My Son, the Stranger

(Soontir's POV)

I turn away from the viewport to study the young man standing at stiff attention in front of my desk. He wears the formal black uniform of the Syndic Mitth'raw'nuruodo's household phalanx and the insignia of a colonel. His black hair is cut short, exposing the entire length of the scar that runs up from his right eyebrow and well into his hairline. A thin streak of white hair follows the path of that scar, as if to emphasize the maturity that that came too soon and at a great price.

For a little over two years, the colonel has been a stranger to me – he has become hardened and even cold. He executes each duty perfectly and brings quiet praise from the Chiss. He commands his squadron exceptionally well and holds the respect of those under him.

But I would give anything to see him as he once was, before he became this…militaristic shell of my son. What would Thrawn have to say about that?

"We have had this discussion before, Colonel," I comment, eyeing Jag carefully. "This phalanx is committed to the same goals you've espoused. We responded at Garqi. We fought at Ithor. The Imperial command recalled Admiral Pellaeon after that debacle, with what they considered to be good reason. Given the outcome of that engagement and the withdrawal of Imperial support, I saw little value in committing phalanx squadrons."

"I disagree." Jag bows to emphasize that his words express an opinion, not disrespect. "I will concede that no one, not the New Republic nor the Imperial forces nor the Chiss, could counter the biological weapons that destroyed Ithor. The presence of this household's phalanx had no impact on this outcome. Ithor, however, was the only world utterly destroyed. The invaders have followed more conventional tactics in their subsequent conquests."

You'd think he was talking to a stranger and not his own father. At least Syal can't hear him – she's always reminded of Davin and Lissa when she notices that her 'baby' has withdrawn so much from the family.

"And therin lies the problem," I reply. "How successful were you and your Rogue Squadron allies in fending off any of these conquests through 'conventional tactics'?"

Jag's lips thin, a sign that he is frustrated. The only signal, these days. "My two squadrons were recalled shortly after Ithor, sir. We had neither the time nor the opportunity to make an appreciable difference. This is not an excuse, sir, but simple fact."

Is his constant use of "sir" a way of distancing himself from me? "Two squadrons," I repeat. "Twenty-four clawcraft and a beacon ship. How much difference could this force have made at Ord Mantell? Or Duro? Hundreds, possibly thousands of worlds are under Yuuzhan Vong control." And how much of a difference will you manage to make, Jag, before you're shot down like your older brother and sister? How much more will your mother crumble?

"With respect, sir, I was commissioned in this household to serve and uphold the ideals of Grand Admiral Thrawn."

"Which did not, I might point out, include stupidity," I observe coldly. "I expected better of you – a not uncommon dynamic between fathers and sons." A low blow, perhaps, but a necessary one. Jag can't keep pushing everyone away; he can't keep ignoring everything but the military.

Jag acknowledges the reprimand with a small bow and a wry smile that is a ghost of the flashing of teeth from his childhood. Another casualty of the constant wars and invasions in the Unknown Regions.

"You were trained by Chiss tacticians," I continue. "Tell me: do we have the ships, weaponry, personnel, or for that matter the knowledge needed to take on these invaders?"

"We do not," Jag admits. "Permission to speak freely?"

I lift one hand in a gesture of assent. It is gladly given.

"Chiss sages conclude that the Yuuzhan Vong must have spent generations traveling between galaxies. These invaders are not likely to consider the so-called Unknown Regions a daunting prospect."

"I agree," I say, nodding. So, Jag had been listening to Davin's fevered chatter about the 'Vong and the New Republic. Interesting. "The Chiss parliament does not, and neither do the Imperial leaders. The invasion path has swept steadily toward the Core Worlds, leading many to believe that the invaders will bypass both Chiss and Imperial territory entirely."

As Jag absorbs this, his pale green eyes narrow and his jaw squares. I have seen that look many times – but not on Jag. My vision blurs and for a moment I see Davin standing before me instead of Jag. Blinking, I brush it aside for later.

