The Woes of Zaarin
Unfair.
That was the main thought that traversed the former Grand Admiral's mind as he sat in his cell. Once one of the twelve elite Grand Admirals of the Imperial military, a man who had revolutionized Imperial starfighter design and had the ear of the Emperor and Lord Vader themselves, reduced to a mere prisoner in the hands of his greatest enemy. Instead of the grand quarters a man of his stature deserved, he now had a mere prison cell, and the beautiful uniform that he had earned replaced with the rags given to the rabble in the Empire's prisons.
The sheer indignity of it all was enough to drive him mad. He was no pirate or thug, he was
Demetrius Zaarin! While
Batch was flailing around trying to perfect his cloaking technology, he had successfully created not one, but
two magnificent Tie designs that far surpassed that of the regular Tie Fighter! He was crushing Rebel footholds while fools like Ozzel couldn't even perform a hyperspace manuever correctly! He was the man who had seen the folly of Palpatine long before that alien or any of these other traitors, and he had sought to do something about it! While lesser men like
Harkov were courting favor among the Rebels,
he was hard at work finding the allies necessary to save the Empire from that deluded fanatic! But despite his efforts, the Empire had actively resisted his plan to save it, and doomed itself to destruction on Endor.
Of course, it wasn't meant to be this way. If all had gone the way they were meant to, he would be ruling over the galaxy from his throne, having rid the galaxy of Palpatine, crushed the Rebellion, and the Empire would be at the dawn of an age of unparalleled greatness. Of course, circumstances had conspired to rob the galaxy of this future. If that
Lyn fool hadn't convinced him into abducting the Emperor instead of killing him, the battle and the Empire would've been his. She further showed her true colors when she abandoned him and his men following his loss to the alien. That's what he gets for relying on another follower of that ancient religion.
Not all had been lost. Despite the setback at Imperial Center, his forces had still proved to be a significant threat to the Emperor. He destroyed many of the Empire's facilities constructing his perfect designs, which allowed him to maintain a technological advantage over his enemies. Sadly, that advantage dried up quickly as Thrawn continued to crush him at every turn. It got to a point where he was forced to abandon his beloved flagship and flee with what forces he had left into the Unknown Regions. He at least managed to gain some satisfaction from punishing
Raveen for his failure in protecting the Glory, even if doing so left him with one less capable officer.
His time in the Unknown Regions had proved to be the absolute worst of Zaarin's life. As a result of being cut off from the necessary supplies in Imperial territory, his fleet was reduced to raiding the few colonies he could find, intercepting any and all trade vessels, and seizing whatever assets he could attain from any unfortunate Imperial patrols. He loathed doing this, as he was a proud Imperial Admiral, not some disgusting pirate on the Hutts' payroll. But his command codes were of no use when he was so far from Imperial space, and he couldn't risk his men starting a mutiny should they run out of supplies. If he didn't have the Tie Phantoms, that likely would've happened.
Of course, because the galaxy loved tormenting him, Thrawn somehow managed to find the location of his fleet and resumed his hunt for him. Not even the death of the Emperor was enough to deter his pursuit. He at least sent a capable admiral, instead of some insignificant underling. It was a shame Voss Parck had fallen in league with the alien, he could've used someone of his talents at Imperial Center.
Memories of the battle continued to sour his already terrible mood. If his feckless subordinates hadn't convinced him to take a more cautious approach and hunker down at To-phalion Base, he could've managed a victory and hit Thrawn where it
hurt. Instead, he capitulated to their idiocy and gave the alien enough time to arrive with reinforcements.
By that point, he knew the battle was lost. While he was loathe to admit it, the alien had proven time and time again to be a superior commander, the sad state of his forces being a glaring reminder of that. He hoped that he could manage to cause Thrawn to lose enough of his forces to force a withdrawal, or at the very least eliminate enough of the enemy fleet before they overwhelmed him. If he had to die, he'd prefer to die in battle, like any brave Imperial should. Unfortunately, he once again underestimated the cruelty of the galaxy.
He remembered feeling a slight twinge of hope when he saw that one IS2 charge at his fleet alone, clearly defying their ruler. It made him happy knowing that there were still true Imperials among the alien's band of fools, and it almost saddened him when the Phantoms made short work of it. It all subsequently went downhill when his fleet was suddenly enveloped in an interdiction field and he witnessed numerous enemy transports boarding the Golans and a few of the IS2s of his fleet, including his own.
He remembered the panic that enveloped the bridge, and his frantic commands to secure the hangar bay as quickly as possible. All he could do was watch on his security feeds as his men were easily slaughtered by group of five mere stormtroopers and some Nautolan who he assumed was a bounty hunter. He was quite intrigued with the weapon she possessed, as he had seen her use it to kill an entire stormtrooper squad in a matter of seconds. It was like a fire devouring paper. He wasn't able to admire the weapon for long, as before he knew it, they had breached the bridge. Zaarin had attempted to defend himself, but one of the stormtroopers easily subdued him with a stun beam, and he found himself awakening in the brig of his own Star Destroyer.
From there, he had been brought to Thrawn's pathetic excuse of a capital world, stripped of his uniform, and tossed into what had been his home for the previous few months. As if to add further insult to this demeaning situation, the Chiss had seemingly decided to ignore him, as though he hadn't gone to all the effort of stealing his fleet from him and reducing him to
this. It didn't help that his demands for an audience with Thrawn were constantly ignored, often times met with mocking laughter from the guards. He wasn't even visited by this Echani woman who was dead set on overturning 20 years of Imperial military doctrine! He wouldn't have minded a visit, if only to get the chance to spit in her eye for trying to destroy such a foundational part of the Empire.
But it appeared that he would never get that chance, as he had no doubt of his ultimate fate. The alien may be taking his time, but Zaarin had no doubt that he would soon find himself at the end of an Imperial firing squad. He would be forever remembered as nothing more than a traitor, and his name would undoubtedly be spat on by those who still called themselves Imperials. It mattered not the true reasons for his actions nor how the galaxy could've benefited from them had things gone right. He had lost, and his failures would be all that the galaxy remembered him for. To that, the former Grand Admiral only had one word.
Unfair.
Author's Note
It took me a couple weeks, but I finally managed to finish this omake. I really hope that you folks like my first ever omake for a quest, and I want to give a big thank you to
@TirelessTraveler for being willing to look this over before I posted it and fixing a few grammatical mistakes that I missed.
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