Remnant: Force Heretic I (11 page)

“Is Jaina going with you?” she asked, shrugging free of the uncomfortable train of thought.

“Hmm?” Jacen broke from his own reverie. “Oh, no. She has other work to do—with Mom and Dad. Sometimes it seems like we’re spending most of the war apart.” He looked sad. “But if you’re worrying that you won’t be seeing her, don’t. She’ll be in tomorrow, when she’s caught up on her sleep. And speaking of which …”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m keeping you up. You already said that you wanted to get some—”

“No, Tahiri.” He laughed. “Actually, I was meaning you. You said you’ve not been sleeping very well lately.”

She nodded cautiously, not wanting to encourage questions along those lines.

“Okay,” he said. “So relax for a moment and close your eyes.” He edged closer as she did as he asked; at the same time the back of the bed lowered, and he placed his splayed his fingers across her forehead and temples. In the shadow of his hand, she smelled Anakin and bit her lip.

“I just want to try something,” she heard him say.

And that was the last she knew for an endless, timeless moment.

She awoke again to sunlight streaming through the room’s wide and opened viewport, the sound of water crashing against the city walls, and the smell of salt on the air. The transition from night to day was so jarring that, for a moment, she didn’t know where she was. But
with a quick glance around the med room, it all came rushing back.

What had Jacen done to her? She felt rested for the first time in weeks, certainly, but instead of gratitude, she was left with a sense of betrayal. There was a strange feeling behind her eyes, as though someone had been poking around in there while she slept.

Jacen was nowhere to be seen, which was only to be expected. On the bedside table, under a jug of blue milk, she noticed a small piece of flimsiplast. Taking it, she unfolded the note, immediately recognizing the neat, confident handwriting as belonging to Anakin’s older brother.

It read, simply:

You will always be family to us. J.

Family. She sat up and hugged herself as though from a sudden chill. She had been thinking about family just before Jacen had put her to sleep, however he had done it. The reference seemed too pointed to be a coincidence. He must have taken the thought from her mind, and—

Did he see my dreams, too?
she wondered, fearfully.
And if so, did he also see …?

She dispelled the disquieting thought by taking the piece of flimsi and tearing it into tiny pieces. Then, stepping over to the window, she released the pieces to the wind and watched them until they had all disappeared into the rough waters below.

The training mat took the bulk of the impact, but the fall still left Jagged Fel winded. He lay gasping on his back for a moment, then levered himself upright.

“Nice move,” he said, massaging the muscles in his left shoulder. “For a scruffy rebel, anyway.”

He stood, dropping into the classic Chiss “Forbelean Defense” stance. From such a position, virtually all forms
of attack could be deflected. On the opposite side of the mat, Jaina Solo dusted off her loose-fitting training outfit.

“You aristocrats are all the same, aren’t you?” she joked. “Underneath that tough exterior, you’re all as soft as Mon Cal jellyfish.”

“And that coming from the daughter of a
princess!
”

She opened her mouth to reply, but he didn’t give her a chance to say anything. Instead he lunged at her for another attack. Two half paces forward took him within arm’s reach. Ducking to avoid the defensive feint he knew she’d use, he brought one shoulder up to deflect her arm and his body and right leg around to sweep her off her feet. If he surprised her at all, she didn’t let it show. Instead she jumped lightly as his sweeping kick caught her feet. Seemingly effortlessly, she used the momentum of his blow to spin her body around its center of mass, landing, in apparent defiance of gravity, on one hand, upside down. It lasted only a split second, but it was all she needed. Her left leg transferred her angular momentum
back
to him via his chest, sending him flying. Before he had even hit the mat again, she had cart-wheeled back on to her feet and was standing, poised and at the ready, waiting patiently for him to recover.

He sat up, rubbing at his chest. “Sith spawn, Jaina!” His lungs felt like a clawcraft with a leak into vacuum. “That
hurt.
”

“It serves you right,” she said, barely breathing heavily. “My dad always said you should never let someone get away with calling you ‘scruffy.’ ” Seeing that he wasn’t in a hurry to get up and retaliate, she relaxed her posture. “Besides, I thought the Chiss never attacked first.”

