With his first strike, he stripped the woman of her hair, transforming her lush mane into something resembling the crude haircut of an overgrown recruit.
"It seems your hand faltered, Commodore Shohashi," Ysanne Isard said, staring directly into his eyes.
The man did not miss the bloodied, bitten lips — this was how the Iceheart suppressed her pain.
"We're only getting started," Erik promised her, delivering the second blow.
When your nickname includes a profession tied to butchering carcasses, you inevitably start to embrace that ancient art.
It's especially easy when the HoloNet offers a bounty hunter's guide detailing the locations of human pain points.
And how to inflict suffering.
Exactly what was needed.
Erik had been preparing for this moment for months.
He had thoroughly studied the necessary material.
Thus, Ysanne Isard's pinky finger on her right hand detached from her body as swiftly as the manual predicted.
The woman, who had restrained herself until now, filled the room with a scream of agony.
She lurched forward, but Erik immediately sent her back to the cold floor with a fist to her face.
"Stay down," he said calmly, summoning a cart of tools and injecting Iceheart with an anti-shock agent alongside a dose of bacta. "We're only getting started."
To her credit, Ysanne Isard regained control of herself as soon as the medicine coursed through her veins.
"The "Butcher" lives up to his nickname," she said with a slightly trembling voice. "It seems the agents weren't lying — you really did love her."
"Iren was the meaning of my life," Erik said, placing the cleaver back on the cart. In its place, he took up mechanical grippers, typically used by technicians in their professional work. "And you took her from me."
He had seen this trick used by a Rodian mercenary who captured Imperial freighters for the Rebel Alliance. The mercenary never denied himself the pleasure of torturing surviving crew members.
The flat "jaws" of the gripper closed on the tip of the nail plate of the index finger on her already injured right hand.
Erik, securing the wounded limb by pressing his thumb into the wound, yanked the grippers with all his strength.
The nail tore free with a characteristic sound, causing Ysanne Isard to grimace in pain.
"Where is Baron Fel?" he asked quietly. "Ease your suffering — tell me where he is now. And then you'll die quickly."
"Oh, so you don't know?" the woman laughed.
"You're going to tell me," the commodore stated confidently.
"You'd better ask Thrawn," Iceheart advised.
"I'm asking you."
"You're wasting your time," she said. "I can endure far worse pain than this."
Erik, with an impassive face, tore off the second nail.
Ysanne Isard's face twisted in a grimace of pain, though she quickly suppressed it.
"Not that painful," she said with a strained smile.
"If that were true, you wouldn't have said it," Shohashi remarked reasonably, moving on to the third nail.
***
Asajj Ventress felt a surge of irritation when the turbolift doors slid open, and a guard in blue-black armor brusquely gestured for her to exit.
In the ship's corridor, four more soldiers in similar uniforms awaited her.
Except, instead of blue, their armor was gold-black, suggesting they belonged to a different unit of the Dominion Guard.
"I take it you won't answer questions like, "Where are we?" or "Where are we going?" again?" she asked, attempting to open herself to the Force.
No result.
The guard, wasting no time, shoved her shoulder to clear the lift.
The woman was about to voice her thoughts on such treatment but held her tongue, noticing how professionally the guards moved and acted.
She chose to walk silently down the corridor, noting along the way that the faint, barely perceptible vibration of the deck, along with characteristic interior and design elements, indicated she was aboard a ship.
But which one, why she had been transported on a shuttle and sent into the unknown as soon as Shohashi left the Crimson Dawn, leaving it and the entire squadron at the sector fleet base, along with countless other unanswered questions, remained a mystery.
She observed that she was being moved through entirely empty corridors, devoid of any presence.
Yet, signs of sentient activity were everywhere — fresh weld seams, unfinished power system installations, incomplete control display and panel assemblies.
Whatever starship she had arrived on, it was in the final stages of repair.
Or construction.
Or perhaps what she saw applied only to this section of the ship, and beyond this zone, there might be little more than a bare construction frame and a depressurized hull.
The journey didn't take long, but in the end, the five guards holding her in a "box" formation stopped at the threshold of massive doors, which, if she understood correctly, led to the bridge of a warship.
With the traditional hiss of armored bulkhead actuators, the massive doors slid aside, granting her access to where she had expected.
This bridge was vastly larger than those on Imperial-class ships and roughly twice the size of the Crimson Dawn's bridge.
But the distinctive Imperial design was unmistakable.
Except, instead of spacious transparisteel viewports, she saw openings sealed with thick armored shutters.
Given the absence of visible fasteners, she deduced that the shutters descended from specialized slots.
Which, as far as she knew, was not standard on Imperial ships.
This meant she was either not on an Imperial-manufactured ship, or…
No, she was correct — this was an Imperial ship.
Except these Imperials called themselves "Dominionites."
And there, on the central platform, in a massive high-backed chair, staring intently at one of the monitors, sat the chief Dominionite.
The display device, unusually, was embedded in the armrest of the chair, angled toward the occupant.
And Thrawn had deliberately turned his comfortable seat to face the newcomers, ensuring Asajj couldn't glimpse what was displayed on the screen.
She very much wanted to.
Because the unmistakable sounds of torture were emanating from it.
"Welcome, Lady Ventress," Thrawn greeted her quietly, without moving.
"Likewise, Grand Admiral," the Dathomirian witch met the piercing gaze of the gray-skinned creature. A Noghri bodyguard stood just behind the back of Thrawn's chair.
But Asajj wasn't foolish enough to ignore the simple truth — this alien was just as dangerous as the guards who had brought her here.
