CHAPTER THREE

Jag strode deliberately down the narrow corridor of the Polar Wind and tried to compel his thoughts back to his mission. The meeting with the delegation from Achebi had been disturbing, if insightful. Presumably the impending session with the delegation from Vikova couldn't go any worse. He just had to have confidence that at least one side in this dispute would be agreeable, and trust in himself to find a way to keep the peace.

Then again, if he couldn't handle a task as simple as convincing the woman he loved to spend some time with him, what made him think he had any chance of preventing a war? Jag took a deep breath and pushed the heartache from his mind. Two disappointments today was enough. Three in a row was too unlikely to worry about.

Or so Jag hoped.

As he walked toward the briefing room, Jag pondered again the discussion with the Achebians. He remained uncertain of their motives and intentions, but he was confident about several matters. For one, the Achebians had been deceitful from the start, evading difficult questions and contradicting themselves at every turn. Jag didn't trust them any more than a Hutt whose life was on the line. For another, the Achebians were even more belligerent in person than their actions had suggested. They had seemed less than impressed by the possibility of intervention by the Polar Wind and its clawcraft, and Jag already had resolved to request backup from the nearby Alliance forces as soon as possible. In addition to their warlike nature, Jag also had noticed a distinct undercurrent of resentment, if not outright hatred, directed at their Vikovan neighbors. That would complicate considerably attempts to reach a peaceful settlement. Finally, the Achebians had conducted the entire session with an arrogance and condescension that Jag hadn't seen since Borsk Fey'lya's death. In other words, they were just plain insufferable.

Yes, he definitely hoped the meeting with the Vikovans wasn't going to be worse.

Shawnkyr was waiting for him outside the briefing room. "They are ready for you, sir."

Jag nodded. "Good. What do they seem like to you?"

"They are human, sir."

Jag shook his head. Why he had expected a different answer, he didn't know. The Chiss were notoriously inept at reading human character. Actually, that dynamic worked both ways. "All right. Let's get this over with."

"Of course, sir."

With Shawnkyr on his heels Jag marched through the open portal of the briefing room to find the Vikovan delegation huddled in a conversation on the other side of the long mahogany conference table. Three Chiss officers popped to attention on his side. The Vikovans also noticed his arrival immediately and turned to face him.

"I am Ambassador Jagged Fel," he said. "Welcome aboard the Polar Wind. Please, take your seats and we will get started."

Jag's plan to observe carefully each member of the Vikovan delegation vanished as soon as his gaze fell on the young woman in the center of the group – the one who was moving to take the seat opposite him in the middle of the table.

She was tall – nearly as tall as Jag himself. Her blue eyes sparkled with a brilliance found in the rarest of gemstones. Her long, straight blonde hair whispered around her head and shoulders like a solar corona. Her high cheekbones and full lips gave her face a divine beauty Wynssa Starflare would have envied. A shimmering white dress flaunted each and every one of her voluptuous curves. She couldn't be real. No flesh and blood woman was this gorgeous.

Jag had to remember to breathe.

"I am Iliana," she said. "It is a great pleasure to meet you, Ambassador Fel."

Jag swallowed hard. Her voice was melody and harmony, a song all its own. He had to hear it again. It was… exhilarating. "The pleasure is all mine, Your Grace."

Iliana smiled. It wasn't simply a diplomatic smile. There was something… "Thank you for responding so promptly to our entreaty, Ambassador," she said. "Such alacrity speaks well of your honor and integrity."

Jag tipped his head in acknowledgement. "I will admit, Your Grace, that your request for intercession in this dispute comes as a surprise."

"It is understandable that it would," she replied. "My planet has long followed a policy of isolation from galactic affairs."

"And this policy has changed?"

"It has." Iliana met his gaze firmly. "The recent war has proven beyond all doubt that it is not possible for a single star system, or even a single sector, to thrive and prosper independently. For although my people fortunately were spared the direct depredations of the Yuuzhan Vong, we have been devastated all the same. Trade has collapsed and shipping is infrequent. Opportunities for education and careers on other worlds have all but disappeared. Now our planet truly is on its own, and the consequences are dire."

Jag nodded. Self-sufficiency was possible for a society with as many worlds and resources as the Chiss possessed. Not for one planet, and a far from wealthy one at that. "An end to isolation is a choice many leaders have made in the aftermath of the war," he noted.

"Or at least have considered," she added, her eyes darting to the four blue-skinned Chiss seated on Jag's side of the conference table.

"Indeed." Jag leaned forward slightly. "You must be aware that the Galactic Alliance has a notable presence in several nearby sectors, and its leadership constantly strives to reduce barriers and increase ties throughout the galaxy."

