Chapter Text
The deck rumbled as the ship left hyperspace. The streaks became stars. Slowly, the main engines of the ship lit up and the colossal Star Destroyer accelerated toward an asteroid.
Captain Montari shook his head. “I’m not going to lie, Admiral, I think it’s too risky for such an operation. The New Republic is actively hunting remaining Imperials.”
Rayne turned to look at her captain, said: “Right now the Rebels are focused on rebuilding, Captain. And you and I both know they barely have the manpower to guard their most vital facilities.”
Through the signature triangular viewports of her flagship, the Imperial Star Destroyer Magistrate , Rayne could see the Fondor shipyards. In the far off distance, she saw a couple of New Republic freighters attempting to dock with one of the docking rings. Others were entering or leaving the system. Nothing indicated that their presence was picked up by any of the vessels. However, such a massive bulk as a Destroyer would undoubtedly be picked up by the personnel manning the targeted station as they moved closer and closer.
Assuming that it was manned of course , Rayne thought, but she quickly dismissed this thought. It would be extremely unlikely that the New Republic had no presence here. After all, this was the site that marked the beginning of Operation Cinder; and the shipyard’s relatively close location to the Core worlds made it a strategic asset.
Concluding this, she ordered the bridge crew to power down the main generator to cloak any major energy surges. Walking back to the briefing room, Captain Montari caught up to her.
“Sir, I understand the need for more TIE fighters, but are you sure we should risk revealing our presence this soon?” he said, not yet convinced that this plan his Admiral had come up with was entirely sound.
“Oh, but we are not here just for starfighters, Captain. That is but a fortunate side effect. No, we are here to collect intelligence. One of our technicians will slice into the network.”
Seeing that he did not understand, she continued: “As you rightly pointed out, we do need starfighters, but we also need resources, capital ships, other remnants, and, most importantly, a base of operations.”
“Ahh,” Montari let out. “Surely you recognize that we take an unnecessary risk then. We could slice into Republic systems anywhere. Why Fondor?” The captain’s voice betrayed that he still wasn’t entirely convinced about Rayne’s plan. As the blast doors slid open, revealing the holodesk in the middle of the briefing room, a stormtrooper with the orange shoulder pauldron of a sergeant made his way over to them. Immediately jumping to attention, saluting his superiors, the sergeant said: “The necessary preparations have been made, sir, they are preparing the ships as we speak.”
Rayne nodded, said: “Very well, Sergeant, I assume you came here to go over the strategy one more time?”
Figuring that Rayne wasn’t going to answer his question, Montari gestured toward the holodesk and said: “Our intelligence officers have already recovered the plans of the station.” He nodded toward a lieutenant to activate the holodesk. A bright blue 3D-image of the former Imperial shipyard appeared. Red markings highlighted possible entryways or other objects of interest.
Pointing to one of these markings, Montari said: “This maintenance hatch should allow relatively easy access to the generator room. From there, you should be able to access the station’s power grid and deactivate any security measures they’ve put in place.” Pausing to look at Rayne, Montari continued: “Is this mission merely to retrieve intelligence or do you want them to incapacitate the shipyard as well?”
Rayne shook her head, said: “It is like you said, Captain, we do not need the extra unwanted attention. Simply get in there, extract the data, and get out, preferably without any casualties. Your men are up to this?” She directed this question toward the sergeant.
“This should be a piece of cake, sir,” the sergeant confirmed, clearly confident of his men. Montari raised an eyebrow at this informal confirmation, but it seemed as though Rayne either hadn’t acknowledged it or she wouldn’t bother reprimanding the sergeant.
She nodded. “Very well; the exit strategy then, Captain?”
Montari ordered the lieutenant to focus on one of the docking bays, where a decommissioned Star Destroyer-like vessel was being disassembled. The four domes that housed four massive gravity well generators in its hull identified the ship as an Interdictor Cruiser
“If possible, you will escape with this Interdictor - we will provide you with the quickest route to the dockyards when you’ve extracted the information we need. A squadron of TIE fighters will be deployed to provide cover fire. After you have successfully disengaged, jump to these coordinates. Captain Boulag and the rest of the fleet will rendezvous with you there.”
The stormtrooper cocked his helmet. “You won’t be staying around then?”
“No,” Rayne replied. “We have matters elsewhere that require our attention. That is all, Captain?”
