Vision of the future

'Again, from the same source. It's the record and life history of a certain Imperial Major Grodin Tierce.'

Slowly, Tierce turned back to face him. And this time there was no mistaking the murder in his eyes. 'And what does that record say?' he asked softly.

'It says that Major Tierce was one of the finest combat stormtroopers ever to serve the Empire,' Pellaeon told him. 'That his successes raised him to command rank far more quickly than even stormtrooper norm. That at the age of twenty-four he was selected to serve the Emperor as one of the elite Royal Guard. That his fierce loyalty to Palpatine's New Order was second to none.' Pellaeon lifted his eyebrows slightly. 'And that, as part of a stormtrooper unit involved in Thrawn's campaign against Generis, he died in combat.

'Ten years ago.'

Once again, the bridge went silent. But this time it wasn't the silence of surprise. It was the silence of total shock.

'You're a clone.' The words had come from Disra, but the voice was so distorted as to be almost unrecognizable. 'You're just a clone.'

Slowly, Tierce turned his venomous gaze from Pellaeon to Disra. And then, abruptly, he barked out a short, tortured-sounding laugh. 'Just a clone,' he repeated mockingly. 'Just a clone—is that what you said, Disra? Just a clone? You have no idea.'

He looked around the room. 'None of you do. I wasn't just a clone—I was something very special. Something special and glorious.'

'Why don't you tell us what that was,' Pellaeon invited quietly. Tierce spun back to face him. 'I was the first of a new breed,' he bit out. 'The first of what would have been a class of warlords the likes of which the galaxy had never seen. Warlords who combined stormtrooper combat strength and loyalty with Thrawn's own tactical genius. We would have led, and we would have conquered, and no one could have stood against us.'

He turned around, his movements becoming almost jerky in his agitation. 'Don't you see?' he shouted, his eyes darting to each of the officers and crewers staring in fascination or revulsion at him.

'Thrawn took Tierce and cloned him, but he put some of himself into the process. He added part of his own tactical genius to the usual flash-learning, combining it with Tierce's own mind.' He spun again to face Disra. 'You've seen it, Disra. Whether you know it or not, you've seen it. I was manipulating you from the very start—don't you see? It was me, right from the minute I maneuvered myself in as your aide. All those pirate attacks—the Preybird deals— that was me. All me. You never saw it—you never even guessed it—but I was the one making the quiet suggestions and feeding you the right data in the right order to get you to do what I wanted.

'And all the rest of you have seen it, too,' he shouted, spinning around again. 'I've been running the tactics here. Not Flim—not that red-eyed figurehead. Me. It's always been me. And I'm good at it—it's what Thrawn made me to be. I can do this.'

His eyes seized on Disra again. 'You talk about the Hand of Thrawn, his last ultimate weapon,' he said, his voice almost pleading. 'I can be that Hand of Thrawn. I can be Thrawn himself. I can defeat the New Republic—I know it.'

'No, Major,' Pellaeon said. 'The war is over.'

Tierce spun back to face him. 'No,' he snarled. 'It's not over. Not yet. Not until we've crushed Coruscant. Not until we've had our vengeance against the Rebels.'

Pellaeon gazed at him, pity and revulsion swirling together within him. 'You don't understand at all,' he said sadly. 'Thrawn was never interested in vengeance. His goal was order, and stability, and the strength that comes of unity and common purpose.'

'And how would you know what Thrawn was interested in?' Tierce sneered. 'Do you have part of his mind inside you? Well? Do you?'

Pellaeon sighed. 'You say you were the first of these new warlords. Do you know why there weren't any others?'

Tierce's eyes seemed to withdraw within him. 'He ran out of time,' he said. 'He died at Bilbringi. You let him die at Bilbringi.'

'No.' Pellaeon lifted the datacard slightly. 'You were created two months before his death—there was plenty of time for him to have made others. The fact is that there weren't any others because the experiment was a failure.'

'Impossible,' Tierce breathed. 'I wasn't a failure. Look at me— look at me. I'm exactly what he wanted.'

Pellaeon shook his head. 'What he wanted was a tactically brilliant leader,' he said gently. 'What he got was a tactically brilliant stormtrooper. You're not a leader, Major. By your own statement you're nothing but a