Author - so yeah took my time with it, no particular reason why just felt like it. Also maul shadow lord comes out soon cant fucking wait.
Also, yeah I started writing longer chapters and honestly, I cant be bothered shortening them or splitting them up.
EDIT - As I was editing the chapter I was having some technical difficulties because the kebab I ate did not agree with me lmao.
The encrypted holo-channel chimed with a priority tone I had only seen twice before, I was alone in the governor's private study, the heavy stone walls muffling the sounds of the palace below.
Early mid day light painted the room, I had been reviewing the latest migration numbers when the console lit up with the unmistakable Imperial Grand Admiral cipher, but the cipher looked different from Paelleons.
My stomach tightened, I straightened my tunic, brushed a stray lock of dark hair from my eyes, and keyed the accept command and the holoprojector flared to life.
Grand Admiral Mitth'raw'nuruodo Thrawn appeared in crisp, perfectly composed white outfit, his blue skin and red eyes contrasting against his uniform. He stood in what appeared to be the private quarters on his ship.
His hands clasped behind his back, red eyes calm and penetrating even through the transmission. His white uniform was immaculate, the rank bars gleaming. "Governor Kael Voss," he said, voice smooth and cultured, carrying that faint, almost musical Chiss accent. "It is a pleasure to speak with you at last. I apologize for the slight delay in my response, the Unknown Regions have a way of consuming time even to ones such as me who grew up within it."
I inclined my head respectfully, heart beating faster than I wanted to admit. "Grand Admiral Thrawn. The honor is mine, I did not expect to hear from you so soon."
A small, genuine smile touched his lips. "Your cultural package arrived while I was away and I just got the look on them through hollo as well as the descriptions you provided and the transcript from the little notebook. The Elyrian ritual artifacts and the notebook on native history were… enlightening. You have your parents' eye for detail. Armand and Elena always had a gift for finding beauty in overlooked places."
He paused, red eyes studying me with that unnerving intensity. "I was quite... displeased when I learned of their deaths," he continued, tone softening just enough to sound personal rather than diplomatic. "The news reached me during my exile. A senseless loss. They were among the very few in the Empire who never treated me as an alien curiosity or a political tool. Your father once shared tactical insights with me over a shared meal that proved more valuable than entire briefings from the so called Coruscant Elite, if only the empire had more admirals and commanders such as your father and less of... Tarkin or others the security and prosperity of the empire would have been locked for the foreseeable centuries. Your mother had a way of seeing the long game that few officers ever bothered to even master, I will also admit her cooking was quite delectable. Their assassination was a waste of genuine talent."
Thrawn's expression remained composed, but I caught the faint tightening at the corners of his eyes. "I am glad to see you have made it all work out," he added. "A young governor, barely more than a boy by Core standards, turning a neglected backwater into a stable and increasingly prosperous system. Impressive. Especially after the unfortunate pirate incident that required such… swift and decisive action."
I kept my face neutral, but my mind was racing. He knew.
Of course he fucking knew. The cultural gifts had been my olive branch, but Thrawn never missed details. "Thank you, sir," I said carefully. "My parents taught me that stability is built one careful decision at a time. Elyria is still small, but we are trying to make it something worth protecting."
Thrawn gave a slow nod, as if weighing my words. "Protection is an interesting choice of phrase. Most governors speak of loyalty or quotas. You speak of protection." His red eyes narrowed slightly, not in suspicion but in genuine curiosity.
"The artifacts you sent also contained subtle references to local defensive traditions. A governor preparing for threats beyond simple piracy, perhaps?"
I allowed myself a small, rueful smile. "The galaxy is not always kind to the Outer Rim, Grand Admiral. We have learned to be ready for whatever comes."
Thrawn's smile returned, faint but approving. "A wise philosophy, one your parents shared. I will be returning to my duties in the galaxy proper within the next two weeks. My flagship will pass relatively close to your sector. I would welcome the opportunity for a personal meeting. There are matters of strategy and… mutual interest we might discuss in greater depth."
My pulse spiked, oh boy a personal meeting with Thrawn the 'heir to the empire' was both an incredible opportunity and a terrifying risk. One wrong word and the Empire's most brilliant mind might see straight through the careful web I was weaving.
"I would be honoured, sir," I replied, keeping my voice steady. "Whenever your schedule allows, Elyria is at your disposal."
"Excellent." Thrawn inclined his head once. "Until then, continue your work, Governor Voss, the Empire needs more systems like yours and I look forward to seeing what else you have built since your parents' time."
The holo flickered and vanished.
I sat back in the chair, staring at the empty space where Thrawn had been. The study suddenly felt smaller. My parents' faces flashed through my mind, the way they had spoken of Thrawn with genuine respect, the only high-ranking Imperial who had ever treated them as equals rather than subordinates or low tier vermin.
He had been displeased by their deaths he remembered them fondly.
Now he wanted to meet in person for the first time ever.
I rubbed my chin, wonder if he is tall or did the show just made him look taller?
The pieces were moving with the first skeletal frames of the orbital stations being built above the planet along with my other moves.
