Grand Admiral

Nine years, eight months, and twenty days after the Battle of Yavin...

Or forty-four years, eight months, and twenty days after the Great Resynchronization.

(Four months and five days since the arrival).

Major General Veers waited until his friend and protégé, Major General Freja Covell, finished speaking. Only then did he reach for the table with drinks to grab a glass of whiskey.

News like this demanded a drink, as a sober mind struggled to process such revelations.

However, the bulk of his repulsor chair for the disabled prevented him from reaching the glass. He was about to abandon the idea of getting thoroughly drunk when his glass was swiftly picked up by the hand of a man in a general's uniform sitting to his right. Without a word, one of the two guests offered assistance.

Veers cast a probing glance at him, but the man's face showed no trace of pity, sympathy, or condescension. This convinced the seasoned general that the help was not born of mockery or patronizing kindness.

It was simply the right thing to do.

"Thank you," Veers said dryly, taking a sip that left only melting ice cubes in the glass.

"No problem, General," the man responded in the same dry tone, with identical intonation. Was it still him? Or no longer?

"That was my reaction too when I first learned about it," the first guest added.

"Only we found out under different circumstances," the second guest remarked with a chuckle. He was an exact replica of the first. No, more than that—an exact copy of Veers himself.

"So, cloning," Veers sighed, gesturing to Covell to refill his empty glass.

"Precisely," his former mentor confirmed, pouring the glass nearly to the brim. "Fourteen days from biomaterial implantation to a fully functional replica of the donor. No deviations, complete emotional stability, full competency."

"I thought it took ten years," Veers admitted, glancing sidelong at the two copies of himself seated to his right, opposite Covell, who was in charge of the ship and the entire project.

"With Kaminoan technology, yes," Covell confirmed. "We're using the Spaarti program."

"Damn," Veers thought. He'd heard of this program.

"And how soon will they go mad?" he asked, nodding toward his clones.

"That sounded a bit offensive," the second clone remarked. The first remained silent, seemingly intrigued by the question himself.

"Yurgen," Covell said placatingly, "don't escalate things. You're still considered defective."

"So what?" Yurgen retorted. "Is that my problem now?"

"If soldiers die because of you, yes," the first clone replied.

"Enough," Covell ordered. Turning to the original Veers, he explained: "Grand Admiral Thrawn employs a unique technology that mitigates the effects of clone madness. These clones are identical to you in every way, Maximillian."

"Which of the three Maximillians?" Yurgen quipped.

Veers gave a crooked smile, eyeing his copies. "Interesting," he said. "Why, knowing the nature of your origins, did you keep my name?"

"Technically, it's our name too," the first clone countered. "When we were informed of our origins, Yurgen and I decided to keep the name but take different surnames. We kept the name out of respect for you, General Veers."

"I'm flattered," Veers replied dryly, choosing not to mention his fury. "So, you," he pointed at the second clone, "are Maximillian Yurgen?"

"Exactly," Yurgen replied with a yawn.

"And you?" Veers turned to the first.

"Major General Maximillian Kain," the clone introduced himself.

"Accepted," Veers said. There was no point in arguing. Thrawn wanted it; Thrawn made it happen. Now it was clear what he meant by getting Veers back on his feet. "Covell, a question. You mentioned fourteen days. I arrived here only seven days ago. How do you explain that?"

"Your blood sample was taken by medics during your examination upon arriving in the Dominion," Covell admitted reluctantly. "At the time, I was overseeing the evacuation of the original facility and the transfer of cloning cylinders to ships. Yurgen's capsule, for some reason, was insufficiently shielded, but we only discovered this after it was moved to the ship. As a result, he has certain non-critical brain alterations, which make his personality differ from yours and Kain's. As for the personality imprint, I ordered it taken during your medical exam here, on the ship. We just managed to load it into the first two clones—Kain and Yurgen. Even though the latter differs from both of you."

"You make it sound like that's a bad thing," Yurgen said irritably.

"We're stating a fact," Covell countered. "You are defective."

"Why wasn't he terminated, then?" Veers asked.

"It doesn't affect his combat efficiency," Covell replied. "And personality… that's secondary in the cloning process."

"Am I correct in understanding," Kain interjected, "that there are multiple ships housing cloning cylinders?"

"Yes," Covell confirmed. "Their exact number is classified, as is the number of my own copies. But I have certain guesses, which, naturally, I won't share with you."

