Chapter One
Purity.
Perfection.
That was what flying was all about, not crushing the Empire's enemies, keeping
order in the galaxy or any of the political rhetoric the propaganda artists at Imperial
Center cooked up. It wasn't even about settling the Unknown Regions in the Emperor's name,
the official purpose of Unity Fleet.
Lt. Drash Tevock sent his TIE Dagger streaking after the enemy fighter, the
black emptiness around the ship's protective shell was alive with blasterfire and
speeding shapes as sleek fighters danced around massive capital ships that lumbered
through space trying to bludgeon each other to death with turboblasters.
The fighter Drash tailed was good, no question, but Drash was better. Drash was
the best. The Dagger followed the enemy as it climbed, passing so close to the
raiders' battlecruisers that both were at risk of being vaped in the exchange of fire
between it and the Imperial Star Destroyer, Hurricane. The pilot was as dense as a
Wookie's cranium if he thought that would unnerve Drash. The targeting computer locked
on the enemy and a red square framed its image on the targeting display. Not that it
mattered. Drash would have known if he'd had a clear shot regardless, he would have
sensed it.
His thumbs squeezed the firing buttons atop the steering rods and four blaster
bolts lanced out and converged on the raider, knocking out the fighter's rear
deflector shield. The pilot tried to roll away, but it was too late: another
salvo followed the blazing trail of the first and took out one of the ion engines.
The ship was sent spinning to impact and explode on its own side's battleship.
Drash didn't linger, but flew in search of more targets. He was not
disappointed.
Drash Tevock was rarely happy, only when he was flying, then the petty concerns
of life vanished and the universe became a wavering shadow. No memories, no past, no
future, only the moment, the kill, the fight at breakneck speed. He stopped being a human
and became a force. He became the sharp edge of the blade. That was why he loved his
Dagger: there was nothing faster in the fleet. And if it lacked the protection of energy
shields and the heavy firepower of missiles, that only brought him closer to the state of
being he so loved.
The TIE Dagger was the equal of the TIE Interceptor in most respects, but with
superior visibility and targeting systems and a smaller profile which made the Dagger a
harder target. It also meant a hundred of the fighters could be packed into a Star
Destroyer's launching bay instead of the usual 75 standard fighters. The Imperial fighters
were simply overwhelming the raiders, it was getting harder to find targets.
Almost half the enemy fighters were vaped in the first few minutes of
engagement, when the enemy fleet intent on ambushing a Miashku convoy was pulled out of
hyperspace by the Interdictor Cruiser Barricade and found themselves surrounded by Star
Destroyers. The ambushers had become the ambushed.
A TIE pilot ejected as his Interceptor had exploded and an enemy was closing on
the life pod. Drash vaped the raider before he even knew what was happening. Pathetic.
You'd think pirates would be used to sneak attacks. He ignored the pod. Let someone else
tow it to safety.
"Grey Squadron, this is Grey One," Commander Lont's voice crackled over the
comm, "one of the cruisers is running. Sector 6-2." Sure enough, one of the three
enemy capital ships had slipped past the Destroyers and was making for the edge of the
Interdiction field, where it could escape into hyperspace.
Trying to leave the party early? Drash smiled. We can't have that. "This is
Grey Seven, I copy Grey Leader." He moved to join his squadron mates.
"Try and leave some for the rest of us, Seven." A refined voice over the comm.
Grey Twelve, Lt. Rael, was a Chiss, and so he managed to make even a joke disdainful.
Many humans in the fleet disliked the Chiss: bad enough working with aliens, but
aliens who actually looked down on humans? Unthinkable!
"If you spent less time talking, Twelve, it wouldn't be so hard finding
targets." Another Grey, a human, spoke. The tone tried for lightheartedness, but had
an edge to it.
Drash for one didn't care about any of that. Rael could be a Mon Cal as far as
he was concerned. All interest lay in the kill, the perfect kill. He could feel
the panic, desperation and hope in the cruiser as it struggled to escape. Badly damaged,
still running somehow, it reminded Drash of something he'd seen on his homeworld.
A badly wounded cave bear, all shaggy for and muscle. A raptor sporting with
it, keeping just out of reach of the crushing claws and slashing with beak and
talons. Drash felt like that raptor, he and the fighter were not two separate things, but
one deadly predator. He was strong, pure and complete, existing in the moment. The sharp
edge of the knife.
Seconds from escape, the crew struggled to aim turboblasters at the fighters
closing on them. Powerful weapons, but slow, so slow. Too slow.
"I'll take out the shield array." Rael said over the comm. He flew a TIE
Advanced, equipped with shields, a hyperdrive and missiles.
"I've got it, Grey Twelve." Drash sent over the comm. He increased power to
his ion engines.
"Grey Seven!" The Commander's voice held the whip of authority. "Fall back and
let Twelve have it!"
"You're coming in fuzzy, Grey Leader." Drash said absently, all attention was
focused on the cruiser. He was closer to it than any other fighter by at least three
klicks and his Dagger was faster than an Advanced. He didn't need shields, he was too
fast. He didn't need missiles either: the enemy ship was so battered the shields were
barely holding anyway, and his scanners had already pinpointed their weakest point.
He fired as he passed over, blaster bolts penetrated the shield just over the
array. The shields collapsed and the battlecruiser was now just a big target.
Drash overshot the capital ship then swung around for another pass. The
turboblaster batteries fired, of course, but he was too fast. He strafed the battleship
with blasterfire, taking out the bridge as the Dagger flashed over like a bolt of
lightning. His eyes burned bright under the pilot's mask, and his face twisted in a
savage grin. For a brief instant in that pass, Drash was tempted to angle down and plow
into the bridge. Stab the body of his fighter like the dagger it,
and it's pilot, were.
The desire was short lived, vanishing as soon as it flashed across his mind.
This was good work he'd done, but it wasn't what he was searching for. It wasn't the
perfect kill, the one that he would give his life for.
The rest of Grey Squadron was only now converging on the battleship, but there
was little left to do: the great beast's head had been cut off and now the vessel was
drifting dead in space. It was in the past now, and the past meant nothing to Drash.
He searched for his next kill.
**********************************************************
On the bridge of the Admonitor, flagship of Unity Fleet, the Miashku
Ambassador's tentacles writhed in pleasure as it watched the pirate fleet
that had preyed on its peoples' shipping lanes being taken apart by the
Imperial forces. Captain Voss Parck watched the alien out of the corner of
his eye and a small smile played across his face.
