10
Dear Friends
Hyperspace gave way to realspace once more as Luke arrived at the final point on the return route. The Tiger Claw loomed in the distance like some gigantic sentinel as flights of X-wings, A-wings, B-wings, and other starfighters patrolled the Sonteg System. Standing up to stretch his cramped legs, Luke hit the autopilot and set a course for the Claw. An X-wing flew alongside his shuttle for a few seconds and bobbed its wings in greeting. From the viewport, Luke could clearly see Syal in the starfighter's cockpit. He smiled, waved, and did the same. A few minutes later, the Mon Cal Cruiser's tractor beams activated and pulled Luke's shuttle in for a safe landing. Mara was still laughing when she, Ben, and Luke disembarked.
'I can't believe you fell for that,' she said breathlessly. '"Callista". Come on, farm boy, are you really still that gullible?'
Luke rolled his eyes, too tired to snark back.
'Still,' Mara continued, 'it was nice to see you back on Myrkr. Reminds me of the first time we met. Except for the part where you-'
Luke rushed to cover Mara's mouth before she could say anything embarrassing. He coughed uncomfortably. 'So it's really you? Mara Mara and not Callista in Mara's body?'
He removed his hand to let her speak. 'Of course I am,' she said exasperatedly. 'Sheesh, what more proof could you possib-glurk!'
Mara suddenly found herself unable to speak. Or breathe. Luke and Ben were hugging her too tightly. Suddenly realizing that they had an audience, Mara blushed furiously and pushed the other Skywalkers away. Whispers began to rumble throughout the hangar.
Wedge approached with an eyebrow raised. 'Mara?' he asked. 'Aren't you supposed to-'
'I was only mostly dead!' she exclaimed.
Wedge shrugged and hugged her, too. Then Luke and Ben joined in again. In the back, Phennir and Stele traded amused expressions and snickered. Then Myri Antilles pushed her way to the front of the congregation and gasped in surprise.
'Auntie Mara? You're alive?'
Mara glared at her. 'Oh, not you t-'
Myri didn't let her finish. She joined in on the group hug. 'I knew it!' she said. 'I knew you were just faking it to dodge taxes the whole time!'
Mara Jade Skywalker sighed. Just roll with it, she thought to herself. It was embarrassing, but it was a good kind of embarrassing. It felt nice to be among family again. She didn't plan on leaving them again any time soon.
'Oh, and Mara?' Luke said, breaking the group hug at last.
'Yes?'
He smirked smugly. 'For your little joke there, you've earned my gravest revenge.'
Wait. Revenge? Luke? Luke Skywalker. Talking about revenge. She gave him a nervous grin. 'Wait, what? Revenge is beneath you!'
Luke's expression remained unchanged.
'Luke? Dearest? Husband? Lukey-poo?'
Luke gave her a smile full of teeth and exited the hangar, walking backwards and never breaking eye contact. 'Yub yub, Mara.'
Mara sputtered and looked at Ben for help. Unfortunately, he wore the same expression and exited in the exact same manner. 'Yub yub, mom,' he said.
Wedge looked profoundly disturbed. 'What did you do to them? Mara, did you break our two Jedi?'
She told him what she did on Myrkr. Wedge and Myri shrugged. 'Can't help you there, Mara,' Wedge said. 'Goodness, look at my wrist, I have work to attend to!'
He rushed out to the bridge to busy himself with administrative and strategic duties. Best to stay away from Mara to avoid becoming collateral damage in whatever prank Luke had in store for her.
'Myri?' Mara asked. 'You know pranks, right? What d-'
'Yub yub, Auntie Mara,' the younger Antilles said as she left to rejoin the Wraiths.
Oh cock, thought Mara Jade.
Baron Fel gave Wedge a hasty salute as he entered the bridge of the Claw. He fished a datapad out of a thigh pocket and handed it to his Alliance counterpart as he joined Wedge at the hololith. Wedge had busied himself with planning the next phases of the campaign. Above the holo-projector hovered an image of their operational theater: the Maw and its surrounding systems and hyperlanes. Star systems in friendly hands were marked in green while the Maw's were marked in red. Wedge had hastily drawn up arrows and written up notes, picking out what he thought were key objectives and potential strategic maneuvers. His shorthand had never been easy for Fel to read, so the Baron decided not to bother deciphering the galaxy map for now.
'Good news from the Empire,' Fel said. 'The vanguard of the Imperial fleet is inbound, two days away assuming they aren't held up by any more of the Maw's raiders. The main body should be with us in three.'
Wedge studied the datapad and its contents, reading through the fleet composition tables and situation reports. He ran the calculations in his head and began making modifications to the hologram, adding extra allied markers to his unit distribution and drawing arrows that indicated potential pushes towards a number of points.
'Very good news,' Wedge agreed. 'With the ships the Empire's sending, I can draw some of our defensive patrol groups back and use those to supplement a stab deeper into the Sonteg Route, take one of Daala's escape routes.'
Fel pointed at some of the markings his fellow general had drawn up. 'Won't these pushes into the Cabal and Geneb Systems stretch us thin?'
Wedge shook his head. 'At current strengths, yes. However, I just got off the horn with Naval Command. The ImpStar Deuces we captured here should be patched up, crewed, and combat-ready within the week. No news yet on reinforcements from the Core, though. With the Star Destroyers on our side, we'll at least have a fighting chance if the SuperStar and its escorts come at us.'
'Let's hope it doesn't come to that yet,' Fel said quietly.
Wedge waved aside the holograms of his plans and opened another image, one taken from IG-90's in-built holocam during the Sonteg Station infiltration.
'In other news, there's this,' said Wedge.