"No one's insisting," Veers remarked. "So, I take it this ship is cloning crews for armored units?"

"Correct," Covell affirmed. "Thrawn hasn't relied heavily on ground forces before, but he's realized he'll soon need to wage planetary battles. That's why we're creating clones of exceptional specialists."

"Good," Kain said. "What will we be fighting with?"

"I've inspected the Dominion's army reserves," Veers admitted. "Most of the equipment is outdated. From the Clone Wars era."

"That doesn't negate its effectiveness," Kain countered.

"No one's arguing that," Veers said. "But it would be most effective to field Imperial-standard armored vehicles."

"That's not our decision," Kain replied calmly. "The shortage of AT-ATs and AT-STs can be addressed by using AT-RTs for forward reconnaissance and maneuverable forces."

"We're not discussing tactics and strategy right now," Covell reminded them, taking a sip from his glass before continuing. "I have orders to produce your clones," he said, looking directly at Veers. "On this ship, we'll be reconstituting Blizzard Force in the numbers Thrawn requires."

"I hope you're not cloning existing Fett duplicates," Veers remarked. "Given their accelerated aging, they're probably around sixty in biological terms by now."

"As far as I know, Dominion intelligence operatives are searching for a suitable donor," Covell said. "If they succeed, we'll rebuild the army using Jango Fett's template. We're facing significant issues with stormtrooper gear. Imperial-standard armor reserves are nearly depleted. New batches of clone stormtroopers will be equipped with Phase II armor. It's morally outdated but not significantly different from what we're used to. I understand the priority on cloning fleet and army specialists is due to the availability of Imperial-standard gear for them. Phase II, on the other hand…"

"It's standard for Fett clones," Kain finished Covell's thought. "And there aren't many solutions—either attack and seize a factory producing it and relocate it to the Dominion, or transition to Phase II. But it's suitable for very few of our current stormtroopers."

"That's why they're looking for a mercenary named Boba Fett," Covell explained. "He's supposedly an exact Kaminoan copy of Jango Fett, who was the donor for the Old Republic's clone army."

"Yes, I heard that tale too," Veers said. "Back on the Executor."

"Regardless, Thrawn currently prioritizes fleet and army specialists," Covell reiterated. "The number of ground contingents on fleet ships is growing—each Star Destroyer needs a legion of stormtroopers with attached units. Thrawn has ordered that they be led by your clones," he looked at Veers again, "or mine. As the most effective in ground combat tactics and strategy."

"Are you trying to convince me to consent to further cloning?" Veers smirked.

"Actually, yes," Covell admitted.

"They took half a liter of blood from me during my medical exam on Ciutric IV," Veers recalled. "I reckon you could make plenty of clones from that volume. And you have my memory imprint too."

"I'd prefer not to proceed without your consent," Covell confessed. "The Supreme Commander's orders must be followed, but…"

Veers understood what Covell couldn't bring himself to say.

Doing something behind his friend and mentor's back was repugnant to him.

"Take as much as you need," Veers sighed, downing his refilled glass in one gulp. "It's just a shame you can't make a clone and transfer my consciousness into it. That would give me a chance to return to the front lines. Honestly, that's what I first thought of…"

"Unfortunately, we're working with what we have, based on the program's data," Covell said. "We can only take imprints and place them in the minds of clones. Full consciousness transfer isn't possible."

"Also," Yurgen chimed in, "you should understand that we clones have a shorter lifespan than you, General. Accelerated growth and all that…"

"Are you saying you're not exact copies of me in terms of biological life?" Veers frowned.

"We have the same physical condition, health, and age you would have had without the injury on Hoth," Kain explained. "But we live shorter lives. How many years will pass before we age and die naturally—no one can say for sure."

"Because we'll probably all die on the battlefield first," Yurgen summed up.

"Not necessarily," Covell shook his head. "The Dominion is seeking cloning specialists to help us extend clone lifespans. Despite recruiting volunteers and conscripts, it'll take months before they grasp the basics of military arts. Clones, due to their accelerated metabolism and the cloning process, will die—if not in battle, then of natural causes. If we don't have enough time to replace clones with recruits, cloning labs will be under constant strain due to clone attrition. So, even if consciousness transfer were possible…"

"Whether I do it or not is my decision alone," Veers said sharply. Indeed, it was easy for them to talk—they hadn't spent half their lives in a repulsor chair. "I suggest we end this debate and return to our duties. Covell, I assume the cloning chambers are ready for me?"

