Nine years, seven months, and twenty-six days after the Battle of Yavin...
Or forty-four years, seven months, and twenty-six days since the Great Resynchronization.
(Four months and eleven days since the arrival).
Slicing through hyperspace, leaving light-years in her wake, the Chimaera, after weeks of absence, was finally returning home.
Parallel to her, from various corners of the galaxy, dozens of other military and paramilitary starships of the fleet, having completed their own missions, were converging on the former Ubiqtorate base to repair damage in the comfort of an orbital repair yard, allow their crews to rest, and then charge into new battles.
At the same time, sitting before me was none other than Luke Skywalker himself.
And yes, he was unmistakably an older version—by a few years—of the American actor Mark Hamill, compared to the events of *Return of the Jedi*. A young man, one of those who turned Lucas's creation into a cultural phenomenon on Earth...
A calm gaze, the same black tunic and pants, simple boots, hairstyle... Fine, these are details that warm the heart of an old fan meeting the idol of his youth.
— You refused the bacta tank, — I remarked, hinting at the massive bruise, already darkening, covering the right side of the young Jedi's face. The hemorrhage in the sclera of his right eye had nearly faded. Impressive speed, considering his refusal of medical treatment. But he couldn't use the Force either, having been cut off from it by ysalamiri—ever since the attack and his confinement in the guest quarters aboard the Chimaera. Just like Bel Iblis and his aide, Irenes. The other prisoners, however, faced an exciting journey—another day—until their arrival at Tangrene, where they'd be placed in the same secure camps holding the officers from the Loyalty.
— Many of my allies need it more, — Skywalker replied calmly.
— You planned to heal using Jedi techniques, — I stated the most likely possibility.
Luke, after a pause, nodded.
— Few know of such practices among the Jedi, — he observed.
— I know more than most, — a vague phrase, nothing more.
— So, you're the grand admiral behind the attacks on the New Republic? — he asked. For a moment, a flicker of innocent curiosity crossed his face, but he quickly regained his composed expression.
I had to introduce myself. The young Jedi shifted uncomfortably—probably uneasy sitting before a humanoid of an unknown species without his Force abilities. Unable to read thoughts, unable to sense emotions...
"I thought all twelve grand admirals were already..." he hesitated. "Eliminated."
— You're free to think what you like, — I declared. — The fact remains. Some time ago, I had a thorough conversation with General Solo about many of the questions you likely want to ask. I won't repeat myself—you can ask him about it when you see him.
— You met Han? — the young Jedi said, surprised.
— Some time ago, — I confirmed. — When I defeated his task force in one of the star systems.
— Is he a prisoner? — Skywalker asked, trying not to betray his tension.
— No, — I replied. — As far as I know, he was picked up by New Republic forces and is currently on Coruscant.
— I see, — Skywalker said. — And now what?
— That depends on what you want to ask me, — I clarified.
The young Jedi looked away, reflexively touching the bruise on his face. He was likely recalling how a guardsman's vibroblade strike, meant to cleave his skull, had landed flat instead of edge-on. That was what ended the confrontation between Major Tierce, leading the assault on the Braxant's Courage, and the young prodigy of the Skywalker family.
— How did you find Garm Bel Iblis's base? — he asked. A good question. One that, like our entire dialogue, required an answer without lying. Because outright deception... it never worked out well for Thrawn.
He couldn't sustain the lie about restoring the Noghri homeworld in the events I knew. He couldn't resolve the situation with the smuggler Mazzic, which ultimately led to the creation of the Smugglers' Alliance, led by Talon "The Claw" Karrde. He couldn't deceive Mara Jade about his trust in her... Lies are a dangerous spice. And using them... it's complicated.
So why not, for once, let former Rebels encounter an Imperial commander who tells the truth? The truth, not a lie or the ultimate truth. Because everyone has their own truth. Lies get exposed, and their source loses all credibility. And the ultimate truth... it's practically unattainable.
So, I wasn't about to tell the young Jedi about the tracker inside his astromech. On the contrary, our technicians were bending over backward to resist the temptation to disassemble the droid to learn how exactly Torin Inek had managed to plant a tracker that R2-D2 couldn't detect. But the golden rule of mechanics applies—if something works as it should, don't mess with it. So, they limited themselves to deactivating the droid and placing it under guard.
— I have my ways of tracking those who interest me, Jedi Skywalker, — I replied.
— What do you plan to do with me? — he asked.
— I'm sure you have guesses, — I said. — If you'd like, you can share them. And by the way, you're wasting a perfectly good cup of caf. Take my word for it—if I wanted you dead, I'd choose a far simpler method than poisoning you during a private conversation.
Pellaeon, sitting off to the side, barely stifled a laugh. He knew how easily Major Tierce, moving like a deadly whirlwind through the decks of the Braxant's Courage with an ysalamiri in his backpack, had neutralized the young Jedi. The mere realization of his vulnerability without the Force—and the young Jedi was no match for a professional killer. Though, I must admit, Tierce had to work for it.
— Imperial Guardsmen, — Luke said after taking a sip from his cup. — The last time I saw them was aboard the second Death Star, near Endor's forest moon. They served only Emperor Palpatine and those he ordered them to protect. How...
— How did they end up in my service? — I anticipated the Jedi's question. He'd already seen at least four guardsmen on my ship, standing watch near the three cabins holding Irenes, Bel Iblis, and himself. To further demoralize these sentients, they weren't forbidden from moving between their cabins, so they could admire the clones' discipline to their heart's content. Skywalker, having visited each of his friends' cabins, confirmed he couldn't sense the Force in any of them. Naturally—hence why you're in those three cabins, with ysalamiri cages placed out of sight in adjacent quarters.
After a moment's thought, Skywalker nodded. He genuinely wanted to know.
— I propose a deal, Jedi Skywalker, — the young Luke perked up. — You'll get answers to all your questions, but in return, I'll ask for one favor and demand one item that doesn't belong to you.
