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Chapter Text

The news came over the HoloNet.

News on the HoloNet had a tendency to illicit a sarcastic laugh or comment from the members of the Ghost crew. Not this time. There was only silence. Even the Empire had managed to outdo itself.

“They must want us to win.”

Finally the sarcastic comment, but Zeb hadn't said it ironically. The words were soft, echoing the knowledge that the latest Imperial law would be causing a lot of pain around the galaxy.

Hera felt the cold shiver run up her spine.

It’s not because you’re affected by it… she told herself. You care because it’s cruel.

She cared about all the injustices the Empire caused, but this one had hit so close to home that it felt so much more raw.

The others began filing out of the room, glancing at Hera, as though wanting to say something supportive. No one did. It just didn’t feel like the right time.

Hera mulled over the news in her head again.

The Senate has passed a new law making inter-species relationships illegal.

The Empire had been marching along to the cadence of human superiority since its inception, but this was something completely different. And in true tyrannical style, the Empire hadn’t revealed any notion that such a law was even being considered. Hadn’t allowed for the populace to contact their senators…. Which meant that the Senate probably hadn’t voted on it. Bail Organa would have fought it. Mon Mothma would have fought it. They would have been vocal.

Hera frowned.

The news report had been vague. No mentions of time tables or when this would go into effect. Or what the punishment would be to breaking this law. No word on if divorces would be implemented, or if a relationship happening at any time in the past was enough to be guilty.

No, the report was full of language meant to enforce opinions, not give facts. Compassionate they called this law. A protection for all peoples of the galaxy. A way to celebrate differences.

Just opinions. Stated over and over again, elegantly worded to distract the audience from developing an opinion on their own. Enough to ignore the implications of what steps a law like this was taking.

It was enough to make Hera sick.

Hera’s frown slowly turned upwards.

The report had been vague about details. Which meant there was only one way to find out if people were being rounded up for breaking this law, and where they would be imprisoned. And that would be to break the law. Publicly. As far as missions went, this one would be fun.

She went to go find Kanan and tell him her plan.

-SWR-

Eli Vanto tried not to read the news.

Most of the squabbling that made up the news were over things that didn’t affect him anyways. There were too many worlds, with too many people, with too many conflicts to keep track of them all. And besides, most of the times he found himself in the midst of a conflict, he was creating the news, not reading it.

Though if he’d kept up with the news, he probably wouldn’t have walked into so obvious a trap.

As it was, he stood in the lift, blearily staring at nothing, a hand wrapped around a cup of steaming caf, all but oblivious to the others entering the lift with him.

Mornings were usually like this. Stumbling out of bed, forcing his unwilling mind to go through all the routines necessary to get himself somewhat presentable for a day of work. Depending on if he slept in his own quarters or not, he’d either make a cup of caf with the admiral’s machine, or else – like today – he’d have to stagger down the hall to a break room and wait for the chance to have a cup served to him.

The caf hadn’t kicked in yet. He took another cautious sip, mentally cursing himself for asking for it black. It was going to be hot for a while longer.

The doors to the lift opened and Eli glanced up to see what floor they were on. It was his. He took a step forward, and stopped.

The people in front of him hadn’t moved.

It’s too early for this.

 (art by amande)

“Excuse me,” Eli muttered.

Again, no one made the slightest move.

This was something new. Usually, merely stepping forward triggered other passengers to step out of the way. Saying something definitely would. And now-

The doors were closing.

“This is my-“ Eli said, trying to force his way between two of them – his heart squeezing in his chest as he fought his natural inclination to shy away from physical contact. But it was too late. The doors closed again, and Eli could feel the lift begin its decent down.

Eli took a step back, maintaining some distance as he felt his adrenaline kick in, the caf forgotten. He glanced between each of the people who were in the lift with him. Not a single one of them had so much as reacted to Eli’s attempt to leave the lift.

Questions bounced around in his head, and momentarily he flirted with the idea of announcing his rank as a way to demand answers but -

The doors opened, and a pair of heavy hands fell upon his shoulders.

“Commander?” one of the officers finally turned to acknowledge him. “If you could come along willingly?”

“Willingly?” Eli asked.

They were in a hanger bay.

An all-but-empty hanger bay. Vacant, except for a lone shuttle parked unusually close to the lift doors.

“Where are we going?” Eli asked. “I have-“

“Orders from Coruscant.”

Eli could feel the blood rush to his face. Of all the words that could kick off a bout of anger, the capital world could surely do it.

He loathed every moment he’d ever spent on that rock. Perhaps it had something to do with his upbringing – fiercely proud of his heritage as a family of pioneers settling the far-flung Wild Space worlds. Perhaps it had to do with his anxiety – the noise, the bustle, the constant motion of everything. Or perhaps it was his experiences – hunching his shoulders as insults were whispered in his direction from his peers at the Royal Imperial Academy…

Any order whisking him away to Coruscant was unwelcomed. He could have been getting promoted to an Admiral and it would still be bad news as far as he could see it.

“Orders from Coruscant get delivered like this now?” Eli asked, glancing around his entourage, a touch of twang on his words. “Must be some kind of order.”

“Life changing,” the other said.

Eli tried to ignore the shiver running up his spine as he boarded the shuttle.

Chapter Text

Kanan’s response surprised Hera. She hadn’t even finished laying out all the details before he began to withdraw. It wasn’t the plan itself – it couldn’t be. Kanan had done riskier things before.

“What is it?” she asked softly.

She used to be able to read him so well. But the mischievous sparkle in his green eyes were lost now. She would have to relearn how to know him.

“You haven’t sounded this eager in a long time.”

Hera wanted to spell out just how wrong his conclusion was – joining the Rebellion made her wake up each morning energetic and dedicated to doing something good – but this wasn’t what this conversation was about. She could tell Kanan was bothered by something else.

“Don’t worry,” she soothed. “We’ll scout out a nice Mid-Rim world where we’ve never been. We’ve faked identification plenty of times before so the Empire won’t know it’s us. And Ezra will be able to use the connection between you to ensure we don’t end up loss. All we have to do is get caught-”

“Kissing,” Kanan said. Hera recoiled slightly, her lekku bumping into her back at the sudden movement.

“I thought you’d like this part of the plan?”

“I can’t remember the last time you were so excited to do this,” Kanan said, a rumble on his voice. “And it’s only for a mission.”

Hera’s startled expression softened and she reached out to touch Kanan’s face. He didn’t withdraw. She could feel the tense muscles under her fingers loosen at her contact.

“Kanan-”

Kanan took a step back. Away from her. Breaking contact.

Hera didn’t know how to say sorry. Or if the words would come out only sounding like a retort. Ingenuine. And if she knew Kanan, he didn’t want to hear apologies anyways.

“I’m sorry,” he said at last. “I miss what we were before the Rebellion. When it was just us against the galaxy. It’s just… it’s been so long.”

Hera smiled. “Well then, love, we’ll have to do a lot of catching up before this mission. We would hate to look out of practice.”

-SWR-

The shuttle ride was short.

“Landing already?” Eli asked, huffing out a sarcastic laugh. “And here I thought you were taking me to Coruscant.”

The leader – at least Eli pegged him as the leader, he’d been the only one who’d spoken – merely replied over his shoulder, “An incorrect assumption.”

Eli huffed again. He tried his best to put on his most annoyed face, but it was all a façade. His heart was hammering in his chest. His frequent sighs just the result of breathing too shallowly.

Everything about this was wrong. If he were being called on some official business, why wouldn’t someone find him at his quarters? Or approach him on duty? Why did they wait until he was in the lift… and then not say anything when they boarded? Why the secrecy?

Before he could tie any thoughts together, the cargo door of the shuttle dropped, filling the bay with a bone chilling air.

Eli stood up, peering out at the world he’d been taken to. The ground was blanketed in yellowing, dry grass, rippling in a cold wind. The sky was gray, overcast with dark clouds reaching down to the planet’s surface like fingers.

“If you please, Commander,” the leader said, gesturing for Eli to follow.

Eli stepped off at a good pace after the man, frowning as the others formed a human enclosure around him.

Not good, not good.

But what could he do?

The world was barren. No matter which way Eli turned his head, there was nothing to see. More yellow, dry grass, clinging to black rocks. The only sign of civilization was a monstrous and lonely factory. Half of the windows were blown out and the metallic panels rusted.

No, this was all wrong.

The men surrounding him made it clear that Eli couldn’t run, but that didn’t stop his heart from trying to encourage him to.

A ray of starlight broke free from the clouds, causing Eli to look up. The planet’s sun – at least one of its suns – was a brilliant, shockingly vivid purple. It was beautiful, in comparison to the planet. Eli’s chest tightened.

He’d heard of this world once before. The name escaped him, but his father had told him stories of it - when he was Eli’s age and shipping goods around Lysatra. There was something in the atmosphere that made the planet’s star appear purple from the surface… but this planet… his father had told him it’d been abandoned. Its colonies having been wiped out during the Clone Wars.

And…. If his father had been here… then it was in Wild Space. As far from Coruscant as it was possible to go.

Why was he here of all places?

And on orders from Coruscant?

The leader led them to the only modern looking thing on the entire building – a shiny blast door. Eli’s throat tightened. Was it a good sign? Were they maybe trying to bring back colonists? Maybe this was like that time he’d been brought down to Thrawn’s exile planet – and someone in the Empire merely wanted Eli’s “Wild Space” advice, expecting he might know something about this world?

They stepped into the building.

It wasn’t much warmer inside but at least Eli could relax his shoulders from blocking the wind.

The hallways were low and dimly lit, suggesting whatever renovations were being made, they weren’t being done fast enough.

“This way,” the lead man said, then paused. “You appear…. Apprehensive, Commander Vanto.”

“Sure’d appreciate someone telling me what this is all about.”

“Perhaps,” the man answered.

Eli wished he wouldn’t keep getting spooked by his answers.

They headed off once more, but the trip was short, and Eli didn’t gain any new insights to what he was doing there. They stopped at another shiny, newly installed door. The leader inserted his code cylinder, and they entered.

It was an office.

Small, but somehow the entire entourage squeezed in. Eli couldn’t tell if he’d merely fallen into the chair or was pushed into it, there was so much jostling around while everyone tried to make space, but once he sat, two guards assumed their stations on either side of him. Silently communicating that he shouldn’t stand.

The leader sat at the desk opposite him, and smiled.

“And now, Commander Vanto, the proceedings shall begin.”

-SWR-

“Hey, you there!”

It had taken just two minutes of show to grab a stormtrooper’s attention. Of course, Hera had to remember this was Mid Rim. Comfortably in the palm of the Empire. Deviations stuck out. Still, she was impressed.

Hera opened her eyes, letting her lips slowly break away from Kanan’s, and turned to the voice.

“Let’s see some identification.”

“Of course,” Hera said, adopting a thick traditional accent. Kanan complied as well, handing over the forged documents to the sergeant of the patrol who’d spotted them.

The stormtrooper glanced over them. Clearing fooled by the forgeries.

“You. Come with me.”

He’d pointed to Hera.

Not to Kanan.

“Is there a problem?” Kanan asked.

“Go about your business.”

Hera’s heartrate was climbing slowly. They were… dismissing Kanan? But… the law stated all interspecies relationships were illegal. Why would they send him away? He’d broken the law, too.
A sudden fear worked its way into her thoughts – Kanan had to be arrested too. It was essential to the plan. Kanan would be arrested, and Ezra would follow both of them to wherever the Empire was sending all of its prisoners… without Kanan, she would be quite literally lost.

She had to think of something.

“You think I am a prostitute?” she asked the stormtrooper, her words fiery. “This man is my husband.”

There. That would clear up any misconceptions.

The stormtrooper’s helmet dipped – he was checking the identification cards again.

He picked one card out of the pair – Kanan’s – and handed it back to him.

“Go about your business.”

“What are you going to-?” Kanan started, a shove from a stormtrooper cutting him off.

“Sir, I said good day. If you do not leave, I will have to put you under arrest for obstruction of justice.”

“Justice?!” Kanan barked. “I want to know what you’re doing with my wife!”

“Imperial Regulation TR-130-8B. Look it up.”

Kanan took the bait, though, and shoved his way back to Hera’s side. He reached out for her – it was really quite dramatic – before one of the stormtroopers slammed the butt of their rifle in the back of his head.

Hera cried out in panic – she had a part of play, after all – but inwardly she winced. Kanan surely was attuned well enough with the Force to have seen that one coming, but let himself get knocked out anyways.

Take one for the team like a champ, Hera thought.

“Send him to district 3 for processing,” the sergeant of the squad ordered. “Obstruction of justice and behavior indecent to proper public standing. Should work itself out to a 100 credit fine. If he can’t pay, a night’s accommodations.”

Hera looked between the two stormtroopers. And…. Where was the charge about their relationship? The new crime big enough to be broadcasted all over the Holonet? Were they really just trying to stop them from kissing in public? “Indecent behavior?” Or-

“This one,” the sergeant turned to Hera. “Put on the transport with the others.”

Chapter Text

“Pardon… you said… proceedings?” Eli asked, blinking in disbelief.

“Yes,” the man behind the desk said, his words smooth. “Yours specifically.”

Eli snorted, “Under what charges?”

“Imperial Regulation TR-130-8B.”

“That sure is a mouthful. Never heard of it,” Eli glanced around the office. “And I’ve been to enough court martials to know this isn’t how criminal proceedings are done. What’s this really about?”

“You are unfamiliar with proceedings on this magnitude, Commander Vanto,” the man said, his smile tugging again at the corners of his mouth. “The regulation was published this morning. The crime been classified as a felony, we already have evidence implicating you, and the appellate process has been waived in this case. There was really no need for all the pomp and circumstance of an actual trial.”

Eli grit his teeth together.

“Krayt spit,” he said. “There’s not one bit of proof you all aren’t just kidnapping me. If you’re acting on official business, then I want to see your orders.”

The man behind the desk smiled again. “I see your time spent with the alien admiral has rubbed off of you.”

Eli’s faced warmed. So that’s what this was about?

Of course – Eli knew it couldn’t have been serious. What laws had he ever broken? The only time he’d even expressed any dissatisfaction with the Imperial Navy was when he discovered evidence that the Empire was using slaves. He winced a little at the thought – it was an issue he’d never truly gotten over.

But there was no way he’d been dragged off to this unpopulated world over that. It was just like this man said - it had something to do with Thrawn.
It was like that time he’d been offered a job captaining his own ship. He hadn’t been offered the job due to his his own abilities, but merely as a way to hurt Thrawn. And now, it was happening again, only this time things were a lot more sinister.

Eli figured they would implicate him in some made up crime, scare him into doing some kind of plea bargain – leaving Thrawn’s side, or perhaps implicating him in a worse crime.

But then….

The man before him pushed a card across the desk identifying himself as an ISB agent… and a holodisk… with orders to apprehend him. Eli’s throat went immediately dry. They looked… real enough. He didn’t have an eye for detecting forgeries, but he remembered hearing that ISB badges were near impossible to duplicate. And the orders. They bore the official seal of the Imperial Senate.

But that didn’t mean anything. It could still be something as sly as an angry Senator asking a friend in the ISB to push Thrawn into a corner.

“Interesting,” Eli muttered.

“But you’re still not convinced?”

“Would you be, in a place like this?”

“If you mean the state of things here - these facilities were only recently acquired by the Empire, but I assure you, they will be up to your standards soon enough. And if you mean this world – well, the idea is that we establish penal colonies on uninhabited planets. Pretty much kills the thought of escape. And any spacecraft coming to investigate will stand out.”

Eli felt a shiver run down his back, but he tried his best to look firm.

“You keep trying to scare me, but you still haven’t been able to tell me what I’m being charged with.”

“I have told you. Imperial Regulation TR-130-8B.”

“So you said. What is it?”

“A ban on interspecies relationships,” the man said, smiling again. “Specifically, sexual relationships.”

Eli could feel the blood rushing to his face. For a moment, he was sure he looked as guilty as it was possible to look. His hearing got muffled by the brutal pounding of his pulse in his ears. The muscles in his face went slack in disbelief.

But there was no way. No way they had proof.

“You think you’re the first person to accuse us of something like that?” Eli said, hoping he sounded angry. “I was assigned to him as a translator. We ended up working real well together. Sometimes get carried away, loss track of time working on a project, sometimes just fall asleep at my desk in his office but… it’s a professional relationship. Nothing more.”

“He doesn’t… have any… unnatural abilities,” the man asked. “He can’t… say… manipulate you, mentally?”

“What?” Eli asked, surprised. He was sure the man would have questioned him about his statement. “No. Of course not. Except for the blue skin and red eyes, he’s not any different from a human.”

“Would you be willing to sign a statement saying as much?”

“I could handle it.”

Though now Eli’s heart rate was skyrocketing. He willed his muscles to tense – at least it was the only thing he could think to do to keep himself from trembling.

The man had said there would be no chance for an appeal… but yet here he was offering him a chance? He told him this world was supposed to be a secret penal colony… how would he let him leave after knowing about this?

“Here,” the man had created the document far faster than Eli would have thought possible. But he read over it – there wasn’t much – simply the rewording of what he’d said.

“Is that satisfactory?”

“It is,” Eli said, but there was nothing else for it. If this would be his only chance to defend Thrawn… He signed.

“I thank you, commander,” the man said, leaning over his datapad, typing furiously. The silence began to draw out.

“I… so… you’ll take me back to the Chimaera now?”

The man looked up at Eli, another smile on his face. “Oh, quite the contrary. I’m expanding on the allegations against you.”

“You’re what?!”

“Lying to an agent of the Imperial Security Bureau has a maximum sentence of ten years. Since this won’t be going to a trail, I’m submitting the authorization. It takes a moment.”

“Lying? You can’t prove I’m lying to you?”

The man leaned back in his chair and set a small portable holodisk player on the table. He pushed a button and two staticky, blue-tinged figures appeared before them. Eli’s jaw dropped. A hand flew to his face to try to muffle the gasp.

It was him and Thrawn. Their arms wrapped around one another, Eli nuzzling his face into the side of Thrawn’s neck.

“Okay…. Okay, stop it.”

The man behind the desk shook his head. “No. You told us these allegations were false. That requires me to show you the evidence against you.”

Eli’s face was burning with embarrassment, and he closed his eyes. This had only happened last night and he clearly remembered how things went… and there was an audience here….

“You… you can’t use this as evidence,” Eli tried, unable to look at the man, and still wincing in mortification. “You can’t have security cameras in private quarters… you-”

“The Emperor himself allowed it on condition it would be used in obtaining evidence in regards to this crime,” the man answered.

“W-when was this law passed?” Eli said, biting his lip as he heard his own voice moaning over the holoprojector. He didn’t dare look.

“Does it matter?”

“You… you can’t use evidence to charge someone with a crime before it becomes a crime,” Eli said, desperately struggling to find some way out. He wasn’t even entirely sure if that was correct, but it sounded right. “You said the law was passed this morning… but… this happened… last night.” His face felt like it was on fire.

“Oh, it was announced this morning,” the man said, waving a hand as though Eli hadn’t been desperately clawing at some way to get out of prison but instead just made a simple mistake. “But the law was passed last night.”

The man leaned forward, all but ignoring the horrific display coming up from the holoprojector. “Is there anything else?”

“Please…. Turn it off,” Eli said. There were others here…. They could see. They could hear it.

“Are you admitting your guilt?”

Eli hesitated only a moment. “Yes.”

“That you willingly subverted the natural order of things and had sexual relations with a member of a different species?”

“The holoprojector is right-”

“Yes or no will do.”

“Yes.”

“That you consciously lied to an identified member of the Imperial Security Bureau about your involvement in this crime?”

“Yes.”

“Sign here,” the man said, pushing a datapad across the table and nudging the edge of the holoprojector. Eli didn’t know if it was intentional or not, but the quicker he got this over with, the better. He glanced at the document in front of him – a confession – but he didn’t have the heart to read it. He signed, numbly aware that his life was changing forever.

Now he would be a prisoner…

“Now that the technical part is over with,” the man said, scooping up the holoprojector and thankfully turning it off as he returned it to his pocket, and turning his attention to the armored stormtroopers standing in the doorway. “Get the prisoner in a more…. Befitting uniform and escort him to the main floor for work.”

“Just wait!” Eli said, shakily, whipping his head around to look at the man again. “I… you didn’t… how long is this sentence?”

“Thirteen years, hard labor,” the man said. Heavy hands fell upon Eli’s shoulders, startling him so much he jumped. “But don’t worry. Once your alien lover has ceased to be useful to the Empire, he’ll be joining you here.”

-SWR-

Hera tried to hold her tongue, but the longer she sat on the transport, the harder it was getting.

And it was all thanks to the young officer who decided it was his job to try and explain to her that being arrested was the best thing for her.

“You see…” the man was saying. “He was using you… not like an equal but like an object. You know… I mean, I think you know? Twi’lek females even get kidnapped to be sex slaves.”

Hera ground her teeth together, trying to look stupid and innocent but biting back the anger. This man… this human… had the nerve to try to tell her what a woman of her species was best known as? But the job called for quiet…

So she nodded stupidly while this idiot attempted to make her accept her fate, and in the meanwhile tried to figure out what she was supposed to do.

Kanan hadn’t been arrested. And while he (or Ezra, seeing that Kanan had been knocked out) certainly could have followed her to the local police station before she was quickly herded onto a shuttle with a few other assorted nonhumans, it was also just as likely that they hadn’t been able to follow her.

Their entire plan hinged upon Kanan being with her. Upon Ezra using their connection through the Force to locate where the prisoners were being taken. To pinpoint a location the Ghost could spring an attack…

And now, the floor rumbled beneath her – they had exited hyperspace – she was in an unknown corner of the galaxy with no certain way of escape.

She went through the processing silently, submissively. The false ID continued to stand up, keeping her true identity hidden. She was sentenced – three years of hard labor – in less than five minutes. They weren’t even attempting to hide the fallacy of Imperial justice.

Hera only realized how new this entire enterprise was when she was taken to her cell. It wasn’t even a cell – it was a jerry-rigged storage room…. Overfilled with aliens. No one was separated like they should have… men and women housed together… the ill….

There were probably around sixty of them all…. And perhaps they might even all manage to find a place to lay down without laying on top of one another.

“Is this… my cell?” Hera asked in her incognito accent, hoping she was pulling off terrified, frightened little mouse and not her actual brimming-with-rage self.

Her answer was a shove in the back and a door sealing closed behind her.

The others looked up. Mostly. Some were huddled in corners. Others staring blankly at nothing – in shock. Some were sitting around chatting – swapping stories – those were the ones with confidence that made Hera think they were already criminals in a previous life and this was nothing new.

But they were all aliens… all except one.

Hera narrowed her eyes, taking a few steps closer.

He might have been a nonhuman. Close by all accounts. She’d heard horror stories of some species amputating antennae or extra limbs so they could pass as human. But the others were avoiding him. Even as cramped as the cell was, there was a safe distance the others kept.

As she got closer, she could tell he wasn’t in the best shape. Hunched over, his uniform was dirty, rumpled, as if he’d been here longer. There were bruises on his face-

A stranger grabbed her arm.

“Don’t do it, sister,” a swarmy voice said.

Hera turned to look at the Rodian who’d grabbed her arm. “Do what?”

“What you were planning to do,” he said. “They don’t like that one. You forget already what you were arrested for? And you want to go strike up a conversation with a human?”

“So he is human?” Hera whispered.

“Only one,” the Rodian confirmed. “That tell you something clear as crystal, yeah? So leave him alone unless you want his bad luck rubbing off on you.”

Hera tugged at her arm, and the Rodian at least let go. She continued forward.

She’d learned to pay attention when her intuition told her to care. To get involved. To reach out and help someone. And for whatever reason, she knew it was the right thing to do.

“Hey, I’m-”

“….Hera Syndulla?”

Chapter Text

Thrawn stepped up onto the command bridge, an inaudible sigh leaving his lips.

Commander Vanto wasn’t there.

He hadn’t been waiting on the Chimaera’s running track at precisely 0440 in the morning, as Thrawn had requested. Not that that had been a surprise – only twice before in their years together had Eli actually shown up – and subsequently ate dust as Thrawn easily outran him.

And yet, Eli hadn’t been waiting in the officer’s tapcafe either, like he was in the habit of doing most mornings, blinking away exhaustion while waiting for his daily required dosage of caffeine.

Thrawn kept his emotions in check, preventing a smile from forming on his lips, as the only logical conclusion was reached.

So he has overslept?

You must not exhaust him so terribly next time, Thrawn admonished himself.

He approached Commander Faro, who had been on night shift and looked ready to relinquish command of the ship.

“Good morning, Commander-“ Thrawn started, when suddenly the lights went out.

The bridge plummeted into complete darkness. Not even the emergency back up lights came on. The silence was jarring – even the air circulating systems were down. The room echoed a dozen surprised gasps as the artificial gravity failed as well and feet began floating off the floor and bottoms out of seats. The nose of the star destroyer was noticeably dipping – once the engines which kept it in a controlled orbit failed, the gravity of the massive planet beneath them seizing them.

“Lieutenant,” Thrawn ordered. “Redirect the-”

But the next moment, the power came flickering back on, and Thrawn found himself alone standing on the bridge – the other officers and technicians having fallen to the ground once gravity was reinstated. Thrawn didn’t hesitate.

The moment his feet had hit the floor, the moment he could observe he was alone in regaining his footing, he dashed to the transparisteel window at the front of the bridge, scanning the stars. He knew what he was looking for… and if his conclusions were correct-

“Admiral?”

“Complete power loss such as what we just witnessed doesn’t happen by accident,” Thrawn explained, eyes narrowing as he watched a streak of light tear its way across the blackness of space. A ship entering hyperspace.

“Are any systems up?” Thrawn said, not wanting to move his eyes from where the point of light vanished. But with a reluctant sigh, he realized that even if he were able to maintain the exact spot, he couldn’t communicate where the spot to a technician to map out the ship’s trajectory. And as they were currently alone, no other Imperial ship could have picked up the trajectory, either.

“Sir?” one of the bridge officers called up to him. “All systems appear to have been completely erased. Navigation, Communications, Propulsion-”

“What about ship logs?” Thrawn asked. “Surveillance?”

“Sir?” This time the question came from Faro. “The pressing matter right now is trying to make contact with another ship, or we’re stranded. Ship logs can wait.”

“On the contrary, Commander. This was sabotage,” Thrawn said darkly.

The silence that followed begged an explanation, so Thrawn continued, “There is no naturally-occurring scenario in which the Chimaera would lose all functionality. Even during an emergency, basic systems like artificial gravity remains intact. The only explanation is this was the result of an electromagnetic pulse. And if that is true, then it is also true that this was intentionally done against us, at the hands of an intelligent force. To erase all records would mean we would not have any evidence of what they took or how they left.”

He thought another moment, before adding, “Order a full accountability of all personnel on the ship.”

“Sir.” It was Faro. Quietly. Under her breath. Thrawn inclined his head to show that he was listening.

“Commander Vanto,” she whispered. “He still hasn’t reported in this morning.”

-SWR-

Hera was shaken, in a way she hadn’t been in a long time.

In a place like this. He knew her. She could see it in the way his eyes had lit up in recognition. But the way he’d blurted it out? Not good. She couldn’t risk her real identity being known… not in an Imperial prison. She was far more valuable as a Rebellion leader than as the breaker of a morality law.

“My name is Esha Pala,” Hera corrected, in her accented voice, using the name she’d given herself when her and Kanan made their forged identification cards.

The human sitting before her hadn’t broken eye contact, his slightly furrowed brow smoothing out slightly as her words sunk in.

“Oh,” he said. “I’m sorry, ma’am, I suppose I haven’t spent enough time around Twi’leks to tell you apart. I meant no offense.”

Hera blinked back again in surprise – both by his Wild Space accent, and the way he said his words. It was clear. He knew she was lying about the fake name. He knew she was Hera Syndulla. And he wasn’t about to throw out her secret identity either. A friend.

Hera’s heart fluttered – how was she going to communicate to him that she was alone? That she needed help? She knelt down in front of him and prodded gently, “Are you really a human?”

The furrowed brow returned, the human’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah.”

“My human is not with me,” Hera whispered, hoping her words would sound like a desperate wife hoping to find information about her husband to any of the others who might be eavesdropping. “Are there others here? Do you think-”

“Jeez, easy darling, I-“ the human said, cutting himself off pointedly, before continuing. “I’m not going to be a replacement for your human, right? I… I’m sorry. You’re really alone?”

Hera had to stay in character, which was hard because a smile was warming her up inside. Jeez, easy darling, I- The phrase was weird, and Hera had no problem picking out the code. J-E-D-I. Followed by I’m not going to be a replacement for your human. He acknowledged that “her human” was a Jedi, then told her that he himself wasn’t.

She was liking this one more and more.

But to answer his question - You’re really alone? As in – is there backup coming?

“They didn’t arrest him,” she said, looking away and hugging herself, keeping the act going. “They took me away… so fast. They never gave me a chance to talk to my family. My mother… my sisters… they have no idea what happened to me. Where I went.”

The human nodded slowly, grimacing a little. “It’s alright,” he said, but the worry on his face seemed to take over. He’d obviously thought that she had had rescue coming. But this one was clever. Surely they could figure something out together.

“Look… the guards’ll be peaking through the bars any second now,” he said quietly, shooting a glance at the room’s barred door over the top of his elbow. “They see you talking to me-”

Hera felt her heart twinge. Despite their sudden connection, they were still trapped in this prison. He was warning her to stay away. The way his clothes were all rumpled, his hair tossled… the way the other prisoners stayed away from him… he probably had good cause to warn her.

But he didn’t know. Hera would stick to him like glue. If they were going to take him away, she wanted to make sure that she was right there with him.

She took the risk and put her hand on his knee.

And just in time.

“Hey, would you look at that, the alien-lover has a girlfriend.”

Hera turned to look at the doorway, where three burly guards leered. She tried to look shocked, to withdraw her hand quickly, to keep up her persona’s charade of mousy jumpiness.

