Ten years and twenty-eight days after the Battle of Yavin…
Or the forty-fifth year and twenty-eighth day after the Great Resynchronization.
(Seven months and the thirteenth day since arrival).
Just think — in the pages of books, he is portrayed as nothing less than an anti-hero, full of inner rage.
A man who, without blinking, blew up a star in the Carida system and burned millions (if not more) lives just because of the death of someone close to him.
A death that hasn't happened yet.
And, honestly, it's within my power to stop it.
At the very least — by removing the catalyst of everything from the "game board."
That same scrawny catalyst who is now sitting at the table across from me, awkwardly chewing his lunch and regarding the uniform he's wearing with wary negativity.
"I must apologize, Kyp Durron, that you are forced to wear a cadet's uniform, but on a military vessel, there is no supply of civilian clothing," I said.
My mind drifting to my wardrobe, where you can find many things that clearly don't fit the category of "military uniform of the established pattern."
Only two dozen sets of snow-white Grand Admiral's uniform fully comply with this rule.
The rest…
Someday I'll get around to sorting out the wardrobe I inherited from Mitth'raw'nuruodo.
"Why am I here?" the black-haired boy muttered, looking at his plate straight ahead.
"I want to talk to you," I said. Even despite the ysalamir a couple of meters from the dining area, Rukh, standing guard behind the boy, and several guards at the entrance — which nullified any of Durron's "tricks" I preferred to be honest with him.
"Why?"
"I want to understand what kind of person you are," I explained.
Kyp Durron in his adolescent years.
Though, clearly, an idiom not for a child's mind.
If the Kessel records are to be believed, Kyp Durron was born almost seventeen years ago on the planet Deyer.
It's not in the records, but from the Jedi Academy trilogy of books, I remembered that the boy has a brother, who is currently a recruit on Carida. And it was for his release that Durron, in a fit of emotion, blew up the star of Carida.
That, of course, didn't save his brother, but only destroyed the planet and everyone on it.
"Why?" the teenager repeated stubbornly.
"To understand whether we can be on the same side," I explained.
"We can't," Durron answered clearly, setting aside his cutlery and clearly intending to leave the table. "Thanks for the meal, but I don't intend to be friends with the Empire. You are evil."
"Sit back down, young man," I ordered, watching as Rukh blocked the path of the representative of burgeoning youthful maximalism. "Interrupting a conversation in this manner is a sign of a lack of manners and bad taste. Your parents would hardly be proud of you at this moment, Kyp Durron."
For a second, Durron's gaze dueled with the Noghri, but he gave in, realizing he couldn't even hope for a ghost of a chance of success.
Plumping down onto the chair, he folded his arms, looking away.
A demonstrative "closed-off posture," which non-verbally signals the interlocutor's unwillingness to listen to the speaker or participate in the dialogue at all.
"Thank you," I said.
Well, let's break this ice the same way I broke it in my relationships with my own children, who one fine day learned that the man who left their home just before dawn and came back when they were already asleep was their real father, whom their mother had told them about.
"First of all, please continue your meal," I said calmly, demonstratively ladling a portion of grayish porridge from the common pot into the plate set before me and putting a spoonful from my own portion into my mouth.
"I don't want to eat this tasteless food," the minor declared in an arrogant tone, as if that might offend me.
Ah, yes, that's the position of rejecting what's offered, as a way to belittle the efforts of the one offering.
"Your medical examination showed that you need to replenish a significant amount of beneficial elements and vitamins," I said. "Yes, the food is tasteless due to the diet prescribed for you, but it was much worse on Kessel. I assure you, as soon as the doctors stop worrying about your health, the diet will be lifted, and the medicine-laden food will be replaced with standard fare."
The boy glanced at me.
Then at his plate.
At mine.
He realized we were eating exactly the same thing.
"Are you on a diet too?" he asked uncertainly.
"No," I replied.
"Then why are you eating this tasteless stuff that smells of medicine?" the kid grimaced.
"So that you don't feel alone," I explained. "It's best to handle unpleasant things together. The doctors will be unhappy if you don't eat a double portion of the porridge with medical supplements. If they find out you didn't get the necessary nutrients, they'll give you painful injections with medication."
The boy flinched, apparently remembering the "kindness" of the prison medical droid, about which Major Tomax Bren told me yesterday.
