From Ashes

by DistantStorm

Summary:

In the past, Eli Vanto rebuilds.

In the present, Mitth'raw'nuruodo goes to war.

In the spaces between, they pick up where they left off.

(Some things change. Others do not.)

Chapter 1: Eksl

Reformation, Year 10

Planet Eksl

Three days after the Battle of Eksleron

Supreme Commander Eli Vanto.

Never before had such a title been utilized by the Ascendancy. It was unlike the titles of supreme admiral and general which had been held by long lines of calculating strategists and compelling leaders. By contrast, the title of commander was relatively low and insignificant in the Chiss command structure. It was the rank of a low-level officer, one who held responsibility and who could be called upon to provide aid in vital operations, but was frequently passed over for captains when it came to leadership opportunities.

The title of lieutenant commander was beneath that. It was the rank of scapegoats and pariahs, the rank most often granted as a consolation prize, for those who had outgrown the rank of senior lieutenant but were not taken seriously enough to make commander. It was a social elevation for some, and damning for others.

The man standing at the window of Cal T’jori’s study had held the rank of lieutenant commander when he willfully and knowingly usurped command of his admiral’s vessel from its captain, declared himself in command of Chiss forces, overrode an order to stand down and disallowed their officers, crew, warriors, and contingent of six navigators to be destroyed by the onslaught that had arrived over Csilla in overwhelming force. He had also willfully and knowingly declared mutiny against the Ascendancy by naming himself in charge of any forces who heeded this same call to the fleet at large.

He stared out at the burgeoning night, watching as the city beyond the palace came to life. In the afterimage of sunset, the Citadel was a distant swath of dark pink-purple dotted with technicolor neon signs and aging yellow lamp-lights. Here, old and new commingled in comfortable harmony.

It would be a beautiful place to die, Thrawn had thought more than once.

And yet the man at the window represented nearly every reason he had left to live.

Breaking the silence between them felt impossible. It felt like sacrilege.

Vanto turned, but his eyes tracked to his right. Behind Thrawn, the two guards that had accompanied him inside returned to their post outside the closed door.

“It’s really good to see you,” He said warmly in Basic. His dark eyes reflected the smile on his lips as he held Thrawn’s gaze.

It felt like a blow. For so long, he had been driven by revenge, by the primal need for justice. His past and future were insignificant blurs of despair, inconsequential compared to the duty he’d been willing to carry out. He had looked forward to the end, to knowing that it was done. That he had done his part, even if his success had only been minor.

In all of it there had been little place for hope. Hope would have been his very undoing.

The need for confirmation surged within him, ugly and desperate. His feet brought him forward without conscious thought, but Vanto was also moving toward him with purpose.

At the last second, he considered that he ought to have clasped his forearm in greeting, or perhaps stood at attention because this man had grown beyond him, had become the leader of his people’s military, and fell still, averting his gaze.

Vanto tilted his head. “Look at me, Thrawn,” He ordered softly. It was firm, but not unkind, which was arguably worse than the alternative. He waited for Thrawn’s compliance, his expression purely neutral.

Thrawn looked. It was an invitation to do so.

Age showed in Vanto’s face, the mild lines at the corners of his eyes, the way his forehead crinkled that little bit deeper when his eyebrows shifted, how his jaw set firmly and he did not bristle or grow anxious under scrutiny. His medium brown hair had become sandier in places as it began to gray. His umber eyes were still as expressive and vibrant as they ever were, despite their deep color, but his gaze had grown harder, absent the fragility of youth.

He hadn’t realized he’d reached out and touched him until Vanto’s hands covered his own, pressed them more intently to his cheeks. The contrast of Vanto’s russet brown skin to Thrawn’s slowly fading blue was so very striking.

He couldn’t pull away. He didn’t want to.

“Supreme Commander Vanto,” He said after what felt like seconds but could have been half an hour, distantly aware of the strain in his voice.

Once, a very long time ago, there had been something between them that they had taken great care to leave undefined. He had never allowed himself to wonder if it could have been something more. Perhaps it had been a spark.

“Eli, Thrawn.” He gently pried Thrawn’s fingers from his face, drawing them together, blue hands bracketed by brown once more. “The people close to me call me Eli.”

Perhaps it had been an everlasting flame.

❧

He didn't realize he'd fallen asleep until he came awake. Alertness brought with it awareness: These were not his quarters but the Calar’s diplomatic suite, that he had not hallucinated his meeting with Eli Vanto or the ensuing hours of conversation, and the discussion with Cal T'jori had indeed been real but also verified.

They had come here after the night's apex, after walking the palace grounds. They had spent hours discussing the life he had lived here, touching only briefly on the one Eli had built. Roughly an hour ago, Eli had taken a comm call in the other room. In his absence, the lack of sleep caught up to Thrawn.

As Thrawn stretched out his neck, Eli emerged from the suite's refresher, his wet hair combed through but not slicked down, left to fall in the tousled look it naturally would.

"It's early," He said. "The council has finished deliberating my proposal and wants to announce their verdict.”

Early was correct. Thrawn’s chrono informed him that it was not yet 0500. "I apologize for occupying—"

His eyes fell to the table in front of the small couch they'd sat on, angled toward each other in conversation. There was a small device there.

The personal holoprojector was indistinguishable from any other; It was mass-produced and commercial and yet Thrawn knew what it was without any trace of doubt.

"Syndulla gave it to me," He said, and Thrawn could picture Eli with the small device, cataloging the life they had lived. It had all been so simple then.

"She and Faro found our refuge on Pantora."

"I told her to have your stored art donated to a gallery," He said by way of confirmation. "I have to hand it to them, they were thorough. I presume they also spoke with my immediate family, whomever's left." The words were spoken without malice, just a statement of fact. When Eli had gone to the Ascendancy, he had done so for his people, but he had also done so with few remaining ties to his past. Given the nature of his family and their core beliefs, it was for the best.

Thrawn rose, picking it up. He turned it over in his hands.

"Hold onto it," Eli said, "If you want." He turned away.

It was a choice, offered without expectation.

Across the room, there were two quiet clinks, the sound of Eli's epaulets clicking into place. Thrawn looked over at him, seeing the almost liquid ripple of fabric as he pulled it from its hangar.

He slotted it beneath one epaulet. Then, in a motion that was both economic and dramatic, he turned back to his things and procured a blood red brooch to secure it to his uniform, letting the black material unfurl.

It was a rich, heavy satin with a meticulously stitched gold stylization of the Paccosh ring that had come into his possession so many years ago.

But instead of the many snakes stretching upward toward the sky, they were angled down, the larger coils stretching across Eli's shoulders, the many snapping heads streaking down his back as if to nip at those who wished to step on his heels.

This had been done for a reason, the sigil arranged in a way that was not meant to show dominance or aggression despite its obvious grandeur. It was a statement. A declaration.

It suggested cunning and subtlety, violence if threatened, and protection.

When he turned back and approached, it was the violent red of the clasp that drew Thrawn’s attention, the color of Chiss eyes. It glittered similarly in low light, made of a kind of precious stone.

“Bit much for my taste,” Eli admitted, gesturing to his vestments, “But it comes with the territory.”

What he meant was that they were made for him personally. Clothing did not make the man. Someone had designed and executed these adornments to fit with their interpretation of him.

He slipped the small holoprojector into his pocket.

“I presume it likewise keeps Ronan happy.”

Eli's face twisted slightly in a subdued grimace. “Yes,” He agreed. “That too.” The expression didn’t linger, though. Eli moved through the space as though it belonged to him, through the wide doors that led from his unused sleep quarters and lounge to the kitchen. “Caccoleaf?”

It was hardly odd for Eli to make him a hot beverage; This had been one of his unspoken duties, one of the ‘hallmarks of a good aide,’ as he was wont to say. It was the scent of caccoleaf that brought him to a different time; A time before Eli Vanto had crossed the path of an exiled Chiss. It had been years.

Eli offered him a mug. “Tell me if I made it wrong,” He said. “I prepared it the way you make Gatalentan tea.”

The caccoleaf could have been underbrewed and poorly filtered and Thrawn was positive that it would still taste like the best caccoleaf he’d ever had. He curled his fingers around the stoneware mug, letting the heat leech into his fingers as he brought it to his lips and sipped at it.

It did not disappoint.

“Yava’ah will likely come looking for you after this meeting,” He said to Thrawn, waiting until he’d finished savoring his first sip of the comforting drink, “Otherwise I’d invite you to stay while I was gone.”

“I do not wish to impose further.”

Eli’s eyes narrowed. “You aren’t,” He said, the words heated in a way that naturally discouraged argument. “I didn’t just come here to make friends and secure resources. I came here for the best military mind to ever serve the Chiss people. We have work to do.”

❧

"Are you okay?" Bridger asked.

Thrawn considered turning the question back on him, however the man was currently devouring his second bowl of noodles at an alarmingly fast pace, suggesting that he was indeed well. Instead, he returned to his meal, taking another bite as he waited for Bridger to elaborate.

"You just seem… different," The Jedi said. His blue eyes were thoughtful in a way that suggested he had called upon the Force to guide his reflection. It was a tool in Bridger's arsenal that Thrawn had grown to recognize.

Thrawn had accepted his inability to understand Bridger’s mysterious abilities. Usually, he spoke of the Force in metaphor. One rather stressful evening for them both, Bridger had told Thrawn he was akin to an ocean, a deep, not entirely fathomable person, with strong emotion hidden at great depths. He hadn’t recalled it after the fact, having been stuck in a fevered state between reality and trance after a particularly strong vision, but when Thrawn had told him about it after, he admitted that it was simply the way he saw Thrawn, the best way he could describe something that transcended everything and yet was unseen by so many.

Ale sloshed over the edge of the mug. It was set in front of Ezra to replace his near-empty glass. The proprietor took with them as they went, calling out that a third bowl would be coming out for Ezra shortly.

The young man was spoiled. Thrawn supposed, in this instance, he had earned it.

“I’m surprised you did not choose to bring Syndulla.”

“She wanted to spend some time with Karyn before she leaves tomorrow,” Bridger replied. “They seemed pretty friendly to me.”

Thrawn nodded. “Karyn Faro is a difficult ally to lose.”

Shrugging, Bridger swallowed audibly—indicating the inelegant quantity of noodles in his mouth—and reached for his ale to wash them down. “You didn’t answer my question,” He said, pointing his utensils in Thrawn’s direction. “Talk to me.”

They weren’t exactly talking people. They discussed missions, but mostly debated dogma and semantics, especially when Bridger was feeling argumentative. Most of the time explanations were demanded point blank because they were needed. That said, Thrawn conceded that they were both naturally curious beings, though Thrawn did his own reconnaissance while Bridger was aggressively straightforward.

Given their recent, mutual betrayal—Thrawn stealing Syndulla’s fighter and leaving her ship adrift in the Chaos; Bridger aiding Pyrondi behind Thrawn’s back, sabotaging the Starflash device that had (according to Cal T’jori) always been meant to be activated, but destroyed before it could be used within the Eksleron System—it was probably for the best that they did this Bridger’s way.

“I was reunited with,” Thrawn took care not to pause too long as he considered what, exactly, he should refer to Eli as, lest he invoke Bridger’s prying into his personal life any more than he naturally would, “An old friend.”

“Oh yeah,” Bridger chimed in. “Eli Vanto, right? Pyrondi told me about him when I,” He paled slightly, no doubt remembering how he’d threatened Pyrondi at the time, “Well, y’know.”

“I was unaware that she mentioned him.”

“I mean, that was why she agreed to betray you, wasn’t it?” His eyes lit up as the third bowl of noodles made its appearance and he dug in as if he hadn’t just put away the first two. A simple, herb-scented tea was placed in front of Thrawn as his own single dish was cleared away.

The logic was sound. T’jori had suggested that their meddling had likewise encouraged her betrayal, and Yava’ah had confided that she was concerned about Pyrondi, given the woman had politely requested that neither Cal intervene on her behalf. Given Pyrondi’s disappearance—none of them had seen her in several days—he had reason to believe that she’d already been picked up by the Chiss and given commendation for her actions in the recent engagement.

Also, while their demeanor couldn’t be more different, Thrawn and Pyrondi had their similarities. Vanto was complementary, especially when it came to coaxing someone to his side. Now that he knew Eli lived, it was so much easier to envision Pyrondi’s conflict, the way she’d closed herself off and done what she knew to be her duty, to be right.

He could imagine Syndulla contacting Eli as Pyrondi went to confront her, but Eli would have waited for the time to be right to intervene. He would have caught her off guard, likely as she left, given short instructions for T’jori to follow up on—

“You’re doing it again,” He said. “What is up with you?”

“I cannot sense this cosmic phenomena that you—”

“Oh, come on. You met up with your friend and now you’re all weird in the Force.”

“Weird how?”

Bridger’s face twisted. “You’re going to tell me it doesn’t make sense.”

“Humor me,” Thrawn invited.

“It’s like… You’re an ocean, right?” Yes, Thrawn supposed, it had to be the ocean metaphor. “Usually you’re really chaotic and unsettled. The Force pokes and presses at you and it’s kind of like a stormy sea,” His expression went pained, the words not apt enough for him, “Or something.” He sighed. “I guess that I was so used to that. Like, I know you were really sad—obviously, given everything—and angry,” He raised his eyebrows in a similar insinuation Thrawn followed but chose to ignore, “And probably a bunch of other emotions—right,” He said, obviously seeing the increasing flatness of Thrawn’s gaze, “Moving on. The point is that you used to be all chaotic and choppy in the Force. Even if you had moments when you weren’t, and even if you are really good at hiding how you feel, literally all the time, I could still sense it—”

“The point, Ezra.”

Calling him by his given name tended to refocus him without issue. “You feel different. Still like an ocean, not entirely understandable, so don’t worry about your air of mystery or anything—” He rolled his eyes when Thrawn didn’t acknowledge his humor, “Just… I don’t know. Like—”

“The desire to live might have something to do with this,” Thrawn mused bluntly.

Bridger flinched. “Uh, yeah, maybe.” He considered Thrawn. “So it’s purpose?”

“I cannot tell you why the Force is telling you whatever it’s telling you.”

Running a hand through his hair, he said, “This is good, though? You’re good?”

Thrawn eyed him for a moment. For all his incredible depths of maturity—he certainly made it known when it counted—the young man still suffered the same pitfalls as Eli had in his youth, still needed some reassurance.

There the similarity ended. It was interesting that the reassurance Bridger required was that of others. It was easier to look without when one accepted what was within. Syndulla’s presence here, while something Bridger desperately craved, was not conducive to the stability of his self-assuredness, even if he had committed himself to his decision and all of them knew it.

Syndulla had always been someone that Thrawn respected. He saw her influence in Bridger more often than he chose to admit. It was impossible not to see now, when Syndulla had come all this way to retrieve him only to let him go, to give him the freedom and independence he required to be a Jedi without exiling him from their unorthodox family.

“I am.” He jut his chin forward, toward Bridger. “You are welcome to join us in our efforts against the Grysks, if you so choose.”

He smiled. It was toothy and betrayed his youth. “Obviously,” He said, knowing that Thrawn was only making the offer because Bridger had already accepted it. “Pretty sure that’s what the Force wanted me to do like ten years ago and all this was just an interesting little side-quest while we got to know each other.”

Thrawn stared at him.

“I don’t exactly understand the Force either.” He held up his hands in mock surrender. “I just do my best to listen.” When Thrawn’s gaze didn’t relent, he grumbled, “Look, it’s not my fault all I had to go off was one really deceptive vision.”

Though it was hardly the first time, Thrawn allowed himself to note that he was incredibly grateful not to be Force sensitive.

❧

When Ezra had said he wanted to meet this Eli Vanto, friend of Thrawn, he had expected it to be in several days. He hadn't expected Vah'nya to be waiting for him inside his quarters off the palace gardens when he and Thrawn parted for the evening, but there she was, perched on the edge of his bed.

He'd cleaned things up before going to find Pyrondi that night (which seemed like forever ago but it hadn't been a week), so it was still clean. Even so, the whole thing felt a little embarrassing.

Maybe that was because he jumped and made a startled, non-verbal sound that definitely wasn't a squeak, then had to suffer the polite inquiry as to why he didn't sense her presence.

But that wasn't the point. The point was that Vah'nya had taken him directly to Eli Vanto, who was apparently a very big deal, if the two very serious guards outside the conference suite were anything to go by. She also made him go alone, which was fine, he wasn't scared or anything, but it would've been nice to get some information first.

At that he promptly decided to stop thinking at all, because now he was sounding like Thrawn in his mind and that was not ideal.

The man who waited for him inside the open expanse of the suite was literally nothing like Ezra pictured. He knew that the man had a Wild Space accent. He knew that he and Thrawn were friends, and that Thrawn acknowledged as much (and usually, it was the other way around).

Vanto wasn't tall, maybe Ezra's own height or a tiny bit shorter. He didn't have the hulking frame of a fighter but his uniform moved with him enough to give Ezra a clear impression of muscle: broad chest, strong shoulders. And, the oddest thing, was that Vanto seemed… nice. He smiled freely, he shook Ezra's hand and introduced himself and even seemed, well, social.

This was the guy who was Thrawn's friend? No wonder. He seemed like he'd be everyone's friend.

Or he did, until they got down to business.

It wasn't obvious. Vanto was warm. Charismatic, even, and approachable in all the way Thrawn wasn't. But there was something else, some hidden dimension to his personality that Ezra couldn't quite figure out, and the Force was being really obtuse about helping him figure it out.

So, he stuck with what he knew. His tried and true methods worked regardless of the Force.

"Why are you showing me all this?" He interrupted on purpose, wanting to see how Vanto would react.

Vanto seemed surprised. "Thrawn doesn't always tell people what they're up against," He said, gesturing to the map. "If you're going to make a choice—"

"Thrawn asked me to help him." Okay so maybe he didn't ask, but in Thrawn-speak 'You are welcome to join me in X' equaled 'Ezra, I desperately require your help.' "I was willing to die for his plan before, why would that change now?"

"You agreed because you felt guilty about the Seventh Fleet," Vanto accused. He stood there, his expression downright calculating. "You wanted to atone."

Ezra bristled. "I did it because it was the right thing to do!"

"Not in the beginning," He challenged.

"I'm not proud of what I did," Bridger said, crossing his arms defensively. "But I did what I could with what I knew. Thrawn doesn't blame me for that and you weren't there, so you don't get to judge."

"Does it matter what Thrawn thinks?"

"He's your friend, isn't he?" Ezra couldn't help it. This guy was irritating him. He was supposed to be getting riled, not Ezra.

Vanto's voice was cool. "He is."

"Do you care what he thinks?"

Vanto smiled, but it was bittersweet. "No," he said. "Not anymore."

Year 0

Csilla Orbit

2 hours 56 minutes before the Collapse

"You can't go down there," Un’hee all but screamed, her voice shrill around the thick sound of her heaving breaths and incessant tears. Quieter, she sobbed, "You can't."

The tantrum was unusual. The clinging was less unusual, but it had never been so obstructive before.

Un’hee had not only escaped her caretakers—again—but she'd also managed to make it to the hangar, all but tackling Admiral Ar'alani and demanding she not leave. She had been so inconsolable that Ar'alani had called for him. Usually, Eli was her secret weapon in these situations.

But today, Eli couldn't seem to do anything.

"She's not normally like this," Eli said, frowning down at her. Normally, one of them could console her.

Ar'alani didn't rebuke him for stating the obvious, suggesting she too had her concerns. She pried the girl's fingers from where they were tangled around her neck, holding her out at arm's length so they would be eye to eye.

"I'll be back before you know it," Ar'alani told her gently. "It will be alright."

"No, it won't," The girl insisted. "Don't leave me. Please."

Ar'alani and Eli shared a helpless look. Un’hee's separation anxiety was as valid as any other Navigator's, though her case was significantly more complicated than a child wanting her caretaker to stay with her during her shift on the bridge. Even so, Aralani was an admiral. She was expected at this joint Council-Syndicure conference. Things were escalating, and the decisions made at this meeting would shape things for years to come.

"Nothing is going to happen to me. Lieutenant Commander Eli Vanto will take good care of you while I'm gone," She promised, shuffling her into Eli's arms, even as she kicked and fought against it. "You know it is true." Softly, she added, "I even have some of those biscuits you like in my office. We can have tea when I get back, just the two of us."

The bribery didn't work.

"Please please please stay here," Un’hee whimpered. "I don't want you to go away."

Eli noted that the girl's forehead was burning against his cheek, the way it did when she approached overload. He frowned. She hadn't been on the bridge in two days and wasn't scheduled for another shift until they left Csilla. He frowned, considering the possibilities. "Admiral, I think—"

"Take care of her until I return, Lieutenant Commander Van'to," Ar'alani said. For a split second, he thought she saw some answering hint of his worry, but it was gone too quickly for him to know for sure. "That's an order."

"I will, Admiral."

She nodded to Eli, placed a hand on Un’hee's head— was meant to be reassurance, but it had only made the girl cry harder—and then she was gone.

"They're going to take her," Un’hee whispered to him in the lift, her tears giving way for bone-deep sadness. He balanced her on his hip, but she was limp against him. "I don't want her to go."

❧

Un’hee hadn't spoken a word since they'd taken the lift out of the hangar, only nodding or shaking her head in response to Eli's questions.

He had spent the last three hours trying to convince himself that it was fine, Un’hee was simply exhibiting textbook separation anxiety. Ar'alani would finish up with the council and return to them, and Un’hee would see that it was okay. Ar'alani would come back.

But there was something about the girl's visceral reaction that he just couldn't shake.

Against Senior Captain Khresh's better judgment, Un’hee had been allowed to take an earlier shift on the bridge, Eli standing in for Un’hee's caretaker thanks to Ar'alani's order. It was the only way he'd been allowed on the bridge for a shift unless he'd been summoned. That had been happening more frequently as of late, but there was a difference between being called to the bridge to consult on strategy and being there to watch the sensors as a situation evolved.

In this situation, it was less like an evolution and more like an explosion.

The ships were on them in all of two seconds, a show of force that dwarfed the Chiss fleet, most of which had been gathered here for the joint conference. If they were responding with these kinds of numbers, there was every chance—

"Give me the numbers," Senior Captain Khresh demanded of his crew. Eli watched them move with brisk efficiency, worry blooming on their faces in tight lines around their eyes and mouths. "Raise the Admiral on comms. Now!"

Eli looked down at Un’hee. "They won't reach her," Un’hee said, sniffing through tears. She was bent forward hugging herself. "They're all gone."

"What?" He spun her chair all the way around, taking her by the shoulders as he crouched. She had yet to open her eyes. "What do you mean?"

The first voice over the comms dwarfed her answer. "Stand down."

Un’hee clapped her hands over her ears, shaking her head. "I tried to tell her, I tried, I—"

"Keep her quiet!" Khresh bellowed, doubling his efforts to reach Ar'alani on comms, demanding explanation.

Something was wrong.

The replies were all the same. The voices were different. Some Eli knew, most Eli did not. With each voice, he watched the crew's composure splinter. These were the voices of the elite, he realized.

“Stand down,” Came the order, from a Grysk warship, from the lips of a Chiss Syndic.

“Stand down,” Came the order from the Ufsa patriarch.

Khresh had gone pale, the comms officers scanning through frequencies. They were all the same.

Stand down. Stand down. Stand down.

Another voice, clearer than the others, came over the bridge speaker. "Stand down," Ar'alani ordered, but her voice was wrong. She should have been concerned. She should've been issuing orders, readying her ship and fleet for battle. She sounded relaxed. At ease.

Blank.

They're going to take her, Un’hee had said. Suddenly, grimly, Eli understood.

It was Ar’alani’s voice, but these weren't Ar'alani’s words.

The voices came like rainfall, constant and varied, voices layered over one another. One spoke and Khresh flopped back into the command chair as if he'd been struck, staring unseeingly at the tactical. “You heard the order,” He said finally.

All around them, it was the same thing. Someone had to do something.

And by someone, Eli knew it had to be him.

"Un’hee," Eli murmured, taking her by the chin. "Look at me. Focus on me. Only me."

She blinked up at him, wide eyes full of terror. He gave her a tight smile.

"I need you to get us out of here." The Grysk ships weren't in range of them yet, which meant they hadn't dropped any gravity wells, and there was still an opportunity for them to escape. "Can you do that?"

She sniffed, trembling. "If we leave, they'll take the planet."

"Yes," Eli agreed solemnly. "They will."

"And everyone down there will—" She didn't finish, but Eli suspected she already knew. "Okay, Eli. I'll find us an escape vector."

"Thank you," He said. "Tell me when you're ready." He considered her. "And if you don't think we can wait, I want you to make the jump."

"How far do you want to go?"

Eli's expression darkened. "Far."

She nodded, turning back to her console, fingers hovering above the controls.

That settled, he looked over to Khresh. “Senior Captain,” Eli heard himself say, over the slowly increasing despair that was flooding the bridge. “Senior Captain,” He repeated, approaching the command chair, mind moving at lightspeed. He needed to get through to Khresh. Khresh was stubborn, but he did listen to his subordinates. Even the Human one.

“Lieutenant Commander Eli’van’to,” Khresh said, his jaw tense, the muscles in his neck visible from the strain of holding his tongue. “Return to your station.”

Eli did not. “They’ve been compromised,” He told the Chiss. “We can’t just—”

“Of course I know that!” Khresh hissed back, the vehemence in his outburst drawing attention to the crew. “Everyone on this bridge knows that! But they are our commanding officers. We cannot just…”

“We have to,” Eli refuted. “We have to go before they launch their gravity well generators. We might have ninety seconds—”

“I cannot deviate from my orders,” Khresh interrupted. “I cannot disobey the admiralty and the syndicure,” He sighed and his many years of service were suddenly visible on his face. “I am Plikh, Lieutenant Commander. One of those voices was my Patriarch. The Ruling Families—”

“Khresh,” Eli said. “If we surrender—”

“I know what will happen,” The older man continued, ignoring the lack of honorifics. Eli looked at him, really really looked at him. He saw the fear and desperation building in his gaze, the way he gripped the armrests in a way that suggested he didn’t want it to be like this. “You are not Chiss. You do not understand the values of our society. We cannot abandon them.”

“Eli?” Came a high-pitched, slightly timid voice. “Eli, I have the vector.”

Eli closed his eyes, his hands and shoulders and chest all but vibrating with the flooding of adrenaline. Maybe he should have wondered what Thrawn would have done, but he didn’t. The situation was as political as it was military.

There were no good options.

There was only what Eli could do. It wouldn’t save all of them. Hell, it probably wouldn’t save most of them. Plenty of the ships had no navigators or else their navigators wouldn’t make it to the bridge in time. Most of them wouldn’t listen to a Human.

But if even one other ship did, those were Chiss that weren’t left in the hands of their foes.

“You’re right, Khresh,” Eli told him. “I’m not Chiss. That’s why I'm relieving you of your command.” He ignored Khresh’s astonished gaping and turned his head toward the comms station. “Un’hee: standby for my order unless you think we’ve run out of time. Comms: Open a line to all ships. Use Ar’alani’s codes, no encryption.”

The comms officer looked terrified. “Senior Captain—”

“You cannot be serious.” Khresh hissed, meeting Eli’s gaze instead of answering his subordinate. “We’re already dead,” He added, loud enough to send more panic through the crew.

Eli couldn’t let it rattle him. “If we don’t act, we die or end up like Ar’alani, your patriarch, and all the rest. Do you really want that? If we act, we may die anyway.” He gave Khresh a meaningful look, and the man withered under his gaze. “If we live, you’ll tell them I had a blade and threatened your life. Your family, and the families of all those who listen will have me executed.”

“They’ll never listen to you.”

“Probably not,” Eli agreed. He reached for the button on the command chair that activated the audio receiver. He didn’t bother to displace Khresh as he continued, “But I have to try.” Another gaze in the direction of the comms. “Where’s my comm channel?”

“I’ve got it,” came a slightly softer Chiss voice. One of the weapons officers leaned over the comm officer’s shoulder, toggling the comm. Eli had seen him before. Laknym, he thought, and cataloged the man’s name for later. “Okay,” Laknym said, doing an admirable job of hiding the tremor in his words. “You’re up.”

Eli took a breath, not allowing himself to marvel that he really was doing this. There would be time to second guess himself later, time for Eli to berate himself for usurping command and taking control of a fleet he wasn’t ready to command. There would be time, if they lived.

No, he chided himself. Don’t think of the grim reality. Think of the people you need to protect. Evaluate, act, adapt, repeat. He could do this. He had to do this.

“To all Chiss vessels: This is Commander Eli’van’to of the Defense Fleet Warship Steadfast. Ascendancy leadership is now under Grysk control. As such, I hereby declare all EDF vessels to be under my command. I order you to make the jump to lightspeed immediately. Do not utilize any mapped hyperlanes and do not relay your destinations. I repeat—”

Chapter 2: Battle Plans

Reformation Year 10

Hyperspace; The Steadfast

45 Hours to Home-Away

"You've got to be kidding me," Bridger said, eyeing the map. "Is that even possible?"

Thrawn's fingers fanned over his chin as he considered the map. Eighteen months.

Eli wanted Csilla in eighteen months, he wanted Thrawn to take it for him, and he wanted the rough outline of a campaign drafted by the time they reached their destination, less than two days from now.

"There are supply routes that our forces can use to sneak in and out unseen," Thrawn murmured, but even then, "It will likely be twenty four or thirty months before we can feasibly attempt to seize Csilla, and success is hardly guaranteed."

The younger man's lip curled. "So why didn't he say that?" Bridger paced back and forth, eyes darting back and forth across the three dimensional image of the Ascendancy, trying to make sense of it.

Thrawn waited for the pacing to stop, for Bridger to remove himself from the spiral of his emotions before he spoke. "How many of our plans have gone according to the initial timeline?"

That was enough to shift the defensive expression and posture Bridger defaulted to into something more thoughtful. He frowned. "But why not give a reasonable timeline? We already know it's going to take a lot longer, why not say so?"

"An interesting question," Thrawn switched off the map and pulled up a live feed that showed the hangar. Clawcraft were being worked on, containers were being moved and supplies distributed. The hustle and bustle of daily life aboard a warship was a balm to Thrawn, but Ezra Bridger had only seen glimpses of that life through Syndulla, who had never commanded more than a fighter squadron and her own ship in Bridger's presence. "Our most recent work has made use of smaller groups. How many people work out of that hangar?"

"A hundred?" he answered, unsure. "Not including the pilots."

Thrawn eyed him.

"Two hundred?"

He waited.

"Three—wait, no—five hundred? Really?"

"Eight hundred," Thrawn corrected, "At least." He returned them to their original topic. "The point is that there are nearly twenty thousand crew aboard this ship. Indicating that we have a loose timeline takes away from the urgency of the situation. We must strive for the timeline given, making only necessary concessions."

Bridger thought it over, but eventually nodded. "Okay," He said, accepting it. "But how do you even plan something like this? It's not like we can just show up to Csilla—" It took him two tries to get the map back on the display, but he made a triumphant sound when he figured out the controls, "And take over?"

"The same way any other objective is achieved."

He frowned. "Just on a bigger scale?"

"A much larger scale,” Thrawn confirmed.

The Jedi hummed, and Thrawn could hear the beginnings of the question as he figured out how to ask. "So how do you approach it? If you have a fleet, it's got to be multiple forces converging on a single target?"

"That is one way," Thrawn allowed. "Too many separate objectives can draw away from unit cohesion. If your forces are spread too thin, there is an increased likelihood of failure at a critical juncture." He looked at the map, giving Bridger time to consider another possibility.

The younger man had decent tactical aptitude. His leadership skills and curiosity, when added to his insight, emotional maturity, and instincts made him formidable. And, of course, he had the Force with him, like an invisible hand guiding his will.

Bridger squirmed in his periphery. "If there's too many moving pieces you'd need to move slowly, keep things more simple, so you can reassess as needed," He puzzled aloud.

Thrawn nodded. Bridger seemed to brighten up at the confirmation that his reasoning was sound.

"So taking Csilla means we need to take a bunch of other planets, too?"

"Ideally."

"So we should probably work off a hyperlane, right? There have to be some reasonably safe routes through the Ascendancy given that a whole people have lived there for—" He looked at Thrawn.

"Several millennia," Thrawn said. "That is an apt conclusion. It would certainly make travel much safer, but also leaves us open to attack."

"But wouldn't it be easier for our allies to render aid?"

Thrawn turned his sharp gaze in Bridger's direction. "What allies are those?"

The Jedi flushed. "I mean, the Compendium has some resources, and Hera mentioned these people with pink skin and feathered crests that came to her and Faro's rescue when you guys bailed on them."

"I was unaware that the Paccosh were involved," He commented. "What else did Syndulla say?"

It was a testament to how long they'd been working together that Bridger cut right to the details.

"Not much, just that Vanto came to pick them up and held some kind of public execution in their hangar. She seemed to think it had something to do with Un’hee, but she didn't really want to talk about all that considering what the Grysks did to her."

Thrawn's eyes narrowed further.

Bridger met him dead on. "Yeah, I didn't think anyone told you about that. Apparently after you guys left the Ghost, the Grysks found them. Un’hee and Vah’nya had also been captured, somehow, and freed them from Grysk control." He sighed, the preface to a greater admission. "She told me to be leery of him. Vanto."

Shutting off the display, Thrawn thought about that, and about what Ezra hadn’t said, the indication that he agreed with her. There were a great many unknowns, and Syndulla’s reticence was understandable and expected. By contrast, Bridger’s distrust could have implications later. It would need to be addressed. "What else did she say?"

"That the Grysks were afraid of the two of you working together, that Ronan guy designed a smaller version of the Death Star…" he crossed his arms. “We saw them use it. That part’s concerning, you know it is.”

“I am aware.” Thrawn gestured with an outstretched arm toward the door. “Come with me.”

There were no great gardens aboard the ship to mill through at night, but the upper desk had a host of displays and viewports looking out at the darkness of space and speckling of stars in the distance. They were moving at sublight speeds for now, indicative of a shift change. It would likely be anywhere from twenty minutes to an hour before a more rested Navigator sent them on their way.

Bridger followed along beside him, his expression shifting to one of awe at the green-black-purple sight of a distant nebula. He had always been reverent of space, as far as Thrawn could tell.

"Being in command of a large force is different from commanding a smaller task force. Especially one at war," Thrawn began. Bridger, of all his assumed students, was the one who required him to be the most forthcoming. It was taxing. "The decisions made are difficult, and the consequences of those actions have significant impact. Often, the choices aren't between a good and bad choice, but the lesser of two evils." Thrawn gave him a pointed look. "I know you have faced many choices like that."

He sighed. "You want me to trust him."

"I do."

Bridger nodded his acknowledgement but said, "He and I talked on Eksl.” That it didn’t end well went unsaid. Eli had never said anything, and yet it was there, on Bridger’s face. “He said he didn't care what you thought."

Thrawn knew what Bridger wanted. He wanted his uncertainty cast away, and he wanted light and transparency in their current situation. He wanted Thrawn to question Eli in order to force the truth to light.

Ezra Bridger often forgot that his allies were decades older than him, and this sort of uncertainty had been Thrawn's operating procedure for years.

As for Eli Vanto, Thrawn both wanted and needed to know more, it was true. But he would not judge the man on the words of others. Certainly not ones as unimportant as these.

"There comes a time in every warrior’s life when they must cast aside the shadow of their mentor," Thrawn advised him. "I shaped Eli Vanto's career from the time he was an Imperial cadet until the time he left for the Ascendancy, nearly fifteen years later."

"So shouldn't he care more?"

"A leader must make difficult decisions," Thrawn reiterated. "Ones that may conflict with their personal beliefs, or else ones that appear to be incorrect on the surface."

"But if that's what you'd do, it should all line up," He pointed out.

"I am Chiss," Thrawn said quietly. "Eli Vanto is human. It is my belief that he could not have achieved what he has by solely relying on my lessons." He considered the stars, "Nor am I a paradigm of leadership."

"Right," Bridger said doubtfully. "And I'm Jabba the Hutt." The younger man glared at him. "You—"

"Sell yourself short," a soft, Chiss voice said at the same time as Bridger. Thrawn turned to see Vah'nya there, her arms crossed. "My apologies for intruding on your discussion," she said. "I see I am not the only one who comes here for a moment of reflection."

She didn't come to attention, though her nod in his direction was meant to show respect.

"How much of the conversation have you overheard?" Thrawn asked.

Flushing, she said, "Enough to address some of the Jedi's concerns?"

Bridger scowled. "So all of it?"

"All of it," she confessed. To Bridger, she added, "I knew Eli before he assumed this role." Her lips curled in a sad smile, her gaze locking onto his. "Eli had always been eager to please, and so easily crestfallen. He wanted very much to be the kind of officer that inspired others, that his mentor would be proud of." At that, she looked away. "I watched Eli make difficult choices. He's done horrible things—and he will be the first person to admit as much. He's quieter than he used to be, meaner than I ever knew he was capable of being, but someone has to do these horrible things if we are ever to regain what we have lost."

"Like what?"

Vah'nya looked at Ezra. "It is a capital crime to kill a Navigator. This has been Chiss law for millennia."

"They're kids, so obviously."

"I made him swear that he would kill me if I was to be taken by the Grysks," She said. "Even if they don't change your mind, even if they only reach inside it and…" She shook her head, too emotional to continue the thought. "We didn't know we had the power to stop or reverse the hold our enemies had on us, in the beginning. And even if we did, it was kill or be killed." Her gaze grew cold. “And Eli was not Chiss, so—”

"He had to be the one," Ezra said.

"He had no other choice." Vah'nya agreed. "It was part of the reason why most would not usurp his command, in the beginning."

"He was their scapegoat," Thrawn said blandly.

"Yes." She squeezed her upper arms as if hugging herself. "He has done horrible things in the defense of our people. Does doing something bad for a good cause negate that evil?"

Thrawn inclined his head. "You've grown wise, Chief Navigator."

She nodded. "Thank you, Admiral."

Bridger was doing what he called mental gymnastics. "I think I need to meditate on this," he admitted.

"As you wish," Thrawn said. "I merely request that you give him an opportunity to earn your trust."

Bridger did not linger, no doubt some combination of distrustful and eager to lay this recurring emotional dilemma to rest. Bridger had faced this moral contradiction before with Thrawn, and had ultimately made similar decisions of his own—his actions at Lothal had been laid to rest, but it's ghosts would forever haunt him—so Thrawn knew he would eventually come around.

"Syndulla did not appreciate Eli withholding information about our weapons," Vah'nya said into the silence. Without Bridger there, her defensive posture fell away. "Un’hee attempted to discuss this with her after the fact, but she was unwilling to speak with her one on one."

"It is not Un’hee's place to justify such things."

"Her father's honor is important to her," she said, turning toward Thrawn to gauge his reaction.

Year 0

Hyperspace; The Steadfast

29 hours after the Collapse

There were tears on Un’hee's face. Eli took great care to pull his tunic sleeve over his fingers, using the cool black fabric to wipe her face.

She was trembling, her eyes sunken and her expression one of obvious pain. He should have pulled her out sooner, but she had resisted. He himself had dozed in the command chair for a short while, guarded by a watchful ally in Laknym and a reluctant one in Khresh. When Un’hee finally pulled them out, they were deep in a nebulous asteroid field, somewhere safe but entirely without knowable touchstones. In short, Eli didn't know where they were. He only knew that he needed to trust Unhee's instincts, that she had taken it upon herself to make sure they were safe.

Vah'nya was waiting for him at the entrance to the Navigator's section. "Is it true?" She demanded as they entered.

Un’hee groaned and squirmed, her hands clawing at her head and ears. Eli hushed her, squeezing her closer to him, letting her shove her face into his chest.

"She needs time to recover," he said softly, chin jutting out to indicate the girl.

"The sensory deprivation pods are down the hall."

Together they headed in that direction. Vah'nya's demand for answers was heavy in her gaze, the weight of it like a pressure upon his back.

It would have to wait. He carefully deposited Un’hee in the pod, but her tired eyes opened to slits and her hands reached up, grabbing his. Her grip was nearly painful.

"Un’hee, you need the pod," Vah'nya cooed gently. "You are having an overload spell. It will make you feel better."

"No," she said, whimpering with the effort of speaking. "No p-pod."

Eli looked between them, and, on instinct, lifted the girl back out of it.

"Eli," Vah’nya hissed, "She needs—"

"What do you need, Un’hee?" he asked. "Can you tell me?"

For most Navigators, sensory deprivation would have been the best and easiest way to curb the side effects of overload. Protocol dictated he put her in for six hours, minimum. But things were in a way where protocol was particularly useful.

There were few protocols for a situation in which the entire governing structure you serve has been overrun.

In fact, Eli had been making it up as he went.

Thin arms wrapped around his neck. "This is all my fault," Un’hee cried into his neck. "I tried, but—"

"It is not," he insisted. "You did well."

He could hear Ar'alani's name in the frustrated, near intelligible sobbing that ensued and tightened his hold. The metaphor to a Human baby probably wasn't entirely appropriate, given that Un’hee had just faced a situation that even an adult would balk at, but he likened it to comforting one anyways, taking to a gentle rocking and pacing around the perimeter of the room.

On his second pass, Un’hee—the poor thing was already so exhausted—had mostly quieted though she clung to him desperately. He found himself confronted with Vah'nya.

"It's true, isn't it?" she asked, the words barely above a whisper. "It's all gone."

Eli cradled the back of Un’hee's head and neck in the palm of his hand, carefully adjusting her weight as not to jostle her too much. She seemed to burrow into him, as if he could protect her from the horrors of the galaxy. He wished he could.

"Not gone," he said softly. "Worse."

They weren't soothing words; Unhee's grip on him tightened painfully. But they were honest. And right now, honesty was important, no matter how difficult the truth was to face.

Vah'nya's expression was one of absolute horror. "But how? Ar'alani went planetside—" She looked at Unhee, then up at Eli. "No," She said. "Tell me it's not true."

"We've disconnected every tracking mechanism and long distance comm relay, so we’re reasonably certain we can't be tracked. They'll have our last trajectory out of the system, but Un’hee popped in and out five different times to shift our vector."

"Eli," Vah’nya stressed. "Please."

He forced himself to hold her gaze. "It was a trap. There was nothing she could've done. The council summoned her."

"She can't be gone."

"She isn't." Eli hated the hopeful look in her eyes, hated seeing it die when confronted by the grim truth in his own. "She lives on in all of us."

Vah'nya leaned against the pod and wept. Eli couldn't blame her. He hadn't fully processed the emotional ramifications of the situation for himself, personally, and probably wouldn't for at least another day. His priority had been securing the ship from harm, confirming the resources they had aboard would hold, and rigging the ship entirely for stealth.

