Nine years, eight months, and twenty-two days after the Battle of Yavin…
Or year forty-four, month eight, day twenty-two after the Great Resynchronization.
(Four months and seven days since the Arrival.)
"Move it!" Reynar barked at the Imperial specialists busy packing crystals and valuables found in the Jedi Enclave. Though… what valuables. Junk with only cultural significance, nothing more. "Or do you want stormtroopers to motivate you by the time Thrawn arrives?"
* * *
The workers, clearly annoyed by the shouts and constant verbal prodding, began to move. Slightly faster than before.
"Lazy beasts," Reynar hissed through his teeth, striding through the camp that would be dismantled at the very last moment. "Don't kick them, they won't work. I hate it…"
"You might want to take it easy on the turns, Inquisitor," a voice reached him. A very familiar girl's voice.
It came from the direction of the field kitchen.
Turning over his left shoulder, Reynar came right up to the source of the sound.
"Did I hear right, and you actually mouthed off, you runt?" he asked Vex, who was busily finishing her porridge from a bowl.
The girl looked at him with clear defiance.
"Actually, if it weren't for me, you'd be dead in that cave," she reminded him.
"And now you think you can talk back to me?" Obscuro asked with poorly controlled rage.
"You could at least say 'Thank you!'," the girl's voice held resentment. Deep-seated, almost imperceptible… unless you were Force-sensitive.
"Consider the fact that you still have your head on your shoulders to be my gratitude," Reynar said. He felt someone else appear at the edge of his perception. Lifting his gaze from the girl, he saw the cook. The soldier, swallowing loudly, thought better of it and ducked back into the food preparation area.
No, he was grateful to her to some extent for the rescue. But attachments weakened you. In the end, she did what a servant was supposed to do—worry about the life of her master, commander…
"I'm flattered," the girl said sarcastically, pushing aside her half-eaten bowl. "Next time you're dying, I'll just step over you and keep on walking, swinging my hips."
"Better that than seeing your face and hearing your comments," Reynar shot back. "I'm commanding this expedition. You're only here on sufferance as my apprentice's pocket pet…"
"Who spends more time with the Jedi than with you," Vex snorted. "Some teacher, I must say…"
Oh, so that's it! So Bre'ano Umakk didn't have time to talk to the Inquisitor, but to chew Fodeum's ear off—no problem at all? Well, fish-face, you've gone too far.
Reynar felt rage boiling inside him. He'd just been thinking it wouldn't be bad to learn about the Light Side and how it could help him fight the shadow from his nightmare vision, when the Jedi had practically thrown him over, constantly claiming he needed to supervise the crystal extraction. Saying, you Imperials will ruin everything, and they had to be extracted carefully for future generations…
Hutt liar!
Where were they?! The second thing Fodeum had been hiding from him, as it turned out, was his ability to mask his presence in the Force. The first had been ballistokinesis.
"Find them yourself," a mischievous smile appeared on the girl's lips. "You're the big commander here, after all…"
His hand instinctively fell to the hilt of his lightsaber, and he was ready to cut the girl from shoulder to hip, but he held back.
Killing a long-time friend, even if she "just disappeared," Fodeum wouldn't forgive. And he certainly wouldn't listen to his Inquisitor teacher anymore. And what was the most important commandment of the Dark Side? Raise a successor more powerful than yourself.
And even though the vision had shown Reynar the disastrous outcome of his plan to seize power over Thrawn's achievements, that didn't stop him from thinking that the galaxy was, after all, a big place. And since he would be hunting Force-sensitives, as Thrawn had promised, it wouldn't hurt to become skilled at turning them to the Dark Side of the Force.
Fodeum was a perfect candidate for such experiments. Before, Reynar had only ever managed to destroy Jedi and their supporters, but to turn one, make him serve… That was practically a way to immortalize oneself. If only he could learn the advantages of the Light Side, to make crushing Jedi and their toy worldview easier and simpler…
"One day, Fodeum won't need you anymore," Reynar hissed through his teeth. "And then I'll come for you. And I'll work hard to wipe that nasty little smile off your pretty face. Along with your skin…"
"Oh wow!" the girl feigned theatrical surprise. "Our big, scary Inquisitor complimented my looks! Hooray! I'm going to go print a poster so everyone knows you think I'm pretty…"
"What?!" Reynar was taken aback. "I didn't say that… I meant…"
How do you explain to a fool ignorant of the Force that this technique was meant for the psychological crushing of an opponent? On the one hand, you seem to praise, on the other, you threaten the loss of attractiveness. Not that she was pretty! There were no ugly Twi'leks!
"But you said it!" The girl stuck her tongue out at him, childishly. "So big and mighty, a xenophobe-fascist with a sword, and you're checking out the exo-slut. Tsk-tsk-tsk, better not say that in front of a crowd, or they'll laugh at you, call you a xenophile just pretending! Aghr!!!"
The girl grabbed her throat, which Reynar was squeezing with the Force.
With a wave of his hand, the Twi'lek, struggling for her life and right to breathe, was suspended directly in front of him. A few centimeters above the ground of Dantooine.
"Shut your filthy mouth, girl," he said in a low tone. "Your stupid head only has enough brains to keep your lekku from falling off and your drool from running down your chin while you eat. You have no idea of the power of the Dark Side of the Force that I command!"
"The… Jedi… beat you…" the girl wheezed. Her eyes bulged.
"But if I wanted to snap your neck right now, he's not here, is he?" Reynar clarified. "I recall I already warned you—don't interfere with me. Shut your mouth and pretend to be furniture while I teach Fodeum to be the strongest. Cook his food, wash his clothes, bring his boots in your teeth—but don't let me see you again. In the end, I can get rid of you in a way he'll never know. And the pain of loss will push him even further to the Dark Side."
"You… idiot piece of…!" the Twi'lek blurted out. "Let me go! You're choking me!"
"You know," Reynar said, a smile spreading across his face, "that's exactly what I should do. Everyone's busy working, no one sees anything. The cook will disappear too… I'll snap your neck and throw you somewhere on a steep slope. Everyone will think you slipped… And nothing will distract Fodeum from his training anymore!"
