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“You asked to see me, sir?” Eli had come to expect certain things, entering Thrawn’s quarters: art, of some sort, the lighting arranged to show it to best advantage; the admiral sitting in near meditation, almost indiscernible from his normal inscrutable calm; probably a verbal sparring match. Thrawn was, in his own way, a creature of habit—though no one but Eli seemed to have noticed it, and he guarded the thought closely.
But what made him pause at the doorway was which art covered the admiral’s walls today. No connoisseur of art himself, the fact that he recognized some of the pieces was a shock. That he knew them from his childhood sent a mute twist of fear through his stomach: Lysatran art.
“Yes, come in, Commander.” Thrawn’s voice betrayed nothing amiss.
Eli forced his feet back into motion, taking a slow turn around the room like he always did, as if this time he might capture something from the array of holographic paintings and sculpture the way Thrawn did. He came to rest in front of his commander and looked at him, trying to read anything into those glittering red eyes.
He’d only ever managed to out-wait Thrawn once. Today wasn’t going to make it twice. Eli cleared his throat. “Trouble on Lysatra, sir?” It was almost unimaginable.
“Fortunately, no.” With a wave of his hand, Thrawn dismissed the holograms. The room wasn’t quite plunged into darkness, but the sudden dimming of the lights in response made it closer, a small, gray canvas occupied by only the two of them.
Eli felt Thrawn’s regard like an almost physical pressure; he ought to have been used to it by now. Or maybe it had been a while since he’d felt like the admiral was really trying to read him. Years, maybe. Thrawn always seemed to know what he was thinking, since most of the time he found himself following where Thrawn had already led, fitting the wide-ranging pieces of his strategy together. But now, Thrawn seemed… uncertain, almost. As if he didn’t know which way Eli might move next and was trying to calculate all the possible trajectories.
It was unsettling. Thrawn was always supposed to be one step ahead of him.
“Consider a scenario,” Thrawn said. “You and someone you do not know are being stalked by a dangerous predator, which only you have seen. You cannot run, and your weapons are limited. What might you do?”
The mental ground suddenly felt much more stable—if he forgot the art he’d seen. Eli knew better than that, keeping it in the back of his mind as he tried to address the problem. “There’s two obvious answers.”
“What are they?”
“I warn this unknown person and we fight the predator together as allies.” That was the easiest and the simplest, and the one Eli gravitated toward.
“And the second?”
“I use the other person as bait. As a distraction.” Eli shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “Preferably before they notice the beast and do the same to me.”
“How would you choose between the options?”
Eli frowned. “How much time do I have before we’ve got the thing’s teeth on us?”
Thrawn’s lips curved in a faint smile. “You understand the situation well.”
This was more than a scenario that the admiral had plucked from the air, that was for certain. Eli stared at him, wishing he had Thrawn’s uncanny ability to read people. The admiral simply watched him placidly, as he did when he was waiting for Eli to put all the pieces together and read his strategy back to him.
Which meant all the pieces already were laid out. Thrawn had just given him the bit of frame on which to hang them. Was this about Batonn—no, Eli decided even before he’d finished the thought. Not about Batonn, not about Cyphar, not about any one event. It felt too big, yet too personal. The admiral had taken a long step back and tried to observe Eli from the perspective of his home, which meant he wanted something from Eli himself. And the most personal it got where Eli and Thrawn were involved was the very beginning of them. Thrawn being brought out of exile, Eli getting caught in his wake.
More elemental than that, he thought. They'd never stood in the place of this scenario. This was before there'd been a Thrawn and Eli, even the tentative, uncertain relationship of translator and cipher at the beginning. So this was either about him, unlikely in this context, or about Thrawn. Thrawn and...
The world felt like it shifted around him in a really unsettling way. His voice sounded a bit hoarse even to his own ears when he said, “Have you finally decided if you’re going to use the Empire as bait?”
Of all things, Thrawn laughed. It was a rare sound, deep and melodious, not the least bit creaky for its lack of use. “Very good, Commander Vanto. But to answer your question, I made that decision a long time ago, in favor of the first option.”
Knowing that he’d gotten that right, fiddled out of a hundred little scattered not-even-hints over the years, the next conclusion was logical: “You weren’t really exiled.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
He ought to be angry, Eli thought vaguely. He ought to turn around and leave Thrawn’s quarters right now to send a message to ISB. He really ought to be furious that there was this central lie of Thrawn’s service, that he’d betrayed the Empire in a sense.
And yet. Thrawn had never betrayed him.