Csilla had been lost. The size of the Grysk invasion fleet—that's what it had been, and Csilla was hardly its only goal—was not one the Ascendancy could readily compete with. They were setting up for residency, the long term.

The Chiss might see this as the coward's way, and he would accept whatever punishment came for his decisions without hesitation.

Except, he didn't really expect it to come. The Ascendancy was gone. The message had been loud and clear. Those people, the upper echelon that had been called to Csilla? They were gone. The admiralty—the council, and the government—the Syndicure, it was gone. Those people wouldn't live. Eli knew that. The easiest way to destroy the Chiss would be to topple their socio-political structure and let them do the rest to themselves.

It was why he had acted. He had hoped that someone like Khresh might understand and take the reins, but—

"It has to be you, Eli," Un’hee whispered.

He looked down at her, chin tucked to his chest, but she was already asleep, her body giving out.

He put the hand that had been cradling Un’hee's head on Vah'nya's shoulder. He wanted to tell her that it would be alright, but his version of alright wouldn't match hers.

Right now, the name of the game was survival and reconnaissance. Damage control. They couldn’t have been the only ship that made it out, nor could every single ship in the Ascendancy be recalled to Csilla. There had to be others. Someone would step forward, and Eli would do everything in his power to help them destroy the Grysks, once and for all.

But that was for later. "Khresh and I need to go through Ar'alani's things," he told Vah’nya, shifting Un’hee’s weight on his hip. "I could use your help."

Vah'nya blinked at him as if in a fog. "What?"

"Come with me," he said, intending to keep her close until the shock wore off. "You can watch Un’hee while we work."

"I cannot go in there," she balked. "The admiral—"

"The admiral needs you to be strong for your sister navigators, and the rest of our people. We're all scared, Vah'nya, but we cannot give into that fear and hopelessness. That's how they win."

Slowly, surely she came around, nodding nervously. Ar'alani had been her defender, someone she trusted absolutely. Eli was grateful that Vah'nya hadn't been on the bridge to hear her voice lent to the cause of their enemies.

He would never forget it, for as long as he lived.

He had made his choice to defend the Chiss people the day he had accepted the mission Thrawn had offered him, knowing that the evil he described would not be satisfied with the conquering of the Chiss. An evil like that demanded tithe and tribute, demanded more and more until the entire galaxy was ripe with it.

And when that evil came, it came to take out the Chiss in a way that would cripple them, subjecting them to their greatest fears and inconceivable nightmares, robbing them of their hope, exactly as they had to Un’hee. It had turned proud warriors into soft puppets. It had robbed them of their strong, stubborn nature.

The Grysks had seen victory over the Chiss, it was true. He’d seen the missives that had been sent en masse to the crew, the orders to stand down, the orders to subject themselves to this nightmare. He didn’t regret his choice, even if he knew he wasn’t prepared for it. He would face those consequences, with as much grace as possible, whatever they were. But for now, his objective was simple. He needed to protect his people, both from external forces and within themselves.

The Chiss were afraid, and rightfully so. But Eli was not Chiss. In this moment, he was not afraid.

He was angry.

Chapter 3: Home-Away

Reformation Year 10

Home-Away

“Eli, Thrawn is here,” Un’hee said, rising to her feet and making for the door a couple seconds before the request for entry came in. She looked over her shoulder at him, but was already hitting the unlock as he nodded his assent.

Thrawn blinked down at her in surprise, his fingers likely still pressed against the biometric scanner, but he recovered quickly as she pivoted, waving him in.

The trappings of a military leader, even in a place that was exactly as it was named and thereby meant to be temporary, were excessive. He had found the luxury was hardly suited to their situation, and yet the purpose it provided others—the boost to their morale especially—made it tolerable.

Eli had kept his distance these last several days. He wanted Thrawn to make his own assessments, to get to know the crew of what was going to be his ship from this point on and to note any issues or discrepancies in Eli's leadership style or policy that needed revision.

Here, on Home-Away, things would be different. Eli needed Thrawn close. He needed people to see them together, for any old prejudices to be brought to light if need be and quickly swept away.

He could not afford some great coup because someone thought Thrawn was a liability.

"Admiral Mitth’raw’nuruodo," Un’hee said, a small smile curling her lips.

"Navigator Un’hee," He replied, cordial.

Her expression was shuttered and guarded when she stepped aside to let him in, obviously unprepared for the coolness of his natural state of being.

"Good afternoon, Thrawn," Eli said, abandoning his rather stately desk and the mess of questises there. "Ready to go?"

He nodded.

Un’hee tilted her head in his direction. "Yes, Un’hee, you're with us," He clarified for her benefit.

Before all this, his political experience was limited to dealing with court-martials and doing his best to curb any blunders on Thrawn's behalf. That was not enough experience to be qualified to rule a people—martial law be damned—but here they were, ten years out. He had stopped second guessing himself in this role. This was what they had wanted, and this was what they would get.

Which meant Un’hee was stuck with him at a variety of social and political functions. Neither of them particularly enjoyed the squabbling and pettiness of politics, but it wasn’t all bad.

He had tried to set good, reasonable expectations for her growing up, exposing her to a variety of viewpoints and beliefs, all in the name of allowing her to make her own decisions. She was wise beyond her years, her empathic tendencies shining through and making her a natural at grasping the more subtle issues behind a larger argument. Eli had coached her through lessons he’d learned from men like Thrawn and Yularen, ones he’d taken to heart as he struggled to find his way from backwater outcast to a commander worth his rank.

Even now, Unhee's posture straightened the way he'd taught her: straight back, level shoulders, chest high. He nodded at her, letting his pride show in his face.

She grinned at him. "Home-Away is really beautiful," she said conversationally to Thrawn while Eli retrieved his cape. He had to give her credit for trying to make conversation with the full scrutiny of Thrawn's gaze upon her.

She knew Thrawn through Eli: The smartest, strongest warrior Eli had ever met. But Un’hee also knew him as someone Eli found infuriating and elusive, difficult to figure out, yet considered a valued ally; even a friend.

And of course, she'd tried to romanticize the stories he'd told her in her early teens, knowing him well enough to know that Thrawn had ruined him for anyone else. It always made Eli incredibly exasperated, but he’d entertained her both because she deserved to speak freely with him, to question and prod at him, but also, to a far more subtle degree, it was true.

Thrawn was a force of nature, a force for change, and beneath all those layers, he was a good man who made difficult decisions despite the cost to himself.

He turned back to discover that Thrawn was engaged in a staring contest with his daughter.

For a moment, he considered mentioning that out of everyone, their objectives were the most aligned. They were both protective of him. While he appreciated that, he could also defend himself. They were both important to him. It wasn't a competition, nor was he some territory to be claimed.

And yet, he had been trained by a warrior and raised one in return. Some battles were not his own.

He'd let them work it out amongst themselves.

❧

Home-Away, Thrawn learned, was not limited to the well shielded and concealed station that housed tens of thousands of military personnel, workers, and a rather ingeniously designed shipyard within the natural shielding of an asteroid riddled nebula that encircled a dying star.

"I found it," Un’hee explained as the shuttle took them down to a planet he hadn’t been able to see from the station itself. Within the planet's atmosphere, the sky itself resolved into an aurora-like visage of gold and amber, stars twinkling in the distance. "We needed somewhere safe while we were dodging Grysk-aligned vessels, and I put us on the other side of the nebula. The approach from the outside, where we came from, is much easier but a good Navigator can approach it from most vectors without issue. The problem is that the Navigator also has to take them in at sublight speeds for the final approach—"

"So you are able to see an enemy coming," He noted.

"Right,” She continued. “Which means other ships also have to come in blind, with only their pathfinder or WayCarver to guide them. Of course, it's impossible to find us—"

Eli tutted. "There's no such thing as impossible, Unhee."

She shrugged. "Well even if they did, a strong defense is an even stronger offense," She retorted. “And you had engineers make those fancy emission sensors Ronan designed that charge with the electromagnetic pulses caused by dust scatter since the particulate is so thick. Attacking Home-Away is a blunder, and they know it.”

“They had an invasion fleet fully prepared to move on Home-Away,” Eli reminded her. “They know where we are.”

“Yes, and Samakro was kind enough to trounce them.” she frowned. “Did they really know where we are?”

“The vector suggests that they do,” Thrawn confirmed. He’d read Samakro’s report, and har been on the bridge with Admiral Khresh as they passed through Ziinda’s fleet.

“Our defenses—”

“Aren’t infallible,” They said at the same time, Un’hee glowering at Eli, who’s eyes danced with mirth.

She sighed, her tone suggesting that she had heard the words enough times to repeat them verbatim. “It’s good to be confident, but to suggest you are unbeatable is foolish.”

“You do listen to me,” Eli remarked.

Un’hee bristled. Crossing her arms, she spat, “Obviously I listen to you, Eli. But morale—”

Thrawn huffed, quietly amused. “I assure you that my morale is higher than it has been in years, Navigator Un’hee,” he said, looking out the viewport at the planet as they approached, though he was pretty certain he’d caught Eli smiling in his periphery. “Please, continue your debrief. I have not seen where we are going.”

“You won’t,” She said. “Not from the air.”

They flew toward a jagged mountain range. The planet itself had no true indicator of night or day, the sky dark from the way the twisting gas and dust of the nebula diffused light from the sun. Instead, it seemed like eternal night, with the pale glow of particulate shimmering beyond the atmosphere like a surreal starry sky.

For a moment, Thrawn expected one of the peaks to yield for them, but it was the base of the mountains that parted, a jagged stone formation at the foot of the mountains giving way to reveal a deep chasm.

The tunnel was lit with pale, glittering light, possibly bioluminescent lanterns—they were moving too quickly to tell. Five minutes later, the shuttle began to slow.

What he had thought were lanterns he now saw up close. They weren't bioluminescent. They were crystals.

When the shuttle touched down, it was into a hangar that looked like any other Defense Fleet base Thrawn had been to. The doors and lighting inside was the same. However, the military base was not their final destination.

Eli led them outside, into a transparisteel capsule-like lift that descended to an underground metropolis.

It was not Csilla. Csilla was proud and old, full of art and tradition. This city was dark, like an underground mining town, yet it had the ambiance of neon lights and crystals, had buildings built into the stone that rose up all around them, and an underground lake that shimmered blue beyond the city's lower levels. It felt small despite its sprawling size.

"All this was built in ten years?" He asked.

"The original cavern was the area over by the lake," Eli explained. "All of the nyix used to build our ships has come from beneath the planet's surface. On the other side of the mountains is a volcano, and we've managed to harness natural energy in refining the metals. If you want, I can show you."

He could feel Un’hee's eyes on his face. "There are roughly two point eight million Chiss living in the City of Light," She said. "The total population of this system is about three point four—"

"Three point seven," Eli corrected.

"Nice," Unhee commented. "I take it Wutroow’s been making more friends."

"Something like that."

Thrawn leaned forward taking in the scene, his fingers curled tightly around the handrail set at waist height. There were crystals set into the ceiling, massive glow-rod style stalactites, and distant, answering glittering from much smaller formations in the distance.

"Are the crystals—"

"They're kyber," Eli confirmed. "Ronan has done extensive testing on them. They're a relatively brittle subtype, one that wouldn't have stood up to the level of energy demanded of Krennic's project."

"But we still use them for our weapons," Thrawn surmised.

Eli nodded, his eyes similarly cast toward the city. "We monitor the crystals, but can get roughly five to ten uses out of them, for up to three minutes at a time. Our weapons have a sensor package that determines the state of the crystal between uses, though we've only ever used them in battle once."

"And your stockpile of these crystals?"

They exchanged a look. Significant, then. Thrawn turned back to the city. He was no expert on city planning or construction, and it was obvious that construction was still ongoing, but the city looked as though it had been present for decades, at least.

Eli's fingers curled over top of his hand. "I know it's a lot," He said as the shuttle reached the bottom. "I admit this whole day is going to be a lot," He added, his smile gentle.

"I anticipated as much," Thrawn said, pulling back and rising to his full height. "What you've done here is incredible."

"It wasn't me," Eli answered. "This city is a testament to the strength and resilience of the Chiss people."

Un’hee scoffed, muttering something too quietly to be heard.

"What did you say?" Eli asked flatly. His eyes had narrowed, while Un’hee's expression had gone nearly serene and angelic.

"Nothing, Eli," Un'hee said calmly. "Admiral Thrawn will see soon enough."

Year 0

Uncharted Nebula, Unknown Regions

7 Months After the Collapse

Un’hee climbed up onto the command chair, sat herself on Eli's lap and curled up, tucking her head beneath his chin. The brown hand that had been drumming silently against the armrest stopped to embrace her and the drumming turned into gentle circles on her back and shoulder. She yawned into his tunic.

"Sleep, Un’hee," He murmured.

She wanted to. She wanted to, very much. But sometimes, sleep didn't come, no matter how tired she was.

So eventually, when sleep hadn't come, she turned her head the other way and looked out at the bridge. Everyone was quiet. The lights were set to night-cycle, dim and dark. People were generally more quiet these days, which made sense, but there were still quiet conversations happening in the corner. Eli's chin rose for a moment, and he spoke softly to the sensor officer, but whatever the concern had been, it was mild. She would have listened, but she'd caught sight of what he was working on, on his questis.

She repositioned herself so she could lean closer, one of her smaller hands latching onto his wrist for balance, trying to make sense of it.

"What are you working on, Eli?"

He sighed. She drifted forward and back with the motion of his breath, like how she imagined a wave would feel from the vids she'd seen of an ocean. "Working on our supplies," he said quietly.

"Doesn't the Steadfast have enough supplies?" She asked, whispering the question to match his volume.

"We do," he confirmed. "But we can't only think about ourselves. There are other ships out there who weren't resupplied before the Collapse, and a lot of refugees who need our help."

Un’hee had heard Vah'nya talking to their caregiver. They had found a ship of refugees earlier that day, but the crew was reluctant to trust anyone after the encounter they'd had three days earlier.

That encounter was one Un'hee had been on the bridge for. More than that. She'd been balanced on Eli's hip, felt the thundering of his heart and the way he had shaken as he'd given the crew their orders. Orders to destroy the ship and any escape pods. Orders that included killing children. Her fellow navigators. She'd known it had to be done. The ship had ambushed and attacked them, the officers demanding they surrender themselves to high command and return to Csilla.

She also knew that every person aboard the Steadfast who was associated with a greater or ruling family had received orders that demanded their submission. Eli had said there was something to be extrapolated—whatever that meant—from that, but nothing more.

He was under a lot of stress. She could tell.

"So," He said, lips compressing as he tried to find a way to say it that she could understand, "I'm not very good at being in charge of people—"

"That's not true," she argued.

"It is. I don't have a lot of experience being in command, especially not on a Chiss ship." She didn't like it when he was mean to himself, but right now he didn't sound like he did when he got like that. "What I do know how to do—and what isn't much different, no matter where I am—is supply and logistics." He took her hand and maneuvered it so that they were tracing the lines on the map. "We need supplies and materials to set up a refugee camp. Taking care of our people has to be our first priority."

"But where can we set up one of those? Don't we need a planet or something?"

"We have one," Eli said, tilting his head. He smiled at her and she felt warm inside and out. "You led us right to it."

❧

"Get up."

In his cabin, bristling per usual, Brierly Ronan glowered at his visitor.

He gesticulated dramatically as he replied. "Have your overseers finally decided to question me?"

Eli had known Ronan would be like this. His expression didn't change. The cabin was basically a prison cell. They brought him meals and menial tasks and let him languish his life away in solitude.

"So," He said, as Eli took him by the arm and led him out of his room, "Admiral Ar'alani—"

"Ar'alani is gone," Eli said. The words came out hostile and sharp. Ronan recoiled under his hand.

"Then who—?"

"Me." He stopped walking, meeting the other man's pale gaze with a quarter turn of his head. "Do you want to live?"

"Excuse me?” Ronan didn't squeak, but he did back away from Eli reflexively, before stepping in close. His voice dropped to a fraction of its former volume. "You've finally decided to defect from this insanity. About time." He nodded to himself. "Are we going back to the Empire? Obviously Thrawn is out, but Director Krennic…" Eli leveled him with a glare that made him stop in his tracks. "What is it?"

Eli didn't speak until they made it to the admiral's—now his—office, which was not the hangar as Ronan had obviously been expecting.

A stone-faced Khresh waited for them, one hand on his sidearm. In his chair behind the desk sat Vah'nya, her arms crossed over her chest.

Neither of them liked the plan, though for their own reasons. Khresh thought it too risky, while Vah’nya thought it was not risky enough. She thought they should extend trust without threats.

Eli's compromise was that Khresh's weapon was set to stun. He wouldn't relish killing Ronan, but he would order it if necessary.

"Sit down," Eli said, taking Ronan by the shoulder and guiding him to the chair directly across from Vah'nya. "I'm going to give you some difficult news," He continued. "News our scouts just brought back from Lesser Space."

"What kind of news?" Ronan demanded.

Eli pulled up the holorecordings. First: The Imperial version from Coruscant. Then, the self-proclaimed New Republic's version.

When it was done, Ronan's face shifted from Vah'nya to Khresh, to Khresh's weapon, to Eli. "Why are you showing me this?" He asked, voice brittle.

"They're going to lose the war," Eli said. "And even if they didn't—"

"Krennic is dead," Ronan said softly.

“Most likely.”

He fixed Eli with a pleading look. “And Thrawn?”

Eli shook his head.

Vah'nya spoke for him. "He is also presumed dead."

"Presumed?"

"He has been missing for a year," Khresh added in his own half-garbled version of the Human tongue. "He would be here if he were alive."

"How do you know for sure? Maybe he's working on some private project for Palpatine since they're so close," he sneered. "Maybe he and Ar—"

Eli slapped a palm down on his desk. Vah'nya twitched before he moved his hand, Ronan jumped after he impacted the desk. "I don't give a damn about Palpatine or his empire," He said sternly, voice raised but not yelling. "What I want to know is if you're willing to help us fight the Grysks."

"If I say no, you'll kill me," he said, jerking his chin in Khresh's direction. "Trust has to be given to be earned."

Khresh started to speak but fell silent when Eli held up a hand. He looked disgruntled. Eli didn't blame him. Dealing with Ronan was less than ideal.

"Fine," Eli said. He retrieved a small hunk of crystal from his pocket, watching as Ronan's eyes went wide. "I know you know about energy weapons. Tell me everything you can about this stone, and I'll answer your questions."

The other human took the crystal, turning it end over end, eyeing it closely, even biting it. He looked up at Eli. "Where did you get this?"

"I'm not answering that until you give me information."

"Have you done any testing on it?"

"Some," Eli said ambiguously, motioning for Vah'nya to pull up the report. She did, and Ronan snatched the device from her hands. "But I figured you were the expert."

❧

"I don't like this," Khresh said, when Vah'nya dismissed herself, still displeased about the way they'd handled things.

"If you have a better option, let's hear it."

Khresh didn't.

Un’hee curled in on herself, looking up at Ar'alani's memory wall. Eli hadn't taken it down yet, but he would soon. She could tell. Things were going to change. Things had to change.

Khresh sighed. "What I mean, Ivant, is that this Human is a liability."

"Weigh the risk versus the reward," Eli said. "We're monitoring him day and night. We told him about the Ascendancy and about the Empire, and while I am loath to admit it, he's right: Trust is earned. We need to give him the chance to prove we can trust him."

"But we do not know what he knows. We have no way to verify if he's correct." He paused. "He will inevitably figure out that Vahnya does not have the same mythical powers that the Jedi did, if he hasn't already."

Eli tilted his head. Un’hee's attention refocused in his direction. "As far as Vah'nya is concerned, it doesn't matter if she can't act as an on-demand lie detector. Second Sight isn't something a person can fight and the prospect will scare him more than levitating a questis or pointing a blaster would—he values himself above everything.

“More importantly, I might not be a geologist, but I know what this stuff is and what it's worth from his reaction," He continued, tapping the small crystal against the desk. "I'll know if he's trustworthy."

A moment later, Eli handed his questis to Khresh, who swore loud enough for her to hear. Apparently it was worth a lot. "This is absurd! We could build a fleet with the nyix alone. Why haven't we acted?"

"Because these are civilians, not enlisted, who would become the source of labor,” Eli told him. “Scouting is one thing. They need a leader. When the right person comes along, they can make it happen. For now, my job is to make sure we stay alive long enough for that person to come forward. Our focus has to be on the crystals, which we can more easily sell without drawing enemy attention.” He eyed Khresh. “You’re more than welcome to call the shots, if you want. You’d probably do a much better job.”

Khresh said nothing.

No Chiss wanted the job. Un’hee knew this like she knew how to navigate the stars—honest and instinctual. They were scared. They had failed themselves: from little girls like Un’hee, stolen away from their homes and given to their greatest enemies all the way up to admirals and generals and patriarchs who had bowed to their enemy’s will.

Eli frowned, fingers smoothing the skin above his lips. "The truth is that there is no easy way to get ourselves out of this. Even with clear direction, this is going to take a long time to come back from. Years, even with resources and people, which we don't yet have enough of."

Khresh sighed, getting to his feet. He paced in front of Eli's desk, a frequent occurrence. "I can’t help but wonder if Mitth’raw’nuruodo knew this would happen. Ar’alani always made him out to be omnipotent. Tell me the truth: Is this why he sent you?"

Eli let his hands fall away and leaned forward, engaged. "I don't think he could have predicted this, certainly not to this extent." He looked beyond Khresh at Un’hee. She flushed at being caught eavesdropping and turned away. "I'm just one piece of a contingency plan. Thrawn is horrible at politics."

"Was," Khresh corrected, his tone gentler than she knew he could be.

Un'hee could feel Eli's emotions. He felt them so fiercely, like she did. She recognized most of them, but didn't know what to call the odd feeling in his chest, the one that was warm and fragile, carefully guarded. He didn't answer Khresh.

"You are either incredibly brave or a fool for hoping, Eli'van'to," Khresh said. He sighed. "But we have survived this far thanks to your willingness to take risks. I will defer to your judgment in this area."

That he believed they would all be dead otherwise went unsaid, but Un’hee could still hear the space for it at the end of his words. He left a moment later, stopping awkwardly in the doorway with an odd pause, something that might have been him stiffening to attention or saluting if it were Ar'alani. He had his prejudices. Most of the crew did.

Eli was not well-liked. They were alive, but the cost of survival, as Eli told her, was high. Their people needed purpose, which was why refugees were doing the survey work on the hidden planet in conjunction with the military. She supposed she could understand. She had wanted to die when the Grysks had taken her from her home. She had wanted it all to stop, to end.

There was a word for this. It was not one the Chiss liked to use, but it was one that was whispered by the crew, one that Vah'nya always tried to pull her away from if she was within range for such conversations to be overheart. Vah'nya had always been kind and innocent. She didn't understand. Un’hee did.

When Khesh left and Eli curled in on himself, she knew he did, too.

She dropped down from the reflection chair and crossed the length of the room. When she looked up at him, his face was scrunched and his eyes were pressed closed. It was the face a person made when they cried, she thought.

Almost everyone had cried after Csilla. Some of the officers and warriors still cried. And even when they didn't physically, they cried on the inside, too.

She had never seen Eli cry, though. Eli was always working on the next problem, trying to get ahead of the next crisis. She was pretty sure he didn't sleep, at least not much, and he was always trying to help others feel less scared, even though things were really sad and scary and most of the Chiss disliked him for being Human or not letting them die with their families or the fleet and for ordering them to kill their former friends and officers and even navigators.

Un'hee was left with two questions: Who did he have to confide his fears and hopes in, to remind him that everything was going to be okay? Who was his Eli, the person who comforted him the way he comforted her and so many others?

She wasn’t sure that question had an answer, so she decided to give it one.

"Eli?" Her voice came out a little wary.

When he looked up at her, she saw no trace of his emotions. "Un'hee?"

She ducked under his arms and lunged forward, wrapping her arms around his neck. "It's going to be okay, Eli," she promised, hugging him tightly.

It took him a moment to realize what was happening, she thought, having turned his words back on him, but he caught on quickly enough, hugging her back. He rested his head on her shoulder, which would have been funny in any other situation given how much taller than her he was. He still had to slump forward while she remained standing. But it wasn’t funny.

His breath caught and she could feel him squeeze his eyes closed. The thick sound of sobbing followed. It was muffled, quiet and heartbreaking. Usually, when she was like this, he rocked her, like how she imagined a parent would their child. She hadn’t known what that was like—or if she had, she didn’t remember.

She couldn’t do that for him, so instead she rubbed his back, his sagging shoulders. He squeezed her tighter.

"We are going to get through this,” She told him, hoping her words would force it to become reality.

Chapter 4: The City of Light

Year 0

Uncharted Nebula, Unknown Regions

7 Months After the Collapse

Eli pressed a kiss to the top of Un’hee’s head. He couldn't argue with the wisdom of a child, certainly not one as intuitive as she was.

"Who will be what you need so that you can be what they need?" She asked him when he had tried to extract himself from her embrace, apologizing for his display of weakness.

She didn't deserve this, didn't deserve to have him fall apart on her, and yet—she was right. She, a seven year old girl who had suffered far more than her fair share, understood better than people more than five times her age what the Chiss were going through. The Grysks had tormented her personally.

"Let me help, Eli."

He drew her in, held her tightly to his chest. She sighed, snuggling against him. "You already have, Un’hee," he said. "So much more than you realize."

He was done crying, he had never been prone to do so for long, but he couldn’t deny that they both took comfort from their embrace. He held her for a long time, until she'd fallen into a peaceful sleep. Any rest she could get was precious, given her tendency toward anxiety-induced insomnia. He laid her on the couch set against the wall of the office and returned to what was now his desk. He didn't reach for his questis. Instead, he turned his thoughts inward.

The crying had done him some good. He felt emptied out, the pressure of his emotions at least temporarily eased.

He'd been making tough calls for a while now.

Many of those decisions and the subsequent actions they inspired had caused him to commit capital crimes against the Ascendancy as he'd known it. He had issued orders that inevitably killed Navigators. He had killed his fellow officers. Whether they were in control of themselves or not, they were still Chiss and still dead by his order, his hand. Of the five scouts they had sent, only three had reported in. One of those three had come with news of the Empire's impending collapse and Thrawn's demise. The second had come with coordinates for what they believed was an Imperial ship with no active lifesigns. Eli had seen one grainy image and knew for certain it was the Chimaera.

That scout had offered to continue searching upon witnessing Eli's unmistakable reaction—he'd been shaken, to say the least—but Eli had declined. He wanted the fringe territories of the Ascendancy monitored for Grysk activity, needed each world sorted out by level of influence so he could figure out who was safe and who wasn't.

He couldn't prioritize Thrawn. All he could do was hope that Thrawn still lived. He could take care of himself.

But for all the tough calls he'd made these last few months, there was one he hadn't, and it was the only one that really mattered, in the long run.

He'd made the initial decision, declared himself the commander of the Ascendancy's military forces, but all they'd been doing was surviving. Sure, they'd protected a couple ships and a station or two from disaster but their objective was too large to be tactically advantageous. He had hoped that someone would step forward and take charge, that the Chiss would rise up and adopt their own leader. Eli could take command of a ship or do whatever would help—he'd been doing well supplying their cobbled together force of ten ships and a mess of assorted refugees aboard a civilian vessel. He had made the decision to take control of Chiss forces intending to keep as many people alive as he could. He had intended for it to be temporary.

He kept putting off larger-scale operations, hoping that with each new ship, each new group of Chiss amassed to their side, someone would come forward and take control. It had been months, and no leader had emerged, even from those who had been leaders once before. These people were defeated and downtrodden, paralyzed by fear and hopelessness. They had no purpose or direction and they couldn't seem to find it within themselves.

The Grysks had taken too much from them.

The Chiss needed someone who, like Un’hee said, could be what they needed. He thought about that.

The Chiss needed a leader: Not someone pretending at it in the interim, waiting for someone better to come along. They needed purpose: attainable objectives and long term goals. They needed community.

It wasn't just a leader that they needed, he realized. They needed a ruler.

Could he do it?

He ignored the awful, hollow thump of his heart and swallowed against the chatter of his anxiety, rising to his feet to vent the nervous energy with near silent pacing. It didn't matter if he thought he could do it or if he was qualified. This decision was only different from the one he had made over Csilla in that he was making it now, when things had settled and things were no longer cataclysmic but instead post-apocalyptic.

The worst had already happened. This was a fate worse than death to these people. That was what had made him angry on their behalf.

He needed that anger. That emotion was powerful, so long as he harnessed it the right way. He had never seen Thrawn angry, but he had witnessed the cold fury that Ar’alani became when she was wronged. He had seen Thrawn displeased, seen what happened when someone attempted to do vile things on his watch, had seen the utter wrath he rained down upon them be it from land or sea or air.

For a moment, Eli's pacing ceased. It was more than anger he needed. He needed anger for their enemies, but compassion for his people. Compassion, but not pity. The Chiss were not a people to be pitied. Their enemies were to be pitied: The time for reprisal would come and revenge would be had.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and grabbed his questis, jotting down his thoughts in some semblance of order. On review, he'd probably find them to be all over the place, but he could rearrange them later. He resumed his pacing, questis in his right hand, stylus in his left, letting his thoughts spiral out of him.

If he was going to do this, he was only going to get one shot, and he’d have to do it right. He had taken the first step, only to hesitate at the truth of this task. He could not hesitate again, especially not if he was going to try to bring these broken people together, to try and make things whole again.

No, he thought. Not whole. He set the stylus to the page.

Regimes do not fall because they are defeated by their rivals or enemies, He wrote. Regimes fall because they are complacent. They fall because they are broken.

They fall because something stronger must take their place.

He looked down at the words, affirmation of what he had to do.

Three steps brought him to the reflection chair and memory board. It had remained untouched, as Ar'alani had left it, silent memorial to her life. When he thought of Ar’alani, this was the woman he knew and remembered: Proud and charismatic, with a wealth of compassion for her allies and pure hellfire for her enemies.

That was Ar’alani, not the woman who had ordered her crew to accept death, the woman who had bowed to it herself.

He had the recordings from the third scout, ones that played on every Csillan broadcast that reached Ascendancy borders. He hadn’t shown Khresh yet. He would have to, come morning. He’d sent the scout to be checked by medical, then had her report directly to quarters. Her report would be in by the first shift, six hours from now.

He already knew what it would say, what intel she had gathered: Hours upon hours of it was loaded onto his questis, recordings of the Council and Aristocra willingly accepting death, their minds warped beyond understanding, their souls enslaved to their conquerors. They were docile, placid, calm. They did not fight death. They embraced it.

It was sickening.

To have a power that could reach into another’s mind, but to use it for such horrors was evil. The Chiss were better than that. They deserved better than that. They deserved to be protected, to be able to rebuild, to emerge from this tragedy stronger than they had been before.

He reached for the outermost chains that had been pinned to the board and carefully pulled them off. Most of them were medals of honor, awards from the Families or the Council denoting particularly grueling campaigns that ended in victory. Beneath that were pictures that several Navigators had drawn, several handwritten notes in an assortment of languages, ticket stubs, an odd circlet of wire that seemed to portray two beings in combat, and a collection of pictures. She hadn’t written names on the back of them. She knew these people. She had remembered them because they were a part of her.

Carefully, he pried each token off and set them in a storage box he’d been keeping behind the desk to prop his feet upon. He didn’t allow himself to study them—not even the handful of pictures of her with a young, awkward-looking Chiss cadet that he knew was Thrawn. Ar’alani had trusted him, but they had not been close. He would not disrespect her by rifling through her private memories.

When he was finished, he sealed the box and stepped back to regard the blank board. It was a darker black than the deep, dark gray of the bulkhead behind it.

“What are you going to put on it?” came a small, sleep-riddled voice from the couch.

“Whatever I want,” He told Un’hee, looking away to smile in her direction. He kept his voice low, even though she swiped at her eyes and mouth and pushed herself up to a sitting position. “Do you have any ideas?”

She shrugged, but he had no doubt she’d come up with something before long. “Does this mean you’re going to become the admiral now?”

He hummed, considering. “Nobody could ever be the admiral,” he decided. “Certainly not me.” He tilted his head. “But I am going to step up. For real this time.”

“All the way?”

“All the way,” he agreed. “It might make things dangerous for me—”

“For both of us,” Un’hee amended solemnly. “We are in this together, Eli. I—” It took her a moment, but she found the courage to say the words. “We’re family.”

Reformation, Year 10

Home-Away

The City of Light

Despite himself, Thrawn almost wished Bridger had come planetside with them, if only to confirm what he was seeing. It wasn't that he didn't believe it, he knew what Eli was capable of. Thrawn had hand-selected Eli to go in his stead, to be what his people needed while Thrawn attempted to prime the Empire to work with the Chiss.

And yet, this was far beyond Thrawn's ability to mentor or teach.

He knew he was a skilled tactician and a downright motivational leader. His ability to remain calm under fire as well as his calculating nature gave his crew peace and a sense of stability. He inspired loyalty by giving service and loyalty in return.

This was not mere loyalty. This was something different than the type of leadership Thrawn was used to. Eli was charismatic. He was approachable.

And people did approach: Children. Families. Regular, ordinary people.

They revered him.

These were not the faces of people who had accepted their fate. These people were warriors in their own way, and yet they all seemed to reach for Eli like plants stretching toward a distant sun.

Un’hee nudged his elbow with her shoulder. "This always raises morale," She murmured, ever concerned with the emotional state of those around her, "So he does it every time."

"I see."

"A lot of them helped build this city. To them, this place is as much a symbol of Eli's commitment to them as it is a symbol of their willingness to fight." She waved at a trio of Chiss beside a market kiosk who had been watching them. They returned it excitedly. "Most of these people are first wave," She explained. "There was an exodus after Csilla fell. Eli spent months collecting ships and hiding them within the nebula. They became our survey teams, our resource salvage operations and general labor."

Thrawn looked down, noticing the glint of the pin that held her hair up. He recognized the twisting nest of snakes. It had been something he wanted to ask about—

"A lot of your questions will be answered today," She said, before he could ask. She touched her fingers to the hairpin, indicating she had either suspected his line of thought or that her Second Sight had told her what he was going to ask. "Uingali's flagship should have docked this morning. I believe all of the admirals are here as well. The war council meeting tonight will probably be the largest one we've had."

"Eli just declared war," Thrawn reminded her. "That is only natural." They followed roughly behind Eli, watching him move through small clusters of people with natural grace. It was odd, but unsurprising to see. "I presume this council meeting will be to unveil the prisoner Uingali's forces detained?"

She grimaced, having wondered if anyone had told him. "They captured the Grysk commander as he retreated while our forces handled the Grysk fleet over Eksl."

It made sense now, why Un’hee had acted the way she did at the time, that the remaining disruptor preventing his Starflash device from firing needed to be destroyed. The commander fled along the last viable vector, one which a skilled Navigator or Pathfinder could determine from the outside.

They could not allow anyone they wished to retain for questioning to suffer such a defeat, much less to know of the weapons they had at their disposal.

"The meeting is about your objective and the methods used at Eksl," she admitted. "Eli would not bring a prisoner of this magnitude into the city. The people are—" she cut herself off. "The Interrogation will come later." She sighed, switching tracks "People say that it's only a matter of time before the Grysks know about our other weapons, so we must strike fast," she said quietly. Her forehead wrinkled. "Between you and me, I think he'd prefer we take back the Ascendancy without them."

"And what do you think?"

She shrugged. "What I want is different from what I know," She told him. "I don't want us to use them, either, but we both know it is necessary."

Thrawn nodded.

"Preferably as a last resort," Un’hee added. The glow of her eyes flattened then shifted, almost like a lightning flash. "Take one step back and to the left if you do not wish to be hugged," she told him urgently.

❧

Too late.

Un’hee watched as Admiral Kiwu'tro'owmis impacted Thrawn on his left side. He had blinked at her in confusion, but still managed to adjust his weight accordingly, bracing both himself and Admiral Wutroow from toppling thanks to the force of her approach.

"You bastard," she muttered. Her expression was angry, but there were tears in her eyes. It was a stormy look, in Un’hee's estimation. She froze when Thrawn squeezed her shoulders so gently that it took her reaction to assure Un’hee that it had happened at all.

He pushed her back, holding her at arm's length, her hands covering his on her shoulders.

"I'm sorry I—"

She glared at him, but managed to keep her tears at bay. "Don’t you dare apologize,” She said. “Don’t you dare."

His lips twitched in a way that suggested a smile but wasn’t. His words were carefully chosen. "It is good to be back," he murmured.

She hugged him again. He seemed slightly less unprepared this time around, even if he didn't seem willing to address her emotional display. "I'm glad you're not dead," she told him.

He bowed his head. "As am I," he answered gravely, stepping out of the embrace. He lifted his chin, searching for Eli.

Their eyes met over Wutroow’s head, and Un’hee couldn't help but notice some wordless communication happening between them. She smiled at her father. She had something similar with him, their uncanny ability to catch some inclination of the other's thought process that had nothing to do with Sight and everything to do with knowing someone.

Eli caught her gaze next, his smile softening, motioning her to his side.

"We'll catch up later?" She said, questioningly.

Wutroow hummed. "Sounds good to me. I've got to take this one to Thalias before someone tells her they've seen him." She grinned at Thrawn, toothy and bright. "Ivant isn't invited because she'll kill him for keeping her in the dark."

Thrawn looked… she wasn't sure how to describe the conflicting emotions on his face. "I'm pretty sure Samakro would help at this point," Un’hee agreed, effortlessly shifting the discussion away from him.

The smile on Wutroow’s face widened further. "I knew they'd have it out. Did he yell?"

Un’hee shrugged. "I can neither confirm or deny," she said, failing to keep her expression as nonchalant as her tone. Samakro yelling was a funny concept. Mostly he just growled. A lot. "Eli had an impromptu meeting with him three days ago. All I know is that it wasn't to discuss the upcoming campaign."

"Huh. Well, remember I pay for details, kid."

She laughed. "I'm not thirteen anymore, Wutroow, yapels and cream-cakes only go so far."

"I know," Wutroow agreed. "Go on. Tell your father we'll see him tonight for the war council."

Thrawn nodded near-imperceptibly before she could ask. "I am only a comm away should I be ne—"

"You won't," Wutroow said, crossing her arms. "That's probably the real reason he met with Samakro. Come along." She led him away with a firm hand wrapped around his forearm.

Un’hee sighed. Wutroow was great—she always had the best gossip—but Un’hee was not as peppy, not by a long shot. When she turned away from their retreating forms, there was only a single woman standing beside Eli instead of the small gathering that had been there before. She frowned.

The woman was thin and of medium height, with hard eyes and blue-black hair devoid of any slate or silver tones. There were age lines creasing the outside of her eyes, but they softened the severity of her expression, though it was still rather stern.

Her hand was clenched into a fist at the center of her chest, her eyes locked onto something in the distance. She blinked, her gaze snapping into focus, centering on Un’hee, and Un’hee understood.

This person was important.

She felt herself fall back on the tricks Eli had taught her—tricks he had gathered from other Humans and Thrawn, rolling them all into one—straightening her spine and lifting her chin, leaning her gaze smolder and focus. That mental shift didn't take her nearly as long as it used to. Being Eli's daughter was not an easy task. No easier, she supposed than it was to be her father, if the way he blamed his silvering hair on her was any indication. She was basically the daughter of royalty. Nobody said it, but they thought it.

Eli ruled the Chiss. He made their decisions and oversaw their council. They could call it martial law, but Un’hee knew it wouldn't end when the war did.

They needed him. Well, most of them did. Given the way others avoided her, that woman belonged to one of the few hold-outs who resisted Eli's aid and stood alone against the oppressive nature of their enemy's will. What she was doing here, Un’hee wasn't sure. Eli had tried multiple times to bring them into the fold and they had a seat on the Council in which to air their grievances and make demands, and yet they never came or commed, nothing.

Something had changed.

Was it Samarko's victory? Eli and Khresh's? Could it be Thrawn?

She shook her head. No, that didn't make sense. Eli hadn't told anyone about Thrawn until the last minute. It had been thirty years since he'd been among the Chiss.

The woman handed Eli a small case, the kind that came full of datasticks or crystals. "That's everything." She was saying as Un’hee approached. She searched Unhee's face, looked her up and down. Unhee did the same, noticing the gleam of a gold chain around her neck, the single four-point charm that dangled there, the gold pinwheel tarnished from frequent wear, frequent touch.

"This is my daughter," Eli told her.

"I am Un’hee," Un'hee introduced herself, brow furrowing at the odd familiarity of the woman's face. "I'm sorry," she said, frowning. "Have we met before?"

The woman smiled at her, soft and small. "We have not," she assured Un’hee. "I am Cohbo'rik'ardok." To Eli, she added, "Your daughter has good instincts."

Eli smiled, putting his hand on her back. She flushed, basking in his pride even as she thanked Cohbo'rik'ardok—Borika, she revised mentally—for the compliment. It was her favorite kind of praise.

It took her ten seconds to recognize the diversionary tactic. For some reason, she had expected it from Borika, but Eli had added a layer of subterfuge. She crossed her arms, looking between them.

"Will we see you at the council meeting?"

"I don’t think that's wise," Borika said. "I trust you will keep me informed?"

"You have my word."

At that, Borika smiled. "Thank you, Eli Van'to." She said his name like Ar'alani did, though Un’hee felt bitter about not remembering the exact quality of her voice: it was mostly impression and cadence now. "We will talk more later. Give Thalias my regards."

When she was gone, Un’hee crossed her arms. "Why do I feel like I've met her before?"

Eli smiled, but it was the one that made her feel crazy and exasperated inside. That was not very reassuring.

She clenched her fists. Deadpan, she asked, "You're not going to tell me, are you?"

"You have good instincts," he reminded her. "You'll figure it out."

Chapter 5: War Council

Reformation, Year 10

Home-Away

The City of Light

The council chamber paid homage to the past. It was built to be a smaller version of the Syndicure Complex on Csilla, less opulent but equally as functional. It was a large, round room with a balcony overtop, and floor space in the bottom middle. There was a single ring of desks around the perimeter broken up by four points of entry.

The lighting was crystalline and yellow-white, almost like flickering flames instead of luminous stone. It made the room feel more intimate and personal.

Thrawn did not associate this room with that of the hearing chamber where he was exiled. Though the size and layout were similar, there was something different about it, from the way it was carved from stone to the way its furniture—desks, chairs, and light fixtures—had been constructed.

This was not Csilla, stately and proud. This was Home-Away. The City of Light. Everything here was meant to bring people together, crafted for that purpose.

Across the room, Mitth'ali'astov met his gaze, lips parting in a brilliant smile as she noticed his attention. He nodded before looking away, seeing her smile go slightly softer.