"Correct," Covell agreed.

"Then it's time to start producing my copies," Veers declared decisively. "The sooner I'm done here, the sooner I can return to the Dominion to train recruits. Either of you two," he looked at Kain and Yurgen, "ready to return with me to Ciutric IV?"

"With all due respect, General, we already have orders," Kain said. "It seems the Grand Admiral is planning something highly offensive, so Yurgen and I will depart the ship for the Dominion."

"We're traveling through hyperspace with no stops until our destination," Covell stated. "In five days, the twelfth batch of clones will be complete, and you'll depart with them for Ciutric IV. Not sooner."

"Fine," Kain shrugged indifferently. Turning to Veers, he asked, "General, once you've completed the procedures, would you join us in the training bay to practice tactics? The ground combat tactical simulator on this ship is excellent. We have details of our upcoming assignments and reconnaissance data. I'd like to get your evaluation of our actions as the original and test our skills against an equal opponent."

"That sounded offensive," Yurgen remarked.

"At your service, General Kain," Veers agreed. "On one condition—we'll also use models of Great Army of the Republic vehicles."

"To practice coordination with Imperial-standard armor?" Kain clarified.

"Exactly," Veers confirmed with a smirk. "Reading my mind, General."

"I just think the same way," Kain replied with the same smirk.

"I'll join you later," Covell said unexpectedly. "I've long wanted to test myself against my mentor."

"You should be glad you never had to, General," Maximillian Kain remarked. "General Veers taught you nearly everything you know."

"But not everything he knows himself," Yurgen added.

Covell burst into laughter.

"This will be an interesting experience," he said. "Because I haven't been idle since Hoth either."

"Good to know we're fighting on the same side," Veers noted. "Otherwise, in reality, such a battle could turn into a bloody massacre with no victors."

"In that case, our enemies should order plenty of coffins and dig deeper mass graves," Kain promised.

***

When the hologram of the Dominion's ruler came into sharp focus, Asajj Ventress nearly cursed in Huttese.

"This is your acquisition, Commodore Shohashi?" Grand Admiral Thrawn's voice carried authority and a distinct lack of emotion, and his gaze…

Despite the hologram's limited palette of white and blue, the Dathomirian witch clearly sensed that the figure before her was not human. Very similar, but…

"Correct, sir," confirmed the commander of the Red Star squadron. "Asajj Ventress. According to archival records, she was a servant and assassin under Count Dooku during the Clone Wars. She was wanted and a target of the Inquisitorius."

"Given that you're alive, Lady Ventress, the Inquisitors failed in their task," Thrawn remarked. Though the hologram's eyes were blue, Ventress knew they were red in reality, burning with intensity.

"This galaxy is quite convoluted," she replied. "For instance, Chiss leading an Imperial armada—a rarity in any era."

Judging by the surprise on Ahsoka's and Shohashi's faces, they were unfamiliar with the Chiss. Interesting. How could this happen in the human-centric Galactic Empire? True, the Chiss were a near-human species—at least according to what she'd read in Confederacy data about General Sev'rance Tann, a Force-sensitive female Chiss who fought for the Confederacy. She fought valiantly but briefly, killed by some obscure Jedi.

Was this Thrawn Force-sensitive? Ventress couldn't tell.

"As are Dathomirian witches trained in the ways of the Jedi, only to become assassins serving Darth Tyranus, a puppet of Darth Sidious, who later became the Emperor," the Chiss countered.

"Alright, red-eyes," Ventress thought. "You know some personal, little-known details about me. Let's call it one-to-one."

"We haven't been introduced," the hologram continued. "I am Grand Admiral Thrawn, Supreme Commander and ruler of the Dominion."

"You know me," the former assassin said. "Asajj Ventress."

"And that's all?" Thrawn's brow arched.

"That's all," Ventress replied, her lips curling into a sardonic smirk. "But the little runt mentioned you could offer more to valuable assets like me. I'd like to hear about potential employment options."

Thrawn's lips twitched in a brief smile.

"Lady Tano has been rather careless with her words lately," he said. The Togruta narrowed her eyes, suggesting the guards who overheard her indiscretions had reported to Thrawn. "I am indeed interested in having Force-sensitive individuals with unique talents in my service. However, assassins wielding lightsabers are not highly valued."

