Heritage-Chapter 8

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“Wake up, sleepy head,” a disembodied voice whispered close to Jag's ear. It was the first truly cognizant moment he had had in a very long while, making his head swim. But he was experienced enough as a pilot to know what waking up from a crash felt like. There had to have been an accident.

He grunted, clamping his eyes shut and trying to hold back the pounding headache that seemed desperate to break open the confines of his skull. He tried to remember where he should be or even where he had been, but nothing would come to him. There was nothing outside the numbing affliction, though the muffled voices were doing a good job of stopping that.

“Oh, leave him alone,” another, more familiar tone stated tartly. “He's recovering.”

“He wouldn't need to recover if you hadn't knocked him flat,” the other voice returned. “We're almost home. He needs to be up and aware before we get there.”

Jag moaned again, this time forcing the rebellious lids of his eyes into a squint. A blurry feminine figure sat on the soft surface beside him, her head turned away. Another, even fuzzier shape stood a few paces away, observing him. “He's awake,” the farthest said, pointing a finger in his direction.

The woman beside him turned and looked down into his face, and suddenly Jag remembered. It was Jaina Solo, the Jedi girl he had escorted to visit Palila. Palila? Was that right? No, it was Padmé. Padmé...Skywalker? Skywalker?

He coughed, making him wince, trying to battle back the confusion. “Wha?” he managed, unable to force open his eyes again. It was a frustrating feeling for someone used to being in control of all aspects of his life. Helplessness—however temporary—wasn't something he was willing to put up with.

A softly calloused hand fluttered along the ridge of his brow, and suddenly all the pain evaporated behind a hazy screen of revitalization. “That better?” Jaina's voice teased, suddenly echoing much clearer in his ears.

He opened his eyes wide this time, taking in her smirk with a heavy scowl. Even if he did feel worlds better, that was no use for her to use Jedi sorcery on him. “What's going on?” he demanded, trying to sit up. She pushed him back down firmly.

“Don't try that yet,” she warned softly, brown eyes sparkling mischievously at his prostrate form. “Let the blood get circulating good first. You might pass out.”

He shoved her hand aside forcefully. “Where am I?” he snapped, eyes roving between the Jedi and Padmé, who was staring at them curiously, her small hands folded in front of her in worry. “How did I get here?” The old woman's face had sparked a sudden memory, disoriented and broken. He remembered a beautiful Nirauan night, remembered thinking he really didn't want to tell Solo that her plan was doomed for failure. A sound had come unexpectedly from behind him, but when he turned the world had flipped upside down and his vision cascaded into the void between the stars.

Jaina gestured broadly to their metallic surroundings. “Padmé's ship. Turned out all it needed was to have the coolant lines patched. It won't last for long, but enough to get us to Coruscant.”

“Coruscant?” he exclaimed, nausea that had nothing to do with whatever injury he had sustained overcoming him. “Why are you taking me there? How did I get here?”

“Why?” she muttered, tasting the word on the tip of her tongue. “Because, Colonel, you have something very valuable stashed away in that brain of yours, something that could definitely help me save my mother. Shield strippers, was it?” she asked over her shoulder of Padmé.

Jag felt his blood run cold as a Csillian night. There was no way that either of them should ever know about that. He broke out in a chilled sweat, giving evidence to the panic bubbling under his composed exterior. The shield strippers he had helped create were the most classified pieces of technology in the whole Ascendancy. They had the ability to yank a ship's defenses right of its hull, and a more valuable item was not to be had in the known galaxy. But if the Jedi knew, who else did? He stared accusingly at Padmé, knowing somehow this was her fault.

Padmé smiled at him in sweet apology. “I'm sorry Jag. But it's time I gave my allegiance to my family.”

“How did you know?” he croaked.

Her grin grew even more excusatory. “Does it matter?”

“Yes.” He had to know which member of the construction team this leak had stemmed from so when he escaped he could eliminate them. Gods, there was going to be hell to pay. He sat up abruptly, shoving away Jaina's detaining hands. He went lightheaded, felt so dizzy he might have vomited, but he swallowed down the bile and focused.

“I always did so love your mother's holodramas, you know,” she flinched, pressing her lips together. “She brought me a whole collection of them once. It was the only modern entertainment I owned. We've talked regularly over the years, especially since Davin's death.”

