CHAPTER SEVEN

Jag hopped down to the floor and returned the hydrospanner to its place in the utility case. He took two long strides backward and appraised his clawcraft, then the others from his squadron docked in the Polar Wind's hangar. His starfighter was in optimal condition, and he knew his Chiss wingmates had readied theirs to similar levels of perfection. If the Achebians initiated hostilities, they were going to regret it.

A light, airy laugh from behind him broke his contemplations.

"An ambassador who performs maintenance of his own starfighter," a feminine voice said. "I would have thought you had more important ways to spend your time."

That voice… Jag swallowed hard, then turned around to face Iliana. "Time is worth little if I am shot out of the sky."

"A fair point. Although if even half the reports of your skill are true, you are a difficult kill indeed."

"I can assure you the reports are all true."

Iliana smiled and began to stride gracefully forward. "The reports of your deficient sense of humor, however, seem to be inaccurate."

Jag felt the sweat beading on his neck at the sight of her heading straight at him. "Perhaps, Your Grace, you should rely less on reports, and more on your own observations."

"Appearances can be as deceiving as reports, Ambassador Fel."

His thoughts scattered to the stars as Jag's gaze followed her luscious form – and inexplicably she went right past him and swayed up to his fighter.

"For example, these clawcraft of yours," Iliana said, languidly stroking her hand along its wing. "At first glance one would think them no less deadly than the old TIEs the Empire built and used up like so many child's toys. Yet, Ambassador, my reports" – she glanced back over her shoulder to grin in bemusement at him – "clearly indicate otherwise."

Jag swallowed hard, and tried to calm himself. She was here to see his ships, and nothing more. Words tumbled from his mouth of their own accord – again. "It seems I am not the only one with an under-appreciated sense of humor. And please, call me Jag."

"As you wish." She tipped her head graciously. "Then I must insist you drop the honorifics as well."

"Very well." Jag scrambled to remember what they were talking about. Oh, right! "It is true that the clawcraft are far superior to the older fighters they resemble. Your reports are reliable this time… Iliana."

The briefest of grins flashed across her face. "So… Jag… Tell me, what is it about these clawcraft that gives them such impressive capabilities in combat?"

Jag walked around his fighter and began to describe the notable features of the Chiss clawcraft as he pointed them out to her and she followed him. Strong shields. Heavier weaponry, and linked firing. Improved sensor packages. And most importantly, unmatched maneuverability.

"I can see why the clawcraft are so feared," Iliana said when he finished. She turned away from the starfighter to gaze out across the hangar toward the array of stars beyond the open bay doors. She paused, and when she spoke again there was a distinct hint of wistfulness in her words. "The Chiss must be very proud of their engineering designs. I do not believe our planet could produce a fighter so sophisticated."

"Their pride is well deserved," Jag replied. "But technological sophistication can only accomplish so much. The most advanced fighters are easy targets when flown by inferior pilots."

She chuckled. "Which is not a problem in your squadron."

"No," he said, allowing a flicker of a grin to cross his face. "It is not."

"I look forward to seeing them in action." Her shoulders slumped. "If the Achebians choose violence, of course."

"Of course," Jag said. "Although unfortunately that seems increasingly likely."

"I agree." Iliana sighed deeply, still facing the stars. "They believe I am weak. That is why they threaten my planet."

"They think you are weak?"

"They do." Her long blonde hair whispered along her back as she shook her head slowly. "I am a new leader, and there are many on my planet who still oppose me. I am young, and therefore inexperienced. And I am a woman."

"If those are their reasons, then they are fools."

"Perhaps. Or perhaps they are right about me."

"I do not think so."

"We shall see," Iliana said, turning to face him again as she stepped away from the fighter. "Until I lead Vikova through this crisis, the Achebians have no reason to respect me, much less fear me. It is easy enough to take power, Jag. It is far more difficult to keep it."

He chuckled. "Spoken like a Chiss."

She nodded, seemingly lost in thought. As she passed Jag the back of her hand brushed against his, but she did not react in the least when she stopped at his side and met his gaze. Maybe she hadn't even noticed…

After only a few heartbeats the heavy silence had become utterly intolerable. Jag said the first thing that came to mind. "Did you need something?"

