CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Jag followed Shawnkyr down the corridor. Toward the meeting with Ambassador Chu'itha. Toward his disgrace. His doom.

But Jag didn't even care that his superior was about to accost him with what would no doubt be a quite extensive list of misjudgments, errors, and mistakes. His career was about to vaporize like so many pitiful Achebian Hawkbat fighters, yet the thought could not instill even the smallest bit of apprehension in his heart. It all seemed so pointless now.

One foot in front of the other, toward his executioner. With each step, the horrible words echoed in his skull. "Jag, we'll talk about this later, okay?" "Jag, we'll talk about this later, okay?" "Jag, we'll talk about this later, okay?" "Jag, we'll talk about this later, okay?"

"No," Jag muttered. It's not okay!

"Jag?"

He glanced ahead at Shawnkyr, who was looking back at him with a concerned expression in her bright ruby eyes. "Sorry," he said, glancing away from her gaze immediately. "I was just thinking about… Never mind. I was talking to myself."

Shawnkyr shrugged, and reached a hand into her pocket. "I have no doubt it is a very edifying conversation." Without breaking stride she passed a white handkerchief to him. "When you start it up again be sure to remind yourself not to meet your superiors with blood on your face."

"Right. Thanks." He'd completely forgotten about the blood. Quickly he used the handkerchief to wipe down his forehead and cheek. Sure enough, the pale cloth was stained with several faint streaks of crimson. Jag crushed it in his fist, then jammed it into his pocket.

What made Jag angriest was that it had been such a simple question. Had Jaina thought more about coming home with him or not? A simple question. Yes or no. How difficult was that? Yes or no. After all they had been through, she couldn't even give him that.

Then again, maybe she had. Maybe "let's talk about this later" was woman-speak for "no" and she expected him to understand that. Maybe the fact that she hadn't said, "Yes. I'll go with you happily as soon as this is all over. I've been wrong for so long. Please forgive me, Jag." was all he needed to know.

The toe of his boot stubbed the polished stone floor as they emerged into the main atrium of the palace. Jag nearly stumbled, but he found his balance and stayed upright. He blew out a quick sigh and clenched his fists for a moment.

"Jag? Are you well?"

He did his best to square his shoulders and straighten his bearing. "Well enough, I suppose."

She frowned. "You are not acting well."

"I'm fine."

Clearly, she did not believe him.

"All right," Jag said. "I am exhausted from the battle, and a bit nicked up from the assassination attempt on the plaza. But I am fine. I promise."

Shawnkyr crossed her arms over her chest. "I did not mean physically."

Jag blinked.

"First, yesterday. After the initial meeting with the Vikovan delegation and Iliana you were so out of sorts you forgot what we were doing at your office." Shawnkyr took a long stride toward him, and seemed to tower over Jag as she met his gaze sternly. "Now, today. I do not think I have ever seen you this preoccupied."

He didn't know what to say.

"I do not know what Jaina said to you, but if you are not capable of meeting with Ambassador Chu'itha you must tell me now. I can stall, explaining that your injuries were serious and you have been taken to the medcenter. Or something similar."

"I'm fine, Shawnkyr. Really."

Shawnkyr uncrossed her arms and waved a hand in the direction of the hallway under the arch with a falcon at its apex. "I hope I do not regret trusting you on this."

"You won't," Jag said. What he thought was, Me too.

Less than a minute later they arrived at the grand doors to the ceremonial reception area where Ambasssador Chu'itha was waiting for him. Jag paused for a moment and adjusted his uniform one more time. Possibly for the last time. At least the small drop of blood from the cut on his scalp was hardly visible on the black fabric. The cut Jaina had healed with the Force… right before she kissed him… but then she had…

"No," Jag muttered again. Don't go there.

Shawnkyr put a hand on his shoulder. "Are you certain you are ready?"

"Yes." He exhaled. "Yes, I am."

Shawnkyr shoved the heavy wooden doors open and Jag followed her inside. In the center of the large room Ambassador Chu'itha spun on a heel to face them. The renowned Chiss diplomat stood a bit taller than Jag. The short hair atop his head was as white as the arctic snow of Csilla, and his red eyes glittered with a proud fire. He wore a dark dress uniform similar to Jag's, but with far more medals and golden trim. The ambassador strode directly toward them.

Jag didn't even have time to offer a formal greeting in Chiss.

"Jagged!" And then Chu'itha was right there, standing in front of Jag with his arms outstretched in greeting, palms up.

Jag couldn't have been more flabbergasted if Chu'itha had pulled him into an embrace and kissed him full on the lips. Never before had Chu'itha addressed Jag by his first name. For that matter, Jag had never even heard Chu'itha address his father as Soontir. And not only that, but Chu'itha had offered Jag the informal friendly greeting – about as close as the Chiss ever got to hugging – and had offered it in the inferior manner, palms up, so that Jag would extend his hands in the superior manner atop them, palms down.

It was truly and utterly bizarre. Perhaps the head injury was worse than he had thought, and he was hallucinating. That might explain it.

"Ambassador Chu'itha," Jag finally managed to say. He placed his hands atop Chu'itha's and nearly gasped at the firmness with which the elderly diplomat shook them.

"Well done, Jagged," Chu'itha said, releasing his grasp. "Very well done indeed."

Jag blinked once. Twice. Three times. "Thank… you, sir."

"Please, come," Chu'itha said, leading Jag toward three elaborately carved chairs arranged around a small table. Atop the table were three crystal chalices of wine. "Sit, and let us talk."

Jag nodded, and he and Shawnkyr sat down opposite Chu'itha. He took a long drink of wine from his glass, hoping that might shock his brain enough to end the delusion. It didn't, though, so he took a deep breath. "So, my actions were acceptable?"

