The Talons of an Empire

by Sol PJOFan

The Clone War has ended. Admiral Perseus Jackson, former Hero of the Republic, relaxes with his beloved on his homeworld, and hopes for some respite from the rigors of war. The Galaxy, however, stops for nobody. A man balances duty and morality in the face of a new world order; one that has emerged from the ashes of the bloodiest conflict in living memory. PJO x SW AU

4. The Next Generation

Ch3 - The Next Generation

Skystrike Academy, Montross System, Mid Rim, 15 BBY
The parade was called to attention, the full light of thirty senior cadets of the Empire's premier fighter pilot academy standing tall and proud as the institution's Commanding Officer strode forwards and took the podium.

"Good morning, Aviators," Percy greeted, a little smile on his face. "The last time I was here, you were all about to take the first flight test of your final year, and now here you are, the first ever generation of the Empire's finest fighter pilots, prepared to take the final flight test."
The group applauded, as did the junior students, here to watch the exercise that Percy had laid out for their seniors. The Mandalorian held a hand up for silence, and continued.
"This final test, however, is also your final lesson. As such, I will ask you to tell me what it is. You will watch as the exercise is conducted for your comrades, and at the point that you tell me the lesson that I'm teaching, you will all have passed the test, and the course. Am I understood?"
The pilots nodded, each exuding the confidence of people who knew just how good they were.
"Right then," Percy declared, "Get your kit on, and meet me in the briefing room, ready to receive your orders. Dismissed."

Skystrike Academy, Montross System, Mid Rim, 15 BBY
The group of thirty filed in, geared up in their black flight suits, and they took their seats at the desks lined up in rows of six in the room. Flight cards were pulled out, and they sat up, prepared for a set of orders.
Their first shock of the day was at the presence of not one, but two instructors at the front of the room, both clad in remarkably similar flight suits. Only, of course, both of them wore the beskar armour of Mandalorians.

"I would like to introduce to you a good friend of mine," Percy informed them, a small smirk of amusement on his face. "Fenn Rau, Protector of Concord Dawn, and one of the finest pilots that this galaxy has seen in a long time. He was an instructor to the Clones of the Republic, and he will be helping me assess this exercise, and will lend us some of his many years of wisdom."
Rau nodded, quite clearly fighting to maintain a straight face.

"The situation of this exercise is so; There is a simulated Rebel Threat on the surface. You are being deployed as a reconnaissance force, making use of TIE Assets equipped with more than adequate scanning, as well as advanced air-to-air and air-to-ground capabilities.
You will conduct an aerial patrol of the planet's surface, making complete note of anything and everything that you see which could be of use.
You will operate in teams of three, accompanied by Probe Droids which will monitor your progress, and make use of the assets at your disposal to counter perceived threats in an appropriate manner. You are authorised to make use of communications within your sorties, but you are not permitted to utilise long-range communications; the risk of the 'enemy' intercepting your communications is high, and this would open you up to assault."
Percy watched as the troops absorbed this information, before giving Rau a nod.

The Protector nodded, and took over. "Since we are exercising within atmospheric conditions, we will not be using simulated weapons; the brief moment of disability that takes over your fighter is potentially lethal if the ship does not restart. If there is a weapons lock and tone, then you can consider it a kill, and vice versa. In line with Imperial doctrine, you are not authorised to use missiles in subatmospheric air-to-air combat unless absolutely required. Unless there are any questions, I wish you all the best of luck.
The young pilots left the room.

Skystrike Academy, Montross System, Mid Rim, 15 BBY
The trio of TIE Fighters kept low as they patrolled, each student constantly scanning the horizon out ahead of them for details of enemy action. Of course, they knew that they were on exercise; the threat wasn't real. To them, however, their futures were on the line.
Three years, they had toiled away on this planet, tackling some of the most difficult terrain available for training, and it all came down to this.

The Probe Droids posted across the patrol's route had supplied those watching at Exercise Control with a constant feed of the proceedings, with the students desperately searching for just what the final message was.
Of course, there had been clear signs of supposed enemy activity, with a makeshift airbase laid out in a valley, or the numerous cave systems that the pilots had done well to scan, sending back detailed images that the students were working hard to process into usable intelligence.
They were distracted, however, by a set of specks on the horizon, three fast-moving objects travelling across the eyeline of the pilots being assessed.

