When the Avatar decanted from hyperspace over Peralta, Grand Admiral Rufaan Tigellinus stood stoic at the center of the bridge, resplendent in his white uniform, looking dignified and potent for all the crew to see. Obscured from their view, thankfully, were his racing adrenaline and sweaty palms.
As per his orders, the entire ship was put on yellow alert. Avatar's pale wedge plunged toward Peralta, where one more star destroyer and a strike cruiser hung in geosynchronous orbit over planet's main southern continent, currently painted white by winter.
"Is my special team in position?" he asked the Avatar's captain.
"They've just reported in, sir," Roddiger replied. "Instructions?"
"Tell them to begin their advance but be ready to pause on my request." He raised his voice. "Communications, open an encrypted line to the star destroyer ahead of us. Send it directly to my personal comlink."
"Yes, Grand Admiral."
Tigellinus walked down the bridge's center aisle and removed the 'link from his breast pocket as smoothly as possible; his hands were damp and he couldn't be seen anxiously wiping them on his uniform. The white looked wonderful, but it hid no stains.
He walked to the fore of the bridge, right up to the viewport, where he could look down on Peralta and Magic Dragon and also have a conversation out of his crew's earshot. Like everything else involving Miltin Takel, this promised to be less than dignified.
"We have a channel, sir," his comm officer reported.
Without raising his voice too loud, Tigellinus replied, "Give it to me."
There was a click and a scratch, and the comm linked open. The voice was tinny through the 'link's small speaker, but the tone was clear.
"Ah, Grand Admiral Tigellinus," Takel said cloyingly. "What a pleasure it is to have you with us."
The glitbiter was likely on his bridge and trying to look professional for his crew. He must have been furious on the inside.
Smiling tightly, Tigellinus said, "I am sorry to intrude unannounced, but it has come to my attention that some valuable property, which belong before our Emperor, has been located on Peralta."
"Is that so? And here I'd thought you'd come to help me crush the Rebels. One grand admiral doing a good turn for another."
"Perhaps you've mistaken me for a man with a reputation for generosity."
"Reputation or not, you've earned it. I'll make sure the Emperor knows how much you helped me. We might even share the credit for claiming his property." Mockingly, Takel added, "After all, I've enjoyed his favor so much already. I can afford to spread the wealth."
He was starting to get on Tigellinus's nerves. "I'm afraid that's unacceptable. We both know who's down on that planet, and he's too important to be trusted to a feckless sybarite."
"I'm offended, Rufaan. I may be a sybarite, but I'm hardly feckless." An edge rose in Takel's voice too. "No matter what you may think, I'm not some mindless addict who carelessly spills his secrets before his wanton mistresses. After all, you never know who else might be listening."
Tigellinus tensed. Was the man implying… No. He couldn't believe it. And even if Takel had drawn him here intentionally, it changed nothing. Skywalker was on the planet below. One of them would claim him. The other would scrape before the Emperor for forgiveness.
Takel continued, "Since I do need troops to retake that spaceport, I'm willing to make this a competition. A race, even. You can begin landing your troops, I'll land mine, and whoever claims the prize gets it fair and square. Of course, my men have a few days' head start. Home field advantage, you could say. But you're welcome to participate."
Tigellinus stifled his anger. This was going to plan after all. "In that case, Grand Admiral, I'm glad to lend a hand. In fact, I've very generously arranged for my main ground unit to land ahead of my personal arrival."
"What are you talking about?" The vexation in Takel's voice was delicious.
"Oh yes," Tigellinus said, "Four battalions of the Hell's Hammers, courtesy of Grand Moff Kaine, since this is technically his jurisdiction. He placed them on detachment to me and sent them to get a head start."
For a lovely second Takel was speechless. He could picture the oaf's face turning a lovely red, his mouth working like that of a drowning fish.
Finally Takel said with smoldering rage, "How very thoughtful of you, Grand Admiral. And where, pray, are your reinforcements?"
"They're coming in through the northern mountains. I know the Rebels are defending the areas around the city but the Hell's Hammers are the best infantry the Empire has, as I'm sure you know. If anyone can breach the hills and get to the spaceport it will be them, don't you?" After a savory pause he added, "Your troops are still stuck south of the river, aren't they? If so, it's a very good thing I arrived."
