Hey folks, Grubkiller here.
I've been wanting to make a story that fuses the Thrawn trilogy with the Dark Empire comics.
But instead of starting at the beginning of the Thrawn trilogy, I've decided to start at the third entry of the series, and work my way from there. The idea being that Thrawn is an already established villain, and the Emperor has been assisting him behind the scenes, in-order to pave the way for his return.
I'm making this change because, Timothy Zahn's trilogy has a special place in my heart, especially in the wake of Disney's disappointing stab at their own trilogy, and especially their nerfed version of Thrawn in SW: Rebels.
In short, I want to interfere with Zahn's trilogy as little as possible.
So here we go.
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ISD Chimaera, Ukio system.
Gliding through the blackness of deep space, the Imperial Star Destroyer Chimaera pointed its mighty arrowhead shape toward the dim star of its target system, three thousandths of a light-year away. And prepared itself for war.
"All systems show battle ready, Admiral," the comm officer reported from the portside crew pit. "The task force is beginning to check in."
"Very good, Lieutenant," Grand Admiral Thrawn nodded. "Inform me when all have done so. Captain Pellaeon?"
"Sir?" Pellaeon said, searching his superior's face for the stress the Grand Admiral must be feeling. The stress he himself was certainly feeling. This was not just another tactical strike against the Rebellion, after all—not a minor shipping raid or even a complex but straightforward hit-and-fade against some insignificant planetary base. After nearly a month of frenzied preparations, Thrawn's master campaign for the Empire's final victory was about to be launched.
But if the Grand Admiral was feeling any tension, he was keeping it to himself. "Begin the countdown," he told Pellaeon, his voice as calm as if he were ordering dinner.
"Yes, sir," Pellaeon said, turning back to the group of one-quarter-size holographic figures standing before him in the Chimaera's aft bridge hologram pod. "Gentlemen: launch marks. Bellicose: three minutes."
"Acknowledged, Chimaera," Captain Aban nodded, his proper military demeanor not quite masking his eagerness to take this war back to the Rebellion. "Good hunting."
The holo image sputtered and vanished as the Bellicose raised its deflector shields, cutting off long-range communications. Pellaeon shifted his attention to the next image in line. "Relentless: four point five minutes."
"Acknowledged," Captain Dorja said, cupping his right fist in his left in an ancient Mirshaf gesture of victory as he, too, vanished from the hologram pod.
Pellaeon glanced at his data pad. "Judicator: six minutes."
"We're ready, Chimaera," Captain Brandei said, his voice soft. Soft, and just a little bit wrong...
Pellaeon frowned at him. Quarter-sized holos didn't show a lot of detail, but even so the expression on Brandei's face was easy to read. It was the expression of a man out for blood.
"This is war, Captain Brandei," Thrawn said, coming up silently to Pellaeon's side. "Not an opportunity for personal revenge."
"I understand my duty, Admiral," Brandei said stiffly.
Thrawn's blue-black eyebrows lifted slightly. "Do you, Captain? Do you indeed?"
Slowly, reluctantly, some of the fire faded from Brandei's face. "Yes, sir," he muttered. "My duty is to the Empire, and to you, and to the ships and crews under my command."
"Very good," Thrawn said. "To the living, in other words. Not to the dead."
Brandei was still glowering, but he gave a dutiful nod. "Yes, sir."
"Never forget that, Captain," Thrawn warned him. "The fortunes of war rise and fall, and you may be assured that the Rebellion will be repaid in full for their destruction of the Peremptory at the Katana fleet skirmish. But that repayment will occur in the context of our overall strategy. Not as an act of private vengeance." His glowing red eyes narrowed slightly. "Certainly not by any Fleet captain under my command. I trust I make myself clear."
Brandei's cheek twitched. Pellaeon had never thought of the man as brilliant, but he was smart enough to recognize a threat when he heard one. "Very clear, Admiral."
"Good." Thrawn eyed him a moment longer, then nodded. "I believe you've been given your launch mark?"
"Yes, sir. Judicator out."
Thrawn looked at Pellaeon. "Continue, Captain," he said, and turned away.
"Yes, sir." Pellaeon looked at his data pad. "Nemesis..."
He finished the list without further incident. By the time the last holo image disappeared, the final check-in from their own task force was complete.
"The timetable appears to be running smoothly," Thrawn said as Pellaeon returned to his command station. "The Stormhawk reports that the guide freighters launched on time with tow cables functioning properly. And we've just intercepted a general emergency call from the Ando system."