"Acceptable?" Chu'itha laughed. "They were far more than acceptable. You have accomplished here exactly what Csilla desires in this sector."

"I have?"

"Oh, yes. Vikova is to be a crucial new ally."

Jag took another drink of wine. Although the cut on his scalp was healed, what had started as a small throbbing pulse of pain directly beneath it was steadily growing into a raging headache engulfing his entire brain. "Nothing in the dossier suggested it would have such significance for our people."

Chu'itha steepled his fingers under his chin. "Perhaps that is true. Perhaps the intelligence department deemed the information too sensitive to include in a diplomatic dispatch bearing only limited assurances of secrecy."

"The information?"

Chu'itha closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again. "Months ago our astronavigation specialists discovered a new hyperspace corridor running from several dozen parsecs within our territory, across a short expanse of uninhabited space and into the Outer Rim, then nearly to the Core, terminating at the Restvo system. Only in the last several days have the final confirmations been achieved."

"A direct route from Chiss space to the Core?"

"Precisely."

Jag leaned back in his chair. "This is… incredible. It changes everything."

"Indeed it does," Chu'itha said. "Our historic isolation is about to come to an end."

The three of them sat there silently for a long moment. The implications – economic, cultural, technological, and more – were simply too staggering to put into words.

"And our historic security comes to an end as well," Shawnkyr finally said.

Chu'itha nodded slowly. "Yes. For as long as we have been a strong people, we have focused on the threats beyond our borders, in what the inhabitants of the rest of the galaxy so graciously call the Unknown Regions. The Clone Wars, the Civil War against the Empire, these conflicts raged on for decades on our flank without so much as a passing effect."

"Even the war against the Yuuzhan Vong," Shawnkyr added quietly. "Despite some of the initial setbacks and the" – abruptly she paused and glanced furtively around them, then continued more circumspectly – "disputes over whether to maintain neutrality or engage the Vong aggressively, our people suffered little compared to most in the galaxy."

"Quite true," Chu'itha said. "But you are correct, Major Nuruodo. That security will be traded for other opportunities. The flank that once was closed to all but those we chose to admit to our territory will now have a significant vulnerability."

Jag blew out a deep breath. "All the threats from the Known Regions are now potential threats to us as well. Spies, disease, war, piracy… The galaxy's problems become our problems."

Chu'itha leaned back in his chair too. "The future of the CEDF will be nothing like its past. Protecting our people is now vastly more complicated."

"And Vikova," Jag said, "is the key."

Chu'itha waved a dismissive hand. "Vikova itself is insignificant. The planet is nothing. All that matters is its location."

"Of course," Shawnkyr said. "This is where the hyperspace route crosses into the Outer Rim from uninhabited space."

"Exactly," Chu'itha replied. "And not just this sector. The safest, most direct route our astronavigators have devised uses Vikova's primary as a gravity source that will redirect starships as they head to or from the Core. Many of them no doubt will drop from hyperspace to refuel or take on supplies or crew at this stage of the journey."

"So whoever controls Vikova," Shawnkyr said, "controls the corridor."

"And whoever controls the corridor," Jag finished, "controls our flank."

Chu'itha smiled approvingly. "So perceptive for two so young," the elderly diplomat said warmly. "It is such sharp insights that earned you this mission."

Jag tipped his head to accept the very high compliment. "So my decision to defend Vikova was the correct one?"

"Without a doubt," Chu'itha replied. "The instructions I bring from Csilla are clear: to strike an alliance and sign a treaty with the Vikovans at once. We must control this location at any cost."

Jag nodded. "I understand."

"Your victory, repelling the Achebian aggression so decisively and impressively, already has earned the Chiss great levels of esteem among the Vikovans," Chu'itha explained. "Now all that is left is to seize upon that goodwill while it remains high, and conclude a treaty that will ensure our dominant presence on Vikova for the future."

"Yes," Jag said. "Of course."

"I will leave that to you," Chu'itha said. With a satisfied clap of his hands he rose to his feet, and Jag and Shawnkyr stood as well. "You seem to have already earned the trust and admiration of the Vikovan leader of the moment, this… Iliana, is it?"

"Yes, Iliana," Jag supplied.

"And it certainly seems," Shawnkyr said dryly, "that he has earned her admiration."

Jag tried to scowl at her, but she was very deliberately looking at Chu'itha and refusing to meet his gaze. "I have my orders, then. I will make obtaining a treaty with the Vikovans my top priority."

"Very good, Jagged," Chu'itha said. "Get us our treaty – by any means necessary."

"Yes." Jag swallowed hard. "I understand."

Chu'itha extended his hands, palms up. "May the Force be with you, Ambassador Fel."

"Thank you, Ambassador Chu'itha," Jag said, clasping his hands, palms down, atop the other man's. "It was a great pleasure to see you again."

Abruptly Chu'itha broke the grasp and leaned in toward Jag. "Jagged? Is that blood on your jacket?"

"Just a little," Jag said. "It is nothing."

Chu'itha frowned skeptically.

"There was an… incident on my way to meet you," Jag explained. "I am sure you will be briefed on it momentarily. In any case, I received a small cut on my head. It bled for a short while but it has already… been taken care of."

Chu'itha glanced at Shawnkyr. "Does he speak the truth? Or is my loyal subordinate shading the facts in an attempt to please me?"

"He speaks the truth, Ambassador." Shawnkyr chuckled. "This time, anyway."

"Good," Chu'itha said, chuckling too. He motioned toward the exit with a hand. "Come, Jagged. We have a fete in your honor to attend."

6