He felt the color drain from his face. He had been the leak? Damn it, he knew he never should have let his father in on it all. But Jag had not been trained by a house phalanx, rather in the Empire of the Hand. His father and Admiral Parck had been his immediate superiors. So when the Chiss government had requested aid in their knew weapon design team he had never fully converted his loyalties. When the Baron had demanded he share the sensitive information there had been no hesitation. He should have known it would have went straight to Syal.

“Holodramas?” Jaina queried, one brow quirked inquisitively.

“Oh, yes,” Padmé eaborated in excitement. “Jagged's mother was Wynssa Starflare.”

Jaina looked back down at him, the smirk broadening. Jag flushed as she spoke. “Well, well, looks like you're just full of surprises, hmm?”

“Let me go,” he changed the subject. “I'll never give you anything. You have no business doing this. In saving your mother you're going to create a war!” The clockwork in his mind was already ticking, filing away all the secrets of the project as deeply as he could, and hopefully a safer distance from the Jedi mind reading. He had been well trained in resisting that kind of mind probe and even torture. There was no precaution too high for the type of undertaking he had been privy to.

She patted his shoulder and stood. “That's just fine, you go on thinking that. We have you and that's enough for now. And your Chiss buddies know it too.” She turned to go, but hesitated. “I'm not going to put you in binders because there's nothing you can do to threaten us right now,” she tapped her temple gently, winking at him. “So you can go about your business till we get there. Just know that if you get anywhere near the engine rooms I'll sense it, and the privileges you have now will be gone. I don't want to hurt you, Jag. You're helping me and my family get my mom back. But I will before I let you sabotage any of this. Just sit back and relax until we get to Coruscant and Aunt Mara figures out what to do with you.”

Padmé patted his shoulder affectionately and filed out of the room behind her granddaughter. Jag watched them go, calculating at lightspeed all he had and what he could utilize as an advantage. His charric and other hidden weapons were gone. There was a lump on the side of his head the size of his fist. He didn't feel strong enough to stand yet, but that would come soon enough. Basically, all he had was his wits. And on the small passenger ship that wasn't going to do him much good. He would bide his time, and make his move when they reached Coruscant. If he was unable to escape the Jedi there, well, he would just have to make sure all he knew died with him.

• * *

The blow was so quick and decisive that even his Jedi instincts didn't help Anakin dodge it. “I told you not to play with that!” the reprimand followed, leaving him not only with a stinging hand but wounded pride. “This is my ship, and its not an old piece of compost waiting to be hauled off to the junkyard like the Falcon either. Don't mess with it.”

“Sorry, Mara,” he sighed, feeling rather chastised. He couldn't help it that the gleaming instruments of the Jade Sabre begged to be touched, to be explored and exercised to their full capabilities. It was a magnificent machine, and the combined Solo and Skywalker pilot genes in him made it hard to resist. How Jacen had thus far managed to leave all the instrumentation to their Aunt he would never understand.

She grunted at his apology and turned back to face the dappled viewport. “Any time now,” she whispered to herself.

Anakin himself had no real idea where they were going. To find Talon Kardde, that much he knew, but the actual location of the infamous smuggler was unbeknownst to him. It was a secret he had no real interest in asking Mara, for it was more likely he would get a snap retort than an actual answer. But he had enough faith in Mara to understand that she knew exactly what she was doing. She had once been second in command of his smuggling fleet, and only a marriage to Luke had prevented her from taking over the company as Kardde had planned.

Having known her most of his life as only Mara Jade Skywalker, aunt and Jedi, it was hard for him to see her in that light. He knew she had once been an assassin as well, but somehow that was more likely to his mind than picturing her in the contraband enterprise system. Being a Jedi meant being dangerous, being feared as well as revered and respected. That was not so different than being an assassin, though the life of a Jedi was decidedly more noble. The efficiency he had seen her perform her deadly tasks with made it easy to think she had once been one of the deadly weapons the Emperor had wielded. But a staff officer in a smuggling ring?

She hit the comm button leading to the cabins near the back of the ship. “Strap in back there Jacen, we're getting ready to exit.”

