Eternally Protective
Title: Eternally Protective
Rating: PG
Timeframe: 43-44 ABY
Genre: Vignette, slice ‘o life
Characters: Wedge Antilles, Iella Wessiri-Antilles, Syal Antilles, Myri Antilles
Disclaimer: Nope, don’t own the characters. Wedge and Star Wars are property of George Lucas. Iella, Syal, and Myri were created by Michael Stackpole.
Summary: It didn’t matter how old they were, in Wedge’s mind Myri and Syal were his little girls and he was always going to be their protective daddy.
Notes: This fic was the result of a fun little prompt (write a fic with Wedge, his darling girls, and the sludgenews going after them) circulated amongst a few friends of mine, hm_yrie and astro_the_nut.
Wedge Antilles wasn’t often on Coruscant anymore. It seemed that most of his time was spent travelling on the Errant Venture, the well known smuggler’s den operated by his longtime friend Mirax Terrik-Horn and her father Booster. He supposed that was understandable. During the second Civil War he had managed to sour his relationship with his homeworld of Corellia and the Galactic Alliance. He was somewhat thankful that Coruscant and the Alliance at least begrudgingly welcomed him when he set foot on one of their worlds. The Corellian government still hadn’t forgiven him for switching allegiances.
He frowned slightly as he looked through one of the large transparisteel windows of the spaceport. Coruscant was just as he remembered it this time of the year, a dreary, sprawling city whose skies were covered by rain clouds. The streets were wet with falling moisture. Subconsciously Wedge drew the collar of his jacket closer to his neck. Even though the spaceport terminal was well heated the, visual feedback from the scenery outside was enough to give him the chills. The weather during the cold season was definitely something he did not miss.
“Try to at least look happy,” Iella said as she jabbed him in the ribs with an elbow.
Wedge straightened, “I’m plenty happy. I just don’t like the cold.”
“So you tell me constantly.”
“If you had spent months on Hoth and gone extravehicular to keep a message drone from self-destructing you wouldn’t be all that fond of it yourself,” Wedge muttered.
Iella smirked playfully, “I don’t see snow or hard vacuum out there. You’ll be fine.”
Wedge and his wife made their way to the luggage carousel, finding their baggage and heading towards the passenger pickup area. His eyes darted around the various people milling about and waiting for their loved ones. Looking down at his wrist chronometer he couldn’t help but frown. Where was she? They had agreed on a time days ago. It wasn’t like her to be late. As he was about to reach into his pocket to grab his comlink to check up on her, his feet were nearly knocked out from under him as something slammed into his backside. A pair of lithe arms wrapped around his torso.
“Daddy!” Syal exclaimed.
Instantly the stress and worry he was feeling rushed out of him. He spun around and embraced his daughter, holding her perhaps a bit too tightly. Wedge was idly aware that he was losing track of time but he didn’t particularly mind. It wasn’t until Syal politely asked for oxygen that he let her go. He smiled sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his neck. A small part of himself was embarrassed for causing such a scene, but the larger part of him was overwhelmed with joy to see his daughter.
“You’re late,” Wedge chided playfully.
Syal pouted, pointing to her own wrist chronometer, “No I’m not. You just set your chrono ten minutes fast.”
Wedge ruffled her hair, somewhat taken aback that both of them were roughly the same height. He knew that she was as tall as she was when she graduated from primary school, but he had yet to embed that image in his head. As far as he was concerned, Syal was still the one-and-a-third meter tall, wiry ten-year-old that had an affinity for playing with model starfighters on the living room floor. She had always been a bit of a tomboy like that, not that he minded. Myri was the more effeminate of his two children.
Which reminded him, “Is Myri here?”
“She got caught up in a meeting with Uncle Face,” Syal explained, shaking her head. “Said she’ll be on time for dinner, though.”
“Good,” Iella said. “Otherwise I’d have to give Garik a piece of my mind.”
“Go easy on him,” Wedge said with a lopsided grin as they walked out of the spaceport and into the frigid air, “He’s still recovering from the verbal beating you gave him three months ago.”
“He knows better than to get you liquored up only to leave you in a heap on the doorstep,” Iella said firmly.
They made their way across an exposed pedestrian walkway and towards a parking structure on the other side of the street. Wedge grimaced as the falling rain pelted his head and shoulders. He lifted the neck of his jacket over his hair to try and shield himself. Breathing a sigh of relief as he entered the speeder parking facility, he followed Syal towards a rather sporty looking airspeeder. Wedge nodded towards the rather expensive looking vehicle.
“Oh don’t give me that look,” Syal said as she keyed for the doors to unlock. “We intercepted a pirate convoy a few weeks back that had their sights set on a shipment of speeders for a large dealership. Owner was so grateful we saved an entire freight hauler full of airspeeders we all got one for free.”
“I never got a free airspeeder when I was flying,” Wedge grumbled as he sat in the backseat, allowing his wife to take the forward passenger spot.
Syal laughed and engaged the speeder’s repulsorlifts. That was another surreal moment. It seemed like it had only been days since he had been the one driving and Syal was the passenger in the back seat, kicking her legs that just didn’t quite reach the floor over the front of the seat. He hadn’t had many opportunities to drive her to school or crashball practice but he relished the chances he had. Life in the military had kept him away from his family far more than he would have liked. Long ago he learned to savor every moment he had with them.
