The vast expanse of space shimmered with the stars of the galaxy, but nothing could outshine the brilliant city-world of Coruscant. It loomed ahead, its sprawl of artificial lights reflecting the power and reach of the Galactic Empire. As the UNSC fleet entered the system, Rear Admiral Lasky stood on the bridge of the UNSC Infinity, his eyes fixed on the planet below.

"Coruscant, sir," the tactical officer reported, voice steady but with the slightest hint of awe. The planet's gravity well was visible on the sensor screen, a powerful pull that would ensure no vessel could escape without Imperial consent. But today, the UNSC was not fleeing.

"Keep us on course. No sudden movements", Lasky ordered, his voice calm but commanding. This was not a mission of war, not yet. The fleet, a formidable force with 75 combat vessels at its disposal, was here for diplomacy, and diplomacy alone.

He could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on him. The Empire had already apologized for their Captain Keab's actions—an apology that had been as measured and cold as everything else the Empire did. But that didn't mean the situation was resolved. He couldn't shake the feeling that every officer in the Empire was watching them, analyzing every move.

"Admiral, we've received communication from the Imperial fleet," his communications officer spoke up. "They're requesting our fleet's coordinates for docking". "The Emperor insists on an immediate meeting."

Lasky nodded, his hands clasped behind his back. This was the moment of truth. The Republic had once embraced diplomacy if the rebel stories were to be believed, but under Palpatine, everything had become a game of power. The Empire wouldn't let the Terrans off easy.

"I'll go" ahead, Lasky said. "Prepare the fleet for contact. We'll make our way to the Imperial docking station."

Imperial side

Grand Admiral Thrawn's gaze remained fixed on the holographic representations of the UNSC ships. The Infinity was certainly imposing in its sheer size, and the Odin-class heavy carriers were monstrous in scale. But there was a deeper, almost dismissive thought in the minds of the Imperial fleet officers as they analyzed the UNSC's vessels—particularly their reliance on projectile weapons.

"They use guns," one of the fleet admirals muttered under his breath, staring at the display of the Infinity. "Projectile weapons. How primitive. Blasters, plasma weapons—these are the weapons of a modern military. Mass-drivers and 'slug-throwers' are relics of a bygone age. This must be some mistake."

Thrawn's cold blue eyes turned toward the admiral, the faintest hint of amusement playing at the corners of his mouth. "Not a mistake, Admiral. This is their reality. A reality where such weapons are highly effective. But yes, there is a profound difference in our understanding of weaponry."

Another admiral, his expression wrinkled with concern, leaned in closer to Thrawn's tactical display. "We've analyzed their ammunition, Grand Admiral. Their mass-drivers are powerful, but their range is limited compared to the advanced blasters we employ. Even their missiles—though formidable—cannot compare to the power of a well-aimed plasma shot."

Thrawn nodded thoughtfully, his fingers tapping against the edge of the command desk. "Yes. It's true their weapons lack the precision and versatility of our blasters, but their sheer destructive capacity cannot be ignored. Their reliance on mass-drivers, while antiquated, is a weakness they have turned into a strength. They understand ballistics at a level few in the galaxy have ever fully appreciated."

The officer continued, pointing at a specific section of the display that detailed the UNSC's "MAC" weapons—mass accelerator cannons that fired projectiles at velocities far beyond typical blasters.

"What we don't understand," the officer continued, "is how these 'slug-throwers' manage to penetrate the same armor that we consider invulnerable. The armor on the Infinity, despite its bulk, is not dissimilar to the outer armor of a Star Destroyer, yet their projectiles punch through it with frightening ease."

Another admiral scoffed. "No matter how powerful their guns may be, they can't possibly match the sustained energy output of a plasma blaster. A single shot from one of our turbolasers can melt through their entire fleet."

Thrawn turned to face the admiral, his voice cutting through the room with cold precision. "Perhaps. But these Terrans are not fighting with plasma bolts. They are fighting with projectiles—simple, solid projectiles. And it is precisely that simplicity that has made their weapons effective. For now."