“Nah, it couldn’t be,” another guard said, pulling out a code cylinder and jamming it into a slot on the door frame.

The other aliens in the storage-room-cell got up and scattered. They already knew the routine. Hera stood up, bowing her head in acted fear, but the human remained sitting. As if he couldn’t be bothered. Hera couldn’t tell if he was being defiant, or was simply exhausted.

“On your feet,” the guard said, stopping squarely in front of the human, the taunting tone lost from his voice. The human still didn’t budge.

“You didn’t say ‘please,’” the human said finally.

Hera smiled microscopically. She liked this one.

The guards hauled him viciously to his feet, but that sweet, polite farm boy manner in which he had talked to Hera was gone. He glared daggers at the guards.

“I need two for a work order,” the guard announced, loudly, over his shoulder, as though addressing the entire room, before turning to look at the human locked in the other two guard’s arms. “You just keep volunteering for these, don’t you, boy? What gives? Hoping we’ll release you early for good behavior?”

The human didn’t answer, but Hera was beginning to understand why he looked so run down. And why the other aliens had avoided him -

“And this one,” the head guard said, clapping a hand on Hera. “Though not sure she’ll be able to pull her own weight. But you like helping others, don’t you?”

“Let’s go,” he said to the other two guards. One kept the human’s arm locked within his own, restraining him as they marched out of the cell. The other guard pushed Hera in the back – apparently feeling like grabbing onto her in a similar matter was uncalled for. At least the submissive act was fooling everyone.

They were silent as they walked through the halls, reaching a giant storeroom. A messy storeroom. A warehouse that looked like it hadn’t been entered in years.

“You know the drill,” the lead guard said, once they’d come to a stop. “Push these,” he gestured to the stacks of metal crates, “over there,” he pointed to a trash compactor, “and then put those,” he made a cube shape with his hands, “out there,” he gestured to a industrial hauling-style ship sitting with it’s cargo bays open just outside the warehouse doors.

He signaled for the other two to release the human.

“And just to make sure you don’t try to run off,” he said, grinning. Hera felt her throat tighten – he was planning on doing something really horrible…

And then, Hera gasped as one of the guards had dumped an entire bucket of water on her. She stood there in shock… wondering if could be something more than water… but no… it was… water. The guards laughed and walked off towards one of the corners. They were far enough away that Hera felt like she could chance talking to him, but not far enough away that they could try to escape. Yet.

“I tried to warn you,” the human whispered, as he motioned her to follow him to a stack of metal crates. Wordlessly, Hera shook her hands out. He noticed her unspoken question about the water – he looked like he’d been soaked through too – and answered apologetically, “Its cold out there. If we try to run away, we’ll freeze to death before we get anywhere.”

“Is there anything to run to?” Hera asked.

“There’s not,” the human said, his eyes narrowing again. “But that’s not exactly common knowledge.”

“How do you know it?”

“My father told me about this place. There’s something in the atmosphere that makes the sun look purple. Apparently the only planet in the galaxy like that. But the colonies were destroyed during the Clone Wars and no one ever came back.”

“So you know where we are?” Hera asked, the excitement growing on her voice.

“Roughly,” the human said, apologetically again. “We’re in Wild Space. I can’t recall the system’s name.” He glanced over at the guards, “Look, they aren’t interested in us yet but if we don’t start working soon, they’ll be back over. And it won’t be pretty.”

Hera took in the bruises on his face, the contusion on his cheek. She had to agree.

“Let me guess,” Hera said. “No droids.”

“Why have droids when you’re running a prison?”

Hera sighed, glancing up at the warehouse walls. There was a lot of metal crates…

“I don’t know your name,” Hera whispered.

“Eli,” he whispered back. “Eli Vanto. Nice to meet your acquaintance.”

“Now,” Eli said, as he started to shove a metal crate across the floor, the grating sound echoing loudly in the warehouse. “How are we getting out of here, Ms. Syndulla?”

Chapter Text

“You left Hera?!” Kanan asked, staggering out of the local police station with the help of his Padawan, wincing slightly as they stepped out under the blazing afternoon double suns.

He could sense Ezra next to him tensing up at the tone of his voice, the teenager’s hands fidgety as he searched for a solution.

“You told me to follow you, remember?” Ezra said. Kanan didn’t like the testing edge on the other’s voice, but his reprimand was lost as Ezra bodily steered them through the meandering crowds.

“I remember we agreed that you would use our connection through the Force to track us,” Kanan said. “Me and Hera.”

“And how were we supposed to know you’d been split up?” Ezra asked. “You told us to wait on the Ghost so we’d be ready to go. And that’s what I did. I sat on the Ghost and tracked my Master through the Force. How was I supposed to know Hera wasn’t with you?”

Kanan groaned. As much as he didn’t like his padawan’s disrespect, the boy had a point. A few.

The plan had been flawed. They’d never expected the Imperials would only arrest Hera, the nonhuman counterpart in their interspecies relationship. Kanan had hoped if Ezra remained focused – or as meditative as he could get – he’d be able to track them through hyperspace. At least closely enough where Ezra’s Force-guiding compass would help the rest of the crew with choosing appropriate hyperspace lanes or possible planet destinations.

And now, with Hera long gone, there was not much more they could do.

Except the original plan.

“Sit,” Kanan ordered once they’d made it back to the Ghost.

“We’re not going to be able to reach her,” Ezra said, sitting as told but not entirely convinced. Kanan could feel his padawan’s tension lessening somewhat. Kanan grimaced – more at himself and his altered ways of reading others than from Ezra’s lack of faith.

“We’re not,” Kanan said. “But perhaps the Force will guide us where to go.”

They sat together in silence for hours. The double suns set. Even inside the cold metallic ship, Kanan could sense the diminishing light that the stars took with them. The cooling of the air. Without his sight, he was noticing how other sensations spoke to him. Clued him in.

If only it would help him clue in to the Force.

He didn’t need much, he reasoned. And even though trying to justify easy answers out of the energy field he was attuned to didn’t make much sense, it helped him focus. He didn’t need much. Just a direction. A place to start. A path to open up.

But no paths opened. The world was dark around him and Ezra. No epiphanies came. No brilliant roads burned into existence.

Kanan focused harder. He thought about his desire to do something. To walk. To push his feet upon the ground. To feel his legs move.

But the more he focused, the more he found himself wanting to sit. He fought the urge, and then, he opened his eyes.

The act was purely habit, as the darkness didn’t change. But he felt Ezra stir next to him to. Kanan didn’t need to ask – they both knew the direction they needed to go.

“We need to stay here,” Kanan said. “She’s coming back.”

- SWR -

Thrawn’s fingers rested softly on his datapad, but no. Once again, he drew his hand away, as he’d done numerous times already. He turned his face to look at the holo he’d recently set up on his desk, taking the place of the usual sculpture, which now lay forgotten on the floor. Eli. Staring back. No smile on his face, no allusion of friendship.

And again, Thrawn brought his hands to the datapad.

He couldn’t commit the name to the report.

The report had been sitting on his desk unfinished for days. The same days where their stranded ship was finally located by a rescue crew, attached to tugs, and hauled through hyperspace to the nearest shipping yards.

Thrawn had guessed correctly. Some manner of electromagnetic pulse had been ignited in the ship, erasing all computer records and leaving the ship crippled. Thankfully, there was a single emergency back up power supply buried under panels which deflected the attack.

It had been enough power to keep the life support systems on. It had been enough to keep the crew alive. It hadn’t been enough to recover the communications systems and send out a distress call. No, rather it took them missing two consecutive radio checks for help to arrive.

Keeping the crew calm in the meanwhile had been utterly taxing.

And now… days later. The Chimaera was ready to sail once more. All that was needed to get the ship back on the line was handing in the after-incident review.

The report sitting on Thrawn’s desk.

The thing was finished, and Thrawn had been as thorough about the event as he could be. But he hesitated to add the last bit of information.

He knew it would have to go in there. There was simply no other explanation.

Thrawn’s eyes narrowed slightly at the holo looking back at him.

All evidence pointed to him. Commander Vanto had vanished the same day at the attack. He hadn’t been seen or heard from since. Manifests pulled from Imperial records showed that a Lambda shuttle had been stolen.

Yet Thrawn couldn’t put the name down.

He studied the holo looking back at him. It was entirely possible that Eli had been fooling him the entire time. He was especially good at following Thrawn’s tactics and lines of thought. He was even better at detecting “krayt spit” from the other officers.

Was he so clever that he could out smart Thrawn?

Thrawn had never considered it. It was painful to imagine that easy smile and humble demeanor as anything but genuine. But Thrawn considered it.

He’d once worried that Eli could have been a spy sent to observe him.

Thrawn had long since abandoned that idea as ridiculous. Eli was easy enough to read. He got angry easily but forgave swiftly, was long suffering and a constant presence in his life. With Eli gone, he’d forgotten how much he’d relied on him. Every so often Thrawn would catch himself lifting his head slightly, preparing to test the other’s insight.

Thrawn winced, a miniscule motion. Perhaps he’d read the human incorrectly.

The dull ache in his heart came again, and once more he told himself not to go down that path. He knew Eli. Eli had been vulnerable before him. Over the years they had known one another, Eli had revealed his struggles with anxiety, struggles with his family. He’d been upset. Cried.

It couldn’t have been faked.

And the other times… the intimate times… Eli certainly wasn’t faking those.

Then perhaps something else had happened.

The Wookiees.

Eli had been angry about the Empire using slaves. Thrawn had taken him aside later, and asked for Eli to trust him. But he had walked away. Thrawn couldn’t reveal his ulterior plan… he couldn’t tell Eli that there was more at stake, something he couldn’t risk on the slaves.

Had Eli lost faith in him then?

Thrawn frowned, going back through his memories, recalling the moments he and Eli had since then. It had seemed…. forgotten. As if Eli had moved on. Or accepted Thrawn’s stance on the issue.

There was a buzz at the door.

Thrawn reached over to shut down Eli’s holo and looked up.

“Enter.”

It was Commander Faro.

“Ah yes,” Thrawn said. “You are here for my report, Commander.”

“They are saying if you don’t turn it in within five standard minutes, they’ll strip you of your command.”

Thrawn’s lips compressed slightly.

“All evidence points to-“

“That’ll be enough, Commander,” Thrawn raised his hand. “They shall have it now.”

But it took a moment longer than usual for Thrawn’s fingers to return to the datapad.

The sentence was incomplete. Had been, for days. He allowed his eyes to slip out of focus as he typed out the letters for Eli Vanto’s name. It was done.

He handed the datapad over, the metal feeling suddenly cold in his hands. Commander Faro took it, without any reaction to indicate she’d felt the same coldness.

Thrawn knew what that report was, and perhaps at last he’d been maneuvered by his enemies into attacking his own support base. But there was no proof of that. Only proof that someone had sabotaged an Imperial Star Destroyer, stole a Lambda shuttle, with all indicators pointing to espionage. And with no other personal missing from the ship, and no way to access the ship’s logs to determine if any unscheduled ships arrived before the attack, there was no other way Thrawn could write his report.

Commander Eli Vanto was a traitor to the Empire. And traitors were executed.

On the datapad, inside Thrawn’s report, was a death sentence.

Chapter Text

“They’re coming this way,” Hera whispered, nudging Eli with her toe.

Eli jarred awake, his entire body shaking as her touch tore him from sleep. He had thought he knew exhaustion – Thrawn had some wild ideas about how long his human aide could stay awake and pour over data – but this was exhaustion on a completely different level.

He pushed himself up quickly – a surge of adrenaline flooding his body and making his skin tingle. But at least it worked.

By the time the guard passed by, it seemed as though both the human and the Twi’lek prisoners were working as they were supposed to. The stormtrooper walked back to the other side of the warehouse – where it was warmer – and sat back down inside his watch booth.

“Do they have to keep brewing caf?” Eli mumbled, the smell of it wafting over as the booth’s door closed.

Of course, drinking caf so openly was the least of their offenses. The guards seemed to have no idea what to do with the prisoners they were in charge of, but whatever menial tasks they came up with, they took special delight in making sure Eli did them. And Hera – either because she wanted to stay alongside the person she was plotting to escape with or because her heart was actually solid gold – found ways to end up doing those tasks with him.

Eli only hoped Hera assumed their interest in him was due to him being the only human at the prison. The explanation he’d offered was that his alien lover had proved to be too difficult to catch, which wasn’t exactly a lie. He never brought up his Imperial connections, and neither did the guards. Something told Eli that his fragile cooperation with the Rebel pilot would break apart the moment she learned her fellow prisoner was a former Imperial officer.

Former Imperial officer. That was a thought he’d have to get used to. Then again, if he managed to find a way to escape, perhaps there was hope of somehow making contact with Thrawn again and…

Eli stopped that track of thought right there. Merely asking himself whether or not Thrawn would abandon his plans based on the Empire’s immoral actions had… in the past proven to be a lesson in futility, to say the least.

Still, as far as prison life went, things could have been much worse. The guards generally didn’t bother them at all, which is why Hera insisted Eli curl up in a corner and try to catch up on sleep.

“Should I ask if they could spare a cup?” Hera asked with a devious smile. Eli smirked in response. No matter what the situation, nothing seemed to ever get her spirits down. Then again, she was more certain than he was that they would escape.

“Yeah, could you?” Eli replied.

“On second thought, not sure that’s a good idea,” Hera said. “It’ll make you stay up past your bedtime.”

“I’m up now,” Eli said. “You need a break?”

“The only break I need is to break out of here,” Hera said.

“Suit yourself,” Eli said. “So where were we again?”

Eli zoned out while Hera reminded him of the details. The disinterest of the guards could be used to their advantage. They only could see eight stormtroopers. The ISB agent who’d charged them was only rarely seen and each time he looked dispirited, as though this was not the assignment he’d thought it would be. The planet they were on, whose name still escaped Eli, was uninhabited so if they were to escape, it would have to be to space. There were two Lambda shuttles, either of which Hera could fly.

Though the most bizarre detail of all – the Imperials in charge clearly had no guidance on what they were supposed to do.

The prison was meant to be some kind of a labor camp. Their sentencing included punishment of “hard labor,” yet it was obvious the warehouse they were housed in was only recently acquired. Eli could recognize some farming equipment, and from the black rocks and soil, figured the planet had at one time been extremely lucrative for food production. Yet there was no clear work plan other than clearing the warehouse of old storage containers. No deliveries of farming equipment were being made. No efforts to clear the local area of vegetation to prepare for crops.

All of which told Eli that this entire thing had been thrown together at the last minute.

Which made Eli think the law itself had been created to topple Thrawn, and their current location on an abandoned world was merely a way to prevent Thrawn from finding out where Eli had been taken.

“What?” Hera asked, drawing out her question.

Eli blushed. He had never quite found a way to keep his thoughts from showing on his face.

“I just now realized, everything about this prison is off the books,” Eli answered.

Hera gave him a searching look. He’d spent nearly every hour of the last few days with her, so he explained himself without further prompting, “Okay, you see, there hasn’t been any deliveries, right? Farming equipment’s expensive and heavy but I’ve been here a week. If they’d planned on farming, they’d have something here by now.”

“Maybe they want us to do it by hand,” Hera said.

Eli winced again. He’d forgotten that the previous day they’d been made to unload old, animal-pull-style plows from a dusty storage room.

“That’d fit into the ‘hard labor’ line,” Eli admitted, cringing at the thought. “Still…” How to convey his message without revealing his past? “There’s nothing about our crimes that warrants this kind of secrecy. There’s a thousand different Imperial prisons they could’ve shuffled us all off to. Plus, they obviously weren’t planning this for a long time.”

“I’ll hand you that one,” Hera said. “Any ideas why?”

Eli rubbed his eyes, the need for sleep creeping up on him again. “Remind me. You said they broadcasted the law over the Holonet?”

“That’s why I let myself get caught.”

“Right.” Eli blew out a nervous breath. There was really no other way to go about this. “They published the crime, so it’s not like it’s a secret, but they didn’t follow normal procedures after we were all apprehended. They should’ve sent us off to various, regular prisons or work camps or whatnot, right? But they didn’t. If we were in regular prisons, our names would be entered into the Imperial database, making us too easy to find. But they open up a new prison, just for us? Well, that’d be too easy to find, too. If someone were to trying to track us down, and they couldn’t find us in the database, the first thing they’d do is see if any new prisons were opened. Hence, this prison has got to be off the books.”

“But why go through so much secrecy?” Hera asked. “Who would they be hiding us from?”

Thrawn, Eli thought bitterly.

“Your Jedi, maybe.”

“If that were so, they would’ve recognize me when I got here.”

Eli winced again. “Yeah, forgot about that.”

Hera was piercing him with a searching look. “So you, then?”

“I was the first one here,” Eli said, surrendering. He stalled, trying to think up of something that wasn’t a lie, but wouldn’t risk destroying all hopes of escape, either.

Hera glanced over Eli’s shoulder.

“They’re coming back,” she whispered, then her expressions changed. She was wary. “They seem happy.”

“Wonderful,” Eli muttered, turning to see what was coming for them.

And felt his heart stop in his chest.

Happy wasn’t the right term for it. They were exuberant. All eight stormtroopers were heading their way. The ISB agent was in front, his chest held high in a way Eli hadn’t seen since he’d been arrested.

Not a single stormtrooper was carrying their standard blasters and in their place were slugthrowers. Why, Eli could only guess.

-SWR-

Hera lowered her eyes as the contingent approached, falling back into her role as the scared, mousy, clueless Twi’lek she was pretending to be. She hardly needed to. The group came to a halt in front of Eli, but as far as the Imperials were concerned, she may as well have been another storage container.

“Hello there, Vanto,” the ISB agent said, grinning far too much. “You must be wondering why I’m so pleased.”

Eli didn’t react at all. Hera could tell he was nervous – his eyes darted down to the slugthrowers about half a dozen times – but he kept scowling to cover it up. She’d noticed the archaic weapons as well. Perhaps there were some local vermin they wanted him to climb up on the roof and shoot at?

“Ah, I see,” the agent said after a lengthy, unanswered pause passed. “Too stoic to play? Very well. We’re shutting down operations here, thanks to you. All the prisoners are going back to their home worlds and put into the local jail system. Curious yet?”

Eli’s eyebrows knit closer together, “Let me guess. Senate didn’t approve of this law?”

“And here your dear alien said you were so clever,” the agent said, clucking his tongue in disapproval. “I just told you the other prisoners were to find their ways into their homeworld’s prison system.”

Eli looked down at the slugthrowers again, but didn’t attempt another answer.

“Very well. Let’s just say a surprising report ended up on my desk,” the agent said, drawing out a datapad and skimming through it lazily. “It detailed a rather remarkable series of events, starting with the detonation of an electromagnetic device on board the Imperial Star Destroyer, Chimaera.”

Hera’s eyebrows lifted, the shock coming too suddenly to properly hide it. Eli attacked a star destroyer? She was impressed. He hadn’t even bragged about it. Humble and crazy? Good mix for a rebel…

Eli, on the other hand, looked even angrier. “You…”

The agent smiled again. “The attack did a little bit more than anyone could have anticipated. The entire ship was nearly lost. The crew very well could have died. It still had the desired effect, though, didn’t it? Wiping all the onboard computers clean so there would be no records of anything. No security cameras to show what happened. No reason to track us down.”

The agent paused, looking down at his datapad. He obviously enjoyed a showman’s flair.

“Oh, now you’re beginning to worry,” the agent said. “Well, I must say, your precious little Grand Admiral did far more than we could have ever asked. You see… he wrote the after-action report detailing the events… and… has named you as the sole and primary suspect of the crimes. You’re a traitor to the Empire now, Commander Vanto. And that gives us the authority to execute you.”

Hera’s head snapped up, a gasp escaping her lips. Everything moved too fast. A stormtrooper had shoved the butt of his slugthrower into her chest before she realized she had lunged forward. A hand wrapped around one of her lekku, pulling hard, preventing her from getting back to her feet.

Her eyes watered at the searing pain and the indignation of it. The sound of scuffling brought her attention back to Eli…

“No…” she said, not expected to be heard. It was an involuntary exclamation.

The agent was laying a small holorecorder on the ground, and beyond him, Hera could make out the shuffling, struggling jumble of bodies. One of the stormtroopers threw a punch into Eli’s stomach. Doubled over, the human was easy to snatch up, dragged over to one of the many support beams in the warehouse.

“You should be honored,” the agent was saying. “I looked it up. You’ll be the first Imperial officer executed by firing squad.”

Hera’s head spun. Imperial officer. But the way the ISB agent spoke… her friend hadn’t been taking a bite out of the Empire. He’d been set up. Not like it mattered what side he was on anymore. He’d been a good friend… compassionate. Not like any other Imperial she’d ever met. He didn’t see her as merely a nonhuman, an alien… but as another person.

She had to do something. Hera tried to stand, but the trooper holding her in place jerked back on her lek. She growled in pain.

They had Eli tied up against the support beam, hands secured behind his back. There was a cloth tied around his mouth, muffling the protests he was obviously trying to make. The stormtroopers stood off about twenty meters, pulling up their slugthrowers.

She had to do something… anything…

And as if the stormtrooper grabbing onto her could read her mind, she felt another tug on her lek, this time hard enough that it forced her back to her feet. An armored arm wrapped around her chest, pinning her arm to her side, and grabbed onto her face. Forcing her to not turn away.

“You liked this one, didn’t you?” the stormtrooper said.

The ISB agent had initiated the recording sequence, and started rattling off some official sounding proclamation about how they’d captured Eli Vanto… traitor to the Empire, and his credentials allowing him to carry out the execution.

They had forgotten Eli was still wearing a prisoner’s uniform.

Eli’s face betrayed his feelings. He was panicking. He pulled fruitlessly at his binds, his jaw working against the gag in his mouth. There was no way he could say anything at the last minute, reveal any unwanted facts…

The stormtroopers were lifting their weapons.

And at that last moment, Eli accepted it. He stopped fighting, stopped resisting. He stood tall, chest lifted, shoulders square. Accepting that this was the end and-

The reports from the slugthrowers were far louder than what Hera expected. Her ears rang, momentarily deafening her. She couldn’t hear herself scream out.

Eli’s body slumped ungracefully to the ground. And remained there. Unmoving.

When her hearing returned, the agent was already scooping up his holorecorder.

“Gather up the prisoners,” a stormtrooper, one with an orange shoulder board, said to the stormtrooper holding her. “And get them to the shuttles.”

“Not yet,” the agent said. He was crouching next to Eli’s body. A wave of sickness swept over Hera as the man looked down at the other’s form. As though he had plans for it.

“I’ll be needing one of those Lambdas,” the agent explained, motioning to two of the stormtroopers to come help him…carry the body.

“I thought we were getting off this rock,” the sergeant said.

“Not yet,” the agent answered. The two stormtroopers who had come over at the agent’s beacon had hauled Eli up, and the agent reached over, touching his neck.

“There’s a world in this system which has cropped up on the ISB radar for running a slaving operation,” the agent said. “Mining, apparently. I’m going to go find out if they pay as handsomely as they’re rumored to for fresh meat.”

Hera snapped her head up. Meat? That was even more vile than-

“So that’s why you had us use the training ammunition?” the sergeant of the stormtroopers asked. “So you’d look like you were carrying out the execution and instead-”

“Make a little money on the side?” the agent asked. “Exactly.”

Hera’s eyes darted to Eli again, examining him… and it was true. He wasn’t bleeding. Slugthrowers were infamously gruesome weapons, tearing holes into its victims and causing them horrifically hemorrhaging wounds… and if he’d been shot by seven…. But there was no blood. It’d been a ruse.

Eli wasn’t dead.

Chapter Text

“Fire.”

The word warbled over the holoprojector, just as it had all the previous times Thrawn had watched it, but the reaction he felt had not been dulled through repetition. There was still the illogical call from the back of his mind, a cry out to the universe for something to happen. For events to change. Of course they didn’t.

And just like all the previous times the recording had played, Eli braced himself at those words. The terror in his eyes still wild, but his body went rigid, assuming the position of attention, as though he preferred not to die struggling. It mattered little.

His body went slack, his torso slumping forward, jolted momentarily from his fall by the hands still bound behind him, before his knees folded and his entire body crumpled onto the ground.

The recording was finished there, and since Thrawn could still not find the heart to raise his hand and stop it, it merely restarted once more from the beginning.

“This is Imperial Security Bureau agent 045, calling upon ISBR 600-20, granting me authority under provision 12 to carry out executions in the name of the Empire.”

Whomever the voice belonged remained out of shot, though Thrawn could envision a smile on the man’s face. It was evident on his words. An unexpected turn of events. He is pleased.

Eli struggled against the swarm of stormtroopers manhandling him into position. He’d already known what was going to happen before the recording started. Eli started to say something – Thrawn could grasp his voice out of the multitude, but a strike landed on his torso, driving the air from his lungs. Thrawn could see him gasping for air, before a rag was tied around his mouth. Eli immediately set to remove the thing. Thrawn watched him work his jaw against it, quickly giving it up as futile and trying to rub it out of position with his shoulder. His desire to communicate overwhelms his desire to be free.

What Eli’s muffled protests were meant to say, however, Thrawn could only guess.

“The accused is Commander Eli Vanto, formerly of the Imperial Navy, the primary suspect of life-threatening actions taken against the ISD Chimaera named by Grand Admiral Thrawn.”

Eli shook his head at those words – either from a sense of betrayal or because he refused to believe it, Thrawn couldn’t tell. The stormtroopers were walking away by that point. Eli’s hands were secured behind his back.

“Raise weapons.”

Eli’s struggle became a full body attempt to pull free from his restraints, throwing his shoulder forward, wrenching with all his force against the binds. The restraints must not be metal for him to believe he has a chance. Or else he can no longer think logically.

“Fire.”

And once again, Eli stopped struggling, stood tall at those words, the fear still flashing in his eyes but not wanting to die struggling. He doubled over at the impact of the weapon’s projectiles, his body falling onto the ground.

At last, Thrawn reached forward, and turned off the projector. His hand was trembling.

His mind mulling over the puzzles.

Thrawn had turned in his report only two hours earlier. That was their first mistake. The second was Eli’s clothes, or lack thereof. He was wearing the uniform of a prisoner. Somehow, over the week he had been missing from the Chimaera, Eli had been put into Imperial custody for breaking the law.

And during that week, no one had sought to inform Thrawn that his missing aide was found. Despite listing him as missing. Despite the Imperial protocols mandating that missing service members were to be searched for with all available resources. Thrawn felt a rumble in his throat as he growled low at the situation.

He had been maneuvered into naming Eli a traitor.

Thrawn looked back at the holoprojector on his desk, silent now that the recording had stopped. He reached for his datapad, eyes still locked on the projector.

Perhaps….

His fingers typed quickly, the results of his search coming up just as fast.

Description of wounds produced by slugthrowers.

There was a glimmer of hope. The recording made it hard to determine – the quality of the hologram was too low to analyze and Eli’s actions after he’d been shot too quick to see the impacts of the slugs clearly – but… there was a chance. Thrawn’s eyes darted quickly over the page-

Wounds penetrating the abdomen from projectiles are characterized by very little loss of blood.

Thrawn put the datapad down.

So that was it. Regardless of what had happened or why, it mattered little. Eli was dead.

The sound of hydraulics working open the door and Thrawn looked up, another growl low in his throat.

It was Governor Pryce.

She was walking into his office briskly but stopped as she made eye contact with him.

She made a faint huff of disgust, or disbelief, before asking, “What happened to your eyes?”

Thrawn stood up, the growl working its way into a full blown hiss. Not as though the human before him would understand the Chiss cultural implications of a hiss.

“Did you do this?” he asked instead in a low voice.

“Do what?” Pryce asked with that same tone of disgust. “I’m merely here to inform you that Grand Moff Tarkin has authorized my request for the 7th Fleet in assisting me rid Lothal of the Rebel insurrection. You are to report immediately.”

“I will alert my crew-”

“No need,” Pryce cut him off. “Your crew has been replaced.”

This time, the gravity of social or political repercussions couldn’t hold back his hiss.

“It’s standard Imperial procedure,” Pryce said stiffly, the explanation coming too rapidly to her lips. “You accused a high level member of your crew of espionage-“

“Two. Hours. Ago,” Thrawn said, taking steps around his desk. He must have looked menacing, for Pryce took a small step back at his approach.

“And you are docked at an Imperial ship yard,” Pryce said. Again, her explanation came too rapidly for Thrawn’s liking. “With dozens of similar ships with similar crews. And here I thought you would appreciate the way I was able to handle the bureaucratic side of things, unlike-”

“Eli.”

A smirk grew on her face, causing Thrawn’s blood to boil. “Ah yes, Eli. Do you call all your subordinates by their given names? Sounds a little too unprofessional for a Grand Admiral of the Imperial Navy, perhaps a change of crew is for the best after all. Though you clearly thought he was special. It seems as though you’ve spent a considerable amount of energy to keep him assigned to you. Even at the risk of your career. Or your life? Frankly, I’m surprised you accused him at all, seeing how close you were. Perhaps you saw he’d outgrown his usefulness.”

Thrawn’s eye narrowed. There was far too much innuendo being thrown around. Too much resentment. And Pryce… she was benefiting from all of it. “Is that why you had him-”

“Me?” Pryce asked. “What evidence do you have that I’ve had a hand in anything? Don’t forget, Grand Admiral, that if you want to throw around accusations, you have to have proof. You didn’t learn your lesson after Bataan.”

Thrawn set his jaw. Things were too well timed, working too well in Pryce’s favor. But actual proof? He had nothing, and Pryce knew it. Outmaneuvered again.

“That’s more like it,” Pryce said. “Now, as I said. Take command of this ship and bring us to Lothal. The only task you need to worry yourself with now is to eliminate the Rebels for me.”

She turned and walked away. Thrawn could feel his skin crawling.

