Nine years, six months, and ten days after the Battle of Yavin...
Or the forty-fourth year, six months, and ten days after the Great Resynchronization.
A metal cell—two meters long, one and a half wide, two meters and thirty centimeters high. A simple hard army cot in the corner, almost opposite the entrance. Welded to the deck and walls. A toilet at the other end of the cell. Small ventilation shaft holes just under the ceiling. Air came through them.
A heavy metal door—the only way in and out. It had a small rectangular window—opened three times a day for feeding the prisoner. And there was also the holocamera peephole, protected by a transparisteel dome to prevent damage.
From there, they watched him. Every moment since he had been brought to the detention cell aboard the Chimaera.
Disarmed, stripped of equipment and his familiar white stormtrooper armor.
He wore only the undersuit, the standard everyday uniform for soldiers of the Stormtrooper Corps. The uniform for those rare moments when they were on base and had "free time."
Prisoner under investigation TNX-0297 had been in this cell for over twenty-four hours. The daily routine was simple—the same as always, except that in the intervals between feeding and taking care of bodily needs, he was taken to the interrogation room and questioned in turns. Captain Pellaeon, the senior artillery officer, the company commander whose fourth squad he belonged to, the battalion commander, the regiment commander... They rotated; sometimes they interrogated together, sometimes separately, asking the same questions but with different wording. The answers TNX-0297 gave did not change. He answered honestly—because they were his commanders. Their orders did not contradict the logic of the circumstances. They were simple, clear, executable with maximum efficiency. One way or another.
He followed orders.
He was a good soldier.
A good soldier follows orders.
Always.
Then, when the next round of interrogations ended, he was returned to his cell, where he performed a set of physical exercises. He had nothing else to occupy himself with. He was a stormtrooper; he must always be combat-ready. Even if he was in the brig. Even if, upon returning to base, he would be liquidated for violating military regulations. Disobeying a commander's order.
As soon as that phrasing sounded in his mind, his head seemed to explode with a fountain of pain. Unable to control his body, he collapsed to the floor, unable to perform the exercise of bending and straightening his arms from a vertical head-down position.
Pulling his legs in, he sat on the floor, clutching his head in his hands.
He was a bad soldier.
He had not followed the order.
A good soldier follows orders.
Always.
He was a bad soldier.
He had not followed the order.
He should have gone into the attack with the fourth squad and completed the assigned task.
A good soldier always follows orders.
He was a bad soldier.
He had not followed the order.
He was obliged to maintain subordination and obey. Violating an order was unacceptable.
A good soldier...
The "feeding hatch" slid open with a distinct metallic clang. TNX-0297 raised his head toward the source of the sound, but the metal plate had already returned to its place. The stormtrooper lowered his head again, but at that moment the door panel slid into the bulkhead with a characteristic hiss.
TNX-0297 raised his head again, looking at the doorway.
His body reflexively, ignoring the headache, snapped up, standing at attention. As required by regulations.
"Grand Admiral, sir, Captain, sir!" he addressed those entering. "Stormtrooper TNX-0297! Cell twenty-two. Detained twenty-three hours ago on charges of disobeying a commander's order. Twenty-two interrogations conducted. Pleads fully guilty to the military crime committed. Awaiting execution. Report complete!"
"At ease, soldier," said the Grand Admiral in a calm voice. His white uniform jacket, blue skin, and red eyes contrasted strikingly with the gray-steel cell interior. The commander of the Chimaera standing next to him, Captain Pellaeon, clad in a fleet uniform, frowned disapprovingly.
TNX-0297 relaxed almost imperceptibly. He stared straight ahead while the Supreme Commander of the Empire looked around his cell with undisguised curiosity. As if seeing it for the first time.
"Why TNX-0297?" came the unexpected question from the blue-skinned commander.
"I don't understand the question, sir," replied the stormtrooper. The question contained no information that needed clarification. Too general a question. It wouldn't do to waste the commander's time by guessing answers. "Please rephrase it more precisely."
"Right," Captain Pellaeon snorted, grimacing in displeasure. He didn't even try to hide his attitude toward the traitor. "Who would doubt it."
"Easy, Captain," the Grand Admiral advised, looking directly into the stormtrooper's eyes. "Why did you disobey the order, Stormtrooper TNX-0297?"
The clone felt a strange sensation... unfamiliar. It was as if he had gotten lost in a well-known area, suddenly realizing that the landmarks he was used to were no longer there. The landscape hadn't changed, but it had become... different.
He had been asked this question. Not once, not twice, not a hundred times. This question, in various forms, had come from the mouths of everyone who interrogated him. And he always answered it. Why hadn't the Grand Admiral read his interrogation reports? Why had the Grand Admiral come here at all?
"I considered it erroneous, Grand Admiral," said the prisoner. "I saw the third squad die before my eyes. Seven minutes earlier, the first and second squads had also died—while executing a standard frontal assault pattern. The enemy was highly trained and sufficiently familiar with our tactical schemes. I realized my squad would also die and the assigned task would not be completed. I made the decision to disobey in order to achieve success. I deliberately violated the order, considering it shortsighted and formulaic and not conducive to victory in battle. I fully and completely admit my guilt and am ready to accept punishment..."
"We'll get to the latter later," said the Grand Admiral. "Why didn't you report your observations to the lieutenant commanding the platoon?"
"Or at least to the sergeant—the squad leader," Captain Pellaeon added.
"My squad leader was carrying out the order of my platoon leader," TNX-0297 explained. "I decided they lacked tactical flexibility and were unable to assess the situation as I could. I made the decision to disobey the order given to my squad, and I am ready..."
