Author's Note:
Heir to the Empire was originally created by Timothy Zahn and originally published on May 1st 1991. This is an adaptation that will attempt to preserve and respect the original story while delivering a new and exciting take on it. Enjoy!
"Captain Pellaeon?" a voice called down the port side crew pit through the hum of conversation. "Message from the sentry ships, sir. They've succeeded in getting the data from the scanning raid. However , they've encountered several New Republic forces that are now in pursuit."
Gilad Pellaeon stared at the endless dark abyss. Beyond the horizon, he could see several New Republic forces out in the distance. The occasional flashes of turret fire worried him. This mission was their main priority. If they failed, it would certainly push back their efforts for nearly another two years. And they couldn't have that, not unless they were willing to risk the New Republic finding out about them.
"Go to yellow alert. Send a message to the sentry ships to maintain course."
"Yes, sir," the officer replied nonchalantly. The young officer, Pellaeon, reminded himself. That was where the problem was. In the glory days, a young man would never be serving as an officer aboard an Imperial Star Destroyer. Let alone, on the Chimaera. But now—He looked down towards the young woman in the engineering monitor. Now, in contrast, this is all they had left. The Chimaera's crew, as well as nearly other warships in the seventh fleet, were being painstakingly run by young inexperienced men and women. He couldn't help but wonder, just how the Empire had gotten in this position. For over two decades the Empire ruled with an iron fist. Worlds trembled before it. There was order, and stability across the galaxy.
Slowly, Pellaeon let his eyes sweep across the bridge, feeling the old anger and hatred twist his stomach. He had heard about the Emperor's Death Star project. The fact that the Emperor ignored the battle station's proven vulnerability and gone ahead with a second Death Star had enforced the suspicion that the Emperor tried to put the Empire's military power under his control. The loss of both the Emperor and Darth Vader, as well as his personal command ship—the Executor, drove what little morale the Empire had left to a sudden halt. Allowing the rebels to achieve even more victories on the battlefield. Which eventually led them here. Out near the forgotten backwater outer-rim systems. Now all they had left was a handful of warships. Hiding and fleeing, like rebels.
However, none of that mattered. Because here was the greatest military mind the galaxy had ever seen. Here, where the Empire will rise from its ashes and return to the galaxy in full glory. Pellaeon smiled—a tight, wolfish smile—as he again looked around the bridge. The Empire was not dead yet, as the arrogantly self-proclaimed New Republic would soon discover.
"I'll be right back," Pellaeon said to the bridge officer, before walking towards the Grand Admiral's command room. It was no secret aboard the Chimaera that since its renovation, the Grand Admiral had been staying a great time in his command room. What he did inside, however, remained a mystery. Pellaeon wondered if it had to be fear that held the Grand Admiral in the room. Especially after the incident on Lothal. But as always, he underestimated the Grand Admiral.
Stepping to the door, Pellaeon straightened his tunic and braced himself. "Captain Pellaeon to see Grand Admiral Thrawn," he announced. The door slid open to reveal a small gray-skinned alien. "Captain Pellaeon," the alien acknowledged in a deep, gravelly, catlike voice. "Meewalh," Pellaeon replied in a sharp tone. Though he had worked with the Noghri before, he still couldn't help but shiver at the sight of them. Meewalh's big dark eyes, protruding jaw, and needle sharp teeth were simply nightmare fuel. The Noghri himself wasn't as built as the Grand Admiral's original Noghri bodyguard—Rukh, who'd perished at the battle of Lothal, but neither the less, he was still a terrifying figure.
"You may enter," Meewalh hissed before stepping out of the way. "Thank you," Pellaeon growled. Straightening his tunic again, before stepping through—
Into a softly lit art museum.
He stopped shortly, looking around in astonishment. The walls and domed ceiling were covered with flat paintings and planics. A few, he noted, were of human origin. Others were most notably alien. Various sculptures were scattered around. Some freestanding, some were displayed on pedestals, and others were mere holograms. In the far corner of the room, almost hidden from view, was what appeared to be a statue. But Pellaeon knew what it really was. It was a carbonite block, and in it was the boy that put them into this mess, the one who defeated them so long ago—Ezra Bridger.
In the center of the room, seated in an Admiral's chair, was Grand Admiral Thrawn.
He sat motionless, his shimmering blue-black hair glinting in the dim lights, his pale blue skin looking cool and subdued and very alien on an otherwise human frame. His bright red eyes seemed to glow when looked at from a certain angle. A scar, barely visible, could be seen going vertically across one eye. A scar—of his defeat.
Pellaeon licked his lips nervously, unsure if he should approach. If the Grand Admiral was annoyed . . .
"Come in, Captain," Thrawn said, his quiet modulated voice cutting through Pellaeon's thoughts. Thrawn waved his hand in front of him, presenting a hologram of a sculpture. "What do you think?" He asked curiously.
