Location: Chandrila, Political District
Date: 5 ABY, Late Morning
The political district hummed with quiet activity, the distant murmur of speeders and the rustle of officials outside blending into an unremarkable background. Inside Thrawn's office, the stillness was interrupted as Captain Eli Vanto burst through the doors, his uniform slightly askew and his face pale.
"Thrawn," Eli's voice was tense, his accent sharper than usual. "The calculations... the hyperspace attacks… they affected my world. I haven't received any news from my family."
Admiral Ar'alani followed a few paces behind, her stride measured but her face betraying discomfort.
"I'm sorry, Thrawn," she said quickly, her tone softer than usual. "I had to tell him. He was insistent."
Thrawn looked up from his desk, his crimson eyes calm, calculating. "No apologies are necessary, Ziara," he said evenly, standing and clasping his hands behind his back. "Eli, your concern is understandable, but you must not let personal ties cloud your judgment. These attacks were a calculated necessity to slow the Vong's expansion."
Eli's fists clenched, but he swallowed hard, biting back the retort forming on his lips. "I… I don't think it'll last long," he said, his voice strained.
"Calm yourself," Thrawn's voice was soothing but firm, like a father chastising an impatient child. "Even if my people were affected, I would still make the same decisions if it meant safeguarding the galaxy. Sacrifices, while painful, are sometimes unavoidable for the greater good."
Eli's lips pressed into a thin line, his thoughts racing. For a moment, he looked as though he might argue further, but then he exhaled, nodding stiffly.
"You have my promise, Eli," Thrawn continued. "Once this invasion is resolved, your people will not only survive but thrive under protection."
"Well…" Eli hesitated, his shoulders sagging. "I don't see any other choice than to accept your promise."
Thrawn inclined his head, acknowledging the small victory. "Good. Now, Ziara, based on your findings, Chiss space was unaffected by these attacks, yes?"
Ar'alani nodded. "From my sources, it wasn't affected. However, nearby systems were hit hard."
"I see." Thrawn's voice carried a hint of satisfaction.
The room fell silent for a beat as the trio processed the conversation. Finally, Thrawn broke the quiet.
"During my time with the Empire," he said, "I opposed certain superweapons—projects like the Death Star or the Star Destroyer Conqueror. Their designs were crude and overreliant on fear. But now…" He paused, his gaze turning to the large tactical map displayed on the room's wall. "I see their purpose in a new light."
Eli raised an eyebrow, his voice cautious. "We have all sorts of contingencies regarding weapons we can use."
"Yes. And Grand Admiral Sloane has already begun constructing Phase-II Conquerors," Thrawn explained, gesturing to the map. "These ships will serve as our answer to the Vong capital ships. Their blueprints, as you know, owe much to Vader's discoveries on Mustafar and Exegol."
Ar'alani frowned slightly. "Sloane is an unusual ally, given her history."
"Yes," Thrawn agreed. "Her involvement in Gallius Rax's Operation Cinder was... regrettable. However, her redemption lies in her actions since then. She has proven invaluable, particularly in freeing slaves from Hutt Space and Kessel, and now, in constructing the tools we require to meet this organic threat head-on."
Eli still looked uneasy. "And what happens if the New Republic takes issue with these attacks? You know they'll demand accountability."
"I will take full responsibility," Thrawn replied without hesitation. "The success of this campaign—and the survival of the galaxy—requires bold action. I will not shy away from the consequences."
Ar'alani nodded in approval. "What about the Chiss Ascendancy's involvement? Surely you'll require our assistance sooner rather than later."
"Indeed," Thrawn said, turning to her. "How many Star Flash weapons does the Ascendancy currently possess?"
"Two."
"Good. We'll require them soon enough," Thrawn said. "But first, we must utilize Sloane's Phase-II Conquerors. While not as devastating as the Death Star, they possess the firepower necessary to obliterate entire moons—and perhaps even fleets."
"And what do you want of the Ascendancy?" Ar'alani asked.
Thrawn's gaze remained steady. "The Ascendancy will remain neutral for now. However, your advisory role will be important in ensuring we're prepared."
Ar'alani inclined her head, her respect for Thrawn evident despite their differing allegiances.
"Keep me informed," she said. "I'll continue gathering intelligence from Chiss space. Let me know when the Star Flash is needed."
"Of course," Thrawn said.
With a final nod, Ar'alani excused herself, leaving Thrawn and Eli alone in the room.
