Now or Never by Blizzy
Chapter Two – Revenge of Jagged Fel
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jedi71 - You know, I did not plan to write a sequel, but you made me to sit down and think a bit.
Jeanida-Myrishi - Squee! Thanks Lumi!
TheAlmightyMasterChan - Wow, I'm certainly flattered. ;)
SoloKenobi - Excited? Well, here it goes...
Special thanks: ArsLonga - Thank you, again :)
"Han, sweetheart, where's the remote control?"
Metal clinking. Something fleshy hitting metal.
Curses.
"Han, can you hear me? I need the thing!"
More curses.
"Han!!"
"Is it really that necessary? I'm trying to work here!" hollered back Han Solo and climbed up from under the sink. He was a starship engineer, not some lowly plumber. Yes, he could always repair the droid that would repair the sink, but it will be waste of time and besides, it was quite easier to fix a few conduits than a lot of electrodes and processors.
"Solo! Stop growling and help me to find the thing! Trinebulon had found something!"
"What is it this time?" howled Han and tried to clean the mess he managed to create on kitchen floor.
"That's why I need the remote control, dewback head!" quipped his agitated wife from their living room. He only hoped that Mara Jade had not succeeded in annihilating his brother-in-law.
"But I bet its some love affair!"
"How can you tell it's an affair with muted sound?"
"Plenty of roses and an awful pink background."
"Oh," the smuggler grimaced. After heroic struggle with vacuum cleaner, he tentatively switched the water on. To his immense surprise, it worked and warm water splashed in the sink. Han absent-mindedly smiled in the way only Solo could.
"Han!" came shout from Leia. "Come here! I saw Wedge and Corran's green flightsuit! It's something big!
Solo left the kitchen in a trot and found Leia hypnotized by the holoscreen. He first lifted a cushion that came under his hand and found the thing under it. Han wanted to utter some sarcastic remark on his wife's Jedi powers, when Leia shrieked in pure terror. His eyes fell on the screen and every muscle in his body tensed.
That person on the screen was definitely his beloved little daughter. And the person holding her was definitely not Jagged Fel.
The remote control fell from his frozen fingers, unintentionally igniting the sound to full capacity of the speakers. When he succeeded in crushing the poor thing with his boot, Leia managed to rasp.
"I need a comm. And a nice long meditation."
"And I need a blaster. Immediately. Better, two of them."
Jaina barely contained her laughter as all these pent-up emotions were released in a joyful burst. She gaped breathlessly, still feeling a bit dizzy.
From a fantastic joke to a serious relationship? Hmm…doesn't happen every day.
She tried to get her breathing rate under control and roguishly squinted at Kyp from behind the curtain of her silky brown hair. The smile froze on her lips as Kyp's gaze bore into her with the same intensity as a few moments ago, yet radiating uncertainty. Jaina straightened and moved towards her Master. Their eyes were inseparably locked and she stopped well within Durron's personal space, feeling the overwhelming heat of his body. They held still, gazes searching, tentatively probing each other's Force presences. Jaina, after a slight nod of his approval, snuck past Kyp's mental barriers and shields, letting him to do the same.
Jaina gasped. She felt some of it back in the hallway, but then it was a bit awkward. Now, it hit her with all of its power. She had to steady herself and placed her hands on Durron's heaving chest. Kyp's features clearly betrayed his inner whirlwind of thoughts. He placed his trembling hands over hers and, almost shyly, tilted his head to kiss her properly for the first time. The morning sun enveloped them in a soft glow, throwing sparks in Jaina's ruffled hair. The moment would have been perfect, if there were not speeders, bikes, winged aliens and holocam equipped droids behind the viewports, all of them grinning, waving and chirping.
Kyp growled on the emotional level and firmly shut Jaina out, anger surging around him. Fun was fun, but this was too much. His hand was halfway to his lightsaber, when Jaina softly tugged at his sleeve.
He stopped, his expression remorseful. He had the woman of his dreams in front of him and all he wanted to do was to destroy the entire event with something so … intemperate. Kyp let go of his annoyance and whispered quiet "sorry."
Jaina smiled brightly in return and with a small gesture of her hand, all the windows turned black, leaving the reporters outside waving at their own reflection.
Luke was woken up by a hangar access door being kicked open and a handful of strong Corellian curses as the door slammed back on their opener. Skywalker squirmed in the X-wing's tiny cockpit and craned his head until he saw nearly an entire Rogue Squadron stumble inside the polished hangar in literal display of popular saying "as drunk as only a Rogue could be."
