Capítulo 2: Self-proclaimed successor (I)
Nine years, four months, and fifteen days after the Battle of Yavin...
Or forty-fourth year, four months, and fifteen days after the Great Resynchronization.
When Grand Admiral Thrawn, less known by his full Chiss name Mitth'raw'nuruodo, returned from the Unknown Regions of the galaxy a year ago, he chose the captain's quarters as his residence.
**Imperial-class Star Destroyer (ISD)**
It's difficult to call this a place of solitude, because it looked more like a miniature headquarters. Situated two levels below the conning tower of an Imperial II-class Star Destroyer, Thrawn's quarters were in the same section of the bays reserved for senior officers. The former captain's cabin, however, was located separately from the rest, on the opposite side, isolating the intersection of officers and the ship's commander. Now, this arrangement allowed me to return to my abode in complete solitude, except for the ubiquitous Rukh, a bodyguard from the Noghri race. A terrifying-looking, ruthless killer whose people were kept by the Galactic Empire as elite saboteurs, deceived by the Empire's false promises of salvation for their homeworld. The exposure of this deception led to the sudden death of Grand Admiral Thrawn.
And it just so happened that now I have to wear this blue skin, with blue-black hair, a proud posture, and flaming eyes.
I lived a full life on Earth—wife, children, even grandchildren. In my youth, I was an ardent fan of the Star Wars universe, particularly the Expanded Universe, later called "Legends." I spent considerable time and money on books, games, and related material before settling down...
I don't know if it's an irony of fate or just how it happened, but back on Earth, I ran a small company providing crisis management services to clients. And now, it's I who must become the crisis manager of the Remnant of the Galactic Empire.
"You are free, Rukh," I said, approaching the doors leading to my cabin.
The Noghri, whom you couldn't look at without internal panic, silently disappeared into the twilight of the vestibule separating the living part of the cabin and the corridor.
**Noghri Rukh, bodyguard of Grand Admiral Thrawn**
Left alone, I finally allowed myself to relax. The headache that had been haunting me ever since I realized I was in Thrawn's body—precisely at the moment Captain Pellaeon appeared with a report on the completion of the information raid on Obroa-skai—refused to let go. There must be some reason for this, but at the moment, I see only one: the appearance of my consciousness in the mind of the Chiss. It feels like a mental meat grinder, making it difficult, sometimes painfully so, to separate my thoughts and memories from those of Thrawn.
However, one question interests me the least at the moment: is there any point in tormenting myself in search of the reason why I ended up here, right now, in the body of Grand Admiral Thrawn? I think not. At least, it is not a priority task.
Captain Gilad Pellaeon clearly suspected something in my behavior—he glanced at me frequently. It's challenging to mimic Thrawn's habits without actually knowing them. Facial expressions, behavior, gestures—all developed over years and consolidated to the point of automatism at the unconscious level. Hence, the Grand Admiral's aura of cold calm was occasionally broken by my usual gloomy ridicule and grins...
I want to live if fate has given me a second chance. Even if it's in the body of a blue-skinned, red-eyed alien.
If I want to survive, taking the place of the tactical genius of the Remnant of the Empire, whose thinking style and mental acuity I did not inherit, and whose memories I possess only fragmentarily, then... I will have to overcome. I will have to win.
The key to success is proper planning. Thrawn himself understood this, I understand this, and I apply it in life. More precisely, I used to. In this, we are similar.
Otherwise... the brain of this creature is a living computer. Constantly analyzing, breaking down everything into parts, each comprehensively studied. Thinking about something triggers a cascade of fragmented analysis... And it hurts.
I don't know what happened to the Chiss' mind, but I'm grateful for his body's capabilities. The relentless drive to deconstruct everything is not inherent to me. On Earth, I engaged in analytics strictly for work. Now, in Thrawn's body... it's like being in the Matrix.
If anyone read these lines, they might wrinkle their nose and shout: "Piano! Piano!" Yes, your mother's leg! Piano! The fact that I, a person from Earth for whom the Star Wars universe is just a collection of books, games, comics, and other fan services, ended up here is already a "piano in the bushes," as enthusiasts would say. I will have to navigate the cause-and-effect chains from this moment until the Noghri incident when Thrawn fell on the bridge of the Chimera. Without Thrawn's thinking style, it will be incredibly challenging...