"You… psycho!" The girl glared at him with furious eyes.
Reynar himself knew that his threats would remain just threats for now—without this loud-mouthed mongrel, Fodeum would sooner switch sides and learn from the Jedi than from him. Stupid kid. But promising.
Obscuro loosened his grip, letting the girl breathe… Collapsed at his feet.
"Remember this, you little wretch," he said. "You are nothing. And from now on, you obey me. See me coming—run the other way. If I can't find your master—you go find him and bring him to me. Tell you to jump off a cliff—you do that too. Understand?!"
The girl looked at him with a gaze full of hatred. Even without being Force-sensitive, she radiated such fury… Oh, you could warm yourself in its rays. Why was this wretch an ordinary civilian?! She could have made something diligent, deadly! A superior assassin with an excellent trigger for the Dark Side!
"I guess not," Reynar stated. He jerked the girl up again, cutting off her air supply. "Let's see how you handle pain…"
A very, very difficult technique. He needed to concentrate on her nerve endings, to…
"And how do you handle it?" the girl suddenly asked, breaking his concentration.
"What?" Reynar didn't grasp the meaning of her question.
But the next second he did—when a sharp pain flooded his lower abdomen, instantly releasing the Twi'lek from his Force grip. Reynar dropped to his knees, reflexively pressing both hands to his groin. Where the little wretch had kicked him with her little foot!
"B-b-bitch…" he hissed, glaring at the girl, who stood before him, aiming a blaster at him.
"A piece of shit!" she yelled in his face. "An ungrateful piece of shit! I could have just waited for you to die in that cave! I stood there and watched a Jedi revive you! And a whole company of 'dolls' stood there in silence! We waited for you to die! And only because I felt human pity for you did I say to save you! I could have waited another ten minutes, and you'd definitely be dead! Guaranteed! And not a single stormtrooper could have done a thing to me! Because nobody here loves you, bastard, nobody respects you, and they only obey your orders because Thrawn put you in charge!"
"I'm an Inquisitor!" he roared in her face. "I give the orders here!"
"You couldn't even protect your own appendage," the girl said angrily. "You can't even command part of yourself! Ego the size of a galaxy, but results — zero! That's why Fodeum doesn't listen to you — you're just a chained-up wild beast that hates everything and everyone! What, your insecurities getting in the way? Your Jedi mommy didn't give you her tit as a kid? You're mean as a nexu, I thought maybe nearly dying would make you a little kinder! But you just became even more of an asshole! You think you can threaten me? I didn't even touch you until you started talking down to everyone! Oh look, we've got ourselves a great Dark Lord! I'm just a simple girl from Ryloth, and I took you down with one hit!"
Gradually, anger was drowning out the pain, calming the nerve endings in the troubled organ. Well, you tailed bitch, just you wait. A couple more minutes and you'll be torn to pieces!
"You don't know me!" he rasped, already imagining how he'd vent his rage. No, he wouldn't kill her — the wretch would pay another way. But the fury demanded release! "You don't know anything about me! Don't touch my past! It," the Force around him coiled into a whip — "is!" "MINE!"
The telekinetic blast slammed into the field kitchen, overturning and deforming tables and chairs, ripping down the canopy, flipping over the food vat and the dispensers. The entire mess was swept aside, landing on its roof. From the Force echoes, the cook was alive but terrified — had shit himself and gotten scalded.
Nearby, boxes of already-packed equipment flew apart, lightsaber crystals scattering like a precious rain...
And who cares!
The girl, around whom the storm had just raged, stared at him in fear. Just like last time... Except this idiot either didn't have enough brains, or had too many, to process the threat and brush it aside. Hutt, why wasn't she Force-sensitive? Now that would be a worthy student!
Vex shook her head. It was a gesture of genuine regret.
"Man, you're messed up," she said in a tone that suggested she'd seen Force Scream manifestations before — the very technique he'd trained half his life to master, wanting to be like Darth Vader, who by his own account had used such a move to destroy the lab where they'd turned him into a cyborg. "Inquisitor, you should get those nerves treated, yeah?"
"How do you do that?!" Reynar felt the rage literally draining out of him. All he ever managed was to scare her for a moment, maybe two — then she'd stand there like nothing happened, acting like everything was fine.
"I don't know myself," the girl crouched down in front of him. The disgust and contempt in her eyes shifted to sympathy. "You know... I almost feel sorry for you. Anyone can see you've got a ton of shit in your past that you drag through your whole life. That's why you're so angry — weak and angry."
"I don't need your pity!" He waved away her hands as she touched his cheek.
"Everyone does," Vex said earnestly. "Fodeum, when he ran from his people, he was the same way... Undecided. Happy one minute, sobbing the next. He talked it out — it helped. That's how we became friends."
"Spare me the Jedi sermons," Reynar grumbled. But there was no real malice in it anymore.
"I'm not a Jedi," the girl sighed tiredly. "It's just that you men are all used to thinking of us Twi'leks as nothing more than objects of interest. But we're actually smart and caring. Sure, each with her own quirk, but that makes life more interesting. Me, for example — I know how to listen. And give advice. You just need to talk it out."
"Everything I need — I already have," Reynar cut her off. "I have me!"
The girl gave a sad smile. She'd switched from mockery to sympathy awfully fast. Implausibly fast.
"And how long will you live like that, all alone?" she asked. "Everyone needs someone nearby. Living as a loner is hard. I know from experience. Especially when your past is nothing but pain. Listen," the girl looked away awkwardly — "I'm sorry..."
"For what?" What the hell was wrong with this girl?
"Well..." Vex practically turned her back to him. "I was aiming for your shin..."
"By the Hutts, you missed big time!" Reynar exclaimed, assessing the length of his thigh — from knee to pelvis.
"Then don't choke me!" the girl's eyes flashed with anger. "I hate that! Do you know how many times I was dragged around in a collar, choked like that?!" Vex pulled down the high collar of her sweater, which covered her almost up to her throat. Reynar saw that practically her entire neck was covered in old scar tissue — the kind that forms when skin is rubbed raw... "Want to know where I got these scars?"
