Star Wars
RI 2000-2003
Disclaimer: Characters are © to their respective people and ultimately, George Lucas. I own nothing and there is no profit involved.
Notes: Rough Draft. Ignore errors.
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Faint track lighting provided enough illumination for Wedge to navigate the corridors. After going down to the docking bay to check on his X-wing and coincidentally finding Jaina Solo and Kyp Durron there--Jaina Solo arguing with her astromech in choice phrases and Kyp Durron sleepily leaning on a nearby fighter--he gave in to Tycho's insistence that he get some sleep. Tycho had threatened to call Jason down if the Corellian didn't go off-duty immediately. Wedge relented, admitting that the Alderaanian pilot was right. He was not a young man anymore; he could not stay awake for sixty hours as he did when he was twenty-five.
He smiled wryly at himself. Next to his X-wing his bed had become his favorite place. Too, like his X-wing, he didn't spend nearly enough time there. His uniform felt grimy and ripe. Come to think of it, so did he. A shower first, he told himself. Then sleep. He wondered if he would be sleeping alone. He and Iella only saw each other a few times a day in passing, sometimes for a bit longer. They couldn't always manage to coordinate their sleep schedules.
As he walked, Wedge's eyes narrowed. A thread of suspicion entered his mind. His and Iella's trouble with the doorlock could have been much worse--for instance, the door becoming unlocked and someone walking in. his suspicions of Janson's involvement had no basis. It was a mundane glitch perfectly explainable by the beating Whistler had taken in past months. But Wedge somehow knew that it wasn't that simple, that there was foul (in Janson's words, FUN) play, and that it was most likely the merry pilot's fine hand at the center of it. As tired as he was it would be useless to plot revenge now; later, when Janson sprung the second half of his trap, Wedge would begin.
* * *
Approximately four standard hours after Wedge gave in to sleep Mara Jade Skywalker woke alone. It was a sensation she had quickly learned that she didn't like after marrying Luke Skywalker. Her thoughts were sleep-snarled, her instincts momentarily working to catch up with reality. For a half a second she almost panicked; Ben was no where near. Then her mind clicked in fully and reality mapped itself on her brain. Ben was hundreds of thousands of light years away, supposedly safe in the Maw installation with Kam and Tionne. She was alone in the bed she shared with her husband, who was currently missing.
Mara stretched, frowning to herself rather than enjoying the quiet solitude. It wasn't long before habit and restlessness drove her from the bed. She dressed in a pair of matte black flight pants and a creamy sleeveless top; her utility belt she slung about her waist and stepped into her boots. She slipped a blade into the upper of her right boot and attached her lightsaber to her belt. Then she gathered up her long red-gold hair, her fingers working expertly to weave the unruly tresses into a single, tight utilitarian braid that fell down the center of her back. Mara gave herself a quick once-over in the mirror to be satisfied that all catches and zippers were closed and that everything looked all right. She swept a stubborn strand of hair back and applied a little bit of balm to her chapped lips.
Before venturing out, Mara took the time to straighten their quarters a little. She and Luke were both reasonably neat people, though other pressing concerns had diverted their attention from cleanliness. Mara didn't do much, just hurled some dirty clothes into a bin for the laundry droid and straightened their bed sheets. Other items: comlinks, various weapons and datapads, datacards and other minor equipment, was left alone. Through experience Mara had learned that those sorts of things were more readily found when left where they lay rather than neatly organized somewhere. Luke would no doubt come in sometime later in search of a data card, and Mara intended it to be right on the floor where he left it.
Mara sent a message to the laundry droid's station, then picked up her own datapad and exited the small but comfortable quarters. There wasn't much to do, but she would find something. It was either that or thump the walls in frustration. She could always find a fighter to work on.
She saw Leia and Han in passing. They were involved a cheerful argument that sounded like old times. Luke reached out to her almost constantly--more than once she sensed a thick rope of frustration coiling in him. He must be in another bureaucratic meeting.
Mara entered the docking bay where Twin Suns squadron was parked. The motley array of ships was undergoing long-overdue overhauls to the engines and lasers, all except for Jag Fel's clawcraft. It stood alone, forsaken by technicians with strict orders not to touch the Colonel's ship. It made Mara smile just a bit. The serious young man was positively parental in his protectiveness of his ship. It was at first taken as an insult by the New Republic techs, but Mara suspected that no one but Colonel Fel had touched the ship since it rolled out of the factory. She could understand. Once upon a time she would have leveled a blaster at anyone approaching her Headhunter.
Mara made her way to the launch bay where hers and Luke's X-wing were stored. This bay was crowded to give Twin Suns squadron would have extra space. Starfighters were packed in to compacity and then some. Mara caught a sense of strong resentment aimed at Jaina. It wasn't too surprising.
She stopped before a pair of X-wings. They were identical except for a few markings identifying pilot and kills. Luke's had many, many more, including a big black sphere representing the first Death Star. Mara smoothed her fingertips across the underside of Luke's fuselage and down the forward edge of his lower S-foil. Stepping away from his starboard wingtip laser she grabbed hold of the ladder fixed to the side of her ship and hauled herself up. Rather than pull herself into the cockpit she climbed around, perching atop her portside engine. There were several things she could do from her position but she opted to sit for a minute. The remaining effects of the disease hadn't evaporated as quickly as she would have liked and she was forced to stillness on occasion.
Jaina's quiet approach tickled her link with her apprentice. The dark haired young woman scaled to the top of the X-wing easily and at Mara's easy gesture, she settled between the empty droid socket and the canopy, her back against the angled transparasteel. Jaina was similarly dressed in a fitted white top and loose pants. In place of boots she wore athletic shoes with better-than-standard gripping soles and chunky chrono that Mara recognized as being one of Anakin's. Her youngest nephew had been straightforward and pragmatic from an angular view. He paid attention to time and orbits, small details of the like that were handy to know but basically inconsequential--unless one had a sudden need to use such knowledge to escape trouble…as Anakin often did.