"This phalanx has never been ruled by the thinking of tradition-bound Chiss senators," Jag says almost haughtily, "or by Imperial politicians whose first concern is personal power. Was a change-of-policy holocube issued during my recent absence?"

My eyebrows lift and I give my son a look. Bold words, those – and incredibly rude. Jag inclines his head in a bow that holds acknowledgement of his impropriety but no apology.

Very interesting.

"Chiss society pretends that Syndic Mitth'raw'nuruodo does not exist, but they know quite well that we are out here. They send their sons and daughters to this phalanx's academies and bases. They were more than willing to accept the protection and technology that Thrawn's conquests and alliances offered them, and they are willing to accept what we, successors to the grand admiral's goals, can do for them.

"But we could to more." Jag takes a step forward, his expression intense and his formality forgotten. I find myself pleasantly surprised, but just as quickly suspicious. Why would Jag shed the stoicism of the Chiss for the New Republic? He has never paid it attention before. Does it have something to do with Davin? Knowing Jag and the way he idolized – idolizes – his brother, probably. But is there something else? Something that adds to it?

"You know what we have faced out here," Jag continues passionately. "The Yuuzhan Vong might have caught Borsk Fey'lya and his ilk unaware but the Chiss have long expected something of this nature. In fact, we have turned aside foes that might have swept across the galaxy and left little for these new invaders to destroy!"

My eyes narrow and my lips purse as I consider Jag and his unexpectedly ardent words. "You speak of yourself as one of the Chiss. Do you see yourself in that light?" Because you certainly aren't thinking like one.

He blinks, put off stride by this seeming non sequitur. "It is difficult to do otherwise," he says carefully. "I was raised among the Chiss, trained with them. Their rules and standards and expectations became my own."

"You met and exceeded these standards, and as a result you command your former Chiss peers," I continue. "With rank comes responsibility. The course you propose shows little sense of responsibility for the pilots under your command." And even less for what you want to do to your mother. Ktah, Jag – do you even know what you're asking? I know Davin did, but you…you're living your brother's dreams, with no realization of why Davin really wanted to help the New Republic. You don't even have the experience!

Jag's face becomes impassive and his bearing subtly returns to his formal, military stance. "Sir, may I request that you list my failings plainly, so that I may address them."

An image of a brandy-eyed girl that comforted Syal after Davin's death through her own grief springs to mind. Davin would have fought for you, Jaina Solo. Do you know that?

"Do you know how to stop the Yuuzhan Vong?" I ask the colonel in front of me.

A hint of a frown touches Colonel Fel's forehead. "No, sir."

Davin didn't have time to help the woman he loved the way he wanted to. There were a lot of things he didn't have the time to do. How much time does Jag have left? Can I deny him the chance to spend his life doing what he wants to do, even if he is only taking on his brother's convictions?

I make a quick decision. "Then go find out. Report back. Once we've a better grasp of tactics and strategy, you'll have your squadrons back, and more besides."

Jag's eyes widen and flick to my face. "Yes, sir!"

Will you be that enthusiastic when you see it all, Jag? Will even a fleck of my son be left when you return? I grimace and tap a small metal cube on my desk. "You might not be quite so eager to hear this report." But you can be no less deflated than I was, or than Davin would have been, no matter how hard you try to step into your brother's shoes. "This holovid just came in from our agents in the Core. It contains, among other things, a recording of Leia Organa Solo's exhortation of the defenders of Coruscant. She urged them not to give up, as she has not, despite the recent death of one of her children."

This time Jag's gaze shifts fully to me. "Which one?"

I lift one eyebrow. "Excuse me?" Jag, don't you dare tell me you're taking on the emotions of your brother, too…

"Which of Ambassador Solo's children fell in battle?"