“He was executed wearing the uniform of an Imperial prisoner,” Thrawn called after her. Pryce slowed her step, as if considering a retort. She didn’t have an answer ready. Thrawn could feel his heart slamming against his ribs in anger. It was clear. The forces working against him had overlooked it.

“And I suppose you would have rather it been you?” Pryce asked. “It very well could have been. You probably haven’t figured it out yet, but one needs to pull a lot of strings and call up a lot of favors to keep you out of prison.”

That was not the answer Thrawn expected.

“Missed that bit of news, did you? Very well. While you were moping over your star destroyer, the Senate passed a law, making relationships between humans and nonhumans illegal, and before you interrupt me, remember that I warned you about the enemies you’ve developed and how they would do anything to see you fall?

“But sleeping with your aide? You practically gave them a free shot.”

“There’s no-”

“Proof? Of course there is. You don’t think your enemies would make such a bold move and not have evidence. There are still eyes behind closed doors.”

Thrawn was silent for a moment. He refused to either confirm or deny her claims. Instead, he muttered, “He didn’t have to die.”

“You killed him, Grand Admiral, and don’t forget that.”

She left the room quickly, leaving Thrawn alone with his thoughts.

They were thoughts he did want to explore. He had a job to do now. He stepped toward the door.

As he moved, Thrawn caught his reflection on one of the works of art opposite his desk. It stopped him in his tracks. A face he didn’t recognize stared back at him from the reflective surface. Or more specifically, eyes he didn’t know. Pink irises stared back at him… features he’d hardly known he had.

He closed his eyes. He had heard of this before but never seen it. Merely dismissed it as a romantic exaggeration out of Chiss legend. But it was true. A product of grief. The light in his eyes had gone out. The glow dulled.

He stepped out of his office.

Chapter Text

Hera was barely seated on the bench in her new prison cell for more than a handful of minutes when her rescue arrived.

Thank the stars for Jedi intuition.

Hera didn’t expect to be rescued so soon. The past few hours had been a complete whirlwind.

First there had been the would-be execution of a new-found friend, and the shock at discovering the execution had been faked. The ISB agent had then left the prison with an unconscious Eli in tow, and Hera silently kept half a mind on how long they were gone – if she was going to rescue him, she would need to know how far away this slaving operation was from the prison planet - all while staying as close to character as she could. The Imperials never suspected her of anything more than what she appeared to be.

The ISB agent returned hardly an hour later, Eli Vanto-less and considerably more cheerful. And then the sloppy shut down of the prison began in earnest – Hera couldn’t believe how quickly all the prisoners were herded into the two shuttles. The Imperials were certainly happy to leave.

Which meant Eli had been right. He’d been on the verge of admitting that the entire secrecy of the prison had somehow been because of him. Once the prison was abandoned? That suspicion was all but confirmed.

Your precious Grand Admiral.

That’s what the ISB agent had said. But surely that was some kind of exaggeration. An alien grand admiral, in the Imperial Navy? Hera had never heard of such a thing. Yet Eli had been in the prison because he broke the interspecies relations law. And he was human. And an Imperial officer.

She didn’t have much time to mull over the details. Before she knew it, Hera found herself back on the Mid-Rim planet this whole escapade had begun on, thankful that her chances of escaping on her own had increased a thousand fold.

Of course, Kanan coming to the rescue was even better.

She scrambled quickly to her feet as the permacrete crumbled inwards into the small room. Before the dust had cleared, before lightsabers could even be closed down, Hera was already stepping out into the sunlight.

“Kanan!” Hera said, forgetting for a moment the thoughts which had been consuming her mind, thankful that she was at last enveloped in his arms. Being apart under such uncertain circumstances, even if only for a week, made her appreciate his hug even more.

She pulled him in for a kiss, breaking the interspecies relations law as lavishly as she could.

But it couldn’t last. It was time to move.

The guards were slow to react to the prison wall getting cut down – dulled to complacency by their trouble-free world – but that didn’t make them completely stupid.

After a mad dash across town, dodging through crowded squares and bare alleys, Hera was once again home. Surrounded by familiar sounds and smells and feels as she climbed up into her pilot’s seat onboard the Ghost. She hardly noticed Kanan sitting down in his own chair beside her as she flicked switches and grabbed at the stick.

It wasn’t until they were in space and the blue curtain of hyperspace fell down over the windshield that either dared to talk.

“Hera, I’m sorry,” Kanan started, his voice low.

“Sorry for what?” Hera asked.

“I can’t begin to imagine what you went through… the mission, I-“

Hera cut him off, smiling warmly. “There’s nothing to apologize for. We all agreed on the plan. We just didn’t think the Empire would be so… specific on who they were arresting.”

Hera trailed off, remembering that the Empire’s strictly nonhuman protocol concerning whom to arrest in regards to the anti-interspecies relationship law wasn’t completely accurate.

“We need to go back,” Hera said, glancing down at her navcomputer. She had absentmindedly punched in the coordinates for Chopper Base on Atollon the moment they’d reached space, and now she reconsidered.

“Back where?” Kanan asked, clearly surprised.

“The prison planet,” Hera answered. “I made a friend there. The information he has could be very helpful to our cause.”

“Where do we begin?”

“I don’t know,” Hera admitted. She hurried on, as though an inconvenience like not knowing where to start a galaxy-wide search didn’t matter. “He was an Imperial officer. A human. The only human there. It sounds crazy, but he was the whole reason we were on that planet to begin with. Once they took him away, they shut the prison down. If we could find him, he would join our cause, we could-”

Kanan sighed. “Hera… I know you want to fix every wrong in this galaxy but… without a place to begin…”

Hera lifted her fingers from the navcomputer controls. Kanan was right, even if he didn’t say it. She had no idea where she’d been kept prisoner, and even less of an idea where Eli may have been taken. And as much as she felt guilt over not doing everything possible to rescue him after his willingness to work with her on their own escape attempt, there was nothing she could do without a place to start.

She just hoped wherever her friend had ended up, he would be able to endure it.

-SWR-

Eli was dreaming.

It was a good dream. He laid on his back in bed, Thrawn laying beside him. It felt like it lasted for an eternity and Eli was perfectly happy with that. And then the Chiss opened his eyes.

Eli couldn’t speak. He could feel a smile spread over his face, a smile that Thrawn returned in his own subtle way.

Thrawn rolled over, settling on top of Eli’s chest. The smile grew more sinister.

“Thrawn….” Eli murmured. The weight of his much larger lover was crushing. Eli struggled, realizing that it was getting more and more difficult to breath. “I can’t-”

“You have outlived your use to me,” Thrawn whispered, a hand slowly wrapping around Eli’s neck.

“No…”

“You know too much,” Thrawn said again. The hand squeezed around Eli’s windpipe. “You must be silenced.”

Eli woke with a shuddering gasp, his chest heaving – which prompted an immediate lightning-like flash of pain to engulf his chest. He wrapped his arms around himself, wincing as he fought through the pain, thankful that it dulled down once he got a handle over his breathing.

He opened his eyes, taking in his surroundings.

He was laying on a cold stone floor in a dark room. The suffocating pressure in his chest drew his attention once more to himself – there really wasn’t much else to the room – and was taken aback by the orange jumpsuit he was wearing. A prisoner’s uniform….

Eli’s lapse of memory was only temporary.

He pushed himself up to a seated position, hissing through his teeth as the white hot pain again tore through his chest.

He gingerly unzipped the front of the uniform and lifted his undershirt. He expected to see a half dozen holes puncturing his body, and was surprised to see great black bruises splotched over his torso instead.

His ribs were undoubtedly broken, but his skin? Not so much.

What the hell happened to me?

Eli glanced around himself.

And what the hell has happened to me since?

He was alive. That was pretty much the only thing he was certain of. But hadn’t he been executed? Hadn’t Thrawn-

Eli winced.

No… Thrawn wouldn’t have ordered his execution. Eli winced again. Or would he? Hadn’t Thrawn hinted that he would do anything to achieve his goals? He’d always prized loyalty and honesty… but that didn’t mean he would be loyal himself… did it? What if Thrawn had been faced with arrest… what if he arranged for Eli to take his place for breaking this interspecies relations law? Thrawn might have done that… if it meant he wouldn’t be deviated from his path.

Eli’s eyes began to sting and he raised a hand to rub his eyes.

Stars, you’re pathetic.

The entire thing could have merely been set up to appear this way. Eli had no way of knowing. And he wasn’t going to get manipulated into siding against Thrawn until he had solid proof that the Chiss had been using him.

Eli steeled his will, once again mentally confirming that until he knew more, he was with Thrawn until the end.

Now to figure out where he was.

Eli zipped up his uniform, carefully since any time he lifted his arms, the lightning-sharp pain would return with a roar. Wherever he was, Eli could only hope it was meant to be a temporary holding cell. It was small, and windowless. It was freezing cold.

“He-“ Eli called out, his voice instantly cut off. His hands flew to his throat, fingers tearing away at his neck, confused at the sudden electrifying pain cutting him off.

And felt a second spike of adrenaline as his fingers stumbled upon a collar around his neck.

Gasping, he tried to dig his fingers underneath the collar, to no avail. However it was fastened, it left no room for prying fingers to remove it. He felt blindly around his neck – somehow… someone had attached this thing to him. Directly over his windpipe, the metal protruded slightly…

Eli closed his eyes, wincing in preparation.

“I-”

Again, the electrifying pain igniting on either side of his windpipe - all but cut off his ability to breath, silencing him immediately. He coughed once the electric shock was finished, gasping for air. That was painful. But it confirmed his suspicions. This thing around his neck kept him from speaking. He could cough and it wouldn’t get triggered. It was meant to control him. And if it was triggered when he spoke, Eli was pretty sure that there were other ways to trigger the thing.

But… why.

Where was he?

This flew in the face of every Imperial regulation in the book on how to detain prisoners. Eli rolled his eyes. Then again, he seemed to be confronting a lot of inconsistencies in Imperial protocol.

The door to his cell opened, and Eli shielded his eyes from the suddenly painfully bright light.

The silhouette rumbled something – Eli realized it was probably a command – but all he could understand was an animal type grunt.

Eli didn’t respond. The silhouette ignited an electro-whip, barked another command in its alien language. Eli couldn’t understand and pressed himself into a corner. Had it heard him talking? Was it wanting him to shut up?

The electro-whip snapped.

“Ow-“ Eli started, forgetting completely the repercussions for talking, gagging at the pain in his throat. All he could do was curl up in a ball. It wasn’t the right answer.

The light all but silhouetted whatever creature it was that was in his cell with him now. It made a strange, throaty, growly type command. Eli stayed where he was, laying curling up on the floor. Don’t resist… show this thing you’re not a threat.

The alien made the same command again, grabbing Eli’s arm roughly and pulled him to his feet. Eli yelped in pain – the jerking of his arm absolutely crippled him as a fresh wave of pain rippled over his chest, the yelp triggering the electric shock at his throat as well.

Eli’s knees could barely hold him up as he was slammed into the wall outside his cell. I guess we’re leaving, Eli thought to himself.

He glanced up as the alien followed him into the hall. Eli felt his knees weaken further. It was a Zygerrian.

Panic engulfed him as he recoiled from the feline-like face growling at him. An alien… no alien would ever be allowed to run an Imperial facility. And Zygerrians… they were notorious for being slavers.

Did that mean… he was a slave?

The Zygerrian said something else. Eli shook his head, realizing too late it probably didn’t convey his inability to understand and instead made him look resistant.

The Zygerrian shoved Eli in the back, coaxing him forward. Okay then, Eli thought to himself. Forward we go.

But where was he going? Eli was too nervous to even explore the possibilities.

-SWR-

The Chimaera was in orbit above Lothal, their guests already gathered, and still Thrawn hesitated to meet them. He would have to. There was no avoiding it. But the issue of fighting the Rebellion was a painful thorn in his side, hurting all the more in light of what had transpired to bring him here.

The ride in the elevator to the bridge was silent. Pryce glancing over at him a handful of times. Thrawn could tell she was growing increasingly irritated, but he remained silent.

“The sulking had better wrap up soon,” Pryce muttered under her breath as the doors opened.

Thrawn didn’t answer. There was nothing to say. Pacified and silenced… Thrawn set his jaw and followed her out onto the bridge.

“I’m certain Governor Pryce is overestimating how organized the resistance is,” that was the voice of Admiral Konstantine. “While its true there are pockets of rebellion, there has never been any evidence of a larger-scale, galaxy wide operation.”

Time to step out of the shadows.

“And I would like to keep it that way, Admiral Konstantine,” Thrawn said.

“Grand Admiral Thrawn,” that was Tarkin, announcing his presence. The other human recoiled, looking him up and down. That disgust Eli had spent years teaching him to recognize… Thrawn closed his eyes momentarily.

“Grand Admiral?” Konstantine said. Clearly in disbelief. Clearly repulsed at the very thought of an alien superior.

“The Emperor recently promoted me after my victory at Batonn,” Thrawn supplied the reason without much feeling.

“Civilian casualties outnumbered the insurgents,” the other human at this meeting said, before quickly adding, “at the time,” as though quick to hide any suspicion of traitorous thoughts. As though an Imperial investigation would uncover a hundred thousand insurgents underneath the city and fix the ratios. Thrawn gave him a curious look, but Pryce stole his attention back.

“Acceptable margins, Agent Kallus, for there are no longer rebels in that sector,” she said. Thrawn glared at her out of the corner of his eye. Keeping composure was almost impossible.

After everything this woman had done, every scenario she manipulated… the collateral damage Thrawn had spent his entire career avoiding… the blame that had fallen on his shoulders for the attack – of course she would view such things as acceptable. But by extension placing the same acceptance upon himself…

“Well, Thrawn,” Tarkin, perhaps sensing the tension, diverted their attentions back to the task at hand, “What do you think of Governor Pryce’s theory about the rebels in the Lothal sector?”

Thrawn had no heart to put into his analysis. He went through the data mechanically. Even if he’d made some good connections, the dull ache in his chest reminded him that Eli wasn’t next to him… he wouldn’t hear the human chuckle at his insight. Thrawn was painfully aware that those human eyes weren’t watching him now… only cold, manipulative players in this game.

The meeting was over, and Admiral Konstantine all but fled from his presence the moment he could. The ISB agent, Kallus, followed quickly enough, as though he had some urgent report to give. Pryce remained at his side, a smirk on her face. Thrawn could only guess what she was thinking. He wouldn’t ask.

“It’s come to my attention that you’ve recently ordered the execution of your long-time aide,” Tarkin said. To Thrawn, it was another trial of agony to be reminded of it, for surely he would be asked to comment on it? A topic he’d prefer to never talk about again, and no amount of goading from another human would convince him to reveal any of the anger or pain he was feeling.

Thrawn’s face remained as deadpan as ever as he answered simply, “I did.”

“All for the best,” Tarkin said, either not noticing the finality in Thrawn’s statement or not caring. “We really cannot afford for you to have such distractions as you begin work on our operation to rid the galaxy of this rebel threat.”

Thrawn set his jaw firmly, fighting back the hiss that was awakening in his throat. Distraction. Is that what this was about?

Thrawn had worked out that the entire thing has been a ruse from the very start. The Empire had made its’ mistake in remaining inconsistent.

For Pryce to confirm that Eli had been arrested for this interspecies relations law meant that Imperial agents had taken him away. Eli hadn’t fled, hadn’t defected to the Rebels. Which would logically mean that the device which crippled his ship and knocked out his computers was a safeguard against Thrawn following them.

And now… now another agent working against him was laying bare his own hand in the matter. Thrawn wanted to lash out, but the deed would gain him nothing. Eli was dead, and nothing would bring him back now.

To what end all of this was being done to him, Thrawn would wait and find out.

“Governor Pryce has said as much as well,” Thrawn continued in his steady voice.

“Good,” Tarkin said. “I trust you are up to the task at hand.”

“I am not sure the Empire would have worked so hard to put me in this position if it considered I was not worth the effort,” Thrawn answered coolly. The two men stared at one another. Thrawn betrayed no emotion on his face. He could tell Tarkin’s eyes were searching his own… trying to find any underlying resentment.

“Then I expect I’ll be hearing from you again soon,” Tarkin said. “With the kind of results I’ve been demanding from this sector for the past year.”

Tarkin threw a glance at Pryce, who seemed unsure how to react. Thrawn merely bowed his head slightly as the older man removed himself from his bridge.

“You had better get me those results,” Pryce added under her breath to Thrawn.

“Or?” Thrawn asked, turning so he could face her.

"Or what?" Pryce asked, clearly not following.

“Governor Pryce, you cannot threaten someone once you've taken away the only things you may have been able to use against them.”

He didn’t trust himself to keep his anger in check, so he stepped off the bridge as quickly as he could. Pryce, thankfully, did not follow.

They will be the architects of their own destruction, Thrawn had said of the Rebellion. But it seemed that other enemies were just as willing to fall into traps of their own design.

Chapter Text

Eli was about to panic.

He had hoped that maybe this was another prison. Just worse. Darker. Dirtier. Once the Zygerrian shoved him outside, his hope was snuffed out.

It was a slaving operation alright, peopled almost exclusively by Togrutas, from what Eli could tell. Hardly any of the others so much as glanced up as Eli walked amongst them. They looked starved. Worked half to death.

Eli struggled to swallow his panic, a subconscious effort to slow his breathing. But it didn’t help. He’d never actually been to a slaving site before. His only encounters with slavery were intercepting vessels shipping slaves from one location to another. Or breaking up slave markets.

This place? This place was much worse than anything he’d ever seen – and he’d once thought what he had been exposed to was horrific.

This time, though, he wouldn’t be sweeping down for a rescue. He was going to have to endure the horrific part himself.

Eli steadied himself, even though he could feel his shoulders rising and falling with each breath. He was smarter than this… he could think of a way out. What was this place? He glanced around, taking note of what the other slaves were doing. Okay… A mine…

He had no experience at all with mines. But… he was good with numbers. Whatever this place was using slaves to produce, the operation needed an accountant.

If Eli could communicate that to his guard… somehow convince them how valuable he could be. More valuable than a mere laborer, at any rate. Valuable enough that he wouldn’t need a collar… dutiful enough that he could be trusted. And once a back was turned, he could make his escape.

They were heading toward a shaft. The moment of truth - he couldn’t let himself be taken underground. It was now or never. Eli turned to the guard.

Now, how to tell them I’m good with numbers without actually saying so…?

Eli looked up at the Zygerrian, hoping to catch his eye. Eli should have known better. No guard wanted a slave bold enough to look at him. Before Eli could even try to mimic counting, he was on the ground. Pinpricks of light danced around in his vision.

His throat burned, so he must have yelped out in surprise in order to ignite the electric shock… but… stars Eli thought. He ran his tongue over his teeth, figuring he just got half of them knocked out on account of the pain throbbing in his jaw. Thankfully that wasn’t the case… Eli winced, wiping at his face and balking at the blood he saw on his hand.

He couldn’t even recall what had happened. Got punched, probably. Hit harder than he’d ever been hit in his life. And when he glanced around… they were already in the lift. Descending into the mine.

The Zygerrian looked down at him, growling again. Eli had learned enough of a lesson and quickly diverted his eyes to the ground.
The further down the lift took them, the hotter the air became. Stuffier. Eli sneezed, and kept his face buried in the crook of his elbow, as though waiting for the proper polite response from his Zygerrian guard before realizing how grossly out of his element he was.

When the lift doors opened again, Eli didn’t wait for a shove into his back to scramble to his feet. Although deeper into the shaft was the last place he wanted to go.

It was dark. Night level dark. A small string of lights led the way deeper into a long, roughly hewn underground tunnel. And the air. It was heavy with dust and a smell… not just of rocks and earth but…. Of disease. And death.

Eli hesitated in his steps, getting another shove from behind. He tried not to look at the other slaves as he passed, but… a macabre fascination with his own fate made it impossible not to stare. They were skeletons. Their faces hallow. Their montrails shriveled. And the work. They were holding pick axes…

Another stab of terror - pick axes. Eli continued to walk up the line, eyes darting from slave to slave to slave, and they were all wielding them. Lifting the tools high up in the air and striking the rock wall… Eli would never be able to do it… not with his ribs the state they were in.

By the time that realization hit him, he was already getting shoved into a spot inbetween two Togrutas. The Zygerrian yelled something at him – grabbing a handful of his hair and pressing his face into the rock wall, barking some kind of instruction. Apparently this was where he was going to work… And then his own axe was shoved into his chest – Eli coughed pathetically at the blow – and the guard walked away.

Eli started to breath rapidly, wincing again. Get a grip…. There were other guards walking up and down the line, so just curling up in a ball wasn’t an option. But the axe… he would never be able to wield it…

“Get to work,” one of the roving guards growled in accented Basic, pointing his electro-ended spear at Eli.

Eli wheeled around, looking at the wall, his hands tightening defensively around the handle of his pick axe. He carefully tested how high he could lift the axe before his chest hurt too badly, but even then, he had no strength to put behind his swing. His broken rib wouldn’t allow for it. When he swung, the axe merely bumped innocently against the rock face… doing absolutely nothing to it in the process.

The guard must have thought he was being inefficient on purpose. The electric shock in his back confirmed it.

Eli slammed his jaw tight, redirecting his urge to yell by forcing his teeth together as hard as he could, until he’d ridden the wave and the pain subsided.

“Get to work,” the alien demanded, and again, Eli couldn’t manage to lift the pick axe to anything above his belly button. He was fully prepared for another jolt, but instead, the guard laughed. A delighted laugh. A cold shiver ran up Eli’s spine.

“If you don’t meet your quota, you’re going to wish you’d never been born,” the Zygarrian said.

And once again, panic flooded Eli with adrenaline. He patted at his side, somehow imaging this would clearly tell the guard his rib was broken and he couldn’t do the work. Maybe… maybe if he was too injured to do this job, they’d have to find another job for him to do – one where he could work out a way to explain how good he was with numbers and bookkeeping…

The guard laughed again.

“Oh, we know,” the guard said, stepping forward and pressing a hand against Eli’s ribs – right where they had been broken. Eli backed up instinctively, but had no where but the wall to run into. The agony seared through his chest, and between fighting the urge to yell and the excruciating pain which made his ears throb, it was a miracle he even heard what the Zygerrian said next.

“The one who sold you to us was unhappy we inspect our goods,” the Zygerrian growled, his fanged teeth bared in pleasure. “He did not get so much as he wanted, damaged like you are. So he tells us you are Imperial. You used to bust up slaving operations. Like ours.”

The fanged smile broadened.

“So we tell him, we pay full amount, and we will be taking very good care of you.”

-SWR-

Thrawn kept up with the façade until he got back into his office. But once he was alone? The rage burned right through his cool exterior.

He walked into the workout room adjacent his office, ripping off his white tunic and approaching his assassin droids. Eli certainly would not have approved of such a suicidal exercise, but he was no longer here to stop him.

“Activate,” Thrawn said simply, assuming a defensive stance.

The droids came to life and so the deadly game began.

Unfortunately, the accident Thrawn was hoping for - the slip of attention, the momentary lapse in judgement, the possibility of being overwhelmed by two attacks happening simultaneously - did not occur. The sparring lasted ten minutes before Thrawn gave the deactivation code and the droids and their deadly abilities went silent.

Winded from the exertion, Thrawn walked back into his office, his mind clearer now that some of the fire of rage had been spent.
Yet his thoughts only brought him more confusion.

There was no logical reasoning behind anything that had happened. Had he ever shown any hint of disloyalty? All they had to do was order him to fight the growing Rebellion, and he would have been prepared to do his duty. As he had always done.

Something has occurred to change the game.

Was this all a form of punishment? Thrawn mulled over anything he could have done to warrant such actions to be taken against loyal members of the Navy, only settling upon his confrontation with the Emperor about the Death Star. But that meeting had ended amiably enough. Or perhaps it hadn’t. Humans were still difficult to figure out.

Then perhaps it was Eli. Was he truly deemed what Tarkin had called him - a distraction? Yet Thrawn had gone from success to success with Eli a constant by his side. It would seem illogical to suddenly consider his presence a hinderance.

The fight against the Rebellion must be different then.

But… to target Eli?

Governor Pryce’s words echoed in his mind. You killed him. Perhaps all his enemies had intended was to keep Eli out of the way. An incentive to complete the task quickly.

But no… there was more than that. Thrawn had been maneuvered into implicating Eli… the Chimaera had been attacked. An after-incident report was demanded. And even if he didn’t specifically state that Eli was a traitor deserving of execution, the report itself suggested he was a primary target.

Thrawn winced. He had recommended Eli be found, apprehended, and questioned. Whoever had him – and someone had him – used that report’s phrases loosely. They wanted to get rid of Eli, or else wanted to leave their situation.

Thrawn pondered that idea for a moment. What kind of situation would someone who has captured an Imperial officer find themselves in? An entirely unpleasant one… It would have to be a holding facility. In an uncomfortable, lonely place.

Yes… that was it. Thrawn could feel the rising excitement in his mind, the kind of rush he could only get by puzzling through a problem. That’s why these agents used the electromagnetic device. They could not afford to be tracked. They used it so I could not follow. Which means wherever they were going, I could deduce their location based on the vector they left from. A lonely planet… a far flung system. Or a world abandoned since the Clone Wars… a place the agents were eager to leave. Which would mean very little amenities, if any at all. No entertainment… perhaps even a holding facility only constructed for the purpose of keeping Eli-

Thrawn caught himself.

It no longer matters.

Nothing he could figure out would change the fact that Eli was gone.

Thrawn shouldn’t have allowed a relationship to form in the first place. True, he found himself absolutely charmed by the human’s wit, and he was intelligent, hard-working, honest, loyal - traits Thrawn valued in a partner above all. As for Eli… Thrawn’s attention and concern for his improvement seemed to be a completely foreign concept for him. He had become smitten rather quickly, once his initial fear and resentment wore off, and Thrawn saw no harm in cultivating a deeper relationship.

For even though Thrawn thought he was prepared for the loneliness his mission would entail, the truth was that he was not. The world he found himself was far more cruel and hostile than he’d ever intended. And Eli…

It matters not, Thrawn reminded himself. Puzzling out what should have been would not serve him any longer.
No, his duty now was as it always should have exclusively been - to the Chiss and the Ascendency. He was a servant. A tool. His own life was only useful as far as it furthered the needs of his people. He was foolish to attempt a life independent of that.

There was a buzz at the door announcing the arrival of a visitor, and Thrawn, defeated once more, didn’t have the will to ignore it. He regretted his decision once the door opened.

It was Governor Pryce.
“And to what do I owe this honor, Governor?” Thrawn said mechanically. Pryce walked swiftly into the office as though she did not wish to be seen, a handbag swinging from her shoulder.

“I wanted to hear about your plans for the rebels,” Pryce said, turning around once she’d made it to his desk. Thrawn followed her, slowly, analyzing her actions. She was holding a small parcel, and she must have noticed the Chiss’s eyes lingering on it.

“You’ve missed dinner,” she explained, opening the top of the parcel. It was what she said it was – a simple dinner, not too far from something Eli would have gathered for him. Her attention to detail was both alarming and unnerving. Her desire to step into Eli’s place was growing more and more obvious.

Thrawn glanced at the chrono on his desk. He most certainly had lost track of time.

“I thank you, Governor,” he said, accepting the gift. “But it was unnecessary. I am not hungry.”
“You don’t trust me,” Pryce said bluntly.

Thrawn paused, perplexed by her forwardness.

“You don’t have to say it,” Pryce said. “I knew of political dealings meant to harm you, and you think I should have warned you about it. I kept quiet about my hand in the whole affair because the last thing I wanted was for it to appear as though I was seeking your favor.

“But that’s nothing a gesture like this will mend,” she gestured to the food. “But we are working together now. You’ll be no use to the Empire, or my own plans, if you collapse from exhaustion.”

Thrawn tilted his head, surprised by her forwardness. But she had made a strong point. Even admitting that much of what had happened ultimately benefited her was a hint that she recognized hiding her ambitions from Thrawn would do no good.

“Very well,” Thrawn said, sitting at his desk as Pryce took a seat opposite him. “And so, which part of my plans do you wish to discuss?”

Pryce, much to Thrawn’s surprise, had pulled out a small flask from her handbag and… poured herself a small glass of some amber liquid.

“I am off duty,” Pryce said when she noticed Thrawn’s reaction. Suddenly, she laughed. “Where are my manners? You always struck me as someone too serious to drink. Though perhaps with everything that’s happened over the last week, a drink is what you need.”

Thrawn glanced at her handbag, “You’ve brought glasses for two?”

“Always be prepared,” Pryce said, pouring him a glass before he had the chance to refuse. She slid it across the table, and much to Thrawn’s horror, had drained her glass before his fingers so much as touched his own.

Is she trying to get you drunk?

More than ever he wished Eli was here to explain human behavior. Perhaps this was a standard forgiveness ritual. Eli had frequently gotten drunk when upset or bothered by something. Or… Thrawn cringed inwardly… a female mating ritual.

But Pryce probably didn’t know Chiss were far better able to process alcohol than humans.

He was safe.

He drained his own glass.

Pryce studied him with what he could only guess was some kind of girlish fascination, “How does it taste?”

“I taste nothing.”

Pryce’s glass was already full again, this time with a turquoise liquor. “Oh, it’ll creep up on you.”

She drained the next glass and leaned back in her chair, “I am actually interested to hear your plans for how you will deal with Lothal.”

Thrawn noticed she hadn’t refilled his glass. So perhaps her intentions were not to get him drunk after all. Perhaps she had no ill will whatsoever.

“You are familiar with many of my previous operations,” Thrawn explained dryly. “This will be no different. As their actions have become less consistent over the past few months, we can assume the Rebels have been routed from Lothal and only conduct actions as they are able. First,” Thrawn paused to cough – he was rapidly becoming short of breath, “we will have to…discover where they have established a,” another cough, “base.”

Pryce showed no concern at all. If anything, she was becoming fascinated.

“I have been thinking over what you said,” Pryce said, the change of subject coming off unnaturally.

