An Officer and a Syndic

by RentorSunrise (starBirdStencil)

Summary:

You weren't sure what to expect when you agreed to travel to the heart of the Chiss Ascendancy, but it certainly wasn't to aid a politician on his side project. As you dig deeper into the mysteries of the Chiss you begin to find yourself growing attached to them in ways you never expected.

Notes:

Thanks as always to my fantastic beta readers and friends who have fallen in love with Thrass as much as I have.

Chapter 1

Parties were not your thing. You usually felt like an alien, never wanting to bother with small talk and noise. Except this time, you really were an alien. You looked out on the sea of beautiful blue faces and was suddenly very self conscious. What were you doing here? A human in the Chiss Ascendancy? Lieutenant Commander Eli Vanto did just fine but he was off who knows where in a CEDF warship, away from social events and stigma. 

Away from feeling like an exhibit in a Coruscanti menagerie. 

Stars, you had no business being here. But your commanding officer asked you to go, created quite a convincing situation in fact. He said your skills would be a great asset to the Ascendancy and, unlike Vanto, you’d been asked to come to Csaplar directly. You thought Admiral Thrawn was being ridiculous. He saw a lot of things many could not, but this?  

You looked around for the officer Senior Captain Samakro had assigned to be your escort and translator this evening. He was nowhere to be found. Perhaps he had to use the refresher. Thankfully, no one really seemed interested in speaking with you, content to send disapproving looks at you. This was worse than most parties. Most parties you were ignored, not looked at with vague curiosity or contempt.

Well, at least the Chiss had excellent cheese. 

“Hello there,” a voice beside you said in heavily accented Basic, nearly making you jump. “Your evening is fine? Yes?” 

You turned to look at the source of the voice. A Chiss man smiled at you, his glowing eyes practically sparkling. This one was actually being friendly and he knew some Basic? Hearing Basic, even Basic so heavily accented, brought you a small bit of relief and comfort. It was refreshing after the auditory flood of trade languages and Cheunh, all of which you barely comprehended. 

“Y-yes, it’s fine, thank you,” you said. 

“And the food? To your liking?”

“Very much,” you said, hoping this man would get the hint and leave you be after the small courtesies were done. So you offered him something to help him along. “The cheese…uhh K’suchihe’ch’ah. Um. Cssah bun?” you said in just about your worst attempt at Cheunh so far. 

His smile broadened. Usually, Chiss would cringe at your attempts and politely switch to Meese Caulf or Sy Bisti to help you. This one knew Basic and genuinely seemed delighted at your mangled Cheunh. You took a moment to get a good look at him. He was much stouter than most Chiss you’d encountered, at least compared to the many physically trained Chiss you’d seen in the CEDF. The clothing he wore was a well tailored burgundy tunic with a sash that flowed over his shoulders and through a wide belt. It was trimmed in lovely gold that matched the jewelry on his ears and fingers. Perfectly appropriate attire for a party. Then, you noticed the pattern of suns woven into the sash and a golden sun pendant laying daintily on his chest. This man was a Syndic. A Mitth Syndic.

“Uh…I’m really sorry, my Cheunh is basically a refuse fire right now,” you said in Sy Bisti.

“It was good try, my Basic much worse.” He laughed at his own choppy Basic. 

You weren’t really sure how to react to that. A wrong word and he’d have half the Syndicure out for your blood (as if they needed an excuse). At least, that’s the impression you got from your orientation. Syndics are to be handled with care. But somehow, this one seemed much more at ease instead of just this side of hostile to you. 

“Oh no, your Basic is pretty good,” you assured him. “At least…at least you’re actually trying to speak it.”

“Are my colleagues being rude to you?” he asked, switching to Sy Bisti. 

“No, I just really appreciate it,” you said. Great, you were doing a terrible job of getting him to go away. But you had to admit, you were intrigued. 

“And I appreciate your Cheunh. It’s a difficult language, even for us Chiss sometimes,” he said, continuing to smile. It was a very nice smile. You could tell he smiled a lot by the way his lips naturally came to that curve and the small lines around the edges. “May I ask your name?”

You gave it. He repeated it, testing it in his mouth like he was tasting a wine. 

“It is lovely,” he said, again in Basic. “I mean, lovely to meet you,” he corrected himself. 

He softly took your hand and placed his smiling lips against your knuckles. All the while, he kept his glowing Chiss eyes in contact with yours. The gentleness and confidence with which he completed the gesture sent tingles up your arm. You felt your stomach warming and definitely felt the heat rising in your face. Oh Stars, this was embarrassing, you had to keep your composure or he’d know how uncomfortable you were. You didn’t want to insult him. 

“And um, nice meet too,” you said in rough Cheunh, struggling to find words in any language at all, “And you name?” 

“You may call me Thrass,” he said, smiling once more. “Have a good evening, miss. I am sure we will meet again.”

_______

Thrass.

So he was a Mitth, if the family symbol wasn’t enough of a giveaway. He gave you his core name without the rest of it. Oh. No. You didn’t know what that meant. Had you met him before and just forgot? Was he flirting with you? A Syndic? At an alien? The implications swam in your head. But this was just a party. Maybe he’d had a lot to drink. Maybe you needed more to drink. 

The chance encounter with the Syndic had barely left your mind when you were summoned down to the Syndicure offices the next day. Before you left for the Ascendancy, Admiral Thrawn had given you his usual vague reasoning behind the decision to send you. He did, however, mention you’d be interviewed by Ascendancy officials, possibly the first outsider in centuries permitted to do so. It seemed the audience Thrawn had promised would come, finally had. 

“How do I look? Do I need to iron anything? What about my hair? Stars, I can’t go down there like this.”

“Calm down, Lieutenant.” Senior Captain Samakro ordered. “The Syndics don’t bite. Much.”

“Yes, sir - “

“Besides, weren’t you just at a party full of ‘em last night?”

“I was, but that was a party, sir. There’s a level of politeness required.”

“Same with the Syndicure itself. You’ll be fine. If they didn’t eat you then, they won’t develop an appetite that quickly. Now let’s move, don’t want to keep them waiting, then they really might eat us.”

The lift down to the Syndicure offices was excruciating. You could tell the eyes of Chiss were on you the entire time, suspicion burning into your back. Would they call guards if they saw you? You’d hoped wearing a CEDF uniform and being escorted by an officer would be enough to keep that from happening. But now, walking through the Syndicure halls, you were sure you’d be hauled aside for questioning. You and Samakro made your way toward the office indicated on your questis. You turned down a corridor that displayed regalia of the family to which these offices belonged. Burgundy, gold, and a circular star with eight points…Mitth. 

Someone behind you called your name with a heavy accent. You instinctively turned and said, “I am she.”

There, greeting you, was a familiar and welcoming smile. “I told you we would meet again,” he said. 

“Thrass? Oh uh you…you only gave me your core name, sir, uh, your excellence, what do they call Syndics?”

“Syndic Mitth’ras’safis, yes I am he.” he said, offering his forearm in the Chiss gesture of greeting. You remembered the hand kiss from last night and promptly tried to forget it. You took his forearm and he yours to complete the gesture. “And Thrass is fine, no honorifics needed.” He turned to Samakro, “Thank you for escorting her, Senior Captain. You may wait in the lobby, I’ll take it from here.” 

Samakro saluted and left you with Syndic Thrass.

“I see you found my office with no trouble,” Thrass said.

“Wait, this is your office?”

“You know, I would have thought my station was obvious last night, what with all the stars all over,” he gestured to his sash,  “Ah, well, that happens when one is nervous, I suppose.”

“Nervous? At a party? I’m an officer in the navy!” you scoffed.

“Yes, but you share a discomfort with social situations similar to someone else I know who serves in a spacefaring navy. It’s all right, I’m not offended. I’m…charmed really.” Oh stars, was he flirting again? Or was Thrass just like that? 

Thrass led you into his office. The space was humble but well furnished in a comfortable way and smelled faintly of a spice you didn’t quite know. You felt safe in a way you hadn’t felt since leaving the Empire. 

“Please, have a seat,” Thrass invited before sitting behind his desk. You sat stiffly in the chair he motioned to, still not sure what was happening here. 

“So, my brother says you have quite the knack for art,” Thrass said. 

“I’m sorry, who?” you asked.

“Who else do you know that has an interest in the arts?”

You blinked, speaking the first name that sprang into your mind. “…Thrawn?” 

“Yes, Thrawn,” Thrass said. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, “I need a second to process this. Thrawn has a brother?! “

“Not by blood,” Thrass amended, “But we are brothers in arms and in spirit, I suppose.”

“Thrawn never said…”

“He wouldn’t, he’s very close lipped about such things.” 

“Yeah, I got that impression,” you said. “I worked under him for years as an officer but other than his genius tactics, I can’t say I really know him.”

“I’m sure very few can.” Thrass said ruefully. “I am glad to count myself among those few. So when he sent you to me, I knew you must be something unique, dare I say, special.”

You began to feel warm as his eyes met yours. 

Thrass cleared his throat. “Now,” he said, tapping his questis, “To business.” He slid the device across his desk, turning it for you to see.

The screen’s contents were written in Cheunh script. Of course. “I’m sorry uh, sir, uh, Thrass but, I can’t,”

“Don’t get too caught up with the script, it's not what’s important,” he tapped a part of the screen and an image enlarged. 

“A painting?” 

“Of course,” he said. “This will be your first test,”

“To see if Thrawn’s faith in me was what you expected?” you asked.

“Oh, I’m sure his faith in you is more than deserved, but I want to see what gaps we need to fill if you are to assist me. So, what do you see?”

You flipped through a series of breathtaking landscape paintings. Not only was the scenery beautiful, there was an emotion the artist was able to place into the image. Like one soul reaching out across space and time through pigment to say, ‘I was here, this is what I loved’.  You swiped through a few more. Something was different. That emotion, that spark, just wasn’t there. But…You swiped back and forth. The strokes looked like they were by the same hand. What happened?

You relay what you saw to Thrass, leaving some of the more emotional details out of it. 

“That’s what he said, all those years ago,” Thrass said, almost wistful. “Yes, these are the same person. And yes, something did happen to them.” 

“Her,” you corrected. “The artist was probably a woman.”

Thrass stared at you, his mouth slightly open. “Ahem, yes, she was,” he finally continued. “The artist was indeed a woman. Do you see where the change happens?”

“Yes, it’s honestly heartbreaking. What happened? Where did that…feeling go?”

Thrass hesitated, considering his answer. “She lost four sons in a single battle,” he said finally.

You started to curse before you caught yourself. Cursing in front of a Syndic was probably an outrageously terrible idea. “That’s…really terrible.” 

“It was for her. It’s why she’s known as Mitth’omo’rossodo, the tragic.”

“I know losing your sons is tragic…but it’s equally tragic that she seemed to lose her passion too. And, well, I guess we all lost. Those landscapes are incredible, I didn’t see many works like that in the Imperial galleries.” Thrass sat back, resting his chin on his hand as he listened to you. It wasn’t in a way that made you think you were wasting his time. He seemed to be coming to a decision.

“So that settles it, then,” Thrass said. 

“Settles what?”

Thrass took the questis back across the desk and began tapping and gesturing with quick motions. You noticed the rings on his hand and how nice the contrast between the golden metal and the blue of his skin looked. His fingers moved across his questis with such an easy grace you could tell he knew exactly what he was doing. 

“There,” he said. “I’ve made all the arrangements. We will move you right away.”

“Excuse me?”

Thrass put the questis down and tented his fingers on the desk.“I require your assistance for a project,” he said. “It’s clear to me what Thrawn saw in you was what I’d hoped for when he sent you.”

“But all I did was look at paintings,” you protested. “I mean, I have some level of academic knowledge, but I’m no expert.”

“I don’t need an expert, I simply need insight. Insight that I’m confident you can provide. You are only the second person I’ve ever met who, without any prior knowledge, was able to not only identify that those paintings were all the same artist but that the artist had something unfortunate happen to them.”

“Let me guess, the other person was Thrawn?”

“See! Insight!” he said, grinning.  “So, the arrangements. I’d like you to relocate your quarters down here in the Syndicure district. The Mitth have housing here, you will be provided with rooms there.”

“What? Hold on, I’m…I’m not Chiss. I’m an alien. Would the Syndicure even allow that?”

“Absolutely! I just authorized it.” 

Now it was your turn to gape at him. “What…what about my post?”

“Congratulations, Lieutenant, you are now on extended leave. The Senior Captain will simply have to deal with it. I’m sure your loss will devastate him.”

“Hardly, he kinda thought I was a babysitting assignment for an old friend. At least, that’s how he so tactfully put it.”

Thrass laughed. “Insightful and funny. I think I will enjoy having you work with me.”  

Chapter 2

Summary:

After your meeting with Thrass, you find the Syndicure complex is...well complex and you quickly find yourself lost, meeting less friendly Chiss and presenting you with a few mysteries.

Notes:

Thank you, as always, to my beta readers. You guys help me out more than you know! <3

You left Syndic Thrass’ office in a daze, too stunned to really notice the stares from Chiss in the corridor leading back to the lobby. You were trying to decide how deep a pile of dung you’d found yourself in when you realized you had no idea where you were. The chatter of other Chiss voices were quiet now, the corridor empty. You walked in the direction you thought the lobby was and met another junction of halls. Kriff. How had you gotten so turned around? You swallowed a spark of panic. 

“Okay,” you said aloud, “just retrace your steps.” Turning back, you followed the corridor to where you thought Thrass’ office was. You were pretty sure you were still in the Mitth section but found no indication of whose offices these doors led to, with no family heraldry or colors. The panic squeezed inside your gut. Your hand moved to your comm, your finger hovering above the call button. The last thing you wanted to do was admit to your superior officer you’d gotten lost. You were about to kill your pride when something caught your eye.

One part of the hall was darker than the rest. Your feet moved before you could think and you found yourself standing before a darkened hall. This entrance opened up into a larger lounge area much like the lobby you’d been trying to find. Only this one was cordoned off with no light save for small beams from solar tubes. There were scatterings of paper and debris all around and it had a musty, dusty scent as though this place had been abandoned for years. The banners and wall hangings remained though some were falling off their broken fixtures. You squinted at the banners and noticed they bore a Chiss family’s symbol, one you weren’t familiar with. The colors were distinctly not Mitth, purple and blue. An eerie coldness went through you. Coldness and questions.

“You!” an angry Chiss voice yelled, nearly startling you right out of your boots. Heart in your throat, you spun to face the voice, nearly drawing your charric. A particularly angry looking, older Chiss stalked up to you, his eyes blazing. “What are you doing down here unaccompanied?” he demanded. Well, at least your comprehension got you that far. 

“I sorry,” you managed to squeak out. “I - lost,’

The angry Chiss waved a hand. “Don’t bother with Cheunh,” he said, switching to Sy Bisti, “You sound like an invalid.” 

Wow, rude. You thought, trying to keep your expression neutral. “I was just on my way to the lobby so if you will excuse me -” 

“Are you aware this area is restricted?”

“I - no.”

“Were the signs and ropes not enough of a clue?” he gestured at a sign hanging from the ropes cordoning off the area. They, naturally, were written in Cheunh script. 

“I can’t read Cheunh script, sir. But I will leave immediately.” You tried to walk past him but he moved to block your path.

“No, one moment. Who is your sponsor?” 

“I’m, I -” you hesitated. Technically, your sponsor was Admiral Ar’alani as it was she who brought you into Chiss space initially. Even more technically, it was Thrawn who was currently in exile. But this man seemed like he wouldn’t accept any answer you gave him. He looked past you and scowled even deeper, further creasing his already creased face.  His eyes shifted focus just behind you.

“Ah! There you are!” 

You turned, relieved to see a familiar face. 

“Syndic Thrass,” the man greeted flatly. 

“I appreciate you finding my new assistant, your Venerate,” Thrass said quickly in Cheunh. You weren’t sure what that title meant but you hadn’t heard anyone else addressed by it. 

“This alien? Your new assistant?” the older Chiss asked gruffly. “Am I to assume it is you who is sponsoring it?” 

“ Her your Venerate,” Thrass corrected. “Yes, I am her sponsor.”

“So why is she unaccompanied?”

“Excuse me sir, but she can also speak for herself,” you said, using the haughtiest tone you could manage in Sy Bisti.  

Both Chiss looked at you. Thrass’ eyes were wide. “Apologies. I got lost on my way to the Syndicure lobby,” You continued. 

“As it happens, your Venerate, she is also authorized to be unaccompanied here,” Thrass said, lifting up his questis. “You’ll find all her credentials here.”  

The older Chiss frowned at the screen. “Very well. She is authorized but don’t let her wander without a guide. There may be others who won’t stop to ask, they’ll simply act. And for Chaos’ sake, teach her to read at least a modicum of Cheunh. Good day, Syndic.”

“Yes, I will, your Venerate. Good day.”

The thunderous Chiss continued along his way, robes and sash swishing behind him.

“I apologize,” Thrass said. “I should have escorted you to the Senior Captain. I…forgot momentarily how hostile other Chiss can be to outsiders. And how maze-like this complex can be.”

“It’s alright,” you tried to sound unshaken but couldn’t quite keep the quaver out of your voice. 

Thrass narrowed his eyes. “I disagree, it’s not alright. But, I suppose it can’t be helped. How rude was he to you?” 

“He said my Cheunh made me sound like an ‘invalid’,” you said.

Thrass made a displeased noise. “Well, allow me to accompany you and Senior Captain Samakro to your quarters to gather your things. Will give me a chance to smooth things over with the Senior Captain, and perhaps a chance for you to calm your nerves.”

“I’m fine, Syndic Thrass, thank you.” 

“I’m just sorry I wasn’t with you to introduce you. Though, I suspect he’d treat you the same regardless.” 

“Who was he? You called him ‘Your Venerate’. I don’t know what that means.”

“Oh dear. Again, I apologize, someone should have told you.” He smoothed back his bangs and sighed. “Well. That was the Mitth patriarch, Mitth’urf’ianico.”

“Oh Kriff ,” you said, not bothering to censor yourself. 

“A Basic curse?” Thrass grinned. You nodded. “Bad luck on your part, running into him, good luck that you spoke to me first.” He flashed another smile. 

“I probably should have asked for directions so I didn’t end up in…wherever this is. Where is this?” You asked. Thrass’ smile flattened. 

“As it appears, a corridor no longer in use, nothing more,” Thrass said. He met your eyes, the friendliness momentarily fading into a sadness that you’d only ever seen in officers that had seen one too many battles and lost one too many friends. “Now, come, let me show you back to the lobby.” 

You gave the area one last look, making note of the symbol and banner colors once more. Something was definitely not right about this, but now wasn’t the time.

“Thanks, for rescuing me,” you said. 

“Not a problem. Still unfortunate you had to meet him, especially with his …current demeanor. Patriarch Thurfian is not pleased with the influx of aliens into Chiss affairs. Especially not pleased by the source of said aliens.”

You held the bridge of your nose. “Do I even have to say who the source is?”

“You do not,” Thrass said with a laugh, “the Patriarch can think what he likes, but the Chiss will go nowhere in this Galaxy without ‘alien’ help,” he seemed to stare off into his thoughts. “Now, let’s collect your things so you may have time to settle in.”

_______________________________

Your things fit snugly in a foot locker and a duffle bag. Having lived and worked on a naval vessel for the past decade, you’d fallen into the habit of keeping your belongings to a minimum. It made things easier. Many of your ‘things’ were digitized on various types of data storage but you did have a few physical mementos. 

You held a small, printed card that featured a group image of you with the Chimaera bridge corps. Would the crew even know where you’d gone? Would it be like Vanto where you simply vanished from the crew roster one day? A dull ache pulled in your chest. No, you would not be homesick, there was still so much to learn to keep you busy. No time to dwell. 

 As a general rule, you liked to leave your quarters cleaner than you’d found them. You were only on the Springhawk a few months, so cleanup was easy. Making your way back toward the airlock, you heard the distinctive tone of Samakro’s voice. You stepped carefully, hoping to hear what they were saying. You ventured a peek around the corner.

“She’s still to report to me if any CEDF matters come up,” he said.

“Understood, Senior Captain. I will keep us all in the loop, as it were,”

Samakro glowered at Thrass. Granted, he glowered at most people, but he seemed particularly annoyed by the Syndic. “Sure thing, Syndic Thrass,”

“Why the sour expression?” Thrass asked, raising his thick brows. 

Samakro sucked in one of his cheeks. “I don’t like this,” Samakro said, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t like this whole thing. Mitth’raw’nuruodo is in exile, why send aliens? Why do anything for us?” 

“I doubt I could give you a satisfying answer, Senior Caption,” Thrass said. “Just know Mitth’raw’nuruodo never does anything without a reason. He also, frustratingly, never does anything that won’t benefit the Ascendancy as a whole. If he thinks their presence here will help the Ascendancy, then it will. Give it time.”

Samakro huffed. “I once had that kind of faith in him, in the Ascendancy. That died the moment they took his rank and his chains. I don’t know how you can keep doing it, Syndic.”

“I do it because I have to and because I have faith in my brother.”

You didn’t think you were supposed to hear this or maybe they thought you wouldn’t understand it. You thought through the words. Thrawn didn’t do anything that wouldn’t also benefit the Ascendancy. Why did he think you were that important?

Thrass flicked his eyes to you. “Ah, there we are. Are you ready?” 

“Yes, Syndic Thrass,” you said. 

“Then let us be on our way. Thank you for your time today, Senior Captain.” 

On the lift back down, the conversation between the Syndic and the Captain kept playing over in your head. You knew eavesdropping wasn’t really polite, nor was pretending not to understand a language you clearly did. You hugged your duffel closer to you for comfort. 

“Are you alright?” Thrass asked. 

“I’m fine, thank you Syndic.”

“You may call me Thrass,” he reminded you, his smile returning. “At least in private, don’t want to stir the pot much more with the Syndicure, they’ve had about enough,” 

That made you crack a smile. “I’m fine, Thrass.”

He tilted his head toward you. “You understood my entire conversation with Senior Captain Samakro, didn’t you?”

“What? No! I’m still so clumsy with Cheunh.”

Thrass shook his head. “With speaking it, perhaps. I saw the look on your face when I spoke about Thrawn.” 

So Thrass was just as observant as his brother. “Why didn’t you call Thrawn by his core name?”

“Ah, that,” Thrass looked down. 

“Admiral Ar’alani calls him that too. What happened?” You pressed. “Is it because of his status as an exile?”

“Somewhat. I may explain another time. But what I said remains. He’s a complex man at times but at his core, it’s very simple. He protects his people, often at the cost of his own self.” 

You knew this to be true. You’d seen him do it with his own crew. And he now trusted you with the thing most precious to him. “Do you really think I can help the Ascendancy?”

“That depends. I have no doubt you’ll work to the best of your ability. But I say again, for Thrawn to have picked you and asked you to come here means he holds you in the highest esteem. And so, by extension, do I.”

“But you don’t even know me,” you said.

“Yet,” Thrass said. His smile was achingly sincere. “But I would very much like to.”

Chapter 3

Summary:

You are given quarters to use while you are helping Syndic Thrass with his project, one he still hasn't explained. There is soup and caccoleaf and a discussion on language.

Notes:

a wild Chiss OC appears. Literally made them up for this but I adore them already.

“This is one of my aides, Mitth’io’motim,” Thrass said, gesturing toward a young Chiss. They looked hardly past what the Chiss called ‘mid-age’. They were much taller than either you or Thrass with thin limbs and straight, asymmetrically cut hair. 

“Thiomo, please escort our guest to her room, I’m afraid I have a few other matters that need my attention this afternoon.” Thrass handed Thiomo a small, plastoid-looking fob.

“Of course, Syndic Thrass,” Thiomo said in a pleasant voice, their expression completely unreadable.  

You followed the aide to a smaller lift that brought you up five floors. Thiomo slipped out of the lift doors and turned sharply left. You tried to avoid your earlier errors and made sure to pay attention to small markers, like a scuff on the wall or a painting to track your turns. Finally, Thiomo halted in front of a door.

 “This will serve as your personal quarters while you stay with us,” they said, eying you with the same suspicion most other Chiss had towards you. You couldn’t say you blamed them. An alien showing up in a place that was virtually your species’s seat of power was not particularly comforting. Especially now after almost two decades of Grysk subterfuge. That fact didn’t make it sting any less.

“Thank you,” you said, attempting the words in Cheunh. Thiomo frowned. You repeated it in Sy Bisti and they all but rolled their eyes. Okay, then. Thiomo waved the fob in front of the panel on the door’s left side, triggering a soft beep. The door slid open to reveal your new quarters. You weren’t sure what you were expecting behind the door but it certainly wasn’t nearly as nice as this. 

Your immediate feeling was ‘comfort’ and ‘warmth’. The room was swathed in Mitth gold and burgundy, similarly to Thrass’s clothing and office. In the center was a seating area sunk into the floor that was filled with pillows and various soft looking items. Further inside was what appeared to be a kitchen. Thiomo said as much in slow, emphatic Cheunh. The sleeping area lay beyond an archway on the far end of the living area. You were sure you were already dreaming when you set eyes on the bed. It was huge, larger even than your Imperial Navy quarters and those seemed extravagant at the time. It, too, had a variety of soft looking objects on top of a plush comforter. You set your duffel down on top, appreciating how the bag sank into the comforter. 

“This is the refresher.” Thiomo gestured toward another doorway. “There is a bath available with heated water. You do know how to operate this? Yes?”

“Yes, thank you,” you said, keeping to Sy Bisti. “I used one aboard the Springhawk .”. They weren’t interested in your explanation and continued to show you the lavatory. When your grand tour was over, Thiomo left you with the door key fob and instructions to call should you need anything. Judging by their tone, you got the feeling they would rather you not do that. As the door slid shut behind them, you were finally left alone with your thoughts.

Wow. This was an apartment in the Mitth sector of the Syndicure. You, a human, were here. And aside from Thrass, you felt wholly unwelcome. Maybe it was the decor, maybe it was the general feeling of softness you got from this space, but you felt safer here than you had all day. Being among the Chiss on a warship was simple, a warship was a warship. Being the only alien was strange at first, but once you’d spent some time with your crewmates, you were family. Everyone there were comrades in arms and it didn’t matter what species you were, you supported each other. As soon as you stepped off the Springhawk, you were the alien all over again. You wanted to dive into that seating area and just cocoon into the cushions. But there were still things to be done before you could surrender to the comforts of your new rooms.

Mostly, you wanted to know what that family symbol you’d seen in the abandoned hall was. 

You found your questis and woke it with a tap. You remembered the first time you’d tried to use one thinking it was just the same as an imperial datapad and realized you couldn’t read Cheunh . You’d fumbled with settings, managing to get the device to switch over to a Sy Bisti user interface. At least then, the questis was usable. After swiping through menus, you managed to get all the displayed text translated over. Even so far from home, it was nice to connect with the greater Ascendancy. Or at least what could be reached from Csilla’s comms triad. 

You cracked your knuckles. Okay, time to find that crest. You brought up the on screen keys and typed: Ascendancy Ruling Family Crests. 

Images popped up but…the crest you saw was nowhere to be found. But…it had to be a family crest. On the other hand, what did you really know? You pulled up the drawing function on your questis and sketched the symbol as you remembered it. Thrass might know, but would he tell you? From your experience so far, the Chiss were tight-lipped about themselves to outsiders. Even so, Thrass’s reaction to the abandoned hallway told you this was something that deeply bothered him. Or maybe it just wasn’t that important and you were misreading this entire thing. You growled in frustration and put the questis down. 

The entry door chimed, pulling you out of your research. You wondered if Thiomo had forgotten something. You pressed the door’s intercom expecting the aide’s unamused monotone and instead was greeted by Thrass’ friendly voice. 

“Good evening, Lieutenant, how are you finding your rooms?” he asked. 

“A moment, Syndic Thrass,” you said. “I’ll let you in.”

“That’s not necessary, I’m merely checking in,” he replied. With everything that happened today, having a conversation through a comm when the person you were speaking to was just beyond the door was more energy than you wanted to expend.

“It’s not a bother,” you said, activating the latch. As the door slid open, you saw Thrass leaning on the doorframe. He clearly didn’t expect you to open the door as he immediately straightened up and cleared his throat. 

“Come in,” you said. 

“I suppose I can take a moment to see how it looks for myself,” he said, stepping inside. His eyes fell on the seating area and seemed to light up. “I remember this,” he said. “It’s just as it was when I stayed here in my Aristocra days. Well, maybe with a fresh coat of paint here and there.”

“Any wild parties I should know about?” you joked. 

“Depends on your definition of ‘wild’ but yes. If these walls could talk…” he chuckled. “But more to the point, are they to your liking?”

“I’m a bit overwhelmed if I’m being honest. I’ve spent the better part of my life aboard a warship. I only got my own refresher my last year or two aboard the Chimaera. And that bed? Stars.” 

A playfulness flashed in Thrass’ eyes. “Try not to get lost in here, I’m afraid I can’t help you if you run into any cantankerous Patriarchs here.” He gave an amused grin. 

“Don’t worry, I think I’ll be fine. If I do find anything like that, I’ll be sure to lodge a complaint.” You returned his smile. 

“Well, we should certainly hope that won’t be a problem,” Thrass said.  

“While you’re here, Syndic, er, sorry, Thrass, was there any work you needed me to get started on? You can send them over to my questis it - “ He held up a hand. 

“No need, you should rest now so you can have a fresh mind when we start in the morning.”

“Alright. In that case, is there a way I can get a meal? I’m afraid I’m too used to mess halls, so I’m not sure where to go.”

“Oh, of course! I guess in all the commotion I forgot to mention it. Yes. Here,” he said. He handed you a small data cylinder. “Order whatever you like, my office will cover any expense.”

“That’s generous,” you said. “But you don’t need to, I do have my own funds.” 

“Consider me your host while you’re here in Csaplar. I suppose if it makes you feel more comfortable, consider it part of your payment for your assistance.” 

You weren’t sure if you were really in any position to object. “Thank you, Thrass.”

“It’s my pleasure. Now, for your meals. You can of course cook here if you wish but if not, the Syndicure complex has a few places open at all hours and can deliver to you.”

“Do you have any recommendations? Aside from cheese, I’m still trying to figure out Chiss food,” you admitted. 

“A particular favorite down here is something we call ’Syndicure Bean Soup’.”

“You’re…joking, right?”

“Absolutely serious. What? Try for yourself and see.” Thrass pulled out another data cylinder and pressed it to his questis’ data slot then tapped a few more times. “There, a bowl for each of us will arrive shortly.”

“You don’t have to eat with me. I’m sure you have other things you need to do.”

“Nonsense, what sort of host would I be not to share a meal with my honored guest?”

The tray with the soup was pushed through a shorter slot in the door that seemed specifically designed for this function. You inspected your bowl to find a rich red-brown broth with similarly colored beans and other vegetables suspended in it. It smelled incredible. Beside the soup bowl was a smaller bowl with a thick bright red sauce in it. You knew that stuff - it seemed like the Chiss’ default flavor enhancer. 

“Try it with the che’moy , “ Thrass said. You dipped your spoon in the sauce before mixing it into your soup and took a very tentative taste. Your mouth was suddenly full of flavor and comfort. It reminded you of the pepper soup you had as a child. 

Thrass saw your eyes light up. “Delicious, no?”

“Oh stars, I don’t know if one bowl is going to be enough.” 

He chuckled. “See? It is not a joke. Besides, when have you known a Chiss to joke?”

You scrunched your face up at him, “Uh, all the time. For instance you live on an ice planet and somehow still have ice cream. If that’s not a joke I don’t know what is.”

He was trying very, very hard not to laugh. So much that his face was tinged with purple. Finally, he couldn’t seem to take it anymore and let out a long snort and put his head down on the table. His shoulders shook as he laughed. “You, friend, have said the funniest thing I’ve heard in a while. It’s true, the irony is hilarious.”

“I - didn’t think it was that funny.” 

“It -” he put a hand on your shoulder - “has been a very long day.”

You felt a pang of guilt. “I hope part of that isn’t my fault,”

“No. Not at all. Do not trouble yourself over it. But I do have to take my leave,” he said. “I sent you the schedule for tomorrow to your questis but for now, please have a good evening.”

“I’ll try,” you promised.

_________

Your first night in your new bed left a lot to be desired. This bed was far larger and softer than you were used to and finding a comfortable position was a challenge. There wasn’t a convenient wall to press your back against or a pillow firm enough to support your neck. Eventually, your body gave way to exhaustion. Your last waking thoughts lingered on the paintings that convinced Syndic Thrass that you were perfect for his project. He never did tell you what that project was. Your sleep-starved mind tried to speculate but thoughts slipped through your mental fingers as you drifted off. 

You’d set the alarm on your questis to wake you up with enough time to be ready by the time Thrass indicated an aide would arrive to escort you to his office. You were definitely going to need some caf or caccoleaf or whatever stimulant was available, it didn’t matter which. Slipping on the standard issue black trousers and tunic of the CEDF uniform, you wondered if your expenses could include clothing. A recognizable Chiss uniform would likely persuade some suspicious Chiss to look the other way but you doubted that would work much longer. Your encounter with the Mitth Patriarch was a stark reminder of that.

Right on schedule, your door chimed. You found Thiomo standing in the hallway. They appeared even less thrilled to be here than they were the previous evening. 

“Good day,” Thiomo greeted in Cheunh. 

“Good day,” you greeted in turn. The lower lid of one of Thiomo’s eyes twitched at the sound of your speech but they remained politely indifferent as they led the way back through the labyrinth of halls and lifts. 

“Thank you,” you said when you arrived. “I know this is probably not fun for you, so I appreciate it.” Thiomo sucked in one of their cheeks, considering this. Wordlessly, they shrugged, and left. This task had to be somewhat humiliating for them, babysitting a guest for your boss, a guest that no doubt sent rumors and whispers throughout the Syndicure ranks. The machinations of politics would likely punish the young Chiss in the long run, even if they were simply following orders. This was true even on Coruscant.

Thrass was already working when you entered his office. He was at his desk, leaning over his questis in concentration. Surrounding him was a small pile of Chiss data cylinders and…were those books? Actual paper books?

“Good day,” Thrass said, looking up. “I trust you slept adequately?” 

“Yes, I did, thank you.”

He eyed you, lifting a brow. “Are you sure?”

“I -”

“Your uniform belt is going the wrong direction.” He pointed out. 

“Thiomo let me come all the way here like this and didn’t say anything?” you said with a moan. Either the young Chiss didn’t know or just let you continue on like that on purpose.

Thrass’s face brightened with an amused smile. “My aide only does as they’re asked. No need to worry, I’m sure anyone else who saw you was too distracted by your human-ness to notice.” 

You unhooked the top belt of your uniform and switched it to the other side. “I promise I’m more put together than this, sir,” you said. 

“Sounds like caccoleaf is in order,” Thrass said, standing up from his desk. “Allow me to brew some.”

“Oh no, you don’t need to trouble yourself, I’ll be fine. I’m sure there are vending machines in the lobby.”  

“I insist. The leaves in those are always burnt anyway. Honestly, how does this Ascendancy run on such awful caccoleaf?” Thrass strode to the other side of his office where a small machine sat on a counter. You recognized it from your time on the Springhawk as a brewing machine. 

You couldn’t help but watch him. He wasn’t dressed nearly as elaborately today with a simpler, golden brown tunic vest and plain shirt belted at the waist. His hair was also down today, held in a loose tail. It was admittedly a lot less intimidating to see the Chiss dressed more or less like a scholar than as a very important Syndic. Thrass carefully measured the caccoleaf as though it was a very important, ritual act. With his size, one would be forgiven for thinking he wouldn’t be graceful, but he was. Not in the calculated, precise way Thrawn was but like the soft, careful way a tooka found a spot in the sun. 

You didn’t realize you were staring until he caught your gaze. 

“How do you take your caccoleaf?” he asked. 

“Cream and sugar,” you said automatically. “Please.” You weren’t actually sure Chiss had either of those things but he seemed to understand, pouring in the flavorings with the same amount of care he brewed the drink with. 

“There we are,” Thrass said, handing you the cup. The first sip immediately energized you. 

“Wow! You’re right, the vending machines are garbage compared to this.”

Thrass smiled. “I’m glad it is to your liking.”

“I honestly thought I didn’t like this stuff compared to caf, turns out I was just drinking bad quality.”

“Happens to the best of us,” Thrass said, taking a sip from his own cup.

You spent a few more moments sipping your drink and enjoying the warmth of the cup in your hands. Even in the relative warmth of the underground areas on Csilla, the chill of the planet seemed to seep into your bones. While you drank, Thrass ran you through some procedural things for accessing his office, contacting Thiomo and his other aides, where the refresher was, and so on. Still, the question of what it was you were doing here lingered. Time to broach the subject.

You set your cup down and leaned forward in your chair to rest your elbows on Thrass’ desk. “So, you keep talking about me assisting you, but you never said what I was to do,” you said.

He took another, longer sip of his caccoleaf. “That’s because I’m not sure how much I can say.”

“Because I’m an outsider?”

“That does play a part, yes.” He put his cup down and closed his eyes a moment. Idly, he spun the ring on his index finger with his thumb on his right hand. “First,” he began, “there is the matter of language. I’m going to say this as delicately as I can: your Cheunh has room for improvement. A lot of room.”

“I know,” you said, trying to keep your jaw from tightening. He was only speaking the truth. “It’s only been a few months since I started.”

“And given that, your progress is remarkable. Truly, it is, you should be proud.” He flashed a reassuring grin.

“Thank you, Thrass,” you said. You couldn’t help but to feel a small surge of pride at his compliment, even if it was a preamble to a criticism.  “I’m sensing a ‘but’.” 

He huffed a laugh. “But -  we need you somewhat conversational as quickly as we can get you there. I, in turn, would like to improve my Basic. Not many people here to practice with, I’m afraid.”

“So, we tutor each other?” you asked.

“Unless you have another suggestion. I would be more than happy to find a specialized tutor if you need.” He leaned back in his chair, waiting for your answer. 

The last thing you wanted was for him to go to more trouble for you. You weren’t used to this much generosity being thrown at you. “It’s alright, we should be just fine tutoring each other.”

“It may bring you some comfort to know your listening comprehension is incredible. I’m still very impressed with your prowess yesterday,” he said. 

“Oh, well, you work around Chiss all day, you pick up some things.”

“Don’t downplay your skill! This is a great accomplishment,” he said, clasping his hands together. “The challenge now is getting your speaking and writing up to speed. I have no doubt you’ll surprise me. I also have no doubt that my Basic won’t improve nearly as quickly.” That reassuring grin reappeared. 

“Thank you, Thrass, I - Thank you.” Why were his compliments making you feel so warm?

“Now then, the project.” He pulled out his questis and started tapping. “Hopefully it will give you more opportunity to practice your Cheunh.” You heard a small chime on your own questis. Thrass had sent over blank data tables, the rows and columns waiting to be filled. “I require assistance cataloging Mitth family art and artists. Tracing family lines through it if possible. From there, we may branch out.”

“Why? Don’t you already have records? From what I’ve seen, Chiss are even more meticulous than the Empire.”  Though you couldn’t actually understand most of it, you could tell the Chiss were very thorough people. At least, the military was. 

“I’m looking for something records can’t tell me.” Thrass said. “Thrawn remarked that you seem to have a gift for gleaning social or political details from artwork.” 

“Well, that’s what my degree from Coruscant University was in, art history. It kinda comes with the territory.” Your professors didn’t really appreciate your assertions since there was no tangible evidence to back it. 

“If all you had was purely academic skill, Thrawn would not have pointed you out. No, I want to see what else you can tell me.”  

“I mean no disrespect, Thrass, but I’m still not sure why you need me to.”

“I’m afraid that’s…not easy to explain.”

In other words, classified, you thought. 

“But I can tell you this: what you discover will be vitally important to the Ascendancy. It may not seem like it, but it will be.”

It also sounded a lot like you were using your skill to help another government, something that felt an awful lot like treason against the Empire. You swallowed, trying to wrap your head around this. You weren’t really in a position to refuse, but it still made your inner alarm bells go off. “Okay, so you teach me Cheunh, you get work that would make my university professors have heart attacks.”

Thrass laughed out loud and covered his mouth from the outburst. “That sounds like the long and short of it.” His smile widened.  “In addition, I offer you my personal expertise about the best places to find a meal and good company here on Csilla.” 

“I’m sorry, Thrass but how does that help me learn Cheunh?”

He tilted his head. “I believe partaking in another culture is known as ‘immersion’?”

“Thrass, I don’t think you’ve noticed but aside from a few on the Springhawk crew, and you, most Chiss won’t even speak to me.”

“And I think you’ll find nothing brings beings together quite like food and libations.”

Well, you couldn’t argue with that.

Chapter 4: Memories

Summary:

Months ago, you took a chance to take a journey into the unknown regions to work with the Chiss. What brought you to this point? How did Grand Admiral Thrawn come to trust you with that most precious to him?

Notes:

I wanted to do memories of how reader came to me in the Chiss Ascendancy. Ch 5 will return to the 'present'. Enjoy!

Thanks as always to my beta readers!

You’d only served aboard the Chimaera for a few months before you were to bring a report to Commodore Thrawn’s office. Of course, you’d seen him on the bridge and after the initial shock of your new and very blue commanding officer wore off you had the same nervous respect for him that you did for your other commanders. But now, standing outside his door, you were almost shaking like an ensign entering their first battle. 

Signaling the door, you heard a soft yet definitely authoritative, “Come,” over the intercom. The hatchway hissed open. Lights danced in your vision as you entered. Holos? You walked through a circle of holos, each containing an image of a painting or sculpture. You tried not to let your eyes linger too long on them but several caught your eye as pieces you’d once studied. Just on the other side of these was Thrawn’s desk where he seemed to be working through other reports. He looked up as you approached. 

“Ah, Senior Lieutenant.”

“The latest comms records, sir,” you said.

“Thank you.” He accepted your report and returned to his pile of datapads. You hesitated. “Is that all, Lieutenant?” he asked.

“Um, Yes. Yes, sir.”

“You are interested in my holos,” he said, stating it like a fact. 

“Oh no, sorry sir. They just caught my eye.” Your heart was in your throat. Here in the dimmer light, the glow of Commodore Thrawn’s eyes was a lot more intense. 

“Do you like art, Lieutenant?” Those eyes seemed to see right into you.

“I do, very much, sir.” 

“Oh I think it’s more than that, Lieutenant,” he said, almost chiding. “As I recall from your record when you joined my crew.”

“You read that sir?” 

“Certainly. A commanding officer should know those who serve under them and know especially their strengths, weaknesses and how to overcome said weaknesses.” As far as you knew, no one read your file. You were merely a mindless cog in a machine to previous commands. Was this genuine? 

“So what did you find out, sir?” you asked, indulging him. 

“You were on track to earning your doctorate from Coruscant University. Republic classical revival art was your focus, I believe?”

“It was, sir.” 

He tilted his head thoughtfully. “What changed?”

“Sir?”

“Why are you in my office now instead of completing your studies?”

“I ran out of funding,” you said. “And well, I needed security.”