Anakin took that as his cue as well. He had just secured the crash webbing around his torso when she pulled back the hyperspace lever, transiting the Sabre smoothly back into realspace. Hanging in the empty space outside the cockpit was a small fleet of medium sized freighters, floating mildly in the vacuum before them. Mara depressed the comm button once again. “This is the Jade Sabre hailing the Wild Kardde. Are you out there, Talon?”

Static popped and hissed from the speaker before a normal voice echoed back at them. “Mara Jade, you're the last person I thought would show up here. Sudden change of heart, come to beg us to take you back?”

Mara glared at the panel. “No, Aves. I just want to talk to Kardde. Can you extend the docking arm?”

The man on the other end sighed theatrically. “If I must. Come on around to our port side.”

She double clicked in confirmation and feathered the stick gently in that direction. “You and your brother go get ready,” she ordered. “I'll be back there in a minute.”

Anakin released his binding and moved to do as she asked wordlessly. He still didn't know exactly what to expect from this meeting, but whatever it was he had high expectations for it to be exceedingly interesting, if nothing else.

• * *

It seemed an eternity ago that Padmé had last laid eyes on the cornerstone of the galaxy. She remembered the last night she had spent there, listening to the screams and sirens, watching the Jedi Temple burn and praying with every fiber in her soul that somehow Anakin had escaped. When he did return her fears had not been allayed. Instead she was disconcerted by his coolness, his unreasonable attitude. He had stopped being Anakin that day, she know knew. It had been Darth Vader that had said goodbye to her on the high rise terrace. It had been a Sith that had strangled her on Mustafar. It had taken her nearly four decades to accept that.

“What do you think?” Jaina intoned gently, flying the ship in closer towards the cityscape. “Is it the same?”

Padmé glanced at her granddaughter, seeing her own reflection in the youthful face. She had been shocked by how much Jaina had resembled her; shocked and touched. It warmed her heart to see the girl flying with such ease, her hands mild and sure on the controls. The lightsaber at her hip had not escaped Padmé's notice either. She was a Jedi, the Force a heritage from her dear Anakin. When she looked at her she thought my children did this. Her babies. They had rebuilt democracy and made the Jedi thrive again. Could any mother ever have had more bragging rights than she?

“Padmé?” Jaina prodded again.

The old woman snapped from her reverie and smiled. “Oh. Oh yes, it is. Beautiful.”

Satisfied, Jaina pushed the controls further, shooting them down through the atmosphere towards what end Padmé couldn't imagine. She realized as they passed the mammoth constructs that the city was laid out much different than it had been in her youth. The center of the capital lay in a building that had not been there when she had last lived on Coruscant, all the outlying structures seeming to swirl inwards toward it, making it the focus of the whole world. “What is that?” she asked of Jaina, pressing her index finger to the transparisteel.

“The old Imperial Palace,” she answered distractedly. “Palpatine built it. We used to live there when I was a kid. Jacen and I used to get lost all the time.”

Padmé shivered at the mention of Palpatine. She had beat herself up for decades for allowing herself to be deceived by him. She had been the very instrument of his rise to power, had stood in the Senate Hall and declared a vote of no confidence that enabled that monster to climb onto his throne! That was one error in her life she would never live down, no matter how long she lived. And it was a shame she dared to hide from Jaina as long as possible.

Jaina hit the internal comm switch and spoke into the microphone, “Hey Fel, why don't you get up here where I can keep an eye on you?”

Padmé smirked at her antics. They both thought so highly of themselves, but she could see the truth of it. They were two children picking mercilessly at each other to see who exploded first. It would be interesting to see which one lasted longest. Having Anakin's blood in her veins, Padmé suspected that might be one match the handsome young colonel won.

“I'm busy,” he replied, unruffled.

“Yeah, busy trying to hack your way into the HoloNet receiver. Get up here, now.”

There was an audible sigh from the other end, but he appeared dutifully in the cockpit door a few moments later. “I wasn't hacking into anything,” he told her coolly, sitting in passenger's couch behind them both. “The wiring was all wrong.”

“Sure it was,” she rolled her eyes, swinging the long prow of Padmé's vessel to port and kicking in the repulsorlifts.

“So this is Coruscant?” he changed the subject, leaning over Padmé's chair. “Dirtier than I thought.”

