Honoghr, 9 ABY
Mara Jade peered through the cracks between the boulders, peering down on the village from above. Lights blared from a makeshift encampment constructed by Imperial soldiers and a strange, reptilian species Mara had never seen before. She had watched the shuttles ferrying supplies back and forth from the Chimaera, which remained in space, and Mara was astonished to see how rapidly the fabricated command center adjacent to the encampment had come together. Most of the lights blared over dozens of crates, around which the Noghri had gathered. She watched through her binoculars as uniformed Imperial technicians passed out food and other supplies to the Noghri while stormtroopers stood by silently, dust gathering on their pristine white armor.
Upon completion of the command center, Thrawn had sheltered inside, and Mara had scanned for signs of Moff Gideon's presence among the camp. After three hours of observation, Mara had concluded that Gideon was not here. Thrawn had remained in the command center until a shuttle drifted down from space. The ship was sleek and handsome, reminiscent of the older Naboo models she had seen when accompanying the Emperor back to his home planet. The ship had similarly smooth, sloping, artistic angles, but the color scheme lacked the mirror reflectivity, instead featuring a gold and black paint scheme. Mara had scanned it, but no ID came up. Thrawn emerged from the command center with what Mara assumed was his second-in-command and an escort of death troopers. After the ship settled and the dust cleared, a man in richly decorated robes stepped out of the shuttle, followed by an entourage of what Mara assumed to be sycophants. He crossed the distance from the shuttle to Thrawn, and as he neared, Mara watched him sweep his arms out wide in a gesture of welcome. She saw the man's face light up in a broad smile as he began to speak, but she could not make out the words he was saying. Mara pressed a button on the side of her binoculars, and the binoculars froze the image, storing an image of the man. After a brief exchange with Thrawn, both Thrawn's people and the new arrival's entourage made their way into the fabricated command center.
Mara tapped the side of the binoculars before stashing them in her pack. A small hologram emerged from the projector on her wrist device, and she read the readout of the man's identification:
Vorst Myntal, Human, Age 77,
Planet of Origin: Eriadu
Affiliation: Known affiliation to Emperor Palpatine, cleared of all charges during Tribunal, currently CEO of the VOR-HAN Shipping Conglomerate
Est. Net Worth: 2.7 Trillion Credits
The Grand Admiral is making himself some rich friends, Mara thought to herself. She scanned the area behind the fabricated command center, and her scan revealed no sign of Imperial patrol. She hoisted her backpack over her shoulders, and after switching on the night vision in her mask, worked her way back down from the boulders, running a mental calculation for the most efficient, most sheltered route. She keyed in a command in her wrist device, and the compartment opened, freeing the tiny, insect-shaped drone. The drone's wings whirred into life, and it buzzed off into the darkness as Mara activated the drone's tracker.
"Again, Grand Admiral Thrawn, please let me reiterate my gratitude at learning of your survival," Vorst Myntal said, his smile bright and his manner refined. "When my medallion began to sing, I thought for a moment the Emperor had returned. This is the next best thing to that long anticipated moment."
"My gratitude, Mr. Myntal," Thrawn said in his quiet voice. "Please excuse the lack of decorum in offering refreshment. We are still establishing our forward base."
"Not to worry," Myntal said cheerfully, "Reeves, will you please return with a charcuterie spread and several bottles of Chandrilan ale?
One of the well-dressed servants in Myntal's entourage broke away from the group crowded into the darkened, fabricated office.
"I am afraid I must decline," Thrawn said. "I have already dined with my officers."
"But of course," Myntal said affably. "This is a happy, happy moment. It has been many hard years for those who have kept the faith."
Commodore Brandt suppressed a frown at the man's boisterous manner, thinking that the Admiral might soon lose his patience. However, Thrawn sat calmly, his legs crossed and his fingers steepled together, observing the man as he made a display of his wealth and gratitude.
When Thrawn did not respond to the jovial entreaty, Myntal faltered slightly, then said, "I can see you are not one to stand on Taila mony." Myntal appeared mildly disappointed, but he pivoted quickly, adopting a stern, no-nonsense tone. "I assume by now you are up to speed on galactic events."
"Quite," Thrawn affirmed. "Including the unusual events that occurred on a backwater planet known as Nevarro."
Myntal appeared taken aback, leaving Brandt with the impression that Myntal had not expected Thrawn to know about Nevarro yet. His servant entered with a glass of Chandrilan ale and set the glass before Myntal, who picked up the glass and drank deeply.
Myntal smacked his lips in relish, then complimented, "You remain as prescient as ever, Grand Admiral."
Thrawn nodded in recognition before segueing to a direct inquiry. He opened his mouth to speak, but registered the faintest, high pitched whine nearby. He turned around to see what could have made the sound, but saw nothing around him. He glanced into the shadows of the room, searching for the source.
