Chapter 13: Home
Jag and his passengers arrived a little before noon, twelve days before the conference. and before any of the other delegations, though Kashyyyk's representative was expected that evening. Jag handed his passengers to a diplomatic attaché, said a polite farewell, and moved quickly to catch an airtaxi to his parents' house on the outskirts of Salis D'aar.
He wasn't officially part of the military anymore, so he didn't have access to his old quarters. He wasn't sure he would be offered his commission, so he hadn't looked into getting an apartment. Before he'd been discharged and given this mission, he'd just moved back into his old room.
-
No one was home, which was good. Jag didn't want to deal with his family just yet. He deposited his sparse luggage next to the door, changed into a formal tunic and slacks and pulled his datapad and comlink out of the cabinet next to his bed. He programmed a message telling his family he was home and set it to display on the food refrigeration unit. Heading down to the garage Jag climbed into his speeder, the one he'd kept since he was sixteen.
-
Jag had lunch at a small café about two kilometers from the administrative district. He'd missed Bakuran food. How much, he hadn't realized until he ate it again.
Someone had left a newsflimsy on the next table. He picked it up and skimmed the headlines. While he was away, Gaeriel Thanas had been elected to a second term as Prime Minister. No surprise there. Jag's father was mentioned below the fold, something about the defense budget. He flipped through the first section, skimming, reading in detail whatever caught his eye. There was an interesting editorial saying the Imperials must have some ulterior motive for having not crushed Bakura – and for that matter the rest of the rebel planets – long ago. Every few weeks there was an editorial on that topic, though usually not as well written as this one. He was glancing through an article on one of the Kurtzen senators, Kariaz Tolec, when his comlink buzzed. Answering it, Jag waved over a waiter.
"Hello?"
"Jag! Where are you?"
It was his youngest sister
"Easy, Wyn. I'm in Salis D'aar." He shifted his comlink to his left hand so he could authenticate the bill.
"Why didn't you come home?"
"I did. Then I came here. I've got a debriefing in" he glanced at his chrono "just over an hour."
"You could have at least called me!"
"Wynessa, I've been packed into a two person yacht with four other people the last few days. I need time to myself."
"So you went to the most crowded city on Bakura."
"We do happen to live next to Salis D'ar, Wyn, "and it's where I need to be."
"Yeah, in an hour. Not right now. I really want to see you Jag. No one would tell me where you were."
"Classified."
A few strange looks cast his way – had they overheard? -- as he headed for the door, taking the newsflimsy with him. Comlink conversations involving his family tended to cause public reactions like that.
"Yeah, well, that happens way too much in this family."
"Shouldn't you be in school?"
"Um…"
"Syal, are you and Malinza skipping again? I told you last time, if this happened again I'd tell Mom."
"Yeah, but Jag, there's this major rally today and –"
"Okay, okay, this conversation never happened. This won't happen again. Be in school."
"Thanks Jag! 'bye!" Wyn terminated the call. Jag sighed and clicked off his end of the link. He loved his little sister, but she drove him crazy sometimes. Thinking of her, the allure of parenthood eluded him completely.
He still had an hour to kill. Maybe he'd go to the Memorial.
-
The Ssi-ruuk War Memorial was one of Jag's favorite places in the capital city. The intricately carved pillar of hollow quartz, a meter and a half in diameter, depicted in exquisite detail the final battle over Bakura. Four consoles stood few meters away, circling the pillar. The names of loved ones and friends lost in that brief, terrible war input by visitors to the memorial into special com-terminals at the consoles, appeared displayed against the pillar as a an ever-shifting,backlit panorama. At its base of the monument was surrounded by flowers and more traditional Cosmic Balance offerings.
As was usual at this time of day, the memorial was nearly, though not quite, deserted. Jag walked to the pillar, so close he need barely extend his arm to touch it, so careful not to step on any of the offerings.
Here TIES and X-wings, Mon Cal cruisers and Imperial ships of Kuati make, were fighting side by side against Ssi-ruuk ships with their waste-spewing fission drives. Careful again not to disturb the offerings and the flowers, Jag lowered himself to the base of the column, where the brief ground forces engagement was depicted. He gently moved aside a wreath of Gabanal roses and stared at the most controversial part of the memorial.
Here, carved small, but with his features still distinguishable, was Luke Skywalker.
Putting the commander of the Rebel forces on the memorial at all had been fairly contentious. Imperial sentiment had still been strong on Adumar when the memorial had been built, especially in powerful circles. And there were those who insisted that Skywalker could still be alive. After all, who could say they'd seen his body? They were widely considered either insanely optimistic or simply insane. Gratitude and growing independent sentiment had prevailed. Skywalker had his place on the War Memorial, fighting against a rising tide of Ssi-ruuk, saber blazing in his hands.
Jag wasn't one of the eccentrics who made a hobby, even a life, of studying the Jedi, but he couldn't help but be fascinated by Skywalker. Luke Skywalker, the last of his kind, dying on the edge of the galaxy, far from his home world, fighting for those who believed him the monster from Imperial propaganda or an affront to the Balance.
The ultimate soldier.
-
The debriefing was held, not at Defense headquarters as Jag had expected, but in the Senate offices. When he arrived the only welcome present was a protocol droid, quite a surprise in Bakura's droid-fearing culture. Jag looked at the droid a moment. It did not look back, so Jag simply took up an at rest stance facing the desk on the opposite side of the room.
-
Five minutes of staring at the walls later, Jagged Fel encountered Prime Minister Geariel Thanas for the first time. He felt he did a fairly good job of concealing his shock, considering.
When she walked through the door Jag started to salute, remembered that he wasn't part of the Defense Fleet anymore, and instead bowed.
"Madame Prime Minister, it's an honor."
"Thank you, Mister Fel." She turned to the protocol droid. "R0-B1, end stand-by."
The droid's visual sensors lit up and it spoke in a slightly tinny voice: "I am at your service, Madame Prime Minister."
Thanas nodded to the droid and then seated herself at the desk opposite the room's only door.
"Please have a seat, Mister Fel," she said, indicating a repulsor chair hovering in front of the desk.
As Jag settled into the chair, he spoke. "If I may, Prime Minister, why does this debriefing merit your personal attention?"
She didn't answer him immediately. Instead, she turned to the droid.
"R0, I want you to record the following conversation and triple encrypt it. Do not upload it to any database. If anyone without a level zero clearance tries to hack into it, you are to erase the file and wipe any traces of it from your system."
"Understood, Madame Prime Minister. Now recording."
The Prime Minister nodded and turned back to Jag. "Corellia and Centerpoint Station may be our only chance at defeating Isard," she said.