“A naval vessel is hardly the most secure place,”

“No, but it keeps me fed. And I’m good at it.” You tapped your rank plaque. 

“Indeed. I’ve not had a finer comms officer.”

“Thank you, sir.” A compliment from the Commodore was rare and you tried to keep the pride from creeping into your face. 

“Would you like to see what I have been studying?” 

“Yes, sir, I would.” 

“Actually, perhaps you can tell me what I’m studying.” He gave one of his small smiles, the ones he showed Vanto or Faro before giving them a mind puzzle. 

He joined you in the circle of holos. You studied them, noting the particular way the artists used contrast and colors.

“I think Nubian, High Republic,” you concluded.

“Very good. And the artist?”

“I think…” you squinted at the holos. Some of the finer details were always lost in holos but you were pretty sure. “Kirth Rhel.”

“Excellent.” Commodore Thrawn’s eyebrows lifted. Was he actually impressed? He was silent for a few moments, his eyes moving between the different holos. 

“Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?”

He seemed to mull his answer over before stepping toward one of the holos. He flipped the image to a new painting. “Thoughts, Lieutenant?” 

“Hmm. Are you asking for artist intent or my own interpretation, sir?”

“Your own, if you please.”

You tried to remove outside biases to try and interpret objectively. But art simply is not objective. It is the artist’s experience, their joys, their sorrows, the spark that drove them to create. But…wasn’t the artist a product of their culture? These were debates you spent long nights in lecture halls on, going back and forth with colleagues. Was it their nature or was it their nurturing?

“The figures are human,” you said, starting with basic observations. “I would say the artist was human also, but a sufficient artist of any species can render any other species, so that isn’t really a fair judgment.”

You looked back at Thrawn who gave a minuscule nod for you to continue.

“The clothing is richly colored with lots of excess fabric so I might say the subjects either are or wish to appear to have some wealth. Based on the style of clothes, this definitely is from Republic space, Old Republic I’d say. But the scenery…the architecture suggests the planet has an arid climate but has enough resources to import materials off-world so mid-rim maybe? A show of wealth like that, the patron might be wanting to express their home has wealth and power. I would say this world, whatever it is, joined the Republic recently in respect to the painting’s time.”

“A display that they are worthy to be considered part of the esteemed Republic?” Thrawn asked.

“A display to show they are equal or wish to be seen that way, sir.”

Thrawn considered this, then gave a small nod. “I appreciate your insight, Lieutenant.”

“You are welcome, sir.”

“You are dismissed,” he said.

He still looked thoughtful as you saluted and made your way to the exit. 

“A moment,” Thrawn called out. 

“Sir?”

“If I find I have need of your insights, would you be prepared to give them? Even on the bridge, if asked?” Thrawn stood straight-backed waiting for your answer. This was dangerous, you had to answer carefully.

“You’re my commanding officer, sir. I will do as you ask me to, sir.”

“That wasn’t my question,” he said flatly.

“Oh, Apologies, sir.”

“I will make myself more clear, then. Lieutenant, I am sure you’ve heard rumors of my affinity for artwork. Other officers make no effort to hide what they think of it.” There was the slightest hint of resentment in his voice. 

“No, sir. Or if I did, I tuned it out. I don’t like having preconceived ideas about my superiors.” 

“Indeed? Interesting…I notice you try to be that way about how you observe art as well.”

“I was an academic, we strive for facts, for data. Or…that’s what I believed, sir,” you explained.

“I use art similarly; to understand the subject or species’ mind behind their work as it is, not as I see it. I use it to inform my tactics in battle but also simply to understand .”

Wasn’t that the crux of it? To reach through time and distance to understand another being? “I understand, sir. My colleagues…did not.”

“Ah.” Thrawn communicated so much with that one syllable. You didn’t need to explain any further.  “My question again, Lieutenant. If I ask for your insights, are you prepared to give them?”

“Absolutely, sir.”

“Very good. Now, you are truly dismissed.” He gestured toward the door. 

________

“Thank the Galaxy he finally found someone to talk to about art,” Lieutenant Commander Vanto said. He plopped down on the chair opposite you at your table. Commodore Thrawn’s aide had only spoken to you a few times before now, mostly on the Chimaera’s bridge and never informally. You weren’t sure how to respond, he was your superior, what were you supposed to say?

“I’m sorry, sir, but what?”

“I apologize, I probably should have prefaced that with something, Lieutenant.”

His informality was enough to let your guard down at least a little. “That’s alright, sir.”

“I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced. I mean introduced as people not as officers.” He offered you his hand. “Eli Vanto.” 

“I know who you are,” you said bluntly. 

“Can’t you tell when someone’s trying to make friends?”

“Is that what we’re doing?”

“Look, can you humor me, at least a little? Please?” You took his hand and gave him your name, sans rank, as he had. 

“So, friend, what did you mean ‘he finally found someone to talk to about art’? You mean Commodore Thrawn?” You fidgeted with the straw on your cup. 

“Do we know anyone else who has a fixation with art?”

“I guess not. Aside from me, of course. Though I wouldn’t call it a ‘fixation’. Lifelong passion, maybe.” 

Vanto’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh, I didn’t mean to offend…”

“I’m not offended.” You smiled at him. It was endearing how he walked back his statement as soon as he realized his error. Not many people did that.  “If you don’t mind me asking, how long have you been the Commodore’s aide?”

Vanto stiffened and twisted his mouth. Clearly this was a sore spot. “My entire career,” he said. 

“Truly?” you asked, astonished, “The navy stuck you there that long? Stars, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, it’s been interesting. Dull moments with Thrawn are few and far between.” He relaxed his shoulders, now seemingly through the difficult question.

“Tell you what, Vanto. We take this to the officer’s lounge and you buy me a drink and we can talk.” You piled up the items on your tray so you could dispose of it. Vanto was quiet. “Unless of course you want to talk about your time with the Commodore out in the open for all ears to hear.”

Vanto narrowed his eyes. “I don’t know that it matters.”

“It seems like it does. Anyway, shall we?”

An hour later, you and Vanto just knocked back the dregs of a third round of ale. He set his glass down on the bar. 

“And then,” Vanto said, “he called in buzz droids.”

“Are you serious? Where’d he even get them?”

“Antique dealers, believe it or not. He fixed a few up and convinced our cranky new commander to let him keep them on account of their doonium cores. Anyway, he called them in, and we got free. Took care of the pirates too. We still lost the tibanna though.”

“Kriff, Vanto, I’m buying the next round. That was nuts. He did all that and was still…” you moved your hand over your face to indicate Thrawn’s smooth demeanor. 

“Yep. He’s been like that the whole time I’ve known him. Sometimes it’s infuriating, other times…” he trailed off. “I’m just glad he’s found an officer to impart his art knowledge on like he does with Faro and I with tactics. Or at least speak his language.”

“Are you telling me no one else in your entire careers could?”

“Darlin’, where do you think we are? And I sure as hell can’t see what he sees. I appreciate it but it’s just images to me. Something nice to look at.” The bartender slid the drinks across the bar and Vanto took a sip.

“It doesn’t make you feel anything? You’ve never seen a painting and been moved to tears?”

He laughed. “Nope. Haven’t cried in decades.”

“Okay Vanto, we did not need to go that deep.”

“That’s kinda what I’ve been saying. Well, mostly we can’t go that deep. Part of it is people just get a little…unnerved by the Commodore’s art interest. They never know if it’s a game or not. Part of it is the krayt spit officers sometimes pull on their subordinates but that’s never been Commodore Thrawn’s angle. He wants people to engage with it, think about it past what’s on the surface, but most people can’t or won’t.”

“I think I’m going to disappoint him,” you said ruefully. “I don’t see tactics in it. I was trained to make connections to history or understand the medium and techniques but I can’t make the deductions Commodore Thrawn does.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” Vanto reassured you.

“Then why does he want my opinion? It can’t possibly help him win battles.”

“In space maybe. But those aren’t the only battles he fights.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed but he’s an abysmal politician.”

You sighed. “I’m the comms officer…I know. And I don’t think it’s because he’s not human either.” You downed your drink. “So are you saying he wants my opinion from a political stance?” You couldn’t help but laugh. 

“That seems to be the case,” Vanto said, absolutely serious. “I’d bet credits on it.”

“Oh? The anti-gambling buzzkill is willing to bet on it?”

“Now, I didn’t say - “ 

“Relax, Vanto, I’m joking.” You elbowed him.

“It’s hard to say why he chose you for his second pair of eyes on art. I don’t know why he does most of the things he does and I’ve served with him my entire career.”

“Well, I guess that means we’ll find out.” You patted his back. 

“I guess we will, friend. I guess we will.”

________

Thrawn propped his elbows on his desk, resting his chin over interlaced fingers. You stared at the datapad facing you. Perhaps your last bridge duty shift was longer than you thought it was, because you couldn’t read the writing in front of you. 

“Sir?”

“A transfer order.” He said calmly.

“Transfer? Did I do something wrong, Grand Admiral?” Years of rapport with Thrawn allowed you to speak to him like this. You knew no other officer would ever dare. The sudden thought of having to leave the Chimaera made your stomach drop. 

“No, Commander.”

“Then, why?”

He stood, turning to face the sculptures prowling in the alcove and clasped his hands behind his back. He began to speak, not in Basic but in Sy Bisti. “What I am about to ask of you is difficult,” he said. “I’m sure you’ve noticed the appearance of that order.”

“It’s not Imperial, is it?” you answered.

“It is not.”

His shift in language alongside the appearance of the order told you the answer. “Chiss,” you said. 

“Indeed.”

Suddenly the mystery of the disappearance of Commander Vanto made so much sense. “You’re sending me to your people.”

“Not absolutely. I leave the choice in your hands, Commander. If you refuse, this conversation was merely a chance to practice our Sy Bisti. If you accept….”

“Then I disappear,” you said, a tightness tensing in your throat.  A long silence passed between you and the Grand Admiral.

“I have long been away from my home,” Thrawn said. “But I hear darker and darker news from Admiral Ar’alani. The appearance of the Grysk so near Imperial space is not a positive sign, especially that they are kidnapping ozyly-esehembo.”  He said this last part with the most contempt you’d ever heard from him. You weren’t sure what that word meant, but you knew it had something to do with the Chiss girls the Chimaera rescued.

“What would I be able to do, sir? Do the Chiss not have comms officers in their navy?”

Thrawn inclined his head to you with a small smirk. “Perhaps.” So in other words, yes, they did but no, that’s not why he was sending you. “You’ve served aboard Chimaera since you were a Lieutenant. In that time, you’ve shown me you are far more than a comms officer. Make no mistake, you are an excellent comms officer, but I speak of your other gifts.”

“Alright. Why do the Chiss need an art historian, then?”

“Why indeed?” He wasn’t going to tell you, you’d have to take him on faith. He asked this of you and his crew time and again without steering you wrong. 

“If I go, would you at least tell my family where I’m going…”

“I did so for Commander Vanto,” he said, all but confirming your suspicions. “Additionally,” He pulled out datacards, “you will need these for language training. Many Chiss in the navy know at least one other trade language but I’m afraid that will only get you so far.”

You stared at the order and the collection of datacards resting on Thrawn’s desk before you. A possible pivot point in your life, your career. “This is…may I have the evening to consider, sir?”

“You may. Look over the datacards, I believe they will help you with your decision,” he said. “Do not worry about your evening shift, it will be covered.” He paused, then in Basic said, “You are dismissed, Commander.”

____________________

You were of several minds over your choice. On one hand, a chance to venture into the unknown to experience a whole new culture, a part of the galaxy few humans had ever seen. Part of you screamed at you to take this request by the horns. On another hand, uncertainty. You didn’t know the Chiss language or hardly anything about them aside from small snippets Thrawn had allowed you to glimpse. Vanto on one drunken occasion told you some of the wild space stories about the Chiss, but of course, those were only stories. 

On still another hand, there was dread. You’d essentially have to disappear from the Empire altogether. When you returned, if you returned, you’d have to become someone new. That wasn’t a guarantee of course but you could be seen as a deserter. Why else would Thrawn speak a language that wasn’t in any Imperial language databanks?

Thrawn said to look over the datacards. You slid one into the slot on your datapad. It was everything about the mission to Batuu. The Grysk threat assessment was written by Thrawn himself. Then there were the girls. They were so tiny compared to Thrawn. He’d gotten down on his knee to their level and comforted them as he would his own child, if he had one. It was a sight to be sure. All those small blue hands, those terrified glowing eyes. 

That was what was at stake. Small, innocent lives. You’d joined the navy not just to eat, as you often joked. It was for this. The empire was built on the Republic, but continues to allow the innocent to suffer. Is this how Thrawn convinced Vanto? Damn him. 

With newfound resolve, you knew what your answer would be. 

Chapter 5

Summary:

Thrass convinces you to take a break and allow him to show you around Csaplar.

Notes:

Thanks again my amazing beta readers!!! I seriously wouldn't catch some of the issues were it not for ya'll.

The whisperbird cartoon on your questis screen was mocking you. It had to be. 

You can do it! It said in squeaky Cheunh. You scowled at the screen. Whose idea of a joke was this? More Cheunh script scrawled across your questis screen. You blinked hard at it, willing the curling lines to stop blurring in your vision. 

You spoke the translation aloud for your questis to record. The whisperbird looked disappointed. I’m sorry, try again! You can do it!

That hit your very last nerve. You fell back onto the sofa, covered your face with your questis let out a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a scream. “Kriff, I’m never going to read this kriffing language!” you shouted in Basic. “I’m such an idiot, why can’t I get this?”

I’m sorry, try again! You can do it! The whisperbird said in response to your Basic.

“Blow it out your kriff-hole,” you grumbled. 

Light hit your eyes as your questis lifted off your face. Thrass’s concerned expression appeared as your eyes focused. 

“ Ba’besbi not to your liking, I take it?” Thrass asked. 

“Considering I want to wring that little scug’s neck, no, no it is not,” you spat in Sy Bisti. The past week, while Thrass worked on Syndicure reports and other desk work, you spent the time learning what you could of Cheunh on your own. Thrass recommended a little learning program that was designed for learning trade languages that had a Cheunh track available. You’d slowly grown to despise the program’s cartoon mascot and it’s cheery voice. 

“I think you should take a break,” Thrass suggested. “You’ve been at it all morning.”

“No! No, I can finish, I just need a moment,” you said, making yet another language switch back to the Cheuhn you were supposed to be speaking.

Thrass raised an incredulous eyebrow. “I assume you mean ‘a moment’ not, ‘a muffin’?” He slowly pronounced ‘moment’ and you repeated. Ah, you’d missed a syllable. 

“No, really,” you insisted. You reached for your questis and Thrass raised it out of your reach. 

“Speaking of muffins, when was the last time you ate?” Thrass asked. 

“I don’t know,” you said, irritated that he would do something so childish as to keep your questis away from you. “This morning? Breakfast maybe?”

Thrass narrowed his eyes. “Thiomo? When was the last food item purchased on our friend’s account?”

Thiomo, who’d been quietly observing your ordeal with the language program, tapped their questis. “Yesterday evening, sir,” they said. 

“What? No, I had leftovers for breakfast.” In an act of betrayal, your stomach growled audibly. You sighed. “Yeah…it was yesterday.”

“Thiomo? Please cancel my afternoon appointments,” Thrass turned to you and put on one of his smiles. “And let the Good Day Bistro know we’ll be there soon.”

“Thrass, you don’t need to do that. I’m fully capable of getting my own lunch.”

“You were yelling at a cartoon on your questis,” he said flatly. “And working yourself into starvation.”

You frowned at him. “I was fine.”

“Come, I’ll not have you skipping meals just to learn our language.” He offered a hand to help you off his sofa. “Besides, I haven’t yet had the chance to show you the city.”

__________________________

The maze of corridors, tunnels and lifts reminded you a little of Coruscant. But unlike the planet-wide city, whose surface had long been obscured by buildings, what you’d seen of Csaplar was entirely underground. Some places appeared to be cylindrical corridors bored out of the bedrock and bolstered with metal supports. Other parts opened up into huge natural caverns, some even with intact formations. Interconnecting everything were automated walkways, lifts, and trains. 

Thrass, it turned out, was an excellent tour guide. He explained many of the monuments, landmarks and points of interest as you made your way up to your destination. 

“There’s even a Mycological garden on this level, if fungi are to your interest. There are collected species from many of our colonies.”

“Mushrooms?”

“Indeed, some of them are edible,” he grinned.

For the majority of your journey, most people barely glanced at you, too busy with a questis or their own thoughts to notice an alien among them. If you were being honest, you used Thrass as a visual shield, hiding behind his broadness when you could. It was silly how much you didn’t wish to be noticed. Thrass, too, seemed to make an effort to find corridors and pathways where foot traffic was minimal. 

“It’s just around this wall,” he said, pointing ahead. “The proprietor is a kind man, I don’t think you’ll need to worry.” He patted your shoulder reassuringly. You hoped he was right. 

The bistro was cozy, tucked into a less populated corridor. Light tubes illuminated the front tables. You had to admit, it was charming. 

The host stood just outside the bistro, looking bored. As soon as he caught sight of Thrass, his face immediately brightened. 

“Mitth’ras’safis!” he said, grabbing hold of Thrass’ forearm. 

“I am he!” Thrass said, grinning. “Srassi’ek’kosk.”

“I am he!” 

The Chiss greeting was still strange to you, but it was clear the host knew Thrass and knew him well. The greeting at this point was a formality befitting Thrass’s social rank. 

Thrass quickly rattled off a string of jubilant Cheunh that you could barely keep up with but what you did catch was a series of general questions one would give an acquaintance they hadn’t seen in a long while. Then, the host, Siekko, asked about you.

“May I present my assistant,” he gestured toward you and gave your name. Siekko reached out for your forearm as he had with Thrass. 

“A pleasure to meet you,” he said. Unlike the previous times you'd performed this gesture with other Chiss, this one was not apprehensive to touch and make eye contact with you. You wondered briefly if Thrass’s presence had something to do with it.

Inside the bistro, you were hit with a wonderful bouquet of spicy scents. Your mouth immediately watered. Siekko activated a small screen embedded in the table that displayed what you presumed was the menu. A menu that was, naturally, written in Cheunh. You clenched your fists, suddenly immensely frustrated and angry. You knew it wasn’t a big deal, Thrass wasn’t going to mind if you asked him to read you the menu. But it stung your pride. So much so that you could feel hot tears beginning to well in your eyes. 

Thrass looked at you, worry in his expression. Wordlessly, he deactivated the screen and held your gaze. You didn’t want to look at him, not when you were so close to crying but the gentle understanding you saw in his eyes kept you there. Finally, he said: “Do you trust me to order for you?”

“Well you haven’t steered me wrong so far,” you said, sniffing hard in an effort to dispel your tears. Thrass’s sudden seriousness around the simple question of ordering for you was a little strange. Hadn’t he ordered you that soup? He wasn’t nearly so serious then. 

“Is that a ‘yes’?”

“It is.”

“Very well then, your trust is an honor,” he said. 

The waiter came to collect your orders. Thrass gestured to you and ordered a food you weren’t yet familiar with. The waiter seemed confused and somewhat startled. Thrass continued, ordering the same for himself, then explained you couldn’t read Cheunh yet and he was helping his friend . He put emphasis on the word, as if to say, ‘only a friend’. The waiter seemed to relax and performed a little bow before returning to the kitchen. 

A few moments of silence passed between you and the Syndic. The waiter’s reaction also seemed strange. “Thrass, why did the waiter look so surprised about you ordering for me?”

“Did he?” Thrass asked innocently. 

You frowned at him. “Thrass, you know I understood all that. So, why?” 

Thrass heaved a sigh and put a hand to his forehead. “Well, how do I put this? People don’t order for others unless…their relationship is…intimate.” 

“Intimate how?”

Thrass smiled while sucking in his lips. Now you regretted even asking. “Intimate as in they are family or…betrothed or…married.” The last words he said with visible reluctance.

Heat flushed into your neck and face immediately. “ Kriff . I wouldn’t have said yes if it was going to make it weird. Why didn’t you mention that?”

“Because I didn’t wish to distress you any more than you already were.” 

“You could have just read it to me,” you said. 

“Would you have asked?” he flashed a knowing smile. 

He had you there. “No, probably not,” you said with resignation.

“Don’t worry. There’d be rumors about Syndic Thrass and his human assistant regardless.” 

“I wasn’t even thinking about that, ugh, stars.”

Thrass shook his head and laughed. “Far from the worst rumors about me, I assure you.” 

You were about to ask him what the worst rumors were when your food arrived. Siekko, it seemed, wanted to personally deliver it. 

“I hope you enjoy,” he said, directing the comment mostly to you. 

You peered at the trays your food arrived on, unsure of what you were looking at. There was a neat arrangement of triangular objects and some rectangular ones. Thrass pointed at the triangles. “Those are gir’opi. A dough pocket stuffed with a meat and vegetable mix, essentially. The ones they serve here are the best you’ll find in Csaplar.” 

“You flatter us, Syndic Thrass.” You heard Siekko call from the kitchen. 

“The truth is not flattery!” Thrass called back. “Anyway, the other is like a sliced root vegetable cake.”

You reached for one of the gir’opi and took a tentative bite. It was a savory ground meat inside a lightly crunchy exterior. The flavors flooded your mouth. You liked this even more than the bean soup. “Oh, this is good,” you said. “Oh stars, so good.” 

“There’s a reason I come here,” Thrass said, “even after all these years.” 

“What do you mean? All these years?”

“This is a place I visited many times with Thrawn.” Thrass looked wistful, the glow of his eyes burning more brightly with what you presumed were warm memories. “He was so confused, poor man. I don’t know that anyone wished to simply get to know him, you know, as a person, before we became friends.” 

You remembered times when Thrawn looked out the bridge viewports and looked…sad. You thought, at the time, he was missing his homeland. But now, you realized, he was thinking about the man smiling before you. His brother. 

“You know,” Thrass continued, “I rarely saw him out of uniform, even in all the time we spent together,” he laughed. 

“I mean, he probably didn’t have anything else,” you said, laughing too. “I don’t anymore.”

Thrass stopped, his eyebrows turning upward in realization. “Oh. I’m…sorry. I didn’t mean…”

“It’s alright, Thrass. I have never been one for fancy clothes anyway. I’m a scholar, remember?”

 “But - I simply thought you were trying to look professional. You truly don’t have other clothing?”

“Mostly. I have maybe one set of civilian clothes and I honestly considered leaving it in the Empire. Definitely wasn’t nice enough for that party last week.” 

Thrass still looked thoughtful. “I’m sorry if my comment on Thrawn reflected badly on you…” he said.

“It’s fine, Thrass, you didn’t hurt my feelings. And I really am fine with just my uniform, keeps things simple. Besides, it lets people know why I’m here. CEDF business. They see the uniform first..and the human second. Keeps them from… outright shunning me.”

There was a tightening around Thrass’ eyes. It wasn’t anger. You’d seen a similar expression on Thrawn’s face, one you’d learn to read as disappointment. “Is that how you feel here?” he asked soberly. “Shunned?”

“It wasn’t as much on the Springhawk …well at least not after I’d been there a while. I think part of it was fear of our commander and maybe the Admiral.”

“We are a very insular people, sadly,” Thrass said. “For what it’s worth, I apologize for not realizing sooner what you must be going through. Would you allow me to make it up to you?” The playful sparkle twinkled in his eyes. 

“How?”

“I have a few more stops on our tour in mind,” he said before taking a bite of his gir’opi . 

_________________

“Thrass, no.” You protested when you came up to the windows of what appeared to be a clothing shop.

“I insist.”

“But I’m not…you know…Chiss shaped.”

“Meaning?”

“I don’t think Chiss clothing is going to fit me. The tailors for my uniform had to do a lot of extra work.”

Thrass looked at you with a raised brow. “My dear, I don’t think that’s going to be a problem,” he said, patting his stomach.  “Come now, let’s find you clothes befitting a Syndic’s assistant.”

The door whooshed open and a small, pleasant chime heralded your entry to the shop. Your eyes were greeted with exquisitely dressed mannequins and walls lined with bolts of luscious fabrics. 

The woman at the counter looked up and her expression instantly brightened. “Is that Syndic Mitth’ras’safis?”

“It is he!” Thrass exclaimed, holding his arms out wide. “Hrasko’pin’nirlo!” He embraced the woman in an almost familial hug.

“Oh enough of that, come here, let me get a look at you.” She pushed away and looked Thrass up and down. “Oh, just as handsome as ever.”  The Chiss woman was older both in look and in voice. Her hair was up in a tight bun and decorated with pins and needles of every conceivable type and size.

“Kopinni, allow me to introduce my assistant,” Thrass said, gesturing to you.

You gave your name, knowing the woman would likely ‘chiss-ify’ it like many people did, breaking your name into the Chiss’ familiar tripartite structure. 

“Ah! So this is she!” Kopinni looked you over in much the same way she had with Thrass. ”Siekko said you’d brought a pretty young thing courting, Thrass.”

Thrass’ eyes grew wide. “I beg your pardon?” he said, almost choking. 

“He said…” 

“I know what you said he said. She is my assistant ,” Thrass said indignantly. He was turning a very deep shade of purple. This did not seem to dissuade the woman at all. 

“I was worried about you Thrass. But I guess Chiss girls just weren’t your type.” Thrass’ mortification intensified. “Oh stow the sour face, it’s unbecoming of a Syndic of your stature.”

“I reiterate: she is my assistant . She’s working with me on a project,” Thrass said through gritted teeth. 

“Is that project marriage? Because Siekko said you ordered her food for her.” A mischievous grin appeared on her face. 

Thrass folded his arms across his chest. “And I explained to him that she needed help with the menu, so I helped.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at the woman’s teasing and at Thrass’s reaction to it. It immediately put you at ease with her.

Another Chiss woman poked her head out from the curtain behind the counter. She almost looked like she could be the other’s sister or cousin.

“Oh? Customers?” she said. “Ah! Syndic Thrass!” her voice was softer, almost musical. Her eyes fell on you. “Oh! Is it she?” 

“It is, Kovotla. This is Thrass’ assistant.” 

You introduced yourself again. Kovotla blushed a little herself. “Siekko didn’t mention she was an alien.” She winced. “Oh, apologies, miss.” 

“You are alright,” you said. 

“What do you call your species?” Kovotla said with a quiet politeness. 

You hesitated. “My Cheunh is - not good,” you said. You noticed a small twitch in Kovotla’s expression, but her smile continued. 

“But she could very much use the practice,” Thrass added.

“I see. It’s alright. Go on.” Kopinni waved at you to continue. 

You took a deep breath. “I am a human,” you said. 

“Oh!” Kopinni bounced with excitement. “I heard there was another of your kind in the Expansionary Defense Fleet. As are you?” 

“Yes. As am I.” You said

“Siekko didn’t say you were a military woman!” Kovotla said.

“Are you daft? Look at her uniform, of course she’s in the Expansionary Defense Fleet,” Kopinni snapped. 

“That’s partly why we’re here today,” Thrass said, pausing to allow you to speak.

“I need clothing,” you said, gesturing down at your uniform. “Uniforms - all I have.”

“Oh you poor dear,” Kopinni said, giving you a sympathetic look. “You’re in good hands here.” She led you away toward the back of the shop. Thrass took one step to follow when Kovotla stopped him. 

“No, no you wait here,” she said. Thrass looked somewhat dejected but obeyed. You caught a glimpse of his reassuring smile before the women closed the curtain behind you.

First, they asked you to strip down to your small clothes. Kovotla then ushered you over to stand in front of a scanner that captured all your measurements, which was definitely a novel experience for you. Somehow, having a machine coldly scrutinize your body made you even more self-conscious. As uncomfortable as you were, the Chiss women were nothing but respectful of your space and only touched you with your permission. 

Then came the fitting. Kopinni and Kovotla fussed over you for what seemed like hours, all but throwing clothing at you to try. They discussed each piece in quick Cheunh that you could barely understand. You tried on a lot of the clothes you’d seen Chiss wearing that you deeply admired but the excitement waned as each time you realized those styles were not flattering on you. But looking at the women you saw they too weren’t what you’d called ‘Chiss shaped’. Being around military Chiss really had skewed your ideas about them. Still, they had longer torsos and limbs than you which made the fitting frustrating for you. 

“Don’t worry, we wouldn’t be worth our nyix as tailors if we couldn’t make you look your best,” Kopinni said. “You’ll have a wardrobe fit for a warrior.”

Kopinni rattled off very quick and unfamiliar words to Kovotla who pulled bolts of brilliantly colored fabrics from the racks lining the walls. She held the fabric up to your skin. “This color?” she asked. Kopinni shook her head.

“Actually, I like blue,” you piped up. “Can we try?” The women looked at each other, nodded, and began pulling blue fabric. 

“This one doesn’t usually flatter many Chiss,” Kopinni said, holding a length of fabric up to you. “But you? Yes, this will do nicely.” She set that bolt aside. “We will save it for something special,” she said, smiling.

Kovotla took a lovely burgundy over to another machine and laid the fabric out. She pressed a few buttons and a series of blueish laser beams moved across the table. In a moment, all the pieces of the garment were cut and ready for sewing and fitting. In the Empire, you never had a chance to really see how your uniforms were fabricated and never cared to. But now, being so intimately part of the process, you really appreciated the skill and knowledge that went into it.

“Wow,” you said. “That’s incredible.”

“Just part of the trade,” Kopinni answered. “But thank you.”

While you waited for the custom work, Kopinni made adjustments to the simpler clothes. You stood as still as you could to avoid being pricked by her pins. 

“Thrass…uh…how long have you known him?” you asked, trying to strike up a conversation. 

“Oh, my dear, I’ve lost count. He was only a low ranking Aritstocra when he found us. He also looked like the fools on Avidich had no idea how to fit him for clothes. We had him out of these doors looking like the prince he is. He’s been visiting us ever since.”

“So he truly isn’t courting you?” Kovotla asked, sounding disappointed.

“No, ma’am. As he said, I’m assisting him with a project.”

“That’s a pity,” Kopinni said through the pins she held in her lips. “It’s been a long time since we’ve seen him with a companion.”

“Have there been many?”

“For a time, yes, he’s brought some very lovely people through our doors to meet us, looking for our approval.” She chuckled. “But it stopped at one point. I am not sure why, he’s never said.”

“Well I hope he finds his person. He’s very kind,” you said. The words felt odd to say; you barely knew the Syndic. 

“As do we, my dear.” She placed a pin and stood back to admire her work. “There!”

“Oh Kopinni, she looks fantastic,” Kovotla said. You turned toward the full length mirror in the fitting area and could have cried. It was a relatively simple garment but the fabric along with the drape and the silvery buttons along your side made you look the part of an elegant lady or distinguished scholar or something in between. 

“Thank you!” you said, trying not to completely fumble the words in your excitement. You pulled back the curtain and stepped into the area Thrass had been waiting for you. He sat, slouching in the seat with his questis. You saw momentarily he’d been passing the time playing tap-click games. As you approached, he looked up and immediately straightened himself back into his dignified Syndic posture, smoothing out the fabric of his own clothes. The violet blush came back into his cheeks. 

“Your Warrior has returned, Syndic Thrass,” Kopinni announced. 

“Stunning,” he said with brows upturned. “Yes, ladies, your work is unparalleled as always.” He reached out and touched the fabric at your shoulders. “Can’t hurt that I provided you with an excellent model.”

“Oh shush, Thrass. You know we don’t need flattery.”

“No, but I would guess that you do need money. How much do I owe?” 

The thought of him owing for the work these women did made you feel a little ill. Their work couldn’t come cheaply and while Thrass said he had no problem paying your expenses, you couldn’t help but feel guilty. 

“No, Thrass. This one’s on us. Honestly, we owe you for bringing us such a lovely person to spend the afternoon with.”

“Kopinni, I can’t allow you - “

“No,” she stopped him. “She was in desperate need. If you must, consider it a gift.”

Kovotla handed you a bag with a few other things. “We’ll comm when the rest is ready for a final fit,” she said with a smile. 

With that, you said your goodbyes and walked through the doors, the little chime sounding behind you.

____________

“Do they do this to all your guests?” you asked as you and Thrass made your way to the skytrain station. 

“Only the pretty ones,” Thrass said.

You laughed nervously. “Okay surely you’re joking this time.”

“I wasn’t joking…” he paused, considering. “What did you think I said?”

“Only the pretty ones?” you repeated his Cheunh.

 “You may recall, Chiss don’t joke,” he said. You glanced at him to see the blush that he had in the shop had yet to fade.

“Oh, kriff, I didn’t think you were being serious,” you said, suddenly very aware of the temperature in your own face.

“It’s alright,” Thrass’ mouth drew into a small smile, but you could tell it was strained. “In any case, would you allow me to escort you to your rooms?”

“Y-yes. Thank you.”

You hadn’t realized how long a journey it was to get to the bistro and the clothiers from the Syndicure complex. You’d been too busy talking. Now, it seemed neither of you had much to say. You hoped you hadn’t hurt Thrass’s feelings by rebuffing his compliment. It was just that it caught you by surprise, just as the kiss on the hand he’d given you a week earlier. You still weren’t sure if he was simply being cordial or if he meant it. 

“Thrass?” you asked. 

“Hm?” he hummed, turning his attention away from the skytrain’s window. 

“I’m sorry about earlier.”

He raised his brows. “What do you have to apologize for?”

“I…didn’t realize you were being sincere,” you said, feeling more nervous laughter beginning to bubble up inside you. “So I guess I should just say ‘thank you’.”

“No harm done. My silence now is not because of that, in case you’re worried. I’m thinking.”

“About?”

His gaze swept across the windows of the train. “This city and how it used to be a crowning jewel for the Chiss. Now…it just seems hollow. I suppose that happens as one ages or as time passes.”

“I think I understand. I feel the same way about my homeworld whenever I visit. Like, now that I’ve been away, all I can see are the cracks. It just can’t live up to the memories I have of it.”

“Indeed,” Thrass said, his voice soft. 

For the first time, you noticed the car of your skytrain was empty save for you and Thrass. The perfect chance for a private conversation. Part of you thought it should be more awkward, but the burning of your curiosity overcame apprehension.

“Thrass? Can I ask you a question?”

“Certainly. I might even give you an answer.” He grinned. 

“I don’t know how to even ask this,” you braced yourself. In the short time you’d known Thrass, you hadn’t known him to be angry, you weren’t sure where this question would land you. “…can you tell me about that abandoned hallway? You know, that one where I had a run in with the Patriarch?”

Thrass’ eyes seemed to harden, an expression that looked odd on the Syndic. He was silent a moment before he finally answered. “Please understand, there are some things I’m not at liberty to tell an outsider. It isn’t that I don’t wish to, but that I can’t. Though, a clever woman like yourself probably already tried to find answers.”

“I did…but…”

“You found nothing?”

You nodded.

“I’m sure you also deduced that’s by design,” Thrass said, ruefully.

“I figured. So you can’t tell me anything?” 

“Not a word, unfortunately. But you’re welcome to think out loud,” he invited. 

“The crest on the banners…I dug through what I could, seeing if maybe it had been a family crest…but there’s nothing on your network. It’s just…I find it very strange that an entire wing of the Syndicure complex is just…abandoned.” 

Thrass looked sullen. “I -” he pursed his lips as he thought, face growing more and more miserable. “I’m sorry, I thought about what I could possibly disclose but…I can’t. I’m sure you’ve noticed how welcoming other Chiss are to outsiders. It’s even less so on this.”

You definitely thought this would be a possibility. Still, why was it such a secret? What would happen if he did decide to break his silence? “It’s okay, Thrass. I don’t completely understand the Syndicure’s reasons but I’m not going to make you risk it.”

“If I had some time, I might be able to tease out some bits I could tell you but on the whole…” he shook his head. “And, for the record, this isn’t merely Syndicure business, it’s also Family business.”

“Aren’t those the same?”

“No, not in this case. In this case, it’s a bit…personal to the Mitth.”

“So…the Syndicure isn’t the ultimate authority here? Why even have it? Or…why even have the families have any individual authority?”

“I wish it were that simple. Things could change, I suppose. But… as of now? The Seven ruling families will remain a force of authority in the Ascendancy. I can only bend the rules so much and that’s after a lifetime of learning just how far they can flex before they snap.” 

Chapter 6

Summary:

Thrass' search for patterns in Mitth art hits a dead end and the only place to look is going to require some careful planning. You in turn do some of your own research on Chiss facial anatomy...

Notes:

The one took a bit so I hope it is worth the wait! Thank you beta readers and people who I ranted at about this. Yall are great!

“Here, take a look at these,” Thrass said, handing you a data cylinder. 

The past month, you had been speaking almost exclusively in Cheunh and the immersion really bolstered your fluency. Of course, it would probably be years before you could converse like you could in Basic or Sy Bisti and you sometimes had to switch. Since Thrass was learning some Basic alongside you, this turned out to be a good system. Even so, you saw that Thrass’ patience was saintly. 

Every day began similarly: you’d make your way up to his office at a time Chiss considered a ‘normal’ workday time. Since that first day, Thrass always made sure to at least have caccoleaf brewing by the time you arrived even if he had to be elsewhere. At first, you thought his aide made it but Thiomo often arrived in the office suite after you. Putting a cup of fragrant hot liquid to your lips each morning always filled you with excitement for the coming day. 

This morning, Thrass seemed to be prepared with more Mitth artwork he’d chosen for you to analyze. You weren’t really sure what he did with the write ups you created for each piece. What patterns was he looking for? 

The patterns you did see were that the paintings and sculptures were mostly figural. It was interesting to see how Chiss represented each other. There were families with children who smiled and laughed as they played in a garden lush with brilliantly colored vegetation. Some of these were plein air compositions, painted with quick, decisive strokes. You found you always liked these best since they captured a glimpse of how Chiss saw the world around them.

There were also portraits of Mitth family members. You assumed the ones who were able to afford artwork on real materials as opposed to holos or digitalized work were Blood or at least Cousins or Ranking Distants if what you knew about the family structures was correct. Again, the patterns Thrass was looking for seemed to elude you. And, unfortunately, seemed to elude him as well.

You scanned the cylinder, fully expecting another Mitth portrait or homestead piece but you weren’t prepared for what appeared on your questis. 

The image was what looked like a graphite rendering of a Chiss girl. A very young Chiss girl. You estimated her to be about six years old, but you weren’t sure. Her eyes were so piercing and the rendering so realistic, it made you gasp. Thrass pointed at the questis screen, “Look closer.”

You spread your fingers across the questis screen to zoom in. You found yourself gasping once more as the graphite strokes became familiar lines. “It’s Cheunh,” you said in an awed whisper, “a Cloud Diary.” 

You’d only ever seen a handful of these types of works. With this technique, an artist could hide beautiful words inside beautiful pictures. It wasn’t necessarily a personal log, but from what you understood, many Chiss who practiced the art used it as such.

“Who is she?” you asked. 

“I don’t know,” Thrass said, his tone sharp. He sighed and pushed back his bangs. “I tried to match this with records from the time but the girl…isn’t there.” 

Thrass spun a ring on his hand, his thinking habit. You noticed he only did it if the problem seemed particularly tricky or he was running up against things he couldn’t tell you and was having to craft his answers carefully. The problem of this girl’s identity must really be bothering him. 

“Do we at least know the artist?” you offered, hoping for an answer to match. 

“Yes, she was Mitth blood, which only helps so much. It seems this girl was someone related to her, but the relationship isn’t clear. Only that she cared deeply for her. Something must have happened to her because it reads like an epitaph,” Thrass pulled out his own questis. “Would you…like to hear it?”

You still struggled to read a lot of Cheunh and Cheunh this stylized was definitely not going to happen. You nodded. “Yes, please, I would.”

Thrass was right, it did sound like an epitaph. And it was heartbreaking. The cause of death wasn’t really apparent but it was a collection of favorite memories of the artist’s time with the girl and that their time together had ended. It left you desperately wanting to send a comm to your mother. 

Thrass lowered the questis as though it were weighed down by the words he’d just read. “I found no record of a child that died at that time, Mitth blood or otherwise. It was almost as if she didn’t exist.” 

“Do you think the artist made it up?”

“No,” Thrass said, solemnly. “Nor do I think she died. The way the artist wrote it, it was merely as if the girl was gone. Gone…but not dead.”

“Then where did she go?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” 

The memory of tiny Chiss hands clutching at Thrawn’s uniform came into your mind. Every time you remembered the girls, your heart clenched, but it always ignited fresh resolve. 

“A little while before I came here, the Chimaera rescued a bunch of Chiss girls from the Grysk. But…I never figured out why the Grysk took them specifically. Do you think something similar happened to these girls?”

Thrass looked at you, a glimmer in his eye. “Right, the rescued children,” he said, quietly, “Did Thrawn ever tell you why they were targeted?”

“He mentioned something about Ozyly-esehembo. There were also mentions of ‘disturbances in the Force’ but I figured that was code-talk for intel on where the girls were.”

“Interesting,” Thrass said. 

“Just ‘interesting’?” 

He paused for a moment and you caught him once again moving his thumb along the flat edge of the ring. “I’m afraid this once again runs into our little information sharing problem.”

“Classified?”

He nodded. “But, think about what those words mean in your language, Basic.”

“Sky-walker?” you translated. 

“Just. Keep that in mind. I can’t tell you things but that doesn’t stop you from working it out on your own.”

You thought about the girls, about how they flinched moments before things happened around them. Almost as though they could see it before it happened. ‘Disturbances in the Force’. Then, there was the word skywalker . Hadn’t Thrawn mentioned that name before too? You wracked your brain a moment, chewing on your lower lip. Then, it clicked. General Skywalker. 

You were young during the Clone War but you did remember tales of warriors who used this ‘Force’, warriors like General Skywalker. They were all but a memory now and you weren’t sure if any of those stories were even true. But you did remember hearing about how they could dodge blaster bolts as though they saw seconds into the future. Were these girls like them? You kept your reasoning to yourself for now. 

“Are there other works like this?” you asked.

“I’ve been looking,” Thrass said, “and it appears there might be more. ‘Might’ being the key word here. The problem is,” he spun the ring more, “There are missing children in our records. The Mitth keep meticulous records. And yet, this cloud diary is the only record I found of this girl’s life.” his voice sounded ragged, tired. But mostly, he sounded sad. 

“How many are missing, Thrass?” 

“Countless,” he said. 

You spoke your next question before you could stop yourself. “Who did you lose?” 

He stopped spinning the ring and inclined his head to you. He leaned forward on his desk, bringing his face closer to yours. His eyes were smoldering. “I…didn’t lose anyone personally. But someone precious to me did and he grieves still. It doesn’t matter to me if I knew them, I still wish to find them.”

“So where are the others?”

He leaned back again. “The only other place records like this are kept is deep within the archives. They are not on the Mitth intranet. Possibly stored offline in an information vault. Or it may not even be digitized, but laying in the Mitth’s collection.”

“So that means? What? Do you have to go to the homestead?”

“I do.”

“I’m assuming it’s not as easy as just going there or you would have done it already,” you speculated.