But Thrawn had just reminded me that the board was far larger than Elyria and its surrounding systems, and some players could see moves I had not even considered yet.
***
Two weeks later the sky over Havenridge split open.
I stood on the newly refurbished and modernised central landing platform of the starport, flanked by a carefully chosen reception line, the wind whipped my gray governor's cape behind me, carrying the faint scent of dust and hot metal from the repair crews still working on the outer pads.
My heart beat steady but loud in my ears.
Above us the fleet emerged from hyperspace in perfect formation, Thrawn's flagship, the Chimaera, led the way an Imperial Star Destroyer of the latest line, its arrowhead hull gleaming under Elyria's red sun it was accompanied by two more full-sized Star Destroyers flanked it like silent guardians they had a screen of light cruisers and frigates that formed a protective wedge behind them.
The Chimaera descended first, its shadow swallowing half the starport as landing struts extended with a thunderous hiss. The other two Star Destroyers remained in high orbit, a deliberate show of force, Thrawns flagship by itself could pretty much solo my defensive fleet over Elyria.
When the main ramp lowered, Grand Admiral Thrawn appeared at the top, white uniform pristine, red eyes scanning the scene with that calm, all-encompassing gaze. There were shouts and movememnt from behind him, one distinct one I heard was to get supplies and fuel from the locals.
As for the man himself? He descended alone, unhurried, every step measured, behind him came a small honour guard of Chiss officers and a handful of stormtroopers in whites.
(I looked it up Thrawn did have chiss officers with him but they were more his clandestine operations, perfect for his mission in the unknown regions like Stent or Ar'alani)
I stepped forward to meet him at the bottom of the ramp, Jaster on my right, Torv on my left and behind Torv Rusty meanwhile was shipped off and hidden its not the time to reveal I have a fucking general class tactical droid.
Directly behind us stood the senior Mandalorian clan leaders, Elara in her native ceremonial cloak, a delegation of clan elders in their finest woven robes, and a few of the more prominent new settler representatives.
The rest of the starport had been cleared of civilians for security, but I could feel thousands of eyes watching from the perimeter fences. "Grand Admiral Thrawn," I said, offering a crisp but respectful salute. "Welcome to Elyria. It is an honour to receive you in person."
Thrawn's red eyes met mine, a small, genuine smile touched his lips. "Governor Voss," he replied, voice smooth and cultured. "The honour is mine. Your parents would have been proud to see their son standing here as master of his own system."
He glanced around the starport, taking in modernised, spotless and clearly recently remade starport. He also spotted some of the bustling repair crews and re-fuelling droids going towards the now parked star destroyer that takes up almost the entirety of the main starport.
"You have done remarkable work in a very short time. "He extended a gloved hand and I shook it firmly.
Jaster stepped forward next, helmet under one arm. "Clan Mereel welcomes you, Admiral. We remember your respect for warriors, even when they stood on the other side."
Thrawn inclined his head. "And I remember the courage of Mandalore, it is good to see its sons and daughters building something new rather than merely surviving."
The formal greetings continued down the line Torv's gruff nod, Elara's steady bow on behalf of the native clans, the elders offering small ritual gifts of carved bone and woven fibber. Thrawn accepted each with quiet courtesy, asking a few pointed questions about local customs that showed he had actually studied the cultural packages I had sent.
After the reception, he turned to me. "If it is not an imposition, I would very much like to see Havenridge for myself. A short tour, nothing ceremonial I prefer to understand a world through its people and its streets rather than through reports."
"Of course," I said. "We have a speeder prepared." The tour began simple and unhurried.
We moved through the central market square first, the stalls were busier than I had ever seen them new settlers haggling alongside native traders, Mandalorian craftsmen displaying freshly forged armour pieces beside Imperial-standard goods.
Thrawn walked at my side, hands clasped behind his back, red eyes missing nothing. "Impressive recovery," he noted as we passed a row of rebuilt stone buildings. "Most systems would still be begging Coruscant for aid six months after a major pirate incursion. You did not."
"We had motivation," I replied. "And good people willing to work. "He glanced at a group of native children playing near a fountain, their reddish-hued skin catching the sunlight. "The Elyrians carry trace markers of some ancient blood and there are similarities to the cultures in the north and north western segments of the galaxy."
Elara, walking a few steps behind, answered quietly. "We remember the old blood, and stories admiral." Thrawn gave her a respectful nod, we continued through the Mandalorian quarter, where new clan halls were rising beside the old stone structures with Jaster pointing out training fields where warriors and militia drilled together. Thrawn watched a pair of young Mandalorians sparring with vibroblades and asked several sharp questions about integration tactics.
Jaster answered with blunt honesty, and Thrawn seemed genuinely intrigued, later we passed the edge of the growing industrial zone where the first factory foundations for the moon's overflow production were being laid. Cranes lifted durasteel beams while droids and workers moved in coordinated rhythm. "You are building for the future," Thrawn observed, voice thoughtful. "Not merely repairing the present. That is rare among Outer Rim governors, even rarer in younger ones who grew up in the comfort of the core."
