Reading the reports from Peralta gave Miltin Takel no pleasure. The Rebels had thrown everything they had at Antea and taken a good portion of it, though far from all. The initial attack in the city's northern half had been stunningly successful, but the PPM had effectively repulsed the assault on the south half. Takel had sent his stormtrooper garrison to support Governor Vancon's forces, but they'd had to get there via sluggish landspeeder, as the Rebels controlled the spaceport and thus the city's shield. As long as that energy dome was up, aerial support from TIE bombers or the PPM's fighter wing was impossible.
Thus, Antea had turned into a stalemate with each side throwing salvos across the river. The Rebels had made their stand and now were stuck with it, and they'd try and bring in the rest of their men to reinforce their position and gain supremacy over the other half of the city.
It was so close to what Takel wanted, but too far. He hadn't expected the Rebels to be able to secure the spaceport, especially so easily. Their control over the shields made it much harder to deliver Imperial troops to the city. Not impossible, but slower and more dangerous. According to his report, the scattered remnants of the Rebels' southern armies were already attacking convoys of Imperial reinforcements as they traveled through the hills to the city.
More difficult was getting reinforcements to Peralta at all. A mere standard day before the Rebels launched their assault, Fenn Shysa's Mandalorian Protectors initiated a series of completely unexpected raids against Imperial facilities at Surcaris, Concord Dawn, even Mandalore itself. The star destroyer Objurgator, patrolling over the Mandalorian home-world, had taken severe damage from a pair of Crusader corvettes, and only fast intervention from Takel's own Magic Dragon had prevented the total loss of the ship. Lucky for Takel, Shysa hadn't attempted a raid on Gargon.
The grand admiral had brought his destroyer back to guard his homeworld anyway. Mandalore was important, but the planet was more so, and not just for sentimental reasons. Its spice was more vital to Takel's power than even his rank and white uniform.
Takel's man on Mandalore, Lorka Gedyc, said he was doing his best to hunt down Fenn Shysa. Takel didn't doubt that; some hackneyed clan-feud left the two barbarians as mortal enemies. Gedyc hadn't made progress so far, which meant Takel had to spread his ships across the Mandalorian sector to guard against fresh hit-and-run attacks from the Protectors.
And that meant he had precious few resources to spare for Peralta.
Vancon was furious, and here Takel didn't blame him. The governor fumed, "I need reinforcements immediately. You don't understand how tenuous this situation is!"
Takel, in his cabin and temporarily done-up in his uniform, said, "I assure you, I do. It's almost as if Consantius and Shysa connived to launch their attacks together."
"I don't care about those Mandalorian savages! The Rebels are the real enemy. They'll see how Consantius has the spaceport and send reinforcements. They might send a whole fleet to steal my world. I need more than one strike cruiser to protect it. I need a star destroyer!"
"My destroyers are currently engaged," Takel said as coolly as possible. Inside he was also hot with anger. "However, I believe I can reapportion a frigate or two to help protect Peralta."
"I'll need more than that if the Rebels come in force. They might even bring one of those new Mon Calamari ships I've heard about."
"The combat ability of those refitted pleasure ships is grossly exaggerated," Takel lied. "In any case, I've requested more reinforcements from Imperial Center. I assure you, Peralta will hold and Antea will be retaken. This will pass."
"Easy for you to say in your star destroyer," Vancon sniffed.
"Unless my geography fails me, governor, I believe your capital is literally half a world away from Antea. You are still safe. Consantius doesn't have the resources to attack both cities."
"Unless he gets help from offworld."
"He won't. You have my guarantee. I'll be in touch, Governor."
Before Vancon could bleat more, Takel killed the holo. His cabin fell into silent; he'd sent Veespa and Comara away, knowing this would be an ugly conversation. He allowed hands to ball into fists and a growl to escape his throat. He walked over to his dresser, pulled out the container of sansanna capsules, but stopped before swallowing one down. Spice might calm his nerves but he'd never get a good high when he was as angry as he was now. And he needed to be angry. Things were fouled up and might still get worse. He'd lied when he'd said he'd requested reinforcements from Imperial Center. He could, yes, but asking for help against Mandalorian thugs and planet-bound rabble would be an embarrassment. Oh, he didn't care about what those clucking ninnies in the Imperial court said about him, but the Emperor would see him as weak, and that was something Takel could not afford.
Unless things got worse (like, say, a Rebel liberation fleet at Peralta) he'd try and make do with what he had.
Anger gave a high of its own. It filled him with energy and he picked up his datapad to review the engagement reports from all the Mandalorian raids, pacing barefoot across his carpeted cabin as he did so. He scoured them for hints as to Shysa's next target but the attacks were infuriatingly random, almost like they were designed to aggravate him. Maybe they were. Maybe Consantius really had made some pact with Shysa. Stranger things had happened. Takel had seen some of them personally.
