Galaxies Apart
Epilogue: Part One
Twenty Years Later
They had waited a thousand years for this moment. In living ships, their entire civilisation had crossed the distance between galaxies, ready to make war once more.
Contact with their Intendants had been lost shortly before. It was strange, certainly, but the Vong had numbers, weapons, and ships almost beyond count. This galaxy of infidels would be swept away in short order.
The Yuuzhan Vong fleet dropped from superluminal velocity in the Helska IV system, earlier than they had planned. The reason for this became abundantly clear very quickly.
A massive ring of Interdictor Cruisers encircled the system, many hundreds of millions of miles in diameter. Their gravity wells reinforcing one another, they had created a gargantuan net in which the Vong fleet had just been caught.
But they were not alone in that net.
Waiting for them were ships in an order of magnitude not even the Vong could comprehend. Star Destroyers filled the Helska IV system, arranged perfectly in an entrapment formation designed purposefully to pound the Vong fleet in as efficient a manner as possible.
And even as the Vong started, somewhat belatedly, to respond, they realised as one the true purpose of those harrying ships around them. They were herders. Designed to push the Vong fleet, scattered by the sudden yank to sublight, into a tight defensive formation.
On cue and in perfect synchronicity, specific Interdictor Cruisers switched off their gravity wells. Only for a few seconds. Not for long enough for the Vong to take advantage or to flee.
But long enough for the first Death Star to drop from hyperspace.
And the second.
And the third.
And the fourth.
Grand Admiral Ben Skywalker gave the order to fire himself.
Twenty years of research and development into superlaser technology had yielded impressive results. The Vong fleet had no time to scatter, and even if they had, they would have been running into the seemingly endless ranks of Star Destroyers on all sides.
Superlaser blasts lit the Helska skies.
A thousand years of waiting ended in less than five minutes.
When the cheering had abated on the bridge of the Death Star Revan's Fist, Ben Skywalker allowed himself a rare smile, and asked for a channel to be opened to Coruscant, and to the Supreme Chancellor.
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The atmosphere in the Senate was electric. The news had leaked, no doubt, but until he spoke it would not be official. Well, he was about to do just that. He stood. A hush rippled outward through that massive antechamber. He never tired of that instant, rapt attention generated by so small a physical gesture.
"Members of the Senate," Supreme Chancellor Thrawn said. "Three hours ago, Galactic Standard Time, I received notification from Grand Admiral Skywalker that our fleet at Helska IV have completely obliterated the Yuuzhan Vong invasion force."
He got as far as Vong before the roar of approval washed away the rest of his words from the audible spectrum. It had taken long and complex political manoeuvres to swing their support for this decisive strike. Not to mention the incredibly difficult business of securing funds for the construction of the Galactic fleet, the third and fourth Death Stars not least of which.
Ironically, as a Grand Admiral he had looked upon the superweapons with scorn, feeling them to be a huge drain on resources and manpower. But upon his move into politics, he had quickly realised that while military battles were won with blood and laserfire, political success could only be achieved through symbols. And as a symbol of power and a beacon of security against threats real or exaggerated, a Death Star was hard to beat.
Thrawn had found battlefield tactics flowed naturally to him. They always had. But compared to the politics required in peacetime, outwitting a far superior force with limited resources was like shooting mynocks in a stasis field with a superlaser.
He had enjoyed himself immensely.
The roar finally abated. Thrawn knew what he said now wasn't going to go down with the same enthusiasm – at least, not with most.
"Effective immediately, I am hereby announcing my retirement as Supreme Chancellor."
A hush fell, followed by another roar, this time of confusion and questions. Multiple requests for speaking privileges logged themselves into his console before him. He denied them all, keeping the individual Senators' pods rooted firmly to their docking stations, keeping himself alone at centre stage. For the last time, he thought, experiencing a bittersweet thrill at the words.
"I have done what I set out to do," he told them. "We stand now, the Galactic Alliance, stronger than the Old Republic and the Empire ever dreamed of being – as our departed would-be conquerors the Yuuzhan Vong can attest to. In the last two decades we have seen the beginning of a new age. Our extra-galactic exploration programme stands on the brink of launch. We have known peace. We have prepared for war. And we have learned anew to co-exist."
