Nine years, eight months, and ten days after the Battle of Yavin...
Or forty-four years, eight months, and ten days after the Great Resynchronization.
(Three months and thirty days since the arrival).
Such events are often described as — it hasn't even been a year.
In my particular case — as soon as the ship's chronometer ticked past midnight, my adjutant informed me that the baroness was "ready for a conversation."
There was still ample time before the rendezvous with the fleet's ships involved in the operation to liberate the Oplovis sector from the forces of the New Republic.
Operational reports have been studied and analyzed.
I cannot say everything is perfect, but perfection is, in principle, unattainable. Anyone who claims otherwise is a liar.
The events unfolding in the Dominion (oh, how tempting it is to say "Domination"), as well as beyond its borders, fall within acceptable margins of error, so there is no cause for concern at the moment. Except, perhaps, for finances...
An aurodium credit...
Well, no matter how much I "spread my wings" in front of Kaine, this financial mechanism has its "flaws." However, as a temporary equivalent and a means of legitimizing the aurodium plundered by Captain Nym from the Imperial Treasury, along with the numerous gems he has stashed across Lok, it will suffice. For a certain period, while the regime change is solidified and the Dominion is established, this mechanism will function as planned.
Let the politicians, the DSB, and other governing and oversight bodies handle it—those who, by the way, are handsomely compensated for their work.
Accompanied by the ever-present Rukh and Tierce, I took a short walk down the corridor from my quarters to those occupied by the baroness.
After being informed of my arrival, the young woman invited me inside.
Well... Comparing my quarters to these, one could say Thrawn lives rather spartanly. The abundance of elegance and luxury here is almost blinding. And I know for certain that the aristocrat did not bring this with her.
On the other hand—what did I expect from quarters designed to make high-ranking dignitaries and Imperial officials, who happen to find themselves aboard a starship, feel "at home"?
On this day, the baroness appeared rather modest—simple trousers, a blouse, her hair cascading over her shoulders like a waterfall. She looked rested, and the image of a shrew was somehow less pronounced.
— Thank you for coming, Grand Admiral, — the young woman greeted me at the entrance, gesturing for me to sit on one of two small sofas positioned across from each other. A small table between them was already adorned with fruits, and at its center stood a bottle of aged Wirren's wine, accompanied by two bulbous goblets.
So much for a conversation...
— At your service, Baroness, — I said, settling into one of the chairs. Feena took her place in the other, casting a wary glance at Rukh, who was crouched by the door. Tierce wisely remained on the other side. — So, you wished to speak privately. I am all ears.
— Wine? — the young woman inquired.
— I must decline, — I replied, immediately disregarding aristocratic etiquette. According to its rules, when a lady offers a drink, one does not refuse. — I am on duty.
— Do you ever have days off? — the lady snapped her fingers, and a C3-PO protocol droid, akin to the one associated with the Skywalker family but clad in silver plating, shuffled toward us. It approached with a gleaming tray bearing a chilled pitcher of fruit juice. Like the pair of glasses beside it, the pitcher was made of crystal—highly valued as tableware for nobility. — Do you mind? Berry-flavored.
— Peace is but a dream for us, — I remarked, accepting the glass of chilled juice offered to me. — Thank you.
The young woman nodded courteously in response before taking a sip...
She wants something, and she wants it badly. According to the etiquette of this galaxy, a lady does not serve men who are not part of her close family, friends, or confidants. There are two possibilities here: either the baroness is deliberately ignoring etiquette—which is unlikely, as for aristocrats, nothing is more natural and expected than adhering to its rules, except in the specific circumstances mentioned—or she is intentionally trying to gain my trust.
Why do I suddenly recall the machinations of Leonia Tavira and the Iceheart? The baroness has chosen some middle ground between those two extremes.
Well, all that remains is to observe how events unfold.
After dabbing her lips with a napkin (thank the stars she didn't lick them like a cat gorged on cream), she looked me in the eyes:
— What are you striving for, Grand Admiral?
Well, now. Straight to the point.
That's good. Well done.
But it won't be that simple:
— You should specify your question, Baroness, — I said. — Or provide the context that interests you.
— Politics, — she clarified, which didn't simplify matters. — What goals are you setting for the Dominion?
— The preservation of the finest Imperial values on the territories under my control, — I explained.
— And why not the New Order specifically? — The question should have been accompanied by a look of surprise from the young woman, but... there was none. She is well-informed enough to understand the current realities.
— I do not consider the New Order to be correct, — I stated. — The Emperor rose to power by proclaiming a humanocentric policy, yet the Chagrian Mas Amedda was his close ally. I must note that this decision was entirely justified—Mas Amedda was indeed an exceptional politician. As were many others, such as the Caamasi—had they served the Empire, they could have brought thousands of worlds into its fold without bloodshed, and many Rebel cells would never have formed due to their diplomatic prowess. Instead, we saw constant persecutions on worlds populated by aliens, despite the Empire leaving many of them untouched.
— An instructive history lesson, — the young woman gave a wry smile. — Well, you are correct; that's how it turned out. Some representatives of non-human species do deserve a place in the Empire's highest circles. But, from what I've heard, you've truly decided to grant equal rights to humans and non-humans alike. Is that so?
— That is correct, — I confirmed. — I am not in the habit of acting in ways that contradict my words.