Eli shifted awkwardly, his mind clearly still on his homeworld. Thrawn walked to the large, rectangular window overlooking Chandrila's political district. The planetary shields shimmered faintly in the sky, a new addition meant to protect the Core from future attacks.
"You've done well, Eli," Thrawn said after a moment. "Your calculations were critical to this operation's success."
Eli didn't respond immediately. When he did, his voice was quiet. "I hope it was worth it."
"It was," Thrawn said firmly. "And now, we prepare for the next phase." He turned back to Eli, his expression resolute.
"The Hyperspace Attacks have bought us time. Now, we refine our strategy. Finalize the sketches of our targeted areas. When the time comes, we'll strike with precision and purpose. The enemy will not see it coming."
Eli nodded slowly, his doubts still present but buried under a layer of duty. "Understood. I will do what we must."
As Thrawn gazed out at the city once more, the faint hum of Chandrila's bustling activity below seemed almost peaceful. But he knew better. This was the calm before the storm—a storm he would command to secure the galaxy's survival.
XX
Location: New Jedi Temple, Chandrila
Time: Late Morning
The sparring room buzzed with energy, the hum of lightsabers slicing through the air like a melodic rhythm. Kata Akuna moved swiftly, her strikes precise, but Spectre Seven was always one step ahead. The former Inquisitor twirled her saber in a fluid motion, blocking and parrying each attack with effortless grace.
From the sidelines, Sabine Wren leaned back on the sofa, balancing Ygnacio Bridger on her lap as he babbled. Ezra Bridger stood nearby, his arms crossed, a soft grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he observed the session.
Luke Skywalker entered the room, pausing just inside the doorway. For once, he'd slept in—a rare luxury—and Kata had gone ahead with her training without him. He felt a twinge of guilt but quickly shoved it aside.
"Hey, Luke," Ezra called out, waving casually.
Luke stepped further in, eyeing the scene. "What's going on here?"
"Kata asked us to train with her," Ezra explained. "You know, keep her sharp. Can't let her slack off just because you're her—uh, partner or whatever."
Luke raised an eyebrow at the comment but decided to let it slide. "Well, I guess it's better than her skipping practice entirely. Though with the planetary shields up, it's not like anyone's going anywhere anytime soon."
Spectre Seven glanced over her shoulder mid-parry, her signature smirk creeping across her face. "Ah, my apprentice, come to supervise? Or maybe join in?"
"Just observing today," Luke replied, folding his arms.
"Shame. I could use a new target," she teased, effortlessly sidestepping Kata's next strike and retaliating with a sweeping kick that sent the younger Jedi sprawling.
"Ow," Kata groaned, rubbing her back as she sat up.
Spectre Seven extended a hand, helping her up with a small, almost maternal smile. "You're improving, but you need to anticipate better. I telegraphed that a mile away."
"Sure didn't feel like it," Kata muttered, dusting herself off.
Luke stepped forward, his tone a mix of concern and mild annoyance. "Master, do you really have to go that hard on her? She's still learning."
Spectre Seven shrugged, her saber deactivating with a hiss. "The Vong won't pull its punches. If she can't handle a few bruises, she won't last long out there."
Luke sighed. "Fair point. Just…try not to break her, okay?"
"Noted," Spectre Seven said, smirking as she turned back to Kata. "Ready for round two?"
"Always," Kata replied, determination flaring in her eyes.
Luke moved to the couch, sinking into the cushions beside Ezra and Sabine. Ygnacio reached for him with chubby hands, and Luke gave the toddler a quick smile, ruffling his hair.
Ezra leaned in, his voice low. "Did you hear about the hyperspace attacks?"
Luke nodded, his expression darkening. "Yeah. I've been keeping tabs. I just hope the Devaron temple wasn't hit."
Sabine, cradling Ygnacio, chimed in, her voice soft. "I hope Farnay is alright..." She remembered her time on Devaron, training to liberate Mandalore from Moff Gideon.
"Yeah..." Luke said in a similar tone.
"From what I've heard, the attacks were targeted—Outer Rim, Wild Space, Anoat Sector. Core's mostly untouched," Ezra replied.
"Still," Luke murmured, "too many lives lost. And what about Mirial? Doesn't Seven have family there?"
Ezra's jaw tightened slightly. "Yeah. Her little brother and parents. I think she's planning to reach out soon."