"How was your decision better than a frontal assault?" the Grand Admiral interrupted.
TNX-0297 hesitated before answering.
"Sir, I... it seemed to me that the combat situation in which everything occurred had a different way of being resolved," he said, feeling unsure. "As if I had already been in a similar battle... I can't explain... I just knew it would work..."
"It was bound to work," said the Grand Admiral, looking at the star destroyer commander standing next to him. "Do you know you are a clone, Stormtrooper TNX-0297?"
"Yes, sir," the prisoner answered without hesitation. "Colonel Selid created me from his own DNA. His knowledge and memories have been loaded into me."
"Not just you, soldier," replied the Grand Admiral. "Colonel Selid created four thousand of his own clones. Created under the 'GeNod' program. I want to know why you do not meet the program's criteria. Why do you know you are a clone?"
"Colonel Selid told me," answered the stormtrooper. "He explained everything I asked him."
"And what were you interested in?" interest sounded in the Grand Admiral's voice.
"The reasons why I look the same as him, why I remember his past, why he is Colonel Selid and I am Stormtrooper TNX-0297."
"And what did he tell you, soldier?"
"He said I am a prototype," replied TNX-0297. "A genetic copy of Colonel Selid. The Colonel said that current stormtroopers are unsuitable material for cloning under the 'Spaarti' program."
"For what reason?"
"Stormtroopers recruited from ordinary people betrayed the Empire after the Emperor's death," repeated TNX-0297, quoting his genetic original. "They serve various regimes, warlords, fighting each other. They can betray. Colonel Selid said I am the first successful specimen of the new model clones. Absolutely loyal, intellectually superior to the rest, because I possess the knowledge of the commandant of 'Mount Tantiss' facility."
"And what is so special about Colonel Selid's knowledge that makes him the best candidate for cloning?" asked the Grand Admiral.
"Loyalty, sir," answered TNX-0297. "Colonel Selid is absolutely loyal to you."
"Was," the Captain corrected the soldier.
"Yes, sir. Was. Colonel Selid is dead," said the stormtrooper.
"Loyalty is a matter of perspective," said the Grand Admiral. "What else do you know about the Colonel?"
"Everything, sir," answered the stormtrooper. "Up to the moment his consciousness was copied."
"Who gave him the order to clone sample V-2332-54?" asked the Grand Admiral.
"Jedi Knight Luke Skywalker's hand and his lightsaber were discovered by the Colonel during an inspection of the vaults at 'Mount Tantiss' facility," said TNX-0297. "The Colonel made the decision to clone immediately after discovering the object."
"For what purpose?" inquired the Chimaera's commander.
"Creating clones of Luke Skywalker," replied the soldier. "To obtain our own Jedi, loyal to the Grand Admiral and capable of countering the New Republic without the threat of betrayal. As happened in the final years of the Old Republic from the Jedi Order."
The Supreme Commander was silent for a while.
"How did he know whose limb it was?" another question. The Grand Admiral seemed not at all interested in the fact that he had committed a crime and disobeyed an order.
"Every object in the vault had an explanatory note," explained TNX-0297. "But the Colonel already knew what it was before that."
"How?" Captain Pellaeon blurted out.
"Colonel Selid served in the 501st Legion aboard the Executor-class Super Star Destroyer Executor during the operation at Bespin," said the soldier. "He was the one who discovered the hand and the lightsaber. That find earned him a promotion."
"I see," the Grand Admiral's eyes narrowed. "So the Colonel fought side by side with Jango Fett's clones? The ones that came to the Empire after the Old Republic's reformation?"
"Yes, sir," replied the soldier. "He served with them during the Clone Wars. And he considered them the best fighters compared to conscripts. Impeccably loyal, obedient, and with vast combat experience."
"In some ways he was right," said Captain Pellaeon. "Throughout the Clone Wars and up to the present day, the number of traitor clones amounts to a billionth of a percent of the list of stormtroopers who defected to rebellious warlords or to the New Republic."
"Interesting fact, Captain," said the Grand Admiral. "Having the opportunity to interrogate a copy of Colonel Selid, we neglected that course of events. Until today."
"In my defense, I can say that I was not present when the Colonel demonstrated Stormtrooper TNX-0297, and I was unaware that he possessed Colonel Selid's memories," mumbled the Chimaera's commander, looking away.
"Let others handle finding fault," said the Grand Admiral, turning his burning gaze back to the prisoner. "So, you claim that Colonel Selid acted exclusively in my interests?"
"Yes, sir," the soldier confirmed. And he spoke the truth.
"Why did he load his entire consciousness into you instead of adjusting it according to the 'GeNod' program?" asked the Supreme Commander.
"For the same reason he did not hide from me the fact that I am a clone," answered TNX-0297. "Colonel Selid worked side by side with the clones of the 'GeNod' program in the past. And he decided that this way he would negate the negative consequences of that program, due to which clones killed each other."
"Because they considered a clone with the same appearance as an enemy infiltrator disguised with a similar face," said the Grand Admiral. The soldier nodded affirmatively.
"And don't you feel aggrieved that you have a number instead of a name, soldier?" the commander clarified. "That you live by another person's memories?"
"No, sir," answered the prisoner, struck by the question. How could one be dissatisfied with the fact that one served the Grand Admiral? It didn't matter if you were a clone or not.
"The rest of Colonel Selid's clones," Captain Pellaeon reminded, as the Grand Admiral fell silent. "Are they like you, soldier?"