Myntal razed his eyebrows in curiosity before Thrawn said, "Forgive me. A momentary distraction." Having recovered from the distraction, Thrawn continued, "When you contacted me, you mentioned your interest in bringing me into your plans. I would like to know more."
"Ah, yes," Myntal said. He took a breath and said, "The Empire surrendered to the Republic nearly a year after the Emperor's death. Many of us urged against the action, instead preferring to go into hiding to recalibrate. But the Emperor himself seemed to have arranged for the Empire to self-destruct in his absence. The Republic persecuted many of us, and those of us without the requisite means were found guilty. The rest of us retreated into respectable business, hoping one day for deliverance. We knew we needed a leader, and with you gone and many of the Emperor's other lieutenants dead, we helped Moff Gideon evade his death sentence, staging his death."
"And do you have any insight into why Moff Gideon has so far not made contact with me?" Thrawn asked quietly.
Myntal shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He sipped deeply from his glass of ale and said, "We have not heard from Gideon in several days. He indicated his intention to apprehend a vital asset on Nevarro to sustain his genetics program. We have not heard from him since," Myntal explained.
"What program is this?" Thrawn asked, intrigued.
"Gideon doesn't share many details; only enough to keep our pocketbooks open," Myntal said, and he failed to hide a trace of resentment. "He says he is acting on the Emperor's orders, and we know for certain that he is attempting to collect as many Force-sensitive children as possible."
"Curious," Thrawn said. "And what forces has he accumulated? My sources reported a significant presence on Nevarro."
"As to that, we still await a full accounting. Gideon continues to claim that the moment is not yet ripe," Myntal explained tightly. "My partners have grown. . ." Myntal sighed, then admitted, "restless."
"Quite," Thrawn said, nodding his head solemnly. "And, I can't help but wonder," Thrawn mused, leaning forward slightly. "Has Gideon made mention of a planet called Weyland?"
"Not that I recall," Myntal affirmed, perplexed.
Thrawn relaxed subtly, changing the line of inquiry. "And how do you see me fitting into your plans?" Thrawn asked.
"Up to now, we had hoped to see the fruits of Gideon's genetics program and inspect our accumulated military might," Myntal said. "But with your capabilities, perhaps a more direct confrontation with the Republic?"
"That would be foolish in the extreme," Thrawn said.
"What?!" Myntal blurted, taken aback.
"Direct, open conflict is the worst possible outcome. Even if Gideon has amassed a considerable fleet manned with the fruits of his genetics program, the Republic's forces remain vast, even despite their drawdown," Thrawn explained. He paused, observing Myntal's consternation. "Furthermore, what you are unaware of, Mr. Myntal, is that the Republic's effort to establish a navigation lane into the Unknown Regions has now made the galaxy vulnerable to invasion from a highly aggressive nomadic species known as the Grysk."
"I've never heard of them," Myntal said, perplexed.
"Consider yourself fortunate," Thrawn nodded. "My people, who live in the Unknown Regions, know them quite well. It is because of the Grysk and my peoples' refusal to confront them openly that I joined the Empire."
"So then why not overthrow the Republic and re-establish the Empire?" Myntal asked, recovering from his confusion. "We'll need a strong hand and a mighty force to stop something like that."
"Indeed we will," Thrawn said. "Including the Republic fleet and Moff Gideon's forces. In fact, we would need every fighting ship in the galaxy and then some to withstand a determined Grysk attack. Open war with the Republic would weaken us for the coming conflict, not strengthen us."
"I see," Myntal said. Brandt watched him look away as he brooded over the new information.
Mara worked her way around the back of the command center, listening in to the drone as it relayed Thrawn and Myntal's conversation. She paused, listening to the nearby stormtroopers' disgruntled chatter about their new assignments, then continued on, passing through the shadows, camouflaged by her black body suit. When she reached the back of the center, she ran a scan over the wall, revealing a service access door, locked by a droid port. She unslung her backpack and rummaged for the appropriate tool. She keyed a switch, activating the tool, and a droid probe emerged. She slotted the probe into the port and held a second device up to the locking unit. The device displayed the circuitry inside, depicted in red. She turned the probe slowly until part of the circuit turned blue. She then turned the probe in the opposite direction until a second part of the circuit turned blue. She continued alternating the rotation until the entire circuit went blue. A moment later, the door slid open quietly, revealing a darkened corridor. She slipped inside, closing the door behind her.
"What do you propose, then?" Myntal asked, failing to fully obscure his anxiety.
"The election proceeds, and it appears anyone's guess as to who will win," Thrawn said.
"I'm confident in Brasaar," Myntal interjected. "He has our full support – and then some."