"I've killed more than one Jedi," Ventress pointed out. "In the Confederacy, I led numerous military operations, both on planetary surfaces and in space."

"As far as I'm aware, most ended disastrously," Thrawn stated. "There was always someone who thwarted your plans, indicating a lack of expertise in conducting battles. To put it plainly—you're incompetent in space combat. Ground operations, perhaps, but that's of little interest to me now. Do you have any other talents?"

Ventress noted a restrained smile on Tano's face, which vanished under Shohashi's glance. Fascinating… She'd never thought the "Butcher of Atoan" reputation was genuine. This man radiated calm, bordering on deadly menace and ruthlessness—a General Grievous without cybernetics, mania, or schizophrenia, and an ostensibly "peaceful" Alderaanian.

An intriguing human specimen, she had to admit. Even worthy of respect. His purge of pirates on that planet—mountains of corpses, hundreds of prisoners, minimal losses… Had Dooku such a commander, the Republic would have drowned in blood.

"I'd point out that the only ones who ever defeated me were Skywalker and Kenobi, who are long dead," Ventress said disdainfully. "Of their trio, only one little nuisance remains…"

"What a woman," Tano sighed. "Always resorting to insults."

"Silence," Thrawn ordered, glancing at the Togruta. "Yes, Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi are dead. But there are still plenty of Jedi in the galaxy. I was informed that Lady Tano easily defeated you in combat. And she's not even a particularly strong Jedi," he added, clearly offending Tano. "I'll repeat my question—why should I employ someone like you, who lost to even a non-powerful Jedi?"

Thrawn was evidently not Force-sensitive, or he wouldn't have diminished Tano so. Though a headache, she was a highly capable Jedi combatant. A small piece of information about the Grand Admiral acquired.

"Tano got lucky," Ventress insisted. "I haven't practiced lightsaber combat in a long time. But once I regain my form…"

"I don't have years, let alone decades, for you to rise from a mere assassin to even Lady Tano's level," Thrawn said, revealing his earlier belittlement of Tano as a provocation. He knew her capabilities well. What did that imply?

"Force-sensitive individuals are rare," Ventress declared, pushing aside Tano's request to help kill Thrawn. She'd brewed this mess; let her deal with it. Ventress understood Thrawn wasn't eager to recruit amateurs—or at least projected that image. If he sought only masters of Jedi arts, he wouldn't keep someone like Tano, strong in combat but not in the Force. "I could pretend you're not interested in me, but I won't waste our time. Tano said during our fight that you're a new variable in the Force, disrupting the known future. I don't care about Jedi nonsense. She said she'd kill you if you acted against the galaxy's interests…"

"What did I expect from Dooku's lackey?" Ahsoka muttered.

"…I have no love for the New Republic or the Empire," Ventress continued. "I wanted to stay out of your conflicts and came to this pirate base only to retrieve my stolen lightsabers. But if you've found a place for a Jedi who might stab you in the back, there's room for a Dathomirian witch as a counterbalance to this Togruta. If she turns against you, I'll kill her. Without Skywalker or Kenobi to save her, I'll succeed."

Thrawn studied her silently for a moment, then glanced aside, likely issuing silent orders, before returning his gaze to Ventress.

"You wanted to leave Dominion territory," he reminded her. "Now you offer your service. Have you suffered any head injuries that might explain such a rapid change in motivation?"

Tano seemed to snort with satisfaction at Ventress's humiliation but fell silent under Shohashi's calming stare.

"You seem to have grand plans, Grand Admiral," Ventress said. "And I suspect, no matter where I hide, the Force will bring me back to the Dominion. It has a nasty habit of doing that. So, I'd prefer to enlist—with a substantial salary and perks, naturally—and serve as your blade against your enemies. And," she smiled at Tano, "as proof of my loyalty, I could behead this little br—"

"Enough," Thrawn interrupted, shifting his focus. "Commodore Shohashi."

"At your command, Grand Admiral," the Butcher of Atoan responded.

"Lady Ventress is now under your command," Thrawn ordered. "Provide her with appropriate training in ground operations and verify her competence through missions to clear planets of pirates and criminals. If she proves herself, her probation ends. If she causes more harm, losses, or failures, eliminate her. Given the resilience of Force-sensitive individuals, I suggest disposing of her body in the nearest star if she fails you."

