Nine years, four months, and fifteen days after the Battle of Yavin...
Or forty-four years, four months, and fifteen days after the Great ReSynchronization.
When Grand Admiral Thrawn, less known by his full Chiss name Mitth'raw'nuruodo, returned from the Unknown Regions of the galaxy a year ago, he chose the captain's cabin as his residence.
Imperial-class Star Destroyer (ISD)
It's hard to call this place a retreat, as it is more like a miniature headquarters. Located two levels below the combat bridge of the Imperial II-class Star Destroyer, Thrawn's apartments were in the same section of compartments allocated for senior officers' living quarters. However, the former captain's cabin was separate from the others, on the opposite side, eliminating the intersection of officers and the ship's commander.
Now, this layout of living compartments allowed me to return to my abode in complete solitude.
If you don't count the ever-present Rukh — the Noghri bodyguard. A terrifying, merciless killer whose people the Galactic Empire kept as elite saboteurs through simple deception. The revelation that the caring Empire, which supposedly saved the Noghri homeworld from the aftermath of a great war, was a lie, led to the untimely demise of Grand Admiral Thrawn.
And now, I have to bear this blue skin, dark blue hair, proud demeanor, and burning gaze.
I lived quite a bit back on Earth. Wife, children, even grandchildren had begun to appear. In my youth, I was an ardent fan of the Star Wars universe — specifically the Expanded Universe, later known as "Legends." I spent a considerable amount of money and time on books, games, and related materials in my reckless youth before settling down...
I don't know if it's the irony of fate or just how things turned out, but back on Earth, I ran a small company providing crisis management services to clients. And for some reason, I ended up becoming the crisis manager of the Imperial Remnant.
— You are dismissed, Rukh, — I said, approaching the doors leading to my cabin.
The Noghri, whom one cannot look at without inner panic, silently melted into the dimly lit vestibule separating the living part of the cabin from the corridor.
Noghri Rukh, Grand Admiral Thrawn's bodyguard.
Once alone, I finally allowed myself to relax. The headache that had been pursuing me since I became aware of myself in Thrawn's body — specifically at the moment of Captain Pellaeon's arrival with a report on the completion of the information raid on Obroa-skai — showed no signs of letting up. Perhaps there is a reason for this, but at the moment, I only see one — the appearance of my consciousness in the mind of a Chiss. But now, it all seems like a meat grinder when it's hard, sometimes painfully, to separate my own thoughts and memories from the memories of the Chiss.
However, one question interested me the least at the moment.
Is there any point in tormenting myself with the search for the reason why I ended up here, now, in the body of Grand Admiral Thrawn? I think not — at least at the moment, this is not the primary task.
Captain Gilad Pellaeon clearly suspected something in my behavior — he kept glancing at me. And it's quite difficult to mimic Thrawn's mannerisms without knowing them. Mimicry, behavior, gestures — all this is developed over the years and becomes automatic at the subconscious level. Therefore, the usual aura of cold calmness of the Grand Admiral was occasionally disrupted by my usual grim jokes, smirks...
I very much want to live, even if it's in the body of a blue-skinned, red-eyed alien.
And if I want to live long, taking the place of the tactical genius of the Imperial Remnant, whose level of thinking and sharpness of mind I lack, and what remains of his memory is far from a complete picture, then... I have to win. Overcoming.
Wonderful, what can you say to that.
The key to success is in proper planning. Thrawn understood this, and I apply it in life. Or rather, applied. To be more precise — apply. In this, we are similar.
In other matters, however... this being's brain is a living computer. It constantly analyzes something, breaks down the whole into parts, each of which is thoroughly examined... Just think about something, and the thought inevitably begins to break down into parts, the situation into fragments of what happened... And it hurts.
I don't know what happened to the Chiss's consciousness, but I am grateful to him for his body being the way it is. Because I know for sure that the desire to break everything down into elementary parts is not inherent to me. I dealt with analytics only in work matters back on Earth. And having ended up in Thrawn... It's as if in the Matrix.
Read someone these lines, and they would surely wrinkle their nose and start shouting: "Deus Ex Machina! Deus Ex Machina!" Yes, damn it, Deus Ex Machina!
The very fact that I — a human from Earth, for whom the Star Wars universe is just a set of books, games, comics, and other fan service, and who also ended up in the very place I wanted to be as a boy, empathizing with the heroes and villains of the Galaxy Far, Far Away — is already a "Deus Ex Machina," as those who enjoy the overcoming of characters like to say. I, of course, will have to wriggle out of the grip of the cause-and-effect chain of events from this moment until the situation with the Noghri, from whose hands Thrawn fell on the bridge of the Chimaera. And without his style of thinking, it will be quite difficult...
However, no one will read these reflections. For the Imperials — I am still Grand Admiral Thrawn. For the New Republic, which five and a half years ago in the Endor system blew up the Death Star II with Emperor Palpatine on board — I am nobody.
Having lowered myself into the massive chair behind the work desk, overcoming the headache, I began to analyze. It needs to be done right away, otherwise, in the future, there may not be such an opportunity — circumstances already indicate that Thrawn's company has been set in motion. And, willingly or unwillingly, I, as I remembered what I had read on Earth, pushed Captain Pellaeon towards the development of known events, which will end with shock therapy for the New Republic and the death of Thrawn himself from the hands of the very Rukh who is on duty behind the door. And until I come up with a plan on how to avoid the fate intended for me, I will have to correspond as closely as possible to what my predecessor planned. Thankfully, I remember something, something can be gleaned from his thoughts...
But it hurts so much...
Gritting my teeth, I covered my mouth with an elegantly gloved hand to muffle the sound of a groan. I can't reveal myself now — and maybe never.
I need to think.
A problem cannot be solved if it is not broken down into pieces.
So, unlike the Imperial Remnant, the New Republic does not yet suspect that they have not dealt with all of Emperor Palpatine's Grand Admirals. This is good. There is some time advantage. The longer this information remains secret, the better.