I kept my tone measured. "A stable system needs more than survival. It needs purpose, peace and power."
He studied me for a long moment as the speeder slowed near the central plaza. "Your parents had that same long view. It cost them dearly, but they never wavered." The words carried no accusation, only quiet respect but I felt the weight behind them.
We spent another hour walking the main avenues, stopping to speak with shopkeepers, clan elders, and a few of the newer migrants. Thrawn asked questions that cut straight to the heart of each person's life how trade had improved, whether the new patrols had reduced fear, what they hoped their children would inherit.
He listened more than he spoke, and every answer seemed to add another layer to the mental map he was building of Elyria. By the time we returned to the starport landing platform the sun was beginning to set, painting everything in that deep rust red that had become the signature colour of my life here, almost a year at this point.
Thrawn turned to me as the honor guard waited at a respectful distance."A most enlightening afternoon, Governor Voss. I see why your system is growing so quickly, you have built something genuine here." He paused, red eyes meeting mine directly. "Later this evening, once the formalities are concluded, I would appreciate a private conversation. Somewhere our words cannot be tracked or recorded. There are matters I wish to discuss that go beyond pleasant tours and public courtesy."
Oh boy, great.
I met his gaze without flinching, though my pulse quickened."I'll have it arranged," I said.
Thrawn gave the smallest nod of approval as he returned on a shuttle to the Chimaera that has at one point left the starport after refuelling and buying up some supplies, which is rare since admirals have the power to just requisition any and all supplies deemed necessary to sustain the fleet.
***
The secure chamber was buried deep beneath the old Republic-era wing of the palace, a room that is old and has not really been upgraded, it has an old broken holo table at the end of the room that cannot receive calls with its speaker and microphone receiver broken so even if someone theoretically tapps into our systems and comms they wont hear anything anyway but we can still somewhat use the holo at our leisure just without sound.
Thick stone walls, no windows, and in addition to that full-spectrum jamming field that even the most advanced Imperial listening devices could not penetrate, I hope. There was a single long table of polished local hardwood that stood in the centre, lit by soft, warm glow-globes.
Two chairs waited at opposite ends.
Thrawn and I entered alone, not even rusty was allowed in, the heavy blast door sealed behind us with a resonant thud, and the faint hum of the jammers rose to a steady, reassuring note.
We sat.
And for a moment the only sound was the low pulse of the security systems.
Thrawn leaned back slightly, red eyes calm but piercing. "Thank you for the privacy, Governor. What we discuss here will remain between us."
I nodded once. "You have my word."
He studied me for a long second, then began without preamble. "I have found your native Elyrians fascinating," he said, voice smooth and thoughtful. "Through my research and cross referencing ancient texts, as well as some sample DNA from the old borders of the sith empire I deducted that they carry diluted traces of ancient Sith blood or they are at least related in some way, yet they build rather than conquer. They value community and resilience over dominance. That is rare in a galaxy that rewards strength through fear, you have integrated them skillfully into your growing system, giving them voice and purpose without stripping their identity. It is elegant work."
He paused, a faint smile touching his lips. "And your own tactics… impressive. A boy of fifteen, exiled to a backwater after his parents' assassination, inherits a broken system, faces down pirates and slavers, forges alliances with Mandalorians, and turns the entire sector's attention away from weakness and toward strength. You did not simply survive, you clawed your way upward with precision and patience. Your parents would have recognized that instinct."
I kept my expression steady, but inside my mind raced. He was praising me, yes, but he was also watching how I reacted to all the information, also I had my suspicions about the Elyrians but they dont seem to have that innate force ability their ancestors had.
"Thank you, Admiral," I said quietly. "I learned from the best."
Thrawn's gaze sharpened, but his tone remained courteous. "I was quite displeased when news of their deaths reached me during my exile. A senseless, wasteful act, they were among the few voices in the Empire that understood the value of competence over politics. Your father once explained to me the logistical realities of supply lines in the mid and outer rim that he himself learnt during the war it was in a way that cut through years of Coruscant dogma. Your mother saw cultural undercurrents that most intelligence officers miss entirely. Their loss was a blow to the Empire's actual strength, not merely a personal tragedy."
He leaned forward a fraction, red eyes never leaving mine. "I have some suspicions about who was truly behind it. A cabal of Moffs and power players who viewed your parents as… inconvenient. Too independent. Too willing to treat non-humans as equals. Too resistant to the centralization of resources that benefits only the Core, I cannot prove it yet, but the patterns are clear." The words landed like a quiet detonation. I felt the scar on my temple itch fiercely but my hands stayed perfectly still on the table while my face gave nothing away.
Thrawn continued, voice measured but edged with rare frustration."That same cabal, and others like them, continue to waste the Empire's potential. Enormous resources are being diverted to a single 'special project' on a scale that defies strategic logic. A project that consumes the output of entire sectors, yet produces nothing of immediate military or civilian value. With those same resources we could have built thousands of Star Destroyers, expanded the fleet, secured the Outer Rim properly, and ended the sort of pirate infestations you just crushed in a single decisive action or stamped out any CIS holdouts and growing anti imperial sentiment. Instead, we pour everything into one colossal monument while governors beg for basic patrol ships and systems like yours are left to fend for themselves."