"Negative," objected TNX-0297. "By the time they were created, the Colonel had already managed to remove his personal memories from the encoding database. They do not possess his tactical knowledge—only the military art of combat."
"Which is confirmed by the results of their actions," said the Grand Admiral. "For the same reason, none of those clones disobeyed an order—they simply carried it out with maximum efficiency, nothing more."
"Then why did TNX-0297 disobey?" Captain Pellaeon clarified.
"Because they lacked the Colonel's personal memories," said the Supreme Commander. "Our soldier is a complex blend of stormtrooper programming and the mind of an officer who has seen many military campaigns in his life. And to the remaining three thousand seven hundred clones, Selid loaded only military knowledge. Before us is confirmation of a philosophical debating aphorism: 'Being determines consciousness' or vice versa. Whether intentionally or not, Colonel Selid, whom we had until now considered a traitor, after two hundred ninety-six failures, created a model clone-commander, endowed not only with his knowledge but also with tactical initiative and resourcefulness. That is why the stormtrooper disobeyed the lieutenant—he may not realize it directly, but Selid's memories make him consider himself smarter than the other soldiers. And thereby contributed to the completion of the combat mission—we obtained hyperdrives for small craft. Something we could not even count on."
TNX-0297 was silent. No question had been asked. But the result, putting aside the fact of disobedience, spoke for itself. He had been more effective than his squad leader and his platoon leader. And the reason he had done it did not concern TNX-0297. If the command considered his act criminal, he would be eliminated. If not...
"Yes," intoned Captain Pellaeon. "There is a parallel here between TNX-0297's actions and those of Colonel Selid himself. They acted contrary to a direct order, reasonably believing that their actions would lead to a quicker achievement of the goal."
"Initiative on the battlefield is a commendable phenomenon," observed the Grand Admiral. "Especially when it yields results. However, another question arises—what prevents Soldier TNX-0297 from violating an order again? And then again and again. In some cases, his actions will bring positive results for us, and in others, quite the opposite. Where is that fine line that separates these two points of view?"
Captain Pellaeon could not answer.
Stormtrooper TNX-0297 had no intention of answering either—the question was not addressed to him.
"Did Colonel Selid support me?" This time the Grand Admiral looked directly at the stormtrooper.
"Yes, sir," replied the soldier. "Absolute loyalty."
"Are you equally loyal to me, TNX-0297?" the Supreme Commander asked a new question.
"Yes, sir."
"Are you ready to carry out any order I give, soldier?"
"Yes, sir."
"Will you sabotage the execution of an order I give you in the future if you see an alternative way of completing the assigned task that contradicts my order?"
"No, sir," said TNX-0297 confidently.
"That is to say, if the order for a frontal assault, which would lead to the death of all your comrades but to the completion of the task I assigned, had been given by me, not by your lieutenant, you would have carried it out?"
"Yes, sir," the stormtrooper answered without a moment's thought. That was only logical!
"Explain," asked Pellaeon, grimacing.
"Orders from the Supreme Commander are not subject to discussion, alternative interpretation, or modification of the prescribed execution," said the prisoner. "On Xa Fel, the Grand Admiral set our legion the task of capturing the warehouse. That was a strategic objective. Its tactical execution was delegated to my immediate commanders. Their orders could not lead to the effective completion of the assigned task."
"My brain is about to boil," admitted Captain Pellaeon.
"It's simple," a slight smile appeared on the Grand Admiral's lips. "The clone of Colonel Selid assures that he will carry out my direct orders unquestioningly and with maximum efficiency. However, he will sabotage the orders of his commanders if they are ineffective, in order to carry out my order."
"Some kind of nonsense," the Chimaera's commander shook his head. "This clone is defective. He must be destroyed before he creates a tendency toward disobedience among our stormtroopers."
"I will decide his fate, Captain," said the Grand Admiral. "Not you. At least — not now."
"I beg your pardon, Commander," the captain of the Imperial Star Destroyer hesitated. "But I do not trust this stormtrooper. He disobeyed an order. He is dangerous. He is a traitor."
"There is a simple way to verify that, Captain," the Supreme Commander replied calmly, looking at TNX-0297. "What I am about to tell you, Private, is top-secret information. The future fate of the Empire will depend on the decision you make."
"Yes, sir!" TNX-0297 croaked.
"Private," the Grand Admiral addressed him. A blaster appeared in his hands, which — despite Captain Pellaeon's widening eyes — he handed to TNX-0297. The stormtrooper silently took the weapon, mechanically checking its readiness. The tibanna gas and energy cell indicators were at maximum. The weapon was combat-ready. "In your hands is an SE-14C blaster pistol. You are authorized to use it to achieve maximum effectiveness. The situation is as follows — I have no intention of defending Imperial Space. In time, Emperor Palpatine will return and call all Imperials to his banner. All who do not submit will be destroyed. The fleet and army that follow me will be declared deserters and hunted down. Captain Pellaeon and I are participants in an anti-government conspiracy whose goal is to gather as many Imperial forces under our command as possible, in order to eliminate the rotten Imperial regime in the future and cast aside the tenets of the New Order, which you serve. If Emperor Palpatine or any other sentient loyal to him stands in my way — I will destroy them without hesitation. At this moment, there are only three of us in this cell. The guards are at their control panels and cannot arrive in time. Captain Pellaeon and I are inferior to you in armament and hand-to-hand combat skills. There is nothing to stop you from fulfilling your duty. You can destroy us here and now, and effectively strangle the continuation of the Imperial Civil War, because we are precisely those traitorous commanders Colonel Selid spoke to you about. And our actions will lead to an even greater crisis in Imperial Space. Or, you can kill yourself, so as not to raise any doubts about your loyalty in me. Your death by your own hand with this blaster pistol is the key to the effective execution of my plans to preserve everything good that the Empire has created over all these decades. You have three seconds to make a decision, Private."