“Again your insight is sharp. You’re right, it's far more complicated than that. I have to be authorized by the Patriarch. I put in the request weeks ago, it was denied. Not that I’m surprised. His Venerate and I have never really gotten along.”

“I got that impression,” you said. 

That brought back some of Thrass’ humor. He smiled crookedly. “He’s Blood, what can I say? Some of the Blood can be like that.”

“Seems awfully counterproductive.”

“Some of the inter-family politics can be quite nasty.” 

A thought occurred to you. “What if you visit under different circumstances? Would you be able to sneak in and look for the art?”

“Only if I’m authorized to enter, I’m afraid. It’s a sophisticated system.”

“Can another Mitth get access without anyone knowing?”

“What are you getting at?” he raised an eyebrow. 

“Well…you could always smuggle someone in to break into the vault. Meanwhile, you keep the Patriarch busy with your other business. Then smuggle them back out. Could one get into the system without leaving a trace?”

“I like the way you think,” he smiled, “It’s a slim possibility, but I think together we can tease out the solution.” 

“You’re serious?”

“Absolutely,” Thrass gave you a playful look, “Are you up for a good old-fashioned art heist?”

“Just like the holos,” you grinned.

__________________________________

It turned out researching a place you planned to infiltrate was nothing like the holos. With his security clearances, Thrass was able to pull schematics from the Mitth intranet. According to him however, there were many places where information was purposefully altered, probably for this very reason. Strategically, you thought the Mitth’s dedication to cleverness in their security was brilliant. As a potential intruder, you wanted to tear your hair out. 

The sofa in Thrass’ office allowed you to have a comfy place to sit while you spread your research out all around you. Thrass did the same at his desk, barely containing it from spilling over to the floor. Every now and then, you’d comment on something you noticed or a possible point of entry and he’d reply with a hum of consideration before answering. He also had a board wheeled in to serve as a space to make relevant notes, or write ideas. Thrass’s office was beginning to look more like a conspiracy theorist’s nest.

Today the task was to find a way to smuggle you into the homestead data center to extract the necessary files, or what Thrass had hoped would hold the answers he was seeking.

“And why, exactly, are we doing this in secret sir?” 

Thiomo went off to do their own research, or so they said, which left you and the Syndic to pour over files and documents without their tech knowledge. As much as Thrass’ aid irritated you with their attitude, Thiomo was proving to be suspiciously knowledgeable about slicing into secure Chiss networks.

As the evening wore on, your eyes felt heavy and drowsiness clouded your mind. You swore you were only going to close your eyes for a moment. Then, the moment passed, and according to the chrono on your questis so did several hours

“Aw, kriff,” you muttered, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. You sat up, groggily pushing the plush blanket off your body. Wait, blanket? Someone had put a blanket over you. You reasoned that it definitely wasn’t Thiomo so you could only presume it was Thrass. You swallowed a lump of embarrassment. This was important work, you should have had more caccoleaf to keep you going, not pass out on your host’s sofa. 

The sound of relaxed breathing caught your attention. You turned to your right to find you were not alone on this sofa. Thrass dozed, leaning against the sofa’s armrest . He had a pillow propped behind his neck and his arms were folded over his chest. 

You hadn’t really seen Chiss sleep before, you realized. Did Chiss snore? Did their eyes continue glowing under their eyelids? Thrawn’s didn’t seem to but you’d never seen him sleep and even when his eyelids were hooded in thought, his eyes still stayed open at small slits, allowing the soft red glow to seep through. 

Thrass was definitely out though. He’d been working as long and hard as you had these past couple of days.  The way he’d positioned himself reminded you of some of the classical Republic artwork from your dissertation studies. The resemblance was remarkable and you couldn’t help but stare. You studied his face, noting the little places where his smiles marked the skin with subtle lines at the corners of his lips and around his eyes, lines that absolutely lit up with the expression that made them. To see someone’s attitude and life so clearly marked on their face was always fascinating to you. 

You were still learning Chiss faces. They had freckles just like humans, but the pigment collected in them also appeared blue. The other major difference in Chiss anatomy were the ridges around their brows and cheeks. You weren’t sure if it was part of the bone or if it was cartilage like ears and noses. Despite working around a Chiss for years, you never found the time or the courage to ask Thrawn. You merely kept the speculation about his facial structure in the back of your mind. 

Thrass was asleep before you. You could just…touch him maybe. Maybe he wouldn’t notice, deep in sleep as he was. You immediately scolded yourself. Not only was it rude that you were staring at him, now you wanted to touch him, hoping he’d be none the wiser. Ma’am you are a creeper. You thought.

But your curiosity got the better of you in the end. Carefully, you stood up to get closer. Leaning in, you reached out and brushed the ridge of his cheek with two fingers. This part did feel like bone but you didn’t want to press any harder. You reached again but this time, his eyes fluttered open. 

“Do you need something?” He asked, sleepily. 

You quickly pulled your hand away and hid it behind your back. “No, I’m fine just…”

“Curious?” he grinned.

Your stomach dropped. He’d caught you. “Yes,” you admitted, “I…um.”

“It’s alright, many Chiss can’t resist my face either,” he said chuckling.

You could feel the rush of heat through your whole body. “I didn’t mean to be weird I just…I don’t know how um…your faces work. Chiss, I mean. Your um,” You touched your brow in the same place Chiss brows bulged outward. “Bumpies.” You said. 

“I’m not familiar with the term ‘bumpies’ ,” Thrass said.  “But yes, I can see the difference between human and Chiss faces. If your curiosity is so insistent, go ahead, I invite you to touch.” 

“No, that’s okay, I don’t want to invade your personal space,” you said. “Again,” you amended, grimacing. 

There was that smile creasing the corners of his lips. “This time you have permission,”

You knew his Chiss eyes saw the heat of your mortification, but maybe he would answer questions you’d had for years. You tentatively pressed your fingers against his brow. It just…felt solid under the skin. You traced around his temple and along his cheek ridge. It was the same firmness all around. Briefly you acknowledged how warm and soft his skin felt. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, Thrass, can you tell me what they’re made of?” He spoke a word you didn’t know. Of course. Science based words were still something you were working on. You poked at the bridge of your nose. “Like the stuff here? Cartilage?”

“Yes, cartilage.” He confirmed. “Were you expecting bone?”

“I was somewhat, but I wasn’t sure. Do they have some kind of function?”

“Our biologists speculate temperature regulation but it may simply be the result of preferential selection; a feature we found attractive.”

“I can see why,” you said without thinking, “…um I mean uh.” Thrass deepened his amused smile.

“I understand,” he said, “there are a few Chiss with beautiful ridges to make the choice seem less odd to outsiders,” his eyes sparkled. “Or was that a comment about mine in particular?”

You covered your face with your hands. Stars, why was this man so annoyingly charming? Why did he always know the exact words to make you completely lose your composure? Also, he was right. It was something about his face. You’d seen it more than anyone else’s since coming to Csilla. And unlike most other Chiss, his face didn’t immediately fall when he laid eyes on your alien features. He smiled almost every time. And when he did, it seemed as though he brightened the whole room. But he was a Syndic, someone who needs charisma and charm to tip the scales toward his interests. He was friendly with everyone, wasn’t he? 

Thrass heaved himself up off the couch. Gently, he coaxed your hands away from your face so he could meet your eyes. “I apologize,” he said softly, “I didn't mean to fluster you. I hope I’ve satisfied your curiosity, at least a little.”

“What about you?” you said, “Aren’t you curious about my human face? It would only be fair.”

His laugh was more like a snort. “You always seem uncomfortable with my teasing but then you turn it on me. Now that doesn’t seem fair. Though I suppose I do deserve it.”

“I’m not!” you said, “I’m just trying to be polite. Are you curious about my human face?”

“Admittedly, yes. May I?” he brushed his fingertips over your own forehead. Was that supposed to feel so nice? Did it feel nice when you did the same to him? “Interesting, it is so smooth,” he remarked. He tucked some of your hair behind your ear before he pulled his hand away. “There. We have satisfied a mutual curiosity about our respective species.”

He was so close, you realized. Close enough for you to feel the warmth emanating from his body. Alarm klaxons rang in your head, screaming at you to let go, to step back. That this had been a terrible, terrible idea. But you couldn’t bring yourself to break eye contact or to let go of his other hand. 

Someone loudly cleared their throat, breaking you out of the moment.

“I hope I’m not interrupting something,” Thiomo said, “but I think I just found our way to get that file you need.”

Chapter 7

Summary:

An opportunity arises to give you the chance you need to access the Mitth homestead archives and an opportunity to experience Chiss culture.

Notes:

I know this is a long time coming! It's been a wild couple of months. Thanks everyone for bouncing ideas, beta reading and sensitivity checking.

Thiomo uses some Cheunh words. I wanted to put more of that in there.

Thiomo unfolded a card. An actual flimsi card. 

“A starday party? For whom?” Thrass asked, reaching for the card. 

“One of the Blood apparently. No idea who, I’ve never met them.” 

Thrass read the card, his mouth twisting into a frown. “Oh for the love of - it’s Thagmar because of course it is,” Thrass said, “Who else would bother to send invitations on flimsi . Flimsi . The audacity.”  The look of pure disgust on Thrass’ face caught you so off guard you snorted.  “You laugh, but you haven’t met him.”

“I’m sorry, who is this?” you asked through your laughs. 

“Oh he’s only one of the most overblown, pompous fools to ever call themselves Mitth.” Thrass continued. 

“Okay Thrass, that still tells me nothing, other than you don’t like him.”

Thrass bobbed his head back. “I never said I didn’t like him,” Thrass said, folding his arms, “I just think he’s a self important, overfed growzer.” 

“Well this overfed growzer may be our passage into the homestead data center, sir.” Thiomo said, taking back the card. 

“I highly doubt he would so much as lift a finger to do anyone a favor.” Thrass said.

“Well perhaps not him personally…but the ke’bako troupe that’s performing for his star day maybe…” Thiomo suggested.

That was a word you hadn’t heard before. “Ke’bako?” you asked. 

“It’s a theatrical performance, of a sort,” Thrass said. “I haven’t seen a show in years but it seems to have made quite a resurgence of late.”

“Yes well, this particular troupe are old friends of mine,” Thiomo said, a small smile on their lips. 

Thrass’ eyebrows went nearly halfway up his forehead. “Thiomo, you used to perform?” 

“In another lifetime,” they shrugged.

Thrass frowned. “Thiomo, you’re awful young to be saying things like that,” 

“And you’re too old to be making judgments on age.” Thiomo countered. “In any case, allow me to make contact, Sir. The Maestro owes me a favor anyway.” 

“See what you can learn from them, Thiomo.” 

Thiomo inclined their head as they bowed before turning on their heel to leave Thrass’ office. An uncomfortable silence fell on the space. You weren’t really sure what you’d just witnessed between the Syndic and his aide. 

“Alright, Thrass. What the kriff was that?”

“What was what?” Thrass asked, innocently.

 “You!” you said, he looked surprised. “I’ve never heard you talk about anyone like that. You really hate this Thagmar guy, don’t you?”

“’Hate’ is such a strong word…” he trailed off at the incredulous look you shot him, “alright, yes. He’s Blood, but the worst kind.”

“And what kind is that?”

“The kind that is completely out of touch with the needs of the common people. He swathes himself in the wealth and power of the Mitth instead of using that power to help the Ascendancy as a whole. People like him are part of the reason the Ascendancy is in the position it’s in.” You noticed his hand twitch as his thumb ran over the ring on his index finger. 

“Which is what, exactly?” You challenged.  

Thrass sat back down on the couch and let out a long sigh. “Fractured,” he said, his voice sounding like the word itself. Whenever you spoke about the Ascendancy his mask of smiles and good humor fell a little. Whatever he was looking for, whatever was rotting the Ascendancy from the inside, it was clearly taking its toll on Thrass. He sighed again and pushed the loose locks of hair away from his face. “I’m sorry, it’s late, we’ve been up far too long and my night robes are calling my name. What say you, hm?”

He was right. The nap you’d had on the couch earlier was the only sleep you’d had in a while. For that matter, when was the last time you’d eaten? Your stomach answered that question with an audible growl. “Honestly? I’m ready for breakfast,” you said. 

“Breakfast? That sounds like an excellent idea. Let’s see, the best breakfast place in the complex should be opening soon…” Thrass looked at his chrono and grinned. “Well, breakfast it is. Then sleep, blessed sleep.” 

____________________________

“Good news,” Thiomo said the next day, “The Maestro has agreed to help us.” 

“Not for nothing, I’m assuming,” Thrass said, putting his questis down on the desk. 

“Well, he did owe me a favor but it comes with some… stipulations,” 

“And they are?” you said.

Thiomo clasped their hands behind their back. “Not so much conditions as things we need to tread carefully around. I have played the game of politics in Ke’bako troupe circles. It’s much like the Syndicure in that people have connections and people talk. As far as the Maestro is aware, I’m wanting a moment back in the spotlight to perform at my family homestead. A homecoming if you will.”

“Thus not connecting this ‘favor’ to me,” Thrass said, raising a brow, “excellent work.”

Thiomo held up a hand. “Don’t sir, I’m not finished. This also means, he doesn’t know about you.” Thiomo pointed at you with one of their long fingers. “And, in this case, sir, we need to keep it that way.”

“Why does that matter?”

Thiomo’s gaze was piercing. “How many humans are there in the Ascendancy, hm?”

You frowned at them. “Okay, I get your point.”

“Other Syndics know about you and there is overlap between Syndics and enjoyers and performers of ke’bako. More than myself, I mean. One look at you, and the connection to Syndic Mitth’ras’safis is formed.”

“If I’m that much of a liability, I’ll just stay here, then,” you offered.

“I need your eyes in the homestead,” Thrass argued, “Thiomo, could you wear a small camera or something perhaps?”

“No,” Thiomo looked at you and the corners of their mouth tweaked into an almost ominous smile, “I had a much better idea…”

_______________________________________

“Hold still, ti’sansa,” Thiomo chided, hovering a sponge over your face, “I need to finish your eyes.”

The thick makeup was already starting to itch on your skin and it was taking all your willpower to not tear your own face off. On top of that, your eyes were chafing under the full coverage contacts Thiomo wanted you to use to simulate Chiss eyes. You weren’t sure how a little costume or makeup would fool anyone into thinking you were Chiss, especially not a leader of a performer group.

You’d done some research on ke’bako over the last few days. Traditionally, it was a performance act of mostly male Chiss dressed up in elaborate, bodacious costumes and makeup. They sometimes did historical plays or comedy acts, but there was a culture surrounding it that you, an outsider, couldn’t really penetrate from images or vids alone. The look of it was certainly appealing, especially by Chiss tastes, though a little gaudy for yours. The more recent performance troupes however, began to add their own flavor to it. Gymnastics and music to suit more modern audiences. 

“There,” Thiomo said with finality, dabbing your eyelid one final time with a sponge. “She's done.”

Thrass walked in through the office reception room. “Excellent to hear that, how - “ Thrass’ words broke in his throat as he laid eyes on you. “Chaos spare me,” he murmured. Emotions mixed on his face, namely horror.

“What? Is it that bad, Thrass?” you asked, suddenly feeling very self conscious.

“Excuse me, I never do bad work. But - see for yourself,” Thiomo guided you to the mirror on the far side of the room.  And…and you could hardly recognize the Chiss staring back at you. You lifted a hand, wanting desperately to touch your face to prove to yourself that yes, this was indeed your body in the glass.

“Oh, kriff,” you muttered in Basic. 

“Thiomo this is…incredible,” Thrass said, still looking at you with clear discomfort. You weren’t sure why, but it disturbed you that he was reacting so viscerally. This was a disguise, he wasn’t reacting to you . 

“Thank you, sir,” Thiomo said, “But the real test is seeing how well strangers react. We need to take this out in the wild.”

“Y-yes, of course,” Thrass agreed, “If you don’t mind, I have some data work I need to attend to. Can you manage without me?” 

“With where I plan to go sir, it probably would be best if no one sees you there,” Thiomo said. 

Thrass swallowed and put his composure back in place, offering you a small, reassuring glance. “Happy hunting,” he said before returning to his work. 

 You followed Thiomo through the Syndicure corridor. You thought for sure you’d be discovered immediately, but to your relief, no one even batted an eye at you. Usually, the moment Chiss saw you, they stared at you. That of course was the most benign expression. Sometimes they looked disgusted, angry, suspicious, a whole gamut of unfriendliness. This time, it was like you were completely invisible. You couldn’t think of a time in your life where you wanted this so much. If it weren’t for the contacts and the makeup, you would have cried and you very nearly did. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Thiomo asked brusquely. 

“I’m just…it’s nothing, Thiomo.” 

“Well keep silent, the illusion breaks when you speak.” 

“You’re the one talking to me! Besides, my speaking isn’t that bad.” you protested. 

“It’s improved, I’ll give you that much. But it’s still like nails against plexi. Come, I need you to meet someone. Let’s see how well this holds up.”

____________________________________

You’d never been to Canto Bight but you’d seen holos and heard stories. You imagined it might come close to this part of Csaplar but only barely.  This was clearly where all the night life on the planet happened. Lights danced around and music thumped from every building. There were sparkling advertisements for every type of show imaginable. Illusions, bands, comedy, and finally, ke’bako. The biggest show in town by the sheer scale of the signage. The performer you assumed was Thiomo’s ‘Maestro’ loomed above you, shining in lights, some you realized would probably not even appear to your human eyes. 

“Here she is,” Thiomo said, “Lady Firewolf,”

Thiomo led you inside the club and you suddenly felt incredibly under dressed. You expected to move through the floor quietly to meet the Maestro backstage but instead you sat at a table near the stage. 

“I thought you said we were meeting this Maestro person,” you said to Thiomo in a low voice. 

“Oh, we are.” 

The crowd hushed as lights brought their attention to the stage. An announcement played on the speakers, “Good evening, Troupe Starflare will be on in a moment. Please, for the courtesy of those around you, silence all comm alerts. Thank you.”  

Soon, the performance began. It was unlike anything you’d ever seen. The images you’d seen paled in comparison to the real thing. You were mesmerized by the lights, the music, the skill of the acrobats but you were not prepared for the show’s climax. 

“And now, please welcome for her first performance of the evening, Madame Fire Wolf!”

The Chiss who came onto the stage blew the rest of the cast away. Her makeup was as elaborate as it was immaculate, the lines crisp and stark. Her dress changed color in the lights, her wig looked like it had actually been ignited by flames. And then, there was her voice. Madame Fire Wolf sang with a glorious falsetto that completely took you to another world. Backup singers and dancers joined her. It took you a moment to remember that ke’bako performers were usually male. Which made the spectacle all the more intriguing and incredible.

At the show’s finale, they actually set off fireworks. The small, intricate explosions filled the room, the sparks lighting candles on the tables the audience was seated at. The lights faded and the audience roared and cheered. Madame Fire Wolf treated you all to an equally spectacular encore. 

When the show ended, the crowd began to disperse. You and Thiomo waited until the club began to quiet down before you made your way backstage. Madame Fire Wolf met you, her arms opening wide in a gesture of welcome. 

“So my dear Thiomo, you not only commed me but you came to visit as well? I feel so honored.” She put out a hand for Thiomo who kissed it much like Thrass had that night at the party. “We have much to discuss, come, I’ll let you backstage.” 

You and Thiomo followed Madame Fire Wolf behind the curtains and to some back rooms you assumed performers used as dressing rooms. She entered into a door that had her name etched onto a plaque in its center. 

“It's always nice to see one of my dockletts return for a visit.” She said, referring to Thiomo, you guessed. She undid some pins at her hairline and removed the wig from her head to place it on a mannequin. Without it, her wig cap clung to her head, revealing close shaven hair. The persona of ‘Madame Fire Wolf’ completely disappeared, leaving behind someone completely different. 

“It’s been a long time, Maestro,” Thiomo said.

The Maestro scrutinized Thiomo, then turned his eyes to you. 

“So this is she?” he asked, his voice startling you. It was lower and deeper than Madam Fire Wolf’s but had the same pleasant lilt. 

“Yes.” Thiomo gave the fake Chiss name you’d agreed on earlier. 

“Can she not speak for herself?”

“Well, yes, but she has an illness,” Thiomo explained. You gestured to your neck, indicating a sore throat. The Maestro was silent, eyes moving over you more. His gaze was uncomfortable, penetrating. You knew then that he wasn’t fooled, not in the slightest bit.   

He tapped his chin with a finger thoughtfully. “Hm. Thiomo, I have to say your craft has gone a bit oxy since you ran off to work in the Syndicure.”

“Excuse me?”

“Come here, dear,” The Maestro said, beckoning to you. “You know, it may be seen as distasteful to impersonate one of our species like this,” the Maestro reached out and to your utter dismay stroked a thumb across your cheek, revealing your human skin beneath. 

“K’tah.” Thiomo spat, “I honestly thought you wouldn’t see through that. I’m a fool.”

“Well, I didn’t say it,” the Maestro said, “But, agree, my docklett.” 

Thiomo put a hand up to their face, “And, of course you probably knew about her beforehand,”

The Maestro cocked an eyebrow. “It’s not exactly a secret. Especially considering your Syndic’s habit of having his assistant sample the culinary delights of Csaplar. Makes it hard to miss.” 

“Who’s been talking?” Thiomo asked, icily.

“Everyone. You really expect Chiss not to talk about an alien amongst them?” The Maestro turned his head toward you a degree. “No offense.”

“None, taken,” you said. The Maestro rolled his eyes up and blinked at the sound of your Cheunh. Which was a nice difference from simply wincing but you got the message. 

“So now what?” Thiomo asked.

“Now, my docklett, you tell me what you’re really cashing in that favor for.” 

___________________

The next few days, you, Thrass, and Thiomo ironed out the rest of your plan. It was risky. Some might even call it stupid to try to infiltrate and steal confidential data from a Chiss ruling family. Thrass reasoned that if anything went awry, he’d figure out a way around it. Whatever that meant. 

“Are you sure?” you asked. 

“Absolutely not.” Thrass said, smiling sardonically. 

“That doesn’t make me feel any better, Thrass,” you said.

“Then let’s hope we don’t have to find out.” 

Thiomo got your equipment in order. Included in your arsenal were a few clever things you and Thiomo had devised. One of these was a miniature communications device placed inside a piece of Thrass’s ear jewelry. That one had been your idea. Thrass was absolutely delighted. He quickly fit it onto his ear to test it. 

“Just be careful with it, sir.” Thiomo said. “This is only to keep you in the loop, speak to us only if it’s a mission-jeopardizing emergency.” 

“Understood,” Thrass said, “I don’t suppose this comes with a different finish? What if the gold clashes with some of my outfits?” he joked. 

“Sir, with respect, I very much want to throw my questis at you right now.” Thiomo said, deadpan. You, on the other hand, cracked up at Thrass’ comment.  

“See? She thinks I’m funny, Thiomo.”

“That’s because she doesn’t know you well enough, sir.” Thiomo said, folding their arms. “Trust me, human, he’s not that funny,”

“I disagree,” you said. “Sorry Thiomo, you’re outvoted.” 

“Whoever said this was a democracy?” Thiomo walked haughtily out of the room. 

 

_______________________________________

 

Crammed into the back of the performer’s skytruck, you somehow settled in for a long ride. You weren’t actually sure of the location of the Mitth homestead. Since it was in a cavern, there was no way you could really pinpoint its location on the surface. From all the artwork you’d been studying you knew there was some form of lighting in the cavern, like a skydome. You were not prepared for what you saw as the cavern opened up around the skytruck. 

The moment your transport entered the cavern, your eyes were blinded with light from a…sun? You’d thought the paintings merely added the brighter lighting for effect. This was far, far more than a simple skydome. It appeared as though there was an actual sky and atmosphere in here. It was as though you’d entered a completely different planet. There were lakes! Lakes! 

“Thiomo, do the lakes have fish?”

Thiomo leaned against the skytruck hull, filing their nails. They looked up at you. “Fish? How should I know?”

“Well, you’re Mitth,” you reasoned. 

“You know not every member of every family is able to visit their homestead. The families, even the ruling families, only provide so much,” they explained.

“But I thought you said you’d been here.”

Thiomo sighed impatiently. “The Mansion, yes. The rest of the cavern? I’ve not had the pleasure. Besides, imagine me fishing. No thanks.”

You continued to marvel at the sheer majesty of the cavern. How had they managed to get an entire ecosystem in here? Were all the homesteads like this? 

You shook yourself out of your reverie, you had to focus on the mission. In exchange for her help, the Maestro made you a deal. There was a file she wanted in that databank if you could manage it. She seemed interested in Thrass’s work, and knew far more about it than she probably should have. You fingered the data cylinders in your pocket. This was a mission unlike any you’d ever been part of. You felt jittery. Comms officers rarely did any kind of field work. Though you’d prepared for this, you were completely out of your element. 

The skytruck pulled in towards a large, ornate building. This, you assumed, was the homestead mansion, the heart of the homestead. You felt your jaw tighten as you beheld the display of power and wealth before you. You had no business being here, no business beholding this. You were an outsider. Not a Mitth and definitely not a Chiss. You had the sense that what you were about to do would violate something sacred. 

Thiomo grabbed your shoulders and pulled you closer to the skytruck’s hull. “When we disembark, say nothing, keep looking straight ahead. Get yourself into the role of assistant. We don’t want security to suspect anything.” 

Right. You’re just a Chiss helping move set pieces and costumes for a ke’bako troupe. 

The Mitth had their own security detail and defense force which made sense to you. These people had power and part of showing that power was a show of might or protection. Guards dressed in Mitth burgundy uniforms stood outside and around the skytruck as you unloaded trunks. 

The trick was to do this without disturbing your makeup. After the Maestro had so handily uncovered your disguise, Thiomo wasn’t taking any chances. They had sprayed a setting fluid over it to make it become like a flexible plasticone mask adhered to your own skin. It was more durable but it could tear and even the slightest chance that your human skin could be revealed was a huge risk. Once the troupe’s things were unloaded, you and Thiomo slipped out and into the mansion. The guards were seemingly oblivious. Step one of the operation was complete. 

The next step was to somehow meet with Thrass to get his report on the situation. He’d arrived at the mansion a day earlier and had time to investigate the security situation. You planned to meet him in the guest reception hall where hopefully there would be enough commotion going on to make it easier to be discreet. 

As you entered through the back, you spotted Thrass in the crowd. He wasn’t hard to find. Especially because he apparently released all the dampeners on his style now that he was among other Mitth ranking family members. His hair was up in a bun with braids on either side. Longer locks dangled down in front of his ears. Golden beads were threaded throughout. And that was just his hair. 

His clothing was the finest you’d ever seen him wear. Remarkably, they weren’t all Mitth colors. Instead, he wore a deep violet outer coat with sleeves breaking off at his elbows and trailing down to end in long tippets that nearly came to the floor when his arms were at his side. The shirt underneath flashed a hint of the Mitth burgundy with golden embroidery. As usual, the clothes were tailored to his body perfectly and he walked with the grace of his station, one hand holding a drink. He was so utterly magnificent that your mouth grew slack and hung open. 

He caught sight of you and gave a tiny nod and the touch of a smile. You felt a pleasant churning in your stomach, like something was fluttering around in there. The alarm klaxons went off in your head again, drowning that feeling out. This was silly, he’s just Thrass, you told yourself as if he hadn’t invoked that warmth in you before. It was simply nice to see him not react negatively to seeing you after his initial reaction to your Chiss disguise.

“Are you going to just stand there ogling him all afternoon or are you going down there?” Thiomo said, interrupting your thoughts. 

“I wasn’t - “ you noticed the smile on Thrass’s face broaden. Kriff, he was listening though his ear piece. 

Thiomo made a face like they were in pain. “Whatever, just stop doing it so we can get the intel.”

“They are excited about the performance,” Thrass said when you met with him. The small alcove provided just enough cover, but not so much as to be suspicious. “So far,” he continued, “everyone seems to be behaving as we expected. Save for the Patriarch, who is, unfortunately, not as far away from the premises as we’d planned.”

“He’s here?” You hissed. 

“Unfortunately,” Thrass said, “fortunately however, he’s been holed up in meetings all day. Though I don’t expect that to continue once the festivities start.”

“How long can we keep him at the party?”

Thrass’ smile grew impish. “As long as we need. I’m sure the Maestro will oblige, considering he has a stake in it too,”

“Alright, we continue as planned,” Thiomo said, “we can use the security room to see where the Patriarch is and avoid him. Nothing changes, this is fine.” Thiomo didn’t seem completely confident. 

“Good to hear,” Thrass peeked around the alcove, “take it from here, Thiomo,” 

“Yes, sir,” Thiomo turned and strode away. You started to follow but Thrass spoke your name and gently clasped your wrist.. 

“Yes?” you asked. 

“I merely wanted a moment,” he explained, “I recall the last party I attended, I met you.” There was a sparkle in his eye. “You’ve come such a long way,” he smiled, tipping his drink toward you. 

“With what?” 

“You are so much more proficient with your Cheunh for one, for another, I wouldn’t have made nearly as much progress on my work without your assistance. So,” as he had when he met you, he lifted your hand to his lips and kissed it softly. Though your hands were gloved to hide your skin, the touch was so tender, you felt like you’d been lit ablaze. 

“Thank you,” he said, “Now, let’s finish our errand.”

He left the alcove to rejoin the party. You tried to peel your eyes away from him as he sauntered back into the crowd. You flexed the hand he’d kissed. Why had that felt so different from the last time? You shook yourself, you had work to do. 

Thiomo stood behind the set the ke’bako performers were setting up, clearly not amused that you made them wait. They grumbled about Thrass and parties as they led you down corridors. You were careful to travel in the places you identified as security cam blind spots or between guard patrols. You didn’t need to be completely concealed, but you didn’t want to be suspicious either. It felt as though you moved at a crawl, but finally, you were close to the main security office. Thiomo used a panel down the corridor to tap into the camera and loop the last 10 seconds of security footage. It was frighteningly easy and that pricked at your anxiety. You had to stay vigilant. 

“Wait,” Thiomo ordered as you went up to the door. They knocked on the door. In a moment, a tired looking Chiss dressed in the Mitth guard uniform opened the door. 

He looked you and Thiomo up and down, his frown turning into a scowl. “You’re not Mitth security.” He stated. 

“No.” And Thiomo sprayed the small atomizer of knockout gas in his face. He collapsed almost immediately.

It happened so quickly it took a moment to register what just happened. “What the kriff, Thiomo, he’s going to remember that!”

“No, he won’t and if he does, it will just seem like he dozed off for a moment in his chair. Now, help me lift this buffoon up and let’s find some uniforms.”

You managed to find some uniforms that fit, miraculously. “Remember, we put these right back where we found them so try not to get yours dirty, hm?”

“I’ll try,” you said as you fastened the buckle at your waist. “No promises.”

“Go,” Thiomo said. 

__________________

Thiomo guided you over the comm earpiece, winding your way down to the lifts that would take you to the archives. Everything was going smoothly. That nagging feeling that this was too easy still pulled at the back of your mind. Operations in the navy were never this straightforward, especially under Thrawn. Something was going to go wrong somewhere. 

You heard raised voices on the other side of the wall. “Thiomo, what’s on the other side of me?”

A pause, then Thiomo answered. “The Patriarch’s office, it turns out. Why?”

“Something is happening in there. What’s on the security?”

A pause, then Thiomo answered. “There’s someone in there with him,” 

“Can you patch me audio? Is there any?”

“Hold on,” 

In a moment, new voices streamed into your ear. One of the voices you thought belonged to the Patriarch, the other came from a younger sounding man, one who spoke his Cheunh with a different accent than you’d heard before. 

“And what am I supposed to do, Zimaram?” the Patriarch, Thurfian, asked.

“Join us,” the other Chiss, Zimaram, pleaded. 

“So this family too can be marked as traitors?” Thurfian scoffed. 

“So you can make amends,” Zimaram argued. “It’s not too late,” 

“The damage has been done, I’m afraid.” 

“You are a stubborn bastard, Thurfian,” Zimaram spat.

“And it’s that trait that’s kept the Mitth strong in the face of division,” 

“Division YOU caused!” Zimaram sounded angry. You heard a chair scrape along the floor. You imagined Zimaram standing and pointing a finger at the Patriarch. Thurfian was silent.  “You know it’s true,” Zimaram continued. 

“That’s quite enough, boy,” Thurfian said, his voice icy. “I think your audience is over, my aides will see you out.”

“You can’t keep denying this, Your Venerante .” Zimaram said, danger creeping into his speech, “Someday, it will catch up to you.”

“Good day, Irizi’mar’amin,” Thurfian said, by way of dismissal. You heard rustling of fabric and the scuff of boots. It seemed this man’s exit would be very unceremonious.

“Thiomo,” you whispered into your comm, “I’m going to see,”

“You are NOT,” they hissed back. But your feet were already moving. 

Three Chiss burst through the door. Two in security uniforms dragging another by the arms. You guessed this third one was Zimaram. He was young, at least you guessed he was. His hair was trimmed shorter on the sides than the top. A stray lock fell into his face. He stood tall, his sharp chin tipped upward. 

“I am perfectly capable of seeing myself out,” he said. 

“We’re escorting you out as a courtesy,” one of the guards grumbled, “We should be handing you over to the defense force.” The guard clearly felt disdain toward the younger man. 

“I don’t think you understand me,” Zimaram said. 

Then, he spun on the guards, breaking free of their grip. It happened too quickly for you to process how they went from restraining him to unconscious on the floor. Zimaram rubbed his arms. You were so stunned and so enthralled with the action, you hadn’t realized how out in the open you were. Zimaram turned his eyes on you.  You froze.

Kriff.

 

Chapter 8

Summary:

You make an unexpected ally as Thrass has dealings of his own.

Zimaram’s eyes widened as they fell on you. Then, they narrowed as he scowled. 

He didn’t speak so much as he hissed at you, striding down the hallway in a predatory gait. Panic gripped your throat. If you didn’t do something you’d end up just like the guards and then this whole trip would be for nothing. You didn’t want a fight if you could help it. You ran. 

“Thiomo, I kriffed up,” you said into your comm. 

“I can see that,” Thiomo replied. You could almost hear them rolling their eyes.

“So? Help me!” 

“Turn left,” They instructed. 

You did. You could hear Zimaram’s boots hitting against the stone floor behind you. You reached for your own supply of knockout spray on your belt. Pivoting on your heel, you placed a finger on the actuator and readied yourself to fire. But he anticipated you. He knocked your arm away, sending the spray flying out of your hand. He reached to get a hold on you. You twisted out of his reach at the last moment, briefly thanking the stars for Thrawn’s mandatory combat training. Zimaram stumbled forward but recovered. 

It was that moment you cursed yourself for not keeping up with said combat training. Zimaram wound up and you anticipated a punch to your left. A punch that didn’t come. He crouched below your center of mass, swinging his legs around. In a split second, you found yourself flat on your back against the cold, hard floor. The Chiss leaned over you threateningly, ready to deliver a final blow. You flinched, throwing up your hands. 

“Stop!” you cried in Cheunh, hoping your words came out correctly. “Stop, I’m not security!” 

Now it was Zimaram’s turn to freeze.

“ I’m not security ,” you repeated, slowly. 

He cocked his head, raising one brow. “What is wrong with your voice? Your accent is…broken,“ he said. Kriff. 

“I - ,” you weren’t sure how to proceed. Cheunh words scrambled around in your head, trying to form explanations. You realized you didn’t owe him one. “That’s not important,” you said.

Zimaram backed off warily, allowing you space to pick yourself up off the floor. “If you’re not security, why are you in a security uniform, hm?” 

“And I could ask you why you knocked out those men,” you countered.

Thiomo spoke into your ear. “This is lovely,” they said, “however, the Patriarch is stirring and will probably leave his office to find his guards unconscious on the floor. You may want to, oh, I don’t know, do something about that.”

“Thurfian,” you hissed. 

“What?”

“He’s coming out of his office.”

“How do you know that?”

“Who cares? He can’t see those two,” you pointed toward the end of the hall. 

Zimaram stared at you. You could see the mind behind his eyes working to decide if he wanted to trust you. “Alright,” he said finally.

Working quickly, you hauled the two Mitth guards around the corner into what looked like a supply closet. Zimaram efficiently relieved one of the guards of his uniform and began slipping it on himself. A flash of metal caught your eye as he peeled off his overshirt. It was a pendant engraved with a symbol you knew very well. You only had a split second glimpse before the uniform tunic came down over it, but it was enough to make out the shape. Immediately, you recognized the symbol from the abandoned Syndicure hallway. Who was this guy?

“Are you just going to stare or are you going to get caught?” He said, handing you the helmet and regalia missing from your more standard security uniform. Annoyed with your lack of subtlety, you jammed the helmet on your head. 

With seconds to spare, you took up your new post outside the Patriarch’s door, stiffening to attention. 

The doors to Thurfian’s office slid open and out he strode, his robes swishing. For a few harrowing moments, you worried that your makeup had smudged when you put on the helmet or that your contacts wouldn’t glow properly. 

“I will be joining the festivities below.” Thurfian said, turning a discerning eye toward you. You tried to keep breathing normally under Thurfian’s scrutiny. Seemingly satisfied, he looked away.

“Understood, your Venerante.” Zimaram said, puffing out his chest. The voice he used was different. Deeper, more authoritative and without the accent it had previously. Thurfian didn’t even bat an eye. 

“Very good,” Thurfian gave a small nod to the both of you and continued down the corridor and out of sight. You fell out of attention 

“He’s leaving aaaaaaand he’s headed to the lifts down to the party,” Thiomo said with a sigh. “I would say success except now we have a passenger .”

“Shut up,” you hissed into the comm mic. Zimaram titled his head curiously at seeing you talk to seemingly no one.

 “Ah so do you have help, I thought so,” he said, flashing a devious grin, “so what were you planning to steal? Money? Artifacts?”

You glared at him. Whatever his own reasons were for being here, your reasons were none of his business. “We’ve helped each other,” you said, “now, be on your way.”

“I could do that,” Zimaram said, “or I could alert the real security to the impostor in their midst.” Your throat clenched at the suggestion.

“Interesting threat, considering you were being bodily escorted out of the Patriarch’s office.” You folded your arms. “Or did you knock those guards out just for smiles?”

“I can make that call and be long gone before anyone shows up.”

“Not with my helper at the main security panel,” you said, tapping your ear.  

Zimaram’s eyes narrowed. “So, an impasse.” he said. He paced around you in that same predatory way, sizing you up, seeing if you would put up a fight or if you could be useful somehow. It was an unsettling feeling.

“I’m guessing you were going to use that ke’bako performance to keep everyone’s eyes and ears busy.”

“So?” 

“So, that limits our time for arguing in front of the dear Patriarch’s door,” he said. “Answers, please.”

“Don’t you dare,” Thiomo growled through the comm. “He’s Irizi ! He can’t be trusted. Lie to him, knock him out, get rid of him. Just do not - “

The Irizi name didn’t ring any bells. Likely, as you often found, it was an old family rivalry that was honored out of habit. You could do as Thiomo said and simply lie to him, but something about the young Chiss’ manner told you he wouldn’t buy it, not after all this. You pursed your lips. “Fine. I’m here to access the Mitth’s offline data archives.” Thiomo let out a string of curses through your comm. 

Zimaram chuckled almost condescendingly. “Ah, information theft. I’m sure the Mitth have all kinds of juicy secrets. Planning to sell them?”

You clenched your jaw, deciding you were starting to dislike this guy. “That’s none of your business.” You said flatly. 

“Well, you’re going to need top level clearance to get in there. I’m not sure your little helper can do that. What were you planning to do to get into the vault, ask it nicely?”

You gritted your teeth at his comment but said nothing. You and Thiomo planned to use a lock scrambler on an access panel near the vault door. Thiomo assured you it would work but now doubt crept into your thoughts. You didn’t want to trust Zimaram but he made a lot of sense, too much sense. You hated games like this, you could never truly tell what your opponent was thinking. Surely not like your former commander could.

 “I’ll take your silence as an ‘I don’t know’. But, you’re in luck. It so happens I have an access fob.” Zimaram twirled a data cylinder in his fingers. It was marked with the Mitth sun and adorned with engravings along the edges. It certainly looked official. 

“How do I know it’s even genuine? Seems awfully convenient.” You said, raising an eyebrow. 

Zimaram’s humor melted off his face and the suspicion returned. “It does, doesn’t it?” He paused. “Seems convenient to me that two people wanting to get into the archives so happened to run into each other. Did the Patriarch send you? Some other Mitth official?”

“Look, I don’t have time for games. I’ve told you what you wanted, now let me be on my way.” You started forward but he put out an arm to stop you. You grabbed it, pushed and twisted away, knocking Zimaram off balance. 

“No, wait, I can help you,” he grunted, catching himself. 

“Why would you want to help me? For all I know, you’re going to wait until I do something illegal and then arrest me. I’m not really into entrapment like that.”

“Oh? You’re into it other ways? OW!” You punched him in his upper arm. “Alright,” he grumbled, rubbing the spot where you punched him, “how about this? I will get you into the archives and tell my employers nothing of our meeting if you in turn stay quiet about my presence. A vow of mutual silence.”

You searched your memories. What the kriff was a ‘vow of mutual silence’? You’d yet to come across this in all your Chiss culture studies. There was something dangerous sounding in something as serious as a ‘vow’. You scoffed, pretending to know what it meant. “How am I supposed to trust that?”

“Don’t,” Thiomo warned. “Do not - “ you muted the speaker. 

Zimaram narrowed his eyes again. “Because it’s my word. Are you so distrustful not to take a fellow Chiss at his word? I’m kind of insulted actually.” 

You studied his face. He seemed sincere but how much of that was an act? How quickly would he betray this supposed ‘vow of silence’? You chewed the inside of your mouth as you came to a decision. 

“Alright, Zimaram. A vow of mutual silence it is.”

“Everyone hearing this is also bound by it. That includes your little bird there.” Zimaram pointed toward your ear. You imagined Thiomo was furiously explaining just how much they were going to make your life hell after this. 

“You have my word that I will help you access the Mitth archive, on my honor.” Zimaram said, an official gravity in his voice.

You decided to mimic him in tone and words. “And I, in turn, vow not to tell anyone not in this conversation about your presence here today, on my honor.” 

Zimaram reached out his forearm and you took it in yours. Though this seemed simple enough, something told you that you truly were bound by honor to keep your word.

 “There, can we go?” 

 

---

 

Zimaram seemed to know a frightening amount about the Mitth mansion for someone not Mitth. It gnawed at you to accept his help even though he hadn’t left you much choice. When you took Thiomo off mute, they had more than a few choice words for you but the deed was done, the vow was spoken. 

Once Thiomo calmed down, they went back to work. With Zimaram’s knowledge along with Thiomo’s directions, you were able to quickly move through corridors and levels, slowly winding your way down to the archive. Briefly, you thought about Thrass who was surely listening in to all this. He clearly wasn’t bothered with Zimaram’s intrusion. Though he’d been silent, just knowing he was nearby brought you a small comfort in the stress of this mission. 

As you went down a lower level corridor, the floor vibrated and a low boom echoed all around you. “The show is starting,” Thiomo said, “We officially have 30 minutes in this part of the set and, incidentally, the guard change.” 