“Yeah, well,” he mumbled, propping himself up some more. “You insulted my father.”

“I
also
thought they didn’t let their hearts rule their heads during combat.”

“That was for using the Force during an unarmed sparring match—”

“But I hadn’t used it yet,” Jaina quickly pointed out, stepping over to him.

“I could tell you were about to, though.”

“Really? Then you must have the Force, too, my friend.” She smiled down at him and offered a hand to help him up. “Can you tell what I’m thinking now?”

He took the hand and pulled her down onto the mat with him. “Can you tell me what
I’m
thinking?”

I want to be very much more than your
friend,
Jaina Solo
, he thought.

Her smile widened as she entangled her legs in his and leaned in closer to him. “I don’t need the Force to know that.”

They kissed—only briefly, but it was enough so that when they pulled apart again, her breathing had quickened. It pleased Jag to know that while she could kick him halfway across the room and not break a sweat, it took a simple kiss from him to set her heart racing. So he kissed her again, longer this time, enjoying the feel of her lips against his. He didn’t allow any thoughts of honor or propriety to get in the way of the moment, either. On this occasion he was more than happy to let his heart rule his head. Opportunities for the two of them to be alone were rare—
too
rare not to be taken advantage of.

He hadn’t told her yet that this was the main reason why he had fought for their inclusion on her parents’ mission. Yes, he was feeling like a finely spun wire, likely to break if stretched any tighter, but he knew he would keep fighting well beyond reason if the war demanded it. His Chiss training emphasized the need for regular rest in order to perform at one’s best. All of the members of the Chiss Squadron knew that, too. But he could see the fatigue in their eyes, and even he had made mistakes recently.
His second in command had pointed that out. She wasn’t innocent herself, she had admitted, but it was his job to know better, she said. And, of course, she was right.

The diplomatic mission was a godsend, then—a way of making sure everyone got some rest while still performing a valuable duty, and at the same time it gave him a chance to spend more time with Jaina.

Jaina broke for air and sat back with her hands resting on his chest. Jag wondered if she could feel the beating of his heart through his thin training uniform.

“Duty calls,” she said after a moment. “And I’d like to see Tahiri beforehand.” She pulled a regretful face. “Sorry.”

“The only thing you should feel sorry for, Jaina Solo, is cheating.”

She playfully punched his shoulder before standing. “Winning is everything.”

“Do you really believe that?”

Her expression turned serious for a moment. “I think I did, once,” she said. Then she stretched out her hand once more. “Come on.”

He took her proffered hand, this time allowing her to help him to his feet. Halfway up, however, she let go and he fell back with a thump onto the mat.

“You’re far too trusting, Jag,” she said, smiling. With a wink, she headed for the showers.

They briefly reconnected again afterward. Side by side, not touching, they walked toward the infirmary, where she was to see Tahiri before meeting with her parents to go over their plans one more time. He would go on to a meeting with her uncle and aunt. They would need all the information he could give them on the Chiss if they
were seriously planning to go to the Unknown Regions expecting help.

As they walked, Jag rubbed at his breastbone. It was still tender from the last kick she had delivered.

“I’m sorry if I fought you hard today,” she said, noting his discomfort. “I’m just …” She shrugged. “I don’t know, Jag. I guess I’m a little angry about being put out of action.”

“So you’re fighting harder to prove you haven’t lost your edge?” he said. She nodded. “Listen, Jaina, no one has said
that.
”

“No, but it was implied. That’s why they want me on this mission, I’m sure. They want to rest me up.”

“Now you’re just being paranoid,” he said. “But anyway, so what if going on this mission
does
allow you to get in some rest? You’ve earned it, haven’t you? I really don’t see what the problem is, Jaina.”

“I’m surprised you’re taking it so well,” she said as they rounded a corner, almost bumping into a couple of Ho’Din walking the other way. “I expected you to be as annoyed as I am about all this; in fact, I would have thought you’d be cursing and swearing!”

He shrugged. “You don’t tend to learn too many swear words at the Chiss academy.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. The worst insult I learned there was
moactan teel.
”

“And what does that mean?”

