Grand Admiral

Nine years, eight months, and twenty-eight days after the Battle of Yavin... 

Or forty-four years, eight months, and twenty-eight days since the Great Resynchronization. 

(Four months and thirteen days since the arrival). 

For the first time in a long while, the Provisional Council of the New Republic convened in full. 

One might even say it was somewhat expanded, as during Leia's absence, Mon Mothma had introduced Admiral Drayson and General Crix Madine to the Council. The informal leader of the New Republic desperately needed allies while the princess was in captivity—alliances not only military but also political. And who could carry more weight than the director of intelligence and the commander of the New Republic's special forces? 

A fleeting thought crossed his mind that a similar meeting had occurred before. 

Just before Grand Admiral Thrawn launched his crusade against the New Republic. 

Han concluded his report on the prisoner exchange and took his seat. He knew full well that questions would soon follow—and not all of them would be to his liking. 

He anticipated particular opposition from Drayson, who, despite having healed his jaw, cast disapproving glances at the general. Drayson even sat farther from the table, perhaps recalling the hook that had shattered his jaw, delivered by a Corellian leaning over the tabletop. Han wasn't proud of that act, but it had at least highlighted the issue. 

Which, thanks to Mon Mothma, was resolved swiftly. And now his wife no longer languished in a camp for former prisoners of war but sat in her rightful place on the Provisional Council. 

— Very well, — Admiral Drayson began, — according to your report, General Solo, the prisoner exchange proceeded without issues. 

— That's correct, — Han nodded. — Thrawn offered to transport our fighters on his ships, but we anticipated that move and brought enough transports to retrieve the prisoners ourselves. 

— Yet at the same time, he pressured you all, demanding the transfer of Imperial military equipment, — Admiral Ackbar remarked, his irritation barely concealed. Today, he seemed particularly agitated. 

— That's always been, and likely always will be, a constant demand from Thrawn, — Han stated. 

— His Dominion is coalescing around the Ciutric Hegemony, — Lando, seated nearby, reminded the group. — Though there is industry there... 

— As well as in the Morshdine and Oplovis sectors, — Madine noted. 

— Converting it to military production would require immense financial and temporal investments, — Lando concluded. — It's no surprise he wants to acquire what's already produced and available. 

— That way, he can not only equip his armed forces but also sustain large-scale offensives against the New Republic while his rear services build new factories, — Senator Bel Iblis, seated to Han's right, observed. And, to be honest, Solo felt flattered that a living legend of Corellia, a celebrated senator, and one of the Alliance's leaders was sitting beside him. 

It was hardly surprising that, after the political crisis sparked by Fey'lya's actions, Mon Mothma and Bel Iblis had buried the vibro-axe of their past conflicts to unite against a common enemy. Personal grievances remained personal, but the collapse of what they both fought for... No, such an outcome served no one. 

Han had no doubt that Bel Iblis's distrust of Mon Mothma persisted, despite his public declaration of full support for the Chandrilan's course upon his return. That support had allowed her to restore her authority among the senators. In return, Bel Iblis was appointed commander of one of the operational units, similar to those led by Han, Lando, and Wedge. Fortunately, Ackbar had convinced Mothma to remove these units from her direct command and return them to the strategic reserve of the New Republic's defense forces. This further calmed the senators, who had seen Mothma's control over armed forces as a precursor to a guard akin to the one Palpatine wielded in his final years as Supreme Chancellor of the Old Republic. 

The rising political pressure within the New Republic's upper echelons had gradually subsided to a more manageable level. 

— I concur, — Admiral Ackbar nodded his bulbous head. — The plan is simple yet obvious. 

— Which doesn't make it any less effective, — Drayson countered. — Reports are already surfacing on the HoloNet claiming the New Republic is doing nothing to free its captives. Beyond the insults, it's clear that protest sentiments are growing daily. 

— Does this pose an immediate threat to us? — Leia clarified. 

— For now, they're disorganized, marked by spontaneous outbursts, — Drayson explained. — But the longer we ignore public demands, the longer these grievances will persist. 

Han glanced at Leia, seated across from him. 

— In that case, — Mon Mothma interjected unexpectedly, — what are your recommendations, Admiral? 

Drayson shook his head. 

— Ma'am, the only way to silence these critics is to exchange the prisoners. We can reduce tensions by announcing that we're at least working on this issue... 

— But that won't solve the problem itself, — Leia noted. 

— It can only be resolved by conducting an exchange, — Madine supported Drayson. 

— Or by launching a military operation to liberate the prisoners, — Bel Iblis declared. 

— That would first require determining where exactly our prisoners are held, — Drayson pointed out. — We can confirm they're within the Dominion, not on Ciutric IV, but we don't know which planets they're performing labor duties on. 

— To send a fleet into the Dominion, we'd need to mobilize one of our four available fleets to address the issue decisively, — Ackbar stated. 

— Or? — Mon Mothma prompted. 

— Or accept their loss, — the Mon Calamari grumbled. 

— That option isn't even under consideration, — Mon Mothma declared firmly. — These are our soldiers; we are obligated to save them. 

— A military solution risks losing another fleet, — Ackbar countered. — I can assure you Thrawn didn't casually mention that some of our people are defecting to his side or share how he plans to use our captives. 

— Just as he only released those he captured early in his campaign, — Bel Iblis added. 

— What are you implying, General? — Mon Mothma inquired. 

— We're facing a highly cunning adversary, adept at traps and provocations, — the Corellian stated. — I don't know how, but he anticipates our moves with remarkable precision... 

— He has an extensive network of spies, — Drayson admitted reluctantly. — At the highest levels of the New Republic. We still can't identify them. 

— That doesn't negate the fact, — Bel Iblis pressed. — Everything concerning our prisoners, including the information campaign on the HoloNet, is designed to push us toward a military rescue operation. And, as Admiral Ackbar rightly said, it's a trap. 

— Elaborate, — Mon Mothma demanded, her expression darkening. 

— It's straightforward, — the Corellian explained. — Notice that attacks on our convoys have decreased, but only slightly. Yet, the few survivors' accounts suggest that not all major operations involve Imperial ships. In the past, Thrawn deployed only regular troops and fleets against us. Now, the situation has shifted—privateers and corsairs are acting. The question is: where is his fleet? 

A silence fell over the room. 

It was broken within a minute by Ackbar. 