He gave a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head. "It is a misallocation that borders on criminal. The admirals and governors pushing it care more for personal prestige and political favour than for the long-term stability of the Empire. I find it… frustrating." The admission was startling coming from Thrawn. He was not ranting he was stating a tactical truth with the same cool precision he used on the battlefield.
I chose my next words carefully. "I understand the need for grand projects," I said, "but only when they serve the whole. I have learn that survival comes from practical strength, not distant dreams."
Thrawn's smile returned, faint but approving. "Precisely. Your quick thinking in the pirate matter, the way you turned captured assets into real defensive and economic power, the alliances you forged, the careful balance you maintain between those who are loyal to the empire and those that would rather be independent… it shows a mind that understands strategy at a deeper level than most of the so-called leaders on Coruscant."
He leaned back again, studying me with that unnerving red gaze. "I tell you these things because I believe you are one of the few governors who might actually build something lasting out here. When I return to the Core, I will remember what I have seen on Elyria. And I will watch your progress with genuine interest."
The silence that followed was heavy, charged with everything left unsaid.Thrawn had just handed me both a compliment and a warning. He suspected the people behind my parents' deaths and he was openly critical of the Death Star project even if he did not mention what it was to me, he was offering something that felt dangerously close to an alliance of minds, if not yet of forces.
I met his eyes and spoke the only truth I could risk. "I intend to keep building, Admiral. For the people here. For the stability my parents believed in. Whatever form that takes."
Thrawn gave a single, slow nod. "Then we understand each other." The jammers continued their low hum around us. Outside this room the palace and the orbiting fleet waited. But in this sealed chamber, for the first time, I felt as though I was speaking with someone who saw the board the same way I did.
And that both excited and terrified me.
***
The following days passed in a blur of measured movement and careful conversation.
Thrawn stayed longer than anyone had expected, his fleet remained in high orbit, the Chimaera a constant silver shadow above the planet, while the Grand Admiral himself became a quiet but constant presence in Havenridge and beyond. He requested no grand ceremonies, no parades, no public addresses.
He simply wished to see.
We began the next morning with the Mandalorian settlements in the mountains and the forrests and plains, Jaster and a small honor guard of clan leaders met us at the edge of the training fields.
The air smelled of scorched plastoid and oiled beskar as warriors drilled in the open yards, Thrawn walked among them without hesitation, red eyes taking in every detail of their movements, their armour, their formations. He spoke at length with Jaster about the Siege of Mandalore, asking precise questions about supply lines, defensive choke points, and the psychological effect of orbital bombardment. Jaster answered with the blunt honesty of a warrior who had lost too much.
Thrawn listened without interruption, then offered a single quiet observation."Gideon's tactics were efficient in the short term," he said, voice calm. "But they ignored the long-term cost of turning a proud warrior people into enemies rather than potential allies. That is a mistake the Empire repeats too often."
Later that afternoon Atii joined us for a sparring demonstration, she and two of her father's warriors put on a fluid display of hand-to-hand combat and jetpack maneuvers. Thrawn watched with genuine interest, then turned to me. "Your integration of Mandalorian warriors into planetary defense is remarkably smooth, most Imperial governors would have tried to disarm them or keep them at arm's length. You gave them a home to protect instead."
I shrugged lightly. "They earned their place. And they fight better when they fight for something they believe in.
"Thrawn's faint smile returned. "A lesson many have forgotten."
Surprisingly enough he also sparred with some of the warriors, and to the surprise of all Thrawn is quite the remarkable warrior himself it would seem, getting a draw out of even Jaster.
Over the next two days we visited several native clan settlements out on the plains while Elara led the way, guiding us through sun-baked camps where reddish-hued families tended herds and worked communal gardens.
Thrawn walked among the people without guards, asking questions about their ancient traditions, their relationship with the land, and how they had adapted to Imperial rule. The elders spoke freely in his presence, perhaps sensing the same genuine curiosity I had felt during our private talk.
One evening around a clan fire he sat cross-legged on the ground like any other guest, listening to stories of the old blood. When the firelight caught his red eyes I saw something close to respect there.
On the third day we took a shuttle up to Durak's Hold, the mining moon. The single major city was a hive of activity now, its factories already producing duranium plating and basic starship components. Thrawn toured the facilities with the same focused attention he gave everything.
He examined the new ore crushers, spoke with native foremen about shift rotations, and even asked pointed questions about safety protocols and worker morale, at one overlook he stood beside me, looking out over the expanding industrial sprawl."You are turning a resource-poor moon into a manufacturing hub in mere months," he observed. "Most governors would have stripped it bare forcing the people to work for meager wages and sub-par conditions all day everyday and moved on. You are investing in it. Building for decades, not years."
I kept my hands clasped behind my back. "A system is only as strong as its weakest link. If the moon thrives, the planet thrives. If the planet thrives, the whole system thrives, if the system thrives the sector and so on."
