CHAPTER FIVE
With his hands parked behind his back and his feet firmly planted apart, Jag watched and waited. He waited for the hatch to the Vikovan diplomatic transport to close. In fact, the process was so agonizingly slow Jag had to compel his tightly held lungs to breathe. There was no relief in the act, however.
Eventually the hiss of an airtight seal rippled across the hangar of the Polar Wind, and Jag exhaled along with it. He counted to ten – in Chiss – then executed a smart about-face just as the Vikovan ship wheeled in its low hover. Without pause Jag marched directly for the exit that would take him to the privacy of his office.
Above the rhythmic clap of his boots on the polished floor, he heard Shawnkyr dismiss the Chiss honor guard. Not more than a second later, he recognized his second's determined strides, heading in his direction with the single-mindedness of a torpedo in a hard lock. Jag passed out of the hangar and noted the paltry seventy-two steps he had left to straighten out his thoughts.
Only one other time in his life had Shawnkyr been so indomitable; the whole experience had been worse than a dressing down from a superior. The subject had been Jaina – and Jag's behavior around her following a successful space battle on Hapes. Apparently, the second such confrontation would be about a woman – and his actions around her. The problem this time was that he hadn't a clue what had brought on this uncharacteristic bout of rash conduct.
He had better find a reason – and fast. He only had sixty-four steps left.
By sixty in the countdown, Shawnkyr reached his side. Experience told him not to bother seeking answers in her unreadable blue face, so he concentrated on what he could do. In the background of his mind, the ingrained soldier catalogued and stored bits and pieces of pertinent information Jag had gleaned from the meeting with the Vikovans. At the fore, however, Jag scrolled through his introduction with their leader.
Iliana. Of one name only. One stunning woman who had cast a spell on him apparently more mystifying than a Jedi mind-trick. At the thought of the Vikovan beauty, Jag's pulse quickened and sweat formed on his brow. He needed a distraction…
He decided to count the steps remaining. Fifty. Forty-nine. Forty-eight. Forty-seven. Forty-six.
He hadn't the luxury for more so Jag returned to the task at hand – figuring out where exactly he had lost control.
No doubt the picturesque blonde embodied the human concept of beautiful. Jag supposed he should know that better than most – his mother was Wynssa Starflare. Jag had lived most of his life in the care of the quintessence of galactic good looks. And certainly the fact that Wynssa Starflare was his mother had prevented Jag from being stupefied in her presence – except when she was exercising her motherly wiles as Syal Fel to locate the honispider he and Davin had hidden in their study desk. But Jag had always figured he was bigger than the average fools who had left their tongues wagging at the mere presence of a genuine beauty like Wynssa Starflare.
Apparently he was not.
Well, he knew a way to calm his fluttered soul. Jaina.
Still thirty-some steps from his office, Jag attempted to focus on the one person who always managed to center him. Jaina was, without a doubt, the most captivating presence to ever fly into his sights. He tried to recall her in detail – to drown out the disruption the Vikovan leader produced. Desperately Jag tried to recount Jaina's voice, from the stunning first encounter over Garqi to the heated exchange after the battle of Galantos, but it all played back like some hollow recording of missions long ago.
Not to be swayed, he tried a new tack – just the simple recollection of Jaina. She was petite, not at all like Iliana. No, Jag. Don't go there.
He doggedly brushed the thought aside. Jaina's hair was the deepest of browns, much like the color of a rich cup of caf served up for rousing pilots, and her eyes…
Those eyes had inspired numerous fantasies and even more insane actions. How could he ever forget the first time he had seen those eyes, defying years of ingrained discipline and the galaxy along with it to step off the dais on Ithor, simply for a chance to look into those dark pools and believe she was the woman of his dreams? Jag knew that Jaina's eyes were as deep and consuming as the tempestuous South Polar Seas on Mon Calamari, but when he tried to envision them in his mind, recreate the minute flashes of brandy-hued fire that sparkled within them, he was at a loss. They had been separated for too long. Jag realized that now Jaina was simply a bluish wavering holo – at one-quarter size no less.
As if on cue a thought popped to his mind. Someone somewhere had once told him that smell had the greatest influence on memory recall. Jag inhaled sharply once, hoping to bring back the simple lilting scent of Alderaanian lilies – so essentially Jaina – but all he got from his nose was Corellian roses, the tantalizing aroma left behind in Iliana's wake as she had said her farewell.
