CSILLA, CHISS ASCENDANCY
AUGUST YEAR 1051
Jag climbed out of his speeder, the bitter cold hitting him like a ton of bricks as his feet landed on the frozen ground. Even after five years of living in the Chiss Ascendency, he was still not quite used to the sub-zero temperatures.
Pulling his military-grade coat tighter, Jag set off at a fast clip towards the large estate, jogging up the steps to key open the door. As soon as he was safely inside the well-heated foyer, Jag let out a sigh of relief, glad to be out of the blustery winds. Removing his parka, he barely had time to straighten his uniform when a blur of limbs and blonde hair nearly knocked him off his feet.
"Jag! You're finally home!" the whirlwind squealed in delight.
Jag steadied his eight-year-old sister and looked down into clear green eyes, the mirror image of his own.
"It's good to see you, too, Wyn," he answered warmly, his sister's exuberance the one thing that could always break his icy demeanor.
Though Wyn had been raised in Chiss society practically her whole life- a society which valued propriety and lack of emotion above all- it was clear their ways still hadn't quite taken hold.
Watching his little sister, Jag couldn't help but be reminded of a girl from his past. One who was the complete opposite of Wyn in looks, but had been just as vivacious. He quickly pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind.
In the time he had been in the Unknown Regions, he had thrown himself fully into the Chiss way of life. His father had had many loyal friends in many places, and one of those places had been deep in Chiss space. He even arranged for an estate to be built there, a safeguard in case things ever went badly.
Which they did.
So when Jag and Wedge had arrived on the heels of his family, they found themselves- if not exactly welcomed warmly- readily accepted. Soontir's friends had managed to get Jag a position as a fighter pilot in the Ascendancy, and he had quickly assimilated into their culture.
Despite the challenges that came with being human in a society where the Chiss were considered the inherently superior race, Jag managed to work his way up the ranks fairly quickly. At the age of sixteen, he was handed the command of his own squadron. Within two years, he was named Colonel. And just this past month he had been given command of Spike Squadron, made up of the top pilots the Ascendancy had to offer. He was a key player in the Chiss military and was well known as an ace combat pilot who abided by strict Chiss discipline.
But then, his biggest struggle in embodying Chiss discipline was not related to the stringent military codes. It was the ongoing internal battle to let go of regrets and emotions tied to his past.
"I'm so excited to see you! How long are you on leave for?" Wyn chattered away, a mile per minute. "Cem's coming back from the academy tomorrow for a few days- will you still be here? Did you bring your clawcraft? Can you take me for a ride?"
"Slow down, little one, how about one question at a time," Jag smiled wryly as his sister pouted, and as usual found himself indulging her.
"Ok, let's see. I'm on leave for four days. So yes, I will be here when Cem arrives. No, I did not bring my clawcraft, I left it at the base. Maybe, if you behave, I will consider using one of my days off to take you down to the hangar," Jag answered, amused when her face lit up in excitement. "But first, where are Mother and Uncle Wedge?"
Before Wyn had a chance to answer, Jag heard his name being called from the top of the stairs. Looking up he saw his mother, confident and poised as usual, with a giant smile on her face.
"Oh, Jag, it's so good to see you," she said, sweeping down the stairs with the grace of the Holo-drama star she had once been.
Reaching the bottom of the steps, Syal Fel pulled Jag into a tight embrace. She leaned back to look at him fondly, letting one hand linger affectionately on the side of his face.
"I swear, every time I see you, you look more handsome, Jag. More like your father," she claimed, with a small smile.
Jag smiled, "Mother, you look lovely as always."
Syal patted his cheek affectionately.
"I am just so happy to have you and your brother both here for a few days. It seems like I never see either of you anymore," she sighed wistfully, then clapped her hands briskly.
"But enough of that, I know Wedge is waiting for you in the library. Wyn and I will let you two take care of business and look forward to enjoying your undivided attention at dinner," Syal raised her eyebrow, a small smile playing on her lips. "After all, I know his summons is the real reason you are here."
Jag averted his eyes guiltily, "It's true, I did ask for leave to see Uncle Wedge, but-"
Syal laughed, "I am only teasing you, my darling boy. I know you are very busy and spending time with your mother is not your first priority. Nor should it be. I'm just glad for the chance to see you."
Syal turned away before Jag could respond and she turned her attention to his little sister.
"Come along, Wyn. I believe you have an unfinished assignment that is due tomorrow?" Syal prompted with a stern look, belied by the twinkle in her eyes. "If you finish it now you will be able to spend all evening pestering your brother."
Jag watched the two women in his life exit the room with a rueful smile. Seeing his family was like a breath of fresh air after the stiff rigidness of the Chiss military. It reminded him that there was not Chiss blue blood running through his veins, but Corellian red. Sometimes he worried he would forget where he came from, lose himself in the strict efficiencies of his Chiss brothers-in-arms.
