CHAPTER TWELVE

Leaning back in his seat in the passenger compartment of the shuttle, Jag read from his datapad the initial battle assessment reports compiled by the bridge crew of the Polar Wind. The first wave of the Achebian invasion fleet had been soundly defeated. One enemy cruiser and two frigates destroyed, along with well over four squadrons of Hawkbats. The remaining cruiser limped away with major hull breaches. One badly damaged frigate towed another in its wake while the surviving Hawkbats provided cover. Only a need to regroup the forces defending Vikova had prevented them from pursuing the Achebians and wiping them out.

Remarkably the expected second wave of the invasion fleet had never come. The Vikovan scout ships had confirmed that the next flotilla of frigates and troop transports had turned around and returned to Achebi. Without the cleared path and secured landing zone the first wave had been intended to provide, the invasion plan had failed. At least for now.

Jag reviewed the casualties on his side. Nine Vikovan starfighters lost from their two squadrons. Two clawcraft lost as well. Minor damage to the Polar Wind and one frigate, already under repair along with Jag's own clawcraft. No damage to the Imminent Reward and no Y-Wings lost, much to the delight of the obsequious Commander Shesh. And one of the Jedi X-Wings destroyed, with its pilot – Valin Horn, who else? – recovered unharmed after ejecting EV in the nick of time. More than acceptable, all things considered. Still, Jag vowed to review the battle recordings until he could determine how his two Chiss comrades had died. Even if it was not always attainable, perfection was his goal.

The victory was hard-fought and well deserved. Whether it would deter the Achebians from attempting another attack in the days or weeks ahead depended on too many factors, none of which Jag could know right now. What he did know was that he had won, and a good thing too.

While Jag's shuttle descended toward the Vikovan capital city, the Chiss battlecruiser Ordained Guardian approached from the planet's far side. Aboard was Ambassador Chu'itha, the wise and trusted counselor who would pass judgment on Jag's decision to commit his forces to Vikova's defense.

To Iliana's defense.

Jag knew he could not avoid greeting the Vikovan leader when he landed. The conventions of diplomacy might not yet come naturally to him, but he couldn't deny that refusing to allow Iliana to express her planet's gratitude and congratulations would be an affront of gigantic proportions. Neither could he have declined her invitation to the celebratory dinner in honor of the victory. At least his officers, his diplomatic staff, and the Jedi – Jaina included – were attending the fete as well.

No matter, Jag was hardly in the mood for diplomatic games. The adrenaline of battle still pumped full throttle in his veins. As reluctant as he had been to admit it initially, Jaina had been right about his clawcraft, and he had spent the final harried half hour of the battle on the Polar Wind's bridge. It wasn't starfighter combat, but it had been frantic and intense all the same. After that he hadn't been able to afford even a few minutes to cool down before the necessities of respect for Iliana and Chu'itha had required him to clean up, put on his dress uniform, and depart the battlecruiser immediately. Not exactly an ideal way to continue an already awfully long day.

Jag closed his eyes and took a slow, deep breath. He tried to focus on the positive. For one, Jaina and the others wouldn't be too far behind him in the other shuttles, and the dinner would begin soon after they arrived. Hopefully that meant he could greet Iliana quickly and hurry off to the meeting with Chu'itha. There was so much to discuss, no doubt he and his superior would only get into the very basics at first. So Jag certainly would find a few minutes alone with Jaina before the dinner began, to say all the things he needed to say.

Yes, tonight was going to work out just fine. At dinner he would have some of the famous Vikovan firebrandy Iliana had told him about – until he was good and relaxed. With any luck Jaina would have some too, and…

"Ambassador Fel, sir."

Jag forced open his eyes. "Yes, Lieutenant?"

"We will be landing momentarily, sir."

"Very good."

Jag switched off his datapad and stashed it in the console at his side. Even though he knew the Chiss pilot would land the shuttle smoothly, from habit he checked the tightness of his restraints and made sure his blaster pistol's safety was on. Then he waited.

A few moments later his seat rocked gently as the shuttle settled onto its landing gear. Jag released the restraints and stood. He smoothed out his uniform and ran his fingers through his hair before reaching down to his waist to flick off the safety again.