Perfect… Once again, she was under the command of a ruler's trusted subordinate. It brought back memories.

"Order understood, Grand Admiral," Shohashi said crisply.

"Lady Tano," Thrawn's gaze shifted to the subdued Togruta. "Your services are no longer required on the Red Star squadron's ships. Pack your belongings; I expect you aboard the Chimaera. You'll receive coordinates and rendezvous details shortly. You'll travel with chief shipwright Zion. Ensure his safety during the journey. I have new assignments for both of you, provided your answers to certain questions satisfy me."

"Finally," Ventress thought with relief. "Someone has the sense to execute this childish nuisance. Few would be satisfied with answers about why a Jedi plotted to assassinate the Supreme Commander."

Those not attuned to the Force couldn't understand. To them, visions, premonitions, and Force intricacies were mere noise.

"Understood," Tano said dully. "I'll depart as soon as I receive the coordinates."

"That is all," Thrawn concluded.

As his hologram faded, Tano's wrist comlink lit up with an incoming message—likely the coordinates. Imperial interrogators were surely waiting for her…

Ventress almost regretted not being able to witness her old "friend's" interrogation.

"Looks like I'd better pack," Ahsoka mumbled, leaving the comms bay. Only Ventress and the Star Dreadnought's commander remained.

Shohashi promptly activated a holoprojector displaying a 3D map of the Nydjun sector, studying it as if searching for something he'd missed.

"You'll occupy Lady Tano's quarters as soon as she vacates them," Shohashi ordered without turning to Ventress. "In one hour, you'll receive the training manual for small-unit ground force commanders. You have one day to study it, after which I and the Crimson Dawn's ground contingent commander will examine you."

"No need to worry, Commodore," Ventress replied. Men were easy to handle—feign obedience while flirting to pique their interest. Shohashi wouldn't realize he'd become her pawn. "I'll do everything you command." She reached out to place her hand over his.

She froze, feeling the prick of a vibroblade at the base of her neck.

"Do anything I haven't ordered," Shohashi said slowly, still studying the hologram, "and your life will end at the hands of my guards, my commando droids, or perhaps the droidekas aboard Crimson Dawn."

"You're a tough one," Ventress smirked, retracting her hand. The inactive vibroblade's tip remained in place. "Sometimes it's good to relax during a mission. Helps you feel alive."

"To feel alive as long as possible, focus on your duties, Lady Ventress," Shohashi said, stepping back from the holoprojector. His right hand dipped into a pocket on his tunic, retrieving an ancient chronometer. Ventress noticed an image of a refined woman—likely an aristocrat—on the inner lid. "Otherwise, your stay on my ship will last only as long as it takes my guards to dispose of your corpse. Clear enough?"

"Crystal clear," the Dathomirian witch replied. The easy way out of her subordinate role had failed. No matter—she could play the long game. "I'll await your orders and guidance, Commodore."

"Now, leave this restricted bay," he commanded. "Remain in your quarters until I summon you. You're forbidden to leave except to carry out assigned tasks."

As expected…

***

Torin took a bite of his nutrient bar, washing down the tasteless mass with a vitamin drink.

The Twi'lek girl sitting across from him at the tiny table kept her eyes down, silently consuming her freeze-dried rations.

"How much longer?" Inek asked, careful to keep irritation out of his voice.

"What?" The girl looked up warily.

"I'm wondering how long you'll keep pretending there's something here on this junk heap," he clarified.

"I'm telling you, my brother's base is here!" she insisted. "Reus…"

Torin yawned, not bothering to cover his mouth. He was a smuggler; where were his manners?

"Look, I don't really care," he said, "but we've been here almost a month. Flying from one scrap pile to another, digging through rusty junk. You act like your brother's base is somewhere here, and I pretend to believe you."

"It's definitely here," she said, convincing no one but herself. "We just need to look harder…"

Torin sighed heavily.

"You said you knew where it was," he reminded her.

"I thought I did," she admitted. "But it's been a while, and… the landscape's changed."

"Yeah," Torin snorted. "The last Rodian we ran into said a Star Destroyer crashed on this planet a decade ago. They say that kind of thing leaves a mark…"

"I'm not a Jedi to find one grimy hideout in a sea of scrap!" she snapped, offended. "We just need to keep looking. And preferably avoid the Rodians…"

They'd been here nearly a month, constantly moving to avoid Rodian scavenger gangs. Often, a few shots from the ship's rapid-fire cannons before landing kept them at bay, but only briefly. An hour or two to scout the area, then flee to another spot to hide and resume the search.