— He's keeping his forces within the Dominion, — the Mon Calamari stated confidently, glancing at Bel Iblis. 

— Exactly as it was at Ciutric IV, — Bel Iblis nodded. — He threw us a bone, we took the bait, arrived intent on defeating him, and walked into a trap. The same applies to the prisoners—if we venture into the Dominion, he'll crush us as swiftly as he broke the defenses in the Oplovis sector. 

— Something inexplicable happened there, — Drayson remarked. — We're still trying to understand how he breached the defenses at Ketaris... 

— And our prisoners from that battle could tell us, — Lando noted. — But we didn't get them back. 

Suddenly, Han realized. 

— Thrawn is using some superweapon beyond this Joruus C'baoth, — he declared. — Luke said Thrawn only revealed the existence of a dark Jedi, and a clone at that, when he no longer needed him! 

— Or, more accurately, when he became a threat, — Leia clarified. — So Thrawn disposed of him using those who wouldn't suffer from the Jedi's actions. 

— He used other Jedi, — Mon Mothma's expression grew grim. — That's concerning. 

— Frankly, that prospect terrifies me, — Madine admitted. — Where he had one Jedi, there could be another. Or a dozen more. And we have only one Skywalker. 

— And Horn, — Leia reminded them. 

Han smirked. 

His wife diplomatically avoided mentioning her own Jedi potential, though everyone present was aware of it. Once again, the initiative to restore the Jedi Order surfaced. 

— What scares me more is that clones have reappeared in the galaxy, — Mon Mothma confessed. — What if Thrawn has a way to clone sentients? 

— Unlikely, — Lando countered. — Since access to Kamino was lost, clones are virtually nonexistent in the galaxy. At best, he could reactivate Jango Fett's clones. 

— Who would now be around sixty—not exactly peak operatives, — Madine supported. 

— But they could serve as instructors for recruits, — Bel Iblis noted. — That's how the Empire built its Stormtrooper Corps after phasing out clone production. 

— The problem is we can't stop it, — Drayson stated. — None of our agents or personnel are Jango Fett clones, so we can't infiltrate the Dominion under that cover. 

— We need to review everything again, — Mon Mothma decreed. — We may have overlooked one or two operatives. That could be enough to gather intelligence within enemy units. As I recall, — she glanced at the Republic's intelligence director, — your plan to embed agents posing as volunteers also failed. 

— At least none of them have reported back, — Drayson sighed. 

— This is a dead end, — Lando remarked. — Thrawn does whatever he wants, while we sit and watch him expand his Dominion or keep our ships on defense, hoarding like a Hutt over aurodium. 

— We were unprepared for the war Thrawn waged against us, — Admiral Ackbar admitted. — We're analyzing, trying to identify potential targets... 

— But that didn't save us from the destruction of the bacta convoy meant for the First Fleet, — Mon Mothma interjected sharply. The Mon Calamari blinked his large eyes several times, staring at her. 

— What's the issue? — Bel Iblis inquired. 

— We began stockpiling strategic resources, — Drayson explained. — Thyferra prepared a bacta caravan for us, intended to supply our forces in the Core Worlds. 

— The convoy stopped responding to communications, — Madine continued. — It failed to appear at designated checkpoints. During the investigation, our reconnaissance fighters found the wreckage of the escort ships. The cargo vessels vanished. That's nearly fifty bacta tankers. 

— Losses include twelve MC80 star cruisers and thirty escort frigates of the first and second variants, — Ackbar concluded. — The report came in a couple of hours ago. 

— And we have no idea where the bacta went? — Leia clarified. 

— Not the slightest clue, — the Mon Calamari agreed. 

— No need to guess, — Bel Iblis sighed. — It's almost certainly in Dominion space by now. 

— Hutt's blood, — Han snapped. — Why haven't we struck Chasin, Trogan, or other planets with only nominal defenses? They're far from Dominion territory, with no guarding fleets, and... 

— Because they're already de facto fortress worlds like Makem Te, — Madine explained, — or on their way to becoming such. Chasin is currently installing anti-space defenses. The same is happening on Trogan, Kelada, Columex... 

— Minimal investment in defense, yet assaulting these planets would only lead to losses for our fleet, — Ackbar admitted. — The situation is similar with Brintooin, home of the Azure Hammer. 

— Except they have planetary shields, while the Dominion's remote planets don't, — Bel Iblis recalled. 

— Regardless, — Ackbar cut in, — attacking any of these planets would expose our flank elsewhere. Thrawn will strike precisely there, seizing another system or sector. Until we understand how he crushed the defenses of Hast's shipyards or Oplovis, any offensive into Dominion territory must be massive, or we'll meet the fate of a tide washing over a sun-scorched beach. 

— And if we never find out, what then? Just sit and do nothing? — Calrissian pressed. 

Han could tell from his friend's tone that he was furious. 

— We're already initiating operations to hunt Dominion raiders, — Ackbar countered. — We need even small victories. 

— Which will weaken Thrawn's fleet and ease public tension, — Admiral Drayson added. 

— We face numerous unresolved challenges, — Mon Mothma reminded them. — Increasing transport capacity with disarmed Imperial ships is helping rebuild the economy. We've made significant progress in funding the completion of our starships. By early next year, we'll replace all our ship losses with new capital ships. 

— Fine, but what about potential dark Jedi in Thrawn's service? — Leia asked. — Not to mention the dark Jedi Luke encountered on Polis Massa. 

That was a clear allusion to Palpatine's involvement. 

It would be interesting to see how the Council reacted... 

— At present, nothing suggests the Polis Massa incident wasn't a provocation by Thrawn to divert our forces from his chosen targets, — Mon Mothma declared. Han sighed heavily. Lando snorted indignantly. Bel Iblis was more restrained. 

And constructive. 

— Let's assume the tales of Palpatine's return aren't Thrawn's deception, given his knack for manipulating opponents, — he said. — But that doesn't resolve the core issue: dark Jedi. Or, as Thrawn called them, the Dark Side Elite. Does the Provisional Council also question their existence? 

A brief silence followed. Indeed, it was curious how the Council would address undeniable facts. After all, Luke himself had spoken of dark Jedi on the asteroid. Doubting the only Jedi in their service would be, at the very least, foolish. 

