Chapter 25

The green orb of Ithor hung in space outside her canopy, ships orbiting the world that under normal circumstances would have never been there, looking like flitnats against the black backdrop of space. There were no Vong. Yet.

Jaina angled the TIE towards the Rebel Dream, her mother's personal flagship. That was where the address would no doubt be made, seeing as visitors were not allowed on the pristine Ithorian surface. It was only a few moments before she was hailed. "Unidentified TIE fighter, state your name, allegiances, and intentions."

Jaina screwed her face at the comm. "This is General Jaina Sol-Fel of the Imperial Remnant. I am here to warn The New Republic of a coming attack from the Yuuzhan Vong, invaders in our galaxy that have been harrying the Remnant for over half a year. They will be here in a matter of hours or less, and you need to prepare quickly. Any assistance I can offer is yours."

"Please hold," the slightly haughty and more than a little reluctant voice said. The only thing not present was alarm. The next voice that came on was easily identifiable as General Wedge Antilles.

"Jaina?"

Jaina smiled fondly, sweeping her TIE over the hull of the massive Star Destroyer. "Hello, General. I would love to talk with you on a personal note, but everything I told your comm officer is becoming more urgent with every moment. You have to prepare for a major attack, and now!"

"Jaina—"

"General Fel," Jaina corrected.

"I'm afraid," he continued without skipping a beat, "that since your defection, any information you provide us cannot be taken at face value. You are an Imperial representative now, and must go through the proper channels if you want to communicate with New Republic—"

"Damn it, Wedge, I'm trying to save you here! I may have left, but that had nothing to do with me loving the New Republic. Why can't you just listen? If you don't prepare—"

"Please hold."

Jaina slammed her fist against the canopy in frustration. She had risked so much by coming here. She had come to help them. And Pellaeon would be coming. Hopefully he would be coming, at least. But they would have to listen to her when the Vong arrived, wouldn't they?

"General Fel," Wedge's voice came back, "are you in conjunction with the Star Destroyer that has just arrived insystem? It identifies itself as the Roughshod."

"That is my flagship. It is here to help me assist in the protection of Ithor."

"I'm sorry, General, but the Chief of State has given explicit orders for all ships not under New Republic authority should be evicted from the system. If you will not go peacefully, we will have to resort to force."

Jaina balked at the words. "What? Listen, all I'm trying to do is help. If you want to be slaughtered when the Vong come because you're too stubborn to accept help, well then you can just go to—"

Jaina's sensors lit up like a Coruscant night as the entire Yuuzhan vong battle fleet jumped into the Ithorian system. She ignored the squawks of panic coming from the New Republic cruisers and pushed herself full throttle towards the rapidly approaching Vong fleet. She hit her comm as she did so. "Roughshod, open fire on enemy battle group at will. Our main objective is to protect Ithor. Is that understood?"

There came a chorus of affirmatives, and the heavy guns began to blaze. TIEs issued forth from the hangar bays, streaming in great waves towards the enemy fleet. Jaina pushed her engines for all they were worth, hungry to join the fray. It would take the Republic fleet a long time to come on line, and until then Jaina and the Roughshod where the only thing between the Vong and the planet.

They had no chance.

Suddenly she was surrounded by coralskippers, plasma flying towards her from all sides, pelting her shields and tossing her about like a rag doll. She fired back, but she doubted any of her shots did anything, but it would be hard to miss in the multitude. She was spinning suddenly, as if a giant hand had slapped her fighter and tossed it through the group. Her solar panels clipped other Vong fighters, sending sparks and pieces of metal flying. Her shields were at a dangerously low level and alarms blared at her swimming head.

Finally she pulled it under control, righting herself and searching for a target. She found one, managed to kill it, and moved on to the next. The only thing saving her was her complete surrender to the Force. It guided her hands and instinct, and she moved with purpose and grace. She fired a weaknesses she hadn't even known were there until her target was gone, and she flew with a fluidity absent to most.

Her TIE found a brief relief from the terrible death dance, and she took a moment to gather her wits. The Republic had joined the fight, and between them and the Roughshod the main Yuuzhan Vong cruiser was being hammered. This did little to help the rest of the situation however. It seemed almost hopeless cause. There were more New Republic deaths per second than Jaina's mind could handle. Slowly she extended her awareness, searching for three lifeforms she knew so well.

