Normally, the corridors of the Imperial Military Headquarters on Coruscant would have been a somewhat comforting place for him. He had been there quite a few times before, after all. But in all thirty-six years of his service to the navy, the middle-aged Gilad Pellaeon was never more nervous than he was now...
...for he was about to come face to face with an almost-certainly irate Emperor Sheev Palpatine, and his equally angry Sith Enforcer, Darth Vader.
He was not certain that he would make it out of this meeting alive, and had thus passed instructions along to his executive officer aboard the Harbinger to take command in the event of his death. Those in charge of the Empire were almost certainly looking to make an example of someone if nothing but to calm themselves down and rid themselves of the blame.
As he came before the doors to the conference chambers, flanked by two Royal Guards who had been sent to escort him, he could not help but feel that this was the moment of his death. He was almost certain that His Grace would find a way to blame him for the catastrophe at Arcadia, even though he had been doing his duty and had only retreated with his squadron on the Grand Admiral's orders.
Sighing and resigning himself to whatever fate was in store for him, he nodded to the guards to open the vast doors for him.
Stepping into the room, he first noticed the Emperor sitting on the largest chair at the far end of the giant, ebony-colored rectangular table- a standard Imperial design with a holograph projector in the middle and chairs all around. The Emperor sat with his hands folded in front of his face, and Pellaeon could see nothing of his expression save for those piercing, sulfuric yellow eyes that seemed to burn right through his soul like a plasma beam. Besides, the Emperor on the right stood the tall, menacing presence of Darth Vader, his mechanical breathing drowning out any other source of sound in the room.
Sitting around the table were the Joint Chiefs of Imperial High Command- General Cassio Tagge of the Imperial Army, Admiral Conan Motti of the Imperial Navy, Colonel Wulf Yularen of the Imperial Security Bureau, Director Armand Isard of Imperial Intelligence, as well as Grand Vizier Mas Amedda, Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin, Grand Inquisitor Malleus, and two faces he had never seen before- one a young, tan human woman with short red hair and a forlorn face, and the other a human male with a pale visage and a metal jaw, who looked absolutely bored.
"Ah, and here is the man who brought us the message," Palpatine rasped in a low and dangerous tone. "Commodore Pellaeon, would you please kindly inform us of the events that lead to this...disaster over Arcadia?"
Pellaeon gulped and began to recount the events of those two hours.
"When we arrived in-system around 0400 on 7 November 7975, it seemed at first that everything had been going according to Operation: Shieldbreaker as scheduled. The Arcadian government was in disarray, and their defense grid and communications were down, thanks to Agent Krai and Agent Bolton, here, respectively," he began, acknowledging the two new faces in the room. "At 0405, Grand Admiral Thrawn ordered the fleet to halt in place, as the Arcadian Home Fleet did not move to engage us at that time. It was at this time that Admiral Kassius Konstantine broke ranks and ignored orders, charging his Fourth Fleet towards the planet's defenses. The Fourth Fleet was wiped out by a ship-borne improvised explosive device that we believed to be primarily composed of rhydonium. Casualties were near total. It was then that the Arcadian Home Fleet appeared, and we became locked in space combat. One hour into the battle, we were beginning to gain the upper hand, and our forces on the surface reported progress being made into the shield generator base and into the city. It was then an unexpected event occurred that changed our fortunes for the worse,"
"Unexpected?" Tarkin questioned him.
"An unknown force wiped out General Veers and his forces near Mount Theron. We don't know where this...thing...came from, nor what it exactly was. All we received was an audio transmission from one of our walkers before it was destroyed," Pellaeon informed. He took a recorder from his pocket and began to play the transmission.
"Venerable, this is Kath Hound 2! Taking fire from an unknown force! Massive casualties! Lost Kath Hounds 4 and 6. Requesting air support- shit, here it comes! Brace!"
The transmission abruptly ended with the sound of a loud, shrill cry- similar to an Acklay's but louder- and static. Turning off the recorder, Pellaeon looked at the assembled council and continued his speech.
