Heir to the Empire

Chapter 4

He stared at the endless blue swirling dimension glistening before him. He had once enjoyed traveling at light speed, he remembered joining the Republic navy solely for the chance to travel the stars. But now—now he despised it. He was cursed to witness the seventh fleet enter hyperspace by force when the strange creatures grabbed them from orbit. He could still remember the cold embrace the monstrous tentacles had on him as they entered hyperspace. How they tightened around his neck—

 “Captain Pellaeon,” a voice called down the port side crew pit, interrupting his train of thought. “We'll arrive at Wayland in a couple of minutes.”

 “Excellent,” Pellaeon said, clearing his throat. “Have our sublight engines on standby. And have the shuttle ready for launch as soon as we arrive. The Grand Admiral will be personally directing this operation. Lieutenant Tchel will be in command while we are gone.”

 “Understood, sir.”

 It took the Chimaera nearly five days to reach Wayland. But that was alright, because it took the engineers nearly that long to come up with a portable frame that would both support and nourish the ysalamiri. He failed to reason why Thrawn needed such ridiculous creatures to begin with, but hopefully that would soon be revealed to him. 

 Pellaeon took one last glance at the endless blue swirling void before turning around and walking away. 

___

 “I’m still not convinced this is really necessary,” Pellaeon grunted, eyeing with distance the thick curved pipe and fur-scaled, salamanderlike creature attached to it. The pipe and its attached frame were blasted heavy, and the creature itself smelled terribly. “If the Emperor left one of his guardians on Wayland, then I don’t see why we should have any problems with him.”

 “Call it a precaution, Captain,” Thrawn said. “It’s conceivable we may have trouble convincing him of who we are. Or even that we still serve the Empire.”

 The gentle roar of atmospheric friction was growing loud as the shuttle entered the planet's upper atmosphere. “We might have had an easier time convincing him with a squad of stormtroopers.” Pellaeon muttered, watching the repeater display beside his seat. 

 “We might also irritate him,” Thrawn pointed out. “An Inquisitor’s pride and sensibility are not to be taken lightly. Besides—“ he looked over his shoulder, “—that’s what Meelwah is for. Any close association with the Emperor ought to be familiar with the glorious role the Noghri have played over the years.”

 Pellaeon glanced at the silent assassin seated across the aisle. “You seem certain that this Guardian will be an Inquisitor.”

 “Who else would the Emperor have chosen to guard his safe house?” Thrawn countered. 

 Pellaeon grimaced. Given the history of the inquisitors during the early days of the war, they weren’t a very reliable source in guarding something so precious to the Emperor. “Still—“ Pellaeon said, cautiously taking a glance at Thrawn. “—given our history dealing with Jedi, a squad of stormtroopers would have been a safer approach.”

 “Ah,” Thrawn smiled. “You need not worry about any dangers of a Jedi or Inquisitor, Captain. That is what the ysalamiri is for. With these creatures, we are the ones in command now.”

 Pellaeon nodded silently. Reaching surreptitiously to his right thigh, he adjusted his blaster. Thrawn could be as confident as he liked, both in the ysalamiri and in his own logic. For his part, Pellaeon still wished they had more firepower. 

 As they continued to fly down towards the planet, they could see through the repeater display a small city resting at the foot of a mountain. “Is that Mount Tantiss?” Pellaeon asked the accompanying pilot.