Disclaimer: If you think I have figured out a way to steal the characters of one of the most famous sagas of all time, please go spar with Saba.
If you think I have figured out a way to make money off of a story posted onto a free site available to any jungle tribesman with a laptop and a satellite connection, please go tell Jacen Solo that he is acting foolishly, and doesn't know what he's doing.
Reviews may be submitted here (preferably) or at the site that linked to this. If you don't review this story, I'm going to send Tarfang after you.
It appears that nobody got the little 'inside joke' I put into the last chapter...even the Jag fans. Go back, read it again, and be thinking about all the books that Jagged Fel has appeared in.
Chapter 2: Discovery
It had been necessary, of course. When the trade had first been offered to him, he had almost blindly rejected it. But the moment of hesitation before he drew his lightsaber had proved to be undoing, though not from any weapon of his enemy; the blow had come from within his own heart. Actually considering the possibility had irrevocably set him upon the path, for once he looked at the prize, all reservations fell away. He knew even before The Offer that he could not possess the key; but he had never allowed himself to directly consider how he might obtain that key.
--------------------------------------------
Lieutenant Zair Phenir was not a happy man. The tone of the room did nothing to aid him in recovering his good spirits. Something about a failing interrogation always got to him, somehow.
He was seated in a narrow, rectangular room. The stark white walls, white tiled floor and dull gray ceiling matched the blank, expressionless look on Jagged Fel's face. Though any idiot who watched holovids would know about a false wall that allowed viewing of suspects, he refrained from throwing an exasperated look at the side wall. Raal Ternos, watching through the viewing system, would never notice. She was most likely wondering if releasing coma-gas into the room and then releasing Jagged would earn her a dinner date. First chance I get, I'm starting a bar fight. "Mr. Fel,"
"Jag."
"Jag." He leaned forward, folding his fingers across the bare metal face of the table, attached to the floor by a telescoping mount. "I am going to be honest with you. You haven't been particularly forthcoming. In fact, you've been downright reticent. You've answered nearly every one of my questions, true, but the biggest single sentence I've heard you say 'I was never in the Peace Brigade,' and the clearest sentence was 'My name is Jagged Fel.'" The only response he got was an imperturbable stare, as unreadable as the sand on Tatooine. Is the guy practicing for being a hero in a holovid or something? If my partner is any indication, he's got a big future. "Now, while it's nice to know that, I'm sure that you'll understand that my superiors will not be impressed with my interrogation skills if that is all the information I can offer them."
Glory be to the Drallian sun, he got a raised eyebrow. Any minute now, Fel the Fearless was going to crack and start sobbing out his life story. He would be putty in his hands, moldable and pliable. Yeah, right. More likely, any moment now, Fel would knock Zair out with his forehead, escape his bonds with the stylus in Zair's pocket, slice the security door with Zair's ID badge, and step out into the hall. Raal would come running from the surveillance room, and he would deftly disarm and neutralize her with one arm and two fingers. Securely pinned, she would stare up into his too-serious eyes and he would kiss her lightly. Released, she would merely stare pensively after him as he stepped merrily out of the station and drove off in Zair Phenir's personal vehicle.
"Now that we've gotten the preliminaries out of the way, I'd like to move forward to this so we can finish up with this mess. The bartender, Karlis Ikondres, has filed a report of the incident with our station." Punching at the screen controls embedded in his side of the table, he called up the appropriate record. A wave of his stylus sent it across the table towards his prisoner. "If you would please examine this report and point out anything you believe to be in error, I would appreciate it. Also, I would like you to tell your version of what happened, clearly and with detail. Any personal information – people we should contact, particulars about yourself, past military or security service, any criminal record that might be on record at Coruscant or Ossus, and anything else you feel that you should tell us – would be welcome at this time. Alternatively, you may include it in your comprehensive account of the incident."
Jag Fel looked down at the file in front of him. "Sure."
