Heritage-Chapter 15

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“How was your night with the Solo’s?” the man that was supposed to be his uncle inquired.

Jag shrugged, uncomfortable. Wedge Antilles seemed like a good man, a great leader, and someone who loved Jag’s mother very much. Still, he was a stranger who expected them to be instant family. It just wasn’t the way the Chiss did things. Respect, trust—they were earned, not given. Antilles might be his uncle, but they weren’t family. “As well as can be expected. At least they allowed me a rest from the binders.”

The three Jedi apprentices and their smuggler father had roused with the Coruscant sun and whisked him off to a place he could only deduce to be an Intel Op Center. There he had met two other people—all had given names but not ranks—who stared at him a lot but spoke little. Jaina, fully recovered from her bout of weakness and back to a heartless taskmaster, had taken him to a room built like a holocast news center. Monitors and recording devices lined all four walls, and in the center stood and independent wall of faceless durasteel that reminded him of a starship hull. They had been waiting ever since for some event unknown to him, though he noted that excitement grew as new party members arrived. First had come Admiral Ackbar and a cadre of veterans that he vaguely recalled from Rebellion era documentaries. Then the Antilles had arrived and now he could only guess that they waited on the Skywalkers.

“I hate that you’ve been put in this situation,” Wedge grimaced, and it seemed genuine. “I would do anything to change it, if there was another way. I wish you would consider doing this for us out of free will. As a military man you had to have weighed the odds. If these Baci defeat us, they will be unstoppable against the Chiss. And then it will be your family in danger, and no New Republic or Jedi around for help.”

Jag stiffened, taking offense. He refrained from voicing it, though, out of courtesy to his mother. She would want him to be as polite as possible, even if he was a hostage. “That is not my decision to make.”

“We all have control of our own destiny, Jag,” he whispered, as if it were a conspiratorial secret. “Sometimes the decisions go against our superiors. I’ve disobeyed orders more than once, simply because they were wrong. Ignoring this threat would be wrong. Our government isn’t protecting us as it’s sworn to do. Now we’re forced to take matters into our own hands.” His brown eyes swung to meet his nephews. “You have a choice to make to. You have to decide what’s right, and what’s wrong. It’s been a long time, but I know my sister and I know she will have raised you right. So I’m going to believe you’ll make the right decision.”

Jag’s jaw clenched and unclenched. Antilles was good, he would give him that. He was playing the family card for all it was worth. But Jag was smart enough to realize when he was being manipulated. What bothered him was that the knowledge didn’t assuage the tiniest pang of guilt inside him. “I’ve sworn an oath,” he spoke of his bondage to the Hand of Thrawn and the Chiss Ascendancy. “I won’t break it.”

“Every oath I’ve ever heard has sworn to uphold, protect, and honor some cause or people,” Wedge countered. “None of that would be broken by helping us. You might be saving them in the long run.”

“That’s bending the rules a little farther than I’m comfortable with,” Jag shifted in his seat. He had taken a seat on a far wall to observe the proceedings, and was starting to regret the fact that he was so far removed from the others that Wedge could talk to him privately.

“I get the feeling you never bend the rules, Jag,” Wedge sighed, and on that note stood. “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you’re too much like your father.”

Jag’s brow furrowed but he didn’t correct or even take affront at the assessment. Soontir Fel was a hard man, but he was disciplined and honorable. Jag wouldn’t disgrace him by betraying the Hand for a few sentimental words. “Maybe,” he agreed.

Antilles left, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

• * *

“How’d it go?” Han whispered, careful to keep his eyes diverted from the melancholy young prisoner. It wasn’t like they were expecting Wedge to work a miracle, but just shake his faith a little. Little by little, they would wear him down. They would have to, if Han was ever going to get his princess back.

Wedge ran a tired hand over his face. “I want you all to know that I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t think everything I said was right. This is hardly the way I want to start out with my sister’s son.”

“What did he say?” Belindi Kalenda demanded, her odd gaze unsettling them all.

“Just that he had sworn an oath he wasn’t going to break.”

Han rolled his eyes and offered up a sarcastic grin. “Well ain’t that a kick in the teeth.” He swung towards his kids, who huddled in a quiet and thoughtful group. “I thought you all were going to work on him?”

“Dad!” Jaina hissed quietly. “Keep it down. He’s going to hear you.”

“Well?” he prompted again.

“He doesn’t seem hostile, despite everything,” Jacen shrugged. “That has to be something.”

“Yeah,” Anakin agreed with a solemn nod. “He seems like a pretty okay guy.”

Jaina snorted in obvious disagreement. Han glared at her, not amused. Not many things were amusing him these days. The fact he was having a skull-splitting hangover wasn’t helping any either. “You’ve got something to add?”

She seemed to shrink a little, but in true Solo fashion refused to back down. “He’s not going to break for any of this, I’m telling you. He’s got too much conviction. It’d be like trying to convince Uncle Luke that Palpatine had it right all along. You’re going to have to bring out the big guns if you want to do this right.”