"Three bogeys sighted," the patrol commander informed his comrades over their intercom, "prepare to break on my mark. Do not fire unless fired upon."
The new fighters, however, seemed not to care for Imperial protocol.
They swooped in, falling in alongside the V formation of TIEs. The ships were unique, with a central pod flanked by two wing-like panels that

"Imperial detachment, you are trespassing on our ground. Declare yourselves or prepare to be shot down."
"We are on a simple reconnaissance," the lead pilot declared, "We have no intention to engage you."
The 'rebel' craft, now identified as SoroSuub/MandalMotors Fang-Class Mandalorian starfighters, did not respond.
It appeared to be a test of patience; one of those within the room offered it as an answer, though the answer was waved off by one of the assessors present.
Then, the Mandalorian fighters ignited their reverse thrusters, hard.

It was a skillful move to pull off in space without the constraints of Gravity. To pull it off at such short notice at ground level was almost inconceivable. The Imperial trainees were caught off guard, and one heard tone over her systems immediately.
The other two were now at a disadvantage; outnumbered, and with their enemies at close range behind them.
The Patrol Commander broke off immediately, and his remaining comrade did the same. The TIEs split in opposite directions, their pursuers hot on their tails.

"Right folks, now this is the big clue," the voice of the Academy's Commanding Officer crackled over the room's speaker. "Think good and hard, and you might get the answer."
A pause.
"Oh, and feel free to scramble any TIEs you might want to use. Rau, Delphin and I aren't about to break off our assault."
The room sprang to life, and one of the pilots took charge.
"Alright, hold the hell up!" a girl demanded. "Give me twelve pilots willing to go out there, the rest of you come with me. I have a plan."

Rank was ignored at Skystrike; it was a cause for favouritism among staff, and a source of division among the recruits.
Thalia Grace, however, did not care at this point in time. For a girl trained under the guidance of Admiral Phoebe Artemis, failure was not an option. Her Commission wasn't earned, that much was true; her father, Zeus, had shown off the depths of his pockets when he had attempted to bring his estranged daughter back from where she had run away to nearly ten years prior, and his first 'gift' to her had been a rank within the new Imperial Navy.

She had fought hard to outshine her peers, and now this was her chance to prove just how far the child of the First Fleet's former Commanding Officer could go.
Artemis was now retired, Nightshade killed in action, and their finest pilots were either fallen or within the crews of Capital Ships across the Navy.
She was all that was left of the Republic's once feared Hunter Force.
"I have the answer."

Montross, Montross System, Mid Rim, 15 BBY
Percy smirked beneath his helmet.
Of course the girl sent here at Artemis' personal recommendation had found the answer. As a matter of fact, he had a good mind to give the Lieutenant a promotion, and indeed a job within his own fleet.
For all the advancements in technology since the Empire had been formed, Percy had not seen a single pilot on the level of even the youngest Tritonis airman; they could probably outfly the Clones of the Republic, but it was truly rare that he saw a pilot who loved flight to the point of being unbeatable.
They weren't on the level of Nico.

Or, at least, they hadn't been, until this group of pilots had shown up at the Fighter Pilot Academy.
He had initially taken the posting as Commanding Officer of Skystrike as a result of his reduced duties on Anaxes. It had quickly become an important priority for him, having seen the standard of the new pilots compared to their Clone predecessors.
"Miss Grace, you can transmit your answer in your own free time, though I would recommend that you rescue your pilots first; they seem to be in a spot of bother."

The pilot he was currently pursuing rolled sharply to his right, and Percy smiled.
The TIE Interceptor was good, yes, with its increased speed and armament, but watching it in action with a competent pilot at the controls was a true joy.
The TIE Pilot swooped down towards the canyon from which they had just emerged, hoping to force Percy to remain low to the ground. It wouldn't have made a huge difference in a real dogfight, with the presence of magnetic tracking weapons, but it was effective enough against the Fang's trackers, preventing the computer from getting a lock.

"Tritonis, I'm seeing more Interceptors scrambling," Rau announced, "They'll be on our position within five minutes."
"Then we'll just have to fly especially well, won't we?" Percy smirked, pulling up sharply on his yoke.