"As you can see, Ikondres – who, by the way, is recovering nicely – claims that you were stirring up dispute with an anti-Jedi harangue, with the set purpose of causing trouble. When he suggested that you had had too much to drink, and politely asked you to leave, you viciously attacked him, breaking his forearm," – Zair would have loved to learn that particular move, but he wasn't about to ask for a demonstration – "and then turned on his valuable, paying customers, assaulting the nearest and throwing his entire respectable establishment into turmoil"
Fel's lips tightened somewhat at the word 'Jedi.' Noting the response, Phenir continued. "After this, you and a small furred savage – by which he apparently means the Ewok – teamed together and took on the entire barroom, causing much damage to the furnishings, and interrupting the aforementioned respectable, valuable, paying customers in their enjoyment of some quality refreshment." He tapped the table, calling up the next section of the report, and looked back to Jag while he waited. "Final figures for bacta treatments are not yet in, but let me just tell you right now that if you ever move to Thyferra, they'll regard you as a hero."
The next section of the report ceased its scrolling, and he turned to Jag, quoting from memory. "In the midst of the fight, I – Ikondres – attempted to rationally calm the pair of them – that's you – in an effort to minimize the already considerable damage to my property, the taxes on which have been properly paid. Whilst I was engaged in this pursuit, the vicious small furred creature that had allied itself with the accused attempted to disembowel me with a-" He trailed off as a click sounded from behind him, and Fel's gaze moved from his face to just over his left shoulder. Turning, he discovered Raal, who was not supposed to be there. He had left her in the surveillance station, and under normal circumstances, she was not supposed to interrupt her recording unless in case of emergency.
She kept her back to the door, her attention fully focused on Jagged Fel. She wore a peculiar expression, wary and watchful, anticipating a violent and disastrous eruption. Her hand was poised above her holstered weapon, which had been freed in its holster, ready for a quick draw. She kept her line of fire clear, as if Jagged Fel was an unrestrained, deadly criminal instead of a –so far—docile, model prisoner.
"Zair. I need to speak to you outside for a minute."
She had looked half in love with the man last time Zair had seen her. As glad as he was to see that she had come back to her senses, he was still mildly alarmed by the sudden change. "Believe it or not, I happen to be interrogating a suspect in an investigation at the moment, so maybe-"
"Zair!" Her eyes flicked back to Jagged Fel, and suddenly, Zair saw something new in them, something so totally alien to her as to be almost unrecognizable. Fear. "Now."
A cold sweat broke out on his body as he glanced back at his prisoner, who, without moving an iota, had taken on a menacing air. The expression of idle curiosity and confusion that he wore seemed suddenly more like a performance than genuine emotions. The ever-watchful expression in his eyes seemed ten times as sinister as before. The handsome face appeared to be only a mask, cunningly designed to deflect and discourage suspicion, with evil plans swarming behind it like piranha beetles, teeming in a dark and twisted brain.
---------------------
Plastering a fake smile on his face, Zair followed Raal out of the room, casting a wary glance over his shoulder at Fel. As the door closed behind him, she caught his arm and pulled/pushed him into the sound- and blastproof door. As so often happened in unusual and delicate situations, his brain got the better of his common sense, and his tongue forged ahead on its own accord. "If you wanted some quality time alone, you could have just-'
"Shut up. I had to get you out of there. Zair, a communiqué came in a minute ago. Apparently, the name he gave activated some sort of flag on our security system, placed into the Planetary Security's main computer by the Jedi! They have instructions with the flag, saying that if he shows up, anywhere in the galaxy, the Jedi Temple is to be notified at once and he is to be placed in a comfortable cell. We will avoid all contact with him, until we are reached by representatives of the Jedi. There's a class Ewok warning with the flag, and the notation says -" She stopped and swallowed. Apparently, she no longer found Fel the Fabulous appealing. "The notation says that he is a rogue Yuuzhan Vong agent named Nom Anor. He is responsible for the destruction of worlds, Zair! This Nom Anor fellow supposedly is accountable for half the Yuuzhan Vong plots in the war, including most of their anti-Jedi operations. He was almost captured by a Skywalker at the Battle of Coruscant, but he reportedly disappeared. According to the report, he has undergone a process called 'shaping' that has made him physiologically indistinguishable from a human. In this same process, he was implanted with invisible, undetectable weapons that can do almost unimaginable things. His eyeball twitches, and shoom! You're dead! He can trigger these weapons by blinking, sneezing, tapping his arm, shifting his weight, moving his tongue, innocuous trigger words! Anything! Zair," she swallowed, and her voice trembled, "he could have killed you at any time in there!"
