This takes place right before Chapter 24 as well.  It is the meeting between Jag and Wedge that we only hear about in passing when Jag and Jaina have their famous conversation – you know the one.

I'd say this is Wedge's POV, not Jag's in this case


Here goes...

THE UNCLE


Wedge Antilles had spent all day in meetings coordinating the joint operation of the Imperial Remnant and New Republic Forces. It had been an exhausting process, wrought with the typical political maneuverings he had come to despise. Life seemed so much easier in a cockpit. There, at least, the enemy was usually cut and dry.

The last of the meetings ended and various members of Starfighter Command, Fleet Command and their Imperial counterparts filtered out of his office. At Wedge's request, Tycho Celchu was the only person left in the room. The door slid shut, leaving them alone.

"So what did you think?"

Tycho fell into one of the seats across from Wedge, who was seated at the desk. "I'd say that any help at this point is more than welcome, but with all the posturing it almost seems like more trouble than it's worth."

Wedge leaned back in his chair and ran his fingers through his graying hair. "I'd have to agree. We just have such different ways of doing things."

Just then the interoffice comm sounded. Wedge keyed the button. "Go ahead."

The voice belonged to one of his aides. "Sir, there is a representative of the Chiss delegation waiting out here to see you. Would you have time to see him?"

"I don't have any other appointments scheduled for today, but I need to get ready for the reception on the Tafanda Bay. Ask him to come back tomorrow." Wedge shrugged at Tycho. "Right now I don't need some more Imperial posturing."

After several moments, the aid replied. "Sir, he is quite insistent about seeing you today. He says you have a mutual acquaintance – a Miss Starflare."

Wedge sat motionless, his mouth agape with disbelief. Seconds ticked past. Tycho was just as dumbstruck as his friend. Wynissa Starflare was the pseudonym Wedge's sister had used during her acting career. She had married Soontir Fel, an ace Imperial pilot and Wedge's mortal enemy, and fled with him, never to be heard from again.

There had been a rumor that the Chiss commander had implied something about being on loan from General Soontir Fel, but Wedge had originally dismissed the rumor as nothing more than Imperial pilots playing mind games with the Rogues after questioning some of the Remnant officers. After twenty years, Wedge was beyond trying to get his hopes up again.

"Sir, shall I send him away?"

"No, send him in."

Wedge ran his hand across his face as possibilities raced through his mind. Maybe Syal and Soontir had made it as far as Chiss space safely, but the Chiss had always been considered intolerant of humans. Perhaps this Chiss commander had brought a message from his sister. The scenarios were endless.

Suddenly the door was sliding open and Wedge rose, preparing himself for the unsettling sight of a tall, blue-skinned humanoid with fiery eyes. To his surprise, a human male marched into the office and snapped to attention before offering an impressive bow. The young man, probably not more than twenty, returned to an upright stance, perfectly still, awaiting a response from the superior officer.

Wedge studied the features of the man. The young officer bore the rank of colonel on his black uniform marked with red Corellian blood stripes. He was taller than Wedge with a wiry build. His ebony hair was cut short and interrupted by a shock of white hair, following a scar from his right eye. The eyes were what startled Wedge the most, green and piercing, like a reminder of the past. He knew those eyes.

Tycho noted the man's unflappable patience as Wedge sized up his guest. There was not even a trace of movement from the junior officer. The control was remarkable. Wedge finally came to his senses after Tycho cleared his throat.

"Oh, at ease colonel."

The young officer split his legs and pulled his hands behind his back. His stance was no less rigid. The formality of his ways and strict imperious nature, combined with his looks, forced Tycho to mutter under his breath as a realization struck him.

"Son of a Sith."

Tycho realized Wedge had come to the same conclusion by the look on his face, but had, much to his credit, decided to play this one out. Wedge retreated behind his sabacc face before taking a seat. He motioned for the young colonel to do the same.

"Please have a seat." The guest did as he was instructed. "So, we have a mutual acquaintance, I understand."

Finally, the man spoke in the efficient manner of so many Imperial officers. "Yes, sir. My mother."

Nothing like cutting to the chase, Wedge thought. He added, "Your mother would be Miss Starflare?"

"Yes and no. Some people may have known her as that, but I believe you knew her better as Syal Antilles, your sister."

Wedge remained behind his game face. "Oh, I see. And that would make your father, General Baron Soontir Fel."

The young man puffed his chest with pride. "It would, sir."

Wedge looked at Tycho and finally smiled. "So, I guess there was some truth to the Rogue's whisperings. And please forgo the sir – Uncle or Wedge or both will suffice"

Tycho grinned back. "Figures old Soontir would send his son to rescue the Rogues. He's probably having a good laugh at our expense."

"My father never laughs over such matters."

Wedge and Tycho both chuckled. "That would be about right."

Suddenly Wedge was out of his chair, rounding his desk. He stopped before his newfound nephew and held his arms open. Except from his mother, displays of affection were rare in the Fel household. Jag rose and awkwardly returned the gesture. Wedge pulled him into a firm embrace, patting his back.

When he finally let go, Wedge held his nephew at arm's length. "So does my new nephew have a name?"

"Jagged, or you can call me Jag."

"Jagged, I can't begin to tell you how happy I am to meet you. This is Tycho Celchu. Tycho, my nephew Jag."

Tycho tipped his head as Jag looked his way. "Good to meet you son. Glad to here your father made it; he had old Wedge worried for years."

Jag faced his uncle. "You doubt that my father would keep your sister safe from harm?"

Wedge took the seat beside Jag, and motioned for him to do the same. "Well, when you don't hear anything for over two decades you start to wonder."