Her voice made clear to both men that this wasn’t something to be discussed. Montari nodded that he was done.
Rayne turned to the sergeant. “You have your mission, Sergeant, I trust you will complete it to the best of your ability.”
The sergeant saluted, turned on his heel and marched out of the briefing room. Montari turned off the holodesk, wondering what this new assignment Rayne had mentioned was going to be.
When Rayne didn’t say anything, the Captain began to speak: “Sir, wha …”
Rayne raised her hand, silencing him. “Not here, Captain, first make sure this mission doesn’t fail immediately.” With this, she too turned away and followed in the sergeant’s footsteps. When the blast doors closed behind her, Montari stood there for a moment, contemplating what to do next.
A younger officer strode toward him, data pad in his hand. “Sir, the report you requested on the ship’s integral systems.”
Montari took the pad from the officer and waved him away. Staring at it for a moment, he sighed and put it in his pocket. He would look at it later; for now, there were more pressing matters. Pacing back to the bridge, the captain inspected the orderly goings-on of the crew - they were exchanging information, giving orders and analyzing the data relayed to them by the ship’s sensors.
He realized that this was the only place where he felt truly comfortable. This was his domain, and nobody would take that away from him.
He proceeded along the walkway to the forward section of the bridge. When the crew noticed their captain striding past, they fell silent for a moment, nodding if he looked at them, before continuing with their work.
He had nearly reached the viewports when his second-in-command, Lieutenant Commander Karrick, waved for him to come take a look at the display he was standing next to.
Montari signaled that he had seen him and headed towards the display.
Karrick pointed at a large triangular shape. From the location behind the asteroid, Montari could tell that it was their ship. A few seconds later, smaller, blinking shapes appeared.
“The stormtroopers have been deployed, sir,” Karrick told him. “Within minutes they will reach their assigned destination.” He gestured to the shipyard. “Our projected flight path will take them out of vector of any New Republic vessels patrolling the area.”
“We are ready for departure then?” Montari asked him.
“Yessir, the maintenance crews are finishing the last check-ups as we speak.”
“Good,” Montari said, approvingly. “Well done, Lieutenant Commander, you may give the order to prepare for the jump to hyperspace.”
Proud of the compliment, Karrick quickly regained his composure and began ordering the crew to prepare the ship for hyperspace.
The orderly discipline made way for orderly chaos, as everyone rushed to their assigned stations - nav computers had to be set to the right coordinates; systems had to be double-checked; the condition of the hyperdrive triple-checked.
Montari let his gaze go across the bridge, making sure that everyone had understood their orders. Assured that this was indeed the case, he returned to his original position at the end of the walkway. Lieutenant Commander Karrick followed him.
Turning towards him, Montari asked: “Is the ship ready?”
“We’re ready to go, sir,” Karrick confirmed.
“All right, run a final systems check, then make the jump to hyperspace."
Karrick repeated his orders to one of the lieutenants in the crew pits, then turned back toward Montari. “Systems check positive; the ship is ready, Captain.”
“Make the jump to hyperspace, Lieutenant Commander.”
Karrick called out the order to the helmsman down in the starboard crew pit. A few moments later, the deck started to vibrate underneath their feet. Montari could hear the faint rumblings of the engines. Stars became streaks of white. They had made a successful jump to hyperspace.
Rayne had returned to her office. Located a few decks below the bridge, a large viewport allowed her to see what was going on outside. Holographic displays of the ship’s systems and those of others could be activated. This way, she could effectively command her Star Destroyer from her office; it basically acted as a secondary bridge.
But now the only thing she could see was the all but familiar sight of hyperspace. She often found that, if she gazed for too long into that endless void, her mind started to get warped; thoughts would no longer form clearly in her head. Rayne had heard stories of this particular condition - space travelers called it ‘hyperspace sickness’.
A voice came over the intercom. “The operation was launched successfully, sir. We have jumped to hyperspace, and, according to the coordinates you provided, should reach Kessel in a few weeks,” the voice reported.
Heading to her desk, Rayne said: “Thank you, Captain, anything else?”
“Actually, yes, sir,” Montari replied. “We haven’t enough fuel left to reach Kessel. I’d recommend a stop at Mimban; it’s only a few days away. Any other necessary maintenance could also be done there.”