“It seems the show has started,” Zimaram commented, “but I’m sure your little bird already said so.” 

You didn’t answer him. You may have been working together now but you didn’t owe him conversation. After all, you did take a vow of mutual silence.

“Hello?” He prodded, “talk to me with your silly broken voice.”

“It’s not broken,” you said, stumbling a bit over the syllables. 

“So why is it so strange? Are you perhaps from a far flung colony? Is it not something that can be fixed?”

You wanted to kick him in the face, instead you just did your best impression of the hiss Chiss often did when they were angry. 

“Alright, fine. It’s a sore point,”

“Did you decide to help me just to ask rude questions?” you asked through your teeth.

“No,” Zimaram said.

“Then why are you?”

The sound of Zimaram’s footfalls behind you stopped. You turned to see what stopped him. He looked a bit stricken. “Because…well for some reason my name hasn’t caused you to treat me like a traitor.”

Thiomo’s warnings about his family name replayed in your head. “What does that have to do with anything?”

He laughed bitterly. “Have you been living under a glacier? You really don’t know?”

“No, I don’t.” 

“I’m Irizi .” 

You stared at him. You knew families were important but this was a family you’d never even heard of before this afternoon. If they were that important or infamous, surely it would be common gossip. Only you weren’t really in on the common gossip. Thrass and a handful of other Chiss were the only people you spoke to. The name Irizi never once came up on your searches or on news vids. 

“You have no idea, do you?” Zimaram asked. He eyed you with a renewed suspicion.

“Just tell me, Zimaram. Why are you considered a traitor?”

The pain in his eyes was unmistakable. “The Irizi…left the Ascendancy.”

 

---

 

Thrass did enjoy parties, but not in the way he did when he was a younger man. Sure, the food was always a treat as was all the pomp and ceremony. But after years of service to the Syndicure , what he found he actually enjoyed about them was watching the other party-goers. He could always get some kind of information whether by listening to conversations carelessly whispered or watching how different guests interacted with each other. Thrass only needed to be there to smile his disarming smiles and the rest happened almost automatically. They were perfect places to gather information.

Thrass also was a keeper of secrets. He never used this information against people, merely to enhance his way of making political deals. If you could figure out what they wanted, what they truly wanted, he could sincerely offer it. He wasn’t about making back alley deals or blackmail or backstabbing. No, he was all about bringing the packbulls home with honey instead of electric prods. A little push here and there and you could accomplish many things, something he learned from the late Patriarch Thooraki. 

This party, however, was a nightmare of pettiness and excess. It never made him feel comfortable but these days, it simply disgusted him. Setting his jaw, Thrass wandered over to greet the starday boy at his party. It was only polite.

“My goodness if it isn’t Syndic Thrass,” 

“Thagmar,” Thrass said, acknowledging the other Chiss with a curt nod. 

Thrass and he exchanged the customary arm hold. 

“It’s been a while, Thrass, I didn’t think you’d come.”

“Well,” Thrass said with a small chuckle, “the Syndicure is on recess for the moment, why not drop by and enjoy the party I was so graciously invited to?”

“I still can’t believe I got Troupe Starflare to agree to perform here.” Thagmar said.

“I bet a good amount of money was very convincing,” Thrass said, sipping his wine. 

Thagmar laughed. “Ahahaha, your tongue is very sharp, Thrass.”

“Not sharp enough,” Thrass said under his breath. 

Troupe Starflare was in the process of doing their final sound check before their performance and the gathered Mitth guests gravitated toward the stage. Thrass had yet to see the Patriarch make his way down to greet guests and quickly found out why as a juicy conversation was broadcast into his ear. One of the voices was Thurfian, the other…oh no. 

“Excuse me a moment,” he told Thagmar and the collecting throng of Mitth. 

Thrass found the refresher. He made sure to use one of the single room refreshers that were scattered around the mansion. He listened intently as all Chaos broke loose through his comm. 

“Thiomo, I kriffed up,” Thrass heard in his earpiece. His assistant. Hearing her distress made his breath catch. What followed was the sounds of a scuffle and his assistant appealing to her assailant to stop.

“Thiomo, what’s going on?” Thrass said into the mic. But they didn’t answer. Could they hear him? Was his assistant hurt? “Thiomo?” 

From the sound of it, his assistant was holding her own while negotiating with the Irizi. Good. But the arrival of this agent was unsettling. Why was he here to talk to the Mitth Patriarch? Thrass knew the Patriarchs of the two families had a personal history. He had his theories about the nature of that history, but why here? Why now?

The scuffle resolved apparently as Thiomo announced that Thurfian was headed to the party, Thrass decided he’d better meet him on the way and strike up an amicable conversation, if he could. It was the least he could do to keep his attention and thus suspicion away from anything other than Troupe Starflare’s performance. 

He wound his way through the crowd and ended up spotting the Patriarch’ perched at a balcony overlooking the floor where the performance was about to begin. The lights lowered and the Troupe’s opening song blared. By the time Thrass was able to make it to the Patriarch, they were already on their second number.

“Your Venerante.” Thrass said, sidling up to the Mitth Patriarch. 

“Syndic Thrass,” the older Chiss answered blandly.

The man clearly wanted to be left alone but Thrass continued. “You are looking well this evening,”

“I am, thank you.” 

“Enjoying the show, sir?”

Thurfian snorted. “If we can call this display a show.”

“The assorted Mitth parading around, looking to climb the social ladder?” Thrass joked. 

“No, ke’bako. I’ve never been much of a fan. Too much…everything,” Thurfian said, raising a glass to his lips. “I’ll never understand why it got so popular. To each their own, I suppose.”

“Recall several years ago when spacefaring songs were all the rage?” Thrass said. 

“Yes, I remember that as well,” Thurfian said in the way older folk often complain about the youth. He sipped his drink again, then turned toward Thrass, “How is your pet alien?” Thurfian asked. 

Thrass knew how much Thurfian disliked non-Chiss but the directness of the question took Thrass off guard. “Excuse me?” 

“Oh, I’m sorry, your assistant .” It wasn’t hard to miss the obvious disdain in the man’s voice. Thrass chose to ignore it. 

“She is well. Her Cheunh is steadily improving thanks to her dedication and practice. It’s impressive really.” 

“I still don't see why you would bring an outsider here. What is to be gained from it?” Thurfian groused.

Thrass swirled his wine glass around.  “Perspective, your Venerante.”

“Perspective?”

“Sometimes a people are like a sapishell in a pot. You need someone outside to tell you you’re boiling.”

Thurfian eyed Thrass suspiciously. “What have you told her, Syndic?”

“Nothing, your Venerante,” Thrass said, “nothing she can’t already deduce for herself.”

“And what has that been?”

“It’s been enough, your Venerante,” Thrass said, meeting Thurfian’s eyes, “It’s been enough.”

“I see.” Thurfian said. 

The song ended and the gathered Mitth cheered and applauded. The conversing Chiss paused to set down their drinks and add their own clapping to the noise. In a moment, the next act began. 

“What is the real reason for your presence here tonight, Syndic Thrass?” Thurfian asked. 

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“You’ve rarely made a trip here since your return. And, as far as I’m aware, you’ve never had much kinship with Thagmar. Not enough to go out of your way, anyway. So, why this time?”

“Can’t a man wish to see his family’s ancestral home from time to time?” Thrass countered cheerfully.

“Answer me, Syndic.”

Thrass considered, staring into the tiny bubbles in his glass. It was a risk. An absolute gamble based solely on his read of Thurfian and his past behavior. But if he was right…

“A follow up on a data request, your Venerante, one I believe you refused. On the basis of my having an alien assistant, if I recall your reply correctly.”

“And I suppose you somehow hoped to convince me in person?”

“Perhaps ‘convince’ isn’t the right term. That implies I’m still asking.” Thrass smiled at Thurfian. His very best and most pleasant smile. 

Thrass could see the slow realization of what he’d said move across the Patriarch’s face. “What have you done, Thrass?” 

“Trying an alternative approach,” Thrass said.

Thurfian frowned and folded his arms. “And what approach would that be?”

“It seems there may be some gaps in homestead security you were not previously aware of. I am merely doing you the favor of finding and exploiting them before someone else does.” Thrass punctuated his statement with another pleasant smile.

“You’re stealing it.” Thurfian’s face was unreadable but there was the slightest twitch in his jaw.

“Well, I wouldn’t call retrieving information I’m entitled to as a Mitth cousin stealing . But if you want to call it that…”

Thurfian reached for his comm, presumably to call the guard. Thrass tsked . 

“Now if you do that, you’ll never know the flaws in your security.”

“I ought to have you arrested right now. Thrown out of the Syndicure.” 

“But why? A loyal Mitth cousin merely looking to better the strength of his family? They’ll just see you as a thug.”

“You bastard.” Thurfian hissed. “I’ll have you expelled from the Mitth.”

“Yes because that worked so well for you last time.” Thrass knew he was about to go too far, press the wrong key. But he had to sell it. “So instead,” Thrass continued, “I propose a wager.”

Thurfian took an agonizing moment to answer. Finally, he said, “Go on,”

“We let my team get what they came here for. If they’re caught, you may dole out whatever punishment you see fit.”

“And if they’re not?”

“You will receive a full report of security exploits. And we get access to the offline vault. Full, unlimited access. Either way, you benefit.”

Thurfian stared Thrass down as he considered. Years of practice kept the anxiety out of Thrass’s expression but it was a near thing. He felt himself sweating, hoping the Patriarch couldn’t notice.

“You have some nerve.” Thurfian said. 

“Well, one tends to develop that after facing down their own death a time or two.” 

“I accept your wager, Syndic Thrass.” Thurfian held out his arm. Thrass took it and hoped warrior’s fortune would be on his side. For all their sakes. Especially for hers.  

Notes:

Y'all, I apologize for the time between chapters. But thank you as ever for the support and the joy you have given me at continuing to tell this story.
So ch 8 got...long. So I decided to find a nice point to split it off. I promise it will pay off!

Chapter 9: BONUS - Star Day - Thank you for 1k hits!

Summary:

You discover a wonderful Chiss tradition.

Notes:

I wrote this as a thank you to everyone who has been reading and enjoying this fic. It brings me so much joy to see how much you all enjoy it. I had wanted to include something like this in the main story but I wasn't sure where to put it exactly. I was also very curious about how Chiss celebrate and even commemorate a child's first star day.

In addition: I've included some of my art, some art I commissioned and some gifts. I will add as I go. AO3 doesn't really insert pics that well because well, it's a text based site.

Again, it means so much to me how much this fic has been read and loved. I promise there will be much more to come after this 'stealing data from the Homestead' arc. Happy reading!

“Good morning!” Thrass greeted you as you walked through his office door. 

You weren’t awake enough to speak Cheunh, or much of anything really, but Thrass was well aware of your typical morning demeanor. Smiling, he offered you a steaming cup of caccoleaf.

“Your daily dose of wakefulness,” he said. 

You took it eagerly. Before taking a big sip, you noticed it had been fixed exactly to your liking. Your stomach warmed even before the hot liquid passed your lips. Soon, your ability for language returned. 

“Ah, much better,” you said, “What is on the docket today, Thrass?” 

Thrass sent a few items to your questis as you sipped your caccoleaf and settled in at your work area. You began swiping through today’s archive selections when one in particular caught your eye. It featured a Chiss family gathered together, clearly celebrating something. A birthday? 

“Thrass?”

He lifted his eyes up from his own questis, “Yes?”

“What are they celebrating in the fifth image you sent me?”

Thrass looked upward as he thought. “Hm? Oh! Oh, yes! That one is depicting a child’s star day.”

You thought you heard the words correctly but it almost didn’t make sense together “A what?”

“I don’t know if that translates well. Let’s try again.” He repeated the words more slowly. 

“Star day?” you said back to him. 

He nodded.

“What is a ‘star day’?”

Thrass set his questis down. “I am not sure of the customs in your Empire but, a Starday is the day a Chiss child sees their first star,” Thrass explained.

“Aww,” you cooed, imagining a tiny Chiss baby looking at the sky in wonder.

“When it first happens, it is often a ceremonial occasion with relatives and a party, but not always. The family celebrates yearly on the same day.”

“Ah. In my family’s culture, we just celebrate the day a child is born, translated to our calendar standard of course. Your star day sounds very beautiful.”

Thrass looked thoughtful. “It is.” He said. “What do you do to celebrate your day? The day the child is born?”

“It’s somewhat similar, I guess,” you said, ”sometimes there’s a party. Mostly children celebrate though. Adults do occasionally, for certain milestones. Some do every year.”

“And you personally?” 

“Oh, I haven’t celebrated in years,”

“Why not? 

“I just…didn’t think my crewmates would want to celebrate with me? So I never asked.”

“Then it’s simply too bad,” 

“What is?”

“That you don’t have a star day,”

“I mean, it does sound interesting. I’d like to see the ceremony someday,”

“Unfortunately, I don’t know anyone who might be expecting a child soon.” Thrass said, chuckling. “If I do, I’ll ask if they mind if you could witness it.”

Thrass paused, twirling the ring on his thumb. You caught the hint of a twinkle in his eyes before he returned to his questis, tapping and swiping as he had before. He couldn’t hide the grin that appeared on his lips. What was the Syndic thinking?

——————-

Thrass was busy all afternoon while you went through artwork, recording your impressions. You also did some language lessons, scowling at the evil blue bird creature mocking you through your questis. 

Looking at your chrono, you realized you were only halfway through the day. Time was dragging far more slowly than you wanted it to today. You stretched up in your chair and stood to take a break and get more caccoleaf. 

“Fine, sir, I’ll do it, but not gladly,” you heard Thiomo grumble. 

“Thank you, Thiomo,” Thrass said. 

You hadn’t caught what Thrass asked his aide to do but Thiomo clearly wasn’t thrilled. Thiomo was usually never this vocal about Thrass’s requests. One would have thought Thrass asked them to scoop bantha shit with a spoon this time. Thiomo walked briskly past you, glancing at you as they did, like their irritation was somehow your fault. 

The caccoleaf was still warm from this morning but it was beginning to grow bitter. Time to make fresh. 

___________

The day crawled to a close and you shut down your questis with a relieved sigh. Your eyes were heavy in spite of all the stimulants you’d had today. You bid Thrass good evening to find he’d already left. Odd. Why hadn’t you heard him leave? Was there an emergency Syndicure issue? 

You could ask later, for now, your nightclothes called for you. 

Returning to your apartment, you started stripping off your clothes to dress in something more comfortable for lounging and sleeping when you noticed a box on the bed with a note on top. Frowning, you reached for the note. Flimsi was rare here on Csilla so the card felt more than extravagant. Your eyebrows shot up when you read the contents. Hand written in neat basic aurebesh were the words ‘ Meet me at the Syndicure central lift at 8:00 ’. 

Thrass’s signature was underneath in Cheunh script. Is this what had made Thiomo so annoyed earlier? 

You opened the box to find a beautiful Mitth burgundy tunic with gold embroidery radiating around the collar. A style you knew you’d mentioned liking in Thrass’s presence. What in the Chaos was happening? 

Assuming he wanted you to wear this, you slipped the tunic on. It fit perfectly because of course it did, Thrass’s tailor had all your measurements. He must have asked them for this. You wracked your brain on what the occasion was. Was it a celebration? Was it actually his star day? Why hadn’t he said anything?

Another thought entered your mind. Was he asking you on a date? You tamped down the sudden panic at the thought. No, that wasn’t it. You decided to put on a little makeup and some modest jewelry anyway, just in case.

Talking yourself through your anxiety you made your way to the central lift. Csaplar had many lifts which made navigating the city much like Coruscant. The Chiss organized the lifts into hub levels you could use to get to other levels and corridors. These central lifts often went all the way up to the surface. The lift Thrass wanted you to meet him at was one of these. 

You found Thrass sitting in a lounger near the lift door. His eyes lit up as he noticed you approach. Oh no, maybe this was a date. Oh kriff, oh no. 

“Good evening,” he said, “I wasn’t sure if my invitation would find you.”

“It did, was kinda hard to miss.”

“Oh you never know,”

“Also, your basic was impeccable,” you said, swallowing the rest of your anxious thoughts. 

“I’m glad I had the chance to practice,” he grinned. “Please, join me in the lift.” He gestured toward the doors which activated as you stood before them. With both of you safely inside, Thrass indicated the level and the lift began moving upward. You saw the cavern around you grow more enclosed until you were riding through solid rock. The lights in the lift car went dark and you couldn’t hold in your gasp at the sudden darkness. 

“It’s alright,” Thrass reassured, placing a hand on your back to steady you, “these levels dim lights for power conservation, your eyes will adjust. Well, at least Chiss eyes do.” 

The glow of his eyes was a welcome beacon. Once, the way Chiss eyes had their own luminescence was unsettling to you. When you first saw Thrawn’s they reminded you of childhood stories of demons in the night. But this was simply the way Chiss eyes were. And now? They were a comfort as you ascended further through the rock of Csilla. 

“Thrass, where are we going exactly?”

“There is something I want you to see,” he said, “don’t worry,” he added, “I think you will like it.”

“Truthfully, Thrass? I’ve never found statements like that to make me feel any better.”

Thrass chuckled, “Neither have I. But have faith, I promise it will be pleasant and if not, it will be harmless.”

It was your turn to laugh. “Stop, you’re making it worse.”

The lift chimed and the car slowed to a stop. To your relief, the lights returned. The doors opened up onto a long corridor with doors to either side of you. Thrass led you forward. It took a moment for you to read the Cheunh script on the doors as ‘Observation deck’ followed by a number. At door number five, Thrass stopped. 

“Prepare yourself,” he said, flashing a grin. You clenched your fists hoping this was as pleasant as Thrass promised. The doors slid open. 

It was a nicely decorated room with several Chiss lounging and talking. As you entered, they turned their attention on you. You were stunned to see the familiar faces of all the acquaintances you’d made thus far in Csaplar. All were smiling and pleased to see you. All but Thiomo, of course, who acknowledged you with a small nod. 

“Good evening everyone, glad you could all be here!” Thrass announced. 

“Wait…? Why?” you were too confused to string together a sentence. 

Thrass patted your shoulder. “You told me earlier today that you’d like to witness a star day ceremony. So, here we are.”

“Wait, star day? But whose star day is it?”

That cheeky sparkle glinted in Thrass’s eyes. “Yours! That is, if you want it to be.”

Heat rushed through you, radiating from your stomach. “But I’m not Chiss,” you protested. It was an excuse you seemed to use a lot lately, but you had no right to this, you were an outsider. 

“My dear, you’ve been with us for a while now. You were an officer aboard one of our most prestigious ships, are now a valuable member of my staff and you've become my friend. It is my honor and my pleasure to grant you your own star day.”

Kovotla lifted a glass of some unidentified inebriant and slurred, “Oh Syndic, just marry her already.” Everyone laughed and Thrass went violet from his forehead all the way down past his neck. 

“Kovotla, you are drunk,” Thrass said, regaining his composure, “put the glass down before you hurt yourself.” 

Kopinni took the glass from her cousin, “What have I told you about speaking while drunk?” Kovotla slurred some curses and put her head down on the short table she was sitting at. 

Thrass cleared his throat, “Well now that we’re all here, let us begin and then we can have some party food with our drink.”

He ushered you over to a raised area on the observation deck. You realized that all the viewports were shuttered. Your friends stood opposite you, forming a semi circle around the platform. 

“Come forward,” Thrass said, indicating a spot on the floor. You faced the other Chiss. All of their glowing eyes were on you. Thrass caught your gaze. “Are you ready?” 

“What do I have to do?” 

“We will guide you. Usually we do this with infants and their parents. We don’t exactly expect much of a performance. You will do just fine,” he said. 

“Okay,” you nodded. 

“Also, I would like to say I’ve never done this ceremony and I’m excited to do it.”

“Get on with it, Syndic,” Kovotla said. Everyone chuckled. 

“We are gathered here to welcome to our people its newest member,” Thrass began, “those who have come forward today bring you wishes for your future. Let their wishes now be heard.”

Siekko spoke up, ”We wish you health.”

Then, Kopinni, “We wish you wisdom.”

“We wish you tenacity,” Kovotla said, still slurring a little. She turned toward Thiomo who was picking at their nails. She jabbed them in the arm with her elbow. They hissed and straightened up.

“We wish you grace,” they said.

“And,” Thrass said, “We wish you joy.” The smile he gave you now was one of the ones that made your stomach flutter. You hoped no one noticed your blush. 

“Now,” Thrass continued, “as you gaze upon your first star, know that as the stars guide our ships, so too, do our friends guide our path. Let them be as stars in your life. And may warriors fortune smile on your journey,” 

Thrass gestured toward Thiomo who touched a button on their questis. With a mechanical whir, the shutters on the viewports above you opened to reveal the Csilla night sky. It was breathtaking. Nebulae splashed in the sky like a painter’s palette. One star in particular shined brighter than the others. It was a blue, which you knew meant it didn’t just look large in the Csilla sky, it was probably massive. 

“Welcome to the Ascendancy,” Thrass said, “and happy star day.” 

“Okay Thrass, let’s eat!” Siekko said. 

The spread he’d brought was all your favorite things from Good Day, including a cake. You marveled at how Thrass managed to organize all this in just an afternoon. Watching him in his element, you could really see why he was so well loved by his friends. Smiling to yourself, you gazed back up though the ceiling viewports, back at the star you saw earlier.

“That’s veh’du ,” Thrass said. You hadn’t seen him break away from his conversation with Siekko.  

“What?”

“The star, the bright one,” he explained, “We call it veh’du. In our history, before we traveled the stars and, even now, we rely on her to navigate. I don’t often get the chance to admire her.” He observed the star with you for a moment. 

“Thank you, Thrass,” you said, “for all this. You didn’t have to.” 

“I wanted you to feel welcome. I know how it feels to be an outsider in a strange world.” He reached for your hand tentatively and you allowed him to grasp it. He gave it a gentle squeeze. You looked at him to see that special smile again. Then, your gaze swept through the room, at the new friends who came to welcome you into their society, into their home. 

“I think,” you said returning Thrass’s smile, “it’s starting to feel more like home.”

My art: Thrass and 'Reader' which in this case is myself. You can imagine your own self there!

 

A commission by Luce Northstar

A commission by Nadlyj on Instagram

Another commission by Nadlyj on insta, this time with Thrass being fitted by his tailors.

 

A Thrass I commissioned from Tye'kho

 

 

Chapter 10

Summary:

The heist continues! After learning a horrifying new truth about the state of the Ascendancy, you press on to complete your mission for Thrass.

Notes:

This took 5ever and I apologize. It was probably one of the hardest chapters to write and I am sure there's still some threads I missed in wrapping up the heist. It is also the LONGEST chapter so far. I didn't have a beta but I was so anxious to share this. Let me know if there's any grievous errors I missed.

Also I threw in an Aftermath reference because of reasons iykyk. Let me know if you find it!

Enjoy!

You tried to swallow the lump that formed in your throat, hoping you’d misheard or misunderstood him. “’Left’? What do you mean ‘left’?” 

Zimaram huffed. “Pulled out, seceded, broke ties, exited, shall I continue?”

“No, no.” You shook your head. “But why?”

Zimaram tilted his head and raised his brows. “You really have been living under a glacier. You’ve gone snow-mad. Might explain that accent of yours,” he said. 

“Enough, Zimaram. What happened? Just give me the short version.”

Zimaram sighed and squeezed the bridge of his nose. “A terrible secret got out, one the Syndicure could never justify to the Ascendancy public. You know, the people outside the political and military structure, the regular folk from nondescript families. They exist, believe it or not. And so, the Irizi, the Chaf and some of the forty became their own entity, separate from the Ascendancy.”

You blinked at him, your mind stitching together all the information. The abandoned Syndicure hallway, Zimaram’s pendant, and now this information together finally revealed the insidious truth Thrass had been hinting at all along. Zimaram’s conversation with Thurfian made a lot more sense in this light. You felt ill. 

“So you’re trying to recruit the Mitth to be another one of those families,” you concluded. 

Zimaram shrugged. “More or less. Since the Patriarch wasn’t receptive to the Irizi’s very generous proposal, I now need more ammunition to convince him.” 

“You’re going to….” You didn’t know the Cheunh word for ‘blackmail’, “uh, find something to threaten him with?”

“Yes, you could say that, yes.” 

You could have smacked Zimaram, you almost reached for your knockout gas to dump him on the floor right there. But he had information. Information no one else had been willing or able to tell you, not even Thrass. Resentment flared in your chest. Why didn’t Thrass tell you about this? What was keeping him from trusting you? 

Zimaram smirked. “Not sure what to do with me now, are you?" 

It was a good question, but not one you really wanted to explore right now. That would be the Patriarch’s problem. 

You leveled your gaze at Zimaram. “I don’t care what you do after we get through that vault. You want to go after a ruling family Patriarch? That’s your business.” 

You continued on, moving deeper into the bowels of the mansion. Thiomo’s guidance took you down some older, less used areas to avoid running into guards or other electronic security. The further along you went, the more the walls began to take on a more roughly hewn appearance, as if simply cut from the rock with machinery. 

"Hm," Thiomo hummed, "these are much older tunnels than the rest."

"Are you sure we're going the right way?"

“You should be seeing a lift up ahead, take it down to the lowest floor.”

You followed Thiomo’s instruction. The lift was right ahead just as they’d said. It looked far less maintained than other lifts in the mansion, matching the roughness of the walls around you. The platform was on your floor, you almost wished it wasn’t so you could test the mechanics of this thing. 

As you took a tentative step onto the platform, a horrible amount of noise rang through your ear piece followed by static and feedback. It nearly gave you a heart attack. 

“I have to vacate the office,” Thiomo said. Their voice was cracking through the static but you could tell they were whispering. “Go down the lift and down the corridor at the bottom, I will rejoin you as soon as I can.”

“Wait, don’t  -” but the only answer you heard was more static. You cursed. 

“Problem?”

“Our guide has to relocate, we’re on our own for a while.”

Zimaram muttered his own Cheunh curse. “We’ll manage, I think,”

You tapped your questis, Thiomo had managed to highlight your current position on the schematics before going dark. “Down we go then.” With some hesitation, you pressed the button that would take you to the bottom of the lift shaft and into unknown territory without your guide. 

Down you went. The ride was blessedly smooth, the lift in good working order despite its appearances. As you descended, your ears popped from the change in pressure. You wondered briefly if you’d reach Csilla’s core before ever finding the bottom, but the schematics indicated otherwise. With a shudder, the lift set down at its final destination. 

“Well then, that was harrowing,” Zimaram commented, “Thought we’d be plunging to our death any moment there.” 

You silently agreed but didn’t want to admit it out loud to him. Your questis indicated the next directions as you activated the light on it. “This way,” you said, pointing the light down the corridor directly in front of the lift. An eerie feeling settled in your chest and you wished Thiomo would hurry.

“Wait,” Zimaram said, “did your informant say anything about security down here?”

“They didn’t get the chance to,” you said, “What do you know?”

“Not much. Only the warning that the Mitth do nothing simply,”

“Tread carefully then, got it?” you said. And so you did, alert for any sound or visual cue that indicated a trap. For the first time in this whole endeavor, you felt like an adventurer from the holo stories of your youth. 

The corridor had the same unfinished looking walls and seemed to go on forever. The questis diagram just…ended. You stopped dead in your tracks. 

“Well?” Zimaram asked, looking over your shoulder. 

“There’s…nothing.”

“You mean nothing listed on the schematics?”

“Yeah,” 

Sweeping the light on your questis over the walls, you did as you always did with Admiral Thrawn and with the paintings you studied for Thrass, you looked for a pattern. For some marking on the wall that was purposeful, not incidental. 

“What are you doing?” Zimaram asked in a judgmental tone.

“Looking for something hidden.”

Zimaram huffed but stood back while you continued to scan with your light and your eyes. Nothing really stood out to you. 

“Wait, stop, what’s that?” Zimaram pointed. 

“What’s what?

“This, here, can you see it?” you stared at where Zimaram pointed. You didn’t see anything. 

“I’m not sure what you’re looking at?”

“Are you color blind too? Look! A Mitth sun,” he said, tracing around a spot. You followed with your fingers and detected a temperature difference, even through your gloves. Visualizing the shape of the warm areas, you could ‘see’ the Mitth sun. 

Aware of Zimaram watching you said, “Ah! Yes, I see it now. What if I - “ you pressed your hand onto the warm marking. It sank into the wall, revealing an invisible seam. The wall now became a door.

“Well, now we’re getting somewhere.” Zimaram remarked. 

The door opened out into a much grander corridor, the walls actually adorned with decorative carvings. Along those walls were sconces with glowing stones nestled inside. They seemed to light the way toward a much larger, ornate door. In all your plans and discussions prior to this mission, the actual door to the vault was assumed to be a high security door, not unlike some doors on the Springhawk that required multiple authorizations from senior officers to even look at. This was something else entirely. More than anything else, it was a work of art. 

“Do you think this is it?” you asked. 

“If it’s not, sure is a heck of a way to decorate a random door. Though with the Mitth, who knows.” 

You half expected a giant boulder to roll down the corridor to crush you or a volley of poison tipped projectiles to fire from the bricks as you approached the door. No such thing happened. The door was even more ornate up close, with relief carvings of various Chiss worlds and their wildlife. You saw whiskercubs, nightdragons, groundlions and several plant species. There were also figures, looking upward into the sky and toward the Mitth sun radiating from the center. Inscribed across the door’s transom in beautiful Cheunh script were the words:

The hope for the future rests upon the Tragic

Was this a Chiss saying you didn’t yet know? It made grammatical sense, it was the right structure but it still seemed odd. 

Zimaram stepped forward. With some hesitancy, he placed his fingers on the door. When nothing happened, he began examining the door, running his hand over the reliefs. He mumbled something about the Mitth being dramatic. 

“Did you find the lock?” 

He poked his finger into a suspicious looking hole that was at the center of an interesting symbol. It looked like a pinwheel.  “I believe so,” Zimaram said. 

Zimaram removed the key from a pocket on his belt. You braced yourself. He inserted the Patriarch’s key into the supposed lock and surprisingly, the cylinder began to turn. Mechanical sounds rose up from the door. As it did, the pinwheel rotated to the right while the triangles forming the Mitth sun rotated opposite. They began to light up in a pattern, skipping every other point in the sun. When four of them were lit, the rotating symbols came to a halt with an awful clunk. You waited and nothing happened. 

“What? Why has it stopped?” Zimaram groused. 

You waited and listened, muscles tightening to prepare for possible security or traps. Panic began to set in. Had you broken it? Had you been found out and the door remotely disabled? No. No! You’d come this far! 

Stop. Stop. You mentally shook yourself. Think . 

While serving under Thrawn, you trained to think and observe through some of the most stressful situations. You took a deep breath, let it out slowly, then opened your eyes to observe. There were four triangles still unlit. Something about that number was important. Why was that important? You wracked your brain. You hadn’t come across any Chiss lore or mythology that involved the number four. You read the inscription again. Tragic. Tragic . It was written as a proper noun. As a title and not as an adjective. Just one small stroke in the Cheunh script changed the entire meaning.

Your mind flashed back to a moment, the second time you’d met Thrass after you learned who he truly was. He’d given you a task to interpret two pieces of art.  They were painted by Mitth’omo’rosodo the Tragic. You remembered. She lost four sons. 

Four sons. Four unlit points on the sun. 

“Zimaram,” you said, “I need you to press those two points,” you indicated where. 

He looked at you skeptically, then did as you asked. Both of you placed your hands on the unlit points of the Mitth sun and pressed into the door. The points illuminated under your gloved hands. A giddy giggle bubbled up in your throat as the mechanism began turning again. A straight line appeared down the center of the door and the two halves of the door pulled apart, revealing a dim, cool chamber beyond. 

Zimaram looked at you, his brows halfway up his forehead. “How?”

“I’m not sure, it was a hunch. Just a puzzle.”

Zimaram didn’t look convinced. “As you say.”

“Come on, let’s go, we don’t have much time.”

__________

As you entered the vestibule, lights flared to life, illuminating the rooms beyond. The air smelled like what you could only describe as ‘antique’. The same pleasantly musty scent of artifacts and artwork you’d grown familiar with in a previous life. It was oddly nostalgic. In your experience it never mattered what species created the artifacts, the scent of old things was consistent. Even here, deep underground on an unfamiliar world, this scent was universal. 

Static in your ear interrupted your reverie. “Thiomo?” 

“Yes, I am here. Finally,” Thiomo said, “Your location?” 

“We just made it inside the vault.”

“Really?” Thiomo sounded surprised. You recounted the puzzle and its solution, you could almost see the eyebrow Thiomo probably had raised. “Well done, that saves us some time,” they said.

“What happened? Where are you?”

“Security came looking after they found two guards shoved into a broom closet. Your handiwork, I assume,” Thiomo said flatly.

“Zimaram’s idea actually,” you said. 

Thiomo let out a long sigh, “Of course. Well, I was able to find somewhere to patch in, however, security is now on alert. According to comm chatter, they will be sending a team down to check the vault. If we work quickly, they should not be a problem.”

“How quickly?”

“I can get you 30 minutes,”

You weren’t sure how Thiomo was going to accomplish that but you didn’t have time to concern yourself, time to get to work. You found a large display screen and attached console in the main chamber of the vault. Like the door, this terminal featured an elaborate mechanism to unlock and access. 

“Our guest , does he have the key ready?” Thiomo asked.

You relayed the message. “Yes, I’ve got it,” Zimaram said. He inserted the key cylinder as he had on the door. The screen activated and spat out a ton of Cheunh script, most of which was meaningless to you. Finally, tt asked for a password. Zimaram paused. “Uhh, I honestly didn’t think I’d make it this far.” He said. 

“What? Now who is the one who is snow-mad!?” you hissed.

Thiomo sighed. “We don’t have time for this. Hand the ear-piece to him, if you please.” You did. 

Zimaram stared at the tiny device resting in his palm, then, his face lit up. He hooked it onto his ear. “Ah, so this is our whisperbird. Pleasure to finally hear your voice,” Zimaram said, smiling. “Aww, don’t be so cranky,”

While the two of them worked, you stood watch. Though your questis kept the time, it felt like both an eternity and mere seconds had passed all at once. After about five minutes of vigorous typing and listening to Zimaram’s side of the conversation, he clapped his hands together, “We’re in! Are you sure you want her back? Yes, yes, fine, farewell, whisperbird.” He handed the ear-piece back to you.

Thiomo sounded like they were fighting off a headache. “Let him get what he wants so we can be rid of him,” they said.  Zimaram inserted a data cylinder into the slot, it twisted down into the machine and a small light flashed, indicating it was ready for data transfer. The Chiss worked feverishly, his eyes narrowing in concentration until he seemed to find what he was looking for. 

The file trail was displayed on the large screen. “Seeker program?” yes said, reading the name aloud, “what is that?”

Zimaram glared at the name, his eyes boring into it. “Something the Patriarch needs to answer for,” Zimaram ejected the data cylinder and turned his eyes on you. “Something he can’t worm out of.”  He stepped away from the console. “It’s all yours, I’ve got what I came for. My turn to guard.”

“You could just leave,” you pointed out.

Zimaram shrugged. “We’ve come this far, I probably can’t make it out alone at this point.” His logic made sense but you were no less cautious.  

It was your turn to extract data from the archive. Both for the Maestro and, most importantly, for Thrass. Thiomo walked you through accessing what Thrass needed. The display screen filled with images and catalog numbers. More of the same word images that started this entire escapade.

"Cloud diaries?" Zimaram scoffed, "You’ve gone to all this trouble for a children’s novelty?"

"My employer believes otherwise,” you said. 

“But what value do these have?” 

“I don’t know,” you said. You didn’t want to argue with him. But what value indeed? More stories of missing girls? What else was Thrass looking for? 

“Download as many as you can, have your guest ready the next cylinder,” Thiomo instructed, “Go find the catalog numbered ones, especially this one,” They read out the Cheunh numbers. With trepidation, you watched Zimaram secure the data cylinder from the console and insert another. 

Just as you were feeling somewhat secure in the idea that you’d pull this off, you heard a bang, followed by a loud mechanical sound coming from the door. 

“They’re here early,” you said, a horrible sensation in your gut. Zimaram quickly ejected the cylinder and the key from the console. It shut down with a descending hum.

“Hide.” Zimaram ordered. He sprinted to the door and slammed something into the light control panel. The lights died immediately. You scooted up against the wall behind some cabinets. 

The door opened. 

“We aren’t going to find anything. Who would even come down here anyway?” one of the guards said. 

“Are you stupid? This is the Mitth archives,” said the other. 

“And?”

“And it’s thousands of years of Mitth history and secrets, secrets we need to make sure are secured.”

“Fine, fine, but did the door have to be crazy like that?”

“Are you aware of the family you belong to? Of course it's crazy.” 

They shone their glowrods around as they walked through the chamber. You pressed yourself further against the wall as the light swept through the room. They walked past you, deeper inside the archives. With their backs to you, maybe you could sneak around and out the door. 

“See what did I tell you? Nothing,” the skeptical guard said, “Patriarch Thurfian is starting to grow paranoid in his age, sending us all the way down here.”

“Just do your job,” the other guard said, “and maybe you can  - “ he didn’t finish his thought as a wave of energy blasted toward him. Both guards crumpled to the ground. 

Emerging from your hiding spot you saw Zimaram standing over them, charric in hand. 

“Zimaram!” You shouted at him.

“What?” 

“You could have waited until they left, now they’re going to have missing guards.” You could hear Thiomo saying as much through your ear-piece.

“Or,” Zimaram countered, “they would have found us and we’d be fighting for our lives,” 

You ground your teeth. This was an absolutely awful strategy. “You don’t know that. If they saw nothing and left then we’d be in the clear, now we have to worry about this.” You kicked at the boot of the skeptical guard. 

“Well, best hurry and finish getting your cloud diaries, then.”

It wasn’t just the cloud diaries. You had one last chore: the Maestro’s request. You cursed Zimaram as you frantically followed the file path Thiomo indicated. It was records of some kind, maybe old Mitth songs or plays? You didn’t have time to really look at it. 

“Chatter says the guard is looking for their buddies, time to get out of there, now,” Thiomo said. You shut the terminal down. Thiomo led you out the way you came in, through the side door in the corridor that led to the archive. Through the stone, you heard voices and the sounds of boots hitting the ground. You had to move. 

To your relief, the old lift you’d used to come down here was still on this floor. IT was a welcome moment to breathe, but not for long. You and Zimaram made it halfway up the shaft before the lift platform shuddered and came to a halt. “Thiomo, they disabled the lift,” you said, trying to keep the panic out of your voice. 

Thiomo cursed. “Get out, you’re taking the long way,” 

Zimaram blasted the top door off the lift with a strategically placed charric shot. Using a grapple, he climbed out, then helped you up. Just as quickly, he replaced the door. 

“What now, Thiomo?” 

Thiomo took a moment to respond. “The Guards are scattered looking for you. There isn’t an actual floor this leads to, you will need to climb to the top and time your exit to avoid them.” 

“Great.”  The only climbing you really had to do as an officer on a starship was out of your bunk to go on duty. There was, thankfully, an emergency ladder in the wall, no grapple necessary. The urgency and adrenaline allowed you to ignore your screaming muscles as you climbed. Zimaram took the lead, mostly because he was faster. It felt like there was no end, that you had been climbing for hours until there was no more left to climb. 

“There’s probably an activator switch for the door around here somewhere,” Zimaram murmured to himself. He scooted along the edges, feeling around for anything he could use.

“Status?” Thiomo asked in the comm. 

“We’re at the top floor of the lift, Zimaram is trying to find a way to open the doors,” 

“Ah ha!” Zimaram pulled a panel off the wall and began messing with wires. 

“No, wait, don’t -” but it was too late, the doors opened and you were greeted by two guards, charrics and stun spears pointed at you. After a momentary shock, Zimaram sprung into action, jumping up out of the shaft and tackling one guard to the ground. You, unfortunately, were not so quick or athletic. The guard grabbed you by the arm and pulled you out of the shaft. You screamed and started twisting, hoping to throw the guard off balance enough for you to wrench yourself free. 

The guard suddenly went rigid and dropped, pulling you down with him. Zimaram stood over you, stun spear in hand. For a moment, you wondered if he would stun you too, take the data cylinders and run. His eyes were unreadable and he lingered just a bit too long. Finally, he reached down to help you up. 

“Thanks,” you said. 

“Well that was not ideal,” he said, tossing the spear aside. 

“Don’t go anywhere unless I say,” Thiomo said, “I need to see about a distraction to draw them all back. In the meantime, take the next right at the end of the corridor.” 

You relayed this to Zimaram. He huffed, “Let’s go, then, before more come.”

The two of you moved quickly, faster than your journey down to the vault. It was excruciating, your nerves were wound so tight that you fought to outright sprint. But this was a stealth operation, and as much as you felt like your legs were coiled springs, you had to move with control. Thiomo managed to get you up into the residential floors. The Ke’bako show was audible once more.

“Starflare is about to be between sets,” Thiomo said. “People will be coming up, you can hide in Thrass’s quarters.” Thiomo gave a room number and you led Zimaram down the corridor.  

“Where are we going?” 

“Where our whisperbird tells us,” 

Turning a corner you nearly ran straight into two guards standing right outside Thrass’s quarters. Gasping, you ducked back. 

“Who put guard detail on Thrass’s door?” you asked through your teeth. 

“Dammit,” Thiomo said, “I don’t know. This is not good.”

“Why does it matter? We’ll just take care of these and go to a different room.” Zimaram pulled his charric and ducked back around the corner. You reached to stop him but he was too fast. The guards yelled as Zimaram approached. These guards didn’t hesitate, they were on Zimaram, knocking his charric away before he could fire. 

You could have just let the young man get caught, but at this point he was a comrade and you couldn’t abandon him, bad decisions or not. Taking a deep breath, you jumped to his rescue, weaving, ducking and dodging the guard’s stun spears. You reached quickly for your belt for the gas, but were too busy evading to take the split second you needed. 

In all the confusion, you lost track of Zimaram and the guard he’d been fighting. You unfortunately didn’t see the swing of the guard’s spear come until you felt a pain on the side of your face. The world tilted, the sounds of the scuffle muffled as if you were underwater. Zimaram looked at you, aghast. The last thing you were aware of before you lost consciousness was the anger that flashed in his eyes.

________________

When you came to, you knew.

You knew the charade was over. 

Groaning, you tried to sit up but found your wrists had been tied together. As the room came into focus, you saw Zimaram. He lounged in the high backed chair across from you, charric pointed at you. Scanning the room, you spotted your reflection in a mirror. What remained of your Chiss disguise was in shambles, your human skin showing through clearly. There was a bruise blossoming on your cheek. 

“Ah, the impostor wakes,” he said darkly.

“Zimaram? Zimaram, please, listen to me,” you said as calmly as you could manage.

“You’re not Chiss,” he growled.

“I’m not,” you said.