"And, since you don't particularly appreciate the efforts of our cooks and medics, I thought it right to shield you from their wrath and the injections by helping you cope with the amount of porridge you need to eat as prescribed by the doctors," the explanation elicited a surprised blinking of the boy's big brown eyes. "Even though I command everyone around, even I don't argue with medics. So, we'll resort to tactical cunning and split the porridge between the two of us."
Given that only two standard portions had been served at the table — optimized for easy absorption by a young body weakened by poor nutrition — there was nothing complicated about it.
"So I'll get half the nutrients?" The boy squinted, drawing a definite conclusion from my words.
"Such is the situation," I reminded him. "You don't want to eat the porridge at all. The consequences have already been stated. I'd prefer you not experience discomfort aboard my flagship. So I'm helping you."
"Not for nothing, though?"
Resourceful boy.
Though, if he weren't sharp, he clearly wouldn't have lasted so long on Kessel.
"Of course," I didn't lie. "My goals haven't changed — I want to talk to you and understand what kind of person you are."
"I already told you, your attempt to make friends is doomed to fail," the kid reminded me in turn. "I won't fraternize with Imperials."
"Well done," I praised, continuing my meal.
It wasn't actually that bad.
"You're being shady," the kid said, raising his voice to drown out the gurgling of his starved stomach. "An Imperial praising me for not associating with Imperials… Where's the logic in that?"
"If you don't see it, that doesn't mean it isn't there," I said. "It's merely an acknowledgment that there's something you don't know. Nothing more, nothing less."
The kid stared straight into my eyes for a while, then shifted his gaze to his plate and started working through the porridge.
He ate in silence for several minutes, then froze, staring at one spot, chewing slowly…
"You're not an Imperial?" he asked cautiously.
"Not anymore," I confirmed. "I was in the past."
"Former Imperials exist?" Kyp was surprised.
"As you can see," I replied.
"But you've got the 'gear' too," the kid jabbed a finger toward my counter-rank insignia.
"That's right," I confirmed. "Because the Dominion rose from the ruins of the Empire. We took its stability and principles of militarism, while leaving local self-governance, civil liberties, and much else from republican society. It might sound lofty, but the Empire could have become a fine state if it hadn't relied on the doctrine of fear — fear of its own population toward the military might of its armed forces."
The kid sat for a while, digesting what had been said, then shook his head.
"The Empire sent me and my parents to Kessel just because they condemned the destruction of Alderaan!"
The adolescent psyche, it seemed, couldn't reconcile what I'd said with his own words.
The infamous "That's different!"
"It wasn't the Empire that did that," I noted softly. "It was specific Imperial operatives. The kind I don't welcome in the Dominion. And the methods of intimidating the Empire's own population — those too. The destruction of planets is a war crime, for which Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin should have been punished. But even death would have been too easy a way out for him. The problem is in the very presence of such operatives within the power structure. And that kind of impunity originated from the direct approval of Emperor Palpatine, who preferred to rule through fear of his own population toward his power. I prefer to annex those territories that agree to it willingly. Those who refuse to join the Dominion are not subjected to orbital bombardments or superlaser shots."
"You talk as if you never killed any Republicans," the boy snorted.
"There's a war on," I reminded him. "The Empire fractured, and most of it either doesn't want or doesn't understand that there's no need for despotism. The New Republic intends to destroy what's left of the Empire, regardless of the opinion of those peoples who want to live under Imperial law."
"And there are fools who want to live like that?" the kid asked skeptically.
"Don't belittle sentient beings just because their point of view differs from yours," I cautioned. "Yes, among the peoples there are those who wish to live under the clear and understandable laws of the Empire, under the protection of Star Destroyers. The Dominion includes over a dozen sectors that we've freed from pirate bands, armed assaults, and the threat of the slave trade. We provide the populations of those planets with protection and the opportunity for safe labor, while they supply the defense forces with recruits, food, raw materials, and much more."
At the mention of recruits, Durron grimaced.
"So you draft everyone of conscription age into stormtroopers, just like the Empire?" he asked.
"There is a draft," I agreed. "Into the Defense Forces. These are army and space units that handle the security of Dominion territories. Convoy escort, protection of mining sites, patrolling, rescue operations, and so on."
"Then what's your destroyer doing?" the kid blinked.