His voice changed tone. "But there will always be new dangers. New threats. That is the nature of existence. We must never lapse into the sort of banal bureaucratic slumber that caused the fall of the Old Republic and allowed the corruption of Palpatine to take hold."
Applause and agreement. "As for myself…" he went on, and he smiled, "…twenty years of standing here is quite long enough. Who knows. I might get a comfortable chair and take up sabacc."
Laughter. The hubbub had died to one of acceptance, as he'd known it would. Politicians were like that. Their thoughts would already be turning to-
"It's customary for me to nominate who I believe would be a worthy successor," he went on. "Much as we might have clashed in this room in the past – it is my belief that Mon Mothma is the obvious choice to take that leadership role."
Polite applause met his words. In her pod, he knew she would be regarding him with that detached coolness, aware that the holo-cams would now have switched to her. She had taken time to emerge from hiding those long years ago, and remained resolutely suspicious of him and his motives two decades later. He admired that. It showed courage.
She would need every ounce of that quality.
A new speaking request privilege flashed on his console. He gave it a cursory glance, ready to deny it as he had the others, before he registered the source. His throat dried. The master manipulator had failed to anticipate this.
"The Chancellor recognises the observers present from the Chiss Ascendancy."
Cha'form'bintrano nodded in acceptance as his pod's repulsorlifts gracefully brought him to the attention of the rest of the Senate. Taller than Thrawn, his red eyes and blue skin instantly signalled his common species ancestry with the Supreme Chancellor.
"Despite not being a member of the Alliance," Cha'form'bintrano said, "Csilla has long observed your leadership of this…impressive…collection of worlds, Mitth'raw'nuruodo," he used Thrawn's full Chiss name, the first time Thrawn had heard it spoken aloud in many years.
"Your banishment from Csilla was for the violation of battle ethics in using the concept of the pre-emptive strike. We remain ideologically opposed to the strategy; however, in light of the undeniably high number of lives and worlds saved through the swift and commendable elimination of the Far Outsiders," again, he was using the Chiss term, this time for the Vong, "a threat long feared by our people…your banishment has been rescinded."
For the first time in his tenure as Supreme Chancellor, Thrawn didn't know what to say. His homeworld. His family. All had been taken from him in exchange for his career in the Empire. Now, returned.
"Come home," Cha'form'bintrano said.
In the resounding cheers of approval that followed, all he could do was nod.
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"Oh, don't grumble so," she rebuked him, but with a twinkle in her eye. "You know full well you love every second of it."
"Oh yes," he agreed, "there's nothing more I love than being paraded in front of them like some sort of relic. Look, kids, it's Admiral Antilles! He remembers when the Rogues were just one squadron! He still says things like by the Force and may the Force be with you!" he sighed. "Do you know after my last inaugural address, one cadet actually asked me what the Force was?"
As she smoothed down his dress tunic, Winter smiled. "Shocking," she said gravely.
Just as she'd known it would, his almost-a-grin faded. She recognised that look instantly, by the straightening of his posture and the faraway gleam in his eyes. Her hands sought out his and he squeezed them almost unconsciously.
"It's not fair," he told her.
"I know," she said, all traces of mock gravitas gone now. "But they would be so proud to see what you've helped to build, Wedge. Every kid out there dreaming of flying in the Rogue Squadrons will have seen the memorial on Coruscant. They may not know about the Force, but they'll know what those men did. What they gave."
He took in a long, steadying breath, failing to see the admiring look she was giving him. Twenty years later, the deaths of his wingmates above the Death Star still affected him deeply. That was why she loved him. She kissed him impulsively and he responded, feeling at least some of his troubles melt into the embrace.
Seeing him steady himself one last time before going out there to address the troops, however, she couldn't resist one final tease. "Just imagine - little Jagged might be out there one day," she said, as casually as she could.
Jagged Antilles was seven years old and anyone who met him fell instantly in love with him. He was a tornado in human form, possessing every bit of his father's sense of adventure coupled with his mother's intelligence and shockingly blonde, almost white hair. Wedge doted on him endlessly, to the boy's increasing embarrassment and his mother's ceaseless amusement.
Wedge scowled at her. "That'll be the day," he said darkly.
"Good luck…" she called after him. With a mother's intuition, she knew that despite his father's protests, sooner or later little Jagged would find himself swept up by the endless drama of life.