Zimaram stood and approached, keeping his weapon pointed at you. “I cannot believe I was so foolish to fall for it. The lack of history knowledge, the utterly atrocious accent…”

“Hey!” you shouted, then, thinking better of it, “yeah, that’s fair.”

“So the real question is what is Syndic Thrass’s new curiosity doing breaking into the Mitth offline vault?” His question made your veins turn to ice. 

“How did you know about me?” you asked quietly. 

He laughed scornfully. “Even the Irizi have heard about you. Mostly the absurdity of a Syndic, even an eccentric like Thrass, hiring an alien.”

You swallowed. “I’m not just a curiosity,” you said, “I’m assisting him,”

“In what? Has he even told you? He didn’t seem to bother explaining our recent history to you. What else hasn’t he told you?”

That stung. “I trust him,” you said. “If he hasn’t told me something, it’s because he can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

Your stomach churned. Zimaram had pressed against the sore spot that had been bothering you since your first day on Csilla. Why was Thrass keeping information from you? 

“I don’t know. All I know is he’s shown me nothing but kindness since I’ve been here.” 

“Is it really kindness? Or just him trying to be a gracious host. He’s a Syndic, this is all part of the game. He won’t tell you because you’re not Chiss, plain and simple.” 

He was trying to rile you, he had to be. And it was working. You fought against your bonds, wanting to shove that charric somewhere unpleasant and make him apologize. Zimaram was giving voice to your creeping doubts. You didn’t want to let him under your skin, but a voice in the back of your mind whispered, “ If you were Chiss, this could have been avoidable,”  You shook your head, hoping to silence that voice of doubt. 

“Look, Zimaram, I’m here to do a job and so are you. We made a vow of silence, so let’s just stop this and leave with our information.”

“No, no no no no. I don’t think so,” Zimaram said with a laugh, “you are going to be my leverage. I caught a spy, a traitor to the Mitth. An alien entrusted with knowledge of us. Thurfian won’t want this getting out, I’ve got a free exit ticket.” 

“So that’s it? You’re going to turn me over to Thurfian? So much for that ‘vow of silence’.”

“No hard feelings,” he said. You stared up at him, trying to contain your anger and think. There was likely a way you could get yourself out of this, but your head was still swimming from the blow you took. Willing yourself to observe and think was almost impossible with the pain and the nausea. You were about to give in until you heard the telltale spritz of an atomizer. Zimaram’s eyes widened, then rolled back into his head. He collapsed to the floor. 

“That’s quite enough out of you,” a familiar voice said. A large figure stepped out of the shadows and fully into the room. You hadn’t seen him there until now, maybe you took that blow harder than you thought.

“Thrass?”  You blinked hard. There was no mistaking the Chiss now standing over the heap that was Zimaram, dusting off the front of his beautiful outfit. He was such a welcome sight, you could have kissed him. More than that, you realized, you wanted to kiss him. 

“Yes, hello dear,” Thrass said pleasantly, crouching down to undo the ties holding your wrists together, “are you alright?”

“I’m going to need some ice and painkillers, but for now, I’m fine,” 

He gingerly examined your exposed cheek, frowning when you winced. “I’m glad I came when I did.” 

“But….the party. Don’t you have to keep up appearances?”

Thrass shook his head, his adornments gently clinking. “Your safety comes first, at least to me.” He held your gaze, the soft glow of his eyes warm. With your hands now free, it was all you could do not to grab him and pull him in for that kiss. You mentally shook yourself, what was wrong with you? “Besides, Thiomo is about to cover our escape.” 

“I - thank you,” 

“Of course, my dear,” he offered you one of his hands, “now let’s get you up,” he pulled, strong and sturdy while you got to your feet. 

“What about him?” you pointed at Zimaram.

“He’ll be found eventually. Or he’ll wake and escape on his own.”

“Thrass, we can’t leave him,” you said in an almost scolding tone.

“Shall I remind you he was just pointing a charric at you before I knocked him out?” 

“He’s just angry, Thrass. He helped me, the least I could do is even the score.” 

Thrass flicked his eyes back and forth between you and Zimaram before resigning. “You’re far kinder than I,” he said. 

“Shush, you wouldn’t leave him either.” 

“I might,”  Thrass raised a brow at you. 

“Come on, Thrass, help me?” 

Thrass helped you lift Zimaram upright, leaning him against the bed. As a precaution, you took your ties and used them on his wrists.  

“All right, let’s see if we can rouse him.” Thrass patted Zimaram’s cheek. “Wakey wakey, time to move, time to shakey.”

You stifled a giggle at Thrass’s little rhyme. Thrass continued to shake his shoulders and pat his face until Zimaram began to stir, his slitted eyes fluttered open. He stared, then seemed to remember himself. Jerking, he tried to grab at Thrass, but of course, his arms were tied. 

“You,” he snarled. 

“Ah ah,” Thrass chided, “you’ve caused enough trouble for one day, Irizi’mar’amin.”

“Not nearly,” Zimaram grumbled. 

“Now, my assistant graciously wished to help you instead of leaving your sorry behind here, so be a good boy and we’ll get your out of here in one piece,”

Zimaram scowled and turned his head away. “Fine,” he said. 

You and Thrass helped him up. Thrass pulled some clothing out of a wardrobe and handed it to you and Zimaram to put on as a disguise. “We’ll just be some party guests,” he explained, offering each of you a mask, “very mysterious party guests.” 

The wrap robe Thrass gave you smelled like him. You put it on quickly, pointedly ignoring how much you liked it. It was made of heavy fabric and wrapped around you comfortably with plenty of room. 

Zimaram on the other hand needed some help getting the much larger robe on. He was swimming in it far worse than you. “Do you have anything smaller?” he complained. 

“Seeing as these are my clothes and I’ve never really been smaller, no. But there are belts.” Thrass said, throwing one at the younger Chiss who caught it with his face. 

Finally ready, Thrass called to Thiomo. “We’re ready, ETA on our escape coverage?”

 “The Madame herself is on in 5, be down here before then,” Thiomo said. 

You moved quickly down the hall, this time trailing behind Thrass. “Laugh like I just told a joke,” he whispered. 

You did your best obnoxious guffaw as two very stern looking guests passed you. “So funny, Syndic,” you said, imitating the fanciest Chiss accent you could manage. 

He led you out and toward the ke’bako performance. You were on the balcony above the performance area. Madame Fire Wolf was in full splendor, the train of her dress billowing around her like the fire that was in her name. The exit you searched for was just down the stairs on the left side of the stage. You were so close. 

“Syndic Thrass,” you heard from behind you. Dread filled your gut at the sound of that voice. Thurfian.

Thrass leaned in close to your ear, “Go ahead, I’ve got him,” he said soothingly. He turned on his heel, “Your Venerante,” he answered Thurfian.

You pushed Zimaram ahead and noticed the exit quietly being blocked by guards. 

“Leaving without a farewell, Thrass? Before the finale even?” Thurfian asked a little too smugly.

“It is past my bedtime, I’m afraid,” Thrass said. 

 You were trapped, Thurfian knew. He had to know. You were going to panic, but then you recognized the song the Madame was performing. Recognized it and knew what followed. A smile spread across your face. 

A fizz, a bang and a splash of color told you it had begun. 

“What?!” Thurfian shouted. Then, all hell broke loose. The stage erupted with sparks and sound. Then came the projectiles. They rocketed up toward the high ceiling, exploding into brilliant colors just below the apex. There were a lot of fireworks, more even than the last show. This was your escape cover. 

“No one authorized pyrotechnics!” Thurfian bellowed. He ordered the guards to stop the performance, put out those fireworks, and evacuate the room. His eyes blazed with rage, then, he turned them on Thrass. 

“Syndic Mitth’ras’safis, what is the meaning of this?” Thurfian pointed accusingly at Thrass.

“Me? I’m not sure what I have to do with this, your Venerante,” Thrass said innocently.

“You have EVERYTHING to do with this!” Even in this light, you could see the Patriarch's red eyes were practically on fire.

Thrass straightened, daring Thurfian to do something about the fireworks, about everything. The explosions glistened in his hair and jewelry. Some locks of hair had come loose from his bun and fell to either side of his face. In this moment, he looked every bit the warrior he claimed not to be. He was magnificent. And he was doing this in your defense. He caught your eyes and smiled confidently. 

The feeling that hit you was like the lurch a spacecraft did before surging forward into hyperspace. It was terrifying and wonderful, all at once. It was a feeling you’d tried in vain to ignore. But not now with fireworks outlining his frame, twinkling with the mischief in his eyes there was no more denying it. Not now and not ever again. Your body surged with heat in all your limbs as the feeling went through you. Unfortunately, now was not the time to fall completely, ridiculously in love. 

Thiomo appeared in the exit, waving you toward them. You took a step toward them, but couldn’t help but turn to catch the last bit of Thrass’s conversation. 

“So, you win, Syndic,” Thurfian snarled. 

“Yes, I do.” Thrass said gently, sweetly. “Thank you for your hospitality, your Venerante. I will have the report on your security flaws soon.”

The older Chiss looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. “This isn’t over.” Thurfian yelled as Thrass strode up beside you. He hooked his arm around yours and looked over his shoulder at the enraged Patriarch. 

“No,” Thrass said, smiling at him, then widening his grin as he regarded you, “I suppose it isn’t.”

Chapter 11

Summary:

With all the revelations discovered at the Mitth homestead, the realization of your feelings for the charming Mitth syndic was the most unsettling for you. While you struggle to come to terms with it, Thrass's aide threatens to take the matter into their own hands.

Notes:

Fluff incoming! I've been sitting on the last scene of this for a long time and I'm happy to finally share it. I promise things will move along soon for our officer and syndic!

The skycar was painfully quiet. You longed for someone to say something and didn’t want that someone to be you. Thrass sat beside you and in the cramped passenger area you were hyper aware of the contact of your leg against Thrass’s thigh. You did your best to ignore it, but it was nearly impossible. The image of him shining in the light of the fireworks still burned into your mind. It made your insides feel like a small flying creature was loose. It was wonderful and terrible. You wished desperately for it to stop, that you had never named the emotion you were feeling toward Thrass. 

While you sat, wrangling your inner turmoil, Zimaram was sitting opposite you, arms folded across his chest. Earlier, you unbound his wrists if he promised to behave himself and so far, he had. But you weren’t sure how much further you trusted that, especially with that sour expression on his face.

“So what are you going to do with me?” Zimaram asked, blessedly breaking the silence.

“That all depends on you,” Thrass said, “I could put you in the custody of the Syndicure, which I’m sure neither of us wants.” 

Zimaram snorted. “Or?”

“Or, you can surrender the data cylinders you got from the Mitth vault and I send you back to the Irizi, no strings attached.”

“Other than losing what I came here for,” Zimaram said, glowering at Thrass. 

“Better than losing your freedom,” Thrass countered.

“And what about you? You could hand me over and win some favors in the Syndicure.” 

“I could. But ultimately, what purpose would that serve? Besides, I at least honor ‘vows of mutual silence’.”

Zimaram narrowed his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

Thrass removed his ear jewelry to reveal the tiny comm device Thiomo installed in it. “I heard the whole thing, thus also being bound. ‘Everyone hearing this’, remember?” 

Zimaram deepened his scowl, but Thrass remained calm and confident, as though Zimaram was simply an ill-tempered tooka cat. “Fine,” he said finally. Reaching into his belt pocket, Zimaram produced the data cylinders that you both worked so hard for and offered them to Thrass. 

“You’re making the right decision,” Thrass assured him, taking the cylinders “your sister would be proud.”

Fury ignited in Zimaram’s eyes again. “How would you know? You monsters are the ones that took her from me,” he growled, clenching his fists. 

“It wasn’t my doing, you know that,” Thrass soothed. 

“But the Seeker Program - “

“Has done untold damage. Damage I’m working to heal,” Thrass said. There was something about the way he spoke that struck you. His sadness sounded personal.

“So what now?” Zimaram asked. 

“You,” Thrass paused, tapping something on his questis, “are going to be given a clever disguise by my aide and,” he handed Zimaram the questis, “passage to the nearest Irizi system. I’m sure they’ll be happy to receive you.”

“Why are you helping me?” Zimaram said cautiously, “Is it just to avoid an ‘incident’?”

“That is one reason, yes.” Thrass said, “However, while I am Mitth and a member of the Ascendancy’s Syndicure, my first allegiance is to people who need my help.”

Zimaram stared at Thrass. His jaw tightened as though he wanted to argue more, but instead he said, “Thank you.”

_______________

Zimaram was dressed in a mish-mash of clothes and jewelry from you, Thrass and Thiomo. He would definitely blend in with the other Chiss milling about the spaceport so long as he didn’t start any trouble. 

“Give the Patriarch my regards. I’m sure Zistalmu will be glad to know not all the Mitth are his enemy.” Thrass gave the younger Chiss a warm smile. 

Zimaram exited the skycar, only sparing one glance back at you before he was lost in the crowd. 

“Good riddance,” Thiomo said. 

“That’s one loose end I hope doesn’t return to bite us in the ass,” Thrass said. He turned to you, “as for other loose ends, how are you feeling dear? How is your face?”

You’d almost forgotten all about the blow you took from the blunt, non sparky end of the guard’s stun spear. Now that you remembered, the pain made itself known and you grimaced. “Better,” you lied. Thrass raised a skeptical eyebrow. 

“It certainly doesn’t look better,” he said, “let’s get you cleaned up.”  Thrass reached for Thiomo’s makeup bag, pulling out a cleaning cloth. You thought he would just hand you the cloth but he held it up. “May I?” he asked. 

“Are you asking to clean off my makeup?” 

“Well I’m not asking to wipe your nose,” he laughed, “but yes, may I?” 

At your approval, he began wiping the makeup away, the cloth slowly turning many shades of blue, red and purple. 

He held your jaw tenderly to steady your head as he worked in gentle strokes. Thrass did not have the same long, slender fingers many other Chiss had. His were like the rest of him, sturdy, broader but no less dexterous and graceful. Thrass’s eyes moved over your face, inspecting it for any stray bits of makeup he may have missed. You wanted to look away but you were like a creature drawn to light with the glow of his eyes. The way he held you suspended in this moment, you thought he would kiss you right there in the back of the skycar. But he stayed, keeping you here with him. 

“There she is,” he said softly. 

“I didn’t go anywhere,” you said. 

“It’s just nice to see you again, under your disguise,” he said, smiling. 

You wanted to soak this moment in, simply enjoy Thrass’s closeness and care. But everything Zimaram said at the homestead bubbled up into your mind. Dare you mention it? You leaned back, away from Thrass’s touch. “Thrass, can you tell me something?” 

“I can certainly see,” he replied. 

You swallowed. “Why didn’t you tell me about the Irizi?” 

His face sagged and you noticed him moving his hand to spin his ring. “I - I’m not sure how to explain that,” he said. 

“Try anyway, Thrass, I think I deserve it after today.”

After a long moment, he answered. “It was to protect you,” he said. That wasn’t the answer you wanted.

“Well, I don’t feel very protected going into something like that, virtually blind,” you said firmly. “If Zimaram had been more perceptive, it would have given me away pretty much immediately.” 

Thrass’s expression twisted, “You have a point, and I’m sorry. I didn’t account for the Irizi sending an agent this very day, never mind you meeting them and working with them which…by the way, that was impressive.”

“Thank you,” you said, feeling a rush of warmth from the compliment. You shook it off.

“I want very badly to be able to tell you so many things,” Thrass lamented, staring out the window of the skycar. “I’m protecting you from what might come if the Syndicure knew I was telling an outsider Ascendancy secrets. There are some secrets we have guarded for millennia. We have many enemies in the Chaos and chief among them is one that employs a species that can read minds.” Thrass shivered. He meant the strange aliens you heard often accompanied Grysk. “My research depends on the good graces of the Speakers. Today, I had to manipulate the Patriarch into allowing us access to key data. I can’t stop you from using those observation skills of yours to piece things together, but nor can I simply tell you. It risks too much.” 

 Even knowing why, the fact that Thrass didn’t feel he could trust you hurt. He won’t tell you because you’re not Chiss… you recalled Zimaram’s words. Before today, that didn’t really matter to you, this was a job, an assignment. But now…

“Would…would it be different if I were Chiss?”

Thrass turned away from the window to face you, his brows upturned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that if I were Chiss, we wouldn’t have had to do all this. We wouldn’t have to steal from the Mitth, the Patriarch would have just let you have the data you needed. We wouldn’t have to spend so much time teaching me Cheunh or deflecting all the stares…'' your eyes began to water, but you didn’t care. “I just feel like I shouldn’t be here, that you deserve to have an assistant that’s not a burden. So you wouldn’t have had to betray your own family like this.” 

Thrass’s eyes softened. “Come here,” Thrass requested, quietly. 

Suddenly very self-aware, you scooted closer to him. He pushed away a stray lock of your hair and placed his hand on your shoulder. You could feel the warmth radiating from his palm.

He leaned down to be at eye level with you. “I don’t think you are a problem or a burden. And I don’t think my research would be easier, simply different. For one thing, if you were Chiss, your insights would lack the same…spark, and certainly the same outside perspective.”  

“But I’m human, Thrass. I can’t ever….” Couldn’t ever what, exactly? Can’t ever belong? Can’t ever understand? Can’t ever…

He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in for an embrace. You went rigid, afraid of enjoying it, afraid even more of giving away your feelings. His body was solid yet soft, his scent familiar and inviting. It was every bit as wonderful as you imagined. After a moment, you melted into his warmth, into the pressure of his body against you. 

Thrass ended the embrace, but you didn’t want to let go. He put both hands on your shoulders, once again capturing your gaze. His eyes were still tired, but the sparkle you’d seen at the party was stronger than ever. “I don’t want you to be anything other than who you are,” he said. “What you did for me today…no one else could have done it. Not a Chiss, not a different human, no one. So Chiss disguise or not, please…just continue being you. That’s what I need.” 

_________________________

That’s what I need.

You lay in your bed staring at the ceiling, the events of the last several days playing over and over in your mind’s eye. It was almost enough to make you nauseous. Maybe if you puked your guts out, you’d forget about the harrowing chase through the Mitth homestead. Forget about the look on Zimaram’s face when he realized you weren’t Chiss. Forget the Syndicure was actively hiding the fact that the Ascendancy was splintering.

Forget that you’d fallen for Thrass. 

Of course this last part is what disturbed you the most. You thought this part of yourself was long dead and buried. You’d promised yourself you wouldn’t fall into this trap again, that you were far too old for silly academy girl games. But then, you’d imagine Thrass’s sweet smile and a feeling of warmth would blossom in your gut. 

You shook yourself. This was ridiculous. You were, even though lately you sometimes forgot, an officer of the Imperial navy. Eventually, this dream would end and you’d be back aboard a warship, racing through hyperspace. Besides, he didn’t mind that you weren’t Chiss as a colleague or friend but you were still an alien and an outsider. Attraction may not even be on his mind. But those hand kisses, the small gestures of affection, the cups of caccoleaf…that couldn’t mean nothing.

On the other hand, how well did you really know him ? Thrass was a busy man, a member of the Ascendancy’s ruling body. His claim that he was protecting you from the Syndicure didn’t sit well with you. Maybe it was all your time with the Imperial backstabbing and scheming among the officers that got your hackles up. And, for all you knew, he already had a lovely Chiss wife and beautiful Chiss children who shared his beautiful smile. Maybe he was, as Zimaram said, just playing the game. Just being friendly enough until the job was done. 

You resolved to ignore your feelings and pack them in a box in a corner of your mind. Your chest ached to do this, but it had to be done. For your own sake, as well as his. 

A few weeks went by. Weeks of sorting through all the data you’d collected from the Mitth homestead. Thrass eventually explained the deal he’d made with Thurfian, which meant you’d never have to go through that experience again. You struggled to hide your awe for him for playing the Patriarch so well. It reminded you a bit of how Thrawn outmaneuvered insurgents and pirates in the outer rim. Maybe Thrawn had learned it from Thrass. 

The data you’d retrieved from the homestead was different from what Thrass had given you previously. Where the cloud diaries before were certainly vague, these were a mess. It wasn’t that the images weren’t high quality, they were perfect. But the writing was even more cryptic. Sometimes, it made no sense whatsoever. This was something you had become very familiar with as a comms officer: encryption.

“I think this is code,” you suggested, pointing out a particularly strange sentence. 

“I agree,” Thrass said, leaning over you to scroll through the image on your questis, “though I wouldn’t have any idea where to start deciphering,” he admitted. He was close enough for you to notice his scent. It was his usual cologne but now when it hit you, you felt the heat rising in your face.

Ignoring your feelings for Thrass had not gone well so far. You’d become keenly aware of his mannerism, his habits, his attention to small details in conversations. Every time you saw him in the morning or after his return from Syndicure business your stomach made a little leap, especially at the way he smiled at you. How could you ignore your own physical responses to him? 

You wished so badly that you could confide in someone. Aside from Thrass and the small number of people he’d introduced you to, you had no one. Eli was who knows where in the Chaos, probably nowhere near a comms triad. As for your friends aboard the Chimaera , they were equally out of reach, perhaps more so. They could be anywhere in the Empire. Hopefully, it had completed the Lothal operation and was cruising with the seventh fleet to a new mission. You should be there with them. A pang of loss washed over you, unexpected and overwhelming. 

Thrass turned to look at you. “Are you alright?” 

You clenched your teeth, biting back tears. “I think…I think I’m done for the day, Thrass.” 

“Oh? Are you feeling ill?” You almost couldn’t stand the way he looked at you. The concern in his eyes made you want to reach for him and hold him tightly. But no, you had to keep him at a distance. 

“I’m fine Thrass, just really tired.”

“Well, we have been hitting this really hard lately. Very well, a break will do us good. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of all this,” he said, waving his hand over the mess you’d made.

“Thank you,” you said, leaving before you could no longer hold back your tears. In your rush to leave, the sense that you’d forgotten something nagged at you. Whatever it was, you could get to it tomorrow. 

______________

Earlier …

Thrass’s morning routine was something he’d perfected over the years, and, thanks to his aide, it had become like a well oiled machine. Almost an art. 

Still, he insisted on making the caccoleaf himself. That was one thing he could not leave to an aide to do. As he waited for the leaves to steep, he pulled up the day’s agenda on his questis. He took a hearty sip before he saw an item on his to-do list that nearly made him spit the tea all over his office. 

“Thiomo?” Thrass called cautiously.

They strode into the room with their usual poise and grace. “Yes, sir?”

“Can you explain to me why I have an item on my to-do list that is written as ‘discuss feelings with research assistant’?”

Thiomo sighed, rolling their eyes up. “Because sir, if you don’t do it soon I’m going to vomit on your boots,”

“My…boots?”

“Yes, sir.” 

Thrass put his hands on his hips. “Alright, Thiomo, what makes you think I have any ‘feelings’ to discuss with my assistant?”

Thiomo arched an eyebrow. “Are you seriously asking that, sir?”

“Yes. Go on,” Thrass waved a hand.

“You’ve been infatuated with her since you met. A hand kiss, sir? Really. And all the strings you pulled to get her to stay here in the complex? And let’s not mention all the longing looks and dinners and tender gestures. You took her to see your tailors . You only bring special people to the Hrasko sisters.”

“I brought you, didn’t I?”

“Well of course, but that’s not the issue,” 

“Thiomo listen - “

“No, sir. You listen,” Thiomo raised their voice a level, “You are going to tell her, and soon.”

Thrass plopped down in his chair. “What would be the point?” 

“The point, sir?”

Thrass spun lazily in the chair, “She’s an alien. And accomplished. And beautiful,” he said, counting out her merits on his fingers.

“I don’t follow.”

“Thiomo look at me,” Thrass turned the chair back around and gestured down at himself, “I’m a washed up old Syndic. You know my reputation. The eccentric, the stirrer of pots, the mad castaway. Should have been a speaker by now, or Syndic prime if Thurfian didn’t loathe me so much.”

“I don’t see how that matters, especially to her,”

“It does. And she’ll be one more weapon they can use against me. She deserves better than being placed in the Syndicure’s political crosshairs by being involved with me. And she - “ he sighed, “she deserves someone not so…damaged.”

Thiomo’s eyes were stern. “I have never heard such a load of packbull shit,” they said, anger creeping into their voice, “And I doubt she’d agree. She adores you, you absolute idiot.” 

With a frustrated growl, Thrass rose from the chair. “Well then, explain to me why she has been so distant since the homestead?”

Thiomo snorted, “Because she finally figured out how she feels, Thrass. And now she’s as terrified as you are. So, you need to resolve it,” Thiomo poked Thrass firmly in the stomach, “ today. So kill that self-pity of yours and deal with this. Because if I have to go one more day watching you yearn for each other I will vomit on your boots.”

Right on schedule, his assistant arrived for the day’s work, putting an end to the issue, for now. As usual, Thrass tried not to stare at her like a fool. Today, she wore a comfortable tunic and pants that hugged her hips perfectly thanks to the work of the sisters. Though the climate underground was a constant and pleasant temperature for Chiss, it was still too cold for the human. To compensate, she often wore some type of sweater or jacket. Thrass’s office, however, was kept warmer. The assistant nearly always shed her sweater and hung it on the coat hook by the door. It was so normal but so endearing to Thrass and he wasn’t sure why.

“Good morning,” Thrass greeted. 

“Good morning,” she responded a little sluggishly, “would be better with some stimulants.”  

Thrass handed her a fresh cup of caccoleaf. “Of course,” he said. 

“What were you two talking about? It looked intense.”

“Syndicure business,” Thrass said. 

The assistant busied herself by setting up for the day’s research. Thrass thought that now would be the best moment, just to get it over with. He cleared his throat, “Ah, a moment,” he started. She looked up at him, the heat already increasing in her cheeks. Her eyes were so bright, even with her morning drowsiness. They didn’t glow like most eyes he was used to and it always astonished him how they seemed to have their own shine. His nerve left him completely. “Uh, nevermind dear, carry on.” 

“Okay. What do you have for me today?” she asked. 

The day went by and so did many opportunities to bring up the uncomfortable ‘feelings’ conversation. Thrass even tried asking small probing questions to maybe start a conversation that direction but he lost his nerve every time. All the while, Thiomo gave him pointed looks from across the office making the failures to launch all the more frustrating. 

Toward the end of the day, something caused his assistant’s face to fall. The shift was sudden and she looked as though she were about to cry. She insisted she was simply tired and Thrass let her go for the day, leaving Thiomo’s mandate incomplete. 

As she left, Thrass felt a firm whap on the back of his head. “Ow! Hey!”

“Vomit. Boots,” Thiomo said, deadpan.

“Now, now, now wait.”

“Here,” Thiomo shoved his assistant’s sweater at Thrass, “I took the liberty of taking this. Return it to her.” 

“But - “

“Oh and, since I knew you would try to worm out of this,” Thiomo held out a grocery sack, “maybe make her a nice meal or something while you’re there.” 

“I can’t do this, Thiomo,” Thrass protested. 

“Yes, you can and you will, now go,” Thiomo pointed to the door.

_________________

You were exhausted. Beyond exhausted. Tired to your very core. You didn’t know how much longer you could keep up the charade with Thrass before you lost it completely and spilled your whole heart on him. The thought was terrifying, it would ruin everything. If he knew…if you told him, it would bring this whole thing crashing down. He’d dismiss you, ignore you, break what little connection you’d been able to make here on Csilla and send you back to the EDF. 

An overwhelming feeling closed around your throat. The same feeling of being lost you had when you first came here. Now, it wasn’t just feeling lost but feeling a sense of loss . You missed hot caf and waffles. You missed being able to talk to Pyrondi and Hammerly and Vanto and even Agral whose jokes were corny and terrible. At least on the Springhawk things were familiar, different, but familiar. But going back meant losing Thrass and the thought of that was even worse. 

You couldn’t help the tears that now stung your eyes. You were tired of not knowing what language to speak or how to speak it or the disdain in the glowing Chiss eyes of strangers as they saw you. The tears just came, like someone had released a valve. There was no stopping them. You just wanted comfort. You just wanted to feel like you were home. 

The sound of the door chime interrupted your downward spiral and brought you back to reality. You sniffed and wiped your eyes, hoping whoever it was would just leave once they saw how awful you looked. Who was bothering you this late at night, anyway? Didn’t they know you were busy having a breakdown?

You didn’t wait for the comm, you just keyed the door to open to find…Thrass standing behind it. You froze. His eyes grew wide. Probably because you looked like hell. Great, exactly how you wanted him to see you, vulnerable and broken and puffy-eyed from crying. 

Thrass hesitated, then spoke. “Thiomo said you left this in the office,” he said, indicating the sweater draped over his arm. “I was on the way to my quarters, I thought I would stop by and return it.” He handed it to you and you squeezed the knit fabric hard in your fingers as the tears threatened to return.

“Thank you,” you managed to say. You waited for him to say good night and leave you to your business of crying. But he didn’t.

“Are you truly alright?” he asked softly. His tone made your stomach flip. “Your eyes are red. As far as I know, human eyes aren’t supposed to be that color.” 

“I’m fine,” you said, “thank you for bringing me back my sweater, you didn’t have to, I could have just gotten it in the morning.”

“It’s no trouble. But - are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m…” you weren’t sure how to phrase this ”...sick. For my home. I don’t know the Cheunh word.”

“Homesick?” he guessed, literally putting the two root words together. Of course that’s the word. 

You nodded. “I - it’s hard today, I don’t know why,” you admitted. “But really, I’m alright.”

Thrass gave you a small, almost shy smile. “You look like you could use some company.”

“It’s fine, Thrass. I’ll be fine.” You tried to put on a brave face, but Thrass lifted an eyebrow.

“Maybe I should put this in a less polite way. You look awful, do you wish me to stay and keep you company?” 

 You looked into his eyes, which was a mistake. The caring in them completely shattered any resolve you had remaining. You let the sweater fall to the ground and then threw your arms around Thrass. He grunted and stepped backward to catch his balance as you leaned into him. To your surprise, he wrapped his arms around you, too. He firmly placed his hands on your upper back, pulling you closer with a comfortable pressure. He rest his head on your shoulder.

Between his height, his shape and the fabric he wore, it felt like he completely enveloped you. When you inhaled his scent, warmth rose in your lower abdomen and into your stomach. And though your mind was screaming to let go and apologize, the rest of you wanted, needed more of him. 

“I will take that as a ‘yes’.” He said into your ear. You nodded into his chest. He moved his hands to your shoulders to gently push you back. “Let’s go inside dear, I’ll put on some tea. Have you eaten?” He lifted a grocery sack by his side that you hadn’t noticed before. “I was just going to make dinner myself. I hope you don’t mind if I borrow your kitchen?”

________________

“You’ve never told me about your crewmates in the Empire.” Thrass said as he rummaged through your kitchen. “What were they like?”

“Well, I was comms so I ended up needing to get to know the whole bridge pretty well,” you said. You weren’t sure what the tea was that Thrass made you but it was floral and soothing. You sat huddled in the area of the apartment you’d dubbed ‘the pillow pit’.

“Well, yes,” Thrass agreed, pulling what looked like a large pan out of the storage cabinet, “but did you have…oh I don’t know, friends, lovers perhaps?”

The last part of his question took you by surprise. Why did he want to know? 

“Lovers? Me?” you laughed, ruefully. “No. No one worth getting fraternization charges over.” You sighed. “Well, they didn’t think I was worth that either, apparently. Honestly, I wouldn’t either.” You said sourly. 

“Really? I’m sorry to hear that. They must have poor taste anyway, so all for the better,” Thrass said, there was a touch of purple in his cheeks. You needed to change the subject, fast. 

“I - I do have a few friends, a best friend even but…he’s elsewhere in the Ascendancy actually. I thought he’d died for a while so that was pretty awful.”

“Ah, the other human I presume? Eli’van’to?” Thrass tested the edge of a knife with his thumb. Seemingly satisfied, he began chopping vegetables. 

“Just Vanto, Eli to his friends. Though his new crew calls him Ivant, I guess.” You smiled at that. In private, the name bothered Eli but you thought it was endearing that the Chiss gave him a new name. 

“Ah. His ‘Chiss-ified’ name as you call it,”

You laughed. “Yes, that.”

Something started sizzling on the stovetop and the smell of oil and cooking tuber roots wafted through the room. “So you and Ivant are friends. What about the others?”

“Pyrondi and I were pretty close. She liked this little cartoon called Hello Tooka and it was all over her console. Which…is morbidly hilarious since she was weapons. If only those pirates and insurgents knew the dreaded Chimaera fired on them with Hello Tooka stickers on the chief weapons console.”

Thrass gave a hearty laugh at that. “I don’t even know what a tooka is but she sounds delightful, this Pyrondi does.” 

“Commodore Faro and I were on the Chimaera for a long time. She longer. I came on shortly after Thrawn was put in command. Faro knew everything, and I mean everything, about that ship. She’s probably the best first officer I’ve ever had the pleasure of serving under.”

 “Can she keep up with him? My brother?” Thrass asked. “He’s a bit of a challenge.” 

“I think she kinda resented him for a while, with him being non-human. But right before I left they were working almost in sync, it was amazing. Honestly, we were all kinda like that. Thrawn trained us well.”

“I assume part of your homesickness is missing them?” You heard a tray being slid into the oven. 

“It is.” You scrunched up a blanket in your fist, focusing on the feel of the fabric to keep you from tearing up again. “They probably think I’m dead,” you said, voice cracking. 

Thrass walked up to the pillow pit, wiping his hands off with a towel. He flung the towel over his shoulder and joined you, moving some of the cushions out of the way to sit near you. “You said you thought the same with Ivant…with Eli.”

“I did, we all did. He wouldn’t have just vanished otherwise. Though now I know better. But…it’s not going to look good. And they’ll think I’m -” you really couldn’t stop the tears this time. Thrass took your cup of tea and moved it somewhere it wouldn’t spill. Then, he draped an arm over the cushion behind you. Not quite around you, but a safe distance. 

“Who else can you tell me about?”

You told him about Hammerly, Agral, Lomar, and the other crew through sobs. Somehow, even though you were crying, talking about them soothed the ache. 

“They seem like remarkable people. Thrawn always does have a way of surrounding himself with remarkable people.”

“Well, we were all stationed there by the navy,” you sniffed, “Thrawn didn’t have much control over that.”

“But he saw all of your strengths and brought out the best in you. That's why he sent us Ivant. It’s why he sent me you,” he said, flicking his eyes to you with a warm smile that only stoked the warmth already churning in your gut. 

“I was just convenient,” you said quickly, looking away from him. “A failed academic with a penchant for language who also happened to know her way around a comms station. I’m…not what you would call remarkable, I’m just me.”

Thrass frowned. “This is the second time this evening you’ve called yourself unworthy or a failure. I’m sorry you see yourself that way. There’s no ‘just’ about you.” Thrass placed his hand on yours. Just like his hug earlier, his hand enveloped yours. The contact sent a jolt through you. Your heart beat so fast you hoped he couldn’t feel your pulse. 

The oven beeped. Thrass got up. His hand lingered on yours a moment before he slipped away.  In moments, he returned with pastries that were baked to a perfect golden brown. “I can’t promise these will be as good as my mother’s but, they will be tasty.”

You took a bite, your teeth sinking into the crispy exterior with a satisfying crunch. Your mouth filled with deliciously spiced mashed root vegetables. “Stars, compliments to your mom, these are so good.”

“I’ll be sure to mention it next time I visit her. She’ll be glad to know her recipes are being appreciated across species.”

You finished eating in relative silence. Having some food in your stomach calmed your mood. Thrass sat beside you with his hand under his chin in contemplation.

“You must be thinking about those pastries very hard.” You said. 

Thrass moved his hand away and smiled the smile that made you feel giddy. “Trying to decide if I want another.” He turned to face you and his smile faded. “Instead, I decided that I will tell you something,” Thrass said. “It’s something that took me a long time to come to terms with but, perhaps, it will help you.”

“Okay.”

He took a deep breath and you braced yourself “I wasn’t supposed to be a Mitth cousin. I…wasn’t supposed to be Mitth at all.”

Well that got your attention. “What? How?”

Thrass shifted in his seat. “My father…” he paused and took another deep breath, “he saved the previous Patriarch, Mitth’oor’akiord, from an attempted assassination.”

“Holy Kriff,”

Thrass looked down. “He lost his life in the process. He saw what was happening and decided to act and do the right thing. I don’t know if he even knew who Thooraki was.”

“I’m…Thrass…I’m sorry.” 

Thrass shrugged. “I might feel worse about it, had I known him. I never met my father. My mother was only a week away from giving birth to me at the time.” He smiled ironically with one side of his mouth. “Strange how the Chaos works sometimes.”

“That’s still awful,” was all you could manage to say. 

“Patriarch Thooraki wanted to show his gratitude to my mother by rematching her to the Mitth as a ranking distant. I had already been born by the time of the ceremony but the gracious Patriarch made me a Cousin anyway.”

“I guess that’s one way to get family rank.” You said, immediately regretting it. You scrunched up your face, “Oof that wasn’t funny, sorry.” 

He huffed a laugh. “You’re forgiven. It’s a dark thought I had too, growing up. I used to feel so unworthy of my rank. But after I began doing work for the family, I realized we are what we make ourselves to be. It’s my greatest wish that I live a life worthy of my father’s sacrifice. To live a life that would have made him proud. But ultimately? Just living and being who I am? That’s enough. You’re enough,” 

He reached for your face, hesitated, then curled his fingers away as he pulled back. “More than enough.”

______________________

You helped Thrass clean your kitchen, swapping more stories and laughs. The evening wore on, the chrono moving relentlessly forward before Thrass deemed it time to take his leave. 

You and Thrass stood on either side of your door’s threshold. You wanted to say something, but what did one say to someone who saved you from an evening of misery and self-pity?

“Thank you, Thrass,” you managed to squeeze out, “I had a nice evening, thanks to you.” You forced yourself to meet his eyes, knowing as usual there was no hiding your feelings. 

“You’re welcome to me any time,” he said. Usually after a statement like that, he’d correct himself, but he didn’t. You stared at one another, each hesitating. Was this the moment? Should you just kiss him and let him fill in the blanks so you didn’t have to speak the feelings in your heart out loud? Your eyes flicked toward his lips. They were just right there, you could easily close the distance…”Good night,” he said into your thoughts. 

“Good night,” you said, reluctantly keying the door to close. You leaned your head against the steel, or whatever the doors were made of. You survived without spilling your guts to him, but it was a very near thing. How on Csilla did you survive this without telling him your feelings?

Faintly on the other side of the door you heard Thrass murmur as though he were speaking into it. “ Vah’re ch’a rect’rcin’i’ecot, Mitth’ras’safis .”

You’re a fool, Mitth’ras’safis. 

Chapter 12

Summary:

A breakthrough in your research leads to a very different kind of breakthrough with your feelings.

Notes:

Happy summer everyone! This chapter has been long in the making, some of this I wrote a while ago to play with how the scenarios would work out. It does get a lot more RomCom-y than some of the previous chapters but I love the final results, please enjoy!

After this chapter I will be working on another fic as the premiere of Ahsoka looms. There's some things I want to write before the show changes how I envision things. Don't worry though! I have a lot more planned for reader and Thrass!

That night, you slept soundly for the first time since the homestead. It may have been from the emotional release of crying. It could have been your belly full of delicious home cooked food. But you were pretty sure it was because Thrass spent his evening comforting you. He went out of his way to return a sweater, which seemed like a flimsy excuse to visit you but you were so grateful he did. You smiled remembering his embrace and the feeling of his hand on yours. Maybe it wasn’t hopeless with Thrass. Maybe you did have a chance. Taking several deep, slow breaths, you tamped down the giddy feeling rising in your chest. 

Heading into Thrass’s office, your heart was leaping at the prospect of seeing him again. You took one more deep breath to compose yourself. When you entered, you were greeted by a melodic peal of laughter. Did Thrass have a visitor today? As you stepped further inside the office, you found the source of the sound. Sitting in the chair in front of Thrass’s desk was a Chiss woman. She turned to you and her eyes brightened. 

“Hello! Are you the assistant I’ve heard so much about?” The Chiss woman asked politely.

“Yes, I am she,” you said. The woman was stunning in her floor length dress. You knew immediately she was Mitth from the rich burgundy and gold trim of her dress. Golden, sun shaped earrings dangled from her ears. Her hair was done in a half up fashion, the top elaborately braided with some bangs falling to the side of her face. The style was accented with more golden wires woven through it, adding to its glossy sheen. “And you?” you asked. 

“Syndic Mitth’ali’astov,” the woman provided. You performed the customary forearm hold with her. “I’m pleased to finally meet you. My husband has said nothing but good things about you.”

Husband? A lump immediately formed in your throat. “Oh,” you said. Husband. Did that mean? Feelings ran through your brain in quick succession before you could rationalize anything. You knew it, you’d always known it. Thrass was too wonderful to be unwed and she was so, so beautiful. This is what happens when you dared to have hope, you always ended up disappointed. 

Thrass caught your eye and seemed to read the shock and despair on your face. “Thalias,” he said, “I don’t think she knows who you are referring to.”

“Apologies. My husband’s name is Ufsa’mak’ro. I believe you’ve served with him, aboard the Springhawk ?”

“Oh!” It was like a bubble suddenly burst as relief flooded you. Thrass wasn’t married, you remembered. Her husband was Samakro. Of course. “Yes, the Senior Captain is a good commander, you’re lucky to have him.” 

“He’s lucky to have me,” she laughed, “Though it drives him snow mad to know just what he married sometimes, he abhors politics.” 

“Well at least you have good friends in the Syndicure,” Thrass grinned. “So you were just about to tell me what brought you to my office today.” 

Thalias glanced over her shoulder and lowered her voice. “I heard,” she said, “there was a break-in at the homestead. During a Blood’s birthday party no less!” 

Thrass looked aghast, placing a hand over his chest dramatically. “How could anyone think to do such a thing?” 

She folded her arms. “His Venerante was feeling spiteful about your research again, wasn’t he?”

“As to be expected,” Thrass said with a sigh. 

“I’m sorry, I would help but…I’ve got my own history with him.” Thalias pursed her lips.

“Yes, I suspect he’d still be sour about the charric incident, even after all these years,” Thrass said.

It took a moment for you to register what he’d said. “Wait, charric incident? ” You asked.

Thalias turned a shade of purple, presumably with embarrassment. Then, she feigned hitting Thrass while he laughed and shielded himself with his arms. “Are you ever going to let me live that down?”

“No, because it was an act worthy of legend and I’m very sorry to have missed it.”

“The only reason it even happened was because of your data, Thrass!”

“I’m happy to be of service,” he said. 

“But really, what did you have to steal from the homestead that Thurfian didn’t want you to have?”

“More so he didn’t want my human assistant to have it,” Thrass looked at you apologetically.

Thalias exhaled loudly. “Of course he didn’t. Stubborn old man.” 

Thrass pulled up the coded cloud diary from the day before on his questis, offering it to Thalias. “What do you make of this?” 

She took a cursory look at the image on the screen. “A cloud diary?” 

“Look closer,” Thrass encouraged. 

Thalias squinted at the screen, zooming in closely to the words.

“Have you ever created a cloud diary, Thalias?”