The Interceptor pilot appeared to be lost, and from experience the Mandalorian knew that he would be scanning his radar desperately for any sign of his pursuer.
After all, a Radar couldn't show you what's directly above you.
By the time the student had realised his mistake, he was too late; the tone of a missile lock rang in his ears.
Percy looked at his heads up display, smiling at the message he had just received from Exercise Control.
You're teaching us how to lose. There's always someone better.
"Err, Perseus?" Deplhin asked, "Where did the recruits get a Command Cruiser?"
Percy wouldn't have believed him, had he not seen the Arquitens first.

"I do believe that young Miss Grace has attempted to take matters into her own hands," he remarked dryly. "Still, let's show them why you can, in fact, bring a vibroblade to a blaster fight."
"Well, only if you're Mandalorian, that is," Delphin replied, joining Percy in slamming his throttle forward. "I don't think normal armour deflects blaster bolts.
"Good thing we're Mandalorians, I suppose," Rau mused, falling into formation off Percy's right wing.

"Imperial Cruiser Warspite, this is Grand Admiral Perseus Jackson, reminding all crew that in no circumstances are weapons to be utilised within atmospheric conditions, and in no circumstances are vessels on this exercise to exit atmospheric conditions."
"Acknowledged," Grace replied, and Percy could hear a steel in her voice.
If it wasn't obvious why she was doing this before, it was now.

Percy closed off the comm to the Cruiser, and reverted to the closed channel between the Fang Starfighters.
"Prepare to break, on my mark," he informed his wingmen.
A squadron of TIE Interceptors hurtled into view.
"NOW!"
The trio broke off, and the TIE Pilots followed. One heard tone at long range, and dropped off towards the ground, flashing landing lights to inform his comrades that he was out of the fight already.

Grinning under his helmet, Percy allowed the other four pilots inbound on his own fighter to hurtle past, before he pulled off a manoeuvre which he had been hoping to pull off since he had failed to do the same over Ryloth six years prior.
One of the Fang's rotating wings pulled up perpendicular to the angle of the other, catching the wind as he flew and forcing the craft to rotate back the way it came.
Yanking back on the throttle, the Mandalorian Admiral watched as his craft swung about, before balancing out the wings of his fighter, slamming forward on the throttle and setting off in pursuit.
The TIEs had not yet turned, and one was caught in the sights of his computers within an instant.
The third fell to much the same fate before the pilot could react, though the remaining two who had chosen to engage Percy had broken off their attack, attempting to regroup with their comrades.
Of an initial squadron of twelve, seven fighters remained.

"We've got them," Rau informed Percy.
The Admiral needed no further justification.
Three more interceptors fell on the next pass, and suddenly Thalia Grace had found herself in a rather unenviable position.

"I think that's enough to prove my point. Miss Grace, meet me in my office later."
"Roger that, Sir," came the response.
"Oh, and despite that absolute shitshow, you've all passed the course. Go and drink, or whatever it is that you kids do nowadays. Debrief tomorrow, including a lecture on why exactly you don't make stupid decisions in the heat of the moment."

Station Commander's Office, Skystrike Academy, Montross System, 15 BBY
Thalia Grace entered the room, saluting sharply as she walked in.
"Bold of you to play that fight as you did," Percy remarked, gesturing for her to have a seat.
"Well, I thought that even a Mandalorian would avoid taking on a Light Cruiser with nothing but three fighters," she grouched, and Percy's expression hardened.
"Then you now know not to underestimate an enemy."
"Yes Sir," she replied quickly.

"You know, Zeus didn't want you running off with Artemis," Percy told the girl. "For all the control that House Olympia has over the Admiralty, he couldn't prevent that move from happening."
"I heard," she replied, brow furrowed in curiosity regarding the seemingly random aside.
"He's not going to like when you show up as a Lieutenant aboard the Fist.
Thalia blanched.

The Emperor's Fist, formerly ISD Prosecutor, was considered one of the best ships on which a young officer could be posted. After all, interacting on some small level with Perseus Jackson, hero of the Empire, was an honour in itself.
The rate at which his former charges progressed, however, was something to behold.

A posting as a Lieutenant aboard the Fist was tantamount to her own Cruiser within the next two years, should she want it, or her own squadron of TIE Fighters aboard the Fist as she herself aspired to lead.
"Thank you, Sir," she stuttered out, not even caring that this man was barely a year or two older than her. The 27-year-old Grand Admiral in front of her had all but secured her future, with no reason to do so but that she was decent at her job.