"It's uh . . . It's very interesting, sir," Pellaeon said timidly. He walked around Thrawn's display, his eyes settling in and seeing a painting he found amusing.
"All holographic, of course," Thrawn continued, "A pity, since this certain artifact was destroyed centuries before the Clone Wars broke out. Its original makers are all—most likely extinct."
"Yes, sir," Pellaeon agreed nonchalantly, "Sir, I've come to report that our sentry ships are returning from the scanning raid from Obroa-skai as we speak."
"Excellent," Thrawn nodded, "Were they able to access the central library system?"
"Yes, sir", Pellaeon inhaled sharply before speaking again, "However, we've encountered an issue." He could feel Thrawn's deadly gaze fall on him before he even finished the sentence. The cold, glowing-red eyes piercing his blatant attempt of courage. Thrawn was silent for a moment. Pellaeon started to sweat bullets, waiting for the Grand Admiral's response.
"What sort of issue?" Thrawn asked venomously, killing off the tension.
"New Republic forces have arrived on Obroa-skai. And they're in pursuit of our sentry ships. I've already alerted our defenses to a yellow alert."
Taking a deep breath, Thrawn straightened in his chair, and for the first time since Pellaeon had entered, smiled. Pellaeon returned his gaze without flinching, feeling a small sense of pride in doing so. In his experience, many of the Empire's top officials were never comfortable looking directly into Thrawn's menacing red eyes. Perhaps it was a sense of respect, or rather—a sense of fear. Pellaeon knew Thrawn had a difficult upbringing in the Empire's rank, how he faced discrimination in a mostly human Empire. But even with all that, Thrawn became the only non-human in the history of the Empire to ever achieve the rank of Grand Admiral, and being appointed by the Emperor himself.
Ironically, it made him all more indispensable to the new frontier campaign. Pellaeon had thought to himself on many occasions how the outcome of the battle of Endor would've changed if Thrawn, not Vader, had been commanding the Executor. He was sure—very sure in fact, that the Rebellion would've been destroyed had Thrawn been present. That was if the young Jedi learner, Ezra Bridger, never intervened. Pellaeon wondered to himself, if in an alternate universe, Thrawn would have succeeded in Lothal and would go on and defeat the Rebellion before it even had a chance to grow. But that was merely a dream—this was their reality.
His thoughts were suddenly cut-off when a shrill-whistle split the air. "Bridge to Grand Admiral Thrawn," it chimed, "Sir, we're under attack!"
Thrawn pressed the intercom switch. "This is Thrawn," he said calmly, "Lieutenant Tchel, tell me what we've got. Calmly, if possible."
"Yes, sir", Lieutenant Tchel said before taking a deep breath. Pellaeon could hear the alarms blazing loudly outside the room. "Sensors have picked up five New Republic Assault frigates," Tchel continued, his tone now in a more controlled manner, "Plus an escort of six X-wing fighters. Symmetric cloud-vee formation coming in on our vector".
"Go to red alert," Thrawn said evenly, "Have all our TIE fighters ready for launch at my command. And raise our deflector shields."
Pellaeon swore under his breath. They were severely outnumbered. A single Star Destroyer, with an inexperienced crew, would be no match to the five assault frigates and their accompanying fighters. He leaned towards Thrawn's ear. "Sir, perhaps I should give the order to retreat instead. We're outmatched."
Thrawn raised his hand to silence Pellaeon. "Belay that order, Captain." Thrawn said with the same evenly toned voice, "Why don't we see what we are dealing with. Shall we?" He flipped a switch. The displayed art gallery surrounding them was immediately replaced with a holographic tactical display. In one corner, were several small blue dots representing the rebels, on the other side was a large red triangle—the Chimaera. The screen displayed the estimated ETA of around twelve minutes before the rebels reached them.
"Fortunately, our sentry ships have enough of a lead to not be entirely endangered." Thrawn commented, "Bridge: order the nearest sentry ships to attack."
Across the screen, three red dots moved towards the intercept vectors. Thrawn leaned forward in his seat, observing how the Assault frigates and its accompanying fighters shifted positions to counter the incoming sentry ship. The red dot representing the sentry ship suddenly faded out of existence.
"That'll do, Lieutenant," Thrawn said leaning back into his seat, "Pull our sentry ships back and have them scramble from the enemy's vector."
"Yes, sir", Tchel said in a confused manner. Pellaeon looked over at Thrawn. "Shouldn't we at least alert the rest of the fleet? Death's Head and the Avenger can be here within the hour," he suggested. Thrawn shook his head. "Patience, Captain," he said nonchalantly while observing the blue dots move across the screen, "The last thing we want is for the Rebellion to learn about us. Would we?"