“That you’re fair-haired,” he said with some embarrassment. It was an insult that only really worked in Chiss space where everyone had jet-black hair. Here, among so many variations of hair color, it seemed ridiculous. “Sorry,” he added.

She laughed out loud. “Are you apologizing for the
insult to my own hair color, or the lameness of the insult itself?”

He felt himself blush, but didn’t respond to her teasing.

“I tell you, if you want some good insults, you should listen to my father. I learned plenty from him over the years,” she said. “And if you don’t want them directed at you, then I suggest you take care.”

They parted at the infirmary with no obvious display of affection. He was far too conscious of the people around them for that. He kept imagining what others would think if they were seen together: “What’s the outsider doing with the Jedi today?” His upbringing with the Chiss had left him short on social mores when it came to public displays. He didn’t want to be seen to do the wrong thing, and he was pretty sure Jaina wasn’t mistaking his caution for disinterest.

He continued along the winding corridors to the meeting with the Skywalkers. Part of him wished that it was
this
mission he and Jaina were participating in. He would have loved for her to see the Chiss capital again: icebound Csillia, with its blue snowfields and clear skies. Since joining one of the phalanxes—the twenty-eight colonial units that comprised the domestic Chiss military force—at an early age, he had found few opportunities to return to the capital planet, let alone the estate on which his parents, General Baron Soontir Fel and Syal Antilles, had recently settled. The Yuuzhan Vong had been harrying the Unknown Regions as well as the rest of the galaxy. Life, even for a relatively young and untested starfighter pilot, had been hectic.

Untested no longer
, he reminded himself as the door to the small, oval conference room slid open and he entered.

Inside the darkened room, Jag found Jedi Master Luke Skywalker and his wife, Mara, studying numerous maps and charts on a clear, vertical display screen. As he stepped in and the door behind him closed, the Jedi Master straightened, staring at him through an incomplete section of one of the maps. Jag instantly recognized this particular great swathe of the galaxy as the area that the New Republic and the Imperials called the Unknown Regions, and what he called
home.

Luke acknowledged Jag with little more than a nod.

“We know very little about the Chiss,” he said without preamble, stepping around the display screen toward Jag. “I like to think that this is a situation that can be rectified.”

Jag studied the Jedi Master’s face for any sign of duplicity. As always, he saw none. “Grand Admiral Thrawn’s actions paint us in a dubious light,” he said in response. “I understand the reluctance of many people to deal with us.”

“And the reverse is probably true. No doubt you’ve met your fair share of people purporting to represent the New Republic. The Unknown Regions have always been a haven for criminals and outcasts, as well as renegade Imperials.”

Jag inclined his head in acknowledgment of the point. “What is it you wish to know?”

“First of all, I’d like to know if the Chiss have any knowledge of a certain planet in the Unknown Regions.”

“For that you would need to contact the Expansionary Defense Fleet.”

“Is there anyone in particular there that I should be talking to?”

“I can’t give you names.”

Luke raised an eyebrow but didn’t query his answer. “Okay,” he said, placing his hands behind his back and
pacing in front of the display screen. “Then second, I need to talk about closer ties between your people and the Galactic Alliance.”

“The same department would handle those inquiries.”

“But I wouldn’t want them to end there,” he said, stopping his pacing and facing Jag fully. “This isn’t just a matter for the Nuruodo family to consider under the military and foreign affairs portfolio. It’s also a communications and justice issue. The Inrokini and Sabosen families handle those affairs, if my information is correct. It’s also a colonial issue, since the Yuuzhan Vong are affecting everyone, and that’s overseen by the—”

“The Csapla, yes,” Jag said. “Your sources are correct, whoever they are.”

“A contact in any or all of these departments would be helpful, Jag,” Mara said from the other side of the screen, the faint light from the maps flickering across the beautiful woman’s red-gold hair.

“I’m sorry but, again, I cannot give you any names.” He could sense their frustration and made a sincere effort to dispel it. “I do understand the reasons for you asking, and I assure you I am not trying to be obstructive. I simply cannot answer you.”