And there they were. Jacen reacted to her touch first, then Luke and Anakin. They all blossomed with concern, but she allayed their fears, telling them she was just reassuring herself of their presence. Were they joining the fight, she asked. A picture of the Rebel Dream appeared in her mind. Jaina withdrew, having found what she wanted to know.

Suddenly her comm crackled. "General Sol-Fel?"

Jaina smiled, recognizing the voice immediately. "Grand Admiral! Boy am I glad to hear from you." A quick examination of her scanners showed that he must have brought over half of the entire Imperial fleet with him. "Oh wow. You really came prepared too."

"It looks like you need it. Permission to assist?"

Jaina sighed in relief. "I thought you'd never ask."

The odds were slightly more even now, and Jaina felt a whole new wave of energy. She fought on, firing almost continuously. It wasn't until she was in the midst of one giant Yuuzhan Vong assemblage of coralskippers that she realized she had been herded away from all other allies. She was completely alone in enemy territory, the only target for hundreds of otherwise unoccupied fighters. Jaina slapped the comm.

"This is General Solo-Fel, requesting immediate assistance at the following coordinates." Jaina hit her thrusters desperately, gunning for the nearest hole to open space. Even as she watched it, it clouded over with enemy ships, cutting off her escape route.

"General Fel, assistance will be there momentarily. Just hold on till we get there."

Jaina's heart leapt into her throat, almost enough to make her choke on sudden tears. "Jag! Oh, Force, Jag, you can't come after me. It's hopeless. Stay where you are, I'll make it out somehow—"

"Sorry, General, I can't hear you. You must be cutting out."

Jaina gritted her teeth. "Damn it, Jag, don't do this! I couldn't stand it if—"

"Isn't that what you're always telling me? Don't tell me what I should feel. I'm coming after you, Jaina. Just keep fighting."

Jaina jerked her stick, trying to avoid a plasma cannon blast. It grazed her shields, cutting away at what little protection she had left. Jaina groaned. It would be her luck that she would be dead before Jag even got there, and then he would die too. All for nothing.

A group of coralskippers approached her, trying to cage her in between their ferocious ranks. She juked and jinked frenziedly, scrambling anywhere and everywhere, just trying to avoid their shots. She fired as she flew, but none of them met their mark, so harried was her flight. She spun and twirled like a Twi'lek dancing girl, but it wasn't enough. A teeth jarring shot took out the top half of her left solar panel and decimated the remains of her shields. She wasn't going to make it.

Desperately she looped around behind a skip that was tailing her, hoping to catch it in her sights or at least in a crossfire. To her dismay she was faced instead with the flaming noses of at least a dozen enemy craft. Jaina almost closed her eyes, anticipating the end, but forced herself to face her own death. They fired, giant spheres of magma racing towards her.

They never got there.

Suddenly there was a ship, interposing itself between Jaina and her death. The clawcraft took the full brunt of the attack, twisting itself into hot contorted metal as its shields failed miserably. The claw-like projections that gave the Chiss vessel its name melted completely into nothing but nubs, only the ball cockpit remaining. Jaina realized she was screaming, beating her fists against her viewport in anguish and helplessness. "Jag..." she cried, the pain greater than she had ever thought was humanly possible. With her last vestiges of hope she reached out with the Force, feeling for the lifeforce she knew as well as her own.

And to her utter surprise, she found it.

He wasn't dead. He was oxygen deprived, bruised and broken, fighting for consciousness, but alive. Determination flowered in her gut, and her thumb found the firing switch. She had a protectiveness for him she had never had for her own life, and a ferocity that would have scared a gundark. It didn't stop her that it was hopeless. As long as he lived, she had hope.

An excited, almost elated whoop echoed unexpectedly over her comm. "Get out of here, sweetheart, I got you covered," a cocky voice said. It took Jaina a moment to place it, and then she was overcome with disbelief.

"Dad?"

The flat gray disk of the Millenium Falcon swooped over her, cannons blazing. A deafening Wookiee roar followed over the comm. "You want to stay and chat all day, or do you want to get out of here?" Han asked sarcastically. "Hurry up, I can only hold 'em so long."

