Title: Touch and Go
Chapter: Part One: "If You Can't Beat 'Em..."
Author: bactaqueen
Author's e-mail:
Category: New Jedi Order, EU
Keywords: Jaina Solo, Jag Fel, NJO
Rating: PG
Spoilers: New Jedi Order up to Balance Point
Summary: Space battles, pilot banter, and pre-romance interaction. After Ithor, Rogue Squadron was deployed to the warfront in the company of Spike Squadron. What happened between Jaina Solo and Jag Fel?
Disclaimer: "Star Wars" is copyright George Lucas and Lucasfilm, LTD. Jagged Fel is copyright Michael A. Stackpole. No profit is being made from this writing. It is purely for entertainment. As his own people put it, the sandbox belongs to Mr. Lucas. I'm just playing in it.
Author's Note: Special thanks to Xaverii Jade and Caitie (both very talented authors you can find on this site). Without their input, this would be a lot less polished.

Part One: "If You Can't Beat 'Em..."

It was red. According to her rear sensor screen, the blip was gaining on her, and if Sparky's wail and her cockpit alarms were anything to trust, the blip had a lock on her. Jaina Solo gritted her teeth and gripped the flightstick too hard. The warning bells ringing in her ears grew more insistent, and lasers lit up her rear shields. Sparky commed her, wanting to know if she had a death wish.

"All pilots do," she answered the droid dryly. "Why do you think we're so eager to do what we do?"

She forced herself to relax-or, Forced herself to relax. Jaina loosened her hold on the stick, and took a few deep, calming breaths. Panicking wasn't going to help anything. She almost winced when another burst of laserfire sent her shields down to ninety percent. That wasn't good, but since letting the enemy close on her was part of her plan, it was an acceptable loss.

Jaina jinked the X-wing around, but only enough to keep the enemy's shots soaring past her cockpit. That red blip came faster, and she was sure the pilot was diverting some shielding energy to speed. When it was close enough-when she hoped it was close enough-Jaina took her chance.

She throttled the power back to her engines long enough to haul back on the stick and send the nose of the craft vertical. She kicked the engines back to full, and sent the snubfighter into a steep climb. Since this particular dogfight was taking place in the literal middle of nowhere, up and down were relative.

The blip overshot her, but not by much; Jaina had known the pilot was too experienced to fall for child's play. That didn't mean she couldn't employ child's play as an element of surprise.

She shoved the stick forward and feathered the rudders, sending the X-wing down into an almost dizzying-and by all appearances, out-of-control-tailspin. The blip had looped around, and was coming in at her from above. Her spin made her fighter nearly impossible to hit, and that was what she'd been counting on.

What she'd also been relying on was the unpredictability of her intentional spin. With a flick of a rudder and a tug on the stick, she was facing the blip head-on.

The image of the TIE Interceptor that filled her viewport was almost intimidating. Everything it stood for was a part of her, and something her parents had fought so hard to stop.

Jaina's viewport suddenly darkened to near opacity to protect her eyes as the squint's lasers battered her shields. She was forced to fly by instrument alone. A tiny red blip on her forward sensor screen really wasn't that impressive at all.

Despite its narrow profile, logic-and her targeting computer-said the Interceptor was nearly impossible to miss at this range. She fired, and each of her dual-linked shots hit their mark.

If it had been a normal squint, her first shots would have sheared the ball cockpit from the solar panels, and her next shots would have shredded that cockpit. But this wasn't your average Interceptor. While it gave nothing to the X-wing in terms of speed, the fighter still had abandoned something of swiftness for the sake of shielding. The shields absorbed all of her damage, and the squint continued to inflict damage of its own.

It was a game of chicken, and Jaina blinked first. It wasn't something she was proud of, but at the moment, pride didn't really have much to do with anything.

She just wanted to stay alive.

Jaina nudged the ship to port, and shot by the Interceptor with mere centimeters to spare.

"Damage report!" she demanded. After a brief hesitation, Sparky warbled off the summary she wanted. There was no serious damage, and her shields were still functional.

Jaina kicked the ship up in its starboard S-foils, and turned the X-wing around, expecting to find the squint lining itself up for another head-to-head. "My lasers should have drained something from his shields," she muttered to herself as she armed two proton torpedoes.

Jaina was almost beginning to believe it was her lucky day. As she leveled out, the squint dropped right into her sights, and her primary weapons targeting system started screaming that she had a target lock. She couldn't kill the smile that spread across her face.

She squeezed the trigger under her finger, and a spray of red energy bolts danced across the squint's shields as she waited for her secondary weapons to go green and signify a lock. When the tone finally sounded steady, she thumbed off the two torpedoes she'd armed, and watched as the blue ion tails streaked toward their target.

It had seemed like a sure kill.

She was going to have to learn that appearances could be deceiving.