— The Council currently acknowledges the threat they pose, — Mon Mothma said slowly. — I've spoken with Jedi Skywalker and asked him to begin searching for potential students or Jedi who, like Obi-Wan Kenobi or Rahm Kota, survived Order Sixty-Six. 

— Galen Marek or Kyle Katarn would be immensely helpful, — Leia noted. 

— Unfortunately, the former vanished nearly a decade ago, and the latter was sent on a search by the late General Cracken, — Mon Mothma sighed. — We're doing everything possible to locate surviving Jedi or their descendants... 

— A HoloNet announcement isn't the best way to find a Jedi, — Lando remarked. 

Han barely restrained himself from chuckling. 

Indeed, the New Republic had posted a call on the galactic network for Jedi to return to Coruscant's service. They'd learned of it that morning. Needless to say, there had been no responses yet. 

— We understand that Jedi hid in the galaxy's remotest corners, where stable communication is unlikely, — Mon Mothma sighed. — The search process is slow, and we can't devote sufficient attention to it now. We're at war, and Jedi, as we know, are champions of peace. They may see no reason to emerge from hiding now... 

That sounded absurd. 

Jedi always championed democracy. And now they'd abstain when the galaxy's bastion of democracy risked crumbling? 

Han heard the entrance door close behind him, sealing the council chamber from the rest of the Imperial Palace. He was about to turn when Admiral Drayson addressed him. 

— General, you've interacted with Grand Admiral Thrawn more than anyone. Did he ever mention anything about acquiring an Executor-class Star Destroyer? 

— Beyond the Lusankya or the Reaper? — Han clarified. — No, he never said a word. 

— Likely, Thrawn doesn't share his intentions with adversaries unless it involves manipulating them, — Senator Bel Iblis observed. 

At that moment, Lando, who had turned at the sound of the opening door, nudged Han lightly, drawing his attention. 

The Corellian, noticing his wife's widening eyes, turned his head... 

— Or perhaps it's a matter of insufficient trust, — Councilor Fey'lya's deep voice resonated as he bypassed the seated trio and settled into an empty chair at the table beside the other councilors. — Is that possible, General Solo? 

Han cursed before he could stop himself. 

Springing to his feet, the Corellian pointed at the Bothan. 

— What in the Hutt's name is this scoundrel and traitor doing here? — He forced himself to look at Borsk Fey'lya. 

Across from him, Ackbar, Mon Mothma, Drayson, and Madine synchronously averted their gazes. Only Leia's expression conveyed her true feelings toward the former commander-in-chief. 

— Mind your words, General Solo, — Fey'lya's violet eyes widened; his pale mane bristled slightly, betraying his irritation. — Do you wish to face disciplinary action for insulting a member of the Provisional Council? 

— Councilor Mothma, what is going on?! — Bel Iblis rose. — Fey'lya is a traitor who cost us an entire fleet, branded us as aggressors across the galaxy, not to mention the loss of a fast dreadnought, the entire First Division, and... 

— I understand your feelings, General, — Mothma said coldly, meeting the Corellian's gaze. — The feelings of all of you... 

— I highly doubt that, — Calrissian quipped. 

— Councilor, what's happening? — Leia demanded. 

— Councilor Fey'lya escaped Grand Admiral Thrawn's captivity, — Admiral Drayson explained, seeing Mothma's reluctance to answer. No surprise there! 

— Is that so? — Bel Iblis raged. — And what will this cost us? 

— The ultimate victory over Thrawn, — the Bothan declared. 

— I've heard that before, — Han scoffed. 

— Please, everyone, remain calm, — Mon Mothma urged. 

— An impossible task, — Han snapped, still pointing accusingly at the Bothan. — So, our exchange required losing dozens of ships, but Fey'lya slipped out of captivity without even getting his fur wet? 

— It's not that simple, — Admiral Ackbar's usually orange-pink skin darkened. — Generals, please, take your seats... 

Han collapsed into his chair. Bel Iblis did so more slowly. 

Judging by the fury in his gaze, he was ready to burn through the impassive Bothan. If only he had the means. 

— Some clarification is needed, — Mon Mothma said slowly. 

— No need, — Lando demonstratively unpinned his commander's insignia from his jacket and tossed it onto the table before the councilors. — First, you allowed him to remove Ackbar from his post as commander-in-chief on baseless accusations, then handed him control of the armed forces, and despite massive losses among our troops and materiel, you've reinstated him to the Council? Even after he was in Thrawn's captivity? 

— Nearly everyone here has been there, — Admiral Drayson countered. — That's hardly grounds... 

— It is grounds, — Han stated firmly, intending to mimic Lando's gesture. But he caught his wife's warning glance in time. Leia seemed to be piecing something together. — Yes, we're all imperfect, but he, — the Corellian jabbed a finger at the unruffled Fey'lya, — he lost the core of our capital fleet! He led them straight into a trap! 

— As you did at Honoghr, General Solo, — the Bothan remarked, inspecting his claws. — As Admiral Drayson rightly noted, none of us are without fault. Some lost a fleet, others were outwitted and captured, and some have children with Dominion citizenship... 

— What did you say? — Han surged to his feet again, catching Leia's warning glances out of the corner of his eye. — My children didn't choose their fate! They were taken captive... 

— Because your wife trusted Talon Karrde, — Fey'lya shrugged, clearly trying to hide the bristling fur on his nape. — I trusted Bothan intelligence. Failures befall us all. So, if you object to my heroic escape from captivity, bringing valuable intelligence, and returning to my post instead of rotting in filtration camps, perhaps you should first look at your friends and wife. They're also back where they were before captivity. Or would you prefer they be sent where procedure dictates? 

Han clenched his fists, stepping toward the Bothan. 

— Step away from the table, Councilor, — Fey'lya advised Drayson. 

— Enough, — Mon Mothma demanded, striking her gavel. Missing the stand, she struck the tabletop. — This is a Provisional Council meeting, not a bazaar day on Shaum Hii. 

— I see no difference, — Lando declared, rising and heading for the exit. — I'll submit my resignation to Admiral Ackbar's office by mail. With that, I ask you not to call on me in times of need, — he paused at the door, looking at the councilors. — I lost everything serving the New Republic. Forgive my candor, but I won't swallow this sludge by the spoonful. 

He left, slamming the door loudly. 

Han made another attempt to rip off his insignia and follow his friend, but Bel Iblis's whisper stopped him. 

