The dungeons of the Moff's residence were far from the darkest places Lieutenant Colonel Astarion had ever visited. He had seen worse in his time.
But unfortunately, there were no suitable facilities on Tangren capable of holding such a large number of prisoners of war. They were forced to use the barracks of one of the military bases left unused after the Ubiqtorate's garrisons had evacuated. It was the only place large enough to contain nearly seventy thousand captured Republicans, pirates, and smugglers. A whole legion of stormtroopers had to be recruited to guard them. Planetary garrison bases were designed to house hundreds of thousands of infantry and numerous pieces of equipment, so there was still room to hold even more prisoners of war. However, it was regrettable that significant stormtrooper forces had to be diverted for their protection. Regular infantry volunteers and army units could have managed, but it was better to entrust such a vast number of captives to those who were impervious to pity.
Though the lieutenant colonel believed that using stormtrooper units for this purpose was inefficient, he kept his thoughts to himself. The Grand Admiral knew best how to allocate his resources. After all, the regular army under Thrawn's command was even smaller than the stormtrooper contingents. At least Astarion was certain that this assignment was only temporary for the stormtroopers. Once the volunteers, who had been drafted into the so-called "auxiliary troops," completed their infantry and rifle training, guarding prisoners of war would fall under their responsibilities. The stormtroopers would then return to more critical tasks assigned to them.
Yet, the reason for his presence in the dungeons today was highly unusual, as was the personal invitation from the Grand Admiral himself to conduct an interrogation.
After passing through several security posts, Astarion, accompanied by the shift supervisor, reached the designated cell. He had witnessed countless interrogations in his time—thousands, perhaps. This one seemed no different. In fact, it was better than most: the cell was clean, free from the stench of sweat and excrement, and devoid of the sounds of suffering. Not because of superior soundproofing; in principle, civilians or military personnel were not kept in such conditions. Guardhouses or regular isolators were used for that purpose.
The metal door swung open, and Astarion stepped across the threshold. As he looked up, he saw Grand Admiral Thrawn standing against the wall opposite the entrance, accompanied by a gray-skinned alien.
"Come in," Thrawn ordered, gesturing to the seat typically reserved for interrogators. Astarion took the seat, still pondering the reasons behind his summons. What was Thrawn planning? The lieutenant colonel had no cause for concern—he had always served the Grand Admiral faithfully. However, Thrawn had provided very little information.
Thrawn and his bodyguard moved closer to the entrance, positioning themselves so that the incoming person wouldn't notice them immediately. Then, as if on cue, the door opened again, and two stormtroopers escorted a man inside. He wore an underarmor suit, and they roughly seated him in a metal chair, cuffing him to a bracket on the table. After securing him, the stormtroopers left, allowing Astarion to scrutinize the man.
The prisoner had a neat, short haircut, clearly military—and Imperial—by style. His gaze was calm and observant, and his physique was well-developed. This man was undoubtedly an Imperial soldier, possibly even a stormtrooper. He sat upright, his posture rigid. He didn't glance around or try to assess his surroundings; he seemed accustomed to acting only upon receiving orders.
"Identify yourself," Astarion demanded.
"Stormtrooper TR-889, sir," the man replied calmly.
"Do you know why you're here?"
"During the assault on an enemy Star Destroyer, I used a tactical psychological tactic to ensure the crew's surrender," the stormtrooper answered.
Astarion blinked. What?
"And what exactly did you do?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.
"I used the ship's internal communication system to spread the news of the commander's death," the stormtrooper explained.
"And why did you think that would work?" Astarion knew he couldn't look away from the detainee now; the stormtrooper couldn't realize they weren't alone in the room. Thrawn apparently wished to keep his presence a secret—for now, at least.
"It was a simple calculation," TR-889 continued in the same even tone. "That Star Destroyer defected to the New Republic immediately after their commander did. During the assault, I noticed that most of the crew I encountered were human. Nine out of ten. I surmised they were still loyal to their former leader, Cyrus Yonka, who had defected with the ship. The news of his death demoralized them, and the ship was captured."
"Or your initiative could have backfired," Astarion barked, shifting to psychological pressure. "They could have blown the reactor and killed everyone—rebels and stormtroopers alike! Or they might have intensified their resistance, leading to far greater losses for our troops."