Serving with the Grand Admiral in the Unknown Regions, Parck had encountered
more alien life forms than in his entire career prior to being assigned to Unity
Fleet. Also, he had learned a few things from the Admiral. Though he had no claim
to that level of brilliance, what he knew of Miashku body language told him that
the Ambassador was very impressed indeed. It was certain to recommend that its
world petition admittance to the Empire.
"I trust this display of Imperial precision has convinced you of the benefits of
the Empire's protection." The Miashku turned toward the Chiss in the white Grand
Admiral's uniform, but kept a few of its eyes on the battle. The gurgling reply
issuing from several orifices was dutifully translated by the protocol droid at its
side--a tripod with many jointed arms and legs. Parck had long since gotten used
to the little oddities about the Unknown Regions, such as
the fact that so few protocol droids were modeled after the human form.
"The lord Ambassador is most pleased with your fleet's performance, Admiral
Thrawn, especially at how you were able to predict the exact hyperspace vector the
pirates would use."
"The Ambassador is most courteous." Thrawn inclined his head slightly.
"Admiral sir," one of the crewmen turned from the comm station, "incoming
transmition from enemy vessels. They wish to surrender."
"Excellent. Order our forces to cease fire and open a comm channel."
"Open, sir."
"Pirate fleet, this is Grand Admiral Thrawn of the Imperial Unity Fleet. Your
surrender is accepted. You will cease all hostilities and allow your vessels to be
boarded. At which time you will turn over all weapons and equipment onboard.
Afterwards you will be released."
"This**** Commander Fran," a voice crackled over the comm, "****terms are
accepted, we will **pare to be boarded."
On hearing this, the Miashku spurted more words, which the droid translated.
"The Ambassador approves of your decision, Admiral, but points out that the raiders
have stolen much from its people. Perhaps the Admiral is too merciful?"
Parck listened carefully. Thrawn had told him earlier that this next
conversation would be crucial to winning the Ambassador over. Miashku
were merchants to the core, thinking always in terms of profit and loss,
so Thrawn has told him as he pointed out various holograms of Miashku artwork.
Half the battle would be to show them it was more profitable to have Imperial
protection than to bribe warlords and hire mercenaries. However, it was also
necessary to show them they could live under the Empire's justice.
"Certainly, if your people were Imperial citizens the pirates would be made to
compensate you with interest." Thrawn said smoothly. "Since that is not the
case, I do the next best thing." He swept his arm toward the remains of the
pirates. "Those raiders are ruined and will be released to spread word of the
Empire's power, and the penalties for attacking the Empire's allies, throughout
Zoab sector."
The tentacles writhed in a satisfied way. To the Miashku, it was better to
humiliate and impoverish one's enemies than to kill them. "Your point is well taken."
The droid said. "And now the Ambassador wishes to retire to its quarters."
"Of course," he turned to another crewman, "Ensign, escort the Ambassador to its
quarters." The Ambassador followed the crewman into the turbolift, the droid
rolling behind it on wheeled feet. "Captain Parck, you have the bridge, I will be in my
chambers. See to the prisoners and download the data from their ships' computers.
I will expect a report of the battle as soon as possible."
"Aye sir."
*********************************************
"Interesting." Thrawn scanned the datapad Parck handed him and turned his
command chair to the monitors and consoles of his command station. Parck saw star
charts of the various systems of the Zoab sector and tactical recordings of the latest
battle.
"Admiral?" He asked.
"The battle went well, Captain. Complete victory, casualties almost
nonexistent, but something about the engagement caught my attention."
He touched a console and a recording appeared onscreen. "That cruiser
very nearly escaped. Most likely it would have if not for Grey Squadron."
His red eyes glowed softly as he watched the cruiser being disabled. "Very
impressive flying, especially Grey Seven." He replayed that section of the
recording again, the tiny Dagger harassing the battleship like a venomous
gathi wasp, an insect who's sting was as deadly as a blaster bolt.
"Something about the way this pilot flies interests me." Leaning over another
console, he called up a complete history of the pilot, Lt. Drash Tevock. Parck saw
the name under the picture that appeared with the text. A nondescript face except
for dark, intense eyes. His complete history, psychological profile, battle data
from his TIE fighter's computer, and his service record before and after his transfer
to Unity Fleet, all at Thrawn's fingertips.
"But I'm getting ahead of myself, Captain." The Grand Admiral turned his chair
back to Parck. "Can you guess what our next move will be?" Parck stood up a little
straighter. He'd had a look around the darkened command room on entering and noticed
that many holograms of Miashku artwork had been replaced. He had seen several pieces
from Orune Prime, Warlord Coerl's homeworld. Also, soft music of a strange melody was
playing throughout the room. The strangest thing about that music was once you listened
long enough you literally stopped being aware of it. It was from the Chiss homeworld,
and the Grand Admiral claimed that it helped stimulate creative thought. He often played
such music when formulating military campaigns.
"I would say, sir, that you are planning some action against the Warlord Coerl."
"Very good, Parck. As you know, Coerl commands the strongest forces by far of
all the factions in this sector." One of the star charts had colored-in areas
corresponding to the groups that controlled them. Coerl's territory took up over
twenty percent of the sector.
"It will take a major campaign, Admiral, but I'm certain we can pull it off."
In Parck's opinion, the Unity Fleet under Thrawn was superior to any other division
of the Imperial Armada, including lord Vader's much-vaunted Death Squadron.
"Of course. The Admonitor will set course for the Miashku homeworld as soon
as the data captured from the raiders is compiled. We will begin moving against Coerl
as soon as we have finalized the Miashkus' admittance into the Empire. I expect their
agreement to come quickly and wholeheartedly."
"Are you certain they will be so quick to commit to the Empire? While winning
over their Ambassador is a good start, the Miashku have been paying protection fees
to Coerl for more than six years. They may be reluctant to make this kind of step."
"They will, Captain," Thrawn said casually, "when we tell them that those
pirates were in fact Coerl's forces."
"What?" Parck blurted, forgetting himself.
"You have learned to observe and deduce, Captain, but you must do so at all
times, not merely when ordered to." Thrawn admonished. "All the evidence we need
will be in the databanks of the captured ships. One must admit, Coerl is very clever
indeed: he extorts protection fees from nearby systems and then stages the occasional
'pirate raid' on his client's convoys. When he hears of especially valuable cargo,
of course."
