Chapter Two
Painted proudly in New Republic colors, with its now-legitimized Starbird Seal gleaming red on her hull, Ession Strike snapped into realspace in the Hishyim system. The swirling lights visible through the ship's handful of exterior viewports ceased with unusual abruptness. Captain Atril Tabanne leaned slightly forward in her chair at the center of the modified Corellian corvette's small bridge, adjusting to the sudden change in motion with the hard-won reflexes of the Caridan Academy-trained TIE pilot she had once been. A willowy brunette with hair cut just short enough to fit into a pilot's helmet, Atril now wore her New Republic Fleet uniform with pride and slept better most nights.
The ship's hull seams popped and flexed with protest at the abrupt deceleration. Alarms surged through the bridge, and her small, tight-knit crew responded with the same taut urgency she'd spent months instilling.
"[Unmapped gravity well forced an early reversion!]" hissed the Togorian officer manning the sensors station. "[We've hit an Interdictor Cruiser!]" Outside, flashes of green turbolaser fire spit towards Ession Strike from the assembled ambush.
Atril leaned back slightly in her seat, took a moment to consider the tactical plot, and rapped out a series of orders in a clear, clipped soprano. "Helm, engines to maximum. Alter course thirty-five degrees to starboard and pitch us down away from the Interdictor. Guns, give me ranging fire on the Cruiser. Keep an eye out for enemy fighters and target them as soon as they get within range."
"[Enemy strength confirmed! Logging two Imperial-II class Star Destroyers and one Katana Dreadnought in company with the Interdictor!]" The feline voice was alert, but there was no panic in it yet.
Atril watched the starfield shift as the corvette maneuvered. On her combat display the Interdictor now tagged as Stellar Web began to draw back, dropping behind the protection of the two rapidly-closing Star Destroyers with its dreadnought escort tucked in close. Meanwhile, the first TIE fighters closed in on Ession Strike and came under laser fire. She watched with satisfaction as one of the TIEs caught a laser blast and vanished from the display.
The Star Destroyers closed, sliding in front of the Interdictor. Ession Strike cut over hard, using the bulk of the starboard destroyer to obscure the sensors and guns of the portside one, but leaving the Strike vulnerable to its partner. As the turbolaser fire intensified and splashed off Strike's shields, Atril spoke again. "More power to the engines. We need as much speed as you can give me" she demanded. "Guns, maintain focus on the fighters and keep them off us. Reinforce port and ventral shields; take power from starboard and forward shields if you have to." If she could just get past the Destroyers in one piece, she could angle on the planet and force them to turn to chase her…
"[Multiple tractor beams attempting a lock]," the Togorian announced nervously in his hissing, feline accent as Strike's lasers splashed a second TIE. The others were warier now. Excellent.
"I have a message from the lead Star Destroyer," her communications officer, a Bothan, announced. "It's from Admiral Rogriss. He's requesting we surrender at once and promises fair treatment as prisoners of war." His fur rippled dismissively. "I say we fight."
Atril smiled thinly, watching her plot. Ession Strike's speed was increasing steadily and so far the corvette's shields were holding off the distant incoming turbolaser fire, but that would change as soon as one of the tractors got a solid grip, which was only a matter of time. Clearly, Rogriss wanted her intact. The two destroyers were starting to separate now, altering to shift from a horizontal line into a vertical one which would allow the second Star Destroyer's turbolasers to shoot at Ession Strike without hitting her partner first.
Come on. Turn. Turn towards me. You're going to have to if you want to catch me, so turn!
Her fist knocked on the arm of her captain's chair, silently urging Rogriss to do as she willed. As she watched, the plot updated again, giving the two Destroyers names for the first time: Chimaera and Agonizer.
She refused to react as her guts turned to ice, careful to give no indications of her sudden concern to her crew. Chimaera?