The Bellicose and its task force, right on schedule. "Any response, sir?" Pellaeon asked.
"The Rebel base at Ord Pardron acknowledged," Thrawn said. "It should be interesting to see how much help they send."
Pellaeon nodded. The Rebels had seen enough of Thrawn's tactics by now to expect Ando to be a feint, and to respond accordingly. But on the other hand, an attack force consisting of an Imperial Star Destroyer and eight Katana fleet Dreadnaughts was hardly something they could afford to dismiss out of hand, either.
Not that it really mattered. They would send a few ships to Ando to fight the Bellicose, and a few more to Filve to fight the Judicator, and a few more to Crondre to fight the Nemesis, and so on and so on. By the time the Death's Head hit the base itself, Ord Pardron would be down to a skeleton defense and screaming itself for all the reinforcements the Rebellion could scramble.
And that was where those reinforcements would go. Leaving the Empire's true target ripe for the picking.
Pellaeon looked out the forward viewport at the star of the Ukio system dead ahead, his throat tightening as he contemplated again the enormous conceit of this whole plan. With planetary shields able to hold off all but the most massive turbolaser and proton torpedo bombardment, conventional wisdom held that the only way to subdue a modern world was to put a fast-moving ground force down at the edges and send them overland to destroy the shield generators. Between the fire laid down by the ground force and the subsequent orbital assault, the target world was always badly damaged by the time it was finally taken. The alternative, landing hundreds of thousands of troops in a major ground campaign that could stretch into months or years, was no better. To capture a planet relatively undamaged but with shield generators still intact was considered an impossibility.
Thanks to the assets provided by their benefactors on Byss, that bit of military wisdom would fall today. Along with Ukio itself.
"Intercepted distress signal from Filve, Admiral," the comm officer reported. "Ord Pardron again responding."
"Good." Thrawn consulted his chrono. "Seven minutes, I think, and we'll be able to move." His lips compressed, just noticeably. "I suppose we'd better confirm that our exalted Master is ready to do his part."
Pellaeon hid a grimace. Lord Starkiller, a possibly deranged force-user who fashioned himself after one of Darth Vader's secret agents, who a month ago had proclaimed himself the true heir to the Empire. He didn't like talking to the man any more than Thrawn did; but he might as well volunteer. If he didn't, it would simply become an order. "I'll go, sir," he said, standing up.
"Thank you, Captain," Thrawn said. As if Pellaeon would have had a choice.
He felt the mental summons the moment he stepped beyond the Force-protection of the ysalamiri scattered about the bridge on their nutrient frames. Lord Starkiller, clearly, was impatient for the operation to begin. Preparing himself as best he could, fighting against Starkiller's casual mental pressure to hurry, Pellaeon made his way down to Thrawn's command room.
The chamber was brightly lit, in marked contrast to the subdued lighting the Grand Admiral usually preferred. "Captain Pellaeon," Starkiller called, his distorted voice booming from within his masked-helmet, beckoning to him from the double display ring in the center of the room, where a small red, glowing pyramid sat on a small column. "Come in. I've been waiting for you."
"The rest of the operation has taken my full attention," Pellaeon told him stiffly, trying to hide his distaste for the man. Knowing full well how futile such attempts were.
"Of course," Starkiller said, in a tone that showed more effectively than any words his amusement with Pellaeon's discomfort. "No matter. I take it Grand Admiral Thrawn is finally ready?"
"Almost," Pellaeon said. "We want to clear out Ord Pardron as much as possible before we move."
Starkiller snorted. "You continue to assume the New Republic will dance to the Grand Admiral's tune."
"They will," Pellaeon said. "The Grand Admiral has studied the enemy thoroughly."
"He's studied their artwork," Starkiller countered with another snort. "That will be useful if the time ever comes when the New Republic has nothing but artists left to throw against us."
A signal from the display ring saved Pellaeon from the need to reply. "We're moving," he told Starkiller, starting a mental countdown of the seventy-six seconds it would take to reach the Ukio system from their position and trying not to let Starkiller's words get under his skin. He didn't understand himself how Thrawn could so accurately learn the innermost secrets of a species from its artwork. But he'd seen that knowledge proved often enough to trust the Grand Admiral's instincts on such things. Starkiller hadn't.