Jaina snorted derisively as she lowered them gently onto a wide private landing pad. “And Nirauan is such a gem.”

“I don't live on Nirauan,” he countered coolly. “I live on Csilla.”

“Cs-what?” she wrinkled her face and started the power down sequence.

“Csilla,” he pronounced it clearly. “The Chiss homeworld.”

“Ah,” Jaina grinned devilishly. “Is that where you make your shield strippers?”

“You're never going to get the plans to those, you know,” he parried. “They'll let you torture me to death before they let you have them.”

“That's all right,” she swiveled in the pilot's chair to face him. “I can always pluck it right out of your skull,” she winked at Padmé.

He didn't find it funny. “I thought that was against your Jedi morals.”

She shrugged. “Well, there's this guy named Kyp Durron. Have you heard of him? I see you have. I'm willing to bet a great deal that if I told him what was at stake he would have no qualms about rifling through your head. And then my morals wouldn't be in jeopardy at all, would they?”

Jaina was teasing him now, Padmé knew, and it was working to an extent. He gave a her an annoyed glance and told her, “You're forgetting the fact that even if you do manage to weasel your way into getting those schematics that sooner or later you're going to have a war on your hands with the Ascendancy.”

“That,” she stood, “is not my concern right now.” She extended a hand to Padmé, helping her from her seat. “We'll deal with it when it comes along.”

Padmé looped her arm through her granddaughter's and looked down at Jag. “Come on, dear. Let's not make this harder than it has to be.”

He continued to stare at them. “You're foolish for not seeing the truth of what you're doing. But I'll never convince you of that. Where are we going?”

“I had planned to take you straight to Aunt Mara, but I don't sense her or my brothers anywhere in the system. So we're going to pay a visit to a friend of mine in Intelligence,” Jaina explained.

“Who?” he demanded.

“Iella Antilles.”

His telltale swallow piqued Jaina's interest as much as it did Padmé's. “What? What about Iella?”

His face turned into an unreadable mask. “She's my aunt.”

“Your what?” Jaina exclaimed.

“Wedge Antilles is my mother's brother,” he explained softly.

After a moment Jaina cracked a broad grin. “My, you really are full of surprises. I guess this greeting will be extra special for you then. Let's go, Colonel. And no funny business unless you want to have a very personal introduction to my lightsaber.”

• * *

“Kardde, you're a miracle worker,” Mara smiled at her former boss. “How the hell do you know all this?”

He waved one hand dismissively, grinning at her and her nephews. “It's all in the air, Mara, all in the air.”

“I had forgotten how good you were at information brokering,” she muttered, scanning the contents of the datacard again. “Cale Wilos, huh?”

“That's his name,” Kardde sipped at a cup of steaming caf. “He's the most ruthless leader they've had in recent history.”

Mara pursed her lips, not liking the sound of that at all. “This ship design is interesting. It looks like half an egg shell.” She passed the diagram to her nephews, Anakin eagerly accepting the diagram.

“I don't know much about those,” the smuggler admitted. “This has all come from intercepted comm messages we managed to decode.”

“Well, you've been a lot bigger help than anyone in the Republic,” Mara acknowledged. “They don't know kriff compared to all this.”

“Isn't that the way it always is?” Talon smirked.

She smiled back. “I don't know why I assumed otherwise.” She stood and extended her hand over the table and shook his firmly. “Thank you, Talon.”

“Don't thank me yet,” he told her. “I haven't sent you my fee.”

Mara rolled her eyes as she motioned the boys out of their seats and towards the doors. “I'll be sure to keep an eye out for that. Take care of yourself, boss.”

“I always do.”

“And Shada,” Mara added. “Tell her I said hello, and I'm sorry I missed her.”

He nodded gently. “Of course. Give the Jedi Master my regards.”

She saluted him as she left, her mind whirling with the implications of all she had found. The Baci apparently had astounding memories and vicious battle tactics, all of which boded ill. Their leader was a young man with endless ambition and discrimination against those outside his own clan. He would be a formidable foe. All this coupled with their Force sensitivity led Mara to the uneasy conclusion that whatever the future held, it wasn't going to be pretty.

