Scramble

"Are you all right, sir?"

"Down with Pomo'ador!"

Run. Wall of air. Blinding light. Deafening roar.

"Ambassador?" A blue face.

"Down with Pomo'ador!"

Run. That face. A wall of air. A blinding light. A deafening roar.

"The Ambassador is hurt." Shawnkyr hovered above him. "Get a medic over here. Now!"

"Down with Pomo'ador!"

Run. That face. A wall of air. Jaina? A blinding light. A deafening roar.

Jag closed his eyes, and tried to remember. He had charged forward to try to save the Magistrate. He had seen her there, in the crowd. Hadn't he?

He lurched, trying to sit up. "Jaina?"

A firm hand eased him back to the ground. "She is not here, Jag'ged."

"The woman…"

"Yes, Ambassador. It appears a woman stepped between the dais and the bomber," Shawnkyr said.

"Jaina?"

"No. A local."

But – No, it couldn't have been Jaina. He knew that. Then why did he feel ripped in two inside? Like he had lost the most important thing in his life during that horrific blast?

"My family…"

"I will send word," Shawnkyr assured him.

"Thank you."

A hollow ache numbed his mind and heart. The words felt lacking somehow.

"Clear skies, Jag'ged." Shawnkyr's words rang true.

He wasn't sure he could keep the emotion from his voice. "Peace and prosperity, my friend."

He had managed, even as their hands trembled upon the forearms within their respective grasps. This was goodbye. To Shawnkyr. To the Chiss. To a way of life.

Releasing his hold, Jag about-faced. He turned his back on those who had been his brothers in arms and walked proudly up the ramp of a pieced-together hunk of Corellian technology. Not just any starship, though – a symbol of the Rebellion, of everything Jag believed he wasn't. At the top, he paused long enough to trigger the ramp controls. He refused, tempting as it was, to look back.

The cockpit was a short march away. He could hear Jaina's voice, a notch higher than usual, echoing from the small area.

"Don't touch that!"

Seated in the co-pilot's chair, Cem continued to tag knobs. "The YT-1300 start-up protocol relies on a standard efflux capacitor cell recharge –"

"This isn't just any YT-1300, flyboy; this is the Millennium Falcon," Jaina countered from the navigation station. She looked up when Jag entered the cockpit. Her eyes flashed, a million unspoken thoughts reflected within, but she clamped them all behind pursed lips.

Moving toward his brother, Jag broke their locked stare. "Let me do that."

"How hard can it be?" Cem persisted on his course of flipping switches and rolling dials. "I've played Falcon Command at least –"

"That stupid vidgame!" Jaina barked. "Of all the bantha-brained excuses…"

Jag ignored the rest. He had anticipated her reaction, having heard Han Solo and daughter express equal disdain for the vidgame that mimicked the prized freighter. Cem had not been prepared, though, and started at the bile in her outburst. Using the situation to his advantage, Jag gave Cem's arm a tug. A moment later the pair's positions were reversed.

"Hey!" Cem protested. "I was doing that."

"Sit down, Cem," Jag growled as Jaina slipped into the pilot's seat beside him. "You want this one?"

She paused in the pre-flight sequence long enough to shake her head. Her expression was hard and focused. Despite the injuries and strain of the day's events, Jag recognized something else.

"What is it?"

"The navcomp's down," she bit out as she strapped in.

"Cem can fix that." Jag initiated the repulsors, then yanked on his own belts.

"I don't think –"

"Trust me, Jaina," Jag said over Cem's protests.

She considered his request for barely a second, then tipped her head. "He can't really make it any worse."

Jag glanced back at Cem, who was already hunched over the navigation computer. "You're welcome," Cem muttered, and Jag felt reassured they had the best man for the job.

By the time he spun back around, the Falcon was already wheeling about its center axis. Out of the corner of his eye, Jag saw a seemingly endless line of Chiss, all standing at attention to bid them farewell – and good luck.

Jaina was right; it couldn't get much worse. If they didn't play this escape just right, this wouldn't just be their farewell – it would be their funeral procession. The Admiral, confident as he was in his plan to perpetrate the Fel family downfall, would have a backup plan. He had gone to great lengths to corner Jag in this costly misstep, and in true Chiss practicality he would be ready for any and all eventualities.

The freighter accelerated for the hangar opening. There was no time for Jag to mourn his losses. "You know there will be a trap waiting?"

"I'd be disappointed if there wasn't," Jaina gritted through her teeth.

"Wouldn't want to let us off easy," Cem added from behind her.

Jag ignored his brother. "What's your plan?"

"What would Qunonyelin be expecting?" Jaina countered.

"A Rebel." The answer came all too easy to Jag.

"Then let's give him – " as the Falcon broke the magbarrier, Jaina gunned the sublight engines "– a Chiss."

Jag scanned the tactical board and found twelve fleet vessels closing upon them in a classic Nuruodo snare. Jaina accelerated toward the closest cruiser. Instantly he realized Jaina's plan.

"What exactly does that mean?" Cem queried.

"Falcon Command, Jonket Mission. How do you win?" Jaina tinkered with the engine controls, maximizing thrust output.

"Drive straight for open space, outrun all but the fastest fighters, double rear shields, jump to hyperspace," Cem answered matter-of-factly.