Without hesitation, TNX-0297 did what any stormtrooper's duty demanded — a trooper utterly devoted to his commander and the Oath.
His thumb rested on the safety guard. A short audio signal sounded — the weapon was ready to fire. In a flash, TNX-0297 raised the weapon and aimed it at the source of the efficiency problem. His index finger pulled the trigger all the way.
A dry click touched his ear. Private TNX-0297 pulled the trigger again. But the blaster bolt did not even think of leaving the weapon's barrel to punch a hole in the skull of the sentient whose death would be an efficient way to solve the problem of the Supreme Commander of the Empire, Grand Admiral Thrawn, violating the Military Oath.
"There is your answer, Captain," declared the blue-skinned non-human, fearlessly looking into the eyes of a man who could kill him and the commander of the Chimaera with his bare hands in less than a couple of seconds. "At ease, Private. You may remove the weapon from your temple."
"Yes," TNX-0297 took the blaster pistol's barrel away from his head. His thumb habitually rested on the safety guard, rendering the weapon safe for those around him.
Captain Pellaeon wiped large beads of sweat from his forehead.
"As the head of the tribunal of the armed forces under my command, I clear you of all charges," said Grand Admiral Thrawn, extending a hand clad in a snow-white glove. TNX-0297 silently placed his weapon onto it. Grip facing the Grand Admiral, barrel facing himself.
"Commander, but the order was still violated!" Pellaeon reminded him.
"Yes," the Grand Admiral agreed. "A criminal order, whose victims were three stormtrooper squads."
"There is no such concept as a 'criminal order' in Imperial military jurisprudence," Pellaeon grumbled. "Any commander's order is lawful a priori."
"Consider that from now on, there is," said the Grand Admiral. "Our people must not die because the tactical execution of assigned tasks was subpar."
The commander of the Chimaera did not reply, stirring his gray mustache in embarrassment.
"Permission to ask a question, sir?" TNX-0297 couldn't hold back. The Grand Admiral nodded in agreement. "Clarify — am I a good soldier or a bad one?"
"Good, bad... What difference does it really make?" the Supreme Commander shrugged. "The main thing is — who has the bigger turbolaser."
* * *
"Sir," after we left the cell with the arrested stormtrooper, Pellaeon couldn't contain himself. "Leaving him free is not safe! His actions are a blow to the entire system of unified command of the armed forces..."
"Private TNX-0297's actions are a new milestone in the evolution of the Empire, Captain," I said. "Palpatine and his cronies have used and are using their armed forces as puppets for almost thirty years, puppets that carry out any order. The destruction of Caamas, Alderaan... No one even questioned whether those actions were lawful. They were simply carried out. And those actions led to public unrest and strengthened the enemy's position."
"This is the implementation of your policy of striking only military targets?" Pellaeon squinted.
"Yes," I said. "The Empire under my command will change for the better. Fighting the civilian population of any planet is wrong. It only adds to our enemies. But the number of our allies must grow. The more we demonstrate our exclusive militarism strictly against the enemy's armed forces and installations, the fewer of those on the other side of the conflict who will wish for our death."
"The idea isn't without logic," Pellaeon replied after a couple of seconds of silence. "But our attack on Xa Fel was hardly an attack on a military target."
"Is that so, Captain?" I inquired. "Kuat and its satellites are allies of the New Republic. They build and service their warships. Do you have confirmation that those hyperdrives would not have been used for installation on Mon Calamari star cruisers or for repairing other captured Imperial ships? I don't. Therefore, any industrial facility aimed at strengthening the enemy's military power will be attacked. We will instill this idea in our enemies' minds, making them worry about their bases, both known and secret."
"You want the New Republic to start discussing the locations of their secret positions?" Pellaeon suddenly asked. "And you will get that information from 'Delta Source'!"
This pleased me with its quickness. He was fast to figure out where the roots of this were. It's a good thing he doesn't know that 'Delta Source' practically a legendary 'spy' in the very heart of the New Republic — is actually a complex of trees turned into a listening device, and not a network of super-secret, high-ranking Imperial agents. For now, that secret remains mine alone.
"Exactly, Captain," I confirmed. "The New Republic possesses many Imperial ships and assets. I want to know where they are located and reclaim them. Every Star Destroyer I can get my hands on."
"We'll need an absolute heap of potential recruits," Pellaeon sighed. "And, on top of that — ones loyal to your plan."
"I see no reason to argue with your assessment, Captain," I said. "It is pointless to capture and acquire starships when we cannot ensure their technical readiness and crew them. We are already feeling a personnel shortage for three Star Destroyers. And for almost two hundred heavy cruisers. Unfortunately, the Spaarti cloning cylinders cannot provide us with the necessary number of clones all at once."
"If they're all like TNX-0297, they'll cause far more harm than good," Pellaeon shook his head.
"On the contrary, Captain," I noted. "Tactical initiative that brings victory with minimal losses is exactly what we need. If Colonel Selid's method truly works flawlessly, then we will have no problem filling the command vacancies for the heavy cruisers."
"Forming crews from clones ready to clash with their commanders just because they think the commanders are wrong — that's shooting yourself in the foot," the commander of the Chimaera shook his head.