Luke nodded absently, his gaze drifting to the sparring match. Spectre Seven and Kata were going at it again, their sabers a blur of blue and white light. Despite the tension in the room, he couldn't help but admire their skill, the way Kata was growing into her own under such a formidable teacher.
Ezra broke the silence. "Is your dad back yet?"
Luke blinked, snapping back to the conversation. "Yeah I checked in with him. He was testing the Vong. Seeing what they're capable of."
Ezra scoffed. "Yeah... Thrawn better have a good plan after all this."
"I trust his judgment," Luke said firmly.
Ezra shot him a skeptical look. "Do you, though? I mean, the guy's a genius, sure, but he's also playing one hell of a dangerous game."
Luke smirked. "You sound like you don't trust him."
"I trust him," Ezra replied, leaning back. "I just don't trust his methods. Big difference."
Before Luke could respond, a loud clang echoed through the room. They turned to see Kata flat on her back again, Spectre Seven standing over her with a triumphant grin.
"That's twice now," Seven teased, offering her hand.
"Don't get used to it," Kata shot back, accepting the help.
Luke chuckled, shaking his head. "You two should probably take a break before someone gets hurt."
Kata plopped onto the couch beside him, her cheeks flushed from exertion. She gave Luke a small smile, her eyes warm with affection. He returned the gesture, but they kept things subdued, knowing this wasn't the time or place for anything more.
As the sparring session wound down, Luke's thoughts drifted. His mind wandered to the mysterious gas entities—particularly the red one. Its pull toward Malachor was growing stronger, and despite their best efforts, the Jedi couldn't decipher its secrets. The green entity, on the other hand, seemed calmer, almost benign.
He made a mental note to discuss it with Cal Kestis and the others later. For now, he let himself relax, surrounded by his family.
Ezra's voice broke through his thoughts. "You know, Luke, we're the same age, but you sure listened as my student."
Luke grinned. "And you're not half-bad for a Jedi Master turned father."
"Touché," Ezra replied, laughing softly.
Spectre Seven watched them from across the room, her expression unreadable. For a moment, her thoughts lingered on her family back on Mirial. She resolved to contact them as soon as possible, but for now, she let herself enjoy this rare moment of peace.
XX
Location: Political District, Chandrila
The Senate chamber buzzed with tense whispers, senators murmuring to one another in low tones. The gravity of the recent hyperspace attacks loomed heavy over the massive rotunda, and the air seemed thick with apprehension. Representatives from across the galaxy filled their pods, their expressions ranging from grim determination to quiet outrage.
In one of the balconies overlooking the chamber floor, Cal Kestis leaned on the railing, arms crossed. Beside him, Kata Akuna sat on the edge of her chair, wide-eyed at the sight of the sprawling Senate in action.
Kata muttered. "Wonder how long it'll take them to actually do something."
Cal gave her a faint smile but said nothing, his gaze fixed on the center of the chamber. They had been called here by a senator whose name registered in Cal's recent mission—a formality, apparently, to lend their insight as witnesses to the escalating chaos.
The sound of a ceremonial gong echoed through the chamber, silencing the low hum of conversation. The central pod descended from the ceiling, carrying Leia Organa, the Chancellor of the New Republic. Her presence commanded immediate attention. Dressed in elegant but practical robes, her expression was calm but resolute, masking the turmoil beneath the surface.
Leia's voice rang out, steady and authoritative. "In light of the recent attacks, this emergency session has been convened. Reports indicate these strikes were carried out to counter the Vong, but we must now assess the consequences. I call upon any representatives with firsthand accounts to speak."
The murmur returned, a ripple of unease passing through the chamber. From a pod near the edge of the rotunda, a single figure rose.
"I will speak."
XX
Lena Barani stepped forward, her voice calm yet tinged with the weariness of someone carrying a great burden. The senator from Ertegas was relatively new to the chamber, but her presence carried weight today. She adjusted her microphone and began, her tone steady but emotional.
"Thank you, Chancellor. My name is Lena Barani, and I represent the people of the Ertegas system in the Anoat Sector." She paused, her gaze sweeping across the room. "My planet, is an agricultural world. Our people live humbly, working the land to feed not just themselves but countless systems across the Outer Rim."
Her voice tightened. "That was, until the Vong came."
The chamber went silent as her words hung in the air.
