Title: Touch and Go
Chapter: Part Five: "Downtime"
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, this is purely for entertainment purposes.

Part Five: Downtime

The pilot's lounge of the Ralroost was a large, oddly-shaped compartment on the same deck as the ready rooms and the briefing rooms. The exposed bulkheads were all a dull battleship gray and the furniture was low and simple in design. The square couches and chairs were upholstered in shades of gray, black, and dark blue. Round white tables had been set up in zigzag patterns across the main part of the room; the furniture that normally occupied the space had been moved to the side, and in some cases, had even been stacked.

The stocked bar against the far bulkhead was locked down because the pilots were on alert status. However, the commanding officers that had approved this downtime had also approved a sweet, fizzy drink that didn't have enough alcohol content to do any damage.

Terminal niches lined the bulkhead opposite the bar. The screens were dark; the real action was at the game tables.

Xada could only issue a frustrated and disappointed groan as Sticks spread her card-chips face up on the table so the rest of the pilots could see just how soundly they'd been beaten. Sticks had given them fair warning, Xada reflected; Rogue Eleven felt lucky, and she'd said as much. Common sense should have kept her from gambling against a Solo on a winning streak, but Xada had never really considered herself a woman dictated by common sense. That mentality had gotten her into trouble more than once. She spread her own card-chips on the table, and was rewarded with a low whistle.

"Close," Sticks remarked. Xada took small comfort in the fact that she'd obviously thrown her wingmate off.

"Too close," Xada agreed. She shook her head. "This should teach me to play sabacc with a Jedi," she added, voicing the regret held by the other three pilots present.

Sticks grinned. "Had to learn the hard way, huh?"

Chair legs scraped suddenly against the deck as the two blue-clad Ace pilots pushed away from the table. Xada noted the expressions of disgust that clouded their faces as they cast a final glance at the pile of credits and credit cubes. She couldn't be sure if it was Sticks or themselves they were fed up with, and hoped it was themselves. She had other plans, and didn't want to have to postpone them just to straighten out a couple of vape-brained A-wing jockeys.

They walked away without incident, however, and Xada relaxed, turning her attention back to her wingmate, who was stacking the card-chips once again in the center of the table. A moment later, the Twi'lek pilot rose slowly, and Sticks looked up, startled.

"You're not going to play again?"

Rogue Seven flashed a rueful grin, full of sharp teeth, that sent a chill down Xada's spine.

"I have nothing left to lose, Sticks," he replied, in accented Basic.

Sticks returned his smile. "Just for fun, then?" she suggested.

The big Twi'lek warrior shook his head once, his lekku twitching. "I'd rather not."

Sticks didn't press, but Xada wondered what else she'd expected from the daughter of a princess.

"Okay. See you tomorrow?"

"I'll be the skip on your tail," he replied, baring his teeth again in a fashion decidedly not rueful.

Sticks rolled her eyes. "Sure. The last thing I see before I meet the void, right?"

"That is correct." All three knew that Kayara'sor was good, but Rogue Eleven was better. He bowed once. "Good night, ladies."

"Good night, Kay."

Both women watched as their squadmate retreated. Xada turned back to Sticks, and raised her hands when the younger woman raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Don't look at me like that," she said. "You already have all the money I'm willing to lose."

The pile before the young Jedi woman was the equivalent of six weeks' pay, and would be quite a sum if pilots were paid anything worth counting.

"Sith," Sticks grumbled. "I was hoping for your dignity."

"I lost that a long time ago, Sticks," Xada said. "A long time ago. As much as I'd love to stay, though, I've got a date."

As Sticks blinked, Rogue Twelve congratulated herself on a surprise well sprung.

"A date?" Sticks repeated, somewhat disbelieving. Xada nodded, and the other woman added, "Who?"

"You remember the officer you threw lunch at?" As her wingmate nodded dumbly, Xada ran a hand over her buzz cut. She liked her hair this short, because she didn't have to worry about it at all. "Him," she confirmed, dropping her hand to her side.

As if to clear it, Sticks shook her head. Xada heard her mumble, "I can't belive you're fraternizing with the enemy."