The first torpedo overshot its mark. She was disappointed, but that was why she'd shot two to begin with.

The second torp detonated a meter from the squint, momentarily blinding her as some of the squint went with it.

When the light dissipated, the Interceptor was still functioning. Jaina screamed in frustration and throttled forward.

Still swearing, and not bothering to wait for laser locks, she followed the squint spiral for spiral, loop for loop, and climb for climb, firing when she thought she could get close enough and hoping-praying-for another torpedo lock. The reticle on her heads-up-display stayed red, and the low tone remained rhythmic.

She was never going to get a chance like that again.

Abruptly, the Interceptor slowed. Wary, Jaina slowed her own speed, but kept it high enough to continue to gain on the squint. The pilot might try to use her earlier tactic against her, and she wasn't about to suffer that embarrassment. Her quarry continued to slow his speed, and now the evasive action was minimal. Minimal, but enough to keep her from getting a solid torpedo lock. She spared a glance to check her weapons status, and Sparky beeped a comment.

"I've wasted four already," she answered, punching her thigh in frustration. "Sithspit, he's hard to kill."

Sparky warbled a rueful agreement.

Jaina continued to fire her primary weapons, spraying the obviously damaged rear shields with red lasers, and waited for the other pilot's trick.

It came as a warning first, tickling her danger sense, and Jaina reacted almost before the other ship moved. She wasn't fast enough.

The squint twisted up and away; it was obvious that the pilot wasn't afraid of using his ship's superior acceleration capabilities. Faster than even a Jedi could counter, the Interceptor was behind the X-wing, closing the distance rapidly. Firing with more intensity than it had before, the squint angled in for the kill.

She jinked and juked, and tried to evade the fierce barrage, to no avail. The lasers were chewing up her shields. For one millisecond, she thought to panic.

Then her shields were gone, and the squint's shots were eating through her engines, to her cockpit. System failure sirens wailed, Sparky whined, and over it all, a calm female voice kept repeating, "Ejection. Ejection."

This time, the ball of light was closer. Silence abruptly replaced the racket.

The screens around her went blank, and the cockpit canopy popped open. To replace the stink of her workout, recirculated-but cool-ship's air rushed in. Jaina groaned, and slumped back in her seat.

He'd killed her again. 'Of course. No surprise in that.' Colonel Fel was not going to meet his end at the weapons of a Rogue. So why, time after time, did she insist on trying?

Because somewhere inside her lived an optimist. 'That's why.'

Sighing, Jaina unstrapped her crash webbing. Shaking her head, she climbed out of her simulator cockpit. It didn't matter how well she flew; he flew better. It didn't matter how unconventional her tactics were; he adjusted.

She supposed that was why he commanded his own squadron. That was why he was already a colonel.

"I'm impressed, Lieutenant."

Jaina looked up to find the pilot already outside of his own simulator, leaning against the hull in a posture that looked entirely too forced. He offered a small smile.

"I do believe you're improving."

Colonel Jagged Fel was not an old man. Nor, she mused, was he unattractive. Only a few centimeters above average height-taller than most successful fighterpilots-Jag Fel's most conspicuous marking was the scar that ran from his right eyebrow back into his hair. A lock of pure white hair traced the line of that scar, and contrasted sharply with the severe black that surrounded it. And his most intriguing features, in Jaina's opinion, were his eyes.

"Well, I'm not getting worse, Colonel."

Jag shook his head. "You're not," he agreed. "You brought down my shields this time."

"You sound surprised," she remarked, eyebrow raised.

He hesitated, and Jaina would have laughed at the brief, pained expression that claimed his features if she didn't believe she'd imagined it.

"I'm sorry," he said at last, and inclined his head. "I didn't mean to."

She quirked a half-smile at him, and sensed that he truly hadn't meant for his words to be anything but compliments on her improvement. His obvious discomfort was something Solo genetics wouldn't let her leave be.

"So you are surprised, you just didn't mean to let me know. Is that right?"

It took Jag a moment to realize she was teasing him. The young colonel relaxed visibly.

"That's right," he agreed.

She chuckled. "That's what I thought."

Jaina turned to let Sparky out of the droid slot in the simulator. X-wing sims could fake the astromechs, of course, but most pilots preferred to have their own droids plugged in behind them. It made the scenario more realistic.

Once Sparky was safely on deck, she turned back to face Fel, and caught his faraway look. She raised a curious eyebrow at that, but left it. He'd said once the Chiss weren't above a flight of fancy or two; maybe he wasn't above his own daydreams.

"It's late," she said, glancing at the dome-topped astromech. "The Rogues have an early briefing tomorrow. Thanks for the run."

Jag was silent longer than he needed to be. Jaina stared curiously at him and watched as he seemed to come back to the present.

"You're welcome," he said finally, and it looked to Jaina that he wanted to add something but he stopped himself.