One of them appeared before his eyes as he checked the latest report from his spy in Antea. His agent was embedded deep within the Rebel army but this was the first report he'd received since the battle began, and his first confirmation that the spy was even alive.
It was short, sweet, and barely said anything about the Rebel positions in North Antea. A little about losses and equipment, but that was all. The most important section, flagged by its author, reported that the pilot from the crashed X-wing was fighting alongside them. His name was Luke Skywalker, he was a Jedi, and he was the man who'd killed the Death Star.
Takel reread that simple passage four times, just to make sure his mind wasn't playing tricks on him after too long without spice. But no, there it was in plain letters. The most wanted man in the Empire was in his own backyard, and only he knew it.
The only question was what to do next.
Takel set the pad down, went over to his dresser, took out his spice, and popped a capsule in his mouth. His anger was gone but new energy pulsed through him. Synapses sparked, ideas flared. In mere minutes, Takel decided exactly what he needed to do to win it all.
-{}-
It seemed that the truth about Skywalker was out. Juno supposed it was a good thing; word that a Jedi and the hero of Yavin was with them had visibly lifted the spirits of her troops. Even the wounded who soon filled half a wing of North Antea's main hospital had a light in their eyes. The able-bodied were even better. They moved through the cold streets as though weather was balmy, and in the spaceport-turned-Rebel-headquarters they had an extra verve. Trake volunteered to give Skywalker a tour of the facility and tried to contain his wide-eyed admiration. It even seemed to have nudged Drasca's constant frown toward a smile, though that might have been more thanks to Nevetts having gotten through the fight unscathed. Whenever their professional masks slip and the affection beneath them showed, something twisted in Juno's chest.
But it was good for them to have a hero. They'd need some source of inspiration in the days to come. The battle for Antea was only a half success; everything south of the Benton was in enemy hands. The two mighty suspension bridges that crossed the river had become standoff zones, with PPM Chariot landspeeders and AT-PT walkers facing off Rebel Freerunners across a hundred-meter-span. But at least the north was secure. Her soldiers had acted quickly and efficiently to round up Imperial, PPM, and local law enforcement personnel and equipment. Civilians shuttered in their homes, agitating neither for nor against their new occupiers. Juno supposed they had weather to thank for that; just one day after they took North Antea a blizzard swept through the river valley. The raised energy shield kept out TIE fighters and turbolaser blasts but snowflakes got through just fine, and they piled slowly but inexorably onto the city.
From the observation tower at the spaceport, Juno could watch the river and south bank dissolve into a haze of white, and when the blizzard finally cleared two days later all the rooftops were covered with fresh snow. The white even erased the scars of recent battle, but more were added soon enough. The Imperials on the south bank started lobbing mortars over the river. The north bank's boats, docks, and tourist amenities were promptly mangled by explosive shells. Naturally, the Rebels returned the favor. Four days into the battle for Antea, the city's famous riverside lay in ruin.
Otherwise it was a cold, snow-buried stalemate, which is why the Rebels needed Skywalker's presence to warm their spirits. The man himself seemed abashed by the attention he was always getting. Another plus: as long as Skywalker was busy with admirers, he couldn't come after Juno for the rest of Starkiller's story, though on the rare occasions they met questions bored from his eyes.
With Antea locked under its protective dome, the only way to resupply the north or south sides of the city was to send landspeeder convoys through the hills. That Imperial strike cruiser in orbit had dropped all its garrison and equipment, but the remnants of Podessa and Calomar's armies were harassing them en route. The Rebels kept their supply lines safe. No further Imperial or Rebel starships had arrived at Peralta to support their respective sides, though Nevetts had set the spaceport's powerful comm signal to broadcast a repeated plea for help. Unfortunately the orbital strike cruiser had raised a jamming field and there was no way to know if the message got out, and certainly no way to hear a reply.
On the sixth day of battle, once snow and stalemate had fully settled, the defenders of North Antea received another ray of hope, one that surprised even Juno. The latest resupply convoy brought with it five speeder trucks packed with soldiers, food, weapons, and Ontar Consantius.
The former senator came dressed in military fatigues and a long winter coat like his troops, but there was no mistaking him. It had been months since Juno had met him in person and she'd forgotten how tall he was and how his deeply voice reverberated.
As soon as he arrived Juno assembled as many of her key staff as she could in the spaceport's secondary command room, which now doubled as the Rebels' operation center. Though his official role was undefined, Skywalker was among them. When Consantius met them all he went down the arranged line, shaking each person's hand and thanking them for their service. Juno had also forgotten how strong his grip was.
When he shook Skywalker's hand he didn't want to let go. He looked into the new hero's face with a wide grin but narrowed, thoughtful eyes. "I never thought I'd meet the man who killed the Death Star. That was amazing work. An inspiration to us all." When Skywalker flushed the senator added, "Don't tell me it was a lucky shot. Don't act bashful. Be proud of what you did."