But then, Starkiller wasn't really interested in an honest debate on the subject. For the past month, ever since declaring himself to be the true heir to the Emperor, Starkiller had been pressing this quiet war against Thrawn's credibility, implying that true insight came only through the Force. And, therefore, only through him.
Pellaeon himself didn't buy that argument. The Emperor had been deep into this Force thing, too, and he hadn't even been able to predict his own death at Endor. But the seeds of uncertainty Starkiller was trying to sow were nevertheless starting to take hold, particularly among the less experienced of Thrawn's officers.
Which was, for Pellaeon, just one more reason why this attack had to succeed. The outcome hinged as much on Thrawn's reading of the Ukian cultural ethos as it did on straight military tactics. On Thrawn's conviction that, at a basic psychological level, the Ukians were terrified of the impossible.
"He will not always be right," Starkiller said into Pellaeon's musings.
Pellaeon bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, the skin of his back crawling at having had his thoughts so casually invaded. "You don't have any concept of privacy, do you?" he growled.
"We are the Empire, Captain Pellaeon," Starkiller said, red visor glowing with a dark, fanatical fire. "Your thoughts are a part of your service to us."
"Us?" Pellaeon asked.
Starkiller answered by merely patting his hand on the red pyramid that stood beside him during these 'battle meditations.'
Ignoring what he considered to be proof of Starkiller's probable insanity, he responded stiffly, "My service is to Grand Admiral Thrawn."
Starkiller smiled. "You may believe that if you wish. But to business—true Imperial business. When the battle here is over, Captain Pellaeon, I have new orders for you."
"Very well," Pellaeon said sourly. Starkiller had been insisting for nearly a month now that he would soon be going back to his former post on Wayland, where he would take command of the cloning facility in the Emperor's old storehouse inside Mount Tantiss. He had also made references to a planet that Thrawn had mentioned known as Byss. A planet deep within the galaxy's core. What business he had at either location was beyond Pellaeon, but so far, 'Lord' Starkiller had been too busy trying to subvert Thrawn's position to do anything more than talk about it.
"Do not worry, Captain Pellaeon," Starkiller said, with an amused tone again. "When the time is right, I will indeed return to Wayland. Which is why you will contact Wayland after this battle is over and order them to transport a sample for me. A very special piece of clone DNA."
Grand Admiral Thrawn will have to authorize that, were the words that came to mind. "What kind do you want?" were the ones that inexplicably came out. Pellaeon blinked, running the memory over in his mind again. Yes, that was what he'd said, all right.
"I merely wish to carry out my Master's plan," he said. "To send DNA to the planet Byss, sample M-1983-SP. You will, of course, impress upon the garrison commander there that this must be done in total secrecy."
I will do nothing of the sort. And what master are you talking about? "Yes," Pellaeon heard himself say instead. The sound of the word shocked him; but certainly he didn't mean it. On the contrary, as soon as the battle was over he'd be reporting this little incident directly to Thrawn.
"You will also keep this conversation a private matter between ourselves," Starkiller said. "Once you have obeyed, you will forget it even happened."
"Of course," Pellaeon nodded, just to shut him up. Yes, he'd report this to Thrawn, all right. The Grand Admiral would know what to do.
The countdown reached zero, and on the main wall display the planet Ukio appeared. "We should put up a tactical display, Lord Starkiller," he said.
Starkiller waved a clawed hand. "As you wish."
Pellaeon reached over the double display ring and touched the proper key, and in the center of the room the holographic tactical display appeared. The Chimaera was driving toward high orbit above the sunside equator; the ten Katana fleet Dreadnaughts of its task force were splitting up into outer and inner defense positions; and the Stormhawk was coming in as backstop from the night side. Other ships, mostly freighters and other commercial types, could be seen dropping through the brief gaps Ground Control was opening for them in Ukio's energy shield, a hazy blue shell surrounding the planet about fifty kilometers above the surface. Two of the blips flashed red: the guide freighters from the Stormhawk, looking as innocent as all the rest of the ships scurrying madly for cover. The freighters, and the four invisible companions they towed.
"Invisible only to those without eyes to see them," Starkiller murmured.
"So now you can see the ships themselves, can you?" Pellaeon growled. "How Jedi skills grow."
He'd been hoping to irritate Starkiller a little—not much, just a little—by incorrectly calling it Jedi magic. But it was a futile effort. "We can see the men inside your precious cloaking shields," the Dark Lord said placidly. "We can see their thoughts and guide their wills. What does the metal itself matter?"
