Summary

(Heir to the Empire/Thrawn Trilogy re-imagining).

Jedi who play by their own rules. A woman with a mysterious past. Master and apprentice, on the precipice of a universe-shattering discovery. Estranged allies ready to emerge from the shadows. Old enemies preparing to strike.

A powerful dagger waiting to forge a new destiny.

The tide is turning. Grand Admiral Thrawn has returned from exile and has his sights set on reclaiming the known galaxy in the name of the Empire. On Peridea, ancient forces are stirring that could change the course of history, and possibly alter the very fabric of reality itself. Worlds apart, each band of heroes must once again face the looming threat of darkness before it destroys everything they hold dear. Will Light triumph? Or is the path ahead much more perilous than anyone could have imagined?

A/N: This was meant to be a oneshot, something of a "what-if" continuation after the events of Ahsoka that pulled a little more from Zahn's original Thrawn Trilogy. Unfortunately, thanks to a probable lack of dopamine in my system my brain struggles to keep new projects small and manageable even when I already have multiple old WIPs already crying for my attention. So the oneshot is now a full-on attempt to write my own version of Heir to the Empire. In my mind, nothing will ever measure up to the original novels, but I fell down the speculation rabbit hole again and decided this would be a fun way to word vomit my ideas in a more organized manner. I make no promises about my ability to see this through to completion as a) due to the aforementioned dopamine problem my track record of follow through is notoriously bad, and b) I have actual writing assignments for school I need to prioritize, but I will do my best. May the Force be with you, and I hope you enjoy :)

THE SPACE BETWEEN STARS

"[M]y grandmother would get very annoyed when anyone would talk about 'the power of love.' Love, she insisted, is not power, which she considered always coercive. To love is to be vulnerable; and it is only in vulnerability and risk—not safety and security—that we overcome darkness."

"All of those who are willing to face the darkness bring the best of themselves to the light, for the world."

- Madeleine L'Engle

~.~

"Love is the one thing we're capable of perceiving that transcends dimensions of time and space. Maybe we should trust that, even if we can't understand it."

-Dr. Amelia Brand, Interstellar

PROLOGUE: An Alternative Strategy

This was troubling. Very troubling indeed.

Captain Gilad Pellaeon regarded the hologram with a stony countenance. To the inexperienced observer, his demeanor revealed nothing but the impassive stoicism that befitted a man of his rank and status. But to anyone familiar with the officer, his true feelings were more than evident - silent anxieties hidden in fine print, scrawled in the twitch of his eye and the clench of his jaw.

"You are concerned, Captain," a cool voice uttered from the shadows.

Pellaeon wrung his hands behind his back, but his expression did not change. "Forgive me, sir," he said, treading carefully. "But isn't this worthy cause for concern?"

The voice drew nearer, accompanied by the telltale click of polished boot heels on the floor. "Of course, Captain," it replied, its cadence as smooth as Pellaeon remembered it. "No need to be ashamed. Your concern is warranted."

Grand Admiral Thrawn emerged from the darkened corner of the room, striding towards his desk with an air of incontestable authority. Although he was glad of his commander's rather miraculous return, Pellaeon felt a twinge of fear at their close proximity. Thrawn was no threat to him, he knew. But even still, the admiral inspired intimidation in the hearts of all who were smart enough to know their place in his presence.

"Relax, Captain," Thrawn continued as if reading Pellaeon's thoughts. He eased himself down onto his chair, then extended an arm to the officer. "Please, sit."

Pellaeon released a tense breath and lowered himself onto the chair opposite his commander. The admiral waved a hand to his left, signaling a younger officer stationed at a counter at the far end of the room. "Fetch us some drinks, if you would," he said with a small nod. "The Captain has had a long day and is in need of refreshment."

The young officer - whose name Pellaeon could not recall - placed a decanter and two glasses atop a tray and carried the items over to the desk. Without a word she poured a helping of blood-red wine into each glass before capping the bottle and once again standing at attention. By the quiver in her bottom lip, Pellaeon could tell that she too felt the instinct to cower in Thrawn's shadow. For a moment he couldn't help but feel the slightest bit sorry for her.

"That will be all," the admiral said. "You may go."

The young officer offered a silent salute before turning on her heel and disappearing from the room.

"Now then. Let us address this concern."

Thrawn indicated the glowing blue image floating in the space above his desk and took a sip from his glass. Pellaeon followed suit, fighting back a grimace.

Two figures stood frozen in time, poised in attack against a squad of Night Troopers. One figure sported a dark scruffy beard, two scars on his left cheek, and a grotesque chain necklace made of Imperial dog tags. The other was fair-haired, clean-shaven, and wore a distinct leather glove on his right hand. Each wielded a lightsaber that cut through his opponents with bone-chilling precision. Together, Pellaeon knew they were a force to be reckoned with. He felt his stomach churn, and he took a large swig of wine to calm the storm of dread brewing inside him.

"Tell me, Captain," Thrawn went on. "What is it about this hologram that distresses you?"

Pellaeon swallowed back the knot forming in his throat. "Well, sir," he began, not entirely certain why the admiral wanted him to state the obvious, "based on our last known intel, Skywalker was away, hunting for Jedi artifacts." He sucked in a shaky breath. "But based on this new intel, he's apparently returned from his travels."