Rayne considered this for a moment, shrugged, and said: ”The Mimbans wouldn’t mind an Imperial Star Destroyer just stopping by, demanding that they supply them with provisions, fuel and repairs?”
It took awhile for Montari to reply to this. He was probably checking it with our intelligence officers , Rayne thought. Montari had always been a cautious type.
Then: “It seems as though Mimban is indifferent, sir. They’re simply trying to make sense out of the chaos, like the rest of the galaxy.”
And just like we are , she thought wryly. She cleared her throat. “All right then, you may proceed.”
“Yes, sir.” With a click of the intercom, Montari signed off.
Rayne sighed. The past couple of weeks had been difficult. Ever since the Empire’s defeat at the Battle of Jakku Imperial presence - and with it, their support - had been waning. Sure, there were still some small factions holding out here and there, but they were no more than a bunch of untrained troopers and lieutenants. The rest either renounced the Empire and joined the New Republic, or followed Grand Admiral Sloane into the Unknown Regions.
Except for Rayne and her Third Fleet. When the Battle of Endor turned in favor of the Rebellion, she took what was left of her forces and retreated, hiding; skipping across the galaxy in order to hide their presence from the Rebel Alliance, which had already proclaimed the New Republic by then. Finding it increasingly harder to hide her fleet of battered down Star Destroyers and Heavy Cruisers, Rayne had decided they needed to find a permanent place to hide, and quickly.
That was her priority right now - to ensure that her men were safe. To do this, she had devised a plan to infiltrate one of the many formerly Imperial facilities to find an abandoned base on some remote planet, far away from the Core worlds. Montari hadn’t agreed when she told him of this plan. Yes, he agreed that they needed to find a permanent base of operations, but he thought it far too dangerous to attack a station this close to the New Republic Capital on Chandrila.
She understood his reasoning, and would’ve agreed with her captain if not for the simple reason that Fondor was the location that marked the start of Operation Cinder: the Emperor’s endgame to self-destruct the empire he had worked so hard to build in the event of his death.
She had thought it odd that anyone would do this. Why in the Empire would you want to eliminate any fighting chance your troops might have against the Rebellion? She shook her head. The Emperor had been a man of many secrets and mysteries; his errand boy, Darth Vader, even more so. She hoped to find the truth behind one of these secrets - she wanted to know the real reason behind Cinder.
Rayne had once asked Montari what the old Emperor was like. In the Empire’s early days, he had served aboard the Star Destroyer Executrix , Grand Moff Tarkin’s ship. Occasionally, he would accompany the Grand Moff on trips to Coruscant. While he never spoke to the Emperor, Montari had told her then that being in his presence was more than enough for him.
“There is a certain… aura about the man. His eyes alone terrify me. I can see why the Republic fell. Emperor Palpatine is a very dangerous and unpredictable man, sir, and I would strongly advise you not to do anything to offend him, should you ever have the pleasure to meet His Majesty,” Montari had told her.
But whatever the Emperor had or hadn’t been, it didn’t matter now; Palpatine, Vader and Tarkin were dead and her Third Fleet wasn’t, although they weren’t exactly in any shape to enact a counteroffensive against the New Republic.
In the coming years, they would be hiding and running across the galaxy, sure, but they would be alive; working to restore at least a fraction of the Empire’s former military power.
Yes , she thought. Let those Rebels think they’re safe; let them think the Empire is gone. And then, we will rise again, striking when they’d least expect it.
While tracing back their steps since the Battle of Endor, Rayne felt a sense of fatigue come over her. She realized that she hadn’t really slept much the past few weeks; there were far too many matters that required her attention. She stood up and gazed out into the hypnotic hyperspace abyss, after which she walked over to a door to her right that led right into the Admiral’s sleeping quarters. They wouldn’t be arriving at Mimban anytime soon, she decided, so she lay down on her bunk and closed her eyes.
Montari rubbed his eyes. Before signing off for the night, the comms station had received a transmission from a nearby system. The message had clearly confused them, so Montari had come closer to take a look. Nervously, one of the officers working the station had handed him the data card. After he had read the message, he had ordered Lieutenant Commander Karrick to take command of the ship, and quickly headed for the turbolifts to hand over the message to Grand Admiral Rayne.