“Which things specifically?” Thrawn asked, having to cough out his words. “I’ve said a lot of things.”

A small smile appeared on Pryce’s face. “The warning you gave about not having anything left to lose.”

Thrawn could feel like an invisible hand was crushing his windpipe, constricting his ability to breath. His heart hitting each of its pumps with a jolt of pain.

“Oh, you don’t have to try so hard to remain dignified,” Pryce said. “I imagine it must be very painful.”

“What-?”

“Why, the poison you’ve drank.”

Thrawn could feel the sweat pouring down his face as he glared at her. The anger was short lived. He fell forward – an arm bracing against the desk the only thing keeping him from falling completely out of his chair.

“Does it hurt?” Pryce asked, the false concern on her voice grating. “No matter. Now that I have your attention, you can listen.

“You work for me. Whatever scheming you’re doing behind those red eyes, you will stop. I haven’t worked this hard to get to where I am for some heartbroken alien to plot revenge against me. The only thing you are going to do is wipe out this insurgency on Lothal.”

“You don’t want me dead…” Thrawn growled, slipping out of his chair at last. Pryce sighed in annoyance as she walked around to his side of the desk to continue her conversation.

“Of course I don’t want you dead,” Pryce said. “But I value the position I’ve gotten and my life far more than yours, and unlike you, when I make a threat, I make sure the seriousness of the bite doesn’t get lost in bark. Here,” she reached into her handbag and held out a small vial, filled with the same turquoise liquid she herself had consumed.

Thrawn didn’t want to look desperate, but he shoved himself to his feet. And… to his absolute shock and horror, Pryce pulled back her hand and slipped the vial down her shirt.

“What?” Thrawn stammered, halting in his tracks. “What are you doing?”

“I suggest if you want to live, you come get it,” Pryce said.

Thrawn didn’t even want to imagine the reasons behind her actions. And perhaps he was partly propelled by the impending shadow of death - his heart rate was spiking dangerously, his muscles shaking – that he no longer cared.

He didn’t care how he appeared – it was the furthest thing from his mind. Nor was he very caught up by his actions.

Within seconds he had the antidote. Pryce shoved him hard in the chest to break away, but it was a useless gesture. The moment Thrawn’s hands were on the vial, he had let her go. Thrawn fell gracelessly to the ground once more, but on top of everything else, falling on the ground was the least of his worries. He drunk the antidote behind his desk.

The anti-poison worked fast. Within seconds, Thrawn was standing again, clear headed.

Pryce was waiting for him, smirk on her face, backing away slowly, holding the front of her clothes closely together. They’d been ripped apart. Violently so. Thrawn could hardly care. Until Pryce started to laugh.

“That was just a little measure to make sure to don’t go reporting me,” Pryce said, backing away further. “Not that a toxicology analysis would reveal any foul play on my part. But I now have you on the security cameras accosting me, and I'm sure I don't need to elaborate the effects such an accusation would have on your career. For security reasons, you know, audio never gets recorded from your office. All they will see on the video are two coworkers having an innocent after-work drink and your unprovoked attack. ”

Thrawn hissed, so loudly that he even startled himself.

“Oh, yes, hiss,” Pryce said. “It’ll contribute nicely to my story.”

Thrawn closed his mouth, glaring at her with absolute hatred.

“Good,” Pryce said. “I’m glad we understand one another. Now, that secret rebel base you were looking for. I suggest you find it. And quickly. Tarkin demanded results, and I hate to keep him waiting.”

Chapter Text

Eli tried to meet his first quota. There was nothing in the Zygerrian guard’s promise to “take care” of him that didn’t fill Eli with the utmost sense of urgency. But with a broken rib, crippling levels of fear, and a ground-falling-out-from-beneath-him feeling he still couldn’t quite shake, he knew it was a doomed endeavor from the start.

Eli figured his “punishment” would be a beating of some kind. The guards carried around electro-whips for a reason. But the reality was far crueler.

First was the humiliation. Or the attempt at it by the guards. They made a big show out of bringing attention to Eli, asking the countless Togruta slaves if they knew their liberator had come down to save them only to wind up in the mine alongside them.

The Zygerrians thought they had found the perfect way to dishearten their slaves. “The Imperial came here to stop us, and look – we are so strong, we have enslaved him instead,” was the way they thought of it.

But the Togrutas believed differently, as Eli would come to find out. At the time, though, Eli tried to avoid the hungry, desperate eyes that followed him as the guards decided to parade him around like some kind of prize.

The second punishment was worse. Eli wasn’t the only one who hadn’t been able to meet the requirements. The Zygerrian guards walked up the line, and as they designated those who had failed, the pleads Eli heard sent a shiver up his spine.

And then it started. Not pain, not an electric shock at his throat, not what Eli was expecting. Instead, the guards went down the line, distributing food. When the guards reached those who had been singled out for not meeting their quota, they passed over them.

Eli stood in stunned silence at the unfairness of it all. They knew he was injured… that he couldn’t do what they asked, they knew – Eli bit back his anger and reminded himself to keep his indignation in check. He was a slave now. And no one cared what he thought was unfair.

Thankfully, the Zygerrians considered water more of a right than food. The fact that it had only been offered once at the end of the day hardly mattered to Eli in light of his hunger. The mine was hot, and Eli had been sweating – he could feel his bangs clinging to his forehead, and the dampness of his clothes sticking to his skin.

He drank all the water he could, until he felt nauseous from it.

Eli had no idea how long he was going to be able to keep this up.

“Sleep,” a Zygerrian voice commanded once the water had been distributed, and in unison, the Togrutas laid down on the bare rock, Eli quickly following their example lest he get singled out again. So they make us sleep on the ground? Eli thought in growing annoyance, and again, had to remind himself that a slave's comfort was not the slaver's concern. The string of lights above them turned off. And with the except of a lone roving guard, it seemed as though the work day was over.

Eli curled up as best as he could on the softest spot of rock he could find, his body trembling from exhaustion.

He could not sleep. On top of the dull aching of sore muscles, Eli’s entire body was quivering – his muscles had never been so overworked in his life. He felt as though his entire body was getting stabbed with thousands of sharp needles. The salt from his sweat had dried in his pores, hardening and ripping at his skin. Eli found himself scratching at himself to try to alleviate some of the pain, but there was no escape. Even his face throbbed – either from getting punched earlier or from the sheer exertion he’d been put through.

A shape loomed over him in the darkness, and Eli curled up even more.

“Are you really an Imperial?” a voice whispered. It was impossible to see anything in the darkness, but Eli knew it was one of the Togrutas. Her accent was different, for one.

Eli didn’t dare answer. For a moment, he was simply stunned to hear the others talk at all. He’d seen them all wearing similar collars. Unless… of course. He was probably the only one that couldn't talk. The Zygerrians surely didn’t want Eli ruining the “demoralization” by telling the other slaves their masters hadn’t won some victory huge against the Empire.

“You can’t talk?” the voice whispered.

There were other voices whispering. Apparently once the lights were out, a marginal freedom was gained.

Eli felt a hand touching his face and instantly recoiled from it.

“Shhhhh,” a voice whispered – a different voice. The hands cupped his head firmly, preventing him from breaking away. He had no idea what was going on, until he felt something press up against his lips. Again he recoiled, until he realized what it was – a morsel of food. He swallowed it without even chewing.

Again, and again, he accepted piece after piece of food, his eyes tearing up at the selflessness of those suffering around him. Eli could hear shuffling all around, and he could imagine the other slaves drawing nearer, handing forward the scraps they had hidden away for him.

“You can’t talk?” the first voice repeated once the food had run out, and Eli shook his head no.

Whoever was touching his face whispered, “He says no.”

“But you are an Imperial, right?”

Eli nodded, and heard the owner of the hands feeling his face for responses whispered, “He says yes.”

“And you were coming to save us?”

Nodding would be a lie, Eli knew, but if the Zygerrians were eager to perpetuate the lie, Eli wasn’t about to deny them.

“He says yes!”

A murmur of excitement whispered down the mine shaft.

“Is… anyone coming to save you?”

Eli didn’t know how to answer that. He thought immediately of Thrawn. And Thrawn would never give up. He would chase the clues… he’d figure it out… he’d find the ISB agent who had pretended to execute him – and surely Thrawn would figure out that it was all a ruse, right? – and Thrawn would get him to reveal where Eli was.

Eli nodded.

And so the Zygerrian’s attempt to demoralize their slaves was turned against them. The wave of relief from those surrounding Eli was nearly palpable.

“Don’t worry,” one of the voices whispered. “We’ll take care of you.”

And at that, Eli really did cry.

The next day, the Zygerrians decided swinging a pick axe actually wasn’t the best job Eli could do, and they moved him to pushing a mine cart. It was a much worse job psychically, as the cart got nearly too heavy for him to manage. But on the bright side, Eli got to eat every day.

Eli would find himself getting slipped a morsel of food – a sliver of bread crust or a cube of meat. He’d gulp it down without even tasting it, lest the guards find out. At first Eli couldn’t understand the altruism, and figured it would go away with time. It didn’t. Even if Eli had “failed” to save them, the Togrutas seemed be have an endless supply of gratitude that he was there.

Days turned into weeks, and Eli began to lose hope. If it wasn’t for that altruism, Eli was fairly certain he wouldn’t have survived the depression which consumed him. His thoughts began to dwell almost exclusively on Thrawn, and his heart would cry out to the universe every moment for his rescue to come.

And each night, when he was alone with his thoughts in the darkness, his exhausted body trembling, Eli would wonder - when was Thrawn going to figure out where he was and save him?

He refused to consider the other explanation for Thrawn’s lateness – that perhaps he wasn’t even looking for him at all.

-SWR-

Hera had all but pushed her brief encounter with Eli Vanto to the back of her mind.

There had been other missions, other obligations, and over the months, she even found herself thinking less and less often about her own imprisonment. That is, until she saw a blue-skinned, red-eyed alien wearing the uniform of an Imperial Grand Admiral standing within the halls of her childhood home.

“Who was that blue guy?” Ezra asked once they were safely in a lift.

“I… don’t know,” Hera said, her mind racing.

Her conversations with Eli had mostly been dedicated to plans for escape. When that topic wasn’t on the table, Eli seemed far more curious about her, and the Jedi than revealing anything about himself. Most of what Hera knew about Eli’s alien counterpart was from the taunts of the other guards and the ISB agent who had pretended to execute him.

your dear alien…your precious little Grand Admiral

Really, it narrowed it down fairly easily. Hera had no idea there even was an alien Grand Admiral in the Imperial Navy. The idea that there might be two of them was even more absurd.

But… Hera strained her memory. The ISB agent had also said that this alien had ordered Eli’s execution. Unless that had been a trick – something thrown together to get Eli to turn against his lover.

“Well… how are we going to get out of here?” Ezra asked, bringing Hera back to the present.

“There’s a secret exit on the lower level,” Hera said.

Escaping her Imperially-controlled home was their first priority, though Hera was getting increasingly curious about this alien Grand Admiral. He certainly didn’t look very happy from the brief impression Hera was able to get. And if he was resentful over what the Empire had done?

Perhaps he’d even be willing to consider defecting to the Rebellion.

-SWR-

Hera’s idea of asking Thrawn to join the Rebellion was short lived.

First was the fact that he had interceded when Captain Slavin had sent her away, effectively ending her escape. And asking for her opinion on “our Imperial occupation” made it sound like Thrawn still thought of himself as part of the Empire. Though at that point, Hera was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he interceded only because he wanted a chance to speak with her? Perhaps he hadn’t intended for Captain Slavin to follow them into his office?

Taunting her about the trials of her upbringing and revealing her actual identity was the point of no return. Hera glared daggers at the Imperial alien as he effortlessly worked out who she was by connecting her desire to steal a kalikori with the kalikori’s place in Twi’lek culture.

And then going even further and spelling out for Captain Slavin that she was his nemesis’s daughter? It was obvious Grand Admiral Thrawn had no intentions of being anything more than what he was – a tool of the Empire.

Even though he looked strained, and exhausted, and sounded like he was emotionally dead inside – even though he only sounded like he was actually thrilled to be alive as he was making connections about what her stealing the kalikori meant – Hera had made up her mind.

Either Thrawn had ordered the execution of Eli Vanto, or he simply did not care.

And that was painful to consider, too. The Eli Vanto she remembered was kind and gentle… what he’d ever seen in this blue monster was beyond her ability to comprehend. Unless he’d been led on… used as a tool to reach the pinnacles of power and was discarded when he became inconvenient. Or had merely been thrown into prison as a way to take Thrawn's place for breaking the interspecies relationships law.

Hera nearly considered saying something to the Grand Admiral as she dragged an unconscious Ezra into a detention cell. Something spiteful. Something to release the pressure of anger building up inside of her. But she held her tongue.

Even as Ezra came to… even as they made their escape. Even as the Ghost flew off of Ryloth back for the safety of the Rebel base, Hera’s thoughts were becoming singularly focused on a new mission.

She had to find out where Eli Vanto had been taken.

Hera had the feeling that they were going to need all the help they were going to get to bring this alien Grand Admiral down.

Chapter Text

Thrawn suspected Governor Pryce wouldn’t appreciate him answering Captain Slavin’s call for assistance in dealing with the insurgency on Ryloth.

What he didn’t expect was just how unreasonably upset about it she would be.

There were the reprimands he anticipated – he shouldn’t have gone on any mission without consulting her. His mission to bring Lothal under control was primary to any other Imperial entanglements going on around the galaxy. And even though Thrawn wanted to point out that Cham Syndulla and Hera Syndulla were father and daughter and thus did have something to do with Lothal, he held his tongue and accepted the onslaught.

But then her anger began to get unreasonable. She seemed hyper fixated on one issue above all others – that Thrawn had spoken with Hera. Not that she had successfully escaped. Not that Thrawn had taken something which belonged to her - Pryce didn’t even seem to notice the Twi’lek pilot’s kalikori standing prominently on display in his office.

No, what angered her was that they had held a conversation.
And while Thrawn stared at her, expressionless and unmoving as he received her verbal abuse, his mind was going at the speed of light.

What was Pryce threatened by? As inexpert as Thrawn would consider himself on female competitiveness, he got the feeling that it had little to do with Hera Syndulla herself. Pryce’s anger was not jealousy, but underneath the aggression, Thrawn could detect the finer notes of fear on her voice. So then - what information was Pryce afraid he may have gleaned from Hera?

What opportunity did I miss?

He was only spared from more of Pryce’s outburst by a beep from her commlink.

She nearly ripped a seam in her uniform tearing the device from her belt. “This had better be important!”

“It is.” Thrawn recognized Tarkin’s velvety voice. Pryce recognized it, too, and straightened up.

“Grand Moff Tarkin-”

“You may hold off on the pleasantries, Governor. A matter has arisen when requires your attention. Where are you?”

“In Grand Admiral Thrawn’s office-“

“Then I suggest you find a more private place. We need to talk.”

Pryce glanced up at Thrawn. His face betrayed no emotion, and from all appearances, he still looked like the defeated officer, too beaten by circumstances to suspect anything was amiss.

“Very well,” Pryce said, shutting down her commlink.

“When I get back,” Pryce turned her attention to Thrawn, “I want to hear more about what you are doing about Lothal and not about you rushing off to every officer’s call to try to get out from underneath me.”

“I believe an initiative to engage the local populace in activities to aid the Empire would be most beneficial to fostering a sense of belonging to Imperial progress rather than merely subjugated by it,” Thrawn answered mechanically, as if by rote, as if he didn’t understand Pryce’s order. “A factory, for example, or a-”

“A factory, a cordon, I don’t care what it is,” Pryce said, turning and leaving the room. “Just something.”

Thrawn waited nearly a full minute staring at the door before he moved to his desk, activating his datapad.

What information could Hera Syndulla possibly have that I would want? Thrawn narrowed his eyes. Or that Pryce does not want me to have?

His first idea he knew would probably lead to a dead end, but tried it anyways – he entered her name into a search engine, limiting the parameters of the search in the criminal databases to focus solely on those arrested under the Empire’s interspecies relationship ban. The results came up negative.

Thrawn’s fingers hesitated before he began typing out new letters, a curiosity he knew he should not allow to surface getting the better of him.

But when he had entered in Eli Vanto’s name, the results were exactly what he feared.

Information populated on the screen, along with a picture of his face.

Thrawn put the datapad down, glancing away.

He thought he’d want to see his face again. Thrawn didn’t think it would hurt. Not after all this time. Not as sharply as it did. Yet the voice inside his head which screamed for him to do something to solve the problem continued to scream. That constant drive to solve problems was once appreciated. In this instance? Thrawn thought logic would have done more to dull the pain. To accept things and move on.

But still… the urge to do something kept nagging at him.

Pryce didn’t want me talking with Hera… they had to have been captured together.

Thrawn chided himself for his behavior, but he reached for the datapad again, his eyes glazed over as he refreshed the search parameters, Eli’s face vanishing. And yet that hurt as well – the notion of him vanishing…

Thrawn winced. He had to maintain better control over his emotions.

Thrawn typed out a request to see all those arrested under the interspecies relationships law, singling out the females. He scrolled through the faces, quickly, pausing only momentarily any time a picture would show up with a Twi’lek’s telltale lekku.

And then… there she was.

A false name, of course. But it was unmistakably Hera Syndulla. So they were imprisoned together.

His eyes quickly skimmed the information. It was noted that “Esha Pala” had escaped confinement once she had been returned to her “home world” – the planet where she had been arrested. And from there, Hera jumped right back into the fight. Thrawn no longer had the heart to smile, though the irony that this world was still close enough to Lothal did garner his attention. They simply cannot stray too far from that world.

So… what to do with the knowledge that Eli and Hera had been imprisoned together? It could be assumed Eli would have recognized her – they had been on their way to Lothal to deal with Syndulla’s Ghost crew and Eli had reviewed the files as well. He was far better at recognizing differences between alien faces than other humans.

Then Eli might have made an approach…

Thrawn winced.

The only information he would get from Captain Syndulla was the information he already had. Eli Vanto was dead.

Perhaps Pryce wasn’t afraid of Hera saying anything to Thrawn. Perhaps she was upset because she didn’t like the idea of him seeking out information. Not that there was any information to gain, but afraid he might do something careless which would land him in trouble with the Empire and she would lose a valuable asset.

Thrawn put the datapad down.

He’d almost allowed himself to forget that in this world without Eli, that was all he was to those around him. An asset. An instrument. A pet project. The way he’d originally intended it to be.

He sighed and glanced back at the datapad. Hera Syndulla. The last connection he had to the one who thought of him as something more than a resource.
Thrawn briefly considered making a point of asking Hera about Eli next time he spoke to her – for he was certain there would be a next time. Perhaps merely speaking about it would be enough to quiet his mind, to give peace to this torment. But if Thrawn could hardly contain his composure sitting alone in his office and looking at a picture he knew he would find – what did he expect his reaction would be to listening to another describe Eli’s final days?

Thrawn cringed suddenly as an unexpected thought entered his mind – perhaps Hera had recognized him. Maybe she knew who Thrawn was… perhaps Eli had told her, described him… perhaps Eli had spent his final days imaging that Thrawn had had a hand in his imprisonment. Perhaps he thought of him as a monster.

And perhaps that was the reason Hera didn’t mention her having met Eli. Because she thought he was a monster, too.

No… Pryce had nothing to fear from Thrawn interacting with Hera again. That road led nowhere except to more pain.

-SWR-

Arhinda couldn’t believe what she was hearing. The commlink in her hand quivered, her hand shaking. It was not possible.

“Well… kill him then!” she blurted out. “An accident or… or something!”

She was reeling. It simply wasn’t possible.

“Yet an accident would rouse suspicions, would it not?” Tarkin asked, his voice reflecting the scowl Arhinda was sure was on his face. “You assured me that Grand Admiral Thrawn was so clever his assistance was essential to defeating the Rebellion. And yet you think he would simply overlook such a blatantly obvious silencing tactic?”

“This agent must be silenced,” Arhinda stressed.

She couldn’t believe it… apparently suspicions at the Imperial Security Bureau were raised when one of their agents returned to Coruscant, bragging about coming into a lot of money. Of course, ISB became suspicious and suspected he was involving with some sort of espionage.

After all, spy networks were known to offer unheard-of amounts of credits for information on the Empire. After a brief interrogation, the agent revealed that he had faked the execution of Eli Vanto, and instead sold him into slavery to make the extra credits.

He remained in ISB detention, his fate a highly guarded secret. Tarkin, with whatever methods he possessed, was able to hear about it.

“He could be looking into the case right now,” Pryce said, her heart hammering in her chest.

“It seems as though the plan you assured me was foolproof is unraveling at a rate you are unable to keep up with,” Tarkin said bitingly. “The Emperor had his own reasons for wanting Thrawn contained yet you told me I had to do everything in my power to protect him. Well, looks like he’s been protected but now it’s you who needs protection.”

Pryce didn’t trust herself to answer right away.

If Thrawn found out… if he found out Vanto was still alive… She couldn’t say it out loud, but she feared Thrawn would seek revenge. If not against the Empire, then certainly against her. Tarkin was right – she needed protection.

And if not? If she was protected? If Thrawn was denied his revenge, what then? Thrawn would do everything in his power to find Vanto. And if she tried to put a limit to his movements? She was sure he would defect, if it came down to it. And then how was she supposed to get Lothal back under control?

“Does he have any friends left at ISB?” Tarkin asked. Pryce was surprised by the question.

“I suppose Yularen…” she said. “Though he’s been instructed not to speak to Thrawn on this case, and I don’t believe Thrawn has even asked.”

“If he has no friends, then he has no access to information,” Tarkin said, voice once again smooth. “This slaving operation, though. I’ll have to send someone to keep an eye on it. It’s far too out of the way and far too small to reach Thrawn’s attention, but if Vanto is there, we need to ensure he remains there.”

Pryce narrowed her eyes. “Could… couldn’t we just… buy him back and kill him ourselves?” Yes… that was the only way. “Thrawn’s… been asking about a body,” she lied. “He’s let the matter drop for now but… he has brought it up.”

“Has he now?” Tarkin said. “Strange you haven’t mentioned this before.”

“What could I have done about it before?” Pryce asked. “But now we know where to find him… and bringing back a body… that would keep Thrawn from looking into this anymore.”

“And focus on ending the Rebel threat?” Tarkin said. “Very well, Governor Pryce. Once I secure the exact location from our ISB agent, I will send a contingent to go secure Vanto.”

The commlink clicked off, and Pryce smiled to herself. In fact, she smiled the whole way back to Thrawn’s office. And when she saw the blue alien’s blank, deadpan face staring back at her?

She smiled even more.

-SWR-

If Eli was being honest with himself, he would admit that he had absolutely no idea what he and the other slaves were even mining.

His existence revolved around pushing a cart up and down the length of the mine shaft, pausing every couple of feet to watch buckets full of rock get dumped into the cart. There never seemed to be anything worthwhile in the entire endeavor. But what did he know? Maybe Zygerrians really liked rocks.

His body paid the price for the Zygerrian’s geological fascination. Eli had torn off the sleeves to his prisoner’s jumpsuit, wrapping the fabric around his hands to try and protect them from the rusty metal sides of the cart. And while the uniform modification helped with keeping him cooler, he could also witness first hand how badly his body was suffering.

His arms began to lose their muscle mass fairly quickly. In time, they looked like sticks. Eli was glad he couldn’t see what his face looked like. He hadn’t been shaving, that’s for sure. And reflecting back on the times he and Thrawn had actually busted slaving operations? He imagined he was impossible to recognize.

Eli had lost all track of time. There were no days off, nothing to look forward to, nothing to break up the monotony. There were moments where he had to wonder if something had happened on the current day he was living in, or if it had happened weeks earlier. And as his concept of time slipped out of his grasp, he began to lose his sense of self.

But one day, something new happened.

The Zygerrians were excited. They were shouting in their own, snarling language, nearly jumping with joy. For a moment Eli was sure one of the slaves had died – but quickly pointed out to himself that he’d had to cart dead bodies out before and the Zygerrians were never this happy about it.

Eli pushed his cart closer. Curiosity made him forget the price for messing up at his job. He walked past buckets of rocks without so much as glancing at them. The Zygerrians were too preoccupied and didn’t care.

When Eli got close enough… when his eyes adjusted to the multitude of torches popping on around the discovery… when he could make out a seam of black stone gleaming from the dull rock.

Eli felt his knees give out.

The Zygerrians were too preoccupied to notice him.

But Eli was doubled over, sinking down to all fours, his pulse so rapid his head was swimming.

No…

It was doonium.

No, no, no.

This had been a doonium mine.

He and Thrawn had spent years chasing down doonium shipments. Tracking prices… tracking the sheer quantity of doonium being sold … the conclusion they reached about a massive Imperial building project. The realization that it had to be something new, because if it was the same old Star Destroyers being built, there would be no reason to keep it so secret…

The need for secrecy which meant the Empire couldn’t hire workers… workers that would need to be paid. Workers that could talk… the project which led to the Empire using slaves…

And now he had become a slave. Here. Mining doonium.

It wasn’t a coincidence.

He’d spoken out. He’d gotten angry. He’d been so furious at Thrawn for not taking the Empire’s hypocrisy seriously he’d nearly come to blows over it. And Thrawn never moved from his position – that there was something more important to fight… that he couldn’t lose his position now… over mere slaves…

Eli’s face contorted as he tried to hold back the pitiful sobs threatening to overwhelm him. But his emotional state was far too frail to hold back the avalanche. The first sob was a weird choked off sound as the electric shock alongside his throat cut off his breath. He ground his teeth together, trying to hold off the force smothering his body. He failed again.

Eli lost all his handling on logic and began clawing at his neck, desperately trying to find a way to rip that collar off. The cruelty of being unable to cry was more than he could bear.

The Zygerrians were beginning to shout orders again, but Eli was a million miles away. Even when Eli felt the sudden sting of the electro-whip snap across his shoulders. Even then, he kept ripping away at his neck.

Eli gave the whip the attention it deserved far too late to help himself.

His fingers finally fell away from his neck, his chest heaving from exhaustion and pain, a fresh sting lashing over his back. But he was spent… his anger gone… his fear gone… only an aching sense of betrayal remaining.

“Load the cart!” a voice ordered.

Eli decided right then and there he didn’t care how painful it would be. He was done.

“Go on! Get moving, slave!”

He had almost not heart to shielding his body. He was curled up in a ball, yes, arms wrapped around himself. He felt the pain of their beatings, yes, but… it wasn’t enough to stir him. His heart was dead. The only thought which crossed his mind was why. What had he done wrong?

Someone grabbed his leg and dragged him – where, Eli didn’t really care – but he was sure it was out of the way of the cart. Someone else would have that fate now. Either the guards assumed his lack of response to pain meant he was already dead or they figured he would die soon and wasn’t worth the effort anymore.

In the end, it didn’t matter.

Eli curled a hand over his shoulder, desperate to comfort himself, his other hand cupping the back of his head. Even if his hands were sticky with blood, he ran his fingers through his hair… it was something Thrawn used to do… when he was upset…

Eli cringed, the pressure was building up in his chest again.

That was why he hadn’t been rescued. It was why he’d suffered here for so long. There would be no rescue. No escape. Just a life of darkness and pain and hunger… and that wasn’t a life at all.

And so Eli Vanto laid alone in the dark and waited to die.

Chapter Text

“…….Eli…… Eli Vanto….”

Eli came to slowly, the sound of his name like a wave pounding against his frail body, something crashing into his consciousness which he couldn’t ignore. He opened his eyes.

Everything was fuzzy – he could sense more than see figures around him. The Togrutas were moving around excitably and he couldn’t focus on any of them long enough to understand what was going on.

The sounds were fuzzy, too. Screams… or just… whatever it was, cheers? Eli felt it more like waves of sound rumbling against his ears and not like hearing the sounds themselves.

No… that didn’t make any sense…

Eli winced, trying to clear his mind. Why was he awake?

There it was again – an echo in the dark.

“Eli Vanto!”

“This is you?” a voice, a closer one – one of the Togrutas - asked, shaking Eli’s shoulder gently. “They are calling for you! You were right! They’re coming to save us!”

No…

Eli didn’t know why he had no desire to be rescued. All he knew was that there was a very tangible ache in his heart at the very thought of someone coming for him and he couldn’t understand why.

A different pair of hands fell on him, tapping his cheek softly, calling his name – Eli only opened his eyes for a moment, but the person looming over him… It took Eli a long time to figure out why he was confused. Ah. Because it was a human.

He hadn’t seen another human in a long time.

Arms wormed their way underneath him. He no longer weighed as much as he once did, for Eli couldn’t detect the person struggle much when they lifted him off the ground. Eli rested his head against the person’s chest. The sudden burst of motion had made Eli dizzy. He raked his fingers weakly against his saviors’ clothes, lacking the strength to grip the fabric, but still hoping to find an anchor to center himself with.

Why did they have to run?

Eli tried to shake his head, but he was too weak. Slow down he thought, and then scolded himself for complaining when he was, in fact, being rescued. But still… that nagging feeling at the back of his mind. He felt miserable about all of this. But why? Why now was he so unhappy?

Eli braced himself – the temperature had suddenly gone from hot and stuffy to cold and windy. They were out of the mine. Eli could tell, reaching back to a memory from a lifetime ago – the fresh air, the wind, the sudden openness of space he was somehow aware of… he was out.

A new hand touched his face. And yet another person said his name.

“He’s barely hanging on,” the person holding him said. Eli could feel the person’s chest vibrating with his words. Eli had no idea who the person was talking to. Opening his eyes into the smallest of slits, he winced at the stinging brightness of natural light. Fingers were touching his neck and he jerked his head pitifully. But then the collar slipped away.

He really was being rescued.

The new person was speaking to him, but Eli couldn’t register any of the words. Their faces were coming into better focus now, and-

Ah! Eli cringed as he felt the front of his uniform get ripped open and torn away, exposing his chest. Hands were on him again, trying to roll him on his side. Eli attempted to curl up into a defensive ball, kicking out pathetically with his legs. Someone or something smothered his legs to the ground, but the strength to resist them ebbed away quickly. His panic, though? Strong as ever.