Despite the fact that the real Thrawn returned from the Unknown Regions to the known part of the galaxy a year ago, the Imperials have so far managed to keep the very fact of his existence a secret. And there are several reasons for this.
First, Thrawn knew the value of information. I remember this well from the memories of the character. The Chiss understood that the longer he remained mysterious to his opponent, the more chances he had to use the principle of surprise. When the New Republic finds out who he is, they will inevitably turn over mountains to get at least a crumb of data. And they will find it. All the archives of the galaxy cannot be cleared. Somewhere there will definitely be data on Grand Admiral Thrawn. If I am not mistaken — then the person who owns Myrkr, the planet to which we are now heading, knows about Thrawn's return. But he keeps such a sensation to himself. This is good. For now, the secret remains a secret.
The second — and main — reason why Thrawn in the Star Wars Expanded Universe could not win is, of course, authorial discretion. But a significant part of the blame for the Grand Admiral's defeat is placed on the fact that the part of the galaxy that is under the control of the Imperials and is called the "Imperial Remnant" — is not a single state. After the death of Palpatine, the galaxy split. Generals, admirals, moffs, grand moffs, grand admirals — each tore off a piece of the fat pie for themselves and declared themselves the ruler of their own territory. For more than five years, the once most formidable military machine in the galaxy chewed itself up while the former rebels, led by a number of well-known figures, took the galaxy away from them piece by piece.
And now, the New Republic, controlling the capital world of the galaxy — Coruscant — obeys perhaps even more than half of the star systems and sectors. The Imperials have to be content with the crumbs from the common table. A confederation consisting of several large and small formations. In each of them — their own ruler, their own army, their own fleet. And Thrawn for all of them is just a steadfast tin soldier who heard the sound of the horn and came to serve.
The Imperials, who over five and a half years have lost a huge number of resources and territories, worn out in internecine strife and war with the New Republic, still adhered to the concepts of discipline. And the appearance of a Grand Admiral — one of the thirteen highest military officials in the Galactic Empire — forced them, having tasted and bitterness, and the sweetness of their own greatness and rule over their territories, with great reluctance to submit to Thrawn. I also remember this — but only in general terms.
Yes, there are only certain conditions under which the Imperials agreed to such a conspiracy: the Chiss does not seek to seize control over the Imperial Remnant, as many other possessors of snow-white uniforms did, does not take actions to eliminate the rest of the imperial warlords, and then gets the necessary resources under his command — money, ships, crews, the possibility of repairing at the shipyards of the Remnant. The arrogant rulers clearly indicated to the Grand Admiral his place — conducting the war. In other matters, he is, to put it mildly, not welcome.
Unlike his other colleagues with the same rank, Thrawn did not seek political power first. All this dirt around titles is alien to him. He is a military man to the bone, and therefore his lot is to conduct war, destroy the enemy. Everything else for him is secondary. Therefore, he did not fight with anyone from the Imperials for any territories — he just did what he did best. He fought.
As far as I remember, he did it quite skillfully, inflicting many defeats on the New Republic. And at the same time, he organically used the scarce resources allocated to him by the rulers of the Imperial Remnants.
Compared to what the New Republic had against Thrawn and what the rulers of the Imperial Remnants kept for themselves — a drop in the ocean.
The core of his fleet — nine Imperial-class Star Destroyers. Six of them — his personal armada, three in reserve. Two Victory-class Star Destroyers. Three Interdictor-class cruisers. That's all the line forces. Minor things like star galleons, armed transports, cruisers, and the like — these are third-rate ships.
And with this host, Thrawn managed to crush the enemy. The one who had at least four fleets, in each of which there were at least a hundred Mon Calamari star cruisers, in no way inferior to the Imperial Star Destroyers.
It could have been much easier...
It could have been.
He could have simply surrendered to the New Republic, as one of the Grand Admirals did. He could have gathered all his forces and gone to the Unknown Regions, where Thrawn's own Empire of the Hand was ripening. But he stayed to continue fighting.
But I am not him. Despite having his textbook knowledge, appearance, earned authority — I am not on par with the Chiss. This needs to be clearly understood. My actions, even if I remember everything accurately from what I've read, may not lead to the same causal relationships. And consequently — the future will change. For better or for worse — it's hard to say.
But in any case, I will have to make a choice. Where to go, where to turn. Who to love, who to give myself to...
So, calm down. The situation is not as bad as it seems. It just needs to be broken down into pieces. Highlight the pros and cons of each decision, soberly assess them, and make a decision. Victor, you have already made several reckless acts, which in perspective can lead to your exposure and potential lethal outcome.
Patience and analysis of the current situation — this will sober up and give the key to understanding further actions.
But first, you need to rest. Sleep. Reboot the brain and look at the situation with a sober eye.
***
— Captain Pellaeon! — the commander of the Chimaera took a deep breath, closing his eyes and ignoring the shout of Lieutenant Tschel, who was walking around the bridge of the Imperial Star Destroyer. — Captain Pellaeon!
Here is the trouble with the current generation of imperial military personnel — on the bridge are just snot-nosed kids who recently crammed over textbooks in academies and training centers, and now they are already responsible for the systems controlling the combat line ship.
Gilad mentally counted to ten — that's how long it took the young lieutenant to move from the communications console to the central platform of the bridge. And when Tschel was nearby, the captain, with temples already dominated by gray hair, gave him a heavy look. It didn't help — Tschel still looked like a cocky idiot. Alas, and he was still like that... Proud, huh? Well, well, we'll return you to the ranks. — What did I tell you about shouting on the bridge? — adding steel to his voice, the captain asked.
— This is not a livestock market, this is the compartment of a Star Destroyer, where it is not customary to shout, — accurately conveying the essence of their conversation preceding the escape from the Obroa-skai system, the lieutenant said. — Sorry, sir...
— Two duties in the officers' latrine will apologize to you, — promised Pellaeon, inwardly triumphant as the boy bit his lips. Proud, huh? Well, we'll put you back in line. — What do you have, lieutenant?
