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“I can take back the island whenever you wish.”
“Good.” Fleet Admiral Donassius’ image looked at Durril, then back at Thrawn. His voice held satisfaction. “At your convenience, Admiral.”
The Chimaera’s holoterminal shut off. Admiral Thrawn looked at the projector for a few more seconds, gathering his thoughts as he prepared himself for the new mission. As he had expected, the Fleet Admiral gave him the task of finishing the job on the Scrim Island insurgents and Batonn. He turned around to face Commander Faro.
“Commander Faro, prepare the Chimaera and relay the order to the rest of the task force. We will commence with the operation as soon as all systems and personnel are fully operational. I will be in my office to finalize some details; inform me when it is done then set up a holocall with each ship for the final briefing."
“Yes, Admiral.” Faro saluted him and set off to work.
Thrawn turned on the command walkway and traversed the short distance back to his quarters, his mind already on the works of art in his office waiting to be analyzed for the last time. He took measured, purposeful steps, his breaths deep and even, like a warrior meditating before a great battle. Just as he was about to enter, he saw Commander Eli Vanto jogging towards him; his face was serious but his eyes shone with muted excitement.
“Admiral.” Eli nodded to him in greeting. “I hear we're cleared to go for Scrim Island?”
“We are. I have given the order to ready battle stations. Our next test shall begin in less than an hour.”
“I’m guessing Admiral Durril wasn’t too keen on the idea of you going in his stead?” Eli asked, his lips forming into a barely-hidden grin.
Thrawn smiled. “He offered some choice words, but I am sure his pride will recover.”
“Yeah, not fast enough.” Eli chuckled. “Anyway, I’m actually here to talk to you about something Nightswan said that might be of use. We haven't had the chance to talk about that part of the incident and I thought you might want to hear it. Do you have a moment? I'll be quick.”
“Of course.” Thrawn entered his code cylinder into the panel, and the door slid open. “After you.”
Eli nodded his thanks, walking past Thrawn to take a seat in front of his sparsely-decorated desk. That, of course, was more than made up for by the different trinkets and holos of art that occupied most of the space in Thrawn’s office. He smiled to himself. So much and yet still so little had changed since their academy years.
Thrawn walked to his desk and sat down. He reached for a button on a panel beside his desk and the holos disappeared and the room brightened under the glow of the fluorescent lights.
He leaned back and steepled his fingers under his chin, giving Eli his full attention.
“Now, Commander, what is it you want to discuss?”
Eli leaned back as well and crossed his legs. Technically, being Thrawn’s subordinate meant being this relaxed in front of his commanding officer was highly unprofessional. But given all that they had been through, he thought he was at least allowed to relax his tired legs. Besides, Thrawn had seen worse things when they were roommates at the Royal Imperial Academy, and this definitely ranked among the least embarrassing he had ever done.
“Remember, in the Nomad? When you had me pose as a smuggler to confirm if Nightswan was there? Without telling me?” He threw a pointed look at Thrawn. To his annoyance, the only response he got was a slightly raised eyebrow and a faux-innocent look. “Anyway, Nightswan knew you fought with General Skywalker in the Clone Wars.”
The faux-innocent look on Thrawn’s face was gone but his eyebrow was still raised. “Is that so?” he inquired mildly.
“Yeah. Said he heard it a couple of years ago from someone working in the Thrugii asteroids. I wasn’t able to process it since we were quite preoccupied at the time, but now that I think about it, he didn’t look happy that he let that piece of information slip.”
Thrawn was silent for a moment, his gaze focused somewhere on the wall behind Eli. “Mm,” he finally said, turning to focus on Eli again. “Interesting, indeed. Did he say anything else?”
Eli shrugged. “Not much after that. He wanted me to tell him more about your association with the Jedi, but I told him that was all I know.”
“I see.” Thrawn was pensive again. “Thank you, Commander. Your information is indeed quite useful.”
“Did he offer up a major clue, then?” Eli leaned forward, eager to know if they had made a breakthrough.