In truth, Astarion had no idea how many soldiers had died during the boarding operation. But he instinctively felt his task was to break the stormtrooper's calm exterior, to shatter his unyielding composure. It was an obvious tactic—even elite stormtroopers, who had endured the rigorous training on Carida, could be broken mentally by the mere fact of an interrogation.
"There was no risk," the stormtrooper replied firmly. "The enemy knew they were surrounded and that their ship would be taken regardless. They were defectors, meaning their loyalty to the Empire's ideology was compromised. They hadn't fully embraced the New Republic's ideology either, so they were purely following their leader, Captain Yonka."
"Don't you know a bit too much for a simple stormtrooper?" Astarion squinted, trying to gauge whether his pressure was affecting this man. Judging by the unchanging expression, it wasn't. This man was a rock.
"The death of a leader is an extremely destabilizing factor," TR-889 continued, his voice still untroubled. Most would have fallen silent by now, perhaps starting to worry. Not this one. He was anything but a typical stormtrooper. "It disrupts the normal flow of command and undermines morale..."
"Have you experienced this personally?" Thrawn unexpectedly interjected, stepping into the stormtrooper's line of sight. The stormtrooper glanced quickly and cautiously at the figure in the white tunic, his eyes widening as he stood.
"Grand Admiral, sir, stormtrooper..."
"Yes, TR-889, I can hear you perfectly," Thrawn interrupted, forcibly seating the man again. "What is your name, stormtrooper?"
"Personal number TR-889..."
"That's not the question I asked," Thrawn said, his voice firm. "You're an intelligent man—more than what your file suggests. You must realize we wouldn't be having this conversation unless there was more to you. Your records have been thoroughly reviewed; evidence of data tampering and integration was found. You perform your duties well, but I have better specialists. So, I'll ask again—what is your name?"
So, this stormtrooper wasn't just a grunt; he was a major, perhaps even a battalion commander. This was becoming more intriguing. Of course, commanders in the Stormtrooper Corps weren't mere foot soldiers, but they weren't psychological experts either. They were trained to kill efficiently, not to analyze the enemy's psyche. They were elite forces, honed to perfection, but not specialists in this manner.
The lieutenant colonel watched with veiled interest as the stormtrooper's expression shifted from indifference to tension and focus.
"Grodin Tiers, sir," he finally answered, dispelling any illusion of being a standard stormtrooper. Real stormtroopers underwent such intense training that they forgot their own names—reduced to mere numbers. Their training eradicated pity, personal identity, and self-determination. Losing one's name was one of the initial steps. By the end of their training, stormtroopers forgot they could be called anything other than their designated number.
"That's correct," Thrawn confirmed, his expression darkening slightly, his gaze growing more intense. "Is that all you have to say?"
"I will answer all your questions, sir," Tiers responded.
"Then let's start with the basics—why is an officer of Palpatine's Imperial Guard masquerading as a simple stormtrooper?" Astarion barely contained his shock. What? This "stormtrooper" was also a commander of an elite unit charged with guarding the Emperor himself?
Yes, on paper, the Imperial Guard was formally part of the Storm Corps, but that was merely a technicality. In reality, they operated with their own structure and secrecy, their training and assignments shrouded in mystery. The extent of their duties lay far beyond the comprehension of ordinary minds.
"After Emperor Palpatine's death at Endor, the Imperial Guard was scattered," Tiers explained. "Some of us returned to our bases, while others pledged allegiance to various military leaders. There were even those who defected to the New Republic. As for me, I chose to serve as a stormtrooper battalion commander. My unit, Grand Admiral, is among the finest in your fleet."
"And is that why you concealed your past?" Thrawn inquired.
"Many who have aspired to or claimed the title of Emperor have used the Imperial Guard as a symbol of fear, a tool to bolster their own importance," Tiers replied. "I prefer to serve through action, not as a mere symbol."
In truth, it would have been a trivial task for the Imperial Guard to alter Tiers' records. If not for his overzealous desire to prove his worth, he might have remained unnoticed.
If it hadn't been for the incident on the Rebel Star Destroyer...
If only...
"Your actions on the Liberty were designed to catch my attention," Thrawn observed, articulating a thought that had just crossed Astarion's mind as well.