Thalias, self-proclaimed Patriarch of the remaining Mitth, had been beside herself when he was presented to her. She cried as she restored his rank within the family, and for a long while after. His day had been spent with familiar faces, his fellow admirals and closest allies. It had been informative.

He glanced at the empty chair beside Thalias.

Very informative.

Eli had warned him that this day would be overwhelming. Un'hee had promised he would have answers. Both were correct.

“For years, we’ve hidden in the shadows, forsaking our pride in the name of survival and vengeance,” Eli said. He pitched his voice to carry, but it was not loud despite this. “They have called us Retribution, because we have hit our enemies harder than they could hit us. They have called us Revenge, because we will have ours.” He turned, his cape swishing quietly against the stone floor. “We waited for our moment to strike, building our fleet and amassing our allies.” He turned back again, his steps slow and methodical, head tilted back to look up into the balcony, at the civilians and lesser politicians gathered there. “And when the time came to strike, we executed that strike with precision and cunning.”

He smiled, but it was not a smile Thrawn knew. There was confidence in his expression Thrawn had never seen before. “We destroyed a fleet in minutes, without their commanders knowing what power we have at our disposal. We know how they fight, and now it is time to change the game.”

The words were refined but not pompous. The sentiment was heartfelt, yet brutal. Vah’nya’s words came to mind, her reminder that Eli had been what the Chiss needed. Now, they needed a warlord, a conqueror. And Eli had chosen Thrawn for that task.

“Our victory at Eksl was a test of our abilities, a way to network and gain allies who will help us ensure the Chaos no longer tolerates threats like the Grysks. But one victory for foreign territory isn’t enough. Our people deserve more than distant promises. They need to know they have not struggled in vain, that they will return to their homes and rebuild what they’ve lost, that something better will take its place.”

The murmurings of those gathered rose in the space he took for breath. Anticipation and apprehension swelled in the chamber.

“For millennia,” Eli continued over them, “The Ascendancy was a beacon of peace and stability in the Chaos. A center of light, culture, and peace. Legends of its triumphs and the prowess of its warriors were known all the way out in Lesser Space.” He paused. “I grew up with myths of the Chiss—cunning, brilliant warriors who were best left unprovoked, who would always prevail if gone up against.” His gaze fell to Thrawn. It was the gaze of a ruler, calm and sure in his decision. “And I watched, like many of you, as that beacon, that power was ripped apart and cast aside.

“We are a proud, duty driven people. Warriors. But if we refuse to change and adapt, if we allow complacency and inflexibility to cripple us, if we only act in ways that feel safe, we will not succeed in taking back our home.” His gaze was heated. “We have come to this precipice not by relying on the past, but by learning from it.” He paused for emphasis. “I will not allow the Reborn to repeat the mistakes of the Ascendancy. We must make use of our most valuable resource: Our people.”

He held out his arm, pointing directly at Thrawn. “This is why I have tasked Admiral Mitth’raw’nuruodo with planning the campaign to take Csilla from our enemies.”

There were some murmurs, quiet chatter. More than that, there were no Patriarchs or Syndics screaming, no harsh rebukes. Eli made a wide circle around the room, no doubt looking for subtleties that indicated strife or discomfort. Thalias’ eyes had gone sharp, similarly assessing her fellow council members.

"Things were different after you left," Ziinda whispered to Thrawn. She leaned across the empty chair to Thrawn's left. Samakro had claimed the chair to Thrawn's right. "We won't let them throw you out, promise you that."

“Relax,” Samakro hissed softly at Ziinda, adding for Thrawn’s benefit, “It won't come to that. These people trust you."

Thrawn tilted his head in silent question.

“You sent him to us,” Samakro continued, jutting his chin in Eli's direction. “They trust him, so by extension—"

"What Samakro said," Wutroow piped up. "They'll come around."

Khresh, at the end of the row, caught Thrawn's gaze and nodded. He did not add to their platitudes. His eyes returned to Vanto, and his attention on his commanding officer was absolute. Wutroow spared him a glance and rolled her eyes, but when Eli's gaze passed over them, the commentary ceased.

Eli ceded the floor moments later without incident. There was no more unease in the room than there had been when the session had started. If the council was displeased with his choice, they kept it private, choosing not to outright refuse his plan or choice of commander for the objective.

He returned to his seat beside Thrawn moments later, and discussion turned to civil issues. Eli didn't weigh in on them all, but it was clear that his counsel was appreciated when it came to de-escalating tense situations, when he chose to offer it.

"Thalias told you," Eli murmured when the conversation had turned to a dispute that the Mitth Patriarch was handling personally and Thrawn couldn't help but look at the empty seat beside her.

Thrawn blinked. He didn't turn his head but Eli knew that he could see him in his periphery as he refocused.

"She did. You knew as well?"

He nodded microscopically. "I've had a few run-ins with her. I saw the relation pretty quickly," he replied, with a hint of amusement. “Tell you about it later.”

Thrawn nodded. He was interested in Eli’s insights.

❧

Just over three hours after it began, the session came to a close.

And with that, came Thalias.

"You've been keeping things from me," she said tersely.

Eli sighed. Yes, he had. And for good reason. "You're entitled to your anger, Patriarch, but I had my reasons."

He only had to endure the glare for another moment before she relented. "I suppose you did," she said. Knowing Thalias, she had probably managed to deduce what those reasons were.

Of course, she hadn't come over to make small talk with (or otherwise lecture) him. She wanted Thrawn. Eli understood that. Her devotion to him ran deep, and that was something they all needed.

"Do you need him for anything, Supreme Commander, or is he dismissed for the night?"

Eli rolled his eyes, though his smile betrayed his good humor about the situation. "You're all free to go," he said. "I know Che'ri is waiting for you," he said, inclining his head in the woman's direction. There, inside the doors to the chamber, the woman waited patiently to be acknowledged.

Che'ri's story was an interesting tale. When the Ascendancy fell, she had been on Ool, with Thalias. But where Thalias had gone deeper into the internal workings of the Ascendancy, Che'ri left it entirely, seeking a way to help the Chiss from without.

The people of Sunrise considered her their Magys' successor. The Paccosh valued her for her history working with them as a child as well as for her skillset as an adult.

She had come to Eli as an emissary of the Paccosh. She might not be permitted at their council meetings due to her allegiances, but there were few secrets between their peoples.

And of course, Eli knew she also had been itching to see Thrawn. In the general scheme of things, he had been the one to see Thrawn most recently, and would be the one to monopolize his attention once they set out to take Csilla. It wasn't right to demand his time now.

Besides, he thought, turning his attention to Admiral Khresh, who would be leaving aboard his new flagship within the next rotation, there were others who were entitled to his time and respect.

Reformation, Year 1

Unknown Nebula — Home-Away

“It’s a ludicrous name,” Khresh told Eli, pacing in front of the large screen. His anxious energy was beyond what Eli had ever seen from him before, and for good reason.

“I never claimed to be good at naming things,” Eli reminded him. “The name isn’t meant to be permanent, nor is our settlement of the planet.”

“You called me in and showed me—” he threw his hands up. “There is nothing left.”

Eli nodded. “That’s exactly what they want you to believe. If you believe that, you’ll fall on your sword or step in front of their lasers that much easier.” He rubbed at the dark spots that sleep deprivation had left under his eyes. He probably looked crazy, but there was little he could do about that now.

Khresh’s eyes narrowed. “So what are we supposed to do?”

“Fight.”

“Fight,” The Chiss repeated, crossing his arms. “With what?”

“With the resources our civilians are going to mine. With our ships and any others we can reclaim.” He looked at Khresh. “You told me we ought to be harvesting and processing the materials we’ve identified on the planet. I’m drafting the plans and dispatching a team of warriors to train the civilians in the use of the survey and excavation equipment we have aboard. Whatever we can harvest early on will fund tools and equipment, assuming we’re unable to craft what we need ourselves.”

Khresh studied him. “You’re going to do it?

“I’m damn sure going to try,” he said. “But if I do this, I can’t do it alone. I’m going to need your help.” He gestured to the datacard he’d just taken out of his device, unwilling to let the footage play out longer than it had to. “Things are going to be difficult. I can’t promise we’re going to win, and if we do, that victory is years out. We’re going to struggle.”

“You’re not making a very good case for yourself.”

“Maybe not,” Eli admitted, “But I want you to have all the information before I offer you a choice. We need to secure control and establish and solidify command structure. Right now, my plan is to declare martial law and name myself in charge.”

“The Command Articles—”

“Don’t matter anymore,” Eli told him. He’d read a large portion of them last night, picking and choosing his way through the rather archaic set of operating procedures. “The Ascendancy is gone. We have to remember and honor that loss while building something better than before.

Khresh nodded. He still seemed subdued, but his sense of duty and purpose would win out. “What would you have me do?”

Eli inclined his head. “I would promote you to the rank of admiral and make you my second. I would expect you to call me on my growsershit, but recognize me as your commanding officer regardless.”

He was still nodding as he followed up by asking, “And what would you be? Supreme Admiral?”

“No,” Eli said. “I don’t think that’s the right move. I need to be in command of everyone, not just our military forces. I don’t want to lorde my authority, but I think the message needs to be that we are all together, military or civilian. As far as the title goes, I haven’t really given it much thought.”

“Everyone already refers to you as Commander Ivant,” he mused. “To my knowledge there has never been a Supreme Commander. It seems as though it would be elegant enough.”

Eli considered that. Adding ‘supreme’ in front of his rank felt pompous, but he was also trying to rule an entire group of people (misplaced or otherwise). It was probably the right call. And, considering Eli had just offered Khresh the position as his official second in command, it was probably best to listen to that advice. Khresh had a much better understanding for a wide swath of the Chiss people. He had grown lax at times, but he was a creature of habit and sworn to his duties.

“Supreme Commander it is, then,” Eli decided. “What about you? Will you accept the title of Admiral?”

“I will,” Khresh said, stiffening to perfect attention. “I will forswear my familial obligations—”

“No,” Eli interrupted, “You won’t. Unity, Khresh. We need to stand with our families.”

“But the political—”

“As of right now, I am the political body,” Eli reminded him. “And I don’t give a packbull’s hindquarters whether your Family was one of the Nine or some backwater common. Keep your name.” He paused. “Honestly, I think giving up ties to your family is stupid. You don’t become a different person when you’re promoted. You don’t lose those experiences. Either you’re an honest, fair commander, or you’re not suited for the commendation.”

Khresh blinked at him, as though the information had caught him off guard. Maybe it had. Eli didn’t want to change everything about the Chiss, but not all Human wisdom was bad.

“Then I will strive to be worthy of it,” Khresh told him, adding, “Supreme Commander Ivant.”

Eli smiled at him. “I’m confident you will, Admiral.”

Reformation, Year 10

Home-Away

“You're supposed to be out with your friends, Admiral,” Eli commented mildly as he stepped into his war room, unfastening his cape as he went.

"Supreme Commander." Thrawn's sharp gaze followed him from the door to his usual seat. "How did you know I was here?"

"I didn't. I came here for a moment of peace before I return to business."

"Then I will take my leave," Thrawn said, powering off his questis screen and rising.

"That isn't necessary. Your presence is different. If I'm disturbing you I can always—"

"Stay," Thrawn said, then amended, "Sir."

Eli waved it off. "None of that," he reminded him. "Feels weird."

"It is deserved."

"The CoL is beautiful, but it's not my doing." He ignored the way Thrawn's eyes narrowed, insinuating otherwise. Eli sighed. "I don't want or need to be some fantastical ruler to you." He paused. "At least, that's not how I see it."

"You don't," Thrawn confirmed. "But you are worthy of my respect, and remain my commanding officer."

"Out there, sure," he said, gesturing to the rest of the universe. "But in here, well," he shrugged.

Thrawn approached. Their difference in height was not unfathomable but Thrawn was easily a head taller than Eli. He looked down into Eli's eyes, set a hand almost to his cheek and Eli let himself bask in this moment. His gut kicked, excitement and anxiety and longing, mixed. His eyes fluttered closed.

"If that is what you wish."

Eli nodded into his palm. Thrawn didn't smile, but his expression was decidedly calm, a marked improvement over their reunion, when he'd been overwhelmed. "I've missed this," Eli admitted, not referring to the touch and therefore needing to explain. "Being with you."

That did quirk the corner of the Chiss' lips upward. "As did I." He withdrew his hand. "To address your inquiry, I did spend time with my friends and colleagues."

"They deserve to see you."

Thrawn nodded. "And they have. But we have work to do."

Eli rolled his eyes. "What tipped you off?"

"Che'ri."

Eli let his expression go deadpan.

That earned him a real smile. "No one invited you to join us. They all hold you in high regard, even Thalias."

"She's right to be angry with me," Eli said.

"They are concerned about how many of their burdens you carry."

"That's my responsibility," he gestured to himself.

Thrawn nodded. "As I said: deserving." He returned to his seat and Eli joined him. "I trust we are interrogating the prisoner Che'ri and the Paccosh secured."

Eli nodded. "That was my plan. My objective tonight was to do some preliminary questioning, and in the morning, I'd have you sub in. Since you're here," he smirked. "I think we can make some alternative arrangements."

❧

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. You want me to do what?" Ezra stared at him. "Are you crazy?"

Un'hee rolled her eyes, drawing a glare.

Thrawn stepped in. "Hardly. Your control is impressive. Your objective is to prevent the Grysk Commander from harming him, preferably by keeping him from touching this blade."

The blade in question was wicked sharp and gave off ominous vibes.

"If you fail," Un'hee said, "I won't. Your objective is to protect Eli from harm. That shouldn't be difficult."

"Then why are we both here?"

"Because I want your opinion," Vanto said, coming up behind them. He lifted the weapon—which looked more like something a butcher would carve meat with, thick and rectangular in shape—and evaluated the sharpness of its edge. One side of it was dented, the width of the metallic blade pitted as if it had been hammered into repeatedly. The other side was smooth, dark metal that bore the mark of the heat used to forge it. He returned it to the thick leather-like sheath Thrawn had pulled it from.

Idly, Ezra wondered what Thrawn thought about the weapon. He’d probably already taken their prisoner apart over its design.

Vanto clipped the sheathed weapon onto his waist belt. It looked horribly out of place alongside his well-tailored uniform. Un’hee frowned at it. “Be careful,” she told him.

“Always am,” Vanto replied. He squeezed her shoulder as he passed her and shared a rather significant look with Thrawn. Significant enough that Ezra could tell some wordless communication passed between them. Vanto nodded, his lips thinning into something grim and determined, and then he stepped out of the viewing room and into the hall.

A moment later, the lights in the interrogation room came on, and three Chiss, all of whom wore variations of an expression that split the difference between stone-like and murderous, stepped in with the prisoner.

Ezra had seen Grysks before. He’d given himself over to them, let them control him. He’d been expecting this one to be bigger, or somehow more frightening in appearance. They weren’t.

Un’hee crossed her arms, her eyes glowing with vehemence. She stepped microscopically closer to Thrawn, whose gaze shifted to track the motion, but made no comment.

The Grysk did not acknowledge his captors as he was chained to the chair by the legs and waist, then had the cuffs that bound his wrists secured to a narrow tabletop in front of him. He stared blankly into the mirrored transparisteel, keenly aware that he was being watched.

Two of the Chiss guards stepped out. The third pulled the blade that Vanto had left with from its sheath and drove it down into the table with force. The resulting clang was proof that it had pierced the tabletop, though Ezra wasn’t sure if that was due to the force of the blow or the material the table had been constructed with.

Vanto traded places with the final guard as they left. He didn’t lead off with a greeting. He stepped around the Grysk, circling around behind him and emerging on his left side. It wasn’t a particularly predatory or aggressive approach, but it felt calculating all the same.

The Grysk’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “You,” he spat in surprise, but recovered quickly enough. “You are smaller in person.”

The Supreme Commander’s expression remained neutral despite the attempted insult.

“It would seem we’ve both survived the events of Eksl,” The Grysk commented. “I commend you on your retreat.”

Still, Vanto said nothing. Ezra got the feeling that the Grysk was not particularly pleased to have his barbs go unacknowledged.

“Have you come to execute me with my own blade?” He didn’t wait for Vanto’s reply this time, pressing, “It would be justice, would it not? After all, the death of the Chiss leaders was equally taboo.”

Ezra shifted his gaze to Thrawn and Un’hee. Un’hee’s sense felt like ice, cold and jagged. Thrawn’s ocean-like presence in the Force was stormy. The Grysk felt much like their weapon, wicked and sharp. He seemed to revel in his baiting.

“You,” Vanto said, ignoring his prisoner’s comment, “Are Somnus. Your forces were brought to bear upon the Eksleron Compendium of Free Beings. You fled, believing your prey would be killed.”

“I am he,” Somnus mocked, brandishing the standard Chiss introduction like a weapon. “You are Supreme Commander Eli Vanto. You command the black fleet that has been plaguing our efforts for years.”

“I am Supreme Commander Vanto,” Vanto repeated, clarifying, “Leader of the Reborn and the one responsible for the defeat of your forces at Eksleron. Our allies were kind enough to detain you for questioning.”

“Reborn,” the Grysk spat in disgust. “You can change their name and shape, but you cannot change what they are.”

Vanto inclined his head. “No,” he agreed, plucking the weapon from where it had been embedded into the table. He held it at shoulder height, drew back, and brought it down. The blade impacted the table again, but it had gone through the binders that kept the Grysk's wrists bound. Vanto leaned in, his words heated and confident. “And that is why the Grysk occupation of the Ascendancy is doomed to fail."

He drew back and the Grysk stared at him. Then, without warning, the Grysk threw his head back and laughed. It was a jarring, grating sound, raucous and grim with amusement. "You're delusional." He paused, his beady black eyes locked on Vanto. "Delusional," he repeated, "And fooli—"

Ezra sensed the murderous intent and acted, catching the Grysk's hands in his grip, turning the prisoner's splayed fingers into curled fists that he dropped pointedly onto the table.

Beside him, Un'hee whistled. "Neat trick," she whispered, but he didn't dare look away from the interrogation now that he'd been forced to intervene.

"New tricks," the Grysk said, carefully raising one hand and examining his fist. "They don't matter."

"This isn't what you think it is," Vanto said. "That's not a Navigator."

The Grysk glowered at him. “I will not be baited by the likes of you.”

Beside Ezra, Thrawn moved toward the door. Un’hee twitched.

“Not yet,” she cautioned.

Inside the room, Vanto continued. “Believe what you want. Tell me about the force you brought to the Compendium.”

“There is nothing to say. My forces, your forces, both were destroyed.”

Un’hee smirked. “Got him,” she said with satisfaction.

“Fine,” Vanto relented. “How about I tell you what I know?”

The Grysk’s eyes narrowed.

“Now?”

Un’hee nodded to Thrawn. “Give it a ten count.”

He inclined his head and stepped out of the room.

“Your superiors didn’t want me allying the Reborn with the Compendium,” Vanto said. “Care to explain that?”

“I have nothing to say to you, usurper,” The Grysk turned his head.

“Okay,” Vanto said. “Suit yourself. If you won’t talk to me,” He gestured to the door and it opened as if Thrawn and Vanto had planned it down to the second, “Maybe you’ll talk to him.”

Thrawn stepped into the room and allowed the door to close behind him. He folded his hands behind his back. “Good evening, Commander Somnus,” he said coolly. “I am Admiral Thrawn. Perhaps you would prefer to speak with me.”

Chapter 6: Swift Strikes

Notes:

I regret nothing. Enjoy this one.

Reformation, Year 10

Home-Away

"We are not our enemies," Eli told Somnus. The Grysk had not been terribly forthcoming. "You are free to go."

"Mercy," Somnus spat. "You believe me to be worthy of mercy? I was there on your capital world when it bowed to us. I watched your leaders buckle under the pressure on their minds, watched them smile as they were mowed down. If you release me, I will see the same for you. Your admirals will be led to their deaths. Your child will be ra—"

Thrawn's growl, deep throated and violent was significantly more noticeable as the Grysk's words were choked off mid-syllable. That was not a skill Bridger employed.

Eli hadn't moved to signal Un'hee that he could tell, suggesting that Un'hee had likely acted on her own. He doubted Eli cared, for his eyes had gone flat and dark, unknowable.

"Liar," Eli said, voice carefully controlled. "You would be lucky to make it through the nebula on your own." His face was blank. Thrawn was not frightened, but he could see how such an expression could strike fear into the heart of an enemy. Fire that burned cold was an anomaly, an unknown. This person beside him was dangerous, and they all knew it. "But you will, because we will set your coordinates. You will make it to Csilla, because we know how your people work and communicate with each other, what your naval forces deem sufficient contact. Whether you kill yourself mid-flight or make it back to Csilla to warn your people is up to you."

Eli turned back to the mirrored window. "You can release him, Bridger," he said calmly. When he turned back, his fury was seemingly gone.

Somnus' fingers twitched toward his weapon, but Vanto caught them, pinning them to the table with a clang.

"It doesn't matter whether they find your body or you tell them everything you know," he warned their prisoner, leaning in close to relay the restraint placed upon his anger. "Your return to your masters is our declaration of war."

❧

"Visatrox."

Eli nodded.

The name sounded vile. It was the one piece of information Thrawn had been able to gain from their prisoner. "You knew it already."

Another nod. "You've seen her. Cal Yava'ah told me that she showed you what was done to the Council and Syndicure," Eli said. "Visatrox was the one who executed the Patriarchs and Admiralty. Her title equates to SeigeMaker in the Grysk language."

"We know the Grysk tongue?"

Eli dipped his head. "Un'hee can speak and understand it when spoken aloud. Their writing uses a system not unlike Meese Caulf. Our translation isn't perfect, nor do they tend to use written communications, but we have a decent primer."

"Too easily tracked," Thrawn summarized. He crossed his right leg over his left, elbows resting on the armrests of the chair, fingers steepled in front of him. The projection of the territory they needed to regain filled much of the empty space, the lights dimmed to something seemingly intimate, though it inspired focus on the campaign over their collective presences. "What else do we know?"

"Much of it Khresh mentioned to you. We know Visatrox is their leader. She has several lieutenants—" he paused to indicate six strongholds on the map with a press of his remote, "And those lieutenants have carved these bits of territory." The map changed again. "Your campaign draft hit upon three of these strongholds, with Khresh and Samakro being delegated to handle the rest. It's a sound plan."

"And Somnus?"

"He'll survive the trip back to Csilla. War declarations are important enough, and their loyalty is relatively absolute. He’s already committed the worst sin possible in the Grysks’ eyes by living through capture. All he can hope to do now is be useful until they kill him themselves.”

“That is particularly gruesome.”

“They are what they are,” Eli supposed. “But they’ll know we’re coming for them, and they’ll know we’ll have you.”

“But not our secret weapon.”

Eli shook his head. “I want them to think we’re cocky and foolhardy by announcing ourselves. Even more than that, we need our people to know we’re coming.”

Thrawn turned his head, meeting Eli’s gaze head on before the other man rose, turning to face him.

“I—” He paused, tilting his head. “We’re not fighting for Csilla,” he admitted. “If I had my way, we wouldn’t bother with it at all. Csilla is an ideal, not a place. People see it as a beacon of status and culture, this perfect world, sullied by the Grysks. That’s why we’re taking it.”

“You’ve argued this point with Thalias,” Thrawn supposed.

“To death and back again,” Eli confirmed. He approached the war table and gestured for Thrawn to join him with a curl of his hand.

Thrawn did. They stood close together, arms touching. The feeling of such a casual touch, one Eli did not shy away from but instead leaned into, made his stomach swoop. “Taking Csilla means something to most Chiss, because of our pride in our families,” he mused quietly. Eli tilted his head away from the map, making it clear Thrawn had his attention. “I am not from Csilla, but even I have ties to it. And the weight of family obligation may never supersede my duty to the Ascendancy, but that does not mean I am unaware of that obligation and duty, either.” He studied Eli’s face. “It is different from the way Humans and many other societies view or imagine family, but—”

“I don't catch every nuance,” Eli agreed, turning to him. “That’s why I need people like you and Thalias to keep me on track when I need it most. My opinions aside, it's important to the Chiss, and that’s reason enough.”

“You respect that which does not necessarily agree with your values and nature,” Thrawn turned to better meet his gaze. "That is more than most.”

“It’s what our people deserve.”

Our.

Thrawn knew that Eli had established himself, declared his life and his loyalty to the Chiss. But to hear it so plainly declared, to stand here, the two of them together once again…

It felt like there was a pull between them. Like gravity, almost. He felt drawn back to their reunion and the enormity of that moment, the way Eli had held Thrawn's hands to his face, encouraging him. He thought about the projector Eli had offered to him. About before, years earlier. About the quietness between them, the way not every interaction required words.

Theirs had not been an easy path. They had both made difficult choices, faced consequences, accepted the price of defeat and victory. They had been together against the whole of the Empire, the only true confidant the other had. They had parted for the sake of duty.

Thrawn had grappled with the belief that he sent this man to his death. His truest friend, someone who had never looked down on him for his talents even when he hadn't fully understood them.

Earlier this evening, Thrawn had withdrawn from the discordant familiarity of those he had once known before his exile, choosing their mission over everyone and everything else.

He had craved this feeling, the absolute intensity of these unacknowledged feelings, the quietness of solitude with someone who so perfectly filled out the blank spaces within himself.

"Eli," Thrawn said. He wasn't surprised by the odd quality of his voice, the soft, strained tone that matched the chaotic swirl of emotions he couldn't name for certain.

Eli's hands came up, then down on his shoulders. His grip was firm. "I know," he said, a look on his face that was like a smile but wasn't, something loaded and complex and just as tumultuous as Thrawn felt. "I know."

They drew closer still.

Thrawn felt the shift of Eli's weight as he went up on his toes and leaned into it, his hands reaching out to brace Eli's elbows.

He had never given much thought to kissing, never particularly cared for it one way or another, though it had been an extremely long time since he'd ever been in such a situation. He had expected this kiss to be the proverbial flood hatch giving way, as the saying went, some vast awakening.

It was brief and gentle, nearly mundane.

Eli pulled back first, Thrawn naturally leaning forward, seeking out the point of contact when it was lost to him. His right hand trailed down to Thrawn's chest, over his heart, but it didn't hold him back, either.

Thrawn looked down at it, then up into Eli's face. Eli smiled at him, hopeful, and they kissed again. This time Thrawn brought his arms around him, albeit tentatively: One at his waist, the other curled around his back and up between his shoulder blades.

Their lips moved against each other's in a way that felt practiced, even though it wasn't. It wasn't aggressive or demanding, not red hot with lust or muddled by desperation. If it was anything, it was tender, yet exhilarating.

When it ended, Eli let his head fall to Thrawn's shoulder and tightened his grip around him for a moment longer. When Eli stepped back, Thrawn let him go. His eyes were shining, as much as a Human's could.

"Talk me through your plans again," he beckoned. "I had drafted some of my own to compare to yours."

Thrawn's eyes flashed and his curiosity swelled. Eli saw it and grinned.

“Come on, Admiral,” he said, and Thrawn could not help but wonder how something so new could feel so familiar, like their old balance had finally been restored. “Don’t leave me waiting.”

Reformation, Year 10

Kinoss/Thearterra

“Admiral Samakro,” Thrawn said into the comms, “Over to you.”

“Copy that, Admiral. Warrior's fortune.”

"And to you," he returned.

With a quiet order to their navigator, the Steadfast began a nimble turn to port, then the jump to lightspeed.

Three days earlier, they had taken Bogo Rai and several fringe colonies in what Thrawn called the final prelude to their opening salvo. Bogo Rai had been mostly out of the Grysk's sphere of influence, given that the population had always been relatively small and the planet had little value in the way of resources or technology. Fear had, for a long time, been the only tool the Grysks had needed to keep the population under control, but Vanto and the Reborn had troops there, on the ground. Apparently they had networks not unlike the ones Thrawn's people had utilized on Eksl, targeting worlds ready to push back against the Grysks, helping them often from the inside out.

This most recent assault at Kinoss had started the same: Thrawn had made a declaration to the people, like each world they had visited before. He had promised freedom from the Grysks' domination and oppression. He promised justice. He sparked hope and courage with his words.

Ezra imagined that it was this steadiness and conviction that had won him the loyalty of his crew. It certainly won him the admiration and respect of those aboard the Steadfast, because it wasn't just Pyrondi and Hammerly staring at him, starstruck.

But unlike the last few times, Samakro had shown up and immediately taken over the assault. Ezra wasn't sure why. Maybe he should've realized this was going to happen, though. Vanto was usually present for these events, and this time he wasn't.

Pyrondi and Hammerly were already inching from their stations to join Thrawn around his command chair. The novelty of this return to form, for them at least, hadn't worn off.

He was pretty sure Thrawn noticed, too, because there was a tiny flash of amusement in his expression before he summoned his senior staff for consultation.

"We're on course for Theaeterra, sir," the navigation officer called. Unlike the rest, he stayed where he was beside the ship's navigator. Her head was bowed, and Ezra watched her small hands flex and twitch as she directed the ship through hyperspace.

Thrawn nodded. "Thank you, Commander." And with that bit of knowledge, he turned his attention back to those who had gathered. "Comments?" he asked.

"Why Thearterra?"

He waited, Ezra noticed, probably to see if anyone else would offer up an explanation. For his part, Ezra could confess he didn't know much about the fallen Ascendancy, but Thearterra was a place he had heard about. It wasn't exactly strategically sound to take, given that the planet was almost constantly experiencing some kind of natural disaster.

"Okoyal makes more sense tactically," one of the Chiss weapons officers said. An expectant pause later, the same officer continued. "This attack suggests we have two forces," he noted. "But choosing Thearterra will suggest that Samakro’s forces will go to Okoyal themselves, but they won't, because…"

Thrawn's eyes narrowed.

Another officer, also Chiss, came forward. "Everyone knows that the Ool Council rules Okoyal and Shihon. I think even the Grysks think the insurgents there are more trouble than they're worth."

"Not everyone, Senior Lieutenant,” Thrawn said coolly. “That is the point of these consultations, after all."

Ezra saw the lieutenant bristle and idly recalled how comments like that used to set him off, too. Now it was just part of Thrawn being Thrawn. The rebuke wasn’t because the officer had interjected, it had been because he’d assumed everyone knew what was going on, and they didn’t.

“So,” Hammerly cut in, carefully testing the Cheunh words in her head before speaking, “Would they expect us to go to Okoyal? Any of us,” she clarified.

“It is a possibility,” Thrawn said. “An alliance with the insurgents on Ool would be beneficial for us, and secure a proper foothold toward Csilla,” he eyed her, and Ezra saw the whole ‘finish my sentences and describe my logic’ game ramping up.

“But if we did that, we’d be easier prey for the Grysks, because the Ool Council has never agreed to terms with any forces in the last ten years—”

“Despite having a place on the council,” the earlier lieutenant commander said, grudgingly.

“Indeed.” Thrawn inclined his head. “Therefore, it makes far better sense to head elsewhere and wait until we are in a position to absorb the Ool contingent—”

“Or offer it an alliance,” Pyrondi cut in. “If we’re pressed for time, making an alliance and sorting it out once the Grysks are destroyed could make more sense.”

“That is true,” the admiral agreed, “But such decisions are best left to the Supreme Commander.”

Pyrondi’s smile went big. Ezra saw a tiny shift in Thrawn’s expression to mirror it. Like they were about Thrawn, Pyrondi and the other Humans had been just as moon-eyed about Eli Vanto being here in general. That his rank was what it was had been something that sent them chattering for a week, mostly when Ezra wasn’t entirely within earshot.

The weapons officer who had originally attempted to answer Thrawn’s question spoke up once more. “Is our objective Naporar?” he asked.

“You tell me, Senior Captain Laknym.”

Laknym, an older officer, though probably not as old as Thrawn, offered him a tiny smile, something pleasant, but thoughtful. He turned back to the board, which now displayed a map of the Former Ascendancy and their current vector. After a few seconds, he turned back.

“No,” He said. “The outer colonies come first. Supreme Commander Ivant’s objective isn’t resources, it’s people.”

“Very good,” he said. “We will start with Thearterra, with the hopes that they will believe us headed for Sposia and Naporar, and will amass their forces there. Instead, we will head to the northernmost reaches and take Colonial Station Camco.”

Reformation, Year 2

Home-Away

“You’re sure you want to do this?” Wutroow asked, as Eli read the latest report from his scouts.

The scouts, on his order, had made themselves and who they represented known. They’d likewise turned tail at the warning shots fired at them, given that they’d made the trip with help from the Steadfast’s cadre of navigators. Eli would have preferred if no warning shots had been fired, however he understood the logic.

If Eli said this any more, it would be his catch phrase, but it seemed like the quickest way to cut through the unnecessary layers of meandering conversation. “Do you have a better idea, Wutroow?”

She sighed and turned to Khresh. “You can’t be on board with him going alone.”

“I am not,” Khresh said. “But if he believes it’s what needs to be done…”

Eli shot his admiral a grateful look. He knew that Khresh didn’t like the plan; They had argued over it the night before. Un’hee had only agreed with it because Eli required a navigator’s assistance to bring him to his destination and she would always be his first pick. Khresh was only marginally reassured by the presence of other powerful commanders in their burgeoning coalition to fall back on, if the worst happened.

He was reluctant to rely so heavily on others’ information, but Eli knew Wutroow was trustworthy.

She had been the first of the outside forces Eli had recruited. She had approached him, sizing him up and testing him, weighing his anecdotes against the stories Ar’alani had shared in missives. She had a massive amount of refugees under her protection, and a medium sized, cobbled together fleet. With her at the time had been two other women: Ziinda and Thalias. Thalias, like Wutroow, had demanded proof of his connection to Thrawn.

He had a feeling they were disappointed. They weren’t satisfied with a mere connection. They wanted the real deal. The truth—the facts, not the secret hopes in Eli’s heart—had been a blow. Even so, if his connection to his once mentor was what he needed to highlight to amass allies and grow his burgeoning coalition, he’d do it. It wasn’t about his feelings, and it wasn’t about pride. It was about giving them their best chance against a seemingly invincible foe.

And right now, Samakro and his people stood little chance against a true assault if they were all alone.

“I am,” Eli said. “Khresh will be in charge in my absence.”

“Ivant…”

“Khresh,” Eli rose from behind his desk, gripping his lone admiral’s arm, “I’ll be back before you know it.”

“I’m holding you to that, sir,” he said warily.

Eli held his gaze. “Do you trust me?”

Khresh’s nod was immediate.

Eli smiled, gripping his elbow tighter. It was not to be painful, but to reinforce his statement, “Then trust that I will return. And, if we’re lucky, it’ll be with Samakro beside me.”

❧

Telling Khresh he’d succeed in his mission was a bit more egotistical than he cared to be, despite it being a necessity. The Chiss were so fragile. Wutroow hid it well, but Eli was pretty sure her livelihood was fueled by spite. She’d come to him frothing for vengeance, wanting justice. He wanted it too, for all of them. They deserved it.

But they wouldn’t get very far as they were now. Saying as much had deflated her significantly. Khresh had been instrumental in helping him coax her into a more positive mindset. Over the last few months, she had slowly been wading into conversations, slowly exposing her vast networks into both the military and civilian spheres. She, along with Ziinda and Thalias, had far more political insight than Eli and Khresh had. It hadn’t been necessary before, but such things would only grow more vital as the number of Chiss under their protection grew.

Un’hee made a quiet, questioning sound, the non-verbal query of a navigator in trance. Her fingers clenched and unclenched on the controls to prevent cramping.

Eli put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m here, Un’hee,” he promised. “Doing okay?”

She hummed in the affirmative, listing sideways to set pressure against Eli’s hand before straightening. Her brow furrowed for a moment, then smoothed as she spoke, the words soft, as if spoken while asleep. “We’re almost there.”

“Do you want a break before?” She’d need to stay at his side once they arrived. Just because Eli projected confidence to Khresh and Wutroow didn’t mean that he entirely felt it. He understood Samakro’s reticence to join them, but he hadn’t entirely ruled out the possibility of a trap, either.

Even so, Wutroow and Thalias’ recollection of Samakro reassured him that any traps encountered would not be Samakro’s own doing. He and Samakro shared something that the others didn’t. Samakro hadn’t been under Thrawn’s command long, but both women said that Thrawn’s actions, his exile, all of it had had a profound influence over him.

In fact, Wutroow had point blank admitted that the only reason why she’d approached him was because Samakro had outright rejected her and Thalias, the latter of whom he had significant history with.

“I’m not tired yet,” she said. “I’ll pull out a little early and we can go in at sublight?”

“Sounds good to me,” he agreed, laying his hand atop her head as she sunk deeper down into her trance once again.

Ever since the Ascendancy’s collapse, Un’hee had navigated for longer and longer stretches without experiencing fatigue. She found it easier to be present during her trances, though Eli was careful not to test such theories in potentially dangerous situations. Several other navigators, including Vah’nya had noticed the same. It had saved them many times over. Of that, Eli was certain.

The rest of their trip went smoothly, and Eli brought Un’hee out of trance about an hour away from the asteroid field Samakro had holed his people up in. He’d had the same idea that Eli had, hiding his forces in a place only a Navigator could easily navigate. Once they got close enough, it would be up to Eli to get Samakro’s people to let Eli talk to him personally. Only then could he try to achieve his objective.

Reformation, Year 2

The Fringes: Soltad Asteroid Cluster

The Springhawk

Un’hee held Eli’s hand. She was nine years old, and maybe that meant she was too old for such behaviors, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t going to hide her face in his tunic or hold onto its hem. She would stand on her own, but she wanted it known that they were together.

It had taken a lot of arguing and more than five scans of the ship to get the crew of the Springhawk to grant them landing permissions. In the end, Eli had powered down everything but life support as they were tractored in. Now they remained under armed guard, but she could tell that the Chiss were both wary and curious of the Human that had walked from the shuttle with his hands held out in a display of peace and compliance.

They tried to separate them, to put them in different interrogation rooms. Eli had put his foot down before Un’hee could make even a peep of sound. His grip on her hand hadn’t tightened, but her grip on his did.

“Enough,” came a rasping voice from behind them. The guards that had been ready to separate them by force stepped back at once. “Navigator.”

Un’hee turned to see a Chiss looking down at her. His hair was trimmed to a short fuzz on the sides, but was longer on the top. He had a wider jaw and sharp, intelligent eyes. To her surprise, he dropped to a knee, positioning himself to be shorter than she was—a mildly impressive feat, given that she was barely two centimeters taller than she’d been this time last year.

“You came here with this man,” he said. She nodded. “And his name?”

“Eli,” she said, surprised he was talking to her. “Eli Vanto.”

“Looks like you’re holding onto him pretty tightly,” he commented dryly. “Is that because he told you to?”

She frowned. “It's because the guards—” her lip curled. “Your guards,” she corrected, reconciling the picture she’d been shown of Senior Captain Samakro when Eli had asked her to take him to the Springhawk with the slightly older man in front of her, “Are trying to separate us. He promised me we’d stay together.”

“Did he now?”

She released Eli’s hand to cross her arms defensively. “Of course he did,” she said waspishly. “He’s my—” She cut herself off. Just because they agreed that this was how things were, how they’d been and how they would stay, didn’t mean that other Chiss would understand it. Most Chiss didn’t.

Samakro laughed, the sound quiet and just as raspy as his voice. “Did you rehearse that?” he asked.

Her eyebrows rose. “Excuse me?” She asked, at the same time Eli did.

Samakro rose to his feet. “Put them in a room together,” he said. “No more attempts to separate them unless the navigator asks for it.”

“The navigator’s name is Un’hee,” Un’hee asserted, chest puffing out slightly.

Eli smiled down at her. “You heard her,” he said, his voice gruff and icy.

“Noted,” Samakro said, turning on his heel and walking away.

They cuffed Eli’s wrists and bolted them to the table. His legs were likewise bolted to the chair which was bolted to the ground. Un’hee’s wrists were bound, but she had not been otherwise restrained. They’d left them there for what felt like hours. Eli tried to distract her as best he could, reminding her that they knew this was going to happen—she knew that, but it didn't make her feel any better. It reminded her of her time with the Grysks, even though their cells were much darker and far more frightening.

She knew they were listening in, watching them for some hint that they weren’t telling the truth. They wouldn’t find it. She did her best not to worry, but it was hard, even with Eli there. How could he protect himself if he was restrained like this? How could he protect her?

The door opened with a loud groan that had her jumping in her chair. “We finished searching your ship,” Samakro said. “You didn’t clear your nav computer.”

“No,” Eli agreed. “Should I have?”

“If you were smart, you would have,” he said.

Un’hee bristled. “Are you our enemy?” she asked.

Eli shot her a look, but she glared up at Samakro instead.

Samakro laughed again. “You’re a firecracker, aren’t you?”

“Stop goading her,” Eli said.

“I’m not goading her, I’m goading you,” Samakro retorted, but he returned his gaze to Un’hee. “Pretty sure if someone popped out of the Chaos and approached your friend here’s ship, he’d be just as distrustful.”

“If he had good reason to be,” she agreed, “But you know who we are.” She gestured to Eli. His Humanity made him more than a little obvious.

“Which is the only reason I let you aboard.” He sat down in the chair across from them, leaning against the backrest and crossing his arms across his chest. “So, let’s hear it,” he said, looking between them. “Why are you here?”

His gaze settled on Un’hee, she could feel it on the side of his face. She ignored him, her eyes on Eli, waiting for him to speak.

“Because,” Eli said, giving her a sidelong look—a small, secret smile—before looking back at Samakro, “We’re going to take on the Grysks, and we need you with us.”

Un’hee felt Eli’s sincerity when he made statements like that. She just knew, like she knew that her skin was blue and her eyes glowed red, that there were stars in the sky and planets fell into orbit around them. It would happen. They might need to be patient, but Eli was committed, and Un’hee knew that if anyone could do it, it was him.

She knew it the same way she knew to move a ship around a planet’s gravity well, the way she charted courses in the midst of her navigational trance.

Samakro’s laugh this time wasn’t the same brittle, fake thing it had been. This time his laugh was downright grating, loud and sarcastic and dark, like his entire demeanor had been.

“You’re delusional,” he said. “You’re delusional, and you’re going to get your people killed.”

“And you’re afraid,” Eli challenged.

“Of course I am. I’m not a fool, Vanto. I know how this ends.”

“No, you don’t.”

“We face unfathomable odds.”

“You know as well as I do that the odds don’t mean a damn thing.”

Samakro stared Eli down, his expression flat. “Unless you’ve got—” he broke off and Un’hee saw the faintest glimmer of hope.