— Previously, aliens were used merely as an economic appendage, — noted the bearer of the D'Asta name. — That is, they could not aspire to state-level authority beyond managing a sector or holding a senatorial position...
— Baroness, — I interrupted her with a gesture. — Everything you might say, I undoubtedly already know. Let us get to the point. I am certain you, like me, have matters to attend to beyond sharing reflections on historical milestones.
— Very well, if that is truly what you desire, — the young woman took another sip. — I am authorized to discuss with you the matter of ransoming Leia Organa Solo and her children from your captivity.
Quite the interesting development...
Not generals who possess knowledge of troop placements, military doctrine, or the training level of the New Republic's armed forces, but specifically Organa Solo and her children.
What are the odds that this woman holds critical information? Quite high. She has not been interrogated because I can obtain all necessary information through my agents or Delta Source. Torturing her would be pointless—it would only create an enemy, both in her and her extensive network of family and friends. I'm already playing with fire...
But something tells me it's not military secrets they're after.
Considering my recent conversation with Grand Moff Kaine, particularly its final part, I have strong suspicions about who might actually want these three.
The question is, why didn't Kaine express such a desire? The news has spread across the galaxy and could not have failed to reach the ears of the Deep Core's inhabitants.
If Palpatine is in contact with Ardus, he could have simply ordered him to do whatever it takes to secure the twins and Leia...
Stop. Let's hold that thought.
— May I inquire who needs the councilor and two newborn children, and for what purpose? — My clarification didn't faze the young woman.
— Sarcev Quest, — she replied. The name of a man who, if memory serves, led a conspiracy against the Reborn Emperor. — As for why he needs them... I honestly don't know. But the Imperial Ruling Council discussed using Organa Solo and her children to negotiate the return of several sectors, or even supersectors, under our control.
I, of course, "believed" that.
No, that's not how it works. Initially, I thought the Imperial Ruling Council's interest might indeed lie in a profitable exchange for Orinda, but now I'm firmly convinced that Palpatine has reached out not only to Kaine but also to the government of the Imperial Space—at least to some of its members. Given that the Imperial Ruling Council's inept and divisive policies allowed them to seize only scraps of the territories once controlled by Warlord Zsinj, and lately they've been preoccupied with scheming against each other with the active involvement of various political elites, it's no surprise that those who have personally spoken with Palpatine or his Dark Side Elite have decided to appease the old man by delivering potential Jedi and their mother. This means... there's a strong suspicion that they've already sent for Skywalker as well.
Well, then...
— I have roughly the same intentions, — I declared. — So, with all due respect, I'm afraid we have a conflict of interests. You likely don't have what I need and what I'd be willing to exchange these prisoners for.
The children are clearly not wanted by Palpatine for transferring his consciousness into them—that course of action required a series of events that may not even occur.
— Is that so? — the baroness seemed surprised. — The Imperial Space holds the largest territory among all the Imperial Remnants. We have a strong army, numerous ships, inexhaustible mobilization resources. Full-cycle shipyards, — well, now... Let's not exaggerate. There's only one such shipyard—Bilbringi. But no one's stopping her from puffing up her chest and boasting about her importance. Truth be told, it elicits nothing but an internal smile from anyone remotely familiar with the current situation in the Imperial Space.
— In that case, since your resources and capabilities are so vast, it shouldn't be difficult for you to negotiate with Grand Moff Kaine to transfer the Super Star Destroyer Reaper to my command in exchange for the specified prisoners, — I said calmly.
The baroness's face froze in a mix of bewilderment and irritation.
— Are you joking, Grand Admiral? — she asked.
— We've already discussed this matter, — I reminded her.
— Do you genuinely believe we would negotiate with Grand Moff Ardus Kaine? — she said in a tone that suggested such a thing was utterly impossible. Though, who knows their internal politics? One day they love, the next they hate. One moment they're calling for an Emperor, the next they change their minds.
— How you acquire that ship or one of its kind for me is not my concern, — I said, realizing that the search would likely begin as soon as this conversation ended. Considering what I recall about Sarcev Quest, who wants to acquire the princess and her children, and his role as Palpatine's servant during the Reborn Emperor's return, it's not out of the question that he might ask his master—if he's in contact with him—to pressure Kaine into yielding the ship to me. Or they might procure another, perhaps one from the Anaxes fleet that retreated to the Deep Core. — You want these prisoners; I want a Super Star Destroyer to secure my territories.
— You know full well we don't have such resources, — the baroness frowned.
— Didn't you just assure me of the vastness of your capabilities? — I inquired.
— But not to that extent... — the aristocrat grimaced.
For several minutes, we sat in silence. I enjoyed observing the workings of her mind play out on her face as she clearly sifted through her remaining options.
Meanwhile, condensation dripped down my glass of juice...
I'm not certain the baroness would try to poison me aboard my own flagship, but knowing who she truly is, one shouldn't be surprised by anything.
She is an emissary of Sarcev Quest. I don't know this man personally, but I recall plenty about him... none of it particularly positive. Not to mention that he was once an Emperor's Hand, just like Mara Jade. If Mara's character could be somewhat predicted or calculated, this scheming conspirator is someone I have no intention of getting close to—or letting get close to me.