Lena continued, her voice rising with each sentence. "The Vong and their allies manipulated our planet, exploiting division. Wealthy families had been exiled by revolutionaries, the land redistributed among lower classes. The invaders saw an opportunity, striking a deal with these revolutionaries and establishing a foothold on our soil. They helped in their revolution
and promised protection, but it came at a cost. Our people live under occupation."
She took a deep breath. "Then, came the attack."
A holoprojector activated in her pod, filling the chamber with rotating images. The senators collectively gasped.
Photos of smoldering craters that once were vibrant farmlands. Videos of survivors pulling themselves from rubble, limbs bloodied or missing altogether. Images of children—wide-eyed and emaciated, their faces streaked with ash and tears.
Kata clutched the armrest of her chair. "Farrick..." she whispered.
Cal clenched his jaw, looking away from the display for a moment before forcing himself to meet it.
"My world's population was 2.6 million," Lena said, her voice trembling. "Today, we estimate that up to 500,000 are dead. Hundreds of thousands more are injured, missing, or left without homes or families. Children orphaned. Parents mourning their young. And for what?"
Her gaze sharpened, and her voice rose. "This was not just a strike against the Vong. This was annihilation, indiscriminate and barbaric. The women, the children, the farmers who had no choice in this—why did they have to die?"
The room fell silent, the weight of her words crushing any potential rebuttal. Lena leaned forward, her hands gripping the edge of the podium.
"I call for an investigation," she declared. "I call for every official involved in ordering these attacks to be held accountable. Until we know who gave the orders, until we know why, they should be placed under house arrest. No one should have this kind of power without scrutiny."
Leia watched from her pod, her face unreadable. She had approved the hyperspace attacks. Reluctantly, yes—but approved nonetheless. She knew the political game required her to act now or face backlash later.
"The senator's request will be put to a vote," Leia said, her tone even. "Do we proceed with an investigation into the attacks and detain those responsible until the matter is resolved?"
The voting pods lit up around the chamber, senators casting their decisions. A few abstentions. A few dissenters. But the majority lit green.
"Motion passed," Leia announced. "All officials connected to the planning of these strikes will be detained until further notice. Any systems affected by the attacks should submit evidence to Senator Barani's office."
Lena stepped back into her pod, her expression unreadable but her hands trembling slightly.
After Lena's testimony, a few other senators took the floor, each presenting reports of devastation in their own systems. Though none were as graphic or as emotionally charged, their accounts painted a bleak picture of the collateral damage caused by the hyperspace attacks. Voices grew tense, and murmurs of unease rippled through the chamber.
Leia, maintaining her composure, allowed them their time but eventually raised her hand to call for order. "The evidence has been presented, and the discussion will continue. For now, this session is adjourned." The words echoed across the chamber, signaling the end of the proceedings.
The ceremonial gong rang out again, and the senators began to disperse, their whispers returning in full force.
XX
Cal and Kata remained seated in their balcony, watching as the Chancellor disappeared into the throng of departing representatives.
"She's brave," Kata said quietly. "To stand up like that."
Cal nodded. "Brave, but..." He trailed off, scanning the crowd.
"But what?" Kata asked, raising an eyebrow.
"The Core still doesn't care. Their interest is their own survival and wealth," he said grimly.
Kata frowned, her gaze drifting back to the emptying chamber. "You think Thrawn will let himself be arrested?"
Cal sighed. "If it prevents unnecessary chaos, probably. But he still has valuable ways to defeat them."
Lena Barani's voice broke the silence, startling them both.
"Thank you for attending," she said, stepping into the balcony. Her expression was weary, but she managed a small smile. "I said and showed what I could, though I'm surprised the session was so brief."
"Do you think the investigation will actually get anywhere?" Kata asked bluntly.
Lena hesitated. "The truth has a way of surfacing—eventually." She shook her head. "But it's rarely clean."
Cal leaned forward slightly. "What worries you the most, Senator?"
Lena's weariness deepened. "I'm afraid that after this threat is over, the wealthy and corporations will exploit the people who turned against the Republic. If the revolutionaries survive, their fresh independence might be stripped away."
Kata frowned. "Is there no way to protect them? Couldn't you make a law that bans foreign corporations, to prioritize local farming and self-reliance?"
Lena seemed to mull it over. "It's possible, but laws like that are only as strong as those willing to enforce them."
"Before the revolution, did you see much outside interference in your system?" Cal asked.