— The course to Myrkr is laid in, all systems are operating normally, — he reported without hesitation. — We will arrive there faster than a Jedi can hang on a cliff...
— Three duties, — corrected himself Pellaeon. — Lieutenant. You are in the army. Jokes are for civilians.
— Yes, sir, — the officer said readily. — Report the time of arrival to Myrkr to the Grand Admiral?
— Why are you discussing the senior fleet officer's orders with me? — Pellaeon grimaced.
— Just... — the lieutenant hesitated.
— Just what? — Pellaeon prompted.
— The Grand Admiral did not leave any instructions, — the lieutenant admitted. — That's strange, because...
— Usually he demands to be kept informed of everything, — Pellaeon finished. — You're dismissed, lieutenant. I will report myself.
From the very first day of his appearance on board the Chimaera, Thrawn introduced a number of inviolable rules — including the fact that he should be informed of the execution of the orders given to him. Immediately.
Throughout the year, he patiently, like a pedagogue, instilled this into the heads of the Star Destroyer crews, and now... he forgot to remind them of what he considered one of the pillars of discipline on the ship — informing the senior officer?
Or was it a test?
Or did something happen to the Grand Admiral?
Pellaeon tried to remember when Thrawn started behaving differently...
Today. Yes, today. When he entered his cabin to report that the reconnaissance mission on Obroa-skai had been successful, Thrawn sat with his eyes closed for too long. And when he opened them — the reaction was very atypical.
Thrawn did not run away from battles — he easily got involved in them and emerged victorious. But for some reason, he ordered the Chimaera to retreat without firing a single shot. But there was an inexperienced crew. But there were no cruiser-interdictors among the enemy! It was possible to accept the battle and give them a good beating... But Thrawn chose to retreat.
Now he forgot about his own order — if the ship went to hyperspace, it was necessary to receive a report from the duty officer...
And besides, they are flying to some little-known planet, about which there is so little information in the ship's database that, apart from the galactic coordinates and scarce data on the suitability of the local atmosphere for breathing...
What is happening?!
Gilad impatiently stroked his mustache.
It makes no sense to wrack your brains trying to find answers to what is happening.
Thrawn cannot be understood — as soon as you think you have, he instantly rebuilds. And you're a fool again.
All that remained was to hope that in the unfolding campaign of Grand Admiral Thrawn, the rebels would be the fools, and not as usual.
***
I was awakened by a call on the comlink—Captain Pellaeon was reporting that the *Chimaera* would be ready to arrive at the planet Myrkr in the Obroa sector in half an hour, which, according to the tactical map of the galaxy, was located in quadrant N-7.
— Very well, Captain, — I said in a calm tone, now looking at my face in the mirror. — I'll be on the bridge shortly. End transmission.
I managed to sleep for a while, which only reduced the headache. And that's good.
It means I can think.
But the fact that, after waking up, I, despite my secret hope, still couldn't remember anything from Thrawn's tactics, strategies, or even criteria for evaluating works of art, was depressing.
If I strained myself, I could remember quite a bit—faces, names, places... but it was all fragmented, not systematic. Not a complete memory, but just fragments of it. And perhaps—not the most important ones. Which means that even Thrawn's knowledge of any secrets is a minus.
I doubt he has a secret stash of personal notes somewhere on the *Chimaera*, like a diary. The image of Thrawn and a sentient who would record his conclusions on flimsy... somehow doesn't fit in my head.
Flimsi...
Flimsiplast. One of the most common materials for writing in this galaxy. Created on an acrylic base, it is used for handwriting texts and printing data. It can be reused, as inscriptions and printed text can be removed from it without losing the functionality of the flimsy sheet. It can be dissolved in liquid.
So-o-o. I know what paper is called in the Star Wars universe. Wonderful. Not because it's clear now that you can keep handwritten records. But because in my earthly life, I didn't know such subtleties. I was more interested in the scenery and events of the universe, not what the stationery is called here.
So this is part of Thrawn's memories. Not that it's really useful, but...
Wait. What do I even know about the galaxy I've landed in? I was already getting carried away, saying I'd go decide which side to choose. Shame!
I should be glad that at least I can speak the official language of the galaxy—that is, this language is familiar to me. So, maybe I can not only speak it, but also read it? After that dream, nothing seems reliable anymore.
Approaching the desk, I quickly found the computer built into it with a transparent curved monitor, which had been hidden in the furniture casing until now. As soon as I sat down in the chair and put my hands on the tabletop, the computer came to life.
Hmm... it's getting interesting.
So, I understand all these letters. And I don't just make them out—I read them fluently. And judging by the fluttering of my fingers on the keyboard—I can also type. And at a pretty good pace.
Good. I can speak, read, and write. I could go to Coruscant as a senator from any of the sectors—I'd pass for my own.
But jokes aside, business is business.
There are only twenty-five minutes left until arrival at Myrkr. So, I have exactly that much time to fill in my gaps. At least in general terms.
And what an idea! After all, Thrawn spent most of his time here, in his cabin. So I can sit in my own place without hiding from anyone, delve into the background information on the galaxy, historical events, personalities—from the Chimaera, as from any other Imperial ship, there is access to the archives on Bastion—the capital of the Imperial Remnant. True, getting information from there is not easy. Not even Thrawn's own clearance level would be enough to pull it off—you'd have to fly there in person and get a data array. Studying it is also only possible on Bastion: war is war, but the secrecy regime is still in place.
However, the Chimaera's central computer also had its own data archive—but of an official nature. Accessing it is quite simple—you only need to insert your code cylinder into a special slot on the computer—a device that looks like a metal pen, but contains electronics with recorded data inside. In simple terms, a "flash drive", an electronic key, and an electronic signature all in one.
And if I strain my memory, I can remember that in the movies, Imperial officers always carried similar code cylinders in the breast pockets of their tunics. True, until now I thought they were just writing instruments...