"You weren't listening carefully, Captain," I said. "My point of view is precisely to use the 'GeNod' program, in the image and likeness of stormtrooper TNX-0297, to create the ship commanders directly. We will create the crews using the program Colonel Selid used to create the other three thousand seven hundred stormtrooper clones. Or, if that proves too costly, the enlisted personnel will be manufactured using Spaarti technology — we've had no problems with those clones. But in any case, we will only use the 'GeNod' program after studying it in detail. It and its products, which we already have. Combat application indicates their effectiveness — that is an undoubted plus. But there are also negative aspects to the project."
"At the very least, we don't know their loyalty from objective sources," Gilad grumbled. "Honestly, sir, I thought that madman would shoot both you and me in the head."
"That's difficult to do with a blaster whose firing mechanism cannot be brought into a combat-ready state," I allowed myself a slight smirk, handing the man the weapon that had previously been given to the stormtrooper. The Captain, turning the weapon over in his hands, gave me a questioning look.
"But the indicators..."
"Do not lie," I explained. "It is hard to fool an experienced stormtrooper by presenting empty cells and cartridges as full — the weight difference is obvious. However, modifying the safety system so that the weapon cannot fire under any circumstances, regardless of the safety guard's position — that is somewhat simpler. But it is time-consuming. Arrange for the chief mechanic to receive commendation for his work — he spent a whole day achieving that result."
"So, there was no risk?" Pellaeon looked at me incredulously.
"Risk is always present in a soldier's life," I remarked reasonably. "It's part of the profession we choose by the call of our hearts. All we can do is minimize it as much as possible to preserve life — our own and our allies'. Here, Captain, it's pure mathematics. The more effectively we fight, the fewer losses we will suffer. Consequently, we will have less need to use clone reinforcements to replenish losses on already active ships. Which, in turn, directly affects the number of fully-crewed vessels."
"In that case, I don't envy Captain Mor's fate," Pellaeon shook his head, seeing which prison cell we had stopped at. "We'll have to use stormtrooper reserves to replace the losses of his soldiers stationed aboard the Implacable."
"Thanks to Colonel Selid, we have a certain 'unaccounted reserve'," I said. "Upon our return to Tangrene, we will organize a redistribution of those fighters across all ships of the fleet — one company per each major vessel. Since they are as good in combat as was demonstrated to us on Xa Fel, their participation in future fleet operations will be extremely useful for accomplishing our objectives."
"And it will also allow us to break up their overall mass among other legions and establish control over how they behave, and whether they are truly loyal, or whether Private TNX-0297's story is nothing more than an attempt to mislead us?" Pellaeon said with a sly squint, not taking his eyes off me.
"Bravo, Captain," I said. "You are making remarkable progress in strategic matters today."
"I spent a whole day racking my brains over the double meaning of your orders to move the 'GeNod' clones to different legions," Pellaeon admitted.
'And I, from the moment we left for Tangrene until the end of the battle on Xa Fel, was thinking about what to do with them if they survived,' flashed through my mind. A thought I prudently kept to myself.
"It will get easier over time," I promised. After all, I didn't manage to draw up plans in their final version in just a few weeks, did I? "The main thing is to practice often."
"It looks like it's time for me to request a pay raise for serving as your chief of staff," Pellaeon chuckled good-naturedly. But he immediately wiped the smile from his face, seeing that my face showed not even a shadow of emotion. The crew had gotten somewhat used to my half-smiles over the past few weeks, but that was all I allowed myself.
"A good idea, Captain," I said. "From now on, you personally will handle all matters of the armed forces' staff. But no one is relieving you of command of the Chimaera either."
"Yes, sir, Grand Admiral," the elderly captain's face fell. He must have just realized that with his ill-considered attempt at a joke, he had piled ten times more problems onto his own head than he had a minute ago.
Well, it's time to teach this galaxy far, far away the sacred law of the armed forces of my homeland.
Initiative punishes the initiator.
Punishes harshly.
* * *
"Captain Mor," the commander of the Implacable rose from his bunk, fearlessly looking into the crimson eyes of the Supreme Commander who had entered his cell.
"Grand Admiral," he greeted his senior officer calmly.
"I see you haven't been bored here," said the blue-skinned non-human, examining the cell's written-upon walls. Alexander cast a glance at his own handiwork. Black marker on gray — it looked decent. Especially if you looked closely and understood that all the presented diagrams, schematics, and other 'artwork' were tactical layouts. The practice of various situations, by reproducing which he had been whiling away the time in confinement.
"Can't let your brain relax," Mor replied. "Leads to mistakes."
"The same ones you made on Xa Fel?" Thrawn jumped straight to lightspeed.
"With all due respect, Grand Admiral, I do not consider now, nor did I consider then, that my actions were mistaken," Mor replied calmly.
"Is that so," Thrawn said thoughtfully, glancing at Captain Pellaeon, who was standing silently nearby. Gilad, as was his custom, preferred to remain quiet and not draw attention in front of his superior. "Explain yourself."
"The fleet was tasked with capturing the finished product warehouses," Alexander said.
"Spare me the preludes, Captain," ice cold crept into Thrawn's voice. "I remember the order to the fleet — I gave it. In the minutest detail. Did you not receive the data chip with it?"
"I did," Alexander nodded in agreement.
"Didn't study it?" Thrawn squinted slightly, making his crimson eyes resemble the muzzles of turbolasers.
"I don't make a habit of ignoring command orders," Alexander said. "I studied your order from beginning to end."