“Perhaps. It remains to be seen after further examination.” Thrawn said and stood up to face the viewport, deep in thought.
Eli stood up as well and prepared to leave. “Of course. You’re welcome. You’ll let me know if you figure something out this time?”
“I will. Thank you again, Commander.” Thrawn said, still facing the viewport.
Eli went to leave but paused before turning around again, his brow furrowed in thought. “I didn’t lie, you know.”
Thrawn turned around at that, his head inclined questioningly. “I beg your pardon?”
“It’s just... when Nightswan urged me to tell him more about you and Skywalker, I didn’t lie about the fact that that’s all I knew. That you met him before during the Clone Wars.”
Thrawn paused for a moment. “Is that not advantageous? To be closer to the truth? I did say he had to believe you were genuinely surprised and that you were not lying.”
“Yeah, you did,” Eli said, walking closer to the desk again. “But that’s all you would say about it. I asked you before, remember? During our days at Royal Imperial?”
Thrawn turned to face the viewport again, the reflection on the glass showing a distant look on his face. “I remember,” he said, his voice equally distant. “As I said, it was an interesting time.”
Eli frowned. There he goes again, he thought.
“That’s the thing... sir,” he added for good measure, sensing that Thrawn might be reluctant to open up about the subject again and not wanting to risk upsetting him. “That’s what you said the first time. And all the other times after that. You did say we would speak more of it later on. Well, it has been a few years...”
Thrawn remained silent. The atmosphere of the room suddenly changed, seemingly colder despite the Chimaera's central temp-control, and the tension was so suffocating that Eli briefly wondered if Darth Vader were suddenly in the room choking him for his insolence. He waited a few more moments for Thrawn to speak, but he did not even look like he was breathing. If he did not know any better he would think the Chiss was just another statue in the room's extensive art collection.
He sighed, feeling guilty for pushing Thrawn to open up about something that was obviously a very sore and private matter for him. And right before a major conflict, too. Something significant definitely happened during his time with Skywalker, and even though quite some time has passed since the Clone Wars ended, it was still obviously too soon.
“Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed too hard. It’s just that I’m really curious since not everyone has had the experience of meeting an actual Jedi, especially now that they're gone. Least of all a Jedi of Anakin Skywalker’s reputation. Even the Emperor seemed surprised and impressed, and I get the feeling he's not a man who's easily surprised or impressed. But I know it must be a very private matter for you, and I’ll just leave it alone if you want. Until you find it easier to be able to talk about it,” he said gently.
Thrawn still did not move or speak. Eli gave him one last look and saluted him with a soft “Sir” before turning to leave. He was almost at the door when he startled to a stop, hearing Thrawn finally speak.
“My apologies, Commander. It is not that I do not trust you. It...” Thrawn said—so quietly that Eli had to strain to hear it—until he eventually broke off into silence.
Eli's expression softened. “I understand, sir. You don’t have to tell me now.”
“Thank you. Perhaps... someday.” His voice was still distant.
“Yeah,” Eli agreed, even though he was disappointed once again. “Maybe someday. But I’ll take my leave now. I need to run some things over with engineering before we begin. Is there anything else I can do for you before I leave, sir?”
The tension in the room dissipated, leaving almost no trace of the discomfort of the man across the room or the awkwardness of the situation that had just transpired. “No, thank you, Commander Vanto,” Thrawn said, his voice back to his normal calm and cool tone. “That will be all.”
Eli saluted him one last time before stepping out the door, finally leaving Thrawn to his art and his thoughts.
Thrawn did not know how long he stood there after his aide had left, nor did he know how he got back to his seat with the lights dimmed again and the art holos on full display. His conversation with Eli took a turn he did not expect, and it took a turn to a subject he definitely did not want to discuss. Ever. Still feeling like he was on autopilot, he centered himself for a moment before trying to focus his full attention on preparations for the coming battle. He checked his chrono; it would not be long now.
