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General Covell watched disinterestedly from the relative vantage of the Chimaera’s hangar bay as the Lambda-class shuttle sailed through the open airlock before settling delicately to the deck below. Disinterestedly, and with more than a little irritation. Pomp and ceremony were grand and fine for brass-types like Pellaeon and Thrawn; but Covell was a soldier first, and he hated this kind of Fleet handholding.
He remembered to force a smile on his face just before the shuttle door hissed open and the access ramp began lowering. Beyond the shuttle through the airlock there was only the blackness of deep space—but a moment later the distant edge of the Star Destroyer Bellicose floated into view, followed shortly by the Relentless and Captain Harbid’s famous Death’s Head. It’s a gathering of the top Fleet commanders, Covell realized, and he soured a little more. The last time this many captains had been brought together had been more than six months ago, right after the Chimaera had found Thrawn floating around in the Unknown Regions: when Thrawn (and Pellaeon with him) had revealed himself to the Empire.
The question was, what was the big reveal this time?
A burst of steam brought Covell back to the matter at hand as the shuttle’s ramp finished its descent. The steam cleared; and a moment later the heavy boot-steps of Captain Brandei descended down onto the Chimaera. “Captain Brandei,” Covell greeted, offering Brandei a salute proper for the captain of an Imperial Star Destroyer. “Welcome aboard the Chimaera.”
“Thank you,” Brandei acknowledged, looking Covell over. “General…Covell, isn’t it? I believe it was your men who assisted the Judicator with that raid on Tanaab a few years ago.”
“That’s correct,” Covell said, surprised but pleased Brandei had remembered. “We gave the Rebels a good rout then, didn’t we?”
“And we will again, General,” Brandei promised. He glanced around the hangar. “Forgive me, but I had expected Captain Pellaeon to meet me. Is he unavailable?”
“He’s waiting with the other Fleet Commanders in the Chimaera’s conference room; the Judicator was the last ship to arrive. If you’ll follow me?”
With Brandei beside him Covell led the way out the hangar bay towards the nearest turbolift. “I must confess I was surprised when we received the Chimaera’s summons,” Brandei admitted, following Covell down one of the main corridors. “Most Fleet communications are done over the HoloNet.”
“I hardly think this is a standard Fleet communication,” Covell muttered darkly.
“Mmmm,” Brandei agreed noncommittally. “I don’t suppose you’ve any idea what it is, then?”
Covell shook his head. “I don’t; though even if I did, you don’t imagine Grand Admiral Thrawn would want me sharing that information prematurely, do you?”
“Of course,” Brandei said, clearing his throat. “It’s only…I’m reminded of the summons one used to receive under Lord Vader.”
Covell knew what Brandei was getting at. “Thrawn isn’t Vader,” he pointed out, even as they came to the end of the corridor and Covell keyed for a lift. “And even if he was, he wouldn’t have called the whole Fleet here just to see you…reprimanded.”
“I am to be reprimanded, then?”
Covell tried hard not to roll his eyes. “Thrawn doesn’t blame you for the incident at the Katana skirmish, Captain,” he assured the other man. “Not for the destruction of the Peremptory, nor for the loss of the Katana either. At least, as far as I know.”
He was saved from further comment by the arrival of the lift. “That said,” he added anyway, “I wouldn’t recommend another failure on that scale again--not if you want a future in the Empire.” He indicated towards the lift. “If you’d step inside?”
They spent the rest of the trip in silence, Brandei looking darkly over in Covell’s direction. When the lift finally came to a stop and opened up on one of the upper levels, Covell was sure Brandei would have spat blaster bolts at him if he could. Luckily it was only a short distance to the main doors that led into the Chimaera’s conference room. Covell opened the door and waved Brandei inside.
A circular table filled the bulk of a circular room, shiny and black, with seating for about a dozen people available around it. Most of the seats were already taken, either by other Star Destroyer captains or else top commanders in the Fleet. And at the main seat at the other end of the table…
“Ah, Captain Brandei; General Covell,” Grand Admiral Thrawn greeted, smiling across at them. “Please, come in.”
He indicated them to the two remaining chairs that were unattended at the table. “I believe that’s everyone, Admiral,” Captain Pellaeon observed from where he stood behind Thrawn.
“Then maybe we can finally get on with it,” Captain Dorja growled from his chair halfway around the table. “If you’ll forgive my impatience, Admiral.”
“Of course, Captain Dorja,” Thrawn said, that usual polite smile on his lips. “I can appreciate your eagerness to learn why you’ve been called here. Why you all have been called here.”
He pressed a button, and a holographic map suddenly appeared above the table in front of them. “This map shows the current division of Rebel and Imperial space in the galaxy,” he identified it for them. “As you can see, the Empire currently holds roughly one-fourth of its former territory, and is on pace to lose more every year.”
“With all due respect, we already know this, Admiral,” Captain Aban of the Bellicose spoke up.
“The question is, how to reverse it?”
“Indeed,” Thrawn’s eyes glimmered. “Most of you should be aware of the Sluis Van operation several weeks ago, during which the Chimaera led an attack on a Rebel shipyard.” From where he sat on Covell’s left side, Covell saw Brandei nodding grimly. “What most of you may not have known was that a significant component of that operation was a cloaking shield, used to sneak our fighters into the shipyard without detection.”