The two Star Destroyers altered their headings, shifting to turn to pursue her and she half stood in her chair, all other thoughts banished. "Helm, shift us fifteen degrees to starboard! Keep us parallel to those Destroyers. All shields aft and port! Guns, keep suppression fire on the fighters." She grinned, her heart pounding in her chest. "Execute!"
"Finalize tractor locks on the corvette," barked Captain Gilad Pellaeon of the Chimaera. The corvette's crew was good, he thought sourly. The Rebels had responded instantly to the ambush—faster than he would have been able to, in their place—and had used their maneuverability advantage to sideline half his firepower. He would be sure to convey his respects to their captain, once Chimaera had him safely captured.
"Look at this, Captain," Admiral Teren Rogriss' voice came from beside him. Unlike Grand Admiral Thrawn, Rogriss was a more traditional Imperial officer who eschewed the command chair that Thrawn had favored. Rogriss preferred a roving watch on the bridge, using a datapad linked to the ship's main computer as his primary command interface. Like Pellaeon himself, the grey-haired Rogriss had a service record that stretched back to the earliest days of Palpatine's New Order. Between the two of them they probably had as many years of experience as the rest of Chimaera's bridge crew combined.
"Look at what, Admiral?" Pellaeon asked as Chimaera's tractors finally caught the corvette. The much smaller ship was now steadily being dragged towards them. He frowned at that. The ship was still presenting its port side to Chimaera and Agonizer, which was odd. Had he been in command of the corvette, he would have gone perpendicular to make best use of the corvette's massive engines and minimize his target profile.
Rogriss handed him the datapad. "Intelligence just sent the first good report on our prey," the Admiral said. "It's not a typical CR90. They're still sorting it out, but Lieutenant Dreyf thinks it used to be one of Zsinj's pocket carriers. Corvettes built to hold a squadron or so of TIE fighters."
"Status change!"
Pellaeon and Rogriss both turned towards the shocked sound just in time for the first proton torpedoes to slam into Chimaera's tractor beam emitters.
Wedge Antilles didn't wait for a target lock as his X-wing led the charge from Ession Strike's hangar bays. He and Tycho had been the first two pilots out of the modified CR90's starboard hangar, their launch carefully shielded from Chimaera's view. He dipped his fighter's nose slightly and triggered two proton torpedoes, letting both lance blindly into the void between the corvette and Chimaera. Both torpedoes were caught by the tractors lashing the smaller ship and pulled instantly towards the Destroyer.
"Rogues, hit Chimaera with a torpedo volley, then break by pairs and take the TIEs," he commanded, hearing the order acknowledged. "Rogue Two on me, let's scatter these eyeballs." He and Tycho were momentarily alone as the remainder of the understrength squadron finished its rapid launch procedure. Red laser fire continued to lance from Ession Strike towards the TIEs, which were just now turning towards the new, unexpected fighter threat when he and Tycho hit them.
Wedge's HUD flickered green as he tracked one of the TIEs caught transfixed between the corvette's main battery and the X-wings and fired, punching a quad-burst of laser fire through TIE's starboard wing and ball cockpit. A small part of Wedge felt a pang of guilt as the fighter exploded, but that didn't prevent him from seeking out another target from those remaining. A quick warning warble from Gate led him to glance at his HUD and juke his X-wing. Incoming green laser fire went wide.
"Lead, roll port on my mark," Tycho's calm voice said in his ear. "Mark."
Wedge chopped his throttle and spun his fighter, green blasts flashing through where he'd been rather than where he was. They stopped suddenly as Tycho stitched the two TIEs tracking Wedge with precise, twin-linked laser fire. The two X-wings re-oriented themselves and Wedge took a slight lead while checking his squadron's status. Looking 'up' through his X-wing's canopy he saw Ession Strike and Hobbie's X-wing dancing with a trio of TIE fighters. Wedge kicked his fighter's engines to full, roaring towards the fight with Tycho following faithfully.
"Two Flight, torps away!" Wes Janson's voice came over the squadron channel, and eight proton torpedoes streaked towards Chimaera.