Pellaeon felt his lip twist. "I suppose there's a lot that doesn't matter to you," he said.
"What doesn't matter to a Sith Lord does not matter to the universe."
The freighters and cloaked cruisers were nearly to the shield now. "They'll be dropping the tow cables as soon as they're inside the shield," Pellaeon reminded Starkiller. "Are you ready?"
The Dark Lord straightened up in his seat. "I await the Grand Admiral's command," he said sardonically.
For another second Pellaeon looked at the other's composed, yet expressionless mask, with its sinister red visor, a shiver running up through him. He could remember vividly the first time Starkiller had tried this kind of direct long-distance control. Could remember how he did it with such little effort; How could anyone not have struggled to hold the mental contacts. Unless Starkiller wasn't doing anything at all.
Pellaeon noticed the small red pyramid glow more viciously, the red light casting its dancing rays along the dark walls.
Barely two months ago, Thrawn had confidently said that Starkiller would never be a threat to the Empire because he lacked the ability to focus and concentrate his Jedi power on a long-term basis. But somehow, it was almost like it wasn't him controlling the battle.
Which meant that if it wasn't Starkiller, who was it really?
The intercom beeped. "Captain Pellaeon?"
Pellaeon reached over the display ring and touched the key, pushing away his fears about Starkiller as best he could. For the moment, at least, the Fleet needed Starkiller, or whoever it really was. Fortunately, perhaps, Starkiller also needed the Fleet. "We're ready, Admiral," he said.
"Stand by," Thrawn said. "Tow cables detaching now."
"They are free," Starkiller said. "They are under power... moving now to their appointed positions."
"Confirm that they're beneath the planetary shield," Thrawn ordered.
Hardly surprising; with the cloaking shield preventing the Chimaera from seeing the cruisers and at the same time blinding the cruisers' own sensors, the only way to know exactly where they were was for Starkiller to do a precise location check on the minds he was touching. "All four ships are beneath the shield," he said.
"Be absolutely certain, Dark Lord. If you're wrong—"
"I am not wrong, Grand Admiral Thrawn," Starkiller cut him off harshly. "I will do my part in this battle. Concern yourself with yours."
For a moment the intercom was silent. Pellaeon winced, visualizing the Grand Admiral's expression. "Very well, Lord Stakiller," Thrawn said calmly. "Prepare to do your part."
There was the double click of an opening comm channel. "This is the Imperial Star Destroyer Chimaera, calling the Overliege of Ukio," Thrawn said. "In the name of the Empire, I declare the Ukian system to be once again under the mandate of Imperial law and the protection of Imperial forces. You will lower your shields, recall all military units to their bases, and prepare for an orderly transfer of command."
There was no response. "I know you're receiving this message," Thrawn continued. "If you fail to respond, I will have to assume that you mean to resist the Empire's offer. In that event, I would have no choice but to open hostilities."
Again, silence. "They're sending another transmission," Pellaeon heard the comm officer say. "Sounds a little more panicked than the first one was."
"I'm certain their third will be even more so," Thrawn told him. "Prepare for firing sequence one. Lord Starkiller?"
"The cruisers are ready, Grand Admiral Thrawn," Starkiller said, as he patted the column, in which his red 'holocron' sat, pulsating with energy. "As are you." He said softly.
"Be sure that you are ready, yourself," Thrawn said, quietly threatening. "Unless the timing is absolutely perfect, this entire show will be worse than useless. Turbolaser battery three: stand by firing sequence one on my mark. Three... two... one... fire."
On the tactical hologram a double lance of green fire angled out from the Chimaera's turbolaser batteries toward the planet below. The blasts struck the hazy blue of the planetary shield, splashed slightly as their energy was defocused and reflected back into space—
And with the desired perfect timing the two cloaked cruisers hovering on repulsorlifts beneath the shield at those two points fired in turn, their turbolaser blasts sizzling through the atmosphere into two of Ukio's major air defense bases.
That was what Pellaeon saw. The Ukians, with no way of knowing about the cloaked cruisers, would have seen the Chimaera fire two devastating shots cleanly through an impenetrable planetary shield.
"Third transmission cut off right in the middle, sir," the comm officer reported with a touch of dark humor.
"I think we surprised them."
"Let's convince them it wasn't a fluke," Thrawn said. "Prepare firing sequence two. Lord Starkiller?"