"And such a convoy was due to be shipped today." Parck finished. "That was
what this 'demonstration' of Imperial might was really all about. You wanted evidence of
Coerl's deception."
"Exactly." Thrawn leaned back. "When this is revealed to the Miashku
government, half the High Councilors will be outraged."
"Only half?" Parck raised an eyebrow.
"Of course, the other half are a party to Coerl's scheme. How else would he
know which convoys to strike and where to attack? Doubtless they were paid a handsome
share of the stolen goods. And doubtless they will be quick to agree to any
course of action that will keep this news from going public. The resulting
investigation would leave them poor, powerless, disgraced and owing a great
many debts to a great many of their people." A slow smile played across the
Admiral's face. "When the Miashku join, all their clients will find themselves
attached to the Empire." The Miashku traded with every civilized world in the
sector. "And once we have destroyed the strongest warlord in the area and have
the leading traders on our side, extending our control throughout Zoab sector
should be no trouble at all."
Parck could only stand amazed at the Grand Admiral. "A question, sir." He
ventured. "Would the Emperor approve of this? All this political maneuvering
and making alliances isn't exactly standard Imperial procedure."
"Point taken, Captain." Thrawn stood and paced toward one of his holograms,
Parck fell in step beside him. "But the Emperor has given me the authority to
conduct this mission however I see fit." He turned his attention from a portrait
on the wall to a towering statue of an armored alien. "To bring the Unknown
Regions into the Empire by conquest would be long and costly in terms of men and
resources. By using our military forces in specific
cases to achieve maximum results we will instead convince these worlds to join the
Empire willingly."
He turned his attention to a human statue. There were humans native to the
Unknown Regions, of course. There were humans almost everywhere in the galaxy, but
they were by no means the majority they were in the Empire.
"It is important that the peoples of the Unknown Regions see us as liberators
rather than conquerors. This is wild space, Captain. Lawless. Many will welcome
the stability the Empire offers. Many already have. Certainly it will take time
and effort, but in the long run I believe my way will be more effective than, say,
sending a Death Star to destroy planets until everyone submits. Which is most
certainly what will happen if we fail here." He deigned to notice the shock that
painted Parck's face. "Yes Captain, a Death Star. A second one is
under construction as we speak. It should be nearly complete by now, in fact. I
take it the thought of seeing the Emperor's superweapon in action does not fill
you with joy?" He said wryly.
Parck could barely speak, his throat was suddenly very dry. His entire body had
gone numb. Thrawn, he knew from experience, could be incredibly ruthless, but
compared to a Death Star...the very real possibility of entire planets reduced
to space dust in the blink of an eye... "No sir," he whispered, "I think I much
prefer your methods."
**************************************************
The rations were as tasty as always, with all the flavor of fresh plastifoam.
In the Admonitor's galley, Drash did his best to cover the taste with some
imitation Coerillian seasoning and was modestly successful. He was taking a bit
of something that was supposedly nerf-meat when a shadow fell over him. He looked
up into the glowing eyes of Lt. Rael.
The Chiss face was utterly composed, as usual, but the red eyes pulsed with
fury. "You took my kill." His voice had a slight edge as he struggled to
keep it level.
"I didn't see your name on it." Drash turned back to his unappetizing meal.
"I had that cruiser and you took it. I want to know why."
Because I wanted to. Drash thought, not really caring. The kill that had
seemed so important a few hours ago was now all but forgotten. "I was closer."
He said, draining that last of his beverage, "and faster." He was uninterested
in discussing his motives with anyone. They wouldn't understand anyway.
"It's because I'm an alien isn't it?" He said through clenched teeth. Around
the galley, groups of pilots and fleet troopers at various tables looked towards
them.
The rest of the galley was, for the most part, divided into little groups of
humans or Chiss. In most of the areas where off-duty Imperials socialized, the
two races tended to gravitate to their own kind. There were a few exceptions:
pilots in a squadron often sat together, and at one table a group of human and
Chiss fleet troopers had a game of sabacc going, but in most cases the two species
looked on their alliance as one of convenience only. Drash himself was an
exception to all that: he sat alone.
"You humans think you're the only ones with any ability." Rael snapped. "Even
the word 'alien' is an insult, your Basic lumps all nonhumans together regardless of
their superiority. I had that array, but you thought I'd botch it because I'm not
human. I'm a better pilot than you anyway, I've vaped you a hundred times in the
simulator."
Drash didn't like to be reminded of the flight sims, he spent as little time as
possible in the simulator, the minimum practice time required by regulations.
He despised it. So much like flying, but it was all a lie. It lacked the feel
of combat, intangible sensation that came when the void of space burned with
blasterfire and all between it and you is a womb of durasteel.
He stood up, tray in hand. All this talk of reasons and prejudices was tiring.
It had nothing to do with flying and he was bored.
A blue hand on his chest stopped him. "I'm not finished." Rael said coldly.
"Why don't you mind your own business, alien?" A human fleet trooper, oversized
black helmet set aside, was beside them both, glaring at the Chiss. Rael kept his
glowing eyes on Drash, who met the red gaze easily. "You Chiss can't stand being
upstaged, can you?"
"This is a private conversation." Rael gritted. "Leave us alone."
"Always giving orders. Thinking you're so much better than humans."
Rael turned his head and snapped. "I've taken a lot from you humans-"
"You've taken a lot alright." The trooper snarled. "The best assignments, the
top ranks, the best fighters- that Advanced you fly-all because that alien Grand
Admiral thinks his people are better than us!"
"Because we are better." Another Chiss broke in, shoving the fleet trooper.
"The Syndic knows it."
Drash watched with amused contempt as almost a dozen humans and Chiss, the most
hotheaded of the Admonitor's crew, traded hard glares as words, and it looked
like more than that would be traded soon. Rael was looking around, confused at
the small crowd that had so quickly surrounded them. The majority of the troops
had remained in their seats, but were all watching the confrontation.
Suddenly he became aware of something stirring inside him. All this anger, all
this rage, begging to be channeled into the pure, free sense of combat. Only a
pale shadow beside flying, but it would still help him feel truly alive. Out
of the corner of his eye, he saw a Chiss Commander walking toward them. Any
second now he would shout something to diffuse the situation.