"I trust your journey was pleasant?" the Chiss asked the woman.
"They didn't toss me out an airlock, shackle me in cuffs or shock restraints, quarter me, and even fed me during the flight," Ventress smirked.
"Nothing to worry about," Thrawn said, still not meeting her gaze. "If you wish to experience any of that, just ask."
They say the Grand Admiral has a sense of humor.
How they…
Oh, you!
"Well, alright, blue-face, let's call it one-to-one in dark humor," Ventress thought.
"I hope you'll at least explain why I was brought here?" she asked.
"Gladly, since you've chosen to ask," Thrawn replied, finally looking up from the monitor and over the device at her. "Tell me, what do you think of Commodore Shohashi?"
"I thought discussing one's immediate superior was taboo under Imperial regulations," the Dathomirian said with a crooked smirk.
"With subordinates or other officers, not with higher command," Thrawn corrected her. "So, I'm waiting for your answer."
"I'm not a staff psychologist," Ventress shrugged. "I'm a ground forces commander. Shohashi gives me orders, and I carry them out as efficiently as possible."
"And that's commendable," Thrawn praised her in a tone typically reserved for eulogizing the deceased at a funeral. "But that's not what I asked."
"I've seen commanders far dumber than him and others far smarter. He's a good commander, operates with minimal risk. He deliberately distances himself from subordinates to maintain the formalities of regulations. I wouldn't say the crew fears him, but they prefer to follow the rules — and then they have no problems. That said, Shohashi values initiative in his subordinates. But above all, he cherishes his solitude. I only know a couple of sentients he's warmer with than the surface of Hoth."
"Your observations are valuable," Thrawn said. "Are you aware of the reason for his emotional detachment?"
"I don't care," Ventress admitted honestly. "As far as I'm concerned, it helps him act correctly — with minimal losses and damage, he crushed numerically superior enemy forces in the last battle."
"And you're not at all curious about how he got this way?" Thrawn asked, surprised.
"I'm not raising children with him," Ventress grimaced. "I'm perfectly fine with him being an excellent commander, always supporting ground troops with fire, and I don't have to wait an hour for artillery to bother striking where it's needed."
"In that case, it's in your best interest to ensure your commander's peace of mind," Thrawn said, turning the monitor so the Dathomirian witch could see what was happening on the screen.
For a few minutes, she silently watched the events unfold, then met the Grand Admiral's burning eyes.
"Torture is clearly not his forte," she declared.
"You think so?"
"No ingenuity," the woman explained. "It's obvious that this harpy is trained to endure far worse. It's written all over her face."
"What information do you think he's trying to extract from her?" the Chiss asked, studying the Dathomirian.
"No idea," she admitted. "But judging by the fact that he's personally "asking questions" with specialized tools, they're clearly pressing, personal matters."
"The woman in the video is Ysanne Isard," Thrawn said. "Former Director of Imperial Intelligence. A few years ago, she killed the woman Commodore Shohashi loved."
Ventress looked at the scene from a different angle.
"I doubt it," she said, inwardly regretting that Thrawn had deliberately muted the video. "Her face suggests she's capable but doesn't get her hands dirty with such matters. Especially as the Director of Intelligence. She likely gave the order, so… I think Shohashi is interested in the reasons for her actions or the whereabouts of the executor."
"You're correct," the Grand Admiral confirmed. "The commodore's beloved was an aristocrat and pilot. She was killed by one of the Empire's celebrated ace pilots, Baron Soontir Fel. He and his subordinates — pilots of the 181st Fighter Wing."
"Quite the aristocrat if they sent an entire fighter wing after her," Ventress smirked. "So, why am I here?"
"To provide your expert opinion," Thrawn said.
"I haven't had pilots kill my beloved," Asajj laughed silently. But she stopped abruptly upon seeing an obsidian knife in the Noghri's hands. Such weapons were once used by rare bounty hunters and were now standard issue for stormtroopers. A deadly tool, especially in skilled hands.
And she had no doubt the Noghri was a professional with such a weapon.
Without the Force, she might not be able to defend herself in time.
"All the better," Thrawn said. "However, you spent a long time seeking personal vengeance against the Jedi. Then you abandoned that practice. Why?"
"I was betrayed, the Order was destroyed, the Confederacy lost, and Vader and Palpatine together began reshaping the galaxy."
"So, the personal wasn't so important to you, since you gave up that "hunt"?"
"I don't care anymore," Ventress admitted. "I serve a state that includes Jedi among its ranks. After years of chasing them… Thanks, I have more interesting things to do."
"Did you feel satisfaction knowing the Jedi were largely destroyed?" Thrawn asked.
"None at all," she confessed. "And honestly, after the first couple of months hunting Jedi during the Clone Wars, the enthusiasm waned."
"So why continue?" the Grand Admiral inquired.
"That's my business," Ventress snapped unexpectedly, instinctively tensing.
"Fair enough," Thrawn replied calmly. "But I believe you and Shohashi have something in common."
"A fabulous hairstyle?" Ventress raised her chin, smoothing her regrown white hair.
The Grand Admiral's lips remained unmoved, though the jest warranted at least a smile.
"Personal vengeance," Thrawn said. "And the ways to survive the emotional collapse that follows."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Asajj's cheerful mood vanished instantly.
"About the emotional burnout that haunts anyone who embarks on a path of personal vengeance, dedicating their life to it, only to face dissatisfaction upon achieving their goal," Thrawn said softly and persuasively. "About the aimless search for purpose that followed you after the Jedi Order's destruction. And finally, about what led you to self-isolation and avoiding sentients. Decades of solitude, emotional detachment, and searching for yourself. That was the outcome of your path as Count Dooku's acolyte, wasn't it, Lady Ventress? Correct me if I've missed anything."