Except he could not. Every time he tried to set off to work, something kept on penetrating his familiar and foolproof concentration zone. The seed of frustration that had been planted since the conversation started grew within him, and he was furious with himself for getting distracted. This is not how it should be, he chided himself harshly. He knew full well the perils of going into a battle without the proper preparation, and he knew the dangers of losing focus when facing an enemy. He had already done his extensive research since that first briefing with Fleet Admiral Donassius, so it was not as if he was going into this blindly.
But old habits die hard, and he had always reviewed his plans and calculated all possible scenarios endlessly before combat. It was his routine, his pattern, and it had not failed him yet so he had no plans of changing it anytime soon. He always went back to his cabin before a huge encounter to go through the pattern, only allowing minimal and unavoidable disturbances to ensure it was not broken. Everyone who served under him knew this, especially Eli. Their customary consultation before every battle was yet another part of this pattern, and all was going well until their conversation fell horribly by the wayside.
That was definitely not part of his precious routine.
He could remember only one other time in his life as a warrior where his pattern had been broken—where everything he thought he knew and held sacred was suddenly questioned, and where his sense of duty was put to the ultimate test. The only time in his life where he truly had doubts: doubts about his actions, his beliefs, his path in life.
That time.
That fateful time he happened upon a strange man who wielded a strange weapon and possessed strange abilities.
That fateful time he happened upon her.
Her.
Thrawn closed his eyes in defeat. He had never allowed himself to go this deep into his thoughts about that time, but his pattern had already been broken, and once broken it only dissolved into one big, black hole intent on swallowing him whole. And after many exhausting years of resisting that pull, he slowly let himself be taken. Just once more, he reasoned.
All reasoning vanished once he cleared his mind and just let the memories be. He tried to have some semblance of control, to anchor himself to avoid drowning in the sea of memories, but he could not. He was just as powerless now as he was powerless back then, in her presence.
Sometimes he still could not believe everything had occurred within just a few weeks because in those days he felt like he had lived his full life on that desolate planet right on the borders of the Chaos and Lesser Space. He remembered the surprise he felt when he saw that his ship was not the only one in that sector of space. He remembered his fascination at seeing a whole new species, his first personal encounter with humans, and his initial disdain for their impulsive and emotional nature. He had never before seen beings that always burst red on his infrared vision at the slightest provocation.
Thrawn smiled. Anakin Skywalker was definitely amusing to watch during one of his fits. He was actually concerned that the man would spontaneously combust due to his emotional turmoil. It was a shame that the powerful Jedi did not survive the devastation of the Clone Wars.
The Chiss always functioned in a practical unit, with each warrior having a specialty unique to them that contributed to the overall effectiveness of the group. Each knew their purpose and would not let anything get in the way of carrying out their assigned duties. They assumed all sentient beings somehow knew at least this and operated in the same vein.
It was why Thrawn's surprise and confusion compounded when he had tried to analyze the ragtag team composed of the Jedi general and the Republic Navy captain. Anakin Skywalker was a seasoned Jedi Knight, powerful and well-versed in the methods and horrors of war, and she was an officer who had swiftly scaled the ranks thanks to her sharp mind as well as the unfortunate rapid loss of life during wartime. She had seen her fair share of combat in the relatively short time she was in the service and performed admirably despite the pressures and rigors of war, but her reluctance for violence was apparent and she still became overwhelmed at times.
Where Skywalker was dynamic and headstrong, she was gentler and a little more subdued. But it was interesting to watch the frequent role-reversal as the supposed general and leader sometimes became the student in need of guidance and comfort. Thrawn supposed they both shared enough similar traits to have been able to work together: his physical prowess to match her mental strength, and their odd ability to see the humor in decidedly non-humorous situations. That was the most they had both agreed on, confounding and occasionally insulting the Chiss time and again when they unexpectedly burst into laughter or cracked a joke in the middle of a life-or-death situation.
He had spent enough time with Skywalker to see the effectiveness of most of his methods, and where there was once animosity and frustration, now only remained respect and admiration. Though it was not enough to lift the Republic's standing in his eyes, he admired the Jedi’s strength and the Jedi admired his cunning. But where he truly found challenge was not with the Jedi, but with his unlikely and unwilling partner in isolation.