Staring at the data card, Montari wondered if he hadn’t acted too rashly; after all, it could be a ruse by some pirate trying to get ahold of Imperial hardware. The Grand Admiral didn’t need to know about that. Something in the message had sparked his interest, however, and so it was that he was standing in the turbolift, data card in his hand, heading for Rayne’s quarters a couple of levels below the bridge.
With a thump, the turbolift came to a halt and the door slid open. Since this particular level of the ship was mainly meant for the Star Destroyer’s most senior officers, the hallways weren’t very populated; most of the officers were on the bridge.
Leaving the turbolift, Montari turned right and started down the brightly lit hallway. He came across a couple of mouse droids, scurrying off to somewhere with important messages. The few stormtroopers and lower officers he encountered all took a moment to properly greet their commanding officer, and moved on with whatever they were doing.
Having reached the blast door, Montari stepped over the threshold that would prevent any poisonous gasses or fires to spread in the event of a hull breach. To his left, there was a much narrower hallway with at the end of it a door, flanked by two Mandalorian guards.
When Grand Admiral Rayne gained command of the Third Fleet, she had quickly made some systematic changes - her Mandalorian warriors amongst them.
Although Montari didn’t know the finer details, he knew Rayne was born and raised on Mandalore. She’d often told him about the planet and its warrior culture. This had been especially relevant during the Great Purge: the Empire’s total obliteration of her home planet. As a reaction to some Rebel presence on the planet, Montari had heard.
He shook his head thinking about the Purge. He wasn’t proud of the things he had done in service to his Empire, but they were necessary in order to finally bring peace and security to the galaxy.
Montari smiled grimly. Or so they had been told , he thought.
Straightening out his uniform, he headed down the narrower corridor as one of the guards stepped forward, crossing his vibro-spear with that of his companion.
“ID, Captain,” he grumbled from under his helmet.
Montari stopped for a moment. “Surely, this isn’t necessary anymore?” he inquired, an annoyed tone in his voice.
The Mandalorian shrugged and said: “Sorry, sir, but it’s standard procedure; no exceptions.”
Montari rolled his eyes, sighed, and reached for one of the cylinders tucked into his tunic’s two breast pockets. He dropped it into the guard’s outreached hand and looked as the guard inserted the cylinder into the access port in the wall next to the door.
The locking mechanism clicked and the door slid aside, revealing Rayne’s command room. The guard stepped aside to let Montari in.
Waiting until the door closed behind him, Montari took a moment to study his surroundings. He had been in Rayne’s office before, of course, but he was always amazed by how clean it looked. Most Imperial commanders would have flaunted their trophies and achievements, but Rayne’s office wasn’t richly decorated; there were no tapestries, paintings, busts or other items of plunder. Her office perfectly reflected her character - that of a pragmatic warrior, who needed nothing except for the absolute necessities. The only decoration in the room was an engraving of a mythosaur, a mythical Mandalorian beast, in the floor.
To the side was another door that led to the Grand Admiral’s personal quarters, he knew. From this door, a black protocol droid appeared. Looking almost taken aback by his presence, the droid shuffled over to him, making metallic sounds as its feet made contact with the deck.
“The Grand Admiral will be with you shortly, Captain; she is currently… exercising,” the droid said, in an almost mockingly polite voice. Montari could hear the clanging sounds of metal meeting metal. “Ah, I see,’’ he replied, raising his eyebrow.
He waved the data card in the droid’s face. “I have an important message for the Grand Admiral. Go tell her, would you?”
Looking as indignant as a droid could, the droid said, coolly: “Of course, Captain, would you like any refreshments in the meantime?”
Montari waved him away, frustrated with the droid now. Sometimes he wished the factories would have focused less on programming protocol droids to be as courteous as possible - and more on programming them to be actually helpful. “No thanks, I’ll be fine.”
The droid bowed - it was more of a nod, really - and returned to the dojo Montari knew was behind the door.
Rayne’s combat sessions could take awhile, so he strode over to her desk, pulled a chair toward him and waited for the Grand Admiral to finish.
After a few minutes had passed by, Montari noticed that the sounds of struggle in the other room had stopped. Moments later, the door slid open and Grand Admiral Rayne stepped out, the protocol droid doggedly following her.
After giving a few instructions to the droid, Rayne turned to Montari, who had already sprung to his feet, clicking his heels together.
“Kayfour said you had a message for me?” She asked, gesturing to the leaving droid.