Something wasn't right... Something was completely wrong... How had he gone from an assassination attempt to sitting here listening to this flighty girl... Vex?
And stranger still — he actually wanted to hear her story...
"Tell me," he said hoarsely.
The girl looked at him warily, cautiously. As if preparing to hand over something precious and dear. Then again, he understood perfectly. The secret wounds of the past were always... Very personal. He himself wouldn't risk it, and...
"I will," she said. "If you tell me yours."
"No," he replied sharply.
"Then neither will I." The girl rose easily to her feet. "I'm not about to open up my past if you won't open yours!"
"But you wanted to," said Reynar, thrown off balance.
"If you tell me — I will too," Vex promised. "And I won't throw it in your face later or use it to insult you! Goodbye! And one more thing," she looked at the Inquisitor. "Lie down somewhere, maybe. Let it all settle."
Turning, the girl strode quickly away.
Reynar wanted to go after her, talk to her, but... somehow he just didn't care anymore.
If she didn't want to — fine, no great loss.
Getting to his feet, Reynar hissed in pain. And with slow, deliberate steps, he made his way toward his sleeping quarters.
* * *
He had to admit — it was a strange feeling, being aboard the Chimaera again.
Han's memories of his previous visit to Grand Admiral Thrawn's flagship weren't the most pleasant, because they came in the context of the memorable defeat at the Honoghr system. The very same system where Thrawn, with relatively limited forces, had managed to crush his task force and capture practically every ship the Corellian had at his disposal.
But today he stepped onto the landing pad of the Chimaera's main hangar not as a prisoner. At least, he hoped so.
The first thing Han saw when he descended the ramp of his shuttle (ironically, a former Imperial Lambda-class) was the all-too-familiar hull of the Millennium Falcon. His ship, now a trophy of the Grand Admiral...
Suppressing the flicker of resentment inside him, Solo continued looking around.
The officers and technicians from the Chimaera's crew who were on the deck wore the uniform of the Imperial Navy, but besides the command wands and the ever-present code cylinders in their breast pockets, they also bore chevrons... A golden-yellow "gear," once a symbol of the Empire. Though it was a different color, and certainly not on a black background...
The effect was somewhat strange, especially given that the Dominion presented itself as a pro-Imperial state.
The second difference was that there were almost no stormtroopers or security personnel in the hangar. No, it was as if nothing had changed. So what if a Lambda-class shuttle had arrived carrying an enemy general — big deal.
Nobody had even tried to take him into custody or escort him anywhere.
"It's time for another of our meetings, General Solo," Han almost jumped at the voice suddenly sounding behind him. But by sheer force of will, he managed to stay put. Turning around slowly...
Before him, hands clasped behind his back, stood the Grand Admiral Thrawn himself in his snow-white tunic, gleaming with epaulets. How he'd managed to sneak up behind Solo's back without being seen was beyond him — especially when he was accompanied by a pair of Imperial Guards in their unchanging black-and-red robes and closed helmets, an adjutant with major's insignia, and a grey-skinned Noghri.
"Yeah, I suppose so," Solo grunted, meeting the eyes of someone he hadn't expected to see on Thrawn's side.
Because the fifth member of the Grand Admiral's entourage seemed clearly out of place in that company. But all questions could wait.
"Hey, Luke," he said, glancing at the Jedi. The latter smiled warmly, extending his mechanical hand for a handshake. The Corellian didn't feel like playing offended innocence here and returned the gesture.
And almost automatically, after exchanging greetings with his friend, he stuck his hand out to Thrawn. The ruler of the Dominion stared for a couple of seconds at Han's hand, then at the man trying frantically to figure out what to do after such a mistake, then silently pulled his own upper limbs out from behind his back. With a light, almost filigree motion, he pulled the snow-white glove off his right hand, revealing a surprisingly large blue-tinted hand.
And gave the Corellian a firm handshake.
"You are punctual," Thrawn stated, tucking his hand back into the glove.
"It's in my interest," Han replied, casting a wistful glance toward the Millennium Falcon. "I hope there are no problems or hitches with the prisoner transfer?"
"None whatsoever," Thrawn replied. Seriously, where had the Grand Admiral come from? Surely he hadn't descended from his own shuttle? "My pilots have already left the ships carrying the former prisoners of war, so you are free to take both the transport vessels themselves and the beings aboard them."
"Thanks," Han said reluctantly. "But we brought our own transport ships too. So, if you don't mind, I'll order my people to dock with your transports and start moving the prisoners."
The last thing he needed was to drag Imperial starships into New Republic facilities. He knew all about their tricks with "beacons" and the like. No thanks, that wasn't for them.
"As you wish," Thrawn said indifferently. "I take it this will take some time?"
"I'm sure it will," Han confirmed.
"Then I suggest we use it productively." The Grand Admiral nodded toward the Falcon. That familiar pang of resentment and loss returned...
"With all due respect, I'd like to retrieve my family, my friends, and depart," Han admitted.
"As you wish." Thrawn seemed to show no interest in the proceedings whatsoever. "But I think you'll still have to board the Falcon."
"Is that a threat, Grand Admiral?" Solo tensed.
"Not at all, General." A smile appeared on Thrawn's lips. "Of all the Republicans currently aboard my flagship, you are the only one I trust enough to allow to pilot the Millennium Falcon out of the Chimaera's hangar."
Wait. What?
"Hang on, hang on," Han shook his head. "Did I hear that right? Does that mean..."
"The Grand Admiral is returning the Falcon to you," Skywalker cut in. "Leia, the children, Lando, Chewie, and even C-3PO — they're all onboard already."
"Could've kept Goldenrod, though," Han grumbled.
"No, thank you," a chuckle came from Thrawn. "That droid gets on my crew's nerves."
"He does have a talent for that," Han agreed. "Well, I had to try..."
"Trying is not necessary, General Solo," Thrawn said unexpectedly. "Either do, or do not."
The Corellian didn't miss that "the kid" flinched at that moment. Interesting — what had the Grand Admiral said that could rattle even a Jedi?