"The Chimaera belongs to the regular fleet," I explained. "The regular fleet operates to defend the Dominion's borders, protect planets, and wage war against our enemies. Occasionally, they're tasked with patrolling hyperspace routes in particularly dangerous sectors that haven't been fully explored yet, where the Defense Forces have no business. This part of our Armed Forces is formed on a contract basis — humans and other sentients voluntarily approach our recruitment offices to sign a contract for military service. Afterward, they're trained in everything necessary and assigned to ships or ground units. No coercion — I learned the lesson of public discontent within the Empire regarding forced conscription into the army or stormtroopers. And that mistake won't be repeated. The Dominion has enough professional soldiers willing to risk their lives to protect the civilian population from those who intend to impose their opinion and way of life on us."
"Sounds too good to be true," Durron declared, stirring his porridge with a spoon.
"No one's saying everything's perfect," I noted. "There are problems. But we're actively fighting them."
"That's all well and good, but what do you need me for?" the kid couldn't hold back. "I'm just an ordinary person who spent most of his life in spice mines!"
"Don't underestimate yourself, Kyp Durron," I advised.
"Yeah, sure," the boy snorted.
"I propose a deal," I said. "You tell me about what happened in your life before we met, and I'll tell you why exactly you're sitting across from me right now, taking part in this conversation, and not some other recluse from Kessel."
It took the kid some time to make a final decision.
By the end of which, his plate was empty.
He glanced at the container with the leftovers.
Whether it was lousy porridge or not, it was undoubtedly better than what he'd been eating on Kessel.
And his young body, having gained access to good nutrition, demanded more.
"The food is entirely at your disposal, don't be shy," I said.
Though, shyness wasn't in Durron's nature.
He ate the porridge with such speed that he didn't even notice when a fresh cauldron of the same stuff was brought in.
He ate and he talked.
Reluctantly at first, then in more and more detail.
So. He was an ordinary, active child whose childhood passed on the planet Deira, in a family consisting of his parents and an older brother, Zeth, six years older than my guest.
In other words, Zeth was now about twenty-two or twenty-three years old.
And the last time the brothers saw each other, the older one dreamed of enrolling in Deyer's construction school to help manage the planet.
Which, by the way, was a planet predominantly covered in swamps and lakes.
Its cities were built on the surface, on peculiar rafts, and the colonists made their living by fishing.
Selling their catch through a cooperative system that brought the backwater colony a decent profit.
The Durron family lived in one of Deira's many raft-cities, hardly different from the rest of the population.
The boy didn't say whether his parents were Force-sensitive.
Either he didn't know, or he deliberately omitted that detail, not trusting me.
Understandable — I'd behave the same way myself.
Family secrets are sacred.
Especially when you know for sure that Imperials hunted Force-sensitives.
For him right now, it was practically a matter of survival.
From the boy's account, it seemed his parents were political opponents of the Galactic Empire.
Specifically, they hated the authoritarian government that had come to power after the dissolution of the Galactic Republic.
Blaming them for that would be stupid too.
Considering what I'd read and studied about that period, it was surprising they'd even survived with those leanings, given that immediately after the Clone Wars, dissent was suppressed, and quite harshly.
If I understood the kid's retelling correctly, he portrayed his parents' worldview as a conviction that moderate action was preferable to repressive governance.
The colonists of Deira as a whole, however, despite modeling their fishing cooperative's charter on the ideals of the defunct Galactic Republic, were doing reasonably well.
I think the reason they were ignored was that the planet's population was at most about a hundred and fifty thousand sentients.
On a galactic scale, that was practically nothing.
Especially when peaceful protests didn't spill over or turn into armed clashes.
But after Alderaan was destroyed, and the public didn't believe Imperial propaganda that the Rebel Alliance was behind the planet's destruction, many colonists — including Durron's parents — actively protested against the Galactic Empire's actions, believing that democracy and peaceful protest could bring about change.
Unfortunately, the Empire wasn't particularly lenient at the time and used force to silence those who disagreed.
Deira's representatives condemned the destruction of Alderaan and demanded that Palpatine dismantle his New Order.
How exactly one thing had intertwined with the other in a peaceful protest, Durron, of course, didn't know.
But it seemed more likely that Deira's representatives, seeing they'd faced no consequences for their separatist leanings in the past, grew bolder and poked their noses where they shouldn't have.
The Emperor's response wasn't long in coming — the very next year, Imperial stormtroopers arrived on the planet, turning the colonies upside down and mercilessly cracking down on all demonstrators.
The rest of the population was sent to prisons for their near-unanimous support of their government.
Kyp Durron was only eight years old at the time of the attack.
His family was having dinner when the stormtroopers broke down the doors.
His parents were arrested on charges of treason.