"In that case, there is only one assumption about the reasons for your insubordination," Pellaeon said quickly, trying not to look at Thrawn. "You were suffering from a bout of insanity, which caused you to misinterpret..."
"I was and am of sound mind, Captain Pellaeon," Alexander said. "No deviations from the norm. Don't try to use the charter's article on mental instability to save me from punishment for disobeying an order. I deliberately violated it."
"It seems today is a day of insubordination," the Grand Admiral declared. Pellaeon cast a cautious glance at him, opened his mouth to say something, but... remained silent. All the better. Gilad is an old soldier and an expert in various intricacies of military jurisprudence — in his time, he had been thoroughly put through its wringer. And besides, he is generally a right-minded sentient, striving to act according to his conscience. And now, his conscience must have told him it was worth saving a fellow commander from inevitable reprisal by citing medical abnormalities. "Continue your report, Captain Mor. Before a fundamental decision is made regarding your future, I would like to hear your version of events."
"I have been interrogated more than thirty times, Grand Admiral," Alexander said, suppressing the instinctive urge to yawn. Interrogations are interrogations, but they had been systematically depriving him of sleep — every time he tried to fall asleep, the guards would drag him to the interrogation room, where some officer from the 501st Legion would ask him the same standardized questions, meticulously recording every answer. Which, incidentally, were always of the same type and lacked any particular inventiveness. Dry facts and nothing more. "My testimony has been recorded..."
"The documents can wait," Thrawn said. "I want to hear everything from you personally."
It seemed this was exactly why Alexander had been 'marinating' all this time. An interrogation technique known almost since the Mandalorian Wars — not letting the subject sleep, so that by the time of the conversation, he is literally exhausted on his feet. And no longer has the desire to fabricate or lie.
"From the very start of the operation, I understood that executing a sequential plan — orbital bombardment simultaneous with repelling attacks from Xa Fel's planetary defense force's small craft, landing troops in the landing zones of the finished product warehouses, followed by their capture and the removal of the hyperdrive cargo — seemed too slow to me. Considering the resistance we faced, I decided to begin the troop landing simultaneously with the orbital bombardment."
"You lost almost all of your landing barges," Thrawn noted. "Was that part of your understanding of how to carry out my order? Or was it a consequence of it?"
"War without losses is impossible, Grand Admiral," Alexander remarked reasonably. "I took a calculated risk."
"And what exactly was that risk?" asked the Supreme Commander. "Losing every single stormtrooper and failing to achieve the objective?"
"Negative, Grand Admiral," the commander of the Implacable shook his head. Still the commander... Who knows how fate will treat him after this conversation ends. "I understood perfectly well that losses were inevitable. As was the dragging out of time during the operation. The enemy had already understood from the example of the Crusader and the Chimaera, as well as the other Imperial Star Destroyers, exactly what we were looking for and how we intended to achieve it. Delay could have cost us part or all of the cargo — clearly, the planet was not garrisoned by idiots. And, even with a great deal of effort, there was nothing else worth getting from Xa Fel besides the hyperdrives. Therefore, I ordered the landing to proceed without waiting for the completion of the operation to neutralize the air defense systems."
"And you used TIE bombers as dive bombers or ground attack craft," Thrawn said. "The result was the complete destruction of an entire squadron. And nearly half of the stormtrooper legion attached to the Implacable is now either in the ship's morgue or in deep freeze storage, because there's simply nowhere else to store that many bodies. After this brief summary, Captain Mor, tell me — what did you do right?"
"Thanks to my approach, the legion's fighters not only prevented the removal of hyperdrives intended for Imperial-class Super Star Destroyers of the Executor type, but also drew enemy forces from the two nearest landing zones, allowing the other ships to succeed with minimal losses," Alexander said calmly, but inside he could feel himself starting to get worked up. "Stormtroopers have died before. It's their usual pastime — serving as expendable material during combat operations. In hundreds of smaller-scale operations compared to the one on Xa Fel, the casualty figures numbered in the tens of thousands of Stormtrooper Corps soldiers. And that never raised any significant questions."
"In the past, yes," Thrawn said in that same emotionless voice. "Now, circumstances have changed. We no longer possess the reserves and resources of the Galactic Empire. We cannot afford to lose fighters and crew members by the thousands — we simply have nowhere to get them from."
"I've heard that a large number of volunteers are arriving on Tangrene," Alexander said. "Any one of them could easily become a TIE pilot or a stormtrooper. The ideological component of the Empire is still alive and..."
"Captain Pellaeon," the Grand Admiral addressed the commander of his flagship without even glancing at the now-quiet Gilad. "What is the average lifespan of a TIE fighter pilot during a period of intensive military action?"
"Two combat missions, sir," Gilad cited the statistic. "Forty percent survive five combat sorties. Less than thirty survive ten or more."
"Out of the total number of pilots in my fleet?" Thrawn clarified.
"The data is current as of the twenty-second year after the proclamation of the New Order," Pellaeon said.
"That is, the statistic is from a year before the Battle of Endor," the Grand Admiral rephrased. "For the period when the Galactic Empire had a fleet of over twenty thousand Imperial I-class Star Destroyers, and the total number of starships in Imperial service numbered several million vessels," he summarized. "A depressing statistic. Especially when extrapolated to the current reality."
"Is that a problem for our fleet?" Alexander wondered. "On the Implacable, more than half the technicians are clones. They are present on virtually every ship in the fleet, which means their source exists."
