a measure of comfort in relatively mundane talk of promising new tactics and pilots. Their ships, like the staff that flew them and maintained them, were showing signs of fatigue. Little repairs had to be constantly performed to ensure they didn’t escalate into something more catastrophic: fatigue was insidious, be it metal or mental. The principle was the same, she supposed, at all levels of the resistance.
They eventually came to a door guarded by two Mon Calamari security staff. The guards brought their coral pikes up in a brief salute before guiding them through. Inside, leaning over a wide screen displaying dozens of detailed maps and charts, were Jaina’s parents, Han Solo and Leia Organa Solo. Standing between them was a tall, dark-complexioned woman with her hair pulled back in a tight bun. Jaina recognized her as a former New Republic Intelligence officer. Also there, just as Kyp had said he would be, was Jag Fel. All looked up when they entered, but it was to Jag that Jaina’s attention was drawn.
She was delighted to see his face break out into a smile upon seeing her, even if that smile was just as quickly stifled. She had learned early on in their friendship that he didn’t approve of public displays of affection. When his time came to formally greet her, he would do so with a stiff nod and perhaps a tight handshake—but that was all. It didn’t bother Jaina; just the knowledge that the affection was there at all was enough for her. She would carry that quick smile with her for the rest of the day, until they could find time to be alone later.
“Jaina.” Her mother stepped over to enfold her in a tight, warm hug. Since Anakin’s death, her mother’s embraces had become more frequent and were delivered with more passion than ever before. It was almost as though every time she saw either Jacen or Jaina these days, she was overcome with relief.
Her father’s large hand ran through her hair, stopping at her shoulder to squeeze gently. “Good to see you, kid,” he said with a wry smile.
“You too, Dad.” She reached up and kissed him on the cheek. The prickliness of his chin, the scent of his unkempt hair, and the sight of his lopsided smile—the familiarity of these simple aspects of her father brought with it a sense of comfort she had always felt around him. For all her mother’s efforts, Han Solo still had a slightly disreputable air. Jaina had been told by some that she had inherited a portion of that, while her twin brother had gotten their mother’s thoughtful nature.
“Where’s Jacen?” she asked, taking a step back from both of them.
“Your uncle Luke has him working on something else,”
her mother explained. “He’ll meet you when we’re finished.”
Jaina caught Jag’s eye and was completely thrown for a second when he winked at her. For the second time that day she felt a blush forming, so she turned away, looking for a distraction in the Intelligence operative standing before the luminous star charts.
“Belindi, isn’t it?” Jaina said, searching her memory. She stepped over to the woman and extended a hand.
The woman gave a single, respectful nod. “Belindi Kalenda, that’s right,” she said. “Chief Omas has asked me to coordinate an operation involving your parents—and you, if you’re willing.”
“And that’s where I check out,” Kyp said.
“You’re leaving?” Jaina asked, surprised.
He nodded, shrugging, the flickering lights from the map painting his features with an assortment of colors. “My job was only to escort you here, I’m afraid,” he said with exaggerated disappointment.
Jaina smiled at this. “The great Kyp Durron reduced to being a delivery boy, eh?” she teased. “Who’d have thought? And to think, you once offered to take me on as an apprentice, too! Glad I didn’t take that route.”
“You’re a funny girl, you know that?” he said in return. “For a Solo, that is.” He didn’t give her chance to respond. “But listen, if you feel like catching up later, why not stop by at the Ocean’s Floor café for a drink? Bring young Jag here along, too. He can show you the way.” He offered a mock salute before turning to leave. Then, at the door, he faced her again. “And if you like, I’ll make a few inquiries about Tahiri for you,” he said more seriously.
She smiled her appreciation at him. “Thanks, Kyp,” she said softly.
When he was gone, Belindi Kalenda quickly summarized the mission for Jaina’s benefit. The others stood by patiently, interjecting a few words here and there to help clarify certain aspects of the plan. It sounded simple enough: travel the open hyperlanes fixing communications links and reminding the locals that they were still part of a galactic civilization. Jaina was sure it wouldn’t be so easy in practice, though. The Yuuzhan Vong, by mining the major hyperspace routes, had left some areas isolated for as long as two years. No one knew with any certainty just what was happening inside such regions, but there had been rumors of local despots seizing control while attention was focused elsewhere. It was probably safe to assume that, in some places at least, their welcome wouldn’t really be heartfelt.
She loosened the tabs on her flight uniform and participated in an hour or so of discussion regarding the mission objectives. There would be numerous opportunities to coordinate with local governments and such organizations as the Smugglers’ Alliance along the way, although it was difficult to plan for anything in advance with so little known for certain about most areas.
At one point an orderly brought some refreshments for them: raw pointer fish cuts and lampfish tongue, along with tall glasses of chilled Calamarian water. Although she was hungry, Jaina only picked at the salty comestibles while she listened to her parents debate the best way to structure the mission itself. There was no bitterness or anger to the argument; they simply disagreed over the details and weren’t afraid to say so. In the end, though, it was Leia whose opinion made the most sense, so Han backed down without acrimony. Where once he might have taken offense at the suggestion that the Falcon wouldn’t be enough to ensure the safety and success of the mission, now he just shrugged and let common sense rule.