“Help me get this off,” one of them said. “We need access to these wounds.”

They were examining his injuries…

And so the rest of the uniform was stripped away, Eli’s heart rate notching up at the sound of the fabric ripping. He was a little closer to wanting to live again, for he got embarrassed for himself. A soothingly cool something was pressed against his back – something that seemed to draw the heat of infection away from his body… a bacta patch?
Another figure hovered over him.

“The shuttle will be here in two minutes-”

“We might not have two minutes.”

“There’s a surgical team on the shuttle, it’ll be fine.”

And yet another hand touched him. Eli was too weak to scowl but internally he was getting irritated by all the touching.

“Are you Eli Vanto?” a new voice asked.

Why does it matter? Eli wondered. He kept his eyes closed, his lips moving, but he hadn’t spoken in so long. He couldn’t even heave air out of his lungs with enough force to make a sound. So he stilled himself. If he was Eli Vanto anymore, it no longer mattered to him.

“He has to be, he’s the only human here,” another voice said.

“Here it is. Get him on the ship. And I’ll let her know we found him.”

-SWR-

Thrawn couldn’t help but notice Governor Pryce was much happier than normal.

Presently, he was guiding her around the newly repurposed factory in Lothal’s Capital City, and her reaction was not the one he expected.

Thrawn had assumed Pryce would find his plan to defeat the Rebels unconventional. Not to her liking. Too focused on the psyche of Lothal and not enough bombs and bloodshed.

Perhaps I have read her incorrectly.

His solution was as he’d originally suggested on the Chimaera weeks earlier –the surest way to end the Rebel insurgency on Lothal was to make the locals turn on them by their own volition. Before the locals would do that, they would have to feel like they were an essential part of the Empire and not merely subjected by it.

Hence, his idea to develop an entirely new TIE fighter. One that could turn the tide against the Rebellion in the larger war, as well as be used as a project the citizens of Lothal would have the pride of building themselves. Defeat for the Rebels on both fronts.

A win-win.

Yet Pryce had nothing to say about Thrawn’s plans. She had nothing to say about the factory, or the TIE or much of anything. She very well could not have taken in a single word Thrawn said. Instead, Thrawn caught her checking her commlink multiple times throughout the tour. As though expecting a call, and was afraid of missing it in the loud din of the factory.

“As you see, Governor,” Thrawn finished, turning to face her as the tour had come to an end. “The construction of the TIE Defender will not only supply the Empire with ships, it will also-”

“Yes, I heard this all already, haven’t I?” Pryce interrupted him.

“So you were listening,” Thrawn said. “I apologize for the repetition. You seemed distracted. Anticipating a call?”

She smiled slightly to herself, as though privy to a good joke Thrawn couldn’t understand, or worse, was the victim of. Either that, or Thrawn had merely become more leery and distrustful after Eli-

Thrawn stopped himself there.

“Yes, a call,” Pryce said, that smile growing by a fraction. “With some rather good news.”

“Better than the first steps in gaining control over Lothal?” Thrawn asked.

Pryce’s smile grew another fraction, but that long-awaited-for beep at her commlink kept her from replying.

“Yes?” she asked into it. “Is it done?”

“There’s… been a problem, Governor.”

Pryce immediately walked away at a clip that could almost be described as a run. Thrawn narrowed his eyes, watching her leave… She is seeking privacy now, when there is a problem. Not when she first answered the call. But Pryce had misjudged Thrawn’s hearing, and came to a halt at a range that would have been well outside a human’s ability to hear.

But not Thrawn’s.

“What do you mean there’s a problem!?”

“We’ve arrived at the site. It… appears to have been abandoned.”

“If the site isn’t the correct one, interrogate the agent again!”

“Governor, the mind probe-”

“He is an agent of the ISB. He is trained on how to use mind probes. They are subjected to it in the Academy, aren’t they!?”

“But-”

“No more excuses! He knows where Vanto is-”

Thrawn stood up straighter in an instant. His heart skipping a beat, a breath caught in his throat. Out of all things he imagined this call would be over, what Pryce’s smug happiness was about… They are looking for him! Which meant… Eli was -

“-and you had better sift through his mind, turn his brain into jelly if you must, and get information on where to find Vanto, do you understand? I need to have a body.”

body…

The pain of that word alone was just as bad as the first time Thrawn had seen the holorecording of Eli’s execution… the capitulation of such unbridled joy was as severe as a knife to his chest. No…. It was wrong to hope….if only he could let the past die.

Pryce was returning. Thrawn had had far too much practice lately on wearing an emotionless face. She could detect nothing.

Which was a good thing. Because it was while they were making their exit from the factory that Thrawn stumbled upon an idea. Why would they be looking for Eli’s body now, months after his execution? What had happened to his body since? Where could a body have gone? If Eli was dead, Imperial protocol alone would guarantee his body be returned to his next of kin - which, in this instance, would his parents back on Lysatra. Immediately after his death. Traitor or not.

Did this mean the ISB agent who executed Eli merely… left Eli’s body at the site… no…

If the prison in which Eli had been held in was an Imperial facility – and it most certainly was, judging by the prisoner’s uniform he had been wearing during his execution and the ISB agent in charge of it – then someone who was sent there to recover a body would not be surprised to find the site abandoned. It must be a different site they are talking about.

And it certainly wouldn’t mean that Eli’s parents ever got his body. They would have fulfilled whatever cultural funerary rites their family followed, burying it or burning it.

Which means the body was moved at the time of Eli’s death.

Without Imperial sanction.

But to what purpose?

There was no industry that Thrawn knew of where the use of a dead Imperial body would be worth the trouble that ISB agent was in… but the agent was in trouble. He was being interrogated. For losing Eli’s body or…

If they couldn’t find the body, then that meant the ISB agent did something with it. Whatever he did with it had to be worth the risk he was taking. There is nothing of comparable worth he could have done with a dead body. Which means he did something with Eli when Eli was alive.

Which means the execution was fake. A false flag.

Thrawn said nothing as he boarded his shuttle alone. And nothing still as he made the trip back up to the Chimaera. There were still pieces on the board moving against him. The game was still being played. Appearances had to be kept up.

Thrawn went straight away to his office, all outwards appearances still the beaten man. Once he was alone, the dead expression lifted. He pulled up the holomap on his desk.

Faking a prisoner’s death would give one unlimited freedom in what to do with that person. They would be unaccounted for. No one would look for them. Until a body was needed… And there was only one industry Thrawn could think of where any substantial gain could be had from “losing” a person.

The search came back with a long list, but Thrawn was ready.

Slaving operations.

Thrawn plugged in the coordinates the Chimaera had been at when Eli went missing. The list shortened considerably.

A smile appeared on Thrawn’s face, the first in weeks, as he settled into his chair and prepared to scour over the research at his fingertips.

The time had come to begin playing his hand in the game.

Chapter Text

Eli opened his eyes, aware of only a few things.

He was mostly naked.

Something covered half his face.

He was floating.

And he was wet.

Despite never having been in a bacta tank before, Eli knew from those few things that’s exactly where he was. The sensation of weight pressing down from all around him was far too smothering for his liking. He pushed himself to the surface, eager to get out of the tank’s slightly gelatinous contents.

There was nowhere for him to go upwards, he realized too late. He was pretty sure he was going to need to stay in the tank longer from the throbbing in his skull as he cracked his head into the ceiling above him.

The liquid began to drain away. Feeling like an idiot, Eli pushed himself back down to the bottom of the enclosure, rubbing the top of his head.

Unfortunately, as the bacta left the tank, so did Eli’s ability to hold himself up. His legs crumpled quite effortlessly underneath him, despite his best efforts. His arms could hold his weight at least, but he was panting… his arms trembling from the effort. Was this common from being in a bacta tank?

Why was I in one to begin with?

The glass cylinder rose slowly into the ceiling above, a cool rush of air making goosebumps prickle all over his skin.

Someone was waiting for him.

Or, more like it, something.

“You have returned to consciousness, Master Vanto,” the medical droid announced. “Earlier than planned. Don’t attempt to remove the mask yourself.”

Eli waited patiently as the droid removed the mask. He coughed pitifully at the sensation of robotic fingers close to his throat, nearly jerking away as he felt a needle pulled out of his neck.

“What the-”

“We needed to keep nutrients in your system,” the droid answered. “You can’t eat while in a medically induced coma.”

Eli wasn’t paying attention - he had choked on his first large intake of breath. The droid showed no surprise at Eli’s coughing fit. Either because it was common, or, more likely, because his doctor was a droid.

“There will be some disorientation,” the droid added.

“No kidding,” Eli said, his voice almost unrecognizably raspy, working his mouth open and closed. He rubbed at the stiffness in his jaw, surprised to find his face was covered in a short, neatly trimmed beard. Well, that’s different.

“Remain where you are until a nurse arrives,” the droid said.

Eli nodded but didn’t answer. Holding conversations with droids was not something he was accustomed to doing.

Hopefully a nurse wouldn't be long in arriving because Eli was sure his arms were going to give out on him.

“So, Mr. Vanto, awake already?”

The nurse had arrived. But… she wasn’t wearing a uniform… not an Imperial one in any case. The woman seemed not to notice his sudden standoffish confusion and pulled one of his arms over her shoulder, helping him get to his feet.

“Be mindful of your footing,” the nurse went on. “You’re still weak, so we are heading to the bed. First, though, we’ve got to get you dried off. There are towels right over there.”

Eli grabbed a towel as the nurse helped him onto a bench right outside the bacta tank. The top of it was slated, so it must have been intended for the purpose of letting wet people dry off. Eli tried to control his facial expressions as the woman patted him dry. Partly he was embarrassed, partly it hurt, and partly he just wanted to know where he was.

He grabbed a second towel and shook the excess bacta from his hair.

“I… don’t know where I am,” Eli admitted.

“Temporary amnesia is common after extended stays in the tank,” the nurse answered helpfully but not helpful at all.

“Extended?”

“Anytime over a month we consider extended.”

“I…” Eli trailed off, then blushed. “This is… what did I need to be in a bacta tank for?”

“Primarily for a precautionary measure. Your immune system has taken a beating, and the bacta is a useful form of isolation. You had multiple lacerations on your body that had grown infected, and you had become septic. The wounds seem to be healed nicely.”

The nurse was inspecting a portion of his upper back.

“Very nicely. Now comes the hard part, I’m afraid. We’ve been able to slowly build back some of the – oh, I see you’re already exhausted.”

Exhausted didn’t even cover it. Absolute muscle failure seemed more appropriate. It hadn’t so much as crept up on Eli as plowed him over with sheer brute force. He’d never known such fatigue. All Eli wanted to do was curl up in the bed on the other side of the room, snuggle up under the covers and go back to sleep. The nurse, thankfully, thought this was a wonderful idea.

“Let’s get you into a gown,” she said. It had grown difficult to even lift his arms, so Eli was grateful she the task without him needing to ask. He blushed even more furiously when she asked him to take off the still-wet under garments… thankfully the gown covered him. Even if the woman was a medical provider, he still couldn’t help being modest.

“Alright, up we get,” the woman said. Eli tried his best to hobble over to the bed, but the nurse really did most of the work. She even helped him get under the covers.

“As I was saying… the hard part,” the nurse said. “The bacta has helped in a lot of ways, you've got quite severe muscle loss. And your digestive system is hurting for use. You’re going to need to eat for that… and when you’ve regained a little more strength, we’ll get you exercising. But for now, just eating is going to tire you out.”

At the mention of food, Eli’s stomach twisted painfully. He was hungry… he’d been starving…

Eli winced as he started to recall what had happened to him – like a fuzzy picture slowly emerging from the fog.

"First I'm afraid we'll have to give you a catheter," the nurse said. "You're going to be bedridden for a few days at least."

Eli nodded, and did his best to grimace his way through the procedure. Even if it was necessary, even if he was on the verge of death, he didn't like it. But the nurse had a gentle touch and was quick about it.

“Here… only as much as you can tolerate,” the nurse said. She had a bowl of warm broth. Eli’s face screwed up as he tried to bury his memories and focus on eating.

After only two sips, Eli had to admit he couldn’t even pick up a spoon anymore.

“It’s alright,” the nurse soothed and took over for him. Eli was too tired to feel ashamed over being literally spoon fed.

Eli shook his head after another few spoonfuls.

“I’m so hungry,” Eli whispered. “But… I can’t anymore-”

“Your digestive system hasn’t been used,” the nurse said with compassion. “It’s going to take time. Now… rest. Here’s the call button. I’ll be close by if you need me, but if not – I’ll be back in another hour with more broth.”

She stepped out of the room, dimming the lights as she left. The medical droid, thankfully, powered down.

Eli relaxed against the pillow, his heart rate climbing steadily as the hush descended upon him. The whirl of the air circulation system… the muted clicking of medical monitoring equipment…

And then a sob.

Eli really tried to hold it back, but he was too weak to contain it. You were a slave… You were starved so badly you can’t even eat now. They beat you to the point where you needed to be in a bacta tank…Thrawn… after everything… what did I do wrong?

-SWR-

Arihnda Pryce went over her pitch in her head, silently hoping it would sound innocent enough. With Thrawn, it was hard to tell where the dumb alien act ended, but she had to risk it.

The ISB agent, she’d later decided, was most likely telling the truth about where he’d sent Vanto. Once she was in the privacy of her office, she called the scout who’d gone out to the slaving site and asked him for more clarification. There were Zygerrians there, the scout said, but they were secretive about letting him observe much of the mines.

“You said it was abandoned,” Arihnda growled.

“It appeared to be so,” the scout said. “They just started arriving an hour ago. The entire mine was locked up. If there are slaves here, they were hidden underground while the slave masters were away.”

“And why were they away?”

“There’s been some kind of a raid,” the scout said. “There’s fresh blast marks on the buildings. The Zygerrians are saying it’s quite common. For lucrative mining operations.”

Arihnda’s interest was piqued.

“What… sort of mining do they do there?”

“Doonium.”

She had her solution.

They would go to this world, using the drying up of Lothal’s mines as an excuse to look for more doonium. The Zygerrians would be unable to resist– selling doonium directly to the Empire would cut out the need for a middle man, meaning more money in their pockets. Perhaps Arihnda could force them to accept an offer of selling it at a cheaper price to “make up for” their slaving, which was still strictly against Imperial protocol after all.

And once she had Thrawn busy with the slavers settling on prices and contracts, she could send a small team to examine the slaves, find Vanto, and kill him. It would be risky to transport the body back onto Imperial ships without Thrawn’s notice… but it could be done. All that remained was to find a coroner who would fib on an autopsy – because surely Thrawn would demand one – and say that Vanto had been dead a lot longer.

If the alien-lover had been a slave, his body would look the part of a long-dead corpse quickly enough.

The pitch sounded good in her head. Certainly Thrawn had continued with his moping, so there was no reason he would have to suspect that a random side trip to the edge of Wild Space would be anything more than what she said it was?

She rounded a corner – and nearly ran into Thrawn.

“I… Grand Admiral,” Arihnda said. “I was just coming to tell you of an idea I had.”

“Really?” Thrawn said. Arihnda noted, with some dissatisfaction, that there was the faintest hint of a glow to his eyes. “I myself was coming to find you with a proposal of my own.”

Now her guard was most certainly up.

“If you please, we can continue this conversation in my office.”

Arihnda followed, going through the details in her head again. No… there was no way he could suspect that Vanto might be alive… perhaps the glow returning is just natural…and a mission… yes… that has to be it. He’s merely getting over his sulking.

They were in Thrawn’s office before Arihnda could convince herself completely. However, she had run out of time.

“If you please, Governor,” Thrawn said, waving to one of the seats before his desk. He stationed himself in front of the slab of Lothal’s retention wall, staring at it a moment.

“It has come to my attention that Lothal’s mines have been exhausted of doonium,” Thrawn started. “Details which you have kept from me.”

“Well, I-”

“It is quite alright,” Thrawn said, raising a hand to silence her. “While it true that we need doonium here if we are to continue building my TIE Defenders on Lothal, I have discovered the presence of a separate doonium mine in the Tothis system, not far from here.”

Arihnda could feel her heart stop.

The Tothis system was the exact system where the Zygerrians were… where Vanto was… there was no way…

“Therefore,” Thrawn continued. Arihnda noticed, as a shiver ran up her spine, that he was purposely not making eye contact with her. “I suggest we take part of the fleet and investigate this mine.”

“The… fleet?” Arihnda said, now doubting whether that was a good idea or not. “Is the fleet necessary?”

“The Tothis system is close, however, it is labeled as a …slaving operation.”

The silence lingered painfully.

“We will need the fleet to quell any resistance from the slavers. Once they have been eliminated, the Empire will establish control over the assets of the mine.”

Arihnda stared back, hoping her unease wasn’t apparent on her face. It was nearly her exact plan. Except it was coming from Thrawn. The alien. The lover of that pathetic human she needed to get to Tothis to capture.

“It sounds... perfect,” Arihnda said. “Absolutely perfect. I shall go and inform Governor Tarkin. When do we leave?”

“Immediately.”

“I see…” Arihnda said. She knew she was perhaps pushing her luck, but she pushed it anyways. “And… what do you intend to do with the slaves?”

The glow seemed to grow more intense as Thrawn locked eyes with her, and said simply, “Liberate them, of course.”

- SWR –

Eli was shook from his nap by a familiar voice.

Eli had assumed some sort of charitable organization had liberated him from the Zygerrian mine. Never in a million years did he expect, “Hera?”

“How are you feeling?” she asked, stepping into the room with a familiarity which implied she’d visited before.

“I-” Eli began, how he felt the furthest thing from his mind. “You-” He couldn’t form coherent thoughts. “-rescued me?”

“Sorry it took so long,” Hera said with a well-meaning smile. A cup of broth was in her hands. “Organizing such a large strike force took some time, and we didn’t have much information to go off of. We were almost too late.”

“Yeah…” Eli was more than eager to get the broth from her, and an uncomfortable silence settled between them as he slurped it down. Well, most of it. His stomach began protesting quickly.

His mind was protesting, too. The motherly gestures were appreciated, but Eli couldn’t shake the fear that he was somehow in trouble. Certainly Hera couldn’t have forgotten their last interaction together – even if the execution was faked, the terms of his execution weren’t.

It wasn’t exactly like he had lied to her. But how had their friendship held up once it had come out that he was an Imperial officer? Eli had heard stories on how some rebel cells treated Imperials…

“Thank you for the soup,” Eli said, even though half of it was left unfinished. He grimaced a little at his arms as he put the cup on his bedside table. They were nothing more than sticks with grotesquely knobby elbows…

"The Togrutas," Eli said. "They're okay, right? You didn't just rescue me, did you?"

"Some were in as bad as shape as you were," Hera said. "But we've already delivered them to their home world. They keep asking about you, though. Guess you made a good impression on them."

Another silence.

“So what happens now?” he asked finally.

Hera, at least, wasn’t one for krayt spit. “We need your help.”

“Ah,” Eli said. “I’m more than happy to oblige.”

“Are you sure?” Hera said. “I haven’t told you what we would like for you to do.”

Eli winced, as if expecting this to blow back in his face. But he wasn’t one for krayt spit either. “I can’t go back to the Empire… I won’t. Not after what happened.”

It was Hera’s turn to look uncomfortable, “We were hoping you would help us stop Thrawn.”

“So Pryce did rope him into that after all? Fighting y’all, I mean… to get Lothal back for her…”

Another awkward silence. Eli had no idea what to say. Sorry sounded rather empty.

“We’ve had our run ins,” Hera said.

“Have you?” Eli’s head jerked up. “You’ve seen him… lately?”

He couldn’t deny that he had suddenly developed a very strong desire to hear about how Thrawn was doing.

Hera frowned a little. “He helped Captain Slavin fight the resistance my father was leading on my home planet of Ryloth.”

“Ryloth?” Maybe Pryce hadn’t gotten her wishes after all.

“Before establishing a factory on Lothal,” Hera said. “He let us go on Ryloth. Stole my family’s kalikori, but if that was the price to pay-”

“Thrawn stole art? From you?”

Hera scowled a little. “Taunted me about it, actually. Quite a charming… whatever he is.”

“Chiss,” Eli supplied quickly. “But, just wait. He took your kalikori?”

Hera’s scowl worsened. “You seem really surprised by this.”

Eli looked back down at his malnourished body. “He wasn’t always…” No, this wasn’t a conversation of apologies. Thrawn really had changed. And Hera’s comment was even more proof. All the love, all the compassion, all the respect… that Thrawn had been a lie. A mask worn to climb the ladder of power.

“He did this to me, you know. He worked it out so we would switch places… so he wouldn’t have to go to prison. That’s the only explanation for why I was there and he wasn’t. Why I was the only human. He signed the orders to execute me, you heard that part… and that mine.”

Eli winced at the emotion on his voice. It threatened to cut him off. But he forced himself on. “We found a ship not long ago… the Empire was using Wookiee slaves for some massive building project… and I spoke out against it. Thrawn… he… kept telling me to drop it. That it wasn’t important. That there were bigger things. And I ended up … as a slave. Mining doonium.”

Maybe Hera wouldn’t understand the doonium reference, but Eli didn’t care. “I stopped talking to my family because… we were… my parents don’t like aliens. And to think. Dad could have a crate of doonium on his freighter right now with my blood on it.”

"And those slaves... some of them died. I ...," he choked. "I had to carry them out. Thrawn knew there were slaves working to death, and he did nothing to save them. He... wanted me to be a part of it."

“I know he did. It has his hand all over it. He did this to me.”

Eli sighed, and looked up at Hera. “There’s only one way to stop him. You know that right?”

Hera nodded. She had reached the wrong conclusion.

“All you have to do is get me on his star destroyer,” Eli said, a new fire overwhelming the sadness within. “I’ll stop Thrawn for you. The only way you can.

“I’ll kill him.”

- SWR –

Thrawn was antsy.

It was a word he never thought he’d attribute to himself, but it was the only word to describe it. He stood in the cargo bay of his Lambda shuttle, waiting for it to touch the planet’s surface and the hydraulics to drop the ramp. His body was trembling in excitement. A subdued anger. A drive to do something.

The Zygerrians would have no warning of their arrival. They would have no time to hide any evidence of what they were doing.

A slight bump jostled the shuttle.

The ramp lowered, and Thrawn walked briskly out onto the planet’s surface. A scowl on his face hid the anxiety he felt.

“Most exalted welcomes and-” the leader of a small emissary said, halting when she saw the manner of Imperial officer before her. “S-sir, we-”

“That’s enough,” Thrawn said, his words barely containing the absolute contempt he felt for these slavers. “I am here to inspect this facility. Pray it meets Imperial standards. Show me to the mine.”

The emissary led the way.

But the mines were empty.

Thrawn glared up and down the barren shaft. There was a smell lingering in the air. One of blood and disease and death, but that was the only proof slaves had ever been there.

That Eli had been there.

Pryce, with a rare display of understanding, asked, “How do you excavate the mines? There’s no machinery down here.”

“We have droids,” the Zygerrian said. Meek. Unsure. Afraid.

“Really?” Pryce pushed. “And where are all these droids now?”

“They were stolen,” the Zygerrian said. “There was a raid. Not very long ago.”

Thrawn was only listening with half an ear. His eyes scanned the walls. The darkness. The string of traditional-style light-throwing orbs running down into the heart of the mine. Something was there. Something had to tell the story…

“Governor Pryce,” Thrawn turned to her. “You have had a lifetime experience working in and around mines. Tell me, does this look like the handiwork of droids.”

Pryce peered at a wall. “Whatever was excavating these mines, they were using low end technology. Pick axes, shovels, that sort of thing.”

Thrawn turned immediately to the Zygerrians. “Where are the pick axes now? Surely if pirates came to steal droids, they didn’t waste time also collecting such cheap tools.”

The Zygerrians falterd.

Thrawn turned and walked down the mine.

“Sir, your uniform-” one of the Zygerrians said. “This is no place for a man of your-”

Thrawn ignored them.

The suffocating closeness of the mine, the heat and pressure in the air – Thrawn had to stay focused. Imagining Eli suffering here would not help if he couldn’t work out what had been done to the slaves. For he was convinced slaves had been here. Either stolen in the raid the Zygerrians mentioned, or else hidden away somewhere.

And that was what he needed to find. Solid proof slaves were here. Something the Zygerrians could not refute.

The ground was rocky, uneven. Thrawn peered into a mine cart as he walked past, and stopped dead in his tracks.

“Is this… doonium?”

Thrawn wheeled around, back to the Zygerrians, but it wasn’t the slavers rushing up to him. It was Pryce, the leader of the emissary in her clutches. Pryce pulled the feline-featured woman along with her. As if she knew that they might bolt and run if they were separated from their Imperial guests.

“Are you telling me pirates came to steal droids yet left doonium?” Pryce asked. For whatever other faults she had, for the moment Thrawn was thankful she wanted doonium enough to push the Zygerrians into a corner.

The Zygerrian woman reached for an answer. “We don’t pretend to understand the thoughts of pirates.”

A perfect nonanswer. But it would suit their needs of playing ignorant.

Thrawn’s eyes fell away from the mine cart as Pryce argued the Zygerrian’s reasoning. There had to be something… these Zygerrians weren’t so clever. They would miss something, leave a clue behind.

Then, a glint caught his eye. There it was. Something left on the ground drew Thrawn’s attention. His fingers trembled as he touched it, cupped it in his hands… lifted it.

“Tell me,” Thrawn called back. “What do droids need with a spoon?”

The ensuing struggle was fast. The Zygerrians hadn’t anticipated their cover being blown, and Pryce already had the female in a submission hold before Thrawn could close the distance on the other two. He hissed in red hot anger as one of them raked him with his claws.

It was the only provocation he needed. He drew his blaster, and without another thought, the two were on the ground.

He wheeled around, glaring at the female Zygerrian Pryce held, his eyes burning in a fury he hadn’t felt in ages.

“WHERE ARE YOU KEEPING THE SLAVES?” Thrawn boomed, his voice echoing like thunderclaps in the narrow confines of the mine.

The Zygerrian cringed, unable to answer.

“Back to the surface, Governor,” Thrawn growled.

Once they were in the fresh air again, Thrawn grabbed the Zygerrian from Pryce, twisting her arm painfully as he half-dragged her across the industrial grounds.

He was done asking questions, though. Perhaps it was because he’d already killed two of the Zygerrians… perhaps she was merely terrified. But she was not answering any more questions.

“Bring them out,” Thrawn said, shoving the female into a group of stormtroopers who had been standing security.

“Who, sir?”

“The Zygerrians. Bring them all out. Hold them here.”

Thrawn turned on the spot while the stormtroopers set to work. He buzzed with an angry energy. He was close… so very close. Where could they hide slaves… how many would be needed to work a mine like this? Perhaps one of the industrial style buildings -

Thrawn’s thoughts came to an abrupt stop.

A scrap of orange fabric caught his eye.

It was long neglected, caught in the grass, rippling gently in the breeze. Thrawn knelt down, his fingers trembling still, as he freed it. The orange fabric was stiff in sections… the brownish stains on it clearly blood. Lots of blood. It was soaked so thoroughly with blood the material was as still as a board.

Thrawn worked it in his hands, looking it over, analyzing the smallest details… and there it was. A series of numbers – 213773. Numbers Thrawn already had committed to memory… Numbers that had been on Eli’s uniform in the holo of his execution.

He was here…

Don’t lose your focus.

It didn’t mean anything… it didn’t mean Eli was dead. Thrawn couldn’t convince himself of that enough to get his lungs to stop halting over each breath. To get his heart to stop twisting so painfully in his chest. Or the sudden sting on his face, as though reality had quite honestly landed a physical strike. It’s not solid proof. It doesn’t mean anything.

“Sir!”

A shout stirred him out of his thoughts.

“You have to come see this.”

What “this” turned out to be was worse than anything Thrawn imagined. He’d hoped the storm troopers had discovered the captive slaves, horded up and locked behind door. But the reality was brutally grim.

“I suppose they were trying to dispose of them,” a stormtrooper offered.

There was a furnace. Large. Industrial sized. Flames rippling. A terrifying sizzling sound crackling from the fire’s tinder.

There were bodies. Dozens of them. All burning.

Thrawn didn’t remember giving the order. He didn’t remember so much as casting a vengeful eye upon the Zygerrians as Imperial blasters mowed them down. He didn’t hear their pleas, or cries of terror. Their pain couldn’t reach him. Their pain could do little to heal his own.

He didn’t remember getting back on the shuttle. Or saying anything to anyone.

But Thrawn remembered the feel of the orange fabric in his hand. How it yielded softly as he tightened his fist to contain his rage. How it remained with him despite it all.

Chapter Text

Eli figured his integration into the Rebellion would be rocky, to say the least. A career Imperial officer and aide to a Grand Admiral whose primary mission was to hunt them down? The sneers he expected to get – hell, he was used to others looking down on him for things completely out of his control. His accent. His birthworld. His economic status. He couldn’t imagine the way he’d get treated for the things he did have control over.

Eli was wrong. He didn’t know that Imperial defectors were nothing new to the Rebellion. Apparently, Imperials had been defecting in droves. Actually, it wasn’t that hard to imagine why he’d never heard anything of it – the Empire would not want their members to imagine there was a reason for so many promising young Imperials to jump ship. It might make them consider the ship they were standing on.

Still, it was an adjustment.

Eli was partially right about who had saved him. Sort of. Some of the details still alluded him. What he did understand was that Hera had overheard their prison guards talking about how they’d faked his execution and were planning to sell him off into slavery. Then, it was a Rebellion style political debate over trying to gather resources to rescue him. And though Eli tried not to let it get under his skin, he wasn’t deemed “important enough” until the Lothal rebels finally had a run in with Thrawn, and they realized getting the “inside man” was essential to defeating him.