Like it or not, it was time to go. With deliberate strides he left the passenger compartment and headed for the boarding ramp.

When he stepped off the bottom of the ramp, the sight awaiting him was not at all what he had expected. He emerged onto a broad stone plaza nearly a kilometer square. Towering statues of planetary leaders and heroes long dead rose at regular intervals across the space, and ancient stone temples and monuments stretched along the plaza's edges. And the entire vista before him was filled to capacity with Vikovan citizens.

A tremendous roar shook the air as the throng of humans and the occasional alien burst into joyous cheering and applause. Jag was so stunned he nearly forgot to acknowledge the ovation with a wave – a wave that only caused the exclamations of triumph to swell even more.

Jag quickly scanned the situation around him as he raised both hands to accept the accolades. A ring of Iliana's heavily armed and armored guards had formed the landing circle for his shuttle, and two rows of the guards kept the crowd at bay to give Jag a clear path to a raised stone dais about fifty meters away. Iliana was waiting for him there, as breathtaking and radiant as ever. The bright sun glittered off her sparkling multicolored dress, and her long blonde hair drifted easily around her head and shoulders in the light flowery breeze wafting across the plaza.

The celebratory clamoring continued unabated as Jag strode forward. His waves to each side elicited louder cheers with every meter forward, and by the time he had reached the dais the sound was almost deafening. He walked up the tall steps and stopped at Iliana's side.

She smiled broadly. "Well done, Jag."

"Thank you, Iliana."

For an instant her glimmering blue eyes darted toward the crowd. "I will not keep you here long," she said. "But even a few brief moments of public acclaim can be quite valuable. To me and to you."

"Of course," he replied, turning to face the crowd as well. As much as he disdained such political maneuvering, he also knew that it came with the territory of being an ambassador. If he couldn't tolerate it now and then, he shouldn't have accepted this position. "I understand."

"As I had known you would." Iliana reached out her left hand and clasped Jag's right, and hefted them high in the air. Another thundering roar burst from the gathered citizens.

Iliana held their hands up for a few heartbeats, then lowered them and released her hold. She glanced back quickly to nod her appreciation to Jag before she stepped forward to the podium at the front of the dais. Within only a few seconds the raucous cheering had quieted to a dull murmur.

"My people," she said, her musical voice soaring across the plaza. "Today our sovereignty has been secured, and our freedom protected. A great victory has been won – a victory that would not have been possible without the leadership and bravery of a true champion of our planet, Ambassador Jagged Fel, esteemed representative of the Chiss Expansionary Defense Force."

The crowd erupted in applause again. Jag bowed respectfully several times while waiting for the noise to abate.

"Thank you, Ambassador Fel," Iliana continued. "Your heroism is a debt we can never repay. Vikova is blessed to have you as an ally, today and for the future. I believe later generations will look back on our victory today as the moment when Vikova truly joined the brotherhood of planets in the galaxy. This will be a day long remembered. It has seen the end of the Achebian aggression, and soon it will see –"

"To tyrants, death!"

A shouted threat from within the crowd. Blasterfire. An explosion at the base of the dais – a fragmentation grenade. Screams. Panic. Blasterfire everywhere. Another grenade.

Things happened so fast Jag was surrounded by smoke and flames and shimmering blaster bolts before he even had a chance to understand what was going on. He drew his blaster pistol and looked around. Iliana was standing at the podium, too shocked to move. All the guards atop and beneath the dais were dead, killed by blaster shots or shrapnel. The crowd below them had become a chaotic rampage of terrified, fleeing citizens.

And standing at the base of the dais, blasters pointed straight at Iliana, were two men.

Jag reacted instinctively, leaping forward to tackle Iliana to the ground just as the assassins' laser bolts flew through the air where she had stood a split-second earlier. With his free arm wrapped tightly around her he rolled her away from the front edge of the dais. The hard stone pounded his knees, elbows, back, and head, and Iliana cried out in pain from the blows to her body too. After a long moment Jag flung out his arms and legs to stop their tumble.