Zeth was conscripted, having reached the age of fourteen, and sent to be trained as an Imperial stormtrooper.
Yes, I understand that Zeth was probably first shoved into a special cadet academy where they brainwashed him until he forgot his own name.
And he ended up on Carida later.
But those are details — voicing them now would shatter the fragile trust that had formed between us.
Kyp and his parents were thrown into a correctional facility on Kessel, where his mother and father passed away some time later.
To be precise, they died during the Morut Dul riot, having chosen the wrong side.
The boy was left alone.
Well, almost.
Yet another "overreach" of the system.
It was obvious that children had nothing to do with it and bore no responsibility for their parents' actions.
But why was the older one conscripted and the younger one sent to the mines?
Illogical.
The Empire had, and still had, institutions that worked even with little ones like Kyp Durron was back then.
Another tragedy — one of hundreds of thousands the Galactic Empire had allowed during its existence.
Simply because it treated sentient beings as expendable material unworthy of attention.
What we were seeing now was a direct continuation of the policy of stratification that irritated the people, but the ruling class didn't care about their opinion — right up until the moment when preserving the interests of the powerful depended on the actions of the citizens.
"From your story, you became an orphan at twelve," I said.
"Yes," Kyp nodded gloomily.
The memories were hard for him, but his behavior toward me had become more neutral than at the start.
The hostility was fading, but it wasn't trust yet.
It was just neutrality, and one careless move, word, or action could tip it either way.
"I suspect you found someone who looked after you."
In truth, I knew this for certain, but I was interested in what the boy himself would say.
His dialogue was a way to gauge the level of communication and openness I'd managed to achieve.
"An elderly woman who served part of her sentence in the spice tunnels helped me," Kyp declared.
So far, this matched what I knew.
"She told me I had enormous potential inside me and showed me how to do some things," a note of belated caution crept into Kyp's voice.
The words were no longer flying out of him at the speed of a rapid-fire blaster.
The kid realized that he'd practically told me something that Imperials usually punished for.
And despite my reassurances, he was still afraid…
"You have nothing to fear," I said.
Kyp looked tense.
Like a little spring wound to its limit.
About to snap…
It might have, if not for the presence of the ysalamiri at our meeting.
"I suspect you're trying to use the Force right now, the way that woman taught you," I said.
Judging by the lip-chewing that started, I'd guessed correctly.
"And you're puzzled because you can't feel it," I continued. "Don't worry, you haven't been deprived of the Force. It's still with you."
"I haven't felt it since the moment I was brought onto the ship," the kid complained.
"That's right," I agreed. "The Force is blocked aboard my ship whenever Force-sensitive sentients are present."
"Why?" Durron flared up. "To make it easier to kill me?!"
"No," I stated firmly. "I have no inclination to kill my guests, especially children. The Force is blocked because when I decided to sever all ties with the Empire, it so happened that among my subordinates, there was a dark Jedi."
"A dark Jedi?" the kid frowned. "First time I've heard of those."
Unlikely.
I think Vima-Da-Boda had told him about fallen Jedi and Sith.
But maybe she'd kept that to herself.
"You've heard of Jedi, right?" I asked.
"Yes," the boy looked away.
Which proved he knew, but also felt some awkwardness.
He felt internal tension, hiding something.
Well, his little secrets were known to me.
"Jedi are rather controversial figures in galactic history," I said. "The Empire officially considered them enemies, the Republic considered them friends. Among the galaxy's population, there were those who feared them and those who revered them. Dark Jedi are those Jedi who decided not to serve something greater — not peace, not justice — but only their selfish impulses. And they used the Force for that, endangering the lives of those around them. The Jedi used to eliminate such individuals, killing them or imprisoning them. Unfortunately, some members of the Order also fell, becoming dark. The history is quite tangled and depends largely on one's point of view."
"But why did you need a dark Jedi?" Kyp asked, the suspicion still in his voice.
"When certain terrorist factions of the Republic began attacking worlds of the Empire I was then defending, I needed to coordinate the forces of my ships. On one planet, I discovered this dark Jedi, and for a time, he genuinely helped me. Right up until I realized he was becoming dangerous. He expressed a desire to subjugate the remaining Jedi, raise them in his own image and likeness, and force ordinary peoples to serve the Jedi, placing them at the head of the state. I disagreed with this policy because it was far too reminiscent of what Emperor Palpatine had done."
"But he was just an ordinary man!"