Sometimes, they had to engage in surface skirmishes to drive off persistent scavengers. One wounded Rodian from a recent fight had spun the tale of the crashed Star Destroyer.

A tall tale, perhaps, but the ship's scanners indicated a distinctive starship hull three hundred kilometers north of their position. According to stealth probe droids Inek had sent without Shira's knowledge, the ship was relatively intact—some weapons and surveillance systems still functional. That raised questions…

As did the girl's suspicious behavior.

Frankly, he was growing tired of this charade. The clear trail he'd followed had led to a dead end.

Either she was stringing him along, or she'd chosen this planet for reasons other than finding her brother.

Time to clarify things. He was a free captain, wasn't he? What smuggler would linger on a scrapheap for a month at the whim of a vaguely charming stranger? Only a lovesick fool or a greedy opportunist.

But everything had its limits.

"Shira," he said softly. "There's nothing here, is there?"

"There is," she said sullenly. "We just…"

"Cut the nonsense," he said, adopting a blunt tone to match his cover. "If there was something here, you'd have found your brother's base by now. Or at least tried to contact him after all this running around. But you do nothing. You just drag me from one dump to another. I agreed to help because I thought it was worth it. And, well," he hesitated, feigning reluctance, "I liked you. Thought I'd help a damsel in distress…"

Shira's eyes widened, giving him a peculiar look.

"…but I didn't expect the search for your brother to drag on this long," he admitted. "Maybe there is a base here…"

"There definitely is," the Twi'lek said firmly.

"…or maybe it's buried under junk," Torin continued. "Or maybe you came here hoping to find him, realized you were wrong, and don't want to admit it. Or, judging by your last comment—avoiding Rodians—you're hiding here from those guys who were harassing you on the Wheel."

She looked away. He'd hit the mark, though not certainly.

"Either way, my supplies are running low," he said. "I'm a nice guy, but my kindness isn't infinite."

"Decided to demand payment for your services?" Her hands subtly moved to the sheath of a short dagger.

"I'm not going to force myself on you, if that's what you're thinking," Inek chuckled. "No offense, but it's not about you—it's me. You're a pretty lady, but not my type. Even if I tried."

"I'm confused," she admitted. "So, am I attractive to you or…"

Was her brain only processing select information, or was her species' hearing selective?

"Look," Torin yawned theatrically, testing her candor. "Don't take it personally, but I'm leaving. Tell me where to drop you off, and…"

"Leave me here," Shira said, her posture and eyes radiating relief. Clearly, this whole search was a ploy to reach this exact outcome. "If you don't believe me, we're not on the same path. I'll find it myself."

"As you wish," Torin shrugged, rising from the couch. "You can spend the night on my ship. Check the hold—there's some old weapons and gear you can take."

"How thoughtful," she said with obvious sarcasm. "Thanks, but I'll pass."

"Don't be stupid," he warned. "You'll be here who-knows-how-long. A flashlight or portable power source could make life easier. And without the ship's guns, you'll have to fend off scavengers yourself."

After a pause, she relented.

"You're right," she said quickly. "I'll probably stick around. Got any spare comlinks?"

"Where would I get those?" Torin asked, surprised. "My crew's just me. One comlink and the ship's comms are enough…"

Her insincerity was glaring. She was thrilled to be rid of him, letting her guard down and revealing her intentions.

Time to nudge her toward the desired action.

"If you want to contact someone to get off this planet, the cockpit's at your disposal," he said, heading to his quarters. "If you decide to leave the ship at night, wake me first, alright? I don't deserve to sleep with the ramp down surrounded by angry Rodians."

"I'll leave in the morning," she said firmly. "I'll check the hold for what I can take."

"Deal," Torin nodded. He started to leave but paused. Looking at her, he said, "Sorry it turned out this way. I'd have helped longer, but a month without work… I need to maintain the ship, make repairs, and I'm sick of ration bars. Honestly, I thought this would be a two-week adventure, but it dragged on…"

"I get it," she said, her voice tinged with impatience. She clearly wanted to ditch the clingy "pilot." She needed to do something in secret, something Torin shouldn't know.