It was hard to believe that she was a grown woman of twenty-seven standard years now. Where had his little girl gone? In his mind’s eye Wedge still pictured her as the gangly, inquisitive young tomboy who always seemed to get herself into trouble (a trait Iella insisted was from his side of the family). Instead, he looked at a grown, responsible, mature woman who had made a name for herself as a damned fine pilot. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret as he looked at his decidedly adult daughter. How much had he missed out on while he had served with the military?
They arrived at a large, upscale tower and followed Syal up to her apartment. Wedge couldn’t help but whistle in admiration. He had never pulled in enough money as a single pilot for accommodations this nice. He wondered just how much an apartment in a building like this would cost. The apartment itself was just as remarkable, well furnished and decorated. Just how much were starfighter pilots making these days? When he was behind the flightstick he had trouble scraping together enough cash to feed himself while he was off duty.
“’Fresher’s at the end of the hallway,” Syal said as she moved into the kitchenette to pour herself a glass of water. “Guest room is next to it, make yourself at home.”
Wedge walked down the hallway, pausing for a holoframe showing a still, somewhat candid image of Syal and a rather tall and broad shouldered man. Admittedly, he was handsome though the sight of a human male that was roughly the size of a dwarf Wookiee standing next to the trim and slightly shorter-than-average Syal was amusing.
“How is Doran?” Iella asked.
“Getting by,” Syal said. “All of this political maneuvering by Daala to undermine the Order has them all on edge.”
Wedge had often overheard Iella gossiping with Syal over the holonet about Doran. He was a good boy, though Wedge couldn’t help but bristle at the thought of a man being romantically involved with his little girl. Even if that man was the son of two of Wedge’s former subordinates. He caught Iella casting an admonishing look in his direction. He must have been transmitting his thoughts through his facial expressions again. Wedge wasn’t sure if it her training as an intelligence agent or the simple fact they had been married for so long, but she always seemed to know what he was thinking just by looking at him.
At least she had starting moving on. When her fiancé had been killed aboard the Mawrunner she had been completely heartbroken. Wedge never really approved of the boy, but Syal had loved him dearly. Seeing his daughter so completely devastated had been one of the lowest points of his parenting life. Every father in the Galaxy worth a damn believed that it was within their power to comfort their children in times of despair. Tiom’s death had been a horrible reality check for Wedge.
He had been completely and utterly powerless help Syal. Wedge wasn’t sure what was worse, the fact that he hadn’t been there for her when Tiom had perished or knowing that even if he had been it wouldn’t have done a damn bit of good.
“So where are you and your sister taking us tonight?” Iella asked as she emerged from the guest room.
“New restaurant just outside of the Senate District,” Syal said. “One of my pilots said it had the best Corellian cuisine on all of Coruscant.”
Wedge grinned, “I’ll be the judge of that. Ten credits says the food isn’t spicy enough.”
“You’re on, old man,” Syal responded with a wicked smile.
A few hours later they were seated in the waiting lobby of Balthar’s, an five star upscale restaurant popular with area politicians and other figures of notoriety. Wedge tugged at the collar of his dress shirt, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He wasn’t particularly fond of places like this, preferring instead to dine in a more humble setting. Idly he wondered how the Solos could eat out at a place like this so often. Wedge winced as he remembered one of the few times he had eaten Leia’s spiceloaf.
Okay, I can see why Han enjoys eating out so much…
“Sorry I’m late!”
Wedge looked up to see his youngest daughter bounding towards them. Standing, he wrapped Myri up in a tight hug befitting a father. It had been several long months since he had seen her. Myri joined up with Alliance Intelligence shortly after the second Civil War and had been gone on assignment for much of that stretch. Through dumb luck or some sort of divine intervention she had found herself on Coruscant for a few weeks of leave the same time he and Iella had chosen to visit.
Mryi had done very well for herself. She had her mother’s inquisitive nature and nose for intelligence work. These days she was working for Face Loran. Wedge would get messages from his old subordinate praising his daughter’s work, though every now and then he’d get a complaint about her slightly rebellious nature. Where Syal had always been the organized, collected one, Myri had been a bit more explosive. She had reigned her personality in a fair amount in her adult years (though not enough to shy away from the pink and purple hair coloring she seemed to enjoy), but there was still a touch of that fiery little girl still within her.
“Hi mom, hi dad,” Myri said as she pried herself away from Wedge to hug Iella.
“Uncle Face’s meeting go long again?” Syal asked as she gave her sister a quick hug in turn.
Myri rolled her eyes, “He seems to be compensating for not doing any field work by making the rest of us suffer through him talking.”
“The man does love to listen to his own voice,” Wedge mused aloud.
Moments later the maitre d’ called their names, leading the family of four towards a quiet little corner of the restaurant. Wedge pulled back a chair for Iella, rather pleased with himself that he remembered such a chivalrous gesture. He took his own seat after everyone had settled in. A waiter left a few menus on the table and asked if they would like anything to drink. Syal asked for an expensive sounding vintage of Alderaani white wine. Truthfully he would have been fine with a glass of water. He much preferred Whyren’s or a shot glass of Corellian reserve over wine, but the girls enjoyed it and that was good enough for him.