"Three Flight, torpedoes away," Corran Horn's voice echoed, though Wedge's fellow Corellian led an understrength flight that produced only six torpedoes. The fourteen missiles were far from enough to kill an Impstar Deuce, but if they hit in a single timed arrival even a Star Destroyer would feel the sting. Janson's torpedoes hit first, and Chimaera's port shields flickered under the sudden energy infusion. Corran's torpedoes hit next; four were stopped by the flickering shields but the final two snuck through, digging deep into Chimaera's hull armor and converting their explosive mass to pure energy and splintered debris.
It was a start, Wedge thought as Chimaera's tractor beams died. Ession Strike's now unhindered engines flared brighter and the corvette put on more speed, causing the Star Destroyers' turbolasers to splash impotently against its shields as the distance increased. The TIEs harassing the corvette weren't doing any better: Hobbie's aggressive maneuvering and fire had already accounted for two of them and Ession Strike finished off the final TIE with a quick burst of laser fire before he and Tycho could reach it.
He could imagine Atril's smug expression and allowed himself a grin.
"Rogues, this is Strike. Chimaera and Agonizer are launching their remaining TIE squadrons. Reading two squadrons of interceptors and another squadron of fighters," said Ession Strike's Bothan communication officer into his ear. "All of them are vectoring in on our position."
Wedge examined his HUD. The leading TIE squadrons were slowing their approach, and Wedge ran the intercept and numbers in his head.
They don't want to come in piecemeal. Ten of us versus twelve of them three times is easy. Ten of us versus thirty-six of them all at once is much harder. Apparently they know that as well as we do. He thumbed his comm. "Rogues, they're trying to swarm us. Stay with your wingmates, stand off on CAP for the Strike. Let them approach and let Strike give you cover while we get as many as we can with torps; don't worry about saving any for the Star Destroyers." His orders given, Wedge watched as Chimaera and Agonizer began to surge after Ession Strike and his pilots.
Pellaeon grunted angrily as the X-wings scored hits on his ship. "Damage report," he demanded.
"We've lost both starboard tractor beam emitters, Captain," said a nervous voice from the starboard crew pit. "And one of our turbolaser batteries is non-responsive. Shields are fully restored."
Saving the good news for last, Pellaeon thought as he grunted his acknowledgement. The loss of both starboard tractor beam emitters—both!—was serious. Agonizer wasn't in range to use theirs and Ession Strike was now gaining distance on them, heading deeper into the planet's gravity well. That meant the corvette could—in theory—gravity boost around the planet and head out the other side at a random vector and skip into hyperspace before they could stop her.
Even if he rolled Chimaera, he was almost out of range to use his portside tractor beam emitters, and the corvette's captain was successfully keeping his ship out of Chimaera's forward firing arc.
A year ago, Thrawn would tell him to use a Marg Sabl maneuver, or a Sus'Qena Diversion, and the battle would be over with minimal losses. Or he'd coax C'baoth into using his Jedi tricks to enhance the coordination and concentration of his fighter pilots, making novice pilots fly like veterans. But Thrawn was dead and there were no more easy battles.
As he watched the ten X-wings—now positively ID'd as Rogue Squadron, and wasn't that just a fresh kick in the teeth—were racing back towards the corvette where they could fight in the protective shadow of its lasers. Pellaeon gritted his teeth. Chimaera could carry six squadrons of TIE fighters, but TIEs were not easy to come by these days (especially not after the loss of the Bilbringi shipyards, and the thought was a knife to his heart), nor were pilots (not after the loss of the cloning facility on Wayland, his restless mind added insufferably), and there weren't likely to be any replacements for either any time soon. And Chimaera and Agonizer had started the battle with only two squadrons each.
Rogriss apparently was thinking much the same. "The Republic sent their best. This is going to be a bitter victory," he murmured, his eyes on the larger combat plot. "If we hold the TIEs back and send Stellar Web forward at full burn, we might be able to hold the corvette here long enough for Chimaera and Agonizer to get the ship back under tractor," he proposed.