Thrawn gave a slow nod. "Ah, self-sufficiency. Self-sufficiency is a dangerous word in some circles on Coruscant."
We spent hours more walking the moon's surface, talking about logistics, resource allocation, and the long-term strategic value of outer systems. He shared anecdotes from his campaigns in the Unknown Regions and his homeworld, subtle lessons wrapped in stories of alien cultures and forgotten hyperspace routes. I listened carefully, offering my own observations when asked, always aware that every word was being weighed and catalogued.
In the evenings we returned to the palace for quieter talks over meals. We discussed art, history, military philosophy, even small personal details. Thrawn spoke of his own people with quiet pride and of the Empire with measured loyalty, never crossing into open criticism but making his frustrations with waste and political infighting crystal clear.
Through it all Atii appeared at key moments, sometimes joining the tours, sometimes simply watching from a distance with that sharp, assessing gaze of hers. Once, during a break at Durak's Hold, she caught me alone for a few minutes and muttered, "He looks at everything like it's a puzzle he's already solved. Be careful, Voss."
I only nodded. I was being careful every step of the way.
By the fourth day Thrawn's visit was drawing to a close. We stood together on the observation deck of a ship looking at the begining outline of the orbital shipyard, watching the skeletal framework slowly taking shape against the stars. The gas giant platform was visible in the distance, its first modules already glowing with construction lights.
Thrawn clasped his hands behind his back and spoke softly. "You have built more in these few months than many systems manage in years. I will remember what I have seen here, Governor Voss and the Emperor will be pleased. I will watch your progress with great interest."
He turned to face me fully. "When the time comes, should you ever need counsel that goes beyond official channels, you know how to reach me." The offer hung between us, quiet and weighty.
I gave a single, respectful nod. "Thank you, Admiral. For everything."
Thrawn's shuttle lifted off that evening, re-joining the fleet in orbit. The massive Star Destroyers lingered for one more hour before jumping out of the system, leaving only the memory of their presence and the faint shadow of a conversation that had changed everything.
I stood on the palace roof long after the last ship had vanished, the red sun setting behind me. Thrawn had seen the truth of Elyria, he had left me with both a compliment and a warning.
I felt as though I might actually have a true ally, whether that ally would remain one down the line is a different one.
I am overthinking this way too much.
***
Three weeks after Thrawn's fleet jumped out of the system, the captured pirate ships were finally ready.
I stood on the bridge of the Gozanti, hands clasped behind my back, watching the tactical holotable light up with green and blue icons, around me the command crew moved with quiet efficiency. Reza is standing on my left while Rusty stood at my right shoulder in his new General Class frame, matte black plating catching the overhead lights, dark purple photoreceptors glowing steadily as he monitored every feed.
His presence still felt surreal, tall, sleek, and far more imposing than the old rolling protocol droid had ever been."Fleet reports ready, creator," he said in that crisp new voice. "All vessels have completed final crew integration and system checks. Droid complements are at ninety-four percent across the board. Human-crewed ships are at full operational capacity."
Reza stepped down the central command of the Gozanti so that we may observe how Rusty handles piloting and commanding a ship.
I nodded once. "Begin the test manoeuvres." On the holotable the icons shifted, most of the captured ships the retrofitted cruisers, corvettes, and armed freighters were crewed almost entirely by droids. B1s and others handled the guns and engineering, while a handful of make shift reprogrammed protocol droids were turned into a pseudo Tactical Droid commanders/captains.
Only three vessels carried mixed human crews: the Iron Reaver (our captured Gladiator-class, now flying under Elyrian colors), one Carrack-class light cruiser, and a sturdy Corellian DP20 gunship.
Those human crews were an experiment of their own.
Younger and older Mandalorians volunteers who had never been front-line fighters technicians, pilots, mechanics, and clan support staff filled the command and engineering sections since they had the most experience and knowledge being mandalorian, but in time natives or even freed slaves will also take command of the ships once they are adequately trained.
Freed slaves, mostly Twi'lek and Togruta women and men manned the sensor and weapons stations. Trained natives steady and grounded, handled logistics and damage control.
The test began with simple formation manoeuvres in open space just beyond the outer moon, the droid-heavy ships moved with mechanical precision, slotting into perfect wedges and executing tight turns at exact intervals. The human-crewed ships were slower at first, a little rough around the edges, but they adapted quickly. I watched on the holotable as the Iron Reaver executed a textbook flanking roll, its mixed crew compensating for each other's strengths and weaknesses in real time.
Rusty's photoreceptors brightened. "Coordination improving rapidly. The human crews are learning to trust the droid elements. Predictive error rate has dropped seventeen percent in the last forty minutes."
"Good," I muttered. "Now to give the sorry lot something real."
I keyed the comm. "All ships, this is Governor Voss. We have confirmed pirate activity in the neighboring empty systems. Three small slaver groups and one independent smuggler convoy moving through the outer reaches with many others we might have missed. Your orders are to hunt them down, disable or capture where possible, and destroy only if they resist and then control to patrol the areas for more. This is a live fire test. Show me what you can do."