"At Lanopolis, it was reported by our forces that we were being held back by a Force-user. Ninth Sister went in to engage this person and failed. At two hours, Arcadian reinforcements from Sakifwanna showed up at our rear, and as we were still engaging the Arcadian Home Fleet, our fleet was surrounded in an envelopment, and being unable to fight out of the pincer movement, Thrawn ordered my squadron and I to retreat. It was when we had arrived at Vandor six hours later that I heard of his surrender and our defeat."
With that, Pellaeon concluded his briefing, and what followed afterward was silence.
A long silence.
As the quiet wore on, Pellaeon became increasingly anxious. He was almost certain now that he was going to be executed on the orders of the Emperor.
"What was the name of the commander Thrawn faced?" Tarkin finally asked.
"I think I know that," was the black-haired man's answer. "His name is Robb Stark. He was a general of great renown on my home planet."
"How did we never hear of this man before?" Tagge asked him.
"I believe that he went by an alias," the red-haired woman answered him. "We believe that he went by the nom de guerre 'The Grey Wolf' during his time as an agent of Arcadian Intelligence, and some time afterward."
"I can corroborate Agent Krai's account," Yularen spoke up. "We've been tracking the Grey Wolf's activities across the Outer Rim, and according to Agent Krai and Grand Inquisitor Malleus, he and the Iron Fist have joined up with the Rebellion."
"Yes, they were spotted with two known rebels. Sabine Wren of Krownest and Ezra Bridger of Lothal," Krai confirmed, though Pellaeon detected a little pain in her voice.
"So the Arcadians have entered an alliance with traitors," Tarkin mused. "This will unnecessarily complicate problems. To make matters worse, we are now spread too thin across the Outer Rim. How thoroughly, I must wonder, was the Old Boar able to infiltrate our ranks and learn of our plans."
"We sussed out every possible spy in our ranks, Rebel or Arcadian," Isard defended. "If there was any intelligence leak, it must have come from the ISB!"
"You're a fool if you think that, Armand," Yularnen shot back.
"Oh really? Your best student betrayed you and fled to the Rebellion like a beat dog," Isard countered. "Meanwhile, we've no traitors in our ranks!"
"And yet somehow the Arcadians were able to find out about our plans," Yularen muttered.
"Perhaps if Motti had better picket lines at Vandor, Thrakas Lund would not have learned of our fleet," Tagge suggested, to which Motti shot him a dirty look.
"If we're assigning blame, then maybe we should also blame Orson Krennic for taking too damned long with Project Stardust. Had the Death Star been completed by now, we could have wiped Arcadia off the map and be done with it," Motti countered.
"And lose its abundant resources?" Tarkin questioned. "I daresay that I think you've gone quite mad if you think that destroying every world that raises its little finger towards us is the right course of action. The Death Star, as designed, is a weapon one only needs to fire once. Fear of force, gentlemen, not force itself, is what keeps the peace," Tarkin said, and then looked pointedly at Motti, "and as I recall, sir, you were the one who pushed the invasion plan while Thrawn disagreed. You were the one who used his connections to His Majesty to get this… abomination approved," he spoke, in a calm, low voice.
All eyes turned to the Emperor, who did not move a muscle but instead cast his piercing gaze towards Motti, who began to sweat in sheets. "It seems, admiral, that most of the blame can be assigned to you. You, who ordered our greatest asset into a trap. I must wonder why. Perhaps it is because you felt threatened that he would take your place at the table? That he would dictate naval strategy at your expense?" Palpatine sighed. "It seems in your jealousy, Motti, you have failed utterly, and in my navy, I have no patience for those who have completely failed such as you," he proclaimed.
The head of the navy looked around in an apparent panic, his eyes begging for Tarkin to save him, while the older man just regarded him with a cold, calculating expression. Alliances only went so far in the upper echelons of the Empire, after all.
