NOTE: This chapter takes place approximately three years after "The Last Command".

FURTHER NOTE: I don't know if I'm going to finish this, but ever since I read "Vision of the Future," this idea kept growing until I had to write it down. This will not be the average "Grand Admiral Thrawn returns" type of fanfic. In this story, I will attempt to delve into the mind of Thrawn...from a very different viewpoint.




Chapter 1: Of Hunters and Innocents

Alaira's eyes darted around the street with her child's enthusiasm. She was unusually alert for a child of six, for her father had taught her to always watch her back.

Laira glanced up at her father. Derano Vorann was a middle-aged man with a strong athletic build. He possessed a confident attitude that told the world that he knew how to handle himself--and others, if necessary. He wore a black spacer's jumpsuit, with a utility belt full of tools. Over the jumpsuit was a dark green jacket, under which was a hidden blaster-proof lining of the type favored by most smugglers and bounty hunters. Dispersed throughout his clothing were several small blasters and other weapons. Laira knew there was a small thermal detonator in his boot and a holdout blaster up his sleeve. There was also larger blaster on his belt, meant mainly to warn off hostile passerby. Derano had other weapons, she was sure, only Laira did not know where they were hidden.

Derano, seeing his daughter's look, gave her hand a squeeze. "We're almost to the mechanic's, Laira. And then we'll see about getting those parts we need, eh?"

Laira nodded happily, and smiled up at the man she called Father. The smile that melted Derano's heart every time.

I do not deserve her, Derano thought briefly. It was by pure chance that I was the one to find her escape pod. She could have just as easily been picked up by another spacer--and then what would have I done with my life?

Derano frowned, knowing the answer to that terrible question. Without Alaira, he would have continued on his meaningless life as a bounty hunter--a murderer for hire. A man with no one to care for, and no one to care for him. It was a bleak and empty existence.

Derano silently thanked whatever higher power there was that Laira had been brought into his life.

"Father," Alaira whispered quietly, her bright green eyes touched with a little bit of worry and even greater amount of un-childish determination. "There is someone following us. That man in the gray suit." She held up her head, proud that she had made this discovery. Most six-year-olds wouldn't have noticed such a thing.

"I know, Laira," Derano replied gravely. "He has been following us for the past twenty minutes."

"Who is he, Father?" Laira asked, her inquisitive green eyes looking to the person she idolized and trusted above all others, the man who knew everything, to tell her that it would be all right.

"I am not sure," Derano replied. "He is a military officer, though, I can tell by the way he carries himself," he added, more to himself than to his daughter. A military officer. But of which military, that was the question.

Laira watched Derano casually slip his left hand into his pocket. Ah, so that was where the other blaster was hidden.

"Quickly," Derano hissed, nudging his daughter into a half-jog, half-walk. Laira needed no further motivation.

The man following them picked up his pace as well. Now he was only twenty meters behind them.

Derano could only guess at the identity of the man in gray. Some person seeking revenge for someone he'd once killed? Some ghost from his bounty hunting days come back to haunt him?

Perhaps he deserved it, Derano mused. Perhaps it would be right and just for Derano to accept the man's vengeance on him. Except for the fact that he had a child to care for, a child who did not deserve to become an orphan. Again.

Derano tightened his grip on his daughter's shoulder.

We can stay ahead of him, Derano thought. All we need to do is make it to the ship.

"Derano Vorann!" the man called loudly, breaking out into an all-out run.

Derano whirled around, his reflexes honed by years as a bounty hunter. Automatically, his hands gripped the handles of two blasters. He stepped between Alaira and the approaching figure, ready to shield her if the need came.

The man halted a mere meter away from Derano. He looked into Derano's eyes with no trace of fear, nor did he reach for any weapons of his own.

"I wish to conduct a business deal with you, Derano Vorann," the man said crisply, in the sharp Coruscant accent only cultivated by... certain types of people. High-ranking Imperial officers, to be precise.

"What sort of deal?" Derano asked, making no effort to hide the suspicion from his voice.

"I understand that you are a bounty hunter," the man began.

"Was a bounty hunter," Derano interrupted, silencing him with a look.

"Of course," the man replied smoothly. "My apologies."