With that thought settling into her mind, she slipped into the huge crowd of cadets and watched with pride as her husband held them enthralled. Not everyone here would make it through training. And of those, not all would survive active duty.
Yet here they stood.
And she was proud to stand with them.
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The incessant bleep of the holo-emitter wasn't going away, it seemed. With some reluctance, Thrawn – no longer Grand Admiral Thrawn, no longer Supreme Chancellor Thrawn – pulled himself away from simply staring out at the frozen splendour of his homeworld visible through the floor-to-ceiling window of his ancestral family home.
Gilaad Pellaeon, now C-in-C of the Alliance military, had insisted on bringing him home personally on the Alderaan. After much debate the reformed Senate had decided, as one of its first orders of business, that the Alderaan's name was to stay unchanged as a testimony and a timely reminder of the recent past.
They had been rechristened as 'Battle Moons' rather than 'Death Stars', however. He knew that Grand Admiral Skywalker preferred the old designation. Given his reputation in battle, no-one particularly felt like arguing with him. Especially not with his father's lightsaber hanging prominently from his belt.
He ran through the possibilities for who could be requesting his time as he moved to the emitter. For obvious reasons, his holo address was extremely hard to get hold of. The last call, shortly after he had assumed occupancy here only a few days ago, had been from Supreme Chancellor Mon Mothma. She had thanked him for his nomination. He had wished her well. She had told him she loathed him and always would.
Fine, so she hadn't said the last part. She didn't need to.
As he flicked the accept transmission button, he reflected that, unlikely as it was, there was one other possibility-
"Hello there."
He made no attempt to hide his surprise. These days, what was the need?
"Luke," he said in greeting. "How are you?"
"Doing just fine."
Whilst perfectly understandable, Luke's holo was not of the highest quality, due to the encrypt program running over the transmission. A trace run on the location would come up with fourteen different origin points, Thrawn knew, none of them remotely accurate. Whatever slicer he had hired to keep him off the grid had done his work well.
"And how is Mara?"
Luke grinned. You couldn't have removed that smile with a lightsaber. "Good."
I'll bet she is, Thrawn mused. "What can I do for you?" he said aloud.
"Nothing. Just calling to say congratulations, I guess, and to wish you a happy retirement. Still can't quite picture the Alliance Senate debates without you."
"I'm sure they'll manage somehow."
Something flashed in front of the holo, just for a moment. Luke didn't comment on it. Neither did Thrawn.
"Just one more thing…"
"Yes?"
"Thank you."
Thrawn looked the former Jedi Knight in the eyes. He was so like his more famous brother in some ways; the same strength lurked there. And yet while Ben Skywalker had cut a swathe of success through the Navy, leading the Alliance's forces to such stunning victories over the Ssi-ruuvi Imperium and now the Vong…Luke Skywalker had quietly and completely vanished.
"You're welcome."
Luke was about to end the transmission, he saw. He wouldn't get another chance. "Luke – I have to ask," he said, "do you see him?"
"Sometimes," Luke replied. A trace of a smile appeared. "He's a busy man these days. I hear being a Grand Admiral has its drawbacks."
"So they say," Thrawn replied. He surprised even himself by continuing. "Do you believe in the greater good, Luke? Do you think we should forgive evil acts if they prevent even bigger losses of life?"
"There's no such thing as the Dark Side or the Light Side any more. Maybe…I don't know, maybe there never was. What we do is less important than why we did it."
"And forgiveness?" Thrawn prompted.
"I love my brother. But I miss my sister," Luke shrugged. "It's not as simple as forgive or don't forgive. They're just words, I guess. Like life is some sort of story with heroes and villains, treasure and magic. If I've come to realise anything, it's that life is more complicated than that."
"Wise words."
"I really have to go. Goodbye, Thrawn."
"Goodbye, Luke."
The holo transmission cut out. Luke Skywalker vanished from his sight, never to return. Thrawn found himself staring at the emitter for a few moments.
The slicer had done his job, undoubtedly. But as Supreme Chancellor for twenty years, Thrawn had more than mere slicers at his disposal. He had tracked Luke and Mara down to their homestead on Myrkr long ago, had them kept under discreet observation for a time.
That flash across the holo he had pretended not to see – would that be Jaina? Yes; judging by her size, it had to be. Jaina would be eleven now, if his calculations were correct. Anakin would be fourteen. By all accounts, both were settling well into their Hyllyard City schooling system. Excelling, doubtlessly.