If, later on, he tried to explain why he swung his tray at Rael's face, he
honestly wouldn't have been able to think of a reason. Not that he would try
very hard: Drash was never one for self-examination. He just didn't know why.
In any case, that blow turned the gathering into a melee that the other fleet
troops and pilots had to help break up.
**********************************************
Thrawn steepled his fingers and studied the information regarding one Lt. Drash
Tevock. He had found some surprising things there, more than he had anticipated.
Tevock was born and had lived the first sixteen years of his life on a largely unsettled
world in the Outer Rim. Until the Rebellion grew in strength, then along with most
young men Tevock was conscripted into Imperial service seven years ago.
The small agricultural community he'd been raised in called itself the
Enlightened Society. It was controlled by Zesir Frae, a self-proclaimed spiritual
leader. Reports were sketchy and Thrawn had to piece much of the story together.
Nowhere, for instance, is the word 'cult' used to describe the community, but Thrawn
had the rare ability to see what was under his nose.
Frae had been discreet, and undoubtedly had paid regular bribes to the planetary
governor not to look too closely into the Society's inner workings, corruption being a
way of life in the Empire. Two years ago, however, when the community leader had been
diagnosed with a rather malignant and incurable form of cancer, he apparently decided
the rest of the community should 'molt their physical shells,' as he so eloquently put
it in his private journals, and join him as he ascended to a higher consciousness, so
he led them in a mass-suicide. The resulting investigation showed evidence that Frae
had ordered severe and chronic physical and psychological abuse on members of the
community, especially on the children, since its founding.
Tevock, meanwhile, had been put into training. He'd been a good, if not
outstanding, student. It was noteworthy how quickly his indoctrination took.
The process of breaking down a civilian's old system of morals and ethics and
replacing them with the Imperial philosophy usually took years. Thrawn was not
surprised, he suspected that Tevock had no morality for them to start with.
Tevock had shown an aptitude for flying and trained as a TIE pilot, and here was
another paradox: Tevock was probably the best pilot in the fleet, in the entire
Imperial armada, with more kill points than the rest of his squadron combined,
and yet he was never noticed. He was never awarded a commendation or put in line
for a promotion.
So many instructors classified a pilot's abilities by concentrating on the
flight simulators and largely ignoring the actual combat performance. While
Tevock was outstanding in combat, in the simulator he was barely more than mediocre.
Tevock was also a consummate loner: he had no friends and was disliked by his
wingmates in whatever squadron he was transferred to.
Very interesting.
The doors to Thrawn's chamber slid aside and Parck walked in and stood at
attention before the command chair. "Admiral," he said, "the prisoners are
secure and the data from their ships is at your disposal. There is more than
enough evidence onboard to link Coerl to this raid."
"Very good." Thrawn nodded. "Have our forces return to the base at Ios V. The
Admonitor will set course for the Miashku homeworld. We have new allies to
welcome into the Empire."
"Of course, Admiral. Also, the Nightbird has returned from it's scouting
mission. The captain reports minimal enemy activity in the Maser and Lor systems,
but one TIE Advanced was lost near the Sevac system."
"Lost?" Thrawn frowned. "You mean destroyed?"
"Unconfirmed, sir. The pilot, a Lt. Wras, had made a hyperspace minijump into
Sevac using the Nightbird as base point. He had barely exited hyperspace when the
signal disappeared, contact was unable to be reestablished. The Nightbird's
captain considered investigating further but the possibility of ambush convinced
him to withdraw."
"Unfortunate, we have lost a superior pilot and a superior fighter." Only the
best pilots were given Advanced fighters. "I will make a note to investigate
this further. By all accounts, Sevac system has no tactical value and no resources,
but if Coerl is doing something there then I want to know what."
The Nightbird was a carrack class cruiser. Fast and heavily armed, they made
excellent long-range scouts. Their biggest drawback was that they could only
carry four TIE fighters, but Thrawn had solved that problem by providing an escort
of TIE Advanced for each scout. Equipped with hyperdrives, the fighters could follow
the cruiser anywhere and give more than adequate protection.
Standard Imperial protocol was that the superior fighters were too expensive for
mass-production, and so they were never widely used in the Empire. Thrawn, though,
was not standard Imperial protocol and had 'appropriated' the complete design specifics
of the fighter before leaving for the Unknown Regions. One of the high priorities of
the first shipyard set up out here was the building of TIE Advanced fighters.
"Is there anything further, Captain?"
Parck looked uncomfortable. "A small matter, Admiral, nothing worth
considering. A brawl among a few pilots and fleet troopers in one of the galleys,
just a few blows quickly broken up."
"I take it, Captain, that one side was composed of humans and the other of
Chiss?" Parck's discomfort was confirmation enough. "Humanity and the Chiss
are both proud peoples, and pride can breed arrogance, but our peoples are
strong as well, Captain. They will adapt. They adapt already: they fight
side by side and are forced to depend on one another. This will lead to trust
and respect."
"If you're so certain this alliance will work-"
"Have faith in the humans, as I have in the Chiss. Our species are compatible.
I am sure in it." He turned back to the screens and called up more star charts
and trade reports for the Miashku. He noticed Lt. Tevock's report, still onscreen.
"I've been doing some research into our TIE pilot, Grey Seven." He said as
Parck was turning to leave. "I've found some interesting facts."
"Sir?" He asked, confused at the new subject. By his tone, Thrawn could tell
Parck had already forgotten about Lt. Tevock.
"For one thing, he is apparently the best pilot in the fleet." He indicated the
screen with Tevock's service record. Parck scanned it and his eyes widened.
"Sir, is this accurate? This pilot rates a TIE Advanced easily! Has he been
tested for a wing command?"
Thrawn chuckled. "Oh no, Captain, giving this man any kind of authority or
command responsibility would be a grave mistake!" The mirth vanished. "He
can barely control himself. Our Lt. Tevock interests me because while he could
be very useful to our cause, he could prove very dangerous as well."
"Why is that, sir?"
"Because," Thrawn said grimly, "this man is a psycopath."
Author's note: For all the nit-pickers out there (and I freely confess to being
one of your number), I am perfectly aware that Captain Niriz, not Captain Parck,
commands the Admonitor. Niriz appears in Part Two, Chapter Two, with an
explanation.