Her, he thought. The only pattern in these musings was the path that his thoughts took. Always starting with Jedi Skywalker, then shifting on to her.
He opened his eyes for a second and hesitated before reaching under his desk and feeling for a hidden panel to enter a passcode. A compartment hissed open, revealing its only content: a battered but mostly well-preserved paperback copy of the Galactic Basic dictionary.
He was chagrined to note that his hands were shaking when he reverently lifted the old book from its hiding spot and set it on his desk. He looked at it for a moment, apprehensive to even touch it. He found himself actually afraid for the first time in a very long time. An admiral and a warrior, afraid of a book, he scoffed at himself. Truth be told, it was not the book that he was afraid of per se. He was afraid that opening the book would open the last gate of restraint he had, sending him to spiral down the path of despair that nearly ruined him.
Against his better judgment, he moved to open the cover, fingering the frayed edges of the paperback. Even now you still wield power over me, ch'eo Csohn K’ticah. The first of the memories started to burst at the seams.
“You... carry this?” he asked, his hands gesticulating to help augment his very limited knowledge of Basic. He must have had a very bewildered look on his face because she laughed.
“Yeah, believe it or not. I allowed myself to bring one personal item before we left. It might not look like much, but paperbacks and paper, in general, are very rare these days. Practically extinct,” she explained slowly, gesturing to the book as she showed him.
“Art?” he asked, using his favorite word in the strange, new language so far.
She smiled softly, nodding. “Very much like art.” Then she did something he did not expect: she pushed the book into his hand.
He was taken aback. “No, Captain, very… precious,” he shook his head and hands in denial and tried to give the book back. In Chiss culture, gifts were considered sacred. One did not give gifts lightly, and the act was usually done reciprocally. He was embarrassed to realize he had nothing with him that was even close to the value of the piece of art she was so carelessly and thoughtlessly giving to him. Humans were such strange creatures.
“Yes, it’s very precious to me.” She chuckled at his use of the word “precious,” one of the words she tried so hard to make him understand. When he finally did understand, he then looked for every opportunity to use it. Which did not come by much considering they were stuck in the middle of literal nowhere and fighting for their lives every single minute. She continued in Meese Caulf, “And that’s why I want you to have it. I already know these words by heart and the value of this book to me is purely sentimental now. But for you, there’s still much room for discovery with this,” she nodded at the book in his reluctant hands. “It will continue to live on and do its purpose. My father said that that’s the best way to honor something.”
Purpose. Honor. He knew those words. He studied the book in his hands and lowered his eyes in shame. “I have nothing…” he gestured outward, trying to mimic the act of giving.
“That’s not true,” she said, back to Galactic Basic again, sincerity shining from her eyes. He had always been fascinated with her eyes. Jedi Skywalker’s was blue like his skin, and the Chiss all had red eyes with almost the same shade and intensity. But hers was ever-changing. When he asked about it, she described the color as “hazel,” appearing green or brown at times depending on the light or the surroundings, and there were specks of gold in the irises upon closer look. He had since decided that “hazel” was his most-favored color.
“You have your mind, Commander. That’s more than what most have. And it’s largely thanks to you that we’re still somehow breathing right now, so we're pretty even.”
He still was not fully convinced. He truly wanted the book, but pride and propriety kept him from accepting. “It is not… proper. Not Chiss way.”
She considered him for a moment, and he could almost hear the gears working in that mind of hers. Then she smiled again, and he was surprised at how he was not annoyed by this. During the Chiss' first encounter with the humans, they were always unnerved by how much and how easily they smiled. But he found he rather welcomed hers. Very much.
“All right, let’s make a deal.”
Deal. Another word he was confidently sure of. “Deal.”
“Yeah. I’m still giving you this book." When he was about to protest again, she held up a hand. "Not as a gift, but as a loan.”
Now that was a word he had not yet encountered. “A… loan?” he said, trying the word for himself.
“Loan. It’s when one gives something to someone for a certain amount of time. Usually for something in return.” She tried to mimic the act as best she could to help him understand.