— Don't even think about it, — he warned. — Fey'lya wants nothing more than to remove you from the military. By tomorrow, his supporters will fill your posts in the operational groups, and it'll all start again. 

Gritting his teeth, Han met Leia's pleading gaze and left his insignia alone. He glared at the impassive Fey'lya with unconcealed fury. 

— I'm no stranger to wading through filth for the New Republic... 

A soft tap of the gavel interrupted the brewing conflict. 

— I demand order, — Mon Mothma said melancholically, almost to herself. — We've all fallen victim to the Grand Admiral in one way or another. We cannot afford to fracture our alliance now—that's exactly what our enemy wants. Our division is his true plan. 

— It's easier to crush a mollusk's shell when it's already broken, — the Mon Calamari noted. But his expression showed he was equally displeased with the proceedings. 

It was Han's turn to glance at Leia. The princess pursed her lips but nodded silently. Yes, she wasn't thrilled either but accepted the rules of the political game. 

Mon Mothma paused, surveying the room. 

Her gaze settled on Han. 

— General Solo, we thank you for your report and all you've done for us, — she said softly. — It's time to discuss the information provided by Councilor Fey'lya. Councilor, — she turned to the Bothan, who puffed up with self-importance, — please share with those present what you reported to the Council upon your return... 

*** 

Bre'ano Umakk. 

What are you? Who are you? What drives you? 

Questions that had arisen before, but answers could only be found... from the Jedi himself. 

Who now sat before me. 

I should have spoken with him earlier—almost immediately after he boarded the Chimaera. But I have matters more pressing than listening to more than one Jedi per day. 

— So, I take it you've also decided to join the Dominion? — I clarified. 

— Such is the will of the Force, — the Jedi Master replied, blinking his large eyes. 

Interesting. 

— And what exactly did the Force command you to do? — I inquired. 

— The Force never provides clear answers, — as expected. — It offers only hints, clues, each requiring individual interpretation. I understood its signal and chose to assist. 

— In what specifically? — I pressed. 

The Jedi sat silently for a few seconds before responding. 

— On Dantooine, I fought against your Inquisitors, — he said. — I guarded that place, teaching many for decades. I taught them protection—those who could grasp the mysteries of the Force... 

So, somewhere in the galaxy are those he trained. Intriguing. 

I noted the thought. 

— Many view the Force as a weapon, — the Jedi continued his sermon. 

— But not you? — I clarified. 

— The Force is what binds all life, — he explained patiently. — Our Order served as guardians of peace, protectors, not aggressors. The Force cannot be used for evil deeds. It cannot be wielded to attack, destroy, or conquer worlds—that is the path of the Dark Side. 

— I recall the Jedi became generals in the Grand Army of the Republic, — I remarked. — And their campaigns were hardly defensive. 

— It depends on perspective, — the Jedi countered. — We protected sentients, defended the Republic to which we swore loyalty. We safeguarded the Senate and democracy. And we were exterminated. 

— By those you protected, — an amusing play on words. Even without the Force, this sentient... He seems more mature than, say, Ahsoka Tano. Is it age, or is it because I'm dealing with a master trained in the Order's traditions, who, in his maturity, evaluated the galaxy beyond Coruscant and the Senate's honeyed words? 

— I harbor no hatred or grievances toward them, — Bre'ano Umakk declared. — They were deceived. We were all deceived by the Sith Lords. Why cling to a past filled with death? Life lies in the future. 

— And what future do you envision for yourself? What specifically did you interpret as the Force's will? — I asked. 

— What I've done all these years, — the Mon Calamari replied. — Teach. Protect. Guide. Mentor. 

Alright, it seems a logical step is missing here. 

— Elaborate, — I requested. — What do your words mean, translated from Jedi-speak to Basic? 

— For thirty years, I hid from Inquisitors and Sith, — the Jedi said, his voice creaking. — I could have intervened in the galactic civil war countless times. I could have joined the Empire to help establish order across the galaxy. Or sided with the Rebel Alliance to restore democracy. 

— Yet you remained neutral. 

— I saw, and still see, no genuine desire for order in either side, — the Jedi admitted. — One fights for greed and ambition, the other under hollow slogans. In the end, it's a war of interests and philosophies. And in this war, innocent sentients perish. I chose to protect them—my students were few, but I did what I could. I created defenders for those unable to protect themselves. 

— My allies include the Jensarai, — I acknowledged. 

— A familiar teaching, — the Mon Calamari nodded. — I thought they were all gone. 

— Some survived, despite the efforts of Jedi and Sith. Their teachings blend elements once laid by the Sith with Jedi philosophy. 

— Hardly surprising, — Bre'ano Umakk agreed. — Over millennia, the orders' teachings intertwined, borrowed from one another. Those who fail to evolve perish. 

Why does this feel like a therapy session? 

I also noticed we'd strayed from the original question. 

I didn't hesitate to remind him. 

— I guarded the caves for those who would use them for good, — the Mon Calamari declared. — When I followed your people, I sensed only the Dark Side in them. The boy, Fodeum, hasn't fallen as far as his mentor. 

— You intended to kill them, — I recalled. 

— None of us are without sin, — the Jedi stated. — You, too, eliminate those who obstruct your duty. My duty was to preserve the legacy and protect it from the Dark Side. 

— And what changed your mind? 

— Not what, — Bre'ano Umakk corrected. — Who. 

— Fodeum Sabre De'Luz, — I deduced. 

— As I said, the boy hasn't fallen to the Dark Side, — the Jedi said. — But he will if trained by an Inquisitor who himself knows little. A tangle of hatred and rage. Recklessness and unchecked ambition will lead to his demise. 

No, I'm done with Jedi. This is all... too refined, too grandiose, too spiritual. I asked simple questions! Why can't they be answered directly?! 

— A stone to the head can kill or broaden one's perspective, — the Jedi said, apropos of nothing. — I saw I could save them both from an inevitable, tragic end. 

That sounded plausible. 

— How? — I inquired. 

— The boy has potential, — Bre'ano Umakk said. — He's strong in the Force but fears it. His pain fuels his strength, making him powerful. Yet it will also cloud his judgment, pushing him toward reckless acts that feed his pride. He's closed off, making him lonely. Loneliness is pain when you haven't tamed your inner demons. He sees it as weakness, and that belief weakens him. Ultimately, he'll betray everyone because he feels no connection. He doesn't see himself as part of something greater. Leaving him alone is dangerous. He nurtures his pain, gaining strength from it—but it erodes his humanity. His end will be tragic; history offers many such examples. 