Despite the sincerity in her voice, and the clammy feeling at the back of his throat, Zair made a feeble attempt to lighten the mood. "If this is to get me back for that time I told you that Commander Sarik's wife was-"
"This isn't a joke!" She was furious, and apparently serious. This was not good. "We are being told to keep this quiet, and wait until someone arrives to-"
The door at the far end of the hall banged open, and the Sullustan and Ewok from the bar walked in.
"Oh, Sithspit."
----------------------------------------
"What the Garzal?"
Zair was not a happy man. Initially, he had hoped that the story about the death-blinking destroyer of bars was an attempt at payback for the nerf incident. But the Sullustan's arrival proved that that hope was false; not even his fun-loving partner would voluntarily invite that rigid Sullustan into a situation like this.
The only other possibility – other than accepting Raal at her word and believing the incredible story – was that Zair was at this very moment strapped to the interrogation table, hallucinating, and his earlier fantasy about Jagged Fel escaping was, in fact, reality. Neither option was particularly appealing, but he did not have time to consider it. Jae Juun was talking again, repeating his earlier statement.
"We don't need to show you our identification. We can be about our business."
Someone had watched too many Luke Skywalker holovids. This was getting ridiculous.
The Ewok chattered something abusive-sounding, and the Sullustan tried to kick him. "Shut up, Tarfang. I was trying to keep you out of that preposterous bar fight. And if you ever call me Jae Juun the Jumping Jedi again, I swear that I'll feed you to Saba."
Zair interrupted sharply. "Listen, buddy, I don't know who you are. And until I do, you're not seeing the prisoner, no matter who he looked like. And furthermore," he jabbed at the Sullustan with his finger, "if you were a Jedi, you'd be in the room already and I'd be wandering around the room in a daze looking like I'd just been ear-boxed by a Barabel. So stop quoting me that stupid line!"
Juun's eyes bugged out even further than they naturally did. "What? Oh, er...No, of course I'm not a Jedi. Have you ever seen a Sullustan Jedi? We're not exactly built for leaping about and swinging swords. But we can't give you our names, per Section 11 of our operational orders, which clearly indicate that under no circumstances are we to reveal our true identities to civilian personnel. Darth Vader with truth serum couldn't drag it out of me." The Sullustan looked expectant, as if he had just said something amazingly profound, and Zair was supposed to gape in awe and shower him with accolades.
Zair led an interesting life. But he would remember this day for a long time. This entire ridiculous case made him want to howl in laughter. And the Ewok was only helping things out with his constant abuse of the Sullustan, Juun, and his constant antics. Even as the thought crossed his mind, he saw Tarfang puff out his little chest and cast a challenging glare at the cleaning droid, curling his upper lip to reveal his comically small teeth.
"Listen, Juun, there is no way-"
"What? What did you just call me?"
Frowning, he repeated himself. "There is no way-"
Again, Juun interrupted him. "No! No, the part where you said"- his voice had dropped down to a whisper by now - "my name."
"You know, there is nothing special about a name. You're Juun. He's Tarfang. I'm Zair, and she's Raal." Had Juun forgotten that he and Tarfang had been yelling at each other within earshot of half the city?
With a worshipful expression on his face, the diminutive Sullustan shook his hand energetically. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't know. If I'd known you had level Q clearance, I never would have given you a hard time."
Attempting to extract his hand, Zair cast a pleading glance at Raal, who was biting back chuckles.
"How do you know I have this, umm…" he gave his hand a jerk, pulling it free, and stuck it quickly in his pocket, "Level Q clearance?"