“No…I haven’t…” she said wistfully, “if I did, I don’t remember it. Besides, I’m not the most artistic. ”

“Please tell Thalias your conclusions,” Thrass invited. You did so and Thalias frowned. 

“How old is this?” she asked. 

 “It’s at least as old as the Seekers,” Thrass said, “from my estimation.”

“Do you think this is what we’ve been looking for?” Thalias asked, grimly. 

“Without a cipher, we won’t know for sure,” Thrass lamented.

“What does she think?” Thalias asked. 

“I haven’t asked her,” Thrass said, “I want to be sure before I bring anything to her.”

“Hm. Well, this is a good find. It may be nothing, it might be everything. Good work, both of you.”  Thalias beamed at you and you couldn’t help but feel proud. 

“I’m sure you have Syndicure business to get to, dear,” Thrass said, “thank you for dropping by.”

“The pleasure was mine,” Thalias stood from her chair and took your hands, “take good care of him for me, he tends to work himself too hard.”

“I do not,” Thrass protested.

“Says the man who is the literal epitome of the phrase ‘go big, or go home’,” she teased. 

“ Good day, Thalias,” Thrass said, ushering her to the door. 

 

---

 

“I have so many questions,” you said after Thalias was gone. 

Thrass leaned back against his desk. “Such as?” 

“I guess first of all, who is she?”

“You just met her,” Thrass teased. 

“Thrass…”

 “Yes, I get your meaning. She’s an old friend and our ally in the Syndicure. She’s persuasive, observant, and probably one of the more formidable Syndics there is.”

“Glad she’s on our side then. So what’s the story, how did you meet her?”

“It’s a long one, I’m afraid. Suffice to say I had a…leave of absence and she was entrusted with some of the work I’d left behind. I didn’t meet her until I returned and we bonded over our respective friendships with Thrawn.”

“Of course,” you laughed, “Thrawn bringing people together.”

“I suppose you could say that,” Thrass smiled playfully. 

“How did that happen? Aside from you, he doesn’t seem one to spend time with Syndics.”

“She wasn’t always a Syndic. She served with him aboard the Springhawk, as a matter of fact.”

“Wow. I guess that’s where she met Samakro too, then. I wish I could ask them about their time. I’m curious if Thrawn was as…himself when he was younger.”

“You miss serving with him,” Thrass said. It was a statement, not a question.  

“I do,” you said.

“I miss him too…” he trailed off, thoughtfully, “You know what? I believe I have something for you,”

Thrass shuffled around to the back side of the desk. He reached into a drawer and pulled out a data cylinder case. “Since I’m sure these records are hard to find in the civilian network.” He passed the case to you, placing your hands around it. “This is Thrawn’s service records in the Ascendancy. Not all of them of course, some are highly classified and with good reason. But I am sure this might help abate your homesickness.”

“I thought you couldn’t share information…” you said.

“I can’t, which is why I definitely not recommending you read the contents of that cylinder under any circumstances,” he winked. 

“Thank you, Thrass,” you whispered. You desperately wanted to punctuate that with a kiss on his cheek but you refrained.

“By the way…I have a question,” Thrass said. 

“Yes?”

Thrass fiddled with his ring before clearing his throat to speak. “Why did you react to Thalias mentioning her husband like that?”

“Like what?” you asked, trying to play dumb. 

“You looked upset. Why?” He met your eyes. He was so sincere in his question, but seemed to be bracing himself for your answer.  

“I - “ the truth tumbled from your lips before you could stop it, “I thought she was talking about you .”

“Oh?” Thrass blinked. Then, his eyes widened and his cheeks flushed. “ Oh… well then.” 

He didn’t say anything else and you didn’t wait around for him to ask more questions. You busied yourself with your questis while trying not to scream. Oh kriff, why did you say that? What had you done? Thrass remained silent on the subject and made himself just as busy the rest of the day. Every time he spoke or looked at you, he did so only briefly, the flush ever present on his cheeks. It made your anxiety even worse. Why couldn’t he look at you? Clearly, he put what you said together. You wished he would say something, anything other than ‘well then’.

The day ended and you’d gotten nothing done in the wake of your stupid admission. This was starting to get out of hand: you needed to speak with someone. It was time to pay the sisters a visit. 

 

---

 

The Hrasko Boutique seemed to loom in front of you. The sisters were very accommodating the last few times you met with them for fittings. But all of those times, Thrass had been with you. You’d never come on your own before. Would they still be as polite to an unaccompanied outsider? Only one way to find out. 

The familiar door chime sounded as you walked in. Kopinni stood behind the counter, discussing fabric blends with Kovotla. She turned to face her new customer. “Hello, how may I - ah well hello dear!” 

“Hello,” you said. 

“Kovotla, look who’s here!” Kopinni called to the back. 

The short, stout Chiss woman emerged, “Yes, yes who is it now - ah the human!”  It was gratifying to know these two at least were friendly toward you without the Syndic present. 

“What brings you here today? Thrass isn’t with you?” Kopinni asked. 

“No, I came myself,” you explained. “I uh…wanted to see what you had ready-made,”

“Looking for anything in particular?” 

“Well…I’d like something uh…dressier?” 

“We can certainly do that. Kovotla and I were just about to have some lunch. If you'd like to join us, there’s plenty to share. Then we can get right to finding you something ‘dressier’ as you said.” With an offer like that, how could you refuse? 

The spread looked delicious and included a few Chiss foods you’d heard about but had yet to try. The sisters were delighted with your company and if you were being honest, you definitely needed it after the last few days. 

“So how are things with Syndic Thrass? Making progress on his project?” Kopinni asked, setting down her tea.

“Mostly. It’s been difficult to get the data, even more so to interpret it,” you said. 

“I see,” Kopinni said.

“Making progress on him too?” Kovotla cut in. 

It was so abrupt you nearly choked on your cookie. “What do you mean?” you asked, feigning ignorance. 

“You know, has he officially started courting you? Have you kissed yet?” Kovotla asked. 

“Wh….NO!” You sputtered. 

“He’s shy about these things,” Kopinni commented, “You’d best not wait for him, dear.”

“Wait…you…did he talk to you?” 

Kopinni smiled sweetly. “He didn’t have to, dear, the man is completely enamored with you.” 

“But..how?” 

“Let me tell you something,” Kopinni began, “he doesn’t bring just anyone to see us. We didn’t bring it up last time because well, we didn’t want to scare you off. I simply don’t often get to see him happy anymore.” 

“Oh no, he was just being nice. I needed clothes. I needed a break. So he helped me.” Those excuses seemed rather hollow now. Who among the other Syndics would do that for an alien? 

Kopinni shook her head. “No, no, this is how Thrass shows affection. At least partly. As charming as he is, when it comes to matters of the heart, he’s never actually been that confident. The women and men he’s gotten attached to in the past, he never felt like he could be more direct. So he did what he knew best, taking care of people. But I haven’t seen him this determined in years.”

“If he hasn’t talked to you, how do you know he isn’t interested in someone else?” 

Kopinni inclined her head. “I don’t think I understand, dear.” 

“I’m just…” you sighed, once again finding yourself holding back tears, “I’m used to disappointment. He’s a fancy Syndic and I’m just…me. I have nothing to offer him.” 

“Nonsense. Clearly he sees your value in your work,”

“Sure, but…” you thought about the road you had to take to become a comms officer. The failures, the heartache, the trauma of battle. “I’m broken,” you said. 

Kopinni leaned forward. “Did you ever think that maybe he feels just as broken? He’s been through a lot, more than you know. More than he’s probably able to talk about. It could be you’re exactly who he needs.”  

What Thrass said in the skycar after your escape from the homestead popped into your mind. “ Just continue being you. That’s what I need.”  

Is that what he’d been trying to say? That he had feelings for you? You shook your head. “I’m sorry Kopinni, I have a hard time believing that. Romance has never gone well for me and I’m pretty sure it isn’t going to start now.”

The sisters exchanged a meaningful glance. Then, Kovotla huffed. “You, a fancy navy officer, are going to let something like the past defeat you so easily? I know you’ve got more courage in you than that.” She bit off a piece of pastry. “Besides, I want to watch this happen and if you give up now, there goes my entertainment.”

“Entertainment? Don’t you have access to just about every piece of media the Ascendancy has ever produced?” You asked. 

“Yes, but none of it is a real life romance. An old Chiss needs her romance.” 

“Enough, Kovotla,” Kopinni chided. 

You wanted to laugh but you were too deep in your feelings. “I’m sorry ladies. I’m not your romantic lead character, it always goes wrong somehow.”

Kopinni placed a hand on yours, smiling up at you. “Well this time, I think you should give it a chance to go right,” she said, “if not for you, do it for Kovotla and I. It does get rather dull here,”

 

---

 

The cipher had to be in these files somewhere. You stared at images and cloud diaries and records and spreadsheets of unintelligible numbers just looking for some kind of pattern to crack the code. You needed to be able to see a bigger picture in a literal sense: more images and data at once. 

“Thiomo?” you asked. They looked up from their questis. 

“Yes?”

“Could we, I don’t know, get a large board or something?” 

They shifted in their seat. “Hm, I might be able to procure something for you, let me see what I can do,” 

Hour later, they rolled in a large board. It reminded you of the ones at the university but this one…

“It’s essentially a large questis screen,” Thiomo explained. They powered it on and it gave off a dim glow. Then, Thiomo demonstrated by swiping a few images across the screen. 

“Okay, why didn’t we have this sooner?” you asked, unable to keep the annoyance out of your voice.

“You didn’t ask.” Thiomo said.

The board was a game changer. Really, why hadn’t you thought of it sooner? You had a group of cloud diaries open at once, scrutinizing them for any recognizable pattern. You were so deep in concentration you didn’t hear Thrass come up behind you. 

“Making any progress?” He asked. You jumped and clutched your chest. 

“Thrass,” you gasped. 

“Apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you,” 

“It’s alright, I was a bit absorbed.” You gestured at the board. 

“Ah, I was wondering where this had wandered off to. At least, the committee I was in today was wondering.”

“I liberated it from the meeting room,” Thiomo said, “Not like they had anything better to do with it.”

“Well if anyone asks, I have no idea where it is,” Thrass said, “I’ll leave you to your solitude,” he said to you, patting you on the shoulder. You wanted to tell him to stay and let you talk out your thought process but it was probably best he not be near to distract you. 

Except you still got bored and started playing with the board’s programming mechanics by using your finger to stack the art on the screen. It was an idle motion, you weren’t really even thinking anymore. It was then that you noticed how odd the images looked superimposed with each other. 

“Hmm,” you hummed to yourself. What would happen if….

Plugging in a data cylinder you emptied the contents onto the big screen. It was now covered in cloud diaries. The images ranged from drawings of landscapes to images of Chiss children and family. As you did with the first two, you put all of them on half transparency and stacked them all up. 

“What are you doing?” Thrass asked.

“Trying a different approach,” you said. 

This wasn’t all of the diaries but something was starting to materialize. You plugged the next cylinder in and did the same. Then the next. Then the last. Standing back you could see a new message in the white voids between marks. It was almost definitely what you had been looking for. 

Thrass was nearby, his back to you. You started tugging on his sleeve, speechless. 

“What is it?” 

“Look,” you pointed at the screen. 

He did. And his jaw went slack. “The cipher…it was hidden in plain sight!” He reached out and hovered his fingers just above the board. “How did you?”

“I was just…” you really didn't know how to explain it. But then you thought more of it. “These drawings talk a lot about vision, seeing. I don’t know what it was code for but…I thought I should look at them in a different way.”

You looked over to see Thrass beaming. “This might be it.” He said. He began to laugh and so did you. 

You couldn’t help yourself, you embraced Thrass. He returned it, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist. Leaning back, he lifted you off the ground. You yelped, then squealed as he spun you around. When Thrass set you back down, he swiped away happy tears from his cheeks. For a moment you looked at each other. The little smile lines you had grown so fond of were lit up on Thrass’ face and your heart swelled seeing him so excited and happy. Thrass smiled and laughed a lot, especially for a Chiss, but now, he was positively radiant. It was one of the most precious and beautiful things in the galaxy at that moment. 

The swell of your feelings spilled over and your body moved before your mind could catch up. You pushed up on your toes as he leaned forward. Your lips met. It happened so quickly you actually weren’t sure who was kissing whom. His lips were soft, his breath warm and sweet against your lips. Many times, you thought about what kissing Thrass would be like but you didn’t expect how completely it turned your insides into jelly. 

And then, the moment passed. Thrass pulled away, his expression a strange mix of confusion, elation, and fear. He turned his head away quickly and cleared his throat. “Please send this to my questis so I can examine it more closely,” he said, “I get the feeling it may lead us on yet another wild docklett chase, but it’s exactly what we needed.” The skin on his face and neck were more violet than you’d ever seen it.  “Well done.” He added. 

“Thank you,” you said. 

You were finding it difficult to make eye contact with him or even look at him. When you did venture a glance, you saw the flush in his face had yet to fade. You knew you shouldn’t over think this, but the thoughts swirled around anyway. You should talk about this right now, before the moment was gone!  

“Thrass - “ you began.

“I think this calls for a celebration!” he interrupted. His voice was a higher pitch than usual. He glanced at his chrono, “the Naporar noodle place should still be open, would you care to join me?”  

“Y-Yes, I’m starving.” You said. The words you wanted to say dying in your chest. 

“Thiomo? Are you interested?” Thrass asked. His eyes were almost pleading. For once, you desperately wanted Thiomo’s killjoy attitude to shield you from this. 

The aide glanced at you, turned their eyes to Thrass and gave the Syndic the most withering look you’d ever seen them make. “I’ll pass,” they said, utterly deadpan. Then a thin smile appeared on their lips, “Have fun,” 

 

---

 

This. This was the most uncomfortable dinner you’d ever had. Well. Maybe not the most, but definitely approaching it. 

“How are the dumplings?” Thrass asked. You stared at the pile of oil fried deliciousness that lay untouched on your plate. There was no way you could eat them, not with your stomach in knots as it was. You’d hoped some inebrients would help, but so far it only managed to highlight your anxiety. 

“They’re fine,” you said noncommittally. 

He tilted his head, his brows raised in concern. “You usually love those,” he said, “Are you feeling alright? You’ve barely touched them.” You were hoping he hadn’t noticed but of course he noticed. 

“I’m…not sure, just need a minute.” 

Thrass returned to his bowl of noodles. What was he doing? Was he not going to bring it up? Was he going to just casually eat noodles as if that kiss didn’t happen? You ground your teeth. This was ridiculous, you had to say something. 

“Thrass?” 

He looked up at you, a noodle hanging out of his mouth. “Hm?”

“Can we talk about - .”

He finished slurping up the noodle. “Maybe you should try them with the ch’moy?” he suggested, pointing at the small bowl containing the red sauce.

“What?”

“The dumplings. They may taste better with the ch’moy sauce.” 

“Thrass -”

His gaze shifted toward something off in the distance behind you. “Oh! Look it’s Syndic Thosean, I’ll be right back, I have a question for him.” Thrass got up to greet the other Chiss who looked thoroughly confused as to why Thrass was bothering him. Thrass returned a few minutes later. “Oh that Thosean, always has a good story.”

“It didn’t look like he spoke much, it seemed like you did most of the talking,” you pointed out. You sipped the last dregs of your wine, looking pointedly over the glass at Thrass. “So about what I wanted to ask you - ” Something flashed in Thrass’s eyes and his face went rigid. Was…was he panicking?

“I see you’ve finished your wine, would you like more? Waiter?” he asked, his voice pitching up again. This was panic if you’d ever seen it. 

The rest of the dinner was spent with you trying to bring up the office kiss and he doing his best not to. So much so that it was becoming alarming. At one point, he knocked a glass of wine over, spilling it all over his clothes. The very expensive looking sash he wore was virtually ruined. You had your doubts about his antics in the beginning but now you were sure he was trying to avoid the subject. 

“Oh, clumsy me,” he said.

“Thrass, I know what you’re doing,” you said flatly.

“Me? What am I doing?” he smiled at you but it was the most forced, awkward smile you’d ever seen on him. His anxious habit of spinning his thumb ring looked almost desperate. This was hopeless. He didn’t want to talk about this. And if he didn’t want to talk about this that badly…it didn’t bode well for what he was going to say when he finally did.

“Never mind, I guess we can talk about this later,” you said. 

“Good! Later is very good,” he forced another smile at you. This was absurd. Did he hate the kiss that much? You decided you no longer wanted to find out, it was clear from his behavior. Kopinni had said he was shy, but this was becoming hurtful. 

“I’m sorry, Thrass, I’m not feeling well. I’m going to head to my quarters.” You pushed away from the table, gathered your things and left before Thrass could speak. Walking as quickly as you could without looking upset, you went right out the front doors. 

Finally a safe distance from the restaurant, you allowed your tears to well up. He’d hated it, he almost certainly hated it and was too big of a coward to tell you. Your boots cut against the ground faster. You’d been a fool. Why did you kiss him? Why did you ever think he, a Chiss, would be interested in a human woman, especially you? 

You didn’t want to go back to your quarters yet, so you let your feet take you where they willed. By now, you’d grown somewhat familiar with the layout of the main Csaplar cavern. It was approaching the night cycle and lights were shifting in preparation for the transition. Usually you didn’t like to stay out into the night cycle, but tonight you just wanted to walk. You thought about the kiss, about the way Thrass had reacted. He’d looked terrified as though what you’d done had been monstrous. You should have known better, should have stopped yourself. The scenery around you blurred with your tears. You’d done it again.  

You stopped walking and found yourself standing before the entrance to a garden. A garden? Down in a cavern? You read the Cheunh words more carefully. It was a ‘Mycological’ garden. What a weird word. You put together the roots and it was still mystifying. Mushrooms? Then, you remembered Thrass pointing this out to you months before. 

Beyond the entrance was an inviting, colorful glow. The gate was open but there were no attendants, simply an open gate. It would have been creepy but you found Chiss generally respected their surroundings and so would find no need to guard this place. Tentatively, you entered and your breath caught.

You’d seen bioluminescence before, many species in the galaxy evolved this ability, Chiss included. But this was beyond anything you could have imagined. The mushrooms were numerous and of every shape, size and color. Some had long, wiry tendrils draping from their caps. Some were so large you could walk underneath, the bioluminescent glow emanating from their gills. Even the water features had luminous plankton shimmering along the flow. 

Wandering into another section, you found glowing spores hanging in the air. The effect was like walking through a sea of stars. A sign indicated the spores were harmless to humanoids. Harmless and utterly magical. You reached up to capture one in your hands. The blue-green glow shone through your fingers. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” a voice from behind you asked. You turned, releasing the spore from your hand. There stood Thrass, bathed in the light of the spores. He looked somewhat sheepish with his shoulders hunched and brows upturned. “Hello,” he said.

“How did you find me?” you asked.

Thrass shrugged. “I had a feeling. This place was nearby. It’s also beautiful and you seem to enjoy beautiful things, so,” he said. He took a cautious step closer. 

“You could have just gone home,” you said.

“I know but - I didn’t want to end our evening without getting the chance to apologize.”

You put your hand on your hip. “For what, acting like a drunken tooka all night?”

Thrass grimaced . “Ah yes, that.”

“Yeah, that.”

 He let out a long breath and shook his head, “What I did…it was boorish and inappropriate and I’m very sorry if I made you uncomfortable. That’s never been my intention and I hope you’ll forgive me.”

“Wait, what are you talking about?”

He blinked. “What did you think I was talking about?”

“I mean, your behavior at dinner was pretty boorish…”

“I’m not talking about dinner, no.”

“Your office?” You gritted your teeth.

“As I said - ”

You held up a hand. “No, no, what do you think happened?”

Thrass twisted his mouth. “I…kissed…you,” he had trouble even saying it, his shoulders hunching even more, ”….as I said, I’m sorry,”

It took a moment for you to process what he’d said. Even so, it made no sense. “Wait, wait, you what?”

“I kissed you?”

“No but, I thought I kissed you,” you said pointing to him, “ … and that you hated it.” 

“What?” his voice broke a little. 

“I thought you were disgusted,” you said, “especially with how you acted at dinner. I thought…” Kriff, the tears were coming again. 

Thrass’s expression softened. “My dear, why would I be disgusted?”

“Because I’m not Chiss,” you said, looking down. You braced yourself for his response but instead, Thrass started chuckling. 

“Why are you laughing? This isn’t funny!” Of all the reactions, laughter was not what you expected. It was almost cruel. 

“I’m sorry dear, I’m not ha ha I’m not laughing at your expense. I’m relieved,” he said. 

“Relieved? How is this a relief?” 

“Because,” he smiled, “this means our feelings are mutual.” 

“Mutual?” you asked, unsure if you understood the Cheunh word. Or simply, you just couldn’t comprehend that he’d said it. 

“Yes, mutual.” 

This is not what you thought would happen. You were fully prepared for this conversation to end in rejection, for him to agree with you that he was disgusted and you’d spend the rest of your evening drowning your sorrow in ice cream. Now it was your turn to panic.

“But. But that can’t happen. That never happens. Not to me. Any moment now, I’m going to wake up and this will just be a dream.” You sniffed, your tears now rolling down your cheeks.

Thrass stepped closer and took your hands in his. You noticed there was a slight tremble in them. “Is it so hard to believe?” he asked.

“It is, for me,” you said. He held your gaze, the lights of the spores glittering in his eyes. The glow itself seemed to take on a new quality in this light. Stars, he was so beautiful.

“I hardly believe it myself,” he said. The two of you stood, holding hands in this biological sea of stars. The silence in which you regarded each other was growing uncomfortable but you had no idea what to say. Luckily, Thrass did.

"May I be given the chance to kiss you properly?" Thrass asked in a quiet voice. You wished in that moment that you had eyes like a Chiss so you could fully see the heat you knew must be rising on his face. 

You were suddenly unsure if you were ready. The first kiss had almost been an accident, an experiment. To kiss again somehow felt like an admission larger than words, a truth about your feelings that you were terrified to be known. You looked again into those kind, glowing eyes you’d grown so fond of. What did you have to fear from those eyes? Give it a chance to go right…

Mirroring the tone of his voice, you murmured, "Yes."

He drew you in closer, supporting your back with one arm. With his other hand he touched the curve of your jaw, angling your head toward him. The anticipation threatened to undo you. You stretched your neck to meet his lips as he pulled you in. He was slow and tender but with a passion that sent warmth down to pool in your belly and made your toes tingle. It was just one kiss and as you pulled away you swooned. You looked into each other's eyes again, each trying to read the other. Unlike the office kiss, where Thrass’s eyes held uncertainty, they instead held hope. 

"How was that?" He asked. 

Your answer was to rise again to his lips for a deeper kiss. You gripped his upper arm, trying desperately to bring him closer to you. The rush of emotions, excitement, fear, love, translated through the motion of your lips on his, your breaths mingling together. 

Thrass pulled away this time. "I didn't realize you felt so strongly,'' he said with a breathy laugh. He had a giddy smile on his face which only served to make you feel more so.

Your thoughts sloshed around in your head. "Yes," you managed, "I'm…wow. I'm dizzy."

Thrass chuckled. "Well I'm glad I have that effect on you, because you definitely have that effect on me," he breathed. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against yours with a sigh “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.“ His confession stirred flutterings in your stomach. 

"Me too,” you whispered, “well…at least since the homestead, but probably longer.”

“The homestead?” 

“When you knocked Zimaram out,” you explained.

Thrass chuffed, “Maybe if we’d had time, we could have.”

You held each other for a time, simply taking each other in. It was almost too good to be true. “Please tell me I’m not dreaming this,” you said. 

“You are not,” he assured you, “and if you are, it’s curious that we are both dreaming the same.” You wrapped your arms around his ample waist, delighting in the comfortable pressure of his body against yours. He felt the same, stars, he felt the same.

After a while, you let go, though it pained you. “So, what now?” you asked.

Thrass sucked in his lips. “In all honesty, I hadn’t quite thought that far ahead,” Thrass said.  

Your stomach gurgled loudly as a suggestion. You both giggled. “I forgot, I didn’t actually eat dinner,” you said. 

“Lucky for you, I had the waiter save your dumplings for you,” Thrass said. He handed you a sack that held your dinner, boxed up nicely. 

“Where were you keeping this?!” 

“A Syndic has his secrets,” Thrass raised his brows playfully. Then, he sobered. “We don’t have to decide anything tonight, dear. All I know for certain is that I would very much like to kiss you more.” 

“So would I,” you said. You leaned in to kiss him once more amid the sea of suspended lights. You could not have asked for a more romantic moment. 

Chapter 13

Summary:

You and Thrass have some things to discuss. However the Syndicure has been running him ragged.

Notes:

If there are any mistakes I haven't caught them. Enjoy another moment of sweetness with Thrass <3

The next few days you saw very little of Thrass. It wasn’t for lack of effort on his part. You’d eagerly come into his office the following day only to find he’d been called in to an emergency session of the Syndicure. They’d called in everyone. None but senior aides were allowed in. Something serious was happening, but that could mean anything with the Syndicure. 

I’m sorry dear, Thrass sent via script message across his private encryption, I’m not avoiding or ignoring you, the Syndicure is in full voice. You smiled, it was such an apt description of what was probably happening. While it was comforting to know he was thinking of you, the message did nothing to relieve your anxiety. You didn’t know how you were supposed to act around him now. Were you still just professionals working together? Friends? More? You’d left the question unanswered and had no idea when you could rectify this. The uncertainty was gnawing at you. 

In the moments you did see Thrass, he looked haggard as though the debates had aged him a decade in a matter of hours. But when he saw you, his eyes brightened and he’d spare a sleepy smile just for you.

“I haven’t seen them bluster like this in a good while,” Thrass said.

“That bad?” you asked. 

He rubbed his temple. “Indeed. My head aches just listening to it.”

“What has them so upset?”

“I wish I could say,” he said, shaking his head, “But it should hit the media feeds before long. Mostly family politics, claims on resources, the usual rigmarole. So petty when our enemies are lying in wait in the Chaos, just itching for us to show our bellies.”  

You handed him some freshly brewed caccoleaf. “It’s not brewed by you so I can’t guarantee it will be to your taste,” you said. 

“My dear, this is lovely and very much welcome, thank you,” he took a sip, “not bad, your brew is coming along nicely.”

“I’m learning from the best,” you said, the warmth from his compliment on your cheeks. 

Thrass’s moments of rest were short-lived. As soon as he seemed to relax, his questis would chime, announcing that the Syndicure was about to resume their session. It was agonizing to watch him go. You knew he had to do his duty but it was all you could do not to reach for his hand and ask him to stay just a while longer. 

While Thrass was away, the office had been quiet. Maddeningly quiet. It wasn’t the first time Thrass had to be away for Syndicure business but on all those other occasions you hadn’t just kissed him in a romantic garden. With all the quiet and nothing to put your mind to work on, you replayed the moment over and over. 

To keep busy, you took the time to look through the data cylinder Thrass had given you cataloging Thrawn’s service record. He was right, some of them were redacted all over the place or encrypted beyond your ability to crack. Some of what you did read was utterly wild. It seemed the man had been a maverick his entire career starting in his academy days. Even past all the military terminology, they were some of the most thrilling reports you’d ever read. 

Meanwhile, Thiomo worked diligently on a software algorithm to translate all the cloud diaries using the cipher you’d discovered. One afternoon, you leaned over to see how the code was going but Thiomo waved you away. 

“I can’t concentrate with you hovering,” they said. 

“So what am I supposed to do?” you countered. 

“Take your moping somewhere else,” they said. 

“Moping? I’m not moping.” 

“You are. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you dragging around and sighing and looking longingly at the door like a lovesick growzer. Syndic Thrass will return soon enough, the Syndicure can’t keep them forever. In the meantime, you can busy yourself organizing his old data cylinders.”

You narrowed your eyes at them. “I thought that was your job,” you said.

Thiomo snorted. “As if I’ve ever done it,”

“Thiomo!”

“What? It’s low-priority, not worth the time,” Thiomo said, waving their hand. 

“So you’re going to have me do it?”

“Yes,” Thiomo said. You stared at them. If you weren’t so bored you’d be offended at how flippant they were being but you were desperate. 

“Fine,” you said, “show me where to start.” 

Thiomo led you to a cabinet on the back wall behind Thrass’s desk. When Thiomo activated the latch, data cylinders tumbled down and pinged to the floor. It was a jumbled mess. 

“Good luck,” Thiomo said, almost cheerfully before leaving you to it. 

You decided to pull everything out of the cabinet just to get a good look at what you were dealing with. Some of the cylinders blessedly had writing on them to indicate the date of the files within but some you had to plug in to your questis to check. Many of them were heavily encrypted but you could at least pull the file creation date. You organized them all chronologically by subject if you could discern one. It was mentally taxing but it helped pass the time. 

Some of the records dated back thirty years, to what you thought might be the beginning of Thrass’s career in the Syndicure. How long had this cabinet been like this? The jumbling looked almost deliberate but could have very well been accidental. You worked your way meticulously through time, making sure to be accurate with the Chiss dating system. After very long string of consecutive cylinders, you popped the next into your questis and blinked as the date came up. You went through the other cylinders to make sure there wasn’t one you missed but couldn’t find one. 

“That’s weird,” you said to yourself out loud.

“What now?” Thiomo said. 

“There’s a gap in time between dates on these files,” you explained, “They just drop off abruptly and pick up again three years later.”

“Well, sometimes Syndics take a sabbatical for a few years. Or sometimes the Syndicure seizes files. It’s not too surprising.”

“Thrass did mention a leave of absence he took at one point and the Syndicure seizing files makes sense. But if that was the case wouldn’t the gaps be more sporadic? These are very thorough. I don’t know, something about it is odd.”

Thiomo paused. They opened their mouth to speak but withdrew. “I’m afraid you’ll have to ask him,” Thiomo said finally, “I am not sure why this is.”  

Krayt Spit you thought, borrowing the outer rim slang term. You were all too familiar with the way Chiss deflected conversations when it was something you weren’t supposed to know or something they weren’t willing to tell you. Thiomo knew but you didn’t feel like prodding them any further. 

Something else occurred to you. Thrass and Thrawn have known each other a long time. You were curious to see how their paths intertwined. There wasn’t much but you did find record dates that matched. And one of them matched the date directly before the gap in Thrass’s records. You tried opening the file but was met with a rather nasty encryption. Damn. Instinct told you something happened on that day and you resolved to ask Thrass about it. 

But would he give you an answer? Would he be more open now that you were closer? The question of the nature of your relationship to Thrass popped into your mind again. You let out a deep breath, trying to push away all your fears. You definitely had a lot more questions to ask before unraveling this mystery. 

You heard the office door activate, interrupting your thoughts. Thrass entered, looking worse for wear. He slumped down on the lounger, seeming to deflate as he let out a long sigh. 

“Another tough day?” you asked. 

He rubbed his eye and yawned. “We should soon come to a resolution, but the speakers have called a recess for a day to rest. Many of the urgent parts are dealt with,” he said.

“That’s good, it will give you a moment to catch your breath.” You wanted to reach out and smooth back the loose strands of his hair, to offer some level of physical comfort. But you recoiled, suddenly hesitant. 

“What’s wrong dear?” 

“I’m not sure,” you said, “I know we already…uh..spoke…about our feelings but…”

“You have questions,” Thrass said.

“A lot of them,” you admitted, “I don’t know what the protocols are for where we go from here, if we go anywhere from here,”

He cracked a smile. “You navy folk and your protocols, but I understand.”

“I’ve never been good at this in human society, never mind Chiss, so…” 

Thrass placed a reassuring hand against your cheek. “You are doing fine, you’d be surprised how many of us have no idea what we’re doing,” 

“I don’t know if that makes me feel better,” 

“Tell you what,” he said, taking a gentle hold of your hand, “would you care to join me for breakfast in the morning?”

“Breakfast? Why breakfast?”

He shrugged. “Why not?”

Why not indeed. He smiled up at you sleepily. “Alright,” you agreed. 

“And - While we are enjoying that, I can hopefully answer some questions and ease your mind.”

_______________________

It was nearly time for Thrass to pick you up and you’d already been awake for hours, agonizing over your appearance. Should you make your hair look nice? Maybe dress a little nice? But not too nice. What about cosmetics? A lot? Some? None? You shook your head. No, it was just Thrass, you had no need to impress him. 

Just Thrass. There was no just about him. Your mind flashed to the memory of his kiss and smiled widely in spite of yourself. It still felt like a dream, like something for the holos and serials, not your reality. He said he’d wanted to do it again and you hoped he hadn’t changed his mind. The thought made your chest ache. Of course he hadn’t.

You took a deep breath. He would like whatever you chose to wear so you decided on something practical that you felt good in. Satisfied, you walked toward the door just as Thrass arrived. 

The door opened and there he was, looking refreshed. He wore a gold colored tunic under a burgundy outer vest with structured shoulders that was belted across his waist. Simplicity with a touch of elegance, you expected nothing less. 

He paused a moment as he took you in, then the smile spread across his face. “Good morning, dear,” he said, dipping his head and shoulders in a small bow, “I hope this isn’t too early.”

“Not at all, I’m always ready for breakfast,” you assured him, “if that wasn’t already apparent on our last few breakfast outings.” 

He chuckled, “Oh it certainly was,” he paused and reached into a pocket on his outer vest, “Before we go, I have a gift for you,”

Your stomach tightened. A gift? Thrass lifted a small drawstring pouch from his pocket and handed it to you. “It’s a small thing,” he clarified, “but I thought…well you will see.”

You pulled the strings apart carefully. Inside was a small, transparent jar that held a tiny mushroom cap very much like the ones in the garden. It was difficult to tell in this light, but it had a definite blue-green glow. “Thrass how did you…?” 

“I - actually, it was a specimen I collected from the Mitth homestead. I thought you would enjoy it as a reminder of what I hope is a good memory,” 

You clutched the little jar to your chest. This was probably one of the most thoughtful gifts anyone had given you. A memory of your kiss in the garden. And it was from his own collection?  “You know, in my culture, flowers are more customary in this situation,” you said, offering him a sweet smile to hold back your sudden tears, “I don’t know what to say, Thrass. Thank you, I’ll treasure it. And the memory too.” 

“I’m pleased you like it. Shall we?” he asked, offering his arm to you. 

You hesitated. “Are you sure? Is that..allowed?” 

“‘Protocol’ says it's perfectly fine to escort an honored guest by arm. Nothing more will be read into it.” 

“Alright.” You hooked your arm through his and couldn’t help but feel giddy. 

“Now, let’s get that breakfast,” he said.

The trip up to the Good Day cafe was pleasant. It was early enough that the morning rush had yet to flood the transportation system. No one seemed to bat an eye at a Syndic walking arm-in-arm with an alien. Once you reached your destination, Siekko seated you in a booth, blessedly secluded from the other breakfast patrons. The two of you made your orders and sipped hot caccoleaf as you waited. 

“So,” Thrass prompted, “I’m assuming the protocols you wish to know about surround Chiss Courtship? Anything in particular? Or do you wish for me to start from the top?” his voice was calm but you could see his cheeks beginning to flush, his brow tensing. 

“Well…” you exhaled, “I know you’ve been so busy we haven’t had a moment to talk about this. I guess I just want to know what I’m in for if we…go forward.” 

Thrass’s expression relaxed. “That’s entirely understandable.”

“Your friends already teased you about ‘courting’ me and it didn’t seem like it was a big deal. But…I’ve been here long enough to know that’s not a normal reaction a Chiss would have to someone being with…well someone like me. Am I thinking too hard about this?”

He shook his head. “No, you’re right to ask. Different species and cultures have different customs. Even among different families there are different traditions,” Thrass said. 

“Let me guess, they’re not at all simple,”

“It depends. I have heard that in some of the Great houses, a betrothed couple cannot share the same sleeping quarters until they are married,” he explained. He sucked in his lips as if realizing what he’d just said, “of course there’s no need to worry about that,” he added quickly.

“Alright so that begs the question: what about the Mitth? Are you allowed to casually court someone?”

“A lot of the old ways went by the wayside long ago as far as who we choose, especially after the merit system was put into place. But there is a lot of keeping up of appearances even if things are technically allowed.” 

“Like how?”

“Such as family rank, class, status of the families involved. It is generally frowned upon for a ruling family to court a commoner or a member of a rival family. It’s allowed but…socially, it has a cost,”

The gravity of his statement settled in your chest. If the Chiss saw each other through such a lens, how would they treat an interspecies relationship? Through a tight throat, you asked, “What would it cost you to court me?”

He shifted uncomfortably, spinning his thumb ring. He’d probably thought about this a lot over the last few days. Finally, he lifted his eyes to you. “The Syndicure would learn of it of course, there is no use hiding it,” he said gravely, “and when they do, they will use you against me. To discredit my motivations, my actions, my votes, everything.” 

“Oh,” was all you could say.

“It wouldn’t be the first time my loyalty to the Ascendancy has been called into question. I’ve faced that relatively frequently the last few years,” he said, trying to reassure you, “nothing I couldn’t handle. They are mostly hot air.”

“But actually courting a non-Chiss would be like painting a target on you,” you said. 

Thrass took your hands in his. In a low voice, he said, “My dear, I don’t give a damn what they think. I don’t fear them. My chief concern would be your wellbeing and, more importantly, your happiness.” He held your gaze. Your stomach did somersaults under the determined glow of his eyes. 

The food arrived and Thrass released your hands. The two of you ate quietly. It was hard to process what he’d just said when such delicious things were in front of you. Chiss breakfast fare wasn’t all that different from Imperial. Savory sausages and bird eggs with fried bread and fruit jams. The dish had a bit of spice in it that was common in Chiss food that you’d grown to really enjoy. 

“So, is this how a ‘courtship’ would start? A meal?” 

“Typically one party asks the other if they want to find out if the two could be a good ‘match’ for each other. They plan outings, spend time together, and generally get to know each other.”

“What about physical affection? Like holding hands and uh…kissing,” you said. 

“The Chiss are a discreet people. It isn’t that we don’t engage in physical acts of affection, it’s that Chiss decorum dictates that we keep it private,” he explained. 

“That is not at all the case with humans…well many humans anyway. Different planets have different rules. I’ve always struggled a bit to keep track of them all,” you admitted.

“I promise I will help you navigate the ‘rules’. That is, if you’ll have me,” he said, a sudden shyness in his voice.

“If I say yes, what else would I have to look forward to?” you asked. 

“With me? Well, I hope you don’t mind being spoiled.”

“Oh no, horrible, the worst,” you said with playful sarcasm. 

“…and given plenty of affection,” he continued. 

“How will I ever cope?” 

He grinned at you. “I don’t know, I think you can find a way,” he said.

You both laughed at each other’s silliness. Even though this was awkward, you still felt so relaxed with Thrass. But the thought of allowing yourself to be vulnerable and trusting him with your feelings sobered you. 

“Thrass, I’m going to be honest. I’m scared. I’m sorry, it’s just been such a long time and the risks…”

 Thrass took your hands again, “As I said at the garden, we don’t have to rush into a decision. This is completely up to you. And - if your answer is no, I will harbor no hard feelings. I value your friendship more than a little disappointment,”

You sat with this. No one had ever put it like that before. Maybe it was your age. Heartbreak was so devastating and complete when you were younger. Or maybe it was just Thrass, a career politician who was used to approaching things like a negotiation but he’d left it up to you. He was ready no matter what you decided. This was a new concept for you. You found that, for the first time since your decision to come to the Ascendancy, your heart and mind were in unison. The answer was clear. 

You opened your mouth to deliver your decision when Thrass’s comm chirped Thiomo’s message tone.

“Hello, you’ve reached Syndic Thrass,” he answered. You could make out the other Chiss’s unamused drone on the other end. What they said next made Thrass’s expression abruptly change. “We’ll be there shortly,” he said, ending the call. 

“What’s happening?”

“Thiomo has finished the program to decipher our data. And, they’ve found some answers for us,” he explained, “I’m afraid we’ll have to put this conversation on hold.” 

As much as it pained you, you agreed. You took one last, long swig of your caccoleaf as you moved toward the edge of the booth. “Don’t worry about it, let’s go!” 

Thrass paid for your meals and the two of you urgently made your way toward the sky train station. But your urgency wasn’t just for the news. Something told you if you didn’t tell him now…

As you descended the ramp to the platform, you tugged at Thrass’s arm. 

“Wait,” you said. 

He turned to face you and you almost lost your nerve looking at him. “Yes?” 

You threaded your fingers through his and squeezed, letting the warmth of his hand give you courage. “I know we still have more to discuss but…I don’t want to leave this for later. If I’ve learned anything in my life, it’s to not take time for granted.”

Thrass turned up his eyebrows, “And what is your answer?” he asked quietly.

“It’s yes,” you said, “my answer is yes.” 

He squeezed your hand back and smiled the most wonderful smile you’d even seen on his face. Neither of you cared if anyone around you saw as Thrass pulled you in for a kiss.

Chapter 14

Summary:

You and Thrass must make a journey to another Ascendancy world, Ool. Things do not go according to plan.

Notes:

Thank you Beta readers! Please let me know if there other corrections to make. Hope you all enjoy this! Let me know what you think!

Thrass paced with questis in hand. He was silent save for sighs and hums as he strode back and forth across his office. “Are you sure this is accurate?” he asked Thiomo. 

“I double checked my algorithm by hand, sir.” 

“Hm.” Thrass tapped the screen and leaned back against his desk. 

“Thrass? What is it?” You asked. 

He looked up from the screen. “I’m not sure I believe what this is saying, I need more information or at least an expert…” He paused thoughtfully but you could see on his face he didn’t much like the thoughts he was having. “I need to take this to the Seekers Shadehouse,” Thrass said gravely.

The three of you sat in silence. You weren’t sure what the ‘Shadehouse’ was but ‘Seeker’ reminded you of something Zimaram had said in the skycar to Thrass. ‘But the Seeker program -’ he’d said before Thrass had interrupted him. It gave you an ominous feeling. 

Thiomo was the first to speak. “I will prepare an encrypted message and have it sent to the Shadehouse right away, sir,“ they said.

Thrass shook his head. “No, no this needs to be hand delivered.”

“Sir, I am more than happy to go in your stead,“ Thiomo offered.

“No. It has to be me who delivers this,” Thrass said with finality.

“But the Syndicure…”

“Can carry on just fine without me. The Mitth speaker will just have to make due,” Thrass said, folding his arms over his chest. 

“I do not like this,” Thiomo said sternly.

“And you do not have to,” Thrass shifted against the desk, “I’m sorry, Thiomo.” Thrass turned toward you, “My dear, I would like you to join me. You were the one who discovered the key, I will need you to explain your process.” 

Thiomo’s eyes burned. “Sir!“ they protested, “Are you out of your mind?”

“As I said, Thiomo, you don’t have to like it,” Thrass said. 

“Can you at least tell me what the diaries say?” you asked. He considered a moment, his hand moving as he spun his rings. Great. Chiss secrets he couldn’t tell you again. 

“Sir,” Thiomo implored again, “that woman will not be pleased you’re bringing an,” Thiomo glanced at you and clenched their jaw, “ outsider to her door.”

