Prologue

The commander of the reconnaissance squadron had just left the compartment.

Captain Gilad Pellaeon watched him go, shaking his head thoughtfully. He glanced at his companion, who stood motionless beside him—the imposing figure of a Chiss officer.

Captain Gilad Pellaeon.

Dressed in an impeccably fitting uniform, Grand Admiral Thrawn appeared to be staring intently at a diagram displayed on a computer monitor—a map of the Ojoster sector in the Outer Rim. It was where they had recently fled after obtaining crucial information from Obroa-skai. They had barely escaped into hyperspace from four New Republic combat frigates and an X-wing escort squadron.

Thrawn had made the right call by ordering the jump to hyperspace to prevent damage to their ship, the Chimaera. Yet Pellaeon couldn't help but wish for a small miracle. After all, Grand Admirals of the Galactic Empire were renowned tactical and strategic geniuses, expected to find solutions in any situation.

"And he did," came a sobering thought. "He saved your ship and crew. So stop whining like a cabin boy and face reality!"

"The Obroa-skai system has probably become a dead end," Pellaeon said aloud, breaking the tense silence somewhat awkwardly. "It's clear that its inhabitants have sided with the New Republic."

"Obviously so," Thrawn responded without looking away from his monitor display. He glanced briefly at Pellaeon, then back again—just long enough for despondency to set back in within the captain's mind.

"Agreed, Captain; otherwise, why would such forces chase after our scouts? Four corvettes…"

"Frigates," Pellaeon corrected automatically.

"I thought you wouldn't notice my slip-up." For a fleeting moment, a smile—on Thrawn's lips! How could it be?

Sweat trickled down Pellaeon's forehead as he struggled internally: Calm down... Well, yes—it's just one smile! Nothing catastrophic could occur simply because the Grand Admiral shows rare emotion… Or could it?

"It's good you weren't completely lost within your thoughts," Thrawn continued seamlessly, finishing what he'd started earlier while pointing towards the diagram interface. "Pay attention here."

Pellaeon shrugged dismissively. "Map showing routes, planets, asteroids, stars…"

"Exactly—the stars themselves will save us," Thrawn emphasized, pointing specifically toward a transparent flash card inserted into the computer slot. He initiated a sequence filtering gravitational data from nearby celestial objects, revealing a previously unknown empty zone on a holographic representation of the sector charted ages ago.

"Damaged data?" Pellaeon questioned, puzzled by the anomaly appearing on the screen before him.

"No—I suspect deliberate removal of vital information," replied Thrawn cryptically, smiling once more, seemingly savoring the hidden revelation.

"But why would librarians do something like that?" questioned the bewildered senior naval officer.

"This isn't derived solely from the flash card input; rather, it's from navigating the database which I cross-referenced prior to meeting the scout commander here," Thrawn clarified. He launched a secondary file containing a critical Obroan library extract, revealing a startling discrepancy between the original content and the filtered dataset.

Pellaeon blinked repeatedly, absorbing the implications of the emerging discovery, astonished by the revelation.

"Obroa-skai natives possess complete star sector mapping?" he exclaimed disbelievingly, piecing together the newfound knowledge. Satisfaction crossed the perceptive alien leader's visage.

"Yes, precisely. Sometimes careful consideration proves invaluable compared to impulsive action. Rejoice, Captain; today enlightenment dawns upon us!"

"Admiral?" Pellaeon prompted cautiously, seeking further elaboration on the mysterious breakthrough. He witnessed firsthand an astonishing display of cognitive prowess encapsulated in a single cryptic phrase signifying monumental achievement and the culmination of a year-long pursuit.

"This, Captain, represents the final piece of the puzzle ensuring our ultimate triumph over the rebellious opposition. Now, set course immediately for Myrkr."

"Myrkr? I've never heard of this planet possessing strategic significance worthy of our interest," Pellaeon remarked, commemorating sixty standard years amassed in intellectual repository diligently maintained throughout his extensive career tenure.

"Indeed, Captain. Therein lies the secret to our victory, awaiting discovery. Eyes burning with the fervor of a supernova intensity, the last remaining vanguard of the Imperial legacy. Indomitable resolve etched into every fiber of being, relentless commitment to duty transcending mere mortal comprehension, fulfilling our destiny, and restoring the shattered Empire to its former glory, exacting retribution on the defiant adversaries precipitating the downfall of our sovereign galactic dominion!"

On that fateful day, marking nearly five and a half years after the Endor cataclysm irrevocably altered the trajectory of his personal and professional life, the seasoned veteran remained steadfast in unwavering allegiance. Still harboring lingering doubts about the sudden transformation in the supreme commander's demeanor, he resolutely seated himself in the presence of Thrawn, contemplating a profoundly unsettling existential query plaguing his consciousness:

"Who truly are you, Grand Admiral Thrawn?"