Xada stood up, and flashed the younger woman a wicked grin, full of teeth. "I can't believe you're not," she retorted.

Sticks frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb, Lieutenant. You know exactly what I'm talking about-the colonel."

"Jag's hardly the enemy," Sticks mused, and looked up, as if to continue.

Xada raised a hand to keep her silent. "I'm already late. I'll catch you later-and I promise all the gory details you can handle." That said with a conspirator's wink.

Sticks made a face. "Spare me. I don't want them."

"But, honey, you need 'em."

Xada was gone before Sticks could sputter a protest, and she silently complimented herself on a successful subversion. Now Sticks had something to think about. Xada slipped from the smoky haze of the lounge into the unpolluted air of the corridor, and couldn't believe her luck.

Colonel Jagged Fel was striding toward her, purposeful in his stance and stoic in his demeanor. His uniform was only slightly less severe than usual, but he wore no rank insignia, and Xada approved. She could definitely see what should be attracting her wingmate; Jag Fel was one of those people quite pleasant to look at. Behind him, wearing the same composed expressions as their commander and identical, perfect off-duty uniforms were the dozen Chiss of Spike Squadron.

Xada grinned absurdly at them all. "It's downtime, not a battle, Colonel," she remarked when they were close enough.

Fel paused near her, and offered a tight smile. "It's a lost bet," he corrected.

Xada exaggerated a wince. "Sticks is on a roll," she told him. "I suggest not playing sabacc against her, no matter how charming she gets."

"I'll keep that in mind," Fel returned, and Xada thought she saw something like amusement flash in his eyes. The colonel's gaze flickered to the hatch behind Xada long enough for the Rogue to catch something readable in the expression of the female Chiss closest to him. "Are we late?" he asked.

"Hmm? Oh, no. She's still in there. Most of 'em are still in there. I've just got somewhere else to be." Xada stowed the puzzle away for later, and smiled brightly at the whole group of them. "And remember," she began, as she started past them all. "Have fun!"

Colonel Darklighter had obliquely referred to the no-decor events in the lounge as a mini-mutiny when he'd made the offhand announcement earlier, as most of his people were preparing to leave the debriefing. The reference had been lost on many of her squadmates, Jaina knew, but the story was one her father had told fondly more than once. Jaina couldn't help but appreciate Colonel Darklighter's motivation. He'd seen that pilot morale wasn't as high as it could be, and had taken steps to fix the problem.

'I certainly feel better.' She finished stacking the card-chips into the cube at the center of the table. She wasn't quite sure where the portable randomizers had come from, and if she was honest, she didn't want to know. A few months in Rogue Squadron had taught her to only ask the important questions; otherwise, she risked an answer she didn't want.

Jaina reset the game cube and rose to leave, her winnings heavy in a thigh pocket on her brown jumpsuit. No one else would be willing to play a Jedi, not even under the influence of the moderate stimulants they'd been allowed. Besides, it was late, and she'd had a long day.

She hadn't expected Spike Squadron at this get-together. Because as far as she could tell, Aces and Rogues were the only ones who knew about it. Other reasons included Jag's stubborn, relentless habits of keeping his people training and reviewing, as well as the fact that the bet had only been settled that afternoon. He probably needed time to adjust to having lost.

There was only one way in or out of the lounge, and when that oversized hatch slid back to reveal the Spikes, Jaina smiled. They stepped into the haze and lined up less than a meter from the entrance, two deep and six wide. It looked as though they were preparing for a parade march or an inspection; Jaina had to stifle the laughter that threatened. She didn't think the Chiss would take kindly to being laughed at.

An eerie hush settled over the room. Conversations ceased altogether as pilots turned to see what had captivated the attention of their companions.

The Chiss surveyed the scene with their strange red eyes. When Shawnkyr Nuruodo's gaze fell on Jaina, the young Rogue shivered. There was nothing forgiving in that woman's stare.