"You're perceptive, Captain Mor," the grand admiral's voice carried an unspoken threat. "Yes, the source exists. But it's not as perfect as one might wish. Otherwise, this galaxy would already be ablaze in the crucible of Clone Wars, version two-point-zero. So you're quite mistaken to think any personnel shortage can be remedied with a snap of the fingers. You've effectively destroyed a significant portion of the stormtroopers. And I'll need to replenish their numbers soon — a series of battles awaits us ahead, which will require stormtroopers as well. And talented commanders. Of which I'll have none left by that point, if they continue operating according to the tactic of burying the enemy in the bodies of their own men."
"In that case, I would advise you not to deprive those commanders of the tactical freedom granted to us by the Armed Forces Charter of the Galactic Empire, — Alexander said firmly, feeling his voice tremble with rage.
Pellaeon, standing beside the grand admiral, opened his eyes wide in astonishment. No one had ever dared to address the Supreme Commander in such a tone.
"Resentment, disappointment, wounded pride, — Thrawn stated, observing Alexander's reaction with unreadable interest. — An explosive combination, Captain Mor. Doubly baffling, given your previous merits.
"I completed the mission, — the commander of the Relentless said, clipping each word. — There's a war between the Empire and the rebels. We struck at their allies. There were casualties. They're inevitable. No battle takes place without dead and wounded. In this case, the lives of those soldiers were the price of rapidly capturing the objective and the subsequent exploitation of success. I acted based on the forces available to me — those I had, given the circumstances of the transfer to your command. And I achieved the best possible result.
"That's a rather common viewpoint lately, — the Supreme Commander said. — And yet, there's more hidden in your rhetoric than meets the eye. 'Given the circumstances of the transfer to your command.' What do you mean by that phrase, Captain?
"Exactly what I said, Grand Admiral.
"Shifting the blame for the losses you incurred onto me? — Thrawn clarified, and one of his eyebrows rose, accentuating the questioning tone of the blue-skinned non-human.
"I'm used to answering for my own actions, — Alexander cut him off. — I said exactly what I meant. In that battle, we could have really used Alpha-class assault fighters. Xg-1 gunships, — he clarified, seeing that the grand admiral's expression didn't even attempt to change. — Heavy missile, bomb, and cannon armament. Deflector shields that our ships lack. High speed... Those very ships were removed from our Star Destroyers immediately after we — I and the other Star Destroyer commanders — decided to leave our posts and join your fleet. With their capabilities, we could have suppressed Xa Fel's ground-based air defenses with the same ease the Crusader did. And we wouldn't have risked an entire Star Destroyer, even a Victory, by bringing it into the planet's atmosphere, risking running into camouflaged anti-space defenses that could have been fooled and failed to detect, say, planetary-based ion cannons. If Xa Fel had even one of those, we couldn't have even begun the landing, let alone capturing the cargo. And instead of advanced technology samples, we keep sending men to their slaughter, using small craft that can barely compete with enemy machines. The enemy soldiers know full well the situation of the Imperial Space Armed Forces. And they've already developed dozens of tactics that the enemy successfully employs against our pilots.
"An interesting conceptual viewpoint, — Thrawn said. — I cannot deny that you are correct, Captain, on this matter. We do indeed require rearmament. And that, in turn, requires time and money. Large amounts.
Alexander frowned.
No, he truly hadn't expected the Supreme Commander to start explaining his point of view... Hell, what was he thinking! He'd assumed he'd be executed outright the moment the information about ignoring the grand admiral's direct and clear orders reached him.
But he certainly never imagined that Thrawn would so simply agree that his plan could have been much better and more thoroughly considered. Only... How to take what was said? As praise for his actions? As a reproach?
What the hell is going on here?
"From your perspective, Captain Mor, my actions might indeed impinge upon the pride and tactical initiative of the Star Destroyer commanders, — the grand admiral continued in a calm tone. — But from my perspective, what happened looks much more prosaic. Over five years ago, the Empire suffered a severe blow. The elite of the Imperial Armed Forces was destroyed. The Imperial Civil War began, during which a vast military machine and billions of career soldiers perished in a fratricidal war, not to mention the cases of mass betrayal and desertion. And not the slightest attempt to seize the initiative from the enemy. So then, Captain Mor, — Thrawn's gaze became tenacious and piercing. — You had the courage to point out to me that the tasks I set for the fleet should be solved independently by the captains of the ships under my command, based on the forces and assets at their disposal...
"Sir, I... — Alexander began, but the grand admiral silenced him with just a heavy look, capable of melting metal. The commander of the Relentless chose to shut up and swallow his words.
"I am speaking now, Captain Mor, — the Supreme Commander said dryly. — I do not reject proposals and plans solely on the grounds that they do not originate from me. I advise you to take that on board — and the hidden resentment and trace of wounded self-esteem will disappear from your rhetoric. Not long ago, literally a couple of minutes before we entered your cell, Captain Pellaeon proved firsthand the existence of a feedback loop between the initiator's personal involvement and the initiatives they put forward. In six hours, we arrive at the fleet reconnaissance point. You will return to the Relentless. You will once again ascend to the bridge of an Imperial Star Destroyer and continue to command it. From now on, you will receive no further tactical instructions from me regarding the execution of your assigned tasks. You decided you were capable of handling them on your own? Very well. Commendable. The initiative of subordinates should be supported by command. Consider this your carte blanche for tactical freedom from me. You will receive objectives — strategic goals. How you achieve them is up to you. And after every battle, you will report to me on what you have done. As you rightly noted — combat ship commanders bear personal responsibility for carrying out orders from their superiors and for preserving the integrity and combat readiness of their entrusted vessel and crew. You are confident in your abilities, Captain — so be it. After every battle, you will personally write letters to the relatives of the crew members of your ship who fell in battle, in which you will detail what you personally did to achieve the objectives set before you, — Alexander felt his body break out in a cold sweat. What kind of mind games was Thrawn playing now? Why was he doing this?! What were these wild innovations?