It took a couple of minutes for the whole party to walk leisurely over to the Millennium Falcon's ramp. Han noted with displeasure that several characteristic dents in his ship's hull had disappeared. Crudely done weld seams had been removed, replaced by excellent Imperial craftsmanship. Simply put — someone had been tinkering with his ship. And thoroughly, at that.
"Don't take offense," Thrawn said when they reached the ramp. "My technicians intended to prepare the vessel for my own use, but during the repairs, they concluded it would be simpler to purchase a new ship. However, I must also report that the Chimaera's technical crew was impressed by your mechanical skills, Captain Solo. Keeping a ship like the Falcon in working condition... That's worth a great deal."
"Yeah, no kidding," Han agreed, noting that the Imperials had replaced several components in the ramp's release mechanism and the hull seal at that point. Did that mean... there was now no risk of accidental decompression, and the ramp could be lowered without the danger of it suddenly jamming? Well, thanks for that, fellas. Because each of those components cost a good thousand credits. Han would never have bought them himself.
Inside, the Falcon looked like someone had gone through it with a vat of cleaning solution. The ship gleamed and sparkled, every panel neatly fastened and secured, no rusty parts... Solo was starting to doubt this was even his ship. But a couple of characteristic marks confirmed it was indeed his. Someone had just cleaned it thoroughly. Hmph... He'd have to give the old girl a good shake-down to make sure nobody had "forgotten" anything. Like the traditional Imperial "beacons."
"Han!" Spotting her husband, the Alderaanian princess threw herself around his neck. Ignoring the friends and foes present, the Corellian spun his wife in the air, holding her so tightly even a Wookiee would be jealous.
Another five minutes were spent exchanging greetings with everyone — from Chewbacca and Lando to Winter and an unfamiliar young woman of clearly Corellian appearance. But the last guest aboard his ship Han only recognized when Luke introduced the Corellian legend.
"Senator Bel Iblis," Han said with a hint of awe, vigorously shaking his countryman's hand. "It's an honor to meet you in person, a hero of Corellia..."
One of the Alliance leaders, visibly flustered by such an enthusiastic but brief speech, glanced at the Grand Admiral standing in the passage leading to the main cabin.
"I am equally delighted to meet you, General Solo," he said. "Doubly so, as this meeting marks my liberation from our captivity..."
"I think the thanks should go not to me," Han glanced at Thrawn, who was observing the blossoming idyll of family-and-friend reunion with a slight half-smile. "This was the Grand Admiral's decision to exchange you..."
"Quite an intriguing one," Bel Iblis said through clenched teeth. "After so many promises..."
"I think," Thrawn said quietly, "it's time to clarify the situation."
Despite the noise in the main cabin, it fell silent at Thrawn's words. Acting on the assumption that a lengthy discussion was ahead, the Republican citizens settled into comfortable seats. Unfortunately for Thrawn, there weren't enough seats on the couches. Not that he seemed eager to get comfortable.
Han glanced at Luke — he'd perched on the edge of a couch next to the unfamiliar Corellian woman. She seemed to be one of Bel Iblis's aides — at least, her face was familiar from the preliminary list of liberated prisoners.
"Palpatine is ready to move," Thrawn said without preamble. Bel Iblis's eyebrows shot up, and the atmosphere in the room grew palpably tense. It seemed the Corellian wanted to ask something but decided to remain silent. "His preparatory campaign is concluding. At the end of this year or the beginning of the next, he will strike. At present, he controls, through his puppets, the Pentastar Alignment as well as Imperial Space. The lesser Imperial Remnants will either be subjugated by him or will join of their own accord."
"Does that include the Dominion?" Leia inquired.
"I determine my own state's policy," Thrawn declared. "However, Palpatine has made certain hints about preserving neutrality toward my territories should his offensive against the New Republic continue successfully. Affiliation with the New Republic is essentially a target that sectors hang on their own backs."
"And why are you telling us this?" Lando asked.
"Isn't it obvious?" Thrawn clarified.
"Not in the slightest," Han admitted.
"Then a brief analysis of the situation," Thrawn continued. "You possess a large amount of Imperial military equipment. But at the same time, you are unable to maintain it. I offered to exchange it for your prisoners of war — you refused. At the same time, I received an offer from Orinda to exchange Princess Organa-Solo and her children for support of Imperial Space and access to their resources and reserves."
Han tensed noticeably. As did everyone else present.
"But you promised to release us in exchange..." Luke began.
"Politics is a complicated thing," Thrawn stated. "I think everyone understands perfectly that I would not discuss my arrangements with you, Jedi Skywalker, in front of members of the Imperial Ruling Council. Their army and fleet at the borders of the Dominion are the last thing I need."
"But they will come," Bel Iblis said confidently. "Palpatine cannot be trusted..."
"I don't recall saying I believe those words," Thrawn said. "I have no interest in destroying the New Republic, even though I could do so..."
"It would take you years," Leia said, stung.
."..in a couple of weeks," Thrawn finished his sentence. And Han somehow got the impression that this being was by no means underestimating the timeframe. Looking at what he'd been doing... Yes, over the past few months, he'd operated only along the communications routes, and with only a small portion of his fleet at that. And from all appearances, he'd intended only to capture ships, growing his fleet — not conquering territory. "But I need you," the Grand Admiral said unexpectedly.
"Is that so?" Bel Iblis was surprised. "And for what purpose?"
"You are a buffer zone that will draw the bulk of Palpatine's forces," Thrawn said. "And he won't have enough strength or resources left for the Dominion."
"You are a shameless and amoral being," said the Corellian woman sitting next to Luke. "You want to set Palpatine against the entire galaxy while you sit on the sidelines?"
"Believe me, Lieutenant Irenez, your actions, which led to my actions against the New Republic, had nothing to do with altruism either," Thrawn smirked. "I am warning you and speaking openly — Palpatine's main targets are the Jedi Skywalker, Princess Leia, and her children."
"Over my dead body," Han declared.
"You have no idea how easily the Emperor can arrange for that condition to be met," Thrawn said. "I imagine Jedi Skywalker will tell you the full story of his visit to the Polis Massa asteroid during your journey back to the New Republic," from the frown on Leia's face, Han understood she clearly didn't know something. "I trust you won't let me down, Jedi Skywalker, and will share the details you previously omitted?"