— Very well, — the baroness said. — Let's try a different approach. We've already granted you the title of Supreme Commander and assisted in building up your armed forces, which allowed you to achieve so much, — a "title," not a position. It seems like a mere difference in words, but in reality, I have no control over the armed forces of the Imperial Space or any other Remnants.
A "wedding general," nothing more. Everything I have was earned through my own efforts without Orinda's interference. They foisted off on me what they didn't need and now try to spin it to their advantage.
A very old manipulation tactic, to say the least.
— And I am grateful for your support, — I said. — As well as for sabotaging my recruitment centers for volunteers. That helped me significantly. As did the partial disarmament of the starships transferred to me—specifically, the removal of the Xg-1 gunboats from the star destroyers' fighter wings.
The young woman clearly didn't appreciate my words.
— There was a misunderstanding, — she said. — You promised to use our sectors as rear bases, yet you changed your deployment, leading to the Ubiqtorate's withdrawal from the Imperial Space and...
— Spare me the theatrics, — I requested. — War demands swift decisions in a changing environment. As for the Ubiqtorate... From what I hear, your counterintelligence units are still operational, so...
— Fine, let's stop this, — Feena pleaded. — We cannot give you an Imperial Super Star Destroyer—we simply don't have one. Kaine would never part with it—not unless we offered the Bilbringi Shipyards, which isn't even up for discussion by the Council. We could offer you several Star Destroyers instead, but...
— That doesn't interest me, — I said. If we're interrupting each other, I'll show it works both ways. — Perhaps you have a Death Star or something similar? Wild rumors suggest someone is still designing and building them.
— What nonsense, — the baroness wrinkled her nose. — We don't have that either. Don't you think such a "price" is excessive?
— For the closest advisor and friend of the de facto leader of the New Republic, Mon Mothma, a hero of the Rebel Alliance, the daughter of Darth Vader, who has given birth to two Force-sensitive twins—is a Super Star Destroyer too much? — I clarified. Feena fell silent. — I think acquiring the descendants of Darth Vader, especially after all the turmoil with Trioculus that fractured the Empire, would be valuable enough to trade for something more substantial from the New Republic. I could do that just as well as you.
— I am authorized to inform you that Sarcev Quest is prepared to lobby for your inclusion in the Imperial Ruling Council as an active member, with the ability to influence the Council's decisions and the Imperial Space as a whole, — judging by her less-than-enthusiastic expression, the young woman was clearly displeased at having to resort to this argument. — The Dominion will remain your personal domain, and no one will encroach upon it, now or in the future. Sarcev Quest will personally ensure this. He is, in effect, the leading figure in the Imperial Ruling Council.
And he sent Feena D'Asta to negotiate with me.
And he will play some "interesting" roles during the Reborn Emperor's invasion...
When, within a day, two parties close to an old maniac with an unresolved obsession with turning Skywalkers to the Dark Side offer you cooperation, promising not to cause problems for you and your fledgling state, and both are clearly puppets of the most deranged Sith of the century, how unlikely is it that you'd believe them?
Exactly. I don't believe them either. But by fulfilling Ardus Kaine's "request," I at least satisfy my own desires and needs to weaken the enemy and strengthen myself. By taking Imperial technology, which is largely useless in the hands of former Rebels, I'm doing them a favor.
According to negotiations with members of the New Republic's Provisional Council, they have the capacity to redirect resources to commission a large number of star cruisers, bolstering their fleet. So, what's the problem? I have enough of your soldiers in captivity to crew a hundred, maybe more, Mon Calamari star cruisers.
Such obtuse creatures...
— I am grateful to Lord Quest for the trust he has shown me, but I must decline, — the woman's face showed surprise. Well, yes, who in their right mind would refuse such a "promotion"? — I am not a politician; I am a military commander. I have no other task or desire but to eliminate threats to the citizens I've sworn to protect.
— But the Dominion... — the baroness began, but I interrupted her with a gesture.
— The Dominion was created as a necessary rear and resource base, which you deprived me of by deciding, without my input, the reasons why I didn't use the Imperial Space for that purpose. You assumed I was reneging on our agreement and began taking steps to reduce your support for me, — at these words, the baroness looked away. At least she had the decency to blush. — But none of you contacted me to seek clarification.
— As if you would have provided it? — D'Asta said, sounding offended, as if this were her personal defeat. Perhaps she was supposed to be the liaison between me and the Imperial Ruling Council—who knows.
— Was it not obvious that I was luring the enemy fleet into a trap? — I clarified. — The Morshdine sector and the base on Tangrene were a dead-end hyperspace route, perfect for an ambush. However, changes in the situation, including the cutoff of incoming reserves, forced me to adjust my plans. The trap meant for the Morshdine sector systems was relocated to the Ciutric Hegemony.
— Oh, — the white-haired baroness looked at me with interest. — If this was all a simple misunderstanding, then we should combine our efforts and integrate your forces and resources into our armed...
— No, — I said firmly. — No mergers.
— But why? — she asked, genuinely surprised.
— Because I have no desire to fall victim to further misunderstandings or lack of communication, — my voice remained calm, as always. The longer I inhabit Thrawn's body, the easier it becomes to be him—not just appear as him. The process isn't perfect, but progress is being made.
— But you are the Supreme Commander, — the young woman reminded me. — If the Imperial Space faces any threat...