The acknowledgments came back crisp. The droid ships responded instantly. The human-crewed vessels followed a heartbeat later.
The various ships jumped to various sectors after a brief hollo meeting between the ship commanders ironing out who goes where and some contingencies and backup plans.
We tracked them from the Gozanti the first two hours were quiet but soon after one group reported contacts that appeared on long-range sensors. The slavers were sloppy, still operating on the assumption that these systems were empty and undefended.
Not long after few other ships and patrols have confirmed sightings on sensors.
I watched the holotable bloom with activity.
The droid-crewed cruisers moved like predators, cutting off escape vectors with machine-perfect timing. The human-crewed Iron Reaver came in heavy, its mixed crew firing ion cannons in disciplined salvos while Mandalorian pilots executed aggressive strafing runs.
One of the slaver ships tried to run but a DP20 gunship locked it down with a pinpoint tractor beam while native gunners disabled its engines with surgical turbolaser fire.
Rusty narrated the different actions with calm efficiency. "Slaver lead vessel disabled. Boarding teams launching. Freed slaves among the crew are requesting priority on prisoner handling. They wish to speak with the captives personally."I
allowed a small, grim smile. "Permission granted." Other contacts fell equally fast. A smuggler convoy tried to scatter, but the droid ships had already anticipated the routes and boxed them in. One older Mandalorian mechanic on the Carrack-class cruiser calmly rerouted power from non-essential systems to boost the tractor beams, locking down two freighters at once while Twi'lek gunners on the weapons deck poured accurate fire into their shield generators.
By the time the last known pirate vessel surrendered, the entire operation had taken less than five hours and forty minutes. I leaned back in the command chair, exhaling slowly. On the holotable the icons shifted from red to green as our ships secured their prizes.
No losses on our side, only damage is the paint job to the outer hulls. The crews had worked together perfectly both organic and droids.
Rusty turned his head toward me, purple photoreceptors steady. "Test results: highly successful. Coordination between droid and organic elements exceeded projections by twenty-three percent. The human crews performed admirably under live fire. Morale is elevated. I have grasped better understanding of commanding a ship and operations."
I looked at the tactical display again, at the captured ships now flying under Elyrian transponders. "Send the congratulations," I said. "And tell them to bring the prizes home. We'll debrief the crews in person when they return, we can now start training more organic crews at once by integrating some of them on the ships."
Rusty nodded once, already transmitting. "As you wish, creator." I stared out the viewport at the distant stars. The surrounding systems were no longer empty. They were now patrolled by Elyrian fleet.
The test was over and it had passed with flying colours.
***
Two months had slipped by since Thrawn's visit, and Elyria was beginning to feel the weight of its own momentum.
I stood on the observation deck of the half-completed orbital shipyard, the vast skeletal frame of durasteel and transparisteel stretching out around me like the ribs of some enormous beast. Below, the curve of Elyria Prime glowed rust-red in the sunlight, while the mining moon Elyria II hung nearby like a scarred companion.
The merged progress report on my datapad showed everything at once, trade had expanded dramatically. New routes had been opened to three neighbouring sectors through careful negotiations and Black Sun intermediaries.
Merchant convoys now arrived weekly, carrying everything from raw materials to skilled workers. The migration campaign I had quietly launched was bearing fruit.
Holoads and word-of-mouth on neutral worlds had drawn in engineers, miners, technicians, labourers and families tired of endless war and corruption. The first waves of settlers were already integrating in the expnding smaller cities on the planet and the moon, their skills feeding directly into the growing industrial base.
At the same time, the factories on Elyria II had come online in earnest with the moon's surface being now dotted with new processing plants and assembly lines, churning out duranium plating, basic starship components, weapon parts, and refined ores. The Super Tactical Droid had quietly supplied several batches of specialist maintenance droids and advanced schematics through encrypted drone drops, accelerating construction far beyond what our own engineers could have managed alone, his progress is also steady with the droid foundry now being online and him mainly building mining and construction droids to expand the droid holdings in the unknown regions.
I looked down at the merged report again. The numbers were staggering for a system that had once been considered worthless.
Trade volume up 340%. New settler arrivals: 18,700 in the last six weeks. Factory output on Elyria II: 62% of projected capacity and climbing. Gas giant platform partially constructed: fuel extraction at 7.5%, power generation modules online, blaster energy cell production beginning in the coming months in earnest.
And above it all, the orbital shipyard continued to grow. Its dual purpose was clear to anyone who looked closely: it would serve as both a ship-construction and repair facility and a powerful planetary defense platform, complete with turbolaser batteries, shield generators, and fighter bays. The first defensive modules were already being welded into place.
Rusty stood beside me, his tall General Class frame motionless except for the occasional tilt of his head as he processed live data feeds. His dark purple photoreceptors glowed softly against the matte black and silver plating."Creator, the integration is proceeding better than projected," he said in that crisp, confident voice. "The new meatbags are proving highly adaptable with the Mandalorian technicians having accelerated shipyard construction by twenty-eight percent. The native work crews on the moon have the lowest accident rate of any facility. And the gas giant platform's automated refineries, using the droid-provided optimization routines and sub-routines, are already exceeding efficiency benchmarks for only being partially online."
