CHAPTER TWO
The tide turned the day Thrawn defected. The Alliance went from a band of burnt-out Separatists and Republican diehards, to a military force to be feared.
—From 0 BBY-0 ABY: Yavin to Hoth
by Tenten E. Reynolds, Military Historian
Yavin IV, Outer Rim, 0 BBY
The Millenium Falcon settled onto the landing pad softly, repulsorlifts roaring and kicking up dust.
Ground crews rushed past the Marine sentries. They were in a slight panic after having seen the state of the ancient Corellian freighter, and even the Marines were wondering how that bucket of rust was still flying.
The roar from the ship diminished as the pilot toggled the repulsorlifts off, and the loading ramp slowly lowered a few seconds later.
Princess Leia Organa was the first one to offload, regal, composed, and elegantly adorned in a snowy white dress. A quiet sadness in her eyes gave her a mature look that belied her youth.
Considerably less composed than the princess, came a straw-haired young man, dressed in shabby peasant clothes with a silver tube clipped to his belt. He looked to be roughly the same age as the princess, but looked considerably less mature as he tried to hide the sadness in his own eyes.
"Who is that coming out of that ship?" Thrawn asked the young lieutenant who had been assigned to him.
"Princess Leia Organa, of Alderaan," the lieutenant answered. "Scuttlebutt was that she's brought plans to this battlestation you've told us about—"
"No, I mean the young man with the white tunic," Thrawn said, interrupting the officer.
The lieutenant blinked in surprise, gazing at the young peasant, trying in vain to see what had drawn the famous grand admiral's attention. "I don't know, sir. If you would like, I can check with Command—" the officer stopped in mid-sentence to pull out his trilling comlink. He listened intently, before responding with a curt "Understood," to whoever was on the other end of the comm channel. He shut the comlink off, and turned again to Thrawn. "The brass wants you in the briefing room," he said, gesturing toward the temple.
Thrawn nodded, "Lead the way, Lieutenant."
"Your intelligence was good, Grand Admiral," an older man said, as he studied a dizzying array of tactical and strategic displays. He turned away from the multi-colored boards, and Thrawn studied his features quickly. He was a little taller than average, with a quiet, stolid look. His features were distinguished, but lined with age. His hair was beginning to recede as well, but a massive beard distracted attention from his fading hairline.
"The battlestation is indeed functional, Grand Admiral, and there was also a tracking beacon on the Falcon," the man said, studying the approaching grand admiral. "Just as you predicted."
Thrawn nodded. "I would have preferred to have been wrong, General." He smiled minutely. "I assume that you are General Dodonna."
"I am," Dodonna said, extending his hand.
Under normal circumstances Thrawn far outranked Dodonna, but he took the proffered hand. Proper Imperial protocol was a bit hazy on greeting an enemy officer, but Thrawn immediately sensed that Dodonna was an equal.
Thrawn took the older man's hand. "I have heard of you, General. Your part in the Battle of Trasemene was particularly of interest to me," he said, releasing Dodonna's hand.
Dodonna smiled sadly. "Trasemene was a nightmare, Grand Admiral," he said, "Not what was shown on the holovids."
Thrawn nodded in understanding. The Battle of Trasemene had been one of the very last battles between the Separatist holdouts and the newly born Empire. The siege of the system had resulted in one of the bloodiest campaigns the Empire had ever engaged in, but the orgy of death and destruction had produced two national heroes: General Jan Dodonna, and Admiral Adar Tallon. Both men had defected after witnessing the unspeakable brutality of the Empire's war machine.
Thrawn's eyes flicked to the tactical display for an instant. "May I inquire of the plan of attack, General?" he asked, his burning-red eyes studying the displays as he awaited an answer.
Dodonna's lips flicked upward. "A bit presumptuous aren't you?" he asked dryly. "Any sane commander in my position would withdraw." Thrawn studied Dodonna's face for an instant, and Dodonna's expression turned into an open smile. "But yes, Admiral, we will attack."
