Varykino
Naboo
"I've been unconscious for three months?" Anakin demanded incredulously, and then began coughing. Apparently three months of silence had left his throat disinclined to cooperate with talking.
He sat up more and was relieved when Ahsoka pounded him firmly on the back. He coughed up a bit of phlegm with a mixture of relief and disgust, then leaned back.
He opened his mouth again but Snips shook her head firmly, "You shouldn't talk until the med droid checks you over, Skyguy."
He looked at her. He had noted in Shili how tall she was, but up close he could see the patterns on her face developed even more obviously with age, noted the well developed muscles in her arms.
Anakin opened his mouth again, then closed it when she directed a ferocious look at him.
"I'm so sorry, Snips, for everything," he sent telepathically.
"I will yell at you when you are physically stable," she sniped back in a telepathic voice that was surprisingly snarky, "But for now, just take it easily."
Anakin relaxed. It seemed that years of fighting and hiding and being captured and nearly executed hadn't dampened his apprentice's spirit.
Former apprentice?
Something.
He leaned back even as the door slid open and a med droid stepped in, followed by his former master and his twins.
/-
Varykino
1 day later
"You're quite sure you're up to this, Father?" Luke asked anxiously.
"I'm supposed to say that to you, Son," Anakin responded with a mixture of fondness and irritability. "I've spent decades dealing with Imperial madness. Causing Imperial madness, actually ..."
"You were unconscious for 3 months, Anakin," Obi-Wan said gently. "I will admit we are all surprised that you survived."
"You can thank, or blame, Padme for that," he responded, his eyes misting slightly at the thought of his wife whom he had left behind in the strange Other World.
"Huh?" Luke asked.
"Your mother ..." the older man smiled with melancholy affection. "Was, is, one of the greatest debaters of all time. I didn't want to come back, argued with her that the galaxy was better off without me, that I should be with her, but she insisted that I should come back and right my wrongs. Perhaps she was incorrect, but she was certainly convincing. Obviously. She convinced me."
He heaved a sigh, even as his children exchanged glances.
"I'm glad you came back," Luke said genuinely.
And Breha Organa was firm, "It is good you are here, Anakin. The political situation is in flux. The Imperial warlords and admirals and members of the Council are struggling for power, with concomitant loss of civilian life."
Anakin frowned, pulling together his scattered thoughts with difficulty, "What about here on Naboo?"
Bail Organa spoke from the doorway, "An Admiral Thrawn has taken Naboo, along with a number of planets in the Outer Rim and the spacelanes between. He has not been particularly brutal thus far, for which we are thankful."
Anakin nodded, "He is the least barbaric of the grand admirals, though perhaps that is not saying much. I was of course far worse ..."
He closed his eyes and thought, then opened them, "What of Tarkin?"
Kenobi looked grave, "He has retreated to Scarif."
Anakin sat up and frowned, "Why?"
"Because the Death Star has been moved there, and is in its final phases. Tarkin has a fleet of Star Destroyers protecting the station for now, but we believe that he may be planning to use the DS-1 to seize control of the Empire once it is fully operational. "
"Or," Leia chimed in, "he may merely plan to be the power behind the throne for another member of the Imperial elite. At any rate, if the Death Star is completed ..."
Anakin took a deep breath, then another, as he struggled to control his own emotions and those of the anxious members of his family and friends around him. "Yes, that would be catastrophic."
"Do you think ..." Breha began hesitantly, then plunged on. "Do you think Tarkin would really use the Death Star? Or would it merely be used as a threat?"
The former Darth Vader sighed deeply, "He will use it. He has long advocated for rule through fear, and with the Empire in chaos, he will have a strong motivation to coerce the myriad planets into submission by destroying one of them. Or more than one."
There was a long pause and Anakin's eyes drifted to Ahsoka's face. She had her emotions locked down tightly, but he could sense wisps of unease and anger.
"I'm sorry, Snips," he said gently.
"It's all right, Skyguy," she responded with a defiant toss of her montrals, "I can handle it."
Kenobi looked startled, "My dear Ahsoka, I had forgotten that Tarkin presided over your trial."