"That is true."

"Why, then, did you not seek their assistance in this dispute?"

"Because the Galactic Alliance, for all its lofty rhetoric, cannot be trusted."

Jag raised an eyebrow. "Surely you are not accusing the Alliance of dishonorable intentions?"

"Oh, no," Iliana said. The flicker of chagrin on her face revealed clearly her knowledge of Jag's extensive involvement with the Alliance. "The leaders of the Alliance do not act with malicious ambitions – of that I am entirely confident. Yet from a soldier's eyes, Ambassador, you must have seen far too many occasions on which promises made sincerely could not be kept – when the Alliance has turned away from its pledges."

Jag took a slow, silent breath. He knew what the striking beauty meant. He knew all too well. "War changes many things, Your Grace, including a leader's power to fulfill obligations that would otherwise never be abandoned."

"Of course," Iliana said. She smiled again, knowingly. "Yet I speak not simply of wartime decisions under harrowing conditions. No, my people have witnessed this pattern across the years – the Old Republic and the New, the Empire and the Rebellion, and now the Galactic Alliance. The central regime, Coruscant or elsewhere, always favors expediency and pragmatism. Choices are made, and far too often those of us in outlying sectors, those of us without critical military or economic value, are simply forgotten – if we are lucky."

"It is only a matter of scale, Your Grace. Whether a military command, or a city, or a planet, or a galaxy, it is the very responsibility of a leader to make those difficult choices." Jag couldn't believe the boldness in his voice. What in blazes was he doing? "No matter how you seek to increase ties to the worlds beyond your sector, you will face this dilemma."

"It would seem you are as wise as you are candid, Ambassador. Your reputation is well deserved."

"Thank you, Your Grace," Jag said. "I think."

Iliana laughed lightly. There was that… something again. In her smile. In her eyes. "It is a compliment indeed, Ambassador. To you, and to the Chiss."

Jag leaned back a few centimeters. "To the Chiss?"

"Yes. As their Ambassador, you represent and uphold their values to the galaxy. Is that not so?"

"It is."

"Your father's station among the Chiss is legendary." Iliana eyed Shawnkyr at his side. "You must be proud to have earned such admiration in your own right."

"Yes," Jag said. "I owe my life to the Chiss. They made me who I am."

Iliana nodded once, decisively. "If you consider the true nature of the Chiss values, Ambassador Fel, you will understand why I have sought your assistance, and not the Alliance's."

Jag paused for a moment, and wondered if your assistance meant the intervention of the Chiss – or his personally. "I'm afraid, Your Grace," he said, "that I am not yet accustomed to the nuances and inferences of diplomatic discourse."

"Candor deserves candor in return," she said. "As you wish, Ambassador."

Jag nodded appreciatively, and waited.

"The Chiss and my people have much in common," Iliana began. "Our historic isolation. Our location on the periphery of galactic affairs – geographically and politically. Our pride in our cultures. Our desire to remain free, and to prosper, and to give our children better lives than we have lived. All this we share."

Jag nodded again.

"But above all else, Ambassador," she said, "the Chiss and the Vikovans value loyalty. Commitment. Trust. Duty. Honor. All these, from loyalty."

"It sounds, Your Grace, as though you seek not merely intervention in this dispute, but an alliance." Jag frowned. "I cannot speak for Csilla on such matters."

"Of course not," Iliana said with sincerity. "I would never be so presumptuous in our first encounter. No, Ambassador, I seek only to open a dialogue – to make the initial connection, to lay the foundation upon which further ties and bonds can be built."

Jag tipped his head. "Then we understand one another, Your Grace."

Iliana smiled again. That smile… "We do, Ambassador. There are many things the Chiss can offer Vikova, and many things the Vikovans can offer Csilla. Economically, politically, militarily, culturally – an alliance between us would benefit us both greatly. All in due time, as we come to know each other better."

Us both… We… Each other… "Very well, Your Grace," Jag said. "For now, however, we must return to the crisis at hand. The Achebians were not willing to discuss any concessions in their demanded price reductions for your ore and durasteel. They do not seem willing to compromise."

Iliana shook her head. "I had not expected that they would be."

"Then we must consider how best to defend your planet from attack." Until he heard the words leave his mouth, Jag didn't realize he apparently had made a probably irreversible decision to take sides in the dispute he was supposed to be mediating. "Perhaps as a first show of goodwill, you will allow your generals to brief me on the full range of military capabilities Vikova has available?"

"As you wish." Iliana met Jag's gaze for a long moment, then turned to one of her aides at the table. "General, tell the Ambassador anything he wants to know."