"Maybe," Pellaeon said. "But that will also let the X-wings have a good shot at her, and we can afford to lose TIEs more than we can an Interdictor." He shook his head. "You have to credit the Rebels," he said grudgingly. "They couldn't have fought this any better than they—"
"Status change!"
The two men turned, first towards each other, then towards the combat plot, and paled.
General Garm Bel Iblis smoothed his graying mustache and allowed himself the small, vulpine grin of a hunter as the Interdictor's gravity well yanked the Mon Calamari Star Cruiser Orthavan and her three near-identical sisters out of hyperspace directly on top of the Stellar Web. Experienced and hungry, the crews of the four Liberty-class Star Cruisers, each the size of Ackbar's Home One, positioned their ships into a traditional box formation. Moments later his five Katana dreadnoughts dropped in and moved into escort formation.
He had the Imperials outgunned almost three-to-one.
At the battle of Qat Chrystac Thrawn had beaten him, Bel Iblis reflected, with this very maneuver. Using an Interdictor cruiser to pull two Victory-class Star Destroyers out of hyperspace at exactly the right spot at exactly the right time. Orthavan had barely escaped that ambush in one piece. They even had a name for it in the fleet: the Thrawn Pincer.
Now it was Bel Iblis' turn to be the one with the claws. Captain Tabanne had played her part to perfection – Ession Strike had gotten Rogriss' attention and now the Destroyers were turned away from his entry vector. There was no more vulnerable position for a Star Destroyer to be in than faced directly away from an onrushing enemy, and he had two of them doing exactly that.
"All ships concentrate fire on Agonizer," Bel Iblis ordered. "Let's see how they're going to try to get out of this."
"Five Dreadnoughts and four Liberty-class cruisers," Pellaeon remarked more calmly than he felt. "That must be Bel Iblis." They were in deep trouble, Pellaeon knew; now it wasn't a rush to secure a victory, but an undignified scramble to save his ship and their task force.
Rogriss might not be Thrawn, but the man had command presence to spare and gave no outward sign of surprise or panic as he responded to the ambush. "Order Stellar Web to power down her gravity wells and head for hyperspace. Agonizer to make ninety-degree starboard turn and pitch upwards; roll to maintain maximum possible field of fire. Chimaera to maintain formation with Agonizer. Both ships scatter fire between the Rebel cruisers. Execute." There was no sign of the strain he had to be feeling in his voice, but his expression flickered and his hand gave a slight tremor, betraying his concern as his orders were relayed to their other ships. "He mousetrapped us with our own Interdictor," he murmured to Pellaeon.
"Yes, he did," Pellaeon agreed, feeling himself the same grudging admiration that he heard in Rogriss' voice. "Helm, match Agonizer's turn and roll and keep us at parade formation distance. Maximum power to ion cannons and shields. Prepare to roll if we lose starboard shields."
"Admiral, Agonizer reports three separate tractor beam locks," the Communications officer's voice was strained and nervous, but Lieutenant Tschel wasn't quite as young as he'd been before Thrawn had polished his rough edges.
"Agonizer is losing velocity, Admiral," said Pellaeon. "Should we stay in formation?"
"Bel Iblis is giving us a choice," Rogriss murmured thoughtfully. "Stay and protect Agonizer and potentially lose both ships, or abandon her to save Chimaera." Neither man mentioned their TIE fighters, which were currently embroiled in a losing melee with Ession Strike and Rogue Squadron. The Rogues had savaged the leading TIE squadrons with proton torpedo strikes at range and were currently confirming their reputation as the New Republic's best while the corvette's apparently crack gunnery crews were scything even more TIEs out of space. Given the distances there was no way to screen or retrieve their remaining TIEs, not if they wanted to escape with Agonizer. They both knew it.