"Yes, sir," Tiers confirmed. "I sought to come under your command and carefully observed your strategies, analyzing your motives. Frankly, I feared that, like other military leaders, you might pursue personal power over the Empire and exploit the resources of Mount Tantiss for your own ends. I apologize for my misjudgments. My maneuvers aboard Captain Jonka's Liberty were meant to ensure that I would come to your notice. As a stormtrooper, I had no other means of directly reporting to you. Now that we have met, I can offer my services, not just as a frontline combatant but as an Imperial Guardsman."
"I have no need for bodyguards," Thrawn remarked. "The Noghri serve that purpose."
"They have already proven insufficient," Tiers stated flatly, without even glancing at the gray-skinned alien standing behind him. "With just one battalion, I secured a Star Destroyer for you, losing only a single company. And of those, only three stormtroopers died; the others will recover and continue their duties."
"And why should I trust you?" Thrawn asked.
"Because, in less than five seconds, I could kill everyone in this room," the Imperial Guardsman replied calmly, shaking his wrists. The handcuffs clinked as they struck the metal tabletop. Astarion realized he would barely have time to draw his weapon, let alone fire, even if he still had his service pistol, which he had surrendered at the security post. "And yet, I would rather spend those five seconds once again asking you to be my commanding officer."
"Is that so?" Thrawn responded with interest. "Why me, and not some other military leader or even the Imperial Ruling Council?"
"You are efficient," Tiers answered simply. "They are passive. It's logical. I am not here to be a decorative piece or someone's trophy. I am a soldier, trained to follow orders. You and your fleet are at war, and that is enough for me. I revealed my past to you only to demonstrate that I possess knowledge that could be of use in achieving your objectives."
"How intriguing," Thrawn mused, a slight smile playing on his lips. "You are quite an extraordinary individual, Major Tiers—a blend of stormtrooper and Imperial Guardsman. Given the discord among your peers in the Imperial Guard regarding loyalty, it seems you are merely trying to restore a familiar order—a strong leader to follow. Or am I mistaken?"
"The Imperial Guard was created to serve an exceptional leader," Tiers responded, though his tone lacked the certainty it had moments before. "Perhaps... our training encourages such a mindset..."
"Or perhaps you were all influenced by Emperor Palpatine's power," Thrawn suggested. "I hope you realize our ruler was a Force adept?"
"That information is unsubstantiated," Tiers snapped, his hands clenching into fists. His gaze grew intense, and his nostrils flared as if he were drawing in more oxygen. The suggestion had clearly disturbed him.
Astarion himself had never fully believed the rumors about the Emperor's supposed mastery of some Jedi-like powers. Darth Vader, on the other hand...
"Do not threaten me, Major," Thrawn said sharply, his tone cutting through the tension. "The erasures in your personal file were discovered by someone who served Palpatine and maintained contact with him through the Force. Perhaps you recall seeing her around him—a young woman with red hair and green eyes. The Emperor used to call her his favorite dancer..."
"I know who you mean," Tiers admitted, his voice taut. "But the Emperor couldn't have..."
"Are you calling me a liar?" Thrawn's voice was steely.
"No, sir, never..."
"Then do you have a rebuttal to my claim that Palpatine was a Sith Lord?" Astarion was beginning to lose track of the conversation's direction. It seemed as though Thrawn was trying to prove something not just to the stormtrooper, but to him as well. But why? What did it matter if Palpatine, who had hunted the Jedi, was akin to them? The Emperor was dead, and there were more pressing matters at hand. "Or do you have a more reasonable explanation for how he emerged victorious from the duel with the Jedi Masters in the final days of the Old Republic? Or for how he managed to hide the nineteen-kilometer Super Star Destroyer Lusankya in the busiest part of the Imperial Center? Or how he controlled Darth Vader, a Sith Lord notorious for his ambition and ruthlessness, for nearly three decades? Or perhaps you have a theory on why, during the operation to clear the New Republic base on Ord Pardon in the Dufilvian sector, your actions, along with those of the infantrymen and stormtroopers, were as coordinated and effective as during Palpatine's rule, despite being under the influence of a Force-sensitive clone of Jedi C'baoth? Can you offer any logical explanation other than accepting that Emperor Palpatine was a Sith Lord and we were all merely his pawns, serving to weaken his enemies until he could marshal the power to dominate the galaxy once more?"
"No, sir," Tiers answered with resolute clarity. His body relaxed, responding instinctively to orders. The rigorous training he had undergone was evident. "I have no alternative explanation to the one you've provided."