The Dathomirian witch's features sharpened.
"Don't think you know me, Thrawn," she warned. "Your words are just words."
"Are they?" the Grand Admiral clarified. "One word from me, and the guard will deal with you."
"I seem to recall single-handedly wiping out most of the Sun Guard," Ventress smirked, glancing at the guards and the Noghri. "I doubt these guys are much different."
She didn't mention that back then, she wasn't restricted in her use of the Force, as she was now.
Some things are best kept to oneself.
"Or, one word from me, and you'll be granted full freedom," the Grand Admiral continued, as if nothing had happened. "You've been a mere acolyte, a champion of the Dark Side, for too long. Now you're a subordinate. But that can change — you need only agree to my terms."
"And what do you propose to offer me?" Ventress asked, intrigued.
"Knowledge," Thrawn replied simply. "An independent command position. You could join the elite forces under my direct control."
"And Ahsoka Tano is already part of them, isn't she?" Asajj clarified.
"Does that change anything?" Thrawn asked.
"I'm not thrilled about working side by side with her," the Dathomirian stated. "And knowledge… What can you, a mere sentient, tell me about the Force and Sith mastery?"
"Me?" Thrawn clarified. "Nothing."
"Exactly."
"But it's within my power to provide you with access to Sith or Jedi holocrons," Thrawn's voice didn't shift a single tone, but adrenaline began pounding in Asajj's ears.
"Where did you get them?" she asked, licking her dry lips.
"I believe you understand I have reasons not to disclose that information," the Grand Admiral said. "But rest assured, the Jenssarai Order has several holocrons in its possession."
"Jedi ones?" Ventress grimaced.
"They're over a thousand years old," Thrawn said calmly. "And they contain plenty of information that will be useful to you. Not to mention the vast amount of Sith and Jedi knowledge in Darth Sidious's possession."
"He's dead," Ventress said cautiously.
"You were also considered dead all these years," Thrawn countered. "Besides, you might want to confront the Emperor yourself and remind him of how he treated you while you served Count Dooku."
"What do I need to do?" Ventress asked quickly.
"Everything necessary to ensure Shohashi doesn't turn his life into a battle for vengeance," Thrawn declared. "Frankly, I don't care whether he kills Ysanne Isard, Baron Fel, tortures them, or lets them go. For me and the Dominion, the priority is that this sentient continues to serve and remains an effective commander. This," Thrawn extracted a small data chip from the armrest, "will suffice as an advance."
"And what is it?" Ventress asked.
"A description of the technique known as Force Lightning," the Grand Admiral said. "As far as I know, you haven't been trained in it. Though many Force-sensitive beings consider lightning practically a hallmark of those who follow the Dark Side of your philosophy."
Asajj licked her suddenly dry lips and stepped forward, taking the data storage device from the Grand Admiral's pristine white glove.
"I want freedom as a Dominion commander," she said. "And the knowledge you promised. And the issue with your Shohashi, who's about to live up to his nickname, will be resolved."
"As I mentioned, one word from me is enough," Thrawn reminded her. "Stop his emotional burnout, and we'll consider it a deal."
Nodding in agreement, Ventress tucked the data chip into a hidden pocket and gestured toward the bridge exit:
"I hope he's nearby, and I'll have time to intervene?"
"Of course," Thrawn assured her. "That's why this was all arranged."
***
For a long time, he believed nothing could be more humiliating than patrolling a system no one intended to attack.
But no, it turns out there was.
Escorting repulsor equipment freighters from the Kelada system in the Duluur sector to the Chasin system. Then escorting empty freighters back. Then, with them, flying to another point in the galaxy. After that — back to Kelada for another load.
A foolish, tedious, utterly disgraceful job unworthy of a military officer.
Captain Akrey Dobramu was ready to explode from it.
First, patrols.
Then guarding ships that placed space rocks along the Dominion's metropolitan borders.
Now — commanding the escort of a transport caravan!
Oh, may the Jedi strike me down, how degrading!
Especially when Thrawn was dragging even Hutt Corellian gunships into skirmishes with the New Republic!
And the Strike-class medium cruisers were assigned to metropolitan patrols and freighter escorts. To deal with lone pirates and New Republic raiders.
Whose numbers dwindled by the day.
Excellent!
Just splendid!
A stellar career trajectory!
Was it even worth earning captain's command bars if this is how things were?!
Akrey had grown accustomed to running through these thoughts in his head while maintaining an outwardly calm and composed demeanor.
Especially when Kam Solusar, the Emperor Palpatine's plenipotentiary representative, was aboard his ship.
And right now, while command was finalizing the new delivery and escort schedule, the Dark Side Elite representative was reviewing data on chips Akrey had provided.
"Is this everything?" Solusar asked, deactivating the datapad.
"Yes," Akrey replied. "Precise coordinates for the placement of cloaked asteroids along the Dominion's borders. Positioned across all hyperspace routes passing through this Remnant. In their current state, they're useless, as they lack sufficient mass to pull starships out of hyperspace."
"Then why is Thrawn spending so much time and resources on these space rocks?" Solusar asked, intrigued.
"I'm not privy to the details, but I suspect that, in time, gravity shadow generators will be placed behind these minefields to pull ships Thrawn doesn't want in the metropolitan area out of hyperspace," Dobramu explained. "That way, starships will end up right in the middle of an invisible minefield. A collision with even a small rock can cause significant problems. Not to mention that the asteroids' interiors are filled with high-yield explosives. You saw what even small rocks with such "stuffing" could do during Thrawn's siege of Coruscant a few weeks ago."