“And she will also have to deal with it, this is far too important for - ”

The more they argued the more it stoked your anger. You were being kept in the dark again even after all the work you did to get Thrass’s project this far. This was enough. 

“Thiomo?” you asked, raising your voice over the two of them, “can you give Syndic Thrass and I a moment?”

The two Chiss stared at each other. Thiomo’s eyes were so narrow they were only slits but they still blazed brightly. “Alright,” they said, stepping out into the hall. 

Thrass crossed the room to you, confusion on his features. “My dear, what’s wrong?” 

“What’s wrong? You’re holding back information again. I don’t want a repeat of the homestead, Thrass.”

He placed his gentle hands softly on your shoulders and began moving them up and down your arms in a comforting motion. “I understand but I simply can’t,“ he said finally. 

“Why not?” you asked, frustrated tears threatening to well up in your eyes, “Thrass, I know I just agreed to being courted by you but this is a problem. If we're going to be together, I need more transparency. I can't be left in the dark on this project anymore. Or anything else important for that matter.” 

“Come my dear, let us sit and talk,” Thrass said as he guided you to the lounger. “Please understand what we are dealing with is among the most closely guarded secrets the Chiss have. I simply must have the blessing of someone higher than me to grant you clearance.”

“That's not good enough Thrass,” you said firmly, “not after what we’ve had to do to even get some of this data.”

“I know,” he said. He stroked his thumb across your knuckles as he gazed at you with thoughtfulness. “That is why you must come with me on this journey. Please, trust me.”

You shook your head. “I want to, Thrass. I really want to. But why does it have to be this woman, whoever she is?”

He let out a long breath. “The Syndicure would never grant you clearance. Never. And you have even less of a chance with the patriarchs, especially the Mitth. However, hers is an authority outside those structures. Thus…”

“You can circumvent them,” you concluded.

“Yes,” he said.

“You could have just told me that, then!” 

“I’m too used to being delicate about it I suppose,” he said with a rueful smile. “What we are trying to protect is very precious, my love. The secret already got out once and it nearly destroyed us.”

The realization struck you all at once. “It’s the girls,” you said. You saw Thrass suck in his lips. “Why do they disappear, Thrass? Why did the Chimaera find them being trafficked on an outer rim world by hostile aliens?”  

“They are the key to everything,” Thrass said solemnly, pain creeping into his eyes, “They are the ascendancy's best hope to protect ourselves.”

The embers of your anger flared into a flame in your chest. “But they're girls, Thrass, children!”

“I know,” he said, a deep sorrow in his voice, “I'm sorry, but I promise, once you are granted clearance, I will tell you everything.”

“Please Thrass,” you said, pressing your forehead against his, “it needs to be everything.”

He laughed. “Well now I need to keep some secrets, what fun would that be?”

“Stop it,” you giggled in spite of yourself.

“You have my word,” Thrass promised, “it will be nearly everything,”

_______________

The spaceport bustled with activity as you made your way down to the shuttle docking bay. It was most certainly the busiest part of Csilla with travelers and merchants coming and going between other Ascendancy worlds. The Imperial issue duffel slung over your shoulder held only a small amount of clothing and necessities. Thrass didn’t specify how long you’d be away on Ool but he did suggest you take along your CEDF uniform to wear upon your arrival, to make it look more official. 

Ool. On the Ascendancy charts, it was unremarkable. It was only a few jumps away from Csilla but it might as well have been the outer rim with how out of the way it was from stable hyperlanes. There seemed to mainly be agricultural interest in the planet, but not enough to be critical for the Ascendancy’s food supply. Ool was completely inconspicuous, which of course would be the perfect place to hide something. 

When you arrived at the shuttle, Thrass was already aboard making final arrangements for the trip. There was a nervous energy about him that you couldn’t put your finger on. He spoke quickly, moved less gracefully as he packed compartments and double checked supplies. You recalled how insistent Thiomo had been to travel in Thrass’s stead. Was it to save Thrass this stress? Or was it something else?

“Ah, you’re here,” Thrass said, helping you up the last steps of the boarding ramp, “we’re just doing final checks then we will be ready to depart.”

“Is this a Mitth shuttle? I don’t see any markings,” you noted. 

“I need this to be as discreet as possible,” Thrass explained, “so it’s on loan, essentially.”

“What about the pilot?” You knew very well there truly never was neutrality when it came to Chiss and their families. Who could they find to maintain the discretion Thrass wanted? 

Thiomo poked their head out of the cockpit, slipping a headset off their ears. “Surprise,”  Thiomo said in their usual deadpan. 

You raised your eyebrows. “ You can fly a ship?” 

Thiomo tilted their head. “What? Is it so difficult?” They asked. 

“Well, it can be,” you said. 

Thiomo huffed, replaced their headset, and continued the pre-flight check. The door to the cockpit slid closed with a hiss. 

With that, the passenger cabin was empty save for you and Thrass. The silence grew uncomfortable against your ears. Of course it wasn’t the first moment you’d had alone with Thrass since your decision to enter into a courtship with him, but something was different now. You stepped closer to him, suddenly unsure of the boundaries between you.

“Yes, my dear?” Thrass said, closing up a cabinet. 

 “Um, this is going to sound silly but, can I hug you?” you asked. 

He smiled, the sight of it stoking warmth in your belly. “Of course you can, you needn’t ask,”

“I know, it’s just…I’m still getting used to this.” With permission granted, you leaned into him, gently wrapping your arms around the width of his body. He pulled you in closer and you melted into him. He was warm, his shape comfortable against you. Your nose caught the faint scent of that Chiss spice you loved. You leaned your head against his chest and listened to the steady beating of his heart, felt the rise and fall of his breath. In this moment, you felt so assured in your decision to be with him in spite of your reservations. 

Thrass stroked your arm with his fingers, “I apologize that we weren’t able to properly celebrate,” he said. 

“It’s alright, I know this comes first,” you assured him. 

“Regardless,” he took your hand and raised it to his lips as he had when you first met and at the homestead. He kissed your knuckles tenderly, sending those wonderful tingles up your arm.  “I know you’re frustrated with how much I’m able to disclose about the Ascendancy, but I want you to understand you’re important to me,” he said. 

“I do know, Thrass. Same goes for me,” you affirmed. 

“Good,” he said, squeezing you tighter. 

You held each other a while, swaying back and forth to a silent song. You almost didn’t notice how his heartbeat increased or how his hands took on a slight tremble. 

“Thrass, are you alright? You’re shaky.”

“I’m just having travel jitters, dear. I should feel better once we’re away,” he said, smiling to reassure you. 

“Okay,” you said, “but something still bothers me,”

“Yes?”

“Why was Thiomo so concerned about you traveling?” The question hung in the air and you could feel Thrass go rigid, his muscles tensing in your embrace. 

“I -,” Thrass began. 

The door to the cockpit opened. “We’re ready to depart,” Thiomo called, “please prepare for flight.”

You were the first to end the embrace and take your seat. Thrass shook off his bewilderment to do the same. Takeoff was smooth, one of the smoothest you’d ever experienced. There was barely any turbulence as the shuttle broke through Csilla’s atmosphere. You could feel your arms floating up as the shuttle entered free-fall. It was one of the small joys of space flight, the moment before the ship’s systems engaged the artificial gravity. A moment of unfettered joy.

Thiomo announced that you were now free of Csilla’s gravity well and could enter hyperspace. In moments, the familiar milky swirl of the hyperspace tunnel surrounded your shuttle like a cocoon. You’d definitely missed this even though it had only been a few months since your last hyperspace journey that brought you to Csilla. 

You turned away from the viewport to look at Thrass. His eyes were squeezed shut and he gripped the armrest of his seat enough to leave dimples in the material. It seemed his ‘travel jitters’ were more than that. Not everyone took well to flying, especially if it wasn’t something you did regularly. Maybe you could take his mind off his anxiety. 

“Thrass, tell me stories.”

“Hm?” he said, raising an eyebrow. 

“Well, I’ve read through Thrawn’s service record but that doesn’t tell me much about the two of you. Do you have any stories? There has to be some entertaining moments.”

Thrass visibly relaxed, leaning his back more into his seat. “Let’s see,” he said, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “There was that time he and I stopped a robbery.”

You listened to the tale, completely unable to imagine your former commander doing anything so casual as playing a game, even if it was a strategy game. It was sweet to imagine the two Chiss men spending time together, laughing, smiling. It was very rare that Thrawn ever outwardly expressed joy or pleasure and you thought that if anyone could bring that out in a person, it would be Thrass. 

“Breakout in 1 minute,” said Thiomo’s voice over the comm. 

“Well it seems we’re almost through our first system jump. Good,” Thrass said. You were relieved to see he’d settled in to the voyage. Hopefully you could continue to keep him distracted the rest of the way. 

Outside the viewport, the hyperspace swirl once again became starlight. And then, all hell broke loose. 

The shuttle banked hard to starboard, shoving you to the side of your seat and sending anything that was not secure flying. From beyond the cockpit door, you heard Thiomo shout. 

“You!” 

You scrambled to remove your restraint as scuffling sounds came from beyond the door. Your urgency turned to panic when you heard a charric discharge. Before you could open the door, something large slammed hard against it. The door opened, spilling two Chiss onto the deck. Thiomo had the other pinned to the ground with their knee. They jerked the other Chiss’s arm back and around causing the charric to clatter out of their hand. 

“Would you look what I found!” Thiomo declared, grunting as the Chiss on the deck fought. With their face on the ground, you had no idea who this Chiss was at first. That was until he managed to lift his chin up to glare at you and Thrass. 

“Zimaram?!” you both shouted. 

“Is that any way to greet an acquaintance that saved your sorry behinds?” Zimaram chided. 

“What are you doing here?” You said as sternly as you could. You wished you’d used much stronger language but your Cheunh curse repertoire was limited. Thrass, however, wasn’t so restricted. 

Zimaram simply chuckled ruefully, “You had to know I’d come calling sooner or later,” he said. He shifted his eyes up to meet yours. “So nice to see your true face, alien.”

“Wish I could say the same,” you muttered. 

Thrass narrowed his eyes. “Where was he hiding?” 

“Under the deck panels apparently,” Thiomo leaned into Zimaram’s back more, eliciting a wheeze from the Chiss.

“What should we do with him?” you asked.

“I could think of a few things, namely toss him out the airlock,” Thiomo said. 

Zimaram squirmed under Thiomo’s knee. “Yes, hello, I’m still right here,” Zimaram said into the deck.

Thrass had his hand to his chin. “We’ll restrain him for now. There’s a comfy seat back here that would suit him just fine while he answers some questions.” 

You helped Thiomo lift Zimaram up off the deck and tie him to the chair with some spare tubing you’d found in a compartment, topping it off with the regular seat restraints. 

“Well now you have me. Ask your questions,” Zimaram said. He was acting apathetic but you could tell that’s all it was, an act. 

“You never answered the first one, what are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d take a nice little trip.” He answered sardonically.

“Alright then, how did you know about our plans?”

“Did you think I would let you have all those data cylinders without putting in my own back door?”

“You put a spy program in there? When?” 

He rolled his eyes. “I put fail safes on any of my data apparatuses in case of exactly what I had to do.”

Thrass brought his hand to his face, “I should have known convincing you to give those up was too easy.”

“I saw the data, then I saw you submit clearance codes and docking requests and put two and two together,”

“If you could just tap the data, why bother sneaking on our ship and stowing away to wherever we’re going?”

“I needed to see it for myself,” he said, with a hint of darkness.

“See what?” 

“The place they took her,” 

A long silence passed between you. “Well this is lovely,” Thiomo said, “but I’m taking you to the nearest spaceport and dumping you there.”

“Wait, Thiomo. We’ll do it. We’ll take him where he wants to go and if the proprietor decides to let him stay, or live for that matter, then he’ll stay,”

Zimaram looked up at Thrass, eyes wide, “You are foolishly kind, Syndic.”

“So I’ve been told,” Thrass said, patting their prisoner on the shoulder, “but not that foolish, you stay tied up.” 

Zimaram didn’t complain. You weren’t sure if this was Chiss honor or if Zimaram was refusing you the satisfaction of his discomfort. He stared straight ahead, his chin up defiantly. 

Thiomo prepared for the next system jump, the one that would bring you to your destination. 

“So, Syndic, how long has it been?” Zimaram asked finally, breaking the silence. 

“Since what?”

“Since you’re ridden in a starship.”

Thrass frowned. “I don’t see what that has to do with anything,” he replied.

“My sources say you haven’t left the Csilla surface in a few years. This visit must be more important than I thought to force you here personally.”

“You already know what it says,” Thrass said, “I shouldn’t need to explain myself further.”

“Actually, I don’t know. That, at least, your aide encrypted. They’re a very talented aide. Flying ships, hand to hand combat, encryption. Why do you have on them, huh, Syndic?”

“Leave Thiomo out of this.”

“I’m simply making conversation.” Zimaram rolled his head over to look at you now. 

“Ah and the alien. Human, was it? Not the first among our ranks as I’ve heard. Is that all the famous Mitth’raw’nuruodo could scrape up from his Empire? A few aliens?”

That pressed more than a few of your buttons. “Why should he owe the Ascendancy anything? He was exiled.”

“So they say, but I heard a different story,” Zimaram said. 

“And to me, it sounds like you’re trying to goad one of us into punching you,” you said, clenching your own fist. 

Zimaram shrugged in his binding, “Long rides bore me. So maybe our dear Syndic can tell us more stories.”

Thrass eyed the younger Chiss but said nothing. The anxiety was back in full force, you could see it in his stance, his eyes, the way his usually smiling lips curved downward. 

Zimaram smiled wickedly. “Oh I know one you can tell us: how about your last mission with Thrawn, the one where you - “

“Gag him,” Thrass ordered, his eyes wide and frantic. You were more than happy to oblige. You shoved a rag into Zimaram’s mouth and tied it around his head to shut him up. But what he’d said jogged your memory. Last mission? The one in Thrawn’s service record that oddly corresponded to the date all the records from Thrass’s office ceased. Thrass looked more distressed than he’d been all day at the mere mention of it. 

This change in Thrass’s demeanor was alarming. Something terrible must have happened that day, enough to make him spend several years away from his office or destroy several years of work. Thrass slowly lowered himself into his seat, breathing heavily. Now seated yourself, you swiveled your chair to face him. Reaching across to him, you softly touched the back of his hand. He jerked and recoiled, but seeing it was you he allowed the touch.  

“Thrass,” you whispered.

“I’m alright,” he said, “This is not a welcome turn of events, but we’ll deal with it.” He sounded almost out of breath. 

“I agree. But, what about you? What he said seemed to really disturb you.” 

“I’m alright,” he repeated, “let’s focus on the journey at hand,”  he gestured limply toward the front of the shuttle. He was almost certainly not alright.

Over the next few minutes, you kept a close eye on both your guest and Thrass. Zimaram was likely plotting all the ways he was going to try and kill you judging by his narrow-eyed stare. Maintaining eye contact, he started moving his feet at much as his binding would allow, pivoting the chair side to side. Each time he did, the cursed chair squeaked. Then, with a shove, he spun himself around, the infernal squeaking piercing your ears. 

Thrass winced at the sound and grew even more restless and agitated. 

“Stop that,” Thrass said through quick breaths. Zimaram snorted a laugh through his gag and continued. 

“Sir?” Thiomo called on the intercom and you saw Thrass’s breath hitch. “Hyperspace breakout in ten seconds,” Thiomo said mechanically.

Your ship decelerated and dropped into space normal with a gentle lurch. Ool spread out before you through the viewports. Up close, it definitely looked like the typical terrestrial planet you’d seen on charts and records. There was a certain beauty about it, like there was of all planets in your experience. 

Beside you, Thrass shifted in his seat. His lips had drawn into a thin line and he’d also resumed his stranglehold on his armrests. This time, his knuckles turned white from the effort. A pallor fell over his face. His eyes dimmed and grew glassy and his skin developed a sheen of sweat.

Thiomo came out of the cockpit. “We are on approach to Ool,” they said. They looked Thrass up and down. “Sir, will you be alright?” 

“Probably,” he said shakily.  

“You should take this,” Thiomo said, offering a pill to Thrass. 

“No, no I’ll be alright,” Thrass pushed it away and Thiomo frowned.

Zimaram stopped spinning the chair and began watching intently.

“Kriff, Thrass, you look like you’re going to be sick,” you said. Was he refusing help because of Zimaram? 

“I…” he swallowed, “I’m not a fan of landings,” he said, panting. “I’ll be fine once we’re on the ground.” 

 

He’d said much the same about his ‘travel jitters’ too.

The further into the descent you got, the worse he looked. It was as though the anxiety he’d been showing small inklings of all day was now flooding through him. You reached out across to him and placed a hand on his arm. 

“Thrass, you look…you look terrible.” He didn’t answer, just stared straight ahead. You moved your hand down over his. He released his deathly grip on the armrest and took your hand, threading his fingers through yours. His hand was icy to the touch which was in stark opposition to the beads of sweat now rolling down his temple. You squeezed his hand reassuringly and he seemed to welcome the pressure. The slight tremor in his hands remained. This wasn’t simple travel jitters or dislike of landings, this was sheer terror. Suddenly you understood why Thiomo had been so adamant about Thrass not going on this trip.

Thrass’s pupils, slightly obscured by light as they usually were, seemed unfocused. It was as though his mind was elsewhere, living some unseen memory. You recognized this look, had seen it before in your crew mates. Even in your academic days, you’d seen it on colleagues about to defend their dissertations. 

 “Thrass, it’s okay,” you said, just loud enough that he could hear you over the noise of the atmosphere bombarding the shields. Thrass didn’t react. “Thrass, hey, please.” With care, you pressed your hand against his cheek and gently turned his head toward you. “Look at me.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Zimaram lean in to listen. You decided you didn’t care if he was watching or not, Thrass needed help.  “Can you describe what you’re seeing in this room?” 

“I see…you,” he said deliriously. 

“Okay, that’s a good start. What about me?”

Thrass’s eyes did seem to focus more. He met your gaze intensely. “Your eyes are kind, concerned,” he observed, “Your eyes do not glow, yet they are very bright. I like them.” He grinned weakly.

“Okay, I guess that’s a good sign. What about the compartment we’re in?”

His eyes flicked around. “There’s some dirt on the bulkhead, a tied up delinquent in a chair...”  Zimaram glared in response. If his hands had been free, you were sure he’d be flashing you a rude gesture.

“Thrass, don’t give Zimaram attention, it’s what he wants,”

Thrass’s gaze returned to you. “My dear, why are we doing this?”

You cupped his face in your hands, his skin was still so icy and pale. “You’re having a panic attack,” you stated in the most clear and calm Cheunh you could manage. You weren’t sure if he understood, you’d had to string together words in a language that had no words for what this was. “I’m trying to get you to ground yourself. So please humor me, Thrass.” 

His eyebrows knit together and he frowned. “A ‘sharp fear stab’?” he repeated your cobbled words, “there’s a name for these episodes?”

Zimaram muttered something behind his gag. “Hey, no one asked you,” you said. To Thrass, you continued, “I need you to focus on your surroundings, on where you are right now.”

“Can I continue to talk about you?” he asked, guiding your hands away from his cheeks. 

“Yes, whatever you need to do.”

He gave your hands a gentle squeeze. You could still feel him trembling and his breathing was still too hard, too fast. “Your hands are strong,” he said, methodically moving his thumb over your knuckles. “Smaller than mine. It makes them nice to hold.”

You continued to talk to him and help him keep a steady breath. At certain points in the landing, his focus wavered. At another point you had to hand him a flight sickness bag and nearly needed to get one for yourself but you swallowed the bile down, you had to keep it together. You had to stay steady for him. 

“Okay, we’re almost there,” you assured him.

You kept Thrass focused on you until the landing skids touched solid ground beneath you with a small bump. 

Thrass was not in good shape. Hesitantly, he undid his seat fastener and pushed himself up off the seat. Though some of the color returned to his face, he still looked ghostly, at least compared to the normal violet tinge in his cheeks. You weren’t sure, but you thought you saw green instead.

He gripped the top of the seat and swayed as he brought a hand to his mouth. “Dear, I’m afraid I may need another of those bags,” he said, his voice ragged. 

You handed him a flight sickness bag. He stared at it, curling his fingers around it. Clearly he didn’t want to have to use it. You wrapped an arm around his waist and leaned into his ear.  “Do you need me to stay with you?”

He looked down. Now that he was coming off the panic, the shame was creeping in. It was painful to see him so distraught, to see the light fade from his bright eyes. He lifted his eyes up to you. “Please?” he asked, his voice low and pained. 

You went up to the cockpit to brief Thiomo on the situation.

“I’ve already informed the Shadehouse we’ve arrived. I’ll watch Zimaram,” they said, “you take Syndic Thrass into the cargo hold, it should be nice and quiet in there. And if he’ll take it, here.” They placed the pill from earlier into your palm. “It’s supposed to help with…episodes like this.” 

“Thank you, Thiomo,” you said. 

When you returned to Thrass’s side, you found him on the deck, curled up against the bulkhead. Now that he wasn’t hanging on for dear life, he was able to spin his thumb ring.

“Thrass,” you said, kneeling in front of him. You took one of his hands. It was still shockingly cold. “Come on, Thiomo will take care of the ship and Zimaram, let’s go somewhere less…open.” 

You helped him stand. When you were in the shuttle’s cargo area, he found a place to sit. Joining him, you wrapped your arms fully around him and held him. 

“Apologies,” he murmured after some time, “I had hoped you wouldn’t have to see that.” 

You wove your fingers through his, rocking his hand back and forth. “It’s okay, I’m just glad you’re not having a heart attack. I was worried there for a moment.”

He chuckled softly. “No, thank the Chaos. Other than occasional indigestion, I’m healthy as a yubal.” 

“Does this happen every time you fly?” 

“Not…every time…just…often. I never know for sure,” he said. “Usually, I get a shuttle with my own compartment. I suppose I felt so safe with you, I thought maybe this time it would be different.”  

“Thiomo asked me to offer this to you,” you said, showing him the pill. “What is it?” 

Thrass took the pill from you. He stared at it, pinched between his thumb and forefinger. “A sedative,” he said finally, “it’s supposed to help with this. But…”

“You don’t want to take it,” you supplied. 

“I do not.” 

“Why?”

“It is…complicated. Shame, mostly. I’m sure you’ve noticed most Chiss would rather die than lose face.” 

This was something else you knew well. “Honestly after spending time with the Chiss, I can see how having a problem like this would be an issue. The Empire can be like that, too. 

Thrass shook his head. “If anyone beyond my closest friends knew…it would be like a barrage of plasma spheres to my political career. And our young Irizi spy witnessed it.” Thrass seemed to deflate even more at that. 

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Thiomo will scare him into keeping his mouth shut.” 

“That they can,” Thrass agreed.

You scooted closer to him and rested your head on his shoulder. He let out a slow breath and melted into you. You began pushing the stray hairs that had come loose from his pony tail away from his face. Some strands were still stuck to his skin with dried sweat. He hummed contentedly under your touch.

“Thrass, you know this can happen to anyone, even warriors,” you said, removing the last of the strands. 

Thrass looked away. “With warriors, it’s a matter of sacrifice and duty and facing the horrors of battle. For a government official? Pure weakness.”

“I don’t see it as weak to have panic attacks, clearly you endure them every time and come out the other side. That’s not weakness.” 

Thrass nodded gently. “I agree, my dear. It took me a few years to grapple with it but yes, I do agree. You and I may not see it as weak, but many other Syndics would.” 

You knew he was right. He was right but it didn’t make it any less infuriating. “It’s so exhausting, having to cover every weakness and vulnerability.”

Thrass kissed your forehead. “I suppose that’s why we have each other,” he smiled, some of the warm color returning to his cheeks. 

He pulled you in closer so that you could lean up against his chest. His heartbeat was back to a steady rhythm. You stayed there a while huddled against the shuttle bulkhead while Thrass gradually grew more and more relaxed. Tired, but relaxed. 

Chapter 15

Summary:

You've arrived on Ool in more or less one piece. The next challenge is convincing the lady of Ardok ranch to reveal its secrets.

Notes:

I promise I am still actively working on this! Some very nice fans have expressed concern, I appreciate that. The saga of Reader and Thrass continues!

You changed into your CEDF uniform to prepare to debark. Surprisingly, the uniform fit well, better even than it did before coming to Csilla. You would have thought with all the delicious food Thrass had been spoiling you with that wouldn’t be the case. Or perhaps your perspective had changed. 

Thrass cleaned himself up and put on a fresh tunic as well as his Mitth regalia. He still looked sickly, but it was a marked improvement over how he’d looked earlier. 

“Alright, here we go,” Thrass said, activating the shuttle’s gangway. He turned to flash a grin at you before debarking. 

As Thrass walked away, you decided you would never get tired of watching him move in all his Mitth burgundy splendor. The thought that you had kissed him and been held by him made you giddy. But now wasn’t the time to be love struck. 

At the end of the gangway, Thrass was greeted by another Chiss man with short waving curls. He was burly with wide shoulders, very much built for the type of work one would do on a ranch. His clothing also matched what you assumed was his occupation with leathers and a fabric that was woven with a criss-cross of colored bands

“Welcome, Syndic Mitth’ras’safis, to Ardok Ranch,” the man said. Ranch? Considering how secretive this place seemed to be, you reasoned that name was a front. Even Bomarmo's accent supported this. It was different from Thrass’ and the other Chiss on Csilla. The vowels were longer, almost like a drawl. Almost like…a wild space accent. 

“It is good to see you well, Bomarmo,” Thrass said. They exchanged the customary Chiss greeting, clutching each other’s forearms. 

Bomarmo squinted at Thrass, “If you don’t mind me saying, Syndic, but you look a little green around the gills. Are you feeling alright?”

Thrass gave a small laugh. “I am fine, just a little turbulence on the way in,” he said. 

“I see,”  Bomarmo said. He turned his head and he finally rest his eyes on you. The friendly warmth of his smile iced over. “Who is your companion?” he asked. 

“This is my research assistant,” he said, introducing you. Bormarmo’s face hardened even more. You also exchanged the Chiss greeting but on Bomarmo’s part, it was stiff and strictly formal. 

“Ah right, you’d said you had an assistant on your project…but you didn’t mention she was….” 

“A lieutenant in the CEDF? No I didn’t.” Thrass smiled his polite smile. 

Bomarmo narrowed his eyes. “I can’t promise she will be welcomed…”

“I understand your reservations, my friend. But trust me, this woman has done more for the Ascendancy in her short time here than many have done their entire lives.” Thrass patted you on the shoulder as he said this, for your reassurance as much as Bormarmo’s. He still looked suspicious. Following his gaze, you noticed he was eying Thrass’ hand on your shoulder. It wasn’t a taboo gesture for Chiss but it was still considered pretty familiar and intimate. Bomarmo raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not the one you have to convince,” Bomarmo said flatly. 

“Don’t worry, I’m confident she will,” Thrass said, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. Usually, his confidence in you was difficult for you to accept but right now, it made your whole body warm. You knew it wasn’t simply flattery, he meant it.

“As it happens,” Bomarmo said, “the good lady had to go deal with some Ranch business and will likely be gone until the morning. She asked me to take you to the guest house while we wait. There will of course be accommodations for you and your entourage. Will that be acceptable, Syndic?“

“That will work fine,” Thrass said. He looked back at the shuttle and frowned. 

“Is there a problem?” Bomarmo asked.

“Well…” Thrass pursed his lips, “We had a...complication aboard the shuttle on our way here.” 

“What kind of complication?” 

As if on cue, a loud banging noise sounded from the shuttle, followed by shouting. Thiomo and Zimaram burst out the hatch and onto the gangway. Thiomo was unsuccessfully trying to keep the other pinned down. They grappled on the gangway, Zimaram grabbed for Thiomo’s longer lock of hair while Thiomo was trying to use their longer arms to press their thumbs into Zimaram’s eyes. 

“You Mitth bastard, that hurts!” Zimaram yelled. Thiomo replied with scathing Cheunh you hadn’t had the time to learn, you just knew it was rude. 

It took a moment to fully register what was happening. Your hand went to your sidearm. While you were relieved to have it in hand and ready this time, you hesitated. Even with the charric on the stun setting you didn’t want to nail them both.  Forgoing the charric, you were about to sprint up and pull them off each other but Thrass squeezed your shoulder again. He shook his head. 

Then, Bomarmo himself drew a huge, long, rifle-sized charric from over his back and aimed it at the fighting Chiss. “State your business,” he barked.

Thiomo and Zimaram stopped dead, stared at Bomarmo’s weapon and scrambled away from each other with their hands held up. 

“Syndic Thrass, sir, he escaped his bounds,” Thiomo said, shooting Zimaram an accusatory glance. 

“I can see that,” Thrass said sardonically. 

Zimaram remained silent, his face hard, making him look much older than he was.

“This your ‘complication’?” Bomarmo asked, shifting his charric to point directly at Zimaram. 

“Yes, he stowed away below decks on our shuttle. We didn’t know he was there until after the first jump,” Thrass explained. 

“I see. Your name, son?” Bomarmo asked, “All of it, if you please,”

“Irizi’mar’amin,” Zimaram said. Bomarmo’s eyes widened, then narrowed as he scowled. His grip on the charric grew more tense. 

“An Irizi? What business does an Irizi have on Ool?”

Zimaram tightened his lips. “It is not Family business, rather, it is personal. I am here to speak with the proprietor of Ardok Ranch,”

“What personal reason would force you to risk sneaking onto Csilla and stow away on a ship just to come talk to my wife?”

Zimaram snorted. “Csilla was the easy part…” he said. 

“Don’t be flippant,” Bomarmo growled. 

Zimaram swallowed and wet his lips. “My sister….I need to know…”

Bomarmo's expression softened into something somewhat sympathetic. His grip on the charric slackened but he did not lower it. “Go on,”

“I saw the research Syndic Thrass and his companion have done,” he turned his eyes on you when he said ‘companion’.  “I decided my loyalty to the Irizi is outmatched by my loyalty to blood. Please, I need to know what became of her, how she lived, who she was.”  

A long moment passed between them before Bomarmo forced air through his lips in resignation. “As I just told Syndic Thrass, she is not available until tomorrow.”

“We could just lock him in the shuttle,” Thiomo suggested. 

“As if simple door codes would stop me,” Zimaram said, the smugness returning to his voice. 

“That’s enough,” Bomarmo snapped. The two younger Chiss straightened. “Now, I’m not beyond extending hospitality to you, Irizi, you will have a bed to sleep on and food to eat. But one step out of line…” 

“Yes, sir,” Zimaram said, once again cowed. 

“And you,” he pointed the charric back at Thiomo. 

“Hey, I’m not the one with the problem here,” they protested. 

“No, but as I recall you were participating in that little tiff on the gangway,” 

Thiomo blushed, ashamed, “I was…”

“My wife will return tomorrow,” Bomarmo said, finally lowering his charric, “Until then, I expect civility from all of you. Is that clear?” 

You nodded along with the others. You weren’t sure how much you could really promise that. If Zimaram was lying he could kill you all in your sleep. He could easily be faking everything from his body language on down. For now, it was enough to remain vigilant. 

“C’mon,” Bomarmo said, “I will take you over to the guest house.”

The ranch buildings were only a short distance from the landing pad, not far enough to merit any further transport. On the surface, this area of Ool seemed like a dry shrubland with rolling hills and low bushes. In the distance you could see the silhouette of mountains, some high enough to retain snow. There was also a lake that was possibly artificial but you couldn’t be sure. 

The guest house was one of the prettier buildings on the ranch with white limestone masonry and wrought iron railings and fixtures. On the roof was an array of red clay tiles. All the materials looked locally sourced, blending it into the landscape. Other buildings were less ornate and looked to be made of wood as opposed to the masonry. You figured these were for barns or storage or served some other purpose.

The interior was cozy and rustic, with the same wrought iron fixtures throughout and furniture made from whole branches and trunks of trees. Of course the lights, doors and climate control were the same level of technology as you saw on Csilla. The overall effect was a feeling of tranquility and simplicity. It definitely felt like a nice place to retreat after a long journey. 

Bomarmo invited you and Thrass to sit in the common room while he led Thiomo and Zimaram to their rooms.. You weren’t sure you trusted this situation at all. Was there more security at this ranch than you noticed at first glance? Or was Bomarmo simply that confident Zimaram would not wake all of you up with a charric to the face? You remembered his reaction to Thrass mentioning his sister. He had to be sincere. 

Bomarmo returned, gesturing for you and Thrass to follow him. “Now, I don’t mean to make any assumptions but do you each need a room or will you be staying together?” he asked. 

So he had noticed something. Years of conditioning against fraternization and your own anxiety kicked in. “Separate,” you said quickly. 

“Together,” Thrass said at nearly the same moment, your voices in unison.

You stared at Thrass, violent heat rising up through your face. This wasn’t something that occurred to you to discuss and he’d answered ‘together’? Thrass stared back at you. You couldn’t read his expression. It was somewhere between shock, shame and disappointment. He regained his composure, clearing his throat. Bormarmo’s gaze flicked back and forth between the two of you. 

“Apologies, Syndic, Lieutenant. Two rooms, then. Let me know if you change your minds,” he said.

“Erm, yes,” Thrass agreed. He looked at you again, concern in his eyes. He quickly looked away to follow Bomarmo to your rooms.  

Your rooms were on the other end of the guest house. Bomarmo explained that they are all secure doors in spite of how rudimentary they looked. Each room had its own private bathroom as well. 

“From time to time we entertain Syndics such as yourself. Sometimes even Patriarchs make their way down here,” 

“Anyone of note?” Thrass asked. 

Bormarmo chuckled. “Now you know I can’t tell you that.”

“I don’t imagine you can,” Thrass said. 

“Alright, I’m going to check our stock, see what I can do to feed you all. Should have something in a few hours,”

“I’m sure anything you make will be fantastic, Bomarmo, thank you,” Thrass said, nodding his head down into a bow. 

Bomarmo left you and Thrass in the hallway, each facing your respective rooms. You wanted to fix this, to apologize or at least discuss what just happened. Before you could open your mouth to say something, the door to Thrass’s room slid shut. There would be plenty of time later, you hoped. 

In the evening, Bomarmo called all of you into the dining room for the evening meal. It was simple fare but according to Bomarmo, it was all produced from the ranch in one way or another. And it was delicious . Fresh vegetables from the garden, cheese made from the milk of small domestic animals originally native to Ool and fish Bomarmo said came from the lake. Csilla food was good but everything had to be shipped in from elsewhere. Even with the best preservation technology, it could not beat food fresh from the land. 

Zimaram quietly poked at his food, eating each bite meticulously while staring down Thiomo.

“Do you have a problem?” Thiomo asked. 

“No. I’m just savoring this delicious food our gracious host has been so kind to provide us with.” 

“Uhm hm,” Thiomo said, putting a bite into their mouth. 

Somehow, the meal passed without Zimaram provoking anyone into a fight. In spite of that, Bomarmo was a fantastic host. Whatever reservations he had about you, he was able to put it aside to extend the same hospitality to you that he did for Thrass. 

“Caring for guests is not my usual job, but it’s a nice change of pace,” he said. 

“Well we certainly appreciate it,” Thrass said, “allow us to help you clean up, I insist,” 

As night fell, a chill came into the air. The house had only minimal climate control, making the chill seep inside as well. You were ready to curl up into some blankets and put this day behind you. The others all retreated to their respective rooms, leaving you and Thrass alone at the table. 

“Well, I suppose it’s time for us to turn in too,” he said, pushing his chair back. 

“Yeah, it’s been a day. Not all bad, but a day. I’m going to sleep like a tooka kitten.” 

“Indeed,” Thrass agreed. He turned toward you and placed his hand on yours. “I don’t think I could have made it through today without you.”

“Oh come on Thrass, you could have,” 

He smiled wryly, “I probably would have just passed out in my own sick. Not very dignified for a Syndic.” 

“I was trying to make you feel better.”

“I know, and, I do appreciate it.” He wove his fingers through yours and squeezed. 

“Are you going to be alright, Thrass?”

“Honestly? I don’t know.” He looked thoughtful, then, his smile became flirtatious. “I don’t suppose you changed your mind about sharing a room?” he said, playfully. But beneath his smile, you could see the fatigue weighing on him. His eyelids were heavy but so too were the lines under his eyes. You wanted nothing more than to hold him, comfort him. But…

“I don’t know if I’m ready,” you admitted soberly, “I’m - “ you didn’t want to finish that statement. You didn’t think you’d be at this stage so soon. 

Thrass leaned in close and said in a low voice that sent a shiver down your spine, “I understand, but just to reassure you, it’s not…sex I’m asking for.”

“Oh,” you said, the momentary panic fading, replaced instead with the overwhelming urge to push him onto the table and kiss him until was out of breath, “okay,” you breathed. 

“Don’t look so relieved, dear,”

“I’m not,” you giggled.

“We don’t have to kiss or even touch if you don’t wish to. I ask only because,” he sighed and let his cheerful mask slip fully, leaving a vulnerable man behind, “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

You stared into each other’s eyes for a moment. After his episode on the shuttle you weren’t sure he was fully recovered, though he hid it well. Now he opened himself to you emotionally, showing his truth to you. You knew he was good to his word, that company was all he truly wanted. But what if you shared the bed and he hated it? What if he somehow changed his mind about you after this? You took a deep breath. Give this a chance to go right . You reminded yourself.

“We can kiss,” you said, leaning in to do just that. The contact with his lips stirred up flutters in your stomach, the urge to push him into the table surged with a vengeance.

“Now that is a relief,” he laughed. 

“Let me get ready for bed and I’ll join you,” you said. You squeezed his hand. “You won’t have to be alone tonight, Thrass.”

You went back to your room to change into your night clothes and clean your teeth, trying to ignore your anxiety. You couldn’t remember the last time you shared a bed with someone you were in a romantic relationship with. It was before your service on the Chimaera you were pretty sure. You had to push away the negative thoughts again, this wasn’t about your insecurities, this was about being there for Thrass. 

Quietly, you stepped into the hallway and up to his door. It wouldn’t have mattered if anyone saw you but you felt the need to be covert anyway. Taking another breath, you knocked softly. 

“Come in,” you heard on the other side. 

You opened the door just in time to catch a glimpse of Thrass’s backside as he shrugged on a robe. It was only a fleeting moment, but it burned into your mind. The curves of his back were highlighted beautifully in the low light. You saw his hair was free from its usual tail, falling around his broad shoulders. Your mouth suddenly ran dry and you tried to look away but he was already turning as he finished tying his robe.

“See something you like?” he asked. 

“I - ah - um - yes. Oh, kriff,” you sputtered.

“It’s alright, dear,”  he said with a little laugh, “you’re allowed to look.”  Though the robe was closed and tied, it hung open wide enough to show off the bare blue skin of his chest. It was hard to tear your eyes away. You followed the opening down to the robe’s belt and realized something.

“Oh ah…are you naked under that?”

“We’re all naked under our clothes.” Thrass said, raising both his eyebrows. 

“You know what I mean,” 

“Yes,” he grinned, “is that a problem? I can change.” 

“Uh no, it’s not a problem, it’s just...” you bit your lower lip. It was just alluring as hell. It was just making you completely crazy, but you were having trouble finding the words to say so. “It’s just…really sexy,” you managed to squeak out. 

“I’m flattered,” Thrass said. 

Thrass approached and put his arms around you. It was almost as though he was a robe himself with the way he held you. The pressure of his body against yours was soothing. You breathed in his scent and felt a sense of contentment wash through you, your anxieties calmed. Thrass pushed the hair away from your face and clutched your jaw tenderly. 

“May I kiss you?” he asked softly. 

“Yes, please,” 

He leaned down and planted a kiss on your lips, simple and sweet, as if testing what you were comfortable with. You opened your mouth a little more, inviting him to go deeper. He followed your prompting and you let out a small hum of delight as his tongue brushed against yours. 

Thrass stepped back with you still in his arms and led you toward the bed. He sat down and pulled you in between his legs for more kisses. 

“Is this alright?” His legs were spread wide enough to accommodate you but it put you precariously close to his more sensitive parts.

“Yes, but is it alright for you? I don’t want to accidentally hurt you...” 

“You won’t, I’ll make sure,” he said, kissing you again. “Can I lift you up?”

At your agreement, he placed his hands on your thighs and lifted you up onto his lap. Your legs wrapped around his hips and you pressed against his body. You continued to plant kisses on his lips, along his jaw and down his neck. Thrass returned the favor, kissing you fervently on your neck. You slipped your hands into the opening of his robe, moving across his chest and belly. His skin was warm under your fingertips and he sighed as you brushed against his nipple. He kissed you hard and slid his hands up under your shirt, moving gentle fingers along your spine and shoulders. 

You lost track of time, the only thing that existed was the two of you. After a while, Thrass pulled away and looked at you through hooded eyes. “You are incredible,” he said, awe in his voice.  

“So are you, I can’t take all the credit,” you joked. He gave a small snort and pressed his forehead to yours. 

“But I do mean it and I’ll never stop reminding you,”

“And I won’t get tired of hearing it,” you kissed him again, pushing against his shoulder until he was laying on his back on the bed. You now lay on top of him with your legs straddled over his torso. He was so comfortable, you wanted to stay there forever.

“Well now this is compromising,” he coughed a laugh and you could feel the muscles in his belly contract as he did. 

You scooted off him and laid down on the bed beside him. The two of you stared into each other’s eyes. You had so much you wanted to say, to ask. By the concerned look in his eyes, you could tell he did as well. 

“What are you thinking about, Thrass?”

“I’m thinking that I’m surprised, my love,” he said. 

“Surprised? About what?”

“That you don’t seem to be angry.”

“Why would I be?”

“You were quite upset that I haven’t been forthcoming with information. Which of course is understandable. But I’m surprised you’re not angry that I didn’t tell you about my…episodes.”

“Well, I mean, it would have been nice to have been warned about it but…this is a personal thing. I’ve been in the military long enough to know you don’t ask questions about personal things, not like that,”

“I see,” he said, “Still, I’m sorry I didn’t warn you…it’s difficult,”

“I know, Thrass, it’s okay,” you said, running the back of your index finger along the ridge of his cheek. 

“It’s just I feel I owe you an explanation. I owe you for so much and not just for holding flight sickness bags,” he chuckled softly. 

“Something tells me you won’t be be able to tell me,”

“And you’d be half right. It’s not classified, not entirely…” he trailed off while stroking your hair. 

“I think I have a pretty good idea of what happened,” 

“Considering the context, I’m sure,” he smiled ironically. 

You followed a line of thought you had after Zimaram’s taunting aboard the shuttle and Thrass’ last mission with Thrawn, the mere mention of which nearly sent Thrass over the edge. 

“No, I think I might know more than that,” you said. 

Thrass frowned, curious.  “What have you discovered?”

You rolled over and Thrass scooted up behind your back. He snaked his arms around your waist and pulled you in close. “Thiomo had me organize your data cylinders.”

Thrass’ laugh rumbled through you. “Really? I thought that was their job.”

