Beyond - Legends My Word! But it was so artistically done.

Despite his best efforts, Captain Pellaeon was once again startled on entering the Grand Admiral’s command room. In this instance, however, it was not an unusually horrific painting that perturbed him, nor Rukh, who, having already reached the pinnacle of comedy with “Gotcha!” had started on a succession of hilarious variations. This time, it was the sight of the late Emperor, seated in the Admiral’s chair and wearing a hairnet. On hearing Pellaeon enter, the Emperor looked up, dropped his magazine and half-rose.

“Don’t salute,” snapped Thrawn, stalking out of the shadows. “I’m not applying that lot a third time. Start getting into character.” As the hopefully-not-Emperor receded into his seat and began a series of raspy vocal exercises, Thrawn turned to Pellaeon, arching an eyebrow. “What do you think?”

“Utterly repulsive, sir. Very realistic.” Pellaeon paused a moment to reorder his thoughts. “We’ve arrived in-system and the shuttle is ready.”

Thrawn returned his eyebrow to rest position. “Good. Now, I suppose you’re wondering why I’ve had Corporal Muir here – a very capable member of the Chimaera Amateur Dramatic Society – got up as our late sovereign.”

“The thought had occurred to me, sir.”

“It is all part of a cunning plan, captain. You’ve heard rumours of senior officers being approached to rally around another Palpatine impostor?” Pellaeon nodded. “Some rather questionable intelligence suggests that Grand Moff Norden contemplates joining them – he’s a bit peeved with some slight criticism I made regarding his handling of the rebels–”

Ah.

“–so I’ll simply send him a couple of ‘conspirators’ and a reasonably obvious, apparently well-funded impostor, closely monitor him and gauge his reaction. With luck we might identify a few other conspirators.”

“Ingenious, sir.” Pellaeon peered more closely at the heavily-disguised corporal, now practising a dry chuckle. “What you said – ‘reasonably obvious’ – the cloak is excellent–”

“Thankyou.”

“–but I notice, at second glance, that his face does seem a little…off.”

“Yes…well…” The Grand Admiral looked slightly defensive. “We don’t have that much in the way of cosmetics on board – certainly no proper theatrical makeup or facial prosthetics to hand – and this was a rather spur-of-the-moment cunning plan–”

“I’d never have guessed, sir.”

“So I used a mixture of medical supplies and quite a lot of repair sealant. Mostly it’s a sort of putty. And really,” Thrawn looked sharply at Pellaeon, “as long as he looks the worse for wear, that should be enough. I mean, he can’t look too good, or people will start believing the Emperor’s really back. It’s got to be a bit worse.”

“I don’t think you need worry on that front, sir. You’ve pitched it beautifully between the two extremes of competence and utter disaster.”

“Ha-hmm.” Thrawn grabbed a stick leaning against the chair and his expression brightened. “I am rather proud of this. A facsimile of the Emperor’s walking stick. I’m surprised we had any wood on board at all, although of course I had to carve and swart it myself.” The Grand Admiral looked at Pellaeon expectantly.

“Swart, sir?”

Thrawn preened. “To blacken or darken. The wood had to be swarter to match the Emperor’s cane. Of course, there’s no reason you should have known what it meant – it’s not a very common word.” He glanced down at the chair. “Ready?”

The ersatz Emperor rose, removed his hairnet, brought the hood of his cloak down to wreath his ravaged face in shadow, and delivered an evil laugh.

“Right,” said Thrawn, who then proceeded to make a last minute check of the decoy before directing Pellaeon to lead the little party to the hangar. The Grand Admiral’s terse, even curt, phrasing in doing so greatly impressed Pellaeon as a demonstration of Imperial efficiency.

“Putty,” Thrawn said, “Putty (worse), swarter stick; lead on!”

 

That was hilarious. And very reminiscent of the plan to "bring back" a "genuine" Grand Admiral in the Hand of Thrawn

 

Fun story! I especially like Pellaeon in this.

You’ve pitched it beautifully between the two extremes of competence and utter disaster. - Great line!