"I can practically see the gears in your head going," Jackson told her. "You think that you're just a decent pilot who screwed up when she tried to take the initiative."
Thalia bowed her head. In all fairness, the man hadn't struck too far from home.
"You took the initiative, Thalia," he told her. "I can't teach that. As a matter of fact, most of your peers won't go much further than what they've achieved today, sitting around and waiting for the next set of orders. You, meanwhile, used your brain. Now it just tells you the kind of galaxy we live in where that's something I can praise you on."
Thalia scoffed, nodding all the same.
"I'm looking forward to seeing what you can accomplish, Thalia Grace."
He gestured her out of the office, and she left, a small smile on her face.

Planetary Governor's Office, Corulag, Corulus System, 15 BBY
Reyna sat back in her seat as the Battalion Commanders filed out.
Her role was officially a civilian one, as Governor of the Bormea Sector world of Corulag, but the true reason for her receiving this particular posting had been as a result of the Imperial Army's Academy on the planet.

That and the University of Economics on the planet meant that it was a hotspot for Officer Candidates, willing to try their hand at dragging themselves out of the lower echelons of Galactic society, and pursue a career in the military.
Small solace was the presence of a couple of familiar faces.
Hazel Levesque, formerly a support ship's commanding officer, had taken a higher posting in the new Imperial Army, finding herself at the rank of Major, and commanding a cadre of Officer Cadets.

Frank Zhang, never too far away from his close friend or indeed something more had found himself stationed on one of the planet's moons, his Star Destroyer, Warlord, providing a reassuring element of security throughout the entire system. The battlegroup which accompanied the behemoth was typically spread out throughout the sector, fulfilling various roles, from policing to delivering troops and supplies in bulk, as was common for Imperial vessels in the Inner and Mid Rims.
Her peace, however, was not to last all that long, though the intrusion was hardly unwelcome.

"Governor, message coming in for you," her assistant announced over a comm. "It's coming from Skystrike."
"It's Jackson," she told the woman, "He'll want to know about the progression of the new group for Anaxes. Patch him through. No visitors until the call's done." She switched off her communicator.
A moment or so later, the uniformed figure of her former colleague took up the screen, the Admiral of the 5th Fleet stretching back in his seat with a small smile on his face.
It was infectious, Reyna found, and a grin was present on her own lips immediately.

"What's got you in such a good mood?" she asked, and he sat forward to meet her eyes through the hologram.
"Zeus is going to be pissed - I recruited his kid as my new Fighter Commander."
"Which one?" Reyna asked sarcastically, and Percy scoffed. "The one he paid off with a planet, or the one he paid off with a seat in Senate?"
"The one he paid off with a fighter jet, Rey," Percy told her with a huff of amusement.
"A good pilot, then?" she asked.
"Not quite on the level of some of the guys we've worked with," he told her.

She caught his meaning.
Not Nico.
"The kid's alive, Perce," she reassured, "And he knows that you did what you did because you had to."
"Not going down that route tonight Rey," he told her dismissively. "Not enough drink on this planet to go down that route."
She gave him an admonishing look, shaking her head, though she couldn't help but smile when he pouted at her.

"Something that'll interest you," she told him, sitting up a little straighter, "I met a rather interesting man a few days ago, and sent him your way. Give him ten minutes and you'll have a new Admiral in your fleet."
Percy raised an eyebrow. "That good?"
"That good."
"Well then, I'm not going to take that bet cyar'ika. I've known you far too long."
"Percy!" Reyna hissed, "Not over a comm! You have no idea who could be listening!"
"I also know that you wouldn't chat with me like you have been these past few minutes if you weren't comfortable enough, Rey," he shot back.
She gave him a look, and he nodded in resignation.

"Fine, have it your way, but you can spare me the look."
"I do not have a look, Perseus Tritonis," Reyna hissed, crossing her arms.
"Oh yes you do, Reyna Tritonis," Percy mocked, mimicking her movements, fighting to keep the grin off his face. "I'll see you in a few weeks, love. Speak to you tomorrow."