— What item? — he asked immediately.
— The beacon you found on Dagobah a few months ago, — judging by how Skywalker's eyes widened, he clearly hadn't expected those words. Nor had Pellaeon, sitting nearby.
— You even know about that? — Skywalker said, stunned.
— Yes, — I replied simply.
— Why do you want it? — the Jedi asked.
— It will help solve a puzzle, — I answered. — And it will keep you and your friends out of trouble.
— What kind of trouble? — Luke pressed. His hand darted to his belt, pulling from a small pouch the very item I sought.
— The kind I'll create if I don't get it willingly, — I replied plainly, taking a sip of caf from my cup.
I must say, I absolutely don't understand why, by Imperial court etiquette, caf was considered an unworthy beverage. It's essentially Earth's coffee. A perfect comparison.
It comes in beans or instant. Quality matches the name. After some experiments, I settled on caf from beans harvested on Charr in quadrant R-14, not far from the infamous Monastery system. It reminds me so much of the coffee an old friend once brought me from Bolivia.
— Is this trinket really that important to you? — Skywalker looked puzzled at the tiny cylinder with its many triangular buttons.
— It belonged to a sentient I once knew, — a vague answer. Because it wasn't about me, but the real Thrawn.
— A dark Jedi? — Luke's eyes widened.
— The dark Jedi from Bpfassh you're thinking of only used my acquaintance and his team for his travels, — I replied, carefully recounting what I recalled from those novels. — Now it's just a memento. Nothing more.
— Alright, — Skywalker silently reached across the table separating us and placed the beacon before me. — It's yours.
— Thank you, — I replied, unhurriedly pocketing the device.
— You mentioned a favor, — Skywalker reminded me.
— Yes, — I confirmed. — My request will be stated after we've talked. It won't involve anything criminal, so you can relax.
The Jedi obediently picked up his caf cup and took a deep gulp. Then, realizing the drink was still scalding hot due to the built-in heater in the cup's base, he winced, trying to suppress the pain of a burnt tongue and throat. I think I even saw a tear in his eye.
Pellaeon shot me an amused glance, as if to say, "What a backwater bumpkin."
I ignored it. This kid may be a Tatooine farmer a hundred times over, but he's earned respect through his actions. Not all of them, but some.
— You may ask your questions, Jedi Skywalker, — I reminded him.
After a brief pause, he blurted out:
— Are you a Jedi?
Pellaeon couldn't hold back a laugh. The problem was, he was drinking caf at the time. It sprayed out of his mouth onto the floor.
— My apologies, Grand Admiral, — he said, dabbing his mustache with a napkin. He quickly ordered a mouse droid to clean up the sticky mess.
— It's fine, — I assured him, turning back to the young man. — No, not a Jedi. Though some of my species have been Force-sensitive.
— Then, — Skywalker closed his eyes for a moment, likely trying to call on his powers... The result was predictable. — How do you do it? How do you block my connection to the Force?
— I don't, — a simple question, a simple answer. — The Force is still with you, Jedi Skywalker. It just doesn't exist where you are. My apologies for the discomfort, but when a Jedi is aboard, precautions are necessary.
— Will the Force return? — he asked.
— The moment you leave my ship, — I assured him. Technically, a bit sooner, but those are details.
Skywalker sat in silence for a while, pondering something, before saying:
— I saw you in a vision on Dagobah.
— Is that so, — I remarked. That was new. If I recalled correctly, on Dagobah, Luke was supposed to see Mara and an episode where the rescue operation on Tatooine to free Han Solo, just before the Battle of Endor, could have gone wrong. — Interesting.
— A young red-haired woman swore loyalty to you, — Skywalker continued. I caught Pellaeon's intrigued, even baffled glance. — Who is she?
— My aide, — I replied. — She's no longer with us.
— I see, — the kid seemed disoriented, asking rather mediocre questions. — Do you know anything about the disappearance of Princess Leia Organa-Solo, my friend Chewbacca, and Generals Cracken, Calrissian, and the Star Destroyer Loyalty in the Milagro system?
— Your sister and General Calrissian, along with the Wookiee Chewbacca, are fine and under supervision, — I replied. — General Cracken took his own life during the assault on the Star Destroyer, believing that in captivity he'd be tortured, and his death would help conceal the Republic spies operating behind Imperial lines.
— Can I see them? — Skywalker tensed.
— They're at the base we'll soon reach, — I confirmed. — If you wish, you can stay aboard the Chimaera until we arrive at our final destination.
— Do I have a choice? — Skywalker asked.
— Of course, — I confirmed. — There's always a choice. You can act, or you can do nothing. The key is to see it through, not just try.
Luke looked at me with clear interest:
— One of my mentors told me something similar. I didn't expect to hear it from someone like you.
— I'll take it as a compliment, — I promised. — More caf?
— If you don't mind, — Luke said. — You know... the last times I was aboard Imperial warships, the reception wasn't nearly as warm.
The protocol droid serving as a waiter slowly refilled the caf mugs.
— The Empire isn't a den of evil, Jedi Skywalker, — I said. — At least, not entirely. And certainly not the part under my command. I see no need for torture or other forms of interrogation when my guests and prisoners are willing to cooperate voluntarily. But, — I emphasized, — that leniency doesn't extend to my enemies.
— You speak interestingly, — Luke replied, taking another sip. — Honestly, I didn't think, after the bloodbath your stormtroopers unleashed on the Braxant's Courage, that there'd be talk of any humanism.
— The boarding used hand-to-hand combat and stun weapons, — I reminded him. — Lethal force was only applied when my subordinates' lives were at risk. I'm sure you understand—I'm not eager to lose personnel where it's unnecessary.
— A rare stance for the Empire, — Luke admitted. — Tell me, why are you acting against the New Republic? After Warlord Zsinj's defeat, there was an unspoken truce between us and the Imperial Remnants...