Wes landed on the floor with a loud hiccup. No one paid him any notice. Wedge still whimpered something about his arm being broken, but he doggedly pointed at his leg. Corran, who had tasted the worst things the cantina offered, was hooked on Tycho's arm, whispering something very important and no doubt classified to Celchu's wrist chrono. Other Rogues trailed behind them, more or less vertical.
Tycho tried very hard and finally focused. "That was a kriff of a party! Those Tri-thingy knows how to… oooh, never mind. Leader, please tell me we are not going to sleep in our fighters!" he wailed.
Wedge stopped and shook roughly with already asleep Hobbie. "Yep, we are not going to sleep in our…X-wings!" he stated, proud of himself that he remembered the name of his precious spacecraft. Then Rogue Leader frowned. "Of course we are going to sleep in them. Where else?!"
Tycho sagged his shoulders, which caused Horn to join the ranks of those who failed in their fight with gravity. Meanwhile Wes, who managed to get up, stammered happily: "Look there, boooys! Isn't that Skyfaller's X-wing?" and pointed in approximate direction of Luke's snubfighter. Wedge's head snapped up.
"No doubt," he grinned and groped in his numerous pockets, until he found a credit chip.
Med bay doors swung gracefully aside and then roughly banged against the duracrette walls as someone kicked them wide open.
The reporters cowed. Normal bystanders fled. Drunken pilots cheered. Everyone present later sworn that they had heard faint, menacing drumming of the feared Imperial March.
Jagged Fel was finally released from bacta tank with a plan already forming in his smart brain.
He slowly walked thought the line of people with all might of the Empire in his stainless gray uniform. One foolhardy, young reporter stepped forward to interview him, but only one glare from Imperial pilot made his knees buckle. Fel stopped and threw more glares from under his scarred brow in general direction of the crowd. They were almost scared that he might start a riot. Even the pilots stared miserably in their bottles or glasses. Someone fainted.
Jagged drew to his full height and marched away.
Silence gripped the hallway for few more minutes, until someone muttered: "Far worse than Darth Vader himself."
"Leia! Han! I'd finally found out last night who was damaging my X-wing all the time! Rogues won't be airborne for couple of weeks until they…hey?"
Luke called tentatively in the dark anteroom and casually threw his cape on the hanger. His lightsaber went down with it and Luke was relieved that no one had seen The Jedi Master in such a compromising situation and attached it back to his belt.
Suddenly, he thought that time had been reversed twenty years back. Back to the first Death Star. Luke suppressed the urge to check if he was wearing stormtrooper armor. In front of him stood mighty Alderaanian princess, all in white, fury in her eyes. And of course, BlasTech E-11 assault rifle clutched in her hands. Luke's memories dissipated and he stood again in Solo's apartment. The eighteen-year-old princess had become a much older senator, but with the same fury and the same blaster.
"What happened?" he managed to ask, dumbfounded.
"General? General Antilles?" young Fel called and then pulled a face. "Uncle Wedge?" he tried instead.
"Here!"
Jagged snapped in a precise salute and eyed his uncle cautiously. Antilles looked like hell. Subduing bruises all over his face, jaw red and sore and lacerations there and there.
The old Rogue sighed.
"Yes, colonel?"
Stiffly, Jagged handed him an Imperial datapad. Wedge accepted it and after staring at it, he raised his eyebrow at Fel. "Not that I haven't seen this coming."
Fel decided to remain silent. Wedge waved his hand and tiredly leaned back in his chair. He winced painfully when his muscles protested. "Jag, tell me why. You, such an excellent pilot, ruining your career in NR with resignation… just because your girlfriend left you?"
"That is partly the reason, sir."
"Partly, colonel?
"Partly. Sir. The main reason is that she was, let me say, taken, instead of leaving me. However, the second reason is purely personal and embarrassing."
"I'm all ears," grinned Antilles and was rewarded by the disgusted look on young Fel's face before he regained his self-control.
"Well, and the third-" Wedge froze at his cousin's predatory smile, "is that if I resign now, I'm not going to be court-martialled for what I'm planning to do. Goodbye, and free skies, sir."
Rogue Leader stared with shock at retreating back of the Imperial, unable to say a word of protest, nor to stop him.
Chapter Three: The Showdown