Pellaeon couldn't help but look back at the carbonite block. No, it wouldn't be wise to alert the New Republic of their presence just yet. Not until they are ready. But still— Pellaeon thought to himself, they had the advantage.
"Of course, Grand Admiral," Pellaeon whispered under his breath. He looked back at Thrawn, who was concentrating on analyzing the battle tactics.
"Bridge," Thrawn called out, "I want a twenty-degree port yaw rotation—bring us flat to the invaders' sector. Have the superstructure pointed at them. And jam all their transmissions."
"Sir?" the Lieutenant replied in confusion. Thrawn rolled his eyes at the incompetence. "You don't have to understand, Lieutenant. Just obey."
The Chimaera began to vibrate. Pellaeon could feel the star destroyer tilt on its axis. Had it not been for the modified gravity wells on the ship, they would've surely flown across the room. And he did not want to relive that experience again.
"Thoughts, Captain Pellaeon?" Thrawn asked, looking over to him.
"I'm afraid I don't understand, sir," Pellaeon answered truthfully, "I understand turning the Chimaera to provide cover for our TIE fighters. But I can't see why you chose to do a Marg Sabl closure maneuver—they're not going to fall for anything that simple.
"On the contrary," Thrawn countered, "Not only will they fall for it—they'll be utterly destroyed by it. Watch. And learn."
Thrawn pressed the intercom switch again. "All TIE fighters squadrons launch. Head two kilometers away from the Chimaera, then sweep around in open cluster formation. Zonal attack pattern."
Pellaeon glanced over at the screen again. He saw several small red dots—TIE fighters, leave the Chimaera at incredible speed. They then leaned hard into etheric rudders to spray back like an exotic fountain. Pellaeon looked over to the opposing side. The invading ships spotted the attackers and started to shift positions.
"What are they doing? They're doing the opposite of a counter of a Marg Sabl," Pellaeon stated in astonishment. "They're trying the only defense they know", Thrawn replied, "Or, to be more precise, the only defense they're physiologically capable of attempting."
"What do you mean by that?" Pellaeon asked with curiosity. He was confused as how exactly Thrawn knew that a simple Marg Sabl would be enough to terminate the rebels.
"There's an Elom commanding that strike force." Thrawn answered him with a wry smile, "And the Elomin simply cannot handle the unstructured attack profile of a properly executed Marg Sabl."
Pellaeon stared at the screen again in amazement. He could still see the rebel forces moving in and out of positions desperately trying to counter any incoming attack. He also noticed that the blue dots started fading quickly.
"Just by their attack pattern on the sentry ship," Pellaeon started, "You were able to tell from that that those were Elomin ships?"
Thrawn smiled. "Do you see that pottery vase on your left. Pick it up. Tell me what you see."
Pellaeon obeyed Thrawn's command. He went and picked up the vase that was displayed on a pedestal. It had an alien design, he noted, he could see small figurines carved into the vase. Like it was telling a story. "I see small figures. Running, and attacking, I presume?" He asked sincerely.
"That's an Elomin pottery vase," Thrawn said, "Most noteworthy, it tells the history of the Elomin people before they were introduced to the galaxy. Do you see the figure at the center of the vase?"
Pellaeon looked into the vase. He saw a large black figure. It's displayed as a scary and mysterious. "Yes. What about it?"
"What do you think it represents?"
Pellaeon pursed his lips. "A monster of some kind?"
"It represents the unknown and unorthodox way of life", Thrawn explained, "The Elomin, while brave creatures, simply cannot handle the sudden unorthodox change they encounter. They are more grounded to their version of reality, one that is organized—follows the rules and reality they've established as true. And they've never evolved past this way of thinking, despite this art piece being over a century old."
"Which is how you were able to outsmart them", Pellaeon blinked in realization, "A Marg Sabl has always been considered as an unorthodox move".
"Correct, Captain," Thrawn said with a hint of pride in his voice, "To defeat an enemy you must know them. Not simply their battle tactics, but their history, philosophy—art. And once you understand the species' art, you understand that species." He straightened in his chair. "I believe it is time we join the fight, Captain." Flipping the intercom switch again he said, "Bridge: bring us to flank speed. Prepare to join the attack."
An hour later, it was all over.
The ready room door slid shut behind the wing commander, Pellaeon gazed back at the holographic figures displayed before him. There were seven of them: Fleet Admiral Gallius Rax, Moff Gideon, Vice Admiral Rae Sloane, Lieutenant Commander Brendol Hux, Chief Officer Natasi Daala, Senior Director Ysanne Isard, and Captain Enric Pryde. "Are you quite certain that all the New Republic forces have been dealt with? No survivors?" the voice of Moff Gideon spoke up. Pellaeon looked at the data pad in his hand before looking back up at Moff Gideon. "Grand Admiral Thrawn has always been precise in his attacks, Moff Gideon." He said with a stern voice. "We are quite certain that none of their forces survived."