No need to look far for examples. Every other fallen Jedi, starting with the first, began this way. 

— And Obscuro? — I asked. 

— He's the one I'm talking about, — the Jedi clarified. — Fodeum doesn't realize his potential because no one can fully train him. That's why he fears the Force. I showed him another path—of self-reflection, unity, and harmony. If he stays on it, he'll become a worthy protector of sentients. 

Alright... let's assume that's true. So, we have an Inquisitor with an unresolved trauma, cherishing his childhood pain as a source of power. 

Utter nonsense... 

— Fodeum lacked proper training because the Jedi eradicated all Jensarai masters, — I explained. 

— That's unfortunate, — Bre'ano Umakk agreed. — I will teach him. 

— There are other Jensarai who also need a mentor. 

— I'll teach them, too, — the Mon Calamari said unexpectedly. — But to protect, not to attack. 

So... what does that even mean?! 

I asked as much. 

— The Force seeks harmony and balance, — more philosophical musings. What is this? — But these are achieved only when pain and suffering are absent. 

— That's impossible in such a vast galaxy, — I countered. 

— But we must strive for it, — the Jedi insisted. — Lawlessness must be curbed. Oppression must be punished. Murder must be condemned. That is the purpose of protecting sentients. 

— How many Jedi died trying to apprehend a criminal? — I asked. 

— Why apprehend them? — Bre'ano Umakk seemed genuinely puzzled. — See lawlessness—restore law. See a murderer—punish them. 

— But do so with peace in your heart? — I clarified, recalling an old joke from my past. 

— Exactly, — the Mon Calamari confirmed. 

"Is he on spice or something?" I thought. 

— In other words, Jedi are justified in waging war and killing if it's for a higher purpose? — I pressed. 

— It sounds absurd, — the Mon Calamari agreed. Thank the stars, I'm not the only one who notices. — But that's precisely it. For a Jedi, peace is harmony with the Force. Where other sentients rely on logic, laws, rules, and evidence, a Jedi can find answers through the Force. 

— Then how does that differ from Sith teachings? — I inquired. 

— A Jedi must act selflessly, — the Mon Calamari declared. — They serve those in need. Sith are driven by greed and self-interest. They commit evil solely for their own gain or for those they serve. 

— The Jensarai serve the Dominion, — I reminded him. — By your logic, that makes them Sith. 

The Jedi didn't respond. 

He blinked once, twice, and then... 

Laughed. 

Loudly, deeply, genuinely... 

For a minute, my quarters echoed with his booming laughter. 

Wiping tears from his eyes with the edge of his cloak, he looked at me with amusement. 

— Has anyone told you you're quite an intriguing sentient? — he asked. 

— A few times, — I confirmed. An interesting reaction to a logical conclusion. What's the catch? 

— Indeed, — the Jedi chuckled. — I haven't laughed like that in ages... Forgive me if I offended you, but I wanted to understand who I'm dealing with. I admit, I doubted you were a true Chiss. 

Is this the universe's idea of a joke? First, no one suspected Thrawn's species; now, within a month, another "perceptive" one emerges. 

— Are you sure testing me was a wise idea? — I asked. 

— Luck doesn't exist, — the Mon Calamari remarked. — Only circumstances and a sentient's reaction to them. But that's all philosophy. The Chiss I encountered in the Order weren't fond of it. 

Chiss Jedi?! 

Oh, how much more this galaxy has to reveal. 

— Let's return to my questions, — I urged firmly. 

— And my answers, — the Mon Calamari agreed. — When I said I intended to kill your subordinates in the caves, I spoke the truth. I guarded that place to prevent its desecration by Dark Side adherents. That was my duty. As for my view of the conflict, I was honest. I have no interest in aiding those who think only of themselves. I'm a Jedi, and our role is to protect sentients. Your Jensarai, Fodeum, could have killed me to save his mentor—a Sith or Dark Side acolyte would have. But he knocked out both me and the Inquisitor. 

— He sought to prevent either of your deaths. 

— Precisely, — the Mon Calamari smiled. — We spoke at length after I regained consciousness. I admit my error—you genuinely do for ordinary sentients what the Empire promised and the Republic preached. I don't agree with everything, but that's an echo of my Jedi past. When you're told your whole life that goals can only be achieved through negotiation, you start to believe it. 

— And now you hold a different view? — I clarified. 

— War changes sentients, — he stated. — It opens their eyes. I've come to believe that protecting sentients is indeed the right path. But necessary evil exists. The Order understood this—hence why we wield lightsabers, not sniper rifles. When you choose to take a life, look into the eyes of the one you kill. If you're weak in spirit, you'll die. If strong, you'll see it through. 

Alright, let's accept that. 

— What prompted you to board the Chimaera? — I asked. — You weren't held in a camp by force; you could have stayed if you wished. 

— That's why I came, — the Jedi declared. — Fodeum told me about the Jensarai and how Reynar is the only one who can teach them beyond what they know. But what I said about the Inquisitor is entirely true. He's traumatized from childhood, seeking oblivion in others' suffering. That's dangerous—primarily for those around him. 

— I'll keep that in mind, — I said. 

— I've already taken steps in that direction, — the Jedi admitted. — We need only continue bringing the Twi'lek and the Inquisitor together. They'll open up to each other, and the tension will ease. 

— You aim to sway the Inquisitor to the Light Side? — I clarified. 

— Why? — the Jedi countered. — I fought him—he's powerful in the Dark Side. That's a stain that can't be washed away. Personally, I have no prejudice against how the Force is used. Dark Side, Light Side... What difference does it make if it's for the greater good? 

Alright, jaw, stay in place... 

— In other words, you joined to... — I paused, letting the Mon Calamari state the fact. 

— To teach, — he said firmly. — Jedi, Sith—two sides of the same coin. I'm not even sure the Force has sides. And if it does, why only two and not five? Regardless, the galaxy's greatest woes stem from those who act out of ignorance, half-trained, uncomprehending... and with inflated egos. Fragmented understanding and misconstrued purposes—that's the root of all the Jedi purges. 

Well... I recall there were a hundred other reasons, but fine, I'm not a Jedi to debate metaphysics. 