"Trial?" Luke demanded in bewilderment.
The Togruta shook her head quickly, "It's a long story, and there is no reason to describe it in detail right now. Suffice it to say that I was framed for murder in my teens, in the days of the Old Republic, and the Jedi threw me to the rancors, so to speak."
Her face suddenly softened, "Your mother was my defender during the trial. I will always be grateful to her. And Skyguy here proved my innocence at the very last moment."
The twins exchanged uneasy glances.
"We were wrong, Ahsoka," Kenobi said suddenly, "I deeply regret the role of the Jedi in your ordeal."
Tano narrowed her eyes, "I would be glad to discuss the failings of the Jedi Order at a later date, General Kenobi, but for now I believe we should focus on the Death Star and Tarkin. What should we do?"
She glanced at her former master and saw, with a mixture of amazement and amusement, that familiar fire of enthusiasm fill his blue eyes.
(Eyes which had been Sithly yellow not long before, presumably.)
"I have an idea," said Anakin.
/-
Conference Room #1
The Death Star
In orbit around Scarif
1month later
Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin sat down at the 'head' of the conference table.
The table itself was an oval but his chair had a taller back. So it was clear he was in charge.
Around him, arranged at regular intervals, were his chosen cadre of high officers on the Death Star, including the Generals Motti and Tagge. Both were extremely competent men, though they lacked the overarching brilliance to bring about the galaxy Tarkin had in mind.
Not that it mattered. He would provide the oversight, and the brilliance.
"The Death Star's weapons systems are now online, Governor Tarkin," Motti said with obvious satisfaction.
"And Krennic is still on Scarif?" Tagge demanded.
"Indeed," said another officer.
"Then the time has come," Tarkin said with a thin smile, "Let us proceed to the control room for the first test of this station. There is no need to destroy the planet itself, so we can combine the destruction of the Imperial Citadel Tower and its occupants and data with a test of the fine tuning of the Death Star's superlaser."
He directed a piercing glance at General Maximilian Veers. "Your disagreement with this course of action has been noted, General Veers. I suggest that you refrain from raising this issue again."
Veers' mouth thinned, but he merely nodded.
"Shall we go, gentlemen?" Tarkin asked with a courtly wave toward the door, even as he rose to his feet, "Scarif awaits."
The door slid open and Tarkin took one step toward it before he suddenly halted in shocked , and horrified, disbelief.
The being standing there was like something out of a dream, or rather a nightmare. Two meters of unremitting black. Armor. Helmet. Mechanized breathing.
Darth Vader, the Dark Lord of the Sith.
/-
The Star Destroyer Chimaera
In orbit around Tatooine
Outer Rim
3 weeks later
Grand Admiral Thrawn leaned over the holoscreen, his red eyes blazing with interest. Behind him and to his right stood his second-in-command, the human Captain Gilad Pellaeon.
"As you can see, sir," Pellaeon said after a minute, "The data shows an unusual increase in supply ships coming into Eudu and Toydaria from other planets in that region of space."
"Indeed," Thrawn commented. The brow furrowed slightly, and the admiral's blue skin seemed almost to darken as the Chiss admiral contemplated, "Captain, do we have information about incoming and outgoing supplies for Kessel and Kubindi?"
"No, sir, I'm afraid not."
"Obtain that information, as rapidly as possible."
"As you wish," Pallaeon responded and then, with a troubled frown, "You believe the Death Star may be in that region of space?"
"It is at least possible, Captain," Thrawn murmured softly. "And if so, we must establish its presence or absence from those regions as quickly as possible."
"It seems an odd place for Tarkin to lurk, sir," the captain argued. "I would expect him either to go directly to Imperial Center and attempt to take control, or retreat to his homeworld of Eriadu. There isn't much near Kessel."
Thrawn shook his head, "You assume Tarkin still holds power, Captain. And we do not know that."
"So you think General Motti, or Tagge, may be in control, sir?"