• * *

Jag Fel weaved easily in and out of the masses of people careening around the trio, examining with mild curiosity the diversity of them all. He had grown up in a place where everyone wore the same thing, thought the same way, and always followed a regimented routine. The randomly jumbled colors and variety of beings was almost enough to make his head swim.

But so much more than that, the multitude would be the perfect method of his escape. Solo had yet to let him near anything or anyone that might provide him that outlet, but here among the crowd he could easily become lost.

He tossed her a sideways glance and found her knowing eyes averted, speaking to Padmé about this or that, he didn't care. This was his chance.

He spotted a man up ahead of them, about the same height as him with dark hair. Looking back one more time, Jag shouldered his way forward and beside the man. He stayed even with him for a few more feet until the catwalk took a turn to the left or right. The man went left. Jag broke right, hunching his proud shoulders to hide from prying Jedi eyes.

His heart beat louder with each step he was carried further from her. Each meter brought him closer to an escape. He could only hope that when she looked up she would see the similarly built and dressed man and not pay any attention until it was too late.

The catwalk dropped into an open-air tract of ferrocrete where several walkways came together in a circular rotunda. On the far side of this space was a bank of information terminals for tourists. If he had any luck in him at all there would be a HoloNet connection in them as well.

Jag resisted the urge to look back. Instead he pressed forward, his palms sweating as he drew nearer his goal. The mass of beings pressed in around him with a suffocating weight, hindering his progress. Their flow was random and rushed, no set out lines or paths to the various diverging paths. He found himself disgusted by their lack of order, even more so because of the situation. But he was almost there. Just a few more steps.

“Nice try,” a voice whispered almost in his ear, killing his fledgling hope in its egg.

A slender arm looped casually through his, her smile one of a flirty teenage girl with cotton for brains. Jaina's tone was pure durasteel. “Fine then. If you insist on being an uncooperative prisoner I'll treat you like one.”

He winced, unable to tear out of her deceptively steely grasp without making a scene of it. “You expected me to play fair, then?” he quipped. Maybe he should make a scene. This could be his last chance

She smiled sweetly, turning to make sure they hadn't lost Padmé in the throng. The old woman was still coming, commanding an air of importance that made the rivers of people break on her like an unrelenting shore. “No. I just thought you would have given me more of a challenge than this.” Her fingers squeezed their joined hands playfully.

He scowled, not at all diverted by her jests. “I've only started.”

She pulled them to a stop, an island in the flow, as they waited for her grandmother. “I'm trembling in my boots.”

“You should be,” he replied truthfully. She was underestimating him, but that was fine too. He would use it to his advantage.

Padmé reached them at last, looking put out. “I think I've developed some sort of agoraphobia. It feels so odd to be around so many people again. I feel like I'm being swallowed.”

Jaina smiled reassuringly. “That's understandable. I'm sure you'll snap out of it soon.”

Padmé quirked her lips to one side and looked disapprovingly at him, forgetting her discomfort. “Jagged Fel, I can't believe you ran off like that.” It was the same tone his mother had used on he and his brothers on the rare occasion that they misbehaved.

He tried to pry his hand from Jaina's but only ended up getting a sore palm as her fingernails dug in. “And I still can't believe you instigated my abduction. I guess neither of us are what we expected.”

“The point is that now I'm going to be forced to keep a closer eye on you,” Jaina sighed, pulling him back towards their destination, maintaining the facade of a young couple out for a stroll.

He buried his disappointment and plodded on, knowing the moment had passed. He would have to wait for another opportunity to present itself. Taking into account the intent glean in Jaina's brandy eyes and the sweetly deceptive grip on his arm, that might be a while.

• * *

Admiral Ackbar pressed his webbed hands together in front of his bulbous head and heaved a gurgling sigh. “Wedge, we have known each other for a very, very long time. And through all the years of the Rebellion and then our service in the New Republic I have never known you to be an irrational man. But this...I don't see how your fears could be founded.”

Wedge glanced at his wife, who nodded her encouragement. “I know it sounds that way. I'm skeptical myself. But everything we've heard coupled with the utter annihilation at Bespin and now Clak'dor VII is enough to make me seriously question Bork's sanity. Something has to be done.”