“And what are the proverbial ‘big guns’?” Iella asked, coming to stand by her husband.

Jaina threw a sidelong glance at Fel, an odd expression on her face. “I’m not sure yet.”

“Well let us know when you figure it out,” Han drawled. He knew immediately that he had hurt her. Guilt settled in his gut and he would have apologized except that stubbornness prevented him. He changed the subject instead. “What’s keeping Luke? We can’t start the party without him.”

“He’s having a conference call with the other Jedi Masters to make sure we have their support,” Jacen answered. “He and Mara will be here when they’re through.”

“And Padmé?” Jaina inquired.

“I’m sure she’ll be here. I doubt Uncle Luke is going to let her go very far for a while,” Jacen smiled. Jaina returned it, sharing in his happiness for the new member of their family.

“Is there anyone else coming who’s not here?” Wedge posed the question for his wife.

Iella began to tick off the names of people already present on her fingers. “The Solos, us, Kalenda and Elassar, Ackbar, Tycho and Winter, Gavin, Mirax…”

“Where’s Corran?” Wedge frowned.

“Still in the Jedi meeting,” Iella sighed. “He’ll be coming with Luke.” Suddenly she frowned, then turned around to face the other small groups of operatives around the room. “Admiral Ackbar?”

The Mon Cal raised his globular head slowly. “Yes?”

“Did you contact General Bel Iblis?”

He nodded deliberately. “I did. He agrees with our assessment and pledges his name and forces to our cause, but will not be attending today.”

“But he will be on our side?” Wedge pressed.

“He will,” Ackbar agreed. “I also took the liberty of informing General Cracken.”

Belindi Kalenda started. “Sir, General Cracken is no longer head of the NRI. Admiral Dif Scaur holds that position.”

“Exactly,” Wedge interjected. “We want the best on our side, not the most easily bought.”

“What did Airen have to say?” Han asked Ackbar.

“He is reluctant to bring Contruum into another war,” Ackbar grated. “But he promises to help us quietly, if not openly.”

“I’ll talk to Pash,” Wedge promised Han quietly. “We’ll see.”

“Sorry we’re late,” a new voice called. Luke and Mara Skywalker swept into the room, both holding back frowns and brimming with uneasiness. Corran Horn followed close behind, seeming just as perturbed. Bringing up the rear was Padmé, deep in thought.

“What’s wrong?” Han questioned, picking up on his oldest friend’s disquiet even without the Force.

“We had a holoconference with the Jedi Masters this morning,” Luke announced, seeming worried. “There is, unfortunately, a lot of opposition. We all think that going on the offensive against these invaders is the best move, but a full out coup seems too risky, especially considering Jedi reputations on the matter. And as much as I don’t want to, some part of me agrees with them.”

“What choice do we have?” Anakin announced, unafraid in front of the legends around him. “They’re not going to stop, and Fey’lya won’t go to war. Has anyone watched the HoloNet this morning? He made this big speech about sending a delegation to ask for peace.”

“Which means we’ll have to give up worlds and the deaths at Bespin and Clak’dor VII will go unpunished,” Iella agreed. “Luke, we can’t do this without you.”

“I know,” he sighed.

“Will the Jedi follow your lead?” Tycho Celchu spoke up.

“Probably,” Luke admitted at last. “But the Jedi Order isn’t a monarchy, we make decisions together. I don’t want to demand that they go against a government many of them believe is right.”

“But they’re wrong, and we need to set an example,” Corran argued. “We need to make sure that this new generation of Jedi knows that we don’t serve a government, we serve the Force. When the Force is out of balance, we correct it, regardless of what the New Republic thinks or does.”

Mara nodded her agreement, and Luke seemed to capitulate. “Fine. You’re right. I have to set a precedent here.” Heads bobbed in agreement all over the gathering. “So how do we begin?”

“We should start with the HoloNet broadcast,” Kalenda instructed. “Everybody famous, over here…”

• * *

“Even if this gets a reaction better than we hoped, I don’t think Jag is going to help us win over the Chiss,” Jaina sighed, knowing the woman she spoke to might be the only one who really understood. “And then we’ll be fighting a war we’ll never win.”

Padmé moved one elegant hand to wipe a silver streak of hair out of her eyes. “I’ve known Jag since he was a little boy. He’ll do the right thing. He just needs to know for sure that it’s the right thing.” She patted Jaina’s knee comfortingly.

They both turned to watch the group of veterans and war heroes take their positions in front of the plain durasteel wall, all of them reviewing their parts in the coming transmission. Luke seemed the most uncomfortable, more so since he had the most to say. Jag continued to sit on the farthest wall, leaned against it to appear as if he was sleeping. Jaina knew better. “I’m not as optimistic. And how can we make him understand, anyways?”

“I don’t think we can,” Padmé told Jaina, eyes gleaming in mischief. “I think you can.”

“Me?” she scowled.

“Will you trust me for a moment?”

“Of course,” Jaina frowned, confused.

Padmé directed her brown eyes towards the young man in question. “He is probably the most disciplined soldier you’ll ever meet, but he is still a man. And you, Jaina Solo, are much prettier than you realize.”

