27. A Call From The Phantom

                                    

                                          
"I would not say that the future is necessarily less predictable than the past. I think the past was not predictable when it started."


Donald Rumsfeld




||Location: Darpa Sector, Ralltiir System, Ralltiir||
|| Timeline: 9 ABY ||


I sat alone in my private office aboard the Annihilator, the vastness of the galaxy stretching out before me through the viewports. The faint hum of the ship's systems provided the only soundtrack to my thoughts, as I poured two glasses of Alderaanian wine—the rare, rich vintage that had been almost completely lost with the destruction of the planet. I cradled one glass, the other sitting untouched beside it.
The second glass was for Thrawn. Not that he'd ever drink it, but it felt appropriate. I raised it slightly in a quiet, private toast to the Chiss Grand Admiral. Even in death, Thrawn had managed to leave a mark on the galaxy that would endure. His campaign had brought the New Republic to its knees. A third of their territory lost. Forty percent casualties. World after world, slowly losing faith in the so-called rebellion they had fought so hard to establish. All of it—accomplished by one man, not with overwhelming firepower, but with a mind so sharp it could dissect entire civilizations by studying their art and history.
I took a sip of the wine, the taste of it almost metallic on my tongue, and allowed myself a rare moment of admiration. Thrawn had been a master strategist, unparalleled in his ability to predict and manipulate his enemies. He had done the impossible with limited resources, something even I had to acknowledge was beyond my own capability. In his final campaign, he'd bent the New Republic to his will, and I could only imagine how much further he might have gone had his own Noghri bodyguard not betrayed him.
I leaned back in my chair, eyes drifting toward the construction yards just beyond the viewport. New ships, fresh out of the foundries, rose from their berths like mechanical leviathans. TIE fighters patrolled in tight formations, the reflection of their sleek hulls glinting in the dim light of distant stars. The Annihilator's might was slowly being reinforced with every passing day, and yet even with this fleet, I couldn't help but feel the shadow of Thrawn looming over every strategic decision I made.
Years ago, Thrawn and I had fought side by side, hunting down traitors like Grand Admiral Zaarin. I had admired his methodical brilliance even then, though I was always wary of him. It was easy to forget that Thrawn wasn't human—not truly, at least. His cold detachment made him almost alien in more ways than one. Perhaps it was that very detachment that made him so dangerous, and perhaps, in the end, it was also his undoing.
I closed my eyes, letting the memory of our campaign together wash over me. Thrawn, with his calculating gaze, always one step ahead of friend and foe alike. I wondered if he had seen his death coming, or if even someone like Thrawn had blind spots. Either way, his demise had come swiftly, and the galaxy would forever feel his absence—both as a loss and, for some, a relief.
The thought struck me suddenly: if Thrawn had been allowed to live, would I have followed him? Would I have cast aside my ambitions for the Sable Dominion to serve under him? I wasn't sure, but I knew one thing for certain—Thrawn would have understood the galaxy's complexities far better than any of the so-called leaders left behind after Palpatine's fall. His ability to wield power without being consumed by it was something I had yet to master.