Sanctuary moon of Endor, Jedi Outpost: Jag lay on the medical ward bed. He might have been mistaken for a dead man but for the very slow rise and fall of his chest. Jaina, sitting on a chair near the foot of the bed, had a good sense of nearly how dead Jag had been. He'd had damage to his neck, a fracture to his left elbow, multiple breaks in his left thigh, internal injuries... Since he would never have survived a direct jump from the asteroid system to Endor in the cockpit of a starfighter, they had made a short jump to Bimmiel, transferred Jag to the Falcon, and left his X-wing covered in camouflage sheets and sand in a chilly tundra valley. But now, after time in a restorative bacta tank, after medicines and rest, the medics said he was much improved; he would soon recover fully. Jaina wasn’t sure. In the Force, Jag didn't feel like a man struggling back toward health and vitality. Jag opened his eyes. He didn't move, not even to turn his...
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...head, until he'd seen everything he could from his position—a survival trait, Jaina decided, possibly one he learned while stranded on Tenupe. Finally he turned his head and saw her. He offered her no smile, but he did speak. "Hello." "Hello yourself. Remember much?" "Yes." He started to nod, thought the better of it as half-healed injuries pulled. “I remember everything. Except where we are.” “Endor. You were unconscious when we got here.” “Ah. And Zekk?" "Better. He was kind of a mess coming out of the asteroid. He took the same amount of damage you did... but emotional, not physical.” “Too bad. Physical scars are much better conversation starters at parties.” He turned his attention to the ceiling and studied it for long moments. “Well. Mission accomplished.” “That’s right, mission accomplished. And you’ve done what you needed to do. To help restore your family honor.” “Yes.” There was no pleasure in that word, just acknowledgment. Jaina wished she hadn’t brought up the subject of his family. The Fels, though a human family of Corellian ancestry—Jag's mother was Wedge's older sister, the first Syal Antille—now lived in the Chiss Ascendancy, by the rules of that blue-skinned folk. And those rules dictated that, because of mistakes and decisions made by other people—Jaina among them—Jag could never go home. Hunting down Alema Rar had been the last task assigned to him by his clan. In accomplishing it, he had severed his last ties with them. In fact, the realization struck Jaina like a blow in com-
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She made her voice gentle, an unaccustomed task for her. "What's next for you?" He shrugged, wincing as the action pulled at some of his injuries. “There’s a war on. I’m sure someone needs a pilot.” “Stay with the Jedi.” “Sure.” Suddenly she was impatient with him. “I don't mean as a civilian employee. I mean as a friend." He finally looked at her again. "I haven't done a very good job of making friends. I would rate my success at nearly zero.” “Zekk looks on you as a friend.” “Yes. Well, without him, my rate of success would be exactly zero. And truth me told, for reasons I’m sure you understand, he would probably prefer that I not be around too much.” “I’m your friend.” “Are you?” She heaved an exasperated sigh. “Oh, we’re not having this conversation again.” “No, we’re not. This is a new one. I’m not asking you to set aside your focus, to distract yourself from training for your next mission. I’m not asking you to roll the chrono back fifteen years to when we were teenagers.” Despite the discomfort, he pulled himself back so he could sit up against the pillows at the head of his bed. "I'm asking you to tell me if I have a place in your life. Someone you'd turn to if you'd ever just acknowledge that you needed some help. Someone you’d miss more than occasionally if he went away. Am I your friend?” Knowing the answer he wanted to hear, the answer that
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would help him get better, Jaina opened her mouth to offer it. Then she shut up again. He deserved better than that. He deserved the truth. She just wasn't sure what the truth was. It took her long moments to sift out her feelings from the bewildering insulating layer of decisions and codes of conduct she's fabricated for herself. To find it, she had to look past what she had to do and be; she had to find the place where she kept what she wanted to do and be. But she found her answer. “Yes. I am.” “Good.” He held out his hand. She put hers on it. He relaxed. “So, what’s next for you?” “A mission. Simple stuff. Rescue a Princess—a Solo family tradition. Blow up a big space station.” “Also a Solo family tradition.” “You can get in on it, if you can get yourself back in shape in time.” “I will. And if you ever need someone to dress up in a black costume and beat you up” Jaina smiled. “Just shut up…”
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“I have to go,” she said.” “Now?” “No, but soon. A few hours, a few days.” “Where?” “I don’t know.” He grinned. “I recommend you figure that out before you leave.” “That’s what I’m trying to do.” She shook her head. “Alema’s dead. Jacen’s next.” “Just about everyone I know plans to be the one to confront Jacen Solo. Grand Master Skywalker, Ben Skywalker, half the Jedi Knights, all the Jedi Masters… every pilot I know plans to be there in a starfighter the next time he’s in one. So I suggest you get in line.” “If it is someone else, I won’t complain. But if it has to be me, I want to be ready. You showed me I wasn’t.” She took a moment to consider her words. “I’m his twin. I have as much power as he does… potentially. But he’s had training I haven’t. I need to counter it with training he hasn’t had. And the sort of ingenuity you showed me." He watched her in the deepening shadows. "I'll give you whatever help I can. But I think Alema was just about my match. Jacen... He's far more dangerous." "I know. But I wanted you to understand that you have helped me. Helped me get this far. I just have to get farther. And that means going away." He nodded. "Just remember who you are. That should mean everything to you. And remember that it means nothing to Jacen anymore. He's already shown that he cares nothing for the families of those he tortures and kills. "Those he tortures and kills." Jaina froze as something occurred to her.
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“Oh no.” She shook her head, almost unaware of Jag, as the thought took hold. “I can’t.” “You can’t what?” She looked at him, hoping that something in his expression or words might tell her why her idea was wrong, bad. But it wasn’t. It was the only answer. It was inevitable. She rose. “I have to go.” “I know; you said that.” “But now I know where. I need to make some preparations. Don’t worry: I’ll say goodbye before I leave.” She turned away from his baffled expression and headed back to the outpost. Toward her mission.