Thrawn smiled slightly in return.
"The Council wants an all-out attack," Dodonna continued. "Every 'capital ship' we have, up against their battlestation." His tone made it clear he did not favor the notion. "Given that you, the most effective commander in the recent history of the galaxy, have fallen into our laps anyway, I'd like your opinion on such an attack," he said, walking away from the tangle of displays, and towards a room that overlooked the jungle.
"My opinion?" Thrawn asked, walking beside Dodonna. "My opinion is that it will fail," Thrawn said unflinchingly.
Dodonna nodded slowly while they walked, "Why?" He asked, not out of dismissal or in disagreement.
"This battlestation—the Death Star, as the propagandists insist it be called—has been designed with rather… Potent defenses, shall we say?" Thrawn smiled coldly. "I regret that I had more than a small role in ensuring they were so potent." Dodonna looked at Thrawn curiously, and Thrawn shrugged slightly. "The Death Star is the dream of Tarkin's 'New Navy', a concept which the Emperor adamantly supports, and which I did not." He smiled without humor at Dodonna. "Four months ago, when I discovered that the battlestation was under construction, I confronted the Emperor over his support of the Death Star."
Dodonna's eyes widened slightly. Confronting the Emperor of the known galaxy over one of his pet projects was not the safest endeavor.
"I fell out of the Emperor's favor for my infraction," Thrawn said, calmly skipping past the details of the confrontation. "However, my objections seem to have struck him harder than I'd suspected." Thrawn's cold smile turned sour. "The Emperor ordered that the Death Star be armed with enough defensive firepower to destroy two dreadnoughts in open battle. And that would be without even utilizing the main armament."
Dodonna's eyes widened slightly at the implications. A dreadnought—a massive, twenty-kilometer long capital ship—was the most powerful type of warship in the universe, and if this station could destroy two…
Thrawn smiled again. "That, General, is why a frontal attack will fail. It would take half of the Imperial Starfleet to make a frontal assault effective, and I doubt you have that many star destroyers lying around."
Dodonna nodded. "I never dreamed they could have squeezed so many turbolasers on that thing," he said, slightly awed.
"What," Thrawn began, "was your plan of attack?"
Dodonna was still having a hard time conceptualizing a battlestation that powerful. "Um—" He blinked, trying to refocus himself. "A strike-fighter assault, comprised entirely of hyper-capable ships," he said. "Trying to hit this weakness," he added, digging a touchpad out and handing it to Thrawn.
Thrawn recognized the battlestation plans immediately as they were displayed on the touchpad screen. He had scoured the entire data file several times in the past, studying every weakness. "The secondary exhaust ports," he said, nodding. "They are a most definite weakness." He toggled the touchpad off, and returned it to Dodonna. "The flaw revealed itself to me several months ago." He smiled. "It was not mentioned during my audience with the Emperor, thankfully."
Thrawn was silent as he thought for a moment. "It's a daring plan," he said. "It very well may succeed, no matter how…unorthodox it might sound on flimsi."
Dodonna nodded. "I thought you would approve—you were always known for your unorthodox strategies." He snorted at a memory. "When I was still in the Imperial Army we called you the 'Rholes Hemlocks of the Seventh.'"
Thrawn gave a very slight smile at the mention of the holovid detective. "I'm afraid the title is mislaid slightly, but it is flattering nonetheless."
"Perhaps. I've recommended my strike-fighter assault to the Council an hour ago, and they're currently debating it amongst themselves," Dodonna said. "A few thousand years from now I expect an answer," he added dryly.
Thrawn laughed lightly. The sound was a bit strange coming from his lips. "I assume you have already authorized the attack."
"I have," Dodonna said, laughing as well. "They'll be furious if it fails, but if it fails…" He shrugged. "They won't exactly be able to court-martial me.
"Now, Grand Admiral, would you care to assist with our planning?"