Tycho interrupted. "You know I have somewhere important to be. I'll just leave you two to catch up."

Wedge nodded to Tycho. "See you in a bit."

Jag stood to acknowledge Tycho's departure. "Colonel Celchu, it was a pleasure to meet you."

"Same here, Jag. Say hi to the old man for me the next time you see him."

Tycho exited the office and Jag returned to his seat.

"As I was saying, it's been so long I began to have my doubts."

Jag pondered the possibility of never hearing from his sister for that long and could see the man's point. He sought to reassure his uncle. "Mother is in excellent health, in body and spirit. Our family has prospered among the Chiss. They welcomed Father as one who embraces their ideology and beliefs." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a datacard. "Mother asked for me to pass this along if I had the chance to meet you. It has a message and pictures of my brothers and sisters."

Wedge looked surprised as he accepted the datacard. "Brothers and sisters. It sounds like Syal has been busy. Tell me about them."

"Well, there is the youngest, Briaun. She is ten. Mother says she is a female version of me in every way, but prettier of course."

The corner of Wedge's mouth curled up as he realized the young man had actually made a small joke. Talking about his family seemed to open up the young man's seemingly stoic personality to a whole new level. "If she has half the looks of your mother, I am sure she is."

"Then there is Rane. He is thirteen. He has mother's hair and father's eyes, so you could say he is my opposite. I guess that's true in personality too. Rane is like Mother. He can talk to anyone about anything; he's quite the lady's man as Mother would say."

Wedge almost thought he noted a twinge of envy as Jag described his younger brother. That thought was interrupted as a sullen appearance washed over Jag's face. The young man took a deep breath before continuing.

"My older brother, Davin, and next youngest sister, Cherith, are both dead."

Wedge's heart sunk with the admission. He placed a hand on Jag's arm. His nephew visibly stiffened under the gesture. Despite this fact, Wedge did not remove his hand. "How did they die?"

Jag looked his uncle straight in the eye. "Serving the Chiss as pilots in my father's phalanx; they died honorable deaths."

As far as Wedge was concerned, there was nothing honorable about death, no matter how it came. His brows furrowed. "I cannot express in words my sadness that I will never know them and for the pain you have endured, but believe me when I say that I will miss them like I had known them." He took his hand away.

"Thank you. It has been hard these last few years for Mother. She dotes on Briaun, and that seems to help."

"I couldn't imagine losing one of my children." Wedge cringed at the thought of outliving one of his daughters.

"You have children as well."

Wedge pointed at a holo on the desk. "Yes, that is my wife Iella and my two daughters Syal and Myri."

"You named your daughter after Mother?"

"Yes. Memories were all I had left and a few holodramas, but they hold no meaning except a way to see her face." He held up the datacard Jag had given him. "Now, I have new memories. Maybe we can spend some more time together, so I can try to make up for a lifetime's worth."

The interoffice comm chimed. Wedge reached up to activate the speaker. "Antilles here."

"Sir, Colonel Tycho wanted me to remind you that the shuttle for the Tafanda Bay leaves in fifteen minutes."

Wedge glanced at the chrono and frowned. "That it does."

Jag was already rising. "I will not keep you any longer. I, too, am required at the reception. Despite the Chiss views on political posturing, I was ordered by Admiral Pallaeon to attend. I will do so at his behest."

"I'll head out with you." Wedge motioned toward the door.

Jag led the way out of the office and through the outer reception room. Once in the hall, the two men walked side by side. Wedge spoke first.

"So you must be the hot shot pilot, dogging all the Rogues in the sims, then cutting and running before they can meet you face to face."

"An unknown enemy is one to be feared." Jag recited a line from a famous Chiss tactician.

"Pilot mind games, so like your father. Tell me, do you have any particular suggestions to improve our methods against the Vong."

"I am learning just as you all are. The Rogues are good, but they lack the discipline of the Chiss. It is their one true weakness, in my opinion."

Wedge raised one eyebrow as they turned a corner. "There is a point where too much discipline can stifle ingenuity in a pilot."

"Point taken, but some of your pilot's tendencies make them unpredictable. I know exactly what to expect every time from my pilots."

"Anyone in particular you have noticed?"

Jag took a moment and then spoke. "Yes, I believe she is known as Rogue Eleven or Sticks." Jag did not want to admit he knew her name already. "She has a tendency to play outside the rules and ignore certain standard procedures."

Wedge laughed and then laughed harder. Jag eyed him conspicuously. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, it just figures Fel's kid would single out Solo's kid of all the pilots."

Wedge was actually surprised to see a look of shock on Jag's face. "You mean she is the daughter of Han Solo and Princess Leia Organa Solo?"

"That would be the one, and a damn good pilot too. I think she has more kills at the age of sixteen than I had by the time I was twenty."

"I suppose her father's nature rubbed off on her as she has obviously not mastered the mannerisms deserving of her royal heritage."

Wedge laughed again. "Oh there's plenty of her mother in her, but if you had to pick one parent she emulated, it would be her dad."

"Father never had much of anything positive to say about Han Solo."

"No, I suppose he wouldn't."

The two men arrived at the entrance to the hangar and stopped to face each other. "I'll take your evaluation of the Rogues under advisement. I don't think there is much I can do on the Jaina Solo front though."

Wedge wrestled his nephew, who was slightly taller, into a hug that was not returned with the same enthusiasm. Wedge let Jag go and stepped back. "I guess I will see you later then."

"Yes, later."

Jag started to step away when Wedge interrupted. "Jag, promise not to leave without letting me get you some things to send home to your mother. You know like a note or some holos.

"I will, sir. I mean Uncle."