I allowed myself a small, tired smile. "Good. Keep feeding the Super Tactical Droid our resource requests until he is truly self sufficient. We need that hidden base producing at full capacity without anyone noticing, and when they do we can divert resources elsewhere while he will then start supplying is with resources, ships and droids. Ask him how the schematics on the improved vulture droids is going."
"Already arranged," Rusty replied. "The droid reports the refinery is now at seventy-nine percent. First batch of new B2s and specialist units will be ready for discreet transport within three weeks, he reports that increasing the vulture flight time from the original 20 minutes without overly changing the design or bulking up the fighter is proving rather quarrelsome. Estimating 1 and half years of trial and error with different fuels and engine calibrations."
I looked out at the growing infrastructure spread across my system. Factories on the moon feeding the shipyard above the planet, the gas giant platform turning raw atmospheric gases into fuel and blaster energy cells. Trade lanes bringing in people and materials while our patrols kept the surrounding empty systems clear of smugglers and slavers. The mixed crews on the captured ships were already proving themselves in real operations, blending droid precision with organic determination.
Oh yeah. It is all coming together. As kronk once so aptly put it.
I sigh, if only things were truly as good as I hope it would but I knew better than that.
Every new factory, every arriving settler, every completed module on the shipyard made Elyria louder on the Imperial map, or any other map to be exact. Thrawn had seen it. Pellaeon was watching. The Moff was still skimming tribute and likely growing nervous as heads continued to roll around him.
Contrary to what I thought originally we are truly not that far away from hutt space, maybe 3 weeks using their hyperlanes that they dont tend to share with outsiders month and some for using the 'public' hyperlanes.
I turned to Rusty. "Double the encryption on all communications with the hidden base. And tell the Super Tactical Droid to accelerate scout missions on the remaining confederation remnant vaults. We need to know exactly what's left out there if anything before someone else decides to take it."
"Understood." Rusty's photoreceptors brightened slightly. "Shall I also prepare a summary for the next strategy meeting? The combined trade, migration, and industrial growth will require adjustments to militia training and patrol rotations. "I nodded. "Do it, also start a draft of a bill where the more children a family has the less tax they pay, we need to increase their number also get all orphanages under the government control and funnel credits into it, if there are large populations of orphan children in surrounding system start offering to take them to Elyria. Children are mailable from young age."
As the red sun began to set behind the planet's curve, casting long shadows across the shipyard's growing frame, I felt the familiar pride at what I have fucking achieved. With it only being few months before I have been here officially a year.
Later that evening, I sat alone in my office with a fresh mug of caf, pulling up the full current inventory on my datapad, It was time to take stock of exactly what we had built and what we still needed to protect it.
Our naval strength had grown significantly the original Gozanti still served as my mobile command ship. We still also operated three captured and retrofitted cruisers that formed the backbone of our patrol groups. On top of that, roughly fifteen additional ships (mostly light freighters, corvettes, and gunships taken from the pirate confederation, not including the armed cargo haulers which have been delegated to merchant work) had been pressed into service.
Twelve of them were entirely droid-crewed for , while the remaining three carried mixed organic crews for more complex operations.
Fighter strength was more varied but easier to crew, we had managed to put together a respectable wing: the surviving TIEs, a mix of Headhunters, Y-wings, and various pirate-modified Z-95s and Firesprays. In total we could now field around seventy operational fighters and bombers, with more being repaired or upgraded every week.
On the ground we had expanded our vehicle pool as well a handful of captured AT-ST walkers, several dozen speeder bikes, and a growing number of repulsorlift transports and armoured sleds for the militia.
I made a mental note to look into upgrading the two Acclamators. Their original turbolasers were decent, but replacing some batteries with star destroyer or at least spare venerator grade weapons would give them significantly more punch without requiring a full refit.
I leaned back in the chair, staring at the glowing inventory list.
God this feels like I am playing Hearts of Iron 7 or something.
***
Few more weeks had passed and the transformation of Elyria was no longer subtle as was the not so subtle spies and agent mulling around the palace or military facilities, I dont think its only the ISB either.
I stood on the wide observation platform of the nearly completed orbital shipyard, the vast structure humming with activity all around me. Massive durasteel ribs curved overhead like the skeleton of a sleeping leviathan. Workers and tens of thousands of droids and droid operated machinery swarmed across the framework, welding, installing shield generators, and mounting turbolaser batteries.
Rusty has become almost my shadow, pretty much going wherever I go calling me creator and others meatbags the droids just get clankers with the hard r.
He stood beside me. "Structural integrity is holding well," he reported in his crisp voice. "The new defensive modules will be fully calibrated within ten days. We will have the capacity to service three capital ships simultaneously and maintain a permanent fighter wing of at least eighty craft. The shipyard's own shield grid is also nearing completion. Estimated final completion without accounting on the interior is approximately 15 days, we have accelerated the fighter and bombing training and repairs."