But no one will read these thoughts. To the Imperials, I am still Grand Admiral Thrawn. To the New Republic, which blew up the Death Star II five and a half years ago, I am... nobody.
Sinking into a massive chair at my desk, I fought through the pain in my head and began to analyze. This must be done immediately; such an opportunity may not arise again. Circumstances already indicate that Thrawn's campaign has begun. I pushed Captain Pellaeon towards the development of well-known events, leading to shock therapy for the New Republic and Thrawn's death at the hands of Rukh. Until I devise a plan to avoid this fate, I must adhere as closely as possible to Thrawn's original strategy. Fortunately, I remember some things and can glean more from his thoughts...
But how painful it is...
I gritted my teeth and covered my mouth with my elegantly gloved hand to muffle the sound of my groan. I cannot show weakness now—perhaps I never can.
I need to think.
The problem cannot be solved unless it is taken apart.
Unlike the Imperial Remnant, the New Republic does not yet suspect that they haven't dealt with all of Emperor Palpatine's grand admirals. This is good. There is a head start. The longer this information remains secret, the better.
Despite Thrawn's return from the Unknown Regions a year ago, the Imperials have managed to keep his existence a secret. There are several reasons for this.
First, Thrawn knew the value of information. Based on my memories of the character, I know the Chiss understood that the longer he remained mysterious to his opponent, the greater his chance of using the element of surprise. When the New Republic finds out who he is, they will move mountains to gather even a grain of data. And they will find it. It is impossible to clean out all the archives of the galaxy. Somewhere, data on Grand Admiral Thrawn will surface. If my memory serves me correctly, the person who owns Myrkr, our current destination, knows about Thrawn's return but keeps it secret. For now, the mystery remains intact.
The second—and main—reason why Thrawn could not win in the Star Wars Expanded Universe is due to authorial decisions. Much of the blame for his defeat lies in the fragmented state of the Empire. After Palpatine's death, the galaxy splintered. Generals, admirals, moffs, and grand moffs each seized a piece of the pie and declared themselves rulers of their territories. For over five years, the once formidable military machine of the galaxy devoured itself while the New Republic, led by notable figures, reclaimed territories piece by piece.
The New Republic, controlling Coruscant, the galaxy's capital, now governs nearly half of the star systems and sectors. The Imperials are left with scraps. A confederation of large and small entities, each with its own ruler, army, and fleet. To them, Thrawn is just another tin soldier responding to the call of duty.
Despite losing vast resources and territories, the Imperials still value discipline. Thrawn's appearance, as one of the thirteen highest military ranks, forced them to reluctantly submit, provided he did not seek to seize control of the Remnant, eliminate other Imperial leaders, or overstep his military role. They gave him the necessary resources—money, ships, crews, and access to Oskolok shipyards—while ensuring he focused solely on waging war.
Thrawn did not seek political power; he was a military man, dedicated to war and destruction of the enemy. He did not vie for territories but fought skillfully, inflicting many defeats on the New Republic with his limited resources.
His fleet consisted of nine Imperial-class Star Destroyers, two Victory-class Star Destroyers, three Interdictor-class destroyers, and a handful of smaller vessels. Against the New Republic's four fleets, each with a hundred Mon Calamari star cruisers, Thrawn managed to achieve victories.
He could have surrendered or retreated to the Unknown Regions to develop his own Empire of the Hand. But he chose to stay and fight.
However, I am not him. Despite possessing his knowledge, appearance, and authority, I lack the Chiss's unique skills. My actions may not lead to the same outcomes. The future will change—for better or worse.
I must make a choice. The situation is not as dire as it seems. It needs to be broken down and analyzed. Each decision's pros and cons evaluated wisely.
But first, I need to rest. Sleep. Reboot my brain and approach the situation with a clear mind.
Estado de energía semanal
-- Ranking de
Poder 
-- Piedra de
Poder