He looked up from his menu for a moment, looking one by one at the three women sitting with him. When had his girls become such beautiful women like their mother? Whenever he looked at Myri he expected to see the child who had somehow managed to sneak into Iella’s makeup. Now she was old enough to actually know how to apply lipstick properly. Though, she apparently still wasn’t old enough to realize that the particular bright shade she had chosen for the evening was a touch over-the-top.
Then there was Syal. She should have had little bacta strips on her knees and elbow because she had gotten into another scrape with the older kids at crashball practice. She wouldn’t have been caught dead in the dress and heels she was wearing tonight. Syal’s stubborn refusal to ever wear anything that looked like it belonged in an average teenaged girl’s wardrobe used to drive her mother crazy. Young Syal always emphasized function and comfort over style.
But there they were, his little angels all grown up and looking beautiful like their mother.
“Have you decided what you would like to order?” The waiter asked.
Wedge blinked and looked back at his menu, “Uh, just another moment. Feel free to start with the others.”
“We’ve already ordered, dear,” Iella said, an amused look on her face.
“Yeah, we finished while you were staring off into space,” Myri said.
Doing his best to stifle a blush, Wedge scanned over the menu quickly before ordering a dish that sounded like it had to best chance of living up to his expectations for a spicy Corellian dish.
“Look at that sis, you’re in the news,” Myri noted as she held out a datapad for Syal to read.
Syal sighed, “Coruscant Daily or Galactic Enquirer?”
Wedge’s gaze shot up. Those were the names of two rather well known sludgenews tabloids. To say they were news outlets was rather generous. They were responsible for nothing more than schlock journalism and were staffed by sleemos who had nothing better to do than chase around celebrities and public figures with holocameras to try and catch them in a compromising position.
“Enquirer,” Myri said. “Headline is fantastic to boot. ‘Antilles’ Jedi Love Scandal.’ I keep telling you Syal, Doran’s got to take you to less public places.”
“How is it a scandal?” Syal waved a hand dismissively. “It’s not like I’m seeing multiple Jedi at the same time. One is quite enough for me, thank you.”
“The writer seems to think you’re having a fling with Jaina Solo as well.”
Syal suddenly burst into a fit of laughter, “A complicated love triangle between me, Jaina, and Doran? Well I’ll give them credit where it’s due, that writer has one hell of an imagination.”
“And just what are they basing this off of?” Iella grabbed the datapad and scanned over it. “A single image that shows you and Doran walking down the stairs of the Jedi Temple while Solo’s walking the other way? Context, an elusive concept to these sludgenews creeps.”
“It’s not fair,” Syal pouted as she looked over to her sister, “They never write about you.”
“Well of course they don’t,” Myri replied. “It would be bad for an Alliance intelligence agent to have a profile high enough to wind up in the sludges.”
To say Wedge didn’t find this development to be nearly as amusing as his wife and children was a tremendous understatement. He did his best to keep his tone neutral, “Who wrote that article?”
The girls looked uncomfortably at each other. Apparently he hadn’t done a good enough job trying to keep calm.
“Daddy, it’s okay,” Syal said, lowering her voice a few notches. “This isn’t the first time they’ve written something like this.”
“It’s not!?” Wedge nearly shot out of his seat. Iella took a hold of his arm and pulled him down.
Syal shook her head, “I’m the daughter of a certified war hero, a relatively high-ranking officer within the Alliance military, and I’m dating a Jedi. I might as well have a neon sign on my back that says ‘Tabloid Rating Machine.’”
Before Wedge could speak again the waiter had returned with their food. The last thing he needed to do was cause a scene in a fancy location so he forced a smile as a plate of Corellian cuisine was set down in front of him. He took a bite of the dish, raising a brow as the spices hit his tongue. It was almost as hot as his temper was at that moment.
“I owe you ten credits,” Wedge said flatly as he looked across the table at Syal.
The rest of dinner proceeded without another outburst. Wedge did his best to keep his emotions just under the boiling point but every time there was a lapse in the conversation he would think about the sludgenews article that had slagged his daughter. The mere idea that someone would cast his little girl in such a negative light was infuriating. Syal was entitled to her privacy and after everything she had done during the war she had definitely earned it.
An hour and change after they had arrived they finally stood, settled their bill, and returned to the speeder lot. Myri joined them on their trip back to Syal’s apartment. Apparently she wanted to borrow a set of trashy romance novels Syal had on her datacard shelf. Upon entering the apartment Wedge changed out of the formal wear and into something far more casual as quickly as he could. He had never enjoyed wearing dress uniforms while in the military and as far as he was concerned clothing appropriate for a five-star restaurant was just as stuffy.
He collapsed on the soft sofa in Syal’s living area.
“Cold one, Daddy?” Syal asked from the kitchen.
“Huh?” Wedge looked over his shoulder only to see his oldest daughter holding a bottle of one of his favorite beverages.
Syal walked towards him and plopped down on the sofa, handing him an opened bottle, “Wine is a Mom and Myri thing. Give me a choice and I’ll take this every time.”
“You’ve got remarkably good taste,” Wedge said with a half-smile as he took a swig from the bottle, “but don’t tell your mother and your sister I said that.”