— I've seen the future, — Bre'ano Umakk confessed. — It's grim if there aren't trained, properly prepared Jedi. Our knowledge is lost, but if Force-sensitives learn from fragmented sources, it'll do more harm than good. Knowledge and training must be comprehensive. What can a master who's never seen the world or life teach a Padawan? To be as narrow-minded as they are. With each generation, this problem worsens. Eventually, Sith will arise from misunderstood Jedi, as has happened before. 

— I once read a curious tale about a Jedi named Exar Kun, — I baited, hoping for a bite. 

— Yes, there was such a one, — Bre'ano Umakk agreed. — An example of what I described. His master didn't explain the purpose of patience trials; the student rebelled, believing his power was being restrained. A new Sith Lord emerged. 

— And such could arise from the Jensarai if they aren't trained by you? — I probed further. 

— They could, — the Jedi stated. — It doesn't have to be me. Scour the galaxy's fringes, and you'll find a dozen or two Jedi with similar philosophies. Too much evil has come from masters failing to explain consequences to their students. Too much is placed on Padawans' shoulders without clarity or specifics... They grew like weeds—whatever sprouted, that's what you got. 

— An intriguing theory, — I noted. — How long did you develop it? 

— Thirty years, — the Jedi smirked. — But I still believe new-generation Jedi shouldn't withdraw from state issues. On the contrary, they should actively address them. But with caution—not everyone can be a diplomat, soldier, or pilot. Some might grow food to combat hunger. Others might heal... Each should be where they'll achieve the best results. 

— That's not achieved with a snap of the fingers, — I remarked. 

— Naturally, — Bre'ano Umakk agreed. — It's months, perhaps years, of training. Theory, practice, more theory... Only gizka reproduce quickly. Still, the Jensarai's philosophy of protecting sentients resonates with me. Self-sacrifice, service, and defense—it's the right approach. It's what I've done for thirty years. Especially since, as I understand, most are already past childhood. They're easier to teach—just show them what they don't know. Why dismantle a philosophy that works for the greater good? 

— Are you truly a Jedi? — I clarified. 

— Yes, — the Mon Calamari scratched his chin. — But in the old Order, they'd likely have squashed me for such talk. You know, we had Jedi Shadows—hunters of renegades... 

— Eliminating threats? — I clarified. 

— Hutt knows what they were up to, — the Mon Calamari replied simply, revealing his straightforward nature. All the pomp at the start was just a facade. — They supposedly didn't exist. But someone hunted Sith and destroyed their knowledge, right? 

— That requires specialized operatives, — I noted. 

— Yes, — he agreed. — Ordinary Jedi rarely managed such tasks, from what I know. 

— Let's return to our reality, — I suggested. — Suppose the Jensarai Order is the right philosophy for the Dominion and its citizens' protection. But what of those who oppose it, seeking to destroy our Order as Jedi and Sith did in the past? 

— Try to negotiate, — the Mon Calamari said honestly. — If they won't listen, eliminate them. But that, again, requires specialized personnel. 

— Like Inquisitor Reynar? — I proposed. 

— Inquisitor... — Bre'ano Umakk grimaced. — Sounds very Imperial, honestly. If I heard there was an Inquisitorius in the Dominion, I'd assume you're reviving Palpatine's Empire. 

— But the essence remains, — I pointed out. 

— Hardly, — he conceded. — But the name should definitely change. Let them roam the galaxy, seizing harmful knowledge, seeking new insights, and neutralizing Jedi and Sith who threaten the galaxy and the Dominion... 

— Change the name, — I mused. — A good idea. But we could use one that's virtually unknown. 

— That works, too, — Bre'ano Umakk shrugged. — You decide; I'm just an advisor and teacher. 

— Then advise, — I prompted. — Should we establish a Shadow Guard within the Jensarai Order to take on the roles of Jedi Shadows and the Inquisitorius? 

The Jedi pondered briefly, then nodded affirmatively. 

— It's worth it. And yes, I like the name. 

— It'll do for now, — I said. Glancing at the chronometer, I noted only a few hours remained until the flight's end. — We have time for more discussion. I'd like to hear about Jedi of my species, particularly what became of them. 

The Mon Calamari's face darkened, taking on a deeper hue. 

— It'll be a heavy conversation, — he said. — And a long one. 

— I'm in no rush. Neither are you. 

*** 

— This is surreal, — Han muttered after the Bothan finished recounting his agreements with Ysanne Isard. 

— Another trap, — Bel Iblis declared firmly. — Ysanne Isard is working with Thrawn. 

— I agree, — Admiral Ackbar said reluctantly. — They want to lure our ships into an ambush. It's one of the Grand Admiral's common tactics. 

— But there's a rational kernel in this proposal, — Drayson countered. — We know Isard collaborated with Krennel for some purpose. Now we understand she aimed to create her own Empire. Krennel failed, and she found another puppet—Thrawn. 

— I doubt he's manipulable, — Leia stated. 

— I'm more inclined to believe she's acting on his orders, — Madine supported. — Isard lacks significant power in the Dominion... 

— As far as we know, — Fey'lya drawled lazily. — But her intelligence network... 

— Let's not talk about intelligence networks, shall we? — Han requested. — We already lost Rogue Squadron thanks to someone's intel. 

— That information is unconfirmed, — Drayson objected. — As with Horn, it could be... 

— That's not the issue! — Mon Mothma's voice rang with steel. — We have a chance to eliminate Grand Admiral Thrawn once and for all! 

— And the Executor he's seeking, — Ackbar added. 

— Are we talking about the Lusankya? — Han inquired. 

— No, — the Mon Calamari said firmly. — We're keeping its location secret. 

— For Isard, if we believe Councilor Fey'lya, — Bel Iblis noted, — that's no secret. Nor are its supply issues. 

— I'm more concerned about where the spare parts for that ship type are going, — Madine said. 

— Likely Thrawn's acquisitions, — Drayson speculated. — But for which ship... 

— There are only two possibilities, — Ackbar stated. — Either it's the Lusankya, or Thrawn secured the Reaper from Kaine. 

— Are spare parts purchases an indirect sign that the super star destroyer is preparing for an active campaign? — Bel Iblis clarified. 

The Mon Calamari, after a moment's thought, nodded. 

— That aligns with Thrawn's promise to visit Coruscant, — Leia said suddenly. 

— That's unthinkable, — Mon Mothma exhaled. — The entire First Fleet is here... 