Purity.
Perfection.
That was what flying was all about, not crushing the Empire's enemies, keeping
order in the galaxy or any of the political rhetoric the propaganda artists at Imperial
Center cooked up. It wasn't even about settling the Unknown Regions in the Emperor's name,
the official purpose of Unity Fleet.
Lt. Drash Tevock sent his TIE Dagger streaking after the enemy fighter, the
black emptiness around the ship's protective shell was alive with blasterfire and
speeding shapes as sleek fighters danced around massive capital ships that lumbered
through space trying to bludgeon each other to death with turboblasters.
The fighter Drash tailed was good, no question, but Drash was better. Drash was
the best. The Dagger followed the enemy as it climbed, passing so close to the
raiders' battlecruisers that both were at risk of being vaped in the exchange of fire
between it and the Imperial Star Destroyer, Hurricane. The pilot was as dense as a
Wookie's cranium if he thought that would unnerve Drash. The targeting computer locked
on the enemy and a red square framed its image on the targeting display. Not that it
mattered. Drash would have known if he'd had a clear shot regardless, he would have
sensed it.
His thumbs squeezed the firing buttons atop the steering rods and four blaster
bolts lanced out and converged on the raider, knocking out the fighter's rear
deflector shield. The pilot tried to roll away, but it was too late: another
salvo followed the blazing trail of the first and took out one of the ion engines.
The ship was sent spinning to impact and explode on its own side's battleship.
Drash didn't linger, but flew in search of more targets. He was not
disappointed.
Drash Tevock was rarely happy, only when he was flying, then the petty concerns
of life vanished and the universe became a wavering shadow. No memories, no past, no
future, only the moment, the kill, the fight at breakneck speed. He stopped being a human
and became a force. He became the sharp edge of the blade. That was why he loved his
Dagger: there was nothing faster in the fleet. And if it lacked the protection of energy
shields and the heavy firepower of missiles, that only brought him closer to the state of
being he so loved.
The TIE Dagger was the equal of the TIE Interceptor in most respects, but with
superior visibility and targeting systems and a smaller profile which made the Dagger a
harder target. It also meant a hundred of the fighters could be packed into a Star
Destroyer's launching bay instead of the usual 75 standard fighters. The Imperial fighters
were simply overwhelming the raiders, it was getting harder to find targets.
Almost half the enemy fighters were vaped in the first few minutes of
engagement, when the enemy fleet intent on ambushing a Miashku convoy was pulled out of
hyperspace by the Interdictor Cruiser Barricade and found themselves surrounded by Star
Destroyers. The ambushers had become the ambushed.
A TIE pilot ejected as his Interceptor had exploded and an enemy was closing on
the life pod. Drash vaped the raider before he even knew what was happening. Pathetic.
You'd think pirates would be used to sneak attacks. He ignored the pod. Let someone else
tow it to safety.
"Grey Squadron, this is Grey One," Commander Lont's voice crackled over the
comm, "one of the cruisers is running. Sector 6-2." Sure enough, one of the three
enemy capital ships had slipped past the Destroyers and was making for the edge of the
Interdiction field, where it could escape into hyperspace.
Trying to leave the party early? Drash smiled. We can't have that. "This is
Grey Seven, I copy Grey Leader." He moved to join his squadron mates.
"Try and leave some for the rest of us, Seven." A refined voice over the comm.
Grey Twelve, Lt. Rael, was a Chiss, and so he managed to make even a joke disdainful.
Many humans in the fleet disliked the Chiss: bad enough working with aliens, but
aliens who actually looked down on humans? Unthinkable!
"If you spent less time talking, Twelve, it wouldn't be so hard finding
targets." Another Grey, a human, spoke. The tone tried for lightheartedness, but had
an edge to it.
Drash for one didn't care about any of that. Rael could be a Mon Cal as far as
he was concerned. All interest lay in the kill, the perfect kill. He could feel
the panic, desperation and hope in the cruiser as it struggled to escape. Badly damaged,
still running somehow, it reminded Drash of something he'd seen on his homeworld.
A badly wounded cave bear, all shaggy for and muscle. A raptor sporting with
it, keeping just out of reach of the crushing claws and slashing with beak and
talons. Drash felt like that raptor, he and the fighter were not two separate things, but
one deadly predator. He was strong, pure and complete, existing in the moment. The sharp
edge of the knife.
Seconds from escape, the crew struggled to aim turboblasters at the fighters
closing on them. Powerful weapons, but slow, so slow. Too slow.
"I'll take out the shield array." Rael said over the comm. He flew a TIE
Advanced, equipped with shields, a hyperdrive and missiles.
"I've got it, Grey Twelve." Drash sent over the comm. He increased power to
his ion engines.
"Grey Seven!" The Commander's voice held the whip of authority. "Fall back and
let Twelve have it!"
"You're coming in fuzzy, Grey Leader." Drash said absently, all attention was
focused on the cruiser. He was closer to it than any other fighter by at least three
klicks and his Dagger was faster than an Advanced. He didn't need shields, he was too
fast. He didn't need missiles either: the enemy ship was so battered the shields were
barely holding anyway, and his scanners had already pinpointed their weakest point.
He fired as he passed over, blaster bolts penetrated the shield just over the
array. The shields collapsed and the battlecruiser was now just a big target.
Drash overshot the capital ship then swung around for another pass. The
turboblaster batteries fired, of course, but he was too fast. He strafed the battleship
with blasterfire, taking out the bridge as the Dagger flashed over like a bolt of
lightning. His eyes burned bright under the pilot's mask, and his face twisted in a
savage grin. For a brief instant in that pass, Drash was tempted to angle down and plow
into the bridge. Stab the body of his fighter like the dagger it,
and it's pilot, were.
The desire was short lived, vanishing as soon as it flashed across his mind.
This was good work he'd done, but it wasn't what he was searching for. It wasn't the
perfect kill, the one that he would give his life for.
The rest of Grey Squadron was only now converging on the battleship, but there
was little left to do: the great beast's head had been cut off and now the vessel was
drifting dead in space. It was in the past now, and the past meant nothing to Drash.
He searched for his next kill.
**********************************************************
On the bridge of the Admonitor, flagship of Unity Fleet, the Miashku
Ambassador's tentacles writhed in pleasure as it watched the pirate fleet
that had preyed on its peoples' shipping lanes being taken apart by the
Imperial forces. Captain Voss Parck watched the alien out of the corner of
his eye and a small smile played across his face.