The other admiral, still skeptical, crossed his arms. "The simple fact remains that their weapons are inferior. There's no finesse. No elegance. Just raw firepower that lacks the sophistication of blasters. It's crude."

Thrawn paused for a moment, considering the admiral's words. "Crude, perhaps. But remember, Admiral, the Covenant once held this same arrogance over us. They thought their plasma weapons and energy shields would be the final word in warfare. Yet, time and again, we saw that in the right hands, even a simple projectile weapon can turn the tide of battle."

The room fell silent, the weight of Thrawn's words sinking in. The officer who had first spoken up hesitated before speaking again. "Do you think their projectiles could pose a serious threat to us?"

Thrawn's cold blue eyes locked on the holographic representation of the Infinity. "That depends. The real question is whether we can overcome our own bias against their weapons. In battle, it's not the type of weapon that matters, but how it's used. And the Terrans have clearly mastered the art of using their projectiles effectively."

The fleet around Coruscant loomed larger as the UNSC ships finally docked with the Imperial station. The vastness of their size was imposing, but so too was the design of their ships. They had no flashy, glowing shields like the Imperial vessels, no elegant, shimmering hulls. Their ships were cold, utilitarian, and designed for one purpose: war.

One final Imperial admiral, his face grim, stood on the observation deck overlooking the fleet. "Their ships are crude," he muttered under his breath. "But they are large. And they bring with them the full weight of their technology."

Thrawn stood beside him, eyes still locked on the approaching fleet. "Crude... or simple. The difference is often in the eye of the beholder. We must respect their weaponry—particularly their projectiles—and prepare accordingly. Do not let your bias blind you to the danger they pose."

Imperial Palace – Coruscant

The Grand Chamber of Diplomacy was a cavernous dome of marble, gold, and glowing holopanels, with enough seating for three thousand diplomats and staff. Yet only a small contingent filled it today—handpicked senators, Grand Moffs, and ranking members of the Imperial Security Bureau. And at its center, a dais beneath the shadow of the Emperor's own throne.

The delegation from the UNSC arrived precisely on time.

Rear Admiral Thomas Lasky led the Terran group, flanked by two ONI representatives, Spartan Commander Sarah Palmer, and Ambassador Elise Hawthorne, formerly of the UEG Diplomatic Corps. Behind them were two ODSTs, armor gleaming but weapons holstered.

They wore dress uniforms of deep navy blue, bereft of ornamentation save for subtle insignia. Their presence was surgical. Controlled.

Palpatine, draped in his dark crimson robes, remained still as death on his throne. To his left stood Darth Vader. To his right, Grand Vizier Mas Amedda and Grand Admiral Voss.

The silence was thick.

Palpatine spoke first. "Rear Admiral Lasky. Ambassador Hawthorne. Terrans. Welcome to Coruscant."

Lasky offered a short bow. "We appreciate the invitation, Your Excellency."

Palpatine's yellow eyes glinted. "It is not often that I extend invitations to military powers with unexplained hyperspace capabilities and weapons that shred my vessels. You've made quite the entrance."

Ambassador Hawthorne stepped forward. "We're here to ensure such misunderstandings do not happen again. The attack on our frigate Thunder was, as we understand, not sanctioned."

"Indeed," Amedda said hastily. "Captain Keab has been... reprimanded."

Vader said nothing. His mask hissed.

The throne room of the Galactic Senate had been repurposed for diplomacy, its once-vibrant banners now subtly bearing the dual emblems of the Empire and the visitor's delegation. Holo-recorders were silent, and senators were barred. This meeting, Palpatine had declared, would be behind closed doors. Only the highest-ranking minds of both powers would attend.