“Too late, one of us already heard,” Myri said seemingly from nowhere as she sat down beside Wedge. “You can’t keep things quiet from the Intelligence types.”
“Oh whatever sis, you’re just getting paid to eavesdrop on people’s holocomm calls now,” Syal rolled her eyes but lifted up her bottle half-full of the alcoholic beverage, “Get you something to drink?”
Myri scrunched her nose, “If I wanted to burn off all of my taste buds I’d just drink some Tibanna gas.”
They had always bantered well. The close kinship between the sisters was clear for anyone to see. It reminded Wedge of the relationship he had once shared with his own sister.
“Are you okay, Daddy?” Syal asked.
Wedge took another swig from his drink before setting it down on the table in front of them and throwing an arm around both of his daughters, “Why wouldn’t I be? I’ve got two of the most gorgeous women in the Galaxy sitting right beside me.”
“Dad,” Myri admonished, shoving him playfully. “Come on. You’ve been a little Corellian ball of rage since you heard about the sludgenews thing.”
Now there was something that hadn’t changed over the course of time. Syal and Myri had always been perceptive. Iella once remarked that they could have found a way to blackmail any one of their teachers in primary school just by watching their body language. That was definitely a skill that came from her side of the family.
Of course, that meant it wouldn’t do him any good to try and lie his way out of this.
“I admit that got under my skin a bit,” Wedge said.
“A bit?” Syal asked. “You looked like you were ready to take the head off the first person to say anything to you.”
“And while we always enjoy watching you stick up for us, a scene like that would have been a tad on the embarrassing side,” Myri added. “So, we appreciate your restraint.”
He sighed, “It just… It bothers me when I can’t protect you from this stuff. I shot down countless TIE Fighters and even took out a Death Star so the Empire couldn’t get their hands on people I loved. The sludgenews going after one of my girls wasn’t something I prepared for.”
Syal rested her head on his shoulder, casting a glance up at him with her deep, blue eyes, “I know every father on the face of the Galaxy is under some kind of delusion of grandeur that they can protect their children from anything, but these things happen. If you’ve taught me anything, it’s that I shouldn’t care what sleemos like that think. Only thing that matters is I’m happy with myself at the end of the day.”
“And are you happy with yourself?” Wedge asked.
“I’ve got a strong military career for myself, I’m dating a very lovely Jedi who is completely head-over-heels for me, and my family is visiting and together for the first time in months,” Syal said. “I’m pretty damn happy with myself right now.”
“Dad, those sludgenews morons going after Syal doesn’t make you a bad parent,” Myri said as her head landed on his opposite shoulder, snuggling up right beside him. “Just means you should buy us a fruit fizz and take us to the park to make us feel better.”
“Us?” Syal raised a brow. “Last I checked you weren’t the one accused of having a wild tryst with Doran Tainer and Jaina Solo. I’m the only one here deserving of a fruit fizz from Daddy.”
“Oh but the sympathy I feel for you has wounded me so deeply,” Myri said in a mock-hurt tone. “Clearly we both deserve a fruit fizz from Dad.”
Wedge laughed and ruffled their hair, “Girls, girls. I’ll buy both of you a fruit fizz but since the Sludgenews went after Syal she gets to choose what we do in the park first.”
“Nyah, nyah,” Syal said and stuck her tongue out at her younger sister, a decidedly comical act from a grown woman.
Hours later Myri had gone home to her own apartment and Syal had retired to sleep. Provided the weather held up, plans were already underway to spend part of the following day in a nearby park. Failing that he would take all of them out to see some holofilm of their choosing. Wedge hoped the weather would hold for he wasn’t sure if he could live through another one of their favored romance flicks.
He lay in bed, pressed gently against his wife of nearly thirty years. She was still has beautiful as they day they had first met. Though time had added a few lines to her face, her eyes still offered the same radiant glow they always had. If anything the added maturity simply made her more beautiful in his eyes. He reached up gently, tucking a few stray strands of golden hair behind her ear.
“You know,” Iella said sleepily, “every time you do that I know you’ve got something on your mind.”
Wedge chuckled softly, “Am I that easy to read?”
“I’m former New Republic Intelligence, it was my job to read people,” she said. “But yes, you really are that easy to read. What’s troubling you?”
He paused for a moment before answering, “Do you think I’ve done a good enough job raising them?”
“Raising children in a marriage isn’t exactly an individual effort,” Iella replied with a cocked brow.
“No, that’s not…” Wedge stammered. “I mean... I’ve got no question that you were a wonderful mother. You were always around when I was off blowing up things for the military.”
“Wedge,” Iella flipped onto her side to face him, “both of them are happy and have done wonderful things with their lives. I couldn’t have instilled the life lessons required for that by myself so you must have done something right.”
Wedge smiled and drew Iella into his body, “You always know just what to say to shut me up, don’t you?”
“Like I said, you’re easy to read.”
He placed a kiss upon his wife’s lips and closed his eyes, waiting for sleep to finally overtake him. Perhaps he couldn’t prevent his family from ever being hurt, but for now he could sleep comfortably knowing that they were strong enough to deal with far more than a silly little sludgenews article. His children had been raised right. Of course, if Wedge ever ran into the man who wrote that article chances were good he would find a fist embedded in his skull.
Wedge was, after all, a very protective daddy.