“I see,” he turned to his default phrase to buy some time to think. “What... return?”
“Information. I've been teaching you Basic, so now you have to teach me... Choohn?” she said, slowly and unsurely.
He gave her a small smile, glad for her offered alternative. It was also to mask his wince at her butchered attempt. “Cheunh,” he enunciated slowly.
“Che-yoo-nh. Chyoonh. Choohnh," she repeated with a look of hard concentration on her face. His face must have given away his thoughts because she sighed in embarrassment. "Looks like warrior's fortune isn't smiling on my efforts this time, huh?"
He could not stifle the low, deep laughter that rumbled from his chest, both from her use of a popular Chiss phrase that she had undoubtedly gotten from him and her botched attempt. Her pronunciation was atrocious, and the way she said it sounded very close to another word that was considered highly indecorous by polite Chiss society. But it was her first attempt, and human throat muscles and vocal cords were not prepared to accommodate Cheunh's intricacies. And besides, she had been more than patient with him when he was the one butchering their language when he started learning (and continued to do so). Their ongoing tutoring sessions in Basic already went above and beyond the initial agreement. This was barely a price to pay for the precious book.
"So, do we have a deal, Commander?” she ventured, offering him her right hand.
Shaking hands. Another strange human custom, but not too dissimilar to the standard formal Chiss greeting. Nevertheless, he took her hand in his and shook it. “Yes."
They both smiled, and he was very pleased with himself for agreeing to this great bargain. He caressed the book, going through its pages silently before murmuring, “Vurawn."
She was looking at the setting sun and turned to look at him at the sound. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that. What did you say?”
“Vurawn. Kivu'raw'nuru. That is—was my name. Before my..." He did not know the words in Basic, so he tapped his chest and looked at her solemnly, his red eyes glowing with renewed intensity.
She stared at him, dumbfounded. Then she gasped silently as she slowly understood the significance of this gesture, of his name—his birth name. He told her that he did not have anything "precious" to give her, but looking at the shock and wonder plainly written on her features, she treated it as if it were more precious than any material gift he could have given her.
He allowed her and Skywalker to use his core name simply because it was easier and would save time. But in this instance, it was personal, a privilege he wholeheartedly meant to give. An old relic from his past, before he had given his life in service to the Ascendancy. Another aspect in their ongoing trade; a symbolic shift in the nature of their relationship.
Touched by his offering, she swallowed thickly before speaking. “Kivu'raw'nuru. Vurawn. Mitth’raw’nuruodo. Thrawn. Sorry, I know it sounds horrible.”
He smiled. “I understand. Chiss names hard for humans...” He touched his hand to his throat as his eyes settled on her lips.
“To pronounce,” she supplied with a smile. “Thank you, Thrawn, Vurawn. Truly. I have an idea of how much this means to you, and know I cherish and appreciate it.” She paused and took a deep breath, bracing herself for what she was about to say next. “If, in the end, there's only one thing in Cheunh I’ll be able to pronounce correctly, it’ll be your full names. You deserve that much. "
An odd emotion burst through him as they sat there silently. She looked at him, eyes alight with determination, and he knew she would keep her promise. The book and the world were momentarily forgotten; the gravity of the threats they still faced faded away, leaving only the two of them in their own little bubble in that corner of the galaxy. She opened her mouth slightly as if to say something. His eyes remained fixed on her lips, and as he darted a look at her eyes, he saw her looking at his as well.
He could not breathe. She did not move. He broke the spell first and leaned towards her when—
“Commander Thrawn! Grumps! Where are you?” a voice called out in the distance.
Inwardly, he cursed the ill-timing of the Jedi. Damn you, Anakin Skywalker, he growled to himself. He was so close to… well, he was not sure what exactly he was actually close to doing. He wondered if he could still salvage the bubble of peace between them, but he saw that she had also been dragged back to reality. He sighed.
“We must go. Sun almost out.” He stood up and brushed off the grass from his pants and offered his hand to help her up. He was both pleased and confused to note the shiver that went up his arm and down his spine when she took his hand despite the oppressive humidity of the planet’s weather. He squeezed the book in his other hand to try and ground himself.
