Yellow Brick Road (IV)

The Baron remained silent for a moment, his expression carefully neutral, suggesting my response had caught him off guard. I had no intention of bending to the whims of every sector ruler in hopes of extracting something valuable. I am prepared to invest in securing the resources I need. I am open to mutually beneficial cooperation—within reasonable limits, of course.

But I do not intend to ingratiate myself with the wealthy.

I possess knowledge they lack. And I'm uncertain whether it would be prudent to divulge anything about mythical conquerors from distant galaxies—those with sharper minds would demand evidence. After all, modern science has proven that leaving the galaxy is exceptionally difficult—the gravitational anomaly renders hyperdrives ineffective, and it would take an inordinate amount of time to overcome it. Few would dare to attempt such a journey, and even fewer would succeed.

Among my less astute "colleagues," there would be no trust at all. Arrogance and rigid thinking are obstacles to progress, and I have no desire to battle them. I am confident that there are many planets, systems, and sectors in the galaxy that, for one reason or another, would welcome the opportunity to become part of the reformed Empire—the way I envision it. But at this moment, I am not in a position to build such a state. This, however, does not preclude the careful probing of potential allies for my cause. I have time before Palpatine's return.

"What is your reasoning, Grand Admiral?" the Baron asked. "Are you basing it on the New Republic's potential power? Their numerical superiority?"

"On logic," I countered his assumptions. "The Galactic Empire controlled a far larger territory, with a massive navy and army. Yet, we were defeated. Less than a decade has passed since the Emperor's death, and most sectors of the galaxy have rallied around those we call rebels. And it's not just the territories of exotics who were oppressed by the New Order—it's also human systems. Kuat, for example. The Emperor relied on them; they were the primary contractors of our military-industrial complex. What made them abandon us, becoming a semi-independent state aligned with the New Republic?"

"Force?" the Baron ventured. His expression told me he already knew the real answer, but he was testing me. An intriguing man. Intelligent. I could make good use of someone like him. But first, I need to understand what he truly desires.

"Kuat has a fleet that neither the Imperial Navy nor the New Republic could break without substantial losses," I reminded him. "They are drawn to the New Republic's contracts, without a doubt. The Kuati are entrepreneurs—profit and prosperity are paramount to them. They wouldn't have maintained their position for millennia, expanding their wealth and advancing technology, if they didn't calculate their steps meticulously. Their stance of complacent neutrality towards the New Republic brings them income and stability. If the Empire attempted to subjugate them, they could repel the attack and seek the New Republic's protection, which would not be denied. Now, let's consider the situation from the other side. What can the Empire offer them? Frankly, far less than our adversaries. Thus, their choice is the New Republic. Simple pragmatism. I have no doubt that in time, they will join the fledgling state as full members. The New Republic's confederal structure allows them to pursue their internal policies, which suits them perfectly."

"My daughter sits on the Imperial Ruling Council," the Baron said unexpectedly. "I'll confide in you that they have intelligence suggesting Kuat has already begun the process of joining the New Republic. It's just not public knowledge yet."

"Kuat is merely the most visible example," I elaborated. "Other sectors are seeking similar benefits from their dominant state. The galaxy has been at war for years. Territories have changed hands multiple times. The common populace is exhausted by the constant shifts in government. Therefore, they align themselves with those who represent the future. And that future is not with the current Imperial remnants."

"Grand Moff Ardus Kaine might disagree with you," Baron D'asta noted, watching my reaction closely.

"That's his prerogative," I replied evenly. "In my view, the Emperor's greatest mistake in establishing the Galactic Empire was enforcing power through force for one-sided gain. He dismantled the Old Republic, but in essence, everything remained the same. This isn't about addressing piracy or the slave trade, which the Empire combated ruthlessly—a positive aspect, without a doubt. But at the same time, the Empire utilized slaves. Such double standards lead reasonable people to wonder if they'll be next when the Empire decides to construct another Death Star. And that fear drives them to resist, even if those fears are irrational."

"Let's assume you're correct," the Baron said. "But what solution do you propose? Surrender territories to the New Republic? Capitulate?"

"Not at all," I asserted. "We need to reform our internal policies to be more favorable. Tell me, Baron, how many non-human species live in the D'asta sector?"

"Hundreds, if not thousands," the aristocrat answered with interest.

"Are they your slaves?" I asked.

"No," he replied, comprehension dawning in his eyes. "They are workers in our enterprises."