5th Fleet Headquarters, Imperial Naval Base Anaxes, 15 BBY
Percy was examining a set of star charts when his visitor walked in.
It was rare to see non-humans at any level of the Imperial Chain of Command, and so he was forced to do a double take when a Chiss man walked in, garbed in the white customary for officers of his people's militaries.
He had been told by Skywalker, and then, ironically, Vader, about the Chiss Officer by the name of Mitth'raw'nuruodo, but he hadn't known that the man was now on the Emperor's payroll.

The man held himself with a distinction that Percy had only ever seen in the likes of Tarkin and his peers, and from the cursory scan that the man's startlingly red eyes sent over the room, Percy could instantly tell that this man was worth his time.
"You are quite the hot commodity, Mitth'raw'nuruodo," Percy told the man, cocking his head to one side.
"And you… you are an artist, Admiral Tritonis," the Chiss observed. "Not many would win some of the battles you have won. I was most impressed at your piece-by-piece demolition of Raddus and Ackbar. Your use of starfighters throughout the Clone War was unmatched."
"I lost that fight, Commodore," Percy retorted, gesturing for the man to take a seat and bringing up an image of the battle. "I did not reach the conclusion which I had set out to achieve."
"And was that because of your own tactics, Admiral?" Thrawn questioned, head cocked. "From my study of this engagement, it had none of the…" he gestured with a flourish of the hand, "substance, of one of your battles. It had none of the joy that you bring when you fight. None of the feeling."
Percy hid a scoff behind his glass of water, but raised an eyebrow, curious as to what this curious alien was getting at here.

"Your strategies, Perseus," Thrawn continued, "are not only named for creatures. They are the creatures for which they are named. The Gundark which you used on Geonosis, the Sarlacc which would have gained such success on the first day at Umbara."
Percy scowled at the mention of the shadowy planet, and Thrawn noticed.

"You dislike that battle," he observed. "Why so? It was an overwhelming victory."
"We lost too many in those weeks, Commodore," Percy explained. "We took a gamble on the first day. I sent out my very finest to remove their flagship from the fight, and while it was removed from the fight, the cost was monumental."
Thrawn nodded thoughtfully. "RSD Scipio," he frowned. "Six thousand casualties, and the Captain only survived as a result of her own brilliance."
"Six thousand, two hundred and eighty six," Percy corrected without a thought. "More losses in that single instance than my Task Force took in any other battle combined, Umbara itself included."

"It was a genius strategy, however," Thrawn noted. "Making use of entities large enough to simply fly through shields, instead of needlessly bombarding the vessel from range."
"A good strategy for honourless heathens," Percy snarled.
Thrawn smirked slightly as he sat back, and Percy picked up on it.

"Don't tell me you would sacrifice your own pilots for just a single ship," he asked, brow furrowed.
"No, Admiral, merely the realisation that you are truly a Mandalorian, right from the warfighting to the emotional passion." Thrawn told the glowering Admiral. "Reyna Avila Ramirez-Arellano, while an outstanding officer, means more to you than her martial brilliance. Or, should I call her Tritonis?"
"You're good," Percy told the Chiss. "I look forward to working with you in the near future, Mitth'raw'nuruodo. Just remember that you're not the only one with an eye for a weakness."
The Chiss raised an eyebrow his red eyes darkening.

"You observe your enemies through their methods," Percy informed him. "That is useful, until you find yourself faced with a true renegade. Not the Jedi, with their Force magic, not even the Mando'ade with their limitless options. What happens when you are faced with a rebellion made up of smugglers and bounty hunters, who do not plan, and instead simply take the route which they plot for themselves?
You will succeed, Mitth'raw'nuruodo, against planetary uprisings, with Tarkin's doctrine and your mind, but you still have much to learn if you are to fulfil the ambitions of the Ascendency."
Percy walked out, leaving the Chiss man stroking his chin. This was a man who would go far. He was about to make that happen just a little faster.
Apparently this was a good week for finding promising officers.

5th Fleet Headquarters, Imperial Naval Base Anaxes, 15 BBY
"So?" Reyna asked over the comm.
The Imperial Governor was on her annual leave, one that Percy would join her on in a week or so back on Krownest.
The fact that she was back on Tritonis territory, however, had reflected in her state of dress.
The previous year, following Reyna's full grasp of the traditions and culture of their people, he had entered the great forge within the Wren Stronghold alongside her, and together they had forged her own armour, the pair of them toiling away for a week in the workshops, and the end result was the gleaming set of Beskar armour which she now wore. It was truly a work of art, from the breastplate, to the turquoise and silver skirting that hung from her utility belt, to the greaves that she wore.