"Corellia's finest," Jag observed with a raised eyebrow and a small smirk. "Are we celebrating- or are you about to tell me something I won't like?"
Wedge laughed as he handed his nephew a healthy glass of expensive whiskey. He easily settled back down in his chair, watching the brown liquid swirl in his own tumbler before answering Jag.
"Cutting straight to the power cables, as usual. I guess some things never change," Wedge replied. "Maybe I just thought it would be nice to have a small taste of home."
Jag nodded his head apologetically.
"Of course, forgive me…"
Wedge waved away his apologies and took a large sip of his drink.
"We can always drink to your new command," Wedge said with a smile. "Spike Squadron. Quite impressive. Truly, I'm proud of you, Jag. Your father would be, too."
"Thank you, sir."
"Please, drop the formality. You're with family now," Wedge chided, eyeing Jag carefully as the young man bowed his head respectfully.
Sometimes Wedge worried Jag had taken the Chiss way too much to heart. His nephew had always been serious in nature, Soontir's militaristic sensibilities playing a large role in his upbringing. But Wedge was concerned Jag had become far too grim for his age. Worried he so readily adopted the dispassionate mantra of the Chiss as an excuse to ignore emotions he would rather not face.
Although he had a feeling he would see the legendary Fel temper at full heat when they were done with this little talk.
"There is no question about it, you have risen high in the Chiss army," Wedge mused, leaning back in his chair. He eyed Jag over the rim of his glass. "I'm assuming then, you are aware of the recent trouble in the Empire?"
Jag eyed Wedge warily, "I might be. But I think, Uncle, the better question is how are you?"
"Don't worry, Jag. I am not compromising you or Chiss intelligence." Wedge smiled tightly, "I had a visitor a few weeks ago, one of the resources your father had placed inside the Empire. His cover was blown, but he was able to escape to Chiss space undetected."
Jag straightened in his seat, eyes sharpening.
"Agent Durron is staying on the planet for the time being," Wedge continued. "I will have him give you a full briefing himself, I think you will be very interested in hearing what he has to say. But the long and short of it is the Empire has suffered a full-scale invasion. A few planets in the Outer Rim have already been lost, thousands killed."
"The Far Outsiders," Jag said in a clipped tone.
"Yes, though they call themselves the Yuuzhan Vong. They appear to be a fierce warrior species, and the Empire has been hard-pressed to stop them," Wedge paused. "There has been talk of Jovan making a deal with them."
Jag's body stiffened.
"According to Durron, it's just talk. For now. But Jovan has too few Imperial officers with a talent for leadership. Morale of the armed forces is at an all-time low. They need something to help turn the tide," Wedge watched Jag carefully, before continuing.
"I have been in contact with Commander Mitth'raw'nuruodo. We have discussed his plans to send a small force to aide the Empire and gather intel on the enemy. He knows I am familiar with the workings of the Empire and confided in me weeks ago, was interested in hearing my advice on how to deal with their request for aid. One of his many questions pertained to whom I thought best to lead such a mission," he paused before dropping the proverbial bombshell. "I recommended you."
Jag's expression remained impassive, his voice deceptively calm, but his eyes flashed dangerously. "You would have me lead a rescue mission to save the man who murdered my father?"
"Not to save Jovan. To save your homeworld," Wedge paused, looking at Jag pointedly. "To help people you still care about that we were forced to leave behind."
Jag gripped his knuckles until they turned white, his face a mask of stubborn resistance, one Wedge knew far too well. He decided it was time to change tactics.
"I assume you still want to take down the Emperor? Avenge your father and reclaim your legacy?" Wedge questioned bluntly.
"You know I do," Jag answered stiffly.
"And will you wait then, until there is no Empire left to claim? Until the Vong have conquered every planet in the Known Regions?"
Jag glared at Wedge for a long silent minute, then looked away.
"Even if the Empire were somehow able to fight off this threat, it is time for you to return to the Known Regions," Wedge continued, anticipating Jag's rebuttal before he had the chance to make it. "Men would have accepted your father as a replacement for the current emperor because he was a Fel, yes. But they fought and died to put him there because of who he was as a man."
"I assume there is a point to this little speech," Jag questioned, trying to keep the bitterness out of his tone, but not fully succeeding.
"You are well respected as an ace pilot and an exceptional commander, just like your father. In Chiss space. But in the Empire, you are a virtual unknown. Many living in the Empire have only ever known life under Jovan. They will question if it is worth the risk to support you when it comes time to stake your claim. Leading a rescue mission, fighting against the enemy at their side will change that. Ensure you are more than just a name," Wedge finished, with a knowing smile, "just like your father was."