"Y-your grace, please," Motti began to plead, his voice cracking and his normally-proud facade giving way to reveal the scared, sniveling wretch underneath. "H-he did not deserve your respect! He was a nonhuman! A worthless creature! I-I didn't know that they would counteract our plans! P-please have mercy!"
As Pellaeon saw, the Emperor simply rolled his eyes and gave a subtle nod to Vader, who silently strode forth and lifted his right arm, closing his hand in a 'strangling' motion.
Suddenly, Motti stopped speaking and began to choke. It was as if an invisible rope had wrapped itself around his neck, and was growing ever tighter, denying him sweet, precious air, as everyone looked on him in horror and fascination.
Without warning, Vader closed his fist, and a sickening snap was heard as Motti's head bend sideways, falling limp onto the table.
He never rose again.
Vader motioned to two stormtroopers guarding one of the exits, who proceeded to lift the dead Motti out of his chair and carry him out of the room. With that, Vader returned to stand beside his lord and master, not saying a word. Death incarnate, was Pellaeon's only thought as he regarded Vader at that moment.
Palpatine folded his hands and gripped them on his chair, seemingly satiated at least that someone was punished for failure, but still looking quite disappointed. "Gentlemen, I would be remiss to say that I am still very disappointed in each and every one of you. Thanks to your collective bungling, our Empire skirts closer to the edge of absolute disaster," he rasped, turning towards Malleus, "how were you not able to kill Bridger? You are the Grand Inquisitor, one of our finest Jedi hunters, and yet you were fought to a standstill by a Padawan?" he asked, incredulous.
"The boy has grown powerful, my master," was Malleus' carefully worded answer. "He has not only learned much from Kanan Jarrus, but he was also taught by Ahsoka Tano while she was still among the living, as well as learning from several Holocrons he picked up over the years. Very few can penetrate my mental defenses, master, yet he was able to do it with ease. Not to mention that if the reports are true, he managed to halt an entire battalion of troopers with the Force, and fought the Ninth Sister until Arcadian reinforcements arrived."
"I see," Palpatine mused, "if he could be turned, he would make a great asset. He could very well be the key to…" he trailed off, then turned to Vader. "Lord Vader, I want you to pour every resource into finding Bridger and his friends. He is the key we need for complete domination of this universe. Once you have him, bring him, and we will unlock the true secret of Lothal."
"As you wish, my master," Vader rumbled, his deep, mechanical voice echoing throughout the chambers.
With that, Palpatine turned towards Pellaeon once more. "As you survived the battle, and we are in need of officers of Thrawn's caliber and expertise, I will congratulate your rapid promotion to the rank of Admiral, Gilad Pellaeon. Please, take Motti's former seat as Chief of Staff for the Navy," he proclaimed with a smiling face, gesturing his hand to the now-empty seat. Pellaeon saw it for what it was, though- it was not a request. It was a command.
And he dared not disobey His Grace.
Sitting down on the seat, he found a guard presenting him with an admiral's rank bar. Taking the rank, he quickly replaced his commodore's rank with it, handing the old rank to the guard, who scurried away in a hurry.
"Now, to the matter at hand," Palpatine announced, "We must pursue a new strategy for prosecuting this war, at least until the completion of the Death Star."
"Agreed, your majesty," Tarkin spoke up. "The battle at Arcadia has shown to us severe flaws in our current military doctrine."
"Most notably our over-reliance on walkers," Tagge argued. "The AT-AT has its uses as a force deterrent and a siege weapon, aye, but it is too slow and vulnerable to more mobile forces. Hence, gentlemen, why I propose we use these," he said, pulling up something on the holoprojector, which came to life and showcased a heavily armored repulsor tank. "Gentlemen, this is the S-1 Firehawk main battle tank. Fast, strong, and devastating. It is in all respects a match for the Arcadian M102 tank. I am told that Colonel Johans has had remarkable success with these tanks in the 112th Armored Regiment. Combine these with our ITTs, we will have a much more mobile and sizable force on the ground ready to counter the Arcadians."