The crowning piece was her helmet, painted masterfully by his cousin Ursa's husband, Alrich to feature motifs of great birds of prey, customary among Tritonis Warriors.
It had not seen war yet, only seeing use when the Anaxes-born Imperial Governor returned to Krownest, but Percy couldn't help but smile when he saw her wearing it.

"Really, Percy," she admonished, "It honestly isn't so shocking that I'm wearing armour in the stronghold."
"It isn't, no," he agreed. "I was just thinking about how much of a pain it was to forge."
"Says the man who got his Buir to do it with him," Reyna giggled.
"Just my helmet," Percy protested, "you know how tricky helmets are to forge."
Reyna just tutted, though the smile on her face told Percy that it was all in jest.

"Commodore Thrawn, then," Reyna offered.
"Not Commodore anymore," Percy replied, a grin spreading across his face.
"By the Manda, what have you done now?"
Percy just smiled.

5th Fleet Headquarters, Imperial Naval Base Anaxes, 15 BBY
"Admiral, one Rear-Admiral Thrawn here to meet you," the droid at the desk informed him. "Appears to be in something of a mood. Do you wish for him to be escorted away?"
Percy smirked, and pressed the button which opened the door.
"You promoted me," Thrawn said as he walked into the office, and Percy could sense some sense of accusation in his tone. He didn't look up, and simply gestured at the seat in front of him.
"Did you want Vice-Admiral instead?" He offered in jest, "I considered it for some time."

"Why?" Thrawn demanded softly. "It happened too soon after we met for it not to have been you. Why me?"
"Do you want the reason I gave the Admiralty, or the lesson I wished to teach you?"
"Tell me both," Thrawn replied, a glint in the red of his eyes.

"You are far better than half my Admiralty Staff," Percy told him. "Your grasp on strategy is beyond any of my own peers, barring perhaps Artemis and Apollo, and I did not wish to see that space taken by some fruit of Coruscanti nepotism."
"And the other reason?"
"I wanted to see how you would react."
"And how," Thrawn sat back in his chair, "did I react?"
"Poorly," Percy told him.

"If I reacted poorly, Admiral, then what has your reaction to my deducing your little secret been?"
Percy glared at the Chiss Officer.
"Your secret is safe with me," he assured.
"It had better be," Percy shot back. "If you're lying, it'll be my wife you're dealing with, and she definitely won't have a problem strapping your sorry arse to a Purgill on its way right the kriff back to the Unknown Regions."

Tritonis Stronghold, Krownest, New Kleyman System, 14 BBY
Percy set down Blackjack on his personal landing pad, allowing autopilot to take over the landing process as he stood up, picked up his helmet and placed it on his head.
The Kom'rk landed under its own steam, and Percy found himself facing the slowly lowering ramp as he prepared to see his family for the first time in more than a year.
"Percy!" a voice shouted, high-pitched and lisping.
He smiled.

Triton had married his wife Libya, a young woman from House Saxon, three years prior, and already their first child Triteia was running around the stronghold, causing all manner of havoc and acting very much as children acted.
Libya had found herself pregnant once more, and their second child was due in a few short months.
"Hello, ad'ika," he greeted, hoisting the toddler up and placing her on his shoulders, "Shall we go and find Papa and your aunt Rey?"

The child babbled along happily enough, the little one making conversation in the manner that beings barely able to talk did, and Percy found himself smiling softly at the normality of it all.
Sure enough, Triton wasn't far off, Reyna and Poseidon trailing slightly behind as they made their way across the walkway from the residential wing of the stronghold to the landing pad which Percy had been designated.
The younger man took the child from his adoptive brother's grasp, much to the irritation of the little one, and the amusement of the only woman present.

"Careful there, Triton," Reyna teased, "Your daughter's going to end up preferring your older brother."
"Already does," Triton grumbled, while Poseidon chortled in the background. "Bad enough that Cousin Ursa's kid can't stand me either."
"Sabine is an absolute sweetheart," Reyna admonished, crossing her arms. "It really isn't the girl's fault that you got her a vibroblade for her birthday.
"Last I checked, that was your husband," Poseidon pointed out, slinging an arm around Percy's shoulder as they walked, and the Admiral found himself struggling against the older man's grip as his wife sent him a stare.