Well, fan, they call me... Okay, we'll deal with this later. Thrawn has several of these "flash drives"—I'm sure there's a lot of interesting stuff there. Or not—and the Chiss kept everything in his vast brain.
Via a secure and encrypted line from the Star Destroyer, it is also possible to access the galactic information and entertainment network, similar to Earth's "Internet." It's just called the HoloNet. It's an incredibly simple thing—there's a search engine, there are websites, there are chats, there are video hosting sites... In general, in terms of media space, nothing radically different from the "world wide web" I'm used to.
But I won't go there yet—I need to learn more about everything. Perhaps, as in my world, activity on the HoloNet can be tracked. And I don't really want a squadron of New Republic starships, "rebels" as the Imperials called them, to come crashing down on me and the entire fleet under my command for deciding to read some historical chronicles.
"Rebels"... Good rebels who control most of the galaxy, while the Imperial Remnant occupies less than a third. The question here is who is the legitimate authority and who is the armed opposition.
Okay, the galaxy. But what, actually, is known about it?
From my memories I can only recall that there is a considerable number of planets in this galaxy, and hundreds, maybe thousands of different races known to humans... Okay. Not "humans." Here, to refer to an intelligent life form—both humans and aliens—the term "sentient" is used. Tolerant...
Imperials flatly refuse to consider non-human races "sentient" and have therefore come up with several epithets to replace the concept. "Non-human," "alien", "xenos"... Military personnel and civilians of the Imperial Remnant do not favor non-humans and regard them as little more than slaves. They are barred from positions of power, they are oppressed and mercilessly exploited. Thrawn was frankly lucky, because thanks to his tactical skills, Emperor Palpatine himself elevated him, personally making him his thirteenth and last Grand Admiral.
But, back to the galaxy.
What do we have?
Opening the galaxy map (understanding the common galactic language known as Basic allows not only to write but also to read, and therefore—there are no problems with controlling at least simple technical achievements), which flared up under the ceiling, I leaned slightly back in my chair, folding my hands in a "house" on my chest and staring at the ceiling.
The faraway galaxy of Star Wars has no name among the locals. Just the Galaxy. That's all. Although some races have their own terminology, there is no officially accepted one in Imperial society.
According to publicly available information from the *Chimaera*'s navigation computer, the "front of work" is simply enormous. One glance at the hologram and the explanations to it is enough to understand how difficult it is not only to create, but also to maintain power over such a vast territory. At this point, it's probably worth tipping one's hat to Emperor Palpatine, who managed to subdue most of the faraway galaxy in twenty-odd years, in some places establishing his own power, and in others limiting himself to the loyalty of planetary governments to the ruling regime, granting the latter some rights of autonomy.
The galaxy has a diameter of one hundred to one hundred and twenty thousand light-years. The galactic disk contains about four hundred billion stars, of which no more than a quarter have been properly explored by the galactic community, described, cataloged, and entered into the database. A considerable number of stars have not yet been discovered or explored, and the races that inhabit them are unknown to the peoples inhabiting the galaxy.
So, for convenience, the galaxy is divided into eight regions, radially diverging from the galactic center: the Deep Core, the Core Worlds, the Colonies, the Inner Rim, the Expansion Region, the Mid Rim, the Outer Rim, and the Unknown Regions. The regions, like circles on the water, diverge from the center to the periphery—because the exploration and settlement of the galaxy took place in this order, starting with the Core Worlds and the Core. Namely, human expansion began with the planet Coruscant, which has been the capital of the largest galactic states for more than a thousand years. For the previous two decades, Coruscant, like the entire galaxy, was under the control of the Galactic Empire and was called the Imperial Center. Now the planet, like most of the galaxy, is ruled by the New Republic, which has returned the planet to its old name.
The Imperial military command also uses a method called the "coordinate grid" to accurately determine courses. Something similar to the familiar game "Battleship", where letters were placed along one edge of a regular square, and numbers were placed on the adjacent one. The place of visual intersection of the imaginary lines of a specific letter and number was called a "square". Although not a geometric flat figure is implied, but rather a cube that covers all planets, systems, and other astrographic objects within the boundaries of the designated "square".
From the Galactic Core, also called the Deep Core, four arms spiraled out—the Bakchou Arm, the Ettarue Arm, the Southern Arm, and the Tingel Arm. It is in them that the majority of all stars and systems beyond the Deep Core are concentrated. Closer to the center of the galaxy, these arms almost intertwine, and towards the periphery—they diverge like propellers in a fan.
There are five known dwarf satellite galaxies, designated by the first five letters of the common galactic language: Aurek, Besh, Cresh, Dorn, Esk. The existence of two more similar dwarf galaxies, designated Forn and Grek, was also suggested, but it is not clear how large they are. The first two are the most well-known and somewhat studied, but again, expeditions were not sent there, and if they were, I didn't find details in the Chimaera's databases.
According to many studies, the galaxy is surrounded by some kind of anomaly that prevents the stable operation of hyperdrives, which is why expansion beyond the inhabited space is practically not carried out. In my memory there was only one such one, but Thrawn destroyed it so that it would not fall into the hands of the most dangerous enemy for everyone living within the galaxy. But, it's still a long time before they appear, and so they can be discounted for now. The self-name of these enemies is the Yuuzhan Vong, and they are flying here with by no means a friendly humanitarian mission.
So... And how much time is left until their arrival?
Again... Time.
Making another request to the onboard computer (I really hope that there is no system administrator on board who will then quietly gawk, reading the history of requests from my terminal), I shook my head.
So, as it should be in such a vast state, there are different systems of chronology. And... they years ago.
Since then, the method of chronology has changed several times, but the method of calculating time and the standard for designating dates has remained unchanged. Year, month, date. And only that.
The Galactic Empire, as well as the Imperial Remnant, used the same calendar and the same principle of date counting—either from the Great Resynchronization, which occurred forty-four years ago, or from the date of the proclamation of the New Order twenty-eight years ago.