"Let's approach this pragmatically," I suggested. This man was indeed fascinating. He had skillfully taken the initiative in the negotiations, "feeling out" my intentions before we delved into my proposals, which had brought me to Nez Peron. "Any state is fundamentally supported by its populace. By marginalizing certain species, we create the conditions for social unrest and breed dissatisfaction. The Alliance to Restore the Republic was born from such discontent. By defeating the Empire, they haven't created anything better—they've merely returned things to their former state. The same corruption, bureaucracy, and inefficiency plague their government. Yet, reasonable individuals are willing to tolerate this, at least for now, because they know the alternative—a slave state under the New Order. At the same time, there are examples of the Empire showing loyalty to non-humans when they proved useful. My bodyguard belongs to one such race."

"Quite interesting, by the way," the Baron remarked. "I've never seen anything like it."

Ignoring his thinly veiled request for more information about the Noghri, I continued:

"The New Republic has demonstrated how non-human species can be just as effective in governance as humans. Their Supreme Commander, Admiral Ackbar, is a Mon Calamari who served as a powerless slave under Grand Moff Tarkin. Yet he adopted all of Tarkin's best qualities, which speaks to his remarkable talents. He has proven, time and again, that his ability to win comes from a strategic mindset, not just from tactics he might have learned from Tarkin. His people are constructing a fleet for the New Republic that can hold its own against our Star Destroyers—vessels designed by some of the galaxy's finest shipbuilders. Verpine, for instance, are exceptional engineers, able to detect flaws in metal without any equipment. The Colicoids developed combat droids that we eagerly used because they were effective. The Neimoidians essentially created their own state, if we exaggerate a bit, through the Trade Federation, which was absorbed by the Empire after the Clone Wars. The Givin are brilliant mathematicians capable of plotting hyperdimensional routes—they did so during the Clone Wars for the Trade Federation and other Separatists. Cyborg General Grievous, who commanded an army of droids before his cybernetic transformation, was a successful leader in his homeland and caused significant trouble for the Old Republic. These are just a few of the countless examples. Doesn't this suggest that these beings deserve, at the very least, our attention? Now, imagine how the Rebel Alliance might have fared if the Empire hadn't pursued a policy of oppression against non-human species."

The Baron leaned forward, his expression contemplative. "You tell me," he proposed thoughtfully. "The alliance wouldn't have formed on its own?"

"On the contrary," I responded, my tone firm. "It's the people who drive its creation." They were disillusioned by the usurpation of power. The Alliance wasn't founded on any particular ideology; it was born out of sheer pragmatism. It emerged as a response to the suppression and erosion of freedoms. Eliminating the dissatisfied isn't feasible—only reducing their numbers is possible. However, the Empire could have prevented such a widespread rebellion if not for the New Order's policies. Why would anyone rebel if they have a stable job, civil rights, and legal protections, fully aware of the severe repercussions from the authorities should they join the rebels? Yes, there will always be those who yearn for rebellion, but they would remain a loosely organized group that's easy to manage. Those capable of strategic thinking would avoid such futile ventures—most of the time. While this reasoning is undoubtedly abstract, given the complexity of the issue, I am convinced that if the Empire hadn't exploited the Mon Calamari as slaves, their starliners wouldn't have been repurposed into formidable star cruisers, at least not in such numbers.

"Interesting conclusions, Grand Admiral," Baron D'asta remarked after a thoughtful pause. "But you're not speaking from personal experience. Are you referring to your own encounters with harassment during your service, or something else entirely?"

"Logic and nothing more," I countered smoothly. "Challenges build character and enable you to allocate your resources effectively to counteract them. So, if you're insinuating that my perspective, which diverges from the official Imperial stance, is an attempt to exact revenge on the Empire for some form of subtle oppression, you're mistaken. The Empire is what shaped me into who I am today, and I am grateful for that. It perplexes me that, despite everything that has transpired, those elevated by the New Order as the superior race have failed to learn from past mistakes and recognize the destructiveness inherent in several of their current doctrines."

"Not everything," the Baron replied succinctly, his gaze piercing into mine. "So, you're certain that abolishing the Empire's human-centric policies could lead to positive outcomes?"

"I am confident that we must learn from our mistakes to avoid repeating them endlessly," I offered, delivering a diplomatic and somewhat vague response that allowed each listener to find their own interpretation. "That's why I believe it's not worthwhile to continue the war against the New Republic under the present circumstances. For the Empire to endure, we must undergo transformation."

