The commander of the reconnaissance squadron had just exited the compartment, leaving a quiet tension in the air.
Captain Gilad Pellaeon watched him depart, shaking his head in thoughtful contemplation. His gaze shifted to his companion, who stood still and imposing beside him—the formidable figure of a Chiss officer.
** Captain Gilad Pellaeon **
Clad in an impeccably tailored uniform, Grand Admiral Thrawn appeared to be intensely focused on a diagram displayed on the computer monitor before him. The map showed the Ojoster sector in the Outer Rim, a region they had recently retreated to after extracting crucial intelligence from Obroa-skai. They had narrowly escaped into hyperspace, just ahead of four New Republic combat frigates and an X-wing escort squadron.
Thrawn had made the correct decision in ordering the jump to hyperspace, thereby preventing any damage to their ship, the Chimaera. Yet, despite the wisdom of this move, Pellaeon found himself yearning for a small miracle. After all, Grand Admirals of the Galactic Empire were renowned for their tactical and strategic brilliance, often expected to devise solutions in even the most dire situations.
"And he did," came the sobering thought. "He saved your ship and crew. So stop lamenting like a green cadet and face the reality!"
"The Obroa-skai system has likely become a dead end," Pellaeon said aloud, breaking the tense silence with an air of awkwardness. "It's evident that its inhabitants have aligned themselves with the New Republic."
"Indeed," Thrawn replied, his eyes never leaving the monitor. He briefly glanced at Pellaeon before returning his focus to the display—just long enough to rekindle the captain's unease.
"Agreed, Captain. Otherwise, why would such a formidable force pursue our scouts? Four corvettes…"
"Frigates," Pellaeon corrected automatically.
"I thought you wouldn't notice my mistake." For a brief moment, a smile flickered on Thrawn's lips—an expression so rare it was almost startling.
Sweat trickled down Pellaeon's forehead as he wrestled with his own thoughts: Calm down... Yes, it's just a smile! Nothing catastrophic will happen simply because the Grand Admiral shows a hint of emotion… Or will it?
"It's good that you haven't completely lost yourself in thought," Thrawn continued seamlessly, picking up where he left off while gesturing toward the diagram. "Take a closer look here."
Pellaeon shrugged dismissively. "A map showing routes, planets, asteroids, stars…"
"Precisely—the stars themselves will be our salvation," Thrawn emphasized, pointing to a transparent data card inserted into the computer slot. He initiated a sequence that filtered gravitational data from nearby celestial bodies, revealing a previously unknown void on the holographic sector map that had been charted ages ago.
"Corrupted data?" Pellaeon asked, puzzled by the anomaly on the screen.
"No—this is the result of deliberate information removal," Thrawn replied cryptically, a faint smile playing on his lips, as though savoring a hidden revelation.
"But why would librarians do such a thing?" the senior naval officer asked, bewildered.
"This discovery isn't based solely on the data card input. It's the result of navigating through the archives, which I cross-referenced before meeting with the squadron commander," Thrawn clarified. He activated a secondary file containing an essential extract from the Obroan library, highlighting a glaring discrepancy between the original content and the filtered data.
Pellaeon blinked repeatedly, absorbing the implications of the discovery, astonished by the revelation before him.
"Do the natives of Obroa-skai possess a complete star sector map?" he exclaimed in disbelief, piecing together the newfound knowledge. Satisfaction briefly crossed the perceptive alien leader's face.
"Yes, exactly. Sometimes, careful analysis proves far more valuable than hasty action. Rejoice, Captain; today, we have reached a moment of enlightenment!"
"Admiral?" Pellaeon prompted cautiously, seeking further clarification on this mysterious breakthrough. He had just witnessed a remarkable display of cognitive prowess encapsulated in a single cryptic phrase that signaled a monumental achievement—a culmination of a year-long pursuit.
"This, Captain, is the final piece of the puzzle that will secure our ultimate victory over the rebellious opposition. Now, set course immediately for Myrkr."
"Myrkr? I've never heard of this planet being of any strategic significance," Pellaeon remarked, recalling his sixty standard years of accumulated knowledge meticulously maintained throughout his long and distinguished career.
"Indeed, Captain. Yet, it holds the key to our victory, waiting to be uncovered. With eyes burning with the intensity of a supernova, the last remaining vanguard of the Imperial legacy stands before us. An indomitable resolve etched into every fiber of his being, a relentless commitment to duty that transcends mere mortal comprehension—fulfilling our destiny, restoring the shattered Empire to its former glory, and exacting retribution on those who dared to defy our sovereign galactic dominion!"
On that fateful day, nearly five and a half years after the cataclysm at Endor had irrevocably altered the course of his personal and professional life, the seasoned veteran remained steadfast in his unwavering allegiance. Yet, as he took his seat in the presence of Thrawn, he couldn't shake the lingering doubts about the sudden transformation in the supreme commander's demeanor. He found himself contemplating a deeply unsettling question that gnawed at his consciousness:
"Who truly are you, Grand Admiral Thrawn?"