He cleared his throat, said: “Yes, sir, comms intercepted a transmission-” he paused for a moment “-from Muunilist. It was sent a couple of hours ago.”
“Really,” Rayne said. “And what does this transmission say?”
“Well, It was encrypted with older Imperial code. Hasn’t been used in seven years, actually,” Montari told her.
Rayne had now moved around her desk, seating herself in her chair. She gestured for him to do the same. “And why does any of that matter?” She sounded curious now, her eyes thoughtful.
“This particular piece of code was last used by the Seventh Fleet, until it was disbanded after that whole ordeal on Lothal.”
Her eyes widened in a sign of recognition. “Thrawn,” she murmured.
“Possibly, but didn’t he disappear at Lothal?”
“Yes,” she nodded. “But that doesn’t mean he’s dead.”
“You really think it’s him? That this isn’t all just an elaborate ruse by the Rebels to get to us?” Montari asked, doubtful of the whole situation. If anything thirty years in the navy had taught him, is that you couldn’t trust anything at face value.
Rayne crossed her fingers in a thoughtful gaze. Taking a moment to put all the pieces in their place, she said, finally: “No, I don’t think it’s Thrawn; he disappeared into the Unknown Regions.” She shook her head. “No, if anything, it’s someone who has access to all of Thrawn’s old codes. You get anything else?” She pointed to the data card Montari held in his hand.
“Nothing - just an order to follow the transmitted coordinates.”
Rayne stood up, hands clasped behind her back now. “Interesting,” she said. “Why would they transmit from Muunilist?”
Confused at her train of thought, Montari shrugged. “The Muun are bankers - ultimately, they’re all out for profit; they feel no obligation toward anyone - Rebellion or Empire. Perhaps these mystery Imperials had enough credits to convince the Muun to allow them to hold up in the system for a while.”
Rayne nodded, said: “Could be - or, it could be a trap, as you said.” She processed the information she’d just received, and decided to give a little more thought to it later. Straightening her back, Rayne ordered: “Tell comms to keep an eye out for any more of those transmissions. In the meantime, we need to concentrate on Mimban.”
Montari frowned. He’d already told her Mimban was relatively safe for them to make the necessary repairs - why was she bringing it up again?
“What of it?” he asked, nonchalantly.
“Are we sure that it’s safe, Captain?” She had turned to him once more, her dark eyes piercing right through him.
“Sure,” he replied. “As safe as any planet nowadays.”
Her gaze hardened, indicating that she wasn’t in the mood for any jokes. Montari swallowed.
“You can be sure of it, Admiral; the Mimbans aren’t really concerned with galactic politics at the moment. Rebuilding their war-torn planet seems to be their main priority right now. A couple of Imperial Star Destroyers stopping by won’t change any of that,” he reassured her.
“Did you account for the fact that it was the Empire that ravaged their planet?”
“And the Republic before us,” he pointed out. “But like I said: rebuilding their planet is their main priority now. I am sure they’d be more than happy to accept a few extra credits to keep our presence a secret. And perhaps we can contact the remaining Imperial forces. I heard that there was some local commander there who promoted himself to governor.”
“All right,” Rayne said, after thinking about it for a moment. “If that’s all, Captain then-” she gestured to the door “-you may return to your post.”
Montari shook his head. Grabbing the data card, he put it on Rayne’s desk. “Here’s the full transmission; maybe you want to take a closer look at it.”
Rayne reached out to grab the data card, studying it closely. After a moment, she nodded thoughtfully and gestured for the captain to leave.
Montari stood up, clicked his heels again, and headed for the door. He’d nearly reached the control panel when Rayne said: “Oh, one more thing, Captain; have you had any luck locating Bo-Katan Kryze?”
Slowly, Montari turned. Rayne still sat there, the data card in her clenched fist. Her gaze, now reaching a discomforting intensity, seemed to peer right into his mind.
“I'm afraid not, sir,” he reported, wanting to get out of there as quickly as he could. Rayne had some long-standing feud with the Mandalorian Bo-Katan Kryze. Whenever he’d inquired about it, Rayne had shot him one of her famous lethal glances; they had discouraged him from inquiring any further about her history with Kryze.
“But we’ll find her eventually,” he added, rather unnecessarily.
“Yes,” Rayne said, a deadly undertone to her voice. “Yes, we will.”