— Which just lost its bacta, — Madine's face fell. 

— Meaning massive casualties among the wounded, — Drayson added. 

Han blinked. 

— Are you serious right now? — he asked. — You want to believe that Isard, for her safety and three billion credits, would sell out someone who could crush the New Republic? Am I the only one thinking this is collective madness? 

Mon Mothma tapped her gavel, drawing attention. 

— Don't cross the line, General Solo, — she said firmly. — Cooperating with Isard is a way to eliminate Thrawn. 

— Or walk into another of his traps, — Bel Iblis noted. 

— The benefits of this operation outweigh the risks, — Ackbar declared. — We can eliminate Thrawn and seize the Reaper. Such actions justify the risk. 

— What about the Lusankya? — Bel Iblis asked. — What if that's the ship in question? 

— Impossible, — Admiral Ackbar said firmly. — It's currently at the Rendili shipyards for refitting. 

— But Rendili supported the Empire until recently, — Leia protested. 

— As did much of the galaxy, — Mon Mothma countered. — But now many are part of the New Republic. Or should we distrust them, too? 

— No, but... — Leia faltered, realizing her argument was ignored. 

— The Rendilians agreed to restore the Lusankya at a significantly lower cost than Kuat or Fondor, — Ackbar explained. 

— No need to thank me for pushing Rendili's inclusion in the New Republic, — Fey'lya said smugly. — However, if the Provisional Council is adamantly against cooperating with Isard, I'll turn to my kin and... 

An unmistakable threat. 

If successful, the Bothans' influence would soar, leaving other councilors with little chance to shape New Republic policy. 

What Fey'lya failed to achieve before his disgrace in the Ciutric Hegemony, he could gain by eliminating Thrawn. 

If it wasn't a trap... 

— The Provisional Council authorizes you and provides the means to strike a deal with Isard, — Mon Mothma declared, striking her gavel ceremonially, this time hitting the stand. — The meeting is adjourned. 

As the Chandrilan rose, it signaled the others to leave. 

From a place where logic tore as easily as flimsi. 

Han gathered his documents and approached his wife, who slipped from behind the table and nearly skipped toward the door. 

— In a hurry? — he asked. 

— Let's get out of here, — Leia replied. — I can't stand being in the same room as him. 

No need to ask who she meant—Fey'lya lounged regally in his chair, slowly collecting his datacards. 

As they reached the vestibule, Han spotted Lando standing pensively by the exit, gazing absently at the shimmering ch'ala trees. Beautiful, but nothing more. 

They headed toward their family friend when Han heard Mon Mothma's voice. 

— Leia, could you spare a few minutes? 

Han felt his wife slow reluctantly. They'd been here before. 

— How can I assist? — Leia asked, her polite smile strained. 

The Chandrilan noticed it, too. 

— You must forgive me for not informing you of Fey'lya's return immediately, — Mon Mothma said. — We were as shocked as you are now... But you must understand, if we allowed you to resume your duties without filtration, we couldn't deny Fey'lya the same... 

Leia nodded. 

— Yes, — she cast a pained glance at her husband. — I understand. 

— Really? — Han said with polite surprise. — Because I don't. Was it Leia who caused the loss of most of our capital ships, including a fast dreadnought, to the Dominion's fleet? Maybe you didn't notice here on Coruscant, but those actions led sectors to secede from the Republic, and on the fringes, our troops are met with gritted teeth. We're branded as aggressors, and now we must justify ourselves because someone craved power! 

— Han, — Mon Mothma said placatingly, — I understand... 

— I don't, — Solo echoed the Chandrilan. — A few fabrications were enough to imprison Ackbar! But Fey'lya didn't even face house arrest! 

Drawn by Han's raised voice, Lando finally stirred but didn't approach. 

— The Bothans are vital to us, — Mon Mothma said before Leia could respond. — Their misstep cost them positions, allowing us to place sentients who champion greatness and stability. Moreover, their financial support is crucial in our economic crisis... 

— Yeah, I recall hearing something like that, — Han smirked. — And since there's spare credits, why not pay Isard, right? 

— Han, — Leia tugged his sleeve. 

— Seriously, why not? — Solo pressed, growing heated. — Let's pay the Iceheart to supposedly help us eliminate her ally. Let's let her seize control of Thrawn's forces, with whom we could at least negotiate, not to mention he's not your typical Imperial. He invested a fortune in my wife and kids' medical care, fixed my ship, and didn't even ask for payment. 

— Han! — Leia repeated her gesture. 

— Let's keep going, why not? — the Corellian asked. — When Lando's Nomad City needed saving, no one batted an eye. And he was just supplying our ships with essential metal. 

— We tried to revive the Nomad City project, — Mon Mothma noted calmly. — But the three shieldships we were repairing at Allantin IV's shipyards simply vanished... 

— What a shock, — Han snorted. 

— You wanted to revive my business? — Lando appeared beside them. 

— Yes, — Mon Mothma admitted, clearly reluctant to elaborate. — We needed metals, and Nkllon wasn't under Imperial scrutiny, so... 

— You figured, why not use my team's work to grab a big score for yourselves, — Lando nodded. Pausing, he looked into the red-haired woman's eyes. — You know what? I don't regret resigning... 

— I'm glad to hear that, — the Chandrilan said with a stone face. 

— I regret ever returning, — Lando declared. — All the best to you. 

Spinning on his heels, he strode away. 

— You just spat in his soul, — Han explained. 

— I regret how it turned out, — Solo didn't believe her. He decided, for variety, to distrust government words. — But I wanted to discuss something else. 

— Like what? — Han asked in a distinctly unfriendly tone. 

Leia, no longer subtle, stepped on his foot. 

— We're having significant misunderstandings with Lady Santhe on Lianna, — Mon Mothma declared. — I'd like you, Leia, to travel there and negotiate with her. 

— Why? — Leia asked, surprised. — We can't prove it's not our ships raiding her transports. 

— That's why I asked Admiral Ackbar to assign General Solo's operational group to hunt and destroy those raiders, — Mon Mothma explained. — We believe Thrawn is using captured Mon Calamari cruisers to create the impression that we're responsible. 

— Sounds like him, — Han agreed. 

— Thus, I want Leia to negotiate with Santhe for you, General, to escort her convoys, — Mon Mothma continued. — Covertly, as Ackbar escorts our convoys. 

