The Path of Dreams

~Chapter 19~

Admiral’s Quarters, Intrepid, Kiris Asteroid Shipyards

Jag tried again to concentrate on the datapad before him trying to find a flaw in his forming plan. The report was a week old and this was not the first time he had studied it. The Grand Admiral just couldn’t believe what he was thinking, each time he read it. Those disturbing thoughts were making him lose sleep. However, he’d rather lose sleep over this than the alternative reason. Maybe that was why he kept going over it, he didn’t want to think about her.

The report detailed the attacks on the shipyards surrounding Mon Calamari along with the deployment of the 51st Infantry and GAG. The first attack happened to the largest of the yards, destroying the facility and killing four thousand personnel. Then three days after the terrorist leader, bounty hunter Felix Marcia, was killed by GAG Lieutenant Ben Skywalker, Shipyard Three was destroyed by an a series of internal explosions supposedly in retaliation for his “murder”. Fortunately for the peoples of Mon Calamari, the shipyard hadn’t been re-staffed, however, if he could believe the report, a team of GAG specialists were taken by the destruction. The government of Mon Cal was in confusion and the Fifth Fleet had been called in to assist GAG.

The strategist in Jag knew now was the perfect time. Everyone was in a state of confusion and furthermore would ever expect it. Jag sat back and rubbed his face. He couldn’t believe he was thinking this. He spun his chair around and looked out the veiwport behind him. Before him lay one of the most important shipyards of Confederation, excluding the Yaga Minor and Kuat, nestled within the Kiris Asteroid Belt. Corell shone as a distant bright pinpoint below the yards relative to the Intrepid’s position.

A year and a half ago the GA tried to destroy this formally secret site, but Jag’s defensive actions quickly turned the battle. The GA had caused some damage to the yards, but not so much to render them useless. Jag had to admit that he found it amusing that one group of terrorist thugs did more damage to Mon Calamari than the entire Third Fleet including GAG could do to Kiris.

He found himself pondering again, the details of a plan that could either make him more of a hero, a leader, of the Confederation, or it could backfire and brand him an Imperial expansionist. As Jag rubbed his stubbly jaw, he couldn’t help but see the opportunity before him. And he had long ago realized opportunity didn’t knock all that often.

Suddenly, the intercom on the corner of the dark wood desk began to beep. He turned his chair around again and put his back to the technological achievement hidden within the largest of the asteroids, Kiris Six and Seventeen.

Switching on the device he said, “Yes, Cera?”

“Admiral Fel,” said the pleasant voice of his human secretary Cera De’Loake, “the diplomat from Bastion has arrived in Shuttle Bay Number Three, Sir.”

Jag frowned, the Moffs’ insisted on sending an advisor, a mediator, who would work between Jag and the Moffs. He knew he shouldn’t let things like this bother him, but he did. Pellaeon never had mediators. “Instruct an escort to bring our guest to my quarters, Cera.” Then as a second thought he added, “Using the least direct route and least sensitive to informational leaks.”

“Of course, Admiral.” He could hear the smile in the young woman’s voice. Cera had been with Jag since the beginning of his admiralty of the Intrepid two and a half years ago. He had never liked working with droids, which came from his upbringing among the Chiss. His parents owned only one droid, a housekeeping model, but other than that he hadn’t had much experience with them until he came to Known Space during the Yuuzhan Vong war. However, when he thought of protocol or secretarial droids, he always pictured the Solo’s annoying C-3PO. The Imperials had questioned his desire of having a civilian employee to do the job of a droid, but he had insisted on a live being to be his assistant, at which Cera had become quite accomplished.

He knew one reason she strove to excel was the fact that she was infatuated with him. He had once considered seeing how far he was willing to let the flirty smiles of the beautiful violet-eyed blond and her short skirts take him, but in the end he couldn’t go through with it. She was an excellent employee who seemed to know his mind, and to destroy that relationship with a few assuredly incredible nights of meaningless sex didn’t set well with Jag. He knew he’d only hurt her in the end, because his heart still belonged to another.

Over the years since he and his family returned to the Imperial government, Jag’s well-meaning mother had tried repeatedly to get Jag to date again. The young women were mostly daughters of important people whom his parents knew. He had dated a few of them, mostly to appease his parents. There had been one extremely passionate affair with the daughter of the planetary governor of Dolis 3, but none of his relationships lasted more than a few weeks at most. He had tried to hate Jaina Solo for what she did to him and to his family, but he couldn’t. Not really. He still loved her with his entire being.