— It's simple, — I had to explain. — I am the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Armed Forces. My duty is to combat the Empire's enemies. The New Republic is an enemy, so I've conducted campaigns to destroy you.
— And now, what, you're taking a break? — Skywalker asked.
— I've achieved my goals. Along with General Solo, I sent a warning to your government—if they don't stop trying to destabilize the Remnants, my response will be appropriate. Regrettably, Coruscant hasn't altered its plans regarding at least one of the Remnants. Despite my warnings, they're preparing an attack. Unfortunately, I have no choice but to deliver a preemptive or retaliatory strike—depending on the situation when we return to base. However, in light of recent events, war with the New Republic is the least of my concerns.
— Why? — Luke asked, intrigued.
— Because your father, aboard the second Death Star, didn't finish his work, — I replied. Skywalker paled. Pellaeon pretended to be fascinated by the mouse droid cleaning the floor.
— What are you talking about? — Luke asked quietly.
— Darth Vader threw the Emperor down the reactor shaft, — I said. — He killed Palpatine's body, but not his spirit. I've already shared what I know with General Solo, and now I'll repeat it for you. Perhaps the Provisional Government will listen more closely to its only Jedi.
— The Emperor... survived? — Luke repeated, stunned.
— Without going into details—yes, — I replied. — I don't know exactly how, but his consciousness was transferred to a cloned body. For the past six years, he's been secretly amassing the most combat-ready units of the Imperial Army and Navy in the Deep Core. Using them, along with cutting-edge Imperial military technology, in a few months—next year—Palpatine will begin his campaign against the New Republic.
— Why are you telling me this? — Luke asked. — Why not inform Mon Mothma or official Coruscant?
— For the same reason neither the Empire nor the New Republic will ever admit to the agreement between General Solo and Admiral Teren Rogriss to jointly defeat Warlord Zsinj, — I explained. — Such talks between warring sides would be seen as treason. I have no desire to be executed—I love the Empire, the best of it, and will defend it to the end. But I won't hand it to Palpatine. I've studied the Sith and their ways enough to decide not to take such a risk. I propose you and your sister, as Jedi, take on the task of destroying the Emperor once and for all. And to settle the debt the galaxy owes because of your father's actions.
— What are you talking about? — Luke frowned.
— In his final moments as Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, your father did everything to ensure the Jedi sent to arrest then-Chancellor Palpatine—the mastermind of the Clone Wars, the architect of the Jedi purge—failed, — I explained. — For decades, the galaxy fell under the Sith's influence, one of whom was your father, who took the name Darth Vader. Billions perished by their hands. If the reborn Emperor isn't stopped, billions more will die—and their blood will be on your hands, Jedi Skywalker.
— Why?
— Because the Jedi called themselves guardians of peace in the galaxy, — I explained. — But you don't bring peace. As I said, your father didn't finish what he started. Now, destroying Palpatine is your task, Jedi Skywalker.
A calculated appeal to guilt and the desire to redeem his father's name, to show that the latter wasn't entirely... a Dark Lord of the Sith, to put it politely.
— Many have blood on their hands, — he said hoarsely. — Why not use your Jedi—Master Jorus C'baoth—against the Emperor? Because, if I understand correctly, you don't intend to openly oppose Palpatine yourself?
— Correct, — honestly, I was glad this kid took my word for it. — I have no intention of interfering. As for C'baoth... there's a certain causal issue. Jorus C'baoth can't join us for a simple, compelling reason. He's dead. As are the members of the Outbound Flight expedition.
— How do you know that? — the young Jedi asked.
— I destroyed them. Long ago, before the Clone Wars, that expedition aimed to venture beyond the known galaxy. That's when I first met Darth Sidious—then-Chancellor Palpatine. He convinced me of the Jedi's danger and the risk of Outbound Flight's technology falling into the hands of a ruthless enemy.
— If Jorus C'baoth is dead, then who coordinated your actions in the Dufilvian sector? — Skywalker pressed.
— Joruus C'Baoth, — I replied.
— But you just said...
— Joruus C'Baoth is a clone of the original Jedi Master, — I had to clarify. — He was part of the Emperor's earliest cloning experiments, making Joruus C'Baoth dangerous. Moreover—he's insane. You're absolutely right—I used him in the Dufilvian sector operation. But realizing the threat he posed, learning of the Emperor's resurrection, and understanding how deranged he'd be in a cloned body, I distanced him from my forces to prevent him from subverting my troops.
— So you're saying C'Baoth is out there, completely unchecked? — Skywalker said, horrified. — You didn't even try to help him?!
— Cloning defects can't be fixed, — I clarified. — At least not with my resources. So, measures were taken to keep C'Baoth occupied with his mad idea of rebuilding a Jedi Order under his control, until a solution could be found.
— How? — Luke's frown deepened.
— You've already guessed, — I stated. — C'Baoth's clone wanted a Jedi to train—I gave him one who endured Ysanne Isard's conditioning and didn't break.
— Corran Horn fell into a trap because of you!
— Corran Horn chose to go to C'Baoth to find his wife and father-in-law, — I corrected. — And now he's training under C'Baoth.
— You're playing a very dangerous game, Grand Admiral, — Skywalker lamented. — If C'Baoth's clone is as dangerous as the late Emperor, he could break Horn's will. And then the galaxy will have two dark Jedi craving power and wreaking havoc.
— Which is why, as I said, I have a request for you, Jedi Skywalker, — I said slowly, taking a sip and looking directly into the eyes of Darth Vader's son. — I can destroy C'Baoth at any moment. Horn, too, of course. I can take you to the base, and you'll reunite with your sister and friends. Or—I can return your X-Wing, left on New Cov, along with your astromech, and give you the coordinates of the planet where C'Baoth's clone is. You can go there alone or bring help, try to save C'Baoth's clone from his growing madness. Or you can ignore everything I've said and go wherever you please—trust me, no one on the Chimaera will judge you. Frankly, as long as the New Republic leaves us alone and doesn't try to destroy what I've sworn to protect, I don't care about your government.