"Yes, an effective weapon," Solusar agreed. "Have you learned what cloaking technology is used on these asteroids?"
"No," Dobramu shook his head. "Scans don't detect the rocks in visual or any other spectrum."
"Even with mass detectors?" the Dark Side Elite representative asked, surprised.
"My ship doesn't have those sensors," Dobramu said. "And the technicians working with the asteroids on the freighters are as talkative as Hutts are virtuoso dancers. They cite confidentiality and avoid contact."
"Where are these installations manufactured?"
"Also classified."
"Have you seen even one of them before the cloaking field was activated?"
"I haven't even seen the asteroids," Akrey admitted. "I only know from the freighter crews' words and the data from the transport's tractor beam operations used for installation."
"In other words, Thrawn doesn't trust you enough to share his plan," Solusar concluded.
"Nor the commanders and crews of other medium cruisers," Dobramu added. "He deliberately keeps us out of his campaigns."
"Which surely affects crew loyalty, doesn't it?" Kam clarified.
"Exactly," Dobramu confirmed.
"Well then," Solusar concluded, "you've done excellent work, Captain. As I understand, you have another escort mission coming up?"
"Yes," Akrey grimaced.
"How many cruiser commanders can you vouch for as loyal to the New Order and the Emperor?" the man asked.
"Nearly all of them," Dobramu said. "They're good men, with limited combat experience. But if the Emperor commands, we'll do everything to satisfy him."
"Good," Solusar said, rising from his chair. "In that case, I suggest you contact them and set a date, course, and rendezvous point."
Akrey felt his fingers begin to tremble.
"Is this what I think it is?" he clarified. "Is the Emperor summoning us?"
"Yes," Solusar replied. "Be prepared to abandon your duties with Thrawn and immediately take command of ships in the Emperor's fleet. We have certain issues with command positions, so unlike your service to Thrawn, the Emperor will undoubtedly value you appropriately."
"You've told me something like this before," Akrey said. "I keep waiting, waiting…"
"Then you're not listening carefully," Solusar replied sternly, his amber eyes flashing. "I just said: prepare to join the Emperor's fleet."
"You tell me this every time you come to my ship," Dobramu thought irritably, feeling like he was being strung along to gather more data on Thrawn and the Dominion.
"All I need to do is contact the other medium cruiser commanders, and they'll immediately abandon their service to the Dominion," Akrey emphasized his importance. "Name the time and place, and we'll be there."
"That sounds like a challenge and distrust in my words," Solusar said, pocketing the data chips.
"I'm sorry you see it that way, but in all our time working together, I haven't received a single confirmation that the Emperor needs me as a military officer, not a spy," Dobramu gritted his teeth. "I'm tired of waiting. Tired of all these verbal promises that almost never come true. I'm fed up with Thrawn treating me like some misbehaving cadet. I serve the Emperor and expected what you promised — recognition, power, strength commensurate with my talents. And I've received nothing but words."
"Is that so?" A smile appeared on Solusar's face. "Do you doubt the Emperor even knows of your involvement?"
"I don't doubt the Emperor," Akrey made clear. "I don't understand your delay, Solusar. With the data I've provided, Thrawn could easily be destroyed. Yet you keep stalling. It's a matter of a couple of months at most. If I had the right ships at my disposal…"
"And what would you do if given the ships and means to settle scores with Thrawn?"
"I'd crush the alien like a pathetic insect," Akrey growled. "And burn anyone who dares oppose me with turbolasers."
"Is that so?" the Emperor's representative smirked. "Well, let's see if your words match your deeds. Contact the captains of the other Strikes. Tell them to be ready to abandon their service immediately and rendezvous at the planet Vjun, coordinates I'll provide now. From there, we'll head directly to the Emperor. My work in the galaxy is done, as is that of my comrades. It's time to deliver the final information of interest to our master, after which you'll receive what's owed to you. Have no doubt. I will personally request your promotion before the Emperor. And if you or your colleagues fail him, as many Imperials already have, something worse than death awaits you."
Akrey swallowed hard, a lump forming in his throat.
It was becoming frightening.
And he also realized why the Emperor had personnel issues — obviously, they simply didn't meet his high standards.
But Akrey was confident in himself.
"No need to worry, Lord Solusar," he requested. "You won't have to worry about me."
***
Erik heard the door open behind him.
"Don't go anywhere," he said to the woman slumped against the wall.
However, bloodied and trembling from involuntary muscle contractions, Ysanne Isard bore little resemblance to her former self.
If one didn't know who she was or what species, gender, or race she belonged to, it would be hard to identify the bloodied body with meticulously broken limbs that any executioner would envy.
"Lady Ventress?" Erik raised an eyebrow, looking at the Dathomirian witch who entered.
"Commodore Shohashi," she nodded in return. "I see your leave is quite… bloody."
"By what right are you here?" the officer asked, wiping his bloodied tools with a rag.
"Call it a sense of compassion or something like that," she said. "My access to this compartment was authorized by Grand Admiral Thrawn."
"And that's all he asked you to do?" Erik asked nervously, glancing at the bloodied body watching him with its one remaining hateful eye.
Once, such a gaze would have unnerved him, but now…
Just ordinary eyes.
Nothing new.
"We made a deal," Ventress said reluctantly.
"Oh, really?" Erik, having heard plenty from Iceheart, began removing his blood-stained protective suit. "Let me guess — he promised you something in exchange for convincing me to abandon my pursuit, didn't he?"