"Not outside the military presence," Lena admitted. "But during the Empire, the wealthy families made deals to sell foodstuffs to the Imperial forces at prices lower than the peasants could even afford. It was exploitative, but it kept them in favor with the regime."
Cal nodded thoughtfully. "If there's any conflict in your system, I promise we'll ensure no harm comes to the people—no exploitation, no retaliation. As long as there's no violence against us."
Lena offered a faint smile. "I hope they understand that. If the Republic wins, I want the lower classes to keep their land, to see their independence respected."
Kata spoke up. "When we met the revolutionaries months ago, they seemed to have faith in you—faith that you'd represent them fairly. But with the wealthy families gone, you need the support of the lower classes to stop any exploitation."
Lena nodded slowly. "You're right, Jedi Akuna. At least with the Empire gone, agriculture isn't as tightly nationalized. But now, the focus must be on rebuilding trust."
She hesitated, glancing out over the cityscape. "My biggest problem is relying on my father for information. The Vong have severed most of my direct contacts with the system."
"Do you need anything from us, Senator?" Cal asked.
"Yes," Lena said, her tone soft but firm. "You built a rapport with Hammer, didn't you?"
Cal chuckled lightly. "Oh, yes. Quite the character. But we managed to strike a deal."
Lena nodded. "I'll ask my father to try to reconnect with Hammer. If we can establish communication, it could be invaluable."
"Do you think Hammer would be open to peace?" Kata asked.
Lena exhaled sharply. "After the death and destruction, he's driven by vengeance. But when the Vong start to drain Ertegas dry, starving the people for their gain, the revolutionaries will reach their breaking point. It's better to have a line of communication ready for that moment."
"I understand," Cal said. "You already have my comm frequency?"
Lena nodded. "I'll send it to my father. Thank you, Master Kestis."
The three stood in silence for a moment, the weight of their conversation and the galaxy's turmoil hanging heavily between them. As the sun dipped lower over Chandrila's political district, they bowed politely and went their separate ways.
XX
Several rotations later...
Location: Thrawn's Penthouse, Chandrila
The expanse of Chandrila stretched beyond the penthouse windows, offering a tranquil view that starkly contrasted the chaos consuming the galaxy. Inside, Grand Admiral Thrawn's isolation felt anything but serene. His daily routine had become meticulous, ensuring that even under house arrest, he remained sharp. Physical training, groceries delivered to his door, and the constant study of the galactic conflict filled his days.
The soft chime of the door interrupted the rhythmic crunching sound of Thrawn's exercises. He rose fluidly, his complexion unflustered despite the exertion. As the door slid open, Ziara—Ar'alani to those who knew her true Chiss identity—stepped in. She wore casual attire resembling luxurious yet understated pajamas: soft, navy-blue fabric with delicate silver embroidery along the hems. Her long, dark hair was loosely tied back, giving her a relaxed appearance that contrasted sharply with the penthouse's structured elegance.
"Yes, Ziara?" Thrawn greeted, his tone measured as always.
"Lord Vader is here to see you. He claims you requested a meeting in person."
Thrawn raised an eyebrow, smoothing down his uniform jacket. "Why yes. My apologies for not informing you sooner—though your current attire suggests you might not have appreciated the timing," he quipped, his crimson eyes gleaming with subtle amusement.
Ziara's lips quirked upward, though she rolled her eyes in mock exasperation. "I'll get out of your way and change into something more formal."
"There's no need," Thrawn replied, waving a hand. "The meeting won't take long. Remain in the bedroom, please."
"Very well," Ziara said with a nod, strolling toward the study where a holographic star map awaited her attention.
As the door to the study closed behind her, the penthouse's main entrance hissed open. The imposing figure of Vader entered, his breathing filling the room. Thrawn casually hydrated his throat with a sip of diet Fizzyglug, setting the can down neatly before standing to meet the former Sith Lord.
"Grand Admiral," Vader greeted.
"Lord Vader," Thrawn returned, his tone calm but respectful.
"I admire the fact you took responsibility for these attacks," Vader began, his voice as heavy as his presence.
"Ah, yes. To prevent further chaos, of course. The galaxy requires a steady hand to guide it, even if it means shouldering burdens. They will pardon me soon enough, allowing me to return to the front lines."
Vader inclined his helmet slightly. "I agree. You are invaluable, as always. You wished to discuss the bioweapon."