Takel's voice was like grinding rocks. "It is indeed."
"As you said, it's a race," Tigellinus smiled. "May the best man win."
-{}-
The Imperials were still jamming comms, but other sensors were working just fine. From the command center at the spaceport, the huddled Rebel leaders could watch their enemy in orbit with perfect, painful detail.
Having that strike cruiser sitting high above had been merely intimidating; the addition of one star destroyer had been threatening and the coming of the second seemed to herald imminent doom. So far, however, the second destroyer had launched no landing craft. The three warships had not combined their firepower to pound Antea's shield to breaking, though they certainly might have. Imperial reinforcements seemed to be flooding the south bank of the Benton but the mass destruction Juno had anticipated hadn't arrived yet.
She had no idea why, but she wasn't fooling herself. Preliminary reports from the north indicated a massive Imperial ground force was headed toward Antea. Nobody knew where it had come from but that didn't matter. Soon the onslaught would arrive, which meant they had to use every spare second.
When Luke arrived in the command room, Juno was already at the central console along with Trake, Consantius, and Nevetts. Their communications chief had been told about Drasca just minutes ago, and he remained visibly shaken.
"We're up against a wall now," Juno said. "We're outmanned and outgunned. That means we can run, fight, or die." She added, "Frankly, I'm surprised it took them this long to bring out the heavy hitters."
"Well, they have," Consantius said, voice rough with frustration. "That Damorian hauler is standing by and ready to fly, along with close to twenty mid-sized freighters we've requisitioned. Getting past the strike cruiser would have been difficult, but possible. Two star destroyers changes the equation."
"I'm not looking to surrender," said Trake.
"None of us are. I suspect our best option must be a mix or fight or flee."
"But the destroyers-"
"We can scatter into the mountains again," Juno said. "The Imps don't have us surrounded yet, which means we can flee to the north. Go back underground." Like they'd done before all this started, only now they'd wasted their best people and equipment on a quixotic uprising.
"No matter how we evacuate it's going to be hard," Trake pointed out. "We still have almost a hundred people in the hospital, units stations elsewhere in the city, by the bridge-"
"We should start moving the wounded now," Luke said. "Get them to the spaceport where we can evacuate them into the Damorian."
"That thing's useless to us now," Nevetts said. "We can't get past two star destroyers. We're stuck here and the Imps will hunt us down in the hills."
He was bitter, but not wrong. If reports of the new Imperial force encroaching from the north were correct, any escape attempt was a death sentence. Which meant surrender might actually be the best of their bad options. The Imperials would surely torture and execute their leadership; the lower-level infantry might suffer only prison camps, depending on how brutal the Empire's reprisal would be.
When things seemed absolutely untenable, Skywalker said, "You're forgetting one thing. Me."
They all stared. He stared back. "The Imperials must know I'm here. It might be why they haven't started a full-scale attack. The Emperor and Darth Vader want me, probably alive. I'm worth more to them than every rebel on Peralta combined."
It was terribly true. Juno winced. Consantius said, "If they're after you, why haven't they dropped the jamming field and hailed us?"
"I don't know. But I'm willing to open negotiations myself."
"You can't give yourself over to them," Juno said.
"I wasn't planning on it. But if I could draw them along, it could give the rest of you a chance to escape."
"Escape how?" said Trake. "They could push across the river any minute now, and the north-"
"Escape up," Luke insisted, "into space, like we originally planned."
Consantius wagged his head. "They'll shoot us down."
"Not if they want me. Please, let me do this." He looked around the group pleadingly. "I can't let everyone here die if I can do something to help."
So damned earnest. So sacrificial, so heroic. Like Starkiller he could rouse people to attempt the impossible, and he did it by example.
"Commander Skywalker," Consantius said, "you sound like a man with a plan."
"I have one. But it will take time to arrange, and I'll need some help."
He looked around again. His reply was silence until Juno cleared the swelling in her throat and said, "Tell us what we need to do."