Finis
Rating: PG
Timeframe: 43-44 ABY
Genre: Vignette, slice ‘o life
Characters: Wedge Antilles, Iella Wessiri-Antilles, Syal Antilles, Myri Antilles
Disclaimer: Nope, don’t own the characters. Wedge and Star Wars are property of George Lucas. Iella, Syal, and Myri were created by Michael Stackpole.
Summary: It didn’t matter how old they were, in Wedge’s mind Myri and Syal were his little girls and he was always going to be their protective daddy.
Notes: This fic was the result of a fun little prompt (write a fic with Wedge, his darling girls, and the sludgenews going after them) circulated amongst a few friends of mine, hm_yrie and astro_the_nut.
Wedge Antilles wasn’t often on Coruscant anymore. It seemed that most of his time was spent travelling on the Errant Venture, the well known smuggler’s den operated by his longtime friend Mirax Terrik-Horn and her father Booster. He supposed that was understandable. During the second Civil War he had managed to sour his relationship with his homeworld of Corellia and the Galactic Alliance. He was somewhat thankful that Coruscant and the Alliance at least begrudgingly welcomed him when he set foot on one of their worlds. The Corellian government still hadn’t forgiven him for switching allegiances.
He frowned slightly as he looked through one of the large transparisteel windows of the spaceport. Coruscant was just as he remembered it this time of the year, a dreary, sprawling city whose skies were covered by rain clouds. The streets were wet with falling moisture. Subconsciously Wedge drew the collar of his jacket closer to his neck. Even though the spaceport terminal was well heated the, visual feedback from the scenery outside was enough to give him the chills. The weather during the cold season was definitely something he did not miss.
“Try to at least look happy,” Iella said as she jabbed him in the ribs with an elbow.
Wedge straightened, “I’m plenty happy. I just don’t like the cold.”
“So you tell me constantly.”
“If you had spent months on Hoth and gone extravehicular to keep a message drone from self-destructing you wouldn’t be all that fond of it yourself,” Wedge muttered.
Iella smirked playfully, “I don’t see snow or hard vacuum out there. You’ll be fine.”
Wedge and his wife made their way to the luggage carousel, finding their baggage and heading towards the passenger pickup area. His eyes darted around the various people milling about and waiting for their loved ones. Looking down at his wrist chronometer he couldn’t help but frown. Where was she? They had agreed on a time days ago. It wasn’t like her to be late. As he was about to reach into his pocket to grab his comlink to check up on her, his feet were nearly knocked out from under him as something slammed into his backside. A pair of lithe arms wrapped around his torso.
“Daddy!” Syal exclaimed.
Instantly the stress and worry he was feeling rushed out of him. He spun around and embraced his daughter, holding her perhaps a bit too tightly. Wedge was idly aware that he was losing track of time but he didn’t particularly mind. It wasn’t until Syal politely asked for oxygen that he let her go. He smiled sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his neck. A small part of himself was embarrassed for causing such a scene, but the larger part of him was overwhelmed with joy to see his daughter.
“You’re late,” Wedge chided playfully.
Syal pouted, pointing to her own wrist chronometer, “No I’m not. You just set your chrono ten minutes fast.”
Wedge ruffled her hair, somewhat taken aback that both of them were roughly the same height. He knew that she was as tall as she was when she graduated from primary school, but he had yet to embed that image in his head. As far as he was concerned, Syal was still the one-and-a-third meter tall, wiry ten-year-old that had an affinity for playing with model starfighters on the living room floor. She had always been a bit of a tomboy like that, not that he minded. Myri was the more effeminate of his two children.
Which reminded him, “Is Myri here?”
“She got caught up in a meeting with Uncle Face,” Syal explained, shaking her head. “Said she’ll be on time for dinner, though.”
“Good,” Iella said. “Otherwise I’d have to give Garik a piece of my mind.”
“Go easy on him,” Wedge said with a lopsided grin as they walked out of the spaceport and into the frigid air, “He’s still recovering from the verbal beating you gave him three months ago.”
“He knows better than to get you liquored up only to leave you in a heap on the doorstep,” Iella said firmly.
They made their way across an exposed pedestrian walkway and towards a parking structure on the other side of the street. Wedge grimaced as the falling rain pelted his head and shoulders. He lifted the neck of his jacket over his hair to try and shield himself. Breathing a sigh of relief as he entered the speeder parking facility, he followed Syal towards a rather sporty looking airspeeder. Wedge nodded towards the rather expensive looking vehicle.
“Oh don’t give me that look,” Syal said as she keyed for the doors to unlock. “We intercepted a pirate convoy a few weeks back that had their sights set on a shipment of speeders for a large dealership. Owner was so grateful we saved an entire freight hauler full of airspeeders we all got one for free.”
“I never got a free airspeeder when I was flying,” Wedge grumbled as he sat in the backseat, allowing his wife to take the forward passenger spot.
Syal laughed and engaged the speeder’s repulsorlifts. That was another surreal moment. It seemed like it had only been days since he had been the one driving and Syal was the passenger in the back seat, kicking her legs that just didn’t quite reach the floor over the front of the seat. He hadn’t had many opportunities to drive her to school or crashball practice but he relished the chances he had. Life in the military had kept him away from his family far more than he would have liked. Long ago he learned to savor every moment he had with them.
