The freighter traversed light-years, and Mara Jade sat bored in the pilot's chair.
It must be acknowledged that she had undertaken protracted missions with uncertain prospects in the past, but this one…
Knowing that spare parts for an *Executor*-class Star Dreadnought were being sent to the Kvelii sector was not enough; she needed to determine precisely where.
She had spent considerable time scouring the sector's systems under various covers, attempting to trace the freighters carrying the precious cargo.
Yet, she was forced to admit defeat—this approach had failed. If freighters and transports were indeed entering the Kvelii sector, they vanished without a trace.
No evidence suggested that these ships had found a haven, even in some backwater spaceport within the sector. The Hand of Thrawn had uncovered nothing.
In such situations, when one door closes, one must climb through the ventilation shaft.
Thus, Mara made the simplest and most logical decision—she returned to Vohai, tracked one of the ships carrying cargo for the Kvelii sector, and sent the freighter's crew to rest in an escape pod along a busy hyperlane.
By her estimation, the ship was now within the boundaries of the Kvelii sector. She noted a curious detail—the course provided to the crew by a mysterious client appeared to align with the Parlemian Trade Route but veered toward the New Territories. Most likely, it led deep into the sector, to some secluded spot, an uninhabited system, or perhaps a space station in the interstellar void where freighters transferred their valuable cargo to other starships.
A rather mundane yet effective method, as it happened.
With her feet propped on the instrument panel, the young woman savored her solitude.
The freighter was dreadfully slow, its Class Four hyperdrive making itself felt. The journey was far from thrilling—tedious, in fact—but Mara used the time wisely, honing skills she had neglected. True, she lacked a live opponent, but she intended to remedy that in the future.
As the Emperor's Hand, she could always rely on instructors or droids to refine her techniques. Now, things were… less straightforward.
Still, she did not despair. She neither liked nor desired special treatment, preferring to make do with what was available here and now.
"One grows accustomed to luxury quickly," she thought. "And losing it hurts."
Mara had experienced such loss before—twice, in fact.
She had no desire to tempt fate a third time.
Scooping ice cream from its container, she savored the treat.
Everyone has their small joys…
Her body lurched forward, but the harness prevented her from tumbling across the cockpit.
The straps dug into her combat jumpsuit, but the ice cream container slipped from her grasp, embarking on the journey she, seasoned by bitter experience, had avoided.
The creamy mass—worth killing for, truth be told—smeared across the cockpit's viewport.
But what lay beyond the ruined ice cream made her tense.
An *Immobilizer 418*-class interdictor cruiser, two Corellian DP20 gunships, and a sizable XI-model super transport… A typical ambush formation for unprotected cargo ships.
A trap.
Or something more? The enemy hadn't even launched fighters, and their ships were in a holding formation, not an ambush posture…
Either their commander was an arrogant fool, or he didn't anticipate that ships yanked from hyperspace might attack.
The intercom crackled to life.
— Freighter *Bantha's Spittle*—yes, the ship's previous owner had a severe lack of imagination—This is Lieutenant Lon Donell, Imperial forces. Your destination has changed. You will deliver the turbolaser cargo to a new location. Transfer control of your navigation computer.
Mara felt a wave of nausea.
Lon Donell?
So, this *Immobilizer* was the *Detainer*, which had been a thorn in the galaxy's side for the past two years.
A minor Imperial warlord who specialized in stealing ships from the New Republic, earning himself a place on Coruscant's enemy list. There was even a bounty on his head…
Yes, indeed.
Fifteen thousand credits.
— *Bantha's Spittle*—the voice grew insistent—Repeat, transfer access to your navigation computer!
— Yes, of course—Mara used a voice emulator to conceal her gender. These rebels might know the crew's composition.
She transmitted the access codes to her ship via a directed channel.
So, they would drag her along "on a leash."
She wouldn't know the destination coordinates. Nor could she relay them to Thrawn. Attempting to contact anyone now would surely bring "boys in white" storming aboard.
Mara noted that her ship's computer had switched to remote control. Navigation was no longer hers to command.
She observed as the enemy formation pulled two more freighters from hyperspace. Evidently, Lieutenant Donell hadn't been waiting for her ship alone.
The enemy's starship formation shifted.
They clearly intended to depart.
Now was the time to act.