Rogriss paused a moment to consider, then gave his orders. "Cut velocity and maintain formation with Agonizer. Maximum ion bombardment; I want to scramble those tractor systems long enough to get both ships out of here."
Pellaeon nodded. "Yes, Admiral." The Empire couldn't afford to lose any ships right now, but they especially could not afford to lose Star Destroyers. They would save Agonizer. They had to. But it would not be easy: even as the ship tried to turn, the four Mon Calamari Star Cruisers poured red turbolaser fire into Agonizer's engines and its aft shields glowed under the bombardment. One of Agonizer's three massive engines took a series of direct hits and flickered ominously, further cutting the ship's speed.
On the combat display Stellar Web vanished into hyperspace and its escort, the Katana dreadnought Guisarme, turned back to aid the remaining Imperial ships.
Pellaeon watched the plot, his brow furrowing as he watched the combat unfold. Bel Iblis was still trying to knock out Agonizer's engines and he might well succeed if he kept at it. Guisarme was moving to intervene—although Pellaeon wasn't quite sure what a single dreadnought would do against Bel Iblis' formation. "Admiral," his voice was quietly focused as he watched the dreadnought maneuver. "Look at Guisarme."
The two men clustered together as they examined the dreadnought's status on the battle display. Guisarme's clone crew was pushing the old ship's engines well past their redlines, and with a sudden rush Pellaeon realized what the ship's crew was trying to do. They knew as well as he did that the Empire couldn't afford to lose a Star Destroyer…
He couldn't wait for Rogriss to figure it out. Taking a moment to judge Guisarme's trajectory— "Redirect all fire against Innasval," he commanded. "Order Agonizer to do the same."
Rogriss looked at him with surprise, then echoed the order without hesitation. "Do it!"
The two Star Destroyers poured fire into the closest of the four Mon Calamari Star Cruisers, the one with the best tractor lock on Agonizer. Innasval's tractor beams lost their lock under the heavy ion bombardment and Agonizer's remaining engines surged to life, as every member of the ship's crew silently willed their vessel to accelerate.
Then Guisarme cut between the formations, its crew interposing the Dreadnought between Agonizer and Orthavan. The Mon Calamari cruiser's tractor beam—and turbolaser fire—caught Guisarme amidships, but the Dreadnought-class heavy cruisers had been built from the keel up to take punishment. Even as Guisarme's hull shed bits of overheated armor and gouts of atmosphere, the ship's engines and momentum carried it forward in a long arc as if lassoed to Orthavan. Guisarme continued its arc in front of the Rebel formation and for the briefest of moments swung between Agonizer and Ivardal and in that instant Agonizer was free. Orthavan and Ivardal's tractor beams were all latched securely on Guisarme, and Agonizer was free.
Rogriss' voice was triumphant. "Agonizer, go!" Before the order was even finished, the Star Destroyer flickered with pseudomotion and vanished. Rogriss' voice was thick with relief. "Get us out of here, Captain."
Pellaeon gave the order and Chimaera leapt to hyperspace, leaving their squadrons of TIEs and Guisarme behind them as the fee for their freedom.
"Damn," Wedge said mildly. He flicked his communications to full-spectrum. "This is General Wedge Antilles to Imperial pilots. Your motherships have abandoned you to save themselves. You're stranded and in moments you'll be outnumbered." Even as he said the words, he saw A-wing and X-wing squadrons from the rest of the fleet moving to support the Rogues. "If you stand down we'll treat you honorably as prisoners of war."
"Think they'll go for it, Lead?" Rogue Six asked over the squadron-only frequency, Gavin's voice no longer quite so young as it had been when the then-sixteen year old first signed up with the Rogues.
Wedge didn't say anything, waiting to find out himself. He didn't have to wait long to get an answer. "This is Colonel Goda. All TIE pilots, stand down your weapons and engines. This battle is over."
