Title: Touch and Go
Chapter: Part Three: "Those Magnificent Flying Machines"
Author: bactaqueen
Author's e-mail:
Category: New Jedi Order, EU
Keywords: Jaina Solo, Jag Fel, NJO
Rating: PG
Spoilers: New Jedi Order up to Balance Point
Summary: Space battles, pilot banter, and pre-romance interaction. After Ithor, Rogue Squadron was deployed to the warfront in the company of Spike Squadron. What happened between Jaina Solo and Jag Fel?
Disclaimer: "Star Wars" is copyright George Lucas and Lucasfilm, LTD. Jagged Fel is copyright Michael A. Stackpole. No profit is being made from this writing. It is purely for entertainment. As his own people put it, the sandbox belongs to Mr. Lucas. I'm just playing in it.

Part Three: Those Magnificent Flying Machines

The officer's cafeteria aboard the Ralroost was like any other officer's cafeteria aboard any other New Republic warship. The sometimes garish, always recognizable, cliques of uniforms that denoted the areas of naval service were scattered in clumps throughout the chamber.

Jaina sat alone at a table in one of the far corners of the dining hall, aware of the fact that her orange flightsuit was virtually impossible to ignore, and let her eyes rove about the place one more time. At this hour, most of the officers in the hall were the pilots who'd been involved at Gyndine, here for their first meal of the day, and passing time before their commanders called them for debriefing.

The Chiss, she noticed-and their leader-were conspicuously absent.

She was willing to bet money that Spike Squadron had already had their debriefing, and had moved on to analyzing data compiled from the engagement. That is, if they hadn't already had the new simulations loaded into their private sims and were currently reflying the mission to see where the mission had gone wrong.

She smiled a little, entertaining the idea that the Spikes didn't sleep-didn't need sleep. That they merely plugged in to recharge, and then went back to flying and killing.

"There is no possible way you can be happy about anything at this ungodly hour."

Jaina looked up, into the ebony-skinned face of her wingmate. She didn't have to look far. Xada Rostin was not a tall woman. She was well below the average height for a female human. In fact, Jaina had wondered on more than one occasion if Xada could actually reach the etheric rudders. Not that she'd even dream of voicing that suspicion to the Coruscant native; rumor had it that Xada had received hand-to-hand training from a Nelprin. Xada was also one of the few female pilots who kept her hair in a strict buzz-cut.

"It's thirteen hundred, Xade," Jaina remarked.

Her wingmate groaned, and dropped her tray to the table and her body into the chair. "I don't believe you."

Xada leaned across the table and seized Jaina's wrist, twisting it to read the display on the oversized chrono she'd taken from Han Solo. Jaina considered it a good luck charm. Xada whistled.

"Sithspawn."

Jaina shook her friend off, and shook her head. No one would ever accuse Rogue Twelve of being mature, or indeed, even serious.

"We have a briefing in forty-five minutes," she said, and ate a spoonful of the stew that was the midday meal, hoping Xada would follow suit.
'At least the food's edible.' That was a nice change.

"I think these cooks can only work on adrenaline," Xada muttered, downing another mouthful of lunch. "The meals are always better after someone dies."

No one would ever accuse her of being tactful, either.

Jaina's response was a non-committal noise in Xada's direction.

Relative silence passed between the two young women as they concentrated on their meals. Xada left Jaina alone to her thoughts mostly because, Jaina suspected, Xada had thoughts of her own. Rogue Twelve tended not to fill silence with meaningless prattle, and Jaina appreciated that.

The Rogues had made it out alive, which was a rare thing in full-scale engagements like Gyndine, and Jaina knew they wouldn't be so lucky a second time. As they sat there, eating, preparing for their debriefing, the fleet and the refugees they were escorting were hurtling through hyperspace at just past lightspeed, toward Tynna, hoping to arrive well before the Yuuzhan Vong fleet and lay the ambush meant for Gyndine there. They were going to try again.

And Jaina couldn't shake the gut feeling that they were going to lose again.

A commotion off to Jaina's left stirred her from her disconcerting thoughts, and she turned at the same time Xada did. The six blue-clad Ace pilots at that table were rising from their seats and gathering their mess. A few of them started off toward the exit, while the others made a pit stop at the Rogues' table.

"Good going at Gyndine, Sticks," one of the lieutenants said, smiling. "Heard you got four."

Jaina shrugged. "You guys did the hard work. Requisitions is trying to scrounge up enough paint to put corvette kills on your cockpits."

The sandy-haired lieutenant grinned. "It was a hell of a show."

He left it at that.

Xada stared dubiously after the pilot. "They're desperate," she said, finally.

Jaina shot her a curious look. "What?"

"When the A-wing jockeys start congratulating X-wing jockeys," Xada began, gesturing after the retreating blue forms with her spoon, "you know the isolation's getting to them." The fighterpilot shook her head, and gave Jaina a look that was almost accusing. "Four?" she demanded, her tone to match.

Jaina found herself shrugging again. "It's no big deal. You got three," she pointed out.

Xada rolled her eyes. "It's no big deal that you're averaging more kills per engagement than our commanding officer. You know that the greenie board says you're at the top of our squadron, and we know you're beating those Aces." Xada looked thoughtful for a moment, then added, "Actually, the only person you aren't beating is the infamous Colonel Fel."

"I'm beginning to believe no one can beat Fel," Jaina grumbled, despite herself.

"I don't know. He looks pretty human to me."

"He doesn't sleep," Jaina said, absurdly, and mostly to herself, but Xada heard.

"He what?"

Jaina shook her head. "Never mind. He's just a hard kill," she added, for her friend's benefit.