"Much remains up to chance," Thrawn said. "If Brasaar wins, things are simpler. If Mon Mothma wins – particularly if the rumors are true that she intends to tap Leia Organa-Solo as her Vice Chancellor. . ."
"What?!" Myntal blurted. "That can't be. Organa is a Jedi."
"Until she isn't," Thrawn corrected. "Her inclusion will tilt the odds in Mon Mothma's favor."
"This can't be," Myntal said, clearly unsettled by the news. "How do you know this?"
"It matters not," Thrawn dismissed. "We must also consider our options should Mon Mothma remain in power. She will likely lose control of the Senate, meaning deadlock. I think," Thrawn said, stroking his chin, "This could be most advantageous."
Brandt noticed that Myntal appeared lost for words, and he suspected that Myntal had put much effort and resource into propping up Brasaar's candidacy.
"Advantageous?!" Myntal blurted, his practiced refinement slipping.
"Let us just say that Leia Organa-Solo's sterling reputation is not without tarnish," Thrawn said cryptically.
"If you know something. . ." Myntal said, shifting in his seat impatiently.
"In good time," Thrawn assuaged. "Particularly as we have no formal deal on the table." Myntal sat expectantly, and when he realized that Thrawn would not reveal what secrets he alluded to, Myntal exhaled.
"Well, Grand Admiral," Myntal said, still shaken. "You've given me quite a bit to think about. Given my dissatisfaction with Moff Gideon's performance, I am inclined to return to the council, present what I've learned, and persuade them to switch our backing to your operation."
"I appreciate that very much," Thrawn purred quietly.
"Shall we reconvene in three days' time?" Myntal asked.
"Indeed, we shall," Thrawn said, rising to his feet.
Myntal rose to his feet as well and shook the Grand Admiral's hand before draining his glass of ale. He turned toward his entourage and walked out of the room, his entourage following close behind. The death troopers guarding the door turned toward Thrawn, and Thrawn nodded to them, saying quietly, "You may leave me now." Brandt stood uncertainly, and Thrawn nodded to him as well.
Commodore Brandt and the death troopers turned and filed out of the room, and Thrawn glanced toward the back of the room at the art display, his mind lost in a moment's contemplation. He turned back to the chair he had just occupied and settled himself, crossing his legs and steepling his fingertips together as he fell into contemplation.
Mara Jade worked her way through the narrow corridor, which she deduced to be a maintenance access corridor to allow work on electronics and climate control within the fabricated command center. She held her scanner against the wall and deduced the location of a maintenance panel opening into the next room over. The scanner revealed that the room was large, and that she would be coming out behind a large projector apparatus. She removed her probe and set to work on the droid port, carefully manipulating the port to open the maintenance hatch and gain access to the other side.
Thrawn remained deep in contemplation as he pondered the knowledge gleaned from his interview with Myntal. Certainly, the man's resources were virtually unlimited, particularly when pooled with his friends. Yet Gideon apparently had wasted a lot of it with foolish projects, and Myntal still seemed a step behind Mon Mothma's organization, having failed to do his due diligence in cultivating the appropriate intelligence.
But as Thrawn's mind segued toward another line of thought, he registered the same faint whining again. He turned his head slightly to the right, listening. A faint rustling sound preceded the snap-hiss of a lightsaber. The red glow illuminated the room before him, and as he listened to the buzzing sound hissing behind him like a swarm of wasps, tight smile stretched his lips.
"I wondered when I'd be seeing you," Thrawn said. He paused, then added, "Emperor's Hand."
No response followed. As the lightsaber buzzed, Thrawn broadcast his movements, saying, "I am going to turn around to face you now." He gestured toward the chair that Myntal had recently vacated and added, "Unless, of course, you would like to take a seat."
"Get up," the woman growled through her filtered mask.
"As you wish," Thrawn said, raising himself out of the chair and turning to face her. He appraised her outfit, which had become much more functional and utilitarian than her older chameleonic outfits. Her stature and posture were the same, and she radiated the same confident, dangerous power she had possessed as the Emperor's primary assassin.
"First, let me offer my condolences on the loss of the Emperor," Thrawn purred.
"Silence," Mara hissed, lifting the lightsaber. As she recovered from the flare of anger, she asked, "Where's Gideon?"
"The question of the hour," Thrawn said, nodding. "I wish very much to speak with him."
"His medallion sang," Mara retorted.
"Perhaps he is avoiding me," Thrawn said
"Are you about to start trafficking children, too?" Mara snarled.
"So that's what this is about," Thrawn said. "Please. Extinguish your weapon and join me. I wish to speak with you. The Emperor always valued your contributions and abilities."
Mara hesitated, and her blade dropped an inch. Thrawn smiled and said, "Of course, if you wish to kill me, you are free to do so at any time. I am unarmed. I cannot resist."