— You mentioned a request, — Luke said. — What is it?
— It's about choice, Jedi Skywalker, — I explained. — Make a choice. Or don't. Your X-Wing is in the main hangar. Your droid is powered down in the tech bay. One word from you, and my technicians will prep your ship for flight.
The Jedi took a small sip, eyeing me suspiciously.
— If you're worried your ship's been rigged, don't be, — I reassured him. — I don't make a habit of carrying bombs aboard my flagship.
— Why are you leaving C'Baoth's fate to me instead of handling it yourself? — he asked.
— Because when the time comes, and the reborn Emperor's armadas emerge from the Deep Core, the mad Palpatine will seek only two things—a way to destroy his enemies who shattered his Empire, and a way to turn you to the Dark Side, forcing you to serve him, — I explained. — And before you think you can, like your father, bring someone back to the Light or use Palpatine's knowledge for good by submitting to him, I suggest you tackle a similar problem with C'Baoth, but on a smaller scale. It should rid you of illusions about your future and your role in the galaxy. Your father caused pain and suffering to billions, if not trillions, in one way or another. That won't be forgotten soon, and unfortunately, many will believe the sins of the father pass to the children. I'm offering you a chance to prepare for the trials that will soon come crashing down on you. After all, the right choice might lift the veil on the mystery of your mother's identity. As far as I know, your father never told you about her. Nor did your sister—or Owen and Beru Lars, who raised you.
— They didn't, — Luke said grimly. — Are you saying C'Baoth knows who my mother is?
— Not even close, — I refuted. — Your parents' relationship began around the time of the Clone Wars. By then, the real Jorus C'Baoth was already dead, and for Palpatine's cloned Jedi, that information would've been useless.
— Then I don't understand how the right choice, which you imply means going to C'Baoth, could reveal secrets of my past? — The kid's sharp, picking up on hints.
— Like all genius, it's simple, — I replied. — Your choice of course from the Chimaera's hangar is just my request. Revealing your mother's identity is a separate matter, only loosely tied to going to C'Baoth. Once you confirm my words are true, we'll meet and talk again. And I'll tell you who your mother was. No one will ever manipulate you with that secret again.
— If you're telling the truth, — the Jedi pointed out.
— I don't make a habit of lying to allies, — I countered.
— Why do you think I'm your ally? — Skywalker tensed.
— Because neither you nor I want a mad Palpatine clone seizing control of the galaxy and unleashing a bloodbath that'll make the cruelty of the Galactic Republic's last decades seem like a mere prelude.
— What do you want in exchange for revealing my mother's name? — Skywalker asked.
— A trifle, — I gave a faint smile. — Bring me C'Baoth's clone's medallion, and you'll get what you want.
For a moment, the Jedi Knight sat still, staring at me. Then, in one swift motion, he finished his caf and stood.
— I'll need my lightsaber and my astromech, R2, — the young man glanced at the half-empty caf pot. I get it. Caf at a thousand credits per kilo of roasted beans is quite the luxury.
— We'll supply you with provisions and caf, — I assured him. — Along with coordinates for our meeting point.
Looking into my eyes once more, Luke Skywalker nodded silently and headed for the exit.
Glancing at Pellaeon, whose expression screamed deep bewilderment, I activated my comlink and issued the necessary orders.
***
In the conference room of his flagship star cruiser, Wedge Antilles was about to take his usual spot in a corner, hoping to blend in behind the others present. He'd already sat down, settled in, and pulled the armrest's built-in table closer when his eyes met those of the Mon Calamari standing by the tactical holoprojector—the commander of his flagship.
For a few seconds, they stared at each other in silence.
Until it dawned on Wedge...
— What're you doing sitting there, General? — Iella Wessiri asked as she entered the compartment. — It's just the three of us.
— Right, of course... — Wedge flashed a sheepish grin and joined the operative at the commander's side.
— Coruscant will be online soon, sir, — Captain Jemiti announced. Red-skinned, big-eyed... and a highly promising officer, to be honest. At least Wedge had no complaints about him.
The captain scanned the room, as if searching for spies or the tiniest flaws, then nodded in satisfaction and headed for the exit, leaving Wedge and Iella alone.
— You, me, and the Provisional Government, — the Corellian commented to his fellow Corellian. — Hope they don't chew us out too bad this time.
— We did good work on Contruum, — Iella declared. — And we found proof of the prince-admiral's involvement. They've got no reason to tear into us.
— Five prisoners died, — Wedge reminded her. — We couldn't save them in time.
— But we saved the rest, — Wessiri countered. — You can't think it was all for nothing. We're one step away from finding and freeing every last prisoner from the Lusankya. We can't back down or give up now!
— Who's talking about that? — Wedge hedged. — I'm just upset we didn't save everyone.
— And that you had to lie about Corran? — the operative guessed.
— That too, — nodded the New Republic's youngest general.
The holographic projector lit up, signaling the start of the conference call with command, saving Wedge from continuing the awkward conversation.
A couple of minutes later, new participants appeared before the Corellian duo—Head of the Provisional Government Mon Mothma, Commander-in-Chief Borsk Fey'lya, and Han Solo, whom Wedge knew well.
After exchanging greetings, they decided the intelligence report would go first.
Iella, connecting her datapad to the holoprojector, got to the facts:
— The investigation revealed that the medical facility on Commenor is exactly where General Dodonna was implanted. We interrogated all the prisoners found there and learned each of them saw a woman they identified as Ysanne Isard at least once.
Even through the monochrome holographic connection, Wedge couldn't miss how Han's face hardened.
— As I recall, General Antilles claimed Rogue Squadron eliminated Iceheart, — the Bothan said.