Serving with the Grand Admiral in the Unknown Regions, Parck had encountered
more alien life forms than in his entire career prior to being assigned to Unity
Fleet. Also, he had learned a few things from the Admiral. Though he had no claim
to that level of brilliance, what he knew of Miashku body language told him that
the Ambassador was very impressed indeed. It was certain to recommend that its
world petition admittance to the Empire.
"I trust this display of Imperial precision has convinced you of the benefits of
the Empire's protection." The Miashku turned toward the Chiss in the white Grand
Admiral's uniform, but kept a few of its eyes on the battle. The gurgling reply
issuing from several orifices was dutifully translated by the protocol droid at its
side--a tripod with many jointed arms and legs. Parck had long since gotten used
to the little oddities about the Unknown Regions, such as
the fact that so few protocol droids were modeled after the human form.
"The lord Ambassador is most pleased with your fleet's performance, Admiral
Thrawn, especially at how you were able to predict the exact hyperspace vector the
pirates would use."
"The Ambassador is most courteous." Thrawn inclined his head slightly.
"Admiral sir," one of the crewmen turned from the comm station, "incoming
transmition from enemy vessels. They wish to surrender."
"Excellent. Order our forces to cease fire and open a comm channel."
"Open, sir."
"Pirate fleet, this is Grand Admiral Thrawn of the Imperial Unity Fleet. Your
surrender is accepted. You will cease all hostilities and allow your vessels to be
boarded. At which time you will turn over all weapons and equipment onboard.
Afterwards you will be released."
"This**** Commander Fran," a voice crackled over the comm, "****terms are
accepted, we will **pare to be boarded."
On hearing this, the Miashku spurted more words, which the droid translated.
"The Ambassador approves of your decision, Admiral, but points out that the raiders
have stolen much from its people. Perhaps the Admiral is too merciful?"
Parck listened carefully. Thrawn had told him earlier that this next
conversation would be crucial to winning the Ambassador over. Miashku
were merchants to the core, thinking always in terms of profit and loss,
so Thrawn has told him as he pointed out various holograms of Miashku artwork.
Half the battle would be to show them it was more profitable to have Imperial
protection than to bribe warlords and hire mercenaries. However, it was also
necessary to show them they could live under the Empire's justice.
"Certainly, if your people were Imperial citizens the pirates would be made to
compensate you with interest." Thrawn said smoothly. "Since that is not the
case, I do the next best thing." He swept his arm toward the remains of the
pirates. "Those raiders are ruined and will be released to spread word of the
Empire's power, and the penalties for attacking the Empire's allies, throughout
Zoab sector."
The tentacles writhed in a satisfied way. To the Miashku, it was better to
humiliate and impoverish one's enemies than to kill them. "Your point is well taken."
The droid said. "And now the Ambassador wishes to retire to its quarters."
"Of course," he turned to another crewman, "Ensign, escort the Ambassador to its
quarters." The Ambassador followed the crewman into the turbolift, the droid
rolling behind it on wheeled feet. "Captain Parck, you have the bridge, I will be in my
chambers. See to the prisoners and download the data from their ships' computers.
I will expect a report of the battle as soon as possible."
"Aye sir."
*********************************************
"Interesting." Thrawn scanned the datapad Parck handed him and turned his
command chair to the monitors and consoles of his command station. Parck saw star
charts of the various systems of the Zoab sector and tactical recordings of the latest
battle.
"Admiral?" He asked.
"The battle went well, Captain. Complete victory, casualties almost
nonexistent, but something about the engagement caught my attention."
He touched a console and a recording appeared onscreen. "That cruiser
very nearly escaped. Most likely it would have if not for Grey Squadron."
His red eyes glowed softly as he watched the cruiser being disabled. "Very
impressive flying, especially Grey Seven." He replayed that section of the
recording again, the tiny Dagger harassing the battleship like a venomous
gathi wasp, an insect who's sting was as deadly as a blaster bolt.
"Something about the way this pilot flies interests me." Leaning over another
console, he called up a complete history of the pilot, Lt. Drash Tevock. Parck saw
the name under the picture that appeared with the text. A nondescript face except
for dark, intense eyes. His complete history, psychological profile, battle data
from his TIE fighter's computer, and his service record before and after his transfer
to Unity Fleet, all at Thrawn's fingertips.
"But I'm getting ahead of myself, Captain." The Grand Admiral turned his chair
back to Parck. "Can you guess what our next move will be?" Parck stood up a little
straighter. He'd had a look around the darkened command room on entering and noticed
that many holograms of Miashku artwork had been replaced. He had seen several pieces
from Orune Prime, Warlord Coerl's homeworld. Also, soft music of a strange melody was
playing throughout the room. The strangest thing about that music was once you listened
long enough you literally stopped being aware of it. It was from the Chiss homeworld,
and the Grand Admiral claimed that it helped stimulate creative thought. He often played
such music when formulating military campaigns.
"I would say, sir, that you are planning some action against the Warlord Coerl."
"Very good, Parck. As you know, Coerl commands the strongest forces by far of
all the factions in this sector." One of the star charts had colored-in areas
corresponding to the groups that controlled them. Coerl's territory took up over
twenty percent of the sector.
"It will take a major campaign, Admiral, but I'm certain we can pull it off."
In Parck's opinion, the Unity Fleet under Thrawn was superior to any other division
of the Imperial Armada, including lord Vader's much-vaunted Death Squadron.
"Of course. The Admonitor will set course for the Miashku homeworld as soon
as the data captured from the raiders is compiled. We will begin moving against Coerl
as soon as we have finalized the Miashkus' admittance into the Empire. I expect their
agreement to come quickly and wholeheartedly."
"Are you certain they will be so quick to commit to the Empire? While winning
over their Ambassador is a good start, the Miashku have been paying protection fees
to Coerl for more than six years. They may be reluctant to make this kind of step."
"They will, Captain," Thrawn said casually, "when we tell them that those
pirates were in fact Coerl's forces."
"What?" Parck blurted, forgetting himself.
"You have learned to observe and deduce, Captain, but you must do so at all
times, not merely when ordered to." Thrawn admonished. "All the evidence we need
will be in the databanks of the captured ships. One must admit, Coerl is very clever
indeed: he extorts protection fees from nearby systems and then stages the occasional
'pirate raid' on his client's convoys. When he hears of especially valuable cargo,
of course."