Jag started pacing, mind whirling furiously. He couldn't fault the reason in any of the older man's many arguments and he prided himself on making decisions based on logic, not emotion. But his uncle seemed to have overlooked one major flaw in his plan.
"You talk about I carry the Fel name. A name that still holds significant weight in the Empire. Won't that in itself impede the Chiss mission to help defeat the Vong? I doubt Jovan will accept their help if it means allowing me to step foot in the Empire," Jag reasoned.
"Oh, I think he will. As I said, Jovan is desperate. Not to mention, extremely paranoid. He would prefer to keep you where he can see you. Where he can be sure you are not planning an insurrection against him," Wedge said calmly. "All his past actions, show that he's a believer in keeping your enemies close."
Jag stopped pacing and dropped back into his seat, picking up his forgotten whiskey. He finished the glass in one large gulp.
Wedge relaxed, recognizing the early signs of acceptance. He had known that Jag would come around to the idea eventually, his logical mind and keen grasp of strategy would not allow for any other outcome.
"It's also worth noting, he never formally laid crimes against you. Tell Jovan the disagreement was between him and your father. That you are content with your life amongst the Chiss, have found your place here," Wedge offered, heading off the final excuse Jag had in his arsenal. "He will accept you because he has no other choice."
Jag closed his eyes and sighed in resignation.
"It seems I'm the one with no other choice," Jag eyed Wedge pointedly. "Commander Mitth'raw'nuruodo didn't happen to mention when he expects us to ship out, did he?"
"Agent Durron, on behalf of myself, as well as my late father, I want to thank you for your services. If you don't mind me asking, what are your plans now?" Jag questioned the dark-haired older man.
The two had spent most of the day shut up with Wedge in his office, getting a full debriefing of the status of the Empire and the Vong invasion. Jag had absorbed even the tiniest detail, determined to know everything he could about the enemy- or enemies in this case- before entering the fray. As any good commander knew, information was power.
Wedge had just stepped out to comm Iella, leaving Jag alone with his father's former Imperial spy. Kyp Durron was an arrogant man in his early thirties, his casual manner hiding a razor-sharp intelligence.
He was the opposite of everything Jag stood for. He ignored protocol and rules with flippant disregard, let his emotions dictate his decisions. Jag had no idea how the man had kept up his cover in the Empire for as long as he had.
Or how he had ever served under Soontir Fel, for that matter.
Yet Agent Durron's desire to help the people of the Empire was undeniable, his passionate nature contagious. Jag found himself liking the older man, against his better judgment.
"Call me Kyp," the other man answered easily. "Believe me, I would love nothing more than to head out with you, Fel. Bring it to the Vong at the front lines. But I'm not sure if that's a good idea given the circumstances of my recent departure from the Empire."
Kyp flashed Jag a cocky grin, and Jag couldn't help cracking a small smile.
"I imagine you are correct. Jovan is going to have a hard enough time accepting me without throwing you into the mix. Best not rock the ship just yet."
"My thinking exactly," Kyp replied with a chuckle. "Luckily, your Chiss friends have extended an offer to finance a reconnaissance mission under my command. I'll be heading to the Outer Rim planets that have been conquered by the Vong. See what trouble I can stir up."
Jag eyed Kyp thoughtfully, "It would be a perfect opportunity to gain valuable information about the enemy."
Kyp nodded, "And help save some of the poor beings that have been enslaved. It will take a bit of time to get the task force in order and ready to infiltrate the Vong defenses, but I'm confident I'll get through."
Kyp looked at his wrist chrono, "Speaking of which, I have a meeting scheduled with Commander Thrawn to discuss some of the mission parameters."
Jag nodded, "I'll let my uncle know you had to leave. Thank you again for your help. My squadron is shipping out tomorrow, but good luck on your mission."
Kyp smirked at Jag, "You too, Fel. I have a feeling you're gonna need it."
"Spike Lead to Spike Squadron. Awaiting final clearance from control. Proceed with the rundown," Jag stated into his comm, his bland tone hiding his conflicting emotions. Part of his brain categorically listened to the rest of his squadron signify their status, as another was already anticipating what was waiting at their destination.
Jag hadn't been back to the Known Regions in five years and he wasn't sure how he felt about going back now. Part of him dreaded returning, leaving the well-ordered predictability of Chiss space. There were just too many variables in the Empire.
But still, another part was excited to be returning, eager to embrace his true legacy. Jag found himself picturing big brown eyes, eyes that seemed to be irrevocably intertwined with his destiny.
"Spike Lead, you are cleared to exit vector five-three-two-five. Repeat you are cleared to exit," a Chiss voice blared over his comm unit.
Jag snapped back to attention, pushing down all the distractions and focusing on the here and now.
"Copy, Control. Spike Squadron, ready on my mark," Jag ordered.
As soon as the last of the clawcrafts were clear and the base faded from view, Jag set course and prepared to enter hyperspace.