An operation which failed, Covell recalled; but he decided to keep the comment to himself. “You’re referring to the Tantiss Project,” Covell said. “Yes, we all know about it.” Indeed the Tantiss Project had been one of the better-kept secrets in the Fleet over the past couple months, though Covell had been able to scrape together enough to figure it out. “And I take it this cloaking shield is your plan for finally taking back the Empire?” Some plan, he added to himself, given how famously unreliable cloaking shields were.
Thrawn turned to look at him. “The Tantiss Project, yes. A part of the plan; but only part. General Covell, for the past several weeks it has been standard operating procedure for you to recommend your best infantry troopers and mechanized operators following a successful operation. Everyone at this table has been subjected to the same requirements. Have you never wondered at it?”
“Of course I’ve wondered about it,” Covell gritted, glancing past Thrawn’s shoulder at Pellaeon and catching the other’s warning look, “and truth be told I don’t appreciate losing my best men after every op to some Fleet pet project. What’s that have to do with this?”
“The Empire’s greatest military weakness since Endor has not been the loss of the Emperor, or Darth Vader; it has not been a matter of equipment, or technology, or funds. And now that we have most of the Katana fleet, it is not a matter of ships. No. It has been a matter of manpower. We have been forced to conscript unwilling and often unqualified cadets to sufficiently fill our ranks. I have found a way to remedy that.”
Thrawn pressed another button on the table. “Show them in, commander.”
The door to the conference room unexpectedly slid open. Covell turned in his seat, to watch eight stormtroopers come marching into the room and take position along one of the curved walls. “What’s going on, Admiral?” Aban asked cautiously.
“I’ll show you,” Thrawn said. “Troopers, remove your helmets.”
Covell watched the others look in fascination as slowly but succinctly the troopers reached under their chins and stared to remove their helmets. One-by-one they lifted them up…
“No,” someone gasped. “Impossible.”
Covell just stared quietly. “Clones,” he broke the silence at last, scanning up and down the row of identical faces above the stormtrooper armor. “You’ve been making clones.”
“Yes,” Thrawn confirmed. “For the past two months I have been gathering our best men—troopers, starfighter pilots, starship operators—and sending them to a special facility for duplication. What you see before you is the result. Soon we will have more than enough qualified men with which to strike back at the Rebellion.”
“When you say a special facility…” Dorja trailed off.
“I mean a cloning facility, yes.”
“And where were you able to find enough Spaarti cloning cylinders to do this?”
Thrawn shrugged fractionally. “The same place I found the cloaking shield General Covell finds so impractical. For now its exact location will remain a secret, for obvious reasons.”
Brandei stood up and started examining the nearest stormtrooper closely. “They look so real,” he murmured.
Covell caught Thrawn scowl slightly, though he doubted Brandei noticed. “They are real, Captain. As real as you or me.”
“Mmmm. And when do we start getting them on our ships?”
“As it happens,” Thrawn told him, “you already have.”
There was a sudden silence, even more pronounced than the one a few moments ago. “I beg your pardon?” Dorja coughed.
“For the past month I have been reassigning clone units to compliment those already aboard your ships. Including yours, Captain Brandei. The Katana skirmish,” Thrawn paused a moment, “there were clones among both your shock troops and fighter pilots for that operation.”
Covell saw Brandei’s face pale, and he felt a slightly satisfied smile appear on his own—though whether it had paled at the reference to the Katana skirmish, or rather the prospect of a bunch of clones running around his ship, Covell couldn’t say. “Clones,” Brandei repeated. “On my ship, without my knowledge.”
“The Judicator is yours to command,” Thrawn reminded him, a hint of threat to his voice, “but it is my ship. As are all of yours. Do not forget that.”
“Of course, Admiral,” Brandei swallowed quickly. “Forgive me.”
From behind Thrawn Pellaeon took a sudden step forward. “Captain Aban,” he noted, “you’ve been awfully quiet the past few minutes.”
“I have,” Aban admitted, stroking his chin thoughtfully. He looked up at Thrawn. “You said you grew these men in two months.”
“Less than that, actually. But yes.”
Aban shook his head. “I don’t see how that’s possible. All the records from the Clone Wars say it takes at least three-to-five years to grow a clone. Longer, if you want it to actually fight. It’s impossible to raise a stable clone in less than two months”
Brandei glanced at him in surprise. “How do you know so much about cloning?”
“I was part of a task force put together by Darth Vader after Hoth,” he explained. “Admiral, you haven’t answered my question.”
Thrawn shrugged again. “I’m aware of the usual limitation. I have found a way around it.”
“How?” Aban pressed.
“For obvious reasons, Captain, that too shall remain a secret for now.”
Covell cleared his throat. “So, clones. This is the other part of your grand plan for defeating the Rebellion. A clone army. Is that right, Admiral?”
“Again, only a part of my plan. You sound as if you disapprove, General.”
Covell sighed. “No one at this table can deny your superior military mind,” he tried. “Your leadership has helped stem the tide of the Rebel onslaught these past months. But a war isn’t just won by whoever has the most ships or the most men. There are certain logistical problems that come into play. How exactly are we supposed to feed all these new troops of yours?”
This time there was nothing typical or polite about the smile that spread across Thrawn’s face. “Ah, but there again is yet another part of my plan. There is a reason you all specifically were brought to this meeting, to be the first to hear of our new cloning operation.” He started pressing more keys; and now the holograph over the table twisted and turned into a much more elaborate map of the galaxy, filled with supply lines and outpost markings. “Over the past month I have been developing a detailed strategy for defeating and destroying the Rebel threat that still plagues the galaxy. Each of you will be a major lynchpin in the initial thrust of that strategy.
“Let me tell you about the Ukio operation.”
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