She got up and nodded her thanks. “Yes, we must,” she said, then, as an afterthought, added experimentally, “Mitth’raw’nuruodo.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Still try?”
She cocked an eyebrow in return. “Of course. I take my promises very seriously.”
He nodded and started to head back to the camp with a small smile on his lips. She caught up to him and they walked side by side in companionable silence. Until she broke it to remind him of something:
“Don’t forget, Thrawn-Vurawn: I still want that book back. So keep it safe, yeah?” she said in a serious tone, but the mirth in her eyes—which had then transformed to a brilliant green with specks of gold in the setting sun—gave her away.
The peculiar simultaneous light and full feeling in his chest intoxicated him, and he was certain he would do whatever she asked of him at that moment.
"On my honor."
Thrawn shuddered as he was brought back to the present, disoriented enough that he could still feel the warmth of her beside him, breathe in her scent, hear her voice. He clenched his fist as he debated whether to open the book or let it stay closed and hopefully entrap the remaining memories within. Memories that were not as sweet as the one he had just reminisced.
Before he could argue with himself further, he opened the cover and saw the flowing and neat handwriting on the blank page before the title.
To Mitth’raw’nuruodo/Kivu'raw'nuru,
Thrawn/Vurawn,
May this help satisfy your curiosity, and ignite the spark for more.
Yours,
There was a smudge on the paper from when rainwater had accidentally rendered her name illegible. It did not matter. He knew her name as well as he knew his own, as well as she knew his own. She had learned enough to be sufficiently conversational in Cheunh, and had indeed kept her promise in the end: she was able to pronounce his name correctly, with her own subtle inflection rendering it uniquely hers. He never knew one could convey so much with just his name.
Curiosity, as she prepared to ask him something.
Frustration, as they disagreed on a certain matter.
Comfort, as she stood by him while he tended to his wounds.
Fear, as she called out his name in battle as the enemy slowly overpowered them.
Relief, as she murmured into his cheek when she unexpectedly held him in her arms after another brush with death.
Happiness, as they figured something out that could be used to their advantage.
Love, as they tasted each other’s lips for the first time.
Despair and betrayal, as she tried desperately to rein in tears that would not stop falling, mouth opening and closing as she tried to muster the strength to grasp at words that would not come.
He closed the book, the pain from long ago just as intense and devastating as the searing pain he felt right now. That is enough.
He moved the book to the side but it fell over the edge from more force than he had intended. He bent from his chair to reach around the desk and pick it up but noticed something that slipped out from within the pages. He grabbed the book and the folded piece of flimsi that slipped out and put them back on his desk.
It was a single sheet containing sparse information from various files he had gathered as his rank in the Imperial Navy rose and his security clearance increased. He remembered a conversation he had with then-Ensign Vanto a long time ago when they were just starting out in their Imperial naval careers.
“No point,” Eli said, shutting down the datapad and putting it away. “The navy doesn’t change orders just because junior officers don’t like them. When you’re an admiral, we’ll see what you can do.”
“I understand,” Thrawn said quietly. “Very well. I shall strive to achieve that rank as quickly as possible.”
Strive he did, and he finally achieved. But not for the reasons Eli thought. Not even wholly for reasons concerning the Chiss Ascendancy. It was partly for reasons that were, for possibly the first time in his life, selfish.
The day he had finally achieved the rank of Admiral, he sat down with his datapad in hand in his quarters, fingers slightly trembling in anticipation. Jedi Skywalker did not survive the war, and he shall soon learn if she escaped the same fate. He entered his query as he took a sip of the Corellian whiskey he had received as a token of congratulations from Colonel Yularen earlier in the day, savoring the benefits that his rank finally allowed. Information started to fill his datapad so he delved in to investigate.
He was severely disappointed to see that most of her file was redacted even with his admiral's clearance level, revealing very limited information available. No image of hers was also shown, leaving her appearance in recent years to his imagination. Nevertheless, he dug in, his mind registering and imprinting each piece of information he could find like he would when surveying a rare piece of artwork.