Luke looked at the floor and gave a short nod:
"You've already done everything to ensure I tell them as soon as possible."
"After all, the tale of your encounter with Palpatine's minions is the price I set for Lieutenant Irenez's release from captivity," Thrawn declared. The Corellian woman looked at the blushing Jedi with interest and gratitude. "Now let's move to the main point. I announced to the Imperial Ruling Council that I am prepared to hand over the Princess and her children to them only in exchange for Grand Moff Kaine's Super Star Destroyer Reaper."
"They'll never agree to that," Leia said confidently. "Those Remnants are in conflict, even if not openly..."
"Which is precisely why an impossible condition became the guarantee that I could present the clumsy New Republic attack on the Oplovis sector as an exchange of ships for prisoners," Thrawn said. "Otherwise, I'm certain that after some time, I would have acquired the Reaper, and you, Princess, would have appeared before the Reborn Palpatine. Not to mention that your children would have been raised by adepts of the Dark Side."
"Does Palpatine have another Darth Vader?" Han asked in surprise. Looking into Luke and Leia's eyes, he explained:
"Who else could he field?"
"I'll explain later," Luke promised.
"So I take it you want something in return for our release?" Leia asked.
"The Lusankya," Thrawn said. Murmuring arose among those gathered, interrupted again by the Grand Admiral:
"I'm not asking for it to be repaired — its current condition is sufficient. There's no need to transfer it anywhere or give it up with a full crew, as you already did in the Oplovis sector," Thrawn said. "Jedi Skywalker has a comlink to contact me. Just tell me where the ship is — I'll retrieve it myself."
"And use it against us," Bel Iblis said darkly.
"If the New Republic doesn't calm down and continues its war against the Dominion — yes," Thrawn didn't deny it. "If you don't retrieve your prisoners of war, I'll continue capturing your ships and then send prisoners who have been in my custody for a long time on to Coruscant."
"And how are we supposed to retrieve them from you?" Leia asked in surprise.
"I've already stated the conditions," Thrawn reminded. "Hand over Imperial ships or any other military equipment to me; in return, you'll receive as many prisoners as corresponds to the number of crew members on the weaponry models transferred to me."
"So you're weakening the New Republic by taking its military equipment and supplying prisoners you captured when you seized our ships in exchange?" Lando clarified.
"Yes," Thrawn answered simply. "And at the same time, you're missing the main point. To maintain Imperial equipment, you need the Kuat Drive Yards, which keep raising their service prices. Meanwhile, you have a large number of ships in various stages of construction that you could crew with freed personnel. With minimal outfitting, you could bring a substantial number of starships into service and face Palpatine not with obsolete vessels, but with modern warships."
Han barely stifled a curse. Wasn't this exactly what had been discussed at the Provisional Government meeting, and then between him and Ackbar during their walk through the Imperial Palace Vestibule on Coruscant? Who the hell was spying for Thrawn?
"The proposal isn't without merit," Bel Iblis said unexpectedly. "But at the same time, you'd be gaining a Super Star Destroyer…"
"The weakest of all those built in its class," the Dominion Grand Admiral noted. "Moreover, it will take a considerable amount of time and resources to make it operational, not to mention the nearly three hundred thousand crew members who would need to be trained and prepared. So for the foreseeable future, the Lusankya will only be useful for defending the Dominion against internal threats, nothing more."
"The New Republic won't agree to that," Leia said firmly.
"Of course," Thrawn agreed. Suspiciously easily. "That's why I'm negotiating with you, not with Mon Mothma. Furthermore, I would say that the longer you delay the inevitable, the longer your career military personnel will remain in captivity. After that, filtration camps await them." Han barely held back another curse. "All of you," Thrawn clarified, "they await you as well."
"That's nonsense," Calrissian said confidently.
"I believe General Solo will explain to you the depth of your own misconceptions," Thrawn said. "As you can see, my proposal makes your coming confrontation vastly easier. You give me the ships — I return your prisoners. You won't need to keep training recruits to make up for your losses, or spend enormous resources rebuilding your armed forces."
"Wouldn't it be simpler if we exchanged the prisoners for money?" the princess asked.
"Are you certain the New Republic's budget wouldn't be in deficit for years to come after that?" Thrawn countered.
"We have plenty of credits…" Leia began, but fell silent, clearly realizing how foolish that sounded.
"That's precisely why they don't interest me," Thrawn replied. "However, if you're prepared to provide me with an equal mass of aurodium to match the prisoners' weight, I would consider such an exchange."
"But that's tons of precious metal!" Calrissian exclaimed.
"You're mistaken," Thrawn assured him. "Thousands of tons."
"The New Republic doesn't have that much aurodium or other valuable metals," Leia admitted.
"Which is why I am offering you," the Grand Admiral stressed the last word, "to give me the coordinates of the Lusankya and get back nearly three hundred thousand of your military personnel. That would be enough to crew almost a hundred Mon Calamari star cruisers. All I need from you is the ship's coordinates. Or the coordinates of the Imperial starships you've abandoned — cruisers, Star Destroyers, frigates — I'll take them and send you your prisoners."
Han felt like he was missing something. Thrawn was essentially offering to take their scrap metal while simultaneously strengthening their fleet by returning skilled specialists. What was the catch? If he got the Lusankya or a dozen Star Destroyers, it would take him years to repair and crew them…
So what was the point, if he claimed he was preparing to repel Palpatine's attacks?
The Grand Admiral had to be planning to trick them somewhere — that was as sure as anything on Tatooine. No one did something like this at the expense of their own interests. So this was another one of Thrawn's manipulations… But what was its goal?
"You mentioned we could exchange our prisoners for Imperials," Luke reminded him.
"That is also an option," the Grand Admiral confirmed.
"That definitely won't happen," Leia stated. "Most of the Imperials we've captured have either switched sides and joined the New Republic military, or received amnesty and gone civilian. There are very, very few prisoners left — barely a few hundred. And by now, they've almost certainly been sent to Kessel or the prison colonies."