Ensuring her ship would be the last in the enemy's formation, the Hand of Thrawn made her way to an escape pod.
Changing the transmission frequency was no trouble, nor was altering the flight log to indicate the crew had abandoned ship in escape pods before departure.
Wherever these starships were headed, by the time they arrived, the *Chimaera* would receive her signal and retrieve the pod. A brief, encrypted message would clarify the situation.
And then Grand Admiral Thrawn himself would track whoever was trying to build an *Executor*-class Star Dreadnought.
Woe to them if their goals did not align with those of the Dominion's ruler.
For now…
As the starship jumped to hyperspace, Mara slipped into a concealed smuggler's compartment built into the deck and settled in to wait.
***
Ysanne Isard leaned back in her chair, cracking her knuckles with satisfaction.
— Everything is proceeding as planned, Colonel Wessiri—she said, addressing the commander of the TIE Defender squadrons seated before her—Are our charges ready?
— Yes, Madam Director—the pilot replied—They have mastered the equipment with their usual excellence.
— In that case, arrange transport to their recruitment site—Isard ordered—Immediately afterward, prepare the base for evacuation. All personnel and assets are to be transferred to the Star Destroyer. Destroy all traces of our presence.
— Understood—the officer said—What of the *Rogue*'s *X-Wings* and their astromechs? Destroy them?
— Precisely—Isard confirmed.
— The prisoners?
— All but Himron are to be eliminated—Isard said calmly—Molo we'll leave here as a reminder for my clone. Along with a few surprises.
The colonel nodded silently, then glanced at the woman before him.
— A reminder of what?—he ventured, seeking to clarify the hidden meaning behind her words.
— That she is merely a clone—Isard's lips curled into a sardonic smile—And will always be several steps behind the original.
Colonel Wessiri left the office, keeping his lingering thoughts to himself.
***
— Analysis complete—Executor Sedriss declared, lifting his gaze from the dissected corpse.
— The result?—Blackhole's hologram betrayed no emotion. Literally—his face was absent, no mask visible. Just the tiresome holographic figure.
— Contrary to expectations, this is the original—Sedriss stated—None of the cloning criteria were met.
— Interesting—Blackhole's emotionless voice carried as much intrigue as a breeze concerned with Cerenian birth rates—So, the assumption that the Grand Admiral sought to deceive us is unconfirmed?
— I'm only stating that the real Octavian Grant was killed aboard the *Reaper*—Sedriss grimaced. Blackhole's wordplay irritated him. Though no diplomat, the Executor knew better than to agree with his counterpart's phrasing, which didn't align with reality—I don't believe a commander as astute as Thrawn is reputed to be could have failed to anticipate this outcome during the prisoner's transport.
— Perhaps—Blackhole conceded—But Thrawn is not omniscient. He's brilliant in his own way; his results speak for themselves. Yet, like all geniuses, he errs when relying on others. According to Grand Moff Kaine's testimony, the failure lay with the stormtroopers escorting the prisoner. They paid for their incompetence with their lives.
— I've never met Thrawn personally, but his planning suggests he leaves no alternatives for his enemies—Sedriss noted—He should have foreseen the stormtroopers' blunder, given their glaring incompetence.
— They're stormtroopers—Blackhole remarked—Since Endor, their quality has declined daily. There's nothing surprising in that. Or do you have evidence of malicious intent on Grand Admiral Thrawn's part?
— Only my suspicions—Sedriss countered—An Executor of his caliber should have ensured a flawless transfer procedure…
— Do you wish to report your suspicions to the Emperor?—Blackhole inquired, his voice devoid of emotion.
— No—Sedriss backtracked swiftly.
— Nor do I think it's your place to dictate what an Executor should anticipate in an operation—Blackhole stated—Your failure at Honoghr forced the Master to reveal himself to Ardus Kaine prematurely to influence Thrawn and direct his actions.
Sedriss remained outwardly calm.
Inside, a fire of rage burned.
Yes, the operation to involve Han Solo, discredit the New Republic, and undermine Thrawn's support among the Noghri had not only cost him the privilege of reporting directly to the Emperor but also placed him under Blackhole's command.
After all, whoever hid behind those holograms had a direct line to Byss.
Sedriss, meanwhile, was merely an executor of Palpatine's will.