At his core, Eli had been someone who wanted loyalty. Well, initially, he’d wanted to edge his way into a decent career where he’d be mostly ignored. He hadn’t had illusions about a great or illustrious career, but rather the expectation of being heckled and abused and struggling through it until he got into an all right position; he was from Wild Space and that was the best he could expect. Loyalty was, in fact, a two-way bond; what was given couldn’t grow and strengthen unless it was returned. The Navy had expected Eli’s loyalty as a matter of course and done nothing to encourage it. Thrawn had, in his own way, been loyal to him in return.
More than loyal, really, and that couldn’t possibly be a lie. There were times Eli truly thought of them as friends, even if he shouldn’t when it came to a superior officer. It was hard not to, when someone nearly lived inside your skin for months at a time.
He carefully rubbed his now-damp palms on the side seams of his trousers. It had never really been a question, just the for-form’s-sake gasps of the idea of duty, when he’d long since transferred the spirit of it to someone else. “Sounds like there’s more of a story that you’ve got to tell me.”
“Sit,” Thrawn said, pointing to one corner of the room, where a chair had been hidden in the shadow.
Eli was more than grateful to draw the chair up and sit. For all he knew where his loyalty lay, his knees still felt humiliatingly shaky. He listened quietly as Thrawn outlined the truth of his non-exile, the purpose behind it, his unexpected incorporation and rise in the ranks of the Imperial Navy. Which brought them to today, on the presumed eve of another upward step for Thrawn. At which point, the admiral fell silent and regarded Eli again.
All of it made sense. More sense, really, then Thrawn’s cover story in the deep details—ones Eli didn’t expect anyone else to notice, because no one else was as close to the man. “Why tell me this?” he asked. That was the real question. He never would have worked out that first step unprompted.
“You are more than ready to play a greater role. To stand against forces far more evil than you can imagine.”
This had to be more than just another promotion. Eli knew he was perennially Thrawn’s aide, and had finally settled himself into that space. The thought that he might some day command his own ship was intimidating, but he now believed he could do it—and it was a moot point. The Navy was barely a place for Thrawn, let alone someone from Wild Space who lacked his level of unorthodox brilliance. Which led to the next conclusion, which wasn’t so much intimidating as utterly terrifying: “But not here.”
Again, that small smile of approval that Eli had come to treasure. “In the Chiss Ascendency.”
Eli took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He could already see the unfolding dimensions of that, the implications. He'd begun putting together, in a sort of uncertain, half-disbelieving way, that Thrawn had never really wanted him for his translation abilities. He knew there was something the admiral saw in him that Eli glimpsed now and again himself, but shied away from because it seemed such an unbelievable, egotistical thought coming from someone who’d started out only wanting to be a supply officer. And now? He’d only just found his home in the admiral’s shadow, and he was supposed to step out into the unforgiving light himself? He’d never wanted this or asked for it. And he would have to leave the Navy. He would have to leave Thrawn behind, which was a much more difficult thought.
But he knew that Thrawn believed he could do it. And somehow, that was stronger than his own belief, or lack thereof. Thrawn, who had been studying the art of Lysatra in preparation for this conversation, like it was another battle that he would win.
He’d already won. He’d won the moment he’d looked at someone whose greatest ambition was to be a supply clerk, seen so much more, and in so doing forced Eli to catch glimpses of his own ever-expanding boundaries.
Of all things, Eli felt tears prickle at his eyes. This was the greatest vote of confidence that Thrawn could have offered him, to send him forth. How could he walk away from the one person who knew him better than he knew himself?
Because Thrawn asked it. Because he could.
“Sir. I’m afraid I have to tender my resignation, in that case.” Carefully, Eli unclipped the rank insignia from his uniform. His fingers shook, but he knew in this moment, Thrawn wouldn’t think less of him for it.
He offered the set of squares out and watched as Thrawn’s fingers closed over them. The admiral’s skin was surprisingly cool against his, dark blue against olive-brown. Thrawn’s fingers curled around his, and it seemed a strange gesture for someone who had never been physically demonstrative.
Because this was goodbye, he realized. To the best friend, the only friend either of them had ever had. That was the thought that almost made him take it back. It was more terrifying than the thought of standing alone, a hollow crack in his heart.
Like he could hear the thought, Thrawn’s fingers tightened slightly, enough to press the edges of the insignia into both their skins. The admiral’s red eyes were fixed on his.
In a wash of thousands of unspoken words, Eli chose: “It’s been an honor and a privilege, sir.”
Thrawn’s smile came again, but turned subtly, a note of sadness to it—and pride. “Likewise, Eli.”