Then – and Eli was still blown away by this – Senator Bail Organa of Alderaan organized one of his famously charitable operations to raid the slaving world where he’d been kept. After a few strafing runs by the starfighters, the Zygerrians pretty much holed up in their bunkers while the charity workers evacuated the slaves without offering so much as a whimper of resistance. And since the slaving operation was not even on the Empire’s radar to begin with, no one took particular notice of the raid at all. The compassionate Alderaanians being an exception, but even then – it wasn’t news that the Outter Rim had some nasty businesses going on.

Eli missed all of this. For the past few weeks, he’d been unconscious, recuperating on a floating medical frigate that remained close to Alderaan. Once he’d gotten a bit healthier, and the medical staff of the charity deemed him fit to go, Eli was on a shuttle heading to a secret Rebel base on an unhabituated world.

And hurried almost immediately into some sort of conference. Hera Syndulla was there, as well as most of the members of the Ghost crew Eli had learned of. The other Rebel leaders attending the meeting were present through holoprojectors – proving just how widespread and underground the entire Rebellion was. No one so much as batted an eye when he was unceremoniously introduced as Thrawn’s former aide.

Amongst other things.

Those were emotions he didn’t want to so much as acknowledge, let alone work through. It all hurt too much. He’d been used before, but never betrayed. Never on a level like what Thrawn had pulled.

The Grand Admiral’s former aide was all the title he cared for. Anything else would just call more attention to how naïve a fool he had been.

Eli hated to admit it, but he’d felt like he’d been a better person while he was the “naïve fool.” Once he’d discovered the truth, he felt constantly on edge. Bitter. A very tangible, heavy, dark pain gnawed in his chest. Eli snapped at anyone who did the slightest thing to annoy him. He’d apologize profusely afterwards, of course, but still… he’d never been so short with strangers before.

Then again, the Rebellion was getting on his nerves.

Hera had assured him that he’d been needed. Needed so badly they sent a strike force to rescue him. But while the Atollon leaders were planning to infiltrate the Imperial factory on Lothal, did they listen to him?

That was a big no.

Even when Eli spelled out how unlikely it was that their plans would succeed. Even when he pointed out that factory workers sabotaging all the machines they personally worked on would be a clear signal to which workers were secretly helping the Rebellion…

They didn’t pay any attention.

Eli wanted to be sympathetic when he got news of how badly the Lothal factory operation failed. That one of his new Rebellion comrades had been murdered, by Thrawn no less. The most sympathetic Eli could be was by not blurting out a sarcastic, “I told you so.”

This wasn’t the life he wanted.

Yet the life he’d left behind was even worse.

He couldn’t move forward, he couldn’t turn back. He was trapped. It was suffocating. He could feel the pressure of it constricting his lungs.

But there was no one he could turn to. No one he could lean on. No one he could trust. What could he possibly say? That he was so pathetic he actually wanted to go back to the man who’d had him imprisoned, mock-executed, and sold into slavery?

Every time Eli thought of that, he felt even more pitiful, and grew more withdrawn. The others seemed to pick up on this, and no one made much of an effort to interact with him until he was needed. And then he’d help as desperately as he could. Wanting to pour himself into something so much he wouldn’t have time to think about anything. Wanting to prove that he was still a person of worth. That he had something tangible and valuable to add to the world. But none of it could convince him. Not truly.

Even if he’d been a naïve idiot, at least he’d been happier. Nicer. Kinder. A better person.

Stars, but all of that was lies, too.

One day, despite telling himself over and over and over again not to, Eli looked up the Tothis system on his datapad. He knew it was a mistake, but never in a million years did he realize just how big of a mistake it would be. Eli thought he’d known what it felt like to be betrayed before, but seeing the words under Imperial control on the screen made the pain reignite in ways Eli didn’t think he could hurt.

That was it.

Eli could see his future was over. There was nothing left for him. The Rebellion would get what it could out of him, but he’d made no friends. Hera was nice, and motherly, but it wasn’t enough to save him.

When he heard of the mission to infiltrate the light cruiser “Fulcrum”, the Rebellion’s inside man was stationed on, Eli volunteered to go.

There was resistance, for sure – he could be recognized and jeopardize the entire mission. But Eli fought tooth and nail for the job. He argued that he knew Imperial protocol. He could ensure no trigger-happy lieutenant would just shoot down the “bounty hunter stealing a shuttle” routine by pretending to be an Imperial officer himself.

Finally, the Rebellion caved. Eli would play the role of a baby lieutenant. Fresh and new and clueless, and Ezra would be the bounty hunter. He’d get knocked unconscious, and “his” shuttle stolen right out from under him. The plan could fail easily, but Eli found himself actually feeling excited and hopeful as he sat on a transport heading to Lothal to stage the theft.

The Rebellion didn’t know he planned to ditch the plan at his first chance.

He’d find a way to find the Chimera. He’d get on board with the Imperial identification disks the Rebellion had so expertly forged for him. The entire crew of the Chimera had apparently been replaced, so no one would recognize him.

He’d find his way to the Grand Admiral’s quarters and assassinate him.

And – Eli kept this part in the deepest recesses of his mind – once Thrawn was dead… he’d grant himself a moment to feel sorry for himself. To pretend like the past had been real. To curl up against that corpse and try to recall what it was like to be happy and loved and cherished… to forget that it was all a lie. To will himself into that fairytale. And once he was truly convinced, he’d take his blaster and kill himself.

Even the Jedi kid recognized that Eli was happier.

Well, until Ezra shrugged a cocky apology, and knocked him unconscious.

Chapter Text

Thrawn didn’t like to admit it to himself, but long moments could pass without him having to put much conscious effort into forgetting Eli’s death.

He’d made up his mind that he would do nothing about Eli’s death. Nothing to retaliate against the Empire’s role in his imprisonment. Nothing at all against the greedy ISB agent who’d merely extended Eli’s suffering by selling him into slavery. The Zygarrians slave masters were already dead, but even recalling the massacre didn’t bring Thrawn any joy. Or closure. Or relief.

He’d once believed in the sanctity of life. Believed that as long as he held true to that ideal above all else, he’d never lose his way.

But people were dying at his hands, and the horror was merely swallowed by the dark hollowness inside.

He couldn’t feel anything. No remorse. No revulsion.

Only in the darkest times, at night, when he tried to go to sleep and his guard was down, would the guilt prickle his consciousness.

You knew better than to form attachments. To love. You were told you had enemies. You knew of the atrocities the Empire could carry out. You knew people were angry with your success. You knew better than to shine too brightly.

You did this.

Because Thrawn knew he’d had a chance to save Eli. To send him away. Thrawn had considered putting him on a shuttle and sending him off to the Chiss. Eli would have to endure a people Thrawn knew had xenophobic tendencies of their own. But he would be safe.

Instead, Thrawn let himself love. He didn’t want to let go. He’d grown selfish. Warmed by Eli’s warmth. Intoxicated from being loved. He didn’t want to let Eli go. And he convinced himself that if he told Eli to leave, he wouldn’t understand. Thrawn would only break his heart. He wouldn’t be able to convince his Eli he was sending him away for his own protection.

So Thrawn told himself he was being paranoid. That he was too indispensable to the Empire for anything to happen. He was too clever – he’d see an attack before it proved to be too much for him. It had worked, so many times in his life it had worked.

Except now, as he laid in the empty bed, when nothing of Eli’s presence remained in the universe except for a shred of orange fabric stiff with dried blood. A painful reminder to never grow attached again.

-SWR-

Eli Vanto slowly opened his eyes.

His vision was blurry, a rolling headache pounding against the back of his eyes. Someone had pulled Eli into a sitting position, giving his shoulders a pat so forceful it made his head pound harder.

What kind of idiot-

“Sir! Sir! Lieutenant? Are you alright?”

A hand brushed lightly through his hair but drew back quickly as Eli raised a hand to push it away.

“You’re bleeding!” the other man insisted as Eli brought his hand to the side of his face.

“I am?” Eli mumbled drunkenly, balking slightly as he focused his eyes on his hands, smeared with bright red blood.

Damn kid.

Ezra wasn’t supposed to Force shove him halfway through the shuttle so hard he cracked his head against the wall. He had a blaster for crying out loud. All he needed to do was put the weapon on stun and shoot him. That had been the plan…

“He wasn’t supposed to do that,” Eli groaned, holding his head, realizing too late he’d thought out loud.

“Oh, I know,” the other man said, laughing in a strangely self-depreciating way. “What they teach you at the Academy doesn’t prepare you for the real thing, does it? I bet you expected he’d pull a blaster out and stun you! That’s the sort of stuff they teach. Not realistic at all. I’ve had a few run ins with these sorts myself before, and they never act like they said they would at the Academy. You know, seeing what’s become of you… I should do something about it. Change the curriculum perhaps…” he trailed off. “Though I suppose they’d never listen to me.”

Eli groaned. His head pounded worse. It was either the headache, or the gratingly irritating Core World accent getting on his nerves. He had to figure out what had happened to Ezra. He had to make sure the kid was well on his way to accomplishing his mission, and then Eli had to find a way to get on board the Chimaera. All without either of them being discovered for who they were. It was a long-

“Here, hold still,” the man said, and Eli balked. It was nothing. The other man was only trying to help… by patting awkwardly at the dripping blood on his cheek and not the actual injury and-

“Oh, let me, you’re doing it all wrong,” Eli mumbled, grabbing the gauze.

The last thing Eli wanted was to hold a cheerful conversation. Unfortunately, Ezra had to steal a shuttle when the most annoyingly talkative lieutenant in existence was on shift.

“I’m Lieutenant Lyste, by the way,” the man introduced himself. “Agent Kallus was heading the boarding party when he said there was an officer injured. Well, I came right away to see what I could do to help-”

“The shuttle thief?”

“Is getting interrogated, as we speak. Agent Kallus is truly the best ISB agent in the Empire, if I may say so. Really quite a reputation for being ruthless. Speaking of… he’s been in there for quite some time. I should probably go check on him.”

Lyste moved to get up, forgetting that Eli was leaning heavily against him. Eli slumped back to the ground, groaning with annoyance as he slammed into the floor.

“Sorry,” the lieutenant fumbled as he pulled Eli back up, helping him to his feet.

“Are you always so flustered?”

Eli winced. You’re giving yourself away… you’re supposed to be acting like a lieutenant, not like you’ve been in the Navy long enough to get irritated by them.

“I’m… sorry,” Eli stammered, trying to mimic the other lieutenant’s awkwardness, trying his hand at a Mid Rim accent, knowing he’d never be able to pull off a Core World. “I’m being rude, aren’t I? I’m Lieutenant Castro.”

He offered his hand to shake. He had to try very hard not to scowl as the hand shake drew out longer than normal.

“Do… you know the Chimeara?” Eli asked as innocently as he could. “I was detached to the garrison in Capital City, but my unit’s on the Chimaera. I’ll need to brief them on what happened-”

“Why, of course I know the Chimaera,” Lyste said. “The Seventh Fleet’s taken over all Imperial operations on Lothal, after all. And to be stationed aboard the flag ship! What’s that like? Well, never mind, you just said you were detached to the Capital. I was on the surface once, too, a while ago. What’s your branch?”

Eli grimaced slightly. Oh great. The perfect time for his anxiety to start creeping through. Just. This lieutenant talked far too much. Eli was not used to it. It felt his mind racing to keep up, and it took a moment for the last question to sink in.

“Uhh…” Eli reached. “Supply.”

“Really?!” Lyste said. Absolutely enthralled. “Why, I’m a supply officer too! I had no idea another supply lieutenant was stationed on Lothal. How long have you been here? And don’t worry about being on base, you’ll work your way aboard a ship. How well can you handle the TR 160-7s? They say nothing gets you on a ship faster than shoddy paperwork.” Another self-depreciating laugh. “Not to say I’m on a ship because I can’t do my job, I’m good at it, well, other parts of it. My job. The officer part.”

Eli nodded slowly, glad the lieutenant talked himself right past the questions to the point where an answer was no longer expected. Which was a good thing. Being an aide for so long had left him out of touch with his original training track.

“Umm… should we go check on that ISB agent?” Eli suggested.

“Oh, yes!” Lyste jumped up, looking just a little bit embarrassed. “I did say I’d do that, didn’t I? Not that Agent Kallus needs the help, but you’d hate to leave an agent alone with a rebel like that without checking in.”

Rebel… Did they already guess who Ezra was? Eli shook the thoughts from his mind. It didn’t matter. They were already on board. It was too late to cancel the mission.

Agent Kallus. That was the name of their Fulcrum contact. The one they were here to extract. Well, that was extremely convenient.

“I… can I tag along?” Eli asked, hoping he was pulling off a believable mix of shyness and eagerness. “I’ve never seen an ISB interrogation.”

“Of course!” Lyste’s face brightened about a thousand degrees as though Eli had asked something truly remarkable. “Why, I’d be happy to show you- err, introduce you. Well, Agent Kallus is one of the best ISB agents in the Empire.”

Eli’s face fell a little, “Yes you… said that already.”

“I only say it because it’s true,” Lyste apologized.

“And… after that,” Eli said. “I… really do need to get to the Chimaera. I obviously don’t have a shuttle anymore. You think you could let me borrow yours or-”

A chirp from Lyste’s commlink cut Eli off. He couldn’t believe his luck.

“Why… a summons to the Grand Admiral!” Eli couldn’t keep the sly grin from spreading on his face. “I would very much like an introduction, if you’d be happy to oblige.”

Chapter Text

Thrawn found it profoundly interesting that when he went to summon Agent Alexsandr Kallus to an interview that the ISB agent happened to be stationed aboard the same light cruiser as one Lieutenant Yogar Lyste.

Thrawn found it so interesting he decided to invite the both of them together.

Lyste he had only worked with briefly – when trying to root out the problem of sabotage in his TIE Defender factory on Lothal. And while Thrawn was certain Kallus had been the one to help the Rebels escape, he took note that Lyste had also been present.. He may have even lent a hand. After all, Lyste had been in command on the factory floor when two workers mysteriously vanished. Two workers who were obviously the two Jedi later reported to have been encountered Agent Kallus...

And now that Thrawn considered it, Lyste was also involved in another brush with the Rebel cell. He’d been in command over the small detail meant to protect the Alderaanian princess’s humanitarian visit to Lothal. Which included a convoy of several hammerhead corvettes carrying relief aid. All three ships had been stolen out from under Lyste’s nose. Ships that later ended up in Rebel hands.

If it were merely incompetence, surely the lieutenant would have been court martialed and dismissed. When Thrawn looked into the matter, it seemed as though Lyste was only subjected to a few harsh words by his superior. Someone had worked hard to ensure that Lyste kept a rank he had demonstrated he was too incompetent to hold. Perhaps a Rebellion sympathizer in the Lothal government…

Thrawn huffed silently under his breath.

Politics aren’t so hard to figure out.

Now to suddenly find Lieutenant Lyste working aboard the same light cruiser as Thrawn’s primary suspect for being the Rebel agent, Fulcrum?

Lyste’s connections to the Rebels was now even more likely. Either that, or he was cursed with extremely bad luck.

Thrawn didn’t believe in bad luck.

So he invited Lyste and Kallus together.

Of course, Thrawn could have very well asked for Kallus and Lyste individually , formally accused them of treason, have them arrested, and let them stagnate in prison awaiting trial. But Thrawn still did not have the exact location of the Rebel’s off world base.

If he made it seem as though he was still uncertain on who the Rebel spy was… it was possible Kallus or Lyste could send a message to them. A message Thrawn hoped would lead him straight to their hidden base.

In order to keep them uncertain, Thrawn invited every last Imperial with any interactions whatsoever with the Lothal Rebels he could officially summon. Not only would this hide his trail, it would make him look even less certain. Add an element of confidence in whomever Fulcrum happened to be.

Although after a few hours of interviews, not everyone could see the logic behind his plans.

“Is all this really necessary, Grand Admiral?” Governor Pryce said through a yawn she wasn’t polite enough to hide.

“Patience, Governor,” Thrawn said. “My methods may be slow, but we will have results. Once these interviews are complete, our spy will make his move. Rebels are always looking out for one another. Sometimes recklessly so.”

It was why Thrawn was planning to show Kallus and Lyste just how close he was to discovering their base. Finding themselves nearly suspected of espionage? Knowing Thrawn was close to finding their base?

Recklessness and heroics were a dangerous mix.

“You may all the time in the world, but I don’t,” Pryce answered. “The man I have to answer to-”

“-will understand.”

Pryce shot Thrawn a daring look. One Thrawn chose to ignore.

“You’re assuming your spy doesn’t get scared and run. Hard to find the location of the Rebel base if your mole flees,” Pryce said. “And if you do not eliminate these Rebels for me…”

She trailed off. Thrawn arched a blue-black eyebrow, waiting for her to finish.

“More threats, Governor?” Thrawn asked, sounding bored. “It is highly unnecessary.”

A pang rang out in his chest.

“It was never necessary,” he added under his breath.

And even less invited, a thought he’d kept trying to ignore.

Why would pirates leave behind doonium?

Thrawn had been too preoccupied with trying to find Eli to give it much thought when he was on the slaver’s planet and had all but ignored the idea ever since. It was yet another invitation to self-torture. An idea better left unexplored.

But… pirates smart enough to strategically attack a slaver’s mining operation were smart enough to know what that operation mined. There wasn’t a pirate or smuggler group in existence who wouldn’t understand the intrinsic value of doonium. Who would leave it behind.

Thrawn turned to look at a piece of art.

If he could just flood his mind with something else. Distractions. Analyze.

Because any time he dared to dwell on it, he would realize pirates never attacked the mine. Someone else came to get the slaves. Someone who had no interest in the outrageous profits a cartload of the doonium could have made. Someone who cared about the slaves… about the people needing rescue...

Someone like… the Rebels.

But it was too painful to think about.

To let himself dare to believe Eli could still be alive once more. Like he’d already allowed himself to do numerous times. And each defeat walked away with a hurt raw and deep and more damaging than the last.

No. It was better to accept it for what it was. No matter how enticing the thought was. No matter how convincing.

“If all you need is information,” Pryce said, shaking Thrawn from his thoughts, “you should have arrested those you suspected immediately. The Empire has ways of gathering intel.”

Thrawn inclined his head. “Interrogation?”

“Torture, for the amount of trouble they’ve put me through.”

Thrawn tightened his lips. Of course Pryce would be suggest that. She wanted revenge. Not merely information. She wanted to inflict pain onto others merely because she had been inconvenienced. And what if their suspects turned out to be innocent?

Pryce had already demonstrated how little she cared about the innocent.

“If you already know the best way in which to accomplish my mission, what use do you have for me?” Thrawn asked.

Pryce’s eyes flashed icy cold. They narrowed, piercing Thrawn’s deadpan face.

“You know, you really aren’t all that clever,” Pryce said. “Not to have worked any of this out.”

Thrawn certainly wasn’t phased by her insults, so Pryce pressed on, “Surely you haven’t failed to notice - there’s a suspiciously large number of Imperials losing their lives when they’ve failed to end the Rebellion. And when Tarkin handed me the mission? I knew I wouldn’t do it alone.

“I’m not even sure if Tarkin is aware of why I requested you specifically. But you had already shown me you had skill. Not to mention you made some accusations about me and my role at Batonn. So I figured, it would be a win-win. Either you would destroy the Rebels for me, or you would fail and catch the blame.”

Thrawn’s body stiffened slightly at the implication.

“It’s a shame, really. We could have done marvelous things together. But I won’t be the one losing my head if you fail.”

Pryce took a small step back, analyzing the effect her words had.

“Good. I see we understand one another.”

Thrawn didn’t trust himself to speak, but for the first time in a very long time, he felt absolutely trapped.

“Sir,” the filtered voice of Thrawn’s stormtrooper guard echoed into the suddenly cold and quiet office. “Letting you know Agent Kallus and Lieutenant Lyste have arrived on the Chimaera.”

Pryce smirked as she turned to leave the office.

“I do hope your spy cooperates and does exactly as you hope. If not… I thank you for doing so much of the leg work. I’ll have plenty of suspects in which to arrest and interrogate.”

When the door closed behind her, there was only one place Thrawn wanted to go. Into his private gym. And either he was going to destroy a droid. Or it would put him out of his misery.

-SWR-

Kallus’s eyebrows arched in surprised confusion as Eli walked onto the bridge after Lieutenant Lyste, and flattened slightly in subdued annoyance as Lyste introduced Eli as the officer who was aboard the shuttle when it was stolen.

So he’s already figured out I’m a Rebel. He really is good.

Good at reaching conclusions? Even better at getting rid of the oblivious lieutenant.

“Ah, Lyste, just the man I needed,” Kallus said. “I’d like you to go talk to our prisoner. Ask him what he was planning to use the shuttle for.”

“Me?” Lyste was positively caught of guard. “Why… I’m …. not an interrogator.”

“Of course you aren’t,” Kallus said. “But you’ll fit in perfectly. A common interrogation technique is for a suspect to get overwhelmed with an aggressive interrogator… it makes him speak more freely with someone who is… well… not nearly as intimidating.”

Lyste became a little deflated at that, as though not really sure whether he should be insulted or flattered.

But Kallus’s need for him hit the right buttons, and the lieutenant left with his chest puffed up and vowing to do a good job.

They were both alone for hardly a moment before Kallus turned to Eli.

“You should know, Imperial officers very rarely have any need to be on board a civilian shuttle.”

Eli let the act, and the MidRim accent, drop, “If it helps any, I am an Imperial officer.” He winced. “Was.”

“Was?” Kallus echoed. “Well, the Rebellion is just full of traitors and outcasts. I suppose you played this part to keep us from shooting the stolen ship down?”

“Exactly.”

“Good plan.”

“Except now the plan has changed.”

Of course Eli didn’t have to bring up Thrawn’s summons. He was standing just outside the prison cell doorway when Lyste delivered the news.

“Yes,” Kallus murmured.

“At least we won’t be separated,” Eli pointed out. “If Lyste left Ezra on this ship, we’d have to abandon our mission to rescue you. A Lambda can’t exactly hover around a half dozen ships forever without raising suspicions.”

Kallus exhaled loudly, as though that wasn’t something he regretted.

“You might be caught for treason,” Eli pointed out. He stared at the other man. “You’re not ready to leave yet.”

“I can do more good, here,” Kallus said.

But Eli could see there was more to it than that. The man didn’t want to be saved. Not that Eli was going to argue with him. He’d read his bio. The ISB agent certainly was facing some demons. And Eli wasn’t about to say anything about self-sacrifice. He was hoping to do “more good” in his own, twisted way.

“I’ll make sure you’re able to.”

Kallus caught the tone on Eli’s words.

“How?”

“I’m going to assassinate Thrawn.”

“What?!” Kallus’s voice jumped an octave in surprise. “What… When did that become … is anyone else in Phoenix squadron tracking this? Bridger didn’t mention that was the plan!??”

“He doesn’t know,” Eli said with a slight wince. It was all becoming so real. “All I need is to get on that Star Destroyer. You won’t need me anymore after that.”

“You’re not about to follow me and Lyste straight to Thrawn’s office,” Kallus said. “It’s an official summons. Which means there’s at least a handful of officers there. Unless you’re planning to kill everyone in the office, you’re going to have to find another way.”

Eli’s face flushed. Of course. He’d gotten so focused on ending his heartache he’d stopped thinking things through logically.

“I’ll go to the medbay.” Eli’s face grew warmer as he said his next words. “I… can find my way to Thrawn’s office.”

“Have you ever been on a Star Destroyer, or do you plan to pull the ‘lost lieutenant’ routine and ask for directions?”

“I was stationed on the Chimaera.”

“And you’re… no,” Kallus’s voice was rising in pitch again. “Are you crazy!? With the entire Seventh Fleet looking for a Jedi who is getting brought on board the command ship and now you having been stationed on this ship-”

“The entire crew was swapped out,” Eli said flatly. “There was a…. high level officer accused of espionage.”

Kallus’s eyes narrowed further. “Well, you should have probably assassinated the Grand Admiral before you defected. Do you have any idea how difficult you’re making this plan?”

“I’ll wait to do it until you leave,” Eli said. He winced. It. He couldn’t even say the word anymore. “You don’t have to worry about a rendezvous. I don’t plan on coming back.”

Eli remained withdrawn the rest of the time the Lambda was in flight. He tried to ignore Lyste’s boasting as he congratulated himself on how much information he’d been able to get from Ezra. Eli grew more pensive on the Chimaera. He tried to forget the familiar sights and sounds of the hanger bay as they disembarked, knowing this was once his home.

Eli didn’t go to medbay. He’d quickly realized that he’d have to find a way to get into Thrawn’s office. He’d nearly always been with the other man when they’d come and gone. The guards had known him. Now, it would be different.

Once Lyste and Kallus were out of sight, Eli doubled back, heading towards one of the stormtrooper’s break rooms. He checked his chrono - and as luck would have it, it was nearly time for a shift change.

He put on his best lieutenant face and walked into the break room.

“Who here is taking over duty for the Grand Admiral’s office?”

A hand raised.

“The Grand Admiral says he needs the TR 350-6’s done for everyone before their shift starts,” Eli said.

The stormtrooper’s face soured considerably.

“What… now?”

“Right now,” Eli confirmed.

The stormtrooper grumbled under his breath, and Eli did his best to look flustered and not so happy that the man had taken the bait.

“I’ll inform the guard on post to hold his position.”

“A TR 350-6 takes at least an hour.”

“I’ll inform him.”

And within minutes after that, Eli had managed to find himself a body glove that would fit and struggled to put on stormtrooper armor by himself - which was a lot more difficult than he ever imagined. It took some time to find the shoulder pad embossed with the Seventh Fleet’s logo. It took longer to find a blaster.

Eli nearly ran the entire way to Thrawn’s office, not wanting his plan to get ruined because he was late.

By the time he got to the office door, the other guard was none the wiser. It was five minutes before shift change… and even if the other guard showed up after recertifying a time-intensive certification, he wouldn’t realize who he was relieving.

The guard he was taking over for bantered a bit. Eli was only half listening about the interviews that had apparently been going on all day, only marginally interested in the guard’s smarmy excitement at the terrified looks on the officer’s faces as they stepped into the Grand Admiral’s office.

“Grand Admiral in?” Eli asked, switching back to the Mid Rim accent.

“No,” the guard answered. “Went to go check out some bounty hunter prisoner from Lothal.”

Eli’s heart hitched up at that. Surely Thrawn would recognize Ezra… But it was too late to warn anyone. Too late to change the plan.

“He went with Colonel Yularen and Governor Pryce,” the guard added.

“Ah, so it’s one of those days,” Eli said. He had no idea what ‘one of those days’ would entail, but it sounded like an appropriate complaint. And if he knew anything about the enlisted, it was that they liked to complain about officers doing officer things.

The guard laughed. “Oh, it is. Good thing they can’t see you smile under this helmet. The interviews are over for now, but… if you get a chance… it’s a good show.”

And then… Eli was alone.

Standing in front of Thrawn’s office.

Waiting.

His hands tightened around his blaster.

The weapon he was going to kill Thrawn with.

The weapon he was going to kill himself with.

And… he waited.

Chapter Text

Eli had been depressed for so long that thinking he was only going to be alive for another hour or so didn’t bother him too much. In fact, it was quite the opposite. He wasn’t scared, he wasn’t nervous - for the first time in a long time, he felt a terrific sense of calm settle over him.

It wasn’t exactly the opposite of depressed, but it gave him a weird kind of assurance.

This is the right thing to do.

There was little reason to remind himself of everything Thrawn had done to him. The pain still hurt. The betrayal probably was one of the few things convincing him to stay where he was.

But standing guard duty over an empty office was quickly becoming boring.

And here I am, about to die, and complaining about being bored.

Eli tried to make the last bit of life he had worthwhile. He tried thinking about breathing - it seemed the most “alive” thing he could dwell upon -  trapped as he was pretending to be a stormtrooper and waiting for Thrawn to return. Eli took in a deep breath, trying to treasure it. He got bored with that, too.

How much longer is this going to take?

Maybe Thrawn had already gotten to the detention cells. Maybe Ezra was still in one. The kid was a Jedi, so who knew what he was able to do. Could he unlock the cell using his Force powers? And then what would Ezra do? Would he be able to tell where Kallus was, “stretch out with the Force” and meet up with him?

And what about the shuttle? The clearance codes their retrieval team had were for the light cruiser Kallus had originally been on. Thrawn’s Star Destroyer would require different ones.

Did they know that?

Does it matter?

Once he was dead, Eli didn’t really care much how the Rebellion sorted things out. He had sat through enough of their meetings to realize they were going to end up going the way the old Republic had gone. Their idealism would clash with reality, and another form of tyranny would rise up to establish order.

A tightening in his chest cut Eli’s breath short.

It really was a shame Thrawn was going to die. He would have made a great Emperor. One the galaxy needed. But Thrawn had turned.

Eli winced, glad the helmet hid his expressions.

He’d told himself not to think about why Thrawn changed. Or what he did to deserve such a betrayal. But no matter how much he tried to tell himself it didn’t matter - that what he’d been put through was reason enough - the question still burned away at him.

Gnawed into his consciousness.

What did you do to deserve this?

Approaching footsteps. Eli stiffened.

It was only Agent Kallus and Ezra Bridger.

Eli’s shoulders dropped.

Agent Kallus was mumbling something to the young Jedi, and Eli wasn’t about to scream across the corridor to tell him who he was. Or ask them what they thought they were doing, going to Thrawn’s office.

And then.

The strangest thing happened. One Eli struggled to find the words to explain. It was like something soft and polite had gently coaxed him out of his body, taken control of his actions. Not in a terrifying way… but …

It was Lieutenant Lyste. Reminding him that Thrawn had told him to expect him, and to let him in.

And Eli did, without complain or arguement.

Until a few moments had passed, and he was standing in the empty hall, wondering what in the world had just happened.

Was that… a Jedi Mind Trick?

Eli wheeled around and hit the release for the door, his outrage making him forget why he was standing guard in front of Thrawn’s office in the first place.