She clenched her hands into fists, looking down, not wanting to see the moment that he realized Eli didn’t have what Samakro wanted. They all wanted Thrawn. Samakro was like Wutroow and Thalias and Ziinda and the rest of them. He wanted Thrawn. And if Thrawn wasn’t available, he wanted Eli to be him.

But Eli wasn’t. A person could only be themselves, for better or worse.

“No. My scouts tell me his ship was found in one of the purrgil migratory routes but,” he shook his head. “We don’t know his status for sure. What I believe is that if he were able, he’d be here. Since he isn’t, it means you and I are the only two people in the Galaxy who have half a shot at this.”

“Wrong,” Samakro said. “If you want to defend, you can use a handful of ships, but if you want to push back, you’ll need resources, labor, capital…”

“Things we have,” Eli said. “My family has worked in logistics for generations. I joined the Imperial military to become a supply officer—”

“So how does a supply officer—” Un’hee watched as his eyes dimmed, then brightened drastically. Something almost like a smile crossed his face. It made him look a lot less grouchy. “Let me guess, Thrawn?”

“Upended my life like a speeder crash at mach speed.”

The smile—it was definitely a smile now, Un’hee could tell—grew, seemingly without Samakro’s knowledge. “I heard about you. I wasn’t sure what to think, to be honest.”

“I’m not him,” Eli said, fanning his hands out in a gesture that said he wasn’t trying to be humble about it; he meant what he said verbatim. “Nobody else will ever be that infuriatingly brilliant.”

Samakro nodded. “Do you think he’s alive?”

Un’hee frowned and looked over at Eli. She’d heard this question asked before. She’d heard Eli answer it too. Most of the time he said—

“I want to believe he is, but what I want doesn’t matter. What matters is that we’re here and he isn’t.”

—Not that.

The Springhawk’s captain sighed defeatedly and ran a hand through his hair. “Is that what you told yourself over Csilla?”

Eli nodded. “Doesn’t make the follow through any easier.”

“I suppose not. I still don’t think there’s a happy ending here, Vanto.”

“Maybe there isn’t,” Eli said, his eyes doing that thing where they darkened, suggesting that whatever he said, he really meant it. “But there is an ending where we do everything we can to give ourselves a fighting chance, and that starts with joining together.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Fine,” Eli said. “You want simple? This is about hope, Senior Captain. That’s why I’m here, and that’s why you’re going to join us. Things aren’t going to improve unless we face them head on. Together.”

Samakro considered that for a long time, until Un’hee squirmed uncomfortably in the silence. To her surprise, he shifted in his seat, focusing on her. “Tell me, Navigator Un’hee: Do you think we can defeat the Grysks?”

She looked at Eli.

“No,” Samakro said. “I’m asking you, not him.”

She turned back. “I know that, Senior Captain Samakro,” she said. “I don’t know how to fight battles or handle politics, but I know Eli. I know Thrawn sent him to the Ascendancy and that Ar’alani trusted him to protect me and my sisters from the Grysks and from Chiss who can’t be trusted.” She held his stare. “The Grysks want us to be afraid to stand up to them. They want us to fight only when it is futile. That’s how it was when I was a slave, and that’s how I think a lot of people felt after Csilla fell to them. But,” she rose from her chair and laid her bound hands over Eli’s. “I think that if we work together, and choose to have more hope than we have fear, that we can win.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Eli told her. The smile he gave her was proud. She blushed, even as she basked in it. “So, how about it? Are you in or are you out?”

“It’s going to take more than a speech from a nine year old to convince me to join you,” Samakro said, to Un’hee’s immense disappointment. He uncrossed his arms and reached into a pocket, then leaned forward. He toggled the release on her binders. “But I’ll hear your proposal, resuming you brought more than flowery speeches.”

Eli smirked as Samakro unbound his wrists as well. “I have some matrix sheets we can go over.”

Un’hee huffed. “You should’ve taken the speeches and left it at that,” she grumbled under her breath. Eli was smart, but matrix sheets were boring.

Apparently she hadn’t been that quiet, or words uttered in the interrogation room were designed to carry. Eli’s eyes… Well, they couldn’t actually light up, but they shifted in a lighthearted way that meant he sympathized with her (even though he loved matrix sheets and wasn’t fooling anyone who had ever seen him present one).

As for Samakro? His amused huff sounded much more fitting than any of those sarcastic, fake laughs they’d heard earlier.

Notes:

So.... how we feeling?

Chapter 7: Assassin

Notes:

Trigger warning: If children committing acts of violence (under the influence of others) bothers you, you'll want to skip the first flashback portion of this. I would describe it as mildly descriptive but not intentionally disturbing.

The M rating here is mostly for violence. The Grysks are really, really evil.

Reformation, Year 10

Camco Approach

Thearterra was a success, Thrawn's plans, spurring the Grysks to pull back to protect Naporar and Sposia. It left Samakro’s forces—fresh off their victory and reclamation of the decimated armory at Kinoss—to continue their forward momentum and set off for Bogo Rai to the southwest. Wutroow moved up to defend the territories regained, while Ziinda’s forces remained a final defense for the millions of refugees and resources at Home-Away.

Hammerly looked away from the board, and Pyrondi finally caught her eye. After two weeks spent over the rather chaotic world of Thearterra, they were finally moving toward the northernmost planet in the Ascendancy’s former territory: a world known as Colonial Station Camco.

“Well?”

“Everything looks fine,” Hammerly murmured to her partner, "But…”

“Yeah,” Pyrondi said. There was an odd tension on the bridge.

Over at the nav station, the navigator sat stiffly at the helm, her arms crossed over her chest while Agral tried to cheer her up between jumps. So far, he’d been pretty good with them. Today, it seemed the girl was just on edge.

The aft bridge doors slid open, revealing Ronan, of all people. He marched onto the bridge like he belonged there, something Pyrondi seriously doubted, based on her limited recollection of the man. She’d been relatively lucky not to see him recently, but that luck had to run out eventually.

“Has anyone seen the Supreme Commander?”

The Navigator tilted her head, swiveling her seat so fast she nearly hit Agral, who had leaned in to try and engage her. “You don’t know where he is?” she chirped, shrill and concerned. “Have you asked Navigator Un’hee?”

Ronan’s expression went disgruntled. Pyrondi expected him to snap, but he seemed to physically maneuver his attitude under control before answering the girl. “That was the first person I checked with,” he said tightly.

Laknym, who shared control of the bridge with Hammerly and occasionally Pyrondi as they adapted to their service of a foreign military, went to Ronan’s side. “His guards?”

“Nothing,” Ronan said. “Who do you think I—”

The senior captain had his comm to his lips immediately. “Admiral,” he called, everything about him tense. “Tell me Ivant is with you.”

❧

It wasn’t uncommon for Eli to be without guards on his own flagship. Of all places in the galaxy, this was the safest place to be. For Eli to be entirely unreachable, both by comm and questis, to the bridge, his admiral—his flagship’s captain, and his daughter, suggested something sinister had happened.

The navigator’s demeanor, according to Vah’nya, who arrived on the bridge with Thrawn, only confirmed it.

Thrawn sent Bridger to search for danger and in the same breath locked down the entire ship. It’s the fastest any of them has ever seen a warship locked down. Once Pyrondi might have blamed it on the procedure being frequent or it being a matter of technology. Now, she imagined it had a lot more to do with the lack of droids and the sharpness of the crew.

The head of Vanto’s guard briefed Thrawn while Thrawn got a sitrep from Laknym. The two conversed so quickly in Cheunh it made her head spin, and a glance at Hammerly confirmed that they both needed some more practice with the language.

As the rapid-fire Cheunh became more comprehensible, Vah'nya brought the navigator from the helm to Thrawn's command chair.

"You should hear this, sir," Vah'nya said.

"I'm listening," Thrawn said waspishly. He frowned, looking down at the girl when Vah'nya remained still and unimpressed. "My apologies. Tell me what you know, Navigator Na'vibi."

The girl, who was maybe ten or eleven, kept one hand curled over Vah'nya's belt as if to keep herself anchored. "I sensed darkness," she said. "While we were flying."

"Darkness," Thrawn repeated. "What does this mean?"

"Grysks feel like dark pits, if you can sense them," Vah'nya offered.

"But this wasn't a Grysk," the girl added. "It felt like a scout. They send them, sometimes, and we can feel them. It's usually routine, but," she squirmed, biting her lip. Tears made the glowing quality of her eyes even brighter than usual, though she didn't let them fall.

"This isn't your fault, navigator."

The girl swallowed. "No, but—"

"We've taken in personnel since Thearterra," Vah'nya said. "They either knew we were coming, or they had a contingency plan waiting."

"What sort of contingency," Thrawn demanded, voice like ice. "Has this happened before?"

Na'vibi twitched and whimpered. Thrawn's gaze shifted instantly to her as if looking for injury, but—Thrawn's comm went off.

There was no mistaking the ominous sense of dread as he lifted the device smoothly to his lips. "This is Thrawn," he said calmly, though Pyrondi got the feeling he absolutely wasn't.

Reformation, Year 2

The Fringes: Soltad Asteroid Belt

"Start over, from the beginning."

Vah'nya took a deep breath and raised her chin, looking the older woman in the eye. She was around Eli's age, with the beginning of age lines that showed on her forehead and the outer corner of her eyes. They were more prominent when she frowned or smiled, but right now, her expression was entirely neutral.

This woman, Che’ri, had been a navigator. Like Vah’nya, she’d reached adulthood without losing her sight. But unlike Vah’nya, she hadn’t spent her teenage years aboard a ship. All they had was Samakro’s word that she had served the CEDF as a child and had been exposed to—and exhibited—powers most navigators didn’t. But all Vah’nya could see so far was a strange woman with a large, unaccounted for gap in her story.

She turned her head to look at Eli, who lingered toward the door with Samakro, the two of them stone-still, their arms crossed as they murmured to each other. Samakro had organized this meeting the moment he had heard what happened, and from what she’d overheard from Khresh, Thalias and Samakro had exchanged some tense words on the subject.

She hated that people needed to die—or almost die, as it had better be in this case—in order for people to come together.

“We don’t have all day, Vah’nya,” Che’ri reminded her.

Eli broke away from his quiet conversation with Samakro to give her an encouraging nod, though his smile didn’t meet his eyes.

Vah’nya sighed. “Okay,” she said, taking a deep breath before she began again.

The story hadn’t changed from the first two times she told it.

Four days earlier, she’d been with Un’hee, the two of them showing the newest Navigators—whom they had recovered from an escape pod two weeks earlier—to their new temporary quarters. They had stated that they’d managed to escape their attendant and used Third Sight to know when was the best time to jettison the pod. At no point did Vah’nya, Un’hee, any of the officers, or Eli notice anything was amiss. They seemed shaken and fearful, but otherwise fine through their debriefing and quarantine period.

Un’hee, who had become increasingly take-charge in the last year or so, had taken it upon herself to lead the way, giving Vah’nya time to scan through schedules and orders. They were tasks that fell upon her head now that she was both head navigator and lead caretaker, but she had other duties, and very little time to spare, a fact which Un’hee knew.

She had taken two steps into the hallway beyond the red-rimmed door that denoted the navigator’s section when a blur of motion caught her eye. Ahead, Un’hee was gesturing for the first of the girls—Il’liko—to tap her hand to the panel that would unlock their cabin. The girl’s hand stretched out, her milk blue fingers trembling, and Un’hee took her wrist, gently guiding it down to the biometric reader pad.

As she did, the second girl, Kho’nih, crossed the gap between them, brandishing a blade.

Vah’nya tried to warn Un’hee, but Kho’nih was too fast. Un’hee made a horrible, wet-sounding gasp and went still as the younger girl ducked under Un’hee’s guard and the blade pierced her chest.

She—Vah’nya slammed her palm to the emergency alarm built into the wall, and threw out her hands. Stop, she had said to the girl. In her mind, Vah’nya remembered demanding Kho’nih do so. Don’t move.

The girl froze and Vah’nya felt the connection snap together between them after a jarring sensation she could only compare to impacting a window with a charric bolt. It felt like shattering awake, like the girl that had been there one moment was not the same one that had been there the next. The girl made a wounded sound, animal and foreign, but Vah’nya was already looking to the other navigator, her third sight flaring to life at the presence of danger.

Il’liko likewise produced a blade, but Vah’nya disarmed her before she could do anything with it. Un’hee had her hand clasped tightly around the girl’s hand, keeping the blade from moving in her chest, but she’d begun to topple forward against the door to the suite.

“That is the beginning,” Che’ri said matter of factly, interrupting the flow of Vah’nya’s memory.

Vah’nya frowned. “It began when Navigator Kho’nih stabbed Un’hee,” she refuted.

“The part that we care about begins with you connecting to Kho’nih.” Che’ri crossed her arms, her expression going slightly deadpan. “Which you did, before she was out of Grysk control.”

“That’s impossible.”

Che’ri smiled, but shook her head. “Unfortunately not,” she said. “You see, I can do it, too.” She uncrossed her arms and leaned forward. “You told her to stop, not to move. And she didn’t, because you told her to.” Her eyes glittered. “But I interrupted your story,” she said, setting them back on track. “Continue.”

Reformation, Year 10

Camco Approach

“What have I done?”

The man hadn’t stopped repeating those words since Ezra had thrown him back from Vanto’s body, pinning him against the supply room bulkhead. He was still saying them on repeat as Vah’nya charged onto the scene, putting her hand on Ezra’s shoulder. She quickly evaluated the situation, the cluster of medics now crowding around Vanto’s prone form, working to triage him. Deciding that was managed, though her concerns were very much not allayed, she turned back to him.

“Let him go,” she said. “He doesn’t remember.”

“What?”

Vah’nya ignored him, clearly figuring that he’d heard her the first time.

“Give me your weapons,” she said, holding out her hand in the would-be assassin’s direction. And then, “Bridger.”

Ezra let him go, carefully lowering the Chiss to the floor. They staggered over to her, tears leaking from their overbright eyes, offering her a bloodied blade that was Grysk in design.

“Is that—”

“Hush,” Vah’nya cut Ezra off without so much as a glance in his direction. “What is your name?”

“Tiohl’ita’mest,” the man told him.

“Hlitame,” She said, and the man swallowed hard, nodding. He squeezed his eyes shut, clearly trying not to hyperventilate. Ezra wondered if Chiss just knew what each other’s core names were or if there was some kind of system. “My name is Vah’nya.” She paused, noting the immediate diversion of his attention.

No wonder, Ezra thought. Thrawn’s presence in the Force was darker than anything Ezra had felt from him in a decade, like a midnight hurricane. His expression—well, Ezra was pretty sure he had never looked at anyone the way he looked at Hlitame. Not even Ezra.

Apparently all bets were off when you went after Thrawn’s commanding officer.

Vah’nya relieved Hlitame of the weapon, taking the end in a cloth. She held it out for Ezra to take and Ezra gasped. He’d seen this exact weapon before. He’d held it in the Force. He knew it.

“That’s—”

“Yes,” Vah’nya said. “Get it away from us.” She returned her focus to Hlitame. “What is the last thing you remember?”

The sounds Hlitame made weren’t a part of any language Ezra knew.

Thrawn came in closer, taking the blade from Ezra’s hand and passing it off to a tech. With his other hand he produced his comm, barking something about interrogations and guard rotations. After that, he looked to the medics, then froze, as if he’d heard something Ezra couldn’t. He turned on his heel and Ezra understood.

But Un’hee had ducked under his arm, her lips set in a thin line, having not taken kindly to his attempts at sheltering her from the brutality that had occured. “I saw the blade,” she told him, her voice quietly furious but controlled as she demanded, “What is my father’s status?”

Reformation, Year 2

The Fringes: Soltad Asteroid Belt

"Do you believe her?"

Eli rested his head in the palm of his free hand, cupping his cheek. He looked tired, and Vah'nya understood. He had slept very little since all of this had happened.

"I trust Samakro," he began quietly. "Which is why I—"

"Kindly do not remind me," she hissed. "That isn't what I asked about."

He winced as he shifted, choosing to stretch so he could resettle with less discomfort. "It's what you're most concerned about," he argued. "She did it precisely so you could find the memory later and use it to—"

"I know, I know," she threw out one hand to stop him. The other remained fanned across her forehead.

Something in the room beeped and both of them turned their heads toward the girl in the bed. Eli had Un’hee’s loose fist curled over his left hand, his entire body angled toward her. She didn't wake. Vah'nya saw what he felt on his face, not through second, third, or any other unknown types of sight. His expression wasn’t difficult to read. She saw love. Hurt. Frustration. Impending loss. Hope that the impending loss might be held at bay a while longer.

"Samakro looked at Che'ri the way you look at Un’hee," she said, flopping down into the other visitor's chair.

Eli inclined his head. "I know," he said, his thumb tracing gentle circles over the top of her hand.

She sat with that a moment, when suddenly, it clicked. "You didn't do that for me," she said. "You did it for Samakro."

He shrugged.

"Eli," she hissed, "Do you have any idea how dangerous that is? We don't even know whose side she's on! What do you think Khresh will say?"

"I know what side she's on." He lifted his chin and she saw his eyes darken. "As for Khresh, he won't say anything because we aren't going to tell him."

"He'll find out."

"Maybe, but only if you or Samakro tell him."

"Because this convinced him to join us," she deadpanned. She should have known.

"Allowing Che'ri to root around in my head cleared up any concerns that I was controlled by the Grysks and that this," he gestured to Un’hee's unconscious form, "Was some cruel, double layered deception."

"She was able to control you."

"She was. You were able to control another navigator without understanding it," he reminded her. "Tactically speaking, you're the greater threat."

"Great," Vah'nya said. "So now I'm the problem?"

"You," Eli told her, trying to keep Un’hee in his sight even as he met her gaze, "Will be a solution. But not unless you have access to this memory from my end if things so you can see how she did it."

"You think it's teachable."

"Che'ri didn't learn it from a Chiss," Eli said. "That's the part she's not telling us. Che'ri originally approached Samakro months ago on behalf of an old, mutual ally, called the Paccosh. She went to train under a Force sensitive woman aligned with them." He sighed. "Which he told me because I submitted myself to her and passed their test."

"And you trust all this?"

He nodded. "After our little jaunt in Imperial space," he said. Vah'nya braced herself. He always went a little soft when talking about anyone who had passed. "Ar'alani gave me access to all of Thrawn's old mission logs," he said. "A lot of them were heavily redacted, but they did note the Sky-walker present for Thrawn's missions with the Paccosh."

"Was it her, wasn't it? That's why you trusted her?" Vah'nya shook her head. "That's crazy, Eli. That was more than twenty years ago."

Eli nodded. "Maybe," he allowed. "But if this explains what and why this is happening to you, and how—" he didn't dare voice that unspoken thought, even though they both had been thinking it. She was glad he still had some limits, "I'm willing to risk it."

Since the collapse of the Ascendancy, not a single Sky-walker's sight had faded.

Reformation, Year 10

Camco Approach

Un'hee paced like a caged animal. Thrawn watched her as he approached. When she saw him, her eyes flashed and the pacing ceased, replaced by a surprising stillness.

"What did Vah'nya uncover?" She asked him.

Thrawn could appreciate her need for information. "It is how we suspected,” he said. “Hlitame’s memories confirmed that Somnus' blade was utilized as a last attempt to avenge his failures, but also to send a message."

That Visatrox, the Grysk SiegeMaker, was behind this, that she had accessed them so easily was a concern Thrawn needed to address. It was not one that could be addressed before the upcoming conflict. Deviation was what their enemy was hoping for.

He kept his eyes trained on her face, seeing the swelling beneath her eyes and splotches of heat across her forehead that betrayed the fact that she'd been crying. Her nostrils flared as if in challenge. "That message being?"

"War." Thrawn could not see the memories that Vah'nya had unraveled, but her words had been spoken shakily, like the truth was almost too horrific to know second hand. "Visatrox promised a conflict 'the likes of which the Chiss have never seen.'"

She made a derisive sound. "She isn't wrong. Did Vah'nya actually see her in Hlitame's memories?"

"She believes so."

"Good." Un’hee's arms folded across her chest and she tucked away all but the physical displays of her distress that her body would need time to dispel. "Do you know why Ezra was so important to that interrogation, why Eli insisted he be the one to control that blade?"

Thrawn had his suspicions, but Un’hee's slow, bitter smile confirmed them. "They know we can untangle memories and return a person to themselves," she said. "They know that we can find these obscured, hidden memories within their victims."

Yes, Thrawn had realized that all of this was intended to send a message.

"What they don't know," she said, holding his gaze with eyes that blazed with animosity and outrageous for their foes, "Is that we can do it back, like I did during the battle of Eksleron."

"I recall you telling the commander there," Thrawn said. "We touched on it in brief detail."

"What they do not know will destroy them," she said, her words dripping with darkness. And then, as if casting off a great weight, she said, "Eli will be in surgery for another three hours, at least. If we leave now, how long until we reach the meeting point?"

"Five hours."

"And a battle?"

"Eight at most."

She nodded, seeming to think it over. "If we wait—"

Thrawn inclined his head. "I have already ordered a navigator to the helm and held an initial briefing with the fleet captains. They are all shaken by the news, but agree with our shared logic. We will be departing shortly."

"Thank you," she said.

Thrawn raised an eyebrow.

"What?" Her eyes narrowed in response to his study.

"I was unaware that I answered to you," Thrawn commented dryly.

She snorted. "Eli is injured, not dead,” she growled. “You're not in charge just yet." But as she said the words, a shadow crossed her features.

"I meant no offense, nor do I want such authority," Thrawn said. In fact, despite the fact that he'd been told Eli would almost definitely survive and make a complete recovery, he felt conflicted and ill at ease. He was more than capable of setting aside his emotions and doing what needed to be done. That did not mean he was not worried.

Nothing in the galaxy was guaranteed.

She sighed. "I'm sorry I snapped at you," she said. "Eli and I have done this for a long time. Our people struggle when he is injured and I," she shrugged. "Sometimes the most cutting and insistent voice is the only one that others will heed when they are hopeless."

Thrawn understood what it meant to act in a way that got others' attention, to become what it was they needed to get through an objective. He shouldn't have been surprised that Unhee's knew this, and perhaps he wasn't—he had seen her in battle.

The way she hid away her reluctance and embraced responsibility and challenges even despite her reservations, even the way she vented her frustration and slipped into coolness and took charge of a situation was indicative of great potential. Potential that was thanks to her unorthodox upbringing.

"You are a great deal like your father," he said.

"That means a lot coming from you."

❧

In a much kinder galaxy, it would've been the sound of quiet discussion or the rhythmic soothing of a thumb sliding back and forth over his fingers or hand that brought him back to awareness.

Instead, it was the horrible, mind-rending feeling of pain that made him surface and his rapidly elevating heart rate that tipped off the medics and techs who cared for him.

So smothering they'd been that he almost missed Ronan's presence in the doorway, within earshot of the guard. "About time you woke up," he said, when the medics had given him something to block some of the pain. Trial and error over the years had given his personal care team enough experience to know when not to overdo it.

And right now, Eli needed to be conscious.

"How long?"

"We found you seven hours ago, give or take," Ronan said. "Thrawn's just finished his final briefing with the captains and we're proceeding as planned."

"My assailant?"

Ronan kept his eyes trained on his questis. "On the watch protocols. Vah'nya handled the debrief. He seemed pretty certain the Admiral was going to murder him." At that, Ronan dropped his questis to his lap and folded his hands over them. Primly, he added, "You moved quickly."

Eli scoffed. "He'd be like that even if I hadn't kissed him," he pointed out, grunting as he tried and failed to get his body to reposition. Ronan watched him the entire time he struggled, until Eli barked, gruff, "Help me out, would you?"

"As long as you don't bleed on me," Ronan groused, but he was already standing. "Should I call for Un’hee?" he asked, helping Eli sort out the mess of lines and cables draped across his bandaged chest and abdomen and offering a some leverage to keep him upright as he shifted, "Or—"

"Wait," Eli said. Just this brief bit of wakefulness had exhausted him. "I need a couple minutes to think about things now that my life's not in danger."

Ronan sat down again, pointing at the stack of black material on the chair beside him. "Well, when you decide to do something foolhardy—don't tell me you won't, this isn't my first day on the job, thank you very much—I've got your uniform right here."

Eli huffed, then winced at the pain. This was less than ideal, but he'd dealt with the same before, if not worse. He'd hurt, but he could live with that.

Chapter 8: Monarch

Reformation, Year 10

Colonial Station Camco

Battle preparations were largely the same regardless of scale. The necessary parties—be they commanders, crew, officers, footsoldiers, pilots, or some combination thereof—needed to be advised of their roles in the upcoming action. That step started from the top—in this case, with Thrawn himself—and trickled downward.

Thrawn was no stranger to preparedness or battle. He did not sit in the command chair, but instead stood before the forward viewport, his gaze on the smallish planet below. He felt no personal relation to this world, but he did not fight for territory. Their enemy might think they did, that it was about staking claim in the physical.

It was not. Thrawn was not the same man he had been when he had been exiled, nor was he the same man he had been ten or fifteen years earlier. He understood what it meant to lose everything—to lose more, even after. There were many unknowns in this battle, especially now that they'd been infiltrated. The security breaches had all been identified, and thankfully no truly valuable information had been shared, but Hlitame's actions, though entirely beyond his control, had dire consequences they simply were not able to prepare for in full.

Thrawn did his best to do so anyway.

They emerged from hyperspace too soon, the navigator jerking uncomfortably first by the loss of control of the ship mid-trance, and then by the droning of the proximity alarms. The sensors indicated what could only be a cloaked gravity well generator. A quick glance at the board didn’t show the other ships, but Thrawn heard confirmations come in and get relayed from the comms station.

Agral was steadying their overwhelmed Navigator; The girl had pressed a cold compress from the supply kit under her seat to the back of her neck, likely to stave off any lingering symptoms that could turn into an overload spell. She looked mildly unwell, but not necessarily unfit to continue.

There were a few tips and tricks the Chiss had for gravity well generators, one of which Laknym was running through with Pyrondi at the weapons’ station. Laknym looked over his shoulder at Thrawn, who nodded his permission.

“Quickly,” Thrawn urged, voice calm and resolute. Their enemies had been waiting for them. They had been waiting, and they knew to separate them.

A shadow shifted in his periphery. Un’hee had joined him near the viewport. “I don’t like this,” she said.

“Nor do I, but the situation is salvageable.”

His placid voice was a sharp contrast to Un’hee’s, which was equally quiet but increasingly strained. “If they have concealed ships—”

Thrawn turned a flat gaze upon her. “No plan wholly survives the opening salvo of battle, Navigator Un’hee,” he reminded her. “We need only adapt to the changing theatre of war.”

“I was at the briefing, too,” she reminded him. “I saw what you did not.”

“Explain,” Thrawn said.

“This isn’t a trap for us in the military sense. That part is easy for you, I’m sure. But this enemy—the Grysks, they remember you. They know your weakness.” She searched his eyes, her own wide and dim with concern. “Separating us is dangerous. They are already…” she shook her head. “All of it is designed to capitalize on their wariness and your, well—”

“You’re saying my subordinates do not trust me.”

Her lips compressed, then parted, as if she were to continue speaking.

Thrawn did not give her the opportunity. “My subordinates are warriors of the Ascendancy Reborn. They will obey my orders because I am their commanding officer.”

Un’hee’s eyes narrowed. “I hope you’re right,” she said.

❧

“I hope you’re right,” Un’hee told Thrawn. Deep down, she knew he wasn’t.

It wasn’t that she didn’t believe in him. In a perfect galaxy, he’d issue orders, the fleet would heed them, and they’d have an easy victory.

It was just that she knew with the kind of certainty that she had always felt things were going to go terribly. She had learned the hard way what happened when allowed others to belittle her instincts, and she wouldn’t let that happen again.

Besides, Eli had told her that Thrawn always believed that a sense of duty would outweigh prejudice and fear, that he trusted his people a whole lot more than they ever trusted themselves—for better or for worse.

And when it came to his people, those closest to him? It worked, every single time. His people knew what he expected, knew what he would give to them—it was everything, because Thrawn was a warrior to the last—and they would give it back to him and then some, and it would become this great and wondrous feedback loop.

But that wasn’t what was happening here, and it was rare that people were of such noble alignment.

What was about to happen here was chaos. Their five capital ships were out of alignment, and in their eyes, they were fighting all on their own. They would launch fighters on Thrawn’s order, the pilots would scramble and come back together in a dazzling display likewise, but the captains had been hesitant in their final briefing, and she knew, without a doubt, that they would hesitate now.

Un’hee had seen enough of such performances, and she wasn’t a fan of standing around hoping that their captains got it together enough to prevent their warriors from dying pointless deaths. She spun on her heel, eyeing Bridger, who stood staring at the tactical display, frowning as he tried to use his Force to tell him where the other gravity well generators were hidden. She hoped, as she slipped through the bridge hatch, that she wasn’t too late in making this decision.

She didn’t bother to disguise her run as some aggressive walk. She didn’t have time to spare. She made it to the lift at the end of the aft bridge corridor, slapping her palm onto the biometric and jabbing at the level with the medical wing just as her Third Sight showed her a vision of a ship dropping out of hyperspace and announcing itself with a laser salvo that rippled their forward shields.

She refused to be afraid. She would do what she could, and this was what it was. Un’hee wasn’t able to be Eli any more than Eli had ever been able to be Thrawn.

The lift opened and Un’hee stepped into the medbay’s overbright yellow-white lighting like the woman on a mission she was. Her expression hardened as she took in the sheer numbers of waiting medics. They, like her, were prepared for the aftermath of battle, but without people to treat, the medical staff deferred to her sense of urgency and moved out of the way. Eli’s guard, who would be clinging to him like a shadow from this point on, did likewise in the doorway.

Then, she stepped into Eli’s room and found him standing beside the bed, Ronan carefully threading his sash beneath the leatherette shoulder pad of his uniform tunic.

He looked tired and pale from blood loss and surgical intervention, the skin around his eyes thin and more delicate looking than usual. She could see the heat of freshly stitched and very irritated wounds through his tunic—suggesting he'd foregone an undershirt. Case in point, she spotted flecks of drying blood from where he’d likely done more harm than good letting Ronan help him into his uniform.

As if summoned by Un’hee’s thoughts, two of the physicians came over to protest the fact that he’d ripped off the monitoring nodes on his arms, chest, and forehead.

The ship rocked under their feet. Eli schooled his pain into a blank mask and silenced the physicians who had followed her in with a single glance over her shoulder.

Then, he met her eyes.

“He’s not ready,” she told him. “And neither are they.”

❧

Hammerly and Pyrondi had been on the bridge during the Seventh Fleet's battle with the rebels at Atollon. Pyrondi would hesitate to say that this was anywhere close to the same, but she looked into Hammerly’s face and knew that her partner was thinking about it, too.

The fleet was trying, from what Pyrondi could see, but there was a distinct looseness to their obedience. Their forces were sloppy and disorganized. Scattered. Lost.

Now, all Pyrondi could think about was Admiral Konstantine and his indignant stupidity, how not listening to Thrawn—one ship's deviation —could turn the tide of battle against them. That battle, while important at the time, didn't have nearly as high of stakes as this one.

And if it continued, that sloppiness would prove even more fatal.

It infuriated her. How was it that Thrawn faced this problem among the Chiss, too? He was brilliant! If anyone could lead them through this battle, it was him and anyone with half a brain would've been able to figure that out just by looking at him.

Thrawn was less than pleased, she could see it on her face. The other captains were not proving themselves capable, nor were they building or earning trust. Thrawn's curt commands and barked orders to his own crew as they attempted to bridge the gap between the other ships and their utter failings grew more frigid, more urgent. He never lost his sense of calm, but he wasn't unfeeling. He might never act purely out of anger, but she knew he felt things just as much as anyone else, in his own way.

Beside her, Laknym cursed—this she guessed from context, she had no idea what the kriff he was saying—and and his fingers curled into fists. "This is ridiculous," he added for her benefit.

"It is," Pyrondi agreed.

"How is it Thrawn still…" She leaned in, curious about what Laknym had to say regarding Thrawn, but he only groaned and ran a hand through his hair before scanning the bridge as if looking for something. When he didn’t find it, he looked at Pyrondi. “We need to prioritize protection of our comms array,” he said. “If we lose communication with the rest of the fleet, we’re done for.”

Pyrondi wanted to tell him that he was out of his mind, that Thrawn was still in constant communication with their fleet, and it didn’t seem to matter in the slightest, but there was something about the way Laknym’s expression had twisted, the way his jaw seemed to set and he turned to his board in absolute concentration.

“You know something,” she said to him.

The Steadfast’s chief weapons officer inclined his head. “I have a hunch,” Laknym told her. “Un’hee isn’t here,” he murmured. “If she isn’t here, that means she’s with Ivant.”

“Your point? Last I checked he—”

“Sir,” came the captain of the warship Equinox, which was the third furthest from them, “We need to retreat.”

Laknym swore under his breath.

“Not yet, Mid-Captain,” Thrawn said. “We’ve cleared the gravity well generators. If your navigation officer can successfully execute a micro-jump—”

“There are too many unknowns, sir. I can’t give them that kind of jump on the fly and my Sky-walker was jarred by the interdiction so she’s not likely to be able to assist.”

“You have six other navigators aboard,” Thrawn reminded them. “Call another.”

“I have, but—”

Another captain came through. “Admiral, there’s too many of them. Our fighters—”

Hammerly jumped up from her seat. “Power readings on Vengeance have tripled,” she declared. “I think they’re…”

There wasn’t any thinking about it, Pyrondi thought. Laknym had shown her what the power readings were when a ship powered up its energy weapon. That was precisely what the crew of the Vengeance was doing right now. Laknym had also told her that those weapons were to be their last-ditch effort and had been, despite everything, kept secret. They couldn’t afford to be found out now, this early in the campaign.

Certainly not when there was a way to win if they’d just kriffing listen to Thrawn instead of panicking.

Thrawn’s eyes flashed in that way that indicated fury. “Vengeance,” he demanded icily, “Power down your weapons systems. Now.”

“We’re going to be destroyed if we allow them to keep swarming,” Vengeance’s captain said. “I can’t do that, sir.” The power levels continued to rise.

“How much time do we have, Senior Captain?” Thrawn asked.

Laknym eyed the board. “They can drop the weapon from their hull in a minute. Firing will take two.”

“That’s enough time for the Grysks to jump,” Hammerly commented, her eyebrows creeping higher.

“Laknym,” Thrawn called, “If you fire at their weapon after it drops from the hull plating, will it cause damage to the ship?”

“Minimal damage, so long as we catch it early. We’d need to be a lot closer though.”

Thrawn nodded. “Navigation: get us within firing distance,” he ordered. “Senior Captain Laknym, if they drop their weapon,” he added darkly, “Destroy it.”

“Yes, sir.”

Thrawn warned their fighters as Agral and the navigator, who looked a little pale, but no less determined, worked in tandem to initiate a micro jump without pre-planned coordinates.

The jump would put them in a poor position tactically, exposing their entire starboard flank and removing them from the protective screen of their fighter contingents. The cost of this maneuver would be monumental.

The stars barely began to elongate before they were back in space normal, the ship’s engines struggling to regulate heat and power output with the drastic change. A choppy shudder went through the ship. Laknym ignored it, plugging away at his board while Pyrondi watched. He knew exactly where to strike the weapon to disable it while causing the least amount of damage to the rest of the ship. This was not ideal, but if it had to be done, Laknym would make sure they did it right.

The calls for retreat from the other ships began again in earnest as the Grysks began targeting the Steadfast, as if this decision had been made with the intent to further confuse or lose the battle, rather than to prevent the Vengeance from absolutely blowing their grand plan.

Alright, she thought, this was worse than Konstantine because it was the reverse. They were the ones who were going to get picked off because the captain of the Vengeance wanted to be a hero.

❧

There were at least four muted alarms droning on the bridge, and several officers attempting to feed data to the admiral without stepping on each other's toes.

“Admiral, shields are holding at forty-three percent.”

“Our fighters are still ninety seconds out,” the comms officer reported. “Flight commanders say they’re closing as quickly as they can but there’s a lot of resistance from enemy craft.”

“Vengeance is making a quarter turn to port.” Hammerly’s voice was mildly distressed. In Basic, she said, “Sir, it looks like they’re going to run.”

At the center of the chaos, issuing orders to the fleet that were falling on deaf and ignorant ears, was Thrawn. Three steps back, beside Thrawn's command chair, Ezra stood in silence, watching it all fall apart. He felt a gaze on his back and turned, eyes going wide with surprise.

Vanto took a deep breath, as deep as he dared, given his injuries. When Ezra met his gaze, he stepped forward despite Un’hee's quietly uttered protest, refusing help. Ezra could sense the depths of his pain. It was severe, even with the aid of medication.

"Open video comm to all ships," Vanto ordered quietly, stepping around the command chair's opposite side to approach the center console. "Use my override code."

He used the same kind of tone as Thrawn, soft yet authoritative, but unlike Thrawn’s, his was tinged with hotter emotions and hinted at a temper barely contained, right from the start. An immediate hush that fell over the bridge. In that silence, the comm officer spoke. "When you're ready, sir."

Vanto nodded.

Thrawn turned to him, the ocean-like churning of the Force around him growing more urgent and upset. He was about to say something, but Vanto put a hand on his chest, urging him backwards. "Take a seat, Admiral. I’ll take it from here."

Thrawn inclined his head. “Yes, sir,” he said. Tension was obvious in his jaw.

Vanto inclined his head. He might be wearing a brave face for the crew, but Ezra could see just how unwell he was. The pin-point signs of stim use were likewise noticeable on the side of his neck. Being here came at a cost, not unlike the one to their forces for the other captains' disobedience.

Leaning in, one hand bracing his chest, he said, “This isn’t your fault.” Anger crossed his features. “I overestimated our forces. The blame is mine.”

Thrawn looked away. Ezra had a feeling that wasn’t the way he saw it.

The comms channel opened, and five windows, displaying five near-identical bridges. The five captains bristled, then flinched, all of their faces betraying surprise. Vanto’s eyes narrowed, and his voice betrayed his anger. “I don’t suppose any of you have an explanation as to why my fleet is in shambles right now.” He paused for only a second before he continued. “Form up on the Steadfast,” he said. “Immediately.”

❧

By the time it was over, Un’hee could see his right fist trembling at his side. The left was braced on the console in front of him, and judging by the way he’d chosen not to restrict his movement—despite the scathing curses he’d muttered at three separate junctures—the pain was intense, bordering on overwhelming.

Technically, they had won this battle.

Really, what that meant was that they had not lost.

Un’hee had been around enough battle to know that sometimes the cost of victory—in this case, the Vengeance, three complete fighter squadrons, and a creeping death toll aboard the other four capital ships—dictated a loss despite the bigger picture.

“Inform the hangar master: I want rescue teams dispatched from the Steadfast. Have them likewise coordinate with the other hangar masters. I want all the escape pods brought aboard here. We’ll determine who goes where after the fact,” Eli instructed the comms officer, the anger in his voice very carefully controlled. A muscle in his jaw jumped, and Un’hee swore she could see the chaotic pulse of his heartbeat in his neck. He was pale, but his chest was a riot of color even through his tunic. She wasn’t stupid, and neither were their crew. He was in a bad way.

Thrawn rose from the command chair and lingered just inside Eli’s periphery. When Eli shifted his feet, he swayed slightly, but he was back in control before Thrawn’s hand wrapped around his elbow.

“I’m fine,” Eli told him, voice thickened by his anger.

Un’hee and Ronan, who had stayed silent since his arrival (to his credit, she supposed), scoffed in unison. The two of them turned to look at her and Ronan in disbelief.

Ronan, who took his duties very seriously, even if he was the most sour Human that Un’hee had ever met. He approached without permission, producing a pain jector. “Just take this,” he said, adding under his breath, “Preferably before you fall over.”

Eli flashed him a quiet smile and took the small hypo. He administered it to himself and handed it back, his breath whooshing out of him at the feeling of immediate relief. “How long will it last?”

“It’s supposed to be a four hour dose,” Ronan told him. “I’d imagine you’ve got three before it wears off.”

Nodding, Eli turned back to the board. He hit the button on the console before him that activated the video comm again. “This is Supreme Commander Vanto,” Eli said, the cold void of his voice and its evenness far more demonstrative than the lack of core name in the transmission. “I want all five ships’ captains in my office three hours from now,” he said. “Until then you are to prioritize search and rescue.”

Un’hee brought her comm to her lips before Eli could instruct her to do so, catching his gaze as it shifted in her direction. They knew each other well enough: he immediately recognized her latent abilities at work and knew he didn’t need to issue the order. She turned away and spoke quietly, as not to create further concern. “Un’hee to medbay. Requesting non-emergent triage for the Supreme Commander.”

She pocketed her comm afterward, turning back only to find herself gazing directly into Thrawn’s eyes. She held his gaze for a long moment, then jerked her chin in Eli’s direction. Normally, she and Ronan would insert themselves further. Before, Khresh would make passive aggressive comments to hide his private panic.

This wasn’t meant to be a test, Un’hee knew that. And yet, she watched Thrawn like a hawk as he respectfully asserted that Eli sat down and assumed control of the rescue efforts before the medics arrived, with the knowledge that she was actively evaluating him.

How they recovered from this failed encounter would set the tone for the rest of the campaign. She knew that look in Eli’s eyes, could see the disappointment there. She had a feeling that Thrawn could see it, too. Whether or not he understood why Eli was disappointed was something else.

They had been at this for years, and everyone trusted Eli. Everyone trusted him, and yet they were so quick to fall apart in the hands of anyone else. This was about what it had always been about.

It had always been about hope.

And their people, even after all this time holding out against the Grysks and the darkness, still hadn’t recognized that they made that hope themselves, each and every day they chose to fight. They were so quick to abandon it, so quick to give into their fears.

She understood why Eli wanted this now. She understood why it had to be Thrawn.

Reformation, Year 3

Home-Away

The meeting went about as well as Eli had expected. None was happy with his decision to reinstate a council of families. What had come before had failed them. And even though this council included a vast majority of the families—all those accounted for at Home-Away had been instructed to send a representative to reflect their family’s interests in the proceedings, it bore homage to the past. It felt too familiar to them.

What Eli hadn’t done at this meeting, what he had decided he would never do, was cede control. Not until they forced him to do so—and by force, he meant that they would need to prove to him that they were capable of standing on their own.

“It’ll never happen, you know,” Thalias said softly.

Eli turned away from his overlook and the fledgling city being carved from the stone beyond it. “What won’t happen?”

She tucked a short tuft of hair behind her back. “There’s no way that this council will ever be what it was.”

“The war isn’t being won tomorrow,” Eli told her. “How’d you know what I was thinking?”