Suddenly, his mind shifted to that night. He couldn’t stop the memory. The way she looked in the amber sleeveless, ankle length dress; the feel of her under his hands as they danced; the way her hair fell over her bare shoulders in loose waves and curls; the scent of Hapan roses that permeated from her smooth bronzed skin; the look in her fathomless brown eyes as he leaned in to say his last words to her. He had fought the impulse to take her into his arms that night and kiss her with all the self-control and discipline he could muster.

Jaina had plagued his mind as much as the opportunity he saw at Mon Calamari. Because of his feeling of loss of control around her, he had avoided seeing her again by circumventing her and going through Valin Horn for any dealings he had with the three new Jedi. He had every intention of using them. Jaina, despite all the personal baggage she brought with her, was an exceptional leader, and surprising so was Zekk. Due to Fondor’s alliance with the Empire, Jessi Chivel had long ago been assigned as a squadron commander in the Second Imperial Fleet, and Wedge arranged for both Jaina and Zekk to command of their own squads. However, despite Valin’s skills as a pilot, Wedge retained him in Leia Solo’s position as advisor. Leia had eased out of actively participating in military activities after the Battle of Bothawui, stating that she needed to devote more time conducting her duties as guardian of the young Princess Allana.

Valin chaffed at the position, going between Wedge and Jag and the other admirals that made up the Confederate Navy, giving them insight that only a Jedi could. Surprisingly, the young Jedi was doing well, even though Jag knew his young cousin-in-law would prefer to be in the cockpit of a fighter rather than in a conference room. Jag understood that all too well. As for the other Jedi, Jaina and Zekk were taking to their new roles and ranks as Commanders rather well; although, Jag wondered if the two of them could actually work independently. It would be interesting to see.

Suddenly, the buzzer of the door brought him out of his reverie. He hit the control on his desk and the door slid open. He quickly turned the data pad off; the last thing he wanted was to give the envoy any ideas. Jag then looked up to greet the new comer with a passive expression that quickly turned into a genuine smile.

As the Grand Admiral stood from his chair and quickly came around his desk he exclaimed, “Father. I can’t believe the Moffs would send you.”

Soontir Fel smiled as the father and son came together in a tight embrace. After they separated, he said, “I’m actually quite surprised myself. How have you been, Son?”

“I’ve been good,” said Jag happily as he moved away from Soontir and stepped over to the drink dispenser. He asked after his mother and siblings. Soontir told him of Wynssa’s latest love interest and Jag laughed at his father’s less than shining appraisal of the young man, the son of Moff Sarreti of the Braxant Sector. He wondered if anyone would ever be good enough for Soontir’s daughter. Cem was doing well, as Jag already knew, for he was in charge of overseeing Jag’s redevelopment plans for the once economic mecca of the Old Republic and then the Empire, Muunilinst. Finally, his mother was taking her life as the Baroness with as much grace as she always had.

Soontir watched him for a moment and then snickered, “You have made quite the splash in the tabloids back home.”

“Oh?” Jag inquired as he crossed the room after pouring them each a glass of brandy. “What is it now?”

Soontir continued to chuckle as he said, “You have impressed the female population of the Empire with your dancing ability.”

Jag stopped mid-stride and simply stared at his father. “What?”

The older Fel let out with a full resonant laugh at his son’s astonished expression. “It seems you’ve broken a lot of hearts, Jagged. The rumor is that you and Jaina Solo seemed quite cozy at the wedding of your cousin Syal and the Jedi she married.”

Jag regained his composure and handed his father his glass and took a long draw from his own before saying, “Father, you know I have no intention of even entertaining such a thought of getting back with Jaina. She practically destroyed me and my family.”

Shrugging, Soontir moved around the large outer room of the quarters that served as Jag’s office looking at the mementos, the various datachips and old fashioned Chiss styled leather bound books displayed on the shelves. Finally, he turned to Jag and said after taking a draw from his glass, “You know politically she would make a good match.”

“What?” Jag was shocked. “How in the galaxy could she ever be a good match politically? She’s the daughter of two of the Empire’s most hated foes and she’s a Jedi.” But even as Jag said the words, he knew just what his father was getting at—it was exactly for all those reasons that she was a good match. She was also the daughter of the last princess of Alderaan, which would show the galaxy once and for all that the government under Jagged Fel was nothing like its predecessors. Jag shook his head, not even believing that he was thinking this. “No, Dad. Jaina Solo will never be more than a very bad memory.”

Soontir gave him a look that told Jag that he wasn’t buying it and turned back to a hologram of an elegant sculpture that sat atop a elegant pedestal.

Soontir smiled and nodded toward the depiction of two mythological winged snarling beasts pulling an ancient wheeled chariot which held a stylized human god-like being that carried several ancient weapons of war and had hair that resembled vicious serpents. He said, “I remember this piece. It had belonged to Thrawn and was one of his favorites.”

