Chapter Text
For new readers:
The Freak Fleet verse is a mix of Canon and Legends that follows the lives of Grand Admiral Thrawn and his officers. In this verse, the Task Force Admonitor set off for the Unknown Regions without Thrawn who remained in the galaxy to dismantle the Lothal Rebellion for Palpatine.
The Imperials under Admiral Parck and Captain Niriz had to overcome their pride and learn to work alongside renegade Chiss warriors led by Stent, who was dissatisfied with the Ascendancy’s official policy on pre-emptive strikes.
Eli Vanto (Assistant Syndic Mitth'eli'vanto in my verse) arrives as an emissary from the Chiss Ascendancy to deliver grim news: the Galactic Civil War has ended with the collapse of the Galactic Empire and the death of the Emperor. Grand Admiral Thrawn has been declared missing in action and hasn’t been seen in years.
Mitth'eli'vanto also presents Parck with a complete record of the Galactic Empire’s crimes against both aliens and humans with the destruction of Alderaan being only the beginning, which leaves Admiral Parck with no choice but to distance himself from the fallen Empire and finally transform Task Force Admonitor into the Empire of the Hand.
The first chapter should be easily readable even to someone who’s never encountered my other stories as it begins with Parck and Niriz briefing their senior officers on what has transpired in the galaxy during their isolation from the HoloNet.
(I’m using the canonical explanation that the Unknown Regions are closed off by a labyrinth of solar storms, rogue magnetospheres, black holes, gravity wells, and things far stranger, becoming the Canon equivalent of the Maw from Legends. It suits my purposes perfectly.)
Essentially, the Imperials are about to experience their “Are we the baddies?” moment.
Since I began writing the Freak Fleet series before Thrawn 2017 novel was released, it follows the old Imperial ranking system:
Ensign -> Lieutenant -> Lieutenant Commander -> Commander -> Captain -> Vice Admiral -> Admiral -> Fleet Admiral -> Grand Admiral
Captain Niriz silently observed the expressions on the senior staff of Task Force Admonitor as Admiral Parck called them in for a briefing on the major events unfolding across the wider galaxy.
He knew them all; some better than others. He was, of course, most familiar with the current captain of the ISD Reckoning, who had once served as Niriz's executive officer until the Reckoning’s former captain had decided to publicly challenge Parck’s command decisions.
At first came disbelief and quiet murmurs followed by sidelong glances, as they were no doubt questioning the admiral’s sanity, dismissing it all as some kind of bizarre Rebel propaganda that Parck had stumbled across and foolishly believed.
Niriz stood up to assure them that the information was genuine.
More murmurs. More shock.
Slowly their faces started turning green, pale, ashen, or red with anger.
Shouting followed. And curses.
Then came the most difficult part: Parck’s and Niriz’s carefully phrased condemnations of the Galactic Empire’s crimes and their proposal to rebrand the Task Force as a faction that preserved the Empire’s strengths while abandoning its worst failings.
Their revisions to the New Order.
Their refusal to attack the New Republic or attempt to restore the Galactic Empire.
Which by any measure amounted to treason.
And while every captain and commander had been searched for weapons before entering the conference room, and while Parck and Niriz themselves carried sidearms just in case, with a squad of Chiss warriors waiting outside if anything went wrong, neither of them could be certain it wouldn’t end in a bloodbath.
No matter what the senior staff thought about the Empire’s crimes, there were still many who would want to lash out at the New Republic in revenge and feel betrayed at being denied the chance to strike back.
But all of them fell silent when Niriz’s current executive officer stood up.
The man’s face was pale as a corpse.
He had, after all, been born on Alderaan.
He was also the only one who hadn’t spoken a word during the entire briefing, sitting stiffly next to Niriz with fists clenched, and with his face carved from stone.
Once Niriz had learned what the Death Star had done to Alderaan, he had avoided his first officer like the plague, coming up with excuse after excuse: endless paperwork, different duty shifts, anything to avoid looking him in the eyes.
The atmosphere in the room became so heavy that Niriz felt as if the gravity generators had malfunctioned and raised the gravity by several Gs, because whatever opinions the senior staff might have held, none of them had the gall to meet the eyes of a man whose homeworld had been destroyed by the very regime they had all sworn loyalty to.
By a weapon built on the Emperor’s orders.
“If you’ll excuse me, sirs. Admiral. Captain. I feel … indisposed,” the Alderaanian said in a hoarse voice.
“Of course, Commander,” Parck said quietly into the silence. “In fact, let’s adjourn for now. I’ll forward you the file later today, you can all review the details on your own.”
The Alderaanian officer marched out, with every movement so rigid that he seemed to hold together by sheer military drill alone. Niriz considered following him, but Parck placed a hand on his shoulder, wordlessly telling him to let the man grieve in private.
Hopefully the man wouldn’t put a blaster to his head before the day was out.
***
Later that evening Niriz couldn’t take it anymore. He stopped by Commander Joren Celchu’s quarters, and when the man didn’t respond to the chime, Niriz used his rank cylinder to override the lock.
The man looked like a living corpse, sitting on his bunk, hunched over, and scrolling through holos that Niriz assumed were his old photos and images of Alderaan.
He didn’t get up when Niriz entered. Didn’t salute. Didn’t even seem to register his presence.
“Commander Celchu?” Niriz asked quietly.
The man didn’t raise his head. “I have a cousin, Tycho, who also joined the Empire. A TIE fighter pilot. I can’t help but wonder … Is he dead? Or has he joined the Rebellion?”
Niriz hesitated, then walked over and sat down beside him. Normally ignoring a superior so completely would have been unthinkable, and under any other circumstances Niriz would have yelled him down like a drill sergeant.
“Will you join him?” Niriz asked at last. Deliberately he left the question hanging in the air, without specifying whether he meant in death or in Rebellion.
Celchu let out a low, broken sound.
“I… don’t know,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “I really don’t know.”
“I’ll have your sidearm and rank cylinders, Commander Celchu,” Niriz said after a moment. “You’re clearly medically unfit for duty right now.”
Celchu finally raised his head. “Am I a prisoner?”
“No,” Niriz assured his very loyal executive officer until now. “In fact, you’re free to choose whatever path you wish as long as you reveal nothing about the Task Force Admonitor. After everything that’s happened, I imagine you don’t want anything to do with any regime with the word the Empire in it.”
“I…” Celchu faltered. “Thank you. That’s… unusually generous. I imagine most Alderaanian Imperials in the galaxy were seen as security risks. Probably all arrested by COMPNOR’s Loyalty Officers, presumed to turn Rebel sooner or later.”
Yes, Niriz thought grimly. That was probably exactly what had happened back home.
“What will you do, Captain?” Celchu asked, looking him directly in the eyes, and it took all of Niriz’s effort not to flinch from the broken man’s gaze.
“I’ve decided to take Admiral Parck up on his offer and become a Moff,” Niriz said. “Effectively limiting his power by keeping him in check… just as he’ll keep me in check. Neither will be allowed to make important decisions without the approval of the other, so nothing like this can ever happen here. Power tends to corrupt and absolute power corrupts absolutely.”
Celchu looked away.
“As my first officer, command of the ISD Admonitor would naturally pass to you,” Niriz added. “But I understand if you refuse.”
The man released a deep sigh, leaning back against the wall.
“I don’t know… I’m not capable of rational thinking right now.”
“Of course, Commander Celchu. Take as much time off as you need.”
THE END
“Power tends to corrupt and absolute power corrupts absolutely” - John Dalberg-Acton