"Anakin, I believe. The younger son." I believe. Ktah, I should know. Intelligent guesses – Leia would have called, if anything happened to Jaina, Rogue Squadron would have had a ceremony – aren't good enough. So what if you have the impression that it was a son that fell, Soontir? Your wife won't leave the holo phone until she has solid proof.

Jag nods thoughtfully and something very akin to relief appears on his face. Sithspawn. Jag, I'm warning you… "Was there any news of the other two?"

Jag, that question had better be caused by concern for the New Republic as a whole and not just the pretty daughter of Han Solo… "You have met the Solo twins, I take it?" Other than at the funeral, of course; I'm not blind, you hated her then.

"Jacen, no. Jaina Solo is a pilot with Rogue Squadron."

"Ah." Ktah. Sithspawn kriffing bantha fodder ktah. "I was wondering why such momentous news as Coruscant's fall went over your head with a meter to spare." Why do I have the feeling that a very serious father-son talk is in order?

A faint colour suffuses Jag's face and a faintly puzzled expression flickers in his eyes. Apparently Jag is also somewhat unclear on that point.

Jag quickly veers away from his uncharacteristic tangent and back onto a more familiar vector. "Coruscant was not only attacked, but captured?"

I watch him carefully. "It would so appear. This leads us to your next assignment." Which is not making a move on your big brother's almost-fiancée. "In recent years, the New Republic has been characterized by increasing dissent. The loss of their central seat could polariaze them for a very long time."

I fall silent and study the stranger before me. At least before I could fall back on my understanding of the military and thus my son. But if my suspicions are correct, will I have a handle on who Jag is ever again? "You will be flying straight into a maelstrom."

He glances pointedly toward the viewport and the ice storm beyond. He has Davin's cockiness. How will Jaina see him? "This is what I was trained to do, no more," Jag says confidently.

"Then it's settled." I rise and hand a single holocube to my son. "This contains the most recent military updates, as well as the specs on the new ships you'll be flying. I'll leave the selection of pilots to you."

"Shawnkyr Nuruodo, my second in command, will accompany me." Seeing my protest, Jag's chin comes up sharply. "You admonished me about responsibility, sir and rightly so. I'm honoured to scout for Syndic Mitth'raw'nuruodo, but I would rather not risk Chiss pilots needlessly. In all likelihood, we will need every one of them here."

"What about Shawnkyr?"

A fleeting smile curves Jag's lips. "Shawnkyr is a true member of a renegade phalanx, sir. She would not stay behind if I ordered her to."

It occurs to me that Shawnkyr going along with my potentially addled-brain son might be the best and only thing I can do. Shawnkyr knew Davin and knows about Davin and Jaina's relationship. She wouldn't let Jag do anything inappropriate – I could even have a small talk with her about it… "I see. A wise leader always tries to give orders that are likely to be followed. Why do you think I'm sending you?"

We clasp hands briefly and I squeeze a little tighter than necessary, hoping he'll remember the grip that could be around his neck if he comes back with Jaina for anything other than platonic reasons. Jag's eyes flicker with faint confusion before he steps back and offers a crisp, formal bow.

I watch Jag stride out the door – a sight that is becoming more and more familiar. When Jag is gone I sink back into my chair; my shoulders slump and my expression becomes bleak.

There's no keeping Jag away from what's happening – especially not if he believes he's living the life Davin never got the chance to have. I know what Jag is likely to face and I know he can face it, because he isn't just my son anymore. He is Colonel Jagged Fel – Spike Leader; too old to have Syal sing him to sleep anymore, too old to read Yiven bedtime stories.

He's almost an adult and can defend himself against almost any physical enemy, but does Jag understand how a grieving woman could see Davin through him? Can he see how easy it will be to look at Jaina and see a connection to his brother? Will he ever?

I rise and begin to pace. I've never turned away from duty and I won't make an exception now. But…Jag is still my son, though he is becoming a stranger. I don't want to find out if my family can survive yet another loss so soon.

What am I going to tell Syal?

Please RR!

-Tjz