It was hard to believe that she was a grown woman of twenty-seven standard years now. Where had his little girl gone? In his mind’s eye Wedge still pictured her as the gangly, inquisitive young tomboy who always seemed to get herself into trouble (a trait Iella insisted was from his side of the family). Instead, he looked at a grown, responsible, mature woman who had made a name for herself as a damned fine pilot. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret as he looked at his decidedly adult daughter. How much had he missed out on while he had served with the military?
They arrived at a large, upscale tower and followed Syal up to her apartment. Wedge couldn’t help but whistle in admiration. He had never pulled in enough money as a single pilot for accommodations this nice. He wondered just how much an apartment in a building like this would cost. The apartment itself was just as remarkable, well furnished and decorated. Just how much were starfighter pilots making these days? When he was behind the flightstick he had trouble scraping together enough cash to feed himself while he was off duty.
“’Fresher’s at the end of the hallway,” Syal said as she moved into the kitchenette to pour herself a glass of water. “Guest room is next to it, make yourself at home.”
Wedge walked down the hallway, pausing for a holoframe showing a still, somewhat candid image of Syal and a rather tall and broad shouldered man. Admittedly, he was handsome though the sight of a human male that was roughly the size of a dwarf Wookiee standing next to the trim and slightly shorter-than-average Syal was amusing.
“How is Doran?” Iella asked.
“Getting by,” Syal said. “All of this political maneuvering by Daala to undermine the Order has them all on edge.”
Wedge had often overheard Iella gossiping with Syal over the holonet about Doran. He was a good boy, though Wedge couldn’t help but bristle at the thought of a man being romantically involved with his little girl. Even if that man was the son of two of Wedge’s former subordinates. He caught Iella casting an admonishing look in his direction. He must have been transmitting his thoughts through his facial expressions again. Wedge wasn’t sure if it her training as an intelligence agent or the simple fact they had been married for so long, but she always seemed to know what he was thinking just by looking at him.
At least she had starting moving on. When her fiancé had been killed aboard the Mawrunner she had been completely heartbroken. Wedge never really approved of the boy, but Syal had loved him dearly. Seeing his daughter so completely devastated had been one of the lowest points of his parenting life. Every father in the Galaxy worth a damn believed that it was within their power to comfort their children in times of despair. Tiom’s death had been a horrible reality check for Wedge.
He had been completely and utterly powerless help Syal. Wedge wasn’t sure what was worse, the fact that he hadn’t been there for her when Tiom had perished or knowing that even if he had been it wouldn’t have done a damn bit of good.
“So where are you and your sister taking us tonight?” Iella asked as she emerged from the guest room.
“New restaurant just outside of the Senate District,” Syal said. “One of my pilots said it had the best Corellian cuisine on all of Coruscant.”
Wedge grinned, “I’ll be the judge of that. Ten credits says the food isn’t spicy enough.”
“You’re on, old man,” Syal responded with a wicked smile.
A few hours later they were seated in the waiting lobby of Balthar’s, an five star upscale restaurant popular with area politicians and other figures of notoriety. Wedge tugged at the collar of his dress shirt, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He wasn’t particularly fond of places like this, preferring instead to dine in a more humble setting. Idly he wondered how the Solos could eat out at a place like this so often. Wedge winced as he remembered one of the few times he had eaten Leia’s spiceloaf.
Okay, I can see why Han enjoys eating out so much…
“Sorry I’m late!”
Wedge looked up to see his youngest daughter bounding towards them. Standing, he wrapped Myri up in a tight hug befitting a father. It had been several long months since he had seen her. Myri joined up with Alliance Intelligence shortly after the second Civil War and had been gone on assignment for much of that stretch. Through dumb luck or some sort of divine intervention she had found herself on Coruscant for a few weeks of leave the same time he and Iella had chosen to visit.
Mryi had done very well for herself. She had her mother’s inquisitive nature and nose for intelligence work. These days she was working for Face Loran. Wedge would get messages from his old subordinate praising his daughter’s work, though every now and then he’d get a complaint about her slightly rebellious nature. Where Syal had always been the organized, collected one, Myri had been a bit more explosive. She had reigned her personality in a fair amount in her adult years (though not enough to shy away from the pink and purple hair coloring she seemed to enjoy), but there was still a touch of that fiery little girl still within her.
“Hi mom, hi dad,” Myri said as she pried herself away from Wedge to hug Iella.
“Uncle Face’s meeting go long again?” Syal asked as she gave her sister a quick hug in turn.
Myri rolled her eyes, “He seems to be compensating for not doing any field work by making the rest of us suffer through him talking.”
“The man does love to listen to his own voice,” Wedge mused aloud.
Moments later the maitre d’ called their names, leading the family of four towards a quiet little corner of the restaurant. Wedge pulled back a chair for Iella, rather pleased with himself that he remembered such a chivalrous gesture. He took his own seat after everyone had settled in. A waiter left a few menus on the table and asked if they would like anything to drink. Syal asked for an expensive sounding vintage of Alderaani white wine. Truthfully he would have been fine with a glass of water. He much preferred Whyren’s or a shot glass of Corellian reserve over wine, but the girls enjoyed it and that was good enough for him.