If Ventress was surprised by his insight, she didn't show it.
"Not exactly," she said. "I secured certain concessions in exchange for keeping you from burning out after achieving your vengeance."
"Interesting," Erik discarded the suit, stuffing it into the waste bin at the bottom of the repulsor cart with tools. "And how do you plan to do that? By using the Force?"
He pointedly drew his blaster from its holster and aimed it at the Dathomirian's stomach.
She, correctly assessing where the shot would land, met his gaze:
"No, my Force is being blocked."
"What charming games," came Ysanne Isard's voice. "And they call me a dirty manipula—"
She couldn't finish — Shohashi's blaster shot left a hole in her head not accounted for by human biology.
The commodore, limping and leaning on his cane, walked out of the compartment, discarding the blaster, which the Dominion guards would never have let him leave with.
"Was it worth carving her up like a slab of meat if the goal was to kill her anyway?" Ventress asked, catching up with him beyond the threshold.
"I needed information, and I got it," Shohashi said.
"Judging by your talkativeness, you got more than you wanted," Ventress noted.
"Too much," Erik replied, feeling the edges of the cane's handle dig into his palm. "And now I have questions I want answers to. Immediately."
Asajj glanced at the Dominion guards in gold-black armor walking a couple of meters behind them.
"Are you sure you can get those answers and stay alive?" she asked more quietly.
"That doesn't matter," Erik snapped.
"I disagree," Ventress countered. "It does."
"No," the commodore hissed through gritted teeth. "I've waited too long. Done too much to fulfill my part of the bargain. Only to find out he's practically right here! Reach out and snap the bastard's neck! Thrawn played me to make me do what he wanted! Manipulated me!"
Ventress took a few quick steps forward, turning to block the Crimson Dawn commander's path.
Her face was anything but friendly now.
"Get out of my way!"
"By all the gungan tongues you'd eat for breakfast, Shohashi, what are you doing?!" she hissed.
"I'm going for answers!"
"You're going to confront Thrawn with accusations, on his ship, surrounded by his guards, without weapons, without support! Alone against someone who planned the defeat of forces outnumbering his fleet tenfold!" Asajj's voice was like a serpent's hiss. "Stop it, you can't be serious?!"
"More serious than ever," Erik stepped closer to her. "Get out of my way, Lady Ventress, or I'll move you."
Asajj ignored her commander's request.
Instead, she kicked, knocking the cane — his point of support — from under Shohashi.
The officer lurched forward, grabbing her to avoid falling to the deck.
To his credit, it took only a few seconds for him to pull away, avoiding her gaze and thus the awkwardness of where his hands had landed on her body.
"Do that again, and I'll order you thrown out an airlock," Shohashi said as if nothing had happened, retrieving his cane from the deck and leaning on it as though nothing notable had occurred.
"Use your head, Erik!" she advised. "I don't know what that woman told you, but at the very least, she could've lied. At most, she distorted the facts. If you go to Thrawn with accusations, spouting an unformed, baseless opinion, who'll end up worse off?"
"Stay out of my business, Lady Ventress," Erik said, barely restraining himself from shouting. "This. Is. My. Personal. Matter."
"Then I suggest you remember that these "personal matters" never end well for anyone," Ventress said in the same hissing whisper. "Even if Ysanne Isard was right a dozen times over and Thrawn hid something from you, do you really think it's worth it?"
"I think I've earned answers!" Erik roared. "For a year and a half, I've fought for him! Risked my life and my crew's, doing what he says. Because he promised me Fel! Promised to find and deliver him to me, to let me carve out the bastard's heart! And what do I learn? That all this time, the baron was with him! Ysanne Isard transferred Fel to Thrawn in exchange for help planning her escape from Coruscant! She fled the Imperial Center and took the Lusankya on his orders! He promised me Ysanne Isard…"
"And you got her."
"Did I? Turns out she has a clone. And it's working for Thrawn. Where's the guarantee I just dealt with the original responsible for what happened, not another copy?" Erik gripped the cane's handle so tightly his hand turned white.
Asajj forced a tortured smile.
"And that's it?" she asked mockingly. ""Did I torture the right one?" "They didn't give me the pilot I wanted to kill, I'm upset!" Shohashi, you're a combat officer! The heartless "Butcher of Atoan"! What's with the sentimentality?"
"Don't talk like you know me, Lady Ventress," Shohashi warned, shaking his head. "I survived my brother-in-law's betrayal and a crew mutiny. I've slaughtered enemy ship crews for disobedience and turned their reactors into supernovas, so…"
The Dathomirian witch rolled her eyes.
"Shall we cry over life's failures now?" she suggested. "As if I don't know betrayal, attempted murder, captivity, orchestrating local orbital bombardments, chemical attacks, gutting enemies, and so on! It all looks pathetic…"
"Then don't look," Shohashi growled. "Get out of my way."
"I'm not moving," the woman jabbed a finger into the commodore's chest. "I've served under your command for weeks, you pompous Alderaanian backside. I tolerate being treated like a mercenary, even though I could snap your neck, your lackeys', take your ship, and get far away from this mess! I've commanded fleet operations on the scale of state conflicts, besieged more planets than you've ever seen. I fought Darth Vader before he donned his stylish black suit and had a few more original limbs than the galaxy knows! And I won't let you just walk in there," she nodded toward the end of the corridor, "and start heartfelt talks with the Grand Admiral. I want freedom, and I'll get it. Along with the knowledge I need for personal growth. And if that means beating some sense into your suddenly emotional head, I'll do it. With my feet. To your face. Or I'll break your knees."