— Strike them at the right moment, — Solo nodded. — It's a solid plan, but... You don't think Lianna lacks spies who'd notice a princess arriving on a warship isn't alone? 

— That's why I'd like you, General, to transport her on your starship, — Mon Mothma clarified. — I hope you understand that, under current conditions, Santhe Corporation is vital to us. Not just for maintaining Imperial equipment but for their technological base, which we could leverage. 

Leia took her husband's hand, squeezing it lightly. 

— Oh, — Han muttered. — I thought you wanted to scout if Lianna's hiding Death Star schematics. We all forgot about it, though Fey'lya mentioned Thrawn has at least a Torpedo Sphere. It's unclear if it's standard or one of the three new ones... 

Mon Mothma's face darkened. 

— I'd be grateful if, during your visit to Lianna, you could discreetly investigate whether pro-Imperial neighbors of the Santhe family possess such a devastating weapon, — she said coldly. — And no, General Solo, we haven't forgotten that threat. We remember it, though most of us doubt its existence. 

— Right, — Han nodded. — Classic 'don't mention it until reminded.' 

— We'd better go, — Leia told the Chandrilan. — We need to prepare for departure... 

— Safe travels, — Mon Mothma wished in the same emotionless tone. — And good luck. To us all. 

— I got the impression they just want to get rid of us for a while, — Han told his wife as they navigated through senators and staff. — Suddenly, the Death Star comes up... I didn't push it, reminding them you're on childcare leave. 

— I know, — Leia murmured. — I'm no less 'thrilled.' Winter will look after them while we're gone. 

— As always—we're on the front lines, and Winter covers the rear. 

Leia squeezed his hand gently. 

— I worry about them as much as you do, — she admitted. — Luke said they're almost certainly Jedi. 

— How'd he figure that? — Han asked, intrigued. He wasn't opposed to the family tradition continuing, but... Seriously? The twins aren't even six months old, and Luke already knows they're future Jedi? How does that work? 

— He wanted to meditate before his departure, — Leia explained, — hoping the children would respond to his Force call. 

— But something went wrong, right? — Han clarified. 

— Jacen threw a pacifier at him, and Jaina a bottle of formula, — Leia sighed. 

— Big deal, — Solo grumbled. — The kids just didn't like someone sitting there like a statue... 

— Winter was in the nursery at the time, — Leia clarified. — She insists they did it without hands or feet. Then, when Luke abandoned meditating, he gave them some objects. Han, I still can't master telekinesis properly, but the kids... 

— Were juggling toys without hands or feet? — Han guessed. 

— Yep, — Leia said quietly. — Except they were TIE Interceptor models. And both clearly loved them... 

Han wanted to say what he thought but... 

Decided to stay silent. 

— Here we are, — his resolve didn't last long. — Safe to say Thrawn didn't grant them Dominion citizenship for nothing. 

— Han! — Leia said reproachfully. 

— He knew they'd take to it, — Solo continued. — Maybe we should call the Grand Admiral, ask if he's got openings in diplomatic service or freight transport? 

— Han! — Leia exclaimed, her voice tinged with hurt, giving her husband a heavy look. 

— Just asking, — the former smuggler quipped. 

The problem was, every joke held a grain of truth... 

*** 

— Think they'll manage? — Rukh asked, watching through a camera as, for the second hour, a heated argument unfolded in the waste collection bay between a Togruta Jedi and a human Inquisitor. 

— No, — Tierce replied, soldering an electronic board. — Hmm... Looks like the detonation sensor's completely fried. What were you asking? 

— The Jedi and the Inquisitor, — the Noghri pointed at the screen where the dispute raged on. 

— Idiots, — the major stated. — Two hours arguing over who's superior—Jedi or Sith. 

— Who's more just, — Rukh corrected. 

— Whatever, — the guardsman dismissed. — Their Force messes with their heads. They treat it like a treasure. In reality, it's just a tool, — he gestured with the soldering iron toward a dish of silvery material. — Pass the solder. I think I can restore the connection. 

— What does our master see in them? — Rukh asked, handing over the requested item. — Bickering, accusations, mutual suspicion... 

— We weren't much better, — Tierce reminded him. — Though... 

He glanced aside thoughtfully. 

— I still don't trust you, Noghri. 

— Nor I you, — Rukh replied with equal indifference. 

— So what do you expect from them? — Tierce shrugged. — One's a starry-eyed zealot, the other a Darth Vader wannabe. Let them keep squabbling; our job's different. 

— Observe and study a potential enemy, — Rukh recalled the Grand Admiral's order. 

— Exactly, — Tierce nodded. He worked for a few seconds, then skeptically examined his handiwork. Prodding it with a tester, he connected it to the rest of the mechanism... 

...and tossed the board into the trash. 

Seconds later, it fell from the waste chute into a container near where Ahsoka Tano and Reynar Obscuro continued their argument. 

— Third container, — Rukh confirmed. — They didn't even notice. 

— Fanatics, — Grodin sighed. — You know, I've been thinking... 

— Who watched us when we were in their shoes? — Rukh anticipated. 

— Precisely, — Tierce nodded. — And did that observer have the same goal as we do now? 

— Those two are potential traitors, — Rukh hissed. — The Jedi considered killing our master. The Inquisitor botched the expedition's leadership and sought more power, control over a Jensarai... We were never like that. 

— But that doesn't mean we forget someone studied us, too, — Grodin said. 

— True, — on the screen, the Force adepts' dispute reached a boiling point. 

— Yet they're needed for the master's upcoming operation, — Rukh reminded. — Perhaps we shouldn't... 

— They'll survive, — the guardsman smirked, reaching for the control panel. — And stay healthy. It's all about the smell... 

He pressed a couple of buttons... 

And in the next instant, a foul mass from the third container, propelled by a directed blast from the guardsman's makeshift bomb, doused the arguing pair. 

The dispute halted instantly. Now, the Jedi and Inquisitor were scraping off rancid, jelly-like waste oil mixed with lower-deck mess hall scraps. 

— You did that on purpose, didn't you? — Rukh clarified. — You know Noghri have hypersensitive olfaction. 

— Sorry, buddy, — Grodin spread his hands. — Oil and organics leave a scent trail for days. Even if they scrub clean, you'll still catch the whiff. But now neither can approach the Grand Admiral undetected, — he stated firmly. — Even with a cloaking field.