"Unfortunately, no, Kyp," I countered. "There are those who are sometimes worse than dark Jedi — the Sith. Palpatine was a Sith. A religious movement compared to which dark Jedi are mere children. That's why Palpatine seized power in the Republic, turning it into an Empire — to eliminate the Jedi, who were the ancient enemies of the Sith in their aspirations to rule the galaxy. Upon coming to power, Palpatine sought out and destroyed the remaining Jedi, or turned them to his side. During the Empire's existence, Force-sensitive sentients could either serve Palpatine or be destroyed without question. If those who repressed your family had learned that you were Force-sensitive, your fate could have ended very badly."
"But Palpatine is dead! He was killed at Endor! And Darth Vader too!"
"Unfortunately, according to my sources, the Emperor survived," I stated. "He managed to cheat death through the Force, and now the Imperial Remnants are waging war across the galaxy on his orders, intending to restore the state that existed before. But they're doing it even more bloodily, more destructively, more ruthlessly. The Dominion, though it lives under Imperial law, hasn't joined them. We have our own destiny, and we will never serve a madman. But under his command is an army — many millions of ruthless soldiers. He controls thousands, if not tens of thousands, of warships. And dark Jedi. Each one is an individual who unconditionally does whatever they deem necessary. Whether it's the murder of one person or the destruction of entire planets."
"And you want to fight that kind of power?" the boy gasped.
"I am preparing for this confrontation," again — no deception. Why lie if it matches reality? I can oppose a fleet on the battlefield. I have soldiers and generals to fight ground forces. And I even have a few of my own Force-sensitive sentients who preach using the Force to protect the innocent. They call themselves the Order of the Jensaarai, and they greatly help us in protecting our borders, catching spies and saboteurs.
"They're Jedi?" the boy clarified.
"Some," I admitted. "Others served Palpatine in the past, but even they found the reason to leave that destructive path and side with ordinary sentients, not a mad tyrant. They atone for their past sins by fighting for the lives of Dominion citizens."
"I didn't see any of your Jedi on Kessel or aboard the destroyer," the kid said.
"At the moment, they're training to be ready for future battles," I explained. "Emperor Palpatine hasn't yet revealed himself, using his puppets from the Imperial Remnants. So the Jensaarai haven't been deployed yet. Besides, their philosophy is defense, not offense. When the enemy attacks, they will stand in our ranks. But to strike first, even though the enemy is preparing to attack the Dominion, they cannot. Their worldview doesn't permit it."
"Then they're useless!" the boy cried out. "If I'd known the Imperials were going to attack my family, I would have attacked them first!"
"Are you sure you could have won?" I inquired. "That you would have had enough Force and knowledge to prevail? Or would it be better for you to first learn to wield the Force, and until then, do what you can to save the lives of others?"
The embarrassed youth looked at me.
"Yes, you're right," he said. "I need to learn… But if I'd known the Imperials were coming to Deira that day, I would have warned my family to be ready!"
"Then you understand why, upon learning that Palpatine was alive and that the madness of his rule could soon repeat itself, I gathered the leaders and influential members of the New Republic and told them about the coming threat," I continued. "Unfortunately, due to stereotypes that all Imperials are 'evil,' they didn't believe me. As a result, people and other sentients are dying, planets are being bombarded."
"You should have convinced them!"
"The deaf won't hear, and the blind won't see," I countered. "The Republic is accustomed to considering Imperials enemies. I offered cooperation, to clear up the misunderstandings between us, but nothing came of it. And now they're fighting — while we build our strength."
"But… shouldn't we help them?" the boy asked.
"Sticking your nose where you weren't invited is a guarantee that once the crisis is resolved, you'll end up on the losing side, declared one of the instigators," I stated. "We're not altruists to protect those who are deaf to our warnings."
"But… something has to be done," Durron got angry. "You can't just sit around and wait for the Imperials to beat everyone!"
"We're not idle, Kyp," I explained. "Our troops are preparing, our ships are being refitted, units are training and being replenished with personnel. We're monitoring the situation in the galaxy and ready to repel an attack. But at the same time, we're engaging in conflicts right on our borders."
"Who with?"
"The Zann Consortium," I readily explained. "The masters of Morut Dul and those mercenaries who held Kessel from being taken."
"You're in conflict with them too?" the kid was surprised.
"When you choose your own path, different from everyone else's, there will always be enemies and adversaries," I said figuratively.
"But then, what do you need me for?" Durron asked.