— Trust me, I will neutralize that threat before you even learn of its existence, — I said. — Besides, the Imperial Space's military doctrine is defensive, and it has proven effective. Your borders are secure, and I've long since taken the fight to the enemy's territory.
— We could supply you with ammunition, equipment, personnel, — she persisted.
"Spies, saboteurs, assassins, agents of influence..." I mentally continued what she left unsaid.
— I must decline again, — I said. — I have sufficient resources to meet my needs.
— Even tibanna? — the baroness asked with interest.
— Just another resource, like any other, — I shrugged. — Baroness, let us not waste your time or mine. You want my high-ranking prisoners before I trade them to the New Republic for certain concessions—tell Lord Quest that I want a Executor-class Star Destroyer in exchange, preferably the Reaper.
— Why that one specifically?
— I like the name, — I shrugged.
The young woman closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
Then she let loose:
— Thrawn, either you have a poor sense of humor, or you fail to grasp the opportunities before you! Sarcev Quest himself invites you to join him, to become his ally in reforming the Empire! You keep your territories, and I believe they wouldn't even object if you claimed a few neutral sectors that remain unaligned! All that's required is to hand over the woman and two infants, and you'll have access to all the resources of the Imperial Space to conquer the New Republic! You defeated their massive forces with far fewer troops! Imagine what you could do with the entire Empire's resources!
I can imagine. Far better and more clearly than you might think.
I don't need that kind of "happiness" right now.
As a famous general from my world's antiquity once said: "Better ten warriors beside you than a thousand far away." The quote isn't exact, and I'm not fond of Mongol sayings.
— Baroness, — I said calmly. — You're at a negotiation, not a bazaar day on Shaum Hii. You've stated your demands; I've given you mine. If you can fulfill them before the New Republic does, you'll get what you want. If not—well, a deal is a deal. Now, if you'll excuse me, duty calls. You may remain aboard the Chimaera as long as you wish. I recall you wanted to interrogate my high-ranking prisoners, — meeting her gaze, I allowed myself a slight smile. — I thought as much. The pretext for this meeting was rather... superficial.
Quest's supporter huffed indignantly as I rose from the sofa and headed for the exit. Rukh sprang to his feet like a coiled spring as I approached.
— I simply don't understand you, Grand Admiral, — her words followed me. — I'm trying to understand, but I can't. What drives you? What categories do you think in? What are you aiming for?
Pausing, I looked at Feena. Her face displayed anger, irritation, sadness, and... curiosity. Genuine, childlike, fervent curiosity. What is wrong with you people?
— Don't trouble yourself, Baroness, — I advised. — Neither you nor anyone else will figure it out. Good day.
As the door closed behind me, I heard a distinct sound of impact, as if someone had thrown something light, made of crystal, against it.
Major Tierce, the guards, and Rukh instantly snapped to combat readiness, weapons drawn...
— At ease, — I ordered. — One glass more or less won't bankrupt us.
***
Climbing out of the training capsule where Ysanne Isard and her pilots were training the surviving Rogue Squadron pilots to fly TIE Defenders (in the Iceheart's typical fashion, using combat footage of the Rogues themselves, forcing the Republicans to attack their own), Corran Horn glanced at Colonel Wessiri, the commander of the fighter wing stationed at this base.
— You've orchestrated a collective suicide, — he said, frowning.
Well, so what if all eight Rogues crashed into an asteroid at full speed? It happens.
— Did you think we'd shoot at ourselves? — Corran smirked, exchanging glances with the other pilots emerging from their cockpits. — No, those tricks won't work on us.
— Colonel, — Tycho Celchu approached. Wessiri regarded him with respect, as an equal. — If Isard has nothing better to do than try to brainwash my people, as she did to me and Horn on the Lusankya, then I conclude she's not as worried about the problems she was ranting about not long ago.
The Imperial was silent for a moment before responding:
— I'm not thrilled about the training programs you've been given, but I must say, there are no others at this base. My people were trained to fight against you, so...
— Maybe stop feeding us vacuum, Colonel? — Corran interjected. — You think the Iceheart can't get her hands on something we'd actually need to fight Thrawn? Sorry, I don't buy it.
— Stop acting like children, — Tycho supported. — Either we do our job, or drop us off in some corner of space and leave us there.
— I'll do everything in my power, Colonel Celchu, — Wessiri said. — Your people can rest. Training resumes in a few hours.
In true Imperial fashion, without farewells, the wing commander turned sharply on his left heel and headed for the exit.
— Colonel, — Corran said quietly, — this alliance with Isard reeks of a dead rancor from parsecs away.
— A herd of rancors, — Tycho corrected. — Keep doing what we're doing.
— Shoot me now, but I don't believe Isard's fairy tales, — the Corellian warned.
— No one's asking you to, — Celchu smiled. He and Corran had been through too much—both had been on the Lusankya and resisted the brainwashing the Iceheart tried on them. They had their reasons not to trust the former Director of Imperial Intelligence. — On the contrary, I'm certain her stories about her clone, helping to destroy Thrawn, and wanting to retire are Sith nonsense.
— Yeah, that dame's not the type you take at her word, — Corran agreed. — I wouldn't be surprised if there's no clone and she's been working with Thrawn from the start, feeding us murky data to take us out of the game.
— Sounds too familiar to fall for that trick twice, doesn't it? — Tycho asked.