She hid a smile as she realized he hadn't caught the sarcasm. Either his arrogance truly knew no bounds, or he was just a little more uncomfortable than he was letting on. "Must be nice to know everything," she sighed, and started for the exit. "Force knows you don't need the practice."

"I need the ego boost, actually," he replied.

Jaina rolled her eyes. "Pilots," she groaned, exasperated. Then she shot a small smile in his direction, to give him something more enigmatic than he was used to seeing from her. "Good night, Colonel."

"Good night, Lieutenant."

Jaina had gotten all the way to the threshold, and Sparky got all the way to the corridor, when she paused and gave serious consideration to the proposition forming in her mind. Slowly, she turned back to face Jag, and found him steps away from the trainer he'd used.

There were no clawcraft sims in this room, but he'd been willing enough to fly one of the squints. Jaina hadn't argued, and had hoped that his unfamiliarity with the new ship would give her a much-needed edge.

It hadn't. As it turned out, the first thing the Chiss commander had ever flown had been a squint. In fact, it had been his personal fighter of choice until presented with the clawcraft squadron. Fel had been a certified ace before his fifteenth birthday, and every one of those kills had come while he was flying one of the Empire's shieldless wonders.

She regarded him thoughtfully. No longer leaning against a sim, feigning ease, he looked far more comfortable. "Your parents are Corellian, aren't they?" she asked. She knew the answer, of course; she merely needed an opening.

Jag nodded once. "They are. They haven't been home in a long time, though," he added, quietly, and it seemed to Jaina that his tone was one of resignation. As if he felt something similar, as if... 'He missed his home?'

A lance of pain stabbed her own heart, and Jaina was tempted to reach for her family through the Force. She didn't, though; she had her reasons.

Jaina shook her head to clear it. "I've got nothing against friendly competition," she began. She didn't look at him-couldn't risk meeting that pale green gaze and again losing her concentration-but turned her attention to the simulator closest to her. "In fact, I like it. What I don't like, Colonel, and I know many of my comrades don't appreciate either, is the feeling that you and your people are dismissing us because we can't beat you in the sims."

She looked up then, and let Jag see a part of Jaina Solo that she could only have inherited from her mother. Her brandy brown eyes had him fixed with an unforgiving stare. His options didn't number many.

"You're a difficult kill, Lieutenant," he said. Isn't that what he'd told her the first time they'd met?

Jaina snorted derisively.

"You mean that as a compliment, and I'm almost flattered." She smiled wryly. "You're damn near impossible to kill. So are your people."

Jagged Fel was not stupid. One did not make colonel and gain control of his own squadron before his twentieth birthday by being stupid. Jaina watched his eyes as he tried to figure out what she was driving at and couldn't.

"My uncle has vaped me," he reminded her, slowly, studying her. She knew he was trying to gain a hint of her intentions through body language, so she gave him nothing. "So have Colonels Celchu and Darklighter."

"No one can beat Wedge Antilles at his own game, not even his nephew." She shook her head lightly. "No, Fel, I don't want your compliments. I want a bet. I know any Corellian worth his flight certification can't turn down a bet."

Jag was so visibly relieved when she just came out and told him what she wanted that he offered his own smile. "Han Solo is also Corellian," he pointed out.

Jaina flashed him the female version of the famous lopsided Solo grin. "What can I say? I'm a product of my heredity."

"What do you propose then, Solo?"

"Give me a week. If I can kill you once, you and the rest of the Spikes spend some quality downtime with the Rogues. If I can't-" Jaina shrugged. "My ego will continue to suffer at your hands until I get good enough."

Jaina watched as he considered her carefully and thought about her offer. She hid her anxiety. She knew he spent all of his off-duty time in the mess hall or his stateroom, and she wanted him to get out a little more. Specifically, she wanted him to get out more so she could spend more time with him. She was unfamiliar with the Chiss, but she suspected that they would not care at all for her prize if he took the bet and she won. She knew that she was right about being dismissed for dying. No matter how hard she was to kill, she could still be killed, and Jag's people seemed to have forgotten that Rogue Squadron and anyone good enough to be in it had to be a pilot beyond superior, and therefore, their equals. If the Chiss wanted to keep up relations with the New Republic, it had to start with Spike Squadron.

"That's a win-win situation for me, Lieutenant," he noted.

Jaina's smile was tight. "Because, of course, you're such a sociable flyboy," she said, her voice wry.

For the first time in her presence, Jag Fel laughed. She warmed, and he gave her his most genuine smile.

"You've got a lock on me," he said, stepping forward and extending his hand. "All right. You have the week to vape me. Do it, and Spike Squadron will be at the next sabacc game. Don't, and I'll personally share the secrets of success."

"Done." Jaina took his offered hand. "Then, There are secrets?"