"The cruisers are ready."
"Turbolaser battery two: stand by firing sequence two on my mark. Three... two... one... fire."
Again the green fire lanced out, and again, with perfect timing, the cloaked cruisers created their illusion. "Well done," Thrawn said. "Move the cruisers into position for sequences three and four."
"As you command, Grand Admiral Thrawn." said an officer in the background
Unconsciously, Pellaeon braced himself. Sequence four had two of the Ukians' thirty overlapping shield generators as its targets. Launching such an attack would mean that Thrawn had given up on his stated goal of taking Ukio with its planetary defenses intact.
"Imperial Star Destroyer Chimaera, this is Tol dosLla of the Ukian Overliege," a slightly quavering voice came from the intercom speaker. "We would ask you to cease your bombardment of Ukio while we discuss terms for surrender."
"My terms are quite simple," Thrawn said. "You will begin by lowering your planetary shield and allowing my forces to land. They will be given control of the shield generators themselves and of all ground-to-space weaponry. All fighting vehicles larger than command speeders will be moved to designated military bases and turned over to Imperial control. Though you will, of course, be ultimately answerable to the Empire, your political and social systems will remain under your control. Provided your people behave themselves, of course."
"And once these changes have been implemented?"
"Then you will be part of the Empire, with all the rights and duties that implies."
"There will be no war-level tax levies?" dosLla asked suspiciously. "No forced conscription of our young people?"
Pellaeon could imagine Thrawn's grim smile. No, the Empire would never need to bother with forced conscription again. Not with the Emperor's collection of Spaarti cloning cylinders in their hands, and the Jango Fett DNA.
"No, to your second question; a qualified no to your first," Thrawn told the Ukian. "As you are obviously aware, most Imperial worlds are currently under war-status taxation levels. However, there are exceptions, and it is likely that your share of the war effort will come directly from your extensive food production and processing facilities."
There was a long pause from the other end. DosLla was no fool, Pellaeon realized—the Ukian knew full well what Thrawn had in mind for his world. First it would be direct Imperial control of the ground/space defenses, then direct control of the food distribution system, the processing facilities, and the vast farming and livestock grazing regions themselves; and in a very short time the entire planet would have become nothing more than a supply depot for the Imperial war machine.
But the alternative was for him to stand silently by and watch as his world was utterly and impossibly demolished before his eyes. And he knew that, too.
Though the fact that three of the companies he was about to lead down to the surface were composed entirely of clones might have had something to do with his skepticism.
On the tactical hologram the first waves of drop ships and TIE fighter escorts had exited the Chimaera and Stormhawk, fanning out toward their assigned targets. Clones in drop ships, about to carry out Imperial orders. As the clone crews in the cloaked cruisers had already done so well.
Pellaeon frowned, an odd and uncomfortable thought suddenly striking him. Had Starkiller, or his special holocron, been able to guide the cruisers so well because each of their thousand-man crews were composed of variants on just twenty or so different minds?
Did that mean that the Mount Tantiss project was playing directly into Starkiller's hands in his bid for power? Perhaps. One more question he would have to bring to Thrawn's attention.
Pellaeon looked down at Starkiller, belatedly remembering that in the Dark Lord's presence such thoughts were not his private property. But Starkiller wasn't looking at him, knowingly or otherwise. He was staring straight ahead, the small slit in his visor producing a single red light that moved back and forth. "Lord Starkiller?"
"They're there," Starkiller whispered, his voice deep and husky. "They're there," he repeated, louder this time.
Pellaeon frowned back at the tactical hologram. "Who's where?" he asked.
"They're at Tatooine," C'baoth said. Abruptly, he looked up at Pellaeon, his eyes bright and insane. "My Jedi are at Tatooine."
"Lord Starkiller, confirm that the cruisers have moved to polar positions," Thrawn's voice came sharply. "Then report on the feint battles—"
"My Jedi are at Tatooine," Starkiller cut him off. "What do I care about your battles?"
"Starkiller—"
With a wave of his hand, Starkiller shut off the intercom, before he stormed out of the room, and headed for the main hanger, where he grabbed his modified TIE interceptor. "Now, Luke Skywalker, and Leia Organa Solo," he murmured softly, "you are mine."
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Well folks, that was the first part.
Note the references to the planet Byss, and the fact that C'boath has been replaced by Dark Starkiller.
It'll be important later on.
Until next time, Grubkiller out.