Pellaeon observed the Moff's reaction. As well as the others present at the meeting. "What were you even doing at Obroa-Skai?" Gallius Rax asked venomously, "This was not part of the grand plan."
Pellaeon pursed his lips. While they were part of the Imperial Shadow Council, he didn't understand quite yet as to Thrawn's hesitation in sharing certain details. He looked over at Thrawn for an answer, but the Grand Admirals was busy reading the information retrieved from the scanning raid.
"I am not at liberty to say," Pellaeon began to say.
Moff Gideon frowned at his response. "Captain Pellaeon," he said in a harsh but stern tone, "You've always spoken with such diligence. However, the rest of the council—as well as I, had been wondering when we would be allowed to speak with Grand Admiral Thrawn himself. Surely by now he'd have a plan of action for his great return."
Pellaeon grunted at Gideon's sarcastic remarks and cursed at himself. At the corner of his eye, he could see Thrawn look up at him, remaining silent. Even after two years of returning to the galaxy and being accepted into the Imperial Shadow Council, Thrawn himself has never spoken directly with the members nor even appeared to them in any meeting. Pellaeon had to be his eyes and ears, and speak for the Grand Admiral. And while he was aware that the rest of the Imperial Shadow Council were growing tired and waiting, the Grand Admiral remained vigilant of his presence. "I assure you all," Pellaeon said cautiously, "Grand Admiral Thrawn will reveal his grand plan—when the time is right. And it would behoove you all if you would allow us that time to expand our resources."
"Very well, then", Rae Sloane said to end the conversation, "I suggest that the rest of us focus on expanding and maintaining our sectors. That should give Grand Admiral Thrawn enough time to share his idea of a plan."
Pellaeon looked over at Thrawn. He nodded in approval. "Very well then," Pellaeon spoke once again, "We will contact you all when we are ready. The Grand Admiral wishes you all success on your missions."
Slowly, one by one the holographic members of the Imperial Shadow Council left the meeting. Once they were all gone, Pellaeon looked over at Thrawn again from across the table. "With all due respect," he spoke, "Why didn't you want me to inform the Imperial Shadow Council of our activities over at Obroa-Sakai?"
"The Rebellion has tabs on both Admiral Rax and Captain Pryde." Thrawn explained in a smooth manner, "Either way, it would be unwise to simply reveal our every move." Pellaeon frowned across the table. Thrawn was fiddling with a data card, rubbing it absently between finger and thumb. A strange smile formed across his lips. "Admiral?" he asked carefully.
Thrawn turned his head, his bright glowing red eyes coming to rest on Pellaeon. "The second piece of the puzzle, Captain," he said softly, "The piece I've been searching for over two years for." Abruptly, he turned to the intercom and jabbed on it. "Bridge: This is Thrawn. Signal the Death's Head that we'll be temporarily leaving the system. Then set course for a planet called Myrkr—the nav computer has its coordinates."
The bridge acknowledged, and Thrawn turned back to Pellaeon. "You seem lost, Captain," he suggested, "I take it you never heard of Myrkr?"
Pellaeon shook his head, trying to read the Grand Admiral's expression, yet failing to do so. "Should I have?" he asked in defeat.
"Probably not," Thrawn confessed, "Only those who have been smugglers, malcontents, or otherwise useless dregs of the galaxy." He paused, taking a deep breath as he ran his finger across his scar. "I ran across an offhand reference to it some fourteen years ago. What caught my attention was the fact that, although the planet has been populated for nearly three hundred years, both the Old Republic and the Jedi Order seemed to leave it strictly alone. Your thoughts, Captain?"
"I'd assume it's a frontier planet. One too far away to have any interest within the core worlds." Pellaeon shrugged.
"Very good, Captain," Thrawn spoke enthusiastically, "That was my initial impression as well. Except that it's not. Myrkr, in fact, is no more than a hundred fifty light years away. Certainly well within the Old Republic's boundaries." Thrawn dropped his eyes to the data card still in his hand. "No, the actual explanation is far more interesting. And far more useful." Thrawn pressed a switch on the table. A hologram of a lizard-like creature no bigger than fifty centimeters in length. Pellaeon's eyes widened in surprise.
"What in the Empire is that?", he asked in all sincerity.
"The first piece of the puzzle, Captain." Thrawn dropped his eyes to the data card in front of him. "And this—the second piece of the puzzle. A world called Wayland. And with the information we took from the Obroans, I have finally have its location."
"I congratulate you, Admiral." Pellaeon said, suddenly tired of this game, "May I ask just what exactly the puzzle is?"
Thrawn smiled—a cold sinister smile. One that sends shivers up Pellaeon's back. "Why, the only puzzle worth solving, of course." the Grand Admiral said in an almost dreamy tone, "The complete, total, and utter destruction of the Rebellion."