Jag took a sip from his glass, glad that his father dropped the subject of Jaina. “Yes, I know. Gilad gave it to me.”

Soontir looked over at his son, surprise evident in his brown eye. “You know the myth behind this don’t you?”

Jag grinned and nodded, saying, “The mythical god of war from Denon. It is believed that whoever finds favor in the god will rule the world, or rather the galaxy. I’ve never been one for art or mythology, as you know, but I like this piece. I commented on it long ago and then, after I took command, he presented it to me as a gift. I have the actual stone sculpture on display in my apartment back on Bastion.”

Soontir chuckled and Jag looked away from the hologram to meet his father’s eye. “You know what else the media of Bastion is whispering about?”

Jag felt suddenly nervous as to where this was going and forced a small chuckle. He paced over to the conversation nook of the office and seated himself on one of the dark leather repulser couches. After his father followed his lead and sat across from him, Jag inquired, “I’m afraid to ask.”

Soontir grinned and elaborated, “They are saying that you could be the next Emperor.”

Jag drained his glass and laughed. Shaking his head, he set the glass down on the low table between them. Finally, he said, “I’m sure they are saying this with quite a bit of disdain and point out all my discrediting attributes as they down play my accomplishments.”

Soontir sat forward and Jag noticed the sudden seriousness in the older man’s expression. “Son, you have more than impressed the correct people in the government. The plans that you’ve implemented have already shown results. Even your opposition is having a harder time of pointing out failures in your skill as both a commander and as a governor. You have instilled hope in many people, Jagged.” Then he sat back and went on, “You are good at this. You may hate it, but you are a politician. You have a charisma of which I’m glad I never had by half.” Jag shook his head and laughed. He didn’t know any one who matched Soontir Fel’s charm and charisma but, before he could refute what his father said, Soontir went on, “No, you inherited that from the Antilles side.”

Soontir came forward again as if he planned to tell him a guarded secret, and Jag was intently aware of the beating of his own heart. “Son, you are not only a damned good politician and one hell of a commander, but you are something I never had been or will be.” Jag stared at his father. Soontir had never been a man of a lot of praise. “Jag, you are a man of vision. You are exactly the leader the Empire needs.

“An Emperor,” Jag very quietly said.

Soontir sat back again and drained his glass. He raised an eyebrow and grinned, “That was your word, not mine.”

Jag laughed uncharacteristically nervously and stood, moving to stand by the portal behind his desk across the room. “Actually, it belongs to Jaina.”

“Really?”

Jag turned and met Soontir’s one-eyed gaze, “Yeah. She told me that the night we impressed the galaxy with our dancing ability.”

A silence engulfed them then. Finally, Jag asked as he stared out of the portal, “Father, do you think it’s really possible?”

Soontir stood and came to stand next to his son and waited for him to continue. Jag met his gaze and went on, “Do you think I could be—be Emperor?”

His father studied him for a long moment before asking, “Do you want to be Emperor?”

Jag didn’t turn away; he swallowed and, as if to admit such a thing was a terrible sin, whispered, “Yes.” Soontir’s slight smile encouraged him to go on, stronger he said, “And I know how to prove to the people that I deserve the title.”

“I’m listening.”

Jag picked up the datapad from the desk, turned it on to the report of Mon Calamari and handed it to his father. Soontir read the report and then looked back up at Jag. A smile spread across his face and Jag didn’t miss the twinkle in his eye. “You want to attack Mon Calamari?” Jag nodded and the old Imperial rubbed his chin as he continued to read and paced back to the couches, “The loss of the home planet of the GA’s Chief of State would definitely cause a blow to the morale of the Galactic Alliance.” Jag regained his seat as well and waited out his father’s analysis of the situation. Finally, Soontir looked up from the datapad and grinned, “This will put the Confederacy on the offensive in a primarily defensive war. This could be the ticket to winning.”

“I think it’s time to show the GA that we truly want to separate ourselves fully from them. But, more importantly, it will show the rest of the Confederacy that the Empire takes care of its allies and what can happen if they decide not to be allies any longer.”

Soontir stared at Jag and for the first time he realized that he surprised his father. He felt the heat on his cheeks but, before he could say anything else, Soontir said, “Spoken like a true Imperial.”

Unexpectedly the older Fel stood, picked up the two empty glasses and refilled them. After giving Jag his refilled glass of Corellian brandy and regaining his seat across from Jag, he raised his glass and said, “To the rise of the New Empire and to its new Emperor, Jagged Fel.”

Jag clicked his glass against his father’s and chided, “I wouldn’t be too premature with those announcements, Father.”