-{}-
Bringing Rufaan Tigellinus into the fight had been a gamble, perhaps a foolish one. Takel might live to regret it, but he'd needed more forces to complete this fight. Mandalorian Protectors still harassed most of his sector fleet and he wouldn't beg Imperial Center for ships, so he'd manipulated the young grand admiral. He almost felt bad for Tigellinus, who tried so hard to fit in with the snobby Core aristocrats that he looked strangled by the garrote of his own affected dignity. Takel, thankfully, was liberated of pretension. He was what he was and wanted only to be the best self he could be. It was a better existence by far.
It was unfortunate about Veespa, though he'd known from the start she'd been sent his way by Tigellinus's agents, just like that aubergine Twi'lek before her. Because she'd excited him so, and because she'd given him a potential card to use against Tigellinus, he'd kept her on. The timing had seemed right, the need dire, so he'd played her.
After placing that late-night call to Jabba he'd given her time to relay the fact to Tigellinus, then disposed of her. Takel might have been venal but he wasn't heartless; because she'd given him such pleasure he'd chosen not to execute her and instead sold her off Mammut Toph, thus paying off an overdue debt to the homely Chevin whose prized shuttle had been lost as Shenandor. He'd miss Veespa, to be sure, but at least he had his other concubine (Comara, bless her, could not understand Huttese) and he could always acquire more.
But pleasures of the flesh came after the pleasure of victory.
A dense fog had drifted into the Benton's river valley, obscuring the city from sight but not from the electro-magnetic and thermal sensors aboard the Magic Dragon. Combined with live reports from his garrison commanders in South Antea, Takel constructed a perfect understanding of the battle.
The stormtroopers from his star destroyer had taken the lead in the offensive. The stalemate had lasted for weeks because neither the PPM nor the garrison from Reprobation had armored repulsorcraft meant for crossing water. Magic Dragon had remedied that problem by bringing two dozen waveskimmers. Transporting them through mountains and city had taken days, but now the attack hydrofoils were in action. While stormtroopers crossed the Benton and stormed its battle-wracked shoreline, PPM infantry and heavy Imperial airspeeders pushed across both bridges. The Rebels were fighting a valiant delaying action in North Antea's hilly streets, but they were losing ground, and Takel's forces were working their way inexorably to the spaceport.
Unfortunately, the Rebels had moved so much equipment to defend the river that they had little to slow the advance of Tigellinus' troops. No, not the grand admiral's. The Hell's Hammers were under the authority of the Grand Moff of Outer Rim oversector. Tigellinus must have struck a pact with Ardus Kaine; he might have even told the man about Skywalker.
Takel gave the fop credit. He'd made friends in high places. Takel's friends were all in low places, and while that usually suited him fine, none would avail him now. Which meant he'd have to win this one himself.
As he watched the battle progress on his tactical screens he knew his best chance of getting Skywalker was to call the Rebels and convince them to surrender before the Hammers took the spaceport. Not quite the play he'd wanted to make, but Tigellinus had been more clever than he'd anticipated. The social climber had forced his hand.
Takel was about to order an end to the jamming field over Antea when his tactical officer said, "Sir, they've just dropped shields."
Did they actually think they could run? "Are they putting ships in the air?"
"Wait… they just raised the shield again, sir. It was down for… fifteen seconds."
"A malfunction?" an ensign suggested.
"No," said the tactical lieutenant, "One ship passed through. Very small. Some kind of starfighter. It's climbing toward orbit."
"Tell me the second you get a make on it," Takel said. "Comm, tell Reprobation to prepare an intercept. Do not, repeat, do not fire unless I give permission."
He immediately lost interest in the battle below as the starfighter rose toward them. He stared at that ascending yellow dot on the tactical screen, wondering if his quarry was in fact coming to him. It seemed unlikely, but the Rebels had clearly dropped their shields to let that ship through. It had to be important.
Tigellinus was sure be watching it too, though his star destroyer was higher above the planet and could never intercept before Reprobation got there. Takel could use a burst of revelation and he cursed himself for not slipping a capsule of glitterstim into his uniform. He'd last had spice five hours ago and his high was cratering. Tigellinus had caught him at his worst and so, it seemed, had the Rebels.