Jaina’s jaw almost hit the floor. “Padmé! You can’t be serious. I don’t even like him.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she insisted. “I know him, and he isn’t made of durasteel. He responds to family and loyalty. Go talk to him about your mother, about how she’s fought and worked her whole life to build this galaxy up and now it’s abandoned her. Cry. He’ll help you.”

“I think that’s the most horribly manipulative thing I’ve ever heard,” Jaina said, wide-eyed.

Padmé winked. “You forget, honey, I am a politician at heart.”

Jaina glanced at Fel, then winced. “I can’t do that. I’m not the kind of person that can pull that off.”

Padmé’s eyes hardened. “You’re a Skywalker. You can do anything. Now go and save your mother. What have you got to lose?”

“Nothing except my dignity.” But what was dignity, if it would sucker Fel into speaking to the Chiss on their behalf? Jaina remembered her father’s quiet sobs, his broken spirit, and made her decision.

“I’m beginning to see where my mother gets it,” she sighed, and then left.

• * *

“When will we know if it’s a boy or a girl?”

Leia shrugged, avoiding eye contact. “Several weeks, I’m guessing, before I can tell.”

Cale smiled, his arm around her shoulders growing a little tighter. “It’s a boy. I know it.”

Leia resisted a scowl, hating every word coming out of his mouth. She hated even thinking about the baby as his. Discussing it like they were a normal couple nauseated her. Her poor Han; what was she ever going to tell him? “Perhaps.”

“It is,” his voice took on a mellow tone, his face softening in wonder. His free arm stretched out in front of them, gesturing outside the viewport in his quarters at the small star outside. “All this will be his one day. He’ll inherit all that I conquer. Every Baci, human, and alien will bow before him. He will be the greatest of my line yet.”

“Such grandiose dreams,” she replied quietly. “What if he doesn’t want the galaxy?”

“He will,” Cale affirmed. “And anything else he desires. No one will dare stand in his way.”

“The Jedi might be a problem there,” Leia sighed, trying to sound helpful instead of hopeful. “My brother has built quite an army of them.”

He dismissed the thought with a wave. “They are nothing. We will crush them one at a time.”

Leia’s stomach turned over on itself. What would her family think of her, sitting on an enemy ship plotting against the people she loved? “I hope so.”

He stood up from the couch where they had sat and extended a hand to her. “I think it is time we retired, my love.”

She took the hand, barely keeping herself from shaking. An excuse, any excuse to keep from that again. What could she say? “I don’t know, Cale. I’m very tired. My strength isn’t up yet.”

He grinned voraciously. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll take good care of you.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but suddenly he kissed her, forceful and hungry. His hands groped along her body, pressing with intensity into her skin. Leia gasped, horrified and sickened. She realized then that fooling him was one charade she might not be able to pull off. She could never let him have sex with her and live with herself. “Let go,” she pulled away, not out of his arms but just the kiss. “Not tonight. I can’t.”

“Oh, yes you can,” he insisted, practically dragging her towards the bedroom.

Leia couldn’t take it anymore. She couldn’t be beaten and starved and violated any longer. He had taken so much from her. Her whole life was in shambles, and it was more than likely that she would never be able to put the pieces back together again. Her heart beat faster, her temperature rose with her fury. “No more, Cale! Let me go, please!”

He yanked her close, noses a breath apart. “I thought you loved me, Leia?” So that was it. He was going to force her to choose between the lie and her family. She hated him for it. Her hate grew with every breath, swelling in massive strength from her center out. She trembled not from fear but a rage that consumed her. She couldn’t sop it, couldn’t control the power in her veins.

She exploded.

He flew away from her, crashing against the transparisteel viewport so hard that a crack stretched from top to bottom. She took a step forward, holding him there, immobile. One hand reached out and made a fist, squeezing him until his black eyes bulged. “I told you to let go,” she whispered, her voice much deeper than she ever remembered it being. The fury continued to pour out of her soul, washing along her body to form in burning lumps on her palms. This time Leia didn’t even think about light or dark, good and evil. Cale Wilos was an abomination that needed punished.

Leia let go of her hate, surrendered to it. Blue sparks screamed from her hands and attached themselves to Cale, coursing along his body and making it twitch and writhe. And oh, it felt good. She had never known such power, such ecstasy. Watching him in pain gave her more gratification than she would have ever imagined. For the first time, she truly understood the seductive power her father’s blood offered. She knew why he had turned, why he had served the Emperor. When you have nothing left, your anger can become you rapture

When Leia thought he might be dead she let go, and his body dropped in an awkward pile on the floor. She didn’t check to see if he was alive. She didn’t care. The Force was her ally, and in its hold she could conquer anything.

Everything.

She ran.

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• Part of the Star Wars fanfiction Heritage

Heritage Chapter 10| Chapter 11| Chapter 12| Chapter 13| Chapter 14| Chapter 15| Chapter 16| Chapter 17| Chapter 18| Chapter 19