"And such a convoy was due to be shipped today." Parck finished. "That was
what this 'demonstration' of Imperial might was really all about. You wanted evidence of
Coerl's deception."
"Exactly." Thrawn leaned back. "When this is revealed to the Miashku
government, half the High Councilors will be outraged."
"Only half?" Parck raised an eyebrow.
"Of course, the other half are a party to Coerl's scheme. How else would he
know which convoys to strike and where to attack? Doubtless they were paid a handsome
share of the stolen goods. And doubtless they will be quick to agree to any
course of action that will keep this news from going public. The resulting
investigation would leave them poor, powerless, disgraced and owing a great
many debts to a great many of their people." A slow smile played across the
Admiral's face. "When the Miashku join, all their clients will find themselves
attached to the Empire." The Miashku traded with every civilized world in the
sector. "And once we have destroyed the strongest warlord in the area and have
the leading traders on our side, extending our control throughout Zoab sector
should be no trouble at all."
Parck could only stand amazed at the Grand Admiral. "A question, sir." He
ventured. "Would the Emperor approve of this? All this political maneuvering
and making alliances isn't exactly standard Imperial procedure."
"Point taken, Captain." Thrawn stood and paced toward one of his holograms,
Parck fell in step beside him. "But the Emperor has given me the authority to
conduct this mission however I see fit." He turned his attention from a portrait
on the wall to a towering statue of an armored alien. "To bring the Unknown
Regions into the Empire by conquest would be long and costly in terms of men and
resources. By using our military forces in specific
cases to achieve maximum results we will instead convince these worlds to join the
Empire willingly."
He turned his attention to a human statue. There were humans native to the
Unknown Regions, of course. There were humans almost everywhere in the galaxy, but
they were by no means the majority they were in the Empire.
"It is important that the peoples of the Unknown Regions see us as liberators
rather than conquerors. This is wild space, Captain. Lawless. Many will welcome
the stability the Empire offers. Many already have. Certainly it will take time
and effort, but in the long run I believe my way will be more effective than, say,
sending a Death Star to destroy planets until everyone submits. Which is most
certainly what will happen if we fail here." He deigned to notice the shock that
painted Parck's face. "Yes Captain, a Death Star. A second one is
under construction as we speak. It should be nearly complete by now, in fact. I
take it the thought of seeing the Emperor's superweapon in action does not fill
you with joy?" He said wryly.
Parck could barely speak, his throat was suddenly very dry. His entire body had
gone numb. Thrawn, he knew from experience, could be incredibly ruthless, but
compared to a Death Star...the very real possibility of entire planets reduced
to space dust in the blink of an eye... "No sir," he whispered, "I think I much
prefer your methods."
**************************************************
The rations were as tasty as always, with all the flavor of fresh plastifoam.
In the Admonitor's galley, Drash did his best to cover the taste with some
imitation Coerillian seasoning and was modestly successful. He was taking a bit
of something that was supposedly nerf-meat when a shadow fell over him. He looked
up into the glowing eyes of Lt. Rael.
The Chiss face was utterly composed, as usual, but the red eyes pulsed with
fury. "You took my kill." His voice had a slight edge as he struggled to
keep it level.
"I didn't see your name on it." Drash turned back to his unappetizing meal.
"I had that cruiser and you took it. I want to know why."
Because I wanted to. Drash thought, not really caring. The kill that had
seemed so important a few hours ago was now all but forgotten. "I was closer."
He said, draining that last of his beverage, "and faster." He was uninterested
in discussing his motives with anyone. They wouldn't understand anyway.
"It's because I'm an alien isn't it?" He said through clenched teeth. Around
the galley, groups of pilots and fleet troopers at various tables looked towards
them.
The rest of the galley was, for the most part, divided into little groups of
humans or Chiss. In most of the areas where off-duty Imperials socialized, the
two races tended to gravitate to their own kind. There were a few exceptions:
pilots in a squadron often sat together, and at one table a group of human and
Chiss fleet troopers had a game of sabacc going, but in most cases the two species
looked on their alliance as one of convenience only. Drash himself was an
exception to all that: he sat alone.
"You humans think you're the only ones with any ability." Rael snapped. "Even
the word 'alien' is an insult, your Basic lumps all nonhumans together regardless of
their superiority. I had that array, but you thought I'd botch it because I'm not
human. I'm a better pilot than you anyway, I've vaped you a hundred times in the
simulator."
Drash didn't like to be reminded of the flight sims, he spent as little time as
possible in the simulator, the minimum practice time required by regulations.
He despised it. So much like flying, but it was all a lie. It lacked the feel
of combat, intangible sensation that came when the void of space burned with
blasterfire and all between it and you is a womb of durasteel.
He stood up, tray in hand. All this talk of reasons and prejudices was tiring.
It had nothing to do with flying and he was bored.
A blue hand on his chest stopped him. "I'm not finished." Rael said coldly.
"Why don't you mind your own business, alien?" A human fleet trooper, oversized
black helmet set aside, was beside them both, glaring at the Chiss. Rael kept his
glowing eyes on Drash, who met the red gaze easily. "You Chiss can't stand being
upstaged, can you?"
"This is a private conversation." Rael gritted. "Leave us alone."
"Always giving orders. Thinking you're so much better than humans."
Rael turned his head and snapped. "I've taken a lot from you humans-"
"You've taken a lot alright." The trooper snarled. "The best assignments, the
top ranks, the best fighters- that Advanced you fly-all because that alien Grand
Admiral thinks his people are better than us!"
"Because we are better." Another Chiss broke in, shoving the fleet trooper.
"The Syndic knows it."
Drash watched with amused contempt as almost a dozen humans and Chiss, the most
hotheaded of the Admonitor's crew, traded hard glares as words, and it looked
like more than that would be traded soon. Rael was looking around, confused at
the small crowd that had so quickly surrounded them. The majority of the troops
had remained in their seats, but were all watching the confrontation.
Suddenly he became aware of something stirring inside him. All this anger, all
this rage, begging to be channeled into the pure, free sense of combat. Only a
pale shadow beside flying, but it would still help him feel truly alive. Out
of the corner of his eye, he saw a Chiss Commander walking toward them. Any
second now he would shout something to diffuse the situation.