Thrawn clasped his hands behind his back, pacing to the large window. "Indeed. A hypothetical for the moment. Let us say our sources indicate that such a bioweapon—designed to combat the Vong—would cost... billions of credits. Would you have the authority to authorize it?"
"Consider it done," Vader replied without hesitation. "Whatever the price."
Thrawn nodded approvingly. "Very well. We have the necessary samples. However, as I am under house arrest, I will require you to meet with the suppliers personally."
"I assume you know them?"
"Indeed. You will be dealing with the Arkanians, renowned for their genetic engineering and bioweapons. They are a proud and arrogant species, believing themselves superior to others. When you visit their world, you must adhere to their customs—bowing, offering compliments, and displaying the utmost respect. Flatter their egos, and only then present your request for their assistance against the Vong."
Vader's respirator hissed as he processed the information. "You suggest I bring someone with me?"
"Yes," Thrawn said, turning to face him directly. "Given your... history, it would be prudent."
"I agree," Vader replied. "I will bring my son's student. She has experience navigating delicate negotiations."
"I see," Thrawn said with a slight bow of his head. "I will inform my contacts of your impending arrival."
Vader nodded once and turned to leave, his cape sweeping behind him.
When the doors sealed shut, Thrawn took a moment to compose himself before knocking lightly on the door to Ziara's room.
"Hmm?" Ziara's voice was muffled, tinged with drowsiness.
"I'll prepare breakfast now," Thrawn said evenly.
Ziara opened the door, leaning against the frame with a slight smirk. "Done drinking caf and diet Fizzyglugs all morning?"
"Perhaps," Thrawn admitted with a rare grin. "I prefer to get my calories hours after I wake."
Ziara chuckled softly. "At least you're consistent. I'll join you in a moment."
xx
The day had been calm, a rare reprieve from the weight of galactic affairs. In Thrawn's Chandrilan penthouse, the soft hum of the climate controls blended with the low dialogue from the holomovie playing on a wall-mounted projector. The lighting was dim, the sort of ambient warmth one might associate with a late-night study or a tranquil library. Thrawn, clad in simple lounge attire—a loose, dark tunic and matching pants—sat back on the plush couch, a mug of sugar-free hot cocoa resting on the glass table before him.
Ziara, surprisingly dressed down in pajamas—soft, flowing fabric in muted hues that clung lightly to her form—sat tucked against his side, one leg curled under her. A bowl of pork rinds balanced precariously on her lap. She gave a contented sigh as she nibbled on the salty snack, occasionally brushing stray crumbs off her fingers.
"This one's not bad," Ziara murmured, nodding toward the holomovie. "Though I didn't expect another Admiral to have a taste for romantic comedies."
Thrawn quirked an eyebrow, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "It is a fascinating study of human dynamics. Humor and emotional vulnerability are such foreign concepts to many species, yet they captivate audiences universally."
Ziara chuckled. "You're the only one who can make rom-coms sound like a naval briefing."
Their quiet banter was interrupted by the soft chime of an incoming encrypted holocall. Thrawn's posture straightened, his red eyes narrowing. Ziara glanced at him and, without a word, rose gracefully from the couch. She took her cocoa with her, giving him a knowing nod before disappearing into the adjacent room.
Thrawn reached for the holoemitter on the coffee table, his movements precise but unhurried. The blue glow flickered to life, revealing the stoic figure of Rukh, his Noghri face as inscrutable as ever.
"Ah, Rukh," Thrawn greeted, his tone smooth but edged with curiosity. "Unexpected to receive your call at this hour."
The Noghri inclined his head in a small bow. "Grand Admiral, I bring urgent news."
Thrawn leaned slightly forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Proceed."
"The Vong know you were behind the hyperspace attack," Rukh began.
Thrawn's expression remained neutral, but his fingers interlocked, a subtle indication of deeper thought. "Did you inform them?"
"No," Rukh replied firmly. "But they have informants on Chandrila. They gather intelligence from the Holonet, piecing together connections through contacts."
"Efficient," Thrawn remarked. "But I suspect there's more to your report."
Rukh nodded. "Yes. The Vong assigned Noghri Death Commandos and I to kill you. Their preference is to wait until you return to active duty, but if an opportunity arises here on Chandrila, they will act."
Thrawn's lips pressed into a thin line. "Do they have bounty hunters at their disposal?"
"They do, but are reserved for the syndicates. For now, they rely on my people for political assassinations."