It was hard to imagine. Luke Skywalker and Mara Jade, happily married, living an anonymous life on a backwater world with their children. Most likely Anakin and Jaina would not be told of their parents' past until a certain age, if ever.
One thing he knew – they had nothing to fear from him. Thrawn wished them well, even as he rose to his feet and walked back to that view.
As he did so, he let out a breath. It was no ordinary exhalation. Since he had encountered the Far Outsiders, as a young man so long ago now, he felt as if his whole purpose had been focussed upon trying to find some way to counteract the deadly threat they would one day pose. That threat was gone.
He was letting out the sigh of relaxation he had denied himself his entire life.
Rukh allowed him to finish that sigh.
"I knew you'd come," Thrawn said quietly.
Rukh had been standing patiently on the outside balcony. How he had gotten himself there Thrawn could not begin to guess; the cliffs outside were sheer, impossible climbs. But the Noghri were renowned for their ability to do the impossible.
"I needed you," he said, as Rukh advanced on him. "I needed the Noghri to track down every Vong spy. Only with their Intendants eliminated swiftly could I convince the Vong that we remained weak enough for them to attack as they had originally planned. Without that, they would have regrouped. You yourself killed Nom Anor, Rukh. Believe me when I tell you that you helped to save trillions of lives."
"At the cost of the continued poisoning of our homeworld," Rukh responded. "And many Noghri lives. Perhaps some may see this as the greater good. Forgive me if I am not among them."
Thrawn nodded. He walked past Rukh in measured, even strides, even as his former personal bodyguard withdrew the slim, lethal knife from his tunic. He gestured to the Csillan vista spread out below them.
"This is my home, just as Honoghr is yours. I had forgotten how beautiful it was."
"Honoghr will never be beautiful again," Rukh's voice whispered in his ear.
A moment later, he was gone.
Thrawn stood there for as long as he could before the pain drove him to his knees. Rukh's knife had struck home straight and true, a beautiful stroke. He made no effort to remove it.
"Artistically done," he whispered, crumpling to the floor of the home so long denied to him. The red glow in his eyes flickered and died, and Thrawn, once the last of the Grand Admirals, first Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Alliance…was gone.
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It is done.
Back onboard his shuttle, climbing into low Csilla orbit even as his navicomputer crunched escape vector co-ordinates, Rukh entered this simple three-word message into his encrypted data stream and sent it to the person who had revealed the truth of their generations-long deception to he and the Noghri people only a few months ago.
Now it was a case of waiting to see if Mon Mothma lived up to her side of the agreement.
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"Do you miss it?"
They were reclining on a small patch of grass, watching shuttles rise above the Hyllyard City spaceport, departing for space. It had been five years since they'd left the surface of Myrkr. Jaina and Anakin, both of whom had just gone to school on this balmy Myrkr summers day, were nagging for an offworld vacation.
If they had known their parents had almost three million credits to spend on one, Luke suspected, it was very likely they would simply explode into little child-shaped puffs of excitement.
"At the beginning, maybe. Now…not at all," he admitted. "You?"
Mara was wondering whether to tell him the truth. He could see as much. "Sometimes," she said. "But Death Stars and time travel didn't keep me as busy as those two do."
"I hear ya."
"What are you thinking about?"
"How did you know I-"
"Out with it, Skywalker."
"You can't still call me that," he protested mildly. "It's your name now too, in case you've forgotten."
"And who'll stop me? Gonna paint a branch blue and pretend it's a lightsaber, are you?"
He had to laugh at that, and in doing so admitted defeat. "I was thinking of Jacen," he said.
"Oh."
"It would have been nice for Jaina and Anakin to know him."
She just nodded, sensing that was all he wanted. He got like this sometimes, even now after all these years. Jacen had been his last link to the sister he'd barely gotten to know…only for Jacen himself to vanish forever.
"Come on," she said, standing up and dragging him to his feet. She kissed him just long enough and just deep enough to engage his interest before breaking off, to his obvious chagrin.
"Where are we going?" he asked, even as they began to walk.
"Haven't you figured that out yet, Luke?" she called back over her shoulder, as they pressed deeper into the forest. "I don't know. Nobody knows. That what makes it so good."