Corran nodded silently.
— This whole thing is driving me up to Jedi liturgy, not knowing where my wife is, — he admitted.
— And your father-in-law, — Tycho reminded him.
— Well... — Corran drawled. — I wouldn't say I miss Booster, but...
— I won't tell Wedge or Mirax that, — Tycho smiled.
— Better not tell Booster either, — the Corellian sighed.
— I understand how you feel, — Celchu's expression darkened. — Let's hope the prisoner list Thrawn dumped on the HoloNet, which Isard so kindly provided, is genuine.
— Even if she's lying, I'm calm, — Corran said unexpectedly. — Miri and Booster are fine.
— How do you know? — Tycho asked curiously.
— The Force, — Horn admitted reluctantly. — That old man K'baoth may be out of his mind, but I picked up a few of his lessons. And improvised a bit. Spent half the night trying to picture Mirax... and it worked. I saw her as if she were real. She's in some cell. Booster too. They seem alive, healthy...
— Corran, I'm genuinely happy for you, — Tycho said. — But... I don't know... Maybe try reaching Wedge like that?
— And what would I say if I did? — Horn asked. — "Listen to the Force, Antilles?" At best, he'd think his fuselage is leaking. At worst, that I've completely lost it.
— Yeah, — Tycho mused. — What if...?
— Skywalker? — Horn lowered his voice. Tycho nodded. — I don't know, haven't tried. He seemed... too perfect back on Jomark. While we were fixing his X-wing's antenna, I thought I'd punch my face in. Imagine this guy had a vision that his sister and friends were trapped by Imperials in the Milagro system, couldn't contact them at all, and just kept doing what he was sent there for. I don't know—if being a Jedi means putting duty above mortal danger to your loved ones, then...
— Sometimes all you can do is hope, — Tycho sighed. Realizing that Thrawn's prisoner list included a name important to Celchu, Corran bit his tongue.
— I... hope Winter's okay too, — he said sympathetically.
— Thanks, she's... a dear person to me, — the Alderaanian said reservedly. Though he didn't say it outright, it was clear that Princess Leia's aide was more than just a "friend" to him.
Oh, these family matters...
Feeling a pang of guilt, Corran glanced toward the lounge area.
There, among the other pilots who weren't exactly cheerful but weren't sitting with mournful faces either, Gavin Darklighter sat quietly in a corner.
After the death of his beloved and comrade, Asyr Sei'lar, was confirmed by multiple sources, the young man from Tatooine had been despondent.
If there had been even a sliver of hope before, now...
— We need to support Gavin somehow, — Horn muttered, knowing he didn't have the right words. Maybe Tycho...
— I've tried, — the Rogue Squadron commander said. — It didn't go well...
— Losing comrades is one thing, but losing a loved one... — Corran trailed off, feeling a lump in his throat. He'd lost his mind when he thought Mirax was dead, grasping at every straw of hope...
— You weren't with us when it happened, — Tycho said suddenly. — We flew to Coruscant once. Fey'lya summoned Asyr. And... well, they were planning to have a child...
— What about the species barrier? — Corran blinked. — Humans and Bothans... that doesn't work, right? Or did something change while I was gone?
— Adoption, — Tycho explained. — They wanted to adopt a Bothan child. Asyr came back from her meeting with Fey'lya all ruffled, like she'd been tossed in a dryer after a shower. Basically... our councilor tore into her, saying he'd crush any such initiative if she didn't stop neglecting her own people. He threatened trouble for Gavin, for all of us...
— That... — Corran clenched his teeth. And his fists. — That rug-in-the-making. He knows how to hit where it hurts.
— Gavin's convinced she fought to die, — Tycho added. — So that... councilor... couldn't manipulate us through her anymore.
— I hope Thrawn turns him into a mantle for some lady, — Corran said earnestly. — If Asyr really pulled suicidal maneuvers just to get him off her back... I already cut one creep's head off; this one I'll roast under the thrusters and say the Force told me to. Jedi or not!
— You're some kind of wrong Jedi, — Tycho said cautiously. — They say Jedi are peaceful, for order...
— I'm for the same thing, — Corran said. — Peace, order, harmony...
— Oh, really? — Tycho looked at him skeptically. — And who cut a Jedi's head off?
— I did it with peace in my heart, Master, — Corran said, mimicking "Skywalker-like serenity." — I swear by my lightsaber, my hand was guided by the Force and good intentions.
For some reason, Celchu didn't find it funny.
Though Horn wasn't joking.
***
Every negotiation is preceded by intense preparation.
When you intend to conduct a direct, private dialogue with a representative of a governing body that positions itself as the sole legitimate authority over worlds upholding Imperial order, the volume of information to process is colossal.
In my case, this is happening after the fact.
I've already realized that the Imperial Space reeks of rot, and now, as the final pieces of the puzzle form a complete picture, it's time to see just how deep the rabbit hole goes.
Spreading dozens of infochips across the table in my quarters, I began reviewing them one by one.
There were intelligence reports, data from the Iceheart's spies (including those gathered back when the galaxy knew only one version of Isard), brief excerpts from Delta Source analysts' reports, ISB agent dispatches...
And my own memories, filling in the gaps of this fragmented picture to create a comprehensive understanding of the beings I'm being asked to connect with through the baroness.