"But you're still conducting military operations against Coruscant," the Baron pointed out. "This seems to contradict your stance on pursuing peace negotiations."

"Which scenario is more stable?" I countered. "When the weaker party negotiates with the stronger, and the latter recognizes that the former desires peace more than they do? When the strong believe they can continue to exert pressure and ultimately attain everything they want? Or would it be more sensible to negotiate between two parties of equal strength and political influence, where each understands that prolonging the war would result in unnecessary casualties and widespread discontent among the populace?"

"The galaxy's population is largely indifferent to the ruling power," the Baron observed thoughtfully. "Reasonable individuals are willing to work for anyone."

"And so we return to the origins of the Rebel Alliance," I noted. "The majority of the population remains indifferent to their rulers, content with meeting their basic needs. A minority, however, craves power and knows how to exploit situations to their advantage. Among them are always those who will resist any legitimate authority to satisfy their personal ambitions. If they gain the support of rational individuals who are weary of the ongoing devastation, a new civil war will inevitably erupt. The notion that overthrowing the old government and installing a new one will instantly resolve all issues is inherently absurd. Yet, it works—yesterday's rebels now govern the galaxy. The people suffer under the harsh conditions of their bleak existence but remain hopeful for a brighter future. When their patience finally wears thin, a new uprising will emerge, and yesterday's liberators will become today's oppressors. The cycle is complete. The wheel of events has turned full circle, returning to its original starting point."

The Baron gazed at me with a long, cautious look. He remained silent, deep in thought.

After a heavy sigh, he spoke again. "My daughter has informed me that the Imperial Ruling Council is considering your candidacy for the position of the new Emperor," he declared. I remained unmoved. Firstly, I was already aware of this, and secondly, it simply wouldn't happen. "Even without knowing your intentions, they're prepared to place at the helm of a human-centric state... someone who isn't quite the right person." If they are aware of what you disclosed today, if they realize that you won't fight to the bitter end to restore the Empire to its former glory... Ardus Kaine will ascend to the role of the new Emperor. This would forfeit the chance to end the war and return to normalcy.

"There are always those who can't live without the specter of war," I mused philosophically. "Even my approach in coming to you is driven by military necessity."

"It was evident without words," the Baron frowned, diverting his gaze to the side. "I'm not young anymore, Grand Admiral." My life will one day conclude. I long to witness a serene sky overhead, not the remnants of orbital stations and fleets poised in space, waiting for the New Republic to lose patience and intervene. I want to see my daughter happy, and I don't want her, like myself, to spend her entire life amidst war. You've come seeking support, Grand Admiral. I'm willing to provide it—within reasonable limits. But in return, you must promise to achieve peace with the New Republic.

"That's beyond my control," I responded. "There have always been, are, and will be those among us and them who seek revenge in this war. Without mutual willingness, no agreement can be reached. All I can do is strive to make it happen."

"That's why you intend to pressure their sides to compel them into peace," the Baron recalled my words accurately. I simply nodded in affirmation, almost imperceptibly. "This could take many months."

"It would be more accurate to say years," I clarified. "Imperial Space has constrained my resources, and I can't expect swift results. You must understand that at any moment, the militaristic faction within the Imperial Remnants could uncover the true motives behind my actions. The consequences for me and my allies would then be unpredictable at best."

"Don't worry about me, Grand Admiral," the Baron smiled reassuringly. "My sector can't be easily penetrated by any enemy. Not even the New Republic."

"And even less so—the Empire," I finished his thought for him. This man undoubtedly understands his value and the risks he's undertaking. He must recognize that in moments of extreme necessity, both the Empire and the New Republic could unite to eliminate him. They've already managed this with Zinj and his state. The second time would be even easier—they both have the experience now.

"It's lunchtime, Grand Admiral," the man suddenly declared, glancing toward his residence. "I'd be pleased if you joined me. After the meal, we can discuss business. I'm sure we can assist each other."

A very intriguing proposition, indeed. Yet, no one would expect that allies wouldn't demand reciprocal services in exchange for their assistance. The strongest unions are those bound by blood.

On our way back, we remained silent, each lost in our own thoughts. The Baron's reflections were inscrutable to me. For some reason, I recalled the children's fairy tale, "The Wizard of the Emerald City." It seemed that today I had taken the first step toward a beautiful city where all my problems would be resolved.

If only the witch hadn't eaten it along the way.