"I'm offering you to join the Order of the Jensaarai," the boy didn't seem too surprised by the statement. "You'll have the opportunity to learn to control the Force and channel it in the right direction — protecting the civilian population. Yes, I can't give you back your family — your father and mother — but at the same time, your brother Zeth might still be alive," I allowed for the subjunctive mood, because there was no certainty that the kid, given all the changes to reality that had occurred with my direct involvement, had actually survived. It would be foolish to promise what I couldn't deliver. "And if he's alive, my people will find him and bring him back. Of course, if he himself wants that."
The boy was silent for a while, then asked:
"You'll only bring him back if I join you, won't you?"
"I'll do everything I can to bring him back." The logical emphasis had to be placed correctly to minimize the risk of unfulfilled promises. "I won't lie to you and assure you that Zet is alive, that he wasn't sent to war, or that he hasn't gotten lost somewhere in the galaxy. The Dominion doesn't have relations with Carida, and I can't guarantee you that your brother is on that planet. No one can, except his command. Which, unfortunately, I have absolutely no authority over."
"An honest answer," the teen said, pursing his lips. "You don't hear that from Imperials very often."
"That's part of why I no longer serve the Empire." The words practically slipped out automatically.
"I'll think about what you've said," the teen said after a short pause for thought. "If Zet comes back from Carida alive and well, then I'll learn your Jedi art. But if he's dead, then I don't see any point in staying in the Dominion or starting any training. Nothing ties me to your state or to you. You pulled me out of Kessel because you needed a Jedi. But I was doing fine there too. So promise me you won't hold me back if I want to leave, should my brother not be brought to a safe place."
The logic was a bit shaky, as was the precision of his phrasing, but what could you expect from a kid who was only sixteen or seventeen?
At that age, hormones and youthful maximalism were running wild in his head instead of any grey matter.
Kyp Durron didn't seem to understand that if he refused, he would never leave the Dominion.
History showed that at this age, he was inconsistent, vulnerable, and extremely vengeful.
In the history I knew, he escaped punishment for destroying Carida and its population.
He atoned for it by hunting pirates and smugglers in the Outer Rim.
And, as practice showed, when he reappeared on the galactic stage, he was arrogant, selfish, and uncontrollable.
Someone like that was simply too dangerous to leave alive.
But... killing a child...
In cold blood, without any remorse, just because he did something in a history that hasn't even started yet...
Punishment for a hypothetical crime...
Is that right?
Absolutely not.
Justifying it by saying the kid might go off the rails anyway, so he needs to be killed — that's a direct path to preemptive orbital bombardments at the slightest hint of disobedience.
And from there, it's a short step to a second Alderaan.
No, decisively and irrevocably.
While the search for his brother is ongoing, I need to make every effort to get the boy to embrace the Jensaarai philosophy and want to stay here to continue his path as a Jensaarai.
Even if his brother ultimately meets a different fate than the one I know from the books.
I need to find a way to keep the kid with me, no matter what.
Hmm... Let's make a note of that.
I think I know how.
"I'll do everything to find your brother and bring him to the Dominion," I repeated. "And in return, you will serve the Dominion. Who knows, maybe you'll be the one to finally defeat Emperor Palpatine, avenging everything your family went through."
The boy tensed, obviously realizing he'd just been given a barely veiled invitation to take part in hunting a dangerous animal.
Yes, it was wrong — manipulating a boy's feelings.
Just as wrong as recruiting former guards, Imperial stormtroopers, and prisoners.
But I did it.
Fully aware that the instructors in the Dominion would have time to turn these exhausted, weary beings into full-fledged, combat-ready units for responsible missions where a Dominion stormtrooper shouldn't openly flaunt their superiority.
Yes, these people and other beings were recruited from former Imperials and prisoners only because most of my regular fleet's ground forces were already clones.
Sending them to the front lines and secret operations was stupid.
Far stupider than personally recruiting beings on Kessel.
A long time would pass before the instructors could turn these beings into soldiers capable of fighting again.
Time that the fleet and intelligence would buy by conducting their own operations against the Zann Consortium.
Time the Jensaarai and counterintelligence would need to check which of the recruits harbored ill intentions toward the Dominion.
Because before the active phase of operations began, we'd need to get rid of those recruits who, once given weapons, would try to dispose of their commanders for a chance to escape.
We'd identify and eliminate them immediately to preserve the combat effectiveness of the entire recruited unit.
Watching the boy silently eating his porridge — a boy whose rage could cost millions of lives — I marveled at how inventive and cruel fate could be sometimes.