The kids are abed, the evening chores are done, and I have no responsibilities for the next 6 hours. I could use this opportunity to continue plucking away at the game story, or to clean up the outline on the science fiction novel idea, but I know myself. I’m doing my best to ignore the exhaustion from the day job and will, most likely, fall asleep typing at my desk. I’ll be nudged awake by my wife to get myself to bed.
So, with that in mind, I’m accepting that I won’t get any real work done tonight. I’m going to play with a “What-If” scenario! Me being a Star Wars nerd, it’ll be Star Wars themed, of course.
I’ve had a “What If?” question in the back of my mind for over a decade now, and I’ve pondered on the possible outcomes. It’s an Expanded Universe (Legends) scenario, so if you haven’t gotten into that universe, I apologize for seeming confusing. I haven’t explored Disney’s canon yet, and while I applaud them giving Star Wars screentime and interesting stories, I’m more comfortable in the books of my childhood.
“What If Thrawns’ Clone Survived?”
For context: Grand Admiral Thrawn was killed in 9ABY at the “Battle of Bilbringi”, by a knife wound given by his bodyguard Rukh. 10 years later, Luke Skywalker and Mara Jade find out that Thrawn had set up a singular cloning tank, on a far-off planet called Niruan, with his own clone inside, set to decant ten years after his death. In the story, the clone was killed when Skywalker and Jade destroyed the tanks’ generator to help them escape a flood chamber.
For this scenario, let’s say that the clone had awakened three days before Skywalker and Jade entered the chamber. Upon decanting, the clone was startled to find himself alive and full of memories, but without the mental context to sort them. He was alone, in a deep cavern, and confused.
His movement upon de-canting provoked the guardian programming built into the chamber. A face appeared in a hologram, declaring “Who disturbs the sleep of Syndic Mitth’raw’nuruodo?” The face stared at the clone, waiting.
The clone took a deep breath, calming his thoughts, when a memory that was not his own struck. That was a coded question, he knew, and he had the answer without realizing it.
“Syndic Mitth’raw’nuruodo has awakened and no longer needs your stewardship.” The hologram faded away and several gears whir in the background, as traps and security measures were disabled. The computer system in one corner flickered as it came to life, beckoning the clone to it. He saw that the screen had a pending message for him. He pressed the key to begin playing it.
He found himself facing another hologram: deceased Grand Admiral Thrawn, standing with his back straight and hands clasped behind him, looking down at the clone. “If this message was activated, it is because I was killed ten years prior, and my clone is now alive.”
The hologram turned and faced the clone, almost as if the program were sentient, or that Thrawn would know where his clone would prefer to stand. “You are my replacement, my backup plan. You are going to continue my work. I trust you will make yourself ready.” The hologram gestures out, taking in the entire cavern. The clone looked around to realize that it had the makings of a modest apartment, furniture wrapped in storage cloth and set to the side. “You will find everything you need here to make yourself comfortable, and you will learn everything you can about the last ten years. You flash-learning was expertly programmed, but you may need time for everything to settle. You will take this time.”
The clone frowned, thinking about the memories floating about in his consciousness. Yes, it was there, but Thrawn was correct that it needed time to firm in his mind. “Are you an interactive interface or simply a recording?” the clone asked, slightly disturbed that his voice perfectly matched the hologram.
“This is a limited interface,” Thrawn said. “A program of Chiss design. We programmed the flash-learning you were given into a hologram, so we would be able to expect your questions and give reasonable answers. What is it that you want to know?”
“You said I was created to continue your work,” the clone said. He tapped the side of his head, realizing for the first time that his hair could reach the small of his back. Ten years of clone growth, he supposed. “I do not know what that work is, yet.”
The hologram gave a bitter smile. “My work was the safety of our people,” he said. “I took on the task of ensuring the safety and well-being of the galaxy, however those concepts should be brought about.”
“How will I continue that work?” the clone asked. “That seems to be a monumental task.”
(And here it was that I fell asleep at my desk, woke up to wander to bed, and have now woken up for the day-off, so we’ll finish this section.)
“You will continue my work,” Thrawn said, still smiling, “by at first, learning. The knowledge is already there, but you have the time, for now, to fully accept it. I suggest you get started.”
The lights in the cavern brightened until the chamber was fully lit, and the clone could see a small refresher station set in an alcove. Sighing, he went over to it and made himself look presentable, though he left his hair at shoulder-length, deigning to wait for a droid or properly trained work to handle that.
“Very good,” Thrawn said from the computer station. “Once you’ve established your quarters, you will begin the queued programs I have waiting for you. I suspect that the last ten years have been harrowing for the galaxy, so we should get started soonest.”
The clone nodded at this and, with the assistance of housekeeping droids hidden away in their own niches, set up his quarters. It was a couple hours before his new home was ready, and the cooker had a meal prepared for him. With his needs met, he went to the computer and began reading up on the history of the galaxy.
Swift's Corner 