CHAPTER 2
Pellaeon stood at the bridge of his ship. Outside the view ports he saw a battle raging. Star Destroyers on every side of him. Rebel cruisers mixed around between them. And in the distance, the massive yet uncompleted Death Star sat. He looked closer. The rebels were winning this battle. Off to his right he watched as a Star Destroyer collapsed in on itself, then exploded just as quickly. And again, another Star Destroyer, this time a closer one, right in front of his own ship, joined its fallen brother. Everywhere he looked, nothing but imperial losses. Then He noticed the Super Star Destroyer Executor. A glorious ship, more than 5 times the length of his own. He peered out at it, watched as it performed attack maneuvers. Then, the command tower on the Executor exploded. Pellaeon jumped. How could this be? How could such a powerful ship like that be damaged, and by the rebels of all opponents. He watched it, it slowly turned down, and started heading towards the Death Star. He watched, feeling butterfly's in his stomach. He knew what was happening, the gravity of the Death Stars massive size was pulling the disabled ship in towards it. He waited, as it got closer, he clenched his teeth. And then, it happened, it crashed into the Space Station, sending a towering pillar of fire up back toward the fleet. Twenty or so fighters were caught in the blast, he watched as they disappeared in the fire. Pellaeon was looking around quickly, looking for a sign of relief. But he found none, the rebels were winning, and he knew it. Then something completely unexpected happened, the rebels began moving back even further into the imperial fleet, what were they doing? Why would they make them selves even more easy to attack? All the rear ships began opening fire on the in bound rebel capital ships. Could it be that the rebels have just made their mistake? Could it be, that the imperials would indeed win this fight? No, without warning, the Death Star began glowing around its edges, a pure white light, then the entire fleet seemed to just pause in its place, as a shock wave ran its way across space…
"Captain?" the voice came over the intercom.
Pellaeon sat up, sweat pouring down his fore head, when he looked around, he was no longer on his bridge, no he was in his quarters. It was a dream. The same dream, the same, nightmare that had haunted him the past three years. Almost every night he witnessed again and again the fate of the Empire, the Destruction of the Death Star, and the end of both Vader and the Emperor. A loss that sent the entire imperial fleet into complete distress. Pellaeon got away with his life, his ship, his crew, but it hadn't been easy. 3 other ships joined him, and they ran, ran to the outer rim territories. And that has been where they have been hiding for three years now. Pellaeon was a Captain of a glorious ship, in a glorious empire. He was up for a promotion, he was going to get his own fleet, and he was to be an admiral. But the rebels took that away. They destroyed all he had built.
"Captain, are you there?" the voice came over the intercom again.
"Yes….I'm here." Pellaeon said back.
The words echoed in his head. "I'm here". He wasn't there; he hadn't been ever since the end of the empire. He was lost now. Lost searching for meaning, for a life worth living, but he couldn't abandon his men. They had lost too. And they relied on him to lead them to victory.
"It's 08:35 sir, you wanted to be notified when we reached our destination.?" the voice came back.
"Yes, i'm up, ill be on the bridge in 20 minutes." Pellaeon responded.
He stood up, and stretched out his arms. His back cracked from the motion. He was getting old. He wondered what the crewmates called him. He remembered the nickname he had for his old Captain back on his first assignment, "Old Rock". His Captain was a little bit strict. He was from an asteroid like planet, and wasn't a happy person. But Pellaeon was not strict, not as strict as he could have been. Like Vader was. Pellaeon lost a good friend to Vader. Captain Nedda and him attended the academy together. Nedda had been given the Hoth assignment over Pellaeon. Vader killed Nedda when he lost contact with the Millennium Falcon during a chase near the Hoth system's asteroid belt. Pellaeon always wondered, if Vader were alive today, would he still kill off good officers at every failure? With the few Good one left that is. But then again, fear was a good way to teach people to know what's expected of them; also it was a good way to get promotions. Captain Piett got his command after his commander exited hyperspace too close to the Hoth planet, alerting the rebels to their arrival. Vader killed him, and Piett got his admiral status. Piett was a horrible leader, why Vader gave him a promotion is still a question Pellaeon would like answered. Piett was in command of the Executor during the Battle of Endor. He had allowed the rebels to destroy the command tower, destroying the ship basically, losing control and letting in crash into the Death Star. A ship like that would do some good now a days. The fleet is so weak now. Pellaeons fleet at least. He had run into a fellow "survivor" of the Battle of Endor. Admiral Veers, once General Veers. He had found an unfinished Super Star Destroyer at the Imperial shipyards on Felsador VIII. Unfinished but still in working order, his crew slapped some shielding generators near the exposed hull areas, and that became his command ship. Pellaeon was asked to join him, but turned it down, knowing better than to be under command of Veers. Veers had been a General, but he was a Ground Forces General, not a fleet General. Pellaeon never did run into Veers again. But he didn't really care. He had his own fleet to worry about.