"Well, that may have the ground game covered, but we must also place a priority on the naval game," Pellaeon argued. "The losses at Arcadia represented a fifth of our standing forces in the Outer Rim. We're stretched far too thin to hold every system at present, even if we still have tens of thousands of destroyers and tens of billions of troops at our disposal."
"Indeed," Tarkin agreed. "I've received innumerable reports from Eriadu about uprisings breaking out all over the Outer Rim. If we are to contain them, we must draw forces from the Core Worlds, and that is a risk I'm loathed to take, as I'm sure are you. So, Admiral Pellaeon, what do you propose?"
Pellaeon thought about this for a moment. He then recalled something Thrawn once said to him- he who defends everywhere defends nowhere. It was there that he had his answer.
"The Outer Rim is vast," he answered, "and much of it is underdeveloped and not worth much in strategic value. While it is true that we cannot abandon the Outer Rim in its entirety, we can neither afford to defend every system. As it stands currently, the Arcadians are able to concentrate their forces far better than we can, not to mention our supply convoys being attacked by Rebel fighters on a near-daily basis, now. Therefore, I propose this;" he said, taking a breath before delivering his answer. "We pull back from sectors that have little to no strategic value and instead concentrate our forces on defending the major hyperspace routes and industrial centers. When we pull back, we take everything with us and leave nothing for the Arcadians or the Rebels to acquire. Destroy fuel centers, rip up power lines, and take every item of food and water we can with us. Let the Arcadians extend their own supply lines to the breaking point, while we sit rested and well supplied for the battles to come. Once they have expended themselves trying to hold on to so much territory, we throw them back and force them to come to terms. We have the numbers and the men, we just need to be sure to use them properly," he finished. An uneasy pit settled in his stomach, however. Scorched earth was the last thing he wanted to do, but in the face of this disaster, it was the only thing that made sense in the long-run. He would make sure that the Navy got the people who would suffer this the supplies they needed once they won this war.
If they won this war.
"I see," Palpatine mused, "playing the Arcadians' own strength in defense against them. It's very poetic. Worthy of your mentor, I have to say," he said, then looked right at Pellaeon. "I am sure that you will not fail in your task, admiral."
Pellaeon understood the threat behind the words. "If the Empire requires that I give my own life for failure or defeat, then I will gladly give it, my liege," he answered, truthfully and honestly. He had the opportunity to betray the Empire before, with his previous superior, Grand Admiral Savit, and in the end, he chose his duty to his country over loyalty to any man.
The Emperor grinned and nodded towards him. "Then it is settled, then. Gentlemen, I leave it to you to prosecute this war in any manner you see fit. Just be sure to bring me victory… and the head of Alexios and his sister on a platter," he commanded. "Come, Lord Vader, Inquisitor Malleus. There are matters that we must discuss in private."
With that, the Emperor got up out of his chair and walked towards the exit, flanked by his two royal guardsmen and followed closely by Vader and Malleus. As soon as the dark-siders had left, the rest of the Joint Chiefs of Staff began to leave as well, intent on carrying out their duty...and winning favor and glory if it could be helped.
Before he could leave, however, Tarkin halted him, beckoning him over. "Admiral, a moment of your time, if you will," he asked...without really asking.
Curious, Pellaeon obliged him, coming to sit next to the Grand Moff.
"Motti was a fool about many things," the Governor of the Outer Rim Oversector confessed, "but he was correct in his assessment of Krennic's ineptitude and sloth. Once this project is completed, I will be taking command of the Death Star. I have a mind to use it on Arcadia or one of its outlying bases first before we destroy the Rebels with it, but even if we destroy our enemies without, it does nothing for our enemies within," Tarkin warned.
"Enemies within?" Pellaeon questioned.