The Jedi woman considered the expression of purpose and frustration on Jaina's face. With a slight hint of amusement she asked, "How has your day been going?"
A derisive snort escaped Jaina. "Wonderful," she said sarcastically. "Aside from everyone in Starfighter Command hating me with an intense passion, the parts I blew in my X-wing happen to be the ones we don't have in stock." Jaina paused, as if considering something. Then she said, "Jag took the day off without requesting leave…just left his paperwork with Kyp and disappeared."
"I don't Jag Fel that well, but judging from what I've seen he's as reliable and committed as they come," Mara said thoughtfully. "If he took the time, he must have needed it."
An expression of exasperation and resignation twisted Jaina's pretty features. "That's what I told myself, but I would like to know when he's going to do these things."
"So tell him that."
"If I find him," Jaina added dryly. "He's also really good at disappearing."
"Wonder if he's taking lessons from Luke," Mara muttered.
"What?"
"Nevermind." Mara gave her niece a speculative look. "You came here for something."
"I actually came to ask you where to find Uncle Luke, but from your previous comment, I'd say you don't know either."
"Not really," Mara admitted. "We got over the obsessive stage in our marriage early on. We were driving each other nuts."
Jaina found that amusing. She could imagine what a snubfighter jock and a former Imperial agent would do with someone looking over their shoulder all the time. She didn't think she'd do so well either. She started to rise, reluctant to head back. The questions she wanted to bring to Luke still nagged but would have to wait. "If you see Uncle Luke, tell him I'm looking for him, but don't send him after me. He'll never find me. Hopefully I can catch up to him later."
Mara understood that Jaina wasn't ready to share whatever was bothering her. She exchanged casual good-byes with the younger woman and watched her climb down and walk across the docking bay. A few minutes later she got to work, removing that irritating piece of loose metal that jangled about in her engine hatch in-flight, and replacing a few worn parts.
It was sometimelater when an officer hurried up to tell her that a message had been relayed to them via another cruiser from Tendra Calrissian.
Mara reviewed the message in a quiet conference room. The statuesque wife of Lando Calrissian had the same firm, self-assured manner in hologram that she did in person. She was to the point and precise, a quality Mara liked.
"Our last two runs were intercepted," the hologram was saying. "I don't think Shelter's location had been compromised and Kam agrees with me on this, but somehow the Vong keep hitting us where it hurts. Whether we have a leak or they're just getting lucky, we haven't been able to confirm. But we're running low on supplies. Foodstuffs are only going to last another few weeks at most, and we need some equipment. We need ships to make it through."
Mara shut down the message. She leaned back in the chair with her arms crossed. She was still considering the problem several minutes later when Luke walked in. he quickly kissed her forehead and said, "I thought I'd find you here." He settled on the table edge in front of her and accepted her boot heel in his lap. He almost absently rubbed her strong muscles in her calf while observing the look on her face. "Wedge told me a message form Tendra came in. I take it that it's not good?"
"Shelter's running low on supplies," Mara told him. "And the Vong are getting luckier in their attacks."
"Luckier or smarter?" Luke questioned.
"Tendra seems to think only luckier. She and Kam have agreed that Shelter's location hasn't been compromised."
"It's surprising it has gone this long undetected," Luke commented. "Maybe we should just think about relocating."
His wife shook her head. "We haven't found a place to go yet. Besides, if the Vong's odds were good enough to allow them to unintentionally catch our ships twice, it says they're in the neighborhood. That's too close to risk a sudden evacuation with the students." Mara switched out her legs in Luke's grasp and sank lower in the conforming chair. "Figuring out how to do this will give me something to do," she said.
Luke nodded thoughtfully. "I talked to Wedge. He said to make up a list of what we need and check it against the fleet's remaining supplies. He doesn't think it'll be much, but he says we're welcome to what they don't immediately need."
Mara said, "I'll get started on that." Luke's chrono chirped but he seemed not to hear it. Mara raised one brow. "Do you have somewhere to go?" When he didn't immediately answer she tapped her boot against his chest. "Mara to Luke--come back down here farmboy."
Luke blinked away his far off vision. He silenced the alarm and reluctantly set Mara's boot heel on the table. "Another round of brainstorming over how to keep the bureaucrats at bay so we have breathing room to work in." A tinge of disgust laced his voice.
"A rebel's work is never done." Mara rose and slapped him on the thigh. "Have fun."
* * *
Jag Fel was scrolling through endless visual data in a small media room off a larger conference room. His rigid posture had given way to a more casual attitude over the last few hours. If my father could this. Jag Fel had continually been accused of one thing through out his life: He was too formal. Not so now. I've gotten the full scoundrel education from Jaina and Uncle.
He absently rubbed the fingers of his right hand together as he searched. He couldn't seem to find what he needed. He knew it had to exist, but it seemed not to be in the Star Destroyer's memory banks. It occurred to him that this particular destroyer was fairly new and perhaps not possessing the information he sought. It could also just be buried incredibly deep in the system.
He was still patiently reviewing Data when Mara Jade Skywalker stepped into the room. She seemed surprised to see him there; as surprised as he did at her sudden entrance. Jag quickly recovered and offered the wife of Luke Skywalker a formal greeting. Mara Jade Skywalker returned it and politely inquired what he was doing.
It wasn't long before they discovered that they could be of help to one another.
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Coming soon: Part five.
A/N: Sorry about the wait. *Bashfully steps beneath sign proclaiming, "LAZY!"*
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