— That's right, — Wedge said through gritted teeth. — We have no confirmation it was actually Ysanne.
— After years of torment and torture, the prisoners might not have noticed subtle differences, — Iella supported him. — It could've been a double, or...
— Or she's alive, — Mon Mothma said grimly. — That would explain why we've faced such aggressive moves from Imperial Intelligence—their director is back at it.
Wedge didn't comment on the fact that the ship Ysanne was on, trying to escape Thyferra, was destroyed. He didn't want to spark new scandals. They needed to decide what to do next, not waste time on empty arguments. If Iceheart had indeed outsmarted them during the Bacta War, the problem hadn't gone away—in fact, she'd had two years to prepare. And this wouldn't be a showdown with a hysterical woman anymore...
— And found an ally in Grand Admiral Thrawn, — Han said dryly.
— Did you find anything on him? — Wedge perked up.
— General Solo, as usual, wants to pass off enemy disinformation as intelligence, — Fey'lya said indignantly. — Stop it, General—you found nothing in the Imperial data center...
If so, where else could they look for info on this mysterious Thrawn?
— Because we were beaten to it, — Han said wearily. Clearly, this wasn't his first time in this argument. — Winter found indirect evidence that some intrigue at Palpatine's court led to a high-ranking officer being sent to the Unknown Regions...
— But before your interference destroyed all the data in the information center, you found nothing, did you? — Fey'lya asked sarcastically.
Wedge and Iella exchanged glances. The data from the Empire's most complete archive was now lost to them?! How could that even happen?!
— Enough, Counselor Fey'lya, — Mon Mothma demanded. — Did Agent Wessiri find any leads on who's behind this with our comrades?
— Several direct clues point to the equipment being supplied by a front, — Iella resumed her report. — We traced a chain of fake identities and credentials until we found that the ship and its owner actually came from the Ciutric Hegemony...
An awkward silence fell from Coruscant's side.
— Krennel, — Solo finally forced out.
— That explains a lot, — Fey'lya declared.
— Like what, Counselor? — Wedge asked.
— Everything, — the Bothan's holographic eyes gleamed. — Let's go point by point. It was Ysanne Isard who sent Krennel to the Hegemony to seize the late Sate Pestage. The prince-admiral executed the Grand Vizier and usurped power. Isard lost Thyferra, while the Lusankya was preparing for her revenge. To achieve it, she teamed up with Krennel, and together they concocted this story about Grand Admiral Thrawn, when in reality, they've united various killers and criminals under their command, like that Captain Shohashi, the 'Butcher of Atoan.' I can even tell you where the story about a cartographic expedition to the Unknown Regions comes from—according to our intelligence, Krennel ventured there briefly and returned almost immediately after our victory at Endor. So now, mixing blatant lies with grains of truth, our enemies are intimidating us and feeding us disinformation.
— But they have our people, — Wedge reminded them.
— And we're well aware of that, General, — Mon Mothma said. — That's why, despite all of Krennel's assurances and promises...
— Assurances? — Iella frowned. — Promises? Forgive me, Counselor Mothma, but what are we even talking about?
The Head of the Provisional Government glanced at Fey'lya, seated to her left. The Bothan was clearly savoring the situation, as if everything was unfolding in his favor.
— Through official channels, we received an offer from the prince-admiral to allocate a planet for Alderaanian refugees, — Mon Mothma said. — He claims he has a suitable world where they'll feel at home and never again be targets of enemy attacks.
— Is this some kind of joke? — Wedge tensed. — Everyone knows Krennel orchestrated the last attack on New Alderaan. And now what, he's decided to repent?
— He wants to join the New Republic, — Han said.
— What?! — Antilles was stunned. — An Imperial Remnant wants to become part of the New Republic?
— It's some kind of twisted political game, — Iella said firmly.
— Oh, see, Counselor Mothma, — Fey'lya's voice purred, — even Agent Wessiri realizes we're being played.
— Not just that, — Wedge's mind was racing at a speed even a supercomputer would envy. — He's scared.
— What are you talking about, General Antilles? — Mon Mothma asked.
— It's simple, — the Corellian declared. — Krennel's allied with Isard. Then he, Santhe, and Devian start building Death Stars. The one Devian has is already complete. Krennel's is smaller but still dangerous. They know we're itching to take down the prince-admiral—for the Lusankya prisoners, for developing a new-generation Death Star... And he's definitely realized we're on a trail leading to the Ciutric Hegemony.
— If Isard is really working with him, it's clear what game they're playing with all this talk of joining the New Republic and cozying up to the Alderaanians—they're just buying time to cover their tracks, — Iella said confidently. — I'm right in remembering the procedure, aren't I? It'll take a majority vote in the Senate to accept an Imperial Remnant into the New Republic?
— Yes, it's a complicated situation, — Mon Mothma agreed. — The review of this petition is scheduled for the next Senate session. Given that our relations with Lianna deteriorate daily due to raiders intercepting their ships, gaining the Hegemony with its industry and factories would be the best move for the New Republic.
— So we're just going to forgive him for keeping our prisoners in inhumane conditions?! — Wedge snapped. — On Commenor, sentients were rotting alive, starving, dying of thirst... And now, when we can finally pin this... sadist down, we're just going to make him our friend? Despite the fact that he's got a portable Death Star somewhere out there?!
— As I've said, Counselor Mothma, — Fey'lya's voice rang out, — sensible sentients see Krennel's duplicity and understand the game he's playing.
— But why does he need this? — Han asked. — The Hegemony has a humanocentrist policy. The New Republic is the exact opposite. Joining us just to avoid our fleet's attacks? He's got plenty of ships, according to intelligence. Plus a Death Star...
— I agree with General Solo, — Wedge chimed in. — Something's off.
— Still, the official request has been submitted, and we have a few weeks to review all the information—both official and intelligence, — Mon Mothma said.