"I forget that you are new to the politics and infighting in the upper ranks. There are more than a few general officers, governors, senators, and magistrates who wish to usurp the throne and seize the Empire for themselves. As long as Vader is there to protect our Emperor, I have no fear of them. The one I am concerned about, however, is Malleus," Tarkin answered, and sighed. "After the Jedi had largely been dealt with, I warned His Grace that keeping the Inquisitorius around was risky. One sect of Force-users had betrayed him, after all. Who is to say this one won't? And Malleus is the most crafty and conniving of them all. Never be fooled by that man's smile and piety- underneath that mask is a lion ready to pounce on its prey when the opportunity presents itself."
"I'm sure Lord Vader could handle him," Pellaeon argued.
"That is true, but Vader is only one man. The Inquisition has dozens. They are weaker than Lord Vader, but even a powerful man can be undone by insurmountable odds. And if they take him out…"
"The Emperor will follow…" Pellaeon finished.
Tarkin nodded. "Correct, my friend. And then comes madness. Madness and stupidity. Once I take command of the Death Star, I will push for the Emperor and Lord Vader to disband and disbar the Inquisitorius, and once the Rebellion and Arcadia are crushed, I expect a long peace to follow."
"Well," Pellaeon said, "let us hope so."
"I almost forgot," Tarkin remembered," I wanted to introduce you to my protege. Admiral Pellaeon, I wish for you to meet my liaison to you, Commander Ellain Zahra. She has succeeded every task I've set for her, and I expect greater things to come from her in the future," he said. His voice was as pointed as ever, but over the years serving with Thrawn, Pellaeon picked up on some pride seeping through Tarkin's tone.
He's grooming her to be his heir, he quickly realized.
A tall, young human woman stepped forth from the shadows. Her ebony hair was cut short and was slicked back, where it barely reached the nape of her neck. Her cold, calculating blue eyes complimented her pale features, while her dark red lips were set in a neutral line. Like her mentor, she neither smiled nor frowned, but instead simply studied Pellaeon with a predatory gaze, as if she were a lioness stalking her prey.
Like father, like daughter, Pellaeon thought.
"Hello, Admiral Pellaeon," she greeted. "My mentor has told me a great many things about your own superior. I'm curious if you live up to Thrawn's reputation. It would be a shame if the man's lessons fell on deaf ears."
"I'm sure the Admiral will perform quite well, Commander Zarha," Tarkin reassured, but Pellaeon picked up on the threat behind the words. Any failure will be met with swift death and disgrace. "Which reminds me… I am assigning the commander to be my personal liaison to you during the duration of the Outer Rim campaign. I have taught her everything I know in regards to politics, military tactics, and strategy, but it's high time that she learns what it means to command a fleet. I can think of no better way to do this than to accompany you on your mission."
Not to mention it would be the best opportunity for you to keep your eyes and ears on me at all times, Pellaeon thought. But he chose to keep that to himself, and instead answered, "If she's anything like you, governor, I have no doubt that she'll excel."
Tarkin said nothing in response, but instead offered a slight smile and a nod of encouragement, then got up to leave. "Admiral, Commander, it is here we must part. I will head for Eriadu and prepare. I bid you goodbye and good fortunes."
With that, Tarkin left the conference room, leaving just Pellaeon and Zarha in the cold, cool chamber.
The younger woman turned towards the older man, her eyes always calculating, but Gilad could detect a hint of excitement behind those hard blue orbs. The kind of excitement you see when a hunter finds her prey.
"Well, Admiral," she spoke, her voice commanding yet inviting, "shall we begin?"
A/N: 'Nother chapter is done!
If anyone is unfamiliar with Ellain Zarha, she's essentially the "canon replacement" for Daala, who was a major figure in the post-ROTJ Legends-verse. Unfortunately, in canon Zarha is rather underutilized, so here I will be making proper rectifications.
The Empire is reeling from their defeat at Arcadia, but are gearing, as ever, to strike back. I'm not entirely sure yet if I want to do a Sloane or an Irene chapter next, but after this next one will start Ezra's "Trial of the Spirit" among other things.
Till next time!