The TIEs stopped maneuvering, killed their forward momentum, and the lights around their cannons went dark just as the damaged Imperial Dreadnought did the same. The arriving New Republic snubfighters gave them a wide berth, sweeping around outside of their weapons range and encircling them.
Wedge allowed himself a smile as he checked his HUD, toggling through all the members of his squadron. Another victory without losing any of his pilots, and there was nothing better than that.
General Bel Iblis was not as happy, his clenched fist resting angrily on the arm of his command chair. "We had them, we had them and they got away."
Orthavan's Mon Calamari commanding officer, Captain Irraerl, looked at him with one of her large eyes. "We took the system," she pointed out, her voice gravelly in the comparatively dry air of the ship's bridge. "We can now effectively blockade Ukio and force its surrender."
"Yes," Bel Iblis agreed. "Eventually. But as long as Rogriss and Pellaeon are free with their Star Destroyers they're a threat that can't be underestimated. And it will take months, perhaps even years, to force the Imperial garrison on Ukio to surrender through a blockade." He scowled. "And we had them. We had nearly a third of their Star Destroyer strength in the most tactically disadvantageous position possible." His eyes settled on the Guisarme. The dreadnought had managed to thoroughly wreck his plans with some gutsy flying and willing self-sacrifice. They would have made good Rebels. "Has Guisarme surrendered?"
Irraerl nodded her large head, a gesture which always made a Mon Calamari look like they were bobbing in water. "As soon as Chimaera entered hyperspace."
"Good," Bel Iblis growled. This should have been a decisive victory, but Guisarme's quick action had foiled it. He took a deep breath and put the failure behind him. One battle at a time, that was the mantra. A setback was not a defeat. A year ago, with Thrawn commanding the Imperial Starfleet, it had been Bel Iblis settling for successful withdrawal after successful withdrawal. Now fortunes were reversed, and he suspected that Thrawn had been just as frustrated at this kind of setback then as he was now. The thought gave him some recompense. Some. "Bring us into orbit of Hishyim and contact the Imperial planetary garrison," he ordered. "Tell them we demand their immediate surrender. And tell Major Page to prepare his ground forces for an assault in case they decide to fight."
Thrawn's personal chambers had been sealed since the Grand Admiral's death; entering them now made Pellaeon feel like he was entering a mausoleum. Inside he saw that the lights were still kept dim, the way Thrawn had preferred, while carefully engineered microbrights cast gentle pools of light on the holographic (and handful of non-holographic) sculptures and paintings that were spread evenly through the space, illuminating them without causing wear or damage.
He recognized many of the pieces. Thrawn had retained this arrangement while he planned his campaigns against the Rebellion. Admiral Ackbar's own sculptures appeared in the double display ring on the right; with Senator Bel Iblis' paintings and sculptures flanking them on the left. Whenever Thrawn had sought insight into the minds of his most dangerous adversaries, he would contemplate these pieces for hours on end, seeking even the smallest hints into the psychology of the men (or aliens) who had produced or chosen them.
Thrawn had always found those insights, too.
Pellaeon wondered if things would have ended differently if Thrawn had placed any Noghri art in here. Assuming the beasts made art. He rather doubted it.
He found Teren Rogriss staring at one of the paintings on the left. Framed with a dull unobtrusive bronze, the painting was of a lone man on a hill. The figure was painted in a ghostly white, with a flowing robe that made him appear almost ethereal, fabric whipping in the imagined breeze. The ground under his feet was rocky and troublesome and the man appeared pained by the experience of his hike. It was the sky behind the man that was the painting's most defining feature: dark and starry, but as if behind a haze of dim fog that gave the image a dreamlike quality.
As Pellaeon stepped to stand next to Rogriss, he re-assessed his original judgment of the painting. No, the most defining feature wasn't the sky, but the man's eyes. His gaze was on the ground before him, focused and weary—the eyes of a man on a long journey that had no sure end.
"It's called 'Peregrine'," Rogriss said, and there was pain in his voice. "Bel Iblis named his flagship after it."