The Rebel Alliance and the New Republic counted dates from the Battle of Yavin, which took place nine years ago, but the Imperials ignored such chronology—after all, for them the Battle of Yavin was not a day of triumph.
However, any of the calendars of the galaxy was based on the size and speed of rotation of the planet Coruscant. It is a "solar-lunar" calendar, related both to the movement of Coruscant in orbit around a star, and to the movement of the planet's main satellite, Centax I, in orbit around Coruscant. The standard unit of time is the standard second. And it seems that it is similar to the Earth one—at least my attempts to calculate the length of a second using the known method "One Mississippi" led to this result. Minute, hour, day—these units of time corresponded to earthly ones. Differences began at the level of "month". In the galaxy, there are two options for counting the number of days in a week: similar to Earth's, that is, seven days in a week, or "standard", where there are only five days in a week. And in this case, in a "standard month" there are seven weeks, since a standard month is equal to seven standard weeks, or five—but with seven days. But in both cases, a standard month is equal to thirty-five standard days. A standard year has 368 standard days, collected in 10 months, three holiday weeks and three holidays. Since the theory of hyperdrive allowed space travelers to overcome relativity, a single duration of time was established for all areas of the Galaxy. Convenient, I must say.
But you need to understand that on different planets and in different corners of the galaxy there is different local time.
So, returning to the Yuuzhan Vong... They will arrive, again, if my memory serves me right, twenty-five years after the Battle of Yavin. Accordingly—in sixteen years. And all this time, only infighting will reign in the galaxy—Imperials against rebels, rebels against someone else, and so on...
The real Thrawn knew about the threat posed by the Yuuzhan Vong and was ready to fight them, using their weaknesses, which he could identify. And I...
What are my chances of acting even as smoothly as Thrawn? I don't have his knowledge, I don't have his talent. In my assets are only the knowledge of the Expanded Universe of the faraway galaxy. Not everything, but if I dig into my memory, I can remember something...
What can I oppose to a genius of strategy and tactics? What data do I have to carve out my place in this brave new world?
Service in the analytical department of the Navy of my native country? In a universe where multi-kilometer ships fly, moving at light speed? This is not even serious...
Or is it?
I want to live too, since I've been given a second chance. Preferably—away from wars and probable genocides. But, if I remember correctly everything that will happen in the galaxy, sitting it out won't work.
So what to do?
The Republicans will defeat the Yuuzhan Vong. At the cost of great losses, the collapse of their state, but they will win. The Imperial Remnant, weakened by years of civil war and opposition to the rebels, will also be in the background. And, if I remember correctly, even the morally obsolete Imperial Star Destroyers of the Remnant will be able to fight the Yuuzhan Vong much better than the Republican starships.
And the question arises sharply—which side to join?
It's pure mathematics here.
In the Imperial Remnant, I am a Grand Admiral. A prominent military figure, enjoying a certain amount of authority. Thrawn has many ideological supporters. Not to mention that behind him in the Unknown Regions, where a significant part of his service to the Galactic Empire took place, there is a whole state called the Hand of the Empire. But for some reason, Thrawn did not report it to the Imperials in the Remnant. Why?
It must be because he imagined what their further actions would be—a squabble over new sources of resources, possibly even intervention. The Hand of the Empire doesn't have that many ships—just slightly more than Thrawn has under his command now. And the best chance to save everything he has created is to continue to keep the existence of these territories a secret.
The lack of unity of command among the territories of the Remnant is the reason why the Remnant is losing the war with the rebels. In fact, after the collapse of the Empire, a lot remains that can be used for victory over the rebels. But all this is in the hands of ambitious and selfish leaders, who only imagine themselves as brilliant and great rulers. Their neighbors are happy that the rebels are eliminating their competitors. And therefore, the Remnant is destined to lose huge territories—the New Republic will bite them off little by little. The process began five years ago, when the rebels captured Coruscant—since then, their machine for restoring democratic power in the galaxy has not slowed down. From any crisis, they come out with acquisitions for themselves.
Thrawn is the last of the Imperial commanders who made the New Republic sweat not by a sector or two, but by everyone—from rank-and-file to the government.
Or would it be advisable to go over to the side of the New Republic?
After all, even now Thrawn, in my guise, can offer them a lot.
For example—to lure my fleet into a trap and help the rebels get rid of significant forces of the Remnant. To reveal the location of Honoghr—and the Noghri are excellent saboteurs and assassins. Anyone who they side with will only win.
I can offer the same Hand of the Empire and the knowledge it has about the Unknown Regions—I'm sure that the New Republic has nothing like it. They don't even know what's in the northern part of the galaxy—even on the Imperial map it's just blackness, devoid of marks of stars and hyperspace routes.
If I had data about Thrawn himself, Imperial secrets in my head—I could offer them too...
And on the other hand, what can the New Republic give me? Keep me in the dungeons, thinking I'm playing some kind of sophisticated game with them, saying that I know absolutely nothing about the things they try to learn from me? And they will definitely try—it's naive to expect that they will take me in with open arms, allocate a house with a white fence somewhere in a paradise place and will be calmly smiling at me when we meet. Most likely, I will be judged by the "fairest of the courts" and then locked up somewhere. A high-ranking Imperial officer of Thrawn's level cannot simply join the rebels and remain beyond suspicion for the rest of his life.
No. For them, I am just a carrier of Imperial secrets. Of course, they are unlikely to torture me, but considering that my ignorance will most likely be interpreted as an unwillingness to share what they do not know themselves, but really want to know, such as, for example, the secret of the lizards from the planet Myrkr, or the secret treasury of Emperor Palpatine on the planet Wayland...
A thought, like lightning, struck me.
Stop. Imperial secrets. What no one knows, but wants to know.
What the galaxy does not know. What will manifest itself later, under certain events.
The crumbs left over after the pigs ate all the delicacies from the table.