I nodded, then lowered my voice. "And the hidden asset?"
Rusty switched to the fully encrypted channel. "The Super Tactical Droid reports excellent progress. The hidden base is now at ninety-one percent operational capacity. The droid refinery has begun limited production of experimental units and more standardised production line of B2 super battle droids and specialist maintenance units. Scout probes have successfully mapped three remaining confederation remnant vaults that were in his personnal database. Two are lightly defended and ripe for acquisition, the third one seems to have been found out by imperial scouts years ago and is now defunct with the base razed to the ground. Suggestion: send in a small recovery and scout force to see if anything remained behind on the third vault. The droid also suggests we begin discreet transfers of small numbers of reactivated units to supplement our existing forces without drawing attention."
I exhaled slowly, staring out at the growing shipyard. "Tell the droid to prepare the first small transfer," I said quietly. "No more than two hundred units initially, mixed types, delivered via blind drone drops all deactivated then hide them under the palace, use droids to transfer them I will give you and them personal order, not even palace guards are to know about this. And have him continue scouting the priority targets. Tell him to hit the weakest vault within the next month, I will send a few of the droid crewed ships to him."
"Orders logged and transmitted," Rusty confirmed. "He also sends a personal note: 'The governor's approach continues to align more closely with viable long-term stability models than any previous organic command structure I have analysed within the CIS or remnants.'"
I allowed myself a small, wry smile. Even the cold tactical droid was starting to sound almost approving. Fucking great really, next thing I know I get a black bag over my head and I am being interrogated by ISB.
Rusty tilted his head slightly. "The combined industrial output from the moon factories, gas giant platform, and this shipyard will give us true self-sufficiency within another four to five months. Patrol fleets are already deterring most smugglers and slavers in the surrounding systems. The crews have proven remarkably effective."
I sigh. "Would you ever believe we would end up here Rusty?"
"Not in a million years creator."
***
Late that night, long after most of the palace had gone quiet, I sat alone in my office.
The only light came from the soft blue glow of multiple datapads spread across my desk and the faint red haze of Elyria's moons filtering through the viewport. I had lost track of how many hours I had been here, reviewing the latest consolidated reports. Trade manifests, factory output numbers, settler integration statistics, patrol logs from the mixed crews, progress updates on the gas giant platform, and the steady advancement of the orbital shipyard.
Everything was moving faster than I had expected, I leaned back in the chair, rubbing my eyes. My dark hair was disheveled, and the sleeves of my gray tunic were rolled up. A cold mug of tea sat forgotten beside me.
Rusty had finally left an hour ago to run final diagnostics on the new defensive modules for the shipyard, even in his upgraded body he never seemed to need rest the way organics did.
I was about to close the last report when the chrono on the wall chimed softly.
Midnight.
The sound was quiet, almost gentle, but it hit me like a physical blow.
I stared at the glowing numbers, one full year.
I had been on Elyria for exactly one year tonight. A year since I woke up in that bacta tank with two sets of memories crashing together in my skull, a year since I realized I was no longer on Earth, no longer just a tired, pandemic-weary young man reading fanfiction and playing games, but the reluctant governor of a forgotten system on the edge of the Empire who was caught in a crossfire of imperial bastards who thought my parents were a threat or a bother.
One year.
I had gone from a scared, paranoid fifteen-year-old trying not to get assassinated to… this.
I looked out the viewport at the night sky, the orbital shipyard was visible as a faint constellation of construction lights slowly orbiting the planet, the moon's factories never slept while patrol ships crewed by droids and determined humans swept the surrounding empty systems.
New settlers were arriving every week with mandalorian clans putting down roots and freed slaves building new lives.
And hidden three systems away, a secret droid army was growing under the quiet direction of a surviving Super Tactical Droid that had decided my goals were the closest thing it had ever seen to a viable future after the end of the war.
All of that in one year.
A small, tired smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.
Only a few more weeks until my birthday, I would turn sixteen soon.
Sixteen years old, and I was already running a system that was starting to look like an actual power instead of a backwater joke.
I thought about my parents Armand and Elena Voss. The way they had tried to do things the right way in a galaxy that punished people for it. I wondered what they would think if they could see me now. Building factories, forging alliances with Mandalorians, secretly accumulating a droid army, playing the long game against the inevitably failing Empire while pretending to be the loyal governor.
Would they be proud?
Or would they be terrified of what I was becoming? I rubbed the scar on my temple again and whispered into the quiet room. "One year down, four years till events of rebels and Andor."
The moons continued their slow arc outside the viewport. The shipyard lights kept blinking. Somewhere out in the black, the Super Tactical Droid was still working, expanding the hidden base, preparing for whatever came next.
I closed the last datapad and stood up, stretching sore muscles.
Sixteen soon, and virgin in both life's, combining memories and the years alive I am like thirty something.
Man.
This shit fucking sucks.
I dont even have the time to go playing or inviting a 'lady' from one of the establishments.
Sigh