"Obviously the Admiral has played a time or two." The first volleys of cannon fire buffeted the Falcon, and Jag altered the balance on the forward shields.

"So your plan is to stick around and take on these cruisers?" Cem's question was farthest from unperturbed. "Doesn't sound like any Chiss I know."

Jaina glanced in Jag's direction, taking her gaze away from the enormous ship now looming across the entire cockpit viewport. "Left in your clawcraft in this position, what would you do?"

"Hug the largest bulkcruisers as much as I could." Jag readied his fingers on the shield controls.

"Sounds pretty Chiss to me." Jaina aimed straight for the command bridge.

"That's all well and good," Cem said, "but we're not in a clawcraaaaa–" .

Jag braced against the console, the Falcon's sudden roll to starboard ripping the air from his lungs and making his arms heavy against the pull of their rotation. Despite the strain he managed to even out the shield distribution, but the effort was hardly necessary. With unrivaled skill, Jaina guided the freighter within a few meters of the ship's hull. The gunners were unable to get a lock, and the other Chiss ships ceased fire for fear of hitting the cruiser instead of the Falcon.

"Whoa," Cem murmured when he finally recovered. "Now this I could get used to."

"Hold on tight," Jaina warned as they neared the aft engine section.

Speeding away from the cruiser, they felt the first impacts from the Chiss rear gunners making their mark. Jag eyed the shield readout, shifting power to counter reductions as best he could. A warning alarm sounded, and he checked the tactical display. "Incoming clawcraft."

"How many?" Jaina's brow glistened with perspiration, but otherwise her piloting was as effortless as always.

"An entire squadron."

An eyebrow arched. "You're that important, huh?"

"Only as an example," Cem chimed in.

Jag shot a glare back to his brother. All he got in return was wide-eyed amazement at Jaina's latest maneuver, rolling and flipping along the ventral hull of the next cruiser in their deadly dance.

Cem met his stare. "She's good."

"Jaina is great," Jag countered.

"And you didn't marry her the second you had the chance?"

"Don't you have a navcomp to fix?" Jag snapped.

"Done." Cem flashed a cocky grin.

"Already?" Jaina said, skeptical.

"When it comes to any type of computer, Cem is good –"

"My brother undervalues me, Jaina. Actually, I'm great. Maybe you and I could –"

"Shouldn't you plot a course out of here?" Jag tugged one of the shield adjustment levers and its handle popped off.

"Careful!"
"Done!"

Responding to Jaina's admonition, Jag ignored Cem completely. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize, just be nicer to the old gal. She's got to hold off a squad of your finest until we can make our move." For the first time, Jaina sounded shaky.

"Not much longer. Your plan is working." Jag transferred the tactical data to her heads-up display.

With trained eyes, she quickly studied the fleet movement. The cruisers were separating, lengthening the time the Falcon would be vulnerable. Jaina's expression was flat and hard; her mind was making sharp mental judgments at a rapid fire pace. Sweat poured off her brow now, and her knuckles showed white. Cranking the pilot's yoke, she spun the freighter around itself and dove over the starboard side of the Chiss cruiser. Open space beckoned them into its dark grasp.

Jag glanced from the tactical display to the viewport, then back to Jaina. "Do you think –"

"We can make it." Her voice trembled.

"Jaina –" Proximity alarms blared over the rest of his words.

He gauged the squadron of clawcraft swooping toward them. Whether they escaped the fleet or not, there was no doubt they would have to engage the fighters. "I'll take the quad cannons."

"No. Cem –" Jaina coughed, hard. She flinched, then continued, "Cem can do it. Can't you?"

Cem hesitated. "I don't –"

"Just like Falcon Command," Jaina interrupted. "Aim and shoot."

"Oh-kay." Cem looked to Jag, who gave him a nod of encouragement.

No sooner had Cem left the cockpit than Jaina turned to Jag. "Time to give them the Rebel," she said, forcing a smile. "Randomize the shield generators; they'll hold. Punch everything else to the sublight drives."

"Jaina?" He couldn't figure out why she was telling him all this. Alarms were blaring. They were blazing toward open space on a straight trajectory. The Falcon was bouncing between hits, closer and quicker every second. And Jaina was acting like he needed basic flight instruction.

She refused to look at him. Instead she concentrated on tweaking the engine outputs. That was how he noticed the tremors in her hands. "I'm sorry, Jag. For everything."

She coughed several more times, and he blinked in disbelief at the drops of blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. This couldn't be…

Even as the first pair of clawcraft barreled past, cannons blazing, every fiber of Jaina's tiny frame was focused on holding the freighter on its course. "I'm not going to make it…but I don't want to regret not saying…what I need to say like I did…" She drew in a gurgling breath. "I will al…" A cough, and more blood. "Love…you."

Beyond the viewport a clawcraft erupted in a ball of flame. Jag shielded his eyes despite the autodimming transparisteel. When he lowered his hands, he instinctively grabbed for the co-pilot's yoke as the freighter started to roll. Cem's cheers of excitement reverberated over the intercom, but Jag only felt the hollow ache of loss inside.

Next to him Jaina was slumped over against her restraints, lifeless. She had left Jag to play the Rebel's part.

TKL/dl