Pellaeon walked into his washroom. He rinsed his hands then his face; he looked up at his reflection in the mirror. An old, withered Captain looked back. He always felt this way after waking up. He turned on his shower and washed up. Then proceeded to get dressed. As he emerged from his Quarters, he ran into Private Collins.
"Ah good morning Captain." Collins said.
"Good morning Private, that was rather impressive yesterday, speaking out, knowing that even though you were supposed to tell your C.O. about your findings. It's good to know that you knew the difference between an emergency and a stand by order." Pellaeon lectured at the private.
"Well sir, I figured because of the urgent situation that was developing, I had no time to relay the knowledge through my C.O." Collins said back.
"Well congratulations private, ill be looking into you more now, there might even be an officer position available for you." Pellaeon said.
"Thank you sir. I'm on my way to the Galley, shall I get you some coffee before I head to the bridge?" Collins asked, now in full brown nose mode.
"No thanks private," Pellaeon said, making sure to say the privates rank, to push that brown nosing isn't well liked.
Pellaeon reached the lift, and stepped in. He pushed the button for the command deck. The lift doors slid shut as it began moving up. When it reached the bridge Pellaeon stepped out. He walked straight to the on duty commander.
"You're relieved Commander." Pellaeon said.
"Thank you sir," Commander Fridgear said," here is the Nightly report. And the Prisoners have been interrogated, that interrogation report is at the bottom sir."
The commander walked off. Probably to go to his quarters. The night shift was always hard, no activity and 9 hours of standing. Pellaeon had been distracted these past few days, not really sure what to do. He had no plans for the New Republic, he had no way of hurting their operations, and his fleet was far too small to take the Republic head on. Pellaeon grew tired of this futile gesture to continue on, to hold on to something that was dead long ago. But what can he do? Just abandon his men? His ship?
"Captain shall we enter orbit?" Lieutenant Zimmer said walking up from behind Pellaeon.
"Huh? Oh yes, enter a standard orbit." Pellaeon said back, just snapping out of a daydream. He looked out the window; it was a familiar sight, the Yarstoss System. This is where his fleet had been staging their operations from, if they can really be called operations at all. Random harassment of convoy's, raids on storage facilities. Scraping supplies off the New Republic, the Imperials had surly switched places with the Alliance. Once the Rebels were the ones stealing supplies and raiding cargo ships. Pellaeon Remembered how he felt it a weak thing to do, if a people cannot even supply them selves why even bother trying to make a force in the galaxy. But Pellaeon didn't care anymore. He wasn't in the mood to lecture him self.
"Sir we're receiving a transmission from the Surface, its from the Command Center." One of the young communications crewmembers said.
"Patch it through to the war room." Pellaeon said as he left the bridge heading for the war room.
When he entered, there was a blinking light on one of the displays, with the words "Awaiting Authorization."
Pellaeon entered his command code and the display flashed then became the image of a young Sergeant.
"Yes sergeant?" Pellaeon said, a slight sense of impatience in his voice.
"Sir, I'm not really sure how to say this, but, there is an interesting message here from the Death's Head. It's reporting that they have an admiral on board." the sergeant said.
The words didn't even seem real. Who is this admiral, and why is he on one of Pellaeons Star Destroyers.
"Has he identified himself?" Pellaeon questioned
"No sir, supposedly he's waiting for you to make contact with him" The sergeant said back, this time sounding hopeful, as if he wasn't happy with the way things were going under Pellaeon.