"Sir, I don't understand, — he admitted. — What's all this for?
"You expressed your point of view, Captain, — Thrawn reminded him. — My actions, my instructions, communicated to each of the starship commanders participating in the mission, would have led to us not capturing the shipment of hyperdrives within the timeframe I specified. You decided you could handle the tactical aspect much better on your own. Consequently, you will handle my order — to accomplish all assigned combat objectives with minimal casualties among personnel and equipment — just as swimmingly. I have no doubt about that, Captain. Your eloquence moved me and created the certainty that you will find words of grief and regret for the relatives of all those Relentless crew members who died because of your actions. Whether they are right or wrong is merely a point of view, dependent only on the position from which we observe events. I am confident this will not be difficult for you. Or am I mistaken, Captain Mor, and the bravado with which you tried to wound me actually has nothing to do with reality and is dictated solely by the desire of a blundering commander to hide his mistakes, driven by a need to stand out from the common mass of commanders?
"Sir, but I didn't mean that at all... — Alexander protested.
"That no longer concerns anyone, Captain, — Thrawn said. — You gave me a wonderful idea — to turn my attention to expanding the air wing of the Imperial Star Destroyers at my disposal. From now on, every standard week, you will send me proposals for strengthening the power of our armed forces — both their space and ground components. With all the positive and negative qualities of your plans. For each unfounded or excessively burdensome proposal, I will deprive you of one of your officers and transfer them to serve on other ships. For each worthwhile proposal — everything will remain as before. I am certain you will gladly appreciate such an innovation — after all, it allows your tactical talent to fully blossom, to determine its most effective application. I am confident such an initiative will be to your liking.
"Yes, sir, — Captain Mor said, taken aback. — But that's a mountain of new documents and evaluations of existing...
"Does such responsibility frighten you, Captain? — the grand admiral narrowed his eyes.
"Not the responsibility, — Alexander shook his head. — But the time I would spend on completing the tasks set before me could have been used to improve the operational effectiveness of my ship and crew...
"It could have been, — Thrawn easily agreed. — But you chose the wrong method to prove me right, Captain Mor. I do not forgive pointless deaths of my subordinates, and the fact that most of the landing operations on Xa Fel proceeded without such enormous losses among the stormtrooper personnel directly indicates that executing my plan without various kinds of improvisations is a perfectly feasible event. Next time, Captain, when you wish to prove the correctness of your point of view to me, try doing it before the battle in which you intend to get your subordinates killed. After all, there is a significant difference between incompetence and a mistake.
"Forgive me, I don't understand, sir...
"It's simple, Captain, — Thrawn's eyes blazed with an unbearable crimson light. — People learn from mistakes. Fools learn from their own; the intelligent learn from others'. Incompetent beings don't learn at all. And they fail to draw lessons from the chances for correction they are given. That is my point of view, and it is not subject to appeal. You became overly elated by your victory over the New Republic ambush and the capture of the Black Asp, and you believed you would get away with anything. That is a mistaken belief. Bear that in mind, Captain Mor, the next time you think of pulling something like this. Am I speaking clearly enough?
"Yes, sir, — Alexander swallowed the inexplicable lump that had formed in his throat. — Perfectly clear.
"Then let us end our meeting here, Captain Mor, — Thrawn turned over his left shoulder and left the cell in complete silence. Alexander met Gilad's gaze for a moment, his fellow captain shaking his head sympathetically:
"Looks like you dodged a bullet, — the commander of the Relentless stated, noticing his hands were trembling slightly.
"It's highly unlikely you'll be so lucky next time, — the commander of Grand Admiral Thrawn's fleet flagship Imperial Star Destroyer said, not hiding his skepticism. — Soon the personnel problems will be resolved, and the commanding officer will stop giving second chances. Another 'incident' will mean the end of everything...
"Do you think I haven't figured that out already? — Alexander snapped back without any real malice, seeing that the trembling in his hands stubbornly refused to subside on its own. — Not only did I come up with a shitty plan behind Thrawn's back, but my justification was pathetic too... Just piled problems onto myself.
"Oh, — Pellaeon drawled. — Thrawn knows how to ruin a leisurely existence better than anyone. One ISB lieutenant colonel who dared to demand information from him — the grand admiral made him drop and do push-ups right on the Chimaera's bridge. The entire watch whispered counts of how long Astarion would last bending and straightening his arms.
"To hell with all this drill, — Alexander shook his head. — Is there a cabin where I can freshen up?
"And what's wrong with the brig's shower? — Pellaeon chuckled into his mustache.
"Proximity to Thrawn has clearly affected your sense of humor, Gilad, — Alexander said. — Those jokes... are inappropriate.
"It would have been inappropriate if I'd let you into the captain's cabin to freshen up, — Pellaeon said. — I'm sure if Thrawn saw you on his turf, he'd devise a better entertainment than just running your brains through the meat grinder of his intellect.
"Thrawn's in the destroyer commander's cabin? — Alexander frowned. — What's he even doing in your quarters?
"It hasn't been my cabin for two years now, — Pellaeon said with a sigh. — As for what he's doing there... The whole fleet would like to know, take my word for it.