He could still recall their parting in acute detail. The Vikovan leader had bent close, too close, and had placed her palm on his shoulder before whispering, "Ambassador Fel, I would like to speak to you privately."
Jag blinked. That wasn't what she had said! Not even close. He scrambled to get his bearings. He was standing at his closed office door, halted for no apparent reason. And he had no idea what he intended to do next.
"Ambassador Fel?"
Snapping his head to the right, Jag noted Shawnkyr parked appropriately to his starboard, her blinking red eyes expecting some kind of response. Only then did Jag realize his blunder; lost in thought to the point of distraction he had digressed once more from the task at hand. Moments from squaring off with one of his closest friends and soon-to-be harshest critics, he found himself unprepared and out of sorts.
Instinctively Jag tipped his head, then waved his palm over the office's entry panel. The device blinked blues and oranges as it processed his identification parameters before finally emitting a positive tone. An instant later the door whisked open, the two ill-at-ease comrades paced into the utilitarian confines, and the door finally sealed them off from the rest of the ship.
Unlike their previous encounter when Shawnkyr had stood toe to toe with Jag and took him to task for his actions, he skirted his desk, then settled stiffly into his seat. With Shawnkyr left standing uncomfortably at attention, Jag said, "I assume you wanted to express some thoughts on our latest meeting."
"Permission to speak Chiss to Chiss, sir?"
And so it began. Inhaling a long, deep breath, Jag folded his hands on the desk. He resolved in that moment this conversation was unavoidable, and exhaled softly. "Always, Shawnkyr."
"What just happened in there?" Shawnkyr asked in their native tongue.
Jag had to think before he answered, not only to measure his words but also to form them correctly – he had been away from Csilla for far too long. "I weighed the matters before us and made a decision. It was as simple as that."
The towering Chiss female took a step closer to his desk. "You may have signed us on for a full-scale war, one that could last weeks or even months, before the Ruling Families had time to discuss the merits of an alliance…with either of these worlds."
"The Chiss certainly will not want an alliance with the Achebians –"
"A conclusion you have reached so definitively after a single meeting?"
"They are arrogant, belligerent isolationists who only see things their way. There is nothing gained from an alliance with those types."
"True, if that is their nature," she said with the tip of her head. "But many have often said the same of the Chiss."
"True. Thrawn spoiled the Chiss image galaxy-wide, but he certainly does not represent our people as a whole," Jag insisted. "Look to the gains made since our involvement in the war."
"And you are so confident – already – that your negative impression of the Achebians could not simply be a similar misrepresentation or anomaly of who they really are as a people?"
Jag shook his head and leaned back in his chair. "No. If there is one thing I am certain of, it is the cloud of mistrust surrounding the Achebians. Call it instinct or gut reaction, whatever. I got a bad feeling while sitting in the room with them –"
"Versus the feeling you got in the room with Iliana?"
As if to manifest his internal wince Jag's stomach muscles clenched, and he had to wait a second to respond. "I was impressed with the sincerity of the Vikovans."
"You were impressed with the anatomy of one Vikovan in particular."
Maintaining a passive reaction when all Jag wanted to do was slam his fists on the desk turned out to be a next-to-impossible task. It was a fierce struggle of mind over impulse. Years ago it would have been a matter of course to block his Corellian instincts. Now he realized he was becoming far too…human.
"I admit the Vikovan leader is what humans classify as beautiful, but do you really think of me as weak-minded, my friend?"
"Not generally, but years ago you proved to be as spineless as an uranje worm when it came to Jaina Solo." The Chiss' eyes were the color of cold blood as she finished.
Jag coughed, in shock. "Spineless? Really? Did you think of me that poorly, Shawnkyr? Did I not do my duty on Hapes, and after?"
Shawnkyr turned to the side, her profile hiding the thought process in her eyes. Only the set of her jaw spoke to the internal battle waged deep within her soul. When she turned back her harsh expression wasn't as severe as seconds earlier.
"At first I did. I did not understand your human side. You were – to me – as true as a Chiss blood-brother could be. And I understood even less why someone like Jaina would appeal to you." Shawnkyr paused. "As I have come to know her, I have learned to appreciate the distinctive qualities that attract you to her. She is forthright and honest, brave and unwavering, all qualities deserving of a Chiss. Not to mention pleasing to the eye – or so I have overheard on many flightdecks."