Iliana arched an eyebrow. "Yes."

Jag held his breath and waited.

She took a step closer to him. "Your perceptiveness serves you well."

He thought his legs were going to give way beneath him.

"Will you join me for dinner tonight? Planetside, at my palace."

Yes! No! Wait! What's going on? For once in her presence Jag's instincts didn't let him down. "I am not certain all of my diplomatic staff can be assembled –"

"No, Jag," she said. "Not an official function with staff. Just dinner. The two of us."

"Ah."

Iliana appraised him, but said nothing.

"I'm afraid I must decline."

"Why?"

Unfortunately Jag's brain hadn't thought up anything better in the meantime. "It would not be appropriate in light of my role as mediator in this –"

"You are no longer a mediator," she interrupted. "You already have taken sides, and planned the defense of my planet against attack."

She's got you there. "There is much planning left to be done."

Iliana laughed. "You are a very bad liar, Jag."

He took a deep breath and sighed, and chose the truth. "I do not wish to mislead you."

"In what way?"

"About my intentions."

"You are an honorable man, Jag. I do not question your intentions."

He sighed again. "My heart belongs to someone else. I feel that by joining you for this dinner, I would be misleading you into believing otherwise."

"I see." Iliana looked away. "It seems I may have overstepped my bounds. Please accept my apology for any offense I have inadvertently given."

"There is nothing to apologize for, Iliana," Jag insisted. "And no offense was taken."

Iliana nodded appreciatively. "Nevertheless, I am sorry. I was not aware that you were married."

"Oh, I'm not," Jag blurted out.

Her gaze fixed to his in an instant. "Then you must be betrothed?"

Jag hesitated.

Iliana took another step closer to him, and suddenly her blue eyes had… darkened somehow. "Either you are betrothed or you are not."

"I am not."

"Then what is the nature of your commitment?"

That, Jag realized suddenly, was a very good question. "My heart belongs to her, and hers to me."

"But you are not betrothed?"

"No."

"You are loyal to one another? Committed exclusively?"

"Yes."

"And you are certain she feels the same as you?"

"Yes," he lied.

Iliana chuckled in amusement. "Surely you do not mean your dalliance with Jaina Solo?"

"Of cour – yes," he said. "I love her."

"I would have thought, Jag," she replied, frowning, "that if you were going to decline my invitation, someone of your intelligence and strategic cunning could at least invent a more plausible excuse than this."

"What?"

"Do not take me for a fool, Jag. We have seen it all on the Holonet." All at once Iliana seemed to tower over him. "The Chiss prince and the Alliance princess. Such excellent publicity. Such great symbols of newfound ties."

"It's not –"

"Honor and duty, Jag. The Chiss are your people as surely as the Vikovans are mine. Your commitment to them is complete."

"Yes, but –"

"You would do anything to further their interests." Her stare seemed to bore straight into his soul. "Including –"

Before she could say more the loud beeping of Jag's comlink intruded.

"Fel here."

"The Jedi task force has arrived in the system, Ambassador," a male Chiss voice reported. "They will be docking in the main hangar bay in five minutes."

"What Jedi task force?"

The next voice from the comlink was Shawnkyr's. "Six Jedi aces have been sent to assist us."

He couldn't have forgotten that, could he? Had he lost his faculties completely? Fortunately his second had everything well under control as always, and didn't even wait for him to reply.

"The decision was made yesterday, but Luke's transmissions only arrived an hour ago," Shawnkyr explained. "A problem with the relays, apparently. In any case, you had said you needed some time to think over what we had discussed while you ran the diagnostics, so I thought it best not to disturb you until now."

Jag hissed out a quick breath. "All right. I understand. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Shawnkyr said. "I expect as commanding officer you would like to greet the task force when they arrive in the docking bay."

"Right. Of course."

Shawnkyr clicked off the feed, and Jag clipped the device to his belt again. He turned back to Iliana.

"Duty calls," she said. "Go."

Jag replied with a tip of his head. After Iliana tipped her head in return, he spun on his heel and headed off across the docking bay toward the corridors to the main hangar. Only one issue dominated Jag's thoughts. Shawnkyr had been right about Iliana's intentions. He took a deep breath and quickened his pace. What else was Shawnkyr right about?