Pellaeon and Rogriss studied the painting a bit longer.
"I don't see anything here that would help me outthink Garm Bel Iblis," Rogriss said finally.
"Nor do I," Pellaeon agreed heavily.
The two men stood in silence both staring at the painting. Pellaeon swallowed hard as he realized that Rogriss understood just as well as he did just what the Empire—what the galaxy—had lost with Thrawn's death.
They had been beaten today, and beaten badly. Somehow Bel Iblis had learned of their intended trap and stooped on the ambushers. Pellaeon and Rogriss would have to spend days scouring their fleet for intelligence leaks, but Pellaeon was not optimistic one would be found. The disastrous defeat had cost them minor damage to Chimaera and Agonizer, the four squadrons of TIEs that were all Stellar Web, Chimaera, and Agonizer had possessed, and the dreadnought Guisarme with its irreplaceable clone crew. Under Thrawn, such a day would have the feeling of a momentary setback. Today, they were lucky it had not been worse.
Falling back, yet again. Since Pellaeon had been forced to retreat from Bilbringi, sacrificing the vital shipyards to save his fleet, the Imperial Starfleet had won no major victories. The sectors and systems Thrawn had taken from the New Republic were being retaken one by one. The Council of Moffs had been restored to effective power, and its infighting and corruption was splintering the fragile coalition of Imperial warlords that Thrawn had forged and held together by his own will.
It was all coming apart, Pellaeon thought, his gut turning as hollow as it had after Endor. The center cannot hold. Not without an anchor. Not without a symbol of the Empire. Not without faith in our leadership.
Rogriss sighed and shook his head. "I wasn't good enough today," he said, to himself more than to Pellaeon. Before Endor, admitting such weakness to a subordinate would've been tantamount to career suicide, likely followed followed by actual suicide. It might still be if Pellaeon were interested in taking advantage, but Pellaeon was not interested in those games, and Rogriss did not fear them.
"No, sir," Pellaeon agreed softly.
"You were faster than I was every time," Rogriss continued. "You knew something was wrong the moment the corvette reacted so quickly to our ambush. You realized that we needed to use ion cannons and not turbolasers after Bel Iblis' cruisers came in out of hyperspace. And you recognized Guisarme's intent quickly enough for us to do our part to save Agonizer."
True enough. It was hardly the first time Pellaeon had thought his commanding officers less capable than himself. But he'd never said as much to their faces, or at all. "Yes, sir."
"We both rose within the Imperial Starfleet," Rogriss mused. "Infinite resources, relatively weak foes. Promotion determined less by battlefield performance and more by boardroom performance." He glanced over at Pellaeon. "You lacked the detached, bureaucratic killer instinct needed for that, so your career stalled."
Pellaeon took a deep breath, the words bringing with them an old sting. "Yes, sir," he admitted.
"But you are good at other things. Very good." Rogriss nodded at the artwork. "You are an exceptional combat commander. You recognize threats and react to them quickly, without hesitation. Your men follow you because they trust that you'll fight with them to the very end. That's why Thrawn picked you, I think. And it's why I'm lucky to have you as my flag captain."
Rogriss paused for a moment while Pellaeon stayed at attention.
"And, it's why I need you to do the things I can't do," Rogriss continued, his voice oddly soft. "Don't let me make any more mistakes, Gilad."
Pellaeon felt his back straighten. There were many kinds of leaders. Thrawn had been the best of all: a brilliant tactician whose ego and ambition did not get in the way of his duty. Pellaeon would regret what his loss would do to the Empire. He would mourn the death of a man who had not been his friend, exactly, but who had shown friendship in every way that mattered to an old man who had given his life to the Starfleet.
But Thrawn was dead, and he wasn't coming back. In his absence, Pellaeon could do worse than to follow an honorable man who recognized his own limitations and sought help to address them. He and the Empire could do far worse. "Yes, sir."