He looked up from his menu for a moment, looking one by one at the three women sitting with him. When had his girls become such beautiful women like their mother? Whenever he looked at Myri he expected to see the child who had somehow managed to sneak into Iella’s makeup. Now she was old enough to actually know how to apply lipstick properly. Though, she apparently still wasn’t old enough to realize that the particular bright shade she had chosen for the evening was a touch over-the-top.
Then there was Syal. She should have had little bacta strips on her knees and elbow because she had gotten into another scrape with the older kids at crashball practice. She wouldn’t have been caught dead in the dress and heels she was wearing tonight. Syal’s stubborn refusal to ever wear anything that looked like it belonged in an average teenaged girl’s wardrobe used to drive her mother crazy. Young Syal always emphasized function and comfort over style.
But there they were, his little angels all grown up and looking beautiful like their mother.
“Have you decided what you would like to order?” The waiter asked.
Wedge blinked and looked back at his menu, “Uh, just another moment. Feel free to start with the others.”
“We’ve already ordered, dear,” Iella said, an amused look on her face.
“Yeah, we finished while you were staring off into space,” Myri said.
Doing his best to stifle a blush, Wedge scanned over the menu quickly before ordering a dish that sounded like it had to best chance of living up to his expectations for a spicy Corellian dish.
“Look at that sis, you’re in the news,” Myri noted as she held out a datapad for Syal to read.
Syal sighed, “Coruscant Daily or Galactic Enquirer?”
Wedge’s gaze shot up. Those were the names of two rather well known sludgenews tabloids. To say they were news outlets was rather generous. They were responsible for nothing more than schlock journalism and were staffed by sleemos who had nothing better to do than chase around celebrities and public figures with holocameras to try and catch them in a compromising position.
“Enquirer,” Myri said. “Headline is fantastic to boot. ‘Antilles’ Jedi Love Scandal.’ I keep telling you Syal, Doran’s got to take you to less public places.”
“How is it a scandal?” Syal waved a hand dismissively. “It’s not like I’m seeing multiple Jedi at the same time. One is quite enough for me, thank you.”
“The writer seems to think you’re having a fling with Jaina Solo as well.”
Syal suddenly burst into a fit of laughter, “A complicated love triangle between me, Jaina, and Doran? Well I’ll give them credit where it’s due, that writer has one hell of an imagination.”
“And just what are they basing this off of?” Iella grabbed the datapad and scanned over it. “A single image that shows you and Doran walking down the stairs of the Jedi Temple while Solo’s walking the other way? Context, an elusive concept to these sludgenews creeps.”
“It’s not fair,” Syal pouted as she looked over to her sister, “They never write about you.”
“Well of course they don’t,” Myri replied. “It would be bad for an Alliance intelligence agent to have a profile high enough to wind up in the sludges.”
To say Wedge didn’t find this development to be nearly as amusing as his wife and children was a tremendous understatement. He did his best to keep his tone neutral, “Who wrote that article?”
The girls looked uncomfortably at each other. Apparently he hadn’t done a good enough job trying to keep calm.
“Daddy, it’s okay,” Syal said, lowering her voice a few notches. “This isn’t the first time they’ve written something like this.”
“It’s not!?” Wedge nearly shot out of his seat. Iella took a hold of his arm and pulled him down.
Syal shook her head, “I’m the daughter of a certified war hero, a relatively high-ranking officer within the Alliance military, and I’m dating a Jedi. I might as well have a neon sign on my back that says ‘Tabloid Rating Machine.’”
Before Wedge could speak again the waiter had returned with their food. The last thing he needed to do was cause a scene in a fancy location so he forced a smile as a plate of Corellian cuisine was set down in front of him. He took a bite of the dish, raising a brow as the spices hit his tongue. It was almost as hot as his temper was at that moment.
“I owe you ten credits,” Wedge said flatly as he looked across the table at Syal.
The rest of dinner proceeded without another outburst. Wedge did his best to keep his emotions just under the boiling point but every time there was a lapse in the conversation he would think about the sludgenews article that had slagged his daughter. The mere idea that someone would cast his little girl in such a negative light was infuriating. Syal was entitled to her privacy and after everything she had done during the war she had definitely earned it.
An hour and change after they had arrived they finally stood, settled their bill, and returned to the speeder lot. Myri joined them on their trip back to Syal’s apartment. Apparently she wanted to borrow a set of trashy romance novels Syal had on her datacard shelf. Upon entering the apartment Wedge changed out of the formal wear and into something far more casual as quickly as he could. He had never enjoyed wearing dress uniforms while in the military and as far as he was concerned clothing appropriate for a five-star restaurant was just as stuffy.
He collapsed on the soft sofa in Syal’s living area.
“Cold one, Daddy?” Syal asked from the kitchen.
“Huh?” Wedge looked over his shoulder only to see his oldest daughter holding a bottle of one of his favorite beverages.
Syal walked towards him and plopped down on the sofa, handing him an opened bottle, “Wine is a Mom and Myri thing. Give me a choice and I’ll take this every time.”
“You’ve got remarkably good taste,” Wedge said with a half-smile as he took a swig from the bottle, “but don’t tell your mother and your sister I said that.”