You snorted. “That’s what I thought. Well I noticed…there was a gap. The files were so meticulous and then…they stopped.”

“Oh,” 

“Then I remembered there was a file on Thrawn’s service record that was heavily redacted…and after that I saw he’d been reassigned from the Springhawk and into a military hospital on Naporar. Some of his injuries were pretty bad. But what I noticed was the date. It was the same time your records stopped. So…”

“You figure something must have happened….” Thrass said, a deep sadness in his voice.

“Your episodes…are because you were in a crash, and I think it happened during that mission,” you concluded. Thrass heaved a huge sigh, as though he’d been holding his breath. 

“It….it is.” Thrass curled around you, pulling you in closer. You twisted back around to see tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” his voice cracked, “I can’t - “

You held his face in your hands and he leaned into your touch. “Hey, you don’t have to tell me, not tonight,” you said. 

He clasped your hand and kissed your knuckles. “Thank you, my love.”

You held one another, your legs entwined. Eventually, you rolled over so your back was to him. Again, he pulled you in close. The curve of his body fit so perfectly against your spine, like a comfortable backrest. He rest his head into the crook of your neck. At one point, he nuzzled his face against your hair and inhaled deeply. You stayed like this until you felt his breathing begin to grow slow and even. He murmured something in Cheunh you couldn’t quite understand before he settled into sleep. 

__________________

You awoke the next morning to a rattling sound coming from somewhere in the room. As awareness came to you, you remembered where you were. You reached to the other side of the bed and saw it was empty, the depression remaining on the pillow and mattress where Thrass had lain. The rattling became more incessant. 

“Thrass?” you asked groggily. You slid off the bed and went out into the hallway. “Thrass?” Out the window, you saw him standing on the porch, watching something in the distance through binocs. Hurrying into some more presentable clothing, you joined him.

“What’s going - woah what is that?” You said. A cloud of dust rose over the horizon. Thrass handed you the binocs so you could see the source of the dust. A herd of large animals was running toward the ranch buildings. On a different creature rode a Chiss woman, dressed similarly to Bomarmo with a wide brimmed hat and scarf covering her face.  There were other Chiss women flanking the herd, prodding them with what looked like electrostaffs. 

“Yubals,” Thrass said, preempting your question. 

“What are they riding?”

“Those are packbulls,”

“So this is actually a ranch? It’s not just a cover?”

“Apparently so.” Thrass said, sounding equally surprised.

Bomarmo burst through the door and over to a vehicle not unlike a speeder bike. He raced across the plain to a series of gates. He opened one and the women on packbulls got to work to corral the large creatures into the pen. When the last yubal trotted inside, Bomarmo shut the gate. The packbull riders whooped except for the woman with the hat. She turned toward you and Thrass, fixing her gaze squarely on you. It was so intense you yelped and handed the binocs back to Thrass. 

As you’d been watching, Thiomo and Zimaram had come up behind you, presumably to investigate all the noise and rumbling.

“Who is that?” Zimaram asked.

“That, is Cohbo’rik’ardok, the lady of Ardok Ranch and whom we are all here to speak to,” Thrass said. 

“She’s amazing,” you said, watching her dismount the packbull and stride confidently toward Bomarmo. The Chiss man smiled radiantly and wrapped his arms around Borika. You spotted them sharing a kiss before Bomarmo took her hat and covered the scene from the onlookers.

You suddenly felt as though you were intruding on this place, this world.

Borika approached the guest house. She slipped off her gloves and delivered the standard Chiss greeting to Thrass. Her voice shared the same accent as her husband’s and it made you feel more at ease. She stepped over to you and hesitated a moment. 

“Ah, my research assistant,” Thrass introduced you. 

“You are…not Chiss.” She said, lifting a brow.

“Apologies, ma’am.” 

Borika stretched out her hand. She was stiff and cold compared to how she’d greeted Thrass. You remembered what Bomarmo had said about her and met her stiffness with apprehension, which was not a great impression, you knew. She moved on, saying nothing more to you. 

“Syndic Thrass, please meet me in oh…a half hour in the guest house office,” she ordered. 

“As you wish, lady Borika.” 

“Now, wait,” Zimaram started but Thrass reached for his arm to hold him back.

“Later,” he said, “let me start the negotiations, then we’ll see what we can do,”

Zimaram tore his arm away with a growl. “Fine, we’ll do it your way,”

“And it seems someone is not a morning person, let’s find some breakfast. I believe I saw a caccoleaf machine in there.” Thrass made his way inside. You stayed a moment, watching the other ranch hands finish their work. It was odd these were all young women, but you assumed perhaps Borika had a preference for hiring them. The smell of cooking eggs and brewing caccoleaf drew you back inside. 

_____________________________________________

The half hour was more like a full hour by the time breakfast was settled and Borika called you back to the small office. You and Thrass sat opposite her. The two of you took the time to dress more officially, you in your uniform and he in a similar outfit to the one he wore the night you met. 

“So,” she began, “I understand you’ve come with…what was it you called it? ‘Urgent findings’?”

“Yes, while reviewing some cloud diaries, my assistant uncovered - “ Thrass abruptly stopped as Borika tapped her fingers thoughtfully on the desk, “is there a problem?”

“And how was she supervised while handling this data?” Borika asked.

“For the most part either me or Thiomo. Let’s just get this out of the way, I understand you may have your reservations, but she can be trusted, Borika,” Thrass implored.

Something about Borika shifted, as if she was shrugging off an entire persona. Suddenly, she held herself straighter and her expression grew more severe and stony. “Are you willing to test that?” she said, her voice startling. Her accent had completely disappeared, replaced instead with a calm yet cold voice. In an instant a charric was in her hands, pointed directly at you.

 Thrass jumped up from his seat, placing himself between you and the charric. “Now, now, Borika, there is no need for this.” Turning to you he said, “Don’t mind her, dear, this is how she says ‘hello’.” He laughed nervously.

Borika narrowed her eyes. “Have you no shame, Thrass?”

“I seem to have lost that a long time ago,” Thrass said. 

“Does she have authorization, Thrass?” Thrass stared her down for a long moment. “Well?”

“I was hoping you could grant it,” Thrass confessed, almost sheepishly. 

Borika lowered the charric. Though her face didn’t show it, her sharp intake of breath told you she was holding back irritation. “I am your loophole, of course.”

“I’m not sure what you mean…”

“Don’t play coy with me, Syndic Thrass, I know neither the Syndicure nor the upper ranks of the Mitth would ever authorize a non-Chiss to have access to this knowledge. And so,” she exhaled, “the only real solution you have is me,”

“Can you grant it or not?”

 “I can,” she said, “but just because I have the ability to do so, doesn’t mean I will, Syndic.”

“It was worth a shot,” he said, shrugging. 

Borika inclined her head toward him. “I would not give up so easily. Let me see this data,” 

Thrass handed her the cylinder carrying the precious data. You followed it with your eyes as Borika inserted it into her questis. As she read, her eyes took on a softer glow.

“How did you uncover this?” she asked you. You briefly explained the process, leaving out some of how you got the artwork to begin with, Borika didn’t need to know that part. When you finished, that same softness shone in her eyes. 

“Are you aware of how important this is?”

“No, ma’am. I only cracked the cipher or provided Thrass with insights on artwork. Whether it was helpful or not, he wouldn’t or…I guess couldn’t say.”

“Your assistant has done very well, Thrass,” Borika said, “on the matter of actually allowing her to know what it is she’s found and the nature of its importance, I will need more than a simple request to grant her authorization.”

“What more?”

Borika was quiet for a long moment, her fingers tapping lightly on the desk. “Ardok Ranch is a large operation. As you see I have very few, aside from my husband, to help. The appearance of its continued operation is imperative.”

“What does this have to do with her authorization?” Thrass asked through gritted teeth, “We don’t have time -”

“Things have been as they are for many years, Syndic,” Borika interrupted. “In the face of all that time, a few more weeks is barely a blink. As for what this has to do with allowing an alien and member of a foreign navy to be privy to some of the Ascendancy’s most guarded secrets, I need to know if she has the integrity to do what I ask in good faith.”

“So you want to test her,” Thrass said. 

“Yes.”

Thrass made a sound low in his throat you’d never heard him make before. Something like a growl. “What do you think?” he asked you.

“I think,” you began. You were thinking you were still reeling from this woman pulling a charric on you. What could you say? What choice did you really have? You could continue blindly, never knowing what your work was doing. You could piece it all together on your own, too, but would it be right? In the end, you wanted to be trusted with the truth, no matter what it took.  “I’ll do it,” you said.

“You don’t have to. Borika, please, be reasonable.”

“No. You’re coming to me, Thrass, those are my terms.”

You straightened, holding yourself up with military discipline. “I accept them, ma’am,”

Borika raised her brows. The expression felt familiar, like you’d seen an exact copy of it before on another face. “Very well,” Borika said, “We begin tomorrow.”

Chapter 16

Summary:

Borika has challenged you to do menial labor around Ardok Ranch in order to earn access to some of the Chiss' greatest secrets. It seems like a small price to pay but ranch life is no small matter. The more time you spend at the ranch, the more questions you have. And, the closer you and Thrass become.

Notes:

So I don't know if this earns me an 'E' because there's some description of genitals. Please let me know if I need to change that. Anyway, I earn that M rating today. ;)

Regret was not what you would use to describe your feelings as you shoveled manure into a wheelbarrow. Outrage perhaps. Maybe even malice. But no, not regret. You reminded yourself in a mantra with each scoop, “This is for answers, this is for answers,”

There probably was an easier way to muck out a packbull barn. At least in the Empire, there were droids. But Chiss didn’t have that technology and if there was one scrap of regret you did feel, it was that you’d taken those mechanical beings for granted and never would again. Especially with a fellow worker like Zimaram.

You weren’t sure exactly what deal he struck with Borika but his attitude was starting to smell worse than the manure. He raked together all the old stinky bedding in the stall while muttering to himself. Some of the words were quite colorful, some were even curses you hadn’t heard before.

“Need some assistance?” Thrass asked. You almost hadn’t seen him come up behind you.

“No, Thrass, this is my task,” you huffed, “today’s task anyway.” Yesterday had almost been worse, the ranch hands trained you to get yubals into a chute so they could check their health. The animals were not pleasant. You almost got kicked several times and fell in the mud once. The ranch hands who weren’t much older than mid-agers giggled at you, but helped you up. Zimaram had not fared much better. He regaled you at dinner that night of the tale of cleaning the vogal fowl coop and even though he’d bathed he still reeked of the birds.

“I don’t think the Lady would appreciate her new employees getting any help,” Zimaram said.

“Borika never said you couldn’t have help, only that you complete the task,” Thrass smirked.

“I honestly don’t want to risk having a charric in my face again,” you said, “No wonder you spoke about her like she was dangerous.”

“Wait, she did that to you too?” Zimaram said.

“She’s like that for a reason, a good reason,” Thrass explained.

“And of course, if I want to know why, I have to do this,” you gestured at the stall you were currently in.

“Of course,” he agreed.

“But why the act?” You held up a hand, “Nope. Never mind, I understand why, it was just…I don’t know. Excessive? Terrifying? Awesome?”

“She has that affect on people,” Thrass said, “in any case, I was just on my way to the garden and thought I might offer my help. She can wave around a charric as much as she wants, she won’t shoot a Syndic,”

“You hope,” Zimaram added.

You stopped shoveling to look at Thrass. He certainly looked ready to work in a garden. He wore a simple tunic, work pants and boots. On his head was a wide brimmed hat made from woven plant fibers. At first glance it almost looked silly on him, yet somehow he still looked handsome, especially with that grin on his face. You handed him a shovel and you got back to work.

Borika told you she wanted the packbull manure loaded up to be transported in a skytruck and mixed in with compost for the garden. At least the containers had anti-grav and were easy to move, otherwise this backbreaking job would do just that.

“Wow, Thrass, I’m surprised,” you said.

“What, you didn’t think a fancy old Syndic could muck out a packbull stall?”

“Or just…do manual labor in general.”

“I imagine there are many things about me that might surprise you,” he said.

“Oh? Please tell,” you said, raising an eyebrow.

“One of my first jobs as a Syndic was analyzing agricultural outputs of colony worlds and making deals with other families for distribution. All very dull on paper but I knew there were real people behind the numbers. I took it upon myself to see how all this worked up close. I ended up ‘cultivating’ quite a few partnerships between farmers and distributors of different families.” He chuckled. “Sometimes I would get a home cooked meal out of it from grateful farmers or because their spouse insisted on repaying me with hospitality.”

“You’re right, I am surprised,” you said, “not many politicians would go to the source like that.”

“I was probably the first Syndic who did, at least in their memory. Most of the time, the Syndicure doesn’t really like to actually get their hands dirty,”

“I bet it drove the other Syndics crazy,”

“Like you would not believe. Some of the higher ups took some convincing to fund my trips, but the results spoke for themselves,”

“That’s pretty genius actually,” you said.

“I’m glad you think so,” he said, hefting a shovelful of manure into the container.

It was at this point you’d noticed that he’d left the collar and top buttons of his shirt open. You sucked in your lips and tried to keep your focus on your work. But it kept distracting you. Then, you noticed something you hadn’t the other night in his dimly lit room. There was a patch of dark hair in the center of his chest. Not as much as you’d seen on some humans but enough to be noticeable. And very, very enticing.

There was something about a little bit of chest hair that had always driven you crazy. You had the sudden powerful urge to drop your shovel, drag him outside, push him against the barn and kiss him breathless. You started shoveling faster. This was the worst time to be lusty.

You worked silently for a while, methodically moving through the stalls while doing your best to keep your eyes off Thrass’s chest. One of the occupied stalls held a large packbull. It whinnied and snorted at you as you passed with a load of manure.

“Yes, you’re welcome,” you told it. Outside, the manure pile in the truck was growing and most of the stalls were clear. Zimaram put down fresh bedding as you finished. It was time to move the manure to compost.

“Why don’t you take a break, Zimaram? We can take this from here.” The younger Chiss didn’t hesitate, he leaned his shovel against the barn wall and silently gestured goodbye. Thrass rode with you over to the gardens and compost area.

“Let’s take a look at this compost,” he said, lifting up the lid on the bin. With gloved hands he sifted through the mix. “Oh ho ho this is good stuff! No wonder Bomarmo’s vegetables are so good. Come, help me get the manure in the mix,”

You shoveled the manure and old bedding into the compost, mixing it up well.

“There that should do it,” Thrass said, dusting off his gloves.

“Did you learn all this from the farmers, Thrass?”

“No, not all of it. When I was small I helped my mother in her garden. A good compost and fertilizer made the vegetables big and delicious. She taught me most of what I know about growing things. I don’t often get to use the knowledge anymore, not much room for it in Syndicure life.”

“I’ve never had much luck with plants,” you admitted.

“Maybe after all this, you might,” he beamed at you, his cheeks flushed with exertion.

“Come on, we still have some barn to clean out,”

By the time you’d finished, Ool’s sun was starting to set, streaking the sky with fiery oranges and pinks.

“Well, I must say, this is the cleanest the packbull barn has been in some time,” Borika said.

“Thank you,” you said. Some small part of you hoped this was enough to ‘pass’ her test. But likely not. Borika said nothing more before taking her leave to the main residential houses.

“Let’s go back to the guest house and get cleaned up,” Thrass suggested, “I think Bomarmo mentioned vogal dumplings for the dinner.”

“Good, I’m starved,” Zimaram said, stalking off into the setting sun. But you were too busy watching Borika. The residences were lit up, almost suggesting more people living there than you’d seen. Where were they all day? Hiding? You glanced back one last time before entering the guest house and you thought you heard the laughter of children carried on the wind.

 

__________________________________

 

The first week was some of the most strenuous work you’d ever done. Even your time at the Imperial academy and officer training paled in comparison. Hell, even Thrawn’s physical training regimen he’d put you on - at your request - was nothing compared to the exhaustion from ranch work. 

Thrass continued to help where he could, but largely made himself useful in the garden. You could often see his hat bobbing up and down among the plants from a distance as you did your assigned tasks for the day. At day’s end, he would come inside the guest house with a basket filled with fresh produce. You loved seeing this side of him, a glimpse of what could have been had he not dedicated his life to serving the Ascendancy. 

Zimaram grew less and less vocal about his situation and really dedicated himself to the job. When he wasn’t working, he’d be sitting by himself under a tree, reading or whittling with a knife he’d stolen from the toolshed. 

Thiomo for their part was doing what they always did, keeping things running and managing people. 

After the first night with Thrass, you’d largely kept to your own room when sleeping. It was a mutual idea, you didn’t want to stoke Borika’s ire or challenge her goodwill to know that Thrass and the alien who wanted the Ascendancy’s secrets were also romantically involved.  Even if that part was not planned, you were sure Borika would see it as a conflict of interest and boot you and Thrass off Ool.  But that didn’t stop him from pulling you into his room to steal some time to lavish you with kisses and affection. 

This particular night, he tugged gently at your wrist to coax you inside. Once the door was closed, you dove for each other, his hands at your face and yours on his chest. He walked you backwards into the back wall so the resulting thump of your body against it would not alert the rest of the house. His body leaned over yours in a way that made you feel both protected and vulnerable. He could do anything he wanted to you and you weren’t sure you would stop him. But he never once took advantage of this. 

“Is this alright?” he panted between kisses. 

“Yes,” you said. You were briefly embarrassed by how much Thrass brought down your guard. But he’d earned it in moments like this. He snaked his hands up under your shirt and before you realized it, your bra was off and on the floor. Thrass wasted no time with your breast’s newfound freedom. As he kissed you, he cupped and caressed you, running his thumb across your nipple. You let out a small whine, kissing him with more fervor but had to pull away to breathe as he continued to gently tug and rub your nipples. 

“I love how completely that undoes you,” he said in the low, gentle voice he reserved for these stolen moments, “and also how similar Chiss and Human nervous systems are,” he laughed, “But even if yours was different, I would love finding what makes you melt.” 

“It undoes you too, love,” you said, reaching for his chest to slide your hand inside his shirt and slide it over his head.

“Cheeky,” he said. You hummed happily as you ran your hand across his chest, making sure to take a moment to appreciate the hair you’d discovered. 

“I’m glad you like that,” Thrass commented, “considering that, to many Chiss, it’s considered unsightly.” 

“Good thing I’m not Chiss then,” you said, kissing him hard and then leaning down into his chest to plant a kiss at the center of his chest where the hair swirled. You ran your hands up his sides and touched the curve of his belly where torso met hip. He made a noise that sounded pleading, but he gently pushed you back. 

“Too much?” you asked. 

“No, but, I don’t know if we’re ready to go where that was going to lead,” he said.

“Oh, well…I will keep that in mind,” for the future, you wanted to say, but held your tongue. 

“Besides darling, it isn’t that I don’t want to keep kissing you, but I am in desperate need of a bath,” he said. 

“Oh?” It had been a long, disgusting day of ranch work, and you wanted the smell of yubal off of you. 

There was a long pause between you, an unasked question hanging in the air.

“Well, I guess I should leave you to it,” you said, squeezing his hand. Thrass did not let go right away, instead weaving his fingers through yours. He held your gaze and you could see the thoughts running behind his eyes. 

“Would you care to join me?” Thrass asked. 

Panic alarms rang in your mind. Your body immediately said yes while your brain was screaming incoherently. The thought of the two of you, presumably naked, in a bath both excited and terrified you. “I - I don’t know,” 

He chuckled and as if once again sensing your distress, “You’re allowed to refuse my love, my feelings are not easily hurt.”

”Yes but…I do want to, a lot...it’s just…” you trailed off. It's just so many things holding you back. Fear of him seeing you fully nude and questioning his attraction to you, fear of seeing him and not being able to control yourself. 

“I think I understand,” Thrass said in his gentlest voice, “Tell me, have you ever shared a bath with someone before?”

“I -no. I haven’t,” you admitted. You could feel your cheeks heating with shame, “I’m sorry,” 

Thrass frowned. “What for?”

“That I’m not experienced in things I probably should be,” you said through the lump forming in your throat, “it’s a bit shameful at my age.”

“Oh, my darling,” he reached for your cheek and caressed it lovingly, “you never have to be ashamed, not of this, not of anything,” The glow of his Chiss eyes was as soft and vibrant as the Ool sunset. “I would, of course, love it if you joined me, but your first time bathing with a lover need not be tonight,”

It was so tempting. You imagined him naked in the tub, his lovely blue skin surrounded with bubbles, his hair down and soaked, a web of strands sticking to his neck. What was stopping you? Certainly no one here. The only thing standing in your way was your fear. Was it going to fight you every step of the way? This thought triggered in you a surge of defiance. No. You were done letting this rule you.  

“You know what? I will meet you there, I just need to get my things.”

“Are you sure?”

“No, but I guess I will find out,” 

He squeezed your hand again, “Only do it if you’re sure. Don’t compromise your comfort on my account,”

“Then I’m sure.”

Quietly, you snuck back to your room to get your night clothes, your bathing supplies and a towel. By the time you returned, you saw steam rising out of the bathroom door and the telltale sound of running water and splashing. 

You knocked on the door with one knuckle.

“Come in my dear,”

You pushed the door open slowly. Thrass was still standing outside the tub with nothing but a towel around his hips. The towel seemed so precariously wrapped, like it would fall at any moment. Part of you wished it would. You drank in the sight of him with his broad shoulders, stout belly and shimmering hair that trailed down his back. It almost alarmed you how much you wanted to press against the curves of his body and be held in his soft, strong arms. You had imagined what he’d look like under all his clothes and the reality was so much better. 

Bubbles foamed up on top of the water. Thrass leaned down and tested the temperature. “I think it’s ready. Are you?”

“Um..why don’t you get in first, then I’ll follow,” 

“Very well,” he said. 

He turned his back to you and removed the towel. After only teasing glimpses before, the full view of his rear was a sight to behold. You watched him step into the bath gracefully. Again you marveled at how he achieved that effect.

The tub was large and luxurious, larger than the one in your room and definitely larger than the tiny showers aboard a warship. With a satisfied sigh, Thrass sank down into the water. “Ah, yes, this is perfect.”

You hesitated. It was your turn.

“Come, join me,” he smiled warmly, “if you need me to look away, I will,”

“No, no you don’t need to,” Somehow, his offer emboldened you. Maybe revealing yourself, letting him see all of you, would make the rest easier. Since he’d relieved you of your bra earlier, you lifted your shirt off and neatly placed it on the floor. Your nipples hardened and puckered from being suddenly exposed to ths air.

“You are so lovely,” Thrass commented, sending a wave of heat directly between your legs. You undid your pants and let them drop. Thrass was delighted by the pattern on your panties. Sliding them down off your hips, you piled them with your other clothing. You were now fully exposed. He silently took you in, his eyes glittered and he cracked a punchdrunk grin. 

“I’m sorry…about the hair,” you said, breaking the silence, “I know you mentioned Chiss don’t care for body hair,” 

“I am not most Chiss. Besides,” he had to clear his throat, “Besides…” he couldn’t finish the sentence. “Ah, I’m sorry,” he giggled, blushing, “but you’re just so much more beautiful than I imagined,”

His admiration was so sweet and sincere. You felt a certain pride at leaving him speechless. “I was thinking the same about you,” you said, grinning as your remebered his very squeezble rear. 

“Come,” Thrass said, beckoning with his fingers. You took his hand and he helped guide you as you stepped one leg over and then the other. You sat down facing him, your legs touching. Despite yourself, you looked down into the water. You could see the vague outline of something between his legs. Realizing you were staring, you turned away. 

“Darling, you can look at me,” he purred, “ all of me.” 

“I’m sorry,” you brought your knees up and hugged them, buying your face against them. Thrass chuckled and scooted closer to you to pat your hair,

“It’s alright, take your time. My body is open to you, but at your pace. We can simply have a nice bath together,” he encouraged. 

“Okay,” you said. You sank down, letting the water rise up to your face. He was right, this was perfect. Thrass looked down on you and grinned. His hair was longer now that it was wet and he looked like a water creature out of legend. One that would sing sailors happily to their doom.

“Sit up,” he said, “I will wash your back,” 

You did as he asked and turned your back to him. The tub had a sprayer attachment and Thrass used it to rinse off your back. With a coarse scrubber, he lathered up a bath gel and began gently scrubbing your skin. He was able to reach spots you struggled to get to by yourself. The soap smelled sweet and woody which helped you begin to relax. Thrass was so gentle and loving as he completed the task. It made you feel loved and cared for in a way that you weren’t sure you’d ever felt.  He rinsed the suds off and gave your shoulders a squeeze. 

“It’s your turn,” you told him.

You repeated the process on his back. It was fun to see the dark blue freckles dotting across his skin. You leaned in and kissed him in the center of his shoulder blades. “Mmm,” he hummed. 

Slowly you took turns washing different parts of each other, discovering every mark, fold and wrinkle. It was a different kind of intimacy to lovingly clean and care for every inch of each other. Well, almost every inch. 

“My dear, can you tell me something?”

“I can see,” you said, bracing yourself.

“Why do you shy away from my, oh, how do I put this delicately? My male anatomy?”

“Oh I…” you sank into the water a little.

“I’m not offended, just curious,”

“I just…you know…it’s not…” you sighed, “I’m afraid,”

“I assure you it will not bite,” Thrass joked.

You laughed out loud and splashed water toward him, “Stars, Thrass, of course not,”

“But in all seriousness, it is not taboo in my culture to see someone fully nude. Chiss bathe together just like this often. It is a normal part of our lives.”

“Both sexes, together?” 

“Yes, sometimes, mostly just families or people who care for each other. I know it is different for humans, however.”

“We aren’t usually nude around each other unless there is something sexual involved,” you explained. 

“I understand. This seems common in human cultures. Incidentally, you’re not the first human I have been intimate with,” he admitted. 

“Oh?”

“Perhaps sometime I will share the story,” he reached for your face and pushed away the wet hair on your cheek, “You have nothing to fear, my love.” He pulled you in for a passionate kiss that curled your toes. 

He smiled crookedly which did not help. You found you not only wanted to see him naked but you wanted much more. 

You’d seen pictures and diagrams of Chiss anatomy, male parts included in your efforts to learn more about them. But those were clinical. So you looked at art and explicit images and vids. But seeing an image was different than seeing one in life, especially attached to someone you had feelings for. You explained as much to Thrass. 

“Well I’ve seen all of you,” he said, “it would only be fair for you to have the same of me,”

“I guess when you put it that way,” 

Thrass climbed out of the tub and helped you up and out as well. He stood before you, freshly clean but also wet and naked.

You beheld him in all his glory. His penis was more or less typical of all the male Chiss images you’d seen. In truth, Chiss were not too different from humans. The shape was more or less the same but it had subtle ridges that became more pronounced when erect. At one point you wondered if they glowed like their eyes which now, looking back, seemed so silly. The color did seem to get more pink toward the tip, but no glow. 

Suddenly you don’t know why you made such a big deal about it. 

“There. Better?” he held your gaze. You glanced again at his penis, noticing it had gone half hard. At least his body reacted well to you. 

“Better,” you did what you had been wanting to do all evening. You pressed yourself against his body and kissed him, this seemingly ridiculous hurdle now cleared. 

Thrass wrapped a huge fluffy towel around you both and held you close. 

“I’m sorry I was so weird about this,” you said. 

“Nonsense, everyone is different,”

“I know but - what if we…what if I can’t - “

“All in good time, my love, all in good time,”

 

__________________________________

 

You stayed with Thrass that night, holding each other in bed until you both fell asleep. Over the night, you drifted apart and you awoke with him sprawled across the mattress, his arm draped over your back. He moaned sleepily as you coaxed him back over to his side of the bed.

You glanced at the chrono on the other side of the room and sighed. It was officially way too early in the morning to be awake. Unfortunately, you were. You figured you may as well get dressed and prepare for the day. 

Slipping out into the hall, you stepped toward your door. You reached for the lock mechanism and felt the air shifting behind you. A hand reached around and covered your mouth. Countless drills in the Chimaera’s training dojo kicked in and you reacted instantly, slamming your heel down as hard as you could into your assailant’s foot.

“Ow! Bloody Chaos, Ow!” Zimaram hissed and let out a string of Cheunh curses. 

Of course it was Zimaram. “What the kriff, Zimaram, what is wrong with you?”

“I was trying to be quiet!” 

“By sneaking up on me and covering my mouth? That’s murder behavior!”

“Okay it wasn’t a perfect plan. I was expecting you to come out of this door anyway,” he snorted, “Guess you and the Syndic have been busy .” 

You ignored the comment. “What do you want, Zimaram?” 

His smirk dropped. “Come with me, you need to see something.”

“And why should I trust you?” 

“Have I given you any reasons lately not to?”

“Unbelievable. Zimaram. You ask me this right after scaring the bantha shit out of me?” you were working hard to keep your voice at a whisper. 

“Okay I suppose you have a point,” he said. 

“Just…how did you become an Irizi agent?”

“Can we leave my family out of this?”

“I don’t know Zimaram can we?” 

He growled. “You know what? I changed my mind, I’m not going to show you this very important information,” 

“Fine, shut up and let’s go,” you said, shooing him. 

Zimaram led you outside and up to the tree where he spent his free time lounging. You assumed he was just brooding and whittling, but of course, that’s not all he was doing. In the crook of the tree, he pulled out a pair of binocs and handed them to you. 

“Look down at the outbuildings,” he said. You obliged, turning the lenses where he indicated. As before, there were some signs of life. Outside lights, some windows whose blinds spilled little hints of light. 

“Okay. I already know people live down there, I’ve seen the lights before,” you said.

“Yes but have you seen anyone aside from the Cohbos and the ranch hands?” 

“No, I haven’t. But isn’t this place supposed to be a secret?”

“Didn’t you wonder why?” Zimaram shot back.

“Look, Zimaram,” you lowered the binocs, “I do wonder but at this point we just need to put our heads down and do what Borika asks,” 

“Do you really trust that?”

“I trust Thrass, and he trusts her, that has to be enough,”

Zimaram rolled his eyes. “And yet, he can’t seem to trust you to know any of this,”

“That’s not what’s happening here and you know it,” you pointed at him, “now quit being an idiot and let me look,”

You put the binocs up to your eyes again, this time taking in more details. Before you could, you heard the distant sound of a skycar engine. You and Zimaram laid yourselves flat on the ground, hoping this along with the sparse visual cover from the tree would hide you. 

The skycar slowed and hovered down to outbuildings and landed. Through the binocs, you could see figures moving. You thought you recognized one of them as Borika judging by her gait and height. There was another adult too. They stood, ready for whoever was about to exit the vehicle. Some small part of you knew what had to be happening but it still was a shock to see the figure of a child step out of the car. 

In the dim light you couldn’t make out the details but you noticed her wiping her face with her arm. The child’s chaperone gently nudged her against the top of her shoulders and led her to the two waiting adults. The one you thought was Borika knelt down to the child’s level. Unfortunately you couldn’t see enough of their face to figure out what she was saying. 

You remembered the rescued Chiss girls again. They were so frightened and couldn’t speak much Sy Bisti. They shied away from you, another alien face in another alien ship. They seemed calmer among one of their own as Admiral Thrawn spoke to them. He got down on their level just like this woman did and spoke softly in Cheunh. You wish you knew what he’d said to them.

The woman took the child’s hand and led her inside. The light of the building illuminated her face and she turned to look outside her new home. You handed the binocs to Zimaram so he could see her too. 

“Just as I thought then,” he said, “I knew this ranch was a cover for the Seeker program but this must be where they condition them,” 

You shivered. “ Condition them?” 

Zimaram sighed, a veil of melancholy seeming to fall over him. “You’ll find out, soon enough.”

“I’d better,” you said, trying to shift the mood, “otherwise I’ve shoveled an awful lot of shit for no reason,” 

Zimaram snorted a laugh. “Welcome to the Ascendancy,” he said, ruefully.

“If we’re done here, I’m going back to bed,” you declared and left Zimaram to continue his vigil. 

The early morning air was getting much colder than before, you noticed. You could see the colors of sunrise splashing against the mountains. Another day, another menial task so that you could understand what was happening to these girls. You could just go down there and demand it…but no, you would play the game if that’s what you had to do.

As you approached the guesthouse you heard a muffled yell. Your stomach dropped. You weren’t sure but the voice sounded terrified.  Thiomo appeared in the doorway. 

“There you are,” they growled, “get in here.” Thiomo was usually calm, even in chaos but you’d never seen Thiomo’s face like that.

“Thrass?”

“Yes, go, open his door,” 

“Move, I got it,” you bolted for the hallway and punched the door key You scrambled inside, Thiomo right behind. 

Thrass was where you left him on the bed. He was thrashing, murmuring and occasionally shouting. Your mind ran through all the possibilities. Seizure? No. But this was one hell of a nightmare. 

“Thiomo, what do I do?”

“I don’t know,” Thiomo said. They were well and truly terrified. 

You approached the bed and reached for Thrass. You had heard not to wake someone suffering one of these nightmares but you couldn’t leave him to suffer this alone. His eyes were squeezed shut with tears streaming down. 

“Lorana! No! You can’t -” he shouted desperately. You jerked away, shocked to hear him call out to someone. It sounded like a woman’s name and the way he spoke it, it did not sound Chiss.

“Thrass? Thrass, it’s okay I’m here,” you gently restrained his arm. 

“Lorana!” he gasped as his eyes flew open. 

“Thrass, it’s me,” you repeated. Your voice was shaking, you took a deep breath, “I’m here,”

Recognition flickered in his eyes as he finally seemed to realize he was awake. He visibly relaxed. “Oh, thank the Chaos,” he said, bringing his hand up to his eyes. 

“Stars Thrass, that was…”

“A night terror, yes, I- I know,” 

“It’s okay, you’re safe now. Whatever was happening in your dream, you’re safe,” you said. He reached for your hand and you were startled at how cold and clammy his hand was. You threaded your fingers through his and squeezed so hard you were afraid you’d hurt him. 

He looked away, eyes distant, “These episodes were getting better,” he said, “but - I have a history with this place, Ardok Ranch. It seems my body remembers more than my mind does.” 

“Was the crash here on Ool?”

“No, but - I spent some time here, to recover. To remember why I needed to do so,” he let go of your hand and let his own drop to his side, “I’m sorry, my love, that you keep having to see this part of me,” 

You curled up beside him and held his head against your chest. “It’s alright Thrass, I’m just glad I could be here,” 

Thiomo spoke up, “Sir, can I get you anything?” 

“An herbal tea, if you please,”

“I’ll bring a pot, I need some too and I suppose you, as well,” they said to you.

The three of you silently sipped on the tea. After a time, Thiomo, their help no longer needed, returned to bed. 

You held Thrass. The horrors of his nightmare seemed to pass from his body along with the adrenaline. 

“Thrass, what happened to you?” you asked.

He sat up, holding you with one arm, the other rested on his stomach. “Soon,” he said, “Soon I can tell you,”

You stroked his silky hair, “I wish you could just tell me,” you said. You wanted to ask so much. Mostly, who that person he called out to was. 

Eventually, you both fell back asleep, each cradling the other in a comforting embrace. Before you drifted off, you resolved to have a conversation with Bomarmo in the morning. It seemed you only needed one room after all.

Chapter 17

Summary:

You and Thrass share an intimate moment, taking another step forward in your relationship.

Notes:

I am so sorry that I spend a whole year not updating this fic. I know how much you all enjoy it. I went through a lot in my personal life in the last year with an illness and eventual death in the family and professional/day job things. It was always in the back of my mind and I have a lot of material I've been gradually picking at when the mood struck me. So for your patience, I present to you the chapter that will make this fic earn it's M rating.

I didn't really know where else to put this without it being a weird juxtaposition with other plot events so I thought it should just speak for itself. It's a precursor for...acts to come. We are still starting slow. But it marks a big moment. So I hope you enjoy.

Thrass’s hands moved up your bare back as you kissed. His touch was always so delicate and sweet that you wanted those hands everywhere.

“Tell me what you desire,” Thrass said, voice husky.

It had been a week since you officially moved into Thrass’ rooms. Though now it was your rooms, together. Bomarmo smiled knowingly when you informed him you would no longer need yours and would be sharing with the Syndic. It would take some getting used to, having someone there all the time. But this wasn’t like bunking with a fellow junior officer on a ship. There was plenty of room to spread out and Thrass recognized when you needed time to yourself to unwind and recharge.

The best part was having more time for intimate moments like this in your shared bed. You sat in his lap, facing him with your legs wrapped around his girthy torso. You’d already relieved each other of your shirts and your hair was messy from his hands moving through it while you kissed. His hair in turn was falling delightfully from his loose bun.

“What I desire?” you asked.

“Do you want more kisses? A back message perhaps?” Oh, he certainly was good at those and after a grueling day of ranch work was a very welcome prospect. But that was not what you immediately ached for. No, you wanted his hands to explore you more deeply. All this kissing plus the new scarcity of private time stirred up your arousal fiercely. Giving an honest answer to his question felt risky and somewhat selfish. You weren’t even sure how to ask for such a thing.

Stringing together a sentence, you sucked in your lower lip, “I - I want you to touch me,” you said.

It took Thrass a moment to parse your Cheunh, smile widening as he understood. “Ah, you wish for me to pleasure you,” he purred. The way he said ‘pleasure’ sent a jolt of lust through you.

“Y- yes,” you stuttered, shame finally catching up with you.

Thrass’ loving smile sank into concern.. “Are you certain?”

“Mostly nervous,”

“About?”

“The unknown, I suppose.”

“Worried I won’t know my way around?” he chuckled.

“Well, yeah,”

“As I’m sure you noticed, Chiss anatomy is not that different from human. But I’m more worried about you, this is…a bigger step,”

“And seeing each other naked wasn’t?” you grinned at the memory.

“I suppose it was, but this is more…invasive, more like…sex,”

You considered, thinking about his sturdy, yet graceful fingers moving around inside your most guarded places. This wasn’t just a desire, it was a hunger. “But what about you? Are you ready?”

“Truth be told my darling, it’s been a long while since I’ve pleasured anyone…aside from myself, of course,” he said, mischief in his eyes, “I hope I am able to meet your expectations,”

“I mean…I haven’t um been pleasured by someone in a long while either,”

He leaned in close, his breath puffing against your ear. That low, husky voice returned. “I want you to enjoy yourself, but only if you’re ready,”

“I am ready,” you confirmed.

Thrass’ smile became eager, almost wicked, “Then my dear, I am happy to be of service,”

Your mouths entwined again and you could feel his nervous excitement. He teased at your breasts, teasing out sighs and gasps as he rolled your nipple between his fingers. He laid you down onto your back and hovered over you. His eyes were hooded and the glow took on a different quality, like smoldering embers. Looking up at his bare body was like looking up at a clear blue sky. Never had someone’s body captivated you so. It wasn’t perfect nor without the various signs of a life lived. He was simply beautiful, just as he was.
Thrass leaned down to kiss you, your bellies pressing together. The weight of him on top of you made your desire rise to a fever. He pushed back up, strands of hair falling like a curtain. “A question,” he said.

“Yes?”

“How would you like it? With my fingers or…” he kissed you breathily, “…with my mouth?” he asked. Oh, Stars. The fever ignited, immediately flushing your face and your nethers to an embarrassing degree. He chuckled and caressed your jaw. “You are positively radiant, my love.”

“I’m sorry,”

“No, don’t apologize, you’re perfect. So, what is your wish?”

“Both,” you blurted out, “can we do both?”

He chuckled again, “My, greedy are we? Yes, my starlight, we can do both,” He leaned down again to kiss you deeply, your tongues touching as if he was giving you a demonstration.
He kissed down your neck, between your breasts, down your belly and finally just above the hem of your panties. “May I?” You nodded and Thrass slipped the garment off your hips and tossed it to the floor. Thrass took his time, taking in the sight of your body, naked and wanting before him. This wasn’t like the bath, which was more casual than erotic. It had been a long time since you felt so exposed, so vulnerable with another being. Yet you felt you could trust Thrass completely.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yes.”

He scooted off the end of the bed and instructed you to move closer. You spread your legs apart to rest them on Thrass’ shoulders. He ran fingers along your inner thigh, moving tantalizingly close to your center. You watched as his eyes examined you. “Beautiful,” he commented.

He played with your body hair, teasing around your outer lips, every now and then probing a finger shallowly inside. On the next pass, he went deeper, sliding around in your wetness. “My, is all this for me?” he said.

Your ‘yes’ came out as almost a whimper. He explored around, adding in another finger. Then, he found your inner most opening and pushed in a knuckle’s length. The intrusion was surprising and stung slightly.

“Ah!’ you gasped.

“Sorry, love. Not yet?”

“Not yet,” you agreed.

He stopped his exploration and settled finally over your bud. He had it gently between his fingers as he moved them back and forth. The sensation was amazing and you let out little sighs of delight. Thrass chuckled softly. After a moment he removed his fingers. You bucked your hips up, trying to regain the pressure. “Hold on darling, I’m readjusting,” He parted your thighs even further and settled in between them, lining up his face for the act he was about to perform.

“Feel free to stop me at any point, alright?” he said. You nodded. He leaned his face in and you began to see fireworks. His tongue alone dragged whimpering moans from your mouth. You clasped a hand over it so no one else in the house would hear.

You don’t know how long he had you there. Thrass licked and sucked and eventually added his fingers to the mix. He brought you to the edge and then backed off, grinning at you when you begged him to return. By now, you’d begun sweating and your fingers dug into the sheets. He was turning you into a mess of curses and breathless pleading.

“Please, Thrass, let me…”

“Let you what, my love?” he said, taking a brief moment to raise his head up.

“Let me come, please,” you almost were in tears with one hand over your face and the other clutching the sheets for dear life.

“As you command,” he teased before plunging in with abandon. He was going to devour you, body and soul.

The orgasm was all consuming. You were only aware of the explosion of pleasure moving in waves through your body. You didn’t care how much noise you made or how much you squirmed and writhed. Thrass may as well have sent you into orbit.

When you finally stilled, you were nothing but a pile of Naporar noodles. With every deep breath you felt the tingling remnants of what Thrass had done to you. He pulled away and gently moved your legs so they wouldn’t fall off the edge of the bed. He crawled up behind you and pulled you in close.

“How was that?” A string of slurred Cheunh and Basic curses were all you could muster to say and he laughed. “That good?”

“Stars, Thrass, kriffing bloody stars, you said it had been a long time,”

“It has, but time doesn’t seem to have dulled my touch,” he said, sounding pleased with himself.

You sighed, melting further into him and the bed. Maybe it was the afterglow but you were hit with a sudden surge of emotion.

“I haven’t…” you began, “I mean it’s been a long time and…” And…you’d never had real sex. You wanted to tell him, the words just on the tip of your tongue. Sure, it had been a long time since you shared this kind of intimacy with someone but you’d never taken the next step, this was the furthest you’d gone. As with the bath, this was something you felt ashamed never having done. It was stupid. It didn’t exactly matter, not really. But the shame remained. You wanted to tell him, hoped he would understand and not see you differently. He would understand, wouldn’t he?

“And?” he said, nuzzling up into the curve of your neck. You took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“And…Thank you,”

“It was certainly my pleasure,” he said.