Ackbar wheezed gently, his fishy lips opening and shutting slowly. “Wedge, you've just suggested a military coup. There is no feasible way that dividing the New Republic right when it needs to be its strongest could be an advantage. If these Baci are the ferocious killers we assume it would be better to lay open our concerns to the Senate and let them vote.”

“The Senate is nothing but a collection of bureaucrats who owe their positions to Fey'lya's influence,” Iella replied, impassioned. “It's as corrupt as it has ever been. The moment Leia left office he started pooling his own supporters into the various offices of state. The minority of them who have a shred of honesty couldn't pull the support we need to back a full out war.”

Ackbar stood, his white uniform crinkling with his movement. “I understand this. I cannot but hope, however, that the situation can be solved my another means. I helped create this institution. I will not be the instrumentality of its demise.”

“We don't want to destroy the New Republic either, Admiral,” Wedge told him. “And I felt exactly the same as you do now when Iella proposed all this.” He paused, gathering his thoughts for the perfect argument. “Do you remember how we all felt at Yavin after Luke blew up the Death Star? That sense of awe, how we couldn't believe some kid could be that good?”

The aging military mind inclined his salmon colored head. “I'll never forget.”

Wedge smiled thinly. “Every one of these Baci are that good. A million of them out there, all gunning for us. And sooner or later they're going to come for Coruscant.”

There was a tense silence in the air, hanging on the cusp of their collectively held breath. Instead of a reply they got a quiet beeping from Ackbar's desk. Happy to have a moment to think, the Mon Cal took the call gratefully. “Yes, what is it?”

“Sir, a young woman is here demanding to see General Antilles,” his aide said, sounding pained.

Iella cocked her brow demandingly at him, and Wedge gaped, confused. I have no idea he mouthed. “Who?” he asked Ackbar.

“Who is it?” Ackbar asked the secretary.

There was a pause then, “She says her name is Jaina Solo.” The dubious tone hinted the woman thought otherwise.

“Why would Jaina Solo come looking for me?” Wedge asked no one in particular.

“Didn't Gavin just let her in Rogue Squadron?” Iella asked. “Could it have something to do with that?”

“Maybe. Send her in,” Wedge waved to the Admiral. Ackbar relayed the message, and a few seconds later a petite young woman marched dutifully into the room. She saluted the Admiral and Wedge, but addressed Iella.

“I'm sorry to interrupt whatever this is, but can I speak to you in private?” she winced.

Iella blinked a few times, then swiped a loose strand of hair out of her eyes. “You're the third Solo child I've seen in two days. Is there a magnet planted on me somewhere I don't know about?”

Jaina Solo smiled thinly. “I certainly hope not. But if you've seen Jacen and Anakin I'm going to guess you've seen Mara too. Do you know where she is?”

Iella tossed her blond locks negatively. “I saw her day before yesterday. She came looking for information about the Baci...situation. I don't know where she was going next.”

Jaina sighed through her nose, scowling. She opened her mouth to say something else when an elderly woman burst through the door to the outer office. “Jaina!” she gasped, clutching the facing. “He ran!”

“Force damn it!” Jaina growled even as she was bounding past them all, murder in her eyes.

Wedge's pilot instincts in dangerous situations—along with a natural curiosity—made him follow her, Iella closely behind. He rounded the corner into the corridor in time to see the doors of the turbolift a hundred meters away close behind a tall young man. Jaina hit the door a split second later, her fist denting the plating. “I'll kill him!” she snarled as a violet flame leaped to life in her hand. She plunged it deep into the hatch, molten metal sizzling onto the floor as she carved a hole.

Wedge scowled, confused and feeling as if he should be concerned.

“I only looked away for a half a second,” a small voice whispered behind him.

He turned and looked at the little woman as if for the first time. Her silver hair was clasped in a long braid down her back, a simple yellow dress draping her willowy form. Warm brown eyes pinched in pain as she watched Jaina kick in the door and drop into the shaft.

Wedge frowned at her. “Who are you?”

[edit] Behind the Scenes

• Part of the Star Wars fanfiction Heritage

Heritage Prologue| Chapter 1| Chapter 2| Chapter 3| Chapter 4| Chapter 5| Chapter 6| Chapter 7| Chapter 8| Chapter 9