“Too late, one of us already heard,” Myri said seemingly from nowhere as she sat down beside Wedge. “You can’t keep things quiet from the Intelligence types.”
“Oh whatever sis, you’re just getting paid to eavesdrop on people’s holocomm calls now,” Syal rolled her eyes but lifted up her bottle half-full of the alcoholic beverage, “Get you something to drink?”
Myri scrunched her nose, “If I wanted to burn off all of my taste buds I’d just drink some Tibanna gas.”
They had always bantered well. The close kinship between the sisters was clear for anyone to see. It reminded Wedge of the relationship he had once shared with his own sister.
“Are you okay, Daddy?” Syal asked.
Wedge took another swig from his drink before setting it down on the table in front of them and throwing an arm around both of his daughters, “Why wouldn’t I be? I’ve got two of the most gorgeous women in the Galaxy sitting right beside me.”
“Dad,” Myri admonished, shoving him playfully. “Come on. You’ve been a little Corellian ball of rage since you heard about the sludgenews thing.”
Now there was something that hadn’t changed over the course of time. Syal and Myri had always been perceptive. Iella once remarked that they could have found a way to blackmail any one of their teachers in primary school just by watching their body language. That was definitely a skill that came from her side of the family.
Of course, that meant it wouldn’t do him any good to try and lie his way out of this.
“I admit that got under my skin a bit,” Wedge said.
“A bit?” Syal asked. “You looked like you were ready to take the head off the first person to say anything to you.”
“And while we always enjoy watching you stick up for us, a scene like that would have been a tad on the embarrassing side,” Myri added. “So, we appreciate your restraint.”
He sighed, “It just… It bothers me when I can’t protect you from this stuff. I shot down countless TIE Fighters and even took out a Death Star so the Empire couldn’t get their hands on people I loved. The sludgenews going after one of my girls wasn’t something I prepared for.”
Syal rested her head on his shoulder, casting a glance up at him with her deep, blue eyes, “I know every father on the face of the Galaxy is under some kind of delusion of grandeur that they can protect their children from anything, but these things happen. If you’ve taught me anything, it’s that I shouldn’t care what sleemos like that think. Only thing that matters is I’m happy with myself at the end of the day.”
“And are you happy with yourself?” Wedge asked.
“I’ve got a strong military career for myself, I’m dating a very lovely Jedi who is completely head-over-heels for me, and my family is visiting and together for the first time in months,” Syal said. “I’m pretty damn happy with myself right now.”
“Dad, those sludgenews morons going after Syal doesn’t make you a bad parent,” Myri said as her head landed on his opposite shoulder, snuggling up right beside him. “Just means you should buy us a fruit fizz and take us to the park to make us feel better.”
“Us?” Syal raised a brow. “Last I checked you weren’t the one accused of having a wild tryst with Doran Tainer and Jaina Solo. I’m the only one here deserving of a fruit fizz from Daddy.”
“Oh but the sympathy I feel for you has wounded me so deeply,” Myri said in a mock-hurt tone. “Clearly we both deserve a fruit fizz from Dad.”
Wedge laughed and ruffled their hair, “Girls, girls. I’ll buy both of you a fruit fizz but since the Sludgenews went after Syal she gets to choose what we do in the park first.”
“Nyah, nyah,” Syal said and stuck her tongue out at her younger sister, a decidedly comical act from a grown woman.
Hours later Myri had gone home to her own apartment and Syal had retired to sleep. Provided the weather held up, plans were already underway to spend part of the following day in a nearby park. Failing that he would take all of them out to see some holofilm of their choosing. Wedge hoped the weather would hold for he wasn’t sure if he could live through another one of their favored romance flicks.
He lay in bed, pressed gently against his wife of nearly thirty years. She was still has beautiful as they day they had first met. Though time had added a few lines to her face, her eyes still offered the same radiant glow they always had. If anything the added maturity simply made her more beautiful in his eyes. He reached up gently, tucking a few stray strands of golden hair behind her ear.
“You know,” Iella said sleepily, “every time you do that I know you’ve got something on your mind.”
Wedge chuckled softly, “Am I that easy to read?”
“I’m former New Republic Intelligence, it was my job to read people,” she said. “But yes, you really are that easy to read. What’s troubling you?”
He paused for a moment before answering, “Do you think I’ve done a good enough job raising them?”
“Raising children in a marriage isn’t exactly an individual effort,” Iella replied with a cocked brow.
“No, that’s not…” Wedge stammered. “I mean... I’ve got no question that you were a wonderful mother. You were always around when I was off blowing up things for the military.”
“Wedge,” Iella flipped onto her side to face him, “both of them are happy and have done wonderful things with their lives. I couldn’t have instilled the life lessons required for that by myself so you must have done something right.”
Wedge smiled and drew Iella into his body, “You always know just what to say to shut me up, don’t you?”
“Like I said, you’re easy to read.”
He placed a kiss upon his wife’s lips and closed his eyes, waiting for sleep to finally overtake him. Perhaps he couldn’t prevent his family from ever being hurt, but for now he could sleep comfortably knowing that they were strong enough to deal with far more than a silly little sludgenews article. His children had been raised right. Of course, if Wedge ever ran into the man who wrote that article chances were good he would find a fist embedded in his skull.
Wedge was, after all, a very protective daddy.
Finis