Finally his tactical officer said: "We have ID, sir. It's a Delta-7 Aethersprite."
"Where'd they get that fossil?" an ensign muttered.
Takel knew exactly where. His spy had informed him that Skywalker had taken to repairing one of those Clone Wars fighters in the spaceport's spare hangar.
"Have respect, gentlemen. It's not a fossil, it's a classic." Takel folded arms across his chest. "Tell Reprobation they are not to fire on that ship. Neither are the TIEs. They're to corral it but under no circumstances should it be destroyed."
His officers looked at him questioningly, but they obeyed. Takel felt a burst of adrenaline; not as good as spice but good enough. He told his comm officer, "Hail that ship. Get the pilot online."
"Sir..." the lieutenant frowned. "It seems he's hailing us."
"Us?"
"It's on a broad frequency, sir. Everyone nearby can hear it."
Including Tigellinus. Takel snapped his fingers. "Put it on. Now."
A second later a voice sounded across the bridge. It sounded young and earnest. It affected calm but there an audible anxiety beneath the surface.
The voice was saying: "-mander Luke Sywalker of the Rebel Alliance. Again, I'm sure at least one of you up there knows who I am. I've come to offer my surrender, in exchange for letting my friends go."
-{}-
As he spoke, Luke found his mouth was dry. That bothered him; he needed something to drink and something to calm his beating heart. This was his plan, the best he could think of. His comrades had put their trust in him. If he failed, he failed them all.
He sent his message and waited. Shifting uncomfortably in his fighter's cockpit, he whispered, "Everything working back there, Artoo?"
The droid, tucked in his dorsal socket, hooted affirmatively.
"Good. Things are going to get trickier soon." Luke tapped his controls and brought up the fighter's holographic heads-up display. Red lights marked the two star destroyers, the strike cruiser, and the six TIE fighters rushing toward his Aethersprite. They were trying to box him in. Somebody indeed knew who Luke was.
It seemed to take forever for the reply to come, though it was mere seconds. A voice scratched over his comm: "This is Grand Admiral Takel aboard the Magic Dragon. I know exactly who you are, Skywalker, and will accept your surrender. Allow those TIEs to escort you to my star destroyer, where—"
Luke's headset screeched and another voice joined the conversation. "This is Grand Admiral Tigellinus of the Avatar. You will fly aboard my vessel immediately. If you let yourself be waylaid by any other ships, your friends are forfeit."
One grand admiral was shocking; two made Luke's head spin. Before he could figure out his reply they began talking over one another.
"Fly toward Avatar immediately and I will command a halt of my troops' advancement from the north," promised Tigellinus. "They will refrain from molesting the spaceport and allow your allies to depart."
But Takel said, "They will never leave this planet. I will blast them out of the sky the moment they open the shield barrier unless you allow my escorts to take you to Magic Dragon."
"Do not listen to that clown!" snapped Tigellinus. "Only I can guarantee the safety of your friends."
"You don't guarantee anything," growled Takel. "This is my planet and my jurisdiction. I decide its fate, not you."
"There'd be nothing to decide if your brain-dead hired thugs hadn't botched their first attempt. You're not just an insipid clod, you're a criminal!"
"Yes, and you're a pompous ass. Have we gotten name-calling out of the way?"
They snapped back and forth, talking over one another until Luke's headset crackled static. He killed the transmission and concentrated on his heads-up display. The TIEs fighters were almost on his Aethersprite; very soon Takel would have it in his grasp. This entire operation was a stalling mission, so Luke tugged his control stick, quickly but smoothly moving the fighter off-course. The TIEs would chase but not fire, not unless they thought he was going to run.
There was no point in that. An Aethersprite, like a TIE fighter, had no onboard hyperdrive. Takel and Tigellinus would surely know that, so they'd bat him around like two tooka cats fighting over a stuffed toy, neither of them willing to make the final blow.
Luke's spirits lifted; this could work better than he'd ever imagined.
He switched his comm frequency. "General Eclipse, do you hear me?"
"Loud and clear, Commander," Juno replied. "Sitrep?"