"Are you familiar with the planet Byss?" Thrawn asked, his tone now softer, almost paternal, causing Astarion to shiver slightly.
"Yes, sir," the Imperial Guardsman confirmed, his voice regaining its previous strength and precision. "It's located in the Deep Core. There was a resettlement mission organized there, but I have no information on its outcome. Some units of the Imperial Guard were stationed on Byss, but I haven't been there in a long time and lack details on its current status—there's an obscure hyperspace beacon system operating there..."
"It's unfortunate that you don't have that information, Major Tiers," Thrawn said. "You could have gone directly to Byss and asked your master why he summoned some of your comrades while discarding others like refuse, allowing them to serve those who were tearing his Empire apart."
"Emperor Palpatine... is alive?!" Tiers' body stiffened, his voice... quivering? But there was something unnatural about it. "But how...?"
Astorian couldn't say he didn't understand his interrogator. He was experiencing the same emotions as the guardsman—shock, confusion, disappointment, and pain. If the Emperor is truly alive, then why did he allow all this to happen? The Rebel victory, the collapse of the Empire, and the civil wars that claimed billions of Imperial lives?
"Sith techniques, magic, or whatever it might be, I don't know and frankly, I'm not interested in that metaphysical nonsense, Major," Thrawn said. "You mentioned you don't want to be just a statistic in someone else's pursuit of greatness. I suspect that with your skills, you could have secured a position as a military advisor to any of the other leaders, but you chose to come to me. You wished to serve the most effective commander, because without that purpose, you could not function—you were trained for it. You claim you could kill me and everyone here within seconds—and I believe you. But just as you expect your commander to trust you, you must trust him. I am willing to accept your service, but in return, I demand absolute loyalty. My decisions will not always please you—of that, I can assure you. So, decide now: will you continue as an Imperial Guardsman, forever bound to Palpatine, or will you serve me and carry out my orders alone?"
"But, sir, if the Emperor is alive..." Tiers stammered, though the lieutenant colonel doubted his sincerity for a moment, "if he survived Endor..."
"His body was destroyed," Thrawn interjected. "And you know that. You're a terrible actor, Major Tiers. You knew everything I've just said before I said it. As an Imperial Guardsman, even if you didn't witness Palpatine's powers firsthand, you would have known those who did. For instance, the guards who were on the Death Star when Palpatine confronted Galen Marek, Darth Vader's former secret apprentice. The ranks of the Imperial Guard are small enough that any significant losses would be noticeable. You're exceptionally trained, Major. And despite everything you've been through, you've retained your sense of self and individuality. This suggests that you were never just a mere weapon in Palpatine's hands. So why are you putting on this act for me?"
Astorian watched, astonished, as a faint smile briefly flickered across the major's otherwise composed face, only to vanish as quickly as it appeared.
"You're even more perceptive than Palpatine's files suggest, Grand Admiral," Grodin Tiers admitted. "Yes, you're right—I knew all of this. And a great deal more that you don't. I was there on the Death Star when that kid in Jedi rags nearly killed Vader and matched Palpatine's power. And if the Emperor hadn't finished him off, my company and I would have been the next ones sent to be slaughtered by that boy. I saw the Emperor perform acts that cost the lives of thousands across the galaxy. And I kept silent, followed orders, pushing it all out of my mind. He could read any of our thoughts and killed without hesitation those who witnessed his sensitivity to the Force. I don't know why he did it, but he did. He was a madman, and I was relieved when I heard he was finally dead. I stopped being someone else's slave—do you know what it's like to be in the heart of an Empire that fights slavery while you, yourself, are not free? I was proud to serve as a stormtrooper, ecstatic to be selected as a guardsman. The realization of Palpatine's double standards came slowly, but it did come. Yes, I'm smart—devilishly smart. That's why I didn't respond to the summons to Byss to continue serving a resurrected Palpatine. Like some of my comrades, we disappeared, became invisible, blended in with the crowd of faceless, nameless clones. I wasn't lying when I said I was watching you, Grand Admiral. I stood guard at the Moff's residence while you negotiated with pirates and hired them for your dirty work. I prepared the hall for your meeting with Mara Jade. I watched as you broke her—and if I could have, I would've applauded you. But alas, I could only watch through a hidden surveillance camera—those are in every residence. Imperial Intelligence used them to gather blackmail material. Initially, I came to serve you as a stormtrooper, fulfilling a role I always desired. But after hearing… You're damn clever and rational, Grand Admiral. And that's why they'll get rid of you. You're as perceptive as always, but you're missing the bigger picture—no one will allow you to gain enough power to unite the remnants of the Empire, and that's what they fear most. The conspiracy you only suspect is much broader than you think. Palpatine secretly controls almost all of the Imperial Remnants, and they will be his springboard for invasion. You've correctly identified his motives—he doesn't care about the Empire; he only cares about destroying his enemies. I've decided to reveal myself to you for one simple reason—I believe you can stop him. Or at least try. Your chances are better than anyone else's. But you have something they don't—the will to do it. I respect that, even if you're not one of us."