The twelve pilots began to move slowly, deliberately, further into the room. They took empty seats at the sabacc tables, at the dejarik boards along the bulkhead under the viewports, and at the bar. They were all no-decor, Jaina observed with approval. Not one of the white flightsuits displayed any form of rank or rate insignia, although they did still wear what served as their unit patch.

Of all of Jag's people, his second-in-command broke the silence as she placed a handful of glinting disks on the table before her.

"Is our money sufficient?" she asked, voice deep. All around that table, nervous pilots bobbed their heads. Shawnkyr nodded once. "Good. Deal me in."

Jaina was proud of herself. She didn't laugh as conversations began tentatively. The New Republic pilots were understandably wary; she'd have been cautious if the whole situation hadn't been her fault.

She smiled as Jag approached, and noted that his colonel's rank pin was conspicuously absent. The severe black flightsuit looked less pressed than usual, and it occurred to Jaina that the young man was making an effort at looking relaxed.

"I didn't think you were coming tonight," Jaina said.

Jag's smile was tight. "I believe the term is 'fashionably late,'" he replied.

Jaina's amusement quirked one corner of her mouth higher than the other. "You're handling defeat well."

"Only on the outside." Jag's gaze flickered past Jaina, to the zigzag of game tables. "It was suggested to me that sabacc against you would be dangerous for my account," he remarked.

Jaina's sigh was exaggerated. "And Xada calls herself a friend," she grumbled. She looked up at Jag and added, "What kind of friend warns away prey?"

"A sympathetic one?" he suggested, eyebrow lifted.

Jaina pretended to think about that. "Probably," she conceded. "Okay, yeah. A sympathetic one. I'm going to have to talk to her about that." Something caught her eye off to her right, and she glanced in the direction of the dejarik boards. One of them was available. "How about a chance to redeem yourself then?" She gestured to the board, and he turned to look. "I understand the Chiss are fond of strategy."

"They are." Jag nodded once, and then stepped aside. He started to bow-Jaina saw the slight movement. He managed to stop himself nicely. "After you."

She all but expected him to pull her chair out for her. Jag Fel struck her as the type to cling to old ideals and formalities. He let her seat herself, though, and Jaina wanted to giggle. The whole situation was rather absurd.

He was deft enough at bringing the holograms to life. Her figures were in shades of blue, and his in shades of red. This was a version of the game newer than the one she'd learned on, but the principle was still the same.

"I must warn you," Jag began, and to Jaina, he looked unusually boyish. Through the Force, the sense she got of him was fun; maybe he wasn't pretending to be so relaxed, she thought.

"About what?"

"I play this better than I fly."

Jaina's grin was fast. "Like I told my wingmate, Jag, I feel lucky today."

"Luck?" Jag moved one of his figures first-he'd won the random number draw-and he glanced back up at her. "Luck has nothing to do with it."

"So you'd be willing to admit that I out-flew you today?" she asked, curiously. She countered with her own move, up and two squares over. She recognized his opening advance; Chewie had insisted on teaching all three Solo children every formal strategy for the game, as well as a few he and Han had developed over their years together. Jaina had decided to use one of the family strategies. Jag wasn't likely to have encountered it before.

"You did." His agreement was so simple that Jaina looked up, somewhat startled. Pilots simply didn't admit they could be out-flown. Jag was considering the dejarik board. He spared a brief glance up at her as he activated the controls to move one of his smaller holograms nearer to Jaina's rancor. It was a trick, and she knew it. Jag continued, "We learn nothing if we aren't willing to admit our weaknesses."

"You sound like my father again," she remarked evenly.

Jag's grin was quick and genuine. "Yes, but it was something you needed to hear."

Jaina rolled her eyes. "You know, Xada didn't think I had a chance at winning our bet."

"Smart girl."

Jaina moved one of her minor holograms closer to the target. "She doesn't really think anyone can beat you," she continued.

"I like her more every minute," he returned.

Jaina met his gaze, and caught her breath. Something tickled at the back of her mind, something that was trying to contradict a decision she'd made at their second meeting. "Has anyone ever told you you're too arrogant for you own good?" she managed.

Jag shook his head slowly. "I don't believe so, no. Why? What have they told you?"