Mara's blade lowered another inch, and she extinguished the weapon. She prowled around him, watching him carefully as he turned to track her. She settled herself into the chair opposite Thrawn, and Thrawn took his seat as well. They sat across from each other, holding the silence. Thrawn crossed his legs and steepled his fingers, waiting for her to begin.
As Mara remained silent, scrutinizing Thrawn behind the obscurity of her mask, Thrawn opted to break the silence, saying, "You are upset about Moff Gideon's genetics program."
"I know what he's trying to do," Mara grunted. "It's not going to work."
"And why is that?" Thrawn asked.
"He's gone," Mara said, her voice hollow and empty.
"I suspected as much," Thrawn admitted.
"The Emperor failed," Mara said. "Believe me. I looked."
"It must have been very difficult for you," Thrawn observed.
"What the hell do you care?" Mara spat.
"I am simply offering my sympathies," Thrawn said, his tone icy. "But I must admit, I am uncertain why you went to the trouble of breaking into my chamber just to antagonize me."
Mara did not respond, and instead she turned inward, trying to understand why she had come. It could not have just been Gideon. Curiosity, perhaps? The thought of expressing that feeling left her feeling more defensive.
"I see," Thrawn said.
"Spare me your smug omniscience," Mara spat. "What are you trying to do here?"
"Protect the galaxy," Thrawn said.
"How magnanimous," Mara scowled.
"What are you trying to do here?" Thrawn riposted.
Mara hesitated, her automatic, unspoken response feeling foolish before Thrawn's gaze. She recovered, suspecting his intention. "I'm not joining you, if that's what you're thinking," Mara said. "I am going to kill Gideon, and after that, I will. . ."
"Retire?" Thrawn asked, his eyebrows rising. "I wonder if the anger of the Hutt Syndicate will permit that. You've made quite a few enemies in the past few weeks. First the Hutts, then the Jedi."
"How do you know about that?" Mara snapped.
"Now, now," Thrawn countered. "Propositions first."
"Fine," Mara hissed, crossing her legs as she waited.
"Tell me, Mara Jade," Thrawn purred. "What do you know about the Skywalkers?"
"Don't," Mara growled, uncrossing her legs and leaning forward.
"Fascinating," Thrawn said, bringing his steepled hands closer to his face. "Such strong feelings. Perhaps you hold them responsible for all you have lost?"
"I've had enough," Mara growled, and she rose from her chair and began to stalk across the room. She froze in her steps as several Noghri stepped out of the shadows, each wielding gleaming, wickedly-curved knives. Mara retreated from the beings.
"You are wondering how you did not sense my bodyguards," Thrawn stated. "It is one of many gifts the past ten years have bestowed. But now is not the time to explain. Now is the time for you to return to your seat and hear my proposition."
Mara reignited her lightsaber, and the Noghri tensed, prepared to attack.
Thrawn shifted, betraying a hint of impatience. "You would die before you made the first move. And if you somehow managed to survive, the Chimaera has targeted your ship and is prepared to fire on my order. I would much prefer to continue enjoying civil conversation."
Mara calculated her odds of survival, believing that she could easily take the Noghri down. However, something uncomfortable and jarring clicked in her consciousness; she could not sense the Noghri. She had not sensed them upon entering the room, and she could not sense them now. She had met Noghri before, and they left a distinct impression on the Force – an impression she now could not feel.
"What are you doing?" Mara hissed.
"You hate the Skywalkers; I appreciate this," Thrawn said rising to his feet as he disregarded her question. "I myself have my own concerns about them. Sometimes, I wonder whether to exploit their very unique vulnerabilities. At other times, I think it best that they simply vanished."
Mara turned, raising her lightsaber toward him. Thrawn turned to face her, and he said, "I have learned many difficult lessons about the capriciousness of the Jedi. They present a degree of. . . unpredictability. . . that I cannot abide. Both of the children of Anakin Skywalker present a threat for which I cannot fully account."
Thrawn paused, then add, "I would like for you to kill them for me."
"Why me?" Mara growled.
"I assumed it would satisfy a desire for revenge," Thrawn explained. "And beyond that, perhaps you might prove your own worthiness as the heir to the Emperor."
Mara lowered her blade, struck by Thrawn's words. The thought of him offering her anything as if he had the authority to offer it to her repulsed her, yet the words touched an old desire, long suppressed, to surpass the flawed, weak tools the Emperor employed – especially Vader. How satisfying would it be to stare the ghost of Anakin Skywalker down as she stood over the bodies of his dead children. . .
His voice echoed from the recesses of her soul: DO IT!
"If this intrigues you, perhaps you could extinguish your weapon a second time and discuss the details," Thrawn offered.
Mara extinguished the weapon and relaxed her posture. She gazed at Thrawn, then said, "What do you have in mind?"