I remember! Not in detail, but I remember some names, significant events, approximate dates! I read about all this! Or heard about what I didn't read personally.
Okay, not about everything, but about what was significant for this galaxy. Which means I couldn't forget it. And certainly not with the mind of Thrawn, which like a computer, calculates, analyzes, processes...
You just need to strain your memory...
It's a pity that all the dates and events were given in the books from the point of view of the rebels and the New Republic, that is, the countdown was from the year of the Battle of Yavin. I'll have to recalculate, but this is only a small part of the problem.
It's much worse with the fact that very soon—in a year, or maybe even less, Emperor Palpatine will announce himself.
Yes, he died at the Battle of Endor five years ago. But few know that the Emperor is a Dark Lord of the Sith, a sentient capable of controlling metaphysical matter—the Force. Like the Jedi, who by default are for all that is good, against all that is bad, but the Sith are ambitious sentients, most of them wanting only two things—power over everything and everyone, as well as death to all Jedi.
Emperor Palpatine almost succeeded in achieving both of these goals. His death at the Battle of Endor served as the reason for the collapse of the Empire into pieces and a protracted period known as the Imperial Civil War, when the territory of the Empire was divided into territories under the rule of one or another Moff, governor, general, admiral, grand admiral or who knows what else.
By now, most of them are already dead—they died either at the hands of the rebels, or at the hands of each other. And the rebels have subdued their territories, understanding that sooner or later the Imperials' song will be sung...
But they do not know that on the planet Byss, which is not on any map, located in the Deep Core, Emperor Palpatine will be reborn, or has already been reborn. And is gathering his supporters.
I don't remember exactly when all this will start, as the reborn Emperor's campaign was described in a series of comics that I didn't read. But I know exactly what will happen—in general terms.
Palpatine will gather all loyal Imperial commanders and the forces under their command under his command. He will sweep with fire and sword through the republican, and not only their, worlds, crushing his enemies with a huge fleet. Among the ships of which will be Star Super Destroyers — multi-kilometer warships capable of burning out entire planets. Some—with the power of their artillery. Others—with the help of superlasers similar to those that were installed on the Death Stars. But in the end, Palpatine's desire to have Leia Organa-Solo's children will play a fatal trick on him.
Oh, if only I knew exactly when this whole mess would start...
For what? Yes, because such an epic mess should definitely be kept away from. The reborn Emperor is insane. He does not primarily seek to revive the Empire and resist enemies from outside the galaxy. He wants to settle scores with the Skywalker couple, the children of his henchman—Darth Vader, who caused Palpatine's death aboard the Death Star. And there are only two of them—Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa, who married the smuggler and rebel general, Han Solo. The latter, in fact, is now retired, but...
So, once again—stop. Palpatine will die when trying to seize the body of the youngest of the Solo couple's children—Anakin Solo, who was barely born at the time of the Reborn Emperor's campaign. Yes, this will not be his final death, however, this is an event that I remember. Palpatine will die irreversibly only the next year after he is killed while trying to seize Anakin Solo's body. And together with the Reborn Emperor, the cream of the Imperial Fleet, the best ships and officers will also die.
But if I remember correctly, at the moment, Leia Organa-Solo is pregnant not with him, but with her older twins. Exactly! Both children will be born right before Thrawn's defeat in the same year in the events known to me. This means that Anakin Solo will be born at least next year.
So, considering that in the events known to me Thrawn died in the same year that he began his campaign against the New Republic, the Reborn Emperor's campaign will begin next year.
And that means I only have five months of this year to implement my plan for my future.
What plan?
Well, definitely not going over to the side of the New Republic.
Screw them. I have nothing against democracy and the New Republic, but according to the books, there will be endless chaos and crisis after crisis. Help them by joining? After all, many of the New Republic military are former Imperials. But this trick will no longer work—those who supported the Alliance are valued and respected. Those who joined later are just extras. And I don't want to be an extra.
Just as I don't want to be a target for Palpatine, and I will become one if I switch to the side of the New Republic before his death. Thrawn was in a special place for Palpatine. And he won't forgive such betrayal.
Join Palpatine? No, thank you. Omitting the fact that he is insane, it must be remembered that he is also a Sith. And who knows, suddenly a Sith will be able to read in my brain that I am not who I claim to be? What was it like? "Your emotions betray you, Luke." And if I am relatively sure about the Republicans—these guys will not resort to torture, then the Reborn Emperor will turn me inside out to find out what I know. And something tells me that you can't make peace with this guy.
Leave everything as is? Well, I'll die. If I don't interfere in a series of events—Thrawn's death is guaranteed. And behind it, the loss of positions by the Imperial Remnant.
Subdue the Remnant? Yes, that's too much to want in the first week of my stay. The first battle—in the Obroa-skai system—was "lost." Having shamefully fled, now I'm thinking about how to capture huge territories, dozens, if not hundreds of sectors... Since when have I had a mania for greatness? After all, I will be opposed by career military men who have been fighting for years, if not decades—first against the Separatists about thirty years ago, then against various kinds of local rebels, and for the last ten or fifteen years—against the Rebel Alliance, which is now—the New Republic. The chances are minimal, if any.
And on the other hand...
Among the same rebels there were not so many career military men, but they gave the Empire a good thrashing. And they also started small. Why did I start reflecting here? The rebels had much worse starting conditions than I did from the very beginning! They fought on various old junk, merchant starships and converted star liners. And they won.
Either in this galaxy the notorious Force helps those whose motto in life is "foolhardiness and courage", or there is some secret. For example, that often at the center of the entire crisis are members of the Skywalker family. I don't have any at hand, but...
I have afterknowledge! And a desire to survive. Not to capture territories for the sake of my painful ego, but in order to avoid "ouch-ouch" in the future. No, it will be there anyway, but there is an opportunity to reduce its scale. And find my place in the world.
Well, what? Am I a transmigrator, or did I just go out for a walk? There are no chances for those who do nothing.