He'd bet her target was the cockpit's comm panel, but there was no one to wager with. He'd just have to wait.

And hope the techs were skilled at concealing their modifications.

"I'm sorry," he said, genuinely feeling a bit sorry for her. Her brother's situation was dire, but as an operative, he knew nothing happened by chance. "If you need me, I'll be in my quarters."

"Go already," she laughed. "Trust me, I won't need you."

All the better. No one would interfere with monitoring the ship's systems from the hidden consoles in his quarters.

An hour later, when Inek thought nothing would happen, an encrypted signal was sent from his freighter's cockpit…

When he traced its direction, his stomach dropped.

Three hundred kilometers north…

***

Setting aside the datapad with Bravo-2's report, I looked at Coordinator Sergius sitting across from me.

Or rather… what kind of coordinator was he now? The man yearned to return to fieldwork. Desk work wasn't for him. So, let him do what he excelled at.

"A thorough report," I said. "You've done excellent work."

"Thank you, sir," he replied quietly.

So, what do we have in summary?

The Zann Consortium wasn't just alive or hiding in the galaxy's depths—it was actively exploiting galactic chaos to amass resources.

They'd cleverly tapped into the Bothans' "gray" scheme to supply Imperial weapons for completing the Lusankya, diverting significant amounts of Imperial arms and equipment from under the New Republic's nose.

Why Imperial and not Republican, given Coruscant's orders to disarm both Imperial ships and Mon Calamari cruisers? For the same reason Prince-Admiral Delak Krennel ordered turbolasers from Bilbringi for the Mon Calamari ships I transferred to him.

Imperial weapons and critical systems far surpassed New Republic equivalents. Turbolasers on MC80 cruisers were inferior to Imperial analogs—not just due to older technology but also poorer build quality. Republican guns were less accurate, less powerful, and had inferior targeting systems.

Thus, the Consortium stole the best.

Why did they need Imperial tech?

Simple—they were building a fleet, in secret, preparing to upend the galaxy. With Kamino's cloning resources, potentially Ryloth, and definitively Saleucami and Hypori, the Consortium could supply its forces with troops, starships, and battle droids sufficient to carve out their own galactic territory.

And, it seemed, this would happen very soon.

I couldn't pinpoint when Kamino fell under Consortium control.

Thus, brainstorming had to rely on available data.

Tyber Zann was imprisoned on Kessel, freed by Han Solo and Chewbacca. He then returned to his homeworld to rebuild the Consortium. One of his first major ventures was to the Yavin system, collecting data pods from the destroyed Death Star. How anything was ejected during the sudden attack on the station was questionable, but some reportedly escaped. Whether true or not was irrelevant.

The key was that the Consortium began spreading across the galaxy immediately after the Battle of Yavin IV.

Imperial chronology marked that event as the thirty-fifth year, third month, and seventh day after the Great Resynchronization. Now, it was the forty-fourth year, eighth month, and twentieth day post-Resynchronization.

In other words, after some mental gymnastics, nine years, five months, and thirteen days had passed since that monumental Imperial defeat.

Suppose Zann captured Kamino shortly after Yavin IV. Unlikely, but without precise data, we start with the earliest known point. By my calculations, slightly less time had passed since Kamino's capture.

Thus, ten years hadn't elapsed since Zann took Kamino. Clones, if he began producing them immediately, weren't ready yet. Certainly not in the next few months. But, recalling *Attack of the Clones*, Kaminoans produced clones in five years, training them during accelerated growth.

Delay was no longer an option. Zann might already have an army of hundreds of millions of juvenile clones learning to kill. Not "juveniles," but near-adults. If made to the same standards as the Grand Army of the Republic's clones, they were either programmed for absolute obedience, as in the Expanded Universe novels, or controlled via inhibitor chips, as in the seventh season of *The Clone Wars*. The latter's reliability was dubious, as General Covell's scans of Jango Fett clones in Blizzard Force found no chips. But that wasn't conclusive.

"Did Vex survive?" I asked.

"No, sir," Sergius replied. "I extracted everything she could tell me. Leaving someone like her alive is dangerous."

Logical.

Vex, a secret Consortium agent, was fanatically loyal. Reports suggested their minds were conditioned to prevent rebellion against their masters. Was this linked to Kaminoan cloning and Republic soldier control techniques? Based on my experience in this universe, likely.

Delay was unacceptable.