Shrugging, Thalias took the seat across from his desk. “The same way your navigators haven’t lost their Sight,” she said. “It’s difficult to explain,” she said.

Eli’s eyes narrowed. “Try.”

Thalias crossed her arms and reclined as much as the uncomfortable chair would allow, collecting her thoughts. “It’s not what it was. I wouldn’t dare try to navigate a ship, but…” she smiled. “It’s like the galaxy is trying to tell us something but no one is listening.” Her eyes locked with his. “Except for you.”

“I’m not the only one,” Eli refuted. “You’re here, aren’t you?”

“About that,” she said. “I’d probably be holed up with Samakro in his cozy little asteroid field if he hadn’t been so paranoid.”

“You still left your home.”

“Maybe so,” she conceded, a momentary darkness clouding her expression before she brushed it aside. “But the point is that you’re the one making things happen right now. You’re a symbol to these people, and they need you to be the one making the decisions.”

“Which I’m doing, with their input,” Eli reminded her. “I’m committed to being what the Chiss need, be that an analyst, a commander, a conqueror, a symbol—”

“What about a ruler?”

He couldn’t help it, he flushed. “I’d prefer not to call myself that,” he said. True, or otherwise.

“But that’s what you are,” she said. “And they don’t want the responsibility.”

“They’re afraid of it,” Eli told her. “There’s a difference. They’ll come around eventually.”

Thalias seemed to consider that, her tight-lipped expression betraying her belief otherwise. “Are you afraid of it?” she asked. “The responsibility?”

“Of course I am,” he said truthfully. Anyone in their right mind should be, he thought, but chose not to say as much. “But these people are counting on me.”

Crossing her left leg over her right, Thalias raised her eyebrows. “And you’ve taken all that power upon yourself.”

“Someone had to,” he told her, throwing out a hand to emphasize his point. “I never wanted it. I still don’t.”

She nodded. “And that’s why you have to keep it.” Her expression went far-away for a moment, as if lost in memory. “The Council, the Ruling Families, all of it had been broken for a long time. You know that—” she blinked back to the present long enough to confirm that Eli had nodded “—as well as I do. The people that emerge from the other side of this need a firm hand, but not a dictator. They need a monarch.”

Eli froze. She couldn’t be serious. “And you think that person is me?”

“I know it is,” she said, rising to her feet. “And deep down, so do you.”

Chapter 9: Wrath

Reformation, Year 10

Colonial Station Camco

His questis tucked beneath his arm, Ezra followed Thrawn from the bridge. It had become this unspoken thing in the weeks since Thrawn's appointment to Admiral: Ezra would come and go, fulfilling some tasks for Thrawn that he didn't have time for. He was pretty sure it was a non-traditional arrangement, but he and Thrawn had a tendency to fall in together and nobody had questioned it yet, least of all Thrawn, so he just kind of let it happen.

"Ask," Thrawn said, when the lift doors closed behind them. "I know you have questions."

Ezra frowned. He did, and yet the uncomfortable swirl of the Force around Thrawn told him that the Chiss was just as uncertain of the answers. He filed that away. "Vanto was really angry," he offered instead, testing the subject.

Thrawn inclined his head. "He is. Tell me," he said, "Do you recall when Un’hee left the bridge?"

"I don't think so," he said. "I was more concerned with everything else. Did you?"

"It was early on," Thrawn replied, "Though I too was a bit distracted by the proceedings."

That he even admitted it told Ezra even more than the dark, chaotic whirlpool of the Force that he was unbalanced and ill at ease.

"This isn't your fault, you know. Even Vanto said that.”

“Our fleet was under my command,” Thrawn replied tersely. The turbolift opened and they stepped out, side by side.

Ezra considered that. “Didn’t you tell me that command starts at the top? On Eksl, that might have been true, but you’re not at the top here. You’re an admiral, but he’s technically the one in command.”

“Command which fell to me when he was injured,” came the reminder.

“Yes, but—” Thrawn turned his head in the other direction, noticing the presence of Ronan—Vanto’s aide de camp—waiting for them.

“Bridger is to remain here with me,” Ronan instructed Thrawn. “You’re to join the rest of the fleet commanders in Vanto’s office.”

“They’re all here?”

“They’re on their way,” Ronan said, his gaze flickering to Ezra.

Ezra frowned. Thrawn’s eyes narrowed on Ronan, then flashed briefly to Ezra.

He knew what that look meant: Be alert. Report to me everything that happens. He didn’t respond verbally, but his lips pulled to the right like they usually did in a not quite smile that passed as confirmation. Thrawn gave him one of his microscopic nods and continued on without him.

“So,” Ronan said when they were alone. “You’re a Jedi.”

Ezra did his best not to glare. “Obviously.”

“Hmph. Well, it’s about time we got to meet. Considering we’re both aides here—”

“I’m a Jedi, not an aide.”

“And I’m the lead weapons engineer who had to watch as the Steadfast destroyed one of my painstakingly designed creations earlier today. Doesn’t make me any less of Vanto’s aide.”

Ezra snorted. “Right, and I’m Jabba the Hutt,” he said sarcastically.

“You’re a bit slender for that, don’t you think?” Ronan bit back. “You’re welcome to believe me, or not,” he said, smoothing down the front of his black tunic. “The point is that if you, a Jedi, want one of your Jedi weapons, you’re going to need me.”

That caught Ezra’s attention. “You have a lightsaber?” he asked.

“No,” Ronan said, “But I do have a collection of gemstones that just might pique your interest.”

❧

The five captains lined up in the middle of the room. Eli hadn’t invited them to sit, nor would they, even if there had been enough chairs. He stood with his back to his desk, facing them. Thrawn stood off to the side, perpendicular to Eli, but his gaze was trained on the captains. Un’hee stood beside Thrawn, her arms crossed over her chest and her glowing eyes blazing with barely restrained rage.

He could feel his heartbeat from waist to shoulder, each of his injuries throbbing in time with his pulse. He let them stew for a moment while he consulted his questis, confirming that the majority of rescue operations had concluded, and getting the damage counts.

“The most recent report puts deaths up to one hundred and five,” Eli said. “Another thirty-some crew of the Vengeance are still unaccounted for.” He looked up from his questis and into the eyes of the Vengeance’s captain. “Three full wings of fighters and one capital ship have been destroyed.”

The captain met Eli’s gaze, but he could see the remorse there. It wasn’t good enough. “I admit, Senior Captain Seltak, I wasn’t on the bridge at the start of the battle, so maybe you have a reason for your ship’s destruction that I’m unaware of. I’d like to hear it.”

Seltak chewed his lip. “Sir, we were out of formation and outnumbered. The Admiral wanted us to get into formation and it was impossible to do so.”

Eli studied him. “Impossible how?”

“Our entire force was caught unaware and interdicted by gravity well generators that kept us separated. The enemy must have known our attack vector and—”

“I’m not asking about the attack,” Eli said, idly rubbing at his chest through his tunic. “I’m asking about your ship.”

Eyelids fluttering, Seltak continued. “Sir, I had heard Admiral Thrawn talking to the Equinox, how they wanted to flee but he ordered them to stay and regroup,” Eli let his gaze flit over to the captain of the Equinox. Yalant was a wider, taller Chiss, thick and stocky. His cheeks were flushed a deep purple with embarrassment, no doubt glowing in the infrared for all of his colleagues to see. “So I ordered my weapons officers to begin charging our energy weapon—”

“You did what?” Thrawn blinked heavily out of the corner of his eye. Eli ignored the reaction. He’d received Thrawn’s report on the events before he’d come to the bridge not long after the battle and corroborated it with several others who had been on the bridge at the time. “Senior Captain, are you telling me that you took it upon yourself to begin the firing sequence of our secret weapon?”

“Sir, I—”

“Did you, or did you not?” Eli demanded sharply, volume rising.

“I did, sir,” Seltak admitted. “I thought—”

“And what happened when you powered up that weapon?”

“We didn’t, sir. The weapon only got to about thirty-five percent charge before Admiral Thrawn moved the Steadfast into range and took out the weapon.”

“When the launch barrel everted from the hull?”

“Yes, sir.”

Eli turned to Thrawn. “Did they catch sight of it?”

“It’s impossible to know for sure, Supreme Commander,” Thrawn said demurely. “I believe that we caught it in time. I ordered what fighters I could to engage our forces more aggressively to divert from what was happening.”

“But it’s highly unlikely that they missed us firing on our own ship,” Eli stressed.

Thrawn looked down, slightly. “Yes, sir,” he said.

He rounded back on Seltak. “Tell me, Senior Captain: Who is allowed to give the order to utilize our energy weapons?”

“You, sir.”

“Me,” Eli said. “And in my absence?”

“The fleet admiral.” Seltak stiffened, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“The fleet admiral,” He repeated. “Tell me, who is the fleet admiral?”

“Admiral Thrawn, sir.”

“Admiral Thrawn.” Eli threw a hand out in Thrawn’s direction. “Admiral Thrawn, who had to use his own ship—my flagship—to cover yours because you decided to go rogue and disregard your commanding officer’s direct order. Is that correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Anything else you’d like to note about this situation?”

Seltak’s nostrils flared, his breath slightly more rapid. “Sir, I don’t—”

Eli crossed his arms. “If the Steadfast was able to jump to you, there is no excuse as to why you couldn’t make the jump to it. You had a navigator on the bridge. I spoke with her.” The senior captain paled. He eyed Yalant. “I also took the liberty to speak with your backup navigators. You had two of them on the bridge, did you not?”

The Equinox’s captain’s lips thinned. He nodded silently once, twice, then said, “Yes, sir.”

Pursing his lips, Eli turned his back on them, setting down his questis on his desk. When he turned back, he reined in his slipping temper just a bit and regarded them all in turn. “This was a sloppy offensive. You fell apart from one of our enemy’s oldest maneuvers, one we are more than capable of counteracting. There is no excuse as to why you couldn’t heed Admiral Thrawn’s orders, so I’m left wondering why you didn’t. You certainly snapped into shape—albeit far too late—when I took command of the fleet.”

No one spoke. All five captains stood still as stone, eyes straight ahead.

“So,” Eli said almost conversationally, his tone causing a ripple through his captains, “Should I be flattered that you’re so devoted that you’d listen to no one else?” He could feel the anger that welled up within him. It was cleansing, the kind of fire he needed to burn away his pain for the time being. “Is that it? Because I’m not.” He let his gaze slide over them. “You don’t just fight for me. You fight for the Ascendancy Reborn, for every single person under our protection and those of our fallen worlds. The people down there—” he pointed out his viewport, at Colonial Station Camco in the distance, “Need us and you were willing to prioritize your fear and uncertainties over their protection. You failed them. You failed your crew, your pilots, your commanding officer—” he pointed at Thrawn, “He’s been here for a fucking month and somehow he’s the only one trying to keep things together? Disgraceful.”

He shook his head, looking away. “When you fail your superior officers, you fail me. When you don’t trust them, it means that you don’t trust me.”

“Sir,” Yalant cut in. “We do—”

“He made me!” Eli bellowed, jabbing the pointer finger of his right hand in Thrawn’s direction. He felt the pull of stitches from the sharpness of his actions, the sweat beading on his temple and the heaving breaths that burned his lungs. He continued yelling anyway. “If it wasn’t for him, this guy right here, I’d be some dime a dozen supply officer the New Republic wiped out years ago. Where would you be then? Tell me!”

No answer came, and that was the right answer. Eli didn’t like knowing that all of this rested on his shoulders, but it was the honest to stars truth.

“You are in service to the smartest man in the fucking Chaos and your bright idea was to ignore his orders because you thought you could do it better. You can’t. I can’t. That is why he is here.” He was pretty sure he was literally spitting, he was so mad, but the point needed to be driven home. “The four of you who still have ships to command will report to your first officers and pass off interim command to them while the fleet is reorganized. All five of you are hereby demoted to the rank of mid captain. You will be returned to Home-Away for remedial education. Following re-education, Admiral Thrawn will be responsible for assigning you to the appropriate place in his fleet, if he finds you worthy of such an honor. Is that clear?”

Thrawn looked distinctly uncomfortable. If Eli were a betting man, he’d bet that Thrawn had only grown more uncomfortable as Eli gave his commanders a dressing down. The punishment likely seemed harsh, and to a degree it was, but so were the infractions. He looked like he wanted to speak, wanted to bargain for a lesser sentence for those whose disobedience had been lesser, but Eli turned to him, his eyes like stone.

“Is that clear?” he asked Thrawn directly.

Thrawn lowered his gaze. “Yes, sir.”

To his left, the captains stiffened to attention and stayed that way. “Yes sir,” they answered in unison.

Eli nodded minutely. “Dismissed," he said, watching as the newly demoted captains and the admiral filed out.

❧

"I didn't expect you to demote all of them," Un’hee said when they were alone.

Letting himself flop inelegantly onto one of the visitor's chairs, Eli tipped his head back to the ceiling and sighed. He rubbed at the bridge of his nose with his right hand since his left was feeling mostly numb. "It needed to be done. Un’hee—"

"When were you going to tell me?" She demanded, right hand pressed to her heart, the other gesturing for him to be more forthcoming.

"I wasn't," he told her. "I knew you'd figure it out."

"I could have done more if you told me," she seethed. They were supposed to be a team. He could hear the words in her accusing glare as if she'd said them aloud.

"Don't look at me like that," he said.

"You're not even looking at me, Eli. How do you know what my face looks like?"

He lifted his head with a groan. "You're my kid, Un’hee. I know what your face looks like." He was really feeling his age as he pushed himself back up to a respectable position. He had these chairs so that others wouldn't feel comfortable enough to use them for extended periods of time. That had also been his logic in sitting in one of them, but now that he was here, he wasn't entirely certain he’d be able to stand up on his own.

"Let me guess," Un’hee asked, "Post-adrenaline crash?"

"A bit," he admitted.

"I bet you ripped your stitches with all that angry pointing you did. The medics are going to be furious."

"It needed to be done."

She sighed. "Are you sure about this, Eli? He's not," another sigh. "He's just as broken as the rest of them, if you ask me."

Eli let his lips curve into a sad smile. "I think that this is still very new to him. Laknym's report was promising. He needs time to get back to form."

"Time isn't exactly something we have."

"On the contrary," Eli said. "I probably won't be back to my usual duties for a week once you take me back to medbay—" Un'hee pulled a face that was half unimpressed, half concerned and Eli laughed without thinking and winced at his own stupidity "—and my former fleet captains have given Thrawn leave to make some changes."

"If we lose Laknym—"

"Laknym deserves a command of his own. Hammerly will become the Steadfast's captain. Pyrondi will be her first officer."

"They're Human, though," she reasoned. "Wouldn't that defeat the point?"

"No." He smiled. "If we have had high ranking Humans in our midst, there's a much better chance of us working better with the New Republic, if and when it comes to that."

Un'hee made a face at that and frankly, he agreed with her.

The problem, one he very quietly harbored in his heart, was that the Grysk presence was very likely only the tip of the metaphorical iceberg. If whatever preyed upon the Grysks made themselves known—they were seen as marauders but given their occupation of Chiss controlled worlds, and their desire to strip resources, Eli couldn't help but wonder if they were tithed to other masters to some degree, be it another Grysk faction or some as of yet unknown species—they would need allies.

They needed to plan for the future now. They couldn't wait for it to arrive and catch them off guard. Eli would make sure they had contingencies.

"Eli?"

He blinked and Un’hee was looming over him. "You started fading out on me," she told him. "We can talk more about this when you're not at the brink of passing out.

"I was thinking," he protested, blinking heavily.

"Right," she said, leaning down and pulling him upright by the shoulder he hadn't been stabbed in. "Do you think you can walk back to medbay or should I call for—?"

"I'm getting up," he said, barking out a curse as he pushed himself back to standing. He seemed about as surprised that he'd made it upright as Un’hee looked.

"How angry do you think they're going to be?" She asked him as he started for the door.

Considering the tug in his chest when he tried to take a moderately deep breath, one which had only cropped up recently, probably very.

❧

The monitors were quiet when Thrawn entered the room. He had expected to find Un’hee here, but the guards had commented that she had gone back to her cabin to rest, and that they had posted a guard outside her door for the interim.

"Off duty?"

The voice was a little slurry, which made sense given the guards' other update.

"You suffered a pneumothorax and required additional surgery."

Eli blinked at him owlishly, likely thinking that the two weren't related and trying to gauge if Thrawn knew. Ultimately he disregarded all of it with a half-shrug that looked more like a twitch. "That's the way this goes, Thrawn."

He was bare chested save for the mass of bandage and medical tape sealed over his chest. He was breathing on his own, but had monitoring electrodes plastered to exposed and uninjured chest, arms, and clamped onto one finger.

Not yet sure how to respond, Thrawn pulled up a chair and sat beside him. "The captains have all finished their briefings and departed on a shuttle bound for Home-Away."

"Good. Have you given any thought about how you'd like to reorganize your ships?"

Thrawn considered him. "This is the conversation you'd like to have right now?"

"I'm happy to let you dictate terms," Eli answered, his eyes sliding shut.

The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest with each breath drew Thrawn's attention, as did many of the other, smaller details. The room's overhead lighting remained on, likely to prevent any interference in evaluating him from the doorway. Machines were silenced but emitted slowly flashing indicator lights. It was likely that they were being monitored externally.

"Well?" To his surprise, Eli's eyes blinked open. He appeared surprisingly alert, given the circumstances.

"I thought you had fallen asleep," Thrawn admitted quietly.

"I could, probably," he agreed easily. "I'd rather talk to you, though. You did come all this way."

It really hadn't been that far and they both knew it. Silence lapsed over them again.

There were several things Thrawn could say, none of which he particularly wanted to discuss at present, though all required discussion sooner rather than later.

"I feel like if we start at recent events and work backward, it'll probably work better," Eli murmured to the ceiling. He tilted his head to the right, where Thrawn sat.

"You wish to minimize your current situation," Thrawn noted.

Eli shrugged and paid for it with a wince. Thrawn allowed himself a quiet sigh. This wasn't the right time to have this conversation. He would reflect on what he wanted to say, how to breach the subject of his failures, and they would discuss it later.

"Alright," Eli murmured, shaking his head to rid himself of his grogginess just as Thrawn had made up his mind, intending to rise and excuse himself, "I'll go first." His dark eyes were patient and kind, with that underlying steadiness so very close to the surface.

Thrawn couldn't help but meet that gaze. He hadn't been prepared for the difficulty of reconciling this version of Eli with the one he had once known. Deep down, they were the same and that should be enough. Thrawn wanted to say that it was, because at the core of the situation it truly was enough. But here, in moments like this, he still expected to take the lead, he could not hold Eli accountable for his actions—

"I apologize for what happened today," Eli said. With more effort than he'd probably care to admit, he pushed himself up to a sitting position, angling himself to better face Thrawn, to the protest of the monitors relaying information about his vital signs. He took a moment, breathing as slow and as deeply as he could with a tube pulling fluid out of his perforated lung. "They should have listened to you. That they didn't is my fault, not yours." He sighed. "They made me look like a damn fool out there."

"They were excellent when you took command."

"That's the problem. They'd be more excellent if they had listened to you from the start." Eli rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I'm not you, Thrawn. You're a tactical genius—" he held out a hand before Thrawn could protest "Don't deny it, you are. I'm good, but you're incredible." He tilted his head. "It's not strictly loyalty that ties them to me. It's fear."

"They are hardly afraid of you."

"They're afraid of life without me," Eli corrected.

Thrawn blinked. "They're truly so hopeless?" He asked, but even as he did, deep down, he knew the truth.

He had spent the last eight years manufacturing his own death, telling himself he wasn't giving up, but he hadn't tried to look beyond the scope of his personal mission, not after the first time. He was so quick to assume that all hope was lost.

What would Thrawn have done if Eli had found him sooner? Would Thrawn have believed Eli capable of this?

The answer was disappointing.

"Thrawn."

He blinked. His gaze had been trained lower, on the floor. He looked up at Eli.

"It's alright."

"It is not," Thrawn told him. "I should be more. How can I lead them if I…"

Eli pushed himself out of his recline against the medi-bed and a couple of strategically placed pillows, fully swinging his legs over the side of the bed, ignoring the shift of Thrawn's eyes in concern as he moved the small case from the side of the bed that drained fluid from his lung so that the tube wouldn't be overextended.

"There is a difference," Eli said firmly, "Between someone who has been in our midst for several weeks and someone who has been with us for years." He offered the hand not attached to an intravenous line to Thrawn.

Thrawn eyed it. He did not want to be consoled. He wanted to be better. He wanted them to stand firm against the Ascendancy's enemies. All of them.

"I was no better," he said. "I understand why they were so quick to—"

"Listen to me," Eli said, the tone of his voice changing slightly, back to that deeper, more resonant tone he'd used on the bridge earlier. "We are a team. You are not alone."

"How can you say that when the problem is that you weren't there?"

"Because your drive to protect, defend, and avenge the Ascendancy has nothing to do with me, whatsoever." He braced his chest with the hand he'd formerly offered to Thrawn, willing his breath to slow. "Your devotion to me is not like theirs."

Thrawn held his gaze.

"You see me as a person. They don't. They see me as some ideal, the physical manifestation of hope they can't find within themselves." Eli stared him down. "They have it within themselves. I know they do, I've seen it." He smiled. "I see it in you, too."

"But you are to blame—"

"No. I had been in contact with the Calar for years before I agreed to work with or assist them. I knew what you were planning to do. You had hope that what you left behind would be better than what had been. Maybe it's a little misguided, and I won't presume to know how you felt, but I know you never gave up. You're a warrior, Thrawn. You moved forward in the only way you knew how. There is no shame in that."

Thrawn frowned, bowing forward, elbows resting on his thighs, fingers steepled beneath his chin. There was a lot he needed to think about, to reflect and reconcile what he felt with what he knew.

To Eli, he said, "I will make a plan for the fleet." He'd already been working on one mentally, but he would need to interview and observe the officers at his disposal. "This will not happen again."

"No," Eli agreed. "It won't. I believe in you."

Thrawn nodded sharply. "What you said," he began, quieter now. "Yelled, more aptly."

"The correct term in Basic is hollered," Eli told him, lips curving in a smaller smile. "What about it?"

"You made yourself," Thrawn told him.

"I meant what I said," Eli told him, "I've just learned how to stand on my own. Now you can rely on me when you need support instead of it always being the other way around."

"I have always been able to count on you."

"That isn't what I mean." He reached out again, and this time Thrawn accepted his offered hand, the coolness of it unusual and alarming. Eli held himself together admirably, but upon closer inspection, he'd grown more pale, his posture slightly wilted.

Thrawn glanced up at the numbers on the monitors keeping track of his vital signs, watching them tick upward. "You should lay down."

"I will in a minute," he said, squeezing Thrawn's hand. "I didn't mean that in a strictly professional sense. It does apply, but we're more than colleagues or ranks to each other, would you agree?"

Thrawn allowed his head to dip in a nod.

"So what I meant was that it's okay to lean on me for emotional things or even physical ones—though I probably wouldn't recommend it right now," he added, a little dryly, before Thrawn could point that out. "We're in this together. I don't expect you—professionally or personally—to have it all together yet. This is new, and it's still a lot."

Silence. Thrawn took in his words, processing them slowly. Eli waited for him, unmoving aside from his carefully measured breaths. Thrawn squeezed their joined hands, then withdrew his entirely, rising to his feet.

Eli didn't say anything, letting Thrawn come closer and urge him back into a more comfortable position telegraphed by small gestures with his chin and fingers. He let himself be handled, placed himself fully into Thrawn's hands and sighed in relief when the pressure was off him to remain upright. Thrawn glanced back over his shoulder, confirmed there was no one around to see them, and leaned down, cupping Eli's cheek.

"May I kiss you?" Thrawn asked, voice a quiet murmur, undetectable by the guards posted outside.

"I'd like that," Eli drawled, a smaller, slightly lopsided smile crossing his face.

Thrawn kept it brief, mindful of Eli's injuries though Eli seemed less inclined to care. He huffed quietly at the look on Eli's face as he pulled back, the slightest dejection in the wrinkle of his brow and the pout that threatened his lips.

"You should rest," Thrawn said again, straightening to his full height. "I have work to do."

"Yeah," Eli supposed, "Alright." He caught Thrawn by the wrist with sure fingers, his dark eyes studying Thrawn's face. "Cut orders for Vah'nya to bring Hlitame to me first thing in the morning, if you would. Un’hee took my questis."

Thrawn shook his head. "Yes, sir."

"Something funny, Admiral?"

Thrawn was pretty sure the spark of humor in Eli's eyes matched his own. Maybe Eli's statement truly hadn't been so far off, or perhaps it was simply that they had always known each other as their own.

"No, sir. I'll see to it that it's taken care of. Should I also procure you a second questis?"

"Thank you, but no. I have my comm if you need me," Eli told him, "Anything related to the fleet will be routed to you until the medics are willing to have me released. I know I can count on you to act in my stead."

Chapter 10: Revisions

Reformation, Year 10

Colonial Station Camco

Grumbling as she swiped at her bleary, watery eyes, Un’hee greeted Thrawn with a curt, "Have you slept?"

He deposited the mug of caccoleaf onto the table in front of her and watched in muted surprise as she ignored both the sweetening sap and cream he'd set off to the side as a courtesy, since he did not know her preferences. She had both hands wrapped around the mug, taking a quiet slurp before he took a seat opposite her at the table. Most had difficulty believing she drank her caccoleaf like a seasoned soldier because of factors like gender and age, their preconditioned expectations catching them off guard.

"Some," he told her.

She looked up at him and let her gaze narrow in suspicion. "Enough?" she asked.

He gave no answer, which figured. He also took the sweetener she wasn't using and dumped all of it into his mug like an oversized child, watching her covertly for her reaction. She did her best not to give him the satisfaction, but recognized the irony in the situation.

"I wished to speak with you about yesterday's events," he said evenly, stirring his caccoleaf so the sweetener was adequately distributed. When he finished. He pulled out the spoon, checking to confirm none remained stuck to his utensil, then set it aside.

"Okay," she said, threading her fingers together around the mug more completely, willing the heat to both soothe and wake her. "Lay it on me, I guess."

"Lay what on you?"

"You're angry because I went to get Eli, right?"

Thrawn's lips pursed slightly. "On the contrary," he said, slightly puzzled, "I wished to speak with you about the Navigators within the fleet. Why do you assume I am angry?"

Un'hee tapped her blunt fingernails against the mug. "I didn't exactly consult you," she told him. "The bridge was technically yours."

"I suspect Eli would have joined us regardless," Thrawn said flatly, "And while communication would have been appreciated, I suspect the situation would have deteriorated more severely from the time you told me your intentions to the time Eli took control of the fleet had they known he was coming to relieve me."

"Oh," Un’hee said lamely. "I see."

"I take it this has happened before?"

"Khresh felt embarrassed," she told him slowly. "He's never been purposefully rude, but I have made him angry a couple times."

Thrawn nodded. "My performance during the battle was subpar, at best," he mused aloud, pausing to take a delicate sip of his caccoleaf. She took the opportunity to do the same. "Our enemies took advantage of my position, personal weaknesses, and used our timing against us." He considered her. "You have more political savvy than most."

"Eli and I are kind of a package deal," she said. "I've learned a lot from what he's seen." She let the subject drop. "If you're talking about Navigators, though, you probably want to include Vah'nya. She's the expert. I'm…" Un’hee shrugged.

"You have exceptional instincts. Eli did not entrust mine or my peoples' safety to Vah'nya on Eksl," He reminded her. "You know Eli."

"I do," she said, eyes narrowing. Was he trying to establish a relationship with her? Because if he was, she wasn't going to be forced into liking him. She respected him. They both cared about Eli, that much was for certain. But she had to evaluate him as a daughter who loved her father as much as she did professionally. She would trust him because Eli did, but she would hold him to a far higher level of scrutiny.

He set down his mug. "I wish to evaluate the Navigators for temperament and reorganization, to get their feelings on the officers and crew they work with. Vah'nya is not ideal to join me for this because she is a teacher and mentor to them. They may not speak as freely. I fear Bridger would only overwhelm or frighten them." He set his gaze on her once more. "Your origins and behavior suggest that you would be skeptical of the officers and crew around you. It might likewise encourage them to consider actions or behaviors they either liked or disliked that they might not, otherwise."

"Do you think our people are harming them?" She demanded, with a hint of accusation.

Thrawn shook his head. "I simply wish to know who they value."

"Why?" Un’hee tilted her head, tucking a lock of loose hair behind her ear as she did. "If that's what you want, I'll do it, but…" she shrugged. "Is there some correlation between a commander being liked by a navigator and them being a good commander?"

"Not necessarily," Thrawn said. "But three of the Navigators Eli interviewed had voiced concerns during the battle, which fell on deaf ears. I wish to know how widespread this issue is." His eyes glittered, his expression growing more serious. "A ship's navigators are their most precious and valuable resource. They have expertise and foresight that the ship's commander may not." More severely, he added, "Their opinions matter."

"Alright." Un’hee raised the mug to her lips. It had been a touch too hot before, but now it was the perfect drinking temperature. She sipped it, and when she was done, asked, "When do you want to start?"

❧

Hammerly and Pyrondi lingered outside Vanto's room. They had been told by the guards not to leave when they'd come by to visit some half an hour earlier, but Vanto's door was closed and the opacity of the doors changed to prevent anyone from seeing inside.

Hammerly had been worried ever since she'd seen the medics treat him on the bridge yesterday. It made sense, after all. Pyrondi knew her partner was a worrier when it came to the ones she cared about. Hammerly and Vanto went way back, having met him and Thrawn years earlier than Pyrondi had.

The last month had been a whirlwind. The only time any of their group had really seen Vanto was in passing when he was occupied or on the bridge during an offensive. Neither was really conducive to conversation, and even though she and Hammerly been working on things and were mostly over the events of Eksl—dubbed by Hammerly as Pyrondi's "betrayal," though she tended to say it less seriously now—it was difficult for Hammerly to go off her word that Eli was still the same person(though a little older, wiser, and worn, like the rest of them) when they'd only exchanged cordial greetings at a distance.

They waited another ten minutes before the door opened to the room and the lineup of guards parted for Vah'nya and a male Chiss who looked admittedly fragile. His cheeks were stained a mild indigo color and appeared to be scrubbed raw, while the glow of his eyes was overbright and almost painful to stare at dead on. Pyrondi wasn't sure if that was because of their brightness or if it was more to do with the unguarded emotion that manifested there.

"I told you he wouldn't blame you," Vah'nya was saying, but at the sight of them her voice dipped into a softer register too quiet to hear.

She and Hammerly nodded politely to them but quickly looked away, aware that their attention was not welcome. A few moments passed in a bluster of medical staff and quiet discussion from within the room. Then, the guards motioned for them to approach.

"I feel like we've been summoned to meet the Emperor," Pyrondi whispered covertly to Hammerlyas they stood.

Hammerly huffed out a tiny laugh. "Yeah, if he was young and not a total bastard."

"That depends on who you ask," came a quiet voice from just within the door. Hammerly flushed at Ronan's clipped comment. Apparently they hadn't been as quiet as they'd thought.

"Play nice, Ronan," Vanto chided. "I know he likes me better than Palpatine, but ask my kid that after I restrict her to quarters for being stupid…" He gave a lopsided shrug.

"You have a kid," Hammerly said. "Really?"

"Raised her and all," he told her, pride warming his tone. "You met her. Her Basic drawls like mine." A smile split his face, and it was odd to see him as a proud parent, but that was hardly the weirdest part of this, all things considered. "Ronan? Leave us, if you would."

Ronan nodded to him and left, not a sarcastic statement in sight.

Then, they were alone.

"Alright, come over here. It looks worse than it is." He gestured to Hammerly with his right hand. "I've been meaning to find time to catch up, so we may as well take advantage of my injuries while we can," he grinned, shimmying a little closer to the edge of the bed. "Pyro, hit that privacy switch if you would. Hammerly, I'm not going to break. It's okay to hug me."

Well versed in her partner’s reactions, Pyrondi waited an extra minute after hitting the privacy setting built into the bay doors, allowing Hammerly a moment to cry without all eyes in the room on her. Vanto hushed her quietly, his reassurances spoken softly but not in a way meant to belittle her feelings.

Hammerly had mourned him twice over. Once when he'd disappeared from the Chimaera all those years ago, only to turn up alive on a Chiss warship, and then several years after that, when they learned that the Ascendancy had fallen. The second time was worse. Thrawn's reaction and his period of absence had set the tone.

How did Thrawn feel about all this? They'd always had their suspicions, but even now there was no confirmation anywhere to be seen.

When she resurfaced from her thoughts, Hammerly was perched on the edge of the bed, giving Pyrondi her back. Pyrondi watched the two of them talk quietly for a moment, Hammerly swiping furiously at her eyes, and settled into one of the chairs near the door to let them catch up without her interference.

Really, she had just come as moral support. Not that she wasn't happy to see Eli or confirm that he was okay, she wanted those things, too, but—

"Are you going to sit all the way over there the whole time? I don't bite," Eli chided, good-naturedly.

"I know that," Pyrondi groused. "I was giving you two time—"

"Yeah, yeah," Hammerly was smiling that soft, teasing smile that warmed her insides. "Get over here." She nudged her foot in the direction of the chair beside the bed and Pyrondi was helpless but to listen. "So," Hammerly said, when Pyrondi took up her new position, "Current situation notwithstanding, how's it feel?"

She and Vanto locked gazes for a moment. Hers was knowing while his was slightly curious. Pyrondi saw when he understood what Hammerly meant, and joined her partner in smiling delightedly at his slightly pink-checked response.

"Weird," he admitted. "Weird, but good."

Hammerly let her grin go sly. "Has anyone made any ardent confessions?"

He shook his head, as if he couldn't believe she would ask. "I don't know if you noticed, but there is a war on."

Trying to keep from laughing, Hammerly said, "I know, I know. But there's no time like the present, if you ask me." Hammerly covered one of his hands with her own. "He never said anything, but I know he felt your loss." Adopting a more matter of fact tone, she added, "And war or not, some things shouldn't be kept in."

"I'll take that under advisement, Senior Captain," he said, and Hammerly's face went deadpan at his choice of words. She made a show of rolling her eyes and Pyrondi couldn't help but snort.

"He's messing with you," Pyrondi said when Vanto’s expression slipped into something that was trying desperately not to be a laugh. She couldn’t help her own smile or wry tone. She enjoyed spending time with her partner, be it on the bridge, professionally, or personally, in private. But seeing her with others, earnest and passionate and just a tiny bit sly, was when Pyrondi found her to be the cutest.

"I know that," Hammerly chided, decidedly not pouting. "But this is a serious matter!"

A voice from the door caught them off guard. "What is a serious matter?"

Hammerly scrambled up and off the edge of Vanto’s bed. “Sir!”

Pyrondi, by contrast, felt her stomach swoop.

“At ease,” Vanto said to Hammerly as a reminder, voice soft. They weren't on duty, but some things didn't change. She froze, then perched back on the bed, facing Thrawn instead of Vanto. "Do you need something, admiral?" he asked.

Glowing red eyes swung quickly to take stock of the room. "It is nothing of great importance," he said. "I did not mean to disrupt your visit, Senior Captains."

"It's fine," Pyrondi said quickly, already on her feet, ready to leave.

Hammerly added, "We can come back later?"

"Absolutely," Vanto said, looking over at her with a mild frown creasing his face. He didn't question her, instead patting Hammerly on the back. For that, Pyrondi was grateful. He said, "I'll tell Ronan to schedule us some time to catch up when I'm not an invalid, okay?"

Hammerly looked back over her shoulder. "You promise?"

"I do. I'm busy but I'll make time."

Pyrondi nodded to Vanto and turned on her heel, slipping past Thrawn with another nod that was directed to his chest rather than his face. In the hall, she stepped around Vanto's guard and waited over by the chairs set out for arriving visitors for Hammerly to join her.

She did, a moment later. Her hand squeezed Pyrondi's shoulder, a little tentative. "You okay?"

Pyrondi nodded.

"It's been a couple of weeks now," Hammerly murmured. "You ought to talk to him."

When they were on duty, Pyrondi could deal. She could stuff all her feelings deep down and focus on her duty, could act like absolutely nothing had changed. Hell, she was ecstatic to be back at his side on the bridge of a new ship, tackling problems like they always had. She respected him. On some level, she had thought they might have been friends, after everything they had been through. Maybe not as close as he and Hammerly, of course, but their relationship had always been built on mutual understanding and dry humor that they could trade in shared looks or clipped commentary.

But with her actions over Eksl, things had changed.

She still felt it now, not unlike the dark, secret ache she felt when Hammerly joked about her so-called betrayal as she tried to move past things, too. Thrawn had been angry at her. She had hurt him, and he had hurt her. He had denounced her. And ever since then, he had kept her at arm's length, like the last ten years hadn’t happened.

In time, she would be able to handle it, of that she was sure. Just… not yet. Not off duty, in close quarters.

"I don't think he wants to talk to me," she told her partner.

"He isn't great with emotions, you know that. I know you care about him."

Pyrondi rolled her eyes. Leave it to Hammerly to turn those hazel eyes on her along with that earnest, understanding look she always buckled under. "Of course I do."

"He cares about you, too. I wasn't the only person hurt by your actions."

"Yes, but you—" she shook her head. No, she had told herself she wouldn't bring Hammerly into it. She sighed. "I know.”

That, right there was the problem. She had hurt him. Reasons aside, good intentions aside, she had done more harm to him and to Hammerly than he had to her, because she had willfully broken that trust.

And she couldn't bear to see that loss, that disappointment in his eyes. Not now.

❧

In his place just inside the doorway, Thrawn remained still for only a second too long. His hand was curved and raised, barely outstretched but poised as if to reach out. Maybe he would have, if he hadn't missed the opportunity to do so. His eyebrows had sunk slightly, and the slightest impression of a frown touched his lips.

Hammerly sighed. "I should go," she said, smiling gently at Eli.

"I'm sorry that this was the only way I had time to meet with you," he told her.

"It's alright," she promised. "We'll talk soon."

"We will."

Thrawn seemed to snap out of his thoughts, inclining his head to Hammerly, who gave him her best version of an understanding smile before she too ducked out of the room and around the corner. Thrawn looked in the direction of the door toggle.

"Close it," Eli said in response. His voice came out a touch distracted, but in his defense he was slowly putting the picture together.

"I need to speak with her," he said, clearly meaning Pyrondi. "There is no excuse."

"About Eksl?"

He nodded. "She has informed you of our alterication?"

"She has," he agreed.

"I would like to make her captain of one of our ships," he said. "Specifically, this ship."

Eli couldn’t help but feel the slightest edge of exasperation. Of course he had gotten it backward, thinking that Thrawn would give the captaincy to Hammerly instead. Given the situation, the reflection that Thrawn had no doubt been doing, this option did make more sense.

He should have figured that Thrawn would move quickly. It hadn't been a day since they had spoken last, but it was clear that he had given things significant thought. With that thought was also the conclusion that some conversations needed to be had, if that speeder wreck of an encounter between Thrawn and his pick for the captaincy was any indication, but there were other, slightly more pressing issues in Eli’s eyes.

"You haven't slept," he said.

"That is irrelevant," Thrawn hedged. Looking away, he murmured, "Un'hee accused me of the same."

"She's observant," he said, gesturing for him to pull up a chair. "Sit. I'm sure that's not your only plan. You've already reorganized your fleet, haven't you?"

"Somewhat," he said. Eli highly doubted that he hadn't drafted two different fleet rosters, at least. "I require additional insight. I figured…" Thrawn motioned ambiguously to the bed, and Eli figured it was a reference to Eli being bored, yet on bed rest.

"You figured right," Eli said. "Hand over your questis?"

Thrawn did, and only then did he pull up the chair Pyrondi had vacated. Eli had already found the document and set it to project in front of them both. "Let's see what we've got."

Reformation, Year 3

Home-Away

"Lyrona," Un’hee sing-songed, eyes glittering with delight as his pale cheeks and ears burned with embarrassment, indignance, and rage.

"Un’hee, how many times do I have to tell you that I hate that name?"

Un'hee shrugged. "Ly-ro-naaaa," she drawled again. She would never get sick of watching him freak out over the strangest things.

"That is not my name, you little—"

"Un’hee."

She flinched at the sound of Eli's voice from behind her, all business, and tipped her head back to see his approach—albeit upside down. "Hello, Eli."

"Case in point," Brierly Ronan—Lyrona—said, "You don't call him Ivant."

Kicking her feet from where she sat on an unused workbench, Un’hee shrugged. "Most Chiss do. I call him Eli because of Vah'nya, mostly. I guess I could call him dad," she supposed, nose wrinkling, "But that would be weird."

"Not to mention unprofessional," Ronan groused, but he went still under Eli's scorched-earth gaze.

"Call me her father or not, it is what it is," he remarked. "As for you," he said, swinging those dark eyes in her direction, "Stop teasing him. If he truly doesn't like it, call him Ronan or sir."

"Brierly would be fine," Ronan offered.

"That wasn't an offer to co-parent," Eli chirped.

Ronan bristled. "As if I would ever—"

"Right," Eli said, finally taking in the prototype device Ronan was working on and the fragments of stone all around them. "Tell me what you've got."

"I thought you said Director Krennic's superweapon was a waste of time," he retorted in Basic.

He always said things like this. She wasn't great with Basic, but these conversations followed the same format every time.

"And I thought I told you to speak in Cheunh," Eli responded, the words heavy like a raincloud fit to burst. Not that Un’hee had seen many rainclouds, but she had watched several vids on weather, which had been mildly interesting. His tone was more even when he continued. "Krennic's weapon was too large, and besides: you've said it yourself that the crystals here are too brittle."

"So what? You want to send the Chiss to fight off the Grysks with energy weapons?" He indicated the contraption on the workbench. "Jedi laser swords?" The box-sized device was definitely a far cry from a sword. The beam Un’hee had seen it emit was maybe three inches wide and had rattled and sputtered before the fist-sized crystal inside cracked into tens of dusty, flaky pieces that leaked out like dust. "There are many complex moving parts at this size, not to mention breaking a brittle crystal down to this size isn't ideal for high-energy outputs."

“What size crystal do you think is optimal?” Eli asked, circling the device.

“Three to five feet in length, one to two feet wide.” Ronan frowned. “Chaining them together in more than two or threes would be impossible as well, but since you’re not—”

“What’s the biggest size weapon you could feasibly make with something like that? Give me scope.”

“Certainly not a Death Star,” he said. “It would be smaller. Something that could annihilate a building from orbit.” The pink-faced man frowned, then looked up at Eli, his blue eyes sparkling. “Or a ship with sustained usage.”