"It was a nice vibroblade?" he offered helplessly, shooting a look at Triton who was now laughing in the background. "I crafted it myself and everything!"
"You keep telling yourself that, Tritonis," Reyna told him, walking off.
"It's okay, Perce," Triton consoled mockingly over his daughter's head, "you can room with Triteia if Reyna kicks you out of your room."
Percy groaned.

"Oh, and Percy, we've had news," Poseidon told his son.
"News?" he questioned, brow furrowed, "What news?"
"News of the Jetii kind."
"Oh, shab."

Wren Stronghold, Krownest, New Kleyman System, 14 BBY
"Eurytion, you do know it is my leave, right?" Percy groaned over the comm to his second in command. He had been on Krownest for a week by now, and wasn't due to return to active duty for three more weeks still.
As it currently stood, he was attending the birthday of one of his nieces, this one on the Wren side of the Wren-Tritonis alliance. Little Sabine had turned seven years old the previous day, and her next gote'tuur would see her forging the beginnings of her own armour.

"It's urgent, Sir," Eurytion pressed, and Percy sent a look Reyna's way, leaving the room.
"Go on, Eurytion," Percy urged, suddenly concerned. It wasn't every day that the man declared something urgent, and Percy did very much have troops on deployments across the Mid and Outer Rims. If the situation was serious, it could have been anything from a minor assault, to the loss of an entire battlegroup.
He prayed that it was neither.

"We've lost Lawbringer," the Corellian informed the Mandalorian. "Hebe's dead. It's been claimed by the Free Ryloth Movement."
"Syndulla," Percy spat. He had served alongside the man during the Clone War, and had even respected the Twi'lek's dedication to his people. Since the ascension of the Emperor, however, he had been nothing but a rabble-rouser and a menace to Imperial society, attempting an assassination of Senator Taa, and fleeing from common society alongside his former forces, his greatest loyalists from the Clone War.
"Do we have Hebe's duty log?" Percy asked, already knowing that he wouldn't like what he heard.

"She had the chance to evacuate, but didn't, Perce," Eurytion told him, and Percy sighed.
The woman had been thrown to the command of a vessel, and had no chance of opting out. One of Zeus' few legitimate children, alongside her brothers Ares and Hephaestus, she was born with expectations.
He couldn't relate, with the ambition that he had developed since his own shambles of a childhood, but the girl clearly hadn't wanted to be where she was.
He hated that he couldn't offer an escape.
"Percy?"
He jumped as Reyna walked up behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Ursa was standing in the doorway, a concerned look on her own face.

"Are you okay?"
He shook his head. "Hebe's dead."
Reyna swore.
"Ryloth, of all places, Rey. I didn't want to go back there ever again, but by the Manda, the galaxy seems to want to throw me around at its whims, doesn't it?" he chuckled morosely.
Reyna drew him into a hug, and the pair of them sighed. "It does, Percy, it does," she whispered into his ear, "but you and I both know that we have to push on. We'll do better next time."
"We'll make sure of it," he responded, pressing his forehead to hers. "On my life, I'll make sure of it."

---

A/N

So this chapter's gone through all kinds of places, eh?
Thalia first: She's going to be a character of varying significance, though I can tell you now that she isn't going to get huge screen time.
Thrawn...
Goddamn what a character Thrawn is - There's tens of little dialogues I've mapped out between him and Percy, purely because of how good a character he is, and it's testament to Lars Mikkelsen first as a voice actor, and then in live action, that I can literally map out his dialogues in this story in his voice just to make sure it sounds right. Thrawn is far from a villain, but he's certainly going to be Percy's greatest adversary in this story.
Percy and Reyna was fun to write, and I get to mess around with Greek Mythology in House Tritonis. Of course, the God Triton married Libya, and had three children, the first of whom was creatively named Triteia. That'll go on in its own sweet time, and if there's a third book in this series, we'll see where they end up. If not, oh well, I guess. Really depends on where future seasons of SW shows take us and if I see what Filoni's endgame is with this set of shows and (potentially) movies.

Anyway, that's me done rambling. Dudududhehe's back at it with updates in various SW stories, and he's been a great help checking my stuff for this one too. Give his stuff a read, let him know I sent yous.
Until next time then,
Sol
(I do not own PJO, Star Wars or any related media.)