"I currently had two admirals—sorry, grand admirals—competing for me."
"You're serious?"
"Very. I'll try to play them off each other as long as I can."
"What should we do?"
"If you plan to run for it, now's the time."
"We'll begin immediately. Don't drag this out too long. When things get hairy, bail."
"That was my plan. I'll take the rest from here. May the Force be with you."
A tiny pause. "You too, Commander. Eclipse out."
-{}-
Juno took a deep breath as she stepped away from the communications console. "It's working," she declared. "Skywalker says we should start evacuations."
Despite the urgency of the matter, nobody around her leaped into motion. From the command center they'd been tracking it all: the collapse of their southern line, the frenzied fall-back to the spaceport, the desperate loading of people and equipment and the Imperial advance from the north.
"Thanks to the shield dome, our skies are still clear," Nevetts said. "The Imps haven't sent TIEs down to the atmosphere yet."
"Then it's the best time to run," Consantius spoke gravely. "We should try to get as many ships into the air as possible before we lower our shields, so they can all flee at once." He glanced at Juno. "Or would they be vulnerable to anti-air fire?"
"Most of those ships have shields," she replied. "They should be able to withstand whatever the ground forces throw up. Those Impstars..."
She didn't have to say the rest. The ex-senator said, "We'll have to put out faith in Commander Skywalker."
"No," said Juno, "We put faith in each other. Nevetts, go help Trake finish loading the Damorian. That's our biggest ship and it's got all our wounded on it. It's our highest priority."
"All right, General. But the shields-"
"I'll stay behind and lower them."
"But General-"
"That's an order. And I don't plan on dying. There's still small ships I can fly out of here."
"I know, but your wound-"
She smiled tightly. "It'll slow me down until I get to a ship. Then I'll be just fine. I used to be quite a pilot, you know."
Doubt never left his face. "I'm sure that's true, but I thought, all things considered, it might be more fitting if I stay behind."
She looked at Nevetts and saw more than doubt. She saw grief, regret, recrimination, all aimed at himself. All things she knew too well.
"I won't condemn you for your choice of loves, Lieutenant." The words scraped her throat. "Now go. Get out of here."
Nevetts nodded and snapped a salute. Juno, leaning against the command console for stead, raised her free hand and returned the gesture. Then the lieutenant hurried from the chamber.
The command room was emptying out. Only a few technicians remained to oversee the collapse of their futile two-week stand. But Senator Consantius stayed beside Juno. She told the older man, "You should get going too. The Damorian is ready for you, though I'd understand if you want one of the quicker, better-armed freighters."
He shook his head. "There's plenty people waiting for a berth, including some civilians who'd rather risk running. Let them have the ships."
"Senator, if you're thinking of dying here-"
He chuckled dryly. "I'm thinking about it, as are we all. But I'm not planning on it any more than you are." He raised his right brow just a little, begging a question.
Juno said, "I intend to get out as soon as I lower the shield. I have a ship reserved. You should be on one by then."
"I will be. But until the shield drops, I'll be down on the landing pads getting people to safety. This is my planet, General. If I have to run from it, I'm going to be on the last ship out, not the first."
She heard the conviction in his words, grim but unshakable, and was left speechless.
Consantius saw it and smiled. "I'm not a fool, General. I know you think I'm a grandstander who blunders into military operations he doesn't have any place in."
She couldn't bring herself to lie. Instead she softened it a little. "I wouldn't go quite that far."
"Maybe you should have. Maybe if you'd talked sense into me..." he sighed. "It doesn't matter now. We made our stand."
"We did."
He extended a hand. "It's been a privilege to work with you."
She stared at that hand for a long moment. Then she took it, shook it, released. "May the Force be with you, Senator."
He blinked in surprise, then ventured a smile. "I hope it's with us all, especially our young hero. Farewell, General."
Farewell. She watched him leave the chamber and wondered if he expected to die here, or if he expected her to die. Maybe both. Odds were still strong that none of them would make it through this day. It was like the slaughter at Shenandor all over again. She'd only survived there because of Starkiller. Now her life, and everyone else's, were in the new hero's hands.