Eli tilted his head. “You think—”

“We should be able to retrofit it with the right harness and compensation devices,” Ronan said, speaking over him as he shoved a tangle of components off to the side and yanked his questis closer to him. His stylus began to move at a pace that was mostly a blur. It was kind of scary.

But maybe a little bit impressive.

“You want to put one of these on a ship?” She asked.

“I don’t,” Eli said.

“But you’re going to,” Ronan told him. “Because I’m going to build you a weapon that keeps our people from getting killed.”

“Now they’re our people?” Un’hee asked, in a mouthy, almost too-loud whisper.

Eli grinned and shrugged, suggesting she shouldn’t draw Ronan’s attention to it. Not that it mattered. Lyrona was already going through all sorts of mental loops and twists. Ronan had been a pretty good assistant and was probably the most organized person Un’hee had met—his workshop here notwithstanding. But asking him to design something like this felt… well it didn’t feel like they were running. If they were going to design and maybe even build something like this, it would be an offensive weapon, not just a defensive one.

“I’m calling him Lyrona forever,” she muttered to herself. “He’s never living this down.”

Chapter 11: Courage

Reformation, Year 10

Colonial Station Camco

“A moment,” Thrawn murmured, stopping both Hammerly and Pyrondi in their tracks.

Hammerly nudged her in the elbow, but she was already turning, already stiffening reflexively, even though she knew he'd want to speak with her partner, and not with her. She wanted to keep moving without looking back, but instead she straightened her spine and schooled her features into a placid mask.

Word on the bridge was that Thrawn was reorganizing the fleet. So far, she knew that Laknym had been given one of the four other nightdragon class warships that had survived the battle. If she were a betting person, she'd bet that this was about to be the conversation where—

"Senior Captain Hammerly," he said. "I need to speak with you. Do you have a moment?"

She nodded, turning her head to Pyrondi. "I'll catch up with you later," she said, eyeing Thrawn. "Lead the way, sir," she said, already following into step beside him. He'd turned away from her so fast, his eyes sliding over her like she was nothing, without acknowledgement at all. It hurt.

She had a sinking feeling in her stomach. Agral had been assigned to Laknym's new ship earlier today. She hoped beyond hope that he wouldn't separate them, but if he felt it was for the betterment of his fleet, she knew he would.

And if it got her out of his sight, so she didn't have to remind him of all those things she said to him, how she'd betrayed his trust, well, that was an added bonus, now wasn't it?

"Any reason you're staring into space, Senior Captain?"

Pyrondi whirled around, fast, clicking her heels together. "Supreme Comman—"

He was already waving her off, a warm half-smile there on his face. "At ease, Pyro. Eli or Vanto is fine. You okay?"

She nodded. "I'm fine. Is there something I can do for you?"

Eli shrugged. "Depends. You going on duty or coming off?"

"Off duty," she admitted. "But I—"

"Good. I could use some company if you're game, but if you've got other plans," he let the statement hang.

She had been planning on dinner and a low-key night in one of the rec rooms with her partner, but, "Thrawn just took Hammerly," she told him. "I'm guessing she's about to get her new assignment."

Eli shrugged. "He moves fast. Sometimes too fast."

"He doesn't know how to slow down," she admitted, then waved a hand. "Not that it's a bad thing! I—"

"But some things get left by the wayside," he said. "He hasn't spoken to you since Eksl."

She looked over at him. "Was it that obvious?"

"To me? Yeah. To him?" Eli shrugged. "You know how he is."

"I do, but," she gestured around them, at the fact that they were here, on a Chiss warship; here, in territory reclaimed for the Ascendancy that lived on after all. "It isn't his fault."

"It isn't yours either," Eli pointed out mildly. "I put you up to it."

"Does he know that?"

He smiled in a way that didn't exactly put her at ease. "Let's walk and talk."

Reformation, Year 4

The Fringes: Soltad Asteroid Cluster

"This is insane," Samakro said, glaring at the wrecked cruiser before swinging his gaze to the Steadfast looming further out. Eli watched him for a few seconds longer, until the other man’s jaw clenched firmly shut and his quiet muttering ceased, then turned to look at Wutroow and Ziinda. The latter seemed to have more anticipation and expectation, but Wutroow’s gaze was somewhat rigid and unimpressed.

Ar'alani had told her about this, what it was, what Thrawn had been afraid it could do. To use it…

Well, Eli was glad that they weren't outright pleased about the prospect.

"It has several exploitable weaknesses I am attempting to reduce if not negate entirely," Ronan said in heavily accented, but workable Cheunh. His self importance was accentuated in the sharper, alien language. "Most of the issues are reduced to what we feel are acceptable parameters since we are prototyping a weapon that is not the size of a moon."

“The size of a moon,” Ziinda repeated curiously. “There is such a thing?”

“Yes,” Eli said. “The intel we managed to get our hands on suggests that at that size, it was exceedingly vulnerable despite its many defenses.”

“Sounds like a pretty big target to shoot at, if you ask me,” Samakro commented blandly, making Khresh, whose projection lingered on the monitors behind them, huff near-silently with amusement. He’d voiced something rather similar. “Besides, something of that size would move at horrendously slow speeds.”

“You’re right,” Eli agreed. “Our advantage right now is stealth and speed. Smaller groups of forces, quick strikes, no escapes permitted.” That, and whatever was happening with the navigators, which was a whole other issue Eli needed to work through to determine how it could be used to their advantage. He and Mak’ro had a separate, private meeting about that planned for later on, with Che’ri.

“This prototype,” Ronan cut in, “Will not be a planet killer like its former iteration.”

“You’re kidding,” Ziinda said.

“He is not,” Wutroow retorted, stepping forward, her gaze locked on the ship out the viewport. “I don’t wish to use such crude weapons, Eli Van’to.”

Eli inclined his head. “Neither do I. This is the largest version of the weapon we intend to build,” he said. “It will be mobile and limited use. The crystals used to generate the weapon’s beam will eventually break beyond the point of usage. Our supply, while vast, is not infinite.”

“And how many ships do you plan to put these weapons on?”

Eli looked to Ronan instead of answering, receiving a short nod. Louder, his words directed to Khresh, he ordered, “Initiate the startup sequence.”

Over comms, the light buzz of ignition was heard. One minute and eighteen seconds later, the weapon fired a beam of pure blue energy, cerulean white, like Csilla from orbit. In vacuum there was no sound, only the light flash of the weapon hitting its target on the starboard side and reducing it to dust.

“Eventually, I want one of these on every one of our nightdragons,” Eli said, turning his back to the scene. “But to start, each of your flagships will do.” He met Khresh’s eyes on the monitor. They shared a nod. “Ronan will answer any of your questions on the weapon and its specs. He will also endeavor to take your criticism and feedback on how it can be improved.” Eli turned back to them. They were still staring at the wreckage. “I recognize that this weapon is distasteful,” he said. “But I will not let our enemies wipe us out. If that means glassing them with a Human weapon, then that is what we will do.”

❧

Samakro didn’t seem pleased when Eli joined him in his office, Un’hee by his side. It had taken some time, but he was finally starting to learn the difference between the serious man’s looks of displeasure and the resting expression that was simply his face. This, confirmed by the way Un’hee came to a stop in the doorway, was definitely more than just Samakro’s baseline.

“Is this a bad time?” Eli asked him.

“Not at all,” the other said, gesturing to the seats before his desk. Instead, he had turned his back on them, eyes on something out the viewport behind him, a distant star, or perhaps the darkness of space itself.

“Have you been able to get in touch with Che’ri?” He asked when no other response came from Samakro and he’d counted out a minute’s worth of seconds in his head.

Un’hee was frowning, leaning back in her chair, arms crossed over her middle. “You haven’t contacted her,” she accused him.

Eli made an acknowledging sound, even as Samakro whirled around, fixing her with a look that suggested she had spoken out of turn. “She isn’t someone we can just summon at our leisure,” he said, gesturing to the empty space between them. “She has valuable work to do with the Paccosh.”

“And they want an alliance with us,” Eli guessed, “Because we keep pulling her to us whenever our Navigators report changes to their abilities.

“Yes. I was of the impression that you were unwilling to consider such arrangements.”

Eli inclined his head. “I am,” he agreed. “We’re not in a place where we have much to bring to an alliance, and I don’t want to make promises we can’t keep and land us in someone else’s debt.”

“They want what we want,” Samakro told him. “The Grysks did to them what they did to us.” He reached into the pocket of his uniform trousers and pulled something out, looking down at it in his palm. “What’s left of them is ruled by the Marocsaa subclan,” he said, offering the item to Eli. “This is the sigil of their ruling house. Che’ri told me to give this to you the next time you said no to negotiations. She said you’d know what it meant.”

It was a ring meant to sit on multiple fingers, golden in color and ornately decorated with a nest of snakes. From the greater nest rose two larger beasts that curled around each other, hungry mouths extended upward.

Eli knew that sigil. After all, it was the same design that had been commissioned to cover the hull of Thrawn’s flagship. Eli had asked Thrawn what it meant at the time, why he, someone who saw value in the observations and efforts that went into and came out of artwork but never seemed to like or dislike any one piece or design, had chosen this one out of the innumerable number of works in the galaxy.

It is a symbol of protection, Thrawn had said.

He stared at the ring for a long moment, then lifted his gaze to meet Samakro’s.

“Make the arrangements,” he said.

Reformation, Year 10

Colonial Station Camco

Hammerly let herself into Vanto's living quarters about an hour after she'd gone off with Thrawn. She had messaged Pyrondi when she'd finished, and Eli had invited her to join them here.

“So?” Pyrondi asked, reclined in her chair, a glass of some liquor—one whose name Eli had pronounced for her three times but she was no closer to repeating—balanced in her palm.

“So what?” Hammerly asked.

“Are you the captain of the ship?”

Hammerly looked taken aback, her eyebrows drawing together in the prelude to an incredulous question. “Are you drunk?”

“Definitely not.” The drink was floral and fragrant, more an experience to drink than a true intoxicant. The two fingers worth in her glass wouldn’t even give her a buzz, but she certainly felt fancy drinking it.

Apparently it was only drunk on special occasions, but Eli had joked that he could declare it as such and no one would argue him on the semantics. Pyrondi wasn’t going to say no to a chance to experience a new culture.

“Thrawn wanted to go over some of the new duty roster stuff with me, but he didn’t say anything about becoming the captain of the Steadfast,” she said, looking curiously at Eli. “Why didn’t you ask him?”

“She did,” Eli said, crossing his right leg over his left. His glass was nearly empty. “It’s Thrawn’s fleet to organize, not mine.”

“Everything is yours,” Pyrondi and Hammerly said at the same time, truly deadpan. They shared a look, and just the beginnings of a smile.

“You two are cute,” Eli told them. “For what it’s worth, even if I do know, I wouldn’t tell you.”

“How kind of you,” Hammerly scoffed. “I’ll forgive you for your impertinence if you share some of whatever that interesting smelling beverage is,” she said.

“Apparently it’s a special occasion drink,” Pyrondi volunteered.

“Is it a special occasion?”

“Special enough to drink,” She told Hammerly, “I guess.”

“I see.” Hammerly fixed Eli with a glare and Pyrondi blinked between them.

“What?”

“Nothing,” both of them said, just a little too quickly.

"Tell me," she demanded, not in the mood for whatever was happening here.

"I wasn't given the captaincy," Hammerly said quietly.

"We established that," she said, bringing her drink to her lips, intending to finish i— her drink. It was for special occasions, Eli had said. She could feel her eyes going huge, being drawn to Eli. "No."

Eli gave her some confused look that made her want to smack him. Was this some sort of test?

"Don't play with me, Vanto," she said, her voice suddenly very hoarse. He wouldn't. Thrawn wouldn't want this. Hammerly was the better choice. She was close with him, they were good friends, he trusted her, she had more experience and—

"Hey." Hammerly was crouched down in front of her, and her drink had been removed from her hand. "You still with us, Pyro?"

Pyrondi was. "Why would you pick me?"

"I didn't." He lifted his chin to someone behind them, and she saw Hammerly's eyes go just a tiny bit wider.

"I did," Thrawn said from behind them, and why the hell hadn't she heard the door? Hadn't she been in enough compromising positions in front of her commanding officers?

Her eyes found Vanto over Hammerly's shoulder. He was giving Thrawn a look she hadn't yet seen on him. It was something more reserved, his dark eyes almost judgemental, maybe. As if he couldn't believe things in Thrawn's chain of command were this fucked up.

Oddly enough, she felt protective of him, of Thrawn. This wasn't his fault. It was hers.

"Let's take a walk, Hammerly," Vanto said. He rose from the couch he had been sitting on and grabbed his cape from where it was draped over the arm of it, closest to the door. It rippled when he put it on, but Hammerly squeezing her fingers drew her back to the situation at hand.

"Want me to stay?" She asked.

Pyrondi shook her head. She didn't want Hammerly to hear any of this.

Given the way Hammerly's hazel eyes narrowed and a wrinkle creased her forehead, she realized that something was wrong.

"Hammerly," Eli said. His voice was lower and smooth, perfectly calm. It was the voice of a man who was listened to. "That wasn't a request."

Hammerly wasn't meek. One of the things Pyrondi admired about her partner was that she had a way of remaining kind and very nearly gentle while putting someone in their place. Mostly because she was so stars-damned earnest she made any person with even an atom of goodness inside them feel guilty.

But something in Eli's tone had her standing up to follow, pressing a kiss to Pyrondi's forehead as she rose, consequences—though Pyrondi doubted there would be any—be damned.

There was a distinct pause in her footsteps, like she had paused to size Thrawn up, though, knowing Hammerly it was probably to offer encouragement. She was good like that and wouldn't take sides. They were both important to her and she would make it known.

The door closed, and this time Pyrondi heard it. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. There wasn't much she could do now, she thought.

She wasn't able to wrap her mind around the rest of it: Why would Thrawn pick her?

She still hadn't been able so much as consider that thought, much less Thrawn's affirmation of it when Thrawn came into the living area, his footfalls near silent without his boots on. She expected him to sit across from her, to size her up and carefully plot their conversation.

Instead, he took a seat at the other end of the same couch she sat on.

Was it really that hard for him to look at her?

"I spent a good part of this evening talking to Hammerly about the end of our time on Eksl," he said softly. He leaned forward, slouching, his fingers laced together between his knees. "I also spoke with her about assignments and duty rosters so that she wouldn't have to lie when she rejoined you. She was not aware that I intended to speak with you."

"Was Vanto?"

Thrawn turned his head, meeting her gaze. His own was concentrated and bright, almost oddly so. She'd only seen him like that a handful of times. "There is very little I withhold from Eli," he said. "It is an odd reversal of fates that he keeps far more from me."

The honesty surprised her. Thrawn was an incredibly private person. And even though she had been one of the closest people to him before, he rarely offered up such information unless he felt it trivial or already gleaned by those around him.

"I wished for us to speak," he said, eyes directed back at his entwined hands. "Preferably somewhere neutral."

She nodded. "I owe you an apology," she said. "What I said that day, I—"

Thrawn's posture stiffened almost comically, his head shaking microscopically, but swiftly in the negative. "You were right," he murmured.

She thought of her conversation with Eli, how she had described the horrible things she had said to Thrawn, but Eli had asked her to clarify: horrible or honest.

Her eyes went wide. "Wait. You wanted to die?"

"I wanted to do something that mattered," he murmured. He wasn’t looking at her anymore. “And if I died,” he trailed off.

"Our work with the Compendium mattered," Pyrondi asserted. "All of it mattered.”

“You’re right, of course,” Thrawn said.

“This isn’t about being right.”

“No,” he agreed, and this time he turned to look at her. “Do you remember the day I brought back the plans for Starflash?”

She nodded.

His lips thinned. “I showed them to Hammerly, who gave them to you. Her first impression was skepticism. But yours,” he prompted. “Do you recall?”

She shrugged. She had been on board, sure, but specifics? It was years ago. “I remember asking about the specs.”

Thrawn held her gaze, and it was arguably the most intensely he’d ever looked at her in her life. “‘I’m in,’ you said, entirely unprompted.” He looked away. “You knew that if it worked, it would kill you and your partner, cause irreparable damage to Eksl’s sun, and that it was not a guarantee that we would destroy the entirety of the Grysk’s forces. All of this could be gleaned from the information you had been given—you knew what it meant—and yet, you did not hesitate.”

He didn’t ask, but she knew what he wanted to know.

Why.

Shrugging a second time, she curled her fingers around her knees. “I didn’t expect you to come back, but you did.”

“And I came to you and asked you to die.”

“You didn’t,” she said, her gaze narrowing, eyes going hard. “I knew that if you came back, you needed us.” The words were hard to say, but she said them anyway. “If you were willing to do everything you’d done to stop those bastards, the best way I could help you make sure it doesn’t happen to anyone else was to help you do what you needed to do.”

“You chose to fight,” he murmured.

“I did.”

“And when Eli confronted you aboard Syndulla’s vessel, you made that same choice.”

She studied him. They were so much older than they had been at the start of all this. His face was thinner, sharper, the hair at his temples going pewter and white, and the lines on the outside corners of his eyes deeper than they had been when she’d been in the Imperial Navy. He let her study him, remaining still, his gaze forward and intent.

“I figured that if there was even a chance that there might be another way, one that let us keep doing as much good as we could for as long as we could, that it was worth exploring.”

“As I said,” Thrawn told her. The silence stretched for long minutes before he said, “It is I who owes you an apology,” he said. “The things I said to you were cruel, and they were wrong.”

“I forgive you,” she said, lips twitching in something that might eventually become a smile. It was small now, her eyes still downcast.

He reached out, his large hand covering both of hers. She startled, surprised by the contact.

“It is my privilege to be your admiral,” he told her, voice soft, but so very earnest. He was not a man who rehearsed his words. He had poise, and he said what he meant unapologetically. “Then, and now.”

She nodded, swallowing hard. She squeezed her eyes shut. She was not going to cry here.

Thrawn’s fingers tightened over her own for several brief seconds before he withdrew. “I need your help, Pyrondi. I need my flagship to be captained by someone who will not hesitate to challenge others—myself included—if need be. Our people need hope, and you,” His smile, while small enough for the casual observer to miss, was everything she’d ever wanted from him. It was like he saw her, like he found her worthy. “You have never failed to choose hope, even in the darkest situations. I believe they could learn from your example as I have, however belatedly.”

As if to spite her, the tears came in earnest at his offer and the subsequent declaration. She nodded anyway, speaking despite the wobbly quality of her voice. “It would be my honor to accept, Admiral.”

He nodded, taking great care to pour more of the Chiss liquor into her glass before taking Eli’s for himself. When he extended her glass to her, he did so with the subtlest implication of a smile. She couldn’t help but return it with a wry smirk of her own.

She had always known that she would do anything he asked of her. And apparently that meant showing the rest of these Chiss just how it was done.

Chapter 12: Friends

Reformation, Year 10

Hyperspace; the Steadfast

“You gave the kid a kyber crystal?” Pyrondi’s hands were on her hips, her lips pressed together in a thin line, her stormy eyes not so secretly furious. She glared at Ronan.

"To be fair, it wasn't my idea," he said, bristling. "Supreme Commander Vanto—"

"It's fine, Pyrondi," Thrawn cut in.

She glowered at him. "Then he can use your quarters for training. Did you see what he did to the dojo?"

Thrawn didn't wince, but his gaze did trail to Bridger. The Jedi winced, shrugging in a poor attempt to be nonchalant.

Under Thrawn's continued scrutiny, he added, "I needed to practice! It's been years!"

"Are you anticipating combat aboard my ship?" Thrawn asked.

They squared off for a long moment, eyes meeting in what was not quite a conversation so much as it was a chance for Thrawn to gather information from Bridger's body language and the severity of his gaze.

"Look," Bridger said, breaking away from Thrawn's gaze to look at Pyrondi, "I'm sorry. I got a little carried away."

Pyrondi let her own gaze shift from Thrawn to Bridger. "Other people use that dojo, you know. I want it ready for use before your next shift. No scuff marks, no shredded training mannequins, no lightsaber scoring—including the marks on the ceiling."

Thrawn's left eyebrow lifted in an elegant question. Bridger hung his head and nodded. "Yes, ma'am," he said.

"You ought to get started," she instructed, gesturing towards the maintenance closet down the hall.

"Yes, ma'am," Bridger answered sullenly.

He didn't go to attention as he stepped around her, but neither did Pyrondi expect it. He was halfway down the hall when Eli called out from behind Thrawn.

"Un’hee will be meeting you there."

Bridger looked back over his shoulder, uneasy.

Eli stopped at Thrawn's side, cape a quiet whisper behind him. He must have had some meeting to attend that required the more intimidating attire. "She was the one who encouraged you not to use a lower power setting, right?"

Ezra shrugged. Thrawn didn't need the younger man's Jedi senses to tell that he hadn't needed much encouragement at all. "She didn't exactly discourage it, but—"

"I've already talked to her and pulled the cams of the incident, there's no need to cover for her. The techs were smelling melted wires in the maintenance shafts while I was with Ronan, which is how I found out." Pyrondi bristled, but Eli held out a hand to subdue her. "Pull this again and you'll be crawling in the walls to repair them, too."

Thrawn shot Bridger a look that suggested he refrain from any commentary about his ability to creep through walls and ductwork.

"Yes, sir," he ground out, instead.

He left without fanfare or too much of a tantrum, most of his disdain shifted to Eli rather than Pyrondi. Thrawn knew they weren't exactly amiable yet, what with how long it took Bridger to warm up to those older than him, especially male authority figures, but he hadn't been expecting that level of blank distaste from the younger Jedi.

"Vah'nya was the one who reported that to me," Eli murmured to Thrawn. "But she seemed quite impressed with Bridger's acrobatics." He tilted his head to look up at the side of Thrawn's face. We'll need to keep an eye on that."

"Indeed," Thrawn murmured. They were close, Eli's shoulder brushing his arm just above the elbow. "Did you need something?"

"Not especially."

Eli found it incredibly important to be present in the rebuild, but specifically in a morale related capacity. He had been deferring day-to-day decisions to Thrawn or his appointed captains in a show of trust, checking in on the bridge during quieter moments, and only ever briefly. This tactic, combined with the loose grip the Grysks held on the small cluster of colonies on the Ascendancy’s northeastern border, had lifted everyone’s spirits. Thrawn saw his working relationship with Faro, though more aptly Ar’alani’s working relationship with himself decades earlier echoed in his actions. Eli and Ar’alani were different, of course, but the influence, that groundwork was there. Thrawn had been influenced by her, too.

He wished that she were here now. Of everyone, what had happened to her, specifically—

Eli's fingers brushed his in a covert move that went unnoticed, but brought him back to the situation at hand.

"Rogue Jedi aside, everything else shipshape?"

Pyrond nodded. "Otherwise uneventful, sir,” she reported. “The helm assures me that we're making good time. There might still be some issues with solar flares but we should be through the worst of it by this time tomorrow. "

“That’s what I like to hear. Let me know when we’re on our final vector for Naporar.”

Inclining her head, his captain promised to keep them informed and bid them farewell, sparing an additional moment to glare at Ronan. The pale Human met her glare with a deadpan expression of his own, though there was little malice there. He nodded curtly to Pyrondi and turned to leave, regarding Eli with a tilt of his head in a silent question.

"I'm going to the mess now," Eli told him. "No need to worry."

Ronan snorted quietly, looking between him and Thrawn. "See to it that he doesn't get distracted, admiral," he said, causing Pyrondi to look back over her shoulder in surprise, possibly at the odd familiarity his words insinuated.

At no point had Thrawn agreed to go with him, though the conclusion was valid. Thrawn would, in fact, escort him to the mess hall and likely back to his quarters.

He kept himself aloof, neither confirming or denying Ronan's words, and the moment passed without incident, leaving him and Eli alone in the hall.

"You coming with?" He asked. He never assumed, never ordered him to follow. Perhaps they were both still getting used to this.

Thrawn nodded and they were off in the direction of the lift. There were several mess halls on the ship, and Eli made it a point to visit all of them. It was another matter of morale and accessibility, one he had learned from Thrawn. He watched Eli consider before selecting a lower level.

The meal served its purpose, getting Eli to eat something—no doubt Ronan’s concern—while likewise allowing them quality time away from the formalities of command among the pilots and warriors who had volunteered to join the cause. His mind was filled with potential comparisons to the rebellion in Lesser Space, something he would bring up to Bridger at a later time.

After, Thrawn found himself on the couch in the quarters Eli shared with Un’hee, the two of them closer together than was polite, both sifting through communications on their respective questises. It was admittedly domestic, though not uncomfortable. Thrawn had little experience with relations of the romantic variety—his life simply had not allowed it—and was pleasantly surprised to find that despite the larger changes in proximity and contact, it was not that much different.

“I have to address this,” Eli murmured, stretching while holding his questis out for Thrawn to see. He was warm against Thrawn’s side in a way that was pleasant, nearly soothing.

The communication was in Taarja, Paccosh in origin. Thrawn made to rise, but Eli's fingers curled over his knee. "That wasn't me telling you to leave," he said. "I meant it to forewarn you. Uingali really wants to speak with you, and if you're with me, I can spare you some of the awkwardness."

"And rescue me from someone you call a—" he frowned. "What was the term? Someone who enjoys discussion of the mundane so much they land their ship to continue talking."

Eli grinned. "A parker," he said in Basic. "Though I'm pretty sure we also called them moffs, at the end there."

"Yes," Thrawn said agreeably. "Most moffs certainly fit that profile." His fingers curled over Eli's. "That isn't your duty."

"No," he agreed lightly. "But I'm going to do it anyway, unless you're really looking forward to discussing the last thirty years of your life with Uingali."

"He is valuable counsel," Thrawn acknowledged, "But I believe I shall entrust myself to you."

The grin on Eli's face went softer, his expression a newer one that Thrawn had originally suspected was reserved for Un’hee alone. At least, that was what he had believed until these last few weeks since their restructuring had taken place and he'd been confronted with such expressions in private.

"Good," he said, and the warmth of the word settled into Thrawn's belly, pleasant beyond his ability to describe.

Eli answered the incoming message. The Paccian leader's face appeared on the monitor on the far side of the wall. He did not shift away from their close proximity and Thrawn allowed himself to follow his superior's lead.

Reformation, Year 4

Sunrise

Their shuttle had landed on an elaborate stone block landing pad with intricate carvings built in. From the pad was a pathway that led up similarly carved stairs to what was a significantly more modern city of white and tan buildings. Their would-be allies were amassed and waiting for them, a grouping of Paccosh representatives and marines.

"This place holds great meaning," Uingali Foar Marocsaa said, his arms spread out in what was supposed to be a welcoming greeting.

Eli hardly felt welcomed. He felt surrounded, because they were, and Un’hee pressed herself against him in a way that suggested she was frightened, or at the very least unsure of the pinkish, birdlike species that were the Paccosh. Even so, Eli stood his ground. He trusted Samakro, who stood to his left, and he trusted Che'ri, who had helped Samakro to make arrangements to meet.

"I saved that story for you," Samakro said to Uingali. He stepped forward, gripping the alien's forearm in the standard Chiss greeting, which was returned in kind. "Thrawn did not share much of his history with Supreme Commander Ivant."

Uingali frowned. "And yet he recognized the sigil of the Marocsaa subclan," he pondered aloud. "Curious. The lady Magys says that we ought to trust one another, and so we shall." The plumage atop his head fanned out slightly as he stepped back from Samakro and moved to stand before Eli and Un’hee. "Do not be afraid, child," he said to Un’hee. "We share both enemies and friends."

"Why does this place hold such meaning?" Eli asked, directing the Pacc's attention from Un’hee to himself.

Uingali studied him with his beady eyes for a long moment. “You really do not know,” he marveled, then gestured to the world below. “This,” he explained, “Is the place where it all began. Where Mitth’raw’nuruodo first did battle with the Grysks to save our people and yours from an enemy we did not yet understand.”

Eli nodded.

Samakro growled, “To put it briefly: Thrawn was exiled for his intervention on behalf of the Paccosh.”

“The pre-emptive strike,” Eli realized grimly. Samakro looked away.

“I owe Thrawn a great debt,” Uingali said. He leaned forward, looking down at Eli. “They say that you are the one who carries his legacy.”

“I was his protege,” Eli said carefully, adding, “With all-due respect, if you’re looking for someone to be him, I fear you’ll be disappointed.”

The Pacc laughed. “None could be Mitth’raw’nuruodo,” he said.

Un’hee pressed her hand into Eli’s. He let his fingers close around it, squeezing her fingers and receiving the same in response. Uingali noticed the gesture, his gaze trailing down to Un’hee then up to Eli’s face.

“No,” Eli said. “Nobody can be Thrawn.”

“And yet,” Uingali chided, “Only you could stand here now.”

“Anyone could, if they wanted,” Eli challenged.

Uingali’s expression shifted slightly, and Eli got the impression that it was meant to be sad. “But they don’t. He recognized something in you, and that something has propelled you forward.”

“Respectfully, I disagree,” Eli said. “You are correct that Thrawn nurtured my career and helped me develop many of my skills, but I’m driven not by what he wants, but rather by the needs of my people.”

From behind Uingali, a quiet chuckle rang out. The Pacc turned, inclining his head in deference. The marines that surrounded them seemed to step back, falling into a more relaxed position as opposed to the slightly aggressive stance they’d held moments before. Eli recalled that they placed great value in those of their species who identified as female. No doubt it applied to Che’ri as well. “I told you,” she said to Uingali, then smiled at Eli. “It is good to see you again, Eli Vanto,” she greeted him, “You as well, Un’hee. Welcome to Sunrise.”

“She must be the Magys,” Un’hee whispered.

“She is,” Samakro confirmed.

Eli looked over at Samakro. His expression was one of conflict, of grief and duty at war with each other. He squeezed Un’hee’s fingers again, unsurprised when she leaned against him instead of attempting to behave in a way that suggested she was at ease with their current situation.

Reformation, Year 10

The Steadfast

Un’hee slinked into the room as the conversation was winding down. Wordlessly, she tucked herself against Eli’s side, curling up as small as she could in the leftover space beside him. She saw Thrawn turn his head, look around Eli and at her, but he only lifted his arm, wrapping it around her as she settled in.

“The resources from the Compendium have been a great help,” Uingali advised. “The Calar and its representatives send their regards. I'll contact you in the next week with more information."

She began to drift as they finished up, her weight growing more solid against him. He ran his hand over her hair in a gentle motion that she'd normally attempt to evade in the presence of others, but she pushed her head more firmly against him, seeking out the comfort his touch provided. Apparently Thrawn no longer counted as some form of outsider.

"You can't sleep here," Eli murmured as Thrawn disconnected the comm. She grumbled and batted at his hand as he pulled it back, causing him to chuckle.

One scarlet eye opened. “You’re warm and I’m angry at you,” she said, making no effort to move.

Eli looked over at Thrawn, who keyed off the monitor and departed for the kitchenette to make caccoleaf. “Cleaning the dojo couldn’t have been that bad.”

“No, but Vah’nya somehow also agreed to help. Thanks for making me their chaperone.” she lifted her head from Eli and looked over at Thrawn. “Make me some?”

The hum she got in reply suggested he was already doing so. Going off shipboard time, it was still relatively early, and Un’hee, still insomniatic as a mid-ager, tried to regulate her sleep cycles as best she could. “I had to do most of the actual cleaning while they made moon-eyes at each other.”

“As if you didn’t instigate this in the first place,” Eli chided, and that had Un’hee’s cheeks flushing a little.

“So I think they’d be a good match, so what?”

“I do not know if Bridger will stay here when all is said and done,” Thrawn admitted, the kettle heating in the kitchen unattended. He lingered just inside the wide doorway to the living space. “He has family in Lesser Space that means a great deal to him.”

“He has family here, too,” Eli pointed out. Thrawn went silent, choosing not to push back on his partner to refute it and prove the point further. Ezra Bridger had proved his dedication to the greater good by staying. He would prove his loyalty to Thrawn, to the people Thrawn had brought with him from Eksl and the Empire’s Seventh Fleet before that by staying—or at least staying in touch and visiting, though Eli could wholly admit he was getting ahead of himself by thinking of such things now.

They had a long way to go.

“Have you heard anything from Ool?” Un’hee asked, instantly sensing Eli’s exasperation.

Behind them, Thrawn stilled. Eli would not derail the conversation, even if he’d have preferred a better time to talk about it. And besides: It was a legitimate question, considering they’d gotten an update from Uingali.

“I haven’t gotten any updates, but the guerilla fighters there have things in hand. If Visatrox had gained any ground there, we’d have heard about it.” He turned and looked over his shoulder. “I suppose it’s time we talk about that,” he said, rising to his feet to at least retrieve his own mug. “We’ll need allies to help us take Csilla. It’ll be more than just naval warfare we have to worry about.”

“Do we have troops?”

“We do,” Eli confirmed. “Most were volunteers since the Ascendancy’s ground forces were, well,” he really didn’t need to continue, “But our allies have also helped out with training and education for our forces. As for Ool, they have had a far greater force than we do, because a lot of the families on Ool weren’t part of the Nine or Forty, and were left alone to self-organize for far longer than they should have been by our enemies after Csilla fell. They were also allied with the Paccosh long before we even considered it.”

He dropped back into his usual seat beside Un’hee, who had stretched out in the meantime, without either Thrawn or Eli there to stop her. Thrawn regarded her with veiled amusement as he deposited her mug of caccoleaf before her, then took a seat opposite of Eli, his expression shifting back to that of quiet seriousness.

Un’hee reached out and grabbed Eli’s knee, fixing him with a long stare.

“What?”

She blinked, looking over at Thrawn. Eli might have been thinking the same thing, but it had been Thrawn who spoke.

”Your sister,” she murmured as she looked between them, finally understanding what Eli had meant when he’d said that she would know. “She’s Cohbo’rik’ardok.”

Reformation, Year 4

Sunrise

First impression aside, the Paccosh weren’t as bad as she’d been expecting. She was trying not to be so distrustful of new beings or individuals, though all her experience had her scrutinizing everything, always. It was a protective feeling, since she felt like she was the only one who was ever looking out for Eli in the way he looked out for everyone else.

“I was hoping to get you alone,” Che’ri said, when she excused herself from the meeting hall for some fresh air. Two of the guards stationed outside shifted defensively when Un’hee stiffened, but Che’ri was immediately holding up her hands in what was meant to be a peaceful display. “I didn’t mean it like that,” she groused. “I meant only that I wanted to talk to you away from the Paccosh and Chiss, Sky-walker to Sky-walker.”

Un’hee’s gaze narrowed. “Aren’t you a Magys now?”

Che’ri rolled her eyes. “That is a title they call me, and for a little while I thought that the person who used to be a Magys had a lot to do with, well,” she gestured to herself, recognizing her abilities, “But you and Vah’nya and all the other Navigators have had me rethinking things.”

“I’m not a very good Sky-walker,” Un’hee said, toeing at a seam in the stonework tile. “I just do what I have to. If you want to talk to a good Sky-walker, you should talk to Vah’nya.”

“Vah’nya is very skilled,” Che’ri agreed, wordlessly gesturing to the courtyard and gardens outside. Un’hee looked back at the guards, two of whom had stepped forward with the intent to follow her, hands braced protectively on their weapons, “But she is not the only Sky-walker who has had strange things happen to her. You’ve seen things, too. Supreme Commander Ivant has told Samakro and me.”

Un’hee shrugged. “Just because I get feelings sometimes doesn’t mean that I’m special.”

“Maybe, maybe not. Your father is special, though.”

That made her feel instantly defensive. “What’s being a Sky-walker have to do with him?” she demanded.

“Maybe nothing,” Che’ri relented. “But you tell me. You’ve been a Sky-walker for many years now and have served many different masters and commanders.”

“I don’t serve Eli,” she refuted.

“What about your fellow Sky-walkers?”

“It’s our duty to help him, and the Chiss. We’d do anything for him.”

Che’ri smiled. “I felt that way about my commander, too,” she said fondly. “I’m told that you’ve met him.”

“Samakro was your commander?”

She chuckled. “He was,” she admitted. “I should have clarified. My other commander, the one I last served when I was last in service to the EDF. I believe you’ve met him, too.”

“I’ve met a lot of commanders,” Un’hee allowed. “Who was he?”

“Senior Captain Mitth’raw’nuruodo,” she said. “But you know him as Grand Admiral Thrawn.”

Un’hee took a deep breath. Then, shoving her fear of being unprotected to the side, she waved off the guards. “The Magys will make sure no harm comes to me,” she informed them, as primly as possible.

They didn’t like it, Un’hee could tell, but they obeyed. She trusted Eli. Eli trusted Samakro, which meant he also trusted Che’ri. She looked up at the older woman. “You were Thrawn’s Sky-walker?”

“I was,” she said. “I was here,” she pointed to a place in the blue sky that was meaningless to Un’hee in the daylight. “When Thrawn defeated the Grysks over this world. I was the only Navigator aboard his ship. Things have changed since then.”

“They have,” Un’hee allowed.

The pair walked along rows of plants, floral and leafy vegetation alike. Che’ri let her lead, her eyes scanning the many intersecting pathways both for interesting flora as well as for threats. “I’ve heard some interesting rumors,” Che’ri offered.

Un’hee paused. “Like what?”

“I know about what happened over Csilla,” she offered. “But Ivant is… I’ve heard he didn’t want his role.”

“He didn’t,” Un’hee agreed.

“And now?”

“He’s here, isn’t he?”

“And he doesn’t want allies,” Che’ri pressed.

“We don’t have anything to give the Paccosh, and don’t want to be anyone’s servants.”

“There are no debts between friends,” Che’ri told her. “He came here be—”

“Because of the sigil of the Marocsaa subclan, yes, I know.”

“Because of Thrawn,” Che’ri corrected.

Un’hee glowered at her. “What are you trying to say?”

“We don’t know where he is,” Che’ri said. “So if that’s why he’s here—”

Was she serious right now? “You lured us here with it,” Un’hee accused, her voice rising in pitch. “You wanted us here, want us to ally with the Paccosh and you still think that he’s here because of some wild growser chase for Thrawn?”

“Everyone wants him to be Thrawn.”

“Yeah, I got that.” She crossed her arms. “That’s what everyone wants. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Eli isn’t trying to be him.” She lifted her gaze to Che’ri’s, seeing that same otherness that Vah’nya had sometimes, the one she saw in her own reflection on a particularly odd day. She felt frustrated and angry that Eli, just Eli, was never good enough. “He’s never going to be him. We don’t even know if he’s alive. So if that’s what you want, I’m sorry we’re wasting your time.”

“I don’t want Ivant to be Thrawn,” Che’ri refuted. “I want to know why he’s so special. Why he’s the one standing up when nobody else is. And I think that’s something Thrawn saw in him.”

“Like what Uingali said,” Un’hee connected. She tilted her head, thinking. “Curiosity is a choice,” she told Che’ri, and the older woman’s eyes widened, ever so slightly. “Just like reaching out your hand or showing kindness to someone. All we are is the sum of our choices, both the good and the bad.” She turned away, taking a few steps further down the path.

“What will Ivant do when he defeats the Grysks?” Che’ri asked her.

Un’hee froze at an intersection that was like a fan, the stonework path stretching out in many different directions. “When?”

Che’ri nodded. “When.”

“He will protect our people,” Un’hee said, not needing to think about it. “From whatever else wants to destroy us.”

“Including yourselves?”

Un’hee turned back. “Especially from ourselves,” she said with conviction. “The Ascendancy didn’t fall apart because it was perfect. Sometimes better things are born from the ashes.”

She turned back, her eyes on the choices that laid before her. She closed her eyes and felt the sun and the sky, the gentleness of the wind. She followed the feeling in her chest and took the path that felt right to her, the second one to the left.

❧

Che’ri watched the young girl go with a smirk on her face, crossing her arms. Un’hee was a natural. Any other path would have set her into the complicated maze of plants favored by the former Magys, and it would’ve taken her hours to navigate her way out. But the young Sky-walker had trusted her instincts and had made the correct choice. She’d likewise impressed Che’ri with her conviction and resolve.

Che’ri had her own opinions about why she and her sister Sky-walkers were undergoing this sort of renaissance.

A rustling sound to her right disturbed her and she turned her head to the right and nodded to the woman who emerged silently from an archway of ivy and flowers. She had been listening in, of course.

“Are you satisfied?”

“For now,” said Cohbo’rik’ardok. “I won’t be making any decisions until I speak with him myself. Tell Thalias that it would not be wise to get her hopes up.”

Chapter 13: Priorities

Reformation, Year 10

Supply Depot N-8970B; the Steadfast

Careful not to disturb his partner, who was a much lighter sleeper than he remembered, Thrawn slipped out of bed. He dressed quickly, smoothing back his hair with his fingers, and let the door close silently behind him as he entered the living area of Eli's suite. He paused on the other side of the door, listening intently for any sounds that indicated Eli had indeed been woken by him, but none came.

His questis had been left to charge on the table in the dayroom and he retrieved it, scrolling through non-urgent notifications as he made his way to the kitchen area in pursuit of caccoleaf to start his day.

He paused at the counter, setting his questis down only to discover a mug of freshly poured, still-steaming caccoleaf and a tiny bowl of cubed sweetener sitting behind it.

"Is he still sleeping?" Un'hee asked from behind him, not lifting her eyes from her device.

"He is," Thrawn said slowly, meting out sweetener before turning around. The young woman was sitting at the small table in the kitchen space, left leg crossed over her right, her own mug of caccoleaf encircled by her arms, hands clasped around her questis. He wasn't sure what the protocol was for this. Un’hee was hardly a child, and Thrawn was decidedly not paternal in any regard. But Eli had raised her, thus their interactions in situations such as these were outside any parameters he had knowledge of.

"Good, he needs it." Thrawn set aside his musings. On this, he agreed with her. On the surface, Eli's wounds from the assassination attempt weeks earlier had since healed, but his injuries were more than superficial. "We left hyperspace about fifteen minutes ago."

"That was what woke me," Thrawn told her.

"The helm already sent me their update," Un’hee said, jerking her head to indicate the other seat at the table. Thrawn took the hint and sat down. "I wasn't going to disturb you both unless it was absolutely necessary, but since you're here," she slid the device across the tabletop.

He studied the report in silence. It was nothing sensational. At this point, the resupply and refueling would be nearly underway. It wasn’t yet time for alpha shift, but the ship around them would be bustling with muted activity.

“I did not know that you handled such things,” Thrawn said, sliding her questis back to her.

Un’hee shrugged. “We’re a team. That’s not to say that I don’t end up waking him anyways for,” she held out her hands as if to physically encompass her words, “Insert crisis here,” her voice twanged slightly, the influence of proximity to Eli during the majority of her formative years, “But it's always just been us, so I’ve always just done what needed doing, you know?"