"I am not a bounty hunter anymore," Derano continued, his eyes flashing with mistrust. "So if that is the sort of business you require, then you had better leave now. Go find Bossk or Boba Fett."

"Ah, but Boba Fett is not familiar with the information that I require. Besides, am I correct in assuming that you were once the equal--nay, the superior--of the now-infamous Boba Fett?"

While it was true that Derano had been catching record bounties at a time when Boba Fett was just another young amateur, he was no longer the hotheaded Hunter he had once been.

"That part of my life is over," Derano replied coolly, trying to shake the persistent memories out of his thoughts.

"I do not ask for you to return to your days of bounty hunting," the Imperial said, casting a discreet glance at his surroundings. "I merely ask for...information."

"What sort of information?"

The gray-clothed Imperial officer grinned slightly. "Have you ever heard of Grand Admiral Thrawn?"


Grand Admiral Thrawn. The greatest strategist and military commander that the Empire--and the galaxy--had ever seen. He had rallied the unorganized remnants of the Imperial Navy and made them into a formidable fighting force, and a threat to the New Republic. Fortunately for them, he had died three years before, betrayed and murdered by his own bodyguard.

The conversation had moved to a more private location: Derano's spaceship, the Starrunner. Derano and the Imperial, who had introduced himself as Captain Aro Tiers, were seated at the front. Laira played with a practice blaster in the back of the ship, far out of earshot.

"I understand that you once worked on a...special assignment," Captain Tiers began, leaning forward. His eyes were locked on Derano's and his gaze was one of intense determination. This information was clearly very important to him. "An assignment that involved locating a certain weapon. An assassin's knife once belonging to a certain Rukh, clan Degh'kor, of the Noghri people."

Derano tilted his head slightly to the right, remembering that bounty. Obtaining the knife had been a simple matter: it had been merely locked away in some nameless storage closet on some minor Imperial base. All Derano had had to do was break in, remove a few of the guards...Derano shook his head slightly, trying to clear the memory from his mind.

"I assume that you know the knife's history?" Tiers prompted.

"Yes," Derano replied. "Three years ago Rukh used the knife to assassinate Grand Admiral Thrawn."

The Imperial nodded slowly, giving a bitter grin. "And the Empire has been degenerating ever since. Spiritually and morally, as well as in physical terms of size and power." His eyes were unfocused for a second, as if he too were lost in memories. Then the Imperial regained his businesslike attitude. "You are experienced with criminal elements, Vorann--I am sure you know what was done with the knife. Or, shall I say, the residue left on it."

"Residue," Derano repeated. "Thrawn's blood, you mean."

"Exactly," the Imperial replied. "Which, of course, contained his entire DNA sequence."

The two men were silent for a moment, each with his own thoughts on the matter.

"I was not involved in the cloning process," Derano said slowly, after a time. "I only delivered the bounty." He paused, realizing how he sounded. It was strange, how easily the old phrases and rationalizations came back to him. I only delivered the bounty. Therefore, I should feel no guilt when others use it for nefarious purposes. I had no direct part in that, and bear no responsibility. Typical bounty hunter ethics.

Oh, how easy it had been to believe such reasoning back in his bounty hunting years. But now Derano knew better. He had delivered the knife. He had known whom he was giving the knife to, what it would be used for. The result was his responsibility, at least partially.

"Who was the recipient of this...delivery?" Aro Tiers asked. His statement had the slightest ring of condemnation to it. Derano did not protest this.

"I do not know the actual recipient," Derano admitted. "I gave the knife to a middleman, Frel Darton of Nar Shaddaa."

"And Darton gave the knife to a cloner by the name of Evazan," the Imperial added smoothly, startling Derano with knowledge that even he had not known. "Lexicor Evazan."

"The Evazan?" Derano repeated. "As in 'Doctor Death'?"

"No, not the same man as the infamous Doctor Death," Tiers corrected. "Lexicor Evazan was his son. Apparently he took up the same trade as his father--illegal scientific research."

Derano frowned, digesting this new information. "You seem to know more about this than I do," he said, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. "So why come to me for information you already know?"

"Let me explain. You will understand in a moment."

Derano leaned back in his chair. Although he had adopted a relaxed posture, Derano's eyes remained alert, never leaving Tiers as he listened to the Imperial speak.