Rear Admiral Lasky sat straight-backed beside Ambassador Elise Hawthorne and Spartan Commander Sarah Palmer. They represented the United Earth Government and the Unified Earth Defense Command—Terrans from the Milky Way. Across from them, on the dais, sat Emperor Palpatine, Grand Vizier Mas Amedda, Lord Vader standing silently at his side, and Grand Admiral Thrawn, who observed without blinking.

Palpatine began, his tone velvety yet cold. "Your people have come far. Uninvited, perhaps. Unexpected, certainly. Yet here you sit, asking for diplomacy. So let us speak plainly. What do the Terrans seek from the Galactic Empire?"

Hawthorne, carefully diplomatic, offered a slight nod. "We seek a formal relationship. Recognition. A peaceful coexistence between our civilizations. And, if possible, the beginning of cultural and diplomatic exchanges."

"Peace," Palpatine repeated, as if testing the word. "A noble ambition. But what of control? Of influence? You govern across worlds, yes? And yet I sense no guiding current in your delegation. You are blank in the Force."

Vader's head turned slightly at that.

Hawthorne remained composed. "We are aware of your 'Force,' Your Majesty. Our people are... absent from it. We do not possess what you call midichlorians. As such, Force users cannot sense us easily, nor affect us without strain."

A murmur passed between Thrawn and Amedda.

Palpatine's fingers flexed slightly on the throne. "That makes you a threat, Ambassador. One that hides in plain sight."

Palmer met his gaze. "Or it makes us immune to manipulation. That may be inconvenient, but it's hardly malicious."

There was a pause. Then Thrawn's voice cut through the silence. "Your societies—Earth and its colonies—how are they governed?"

Lasky responded, calm but firm. "The United Earth Government is a democratic federation. Civil leadership is elected. The UNSC is a military body that answers to civilian leadership, particularly during crisis or war."

"You place civilians above your admirals?" Amedda asked with disdain.

"We do," Hawthorne replied. "Accountability is foundational to our culture."

Thrawn steepled his fingers. "Such a system invites instability."

"It invites debate," Hawthorne countered. "Which keeps tyrants in check."

The air tightened. Vader's presence seemed heavier now.

Palpatine's smile didn't reach his eyes. "And what of order? Surely you've found democracy... inefficient."

Lasky leaned forward slightly. "It is not efficient. But it is just. And we've paid dearly to preserve it."

Mas Amedda shifted uncomfortably, but said nothing.

Thrawn, ever the analyst, pivoted. "We have read your provided material. These 'smart AIs'—constructs with personalities, autonomy. They serve in military and civilian roles. Do they ever... disobey?"

"They're bound by protocols," Palmer replied. "They have fail-safes, and their operational limits are strictly enforced. But yes—they think. That's the point."

"Do they vote?" Thrawn asked, quietly.

"No," Hawthorne answered, "but they advise. And many of our greatest breakthroughs—medicine, logistics, even crisis response—came from AI input."

Palpatine's eyes glittered. "You hand your destiny to machines?"

"No," Lasky said. "We trust ourselves enough to create tools that help us do better. We're not ruled by them. But we'd be foolish not to listen."

Palpatine's smile darkened. "Tools become masters when given too much voice."

There was silence.

Finally, Vader spoke. "You are alien to the Force. Yet I sense... purpose. War-born purpose. You've fought extinction."

"We have," Lasky said, quietly. "Multiple times."

"Then why not expand?" Vader asked. "Why not conquer?"

Palmer answered. "Because we remember what it's like to be nearly wiped out. We know how easy it is to become the monster that once hunted you. We'd rather avoid repeating history."

Palpatine was silent, weighing every word.

Thrawn finally spoke again. "Then why now? Why make contact?"

Lasky replied, "Because we didn't come here looking for you. We were pulled here by an accident. But now that we're here—we can't pretend you don't exist. And we won't risk war with a power we don't understand. Better to talk."

Palpatine's fingers flexed again. "And if we refused?"

Hawthorne said simply, "We'd leave. For now."

The implication hung in the air.

For now.