Thrawn ran a blue finger across his chin, "Perhaps, Captain. Much is not yet known. But I am inclined to believe Tarkin has fallen in some kind of coup and no longer commands on the Death Star. And while the man is a brute and a menace, it is easier in many ways to combat an enemy one knows. An unknown enemy is ... unknown."
"Yes, sir," Captain Pallaeon responded respectfully.
"I will retire to my quarters to consider the data streams, Captain. I trust you can handle the Holonet meeting with the latest arrogant Hutt Lord?"
A grim smile crossed his captain's face, "Yes, Admiral, most certainly."
Grand Admiral Thrawn turned on his heel and strode off the bridge toward his quarters, with his shadowy bodyguard, the Noghri Rukh, following behind him on soft feet.
Thrawn sighed internally. In many ways, the death of Palpatine suited his plans as he had realized long ago that the Emperor was more interested in his own personal power than in the safety of Thrawn's people, the Chiss. But the galaxy was in turmoil and while Thrawn relished the challenge of successfully seizing control from the various Imperial warlords and councilors vying for power, he was concerned about the Death Star. It had been, in his quiet opinion, a regrettable use of a truly vast array of resources. But recent data suggested the DS-1 had finished its final operational checks before disappearing so abruptly from Scarif 3 weeks prior.
Thrawn had understood Tarkin, understood the man's ferocious adherence to ruling by fear. Understood, too, that at some level, Tarkin desired to remain somewhat in the background, to be not the supreme power in the galaxy, but the vital cog to that power.
Tarkin had been quite predictable, and Thrawn had believed that even with the Death Star nearing its final phase of completion, he would be able to intervene before Tarkin could do serious damage. But then something had happened several weeks ago. The information streaming from Thrawn's spies on Scarif and the Death Star had cut off abruptly, and the Death Star had disappeared. And while no planet had yet been destroyed, apparently, it was (Thrawn freely admitted) unnerving to have the Death Star out in space somewhere, under the control of an Unknown ...
He regrettably concluded that he had made a mistake. He should have intervened earlier.
But making mistakes was a learning experience. He would not lash out in rage, would not blame others. He would gather information, consider, and move forward.
Thrawn gestured sharply to his Noghri bodyguard, "Wait here."
Rukh bowed obediently and stopped beside one of the two stormtroopers guarding the Grand Admiral's quarters.
The door slid open, and Thrawn stepped through the door. He relaxed, slightly. This was his private domain and while he felt a responsibility to spend hours a day on the bridge, to be physically present for his officers and men, he always thought best here in his quarters.
A soft sound to his right broke into his reverie and he turned suddenly even as his hand slid to the blaster at his side. (Yes, he carried a blaster. One could not be too careful in these turbulent times.)
Briefly he considered summoning his men outside, but perhaps something had merely slipped off a shelf ...
He walked softly and carefully toward one side of his quarters, to the entrance into his own private art gallery.
An unusual emotion filled him, that of intense surprise. For standing near the wall, turned away from him, was a short being, dressed in a white robe, dark hair piled high. She (it looked like a she) was standing in a reverent attitude before his Alderaanian moss painting, The Eclipse.
After the briefest of hesitations, Thrawn thumbed his blaster to stun and shot at the figure. And then was surprised again when the stun ray reversed as if it had encountered a shield. An instant later, the blaster was yanked painfully out of his hand and into the grip of a dark cloaked figure, also fairly short, who was standing at one side of the room, shrouded in shadows.
The human turned around to reveal a young woman of about 20 years, beautiful by human standards, with dark brown eyes and lustrous hair. Her face was completely calm, her gaze intelligent and curious.
"Grand Admiral Thrawn," she said in a soft contralto. "It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Leia Organa."
Author Note: I never thought I'd do this, but I'm going to try to write Thrawn. Grand Admiral Thrawn was first introduced in Timothy Zahn's Thrawn trilogy; he is a brilliant Chiss grand admiral who is renowned for his genius tactics and his appreciation for art. The Noghri are a lethal race of short aliens who operate as bodyguards and assassins for the Empire. We'll see how it goes. Thanks to those of you reading and reviewing, and thanks again to my wonderful husband for editing!