The Grand Admiral took a moment before responding, silently scrutinizing the guardsman.
But Lieutenant Colonel Astorian had a question:
"In all that speech, you didn't mention why you're so interested in defeating Palpatine," Astorian said.
"It's quite simple," Major Tiers chuckled. "I want to live. Palpatine has already killed almost all the guards who showed defiance and didn't report to Byss after his death. My comrades, who deserted with me, are gone. Those who were on Byss and reported Palpatine's intentions and those of his inner circle are also dead. The stormtrooper cover saved me, but I'm sure it wouldn't have lasted long. When Palpatine returns, he'll use us like any of his puppets. And then, he'll discard us or kill us for his amusement. He's no longer the man we remember. He's a crazed old man in a young body, obsessed with revenge and bloodshed. He won't even fight for worlds—he'll just destroy them since he has a vast arsenal of superweapons."
"And that's why you decided to make direct contact with me," the Grand Admiral concluded. "And you played the role of the 'misguided soldier' to see if I would tell you the same things as Mara Jade. If my story didn't align with hers, you would have killed us all."
"Of course," Tiers replied nonchalantly. "Eliminating witnesses is the easiest way to cover your tracks. The level of training of the stormtroopers guarding these dungeons is such that luring one here, killing them, disfiguring their face, taking their armor, and escaping would be as easy as pie. But I can assure you, Grand Admiral, that you've passed the test. And this time, without any tricks or deceptions, I'm ready to cooperate. Command me—I'm at your full disposal."
"Not a bad performance, Major Tiers," Thrawn remarked, clapping his hands. "But you overestimate yourself. You could indeed attempt to kill me and Lieutenant Colonel Astorian, but you wouldn't succeed. And I, in turn, would only lose an excellent candidate for cloning."
A mocking smile played on the "stormtrooper's" face.
"The Noghri wouldn't have stopped me," he said. "Palpatine trained us to kill them like blind kittens when he discovered Vader had a similar batch. You won't find a better bodyguard than me."
"But no one mentioned the Noghri," Thrawn replied calmly.
In the next moment, the room was filled with a sharp hiss as a blue-white energy blade appeared inches from the former Imperial Guardsman's throat. Simultaneously, as Major Tiers glanced toward the source of the threat, a figure materialized out of thin air, clad head-to-toe in brown armor. A mask bearing the likeness of some beast tilted forward.
"Should I kill him, Commander?" a muffled voice asked from beneath the helmet.
"Good question," Thrawn mused. "Major Tiers, are you now convinced that I don't need a bodyguard?"
"Impressive," Tiers swallowed carefully and then smiled. "However, I prefer ground battles to shadowing someone. The TR-889 stormtrooper is ready to carry out your every order, Grand Admiral."
"Well then, we have an understanding, Major," Thrawn said, locking eyes with the bewildered Astorian. "You've heard a lot. And it's not hard to see the implications. So I'll ask you only once: are you with me, Lieutenant Colonel?"
All Astorian had wanted was the Grand Admiral's help in rebuilding the Imperial Security Bureau. And now, he was being asked to participate in a plot to destroy the mad former ruler of the galaxy, a ruler intent on turning them all into crazed servants?
"Yes, why not?" Astorian attempted to smile. But as usual, it came off more as a grimace. "But... if we're going to take on everyone, we'll need a lot of weapons, personnel, and, most importantly, ISB operatives. I and a handful of interrogators can't handle vetting all those who wish to serve under you, Grand Admiral. I simply can't be in multiple places at once."
"Don't worry, Lieutenant Colonel," Thrawn assured him. "That problem is easily solved."