"This is mutiny, Lady Ventress," Shohashi hissed. "I'll order your arrest the moment we return to the Crimson Dawn."
"I won't care by then," Ventress snorted. "You won't survive this day if you go to Thrawn with accusations now. Pull yourself together, Erik, think with your head, not your emotions! Trust my experience — there's nothing good in this. I slaughtered entire armies over a surreal grudge against the Jedi because they didn't save my mentor…"
"I don't care about your past," Shohashi snapped. "I'll get what I want. Period. Get out of my way. This is my last request."
And his voice grew firmer, clearer…
The voice the Crimson Dawn crew knew.
Progress, it seemed, was being made.
Time to hit where it hurts.
Asajj took a sliding step aside, and the Alderaanian marched down the corridor.
"Go on, go," the Dathomirian witch said mockingly. "You'll surely get what you deserve. And after Thrawn's gray-skinned bodyguard kills you, I'll request command of the Crimson Dawn. I'll tell the crew what a hypocritical egoist their commander was, who for years posed as a composed professional, only to throw a tantrum like a Jedi Padawan before the High Council when he learned another egoist deceived him, storming off to his dream without a plan. When Brandei's back on his feet, what do you think he'll do when he hears Thrawn executed you? Stay loyal to the Grand Admiral's orders, or try to desert? To join his enemies and avenge your wasted life."
The blow hit its mark — the Alderaanian froze in his tracks.
Perfect.
She hadn't forgotten all her Sith training in manipulation.
"Go to your sister, Erik," Ventress continued in the same venomous tone. "Tell her how your heart aches because Thrawn was a bit cleverer, giving you one Ysanne Isard while keeping another. Share your suspicions that you tortured a woman who might not have been the one who ordered your beloved's death. Don't forget to mention that you, who lectured me like a cadet, got upset because your superior didn't spill all his secrets on day one. Maybe someone in your family has a truly cool head and will realize Thrawn was right in his own way, and you've been chasing your vengeance for years only because, deep down, you're a little boy, hurt by the galaxy, set on finding and destroying everyone responsible for your beloved's death. Then think about why Thrawn found this Ysanne Isard so quickly, while you achieved nothing in years. Something tells me you didn't want to succeed, because you're smart enough to know that throwing yourself into this vengeance would lead to a dead end with their deaths. And now you're just looking for an excuse to use Thrawn's actions to find a new target for your hatred. Because you can't do otherwise. You've trapped yourself, Shohashi, in a corner. And when someone offers a hand to pull you out, you proudly turn away, insisting you'll do it alone… You wouldn't believe how familiar this is to me. I could tell you what depths my pursuit of personal vengeance dragged me to, but you told me to shut up. As you command, Commodore."
She gave a mocking salute.
The commodore sharply turned on his left shoulder, staring intently at the Dathomirian witch before him.
"Come on," Ventress's features twisted into an insultingly sweet smile. "Say something like, "Three extra duties!" or "Don't leave your quarters after curfew!" or something like that. Show me you're really that hurt little boy who retreated into his shell of formalism and military regulations because it's easier to live that way, sitting in a corner at night, hugging yourself, wiping away tears, and muttering about how you'll get revenge on those you couldn't find."
Shohashi stared at her with an icy gaze.
Utterly calm, one might even say impassive.
His posture suggested tension, but he was clearly restraining himself from saying something Ventress could interpret as her victory.
"Finished?" he asked.
"We're just getting started," Ventress blinked with the same mocking smile. "You have no idea how charmingly devastating I can be to logic and minds when I'm in a good mood. If you were thirty years younger and a Jedi, your robes would already be soaked with sweat from my mere presence."
"I don't doubt it," Shohashi nodded slightly. "With a shaved head and a vocabulary straight out of secondary school, you're only fit to scare children, Lady Ventress."
The woman's face twisted into a grimace of irritation.
"Oh, how I'd love to beat the bantha fodder out of you, Shohashi," she said dreamily, cracking her knuckles demonstratively. "I don't forgive such jabs. From anyone."
"The feeling's mutual, Lady Ventress," the Alderaanian said in a tone so cold it seemed the corridor's temperature dropped a few degrees. "I suggest you practice hand-to-hand combat. Because after I'm done with Thrawn, I'll hold you accountable for every word you've said. For mentioning Niclara and Brandei — doubly so."
Asajj flashed him her signature smile.
"Commodore, if you survive this day, I'll have enough strength to roast you like nerf meat."
"We'll see about that," Shohashi declared, turning his back to her. "And one last thing, Lady Ventress. Three shifts in the galley without droid assistance for each instance of violating disciplinary norms."
"Running so fast my hair's blowing off my head," Ventress smirked.
"And I was wondering what the problem was…" Shohashi said meaningfully, resuming his march.
For a few seconds, Asajj stood, trying to come up with a sharp retort, but then mentally waved it off.
Shouting at someone fifty meters away would make her look foolish.
She watched the retreating guards, then calmly and composedly walked toward her waiting escort.
She had fulfilled her part of the deal with Thrawn, and the rest didn't concern her.
Whether she'd gotten through to the commodore or not was irrelevant.
She had the description of the Force Lightning technique, and for now, that was enough.
At the very least, it was sufficient to give a certain smug Togruta, who irritated any sane sentient just by existing in the universe, a good singeing.
***
"You finished rather quickly, Commodore Shohashi," I said, observing the named officer settle into the chair across from me. "I suspect you concluded almost immediately after I left the compartment. Given your demeanor, it was assumed Ysanne Isard's death wouldn't end so simply."