If, later on, he tried to explain why he swung his tray at Rael's face, he
honestly wouldn't have been able to think of a reason. Not that he would try
very hard: Drash was never one for self-examination. He just didn't know why.
In any case, that blow turned the gathering into a melee that the other fleet
troops and pilots had to help break up.
**********************************************
Thrawn steepled his fingers and studied the information regarding one Lt. Drash
Tevock. He had found some surprising things there, more than he had anticipated.
Tevock was born and had lived the first sixteen years of his life on a largely unsettled
world in the Outer Rim. Until the Rebellion grew in strength, then along with most
young men Tevock was conscripted into Imperial service seven years ago.
The small agricultural community he'd been raised in called itself the
Enlightened Society. It was controlled by Zesir Frae, a self-proclaimed spiritual
leader. Reports were sketchy and Thrawn had to piece much of the story together.
Nowhere, for instance, is the word 'cult' used to describe the community, but Thrawn
had the rare ability to see what was under his nose.
Frae had been discreet, and undoubtedly had paid regular bribes to the planetary
governor not to look too closely into the Society's inner workings, corruption being a
way of life in the Empire. Two years ago, however, when the community leader had been
diagnosed with a rather malignant and incurable form of cancer, he apparently decided
the rest of the community should 'molt their physical shells,' as he so eloquently put
it in his private journals, and join him as he ascended to a higher consciousness, so
he led them in a mass-suicide. The resulting investigation showed evidence that Frae
had ordered severe and chronic physical and psychological abuse on members of the
community, especially on the children, since its founding.
Tevock, meanwhile, had been put into training. He'd been a good, if not
outstanding, student. It was noteworthy how quickly his indoctrination took.
The process of breaking down a civilian's old system of morals and ethics and
replacing them with the Imperial philosophy usually took years. Thrawn was not
surprised, he suspected that Tevock had no morality for them to start with.
Tevock had shown an aptitude for flying and trained as a TIE pilot, and here was
another paradox: Tevock was probably the best pilot in the fleet, in the entire
Imperial armada, with more kill points than the rest of his squadron combined,
and yet he was never noticed. He was never awarded a commendation or put in line
for a promotion.
So many instructors classified a pilot's abilities by concentrating on the
flight simulators and largely ignoring the actual combat performance. While
Tevock was outstanding in combat, in the simulator he was barely more than mediocre.
Tevock was also a consummate loner: he had no friends and was disliked by his
wingmates in whatever squadron he was transferred to.
Very interesting.
The doors to Thrawn's chamber slid aside and Parck walked in and stood at
attention before the command chair. "Admiral," he said, "the prisoners are
secure and the data from their ships is at your disposal. There is more than
enough evidence onboard to link Coerl to this raid."
"Very good." Thrawn nodded. "Have our forces return to the base at Ios V. The
Admonitor will set course for the Miashku homeworld. We have new allies to
welcome into the Empire."
"Of course, Admiral. Also, the Nightbird has returned from it's scouting
mission. The captain reports minimal enemy activity in the Maser and Lor systems,
but one TIE Advanced was lost near the Sevac system."
"Lost?" Thrawn frowned. "You mean destroyed?"
"Unconfirmed, sir. The pilot, a Lt. Wras, had made a hyperspace minijump into
Sevac using the Nightbird as base point. He had barely exited hyperspace when the
signal disappeared, contact was unable to be reestablished. The Nightbird's
captain considered investigating further but the possibility of ambush convinced
him to withdraw."
"Unfortunate, we have lost a superior pilot and a superior fighter." Only the
best pilots were given Advanced fighters. "I will make a note to investigate
this further. By all accounts, Sevac system has no tactical value and no resources,
but if Coerl is doing something there then I want to know what."
The Nightbird was a carrack class cruiser. Fast and heavily armed, they made
excellent long-range scouts. Their biggest drawback was that they could only
carry four TIE fighters, but Thrawn had solved that problem by providing an escort
of TIE Advanced for each scout. Equipped with hyperdrives, the fighters could follow
the cruiser anywhere and give more than adequate protection.
Standard Imperial protocol was that the superior fighters were too expensive for
mass-production, and so they were never widely used in the Empire. Thrawn, though,
was not standard Imperial protocol and had 'appropriated' the complete design specifics
of the fighter before leaving for the Unknown Regions. One of the high priorities of
the first shipyard set up out here was the building of TIE Advanced fighters.
"Is there anything further, Captain?"
Parck looked uncomfortable. "A small matter, Admiral, nothing worth
considering. A brawl among a few pilots and fleet troopers in one of the galleys,
just a few blows quickly broken up."
"I take it, Captain, that one side was composed of humans and the other of
Chiss?" Parck's discomfort was confirmation enough. "Humanity and the Chiss
are both proud peoples, and pride can breed arrogance, but our peoples are
strong as well, Captain. They will adapt. They adapt already: they fight
side by side and are forced to depend on one another. This will lead to trust
and respect."
"If you're so certain this alliance will work-"
"Have faith in the humans, as I have in the Chiss. Our species are compatible.
I am sure in it." He turned back to the screens and called up more star charts
and trade reports for the Miashku. He noticed Lt. Tevock's report, still onscreen.
"I've been doing some research into our TIE pilot, Grey Seven." He said as
Parck was turning to leave. "I've found some interesting facts."
"Sir?" He asked, confused at the new subject. By his tone, Thrawn could tell
Parck had already forgotten about Lt. Tevock.
"For one thing, he is apparently the best pilot in the fleet." He indicated the
screen with Tevock's service record. Parck scanned it and his eyes widened.
"Sir, is this accurate? This pilot rates a TIE Advanced easily! Has he been
tested for a wing command?"
Thrawn chuckled. "Oh no, Captain, giving this man any kind of authority or
command responsibility would be a grave mistake!" The mirth vanished. "He
can barely control himself. Our Lt. Tevock interests me because while he could
be very useful to our cause, he could prove very dangerous as well."
"Why is that, sir?"
"Because," Thrawn said grimly, "this man is a psycopath."
Author's note: For all the nit-pickers out there (and I freely confess to being
one of your number), I am perfectly aware that Captain Niriz, not Captain Parck,
commands the Admonitor. Niriz appears in Part Two, Chapter Two, with an
explanation.