— What does our intelligence say? — Wedge asked.
— Not Republic intelligence, — Fey'lya corrected, — Bothan intelligence.
"Of course, how could we forget," Wedge thought. Iella, sitting beside him, took a deep breath to steady herself.
— So what does intelligence say? — Antilles asked again.
— That Krennel's weakened, — Fey'lya purred with satisfaction. — His ships took heavy losses during raids. In reality, he's got maybe three or four combat-ready ships, stretched thin on patrols. Crews are exhausted from campaigns. And, mind you—almost immediately after General Antilles uncovered the superweapon lab on Linuri, attacks on our bases first dropped, then stopped entirely. Two days without a single attack, suggesting Krennel's pulled his ships back to the Hegemony.
— Then it's clear why this all started, — Iella said suddenly. — He's stalling with negotiations to restore his fleet's combat readiness. Once it's back up to strength, the prince-admiral will cut all ties with us and resume attacks. We can't let him rebuild his ships!
— But we also can't attack a state that's seeking to join the New Republic, — Mon Mothma explained. — Otherwise, we'd be the aggressors, which would turn many allies against us.
— They're not worth much if justice makes them posture and shake their fists, — Fey'lya remarked. — You don't seriously think Krennel intends to help the Alderaanians?
— Why not? — Han asked. — Maybe he's a victim of someone's manipulation, like Isard or...
— Grand Admiral Thrawn? — Fey'lya sneered. — A cute fairy tale, General Solo. But it doesn't hold up.
— Why not? — Wedge asked. — During the Galactic Civil War, entire sectors openly planned to join us. Given Krennel's position, it's possible he's decided to switch sides. I'm not saying we should trust him, — he added quickly, — it's probably another trap. But we still need to verify his sincerity before he gets a vote in our Senate.
— There's nothing to verify, General Antilles, — Fey'lya declared. — Krennel is the source of our problems. He's weakened and stalling—Agent Wessiri figured that out. He's behind the inhumane treatment of our prisoners, holding the remaining Lusankya captives. More than that, I'll share the latest intel. The planet he's offering the Alderaanians as a new homeworld means little strategically to the Hegemony. A small world. But it's not as simple as it seems.
— What do you mean, Counselor? — Mon Mothma asked.
— According to our Bothan intelligence, that planet hosts prisoner-of-war camps where Krennel holds our soldiers and officers captured in his brutal raids, — Fey'lya explained. — Some reports suggest the Lusankya prisoners are there too.
— Well, I'll be, — Wedge whistled. Looking at a visibly surprised Mon Mothma, who seemed to be hearing this for the first time, the Corellian said:
— In that case, Prince-Admiral Krennel will definitely try to relocate the prisoners! He knows if the Alderaanians send a representative to inspect the planet, the barracks will be discovered, and the secret will be out. He'll just cover his tracks while we're debating his proposal in the Senate. And when someone reminds him of his role in attacking our territories, he'll put on an honest face and claim he was framed.
— By Grand Admiral Thrawn, for instance, — Fey'lya said, glancing at Han's hologram. Clearly, he took great pleasure in needling Solo at every opportunity. — You know, General Solo, even the appearance of this 'grand admiral' could be chalked up to another of Isard's games. Take some Duros or Pantoran, apply the right makeup, teach them a few verbal tricks—any actor could pull it off, especially if their employers have access to the right information. Then they can use this puppet to distract from the real business and draw attention to secondary matters.
Wedge kept his eyes on Han. He trusted his friend—back in the day, not even Warlord Zsinj could defeat Han's task force, and Zsinj's cunning could give Bothans a run for their money. If Han was sure Grand Admiral Thrawn was a real Imperial, albeit an unusual one, then that's how it was.
Besides, Fey'lya's monologue, typically dismissing anything that didn't fit his propagandized view of the galaxy, didn't address another question—if the Thrawn Han met in the Honoghr system wasn't real, then who was orchestrating such intricate and devastatingly destructive operations? Krennel? Oh, please—that guy's as straightforward as an X-Wing's hull. Isard? Sure, you could pin intelligence operations, a spy in the Imperial Palace, or attacks on New Republic bases without Star Destroyers on her, but not tactical campaigns. The Bacta War proved Isard was good at manipulating enemies, not fighting battles. Whoever outmaneuvered Han at Honoghr, lured him into a trap, and essentially forced his surrender was clearly a brilliant commander. And it wasn't Krennel. No way it was Krennel.
So there's someone else.
And Wedge really didn't want to entertain the thought that Han's suspicions were correct—that former Grand Admiral Octavian Grant, who'd been in New Republic custody for so long and had now mysteriously vanished, was behind it all.
According to Han, Thrawn knew everything—even things no Imperial should've known. Yes, he could've been fed by spies, but... In Wedge's mind, the idea of a fabricated Grand Admiral Thrawn just didn't add up. Not at all. He'd sooner believe in a triumvirate—Grant, Krennel, and Isard working together—than that the latter two were playing their own game.
— Enough, — Mon Mothma said quietly but firmly. — This meeting was called to determine our next move, not to trade accusations.
— What's there to discuss? — Fey'lya asked with a hint of laziness. — We need to seize the opportunity of Krennel's weakness and attack his fleet.
— That'll cause issues in the Senate, — Mon Mothma countered. — The prince-admiral picked a convenient moment to involve the Alderaanians. If we attack Krennel...
— And find prisoner barracks, possibly political enemies, and other captives on the planet he promised as a new Alderaan, — Fey'lya practically purred. — Once we have the Lusankya prisoners and our POWs harmed by Krennel's attacks, we'll present the Senate with proof of his lies, and military action against the Ciutric Hegemony will be justified.
— And if not? — Iella asked. — What happens if Krennel has already moved and hidden the prisoners? We show empty colonies?