The Alderaanian sat with a straight back, his cane topped with a large gemstone resting beside him.
Outwardly calm, even impassive, the man looked me in the eyes without fear.
In the dim lighting of my quarters in the residence once belonging to the moff of the Morshdine sector, his gray uniform seemed to blend into the surrounding shadows.
The room, far more spacious than the compartments on the Chimaera, was dimly lit by a few light panels.
I had settled here for the time needed to study the operations of industrial and other facilities on the surface of Tangrene.
"Sir, is it true?" Shohashi asked without preamble.
"That depends on what you wish to ask, Commodore," I noted.
"I assume you observed the execution of Ysanne Isard and know what she told me," the Alderaanian said, pursing his lips.
I had no intention of denying it for any reason.
"I am aware," I confirmed. "But that doesn't change the fact that to get the right answer, you need to ask the right question."
The commodore stared at me for a few seconds before resolving to ask:
"Was Baron Fel truly transferred by Ysanne Isard to your command?"
Technically, not to mine, but to Mitth'raw'nuruodo's.
But there's a nuance.
"Yes," I replied.
"And when you promised to deliver him to me as payment for my service, did you know where he was?"
Again, this question could only have a dual answer.
But not everything can be explained.
"He is currently part of the command of forces stationed in the Unknown Regions," I confirmed.
"And you could have easily summoned him here to fulfill your promise," the Alderaanian's voice trembled slightly.
"From a technical standpoint, nothing prevented that," I said. "Just as nothing prevented giving you Ysanne Isard's clone, claiming it was the original. Judging by how events unfolded, such nuances didn't interest you."
The man silently absorbed the barely veiled reproach, then said:
"Then why are you delaying?" he asked. "Does my service have shortcomings that allow you to deviate from your word?"
"Your service and dedication to duty are impeccable, Commodore," I declared. "However, eliminating Baron Fel at this moment would strike a blow to the strategic interests of our operations in the Unknown Regions."
"And those operations are more important than fulfilling your promise immediately?" Shohashi asked.
"Do you have grounds to accuse me of breaking my word?" I inquired.
"You could have given me Ysanne Isard's clone," Erik reminded me. "If Iceheart's words are to be believed, the clone has memories related to Iren Ryad's death."
"So, we'll judge every clone for the actions of its donor?" I asked.
"No, sir," Shohashi sighed. "I understand the clone isn't responsible for the death of the "Red Star." I understand why you didn't give her to me to formally fulfill part of your promise, but…"
The man licked his lips and fell silent.
"I had and have no desire to mislead allies," I explained. "Our agreement concerned Ysanne Isard and Fel. You received the former as soon as she was captured and could be removed from the campaign without harming the overall plan. The same will apply to Fel."
Shohashi remained silent, staring at the floor.
I didn't interrupt as he sorted through his thoughts.
"Permission to speak freely, sir?" he asked.
"That's assumed by default, Commodore."
"Some time ago, I had a rather insightful conversation with Lady Ventress," the officer said. "Without going into details, she mentioned she went through a similar life path as I have. Considering you sent her to me for a preventative talk, it's reasonable to assume that transferring the Dathomirian witch to my command had additional motives beyond appointing a ground forces commander for my ships."
"That's correct," I confirmed. "Sooner or later, we would have had this conversation. I value and respect you too much, Commodore, to lose you to an emotional breakdown. Lady Ventress has valuable experience overcoming a similar crisis. I believed and still believe that your joint service will help you personally escape the psychological trap of prolonged vengeance and emotional burnout."
"Does this mean that, due to Baron Fel's importance to your plans in the Unknown Regions, he won't be handed over to me for satisfaction?" the Alderaanian asked.
"No, it does not," I refuted. "The situation in the Unknown Regions is challenging. There are threats that cannot be countered without competent officers in command. That's why I'm delaying your meeting with the baron. As soon as I find a suitable replacement among the pilots, you'll get what you want."
"Such a rotation could take years," Shohashi noted.
"Unlikely," I countered. "I currently have a sufficient number of potential candidates. Unfortunately, they lack the piloting skill or experience of the baron. It was planned that Ysanne Isard's captured subordinate, Colonel Wessiri, after cloning and ideological conditioning, would replace Soontir Fel in the Unknown Regions. And you would receive the baron, as agreed. Unfortunately, an executor's error during the Lusankya's capture led to the colonel's death before a memory matrix could be obtained."
"But you could clone him and implant Fel's memories," Shohashi suggested.
"We've already identified the flaws of that method," I said. "Take the clones created under Colonel Selid's unauthorized GeNod program. Mismatches between memory matrices and biological bodies lead to skill degradation and reduced clone efficiency. I've tasked specialists with finding cloning experts to address this, but there are challenges in executing this plan."
"You could clone Fel and give me the clone for my vendetta," Shohashi reiterated.
"That's why I invited you to observe the interaction between Ysanne Isard's clone and my agent," I explained. "Same face, same memories — but is the clone truly guilty of the original's actions? Does it repeat their fate, or is it an entirely different being with a right to its own life? The example of the duplicate Ysanne Isard shows that, despite flaws, she's on our side. Meanwhile, the real Ysanne Isard is wholly loyal to the Emperor. Quite the conundrum."
Shohashi nodded understandingly.
"Anticipating your next question, the idea of cloning Fel, giving you the original, and placing the clone in his role has its drawbacks," I continued. "Clones age rapidly, requiring frequent replacements. Or we'd need to solve their short lifespans through genetics. But that requires specialized experts, of which there are few in the galaxy. This is also why we're in conflict with the Zann Consortium."