Behind me is the power—a good-sized fleet. If things go well, I can try. But again—a military conflict within the Remnant will weaken it in front of the New Republic. And therefore—while I will be fighting for scraps on one side, the Republicans, who have much larger forces than I do, will bite off a larger piece on the other side.
And let's be honest, I will not gain popularity among the population of the Remnant and the military from the territories that are part of the Remnant by unleashing a new massacre between the Imperials. And when all the forces are needed to subdue the Remnant, I may not be supported...
So, stop. Support is ensured by loyalty. The soldiers and sailors of the territories that are part of the Imperial Remnant are loyal to those who are in power now. Because these people have more weapons in their hands, they have money, and, after all, unlike the same Thrawn, these military leaders have made a name for themselves in the war against the New Republic.
Much of Thrawn's authority is now based on the fact that he is the last Grand Admiral of the Empire. The only alien to receive such a rank. So, he didn't get the white uniform from the hands of Palpatine himself, known for his xenophobia, for his beautiful eyes.
If I start brandishing the words: "Yes, I built a state for myself in the Unknown Regions!", this will not bring too much benefit. The value of a sentient in the Empire depends on his effectiveness. Thrawn was effective—and very much so.
Therefore...
Since I don't want to become a bird in the golden cage of the New Republic, I don't want to become a target or a henchman of the mad Reborn Emperor, I don't want to be a puppet in the hands of the military leaders of the Imperial Remnant, I need to occupy my own niche in this galaxy. And so that this niche is not the size of a coffin or a prison cell—I need to win to gain popularity in the ranks of the Imperials.
To do this, I will need to use what Thrawn did in his books. With the exception that defeats are unacceptable. And the betrayal of the Noghri is life-threatening.
Let's leave the Hand of the Empire aside—it won't help now. Everything that is produced there goes immediately to the defense of the borders of the Hand of the Empire itself. This means I won't get ships or soldiers from there.
And I need ships and soldiers if I intend to carve out my place in the sun. And I really want it.
The easiest way is to act the way Thrawn did. But without making mistakes that turned into catastrophic errors. And again—this is a short-term strategy. However, a long-term one does not shine for me yet—the appearance of the Reborn Emperor is near.
So, the goal is formed—my own state. It is not worth talking about it to anyone yet—it is not safe for health. The Imperial Remnant may be offended and demand back everything that it gave. And you can't ask them for more—it would be great if someone gave something to them.
So, again, we return to the ways to achieve the set goal. The galaxy has long been divided between spheres of influence. So, you will have to recapture territory for yourself. To do this, you need ships and people in my service.
Thrawn has already taken steps in this direction—Myrkr and Wayland will provide him with the replenishment of human resources. About ships... So... He attacked the shipyard to capture the disarmed ships of the New Republic. And why are combat starships disarmed in such a difficult time?
Think, Victor, think...
However, why think, if you can refer to intelligence reports?
So, let's see... The rebel fleet...
Found it! The New Republic has a hole in its pocket. In the sense that their budget is as deficient as I am bad on all fronts. And it is vital for them to establish freight transportation. There is not enough merchant fleet. And someone very clever with the surname Ackbar ordered to disarm part of the warships and use them instead of transports.
The plan is reliable, like a Swiss watch, I must admit.
Removing weapons, reducing the number of crew members on board—and all the free space is filled with cargo. Very useful for either side.
A very tasty piece—to attack the shipyard, where the ships will be standing under unloading, land a landing party and hijack some combat starships right from under the noses of the Republicans. Daring, courageous, but... Thrawn failed.
Okay, I remember exactly why, and therefore, you can try to replay the outcome. But first, the whole plan should be broken down into parts. And each of these parts should be thoroughly studied, evaluated and understood what exactly went wrong and where.
This is the first scenario for increasing the size of the fleet.
The second—like Thrawn in the events known to me, announce a "competition" among starship hijackers, smugglers, and other illegal people for the purchase of hijacked warships. It is clear that in such a situation, when there seems to be money, but not too much, you will not pay the full price. And for less, few will want to work. But those willing will definitely be found.
Another question is that the ships that will be obtained in this way are at best not the best ones. And perhaps just outright junk. The same Mon Calamari star cruisers that form the basis of the New Republic fleet differ significantly in their characteristics and technical parts from Imperial-built starships. And a nightmare for logistics and repair crews is diverse starships. It is clear that the original Thrawn did not disdain this either—what is not useful to himself can be used for other purposes, but only to weaken the enemy. But I also have a head on my shoulders. The Imperial Remnant is already suffering from not the best organization, and if I start driving Mon Calamari cruisers to the shipyards for rearmament and repair, for example, how quickly will they come into service? After all, this equipment is not very familiar to Imperial crews. Consequently, the effectiveness of the use of this type of starship is questionable.
But there is also a third option—to seize what is lying badly. Those same crumbs and Imperial secrets, which in the events known to me will surface in a year, two, five, and so on... Of course, there is no point in thinking about hijacking ships from the Imperial Remnant, although I wouldn't refuse a Super Star Destroyer of the *Executor*-class under the name of *Reaper*, which belongs to Grand Moff Ardus Kaine, who heads the largest territorial entity in the Imperial Remnant. But he won't give it up for anything. In addition to the fact that such a nineteen-kilometer giant is able to tear apart an entire fleet by itself, it is also something of a symbol of power for the Imperials. And symbols are not thrown away.
So, you need to take ships and equipment where it lies and no one needs it. Or where no one knows where it lies.
And at the moment there are... a lot of such places in the galaxy.
It felt like my head had turned into some kind of computing center. Disparate facts, events, which were linked, logically or dialectically substantiated, surfaced in my memory, building into a general picture, but... The puzzle was not very well assembled yet. But, I think it's a matter of time.
And I have time. Judging by everything, Thrawn's mind, even if it carries residual information, like the simplest, uncomplicated data, like reading and writing skills, is itself a weapon. Which rummages through my memory, fishing out more and more details from there... True, there are few useful ones for business now.