"That is entirely your choice," Thrawn noted. "I can only ask you to be reasonable, nothing more. Time is running out. The problems are multiplying. If you keep trying to avoid what must come, you will lose."
"Why don't you propose this to Mon Mothma directly?" Leia asked.
"There is a difference between being spectacular and being effective," Thrawn said. "I require the latter. Negotiations with your government would yield no result whatsoever. You, however, are a different matter. You have been in captivity and have seen what the Dominion is. We took the best of the Empire and discarded the worst. If what you witnessed with your own eyes does not convince you, then we have nothing more to discuss. I have great hopes that you are reasonable, far-sighted individuals, willing to make unpopular decisions to preserve your state. I am not accustomed to being wrong, so if this attempt to normalize dialogue also fails, I will have nothing further to say to the New Republic."
"But why not simply form an alliance with Coruscant?" Luke asked. "We share common goals…"
"No," Thrawn replied. "Your democracy is no better than Imperial bureaucracy — in fact, it may be worse. I have no need for ineffective allies. Especially since we have virtually no common ground — you refuse to listen to me, and I have neither the desire nor the time to persuade you. Everyone present here is a rational adult, capable of making their own decisions and understanding the consequences. If you cannot trust me even on a matter that directly affects the New Republic's very existence, I will leave you to face Emperor Palpatine on your own, and focus my efforts on problems requiring my immediate attention."
For a time, silence reigned in the Millennium Falcon's lounge. Each person present weighed the Grand Admiral's words, matching them against what they already knew…
And no one was in a hurry to declare their willingness to help the Dominion.
"Well then," Thrawn said, "I expected nothing less."
He looked at Han.
"When you struck a tacit agreement with the Empire regarding the destruction of Warlord Zsinj, you seemed far more willing to cooperate, General Solo," he said. The Corellian felt a pang of conscience. Thrawn was speaking the absolute truth. And honestly, if it were up to Han alone, he would have gladly given the Lusankya to the Dominion just to get the soldiers back. But unfortunately, that wasn't his call. And handing over the Mon Calamari ships under his command… No, he definitely wouldn't do that.
"All the best, ladies and gentlemen," Thrawn said. "I trust you understand that your refusal to cooperate and fight together against the threat facing the entire galaxy means only one thing: the war between the Dominion and the New Republic will continue. Today you will leave my ship, as stipulated by the prisoner exchange agreement. But after I obtain what I want, we will still be enemies."
"Are you certain you can find the Lusankya and capture it?" Garm Bel Iblis asked. "You haven't managed that in months…"
"You fought against the Empire for years, Commander," Thrawn reminded him. "And no one could defeat you. It took me very little time and personal attention to the problem for your terrorist cell to cease to exist. I believe that after you return to the New Republic, knock on every door in the halls of power, and are refused on the matter of recovering your people from my captivity, you will realize that your view of Mon Mothma's policies is accurate. But you will come to that realization, at best, while commanding some backwater unit on the fringes of the galaxy."
The Corellian stared into the Grand Admiral's eyes for a long moment, then looked away.
"I'll find a way to get my people back," he promised. "I've been assured that Mon Mothma isn't what I thought she was. Everyone can be wrong."
"Try," Thrawn agreed. "When you fail, consider what you might offer me in exchange for your people. I hope you and the New Republic can negotiate a prisoner exchange with me before your soldiers and officers decide to switch sides, seeing the inhumane and utterly indifferent treatment of their fate by those they trusted unconditionally. For my part, I can only say that the process has already begun." Those present looked at him with great surprise and wariness. "I think you should know, Princess Organa, that a considerable number of Alderaanians consider Eric Shohashi a decent and exemplary officer. And they dream of taking revenge on those who abandoned them in captivity with no hope of return."
"It seems to me you're playing with words," Lando said. "New Republic soldiers will never betray their faith in democracy and freedom."
"Yes," Thrawn agreed. "Until, in the intervals between labor therapy to strengthen the Dominion, they start asking themselves why their government values old Imperial ships and armor more than the lives of its own soldiers."
None of those present had a reply to that.
* * *
An hour after the incident, Fodeum and Bre'ano Umakk arrived at the field kitchen. Another training session on emotional control and meditation had gone well. Say what you will, but practicing in the crystal caves was a pleasure. Even though you'd worked hard, you felt rested.
But the sight of the ruined dining facility, already being dismantled by members of the archaeological service, provoked deeply conflicted thoughts.
Thank the cook for explaining what happened.
"I'll take care of his treatment," the Mon Calamari said, pointing to the cook's right hand, covered in thermal burn blisters.
"What got into Reynar?" Fodeum wondered. "To blow up like that… Sure, he's crazy, but…"
"Rage is his weapon," Bre'ano Umakk intoned didactically. "But it is also his weakness. He has a bad temper. Much pain in the past. And even more pain he is afraid to bring into his life. That is why he is constantly enraged — it's easier for him to live that way, not letting anyone close."
"Sounds familiar," Fodeum snorted. "Vex acts pretty much the same way. Just through jokes, barbs… Hey!" the young Jensaarai yelped. "Wait! Master Umakk! I have oh-what-suspicions that you've been meddling! You told Vex to wait for us here!"
"Aha," the Mon Calamari chuckled mysteriously.
"And you told the workers not to rush loading the crystals," Fodeum narrowed his eyes. "That's what made Reynar blow up! And he dragged Vex into it…"
"You're thinking correctly, Padawan," Bre'ano Umakk chuckled just as meaningfully.
"You deliberately set them against each other, didn't you?" He'd already figured it out; he just needed confirmation…
"Not me," the Mon Calamari declared with an air of mystery, smiling disarmingly. "It was the Will of the Force. Your teacher could do much harm if he survives and lives only by the Dark Side. He needs a friend. A reliable support."
"Wonderful!" Actually, he'd wanted to curse profusely, but his memory failed him and he couldn't recall the specific Huttese word. "Well, why not sic my girlfriend on my teacher? They won't kill each other, they'll just cry on each other's shoulders and…"
"With this," the Mon Calamari said, using the Force to levitate a single small crystal into the air, "they definitely won't kill each other."