A fitting epigraph for the general characterization of the governing body controlling the largest of the Imperial Remnants—the Imperial Space—would be the words of the Republican historian Archul Gekstrofon, whose works are currently quite popular on the HoloNet:
"...Confident that an Empire founded on betrayal cannot be governed by trust, he surrounded himself with advisors who owe all their political achievements to the Emperor. He ensured each advisor had more enemies than allies among the others. Fear and greed bind each advisor to the Emperor. Palpatine finds this arrangement more satisfactory than mere loyalty..."
That's all one needs to understand about this structure. It's sufficient for the New Republic to grasp the process controlling the forces hostile to them.
But, as always, it's not that simple.
The Imperial Ruling Council has had many names since its inception.
It was the "Imperial Inner Circle," the "Emperor's Inner Circle," and after the defeat at Endor, it became known as the "Emperor's Ruling Circle." It's also referred to as the "Cabal," "Tribunal," or "Imperial Interim Ruling Council." Unfortunately, rebranding the name doesn't change the essence of what's happening there.
The Emperor created this collective governing body from advisors who had been close to him for a long time—some served him even when he was just starting his political career. Aside from the Emperor himself, the Imperial Ruling Council was the highest legislative body in the Galactic Empire. While Palpatine led the Empire, the Council managed the state's daily affairs and carried out the Emperor's will.
Technically, each advisor was responsible for their part of the Empire's vast bureaucratic machine, and at times, the number of advisors reached several hundred. They convened to discuss critical issues and situations at the Imperial Court. Curiously, the Emperor didn't deign to attend every Council meeting. In fact, agents couldn't even provide evidence that he ever attended. To oversee the Council's work, there was a figure who enjoyed the Emperor's full trust—the Grand Vizier, Sate Pestage. He led the Council, acting as the key political strategist.
Particularly noteworthy is the general characterization of the advisors in the Council. Those who shared Palpatine's vision for the galaxy did so not out of personal ambition but out of idealism and loyalty. However, they were a minority—those beings the future Emperor relied on while gradually eliminating his political opposition in the Old Republic, step by step, to reach the pinnacle of power. Over the years, as Palpatine became Supreme Chancellor, he recruited more compliant advisors whose allegiance to his agenda was driven by intense personal ambitions, such as Mas Amedda, Sly Moore, and Sarcev Quest.
As for Sate Pestage, it's known that he was killed by Krennel, so the other notable advisors are of interest.
The Iceheart could only say about the first that after the Empire's proclamation, he lost his previous position as Vice-Chancellor in the Old Republic but became an advisor instead. He also carried out special tasks for Palpatine, collecting ancient relics. What kind? The original Isard didn't know, as this was long before her rise to power in Imperial Intelligence, and her predecessors weren't forthcoming on such matters. One thing is clear: at some point before the Battle of Endor, the Chagrian disappeared, and no one looked for him. Typical Imperial treatment of even its senior officials.
Knowing Palpatine, one could assume he used the Force-insensitive Chagrian to search for Sith or Jedi artifacts. A reasonable decision, as it offers some assurance that ancient knowledge wouldn't corrupt someone unable to wield it, even if they understood it someday.
Next is Sly Moore.
Alongside Isard, when she became head of Imperial Intelligence, this woman was called Palpatine's mistress. Even more distasteful, by reliable accounts, this Umbaran indeed bore a child for Palpatine. Whether it was a natural conception or another of Palpatine's genetic experiments with Sly Moore is unclear. Regardless, unconfirmed reports suggest Sly Moore died in the Ghost Nebula on her homeworld, giving birth to a three-eyed mutant named Triclops. A year after Palpatine's death at Endor, another three-eyed mutant, Trioculus, posing as Triclops, clashed with Isard, who had subjugated part of the Empire. No need to clutter one's mind with doubts about whether Isard's rival is dead. Such beings don't survive.
As for Palpatine's alleged son... and rumors of a grandson named Ken, who supposedly befriended Luke Skywalker... it opens intriguing possibilities. Using Palpatine's biological heir to subdue the Imperial Remnants? It would be the least bloody way to end the Imperial Civil War. However, according to Noghri Overclan reports, one Imperial warlord already tried something similar. It ended badly—the Noghri wiped them all out.
But Sarcev Quest... now that's interesting. At the very least, because among those of any significance, he's the only one currently on the Council.
The data on him is clear—he's a dangerous opponent. He cannot be trusted under any circumstances if one wishes to live long.
Cunning, stubborn, ambitious, and power-hungry. Not to mention he's a Force-sensitive being who long served as an Emperor's Hand, carrying out Palpatine's vilest operations, including abducting children born from his genetic experiments. I'm certain he's now plotting to appease Palpatine for the Empire's collapse and numerous failures. Vader's descendants, especially if raised as loyal servants, would likely be enough for that madman to overlook all "transgressions."
But that's merely a façade.
My conversation with Feena gave me insight that Sarcev is already seeking allies for an impending coup.
It's a fascinating political intrigue.
Palpatine emerges from his lair with all his forces. He's gifted Leia and Han's children, possibly even Luke Skywalker.
Given that I haven't drastically altered galactic events, it's likely Palpatine's motivation to control Skywalker as an alternative to Vader remains unchanged.