Iliana was beneath him, crushed to the stone by the weight of his body. Her hands clung to his back, and his legs straddled her hips. Jag pushed himself up with his free hand, and her chest heaved in a ragged breath. Their eyes locked, and her gaze was full of fear.

But there was no time to say anything. Jag scrambled off Iliana and set himself in a firing crouch between her and the front of the dais. Just as he'd expected, a moment later one of the assassins rushed up the dais with his blaster firing. Laser bolts slammed into the stone at Jag's feet, sending shards of rock spraying upward.

He didn't hesitate. He squared his aim and squeezed his trigger. Three blaster bolts drove into the tall, flaxen-haired man's chest, knocking him off his feet and launching him backward down the steps. Simultaneously the pulsing thrum of repulsordrives from above intruded over the screams and cries of the horrified crowd.

Jag couldn't afford to look up, though. The second assassin ducked around his comrade's flying body and took aim right at Jag. Fortunately Jag got off the first shot. It didn't find its mark, but was enough to make the assassin dodge.

Watching the man scramble for his life, Jag knew he would never forget his face. The man had flaming red hair and a long, vicious scar across the left side of his face. But it was his malicious grin and the cold fire in his dark eyes that chilled Jag to his core. Now totally certain the man needed to be stopped, Jag squared his aim and fired.

Before he could fire more shots a pair of hands seized him by the shoulders and flung him roughly through the air. The crowd, the sky, blurs of uniforms and armor whizzed through his vision.

"Don't shoot," a sharp male voice barked even as a hand grabbed Jag's wrist and his blaster was ripped away.

"Go!" another male voice shouted as Jag thumped against a bench seat. "Go! Go! Go!"

Suddenly a door swung closed and the bench beneath Jag lurched into motion. Only then did he realize they were inside the passenger compartment of an airspeeder launching away into the sky. And more than that, not only had the guards left him alone with Iliana, but they had tossed his blaster pistol in with them. Considering they'd just been swooped away from a nearly successful attempt on her life, showing a foreign diplomat like Jag that level of trust seemed… well, wrong.

Trying to shake the uneasy feeling, Jag hauled himself upright on the bench, then scooped up his blaster from the floor at his feet and slid it into his holster. Across from him Iliana pulled herself up on a bench seat too, then reached out to tap a button on a small panel above her head.

"The palace," she ordered. Her voice was strong and firm, but her eyes and the pale hue of her skin betrayed her true emotions. "Right away."

"Already on our way, Your Grace," another male voice replied from the speaker.

"The other shuttles," Iliana said. "Where are they?"

A short pause. "Descending as we speak, Your Grace."

"Give them clearance directly to the palace," Iliana said. "We can no longer be certain the spaceport is secure."

"Understood, Your Grace."

Iliana tapped off the comlink panel and turned to face Jag. Only then did he notice the tears streaming down her cheeks.

Jag leaned forward. "Are you hurt?"

"No," she said, her voice suddenly tremulous. "No. It's just… there's only so many times I can go through this."

"What?" He leaned forward more. "They've tried to kill you before?"

"Oh, Jag…" Iliana wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "You have no idea."

He didn't know what to say. "I… I'm sorry."

"Thank you," she said. She leaned forward too, and clasped his hand in both of hers. "I am a strong woman, Jag. But I don't know if I can keep doing this alone."

"You're not alone. You have generals, and trusted advisors. The leaders on Csilla may very well offer you the treaty you –"

"I did not mean politically, Jag." Her blue eyes seemed to gaze all the way into the depths of his soul. "I don't just need allies and supporters. I need a partner."

"A partner?"

"Yes," she said. She was closer now, her face too close to his, her grasp too intimate on his hand. "A man I can always count on. Not simply unwavering loyalty, but complete faith and trust as well. A man to whom I can entrust my secrets and my safety. And my soul."

Jag tried to speak, but the words froze in his throat.

"You have saved my planet, Jag, and now you have saved me as well." Iliana reached up a hand to caress the side of his face. "You are the partner I have sought all my life."