Judging by the deep hole left in the ground, the gemstone had clearly been dug up — it hadn't just fallen out of a container.
"And… what is that crystal?" Fodeum asked. "And how long have you had it hidden?"
"Not me," Bre'ano Umakk smiled meaningfully again. "It was the Will of the Force."
"May the Sith crucify your Jedi backside!" Fodeum said, grimacing. He just didn't like these mysterious, allegorical sayings, even if it meant turning to the Dark Side!
* * *
Pellaeon placed an information chip on the Grand Admiral's desk and slid it toward the owner of the quarters.
"Intelligence data on New Republic shipping," he explained.
"Thank you, Captain," Thrawn replied without looking up from the data on his monitors. Oh, to get just a glimpse of what he was studying so intently… "Have the New Republic ships departed?"
"Yes, sir," Gilad confirmed.
"Are the signals from the project 'Morrt' buzz droids stable?" the Grand Admiral asked.
"Yes, sir," the Chimaera's commander replied. "As soon as the Republic transports docked with ours, the buzz droids transferred to their ships. The signals are stable; the navigators are already calculating their movement vectors. Shall I order the fleet's operational groups to stand by for an attack?"
"Absolutely not, Captain." Thrawn tore his gaze from the screens and looked at Gilad. "Wherever the Republic ships go now, it won't be to any important target. Most likely, they will change course several more times, split up, and arrive at different destinations. We shouldn't react — not until the right moment comes."
If only I knew when that would be, Gilad thought.
"Sir," he addressed the commander cautiously, "you don't actually think any of them would be foolish enough to give you the coordinates of the Lusankya, do you?"
"Foolish?" Thrawn asked, surprised. "Absolutely not…"
Then what was the point of this whole charade of trying to 'make friends and help' if…
"…But it won't be long before they themselves conclude that without getting their prisoners back in service, they cannot properly defend their territory," Thrawn continued as if nothing had happened. "It may have seemed strange to you that I spent so much time talking to them, but it was necessary so that the second group of buzz droids — which our transports evacuating food supplies from Agamar scattered across the planet's orbit — could attach themselves to General Solo's task force ships."
Well, hello. He could have just said that.
"So, you were essentially stalling for time?" Pellaeon clarified.
"Of course," Thrawn confirmed. "The New Republic has already lost the Crimson Dawn and the First Division of capital ships from the Fourth Fleet. The Lusankya is their last argument against a strong opponent. At present, they are doing everything possible to crew and prepare her for battle. Their calculation is that the New Republic will never negotiate with any of the Remnants while it considers itself strong. They won't negotiate with us either."
"But there was a precedent for an alliance against Zsinj," Gilad reminded him.
"Yes," the Grand Admiral agreed. "But at that time, the New Republic was just getting back on its feet and had no significant military force of its own. The military victories, territorial growth, and fleet expansion since then have convinced them that the Republic forces can repel any attack. At the moment, they do not understand the objective of the information war we have unleashed against them."
Not that they were alone in that…
"And what is its objective, if not the dissolution of the New Republic?" Pellaeon asked.
"The secession of the outer sectors," Thrawn explained. So, how was that different from 'dissolution'? "You see, the matter is this. Palpatine has a large fleet — enormous, I would even say. But to conquer the New Republic, he will need to split it into several operational groups. That way, he can engage any one of the New Republic's fleets and defeat them. But to control captured territory, he will have to weaken his forward units. Consequently, the deeper he pushes into New Republic-controlled sectors, the more forces he will need to hold that territory. Given the predictable aggression on his part, conquered systems and sectors will suffer bombardment and violence against the local population. In that case, the sectors that seceded from the New Republic will either join Palpatine of their own accord and avoid violent annexation, or be able to maintain their independence. After Palpatine's defeat, the New Republic will be in chaos and bogged down in reconstruction. The widespread destruction of the former New Republic territories, contrasted with the preservation of the seceded sectors, will be a litmus test for the galaxy's population, showing them what happens to the New Republic's allies."
"And then they will join us, won't they?" Pellaeon clarified.
"Not immediately," Thrawn declared. "After Palpatine's destruction, we will effectively face a new act of the Imperial Civil War, when Imperial formations become accountable to no one but local command. Given that Palpatine attracted the greatest number of sadists of all stripes, reprisals will be a common occurrence. Our task during this period is to capitalize on the Dominion's advantage as territories that escaped occupation. We will eliminate these new Remnants and annex new territories. Given the fact that I intend to continue the policy of opportunistic capture of infrastructure and starships, we will rapidly increase our own armed forces. While the New Republic licks its wounds, we — either through military action or negotiation — will manage to match them in territory and number of ships."
"Is that why you ordered an increase in buzz droid production?" Pellaeon asked.
"Yes," Thrawn confirmed. "Admiral Ackbar intends to set traps for our raiders. Without precise knowledge of these ships' locations, we won't be able to avoid them. Furthermore, the trap convoys will contain a considerable number of Imperial-built starships with minimal crews and weapons. That also plays into our hands."
"As does demonstrating to the galaxy that, despite the New Republic's ingenuity, they continue to suffer defeat after defeat."
"Precisely," Thrawn confirmed. "You are making progress in information analysis, Captain."
"I try, sir," Gilad said, embarrassed by the praise. "But… does that mean we won't find the Lusankya?"
"Well, why not?" the Grand Admiral asked, surprised. "The enemy will deliver it into our hands themselves — just give it time. The combination currently in play is quite, quite interesting…"
As if there was any doubt.
"Relay a new order to our scouts," Thrawn commanded.
"Yes, sir, what is it?" Pellaeon responded eagerly.
"We need more plasma drills," the Grand Admiral stated.
"Sir?" Gilad was surprised. Honestly, he'd thought the whole 'digging' saga was long over.
"They are necessary to complete the third phase of Operation Crimson Dawn," Thrawn reminded him.
"The attack on Sluis Van," Pellaeon said, recalling what the Grand Admiral had declared as the climax of this year's campaign.