"Why, only someone directly authorized by General Cracken, the head of Intelligence himself, could know about our Intelligence identities and our secret meeting with Saba Sebatyne, and the reports of a renegade Force-user causing trouble in this sector, and the secret code phrases you just used! Our security is very tight, and our operatives are trained to maintain secrecy."
Zair's jaw dropped. An awful suspicion entered his mind – no. Raal wasn't this good at composing practical jokes. This guy is for real—
"Ahh, Juun, I think that you might be, ummm…" He paused, searching for a way to tell the Sullustan what had just happened.
"Overheard if we continue speaking here." Raal stepped forward, between Zair and Juun. "I suggest we move this secret meeting to a more secure location. When we get there, why don't you brief us on every detail of this mission? Start from the beginning, and be sure to explain your thoughts on the mission briefing."
------------------------
Raal was seated at the head of the conference table, in a room very similar to the one where Jagged Fel—Nom Anor—now sat. To her right, Tarfang perched on the back of his chair, glaring suspiciously around the room, with the odd belligerent look at the deactivated 7PO in the corner thrown in just because he felt like it. To her left, Zair was pretending to be mysterious and aloof, and trying not to laugh as he so desperately wanted to.
She returned her gaze to Juun, seated directly across from her at the opposite end of the square table. "Juun. Why don't you tell my partner and I everything. Start from the beginning, at the briefing. We would like to compare yours with ours."
"Why?" With that expression of open innocence on that cherubically round face, Jae had better not wander near a toy shop for children.
"You're an Intelligence operative. Surely you know that every gesture, every look, can convey more meaning than most people would recognize." Out of the corner of her eye, she barely glimpsed Zair baring his teeth, raising his right eyebrow, thrusting his chin to the left, sticking his tongue between his teeth, and staring cross-eyed at Juun, who looked at him, gave a startled squeak, and began spilling out the details of his operation.
----------------------------------
According to Juun, he and Tarfang had been Intelligence operatives for several years, since the events of the Killik crisis. Having survived many dangerous and deadly missions, to which they were constantly alluding – at least, that's what Juun identified Tarfang's interjections as – they were currently assigned to assist a Jedi Master named Saba Sebatyne, who was investigating rumors of a dangerous being in this sector, possibly Force-sensitive. Saba, using her Jedi perceptions, claimed that this mysterious figure was subtly influencing political situations galaxy-wide to cause conflict and generally create trouble, aided by a seemingly endless network of minions. Saba thought it might be behind the escalating crisis on Corellia, but Juun dismissed this as nonsense.
Descriptions of this being ranged from Wookiee to Falleen to Killik and back again, and none of them agreed on every point. In some of the more bizarre instances, the agent of evil was said to be a deceased relative or loved one of the informer.
The pair's superior, a General Cracken, had been investigating the possibility of a normal perpetrator in several of these cases; when Saba had brought the matter up before the Jedi Council, word had been sent to Intelligence, and a joint Jedi/Intelligence operation was set up. Raal was nearly positive that this Sebatyne was not right in the head, since Juun had announced with some pride that he had been directly requested by the Jedi Master herself to assist. The Jedi Master, bored with meditations at the Temple, had scheduled a meeting with Juun and Tarfang in the bar that morning, but four minutes after she was supposed to have arrived – Raal made sympathetic noises over the unprofessional actions and utter lack of proper respect for procedures by the tardy Barabel – the man Raal and Zair now knew to be Nom Anor had interrupted.
When they finished their account, Raal was quiet for a long moment, stunned by what she had heard. Then Zair spoke up.
As usual, his voice sent a little shiver down her back. She should have been used to hearing his voice now –they'd been partners for quite a while—but somehow it never failed to get a reaction out of her. Of course, she would never be able to tell him that. He would probably laugh aloud and treat the entire thing as a huge joke.
"So, why did you come to this station? You clearly needed something from us, before you found out we had, er – Level Q clearance."