He'd gain control over all of Vader's descendants. No one, even in their right mind, would refuse such a "gift."
In known events, Palpatine entrusted the military campaign against the New Republic to the Dark Side Elite.
If Quest delivers all of Vader's descendants, Palpatine, in his elation, might hand over command of the campaign to him.
That would place the full might of the Imperial Remnants and Palpatine's monstrous forces on Byss in the hands of an ambitious, Dark Side-corrupted being who hasn't yet gone mad. The effect would be akin to Darth Vader coming to power with his children and grandchildren by his side.
This armada would obliterate everything in its path.
The New Republic, the Dominion—everything.
That's precisely why the Imperial Ruling Council is desperate to acquire this trio from me. Sarcev Quest is willing to pay any price to secure this "gift" for his master.
Minimal investment for maximum gain.
With such an armada and superweapon in his hands, Sarcev Quest could destroy even Palpatine.
It's well-known that New Order supporters love bowing to strong, powerful leaders. Herd instinct, after all.
The other members of the Imperial Ruling Council aren't worth mentioning.
Except for Baroness D'Asta, of course. But she's loyal to Quest, making her an unsuitable ally. Her father might have been able to oppose or control her, but I can't play that card.
Curiously, Orinda's current Imperial Ruling Council core consists of those who survived the purges orchestrated by the original Iceheart. According to intelligence and the snide remarks of the Iceheart's clone, the Council supported Grand Admiral Thrawn after his return from the Unknown Regions as a candidate for Supreme Commander, believing that as an alien with no standing in their rarefied political world, he'd remain indebted to their patronage. They even considered offering him the title of Emperor if he succeeded, still assuming they could control him. However, they quickly abandoned this idea when relations with Kaine warmed. Later, all talk of elevating the Grand Admiral to such a high post ceased. In known events, Thrawn didn't care for Orinda's decrees—he relied on the military, acting largely independently during his campaign, declaring himself the sole leader of the Empire: "I rule the Empire," he said in the Thrawn Trilogy books.
That's quite significant for me. I could flatter myself thinking I'm starting to understand Thrawn and think like him, but in the situation where Thrawn led his forces to conquer New Republic and neutral worlds, the Imperial Ruling Council couldn't stop him. He secured his army with food, a stable economy, and captured territories without damaging infrastructure. He didn't heavily rely on recruits, using volunteers and clones. Had it not been for Rukh, who smashed two sector fleets at the Battle of Bilbringi, Thrawn could have capitalized on the galaxy's shock and, with one precise strike, decapitated the Empire's political system on Orinda, subjugating all the Remnants. Given that he captured territories equal to all the Imperial Remnants in just a few months, it's no wonder other Imperials were drawn to him. My territorial conquests are far smaller, so my volunteer stream is modest.
But that's all lyrical.
Now, the analytics.
We have two manifestations of Palpatine.
On one hand, he sent agents to complicate my life, provoking an attack on the Noghri. But there's no direct evidence this was aimed solely at harming my campaign—only speculations and conclusions.
Fine, he wanted me back in the fold, and he succeeded. The New Republic has suffered significant reputational losses. I've avoided losses in Imperial territories and continue active military operations—to avoid raising questions, these efforts strengthen the Dominion while keeping the New Republic on edge. Thus, no one suspects my offensive will halt.
Likely for the same reason, Kaine relayed Palpatine's will—or that of someone acting on his behalf—that my territories won't be touched if I limit myself to my current holdings but continue military actions against the New Republic. In that case, the Dominion may indeed remain untouched—if it aligns with Palpatine's will and he's satisfied with my actions over the next two months. Thus, I must continue fortifying and strengthening the Dominion.
Frankie.
Now, the prisoner exchange proposal.
It's clear this initiative doesn't come from Palpatine—Quest is the author. If Palpatine wanted my prisoners, Kaine would have told me. Their future interest doesn't negate the fact that holding them longer draws attention. Releasing them without ransom draws attention too. Altruism isn't Thrawn's way.
I must arrange an exchange before Quest finds a way to satisfy my demands, as refusal would be suspicious.
Yes, I could protect the Skywalkers, but let's be honest. They're nothing to me, and I feel no personal attachment. The only reason they remain in my custody is the potential for a lucrative trade.
And now, the realization that if they fall into Palpatine's hands, they'd strengthen him and, in turn, Sarcev Quest, who dreams of power. Entrusting Palpatine's armada to him... too dangerous. Multiple defense lines won't hold against thousands of line ships and the Dark Side Elite, especially since my pocket Jenssarai aren't battle-ready yet.
Eymand was supposed to recruit hidden Jedi to our side but hasn't made much progress. He brought someone to Mara, who's en route on the Void Wanderer, but that's for later. The Imperial Space's activity concerns me now.
If they deliver an Executor-class Super Star Destroyer, I'd have to hand over the prisoners. But there are options, depending on the situation.
They can't produce such a ship without Palpatine's help anytime soon.
So...
It's time to push the New Republic to expedite the prisoner exchange.
Leaning back in my chair, I glanced at the ysalamiri cage. The creature lifted its head from its paws, yawned, and resumed sleeping.
What a carefree creature... lucky thing.
No danger, no natural enemies, no intrigues...
Stop. Hold that thought.
Natural enemies.
Vornskrs.