Jaina didn't make him tell her again. She reached out to the Force, gathering all her strength around Jag's injured craft and pushed. It was slower than she would have liked, but the remains of his clawcraft moved along with her. With the slight remainder of her power she enveloped Jag himself. He would die of oxygen deprivation if she didn't act quickly. And so she attempted to ease him into a hibernation trance.

Attempted. He would have none of it. He obviously didn't know what she was doing, and thought he was dying. And so he fought her efforts. Frustrated, Jaina relinquished her gentleness and forced the hibernation on him. It pained her to do so, but she had no other choice. But this in itself presented another problem. Since he was fighting it, and because he wasn't Force-sensitive, the hibernation would probably last less than two minutes before he would start to wake up on his own.

And so it went for a time immeasurable, Jaina dividing her attention between flying her injured TIE, keeping Jag in the trance, and pulling the vestiges of his ship along with her. Her strength flagged quickly, and she knew it was a maneuver she wouldn't be able to hold forever. Not only this, but the tension of the fight her father was engaged in was rapidly increasing. She could feel the desperation, but there was nothing she could do about. Jag was her priority.

Abruptly her remaining abilities fled, the power she had been exerting over Jag and his ship gone. She had none left. Jaina felt a wellspring within her build in pressure. She couldn't let him die like this. No, no she wouldn't let him die!

And then there was a touch on her mind. Not just one, but three. Jacen and Anakin took hold of Jag's craft, using their combined strength to pull him along beside her. Luke held Jag himself, sending healing waves over his injured body and easing him with a practiced ease more deeply into the hibernation trance. He touched Jaina herself again briefly, seeming to say, Go ahead. We've got it covered.

Jaina found herself at the verge of tears at her relief, and she poured the emotion into the Force. She refocused, trusting Jag to her family's capable hands and centering her attention on flying defensively. She shot at anything that came too near, but most of the Vong had shifted their attention to the more appetizing target of the Millenium Falcon.

Dad! Jaina's heart shattered as she suddenly felt the bright star that was her father suddenly extinguish. At the same time her viewport went dark as the iconized Corellian freighter exploded in a brilliant fireball. Jaina choked on her sobs, the loss hitting her much harder than it should have, considering how little she knew of him.

But that was just it. Jaina had only so recently forgiven him, opened herself up to a relationship with the infamous smuggler-turned hero. And now the chance was gone. She would never know him like she should, would never learn all things about him a daughter should know about her father. The option was gone.

She felt Jacen and Anakin's hold falter, but Luke staunchly commanded them to refocus, even though Jaina could sense his own gireved pain right underneath the calm facade. But above all these rang the pure torment of someone with a raw but powerful Force-connection; the agony of Leia Organa Solo.

Jaina—tears cascading down her cheeks—forced the thought from her mind. He was gone, and there was nothing she could do about that. She had to give all her energy to Jag. He was still alive, still needed her. She couldn't give up on him now. That would only lessen the greatness of her father's sacrifice.

She continued to weave through the battle until she reached the Roughshod. The tractor beam pulled them in, and Luke, Jacen, and Anakin let their hold on him go. They docked in the hangar bay, and Jaina didn't take the time to power down or even wait for a ladder. She dragged her exhausted body from the cockpit and jumped to the ground. Sadly she had overestimated her own fortitude, and her knees buckled under the fall. Fighting against the nausea in her gut, Jaina dragged herself to her feet and managed a stumbling walk towards the remains of Jag's clawcraft. It was already being swarmed by medics, and his limp but breathing body was being carefully hauled out of the massacred wreck of his fighter.

Jaina made it far enough to touch her hand to his before her eyes rolled back in her head and consciousness slipped from her grasp.

Grand Admiral Pellaeon watched with mixture of pity and thankfulness. The scene inside the glass-paneled room was touching and depressing, and he wasn't sure which was more dominant. Jaina Solo-Fel sat by the edge of her husband's bed, his hand clasped firmly in her own. She stared blankly at his face, appearing as if the ability of thought eluded her.

The Emdee droid had proclaimed the former Chiss colonel to be stable but in a temporary comatose state due mostly to the hibernation imposed on his. He should awake within the next two or three days, and recover would be quick. Pellaeon was just thankful that he was alive. That they were both alive.

Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and stepped inside. Jaina didn't even look up. "General," he said softly. She turned red-rimmed eyes in his direction, a hollow look to her pale face. She didn't salute or offer a greeting, just nodded. Pellaeon let the breech in protocol slide. "How are you faring?"

She shook her head and looked at the floor. "I can't help but thinking it was my fault. He did this for me, because of my decisions. And now I'll never get to tell him thank you." Her eyes filled with tears, but didn't fall.

Pellaeon shook his head. "I only met Han Solo a few times, but I could tell he was an honorable man. And that he loved his children. It was his sacrifice to make, and I am sure he did it gladly."

Jaina said nothing.

"Well," he continued, "I'm granting you the next week as leave to recover and help Jag recover. I hope you take that time to come to terms with all of this."

"Yes, Sir," she mumbled. Knowing he would get nothing further from her, the Imperial Grand Admiral turned from his two most valuable officers and left.

Jaina turned back to Jag. He was covered in bacta patches and had spent the last few hours with an oxygen tube ran down his throat, but now he breathed on his own, if a little but shakily. Jaina had taken it upon herself to make sure his recovery was sure and swift, and had sat constantly by his bedside, sending him soothing and healing thoughts since she had awoken in the med ward herself.

The battle at Ithor had been lost. After Han's death Leia had collapsed, and ordered all Republic fighters to retreat back to Coruscant. With no other alternative, Pellaeon had pulled back to Yaga Minor. It was the final twist in the vibroblade wedged in Jaina's gut.

The ache left by her father's lost was almost unbearable. It consumed every thought not already occupied by concern for Jag until she thought she couldn't bear the strain. There was so much she would never know. What was his favorite food? What had his childhood been like? Did he ever regret leaving the smuggler's life?

There was too much. All these questions coupled with her nagging worry for Jag's flagging health made for a very nervous and fidgety Jaina. She was restless, aching to do something, anything, to get her troubles off her mind. But she had responsibilities. She had to make sure Jag recuperated.

Despite the absolute knowledge that she was being unreasonable, Jaina couldn't help but resent him. She was angry, angry that he had placed himself in danger for her sake after she had explicitly warned him against it. And now he was suffering for it.

Not only that, her father had died because of it. She didn't blame Jag, per say, but rather had a bitterness over the whole situation. It was a weakness she needed to overcome before he awoke. He would need her love and understanding. And more than that, Jaina was eager to be back in his comforting embrace.

It was selfish, and she knew it, but the emotion couldn't be helped. She couldn't overcome the feeling that if she could just fall into his arms the galaxy would right itself again. There was no pain and bitterness there, only love. She could be herself, could give up responsibility and obligation. There was only him and her, and their love.

If only life was always that simple.

Carefully she brushed a finger over his forehead. There was only one way she could overcome all her internal struggles by the time he roused. She wasn't looking forward to it, but it was just something she had to do. She hoped he would understand.

"Jag," she said softly, wondering if by some divine miracle he could hear, "I don't know if you knew or not, but my dad died saving us. I need to say goodbye to him Jag. And thank him." She paused, pursing her lips. "Can you understand? I have to pay my respects to him. He's done so much for me, so much for us. He's given us a future, a chance to be together. A chance to live my life the way I want it. What more could I ask?" She teared for a moment, and wiped at her eyes furiously.

"There's so much I'll never be able to say to him. But I can say goodbye." Jaina looked at the floor. "There's going to be a ceremony. A memorial, too. The service and the dedication is tomorrow. I want to be there, Jag. It's the least I can do."

She shuffled her feet uncertainly, realizing the absurdity of speaking to someone who couldn't hear her. But she owed him an explanation, either way. "I don't want to leave you, especially when you're this sick. But I really think this is just something I have to do. I know, I'm not supposed to be going to Coruscant. But do you really think they'll stop a daughter from paying her last respects? I don't know. But I have to try." She stood carefully, then bent and placed a gentle, loving kiss to his lips. "I'll be back as soon as I can. I love you, Jag. Promise me you'll be here when I get back?"

He didn't move. Jaina let out a breath she hadn't know she had been holding. So this is how she would have to leave it? She had no choice. Running her fingers through his hair one last time, Jaina turned and left. The sooner she was gone, the sooner she could come back to him.