"Oh! I had forgotten; you see, we recognized the man who started the bar fight. Actually, Tarfang recognized him, but he didn't think it was important enough to mention until after we were finished with the questions your fellow officer had to ask us. Speaking of whom, I must say, that fellow must have never read a procedural manual in his life. If he is any indication of the typical attitude of your staff-"
Zair interrupted, trying not to sound impatient. "What does that have to do with Nom Anor?"
"Who?" Juun looked confused.
"Nom Anor. The guy you recognized, the one that was at the bar. The one who is causing all this trouble."
"You know his true name? I only knew him as Jagged Fel; I'm sorry sir, if I'd known you had a level R clearance, I would have-"
"Shut up. I don't have his name. Well, I do. The guy we arrested? The one back at the bar with you, who caused all this trouble? The one you came here to see? That's Nom Anor. You know, living weapon, kills-with-a-sneeze, big scar on his face?"
For some reason, the Sullustan looked shocked.
-------------------------------------
The black abyss was there, hovering, as it always was…but how long had always been? Oddly enough, when he tried to think back, tried to cast his mind over the past few…years? Months? He could remember little of it, only a vague sense of searching, then wandering. And before that; before that lay the abyss. He could not move past it. He knew intellectually that he had done things past it, that he had lived a life, and could have recited the events of that life; but he could not remember it. No, the only memory that was permitted in his mind, other than the occasional flash of war and loss and pain, was the one that always triggered the blackness.
It was his own fault, really. He had kept his life under strict discipline, never breaking, for so long; only to be undone shortly after he left Chiss space. As soon as he met – that woman, it had deserted him. In everything else, it was his most constant companion; but she had broken it, left it shattered in pieces, and Jagged had never mourned it's loss. In fact, he had welcomed it. Fool.
She had captured his heart, and not known it. He was ready to die for her, ready to do anything for her. In the cold hard vacuum above Borleias, he had risked his life and ship to free her and her squadron from the entrapment the Vong had made for her. He had succeeded in clearing her path, but was left without shields, surrounded by his enemies, and without hope of survival.
She had come back for him. Against all logic, against all reason, against a direct order, she had turned around and come for him. And they had won. She had – what had she done? She had not told him that she loved him; she had not even said she cared for him. The only thing she had said was that 'Everyone is going away. I didn't want you to go away, too." A perfectly common reaction to wartime and death; but he had foolishly interpreted it as a declaration of love.
He should have known better. He should have walked away, should have gone back to Chiss space when he had the chance. She was emotionally spent, and just looking for someone to lean on. He had meant nothing to her. She was too caught up in the unspecific and vague goal of 'being a Jedi' to care about a lowly human. He knew the truth, now. He had bared his heart, had given himself to her, and though she had returned his affections with every sign of the same devotion he had to her, she had left him. When the crisis was over, when the Jedi unified, she had committed herself to them and forgotten him. She had gone after a taller, unscarred man. A Jedi, who could share a part of her life that Jag never could; and one who had abandoned her when she needed him most. He could have dealt with that. Maybe. Throwing himself headlong into his career, burying himself to the exclusion of all else, had worked for a few years. There had been no black pit then, though his life wasn't exactly cheerful. Cem could attest to that. As he had worked to restabilize his life, she had walked back in one day, changed irrevocably from a woman he had loved into a cold-hearted female who betrayed everything that they had fought for during those long months together. She had done her best to bring down the only people who had ever welcomed him, threw aside his honor-word like so much trash, and tried to kill him. She and her latest amusement had almost succeeded. The desperate maneuver that had saved his life could have done the job for her, if not for blind chance. She had flown that day with the help of the Dark Jedi Alema Rar – personally, he wasn't sure there was a difference anymore between Dark Jedi and Jedi. But he hadn't found that out until later. No, he had been shot down by the gunners aboard the Millennium Falcon, a ship he had once saved; and which had turned those guns on his comrades and friends, on his brothers.
The wall around him crackled, and twelve drunken Ewoks appeared on-screen, laughing at him. He almost wished he was back with J –her.