A cross between a tiger and a leopard, or a bulldog and a rhinoceros, hunting Force-sensitive prey.
The Dark Side Elite, like other Jedi and Sith, are Force-sensitive.
If we could pit them against each other...
Hmm... makeshift guard vornskrs could work. But could they be domesticated using Talon Karrde's method?
And would they mature in time for the galaxy to ignite in Sith flames?
Reaching for the comlink, I contacted the commander of the Bellicose, guarding Wayland and supplying ysalamiri to the cloning cylinders. It seems his men will have to hunt predators too.
***
— Entering the Yag'Dhul system, — Mazzic said as a red warning light flashed on the console.
— You don't sound thrilled, — Karrde commented, setting aside his portable datapad. As second pilot, he was reviewing data on the remnants of his organization. Less than a third remained. Some were destroyed by Imperials, others went deep underground or joined the Hutts or other competitors.
Plenty of possibilities.
— Any reason to be cheerful? — Mazzic asked glumly. — Given recent events, I'm not eager to dive into the thick of it. Not with the Republicans or, worse, the Imperials.
— Yag'Dhul's under control, — Karrde reassured him. — We need to stir up old contacts, drop some news...
— You mean the Republic's convoy ambush in the Ren-Var system? — Mazzic clarified.
— Yes, — Karrde confirmed. — Something odd's going on. Why would the New Republic intercept transports from Lianna? Or Hoffner's convoy?
— Maybe they were there by chance? — Mazzic suggested.
— No Interdictor cruiser among the Republic ships, — Karrde noted. — They acted on precise intel. That's very strange.
— That the New Republic has intelligence, or that it works? — Mazzic asked.
Karrde was about to respond when the comm crackled with the dockmaster's voice:
— Action IV freighter, identify yourself, cargo, and purpose.
— Star Ice, — Mazzic replied. — Cargo... identification code...
He recited a long string of words and numbers. After a brief silence for code verification, the dockmaster provided their approach vector and docking zone.
But Karrde's mind was elsewhere.
He watched the gray expanse of the shipyards, bustling with service shuttles, freighters, and massive work platforms, where dozens of unfinished ships stood out.
Vindicator-class heavy cruisers—the backbone of Grand Moff Ardus Kaine's fleet. Ahead loomed the menacing hulk of a Golan battle station, bristling with guns, which they'd pass. Preferably in one piece, without a turbolaser salute.
— Your old contacts still seem to work, — Mazzic noted.
— Apparently, — Karrde said, eyeing a specific section of the shipyards. — What do you see there?
— Forty-one Vindicators, — Mazzic whistled. — And that's just the civilian section.
— The military section's ten times larger and more productive, — Karrde said. — Judging by their state, these cruisers were laid down weeks ago.
— Two hundred fifty Vindicators? — Mazzic asked. — Is Kaine planning a war?
— Hopefully with our friend Thrawn, — Karrde said. — Cruisers are faster and cheaper to build than destroyers. They'll be operational in six to eight weeks. Something tells me this is happening at all Pentastar Alignment shipyards...
Nearly two hundred fifty warships—no small matter. An armada that could slice through New Republic logistics like a Jedi's lightsaber through durasteel...
Karrde paused mid-thought. He wanted to rub his eyes.
Mazzic followed his gaze.
— What the...? — he asked. — Those don't look like cruisers or destroyers...
— Because they're asteroids, — Karrde explained. — How many, you think?
— Thirty-six, — Mazzic replied after a moment. — Each thirty to forty meters in diameter...
— And they're loading them into the holds of my old ships, — Karrde said, pointing at freighters like their own.
— What's going on here? — Mazzic demanded, turning to Karrde.
Karrde didn't answer.
He watched as dozens of service shuttles used tractor beams to load massive stone boulders into the gaping holds of Action IV and Action V transports. Their surfaces were studded with durasteel platforms resembling turbolaser mounts and deflector emitters.
— Why do Imperials need asteroids? — Mazzic voiced his thoughts.
— Not Imperials, — Karrde corrected. — Thrawn. Now I see why he took my ships—spacious holds, large cargo bays. No need to buy his own freighters.
— Okay, fine, — Mazzic said easily. — But why asteroids?
— Looks like they've been fitted with equipment, — Karrde said. — See the docking ports all over the surface?
— Yeah, — Mazzic confirmed. — On every ridge, every protrusion...
— To form a spherical deflector field, — Karrde explained. — Or to give turbolasers a wider firing arc. I wouldn't be surprised if those dark shafts — he pointed at several gaping holes in each asteroid — house proton torpedo or anti-ship missile launchers.
— Makeshift defense stations? — Mazzic asked suspiciously.
— Or they want us and others to think that, — The Claw offered.
— I don't like this, Karrde, — Mazzic said.
— Neither do I, — the information broker admitted. — If Thrawn's working on these asteroids, the cruisers might be for him too. If so, my shipyard contacts will soon have details.
— If they even know what's being built, — Mazzic noted reasonably. — From your stories and the latest galactic news, the Grand Admiral's back on the warpath with the New Republic.
Karrde nodded affirmatively.
— I'm certain this isn't random, — he said. — If Thrawn built nearly forty asteroid-based defense stations or outposts, it's likely defensive.
— What if it's offensive? — Mazzic asked.
Karrde's blood ran cold.
— Then we're in for a very bad time...