"Sir?" Shohashi asked, intrigued.
"I believe Zann's forces control planets like Ryloth and Kamino," I explained. "The ships you fought at Hypori were likely built at Rothana Heavy Engineering's facilities. And during the Clone Wars, Kaminoans supplied personnel to the Grand Army of the Republic. They're likely creating a clone army for the Consortium now."
"Kaminoans are the most obvious candidates for "specialized experts,"" Shohashi nodded.
"Precisely," I agreed. "That's why eliminating the Zann Consortium is one of our next objectives. I trust you understand that by the end of the new campaign, I'll either have a replacement for the baron or the ability to clone him without the risk of the clone becoming a frail old man in a few years. Since the territories protected by Baron Fel and other Imperials are effectively isolated from the rest of the galaxy, supplying new Fel clones as the old ones fail isn't ideal either. Extracting a memory matrix from a clone is nearly impossible, as is cloning a clone — it's pointless."
"Sounds like a stalemate in holochess," Shohashi offered.
"Not quite, but close in essence," I agreed. "However, solutions to the problem have been outlined."
"That's true, sir," the commodore replied. "May I ask about the threats your forces face in the Unknown Regions?"
"The same as the Dominion," I said. "I left my base a year and a half ago, certain I'd serve the Empire's cause. The people remaining in the Unknown Regions also partly adhere to Imperial ideals. Palpatine's return is imminent, and it would be foolish to involve them in this conflict — it could lead to desertion and leaks of our plans. Not to mention, besides Palpatine, there's another threat. One far more destructive than the mad Emperor."
"Can I learn more about it?"
"They call themselves Yuuzhan Vong, and my people know them as "Far Outsiders,"" I said. "A species from beyond our galaxy, intent on either exterminating or enslaving us. Their scouts and advance units have been in the galaxy for some time — traces of their presence are being found. For instance, in the Slave Pits of Lorrd, we obtained a sample of a genetically enhanced combat beast capable of decimating ground forces in large numbers."
"So, if they have many such creatures, our army, Stormtrooper Corps, and armor will suffer heavy losses?" Shohashi clarified.
"That's why I returned from the Unknown Regions," I explained, earning another nod from the Alderaanian. "The forces I left there are well-prepared for war, but they can't stand alone against an entire galaxy's population. I have the opportunity to build strength by uniting Imperials into a single fist. The New Republic is hopeless — they'll only react to the enemy's arrival when it starts slaughtering planetary populations. While I care little for the New Republic's people or our other enemies, the Dominion and those who followed me must survive the coming trials with minimal losses."
"That's why you're initiating ship modernization?" Shohashi realized. "Reducing crews to lower losses. Increasing firepower to enhance offensive capabilities."
"Broadly, yes," I agreed. "The sooner we identify our weaknesses and strengths, the faster we'll mitigate the former and amplify the latter. That's what the specialists on Tangrene are working on — any Imperial or other technology that aids defense or attack must be in our arsenal. No exceptions. Survival takes precedence over any ethics or lofty words. But you won't get Fel until it's possible without risking the entire campaign."
"And is Baron Fel that critical to all this?" Shohashi asked.
"Unfortunately, yes," I said. "There aren't many pilots of his caliber in this galaxy. If I have no other options, I'll clone him as many times as needed to maintain superiority over the enemy."
The Alderaanian fell silent again.
We sat in silence for a few minutes, and I began to think I could no longer hear Shohashi move.
"I hear you, sir," he said, his voice firm and confident, as it had been before.
"I'm glad we've found common ground, Commodore," I said.
"Indeed, sir," Shohashi agreed, standing. "One last question."
"Ask away."
"Lady Ventress can be quite persuasive at times," the Alderaanian said. "I don't think it'll be easy to accept, but if Fel is that important, my vengeance can wait. Let him live. Until we eliminate the threats."
A choice increasingly common among my subordinates.
Duty versus personal desires.
And despite my initial concerns, the former overwhelmingly prevails over the latter.
Now I'm hardly surprised by the ferocity with which Imperials fought Republicans in the events known to me.
That's the caliber of officer training.
You just need to be there at the right moment to prevent a misstep.
To be not just a commander, but a father-commander.
Something the Empire lacked but the New Republic had in abundance.
Perhaps that's why the Republicans managed to win against all logic.
"I'm glad I wasn't mistaken in you," I said. "As far as I know, your squadron's ships will soon be ready for a campaign."
"Repairs will be completed within twenty-four hours," Erik confirmed. "Also, laser cannons of Consortium design should be installed to protect the Crimson Dawn's bridge."
"Good," I agreed. "Because we're moving to the next phase of the current campaign. You'll deploy immediately upon returning to the fleet base."
"Understood, sir," now before me stood an officer as calm and composed as Master Yoda.
The "Butcher of Atoan" was back.
Which meant it was time for the final stage of psychological conditioning.
"Before you leave, Commodore, you should bring your uniform into order," I said, placing new command bars on the table. "Additional units assigned to your squadron are already awaiting you at the base, Rear Admiral."
The Alderaanian stared at me for a few seconds.
I have no doubt his mind was a storm of emotions, thoughts, and conflicting logic chains.
His words would reveal whether he truly decided to postpone his satisfaction with Fel for better times, guided by logic — signaling the true return of the "Butcher" — or if he was playing psychological defenses, harboring resentment.
"I serve the Dominion, sir," Shohashi said crisply.
No, he's back.
Well… I almost feel sorry for his next target.
Almost.
***
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