"And not only that," the commander declared. "Don't forget that it is, first and foremost, a geological tool, and lately we have needed more and more metals. Including rare ones."
"Yes, but the number of their suppliers is limited," Pellaeon noted. "Not to mention that the New Republic has recently started paying closer attention to third-party deals."
"Let it be so," Thrawn agreed, far too suspiciously easily. "But we need materials — the more, the better. On our new planets in the Nidjun sector, there are large stockpiles of pirate valuables that we can liquidate to purchase what we need. For instance, not far from us is the planet Jabim, famous for its supply of rare metals."
"They are neutral," Gilad said, searching his memory. "They also trade with the New Republic…"
"…as well as with private individuals," Thrawn said. "Captain Hoffner can assist us with this. After he finishes his current assignment."
"But what about the asteroids in the Lok planetary belt?" Pellaeon asked, surprised. "There are rich deposits of almost every metal known to the galaxy's periodic table."
"After today's conversation, the New Republic will be closely monitoring our contacts," Thrawn said. "That is precisely why our secret strategic reserve must remain secret for a long time. Within the Dominion, we have virtually everything needed for shipbuilding, repair, and military hardware production. However, we are more interested in what we can obtain right under our opponents' noses — without drawing the enemy's attention, without depleting the Dominion's own reserves, and while still being able to transport it and deliver it to the facilities we need to build and keep running."
"Sir," Pellaeon frowned, "may I ask what this is about?"
"Certainly, Captain," Thrawn confirmed. "General Veers, before his departure for the cloning procedure, provided me with a most curious memorandum. The old Republic-era equipment we have has many advantages, but it too is obsolete. We need to produce new weapon systems — of Imperial design. For that, we need factories and resources for building walkers, tanks, prefabricated structures, and so forth. But first and foremost, we need to implement our own project 'Nomad.'"
Gilad patiently searched his memory…
"The walking city from Nkllon?" he clarified. Receiving an affirmative nod from Thrawn, the flagship's commander asked:
"But sir, we destroyed it…"
"Critically damaged," Thrawn clarified. "The Nomad was destroyed because it couldn't be extracted from the system. But our operative Rederick obtained copies of the technical plans for that mining enterprise. After the ruin of Lando Calrissian, he sold everything he had left of the ground-effect craft base and any ships of that type. The analysis department is tracking the transactions for those ships. Currently, and since the sale, they've been resold and are undergoing repairs. Their price has dropped to a minimum, but it's still exorbitant, so in the near future we'll acquire them by the traditionally illegal method for Niles Ferrier's clones."
"So... we steal them," Gilad concluded.
"I don't intend to waste money acquiring what we can take from our enemies for free," Thrawn declared. Seeing the unspoken question in Pellaeon's eyes, the Grand Admiral deigned to explain.
"It's obvious that the New Republic plans to revive the Nomad project, but under their own flag," Thrawn said. "A fairly clever decision, since Nkllon has massive mineral deposits. But they don't have the money to build the enterprise itself, so Ferrier will steal the ground-effect craft for us. We'll handle the creation of the Nomad and its copies ourselves — there, where we'll produce our walkers and other armored vehicles. Nkllon and the Nomad will supply the factory with all necessary materials."
Ambitious... and at the same time so simple that you wonder why you didn't think of it yourself.
"So, we'll build walker factories right under the New Republic's nose?" Pellaeon clarified. "In the Sluissi sector?"
"No," Thrawn answered simply. "On the fringes of the galaxy. But in its southern part, you're right about that."
"Sir, but the New Republic presence is strong there," Gilad noted. "Not to mention that Imperial warlords have been observed not far from the Morshdine sector..."
"All true," Thrawn agreed. "But in our case, our planet will be in a different direction."
"What...?" Pellaeon opened his mouth, intending to ask what forces would defend such a planet, how many ships would be recalled from the Dominion, but thought better of it and remained silent.
"Don't worry about the planet's security, Captain," Thrawn assured him. "Our techs are already working on studying the cloaking device on Yalara's surface. By the time we're ready to begin work on Nkllon, our source of heavy equipment will, as before, be concealed by a perfect cloaking field."
Thrawn intends to build factories from scratch on Yalara? That's billions in investment!!! Has he really found a source of funding that wouldn't cripple the Dominion's economy?
"Captain," the Grand Admiral said, examining records on one of the monitors, "see to it that the Chimaera sets course for Dantuin — we need to arrive there a day ahead of Grand Moff Kaine."
"It will be done, sir," Pellaeon replied mechanically, trying to figure out what his commander's words about building new factories where none had ever been meant. It has to mean something, right?
"Also inform the fleet and support cruisers with the necessary equipment of the rendezvous point," Thrawn continued. "They still have a long journey from Tangrene."
"It will be done, sir," Gilad responded. No, he couldn't just ask directly, could he? That would be admitting his own helplessness...
"Send the same coordinates to Commander Rederick," Thrawn's voice was calm, as if nothing ever bothered him, "but only after a message comes from Ciutric IV: 'Fluffy in the cage.' Let's say... a five-day margin for the rendezvous will be suitable."
Right, this is completely cryptic... It's as if the commander is starting to be ironic. But this is Thrawn? Him and humor are incompatible.
Fine, he'd have to admit it. Otherwise, he might make mistakes. Thrawn definitely wouldn't forgive that.
"Sir," he addressed the Grand Admiral quietly. "Building factories will require enormous costs. And our economy hasn't recovered yet... Have you found the Sa'Nalaor?"
"Not yet, Captain," Thrawn replied. "Intelligence is working, but at the moment we still don't have the coordinates of that ship and its precious cargo."
"But in that case, building the factories will cost us a pretty penny," Pellaeon noted.
"No," Thrawn countered.
"I don't understand, sir," Gilad frowned.
"As I already said," the Grand Admiral spoke slowly, as if explaining something to a child, looking at his subordinate, "I see no point in paying for Imperial property that we can take from our enemy."
And... it seemed clearer, but...
"No, primarily these are not planets that are members of the New Republic," Thrawn said, turning his gaze back to the monitors.
Ah, no, why flatter himself — it wasn't clearer at all.