"Evazan created a clone from the DNA of Grand Admiral Thrawn. He, with the aid of a well-connected client, obtained a flash-learning template imprinted with most of Thrawn's memories. As for where he found this, you do not need to know. Evazan grew the clone to the age of six standard years, at which time he began the flash-learning process. The process, however, was not completed before a Jedi Knight named Corran Horn broke up Evazan's criminal operations with the aid of a New Republic security force. And thus, Thrawn's memories were not fully transferred. In fact, the clone retains no memories whatsoever of his original's life.

"This six-year-old clone was taken into New Republic custody, where a great deal of important figures lost weight and gained gray hairs while debating what to do with him. The matter was eventually closed behind a great many classified files buried deep within New Republic computer archives...The clone himself was placed inside an orphanage. Here, on Relcar, this very planet."

"And you want me to break him out of this orphanage?" Derano guessed, frowning in disgust. Derano knew how those Imperials would manipulate the innocent child, what they would do with the clone of the galaxy's greatest strategic mind. Didn't Tiers say that the clone was six years old? The same age as Laira... "To deliver him to you?"

"No," Aro Tiers replied, surprising Derano with his answer. "The clone is safe at the orphanage. What we need is for--"

"We?" Derano repeated. "And who do you mean by 'we'?"

"'We' refers to my employers and I," Tiers replied, unfazed by the abrupt question. "Our organization is greatly interested in the safety of Thrawn's clone."

"And what is this organization of yours?"

"It's located in the Unknown Regions. You wouldn't know it."

"Is this organization Imperial?" Derano asked coldly.

For the briefest of seconds, the Imperial looked slightly caught off guard by the question. But he recovered his composure within a nanosecond. "That wouldn't matter in the least."

"I like to know who I'm working for," Derano retorted.

Tiers grinned, impressed by Derano's deduction. "I can see that I found the right man. Yes, the organization is Imperial, but not of the same Empire as the regime on Bastion. No, the leaders of Bastion are weak and corrupt. The Empire I belong to is not like them. We value justice and order above greed and lust for power. We see ourselves as the True Empire, the Empire as it should have been. But I have told you enough. Will you help us?"

"What would you want me to do?" Derano asked neutrally, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

"Protect the clone," Tiers replied, his steel gray eyes boring intently into Derano's brown ones. "There are many organizations who would want to use him. I have duties with my organization, far away from this part of the galaxy. I cannot stay on Relcar to stop those who would try to capture him. But you can."

"Why should I care?" Derano suddenly stood up, the forceful movement causing the chair to shift back with a loud screech. "I have my own life and a daughter to care for. I cannot risk her life and mine for the sake of your nameless Imperial organization. You protect your precious clone--I cannot."

Tiers stood up, more slowly than Derano had. He was slightly shorter than Derano, but the piercing gaze he gave the former Hunter made Tiers seem to be the taller of the two. "Spoken like a true bounty hunter." He executed a sharp military turn and began to walk away.

Derano let his breath out in a low hiss, his emotions in turmoil. The clone's existence was his fault, his responsibility. He owed the young clone his protection...

But what about Laira? And his own life? That Imperial had no right to barge in and demand Derano's service. Derano was no longer a mercenary for hire.

But the clone was his responsibility. Finally, Derano had a chance to undo some of his crimes as a bounty hunter. How could he resist this opportunity to repay the galaxy for the harm he had inflicted?

No, it is over now, Derano thought. I am no longer a Hunter. I have raised Laira as I would a daughter of my own flesh and blood...isn't that enough? Please, do not demand this of me...

Derano knew what he had to do.

"Tiers!" he called, causing the Imperial to pause while halfway out the door. "What is the name of this boy?"

For children like his daughter and the young clone did not deserve to be hunted down and used as pawns in terrible schemes. They were innocent, and such innocence had to be treasured and guarded. And preserved for as long as possible.

Aro Tiers turned back, showing no hint of surprise on his laser-sharp military features. "The only name he has is the name the orphanage gave him. 'Rolan'."




And so it begins. So, what do you think? Is the story believable? Please review! Constructive criticism would be appreciated. (And flames would not.)

Next, in chapter 2, we will skip ahead several years and see the emerging young clone. And a few chapters after that, we will see as Laira is thrust into the duties of her father...