Thrawn tapped a finger against his chin, his gaze distant. "So they view me as their greatest threat."
"Outside of the Jedi, yes," Rukh confirmed.
Rukh hesitated before continuing, his voice lower. "There is unrest among my people. Our planet has been restored, but most of the land is unsuitable for growing our crops. The Vong have used it to cultivate their own materials—likely for their fleet."
"Why do your people tolerate this?" Thrawn asks.
"My people tolerate this because the pollution and air quality have improved."
Rukh continues, "But food is becoming a problem. We depend on imports from the Anoat Sector, and if the Republic take back that region, desperation will drive my people to act irrationally. Worst case, they may lash out violently at the Vong."
Thrawn leaned back, his expression unreadable. "They must be patient. Us invading breadbasket worlds your people rely on would be catastrophic. Instead, encourage them to consider defecting to the New Republic."
Rukh frowned. "They will not do so easily."
"Of course not," Thrawn replied. "But present them with a scenario where they benefit regardless of the outcome. If the Vong prevail, they survive as collaborators. If the Republic wins, they gain autonomy and independence. Appeal to their pragmatism."
Rukh nodded slowly. "I understand. It will take months to prepare, but I will ensure my people are ready to choose the winning side."
"As for my assassination," Thrawn said, his voice taking on a calculated edge, "I will fabricate my death. It will satisfy your Vong overlords and provide me an excuse to return to the Ascendancy."
Rukh's eyes widened slightly. "Will you return to the front lines, Grand Admiral?"
"In due time," Thrawn assured him. "But for now, my focus must remain on the broader strategy. Remember, patience is key."
"Yes, sir," Rukh said with a bow. The transmission ended, leaving the room in silence.
XX
Thrawn leaned back on the couch, the glow of the holoprojector fading into the dim ambiance of the penthouse. He steepled his fingers, his mind already weaving the intricate threads of strategy needed to turn Rukh's information into action.
Ziara emerged quietly from the adjacent room, having changed into a robe that matched the understated luxury of the surroundings. She carried two steaming mugs, the faint aroma of chamomile tea wafting through the air.
"You didn't poison him with your logic, did you?" she asked, a smirk tugging at her lips as she placed one mug on the table beside Thrawn.
"Hardly," Thrawn replied, picking up the mug. "Rukh is... adaptable, but his loyalty requires constant tending. The Noghri's survival remains a motivator, though desperation could breed recklessness."
Ziara settled into the seat across from him, tucking her legs beneath her. "And you're orchestrating a way to have them defect without the Vong realizing. Bold. But fabricating your death?" She tilted her head, studying him. "That's a high-stakes gamble, even for you."
Thrawn sipped his tea, savoring the earthy bitterness. "It is necessary. A perceived loss of their most formidable adversary may embolden the Vong, make them overconfident. A misplaced step can turn a predator into prey."
"And Ziara gets to play the grieving widow?" she teased, though there was a faint tension in her voice.
Thrawn allowed himself a small smile. "If it comes to that, you will play your part flawlessly. But we will reunite in the Ascendancy; my 'death' will be as temporary as it is convincing."
Ziara leaned back, her gaze steady. "You know, for someone always five steps ahead, you're still human, Thrawn. Careful you don't forget that."
The corner of Thrawn's mouth twitched. "A reminder I value, as always. And one I hope you will repeat should I ever falter."
She raised her mug in a mock toast, then took a sip. The silence between them was companionable, the tension of the holocall dissipating like steam from their drinks.
Finally, Ziara broke the quiet. "And what about us? This Ascendancy plan..."
Thrawn's red eyes locked onto hers. "You will accompany me, of course. The Ascendancy will benefit from your tactical mind and... your candor."
Ziara chuckled, shaking her head. "Flattery will only get you so far, Grand Admiral."
Thrawn leaned forward, his tone softening. "It is not flattery, Ziara. You are invaluable—not just as an officer, but as my confidante. I trust few, and fewer still earn my respect as you have."
Her cheeks colored faintly, but she covered it with a wry grin. "I suppose that means I can't say no."
Thrawn inclined his head, his expression unreadable but warm. "Indeed."
The night wore on, the city lights of Chandrila painting patterns across the penthouse walls. For now, the galaxy's chaos seemed a distant echo. But in the shadows, Thrawn's mind worked tirelessly, preparing for the storms to come.