The Zann Consortium was nearing completion of its fleet with stolen tech. Clones were nearly ready (I had no hope they weren't being made). Hypori's droideka factory operated nonstop, with regular shipments. Tracking those ships risked exposure.

That factory was vital for completing the third phase of Operation Crimson Dawn and for the Dominion's military development.

While I dealt with the New Republic, Lady Santhe, the Guardian, the Lusankya, internal New Republic destabilization, Ennix Devian's shadow war, Grand Moff Kaine's looming attacks, Palpatine's Dark Side Elite, the real Iceheart, and Dominion expansion and defense, the urgent need arose to act against the Zann Consortium.

And, of course, the mysterious issues in the Kweli sector with unclear shipments.

Too many problems to address personally.

Piracy suppression and Dominion expansion were handled by Erik Shohashi and Moff Ferrus.

Raids on the New Republic fell to Leonia Tavira and auxiliary forces in the Karthakk sector.

Kaine… I'd soon meet him in orbit over Dantooine to exchange Grant and retrieve my cruisers, plus recover the archaeological team extracting Jedi-related artifacts, including lightsaber crystals.

The Imperial Ruling Council posed a prospective threat.

Devian and Iceheart were immediate dangers.

As was the New Republic, refusing to accept defeat and seeking ways to strike my forces. Hard to blame them for fighting.

"Prepare for deployment to Hypori," I ordered.

"I'm ready, Grand Admiral," Sergius replied.

His detailed report on the Consortium's operations suggested a personal stake in dismantling the criminal organization. Without past data on Sergius's field operations, I could've asked directly but saw no need to reveal my ignorance.

"Your mission is to travel to Hypori, link with Noghri reconnaissance teams, gather and analyze intelligence on enemy forces, and provide a comprehensive report," I commanded.

"It will be done, Grand Admiral," Sergius replied crisply.

"Dismissed."

"Yes, sir." He rose and left my quarters, leaving me in the dim glow of subdued lighting.

Events were unfolding intriguingly…

The front was inevitably expanding, precluding my personal involvement in most operations. I'd need to delegate to carefully chosen subordinates.

The year was nearing its end.

Palpatine would strike soon.

Since the Consortium's clones weren't ready and they hadn't revealed themselves, they either emerged during Palpatine's Operation Shadow Hand or imploded due to internal strife, neutralizing their threat.

I doubted the latter, but the former…

Most Star Wars literature from this period was New Republic-centric, chronicling their conflict with the Empire. If Palpatine's forces encountered the Consortium during Shadow Hand, it might've gone unrecorded. Given Palpatine's vast forces and their eventual defeat, it's plausible he faced adversaries who weakened his armada, with remnants destroyed on Byss by key figures.

Like the old joke: the fuse was perfect, but the result was a fizzle.

Did this mean I'd need to battle the Consortium's fleet for Kamino and Ryloth, acting as their executioner? Likely, yes. While the broader timeline remained intact, specifics had shifted dramatically. Palpatine contacting me via Kaine—a deviation from known events—proved that. Or perhaps I simply didn't know.

Amusing… Thrawn might've acted under Palpatine's orders initially. My "going rogue" would then convince Darth Sidious to eliminate me.

Given his vindictive nature, he'd likely target my allies too, as I'd considered before.

That's why I sent a team to Kuat. I needed Kuat Drive Yards' technical advancements for offense and defense. Otherwise, Operation Crimson Dawn's best outcome would see everything I'd built destroyed by Palpatine's mad clone and his loyal servants.

The meeting with Rederick and the naval special forces would clarify the Kuat data and expose the enemy trying to kill me. Devian would crawl out of his hole…

Hmm…

An interesting combination could emerge.

But I'd need to adjust minor operations to secure sufficient resources. Then, I could position them on the "chessboard" for maximum advantage.

The risk lay in exposing my forces. Palpatine might disapprove of my growing power, turning me from ally to rival. With transport, military, combat, and special ships, the Dominion's fleet neared sector fleet strength. My Star Destroyer count already exceeded standard numbers.

But that wasn't enough, was it?

If the New Republic persisted in rebuilding its logistics and economy, why not aid their shipbuilding program?

They'd disarmed so many Imperial ships to convert them into transports…

As they say—come and take.

And don't forget to keep their Republican names—let them grind their teeth in fury when those ships join a fleet fighting against them.