If ordered to probe the New Republic's defenses by manipulating the Imperial Remnants and eliminating key resistance strongholds, he would do so.
Blackhole, however, was the one directing him to targets.
Until the operation to restore the Empire began, this chain of command would hold.
— I've already offered my apologies to the Master…
— And then you went rogue and botched the operation to capture Skywalker on Polis Massa—Blackhole continued—Any excuse for sending the Elite in your place?
— I was investigating Vjun—Sedriss snapped, struggling to conceal his true emotions—And I found evidence that Thrawn didn't eliminate Inquisitor Obscuro or Vader's loyal "acid" stormtroopers.
— I told you that aspect is irrelevant—Blackhole declared—The Emperor doesn't mind if Thrawn absorbs or eliminates minor warlords. It only aids the campaign. As long as he weakens the New Republic, he's useful. As long as he clears the galaxy of rebellious warlords, he's useful. That's why the Master orchestrated his return from the Unknown Regions.
"Orchestrated" was a strong word. Loyal Imperials had simply ensured Thrawn received accurate intelligence about the state of the Imperial Remnants.
The Emperor had described Thrawn as one of the Empire's most brilliant yet dangerous minds.
Sedriss took his Master's word. Having witnessed the Chiss inflict significant damage with minimal forces, he grudgingly respected him.
But he didn't trust him.
— What are the next orders?—Sedriss asked.
Truthfully, he'd have gladly sent an Elite operative to the Dominion to uncover Thrawn's plans.
But with Inquisitor Obscuro now in Thrawn's grasp, it was unlikely a Force adept could cross the border undetected.
Moreover, Sedriss still doubted the loyalty of Vader's former servant and the candor of the thirteenth Grand Admiral. An unshakable unease suggested Thrawn was not as straightforward as Blackhole believed.
He didn't trust the reports that Mara Jade, though she survived torture on Vjun, had died in a bacta tank.
He couldn't explain his distrust of Thrawn, but he was certain the Grand Admiral was not entirely forthcoming.
— You must oversee the Master's directives regarding production at Lady Valles Santhe's facilities and Incom Corporation—Blackhole stated.
"What are *you* doing, then?" Sedriss thought angrily.
Beyond purging critical data from the Emperor's storehouse on Wayland before Thrawn's arrival, Sedriss had no idea what Blackhole had been doing, other than leeching off the remnants of the Ubiqtorate.
He refrained from asking, knowing the fate of those who had done so before him.
They'd been sent to Wayland, "neglecting" to mention the mad clone of Jedi Master Joruus C'Baoth guarding the mountain.
Yes, they achieved their objectives—at the cost of their lives.
But wasn't that the essence of serving the Emperor—sacrificing oneself to restore peace and order to the galaxy?
What were a few servants' lives in the scope of a galactic plan?
Critical data had been destroyed, and instead of heading to the Deep Core to seize control of the ships that fled there, Grand Admiral Thrawn was waging an active campaign against the New Republic.
By preventing them from bolstering their forces and stabilizing their economy, the last Grand Admiral was eroding the foundations of their democracy. This aligned perfectly with the Master's plans.
The Emperor had shown no interest in the Dominion Thrawn was building on the galaxy's fringes, as if it didn't concern him that one of the most effective commanders was creating a militaristic state…
Sedriss knew he didn't enjoy the same trust as Darth Vader had with the Reborn Emperor, especially after the Solo fiasco.
Yet, in his brief service, he'd learned that Palpatine trusted no one fully. Even his most loyal servants lacked the complete picture.
This included their ignorance of the technology being produced for the Master. The projects were classified, but overseeing their production was essential.
While Sedriss knew Incom was secretly producing *Howlrunner*-class fighters for the Emperor, what Santhe Technologies was doing remained a mystery.
And he didn't delude himself into thinking a visit to Lianna would lift the veil of secrecy. It would yield only vague platitudes, nothing more.
— I'll handle this task swiftly—Sedriss declared—It would be more useful to know my next assignment.
— You'll receive it once you complete the current ones—Blackhole replied—There's a nuance with Santhe. She must be attacked by the New Republic so that, upon the Emperor's return, Lianna aligns with him as a loyal supplier of military technology.
As if anyone in their right mind would defy the will of the Reborn Emperor and his fleet.