But there are.
From memory, I can remember a good dozen places where you can find this or that "ownerless good" abandoned to the mercy of fate. In fact, the first such "easter egg" is already practically in my hands. And I'm talking about Emperor Palpatine's treasury on the planet Wayland—a lost world where many of the secrets of the ruler of the Galactic Empire are kept.
Thrawn has information about the location of this world. And... if only this data had been entered by him...
No, they are not in the navigation computer of the *Chimaera*.
Bad. Is it really a failure?
Although, wait. Would the Grand Admiral so simply keep such an important secret before putting his hand on it, in the general access of the crew members?
No, Thrawn definitely wouldn't.
So, we need to look elsewhere. But where?
Moreover, we are about to arrive at Myrkr and should return to the bridge.
Think, think, think! Such secrets are not kept in general access. They are kept with you.
Exactly! With me!
The file with a set of coordinates that do not match the position of any planet in the galaxy was found on the second code cylinder. The first one contained Thrawn's clearance codes and his service record. Personal file, in general. Interesting. I'll have to study it later.
Surprisingly, the planet Wayland, if these coordinates really belong to it, is relatively close to Myrkr. So, it won't be a long flight.
This is good news.
I felt my body pull slightly when it experienced weak, barely noticeable, but still—loads. It's difficult to describe them somehow, but the impression was created as if I was going down or up in an elevator.
Apparently, we have come out of hyperspace.
Sighing, I turned off the computer. I threw a tunic over my body, fastened it. I stuck code cylinders in my pockets—after all, this is a requirement of the regulations—and headed for the exit from the cabin.
I stopped in front of a reflective surface next to the door, looking at my reflection in it.
With a will effort I chased away the smirk from my face. Thrawn doesn't do that. Thrawn is serious and calculating. You should not make mistakes.
One mistake, two—they'll attribute it to the personality of the Grand Admiral. But the more there are... As in the old saying: "Once is an accident, twice is a coincidence, three times is a pattern." It would be just my luck to be exposed by my own people. The Imperials certainly won't be shy about their interrogation methods.
The decision has been made. I'm on the side of the Empire. Not because I'm a tyrant and a despot. Because the Empire is effective in fighting enemies. But not the Empire that remains now. But the one that was.
And that state that I will create.
This is not a quick process, so at first we will use what I can extract from my memory. Interstellar flights are not fast here, and the memory banks of the *Chimaera* are full of official information, including classic tactics and strategies. All this needs to be studied. Processed, put on shelves with the help of a brilliant mind, now my mind. And to make it all a weapon for creating a new state. I don't think that calling what I want "Thrawn's Empire" would be correct—it would be an instant trigger for the rebels. And the galaxy has had its fill of various "Empires" lately. No, something else is needed. Something more viable and not reeking of Palpatine's senile dementia.
However, I will have time to think about such things. And to gain new knowledge about this galaxy. For now, the events have not gone too far and it will be possible to use the groundwork of the real Thrawn. But to change everything for the better. To the one that is convenient for me.
One small step for the Chiss, in whose body I found myself, and a huge leap for the sentients in this galaxy. And it will happen today, now.
My mind is already analyzing and building a strategy. The events of today will already change the future. The way I want it.
It's time to say hello to the master of this world. And to make him a cautious offer to earn money. An offer he will refuse.
However, if I remember correctly everything that is happening, it will be possible to meet not only with Talon Karrde, the leader of smugglers.
He is served by the one whom Emperor Palpatine once called his Hand.
A very valuable asset in the ruins of the deceased Galactic Empire. And he will be mine. Or nobody's.
It's time to remind Mara Jade of her oath of loyalty.
***
"I'm sleeping," Luke reminded himself, gazing into the endless expanses of Tatooine. So yellow, so merciless, so...
Jedi Knight Luke Skywalker.
— Luke, — a voice sounded behind him, and the young Jedi turned around.
— Ben! — he breathed joyfully. — Ben! It's been so long since you've been around that I thought you might never appear again. I'm so glad...
— And I, Luke, — smiled the bluish-green apparition. — It's gratifying to see what a powerful Jedi you've become.
— I'm trying, — the young man faltered. — The last of the Jedi, after all...
— Be careful, — sternly, but kindly, said Obi-Wan Kenobi. — The Emperor and Vader are dead...
"The Emperor and my father," Luke mentally corrected the words of the old friend.
— ...but the dark side of the Force is still strong in the galaxy, — the Force apparition shocked him with an unexpected confession. — You did feel the disturbance in the Force that happened not so long ago?
— Yes, — was all Luke could say. — Something strange, as if alien... But I couldn't understand what it was. Just a slight ripple in the Force that became almost imperceptible. I'm sorry, Ben, I couldn't figure out what was going on.
— Don't blame yourself, — Obi-Wan said firmly. — Your path is just beginning, Luke. Be patient and disciplined. The Force is with you, don't forget that. Mistakes were and will be — there is no escaping them. But you will be able to learn a life lesson from them. Don't look for easy ways — use the right path.
— You speak as if you came to say goodbye and give your last instructions, — Luke said sadly.
— It is becoming increasingly difficult to overcome the veil between the world of the living and the dead, Luke, — the young Jedi thought that a bitter smile should have appeared on Obi-Wan's face, but no. Obi-Wan did not regret anything. He just stated what was happening. — I think this is the last time we see each other. Listen to the Force, Luke. It will help you find allies where you don't expect them. And it will reveal the plans of the enemies...
— I really hope so, — Luke said, watching as Obi-Wan Kenobi's image faded. And even the sands of Tatooine began to be covered with a ripple. — Farewell, old friend.
But Obi-Wan Kenobi did not answer him.
Old Jedi disappeared. Luke Skywalker opened his eyes, wiping the moisture from them. He was still in his room. Staring at the ceiling of the bedroom...
And despite the fact that somewhere in the Imperial Palace was his twin sister, Leia, the young Jedi felt incredibly lonely.