Xada winced. "Don't I know it? I didn't even have a chance in that last sim. I had this skip in my sights and then next thing I know-BAM!" She clapped her hands to emphasize her point. "Magma missle up the engines."

"Came out of nowhere, didn't he?"

"Didn't even see him on my scopes." Xada took a long moment to study her wingmate. "All right, what is it?"

"Huh?"

"Don't give me that 'huh,'" she said. "You're sympathizing with me. Here's where you tell me, 'Well, Xade, that wouldn't happen if you were a half-decent pilot.'" Xada raised a comically skeptical eyebrow. "The logs say you've been spending an awful lot of time in the sims."

"If your brain was half as big as your mouth, you would, too," Jaina responded, doing her best not to squirm under Xada's scrutiny.

"Yeah, but it seems the colonel's been spending some obviously unneeded time in the sims, too."

Jaina tried not to answer. She wanted her wingmate to come to her own conclusions.

"You've been getting better," Xada remarked, around a mouthful of stew.

Jaina knew she was in trouble when Xade started to sound casual, conversational. "We're all getting better. That's what sims are for."

"Yes, but, the logs claim that you've taken out his shields twice, and disabled his inertial compensator once. I'm wondering why you didn't finish him off while he was bouncing around inside that squint."

Jaina groaned. "Because he has a very high tolerance for pain," she said.

Xada nearly choked on her stew. "You're kidding me. He was pulling fourteen gees and he still killed you?"

Jaina looked down, into the murk of her own cooling meal. She just suddenly wasn't hungry anymore. What had kept her going was sheer, stubborn pride; she knew that. She also she knew she was getting better, and in time, sure, she could be as good as he was. She needed time though, and she'd been the one to set the deadline at a week.

'It was supposed to be in fun,' she thought, 'but now it's serious.' She was getting a tickling sensation at the back of her neck, through the Force, that seemed to say this was more than an attempt to get the eighteen-year-old colonel to act his age.

"You know he's just... lethal, Xade. He comes out of nowhere, he pulls amazing tricks."

"Must be all that Imperial training," Xada remarked, and it occurred to Jaina that her wingmate was patronizing her. "And it probably doesn't help that his dad is Baron Soontir Fel, and his uncle is Wedge Antilles-or did you forget that Baron Fel's the only Rogue to even skim General Antilles's marks?"

"Colonel Darklighter's getting there," Jaina pointed out.

Xada snorted. "Yeah, and so are you. My point is, it's in his blood. If he has blood," she added, as an afterthought.

Jaina had heard the scuttlebutt going around among the New Republic pilots. The rumors regarding Colonel Fel and his Chiss squadron were sometimes funny, sometimes insulting, and always whispered.

"He's got blood," Jaina replied, smiling a little. "Corellian blood."

"Oh?" Xada's interest was piqued.

Jaina realized it was ridiculous fighterpilot pride talking as she opened her mouth to tell her wingmate just why she knew Fel could bleed, and that she had every intention of winning the bet.

"After all," she finished, smirking, "what Corellian could resist a challenge?"

Xada shook her head. "You're going to lose, Sticks. I hope you didn't bet anything serious."

"My ego," Jaina answered with a shrug.

Xada chuckled. "Ah, well, as long as it wasn't anything important."

Jaina looked her friend in the eye. "You really don't think I can win?"

Xada gauged Jaina's face for a long moment, and her own response, before saying, "I think if anyone can do it, you can, Sticks."

Jaina smiled. "Thanks."

"But I don't think anyone can do it."

Rogue Twelve demonstrated Jedi-like reflexes, ducking the spoonful of coagulated stew as Jaina launched it.

"I'm so glad you're a better shot in an X-wing, Sticks."

Jaina waved sheepishly at the gray-uniformed bridge officer who she'd managed to hit. "Sorry. I didn't mean to get you."

"She meant to hit me," Xada supplied cheerfully. "But thanks for covering me."

The officer nodded, faking a smile, and turned back to his company.

Jaina glared at Xade. "Next time, don't move."

"Next time, aim. The next errant shot might not find someone so forgiving."

"You could take him," Jaina said flippantly. "I have faith in your skills. You know, like a wingmate should."

"You talk too much, do you know that?"

Jaina grinned. "I do, I really do."

"Besides, I do have faith in your skills. I think you can take on any Vong pilot and win. I'd put money on you beating any pilot in this cafeteria right now, me included. In fact, I know you could outfly anyone in here." Xada waved a hand to indicate the dining hall. "But do you see Colonel Fel in here?"

"That's what the bet's supposed to change, or did you miss that part?"

"You've been spending too much time with me, Sticks. You're getting insolent."

"I thought I outranked you..." Jaina mused. Xada groaned.

"All right, all right. I believe you can win. I believe Colonel Jagged Fel doesn't stand a chance against the laser lock of Lieutenant Jaina Solo. Are you happy now?"

"That's all I wanted, Xade," Jaina beamed. "Was that so hard?"

Xada Rostin rolled her eyes. "Pilots," she groaned. "So, what are you going to do now?"

"Well." Jaina stood up, and hefted her tray, careful to keep the sloshing stew within the confines of its bowl. "First I thought I'd report for the squadron's debriefing. Then I thought I'd round up the colonel and make him pay for what he said this morning. I feel lucky."

"Jedi don't need luck, they have the Force," Xada grumbled. "And what did he say this morning?"

"He's always gotta outdo me." As Jaina started off, in the direction of the ship's galley to return her tray, she tossed a comment back at her wingmate. "And if you're nice, I'll Jedi you a little luck."