"She is that," Jag said with a smile. Suddenly the mental image of Jaina that had been so elusive burst into his mind.
"But not in comparison to the Vikovan leader?"
"There is no comparison."
"So you did find this Iliana appealing."
"Yes. But –"
"You will simply dismiss all that you have achieved with Jaina because of the brazen advances –"
"What?! Wait. No. You've got it all wrong." Jag hadn't realized he had slipped back to Basic until he had finished his outburst. He swallowed, taking the time to force his mind to think like a Chiss, and speak like a Chiss. "I admitted that Il- the Vikovan leader is eye-catching, but my heart cannot be swayed by simple exterior trappings. Jaina is the woman of my dreams, everything I could ever want and need." He felt wonderful having said it; not until that moment had Jag realized how deeply he felt that truth in his heart. Jaina was his true love.
And only then did Jag realize what Shawnkyr had said. "What exactly do you mean by brazen advances?"
"Just as I said. It was quite apparent she is the reason your personal involvement was requested."
"That is preposterous."
In a strikingly human move, Shawnkyr cocked her head. "Do you think, then, that her behavior was simply the Vikovan way?"
"No…No, you are simply misinterpreting her actions. Admittedly you have never been adept at reading humans."
"Perhaps. But there was no mistaking what happened in the briefing room. The Vikovan leader was…" Shawnkyr appeared to mull over her words. She finished in Basic, "Putting the moves on you."
Jag couldn't help the laugh that escaped his lips.
Shawnkyr stiffened, more so than usual. "Did I say it wrong?"
Waving off her embarrassment, he quickly stifled the remaining chuckles. "No, you said it right…It is just funny to hear something so human coming from you."
Jag could think of nothing more to say, and an uneasy silence fell between the friends. He thought of what chances Shawnkyr had taken to brave this conversation, and how much their friendship had grown over the course of the war to reach this point. His best friend was actually defensive, possibly even on Jaina's behalf. She had even confessed to liking Jaina, or at least respecting her. But Shawnkyr was also wrong.
"There is nothing between the Vikovan leader and me."
Shawnkyr's nostrils flared. "You are mistaken…or blinded. Your actions and decisions today speak clearly to that end."
"I did nothing wrong. I have no doubt my superiors at the CEDF would agree with my decision today."
"You entered us into a battle not our own."
"Yes. I did. But if the Chiss have learned one thing during these last years it is that hiding our heads in snowdrifts will not keep away the woes plaguing the galaxy. Peace on our borders is peace for us all." Jag tapped his index finger on the desk to emphasize his next point. "Besides, this is a fight we can and will win."
"We have only one squadron to complement the Polar Wind. Any battle will be hard fought. We will be pressed to achieve any sort of victory, much less a lasting peace."
"You forget. I am Corellian. We prefer less than favorable odds," Jag said with a mischievous grin. The effort had no effect on his friend's scowl, so instead he sought to reassure her. "I have put into motion certain things that should even out the odds, if we are forced into a fight."
This last statement seemed to allay her misgivings, somewhat. Shawnkyr's eyes glowed with less intensity, but there was still that indefinable edge to her demeanor.
Jag sighed. "Do you honestly think, Shawnkyr, that I acted under the influence of the Vikovan leader's feminine wiles?"
In an uncharacteristic gesture, she hesitated. "I do."
"Were my choices wrong, then? In your opinion." When she stalled, Jag pressed. "I need to know."
"On the surface it would appear so, Jag." The words struck to his core. "But you always manage to see things on different levels and contexts even the most astute Chiss mind cannot fathom. Perhaps you see something I simply do not."
He tried to offer her an appreciative smile for the second part. He imagined it pained Shawnkyr as deeply to say what she had as it had pained him to hear it. He studied the plane of his desk for the span of several heartbeats until he could formulate a coherent thought. He glanced quickly to the holocube resting on the far corner. Jaina's smiling face stared back at him, but it was simply an image, not the real thing. It seemed he had failed on more than one level today – or at least the women in his life thought so.
Jag could not bring himself to return Shawnkyr's scrutinizing gaze.
"What should I do?"
The tall blue-skinned alien leaned over, placing her palms on the desk. "Call in Ambassador Chu'itha. He is the one who defined your mission to the Known Regions. If you have strayed from the CEDF's mandate, he would be the one to know."
After thinking about her suggestion for only a heartbeat, Jag looked into Shawnkyr's red eyes. His answer was simple - a nod.