The question was rhetorical, but Thrawn considered her through a different lens than he had previously, even when they had gone through the painstaking task of gathering and questioning the fleet’s Navigators. He needed to view her professionally, yes, but personally, too. It took a moment for him to find the words. “You may rely on me, as well,” he said. “Both of you.”

Her eyes flashed, but she averted them back down to her caccoleaf. “I appreciate that,” she murmured, more to the dark liquid than to Thrawn. When she lifted her gaze, his was still trained on her. “No one out there knows how hard it is to walk his path,” she told him. “If you are going to walk it with us, you should know that.”

“I understand,” he said, with a seriousness that could not be mistaken for anything else.

“I want to think you do, too,” she mused, “But if you harm him—”

“I have done your father enough harm for one lifetime,” Thrawn confessed. The words were honest, more so than he usually allowed himself to be.

Un’hee rolled her eyes. “He’d argue that, but I get the sentiment. He told me a lot of stories about you and him and all the trouble you got into together." She allowed herself to smile, albeit wistfully. "He seemed to have a lot of source material, if I'm being honest."

"Ah." Thrawn eyed her smirk warily.

It didn't last. "He cares about you a great deal," Un’hee said, propping her chin on her fist. She meant what she'd said, sincerity "Knowing you were alive for as long as he did was challenging."

The change in her body language was subtle, but not subtle enough. She was prodding for information, possibly testing him. He narrowed his focus, leaning forward slightly. She was not intimidated by him, and so he did not lessen the weight of his gaze like he would have for the average child.

"I am aware of the unique difficulties such separation might require," he advised.

"He cannot put you or me first." She said. Her eyes glittered. "I need you to understand that."

"I do," Thrawn said. "Better than most."

And that was true. He knew what it meant to care for someone yet know he had to do whatever was necessary for a separate, greater good, even if it meant sacrificing them or their well being.

Her lips thinned, and she pressed the issue. "If your roles in all this had been reversed," she said. "Would you have let him live resigned to that fate?"

Reformation, Year 4

Sunrise

"There is something I must tell you," Uingali said, handing the small tablet to Eli. At his side, Un’hee stilled, considering the alien until Eli held up the pad and she was forced to lean in.

Uingali was an ally. She knew this. His motive was as he presented it: to protect his people. She respected that. He, like Eli, believed that leadership was a power given in exchange for service to one's people.

The images depicted some sort of campsite or bunker, it seemed, there was an odd white shell lodged in the dirt. Her first impression had been that it was an escape pod, but it looked strange. It certainly wasn’t any Chiss shuttle she’d seen before.

Eli zoomed in on the aerial photos. "Your scouts collected these?"

"They did," Uingali confirmed. Eli didn't look up, he just continued scrolling. “None has been able to identify it. I had hoped that you might be able to.”

“It’s Imperial,” her father said, his expression going still and serious. “Lifesigns?”

“None,” Uingali said. “But nothing so identifiable as graves, either.” He watched Eli with a considering glance, as if measuring his response, the plumage on his head shivering slightly.

Female Paccs, she had learned, had far more brilliant headfeathers, with shades of blue, red, and purple represented. Green, she’d come to figure, was a rarer shade, or else that of royalty. Women were more important than men in the Paccosh society—strictly going by the color of their head feathers, but Uingali was valued highly by all. Un’hee had long since discovered it was not possible to change the circumstances of one’s birth, but it was possible to forge one’s own life path and change the way others perceived you.

The Pacc leaned forward, taking the device from Eli when he’d returned to the first pic in the series. “I had my suspicions,” he said. “That is much farther out than any other Imperial vessel has been traced.”

“I have the location of the Chimaera,” Eli cut in slowly. His eyes were hard, but not for sake of anger. “If you want it.”

“I do not. I do not believe there are any answers to be had there,” he said, “Only more heartache.”

Eli’s nod said he concurred. “I apologize for interrupting you,” he gestured kindly. “Please, continue.”

Uingali inclined his head and set the tablet down, picking up his own device instead. “When Thrawn was exiled all those years ago, I helped his allies within the Ascendancy keep track of him. They could communicate with me and I with Thrawn much easier than Thrawn could communicate directly with them.” He paused, his eyes downcast. “It was also believed that because we had been his allies that we would be preferable to his own people, given the fate they bestowed upon him. We were and were not,” he said. “I have never believed that Thrawn values such things.”

Shrugging, Eli said, “He was significantly less xenophobic than any other Chiss officer I’d met before the collapse, that’s for sure.” Eli’s tone said there was some truth to be had there, but not all of it was true. Un’hee had met Thrawn, however briefly. He, like Ar’alani, had believed the Chiss were better than all others, that their skills and talents and people were the best the Galaxy had to offer. They valued outside inputs, she supposed, but that didn’t equal a lack of xenophobia, either.

“Indeed,” said the Pacc. “The point I wish to make to you is that I knew all of his exile worlds, which housed more resources, and which were meant to suggest the truth of exile.”

Eli’s eyes narrowed. “Which resources are missing?” he asked, in a tone that didn’t suggest it was a question so much as a demand.

“Nothing physical,” Uingali said.

“What information,” he revised. The pretense of a question had been dropped entirely.

“Devices and technologies whose use had been considered during our own battle. Information that the Stybla and General Ba’kif, may he—” Un’hee tuned out the variant of remembrance. Many species had them, and many families within the Ascendancy had their own versions as well. The dead were dead. They would not want the living to wallow in their demise. She lifted her head to look at Eli.

“The UAG,” Eli interrupted, without apology. His eyes had locked onto Uingali’s and showed no signs of straying. “So what you’re saying,” he reasoned, “Is that someone out there has my peoples’ greatest weapons and secrets at their disposal.”

Uingali handed over his personal device without a word.

The footage was grainy, shot in low light. Either the person being recorded did not know, or they did not care. Un’hee saw a Chiss, but there was no way for her to distinguish them from any other.

But she did not need to be the one to do the distinguishing. Beside her, Eli held his breath, and it was enough. He did not have any form of Sight beyond his eyes, only the instincts of the heart and mind, but Un’hee knew with overwhelming certainty that his conclusion was correct before Uingali said so much as a single word.

Even so, he offered them up for Eli to confirm. “I am saying that Mitth’raw’nuruodo is alive and that he knows about the fate of his people.”

❧

“So we’re not going to tell Samakro?” Eli looked down at Un’hee. She looked up, her expression one of confusion. “Samakro really wanted Thrawn to be alive.” His expression went to one of patient exasperation. Un’hee sighed. “What, Eli? It might get more people to join us.”

She followed him through one of the forest paths where she and Che’ri had walked earlier. Like Un’hee had, he stopped at the split, surveying each path with patience before taking the same one Un’hee had. His decision had been made differently. Instead of looking out into the distance, his eyes had been on the ground, looking at the way each path was formed, the foot traffic and the the shape of the paths themselves—pitted by footfalls or smoothed by the elements.

Eli had been quieter than usual since he’d gotten the news. She expected him to be happy, to be excited and to start making plans, to go get Thrawn, to bring him in, but he hadn’t.

“Do you know why Uingali told me?” Eli asked her. The path led up a hill, weaving through an outcropping of rocks that offered a pleasant view of the setting sun.

Scrambling up one of the rocks for a higher vantage point, Un’hee looked out at the lush greenery and stone mines of the planet, bathed in pinkish-orange for as far as the eye could see. “Uh, because you care about him?”

“By that logic,” Eli counseled, not denying her claim, “He could have told Samakro.”

“But he didn’t.” She frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. If Samakro had known, he would have either left or told them, probably both. She glanced down at the top of Eli’s head. His eyes were on the horizon, his posture still and calm. A light wind blew, rustling his hair and uniform. He turned his face into it, closing his eyes to savor the feeling of cool air on his face that didn’t come from a filtration system or recycler.

“You are my daughter, Un’hee,” he said when he opened his eyes. The sun was more than three-quarters of the way set now, the light bleeding from orange-pink to a magenta-red. The inky indigo-black of night was creeping up behind them.

She flushed. She knew that, but, “Eli—”

“In all the ways that count, you are.” He looked up at her, and her eyes watered from the sheer weight of his gaze, the overwhelming emotions he so rarely revealed to anyone, now. “But that day, when I made that first decision, I set into motion something that is so much bigger than you or I. The things that I want, and the people I love will never be what I put first. That is the consequence of my decision, and I must honor it, no matter how much I want something else.”

“You can be more than one thing, though,” Un’hee pointed out.

“Yes,” he said, “And many times, protecting you and our people lines up. But I cannot forget that my duty is greater than myself. The day I do that,” he sighed, turning his back on the disappearing sunset and looking up at the stars that had begun to dot the night sky behind them. “Is the day that someone should relieve me of my duties.”

She thought of the similarities between Eli and Uingali, taking in Eli’s words. Suddenly, she understood. “You’re not going to go after him, are you?”

Eli shook his head. The sun dipped below the horizon.

“But you want to.”

“More than anything,” he admitted. “But if I focus all my resources on one man, instead of the people and worlds we need to support, evacuate, and reclaim…” he trailed off.

Un’hee pulled her knees to her chest and rested her chin on her knees. “I don’t think I ever want to rule the Ascendancy,” she said. “I don’t think I’d want to make that choice.”

Eli laughed; It was an honest sound, bright and clear. “Unfortunately I’m going to teach you everything I know about it.”

“Because good rulers don’t want to rule?”

“Yes and no,” he said, climbing up the rock with an ease that surprised her. “Your choices have consequences, too. You chose to trust me, and the consequence was our relationship. You chose to stand by me when I decided to take control of our people.”

“So this is a consequence of my relationship to you?”

“I never said it would be easy,” he told her. “But if you don’t—”

She rolled her eyes and tucked herself beneath his arm. “You’re stuck with me,” she told him. “But what about Thrawn? Even if you can’t drop everything, can’t you send someone to see where he is or what he’s doing?”

Eli squeezed her arm, tightening the arm around her shoulders into something more like a hug. “If I know Thrawn,” he said, “He’s going to take the fight to our enemies. For right now, it’s better that we’re separate.”

“But what if something happens to him?”

He pulled back to look down at her. “You’re full of questions, you know that?”

“I am,” Un’hee said, her eyes intent enough to suggest she was waiting for the answer. She dug her elbow into his side for good measure.

His gaze went to the horizon, taking in the fading embers of day as the sky cooled. “I don’t have a good answer to that,” he admitted, eyes betraying a modicum of worry. “All I can do is trust Thrawn to know what he’s doing, and hope that warrior’s fortune will favor us all, until the day we meet again.”

Reformation, Year 10

Supply Depot N-8970B; the Steadfast

She had asked the question in the hope that he understood. That he knew.

He still didn’t understand, Un’hee thought, eyeing the man across from him. The pieces of the puzzle were all there and waiting to be put together. She could see it. He really didn’t understand what his part was to play, how being an admiral, controlling their fleet was only the first step, an entry point to the final steps of a carefully calculated plan.

The door to Eli’s quarters opened with a quiet pneumatic hiss. He emerged in all but his outer tunic, which he threw over one of the chairs in the living space they rarely used. Sometimes, she took for granted just how special he was. He was her father, the person she respected and idolized and counted upon to protect her.

But she was his daughter, and he was her duty. She accepted his wants onto herself, and had chosen her path with the intention of administering help, supporting him in whatever way was necessary.

Eli came into the kitchen. He didn’t seem surprised to see them together, but Thrawn’s gaze had strayed, studying him, as if to check to be sure he hadn’t overstepped some invisible boundary.

“You don’t need to keep this from me,” she said as Eli prepared his morning caccoleaf. Both her mug and Thrawn’s were nearly empty and lukewarm. “Just so you know.”

“I wasn’t trying to keep anything from you,” Eli said patiently, “Of all people.”

“No,” She said demurely, “But I wanted to make it clear.” She hadn’t been saying it for him.

He turned, but her gaze was locked on Thrawn’s. Their conversation had not said this in plain language, and she’d spent some of the silence between their exchanges considering that for all his tactical genius his interpersonal politicking might not be one of his better skills.

Eli tipped the carafe over each of their mugs in turn. When he finished Thrawn’s, his hand squeezed his shoulder. After hers, he patted her day-old braids, and she smiled up at him. He winked at her.

Maybe she should have been worried that Thrawn didn’t know what Eli’s plans for him were, or worried that he couldn’t see the bigger picture. But Eli had raised her to know that no good plan had only a single path of progression. She had to trust that he had planned for this, and that his plans, the ones not even she knew about for certain, would succeed.

Most things boiled down to hope and trust. Hope that the right thing would prevail, and trust in others, in the situation, in one’s own determination to make certain that hope was realized.

❧

Thrawn was mid-conference with his scouts when Eli commed him.

“My office,” he said, speaking right over Thrawn’s greeting. His voice was pitched lower, like it was when he was attempting to will back his temper. “Now.”

He disconnected before Thrawn could say a word, leaving the two scouts wearing matching wincing expressions as they signed off. They had promised detailed reports that would be submitted momentarily, but Thrawn didn’t need them. He’d gotten enough information from the recorder footage they’d sent. The blockade awaiting them was more formidable than originally anticipated. Their enemies knew the value of Naporar, and of its proximity to Csilla.

Tactically, there was a good chance that they could take Naporar with minimal casualties. Thrawn trusted his skills. Holding it, however, was a different story. There would be no way to keep it without a larger force. They would need to regroup.

He flicked off the monitors with a tap to the control panel on his desk and left for Eli's office. It was mid-way through the night cycle; One of them should have been retrieving the other for a much needed latemeal and rest, yet duty called.

Perhaps Eli had likewise received a report regarding the blockade. He let the thought pass. Eli had been overwhelmingly curt, and the answer was likely not something so mundane in warfare.

Which left Visatrox.

She had been far from silent, but she hadn't tried very hard to defend the outer territories. It was clear that she valued the worlds the Chiss did, collecting them as spoils of conquest to display to enemies and allies alike.

The guards were waiting for him. When he arrived, they parted in front of Eli's door, granting him access before resuming their defensive positions.

Eli was not alone. Far from it, in fact. Bridger sat across from Eli’s desk, rubbing tiredly at his eyes, while Ronan sat perched on the edge of the desk, informal but not unwelcome. Pyrondi and Hammerly had also been summoned, Pyrondi taking the chair that Bridger had not chosen, Hammerly hovering beside it.

Un’hee was wedged into the corner, gaze on her questis. Her lips were twisted into a displeased expression that appeared to have little to do with the fact that she should have been sleeping.

His gaze was naturally drawn to that of the Jedi. Bridger looked to him more often than not, which was valuable and needed frequent reward and encouragement in the name of maintaining good relations between them. The young man's expression was that of concern, dark and foreboding.

Hammerly had sucked her lower lip between her teeth, looking unsure, but Pyrondi seemed calm, but touch wary.

"No formalities, please," Eli said with a wave. Thrawn blinked, noting that Eli himself had been mobile and pacing. He stopped to regard Thrawn. "What did your scouts report?"

"The blockade is more substantial than our estimates,” he reported. “We would need a much larger force to hold the planet."

He nodded. "Either they pulled back to Naporar to goad us into charging ahead blindly, or else they truly trusted the former regime's value structure—to their own doom. It hardly matters which." Tilting his head, he swept his gaze over the rest of those gathered. "I'm pulling the fleet from this offensive," he said coolly.

Thrawn did not question that. The need to regroup meant a shift in priorities, moving elsewhere and attempting a different strategy. In order to hold Naporar, they would need at least one other admiral's fleet.

What he did question, however, was the drawn faces of those gathered. Eli did not leave him in suspense for long.

"Admiral Khresh contacted me two hours ago," Eli began. "His fleet was ambushed on Celvis.”

“We were not expecting much by way of opposition there,” Thrawn noted.

“He wasn’t ambushed by Grysk forces,” he revised. The pacing resumed.

Thrawn’s eyes narrowed and he approached Eli, who stopped abruptly, turning his back to them all to regard the viewport behind him. His gaze settled on the swath of black vacuum, speckled gold and pale red with distant stars. Thrawn eyed him, noticing rigid line of his back and shoulders, the tightness of the muscles there. From his angle, he could see Eli’s reflection in viewport, could make out the sight of his thinned lips and burning gaze.

Eli was furious, he realized. It was a quieter anger, but no less potent than any anger Thrawn had ever seen from him. He knew this man, inside and out. He was furious—

—and he had gathered a select few people here, in the middle of the night—

—and suddenly, Thrawn understood why.

“The fleet will depart for Celvis immediately following this conversation. I’ve called you here because you are all experts on or against Imperial vessels, tactics, and counter-attacks.”

The mood in the room shifted. Bridger, notably, was pensive, rather than excited, a sign of his growing maturity, though Thrawn suspected the news had been broken to him and the other Humans assembled before he had arrived.

“What kind of fleet are we talking?” Hammerly interjected.

“Six star destroyers and their full complement of fighters, as well as a small flotilla of miscellaneous ships. As they imparted to Khresh after destroying three of his capital ships, they had been promised Celvis by our enemies, in the hopes of opening trade and ‘relations.’” The quick jerk of his fingers in what he’d once explained to Thrawn as ‘air-quotations’ was the only hint of sarcasm that bled through the anger.

“Do we believe that is all of their forces?” Thrawn asked.

“No,” Ronan chimed in, his expression distant, almost haunted. “Many Imperial remnants have washed up in the Unknown Regions over the years, especially after their defeat at Endor. They have some supply lines in the Unknown Regions, supply caches, secret bases—”

The accusation was clear. Thrawn had been the one who charted those paths for Palpatine, after all. Their presence in the Unknown Regions had been orchestrated, in part, by Thrawn himself.

But Thrawn would never invite them into Chiss space. The opposite, in fact. For them to venture further into the Chaos suggested a great many things, none of which were positive.

“I don’t care about Lesser Space or its politics,” Eli said, turning back to them. Thrawn noticed Hammerly’s shift, her dislike of that statement, but Pyrondi put a hand on her elbow and the reaction ended there. If Eli noticed, he didn’t say. His eyes found Thrawn’s and stayed locked on him. “They have attacked our people,” his fist came down upon the desk, the impact ringing out in the silence. The fury, the vehemence, all of it was quiet, yet sharp. His voice remained even, tempered. “And I will not allow that to go unpunished.”

Chapter 14: Vengeance

Notes:

I promise I have not given up on this story! Thank you for sticking with me despite the long wait, it means so much to me!

Reformation, Year 5

Fallen Ascendancy—Path of the Triad

Quick, precise strikes. Get in, evaluate, obliterate, withdraw. No traces, few witnesses if any at all.

Their methodology had changed little over the last few years, though the means have increased significantly. Eli was pleased by their progress. The level of confidence across all Chiss forces had increased since the implementation of the energy weapon. Eli still didn’t like it—he didn’t ever want to like it—but he couldn’t argue with how much easier it was to enter an engagement with an encounter-ending weapon primed to fire.

They had developed a bit of a reputation, leaving next to no trace of their presence, only the particle matter of their enemies scattered across the void.

Eli made his way to the bridge as he always did, dark eyes scanning the crew to inspect their well-being.

"I have a good feeling," Un’hee said as they stepped into center of the double ring of consoles. He stopped as she said it, eyeing her suspiciously.

"A good feeling, huh?"

She nodded resolutely. Across the way, the Navigator on duty twitched out of her trance as if coming awake. "Bringing us out now," the girl said. "Un’hee can take over from here."

"Uh huh," he said, a little dryly, still looking down at her. He knew when his kid was meddling. He also knew when she wasn't telling him the whole story.

Un’hee flushed, but shrugged. "Trust me, Eli."

"I do," he said carefully, "However, I'd like some more detail."

"You know what I know," she said, hands clasped to her chest. "I can't explain it in any words that make sense."

She went over to relieve the other Navigator, a fourteen year old girl who nodded politely to Eli as she made her way off the bridge. When she adjusted the chair and sat, her gaze went directly to him and she nodded.

The rest of the crew fell in, Khresh deferring to him as their leader. "Alright, Un’hee," he said. "Take us in."

The trip was short. No more than three hours had passed when Un’hee gasped and her head tipped up, eyes open but unseeing.

"Eli," she cried out, her voice tight with anxiety and tension.

He was at her side in an instant. "I'm here, Un’hee," he murmured, steadying her with a solid hand on her shoulder.

“They need help,” she said. “I could…” she trailed off, posture slackening as her consciousness waned.

“Focus, Un’hee,” he said, squeezing both shoulders now. He sent a look over his shoulder to Khresh, who raised his comm to his lips to summon Vah’nya to the bridge. That handled, he returned his attention to Un’hee. “Who needs help?”

“There are people fighting,” she said. “I could feel them. They’re trying to push back the Grysks but they’re being overrun.”

Eli wanted to ask if she could take them in closer, if she had any way to specify a location, but she was already pushing herself too far. It was rare that a navigator went into overload these days, but the spells were worse and lasted longer — with the strange dilation of their powers came a decreased knowledge of their limits.

"How long until Vah'nya—"

"I'm here, Eli," she said, sweeping onto the bridge at a run. She looked at Un’hee, then Eli. "Whatever this is," she began seriously, brows creeping together. "I think…"

"She told me earlier that she had a good feeling. Trusting that, I say do what you must," he ordered gravely. She was all but slumped against him now. "I'd prefer we don't push her, but she suggested that there are people we can help actively in combat, and I cannot abide allowing innocent people to suffer if there’s something we can do."

"Pick her up," she replied with an order of her own. "Let me sit down."

Prying Un’hee's fingers from the controls proved difficult for how tightly she'd been gripping them, but Eli managed, the nearby crew stepping back momentarily to give them space. She wasn't as little as she used to be, but Eli managed to get her up and into his arms, her head lolling in against her chest and bracketed by his shoulder and arm.

"Un’hee," Vah'nya said sharply, "Look at me."

Vah’nya had a way with the other Navigators. As the oldest, she always had, but these last few years and their unique challenges had only accentuated her skills. She had been special before, always, really—Eli maintained that it took a special person to serve, even for a short while, talent or strength of their abilities be damned—and her maturation into true adulthood had only seen her flourish in a leadership capacity. Now closer to her thirtieth starday than she was her midager years, she had become something of a resource for all the other ships and commanders, as well as the person whom Eli trusted to train the rare new navigators he cycled into the fleet when needs demanded it.

(That was something neither of them wanted to do, and one of Eli’s least favorite parts of leading the Chiss—parents attempting to give him their children to become soldiers at five and six years of age, children who had barely been conceived before the Ascendancy’s fall. Children who only knew war.)

“I am going to use Second Sight,” she told Un’hee. “Try to focus.”

The focus was more for Vah’nya’s benefit, to prevent her from being too disoriented to function afterward, but Un’hee seemed to try to center herself enough to pass along the information to someone who could properly translate it into results. Less than a minute later, Un’hee made a shrill, uncomfortable sound behind closed lips while Vah’nya withdrew.

“She’ll be alright,” Vah’nya said, her eyes taking on a determined glint. “I have a general heading, and once I’m in my trance, I should be able to get what it is she’d seen.”

“I still don’t understand why she insisted upon taking over for Mi’yaric,” Eli told her.

“I guess we’ll find out,” she said. “I’m ready when you are.” And lower, she said, “Stay close.”

He deposited Un’hee onto his command chair, and the girl curled up. Good enough, he thought, returning to Vah’nya’s side, motioning everyone else back to their positions at their stations. “Take us in, Vah’nya,” he ordered.

She bowed her head, but the jump was barely a minute. “I can sense Grysk ships,” Vah’nya said. “How do you want to play this?”

Eli cocked his head. “We’ve been at battle stations for an hour now,” he advised her, a bit more gently than wry. “How long do you think the jump will take?”

“Eighty seconds,” she said, but her expression had picked up that wryness that Eli lacked. She knew how long it took to charge up the weapon, and this stop had been more of a courtesy than anything else.

He allowed himself a grim smile. “I’ll leave our positioning up to you then, now won’t I?”

Reformation, Year 10

Hyperspace: The Steadfast

Thrawn knew what his partner was, what rested upon his shoulders. He understood and even felt the same rage that he felt, the indignation and fury curling together like something liquid and molten in his belly. Even so, Eli’s wrath was startlingly more Chiss than Human.

Humans would die this day, and Eli Vanto felt no pity for them. There was an odd aloofness to him in this state, his anger like a star about to go supernova, set at a distance away from others smart enough to avoid it.

He would not. “What is our plan?” he asked Eli, cornering him after a briefing with their senior staff to apprise them of their destination and the imminent battle. The two of them sat in on one end of a long briefing table with a projector built into the center of it, Eli at the head of the table and Thrawn directly to his right.

“There will be some individuals able to assist us on the ground,” he said. “There is always some level of rebellion, even if the Grysks want us to think otherwise. They consolidated their efforts on Csilla all those years ago, but the Chiss caste system—” Thrawn frowned at that, but chose not to inquire and risk derailing their conversation, “Has ensured that most smaller families were relatively unscathed by the fall of the Nine. Many families went underground, metaphorically speaking, and have been organizing their own rebellions. Between the Navigators and our communications experts, know what to look for. Bridger can probably help in this regard, too, if you want to have him report to Vah’nya.”

“Only if you think that won’t distract from our efforts,” Thrawn reminded him.

“Vah’nya is a professional,” Eli returned, "She won't let her feelings undermine our efforts."

Thrawn conceded that and sent a message to Bridger, who was already in motion. "So we have any willing guerilla forces engage the Imperial forces, then come in behind them?"

"Yes," Eli said. "We'll need some survivors. Several fighters, a small cargo ship or crew carrier at most."

It was disturbing to hear Eli speak so calmly of the deaths of his fellow Humans. Though Thrawn had little love for the Empire or what it became, he still felt some residual discomfort at the casual nature of Eli's words. “You wish to send a message.”

His dark eyes flicked up to meet Thrawn's. "Yes," he confirmed. "You have doubts."

Thrawn was quick to refute that with a single shake of his head. "The interlopers must be dealt with swiftly," he said. "My reaction is to your lack of concern for their welfare."

"They aren't my people," he said.

"We have Humans aboard this ship," Thrawn pointed out. "Are they not our people, too?"

Eli frowned, folding his fingers together on the desk. "I have killed plenty of my own people in this fight," he said. "I took command and owned orders that slaughtered Chiss, including Navigators. I have executed them personally, so that none of our people have had to." His eyes were dark and cold, a sharp contrast to the heat of his words. "Whatever is left of the Empire can do whatever it wants outside of our territories but if they harm my people, I won’t hesitate to wipe them out."

Thrawn remained silent. He knew Eli had done things that he regretted. Such was the price of war, of making difficult decisions with limited information. But it was his other statement, the final thing that had been said that stuck out.

Mentally, he recalled his conversation with Un’hee, but thought better than to draw attention to that and his own questions with battle looming before them. Eli's role was singular. A military had many leaders and warriors, but one always stood a cut above the others. They had to. Thrawn had worn such a mantle himself, once. It had not been the white uniform he had wanted to wear—though he had never expected one, if he were to be honest. Eli had learned the weight and expectation of leadership, and he wore it well. He made difficult decisions so that others—Thrawn included—did not have to.

Perhaps the sensation was somewhat strange, he supposed, to serve beneath the man he had nurtured years ago. He had thought it would be of little concern, but apparently he had more to consider.

"If I asked you to lead this offensive," Eli said into his thoughts, making Thrawn blink and refocus. His partner seemed to sense it. It was another odd thing, something so like Thrawn's own knack for speaking to a subordinate. He repeated himself, "If I asked you to lead this offensive, would you be conflicted?"

Thrawn met his gaze head on. "Never," he said.

"So your hesitation is because I am not Chiss?"

"Yes."

Eli inclined his head. "It's weird, isn't it? I know we always said we'd sworn off our old loyalties, but on some level we always expected our first loyalty would go to our own species." His lips curved slightly into an almost wistful smile. "I think I needed everything to go to hell to really understand. In the Empire, I was fighting a threat that might never reach my homeworld, for people who mostly looked at me as an outsider. I'm not like you. You've always been loyal to the Chiss, through everything they—and everyone else—has thrown at you. That's a good thing."

"Is it? The Humans under my command—past and present—might feel otherwise."

"Hammerly is tenderhearted, but she loves you and Pyrondi too much to leave. Her family was never as bad as mine, but she was at odds with them, too. Maybe it would've ended the same, but this way they think she died in battle and can continue living their closed minded little lives while she lives hers."

Thrawn heard the bitterness there, even if he tried to downplay it. "Like your family?"

Eli rolled his eyes. "My family didn't have to live with their shame. Her family mourns her. There's a difference."

"You truly have no regrets?"

"Of course I do," he refuted. "I regret not listening to Un’hee's warning to me and Ar'alani every day of my life. I regret having not known how to save our people from themselves as much as I regret taking gifted children that our people attempt to give me like prized livestock."

"I meant regarding your Humanity," Thrawn pointed out dryly, though he cataloged the response for reflection.

"The first time you held me was when my family made their opinions known and we parted ways." Eli's expression was stony.

"I remember." Thrawn did. He remembered that moment in perfect clarity, the way the crown of Eli's head had pressed against his sternum, how Eli had hung his head and cried for loved ones lost to him despite their continued life, how Thrawn had wrapped his arms around Eli and hushed his apologies without fanfare, echoing the conversation they had already been having, that it had not been his fault.

Gesturing, Eli said, "Then by that logic there are very few people I was ever upset to lose when I left," he pointed out, "And my current definition of family includes far more Chiss than Humans."

"You do not need to prove your worthiness to me," Thrawn counseled. "I know you."

"Better than anyone."

"Excepting Un’hee, perhaps."

"In different ways, maybe," Eli mused. "She knows me as a parent and a leader. You've known me as a subordinate and a friend, and now, well—" he smiled.

"Then I would turn the point of your rhetoric back on you," Thrawn said. "You know me and should therefore be able to answer your own question."

Eli smirked. "I know the answer," he agreed, "But do you?"

Thrawn let his lips tick upward slightly to match. "Would you take joy in watching me reprise my Imperial persona?"

He turned more completely in his chair and leaned forward, palm flat against Thrawn’s chest, over Thrawn’s heart.

"I have no need for Grand Admiral Thrawn," he advised Thrawn. Thrawn expected Eli's eyes to dart back and forth, studying his own, but Eli remained unwavering and resolute. "I think that Supreme Admiral Thrawn would make a more significant impact."

Thrawn stared at him, stunned. "You cannot be serious."

"I need you to make our presence known, and I need you to stop whatever is left of the Empire from preying upon our people."

"I will do what you ask," Thrawn said, "However, I—"

Eli rose from his chair, looking down at Thrawn. "I will be leaving for Home Away when we rendezvous with the fleet. Once the Empire is handled and Celvis is secure, you will contact me so we can determine what comes next."

A long silence passed between them, as if Eli was waiting for Thrawn to challenge his order. Thrawn wouldn't, though, and they both knew it. Thrawn knew his fellow admirals were dedicated and devoted to giving everything to reclaim the Ascendancy for their people, but none of them were him. None of them had as much knowledge of the forces that surrounded them, both friend and foe.

“Yes, sir,” Thrawn said smoothly, and Eli knew that he knew. He needed to do this alone.

The sharpness of Eli’s gaze softened slightly. “You’ve got this,” he said, squeezing Thrawn’s shoulder as he passed. When he reached the hatch leading out into the hall, he turned back. “We both know it has to be you.”

“How would you defeat them?”

Eli crossed his left arm over his abdomen and gripped his right elbow while his left hand came up to stroke his chin. “A wise man once told me that ‘there are things in the universe that are simply and purely evil. A warrior does not seek to understand them, or to compromise with them. He seeks only to obliterate them,’” Eli said. “I don’t like it any more than you do, but if they’re making deals with the Grysks…”

Thrawn’s measured exhale was quiet, but audible all the same. “There is something poetic about using their weapons against them,” he supposed, though his lips pursed in mild distaste. “It will have to do.”

❧

“I’m staying,” Un’hee said, surprising Eli out of his reading.

He looked over in her direction, though her back was to him. “For Thrawn?”

It was only a matter of time before the young woman rose from her place in the small kitchen and came to flop opposite Eli on the second couch in their dayroom. Her expression was deadpan. “I would prefer not to deal with the Humans,” she said, “But I have a feeling that I’m needed here.”

“I think,” Eli said carefully, “That what you suspect you’re needed for is what comes after this.”

Un’hee shrugged, still sprawled inelegantly. “I know where you’re going to send him if he wins.”

“Do you?”

“Well we’re obviously going to have to deal with Naporar after we take back Csilla, I heard Thrawn say as much to Bridger earlier.” She eyed him warily. “Does he know what you have planned?”

“I just named him Supreme Admiral,” Eli said instead of answering directly. “Things are going to start changing rapidly, now.”

The look on her face and the cadence of her blinks suggested she was withholding commentary about how she knew what that meant and he obviously knew what it meant considering he was the one issuing orders, but Thrawn likely did not. What she did ask was, “How did you know that now was the time to act?”

“Instinct,” he said. “Originally I had planned to broach the subject if we took Naporar with our initial plan. I had several contingencies, but this makes the most sense long term.”

“It establishes his ability to protect us,” she agreed. “I still don’t get why you need to go back to Home-Away.”

“I need to talk with the Council to solidify what comes after. I’m hoping the win will give Thrawn confidence.”

“It isn’t a guarantee,” Un’hee pointed out.

“Thrawn ran circles around the Empire for years, even without one and a half fleet’s worth of energy weapons. But you’re right; Anyone can be defeated.” He sighed. “I kind of wish I’d be there to see it.”

“You could stick around and watch.”

“Nah,” Eli said. “Khresh will be recording, I’ll watch it afterwards.”

“So the confidence boost,” Un’hee said, pushing herself up to a sitting position on the middle cushion. “You’re going to test him?”

“In a way,” Eli said patiently. This was a still shifting part of his plan, but a vital part of it all the same. With Naporar lost to them at present, they needed to strike at the heart of the fallen Ascendancy, and they needed more allies, more troops to do so.

And more than that, they needed to rile Visatrox, who was content to hide behind others, to remind them all just how many puppets she had stringed up and acting out her will. Un’hee didn’t know about that part, and Eli wasn’t particularly keen on telling her. The less she knew the better, for now.

If she felt inclined to stay, he had no doubt that her time to know would come.

“Keep an eye out for each other,” he cautioned her.

“Don’t worry about us,” Un’hee told him. “I have a good feeling.” Her eyes narrowed, and she scrutinized him in the playfully serious way he’d come to know well. “You just worry about taking care of yourself.”

Chapter 15: Stardust

Notes:

Me on twitter earlier today: If I get 10 likes on this tweet, I’ll post the update.

Also me: *doesn’t use twitter with any regularity, has like 14 followers*

So anyway, here’s the update from me, your favorite strange millennial hermit author who rarely uses social media.

Reformation, Year 5

Path of the Triad: Ool Approach; The Steadfast

On the night side of the planet Ool, particle matter faintly glittered in the light of Csilla's distant star. Eli surveyed the remnants of the Grysk fleet that had been preying upon the there with a low level of interest.

"You're sure she had a good feeling and not a bad one?"

Eli glanced over at his empty command chair. He'd taken Un’hee to his ready room to recover in peace, comm tucked into the curve of her fist. Eli never doubted her, but he did worry that her idea of a good thing didn't quite align with his own. Un’hee took both her connection to Eli and her position as a Navigsator seriously. Her willingness to sacrifice her comfort and safety concerned him.

"I trust her," Eli said. "So trust me."

"Yes," Vah'nya said, "I do trust you. What I do not trust is this voice in my head trying to convince me to come down to the planet and bring you with me.

That got Eli's attention, fast. "Vah'nya," he said, voice thick with wariness and warning—

"I know," she responded, scrunching her eyes closed to focus. It took a moment, but the strain she appeared to be under eased. "I don't like this, Eli. I know there are likely still Grysks on the ground, but I have never been able to connect with one like this."

They exchanged a concerned glance. "We have to make contact with civilians planetside," Eli said. "There are people down there that need us and if any of our enemies saw—"

"It is unlikely from this range," Khresh pointed out, which Ronan confirmed with a puffed chest and vigorous nodding from beside the admiral. "The angle of our attack was also quite ingenious," he added, with a nod to a now-flushing Vah'nya.

"That said," Eli continued, "We ought to be on our guard. We are considerably closer to Csilla than I had planned to be."

In fact, the reason they were here was because intelligence sources had suggested active resistance to Grysk control despite Ool, Shihon, and Okoyou failing to respond to any attempts by Eli's regime to support or evacuate innocents. That, and Eli needed a voice on their council. He could not assume to know the needs of the entire Ascendancy beyond wartime, nor every nuance of its culture.

Many had utilized their connections to people on these three worlds but none so far had received any answer, so Eli had chosen to go for himself.

"Promise me you will not let them control me," Vah'nya demanded, hugging herself. “I would rather face death.”

It was a grim demand. "I won't let you suffer," Eli promised, "But you keep focused on preventing that from happening." He looked over at Khresh. "Contact the caretakers to keep an eye on their charges, please."

Khresh nodded and raised his comm to his lips. A moment later he nodded in confirmation that his order had been received.

Not a moment later, Vah'nya flinched violently and whirled around, her vivid eyes turned toward the bridge hatch. "Eli," she said, voice pitching upward in terror. Her fingers shook as they circled his wrist and her fingernails clawed at his skin.

Eli rested his hand on the charric holstered at his back, shucking it loose. "What is it, Vah'n—"

The hatch opened and Un’hee stepped through. She looked around, blinking widely, as if she'd never been on the bridge before. Eli felt as though the deck was slanting beneath his feet. His breath caught in his chest, heart hammering, body going still.

"No," he murmured, the single word punched out of him like a blow.

Vah'nya whimpered.

Eli cast his eyes toward Khresh, who had likewise reached for his weapon. "Look away, Supreme Commander," his admiral said, intending to do him a kindness.

"Hold," Eli said, fiercely. He brought his own weapon up, ignoring the bile that burned the back of his throat. "I'll do it," he said, voice hitching.

Un’hee—her body, not her, Eli told himself, this was not her—strode forward with an odd gait that suggested confidence and defiance but not arrogance. She looked around with an expression of muted curiosity until finally her gaze landed upon him and she stilled, face in an expression of shock that was so minute, so wrong there was simply no doubt that it was not Un’hee, his vibrant, emotive child.

"You really are not Chiss," Un’hee's voice came, smooth and delicate, her tone one of quiet wonder. Eli grit his teeth, his heart pounding so hard it hurt. He had never noticed just how similarly they spoke until now, when another spoke through her. She continued, "Che'ri said you were an outsider, but she did not tell me as much."

"Che'ri?" Vah'nya asked.

"Yes, Navigator. I—well,” Un’hee smiled, the look too wide and seemingly amused. “I am a friend of a friend," said her controller.

Eli growled.

Un’hee's lips curved up in another smaller, almost playful smile. "Or, at the very least, the enemy of your enemy."

Reformation, Year 10

Celvis, The Steadfast

The hangar was, by nature, a loud, chaotic place. Techs, engineers, and pilots hustled to their respective units and fighters, squads were briefed and prepped, and people yelled across the deck to coordinate things in preparation for the upcoming battle.

It was an intricate dance, a complicated weaving of many operations and people, one that normally would have held Pyrondi's attention. One of the fighter pilots seemed to have misplaced an ignition fob-switch and it was a rather comedic crisis that the flight commander had apparently prepared for. Elsewhere, a tech reminded one of their juniors that fuel was liquid currency so they had better not see a drop of it splashed on the deck plates.

But something else had stolen Pyrondi's attention. In this moment, standing beside Thrawn and facing Vanto, more than ever before, Pyrondi got the feeling that something was going on between them. It took a second, what with her need to overcome her shock that Vanto was leaving before this battle took place at all, but she managed to set that feeling aside and hone in on the subtleties of the moment.

Thrawn stood nearly at attention, Pyrondi to his right, Un’hee to his left. She had hugged Vanto tightly, then stepped back. Pyrondi had expected her to go with Vanto, given their relationship, but it was Vah'nya who stood beside Vanto, prepared to navigate to Home-Away.

Vanto took a step forward, leaning up onto his toes. He did not hesitate, looping his arms around Thrawn's neck. Slowly, Thrawn returned the gesture.

Scratch that: something was definitely going on between them. She would need to report this to Hammerly. Hopefully it would lift her spirits.

If there were words exchanged, she didn't hear them. When Vanto pulled back, Thrawn fell into an easy parade rest.

"Warrior's fortune, Supreme Commander," Thrawn offered smoothly.

"The same to you all," Vanto smiled. He leaned forward slightly, back into Thrawn's space. "Good hunting, Thrawn."

They watched him go. When the shuttle departed the hangar and made the jump to lightspeed, Un’hee released a sigh. "I'll be on the bridge if you need me," she said, mostly for Thrawn's benefit.

And then, it was the two of them. Thrawn met her gaze, a single eyebrow rising in silent query.

She could tease him. Hammerly would. Even if Pyrondi didn’t share the development with her partner, she had no doubt talk had already spread through the hangar and beyond. At her admiral’s continued scrutiny, she shook her head, allowing a wry smile to take hold and their gazes to lock.

“To the bridge, sir?” She asked him.

His gaze narrowed, likely probing for whatever commentary he anticipated. Pyrondi would leave that for her better half. They departed together, moving in tandem as much as the differences in their height would allow, exiting the hangar and entering the lift that would take them in the direction she’d indicated.

When the doors closed in front of them and the lift began its ascent, he turned toward her, attempting once again to head off anything she had to say.

“No comment, sir,” she told him, keeping her gaze straight ahead.

“You are smiling.”

Tilting her head, she cast her eyes to the left, toward him. “I believe you had a similar reaction to myself and Hammerly.”

He turned back, facing the lift doors. Softly, he wondered aloud, “Which time?”

The situation wasn’t quite the same, but she smirked at his question anyway, looking at their reflections in the metallic doors in lieu of giving him the satisfaction of a response. He was smiling, too.

Reformation, Year 5

The Wooded Plains, Ool

Eli followed Un’hee’s form as she slinked through the trees, one hand resting on his charric. The safety had been off for some time, and the heat of the weapon against his side had never been more apparent. Beside him, Vah’nya stalked along, her worry like a thick fog. She had taken Khresh’s side, agreeing that they should put Un’hee down before she could harm anyone, as if killing her and removing whomever was controlling her’s ability to do so would have reduced the mental and physical pain to him in any way, or prevented them from then pivoting to target Vah’nya or the others.