Jag swallowed hard. "Iliana, I –"

Abruptly the speeder swerved, and the motion threw them apart. Jag crashed back against the bench seat, his eyes still fixed to Iliana across from him. Her gaze was pleading and intense, yet forlorn and fearful at the same time.

He had to reply somehow. "I don't know what to say."

"Say you will consider what I can offer you, Jag." She did not move closer this time, but kept her respectful distance. "What we can accomplish together."

"Iliana, I can't possibly…"

When he trailed off, she met his gaze with a steely stare. "Do not offer me excuses about Jaina Solo and love. Leaders like you and I, lives lived with such stature and consequence, we are bigger than love, Jag. We rule people who value honor and duty above all else. What I offer you is a chance to secure the futures of both our peoples. To make them stronger. To ensure their survival by a mutually beneficial alliance. There is nothing more honorable than that."

No rational argument came to Jag's mind, even as much as his heart cried out otherwise. Thankfully the speeder slowed, and their seats rocked slightly as the craft settled on its landing gear. They were out of time.

A moment later the door swung open and a guard extended his hand inside. "Please, Your Grace," the man said. "We need to get you to the medcenter."

Iliana took his hand and stepped out of the airspeeder. "No, Lieutenant. That will not be necessary."

"I must insist, Your Grace," the man said as Jag exited behind her. "We must make certain you are not injured."

"I am fine," Iliana said. "What of the assassins in the plaza?"

"One is dead, Your Grace," a different guard reported from the side. "The other was gravely wounded and is in custody."

"We must uncover who was behind this plot," Iliana said. "Many innocent lives were lost today. Make certain this assassin survives so he can be interrogated."

"As ordered, Your Grace."

"Your Grace," the first guard said boldly, "we must –"

Iliana cut him off with a wave of her hand. "I must escort Ambassador Fel to his meeting with Ambassador Chu'itha. Anything else can wait until after that."

"No," Jag said. "It can't."

Iliana spun on him. "What?"

With all the glittering colors of her dress, it would have been difficult to spot a wound. Still, the dark stain on her arm looked like a blaster burn. "You may have taken a glancing shot," he said, tugging at the charred fabric with his fingers. "Or worse. Your body could be in shock and you wouldn't even know it."

Iliana crossed her arms over her chest and looked at him sternly. "Spoken from experience?"

For a moment Jag frowned, looked down at the floor, and nodded reluctantly. Then he looked up again. "I am sure your guards can point me in the right direction," he said calmly. "Your duty to your people must take precedence. Let your guards do theirs, Iliana. Go to the medcenter."

"Very well, Jag," she replied. "I will see you shortly at the fete?"

"Yes. Of course."

Iliana tipped her head, then turned to her guards and nodded. Five of them surrounded her and ushered her away down the hall.

The sixth guard remained behind. "Down this hallway to the main atrium," he said. "Take the corridor beneath the arch with a figure of a falcon at the apex. That will lead you directly to the ceremonial reception area where Ambassador Chu'itha should be arriving within the next few minutes."

"Thank you," Jag said, suddenly realizing just how exhausted he really was.

"No, thank you, Colonel Fel," the man said. "If it weren't for you, our leader would be dead."

Jag could only shrug. After a bemused smile the guard saluted crisply, and Jag managed to lift his hand to salute back. Then the guard spun on his heel and hurried off in the direction Iliana had gone.

Somehow Jag compelled his feet to carry him forward, and he headed down the hallway toward his destination. He didn't get very far, though, before another wave of exhaustion crashed over him. Jag leaned back against the wall, resting his palms and the back of his head on the cool stone wall. He closed his eyes and breathed slowly.

What a day. Almost getting himself killed was more than enough. Almost getting shot to death on top of that was just too much. And Iliana… He couldn't even bring himself to think about that. How could he possibly pull himself together and meet Chu'itha? It was just too much…

"Jag?"

He opened his eyes and realized he had slid down the wall and was now sitting in a heap on the floor. How had that happened? And then he realized who had called to him from down the hallway. Through blurry vision he saw her running his way.

"Jaina?"

"Jag!" She was almost to him now. "You're bleeding!"

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