— He could easily claim those buildings were never used, that he's innocent and had no prisoners, — Han said quickly.
— In that case, we'll play the card of holding Krennel accountable for Sate Pestage's murder, — Fey'lya purred.
— So we'll announce to the galaxy that we're prosecuting an Imperial for crimes against Imperials? — Wedge asked. — Why do I feel like some senator from Kuat will start talking about double standards?
The Bothan held Wedge's gaze, then sniffed disdainfully, his fur bristling.
— You also forgot, General Antilles, that we have transponder data from Krennel's attack on the Hast shipyards, which he destroyed along with ships and workers, — Fey'lya said irritably.
— Which can easily be faked, — Han pointed out. — And we don't have engine signature analysis from the destroyers.
— That'll be enough to unleash the full might of the Fourth Fleet on the Hegemony, — Fey'lya said proudly. — What can Krennel oppose us with? A dozen battered destroyers and other ships? We can field at least two dozen Mon Calamari star cruisers alone...
— I disagree, — Han said suddenly. — Thrawn didn't destroy my ships at Honoghr. He boarded them. Now let's say Thrawn is a fabrication by Krennel and Isard. That means they've captured at least two dozen of our starships—from frigates and corvettes to Mon Cal cruisers and Star Destroyers. I don't think the missing ships—Errant Venture, Freedom, Insolent, Loyalty, Emancipator, Liberator, and others—were destroyed. We know the Imperial Remnants are curbing Krennel's ambitions. So why wouldn't he use his raids to seize starships he can't otherwise acquire?
— Then things look grim, — Wedge said. — By conservative estimates, he'd control at least fifty line-class starships, maybe more. And with the credits he's making from trade with other Remnants, he's got plenty of funds...
— That's putting it mildly, — Iella muttered.
— So, if he's not a fool—and Krennel's no fool—then the Ciutric Hegemony could be hiding a solid sector fleet of a hundred or two starships, — Antilles continued. — Think about all those rumors of pirates turned privateers looting our convoys. Or tales of Mon Cal cruisers raiding. That's a significant force.
— In that case, we need to bolster the Fourth Fleet's line forces and send them into the Hegemony, — Fey'lya pressed. — These attacks have weakened us significantly. We're losing trust from allied systems. In the galaxy's southern sectors, entire regions are starting to grumble. Meanwhile, things keep getting worse. I can remind you that after capturing Coruscant and declaring the New Republic, we faced a severe economic crisis—a consequence of the Empire's massive spending on Death Stars...
— Oh, right, — Wedge snapped his fingers. — Krennel might also have his own pocket-sized Death Star.
— We need to attack the Ciutric Hegemony regardless! — Fey'lya insisted stubbornly. — The Provisional Government isn't publicizing this, but our economy is on the brink. We've got a budget hole the size of a Death Star. A huge number of ships are being used as civilian transports—and that's no laughing matter. We need to hit Krennel here, now, and as hard as possible to show other Imperial Remnants we're not helpless. We're barely managing to defend our territories, and if Krennel joins forces with Imperial Space or the Pentastar Alignment, we can kiss galaxy-wide control goodbye. From Bilbringi to Coruscant is one jump, and our bases there won't hold him back for long. Soon every Imperial will realize we can't neutralize Krennel's threat—and he's one of the least dangerous among the Remnants. The others have armies and fleets far larger. All we can hope is that an operation against Krennel convinces them they don't want to be our next target. To do that, we need to act—here and now. While we can still play the cards of Death Star construction, Pestage's murder, the torture of Lusankya prisoners, and attacks on our territories. If we confirm his ties to Ysanne Isard, prove she survived Thyferra, and show her complicity in Krennel's actions—no one will question us. Delay, and it'll be too late.
The meeting paused as everyone sank into their own thoughts.
— Suppose, — Mon Mothma said softly, — just suppose, — she clarified, noticing the predatory grin on Fey'lya's face, — I authorize an attack on the Ciutric Hegemony. How do you intend to proceed?
— Deploy the Fourth Fleet, reinforced with Bothan ships, and crush Krennel in a decisive battle, — Fey'lya replied smugly. For a moment, his hologram froze, as if paused, and then a map of Prince-Admiral Delak Krennel's domain appeared before the group. Some two and a half dozen planets across ten star systems, linked by hyperspace routes. It had everything—from precise coordinates for each planet to navigational hazards like anomalies, massive moons, black holes, stars, planetary gravity wells. At the Hegemony's center sat its capital, the Ciutric system, like a spider that had spun its web and lay in wait for prey.
— It must be settled with one overwhelming strike, — Fey'lya said. Wedge briefly thought the counselor was quoting someone. Logical—he probably didn't devise this plan himself. — Ciutric IV is the primary target. It's the most industrialized of Krennel's planets and well-defended. They've got shipyards in orbit that keep his fleet operational. They can't build ships—he lacks the production capacity—but they handle repairs. However, with the pace he's accumulating capital and making purchases, it's no surprise he'll soon reverse-engineer tech and establish production facilities. The Fourth Fleet, with Bothan support, will attack the shipyards, capture or destroy ships under repair, besiege the planet, and deploy ground forces. Ciutric IV has no planetary shield, just a dozen Golan I and II defense platforms. Given the time needed for reinforcements to arrive, we'll destroy Krennel's fleet before patrols from other systems or aid from other Remnants can reach him. Plus, once Ciutric IV falls, supporting Krennel will become unprofitable and dangerous. We'll occupy the remaining planets, find the evidence we need, and present it to the Senate.
"And what we don't find, we'll fabricate," Wedge added mentally, recalling the absurd accusations against Admiral Ackbar.
— Do you know which planet holds the prisoners? — Mon Mothma asked. Fey'lya, with faint irritation, zoomed in on another planet at the Hegemony's edge.
— Liinade III, — his voice carried a hint of displeasure. — Most of the planet is an agricultural world, supplying the Hegemony with vast food reserves. It also produces comlinks. Strategically, it's worthless.
