[Legacy Of The Force] - 04(26)
“I don’t know much about her. I assume the term Sith lady doesn’t bode well.”
“Not well at all. I’ll get you the basic information on her.” Luke reached into a pocket and handed items over to Jag. “Identicard. It identifies you as jagged Fel, a civilian specialist employed by the Jedi order. The second one’s a credcard. It gives you access to a drawing account set up for your task force. The third is a security card with what you need to assume control of”-he pointed-“that X-wing. Sorry I can’t provide you with a Chiss clawcraft.”
“That’s all right. I’m fond of X-wings, as well.”
“I also want to assign a couple of Jedi to you. You’re hunting a Dark Jedi; you’ll benefit from having Jedi with you.”
“I agree.”
Luke glanced toward a door leading into the hangar. “Speaking of which…”
He must have been alerted by an impulse in the Force, for when jag followed his glance, the door was shut. But now it slid up and open, and a woman in brown Jedi robes walked into the hangar. “Uncle Luke, you wanted to see… oh.”
Jag refrained from stiffening. It was Jaina Solo. His mind clicked through a number of possibilities and arrived at one inescapable conclusion: that she was going to be
“I’m putting together a small task force to find Alema Rar,” Luke said. “Colonel Fel here is in charge. I’m assigning you to it, and Zekk, when he’s fit to fly.”
Jaina came to a stop a few meters away, looking between the two men as if still expecting the punch line to a joke that already wasn’t funny. “That is not a good idea. I don’t think I can operate as this man’s subordinate.”
Luke gave her a quizzical look. “Back in the Yuuzhan Vong war, though he outranked you, he didn’t offer you any grief about being your subordinate.”
“Things are different now.”
Luke nodded. “Yes. You’re both older and wiser. And on top of that, the two of you have worked together before, know each other’s strengths and weaknesses, and have complementary skills. Consider it settled.” He glanced between them. “I’ll leave you two to get caught up. Jag, please get me a plan of operation at your earliest opportunity.” He turned and headed toward the door.
Jag waited until Luke was out of hearing. “The problem with Jedi Masters,” he said, “is that they can’t be beaten with impunity.”
Jaina looked at him, suspicious. “Jag, did you just make a joke?”
“No.” He clamped down on the anger rising within him. “He knows why I wouldn’t want to work with you and has decided to disregard my wishes. I’ll have to assume that his reasoning is sound, whatever it is, until proven otherwise. All right, let’s do some strategic planning.”
“Why wouldn’t you want to?” Jaina was clearly confused and, so far as jag could tell, possibly hurt as well. “Because of what happened with the Dark Nest?”
“It doesn’t matter. We have planning to do.” He gestured toward the door.
She stood her ground, glaring. “It does matter. If I’m going to be working in a hostile environment, I need to know why. If we have a problem, you should have told me about it years ago.”
“I couldn’t.” The words, heated, snapped out of him. “I was stranded on Tenupe for two years. And because of your actions, ignoring the consequences of freeing Lowbacca and what he did subsequently, I am now barred from my family forever. And that is the why.”
She gaped. The anger didn’t leave her face, but something in it changed. Jag supposed that she was offended either by his blaming her or by the fact that he had been punished for the action of others. “Yes,” he added, “the Jedi way preaches forgiveness, but that isn’t the Chiss approach. To the Chiss and my family, I am an unperson, and that’s forever. Don’t bother thinking about ways to correct the situation-it would be roughly as useful as worrying about painting out the laser damage your uncle left on the hull of the Death Star. Instead, worry about Alema Rar.”
Finally her mouth closed. It took her a few moments, but military discipline reasserted itself. “All right. Strategic planning.” At his gesture, she preceded him to the door back into the Temple hallways.
CORELLIAN EXCLUSION ZONE
LOVE COMMANDER
“I feel,” Lando announced, “like an idiot.” He studied himself in the main display screen serving the captain’s chair on the Love Commander control cabin. Mounted on a swing-out arm so that it could be positioned directly before him or moved out of the way, it was now beside his chair and switched off. Reflective when not active, it showed him in his new guise, wearing a white beard and mustache, and a white wig with hair so long that the braid swinging from it would reach to his thighs when he stood.