Soontir Fel took a draw from his brandy and then said, “Ahh…Son, win this battle and the people of the Empire will be begging you to take the official title of what you already are in their hearts. Jagged, this is your destiny.”

~~~

Solo Apartment, Coronet, Corellia

Jaina smiled as the young girl stood and moved toward her. She was carrying a beautifully crafted doll that had been a birthday gift from her grandfather Isolder. Jaina sat in the middle of the floor of her parents’ living room and watched as Allana stopped before her, “Jaina, can you please watch Anabel for me? I need to go and fight a bad man.”

It took all Jaina’s discipline not to laugh at the determined formality. “Of course, Allana. Whom are you fighting today?” she said as she took the doll and cradled it in her arms like a real child.

Allana looked pensive for a moment and then said, “That man who hurt my momma.”

Jaina was taken aback by the little girl’s intensity. “And who is that?”

“The man in my dreams. He is coming after me and he is the one who hurt Momma.” Allana wasn’t looking at Jaina as she said this; instead she was fiddling with the lacy dress of the doll as it lay in the crook of Jaina’s arm.

Jaina felt a pang of pain as she thought of her friend Tenel Ka and the way she died. The official report was that she suffered a hemorrhage of the brain, but there was something about the Force as the dead queen’s daughter spoke. Instead of voicing the empty words of reassurance concerning the phantoms of dreams, Jaina asked, “Do you know him?”

The girl thought about it and nodded. “It’s the man in the holos with you and Princess Leia and Captain Han.” She accompanied her words with a pointed finger at a large framed holo on the wall above the entertainment center. Allana was pointing to a family hologragh done right after the Yuuzhan War and before Jacen began his five year journey across the galaxy. Immediately, she felt an icy chill over her. “Momma called him friend Jacen and told me that he was my friend too but, if he was my friend, why would he want to hurt me or Momma?”

Jaina turned back to meet the hauntingly familiar brandy brown eyes of the seven year old Chume’da and as she did so a shock ran through her that shook her to her core.

Suddenly, Jaina realized something about the little girl who looked enough like Tenel Ka to throw off any other suspicion but, at that moment, Jaina could only see the other in her face. She looked up at the holo and then at the girl. “No,” she breathed and jumped to her feet, dropping the doll. “It isn’t possible.”

“Jaina?” Allana appeared as if she was about to cry as she rescued her favorite doll and hugged it close to her. “Did I do something to worry you?”

Jaina mentally shook herself and took a deep calming breath to get under control again. After a moment, she realized Allana could feel her raging emotions and said in a soothing voice, “No, sweetheart, but I have to talk to my mom.” She patted Allana’s shoulder reassuringly and headed to the back room where she found her mother.

Leia sat facing the window that overlooked the cityscape of Coronet, but she wasn’t mediating any longer, she was waiting for Jaina. Without turning she simply said, “So, you figured it out.”

“You know about this?” Jaina’s voice was incredulous. “You know that Jacen is Allana’s father?”

“The man in the holo is my—my father?” said the small voice from the doorway. Both Jaina and Leia snapped around to see the little girl standing there holding the elegantly dressed doll as if it was her lifeline. Her cheeks were wet with silent tears.

Leia jumped to her feet and rushed over to her. As she passed Jaina, she threw her an accusing glare that caused Jaina to take a step backward. She watched as her mother kneeled down before the small girl. Leia soothed her russet braids as she said, “Oh, Allana…”

Jaina shuddered at the depth in the girl’s eyes as she looked at Leia and asked her question again with a deadly calm voice that reminded Jaina so much of Tenel Ka that her heart hurt. “Please, Princess Leia, is the man in the holo in the living room my father? I have to know.”

Leia was silent for so long that Jaina wondered if her mother was going to lie to the girl. Finally, in a quiet, defeated voice she said “Yes, my dear, my son Jacen is your father. He and your mother were very good friends.”

Allana shook her head. “But he’s the man in my dream. The man I see hurting Momma and who wants to hurt me.”

“Allana, what are you talking about?” Leia questioned confused. “You were on Dathomir when your mommy died.”

She shook her head. “It is a fact that I was with Grandfather visiting the Sisters. But I have this dream that I see the man—Jacen—kiss Momma and then she dies. He looks mean and searches for me. He calls my name but I’m not there. I know that he wants to hurt me too.” Jaina and Leia stared at her astonished as she looked down at the doll and her tears began again. After sniffing them back, she looked up at them and asked, “But why would my father want to hurt me?”

Leia looked over her shoulder at Jaina who just continued to stare wide-eyed at her niece. Leia turned back to the girl and enveloped her in an embrace. “I don’t know, sweetheart. I don’t know,” she whispered into Allana’s hair.

But Jaina knew. Jacen had given himself to the Darkness. She realized that awful truth as assuredly as she knew her name. Somehow her twin had become a Sith.