— Except for the prisons holding our POWs, — Han interjected.
Judging by the pause, the Bothan had clearly forgotten the reason for interest in this planet. It only reinforced a simple conclusion: Fey'lya aimed to gain everything from an attack on the Ciutric Hegemony, but freeing prisoners wasn't his priority—not even a secondary goal.
— The Hegemony has plenty of other worlds we could target, — Iella said. — Ciutric is heavily defended, and...
— For the combined Bothan and Fourth Fleet, Ciutric IV's defenses won't be an issue, — Fey'lya said with emphasis. — Counselor Mothma! One strike! Just one strike, and we'll end this threat forever!
— Or it could be another trap, — Han said grimly. The Bothan hissed indignantly. What's with these primitive antics? Next, he'll start spitting venom!
— Your opinions are noted, — Mon Mothma said calmly. — Our goal is to free the prisoners. So, the Fourth Fleet, along with the Bothans since they've volunteered, will protect General Antilles's task force, which will attack Liinade III, search for, and evacuate our prisoners. I'm no strategist, but, — she pointed to two thin lines branching off from the indicated world, — planets like Corwin Minor and Vrosinri are connected through Liinade III, correct?
— Exactly, Counselor, — Wedge said quickly, catching her drift. — Gravitational anomalies prevent direct travel between planets, bypassing hyperspace routes.
— Therefore, — she continued, — if we find POW camps on Liinade III and secure the region, we'll not only cut off three of Ciutric's ten star systems but, with luck, trap and force the surrender of his patrols in those systems?
— Krennel likely cares more about the loyalty of planets closest to Ciutric IV, — Wessiri said. — The outer worlds, cut off from the capital, will surrender without a fight.
Fey'lya eyed everyone with clear suspicion of a conspiracy against his precious self.
— What do we know about Krennel's intelligence? — Wedge leaned back in his chair. — Maybe I'm overthinking, but...
Han Solo nodded understandingly, voicing what had already alarmed Antilles:
— He probably has no intelligence network of his own and relies on Isard and her agents.
— Meaning they could know all our plans, — Iella said, paling.
— To counter that, we'll move our forces in various directions before the main strike, — Fey'lya grumbled. — Small groups, squadrons—they'll get coordinates for different systems from trusted sources. Everything's planned so our forces won't know the target until the last moment, arriving simultaneously from multiple vectors.
— You told me about this plan early in your revanchist scheme, — Mon Mothma grimaced. — In the Imperial Palace's vestibule, no less, while I was relaxing by the ch'ala trees...
— It was operationally critical information, — Fey'lya huffed. Wedge wondered who devised such an intriguing plan for the Bothans. Not former Grand Admiral Octavian Grant, surely? — Besides, palace security has repeatedly confirmed every employee is thoroughly vetted. If you're scared of tales about a resurrected Isard...
— Are you saying all twenty-five prisoners we freed on Commenor were mistaken? — Iella snapped. — That they misidentified the woman who starved and tortured them?
— So we're questioning Rogue Squadron's actions during the Bacta War? — Fey'lya cynically flipped the table. Typical—out of arguments, he started making others uncomfortable. A Bothan, through and through. — Face it—Isard couldn't have hidden in some catacombs for two years. She hates us all, and if she'd survived, she wouldn't have sat idle. Krennel and his allies are just resurrecting old enemies' horrors, like your friend's stories about Palpatine lurking in the Deep Core, Isard, and...
— Octavian Grant, for example? — Han asked quietly. Fey'lya shot him a venomous glare. — Or will you say Thrawn's claim about your collaboration with Grant is also a lie?
— From start to finish! — Fey'lya said without flinching. But Wedge was certain—the counselor was lying. — Octavian Grant is a war criminal, and any collaboration with him...
— We're off-topic, — Mon Mothma said tersely. Antilles locked eyes with Han. The politicians had clearly used the former grand admiral for their own ends and were now trying to bury his disappearance. They were terrified to admit they'd danced to someone else's tune for five long years.
— I hope you have a plan to attack Liinade III, General Antilles? — Mon Mothma asked.
Huh? What? Why's he the one on the spot?!
— Ahem, — Wedge cleared his throat, buying a moment. — I've got a strong strike force. Four Mon Cal star cruisers—that's a massive force on its own. If we're right and Isard's with him, we might face surprises. But I doubt there'll be anything our Fourth Fleet flagship can't handle, — he glanced at Fey'lya. The Bothan tried to look calm, but his eyes flickered with rage. — So, it's just a landing operation. We'll reach orbit, thin out planetary defenses with orbital bombardment and air strikes, then deploy ground troops with recon flyers and start clearing identified targets. They wouldn't hide prisons for thousands underground—that'd be too costly...
— Considering Krennel markets his kingdom as a haven of peace, — Mon Mothma said, — capturing three planets and exposing his dirty laundry could spark a wave of independence among his worlds.
— So we just sit and wait while they rebuild their ships and counterattack? — Fey'lya challenged.
— We'll secure Liinade III, find and evacuate our prisoners, rescue the Lusankya captives, then strike Ciutric IV with all available forces, — Mon Mothma said firmly. — Saving the prisoners is the most critical reason we're going to war with Prince-Admiral Delak Krennel. So, — she glanced at Fey'lya, — I hope this time, unlike Endor, Bothan intelligence has real data, not planted disinformation.
— Our scouts are the best in the galaxy, — Fey'lya replied, offended and irritated. — If they say the prisoners are there, they're there.
"And maybe a pocket Death Star too, but why mention that out loud?" Wedge thought, realizing that if his worst fears came true, he'd have to sacrifice nearly all his troops again to destroy yet another weapon of absolute evil.
He'd bet his entire annual salary that when the next Death Star showed up near the Republic fleet, the Bothans would be parsecs away.