It wouldn’t. Nothing could possibly console him beyond a way to fix this, something he wasn’t sure was possible. Vah’nya had tried to reach Un’hee like Che’ri had taught her, but there had been nothing but blankness and static. It was as if Un’hee was not there at all and all that remained was the shell of her.

Behind them, Eli’s forces spread out, weapons drawn. They knew that only he was to execute her, if and when the time came. The thought made his fingertips and chest tingle with cold he couldn’t abate.

She’d had a good feeling about this, he’d remembered. He couldn’t help but wonder if he should have hope or assume that her words had been slanted with the influence of this supposed fellow enemy of the Grysks.

When they had been walked nearly five kilometers, Un’hee came to a stop before a dense plant growth, crouching down to pull open a hatch of some sort. It was clear that the being controlling her struggled with it despite not expecting to. They managed to make Un’hee open the heavy barrier, then turned back to face him, Vah’nya, and their waiting troops.

“Only the two of you may follow me from here on out.”

Vah’nya glanced warily at him.

“That sounds like a trap,” the lead warrior said, somewhere over Eli’s left shoulder.

“Trust comes at a cost,” not-Un’hee chided. “And at times, a trap can be an effective tool.”

Eli frowned at that. The words were those of a warrior. He wanted desperately to provoke Un’hee’s captor until they either relinquished her to him or suggested that was beyond the realm of capability. This in-between state was sheer torture, no doubt for both of them, but if they spoke like this, Eli very much doubted that they would fall for his baiting.

“The Grysk believes we will just hand ourselves over,” Vah’nya murmured.

He considered her. “You believe this is a Grysk?”

“How could it be anything else? It’s like they plucked Un’hee from her body and inserted themself.” She was shaking her head, arms wrapped protectively around herself. “It’s just like Csilla.” Her eyes welled with tears. “She’s gone.”

Eli looked away. “I will go with you,” he said in Un’hee’s direction. “Vah’nya will remain here under the protection of my warriors.”

“The hell I will,” Vah’nya argued. “You’re insane if you think I’m just going to leave you.”

Not-Un’hee watched them, her expression flat, but trending toward unimpressed. “What’s so amusing?” He growled toward her.

A blink. “Nothing.”

Eli flinched, eyes darting back and forth, studying Un’hee’s face, his instincts firing off questions that didn’t have rational answers, his stomach churning. His heart hurt, but with it came the reminder that Un’hee had had a distinctly good feeling and her feelings had never led him astray. And that, discarding the rationalities he knew, trading them for logic that allowed for these unknowns he didn’t entirely understand but could respect for what they were and the people who did, meant that he needed to see this through to its conclusion.

Even if it was selfish. Even if there was every possibility that it would damn them.

“Eli?”

He sincerely hoped they wouldn’t.

“Stay here,” he ordered, meeting Vah’nya’s darkening expression with a stern one of his own. He silenced her indignant outrage before she could protest, adding, “It’s not a debate. If something happens to me, you have the best chance of making it back to Khresh.”

“Please, Eli, don’t—”

She tried, but Eli wouldn’t have it. “Let’s go,” he said to Un’hee’s captor. “I want this over with.”

Un’hee’s head tilted in another gesture unlike the girl herself. “As you wish.”

“Sir—”

Eli held a hand up, fingers closed in a fist that meant the warriors behind him would hold where they were and await further orders. He retrained his gaze on Un’hee’s back, lifted his hand from his charric, and stepped confidently through the trees.

❧

“I’m surprised she listened to you.” The tone was meant to be conversational, but was mature and out of place coming from someone so young.

“Yeah, well,” Eli said, trying his best to drop hostility from his tone and landing somewhere that seemed more resigned, “She trusts me to have her best interests at heart.”

“Your reasoning was quite rational as well. A Sky-walker would stand the best chance at escape, especially one trained as she is.”

“How do you know that?”

“I know many things.” This time, Un’hee’s voice was unnaturally cold and calm.

Eli bristled, his questions rapidly becoming a hypothesis he was not particularly thrilled to entertain. “Yeah, I’m beginning to suspect you do.”

“How so?” Un’hee didn’t look back at him, so either her captor knew what his expression looked like, or had gleaned his pensive look from afar. Whether that came from being able to split their awareness between their body and another’s or if an ally was involved, Eli couldn’t be sure.

He didn’t answer, letting his expression fall into a rigid neutral. “How much longer until we reach where we’re going?”

“A while.”

That ‘while’ passed in silence. When a question was asked, Eli would ignore it. Un’hee’s controller seemed unmoved by his disinclination to answer at first, but Eli could see that it unnerved her. He could tell there was recognition of Eli’s shifting demeanor, that his fear was yielding to something cooler and less easy to manipulate. Eli, for his part, had steeled his temper. There would be time for that eventually. Right now, his priorities had shifted and shifted dangerously.

There was an odd cadence to Un’hee’s words, and that cadence had grown more apparent as time went on, her controller better able to utilize her body. That was a mistake.

Because if Eli was correct, he knew who was behind this.

Reformation, Year 10

Celvis, The Steadfast

The evolving dynamics within the fleet were not difficult to adapt to, but there was significant effort that Thrawn was required to make to keep equilibrium. He knew that there were multiple forces, motivations, even factions among those under his command. He knew that the Chiss aboard had absolute loyalty to Eli, but their loyalty to Thrawn had yet to be earned. Eli had maneuvered him into this campaign to earn their respect, potentially at the cost of the Humans’ loyalty.

To his left, stood Un’hee, her hair tied up with the hairpin she’d worn on Home-Away. To his right, Pyrondi and Bridger waited a step behind. Un’hee jerked her head toward the comms console.

“She’s uncomfortable,” Un’hee murmured.

It was true, Thrawn knew this. Hammerly had not needed to tell him, but he’d known. She did not like the idea of killing Humans, even if they were ensared by the Grysks, even if they had done unspeakable things in Lesser Space. It had been easier to distance themselves from it when they had never anticipated encountering the Empire or its remnants. But Thrawn knew Hammerly. She might be uncomfortable with it, but she would do her duty. She was a servant of the galaxy and the greater good. As they all were.

“It isn’t exactly easy to fight your own people,” Bridger said, then seemed to realize his words. Begrudgingly, he added, “Even if, y’know—”

“She will not waver,” Thrawn said, noticing Pyrondi bristle but remain quiet. Her neutrality was appreciated, but Thrawn was not interested in allowing this kind of commentary on his bridge. His eyes narrowed as he turned to regard Un’hee. “She serves the Reborn, same as you.”

Un’hee’s lips thinned, and that tell was enough to betray her own discomfort. It appeared Hammerly was not the only one reluctant to engage the Humans of the Imperial Remnant, even if the reasoning behind it was different—and Thrawn suspected that it was. “We cannot waver.”

“Nor will we,” he declared, calm as ever. “How long before we reach the fleet?”

“Two minutes,” came the quiet call from the helm, where the Navigator sat slumped in trance. She’d straightened at his question, perking slightly though her eyes remained closed. “It is somewhat difficult to navigate,” she advised. “There are many small bodies—”

“Ships, Navigator Ak’aluan?”

Ak’aluan hummed, the sound thin and high. “Maybe?”

“It’s alright,” Thrawn advised her. “Bring us in as close to the initial vector as you can.”

Beside him, Pyrondi was issuing orders to the weapons team, making preparations to prime their weapon. Their battle strategy was relatively straightforward. This would not be much of a battle.

This would be an annihilation.

The starlines ceased, yielding to the expansive black of space. On the board, the remnants of Khresh’s forces were massed together. They were damaged but holding their own against the swarming TIE-fighters and capital ships they were engaging. It was clearly not a battle they could win, and a quick reading told them that shields were low on all three of the remaining Nightdragon class ships.

Pyrondi motioned to Hammerly. “Open a line,” she advised her partner, tone clipped. “No encryption.” She tilted her head toward the weapons officer. “Lasers, fire.”

“Lasers away.”

“Comms ready.” The laser encoded message went off as ordered, harmless beams firing at Khresh’s flagship, the Allegiant. The acknowledgement was unnecessary. Then again, the message was likewise irrelevant. Khresh had clearly ordered his people to begin charging their weapons from the moment Thrawn’s forces emerged from hyperspace, and those increased energy readings would quickly become noticeable by their enemies.

Of course, Thrawn’s weapons were charged and ready, and with a quiet thrum, the slightest rock of the deckplates beneath his feet, he knew it had everted from the hull. He stepped forward and around the command chair, taking a seat at his rightful place, in the center of the two rings of consoles. His right foot rose to the bottom lip of the chair and he slouched in a regal recline, elbows on either armrest, his fingers splayed wide, fingertips touching.

“Pyrondi,” Thrawn beckoned.

Pyrondi stepped up to his side. “Imperial Fleet,” She addressed them in Basic, her eyes on the center console that displayed their targets. “You are infringing upon Chiss territory. State your business.”

The comms indicator flashed, and an Imperial hologram appeared in miniature before him. Thrawn did not recognize them, but he knew the tone of an entitled being well enough to spot it here. “This territory is under the control of the Galactic Empire. The Chiss interlopers are not welcome here.”

“I am not Chiss,” Pyrondi said. “My name is Conrad Pyrondi, formerly in service to the Galactic Empire’s Seventh Fleet.”

“We know who you are and who you serve,” The officer responded. Quieter, they heard the order given for the bombers to close in upon their ships.

“Then you know that you were sent here by our enemies to die,” Pyrondi bluffed. Perhaps they were sent by the Grysks to soften up the Reborn’s forces, perhaps not. It didn’t matter. The Grysks would be watching. What was left of Imperial command, too. Whether they were truly working together or not, something Eli speculated was possible, but not a sure thing—he believed that the greed of the remnants might keep them from being completely subjugated by the Grysks.

“You and your paltry fleet cannot stand up to the might of the Empire,” the Imperial commander responded.

“I have a lock on the Grysk commander’s ship,” navigation advised them. Beside them, Bridger stood, his hand held out as he monitored them through the Force. “They’re cloaked but we have them.”

Thrawn nodded. “And the Imperial contingent?”

“We believe they’re not far from the Allegiant. We have eyes on a probe and assume that they’re cloaked somewhere within range to get readings from the battle.”

“Excellent,” Thrawn said, then toggled the communications feed from his command chair’s control. “Imperial Fleet,” he said, his tone like frost-burn, thick and alluring and utterly dangerous. “This is Supreme Admiral Thrawn of the Ascendancy Reborn. You have encroached upon our territory and colluded with our enemies, taking the lives of our people. The penalty for these transgressions is death.”

The Imperial commander gave a laugh with a small snort at the end of it. “I’d like to see you try, ‘supreme’ admiral.”

“So be it,” Thrawn replied silkily, before addressing his forces. “On my command.”

The comms crackled with confirmations from the combined fleet.

“All ships report their weapons are ready,” Hammerly confirmed gravely.

He nodded his acknowledgement and issued the order to seal the Imperials’ fate. “Energy weapons, fire.”

Chapter 16: Glory & Honor I

Notes:

I have not forgotten this story. This entire verse is extremely near and dear to my heart and I will see it through. Thank you for sticking with me.

Reformation, Year 10

Home-Away

The council chambers were lit in the same way they always were—dim in a way that was relaxing to a Human, reminiscent of a cozy place or an intimate eatery. It was soothing enough, though Eli had certainly had his fair share of battles fought in this room. This was the place where he had first declared his intent, the place where he had asked for approval of an assault he would undertake regardless, the place where his plan—the true plan—took root.

Thalias’ met his eyes from across the room, her gaze all-knowing and bright. She nodded demurely, lips curling in a small smile.

“I’ve asked you all for a great many things over these last ten years,” Eli told them, spinning around to better catalog those present. All of the major houses had representation here, and every seat was full, save one. “I know meeting the demands I have placed upon you and deliberating the changes I have made has not been an easy burden to carry.”

The room murmured agreements and acknowledgements. Eli allowed himself a small smile, but did not let the murmuring carry on for long.

“We built this place with our own hands. We made a place in this galaxy for ourselves when all was lost, and we came back from a fate worse than death. I stood here in this room before it was even finished and declared to you my intentions. You looked at me as though I was crazy.” He paused. “You weren’t wrong.”

The amused sounds from those around him were like a quiet buzz. Slowly, he circled the room, cape nipping at his heels as he walked.

“I stood before you then when there was more fear than hope for our future. We manufactured that hope by surviving. Hope for that better future, both for ourselves and our livelihood, and for the Ascendancy to live on, began here.” He held out his hands. “And here we are, reclaiming our lost territory and actively engaging those who took our home from us. But that isn’t enough. There is a future beyond our goals, and we must begin to shape it for ourselves. We must decide what will become our history: What legacy will we leave for our children and their children’s children to reflect upon should their hope be taken from them.” He took a deep breath. “I told you all once that complacency broke us, and that regimes fall so that something stronger may take their place. I did not say that because I wished to rule what remains. “My duty is what it has always been: to protect and defend the Chiss Ascendancy, reborn or otherwise. To serve its peoples and protect them from any harm—be it from our enemies or from ourselves.” He held out his hands. “In honoring that vow to uphold my duty, I have taken many titles and amassed great power in the interest of protecting and inspiring our people. We have called it martial law, but I don’t believe that to be what this is anymore than many of you ever have.” He took a moment to let his words sink in, lips thinning together before parting once more. “You have honored me as your leader and ruler—”

The council began to chatter louder, discomfort growing louder, more apparent, noise growing beyond Eli’s ability to project over it. He stilled, waiting for them to calm down. It was worse here than it was aboard his ship, within his fleet. Of course, within the fleet, he was revered enough that he mostly went unchallenged. Here, amidst the Council, they were both attached to him, afraid to continue on without him, yet insistent upon challenging him with everything they had.

It was an odd dynamic, but it was one built on mutual respect.

“Let him speak,” Patriarch Thalias demanded loudly. “If you listened to the whole of his words, you would know that his duty will not allow him to simply walk away.”

Eli inclined his head to her. “Indeed. My family is here,” he reminded them. “My future is here. My life will be lived here, amongst my people.” He gestured to the room, indicating them all. “I will not forsake the oaths I have sworn to you. If what you wish is for our governing body to continue as it has, I will give that to you. But when the time comes to chronicle our history, it is my wish that the might of the Ascendancy reflect the might of the Chiss and not some Human usurper who walked among them.”

Many didn’t like that, and it was flattering to hear their sounds of outrage. Others, however, were more pensive. He wondered if any of them understood what, exactly, he was intent upon suggesting.

❧

“You cannot tell me you expected that to go over well,” Ronan said, fixing them both a mug of caccoleaf.

Eli dropped into the seat opposite his desk. “I think it went over just fine,” he admitted.

“They want the Ool Rebellion to agree to join the Council,” Ronan deadpanned. “Because that worked so well the last time you approached them.”

“They do,” Eli agreed, accepting the mug Ronan offered on his way to the plush seat behind his desk. It was far more gaudy and padded than anything Eli owned, a fact which his aide would never live down. “And I was prepared for that.”

Rolling his eyes, Ronan snorted into his mug. “Yes, I got that impression. Your words about ‘ensuring the entirety of the Reborn was represented and could establish unity in their deliberations’ was pretty flashy, even for you.” He slurped primly at his drink before setting it down on the coaster placed before him. Eli, as usual, kept the mug in his hands rather than risking the lecture about setting the mug down on the side table without procuring one for himself, not that Ronan ever offered one. “So how do you plan on convincing them?”

“I don’t.”

His lips pursed even more than they usually did when he criticized Eli. “So, what? All those flowery words about agreeing to rule the Ascendancy afterward was just your way of pretending to agree?”

“Not at all. I fully intend for our governing body to remain the same even when we reclaim Csilla, and that includes me accepting the role I’ve found myself in even after the war is over. What I’m saying is that I’m not going to be the one negotiating with the Ool Council. I’ve already ordered one of the admirals to handle it.” “You ordered one of the ad—” It took him a second to get what Eli was saying, but when he did, he sputtered, “You want Thrawn to do it? Are you mad? That man is more likely to start a civil war than convince them to join us.”

“You’d think that,” Eli grinned, ignoring Ronan’s wilting sigh as he slumped back in his chair. “But let’s just say that he’s uniquely qualified for this diplomatic mission.”

Reformation, Year 11

The Wooded Plains, Ool

“Okay, the Empire bit, I understand. You needed to be there, and they needed to know it was you.” Bridger traipsed along beside him aided by the Force, not needing to look where he was going to avoid any potential hazards in his path. “But to pull us here? It doesn’t make sense.”

At Thrawn’s left shoulder, Un’hee offered a quiet smile. “It makes perfect sense,” she countered, but offered no explanation why.

Bridger looked up to him as if seeking to confirm she was as infuriating as he found her in that moment, but Thrawn did not give either of them the satisfaction of finding him on their side. To do so would be utter madness. Not now.

There were some things Thrawn had kept secret, some things the Force had not deemed necessary to reveal to Bridger despite their many years of close proximity and reluctant friendship. Thrawn would take whatever remained of this surely limited reprieve. Bridger would no doubt have questions and opinions about the situation, and Thrawn had yet to fully face his own.

“We go as ordered,” he reminded Bridger, who still struggled to understand that Thrawn was not the highest power.

The planet was lush with flora, vividly green and temperate in a way few Chiss planets were. The sun was pleasant overhead, and there was a gentle, refreshing breeze that rustled leaves to create ambient sound accented by bird calls and the chirrup of insects. It was peaceful and quaint in a way that reminded Thrawn of Eksl, though the climate here was far superior for its lack of humidity. The clouds overhead were wispy and higher than most, indicative of future rain, though they seemed inclined to dissipate under the sun the longer they walked.

Reformation, Year 5

The Wooded Plains, Ool

Un’hee was panting by the time they stopped, her body being pushed beyond its normal limits by whomever was controlling her. Eli kept himself back despite his desire to approach, to sweep his child up in his arms, to do something, anything to return her to him. He wished that Vah’nya had been able to get through to her, that he could have gone down here alone, or at least with more control over this. He wished that he had asked more about the good feeling Un’hee had told him about.

“You are upset,” not-Un’hee said.

“You’ve taken possession of my daughter’s body and subverted her will. I think I have leave to be upset about that.”

“She is not your daughter.”

“Yes, she is,” Eli insisted, voice humid with anger. He waited for Un’hee’s breath to settle before he continued. “She won’t be able to continue if you keep pushing her. She’s a child.”

“She has persevered through far worse than this, Eli Vanto.” A pause, and Un’hee’s gaze fell to him, owlish and familiarly unfamiliar. It felt like a blade to the chest, but Eli held it for as long as it remained on him. “She may feel weakness or exhaustion for a few days afterward, but there will be no lasting effects to her body.” “I’m a bit more worried about her soul and mind, given the circumstances.” When he got no answer, he growled quietly and pressed on a topic he might actually get an answer about. “How much further?”

“We’re nearly there. Do calm yourself.”

He would not, in fact, calm himself, but he did not say as much aloud. He suspected the one controlling his child was well aware. They trekked on in silence until the wooded path became more obscure, then fell away altogether, and then a while longer, through a thicket that yielded to a clearing with what appeared to be an ancient, destroyed well at its center. The stone ruins of it were nearly as verdant as the leaves on many of the trees.

Not-Un’hee looked around for a long moment before stepping into the clearing. She gazed at something unseen in the grass several meters ahead of him, at the other end of the clearing, near the edge of the opposite treeline, then turned back to him with a blank expression.

“Come along, Eli Vanto,” not-Un’hee bid him. “She will need help to access the opening.”

Stars above, Eli thought, clarity striking him. Those words, that tone. He had not heard Thrawn speak Cheunh outside of their last meeting and yes, it had been years since he had heard Thrawn at all, but Eli couldn’t help but feel like that small eternity between their past and now was mere moments.

It would make sense that if anyone had made contact with him, Che’ri had. And yet, it made no sense for Thrawn to be behind this. Eli couldn’t pretend to know his reasoning, but he had never once been interested in the behaviors of Force sensitives. From memory, Eli recalled Thrawn’s commentary on the Jedi as being fleeting and mildly disinterested. Could it have been a misdirection on his part? Given the task Eli had been entrusted with, it was certainly possible.

He stepped up where he’d been directed, then shooed Un’hee’s body back to lift the hatch set into the earth. It was heavy, but he’d managed, holding it open as she stepped into the inky darkness below. He cast his eyes around once before following.

Through the thinning trees, he could see barren fields and the ruins of what must have once been stables or a farm before its destruction. Based on the generally overgrowth, the way the planet seemed keen on taking over, he suspected it had happened years ago.

It was cooler beneath the ground. He stepped carefully down the stone steps and squinted as his eyes adjusted, while Un’hee’s body moved quickly ahead. When he was able, he jogged after her.

“So,” he asked, looking for signs of monitoring devices or recorders and coming up short, “Did you think I wouldn’t figure out it was you?”

Calling him out directly was risky, especially since whatever influence he had over Un’hee had to be mitigated by an outside force, and he had no way of knowing if they were ally or enemy, if he was bait meant to aid in a double cross or something else entirely. Even so, he had to trust his instincts.

Not-Un’hee did not bother to look back at him. “You’ve figured it out,” she deadpanned.

“Yes, Thrawn,” he retorted, rolling the metaphorical chance cube, “I don’t know if you think you’re being clever or what, but to me you’re pretty damn obvious.”

He watched her back, but other than going briefly rigid, Un’hee’s controller gave no further indication that his words had made any impact whatsoever.

Reformation, Year 11

The Wooded Plains, Ool

The remains of Ardok Ranch loomed before them in vivid clarity. Though the damage had been done years ago, Un’hee could feel the vestiges of rage, urgency, and second-hand terror that the moment of reckoning had wrought as if she had been there. It felt like it was a part of her. Beside her, Bridger stood with his back ramrod straight.

“Do you feel that?” he asked.

She turned her head to look at him. “I do,” she confirmed. “Something terrible happened here.”

Thrawn was crouched low, his eyes narrowed on the remains of a sign denoting the ranch’s name. Un’hee approached, hesitating. She wanted to curl her fingers over Thrawn’s shoulder, but was unsure if he would appreciate that. By name alone, he had to know to whom this place had once belonged.

“The entry to the tunnel system is this way,” she advised, pointing towards the fields, the distant treeline.

“How do you know?” Bridger demanded. “We were told that the entrance was hidden. I thought the guards were supposed to meet us.”

“It is,” she agreed, lips thinning. “And they are. But you aren’t the only one with the gift of precognition.”

She felt like she had been here before, even if she couldn’t quite place why she felt that way. She had only met Cohbo’rik’ardok months earlier at Home-Away, and she hadn’t known who Cohbo’rik’ardok was until much more recently.

“Bridger,” Thrawn said, his voice calm as ever.

Except, maybe it wasn’t, because Bridger came to his side and laid his hand on Thrawn’s shoulder like Un’hee hadn’t, holding on and not letting go. “You said you were like me,” he chided quietly in Basic, though his voice was not tethered to anger. He continued, “You think I didn’t read the mission brief from Pyro? It’s public knowledge that she’s—”

“I was unaware that our circumstances were different for many years,” Thrawn answered honestly in Cheunh. Their gazes held for a moment, Thrawn silently reminding his younger protégé that Un’hee could understand his native language. He rose, steady and strong as he ever was. “And the mission brief does not detail why we were separated.”

“That will never happen again,” Un’hee said fiercely, “I won’t allow it.”

“I didn’t know you made the rules,” Bridger quipped, cracking an awkward smile to try and disperse some of the tension. She didn’t see understanding on his face, but it wasn’t Un’hee’s place to explain it.

“I don’t,” she grunted. And if she had her way, she wouldn’t for a long, long time.

They shared a look as Thrawn headed off toward where she had previously indicated, each of them clearly wondering if they were ready for what this overwhelmingly diplomatic mission would challenge them with.

❧

There were guards waiting for them in the tunnel system, ones that did not speak beyond single word answers that were either confirmation or denial of something Thrawn had asked them. They ignored Bridger entirely, which Thrawn found unsurprising. Bridger had thankfully caught on quickly and chosen to keep quiet, and Un’hee had gone unusually stoic, the longer they were led on. The tunnels were wide and well kept, the stone ages old and weathered smooth. Perhaps it had been an ancient irrigation system, or used for this same purpose in times of wars long past. Either way, the stone was free of markings beyond that of nature. The guards walked the pathways with confidence.

Thrawn had begun counting his paces and memorizing the order of the turns they had been led down. He quickly realized that they had been led in circles to disguise the location of their destination. His hypothesis was confirmed when Un’hee nearly ran into the guard who stood to her right. She corrected herself quickly enough, but the motion had not gone unnoticed by the guard who followed behind them.

“This kind of reminds me of how we did things,” Bridger advised him quietly as Un’hee made a distracted apology and fell back in line. “Well, kind of how we did things,” he gestured between himself and Thrawn, “But also how I did things before, when we were up against the Empire.”

Thrawn nodded. “I thought the same thing,” he murmured back.

Eli had urged both caution and patience in the brief moment they had been able to converse. He had been between meetings, his time monopolized by the burgeoning needs of the Council, much of which had been pushed aside in lieu of the effort required to wage war.

It was perfectly reasonable, even strategically advisable that Eli had asked him to complete this task, but Thrawn did not like this sort of work and had reminded his partner that while he would go as ordered he did not liken himself to a great negotiator much less a diplomat. He had promised to wage war against their enemies, but if Eli was not able to convince the Ool Council to join forces with the Reborn, Thrawn very much doubted he would be up to the task.

Even if his sister was the de facto leader of the three-planet collective that continued to rise up against Grysk occupation, as far as her memories were concerned, they had never before interacted.

Eventually, they were led through a series of doors inlaid with markings that had to pre-date the Sith Wars, if Thrawn’s knowledge of history was to be trusted, leading Thrawn to further reconsider his original analysis of the tunnels and their purpose. His brief study of the doors led him to believe that since they were identical they were likely created for aesthetic, rather than indicative of a purpose or aura. None of that would help him figure out the tone of this upcoming meeting, but that was why he had elected to bring Bridger with him.

Un’hee had volunteered herself, suggesting that it had been her Sight that had led her to make the decision. Privately, she had shyly admitted that she had also felt like he might want the backup, and she had a wealth of experience when it came to negotiating with reluctant allies.

They made the trek up another set of stone stairs, these leading into a sunlit space surrounded by more ancient stone architecture covered in leafy vines and moss. A swirl of wind brought the smell of herbs and flowers from the field that loomed in front of them.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Recognizing that voice, Thrawn turned his back to the fields. “Che’ri,” he greeted her, taking care to disguise the fact that her presence was not a variable he had planned for. “What are you doing here?” He asked.

She smiled at him, the long, belted dress she wore drifting in the wind. “Didn’t you know? After your exile, this place became my home. I like to come back and visit from time to time.”

That didn’t make sense. Neither Eli nor Che’ri had ever mentioned as much to him.

As if sensing his sense of conflict, Bridger took a step so that he stood between them. “I don’t think we’ve met,” he said.

“No,” she agreed calmly. “We haven’t.” She smiled warmly at him. “Thank you for taking care of him in my stead.”

Bridger scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “Uh, you’re welcome?”

She laughed, the sound a resonant alto, like the swell of bells. “I know you’re worried,” she continued, taking a step towards them. “But everything is fine.”

He blinked at her, lips twisting into a frown. “I don’t think it is.”

“I’m told that you’re quite talented in the art of connection,” she bid him.

He took a step back at that, instantly defensive. “I am,” he agreed hesitantly.

“I can tell,” she told him, holding her hand up, palm out, facing him, “Which is why I need you to sleep.” She waved her hand.

Bridger laughed, the sound discordant and uncomfortable. He had recognized Che’ri as a potential adversary, but wasn’t yet sure what to make of her. After all, it was not as though she were particularly capable of using such mental directives on a Jedi. “Yeah, right,” he said uneasily. “That sort of thing doesn’t work on—“

Thrawn swallowed as Che’ri’s eyes locked with Bridger’s, their glow seeming to flare and flash brighter momentarily. “You aren’t needed now,” she told him sternly. “You will wait here with me.” Bridger’s posture tensed, then slumped.

“I’m not needed now,” he repeated dutifully. “I will wait here with you.”

“His ability to connect,” Che’ri said, drawing closer to Bridger, tugging him to a waiting bench and pushing him down onto it with a small grunt of effort, “It is a wonderful talent to have. But like all talents, it too has its weaknesses, especially to those with more experience and training.” She tipped his chin up to meet her gaze again, giving Thrawn an uncomfortable view of Bridger’s dazed look. He looked as though he was sleepwalking. “You will sleep,” she ordered, catching him with one hand and guiding him to slump onto the bench’s width as he keeled over.

“That was unnecessary,” Thrawn said. “He means no harm.”

“No,” she said. “He doesn’t. But better that he be under my control than fall prey to the WayCarvers our enemies have set upon this world.” Her eyes were hard. “Maybe if you are successful, I will train him as the Magys trained me when I sought out her wisdom.”

Thrawn took the information in stride. There was little time to process it, as it was meant to distract from the imminent danger of the present situation. Un’hee pressed against him, and he fought the reflexive urge to push her behind him, instead saying, “After this, I do not believe he would wish to be trained by you.”

Che’ri shrugged. As anticipated, her gaze fell to Un’hee. “I don’t suppose you’d wait here with me of your own free will?”

Un’hee shook her head.

“Borika has already met you twice before,” Che’ri advised her, tilting her head to indicate her curiosity. “Do you remember?”

“I only met her once,” she said. “Barely. I didn’t even know who she was—“

“Then why did you know how to navigate the tunnels?”

“I didn’t—“

Che’ri’s lips parted as if she were to contradict the younger woman, but had decided not to. Her posture lessened, losing its assertiveness as if she knew it was fruitless to argue. “Go on,” she beckoned them calmly. “Borika is expecting you.”

Un’hee looked up to him for guidance, her face tight with fear. Thrawn considered Che’ri. There was nothing he personally could do to stop her, nor did he know her true motivations. “Do you intend to harm him?” Thrawn asked, the words sharp on his tongue.

A startled laugh left Che’ri’s lips. “I am many things,” she admitted curtly, “But I am not a monster. Bridger will remain asleep and unharmed. He doesn't have to remember that he failed you, if that makes it easier. In fact, if you fail,” she said, with a jerk of her chin toward Thrawn, “None of you will remember being here at all.”

Chapter 17: Glory & Honor II

Notes:

I’m sorry if you have to reread the entire fic to remember what’s going on - I did too.

I don’t post an update unless the next chapter is complete, so expect the next chapter to come out by July 18th (chapter 18 is done and Chapter 19 is coming along).

Reformation, Year 5

The Wooded Plains, Ool

The person waiting for them at the end of it all was not Thrawn. Part of Eli wanted to say that he wasn’t surprised, but he was. He was surprised and relieved. That didn’t mean that Thrawn wasn’t involved—because it still seemed likely, right up until the woman who stood facing the plains turned to face them, her red eyes sharp with the aloof distrust of someone else Eli had encountered a long, long time ago and far, far away.

She had an odd, feral sort of beauty, wild and savage with the compact build Eli associated with Vah’nya, Che’ri and the other, older Navigators he had encountered. Her power, however, was not like what Che’ri had been able to do to her. Che’ri had the power to suggest, search, and manipulate. This was something else, something more sinister.

But Eli did not feel the kind of fear or horror he felt when he gazed upon the Grysks and Scratchlings that had been responsible for the massacre of their people.

Her hair was long and tangled from the wind, the setting sun glinting against the beginnings of gray at her temples. She kept her eyes on Eli for a long time, far longer than was comfortable for either of them. Or at least, long enough that most would become unnerved.

But most had not seen similar features twitch microscopically in confused scrutiny or irritated lack of comprehension when confronted with the utter complication that was Humanity like Eli had, so he let her look her fill.

“Good day, Eli Vanto,” the woman bid him, when she decided it was prudent to continue. “My name is Cohbo’rik’ardok. I believe you and my brother were previously acquainted, based on your—“ her hesitation was slight, but Eli didn’t miss it, even as she attempted to redirect his focus to his incorrect hypothesis— “Baseless accusation.”

Of course that was how she’d greet him. He felt the burn of irony, let it pass, then jerked his chin in the woman—Thrawn’s sister’s—direction. “Let my daughter go,” he demanded. “I know she’s under your influence.”

“On the contrary,” Borika chided, glacially calm. “This is Che’ri’s doing.”

“No,” he said, voice dipping into a lower rumble, like stoked coals heated in anger. “I know for sure it isn’t. I’m sure you have your reasons, but you’ve gotten what you wanted. I’m here.” He made a show of producing his charric, pointing it at the ground and removing the cartridge before throwing both to the ground between them. “I’m unarmed.”

Her eyes flashed accusingly. “You carry a blade affixed to your left boot.”

He didn’t give her the satisfaction of seeing him sigh. “We both know you’re more than capable of controlling me if you need to.”

She nodded and they held eye contact again as Un’hee approached, holding her hand out for the blade.

Eli gave it to her. She tilted her head as she looked at him.

“Would you fight her, if she tried to harm you?”

Growling, Eli nodded. “If I had to.”

Inclining her head, Borika seemed to concentrate. The blade came down faster than Eli was expecting, stopping only when it had cut through the weave of his dark uniform and bit into his skin.

“She isn’t even trying to fight me. Does that bother you?”

“Does it bother you?” He snapped back, deftly disarming Un’hee with a firm grip on her wrist before throwing the blade off into the tall grass. “It bothers me that when you let her go, she’ll believe herself to have failed me—”

“When,” Borika murmured consideringly. Her hands fell to her hips, her eyes narrowing as her lips compressed in a display of calculated chiding. “When and not if?”

“When,” Eli confirmed. If she was anything like her brother, this was very much a test. One with parameters Eli had very little likelihood of determining until after the fact. Instead, he had no choice but to adapt, and that meant brutal, brutal truths and scraping self-honesty. “But I wasn’t finished. What bothers me is that you will make her believe that she’s failed me when it is I who need to do more to ensure her protection.”

Reformation, Year 11

The Wooded Plains, Ool

Thrawn laid a hand on Un’hee’s elbow. She looked up to him, concerned. “You should stay here,” he advised her with a calmness he did not feel.

Still biting her lip, Un’hee shook her head.

“That wasn’t a request,” He admonished mildly, gaze briefly flashing to the now subdued Jedi before meeting her gaze a blink later. “Convincing her to join us is my mission.”

With an exasperated sigh that gave no doubt as to her parentage, Un’hee disengaged from his grip and charged forward. Thrawn started after her, intending to pull her back, but Che’ri caught his elbow before he reached her. “Let her come along. It’s not going to hurt anything.”

“I am more concerned,” Thrawn began carefully, “Given your insinuation that both of you possess abilities not dissimilar to those of the Magys.”

Che’ri offered him a smirk. It did not lessen his unease. “She’ll go easy on her. Borika likes Un’hee. It was Eli she found unworthy.”

Un’hee looked back, frowning.

Unamused, Thrawn inclined his head and asked, void of emotion, “Is that so?”

Lifting both hands in a show of surrender, Che’ri stepped back, relinquishing her grip on his arm. “You’ll see,” she supposed. “I wouldn’t keep her waiting.”

Un’hee had halted before the ruins of a stone archway on the far side of the grove, a look of consternation darkening her features. Trees arched over it in a natural canopy, one that shaded it from all but patches of sun. Flaking stairs of crumbling flatstone made a subtle staircase that trended gently upwards.

“I think I’ve been here before,” she murmured quietly to Thrawn as they traversed the seemingly endless stairway. “It would have been with Eli,” she added, looking up at him, nervous. “No matter what Che’ri said, we must have failed, maybe that’s why I don’t remember any of this, but I—” She shook her head, trailing off. “Something about this doesn’t seem right,” she admitted, sounding pained. “I have always been able to recover my memories, and I have been resilient to the WayCarvers’ tampering for some time.”

Thrawn considered that. It was certainly possible that Eli and Un’hee had come to this place intending to convince Borika to join their cause and upon failure been sent away oblivious to the attempt in the first place. “Then it must have been a long time ago,” he concluded aloud, mostly for her benefit.

It took a moment for her to accept this, but eventually she nodded once. Never did she stop moving. A few moments later, with the slope increasing more sharply upward, she frowned down at a stone that gave way as she stepped on it, correcting her footing without issue. “Eli would have tried again,” she grunted. “If she had made us forget, we would have come right back.”

Interesting, Thrawn thought. “Perhaps you were here without Eli,” he suggested.

“We were inseparable in the early days,” she refuted. “I would not have gone without him.” She looked up at him. “Why would I forget but he remember? What purpose would that serve?”

A sliver of light pierced through the protective canopy of the trees in front of them, temporarily blinding Thrawn. The path appeared to level out ahead, the light of the planet’s setting sun level with the top of the staircase.

It was quickly eclipsed, illuminating the silhouette of a petite woman who waited at the top of the climb.

“An interesting question,” she spoke, the words enunciated in a way that Thrawn recognized from his own speech. He could tell when she shifted her focus to him instead of Un’hee despite there being no change in her stance or tone. “I had wondered when you would finally seek me out.”

Thrawn inclined his head. “You are Cohbo’rik’ardok, leader of the Ool Council, overseer of the planets Ool, Okoyal, and Shihon.”

“I am she,” Borika retorted, a smile curving her features. “You are Mitth’raw’nuruodo. Supreme Admiral of the Ascendancy Reborn and my brother by blood. Do you think that such a connection will help you succeed where others have failed?” She holds out her hands in a subtle gesture that would make some look magnanimous or generous, but instead looked menacing on her. “Surely you have seen first hand the dangers of connection in these most… inauspicious times.”

Reformation, Year 5

The Wooded Plains, Ool

Running a hand across Un’hee’s forehead, checking the subtle ridges there for swelling as well as confirming a lack of fever, Eli knelt beside the stone bench she laid on now that Borika had relinquished control over her. She had said that Un’hee would be completely fine beyond an inability to remember anything that had happened, and Eli believed her. Even so, Eli couldn’t help but sigh.

Borika moved around behind him, a light tinkling sound accompanying the smell of newly brewed instant caccoleaf. “Do not be so hard on yourself. There was nothing you could possibly do to convince the Ool Council to join you.”

Eli pushed off his knees and turned to Borika, wiping the dust from them in a practiced motion. “Even though you know what we’re doing is right, and a united front will be stronger.”

Shrugging, Borika continued to fix two mugs of the thick, herbal beverage. “I cannot endorse your faction,” she told him, cutting neatly to the quick of every single one of his arguments with a simple truth: “Its leader is Human.”

The air between them thinned. Eli took the mug handed to him and sipped at it.

“I'm surprised you didn't at least check for poison,” she said, though she had turned her back on him while he had done so, stalking across the small, overgrown space that appeared to serve as a covert overlook.

“If you wanted to poison me, you would have found a way to do so before bringing me here,” he said, swallowing before he continued, “Was it curiosity alone?”

Borika tsked at him, flicking her fingers in irritation. “Hardly,” she advised, gesturing for him to join her at the small, rusted table nestled against intricate, moss-covered stone. Birds sang in shrill pitches beyond its window-like gap, the sky blotted with darkening clouds. “I wished to meet with you, to see if you were worthy of your station.”

“Which I am not.”

“By dint of species, no.” She knotted her fingers together in a spindly weave around her too-hot mug. “You cannot be everything they need,” she advised him. “For all you may try to emulate our people, you will always be an outsider.” She paused, curt glance silencing him before he could speak. “That is not intrinsically negative, after all, I have heard the stories and seen second hand—” she flicked her fingers toward Un’hee. “You were at the Fall. Your actions saved many lives.” She tilted her head. “You don't want the power you have,” she intuited. “As far as I can tell, your intentions are pure.”

“And yet.”

“And yet,” Borika agreed. “The Ascendancy was once a beacon in the Chaos. It was built by Chiss hands. When our people nearly destroyed our capital world by ruining its star, we found a way to persevere on our own.” She stroked her chin. “Our pride, most recently, was our downfall, this is true. But it is a part of us. If a Human is required to save us now, that pride will not lend itself to hope when history is consulted in the future. Do you understand?”

Eli nodded. “I do. There's just one problem: I'm the only one willing to rule. Unless you happen to be interested…”

She scoffed, sounding almost delighted. “I don't believe you meant that for an instant.”

“Not especially, all things considered.” He gritted out, glancing back over his shoulder at Un’hee’s resting form.

“As it were, I am quite content to stay here and protect my territories. You have seen the scope of my abilities. I am adept in small skirmishes, however I have little mind for military matters.” There was something about the way she said it… “That said, I will not fall in line for the sake of reunification. You will have to find another path, Eli Vanto. The Ascendancy's chief protector must be Chiss.”

Studying her face, Eli squinted until suddenly, he had it. “What you're asking me for is impossible,” he said, but in his mind, gears were turning, pathways—the most difficult ones—being rearranging themselves.

“We both know it isn't.” She held his gaze. “Regardless: You are the arbiter of his legacy. Until you can promise me that what comes after will supercede what came before, until I am assured our peopld will be able to look at the past and know that all the power they need is already held within them,” her eyes burned with cold passion, “The Ool Council will remain independent, as it has since the Fall.”

Reformation, Year 11

The Wooded Plains, Ool

“It is good to see you again, Un’hee,” Borika said. Thrawn watched on, eyes narrowed seemingly to slits.

Un’hee exhaled slowly, edging closer to Thrawn. It was obvious she felt some kind of discomfort, but it did not seem to be specifically related to Borika's words. “I wish I could say the same,” she gritted out.

“It's interesting that you distrust me now,” Borika replied. “Have you remembered our first meeting?”

Un'hee went still, as if trapped between fight or flight, and then, with rage twisting her features, spoke quietly. In all things, she was her father's daughter, and the vehemence in her words was nearly tangible. “Not especially,” she managed. “I can only remember Eli's face when I came to. He told me I had been disoriented, no doubt to keep me from being afraid. However, I'm beginning to think that my condition had something to do with you.”

“Very good,” Borika praised. “It was a long time ago, so I doubt the details will become clear—”

“I don't need them to be clear,” Un'hee interrupted. “This isn't about me at all.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “This—”

“Is about the future of the Ascendancy,” Thrawn took over, placing a hand on Un’hee's shoulder. He was not sure what he meant to convey with the gesture, but she seemed to understand. “I am here to ask that the Ool Council join forces with the Reborn.”

Borika looked unimpressed, gesturing for Thrawn to sit at a table at the far side of the space. There were only two chairs there. As he joined her, Un'hee set a puzzled look on a stone bench before turning her back to them entirely, looking out through slatted windows carved into ancient stone.

“Convince me then, brother,” Borika beckoned.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of From Ashes