“What are you two doing?!” he growled, removing his helmet so they knew who they were talking to.

“You… you were the guard?” Kallus asked.

“Hey, worse things could happen wearing a disguise like that,” Ezra said.

Eli was nearly beside himself in annoyance. They were ruining his plan.

“You two need to get out of here!” Eli hissed. “Now. Before Thrawn comes back!”

“We need clearance codes,” Ezra said, gesturing to the droid, Chopper, who wheeled behind the desk.

“And remove the Rebel base from Thrawn’s database,” Kallus added.

“Clearance codes, yes, Rebel base, no,” Eli said, glancing over his shoulder.

“Why not? You planning to tell Thrawn where it is?”

Eli winced. He certainly wasn’t about to tell a teenager Thrawn was minutes away from being blown away. “Look. Thrawn… doesn’t forget anything. Not a single detail. Ever. If you remove the planet, he’s going to realize it’s gone. And besides… it doesn’t matter. It’s not going to matter.”

A weird cloud passed over Ezra’s expression. As though he’d been able to reach out with the Force and catch a sense of what Eli was preparing himself to do.

The droid beeped happily.

“Fine. The codes are sent,” Ezra said. “Kallus?”

Kallus glanced between Eli and Ezra. “Thrawn is… the only one who suspects me- if he’s… taken care of there’s no need for me to leave the Empire just yet. I could stay… and continue to feed the Rebellion information.”

“No way,” Ezra cut in. “You’re coming with us. I’m not having my friends risk their life to get you out of the Empire for you to turn them down. We’ve made it this far-”

“Having an inside man is actually far more beneficial to your friends.”

“What? Just so you can be rescued again? No-”

A buzz at Ezra’s commlink cut him off.

“Admiral Thrawn is headed to his office.” It was unmistakably the voice of AP-5.

“What? Stall him!” Ezra answered.

“I can’t, he’s at the door.”

Eli felt his heart rate skyrocket.

“You two!” he barked. “Get …”

Eli glanced around. The office had changed since the last time he’d been here. Fewer artworks. Fewer places to hide. This wasn’t the way he wanted it to be… to have an audience…. it was all going wrong.

“... hide behind the-”

There was really only one option.

“Get behind the retaining wall!” he said, looking around for a suitable hiding place for himself. “I’ll hold him off while you two get to the hangar!”

“And what about you?” Ezra whispered as they hid.

Eli didn’t answer. But his hand tightened around his blaster.

-SWR-

Thrawn could feel things slowly slipping out of his grasp.

He wasn’t used to not having control.

Once Thrawn realized the prisoner was gone, he immediately headed for his office. He sent Pryce to the hangar bay to be on the lookout for anything suspicious - mainly, Lyste or Kallus and any possible Rebel agents attempting to escape - and Yularen to the bridge to keep an eye on everything overall.

Thrawn went to his office.

If a prisoner had been transferred to his ship after getting “caught” by Kallus and Lyste - if the same prisoner was then released by Lyste - then Lyste brought the prisoner along for a reason. They would be doing some espionage.

And if Thrawn had mentioned in front of Lyste how close he was to discovering the Rebel base, then surely the Rebels were going to attempt to destroy his map.

Thrawn’s suspicions were raised even more when he noticed there was no guard in front of his office.

Dead, or part of the Rebel’s web.

Either way, Thrawn readied his blaster, and hit the release for his office.

The next room was quiet. Still. Deceptive.

Thrawn glanced quickly in his gym - empty - and his sleeping quarters - also empty.

They were in the office then.

Waiting to ambush him? Or too preoccupied with stealing data to realize they were about to be caught?

Thrawn hit the release for his office door.

It was quiet. Still. Deceptively so.

There was an expectant feel to the dark office. As if that place held its breath, waiting for the strike. Thrawn cast his eyes around, narrowing them slightly as he stepped forward.

Certainly nothing looked different. He analyzed the desk. Perhaps he was wrong. Then again, perhaps they were already gone. If they were clever enough to break into his office, they were clever enough to-

The cold metal of a blaster pressed firmly against the back of his head.

Thrawn held his breath again, slowly raising his hands in the universal expression of surrender.

And waited.

The man behind him made a gesture - Thrawn could sense it more than see it. Two figures - no, three - moved from behind his chunk of retaining wall.

Thrawn was expressionless as he made eye contact with Kallus. Still without much surprise as he recognized the shorter one in Imperial uniform was Ezra Bridger - the “bounty hunter” from Lothal. Clever.

They said nothing.

Even the little droid wheeled out of the office with barely a sound.

The hydraulics of the door hissed behind him. Sealing him in with his assassin.

“Why do you hesitate?” Thrawn said slowly.

He grimaced against his will as the blaster pressed into the back of his head with more assertiveness.

And waited.

Thrawn was surprised to find he wasn’t upset. If there was a way to die, assassination wasn’t a bad way to go. He wouldn’t have to suffer whatever puppetry Pryce had planned for him. No more threats. No prison. No execution. No… an assassination had honor.

And certainly the Empire would use it. Suddenly Thrawn would no longer be a threat… his assassination would be flaunted, used as propaganda. Even if there were those within the Empire who despised him, worked against him, tried to toss his out and kick him down - once he was dead, he would stop being a threat. But he would still be a tool.

But the person holding the weapon did not make a move.

-SWR-

Eli knew what to expect. He prepared himself. He thought he was ready.

He wasn’t.

He was crouched behind one of the pedestals - the one that was holding a Twi’lek kalikori - when the doors opened. Eli didn’t dare risk peeking. Not until Thrawn had walked past him and was standing at his desk.

And even before Eli cast eyes upon Thrawn’s figure… his heart rate was skyrocketing.

The wave of anger that washed over him was blinding.

It wasn’t just the realization that it was about to happen. That he’d reached the point of no return. That no matter what, he couldn’t just hide there. He would either have to make a move or be found out. And after everything he’d suffered through, he wasn’t going to cower.

It wasn’t fear of his impending death. It was an anger far more internal. Psychological. The notion that Thrawn was free to walk wherever he chose. That he hadn’t been imprisoned. Enslaved. Starved. Beaten. Rescued. That he remained a detached observer, moving pieces around the board in whichever manner would benefit him… that he didn’t care.

That Thrawn still seemed… normal.

Even if things were different.

The room was darker. There were fewer art pieces. Everything Eli could see was somehow tied to the Rebels. To the mission. All traces of Thrawn’s personality were gone.

All traces that Eli Vanto once existed, once occupied this same room… all of that was gone, too.

Eli crossed the room in moments. Even in his consuming rage, he was at least in control enough to be quiet. Thrawn didn’t even notice him sneak up on him.

Pressing the bad end of a blaster against the back of his head didn’t warrant much of a response either. Thrawn simply lifted his hands. Eli’s chest heaved with each breath.

Now the fury was swallowing him.

Even getting assassinated didn’t seem to bother Thrawn whatsoever.

I have to do this alone.

Eli took his non-firing hand away from the weapon, waving at Kallus and Ezra to make their escape. There was a tense moment when Ezra seemed to want to say something to stop him… but he left without saying a word. Eli was sure Thrawn would do something, something that would force Eli’s hand… but the most movement he made was a slight turn of his head to observe the two Rebels leave.

The hydraulic hiss of the door echoed in the room.

And still Eli couldn’t do it.

He tested the trigger - the way it gave ever so slightly… it was going to be easy… no effort at all to pull the trigger… and still he held back.

Eli felt his chest tighten.

It wasn’t about how easy it would be to perform the act. It was about how hard it was to be here.

On this ship. In this room. Where so much of who he was to become was formed.

Where so many memories were made.

What did I do wrong?

The question burned in Eli’s mind. Consumed him. He felt his mouth open, against his will - his inner consciousness pressing him to know the truth. But his eyes burned… he couldn’t ask. Not like this…

He was on the verge of tears… and if he was going to kill Thrawn, he didn’t want him knowing how upset he was…

But Eli needed to know.

Had to know.

Why had he suddenly become dispensable. For what price were all those promises of love and forever broken. Why -

“Why do you hesitate?”

The words were certainly one of defeat. Gracious defeat.

Eli felt his chest tighten more. He took a step forward, ramming the end of his blaster harder into the back of Thrawn’s head. His finger tested the resistance of the trigger again. It will be easy…

Eli knew he had to know.

Why did you do this?

Even if he was going to die.

When did I stop mattering to you?

Even if it didn’t matter… he needed to know why Thrawn betrayed him. But he couldn’t ask the whole question. He couldn’t risk crying. Letting Thrawn know how upset he was. Even if Thrawn only had moments left to live… he couldn’t let him die knowing how badly he’d gotten to him.

“Why?”

It was all Eli could dare himself to say.

“Eli?”

Chapter Text

Eli didn’t lower the weapon so much as the muscles in his arm simply gave out.

The tone on Thrawn’s voice. The desperate surprise. The pain. Eli knew - Thrawn’s reaction was genuine. In a single moment, Eli’s anger ebbed away, leaving his muscles trembling in the sudden shift of emotions.

He opened his mouth to speak. His breath was taken away each time.

Thrawn glanced over his shoulder as the silence lingered.

Their eyes met. Another blow.

Those eyes.

Eli could see pupils… irises…. Eli had never imagined that Thrawn’s eyes could not glow. But without the glow, Eli could see how those eyes studied him, flickering over the features of his face. Movements Eli had never been able to notice before.

For only a moment.

Thrawn was on him the next, Eli too dumbfounded to do anything to resist him.

The kisses were painful. Not intentionally, of course. There was a kind of relief to them being forceful, pressing against his face - every last inch of it. As though Thrawn had to assure himself that all of Eli was real. Arms were wrapped around him, hugging him tight. A shaking hand combing through his hair, holding Eli’s head. As if Eli might vanish.

But Eli could only feel horror.

I would’ve killed him.

Eli was too stuck on the thought. He didn’t realize tears were falling until Thrawn kissed them away.

“You’re alive.”

It wasn’t even until Thrawn had spoken in Basic that Eli realized the Chiss had been mumbling almost chant-like in Cheunh. Some kind of… supplication. A thanks. Or perhaps Thrawn was also so overdone with emotion he couldn’t focus his mind, either.

Eli winced, trying to return to the present. His mind was simply reeling. Constantly backtracking to find out what was going on.

You’re alive.

Eli couldn’t answer. He merely nodded, head hanging, as though ashamed. Trembling with emotions he had no names for. He winced again.  

You almost killed him… he thought you were dead and you almost killed him for it.

Eli’s knees weakened. Thrawn’s hand found the small of his back. Eli fell into the support, and Thrawn clutched onto him tighter.

Finally, Eli reached out. Even if his hands were numb, he raked his fingers into Thrawn’s uniform, clutching on it, tightening his hands into fists, just to assure himself that all of this was real, determined to never let go.

He kissed Thrawn back.

It was a good kiss. Long. Deep. Passionate. It spoke of things they couldn’t say. Forgiveness and longing and relief.

It was Thrawn who broke away.

“Hurry and get undressed, we don’t have much time.”

“S-sir?” Eli stammered, not sure if his head was merely too fluffy from the kiss to hear things correctly. “N-now?”

Thrawn was already unfastening his jacket when he paused.

“We must make our escape,” he said. “And I will need to make use of your disguise.”

He traced a circle around his face, the same gesture as he’d done years ago when explaining why he’d killed a stormtrooper merely for his armor.

“I need to cover my face,” Thrawn explained.

“Oh,” Eli said, blushing. “Right.”

“You thought-?” Thrawn paused again, a smile spreading on his face. Perhaps he was just as giddy from the emotional onslaught as Eli was, because Eli swore it was the biggest smile he’d ever seen Thrawn show.

“Eli, how I’ve missed you,” he said, leaning forward to give him another little peck of a kiss on Eli’s surprised lips. “But that will have to wait.

“Your Rebel friends - we need to catch up with them before they make their escape..”

Eli was clumsily stripping off his armor.

“Sorry about that.”

“About what?”

Eli glanced up, then quickly away. “I… well… I mean, joining the Rebellion and all.”

“In our current situation, no other choice could have been better,” Thrawn said. “I have my misgivings on the Rebellion’s probability of success, but there have always been alternatives to my plans. Either way, as things stand now, we have no choice. You will never be welcomed back into the Imperial Navy and I will not go anywhere without you.”

Eli blushed even more. “But…”

“No,” Thrawn leaned forward to kiss Eli again, silencing Eli’s doubts. “I will find another way.”

They continued undressing in silence. Eli focused on what he was doing, trying not to dwell on thoughts of how he might have ruined Thrawn’s plans to save the galaxy by… well… being alive.

“Thrawn…? I… how am I …”

Eli bit his lip, realizing as he handed Thrawn the black stormtrooper body glove that he was suddenly trapped.

“What am I going to wear?”

He certainly couldn’t leave the office wearing any of Thrawn’s clothes. Even the Imperial-issued physical training uniform would be massive on him. If they were trying to escape, he couldn’t risk getting stopped and chewed out by another officer for wearing an improperly sized uniform.

Thrawn merely blinked back.

“I saved your uniforms.”

“I… you did?”

Thrawn inclined his head slightly. “When they came to clear out your quarters. They’ve destroyed everything, I’m afraid. I was there to oversee the proceedings. I could hardly maintain my composure watching them take everything. I couldn’t bear the thought of you being gone… so I created a diversion.”

“Thanks for that,” Eli replied lamely, feeling his chest cave in slightly. He hadn’t considered how much pain Thrawn had been enduring this whole time.

“You… really thought I was dead?”

“I would have come for you otherwise,” Thrawn said, his voice low.

Even if Thrawn didn’t intend it, the guilt that swelled up inside Eli was unbearable. He’d doubted Thrawn… convinced himself that the Chiss had gotten rid of him… and all the while, Thrawn had been suffering, too, just as he had. Maybe even worse… forced to continue to play into the hands of those who’d done all this to him, being alone with his grief. No one to redirect the self-blame...

His eyes.

“Your eyes,” Eli said. “They’re...” He didn’t want to say what he thought had happened to them.

“A sign of grief amongst my people,” Thrawn said pleasantly enough, smiling a small smile. “It may come back, I don’t completely understand the physiology of why it happens.”

“I’m sorry,” Eli blurted out.

The smile on Thrawn’s lips spread effortlessly. “For what, my dearest Eli.”

Eli’s eyes flickered to the blaster on the ground.

“For doubting you.”

“I’m equally sorry,” Thrawn said. “For giving up on you.”

Thrawn leaned forward for another kiss, this time on Eli’s forehead. Eli closed his eyes instinctively, treasuring the soft touch of velvety lips.

Eli finished getting dressed in Thrawn’s sleeping quarters. He chose not to say anything about the rumpled appearance of his uniform. When he stepped back into the office, Thrawn was finished dressed, save for the helmet, but the Chiss was as busy as ever.

“There’s no time for a crate,” Thrawn was saying, as though it was explanation enough. “Find a satchel.”

Eli noticed a small stack of datacards on his desk, and the pile was growing. He didn’t need to ask what their purpose was. If Thrawn was planning on defecting, it would help to come with a gift of sorts. And whatever Imperial databases he was choosing to download would at least be a start in demonstrating how sincere the Chiss was.

“And that, as well,” Thrawn said, gesturing to something on the podium. Eli nodded as he added Hera’s kalikori to his bag.

“Good idea.”

Eli scooped up the datacards, too, securing them in the satchel as Thrawn went into his sleeping quarters, coming back with what looked to be some kind of homemade transmitter. Eli cringed as he imagined it would seriously hinder their ability to get through the ship without raising any alarms.

“It has to come with me,” Thrawn said, but offered no other explanation. “Are you ready to go?”

Eli straightened up. He had entered this office only minutes previously, prepared to never leave it again. Now he couldn’t wait to leave.

“Yes.”

Thrawn took out his commlink, and Eli balked as he said into it, “Colonel Yularen, listen to me carefully-

“-Rebels have infiltrated my office. Tell Governor Pryce to inspect every shuttle boarding and disembarking from the Chimaera.”

“S-sir?” Eli asked when Thrawn turned off the commlink and left it on his desk next to his discarded uniform. “You…”

“I have business left unfinished with Ms. Pryce,” Thrawn said, his voice suddenly turning to acid. “It would be best if we did not need to take a detour.”

The walk was awkward, to say the least. Eli focused entirely on keeping his head and eyes directed straight to the front. Not taking in the surroundings… the way the Chimaera had suddenly taken on a menacing feel. But no one said anything to either of them. If anyone thought anything was odd about an officer and a trooper walking down the hall together, the trooper carrying a very alien-looking transmitter, they kept their opinions to themselves.

They reached the hangar bay.

And just in time, too.

“I guess that’s our ride,” Eli said, nodding with his chin towards the Lambda which currently had Governor Pryce straight out brawling with a stormtrooper in front of it.

“Yes, I suppose we should aid our new compatriots-”

A wub of a stun blast knocked Pryce out, coming from…

“Oh, no,” Eli muttered. It was Lyste, attacking from the shadows. How were they going to get rid of him? Already, Lyste was jabbering excitedly to the “stormtroopers” about how he’d “gotten her” - and Eli knew the lieutenant was going to be very curious why they weren't going to linger and file a report. Curious and perhaps even persistent enough to thwart them?

“Lieutenant Lyste isn’t one of the spies?” Thrawn said, his helmeted head inclining slightly.

“Lyste?” Eli said. “Oh, stars no.”

“But he’s been indirectly involved in so many of the successes the Rebels have had on Lothal-”

“Sir… that’s… just gross incompetence.”

“And he hasn’t been dismissed?”

“That’s wealthy parentage.”

“Oh.”

At least they’d caught up with the others. Eli realized they had probably been waiting just outside the hangar, waiting for the right Lambda to show up. Ezra, of course, being Ezra, had to be cocky right as he was walking up the ramp.

Granted, Lyste raising a blaster to an Imperial officer would help Kallus defend why he knocked a commissioned officer to the ground.

Kallus only looked mildly surprised as Eli boarded the shuttle. If he suspected anything from the larger-than-normal stormtrooper walking beside him, Eli couldn’t read it in his face.

Or… there should have been a stormtrooper walking beside him.

Eli wheeled around, his heart rate jumping up - a sudden irrational fear of Thrawn somehow getting caught and stolen away from him-

The stormtrooper was coming up the ramp once more… this time…

“You’re … not serious.”

“I am.”

Thrawn had decided to carry Governor Pryce on board as well. And not a moment too soon. The ramp was lifting, the Lambda was leaving the hangar bay floor. Ezra pleaded with Kallus to come with them, and Kallus only responding with, “I can do more good, here.”

And then the door was sealed and they were making a small dive out of the belly of the Chimaera.

-SWR-

Arihnda came too.

She’d been stunned unconscious enough times before to know from the grogginess that that is what had happened to her.

Rebel scum.

But Thrawn had been wise to send her. She could see through their disguises the moment she saw them. A fat stormtrooper… these Rebels really were stretching their luck. And if she had any luck, she’d slowed them down enough to ensure they were properly captured.

She lifted her head, her vision momentarily blurry. She settled her gaze upon an Imperial officer… as her eyes focused, her blood began to boil.

“You….” Arihnda whispered as Eli Vanto came into focus. “So you did escape slavery after all.”

“You knew about that?” Vanto said, that annoying drawl of his making her headache worse. Some people at least try to sound like they belong to the Empire. “About my imprisonment and-”

“Who do you think pulled the strings to put you there?” Arihnda said, her eyes briefly taking in her surroundings. Oh, good, a Lambda shuttle cargo bay. She all but ignored the other obviously-a-Rebel stormtrooper sitting beside Vanto as she dwelled on a more important thought - she was being kidnapped.

“It took nearly all the political favors I had to trade you in for that blue monster,” Arihnda said. “Why are you smiling?”

Vanto had been trying to cover his growing smile with his hand, but had obviously failed.

“You’d ever hear the expression “talking with a foot in your mouth?”” Eli said.

Arihnda opened her mouth to answer.

“Did I ever teach you that one?”

Vanto was speaking to the stormtrooper.

It was then that Arihnda realized the reason she could tell he wasn’t a stormtrooper was his height was most certainly beyond the cut off for the typical stormtrooper…

Her blood ran cold.

“No.”

Even though the voice was muffled by the helmet, Arihnda knew.

“Well, this is a classic example,” Vanto went on, glancing back at Pryce as his smile grew more sinister. “When you say you put your foot in your mouth, it means you’ve said something you probably shouldn’t’ve. Sometimes… when you say something in the wrong company that might … get you in trouble.”

The stormtrooper stood up and it was one of the few times in Arihnda’s life that she actually cringed.

But even after Thrawn removed his helmet, and glared at her… he didn’t attack. He didn’t yell… he only spoke. As Vanto left the cargo bay, as the Chiss followed after him, as he stood in the doorway with a hand over the button which would lower the ramp out into the darkness of space, he spoke. In carefully measured words, words that Pryce already understood to be the last she would hear.

“That iron grip you believe you have over everything? I would test it now, if I were you.”

Chapter Text

Even though Eli knew what was happening, his heart still lunged in morbid excitement as he turned away from the closing door. There was a whisper - it only could be a whisper coming through the sealed doorway - the sound of oxygen rushing out of the shuttle’s cargo bay.

The door wasn’t an airlock, though. The ship began to tremble. Emergency lights were tripped and an alarm echoed in the halls. Eli could feel invisible hands wrapping around his ankles and pulling him closer to the door. He put up a hand to brace himself.

“You don’t suppose they’ll close the door before she lets go?” Eli asked.

Thrawn’s face remained unreadable, though Eli knew beneath the facade a great, rippling anger was brewing.

“They may,” Thrawn said. “Who is piloting the shuttle?”

Eli bit his lip. Even if Thrawn had said it didn’t matter, referencing his deflection to the Rebellion so openly still felt embarrassing.

“Kanan Jarrus and… a clone trooper named Rex,” he answered.

“A clone?” Thrawn said, his anger dissipating with his curiosity. Eli couldn’t even hold back a laugh and instead tried to disguise it as a cough. Thrawn’s fascination of the Clone Wars…

“Nevermind,” Thrawn said quickly. “The Jedi… what kind of a man is he?”

Eli knew what Thrawn meant. “He’ll probably be closing the door, sir,” he said with a disappointed sigh.

As if on cue, the alarms quieted and the spinning emergency lights turned off and a soft thud rumbled under their feet.

“I really hope she let go,” Eli muttered under his breath. As noble as it would be to spare her, as important as she could be to get information from… Eli just wanted her gone. And he wasn’t even troubled at the thought. Knowing she had a hand in everything that had happened to him…. Even if “standing by” counted as murder.

Eli shook himself from his thoughts at the sound of pounding on the metal floor. Someone was running down the length of the ship to greet them.

Eli figured it wasn’t going to be a very pleasant meeting. Eli had known how much the Rebels didn’t like Thrawn. Hell, he’d even had a hand in encouraging some of their dislike. He himself had actively hated Thrawn for a while… How was he going to save both their skins this time?

“Well, here we go-” Eli started, and added, rather lamely. “Good luck.”

Thrawn shot him an inquisitive look.

“We’re going to need it.”

Thrawn looked ahead, his expression turning to steel. He’d decided something. Something Eli knew he wouldn’t like.

“You’re going to pretend like you’ve captured me,” Thrawn said quickly.

“Thrawn, no-”

“It’s the only way,” Thrawn said.

“They’ll never believe I forced you onto this ship against your will.”

“Then I followed you. I was wearing a helmet. You knocked me out in the office and stole the datacards. I came too and followed you. Trust me, you must-”

But whatever else Thrawn needed to explain, Eli never found out. The sound of footsteps had gotten too close. Eli wasn’t ready for Thrawn’s next move. He grabbed Eli’s uniform, shoving him roughly against the wall. The wind was knocked out of him, and he struggled vainly - even if fake, Thrawn could easily overpower him.

Ezra rounded the corner the next moment. A glint of murder in his eyes.

- SWR -

Hera stared at the HoloNet projection, her jaw hanging open.

“What happened on that mission?”

The mission wasn’t supposed to involve...

“Hera?” Sabine asked.

The Rebellion has made their boldest move to date.

There simply were no words.

Loyal members of the Empire are dead. Others missing. One captured by Rebel scum.

The HoloNet had a reputation for not being entirely trustworthy, but the Empire would never put out something like this if it weren’t true. Not even as propaganda. What Hera could gather was that the mission had gone very, very off plan.

Governor Pryce… is dead.

The shock had dulled what should have been joy at the news.

Pushed out into space from a hijacked Lambda shuttle.

Had their Lambda been damaged? Did the team have to go steal another one? Why did they kill her? How did she even get on board? Why would they try to take her? Or had she followed them on board? Forced their hand? But… even with the blood on their hands, this seemed fairly extreme.

A Rebel spy has been captured. Lieutenant Lyste was caught aiding in the rebels escape, as well as attempting to assassinate Grand Admiral Thrawn.

Hera was pretty sure there was only one Fulcrum spy Ezra had been trying to extract but they were more than willing to accept-

He was executed on five counts of treason against the Empire.

Oh well.

Agent Kallus of the ISB was fundamental in the spy’s capture.

Kallus - the actual rebel agent they were there to liberate - decided to stay behind? Why? So the entire mission was for nothing?

And this superior agent will be needed by the Empire to uncover the whereabouts of the Rebel base, for the Rebel infiltrators have kidnapped Grand Admiral Thrawn-

At that point, Hera couldn’t listen anymore. Not like she needed to hear the HoloNet’s narrator explain how recent events were the reason for raised security and a firmer hand in dealing with Imperial subjects. No… Hera’s head was reeling.

How did the mission go so far off plan?

Had any of them been hurt? Why in the world would they possibly want to kidnap Thrawn!? Had Thrawn and Pryce been trying to stop them? Had Thrawn somehow become cornered on the ship? Was everyone okay? Was Kanan okay?

Attempts to contact the Lambda shuttle as it flitted across the galaxy losing as hopes of pursuit, weren’t easy, either. When Hera finally did manage to secure a line, it wasn’t Kanan who answered. It was Rex. And his explanation to what was going on wasn’t very encouraging.

“He can’t talk now. He’s too busy keeping Ezra from killing our prisoner.”

Hera stared at the empty display as the line went dead. Her hands trembled slightly. She tightened her hands into fists.

Thrawn is coming to Atollon.

It had always seemed unlikely they would ever need to use some of the rooms that had come along with scrounging up spare prefabricated base units, but if they’d somehow managed to capture Thrawn….

What would they do with him?

There were options, yes. Hera could have him delivered to the Senate - and forced to answer to his war crimes. Or, she could convign a court of her own. A Rebel court. Where no Imperial could swoop in to rescue him, yes, that was more fair.

To the thousands of innocents Thrawn had slaughtered there.

Or they could keep him here… interrogate him. Surely they stood to get something out of him.

No…

Hera knew from first hand experience not to trust the blue-skinned Imperial. He was clever.

Hera’s skin crawled in remembrance of her first meeting with him.

There was nothing to say that Thrawn hadn’t let himself get captured only to find where their base was.

“Commander Sato!” Hera called, making up her mind. “Hold down the fort, I’m going to prepare the detention cells.”

-SWR-

Eli figured Thrawn tagging along was going to end up being a disaster.

But…

Even with so much first hand experience with Thrawn-level disasters, Eli couldn’t quite see how he planned to get out of this one.

Eli had misjudged just how badly Sumar’s death had upset Ezra. He’d forgotten just how powerful Jedi could be, especially when angry.

The moment Ezra saw Thrawn - Thrawn without an entourage of Imperials, Thrawn vulnerable - he’d Force-thrown him against the wall, pinning him helpless against his will. It took every last measure of Eli’s self-restraint and trust in Thrawn to not throw himself protectively in front of Thrawn.

Act.

He’d never been a convincing actor. And to try to trick someone who could pretty much read his emotions and his thoughts?

This was going to be the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. Hopefully Thrawn knows what he’s doing.

Even taking that first step away… his feet were impossibly heavy.

But Eli stepped away, turned back to look at Thrawn, forcing his face to contort into a glare. But words were beyond him.

How can I even pretend I hate him? After everything-

“Ezra, STOP!”

Kanan stood behind his Padawan, his hands reaching out, fingers curled. As though gripping onto something.

“He killed Sumar,” Ezra growled, his fingers curling. Eli could hear Thrawn struggle out of sight - the Chiss had made a sound. A whimper. A groan of pain. Was the kid torturing him?!

“You’re not going to change that by killing him,” Kanan said.

Eli struggled again. Thrawn can’t die… not here…

Ezra didn’t answer his Master, but he didn’t release Thrawn, either.

“Kanan’s right,” Eli said, his voice wavering slightly as he found his courage. “We need him alive... “ And strangely enough, the ‘reason’ came to him that instant. “We need to put him on trial… We need to show the Empire they have to answer for their crimes…” Stars, this was difficult. “We need the galaxy to see.”

Eli glanced between Ezra and Kanan. He couldn’t trust himself to look at Thrawn.

Thrawn was afraid. Eli knew he was. Thrawn had discussed just how uncomfortable Jedi made him - an idea that had once made Eli tease his lover. Oh, you find found something you can’t defeat with logic? You don’t like not having control?

But now, in this situation, Eli could only imagine how Thrawn was feeling.

Being held against his will by a being he couldn’t understand or fight. Having his life in the hands of an angry teenager wheeling an ability where death could be dealt with no possibility of resistance.

But Ezra didn’t snuff out Thrawn’s life.

Ezra finally lowered his arms, muttering, “Fine.”

Thrawn stumbled forward, gasping, fingering rubbing at his throat. Kanan took a step forward, igniting his lightsaber. If there was an awkward silence before, the hum of the laser was hardly an upgrade. Thrawn glared angrily at the weapon, but didn’t move.

“Turn around,” Kanan ordered. “Hands behind your head.”

Thrawn growled under his breath but complied.

“And don’t move,” Kanan said, taking a step closer, the hum of the lightsaber intensifying as it moved through the air.