"I am proud," Skywalker said. "and I'll do everything I can to help you here. But I can't give you any miracles."
"You mean you don't have any more up your sleeve?" He glanced at the lightsaber hanging openly from Skywalker's belt. "I haven't seen one of those since the Clone Wars. Never thought I'd see one again. That's the symbol of hope, young man. I'm glad you're not afraid to show it."
Consantius finally let go of Skywalker's hand. The young hero looked relieved.
The senator looked back to Juno, who stood on Skywalker's right. "I take it he was the mysterious pilot who crash-landed two weeks ago?"
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Senator."
"I understand. Operational security."
Security was what she really wanted to talk about. As politely as she could, Juno said, "I know you wanted to keep your coming here a secret, but I could have prepared better had I known. The spaceport is ours for now, but this is still a dangerous situation."
"I know that." Consantius lowered his voice. "But that's why I'm here. I ordered this battle. It's my responsibility. All these soldiers are risking their lives and I'm not going to be like Vancon, watching the fight from half a planet away."
She respected his bravery, but his arrival was also a complication. "We're all glad you're here, Senator. If you have any ideas for how to act going forward, I'm sure we can work out a plan together."
"I have ideas, of course." He looked around the control room. "First, I'm going to need to get my bearings. I'd like to see the spaceport, get acquainted with our supplies, our troop placement in the city, theirs south of the river..."
"We've got most of the data for that right here," Nevetts patted the nearest computer console. "I'd be happy to give you a briefing."
Juno added, "We'll have to prepare a berth for you. Most of my people have made barracks at the spaceport, or the local police stations. But for you-"
"I don't need anything fancy," Consantius insisted.
"There's still the issue of security. Trake, can you arrange a place for the Senator to stay inside the spaceport? Something separate from the others?"
"I've already got something in mind," the man volunteered. "I don't know if you brought much with you, Senator…"
"Just a bit, in the truck I arrived in." Consantius patted his jacket, which was still dusted with melting snow. "To be honest, I'm slightly bushed from the ride in. I could never sleep on landspeeders. If I could have a few hours rest-"
"I'll prepare reports for you, sir," Nevetts volunteered.
"And I'll take you to your quarters," said Trake. "Can you follow me, Senator?"
"Of course." Consantius looked back at Juno and Skywalker. "I'll speak more to you both later."
"Of course, Senator," Juno said. Skywalker just nodded.
As soon as Consantius left, the others in the room began to spill out. Nevetts went over to his comm console and began working hurriedly. Suddenly Juno felt very alone with Skywalker, and that made her feel cornered.
But the new hero didn't go on attack right away. He said, "The senator has quite a presence."
"He does indeed."
"I'm surprised he came straight to the front line. Does he have military experience from the Clone Wars?"
"No. I think he was the mayor of Terdan at the time."
Silence lingered between them until he asked, "How long do you think the senator will rest?"
"Hours, I imagine."
"He seemed energetic… but I could tell he was tired."
She glanced at him sideways. "How could you tell?"
Skywalker shrugged awkwardly. "It was a feeling I had."
A feeling. Starkiller had never been abashed about his Force powers. He'd had plenty of self-doubt, which only got worse the longer Juno knew him, but he'd always worn his potency for all to see. Skywalker seemed embarrassed just to be carrying his lightsaber.
But he could still land his attacks. "If there's time now," he said, "I would really like to hear what happened to Starkiller."
Juno fell back on the obvious excuse. "I need to prepare a briefing for the senator."
"It looks like your people have that well in hand."
He needled her so gently. An angry growl rumbled at the back of Juno's throat; her hands clenched at her sides.
"I know this is hard for you," he soothed.
"You really don't." She wanted to snap but kept her voice down. There were still a few other people in the chamber.
"All right, I don't. But I did come here and fight with your people, and I almost got killed a couple times. After all that, the least I deserve is an hour or two of your time."
She couldn't decide what frustrated her more; that he was right, or that he was so kind about it. Maybe this was it. Time to stop running, sit down, and tell Skywalker what she'd never told another soul. It was the kind of secret you were supposed to unburden to your closest friend, but Juno didn't have any close friends nowadays. No friends at all, really, just comrades.
Skywalker seemed to think he could learn something important from what happened to Starkiller. Maybe he would, but it would be a brutal lesson more likely to shake his faith in his newfound powers than enhance them. A twisted part of her actually wanted him to know, just to knock that innocent light from his eyes once and for all. With it gone she might resent him less.
"All right," she said. "Let's find someplace private. Then we'll talk."
"Thank you," he said, so kindly.
"Don't. Not yet," Juno waved a hand. He wouldn't be thankful when she was done, but if he wanted it so damned badly, she would let him have it.