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Then he took her by the shoulders and pulled her to him, drawing her head against his chest, resting his own head atop hers, an embrace that startled her so much that she should have jumped away. But she didn’t. She leaned against him, a half collapse, her legs no longer willing or able to bear all her weight, and though she did not sob, her tears ran down her face and soaked into his uniform.

“I won’t go anywhere,” he said.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why won’t you go anywhere?”

“Because I don’t want to.” He tilted his head down and hers up, and suddenly she was kissing him, holding him tight enough to cause a vacuum weld.

Her confusion didn’t disappear, but it was joined by a soaring sensation, as though she’d just taken off and left her X-wing behind. There was also an abrupt relief of pressure, unbearable pressure that she had never felt descending upon her, had never noticed until it was gone.

Gavin Darklighter departed Wedge’s office. Wedge and Tycho looked up as Jag entered and saluted.

“I’ve known Jaina Solo since she was tiny,” Wedge said. “You’re not her.”

Jag kept his attention fixed on the wall over Wedge’s head. “I came in her place, sir.”

“She asked you to do that?”

“No, sir. I told her to go get some rest. That I’d speak to you and get things sorted out.”

“Sorted out.” Wedge exchanged a glance with Tycho, but his second-in-command had retreated behind the safety of his sabacc face. “Do I need sorting out, Fel?”

“I believe so, sir, through no fault of your own. If I may answer a question with a question, how old were you before you first disagreed with a commanding officer—and later found out you were right?”

“Twenty. Which is when I first had a commanding officer.”

“I’m about the same age, sir, and I have something to recommend before you talk to Jaina Solo.”

“Very well. At ease. Sit down. Let’s hear what you have to say.”

Jag did as he was told and finally met his uncle’s eyes. “Sir, I think that disciplining her now would be like hitting a bar of metal when it’s superheated.”

“Meaning that you’ll change its shape.”

“Yes, sir. And not for the better.”

“What about her reliability in combat? I need to take her off the line. She’s not rational.”

“That would be disciplining her, sir, probably with the results I predict. I recommend against it.”

“Despite the fact that she deliberately disobeyed orders and risked a high-priority mission to pursue a personal agenda.”

“Yes, sir.” Jag cleared his throat. “Sir, I’d fly again with her tomorrow, and not out of gratitude. I think that what happened today was an anomaly. I don’t think it will happen again.”

“Care to tell me why?”

“No, sir.”

Wedge let a silence fall between them, let it stretch into long seconds. “You know, I would not, from a command point of view, be able to accommodate you on this, despite the fact that I do have appreciation for your views and experience. It’s the sort of thing that undermines discipline. But we already have orders in place that demonstrate that Jaina receives special treatment. This is a more extreme variety of special treatment than I’d prefer to accord her, but there you are.”

“Yes, sir.”

“All right, then. I’ll do as you recommend. And get my answers later.” Wedge leaned forward, his posture becoming more casual. “Let me take my rank insignia off for a second, Jag, and say how glad I am that you made it today.”

Jag managed a smile. “Thank you, sir—uh, Wedge.”

“Still difficult to address me informally, isn’t it? ”

“Yes. Yes, it is.”

“Good. That gives me one more way to make a know-it-all nephew uncomfortable.” Wedge heaved a sigh. “Back to work for me, so I’ll let you get back to your duties, as well.”

“Sir.” All business again, Jag stood, saluted, and left.

When the door closed behind him, Tycho said, “That was interesting.”

“He deliberately countermanded one of my orders,” Wedge said.

“He was furtive.”

Wedge nodded. “Sneaky, even.”

“We’ll make a Rebellion-style pilot of him yet.”

The Maw

Han navigated through the danger zone of