Thrawn raised an eyebrow. "And?"

Pellaeon fiddled with his glass. "And…well…it appears he's teamed up with Bridger, sir."

Thrawn's lips curled into a tiny smile. Pellaeon found the sight somewhat unsettling - not because he was unused to the idea of Thrawn smiling, but because this seemed a most inappropriate moment to do so. Ever since the warlord had returned from his exile beyond the known galaxy, he had been catching up on his history. He knew now of the defeat of the Empire at the hands of the Rebellion and of the major players who had contributed to its downfall. Two particular rebels had caught his attention: Leia Organa and Luke Skywalker. The former he had quickly identified as his greatest adversary in the political sphere, observing that the late senator's daughter would be a formidable opponent as the leader of the New Republic Defense Council. The existence of the latter was an equally troubling revelation. Not only had the legendary Anakin Skywalker left behind a former apprentice, he had also left behind a son, who had grown into a powerful Jedi in his own right. And if the reverent whispers throughout the galaxy were to be believed, it was this Jedi who had been responsible for bringing about Emperor Palpatine's demise.

Much to the Shadow Council's dismay, Organa had lived up to Thrawn's expectations of her. The council had hoped that even with the unfortunate reappearance of Ezra Bridger, the New Republic's defense effort would still be weakened by Skywalker's absence. But Organa was nothing if not quick to action, and she had sent word to the Jedi of the looming crisis. He had, predictably, abandoned his archaeological quest to come to her aid, and now it seemed he and Bridger had formed some kind of alliance and were currently mowing down every Imperial task force that the council sent their way.

"You are worried that this partnership will spell our inevitable defeat."

Pellaeon reached for the decanter and poured himself another glass. He hadn't wanted to speak the words aloud for fear that they might come true. "Yes," he murmured almost shamefully, before drowning his apprehension in another swig of wine.

The admiral's smile, however, did not falter. "Like I stated, Captain," he said, "there is no need to be ashamed of your concern. It is entirely valid." He downed a bit more of his drink. "However, there is also no need to despair. In war, one must always prepare for every conceivable scenario and adjust one's plans accordingly. I predicted that this unfortunate alliance might occur, and so while the council has been, rather uselessly, throwing every ounce of might they have at the problem, I have instead been taking the necessary steps to deal with it properly."

Pellaeon froze mid-sip and lowered his glass. "Sir?"

There was a glint in Thrawn's eye now. "Let me ask you this, Captain. When a battle strategy is proving to be ineffective, do you insist on its continued usage?"

The captain shook his head. "Of course not, sir. That would be unwise."

"So what, pray tell, would you do instead?"

"I - I would seek an alternative strategy, sir."

The warlord's grin widened. "Very good, Captain." He lifted his glass towards Pellaeon in something resembling a toast. "I have been seeking an alternative strategy to combat our Jedi dilemma. The council's efforts to dispatch unit after unit of Imperial troops have done nothing but waste valuable resources. Their solution, is, simply put, too big of an operation."

Pellaeon frowned. "What do you mean, sir?"

"What I mean," Thrawn replied, "is that the council's strategy is far too obvious and therefore far too easy for the Jedi to thwart. What we need is something on a smaller scale, something much more covert."

The captain drummed his fingers against his glass, the only visible sign that he was impatient for answers. "Do you mean something like a bounty hunter, sir?"

The admiral shook his head, amusement dancing across his scarlet eyes. "Not quite, Captain. Similar, but something infinitely more effective."

Confusion threaded its way through Pelleaon's mind. But before he could voice his thoughts, Thrawn pressed the commlink button on his desk. "Enoch?" he called.

The low, hollow voice of Thrawn's gold-faced Night Trooper cut through the static. "Yes, Grand Admiral?"

"You may enter now."

Both Pellaeon and Thrawn rose to their feet as the doors to Thrawn's office slid open with a hiss. In marched Enoch and another trooper bound with the signature maroon wrappings that marked him as one of the warlord's own.

A third figure stood between them, a sackcloth obscuring its head.

Pellaeon grabbed his glass and gulped down another slug of wine to prevent his jaw from falling open in shock. The mysterious figure, by the looks of it, was some poor woman who had seen far better days. Her slender body was clad in a dark, tattered jumpsuit that looked like it might fall apart at the seams. Her long black boots wore innumerable scars of toil and travel, and the brown scarf draped around her shoulders was fraying at the edges. The only thing that looked remotely new was the set of brass goggles dangling from her neck.

The captain resisted the urge to flinch as the troopers dragged the woman forward and forced her to her knees. He could hear a muffled grunting sound emanating from beneath the sackcloth, so he could only assume that the woman had also been gagged. His eyes flitted to Thrawn, an unspoken question written in his gaze.

Thrawn said nothing. He instead looked away and nodded at Enoch. "Proceed," he said calmly.

In one swift motion, the gold-faced trooper yanked the cloth off the woman's head, revealing a crown of red-gold hair.

"Captain Pellaeon," the admiral declared, indicating their guest with an outstretched arm."I'd like to introduce you to someone. Meet our alternative strategy."

A/N: You really didn't think I'd leave her out of this, did you? :)))