Kanan looked over his shoulder. “Eli. Go help Rex co-pilot.”

Eli, even if it pained him to leave Thrawn, didn’t waste a moment. He had to trust Thrawn. He had to trust Kanan.

“Come on, Ezra.”

Surprisingly enough, Ezra came along. Unfortunately, it was only so he could vent about how much he hated Thrawn. It was something that they used to be able to enjoy together. Eli only wished Ezra thought his reluctance had something to do with seeing Thrawn again and not… well… whatever it was that they were doing.

Eli fell into the open pilot’s seat in the cockpit, busying himself with buttons that probably didn’t need to be bothered with. Anything to try and hide how badly his hands were shaking.

Eli kept going through a script in his head, rewriting, editing - hoping that when the time came for him to give his story, it was foolproof. But none of that prepared him the reception waiting for them on Atollon.

Eli couldn’t count, but he was pretty sure every last Rebel had met them out on the flight line. Eli stayed on the Lambda until everyone else had gotten off. Thrawn was oddly calm. And oddly silent. He kept his hands on the back of his head, fingers interlocked, his face emotionless.

Thrawn came to a stop before Hera.

Eli had never seen her angrier. Or more victorious.

“Grand Admiral Thrawn,” Hera announced.

“Captain Syndulla,” Thrawn answered cordially. “I expect neither of us imagined we would be meeting again so soon.”

Eli wanted to slap himself in the face for Thrawn’s very awkward observation.

Hera was not humored.

“To say nothing of the conditions of this meeting,” Thrawn continued. “I expect I will be treated fairly.”

“We have some questions for you,” Hera said.

“Ah, an interrogation,” Thrawn said, not sounding at all surprised. “Lead the way, captain.”

If Hera thought Thrawn’s willingness to comply was strange, she didn’t let on. Perhaps she dismissed it as Thrawn’s nature. Or due to the amount of blasters trained on the Chiss.

Eli winced, tightening his hands around the strap of the satchel he still wore… wondering if or when he was supposed to show Thrawn’s good intentions.

Thrawn, I hope you know what you’re doing.

Chapter Text

Everything was going much as Thrawn envisioned it would.

Ezra Bridger using the Force to choke him was a terrible ordeal to endure, but staying silent and in control had diffused the situation much faster than arguing his willingness to defect. Ezra, in the angry state he was in, would more than likely have seen anything Thrawn attempted to say as merely trying to save his own skin. It would have added fuel to the fire. It was better this way. To endure, and to wait.

Thrawn was much more relieved that Eli played his part as asked. He stayed out of harm’s way. Rushing to Thrawn’s defense… it would have not gone well. Eli would have merely made himself a threat by suddenly “siding with the enemy.” Ezra may have hurt him.

And Kanan—the good man that would close the hatch and attempt to spare Pryce’s life rather than let a sworn enemy die as long as he had the power to do something about it—played his part much as Thrawn suspected he would. He talked Ezra into taking the moral high road and sparing Thrawn’s life—rather than let a sworn enemy die.

All that remained to do now was to continue playing a captured enemy and see how the Rebellion would treat him.

This required him to play a role as well.

If they treated him with cruelty, if they decided to execute him for everything which had happened under his command, then so be it. It was a risk any military leader would take when engaging with a formidable enemy. Thrawn would hold no ill will.

But as long as Eli continued to play his part correctly and act like the friend of Thrawn’s Rebel captors, then Eli would survive. He would remain innocent in the eyes of the Rebellion, unconnected to Thrawn’s crimes. Whatever Eli chose to do after Thrawn was executed—if execution was what would ultimately be Thrawn’s fate—that was Eli’s own choice. But at the least, he would survive.

However, if Thrawn could gage that the danger had passed… if the Rebellion was willing to listen to him once tempers had cooled… If he could convince Hera that his intentions were genuine? If the Rebellion was willing to pardon him for what they saw as crimes… If they were willing to accept his help? Well… then a whole different slew of possibilities opened.

But now, he had his role to play.

That of a defeated and captured Grand Admiral of the Imperial Navy.

He let himself get led away, not daring to look at Eli as the crowds cut them off. It felt like something had been cut… the tangible link between them. Dear Eli…. He’d already been through so much. Was Thrawn asking too much of him? It does not matter.

This had to be done.

So Thrawn let himself get led away without a struggle, hoping but not knowing if he would see Eli again.

-SWR-

Eli was lost.

He tightened his hold over the satchel, his eyes glued on Thrawn until he vanished with the crowd. He had no idea what Thrawn had wanted him to do, but something told him everything depended on him making the right choice. So really, not very different from any of Thrawn’s others plans.

This is insane…

Thrawn had never put so much on Eli’s shoulders.

Thrawn survived Ezra… Thrawn survived the initial surrender… he’s fine now. He’ll be fine. I need to step in and—

Eli cursed himself for letting Thrawn out of his sight and hurried into the base. The base wasn’t exactly large, but it was still easy enough to get lost in. Or to lose a Chiss. He looked up and down the hallways as he passed, hoping something would just jump out at him.

And then he saw Hera… coming down the hallway. Alone.

“Hera,” Eli called. “I... “

“Eli…” Hera said, the anger on her face softening. “I can’t even imagine what that mission must’ve been like for you—“

“Here,” Eli said quickly, reaching into his satchel and offering the kalkori.

Hera’s reaction was not what Eli expected. Her expression wasn’t even one that Eli could recognize. She took the kalikori gently from Eli’s hands, her fingers tracing the wooden blocks delicately. The next moment, she had pulled Eli into a hug.

“How? After everything in that mission… all you must have been going through... you thought of me?”

“Well, sure,” Eli said.

An embarrassed laugh. “Thank you.”

He let Hera hug him a moment longer, feeling a surge of crippling awkwardness overwhelm him. He was tired. It hadn’t even hit him how exhausted he was until that moment. It’d been a long day… his mind was frazzled as it was. He had started the day wanting to kill the love of his life, and then they sort of both realized without even explaining anything that it had all been a misunderstanding… and now he was trying to figure out how to save Thrawn’s life. His brain was absolutely fried.

And now Hera was hugging him. He wanted to just sink into her arms and fall asleep. He wanted to turn his brain off. He wanted—

Not yet. Thrawn needed him.

“What… are you doing with Thrawn?”

Hera looked down at Eli, her hands tightening around the kalikori.

“I need a minute, Eli… Just… I need a moment alone with this.”

Eli couldn’t even hold back the look of horror.

“Please, Hera, I—”

But she held up a hand. She really did look like she was on the verge of tears. Eli stood alone in the hall as she left, feeling more lost and confused than before.

I shouldn’t’ve given that to her… Eli beat himself up.

He should have said right away that Thrawn was responsible for getting that to her… He should have…

Eli cringed.

Maybe…

He looked down the hallway.

One of these rooms…

Should he just start calling Thrawn’s name?

He didn’t care if he was following Thrawn’s plan. The only thing he wanted was to be in his arms again. To be held. To know that everything was going to be okay. He was tired… the exhaustion kept slowly creeping up on him. He just wanted to curl up in Thrawn’s arms… like he’d wanted to do so many times…and sleep. Peacefully.

Eli cringed again.

He had no idea what Thrawn had wanted him to do. Why he was doing all of this. Why Thrawn was so sincere about Eli pretending that he hated him.

But an idea came to Eli’s head. One that would convince everyone that Thrawn loved him. That Thrawn would leave the Empire for him. That Thrawn would destroy anything that had a hand in what had happened to him.

If only Thrawn would forgive him….

-SWR-

They took him to a room and shoved him against a wall. The search was awkward—the stormtrooper armor was peeled away bit by bit, each piece analyzed before getting tossed aside—most likely they were searching to see if a tracker had been stuffed under something.

When they had contented themselves with that, they wanted the body glove as well. Thrawn felt no shame in complying, though the replacement clothes they gave him were too small and ill fitting. It was mostly likely all they had: a bright orange flight suit.

Though why the Rebellion wanted to fly in surplus prisoner uniforms, Thrawn couldn’t guess.

Still, Thrawn got the assumption that he wasn’t made to feel like a prisoner so much as they had nothing else to give him.

Once that was over, the searchers gathered up the armor and left the room. The door hissed closed, a mechanical snap indicating that they had locked him inside.

The room was simple. A table and a single chair. No windows. If Thrawn had wanted to escape, he could have fashioned something, but instead, he paced the room slowly.

He was alone for a long time.

They have no idea what to do about me, Thrawn mused. Or else they would rather talk to the others first.

When they did return, they came in force. Obviously the Rebellion thought Thrawn would act like a cornered animal at his circumstances. It was almost comic the way the guards burst into the room, their violence of action dissipating strangely as Thrawn sat himself in the chair calmly, keeping his hands up, palms outward and open, the expression on his face calm.

Hera followed into the room, frowning slightly. As if nothing would have pleased her more than to watch Thrawn get slammed around the room a little. Thrawn looked between the guards—the sort of ragtag angry young faces the Rebellion could whip up as intimidation—and then up at Hera.

“Why are you here?” she asked.

Thrawn’s eyebrows raised slightly. “I had no control over the Lambda. I’m here because you brought me here.”

“You can cut the act,” Hera interrupted, her lekku shaking as she spoke each word angrily. “You’re clever, Thrawn. You let yourself get captured so you could find our base.”

“And find it I did,” Thrawn said, glancing around the room. “The information does not seem to do me much good in these circumstances, however.”

“I said you can cut the act.”

“Captain Syndulla, you and your guards have searched me. They found nothing that could track my current whereabouts which means there’s no chance of rescue. There’s no chance for escape, either. I analyzed the layout of your base on our walk here, and there’s 150 meters from this room to the flight line. I am not an experienced pilot, I’m afraid, and I have no means to force one of your Rebels to fly one for me. And besides, even if your Rebellion is peopled by a fair number of aliens, I could not see any blue skinned ones. Certainly none of my species. The disguise I used to move about my ship will not work here.

“So, you tell me, Captain Syndulla, exactly what am I supposed to be clever about?”

“You have a plan. You always have a plan. You snuck on board that Lambda for a reason. What was it? Trying to finish the job with Eli?”

Thrawn winced. Despite everything he’d told himself, everything he knew that was riding on him playing this role… the very thought that he followed Eli merely to…

“He went on that mission only to kill you, you know that?” Hera asked, antagonizing him, as if finally happy she had found a button to push. “But he couldn’t do it. Even after everything you did to him, he couldn’t kill you.”

Thrawn didn’t answer. His eyes fell to his hands.

There had been so much left unsaid.

Hera wasn’t lying. Eli had sought him out only to kill him. Eli had thought that everything that happened to him was by Thrawn’s design…

“So he stunned you instead,” Hera continued. “Stole files. Got my kalikori. And when you came to… that was the only thought you had? Eli survived the work camps you sent him to, so you had to kill him yourself. Even after he spared your life?”

Thrawn set his face to be as impassioned as he could. The same frown that had dominated his expression since Eli was taken from him… and taken he had been. Just as Pryce had said: Eli had become nothing more than a weapon the Empire could use against him. His years of loyal service amounting to nothing.

How did he survive….

Thrawn’s heart constricted in his chest. The facade was failing him. His hands tensed against his will, tightening around a strip of orange fabric he no longer had, that he’d left behind. That had been soaked with blood… Eli’s blood.

And Eli had thought he’d done it to him.

Had him imprisoned in Thrawn’s place. Sold to slavery. Nearly killed…

“Thrawn?”

Thrawn’s sudden shift in behavior was noticeable even to Hera. Fool. He couldn’t let his emotions ruin what might be Eli’s only chance of survival.

“What do you plan to do with me?”

Hera’s eyes narrowed again.

“You have a Grand Admiral of the Imperial Navy prisoner,” Thrawn said. “There are a great many things you can do with that kind of power. I want to know what I should expect.”

“What difference does it make to you?”

“All the difference,” Thrawn said.

Hera looked at him, her eyes narrowing.

“You killed thousands of innocents at Batonn. Not enemies. But civilians. Families. There were children there.”

“A trial then?” Thrawn asked, his shoulders falling ever so slightly. Closing his eyes. “So be it.”

“You’re taking responsibility?”

“If I am to be put on trial, I will offer what arguments I can in my defense at that time. Until then, I believe we have nothing more to discuss.”

“The Empire put it out on the Holonet, you know,” Hera said. “The Rebels kidnapped the Grand Admiral. There’s other Rebel cells out there that would love to get their hands on you. And if we decide you’re not worth the trouble, maybe we’ll dump you with someone else. Someone who wouldn’t want to waste time with a trial.

“So tell me, Thrawn. Now. What game are you playing?”

“I believe I said we had nothing more to discuss,” Thrawn said, though his voice held none of the power it once had.

Thrawn let himself be led to a cell. He walked numbly, not taking much in. But Eli will be safe. Thrawn had to keep telling himself that. He had to believe it.

-SWR-

Eli knew Thrawn would be upset.

He walked down the cell block. It was empty, because the Rebels had never needed to use them before. Thrawn was in the cell at the very end. He was expecting someone else. Anyone else.

“What are you doing here?” Thrawn asked, his voice a hissed whisper as he stood up from the corner he’d been resting in.

Eli couldn’t speak.

His mouth screwed up into what was supposed to be a smile, but fell short as tears burned his eyes. He merely pressed himself against the slotted metal bars—reaching his hands into the cell. The moment his fingertips could touch Thrawn, he broke down.

“I had to...” he said, though what exactly he had to do, he couldn’t quite say. He had to see Thrawn again. It was a desire that had gotten into his very essence. Like an itch, deep down in his core. One that would not let him rest… he couldn’t just… out of all the things Thrawn had asked him to do, standing by and pretending to hate him was impossible.

“My dearest Eli,” Thrawn whispered, that tone of admonishment gone from his voice as he reached his arms through the bars to touch Eli’s face.

They sank to the ground together, sitting on opposite sides of the cell bars.

Eli curled up as best as he could, wishing he could be held… wishing he could be in Thrawn’s lap, lying somewhere safe and warm. Instead the bars forced them apart. Eli tightened his hold onto Thrawn’s clothes, taking it in. Thrawn… the softness of his gaze, the familiarity of his scent. All his once more yet they weren’t safe yet. They still couldn’t be together.

Thrawn brushed his hands along Eli’s cheek, and Eli leaned into his touch, letting tears fall freely. It was unfair… the barrier that separated them. But they made do. Eli closed his eyes and treasured the feel of Thrawn’s fingers combing through his hair, petting him, the way those long, delicate fingers traced his face.

“You have to leave,” Thrawn said finally. “Before they see you here.”

Eli shook his head. “I won’t leave you.”

“Eli—”

“Stop,” Eli said firmly. “You think after all of this, I’m going to stand by just because you said so?”

“And what will it do to me, to see you suffer my fate?” Thrawn asked. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“You dare think I’d be okay if they killed you?” Eli whispered.

“That’s what they have agreed upon?”

Eli pressed his face against the bars, cringing at the realization. No… He couldn’t let Thrawn just march himself to death merely to protect him. Eli had grown in self-confidence, but … he wasn’t worth it. The galaxy needed Thrawn. He needed Thrawn.

He opened his eyes, looking back at Thrawn’s.

The glow still hadn’t come back, but there was a faint twinkling in his eyes. Maybe it was love. Maybe Eli was getting delusional.

He leaned forward again, Thrawn meeting him. They couldn’t quite kiss through the bars, though, and Eli cursed under his breath. This was unfair. This was wrong.

“I’m going to make this right, Thrawn,” Eli whispered, drowsily. “I gave them all the datacards ‘I stole’ from your office. You wrote them in Sy Bisti, but there’s a fellow here who knows it. He’s translating it all now. What you downloaded… your journals… your thoughts about that Death Star project… all the evidence for its construction… all the evidence we had about Pryce and Batonn...

“You wrote everything down,” Eli whispered, fighting his exhaustion to smile. “Everything. Once they read through it all.. they’ll know. They’ll trust you.”

Thrawn was taken aback. He looked down at Eli, his eyes taking on that twinkling again.

“You’re…” Thrawn started, but he shook his head. “You exceeded all expectations I could have possibly had... with the task I gave you. Under the circumstances. Praise will never do you enough, Eli. I would be lost without you.”

Eli smiled clumsily. “You always had a way with words.”

“You should go,” Thrawn whispered, his eyes sparkling. “Sleep. Somewhere comfortable. You can rest knowing you’ve made all the difference.”

“This is the most comfortable place I could imagine,” Eli whispered.

Before he knew it, he’d eased himself down on the ground, lying facing the bars. He was more exhausted than he thought—the floor didn’t feel too bad at all.

Eli closed his eyes. The next moment, he felt fingers working their way in-between his own. He closed Thrawn’s hand into his, giving it a tight squeeze. Thrawn’s thumb traced up and down the back of his hand. Comforting. Blissful comfort. Eli wanted to cry again. Knowing everything would work out. And perhaps the next night, he would be in Thrawn's arms for real. Once the Rebels had worked out on their own that Thrawn was a friend.

Thrawn really did have a strange way of knowing what was the right course of action.

But even though it drove Eli crazy at times, it was what he loved about that man.

The next moment he was asleep.

Chapter Text

Hera did not want to believe her eyes.

She stood dumbfounded as she read the translation of Thrawn’s stolen datacards. At first it all seemed quite mundane. There was a mountain of information, and some highly technical stuff that appeared absolutely unimportant—manifests of shipments of doonium that Thrawn had apparently deemed exceedingly necessary to analyze.

Hera skimmed through those, failing to see their importance.

But then she read his journals.

The first was his account of Batonn. All the evidence he had for Governor Pryce being the culprit behind the explosion which killed thousands of civilians. Hundreds of thousands of deaths merely to protect her own nefarious methods to secure safety for her parents. The way he and Eli had reached the same conclusion, yet the lack of rock hard evidence meant that he would have to assume responsibility and she would go scott free. Even his musings on how to better capture information from her in the future so to avoid a similar situation was a surprise.

It wasn’t about him being pinned with something that bothered him, but that Pryce was capable of cruelty and he needed to catch her next time.

But then the journals got stranger.

There were contemplations written after each battle—the growing dissatisfaction with the other Imperial officers and what Thrawn viewed as their backwards priorities on setting alien life below mere commodities, his attempts to safeguard the innocent as much as possible, his frustration that his efforts were the “anomaly” and not the standard… the obsession with finding out what the Empire was doing with so much doonium.

The conclusions he’d made on the “Death Star” project. His confrontation with the Emperor over it and how inconclusive it went. His decision that the best way to prevent its construction, and possible use, was to push harder for his own TIE fighter initiative.

Initiatives that the Rebels had been doing everything in their power to thwart.

And then there were his thoughts on Eli…

Thrawn’s initial confusion over what had happened when Eli vanished. His desires to find him, regardless if Eli had defected or not. His grief, written as beautifully gripping as poetry, when he’d assumed Eli had been executed. His growing excitement as he deduced that Eli was alive…It was spellbinding to see Thrawn’s thoughts written out. How he pieced together pieces of seemingly irrelevant evidence to make connections...

And again, a second crushing depression when he returned from the mines where Eli had been rescued, empty-handed.

It took her hours to read through everything.

Hours for it to occur to Hera that Thrawn had willingly defected with Eli to the Rebellion. That she had suspected he was up to something because he was up to something. Just not the “something” she’d thought.

Even if it was late, even if the rest of the base had bedded down for the night, Hera made her way to the cell block.

She was angry, though she didn’t entirely know why. Angry that she’d been allowed to be angry? Angry that Thrawn had fooled her?

But he’d still stolen her kalikori. He’d still forced Sumar to kill himself…

The kalikori had been returned. Sumar… It would be difficult for Ezra to so easily see Thrawn as a possible ally. The kalikori was stolen to safeguard it - Thrawn made that clear in his journals. Sumar had been killed because Thrawn saw him as an enemy combatant. As someone who willingly accepted the conditions of battle and lost.

Ezra had warmed up to Eli, but it was almost impossible not to like Eli. Even if he’d been an Imperial - hell, a lot of the Rebels had Imperial pasts. Thrawn on the other hand? Hera couldn’t imagine Ezra could see it the way Thrawn did.

At the very least, it was worth a try.

Hera wasn’t prepared for what she saw when she got to the detention cells.

Eli was curled up on the floor, facing the cell, his hand encased in a blue one. He was asleep, but his face seemed strangely illuminated. Another blue hand was lost in his hair. Moving slowly and methodically, back and forth, fingers combing through Eli’s brown hair. Comforting him.                                                                                                           

Hera watched them for a moment, her heart twisting painfully.

How long have they been like that?

And why?

If Eli knew Thrawn wasn’t a threat… why wouldn’t he have said anything? Gone to Hera? Gone to anybody?

Then it occured to Hera what Thrawn’s game had been all along. Even reading his journal she’d picked up on his misgivings about the Rebellion—forgiving for a moment the particular offense of being lumped into the same pot as Saw Gerrera and his brutal tactics. Thrawn hadn’t entirely believed that any one particular cell was any different from any other.

Thrawn had been afraid. Not so much for himself—he hadn’t so much as protested when she hinted at a trial that would realistically end in execution. No… Thrawn was worried for Eli. He afraid that the stories surrounding the Partisans could be true for every Rebel cell and feared what kind of retribution they would have wrecked upon Eli...

Hera couldn’t entirely make out the interior of the cell from her vantage point—but as she walked slowly down the cell block, she could tell that Thrawn laid beside him. His eyes were open. That’s where the strange glow was coming from.

Hera tried not to be taken aback—herself being an alien, she had always tried to be mindful of other beings and their “differences.” She just wasn’t expecting it. The Thrawn she had first met on Ryloth didn’t have glowing eyes. But then again… that Thrawn had seemed so…

Now in hindsight, it was getting increasingly clear why Thrawn had been the way he was. The frown on his face. The sad tone on his voice. The forlorn way he carried himself through his actions… the way he’d only truly lit up when he’d deduced who Hera was—Hera had already figured out that making connections was one of the few things that could still make Thrawn happy.

Eli had been taken from him.

He’d been so thoroughly depressed and alone… plowing forward in life with little joy. The very figure of a beaten and defeated man.

And the glow in his eyes… Hera had read his musings on that in his journal. That the glow had died out when he thought he’d been responsible for Eli’s death. That it mirrored the loss he felt in his heart.

The glow now was soft… casting a faint red light, but it clouded his eyes so his pupils were merely faint shapes. The red glow made the movements of his pupils difficult to figure out what Thrawn was looking at, but Hera could tell Thrawn had taken his eyes off Eli for a moment—only the moment that was needed to identify who approached—before settling back on the human before him.

Hera waited for a reaction. For any indication that Thrawn was disappointed at being found like this. By his interrogator, no less. But no. Thrawn’s attention was back on Eli. Entirely.

“Well, get up,” Hera said at last.

Thrawn redirected his gaze to her again. Their eyes met. He must have realized she was talking to him and not Eli, but didn’t ask her why.

“If I know Eli Vanto,” Hera explained, “I’m not getting him off that floor unless you come with him.”

“And where will we be going, Captain?” Thrawn’s voice was so soft and low it was almost inaudible.

“Somewhere more fitting, given that you...” She fished for a word. Why was talking to him so much more difficult as a potential friend than when he was her enemy? She couldn’t find an accurate description, because what was it really? Thrawn’s… acceptance and integration into the Rebellion? Was that even what was going to happen?

“A cell for us both,” Thrawn supplied when Hera trailed off.

“His room.”

Thrawn’s eyebrow arched. “A more comfortable prison? One that we both will share? I think not—”

“Stop. Look...I read your datacards,” Hera said.

Again, Thrawn barely reacted. Not like how Hera thought he would have, given the circumstances. Again, she had to continue the conversation.

“I don’t understand… Why didn’t you say something?”

“You distrusted me,” Thrawn responded. “Anything I may have said would have been tainted by that distrust. I believed a better solution was to be as nonviolent and compliant as I could, give you the evidence you needed and for you to reach the conclusion on your own.”

Hera smirked. Thrawn as an enemy had been infuriating. But Thrawn as an ally? Still infuriating, but there was something almost charming about his words.

“I knew you were up to something.” Hera didn’t want to inflate his ego too much. “Ready to get out of there?”

A faint smile spread on Thrawn’s face as he untangled his hand from Eli’s gently, delicately… He didn’t spring up like a man eager to leave a prison cell, but like someone who knew he was going to be released far before his captors did.

Hera huffed out a sigh, resting a hand on her hips as Thrawn stood slowly.

Even the door sliding open wasn’t enough to wake Eli. But then again, Hera knew just how heavy of a sleeper he could be.

The moment the bars were moved, Thrawn was at Eli’s side, kneeling next to the unaware human, those dazzling eyes fixed entirely on him, analyzing his state. Satisfied that Eli was still asleep, Thrawn scooped him up.

“Lead the way, Captain.”

-SWR-

Eli didn’t so much as stir at being lifted up off the permacrete ground he’d been sleeping on. Nor did he wake at being carried. He didn’t get bothered at the sudden shift from the darkness of the cell block to the artificial brightness of the hallways. But the moment his body rested on a soft, plush surface, he felt himself torn from unconsciousness.

“Thrawn?” he said with a start, the sudden alarm erasing all hints of drowsiness as he propped himself on his elbows.

“I’m here.”

A hand fell upon his chest. Even in the darkness, Eli could sense the familiarity of the touch. Memories of long, nimble fingers… those that were once his to hold and be held by… but… Eli glanced around his surroundings… was he… in his room?

There was a faint red glow over everything.

“Thrawn….” Eli said again, looking back at the source of the light. His heart leapt so far it caused his chest to seize up in pain.

It wasn’t quite normal yet, not how it should be… but the glow… that familiar welcoming beloved glow was coming back.

“Shhh,” Eli could hear Thrawn’s tender voice, smoothing out his worries, the two orbs of light moving in the darkness as their owner spoke. “It’s alright. We are safe.”

Eli focused on the hand on his chest… the comforting pressure over his racing heart. He lowered himself back down, sinking into the mattress, placing his own hand on top of Thrawn’s.

“We’re safe,” Eli echoed.

Soft lips pressed onto the side of his face.

“You did wonderfully.”

Eli nodded in the darkness, swallowing back his own complaints. He wanted to tell Thrawn how difficult it had been to play along—how much physical pain it caused him to pretend to be absolutely indifferent to Thrawn’s fate… how it felt to be worried almost sick over what he was supposed to do. To hold back the emotional avalanche for what should have been the end of this entire nightmare… how unfair it was for Thrawn to thrust so much responsibility onto his shoulders when he was so vulnerable. How it ate away at him, fearing what it would mean if he messed up... how Thrawn could be torn away from him forever if he made the smallest mistake…

He let the misgivings vanish. It wasn’t the first time Thrawn had come up with a ridiculous plan. It wouldn’t be the last. He’d put his trust in Thrawn, like he’d done every other time he’d gone along with one of Thrawn’s plans, and everything worked out in the end.

“I’m proud of you,” Thrawn whispered. “What I asked of you I understand was—”

“Shhh,” Eli said, reaching up to stroke Thrawn’s face. “I’ve already forgiven you.”

“I insist,” Thrawn whispered, letting his lips caress the side of Eli’s neck. “I am indebted to you.”

Eli didn’t protest.

He buried his face into Thrawn’s bare chest, melting into the Chiss’s touch. Thrawn’s kisses were gentle and numerous and slow, his hands tracing along Eli’s frame. Thrawn and Eli alternated between holding and being held. Comforting and being comforted.

Slowly, that strange foreignness Eli had felt at their first kiss after being apart faded away into familiarity. Eli didn’t even want to bring it up to Thrawn… the way his lips had felt new… in poems it was always portrayed as romantic but in reality it was devastating. Like Thrawn had become a stranger. The sensation faded blissfully fast.

The night was full of confessions given and heard, apologies offered and accepted. Thrawn whispered about dealing with Eli’s death… Eli whispered back about his imprisonment. Thrawn was forgiven for giving up. Eli was forgiven for reaching the wrong conclusion. As the thorny layers of the past were stripped away, they grew more silent, letting the simple gestures of affection speak the wordless truth in their hearts.

They dozed off, then woke again, and the serenade would continue.

Throughout the night, Eli kept coming back to that one word. Safe.

They’d never been safe before.

They’d always been together, and there was a certain security in being assigned as Thrawn’s aide. The position itself was more or less permanent unless the working relationship was dissolved, which Eli knew wouldn’t happen by Thrawn’s doing. But it hadn’t been… Eli struggled to think of a word. Open.

It had always been a secret. A secret that was always in the back of Eli’s mind. The constant struggles with what if? What if they had been discovered? What if they were dismissed from the Navy? What if he ruined Thrawn’s mission? Or - what had happened - worse things than Eli's worse nightmares. Being torn apart... tortured... Eli wanted to believe that love was innocent and pure and righteous enough to get through any problems… but their love…

Eli smirked. The Emperor himself had turned it into a weapon that would turn against him. The way Thrawn’s voice rippled in anger at Eli’s description of what that mine had been like. The way he vowed to take them apart...

Thrawn would turn all his fury against the ones who had done this to him.

But that wasn’t quite the same.

Safe.

Eli felt himself relaxing onto Thrawn’s chest, lulled by the soft rise and fall as the Chiss drew breath. Thrawn had slipped back to sleep and Eli found himself smiling again. For once, it was Thrawn who was sleeping and Eli who felt possessed by a manic energy.

The future seemed strangely limitless. Full of promise. He had no idea what was waiting for him on the horizon, what being a part of the Rebellion would include, but he was ready for it.

Eli closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep.

For nearly half a standard year, Eli had been suffering - kidnapped and imprisoned, bore the terror of being executed, then enslaved and treated like an animal… and this was what he’d been dreaming for every last waking moment.

To find himself safe and secure and warm in the arms of the man he loved.

Eli nuzzled into Thrawn, listening to the steady beat of his lover’s heart, and let himself drift to sleep.