The mission, Jaina was told, would be comprised of one fighter squadron, the Millennium Falcon, and a recommissioned Lancer-class frigate called Pride of Selonia under the command of a Captain Todra Mayn, recently relegated to less active duties after being injured at Coruscant. Mayn would defer to Leia and Han in all matters regarding the mission, as would the leader of the fighter squadron. There didn’t seem like much else left to decide upon, except, perhaps, for where exactly the mission would proceed first of all. Jaina felt as though there was little she could contribute. Jag, too, was quiet for the better part of the discussion, although she had no doubt that he was paying as close attention to everything that was being said as she was. The three people doing the talking, Belindi Kalenda and Jaina’s parents, didn’t seem to notice that their more youthful audience was remaining silent.
After several minutes spent discussing the relative benefits of Antar 4 and Melida/Daan, Jaina leaned across the screen and broke in. “Is there any particular reason that I’m here?” She kept the frustration from her tone as best she could. “It just seems to me that I have very little part to play in this plan of yours.”
Leia looked at Han, who backed away from the screen with a gesture that implied the answer was obvious. “You’re here because we want you here,” he said.
Jaina had learned to mistrust any nonchalance her father displayed. It usually meant that he was uncomfortable about something.
“Why?” she pressed.
“Because we need a military escort,” her mother explained. “That fighter squadron has to come from somewhere.”
“Why Twin Suns, though? There must be others you could take.”
“That’s true, sweetheart,” her father said. “But—”
“Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me, Dad,” she cut in irritably. “There’s something you aren’t telling me.”
“Listen to what we are telling you,” Leia said, taking a step toward her daughter. “This mission is important, and we want the best pilots accompanying us.”
“But I have work to do here! There are the new pilots to train, new simulators to program. The war isn’t going to stop just because you’re off on a jaunt to reunite the galaxy, Mom. I can’t just dump everything and leave!”
“Your training work will continue during the mission,” her mother said calmly, moving in to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I’m proposing to allow Lowbacca to form his own squadron with the pilots you’ve trained. The gaps left in Twin Suns you can make up from Chiss Squadron. There’s still a lot to learn from each other.”
“Yes, but—”
“What are you afraid of, Jaina?” her father joined in, moving to Leia’s side. “The war’s still going to be there when you get back. That much, at least, I can promise you.”
Feeling set upon, she turned to Jag for support, but he just shrugged helplessly. For a split second she felt a rush of anger at him, too, but she knew that was ridiculous. He would never side against her out of spite; if he was backing her parents now then it was only because he believed they were right.
“Don’t be too hard on your parents,” Belindi Kalenda said, shifting awkwardly on the far side of the flat display. “This was my idea.”
Jaina asked Jag, “I take it you’ll be staying here, then?”
“Actually, no,” he said. “I’ll be going along with you.”
She turned to her parents, then looked back at Jag. “As part of Twin Suns?”
“It’s not the first time, and probably won’t be the last.”
“We like the idea of having two experienced squadron leaders,” her father said, “especially with a mix of Chiss and your pilots in the air. This way we can have one leader groundside with us at all times, while the other remains up in orbit to keep an eye on things.”
Jaina sighed in defeat.
Deep down, she knew it made good tactical sense, but she still didn’t like it. She couldn’t shake the feeling that her parents weren’t telling her the whole truth. Part of her felt as though they were doing this to give her a rest, but weren’t prepared to say so because they knew the reaction they’d receive. And if that was the case, they were right. The idea of being put out to pasture was offensive to her in the extreme.
But whatever their true motives were for wanting her along, the fact was that she was going. The only saving grace in all of this was the fact that Jag was going along also, which meant that they’d at least be able to spend more time together …
Her thoughts were distracted by the buzzing of her comlink. Turn
ing away from the meeting, she pulled it from her uniform belt clip and raised it to her lips. Before she could even say a word, however, the panicked and choked-up voice of Tahiri issued from the small gadget in her hand.
“Jaina?”
Out of the corner of her eye, Jaina saw her mother’s eyes widen in surprise.
“Tahiri, where are you?” Jaina asked, already reaching out into the Force in search of the girl. She was nearby, and for that, at least, Jaina was thankful. “You said you wanted to see me. You said it was urgent.”
“Jaina, I’m so sorry. I was—I—he—”
Jaina was struck by a powerful psychic pain emanating from the girl—a pain so great that it had spilled over into the world around her. She attempted to offer comfort to Tahiri through the Force, extending herself so that she could mentally embrace her and ease her torment. But the emotions were too intense—too raw.
“Tahiri, what’s wrong? What’s happened?”
“It’s Anakin.”
“Anakin? What about Anakin?”
“He—” Again Tahiri’s voice ceased in midsentence. It was almost as though something was stopping her from speaking. Then, all of a sudden, the words burst free from her: “He’s trying to kill me, Jaina. Anakin wants me dead!”
The accompanying sensation of distress broadcast through the Force peaked, then abruptly disappeared. At the same time, the comlink signal ceased.
“Tahiri? Tahiri?” Jaina reattached her comlink to her belt and faced her mother, who was rubbing her forehead in obvious discomfort. “You felt it?” she asked.
Leia nodded in confirmation. “She’s in trouble, Jaina.”
Jaina didn’t need her mother to tell her that. Even those not Force-sensitive could have figured it out just from the sound of Tahiri’s voice.
She turned to Kalenda and said, “We need a trace on her comlink—and fast.”
The Intelligence officer nodded and turned away to speak into her own comlink.
Jaina’s father came up and put a reassuring hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “It’ll be all right, honey.”
Remnant: Force Heretic I Page 4