"Thank you sergeant, that is all" Pellaeon said as he switched the display off.
An admiral, maybe this is what Pellaeon had been waiting for, a chance to relieve himself from command, to be under someone. Pellaeon had been reluctant thus far to do so, he felt the other High-ranking officers still left were reckless, using the fleets under their command for their own gain, and Pellaeon wasn't about to assist someone's lust for power. Yet at the same time he was tired, and needed a rest from this never ending task.
Pellaeon set the display to transmit to the Star Destroyer "Death's Head". He waited a few moments and the image of a middle-aged petty officer appeared.
"Captain Pellaeon, we've been expecting your message, I'll patch you through to the admiral" the officer said.
Pellaeon waited, unsure of what to expect, another admiral. Pellaeon had considered naming himself an admiral; he was going to be promoted just before the Loss at Endor.
But he remained a captain, a captain in command of a fleet.
The image flickered, and the appearance of a human figure, sitting in a dimly lit room stared back at him.
"Ah the illustrious Captain Pellaeon." the strange voice said. The voice was strong, confident, but Pellaeon did not recognize it as someone he had known. He wondered if maybe this was just a simple person who had killed an admiral, and took his suit, and just acted like he was legit.
"Who might I ask, is this?" Pellaeon ordered.
The figure leaned forward, revealing himself to be a well-built person. His skin a pale blue, His hair jet-black, and his eyes, his eyes were the color of blood, glowing. Pellaeon then noticed this person was wearing a white uniform. White was only worn by the highest-ranking officers in the imperial navy. Grand Admiral's mostly, a few Moff's had worn them, but for the most part just Grand Admirals. Pellaeon was in shock, he knew that for someone to pull off a fake Admiral Status was hard enough but to try a Grand Admiral, that was suicide. Pellaeon had read that the Emperor wasn't fond of non-humans, why would he appoint an alien the rank of Grand Admiral.
"My name is Thrawn, captain. I have just been reading here about your fleets history for the past 3 years." Thrawn said with a slight sense of being impressed.
"I'm afraid I have never heard of you, sir." Pellaeon said, reluctant to even say sir, still doubtful of this person.
"Oh I'm not surprised Captain, I've been away in the unknown sector for almost 4 years. You can imagine my shock when I discovered the Empire had been destroyed and the Rebels now control the galaxy. Lucky for me my return trajectory brought me to your Star Destroyer Death's Head. I was unwilling to believe it at first, and so was my crew. You crew was reluctant to believe that I was a real admiral. I'm sure you still have your doubts." Thrawn said.
"It's just, the Emperor, well he never liked," Pellaeon began, but paused, fearing that he might insult the admiral.
"Aliens? Yes, that's true, but I suppose I impressed him far beyond what he had expected from me. I always wondered, had I been human, would he have promoted me quicker? Or higher? But that's not important. I'd like your ship to meet me here, we're at Barkura, how long will it take your ship to arrive here?" Thrawn asked.
Pellaeon still didn't believe this was a real admiral, but the time it would take them to reach Thrawn would be sufficient enough time to research the origin of this man.
"We can make it there within the hour." Pellaeon said.
"Good then I'll be expected you soon, end transmission" Thrawn said as the screen turned black.
Pellaeon reached over and took a seat in at one of the many chairs around the conference table. The room was moderately lit. Pellaeon sat there for a moment, questioning what was happening, was this a good thing or bad, he was going to get his break, but lose his command. Pellaeon reached down to his COM link and turned it on.
"Lieutenant, set course for the Barkura system." Pellaeon ordered.
"Yes sir," the words came back slightly muffled.
Pellaeon sat there for a few more moments then leaned forward and switched on the display again. He searched the imperial directory, passing endless numbers of names in a bright red font with the letters K.I.A. next to them, the ones who died at The Battle of Endor. Suddenly, he saw it, Thrawn, in a green font, meaning he was not at the Battle of Endor, and he was not dead. At least not according to these records. He opened the Profile for the Admiral, and saw the words "Grand Admiral" listed before his name. The Photo matched the man he was talking to. This was indeed the real thing. Pellaeon turned and looked out the window, letting his mind drift. The stars became white streaks as the ship entered hyperspace.