At first glance, the holo was an innocuous capture, an image of the Maw pilots Ninety, Bulsara, Tur'in, and Sund had encountered on the station's hangar deck. Some were bareheaded, some were helmeted. But then in the back, halfway into a TIE Hunter's entrance hatch, was a man who looked exactly like a younger Baron Fel, albeit with both of his eyes still intact.
Raising the People's Eyebrow, the Baron let out a slow breath. 'Well, that's a startling development.'
A Fel clone. It had to be. Years ago, Fel had submitted his genetic material to Thrawn's Mount Tantiss cloning facility. Hundreds of Fel clones were seeded and prepared as sleeper agents, waiting for Thrawn's call to arms in the event of a galactic invasion. Daala, it seemed, had recruited at least one into her service.
'We're still sorting out combat footage from gun-cams,' Wedge said, 'but it's possible that some of the faster Maw ships managed to escape. I'd wager that the Second-Most Electrifying Man in All of Space Entertainment managed to escape and alert his friends.'
Daala clenched her fists as she read the reports of the Alliance conquest of the Sonteg System. Only a handful of the defenders there had survived Durak's incompetence, among them the squadron leader who had led four of her precious TIE Hunters to safety. It was practically at her doorstep. Too close for comfort, she thought. It was still too early to admit defeat, however. She still had her fleets, the Dread Masters, and her Imperial mole. She could still do this. She just had to bleed Antilles' fleet and finish the Super Star Destroyer. In the back of her mind, she also made a mental note to award that pilot with a pay raise. Daala pressed the call button on her desk's comm unit.
'Lieutenant,' she said to the secretary on duty, 'please get the communications room ready and call up my fleet and station commanders. There are matters of procedure we must discuss.'
Without waiting for a reply, she exited her office, a dreary, spartan affair ever since she had most of the furniture moved to the Super Star Destroyer. The communications room was dimly lit to compensate for the brightness of the hologram projectors' images. Already, the niches in which the holo-projectors sat were lit. A number of three-dimensional electric blue images stood at attention above the projectors, ready to hear her say.
Daala paused to make sure everyone was paying attention before she began. 'Gentlemen, as you know, Durak has failed. The Sonteg System has fallen and Wedge Antilles has set up shop a mere handful of jumps away from our headquarters. This calls to attention a number of flaws in communications and security procedures.'
One of her fleet masters, a burly rear admiral with a cybernetic eye spoke up. 'Admiral, my forces are just a day or two away from Antilles. If I receive some reinforcement, I can push him out of Sonteg and send him running.'
Daala shook her head. 'Negative. We lack sufficient intelligence to determine the exact size of Antilles' fleet and our reports show that the Empire's main force is on the verge of linking up with him. Our first order of business: I am recalling our raiding fleets within the week and retasking them to more defensive endeavors. Some of you will be sent to garrison our key hyperlanes, while others will be given the job of raiding the Alliance and Imperial supply lines rather than plundering the Rim's myriad backwaters. More details will be released within the day once everything is finalized.'
The fleet commanders all voiced their assent. Some would grumble about the restrictions on their pillaging, but they all saw the necessity of halting Antilles' advance. The Galactic Alliance's coffers were still drained from the Second Galactic Civil War. If Antilles' advance stagnated and if he suffered too many losses, the operation would be deemed a failure and he and his men would be withdrawn. The expenses of a prolonged siege and heavy attrition would be far too much for the war-weary Alliance. The Empire would be a different matter entirely, but currently, Wedge Antilles was the greater threat.
Daala cleared her throat and continued. 'Furthermore, the Sonteg incident is a particularly glaring example of issues with our comm procedure. As of today, all of our garrisons and mobile fleets are expected to send regular signs of their status every half-day. Nothing complex, just an audio ping via encrypted channels to indicate that you remain in operation. Comm silence will be taken as a sign of emergency. At that point, all mobile reserve elements within two hyperspace jumps are to move in to assist if they are not already engaged. Obviously, I expect you all to call for reinforcements or give ground if absolutely necessary.'
More murmurs of assent. Some of her officers scribbled or typed up notes on datapads.
'And one more thing,' Daala said. 'If any of you spot Antilles' flagship, you are to call in reinforcements, regardless of how outgunned you believe he is. I have no doubt of your abilities, ladies and gentlemen, but the Alliance's failure hinges on us fighting intelligently and unfairly. You are not to chase glory, you are not to engage in duels or even fights. If that damned Mon Calamari Cruiser shows up on your sensors, even if it is alone, you call in every single one of the mobile reserve assets assigned to your command. We kill him, we kill Alliance morale, we kill their war effort. Am I understood?'
'Yes, Admiral,' the officers chorused.
'Good,' she said. 'That will be all for now.'
Returning to her office, Daala sank wearily into her chair and looked out at the stars. How ironic that just a few years ago, she would have commanded the Galactic Alliance's fleets. How did it all go so wrong? When did it all go wrong?
Fondor. Things had gone downhill at Fondor. Damn Caedus and the Jedi. Damn the Alliance, Antilles, the Empire. Damn them all. She was sure that had the Fondor debacle gone differently, the galaxy would be a more peaceful place. She would be on Coruscant instead of sitting in the Maw. She wished Pellaeon were here. Gilad Pellaeon: admiral, military genius, friend. Pellaeon had lived through several of the galaxy's most bitter conflicts. The Clone Wars, two Galactic Civil Wars, the Imperial Civil War, the Thrawn conflict, the Yuuzhan Vong Invasion-every single one had earned the man a laundry list of honors and medals that would have shamed any military officer living today. And then Fondor happened. Shot dead by Tahiri Veila, an unnecessary and ultimately pointless death, in Daala's opinion. He would have known what to do. The old man always did. He wouldn't have made the same mistakes. She missed the old man.