Amillia Colfax†
[redacted]
Imperial Intelligence
I. Personal Information
A. [redacted]
B. Republic Futures Program, Brentaal IV
1. Withdrew enrollment
C. Judicial Academy, Coruscant
1. Class valedictorian
II. Service Record
A. Sector Rangers
B. Republic Navy
1. Resolute†
2. [redacted]
3. Awarded the Star of Coruscant; promoted to Commander
C. Imperial Intelligence
1. [redacted]
2. Chief, Bureau of Operations [redacted]
3. [redacted]
4. Star Cabal [limited declassification; redacted]
III. Death
A. Summary execution
1. Wild Space; exact location UNKNOWN [DarkNet holovid link]
He had been glad to know that she survived the Clone Wars and rose to the rank of Commander, before transferring to Imperial Intelligence after the birth of the Galactic Empire. She had done well enough to get promoted to Chief of the Bureau of Operations wherein she, from what he had concluded based on the completely locked mission files and total absence of other information, did an excellent job that must have catapulted her to an even higher position. Then she undertook a covert infiltration mission to dismantle a major shadow organization called the Star Cabal, whose origins date back to the Great Hyperspace War. That had been a frustrating point in his research for its limited declassification status prevented him from learning any more than that single line of description.
He thought it highly unorthodox for a high-ranking official in the Empire to be given such a dangerous and elaborate mission that bordered on suicide instead of sending other suitable agents, but then again, she always had been highly unorthodox. Unorthodox, creative, and highly capable—undoubtedly the perfect asset for the job. Unfortunately, it was the cause of her untimely demise.
The section on her death was so sparse that not even the Empire knew where exactly she had died, only that her cover had finally been blown. In retaliation, the Star Cabal broadcasted her execution live on the DarkNet. A copy of the video had been available from the archives; she was kneeling on the ground with her head down, badly battered and bleeding to the point that she had to be tied to a pole to stay upright. He did not even last a minute before shutting it down. Seeing her hurt once was enough for a thousand lifetimes, and seeing her hurt again would only send him into a murderous rage.
She was gone. All his tactical maneuvering to get himself to where he was now, and it was all for naught. He was still undoubtedly loyal to the Ascendancy despite their disagreements and would do anything for the protection of his people. But the reasons for his exile were not entirely for the sake of his people, he admitted with some guilt, but also for a chance to redeem what he had once lost.
He thought that perhaps if he persuaded them to send him to the Empire to gather information, he would be able to find her again. They sent him, and that was done. Perhaps if he found her and made her understand the circumstances of the situation that led him to make that drastic decision back then, she would be able to forgive him. She must have known and understood that his sense of duty trumped anything that could have and would have ever been between them, because he knew that deep inside she had that same sense of duty to her own people—a quality that solidified his undying respect for her.
And yet she was willing to throw all of that away—her career, her beliefs, all that she had ever known—just to follow him. She would have risked her dreams and convictions just to give themselves a chance to be together. He had never seen such courage to venture into the unknown, and she was willing to do all of that just for him.
And his deepest regret was that he did not have the courage to do the same for her. He was afraid, he finally admitted to himself in retrospect, of an existence without the principles and beliefs he so rigidly stood by all his life. And it was that fear that drove him to turn her away, to reject her, to cut the ties between them so harshly that he saw the brightness he loved so much snuffed out of her eyes. Eyes that were left glazed and empty when he looked at her one last time before he turned away to leave.
Perhaps if he had the courage, then he would not be suffering the way he was now. Perhaps if he took the same leap of faith she was willing to take, things could have turned out differently. Perhaps they could have beaten the odds and found their happiness after all or, at the very least, she would still be alive.
Perhaps that was why he was always so adamant to learn and anticipate each possibility in everything he did: so that he could eliminate the element of uncertainty that could influence his choices and actions. The same uncertainty and fear of the unknown that led him to make a costly error once—an error that inevitably turned into a mistake because he would never be able to correct it again.
He was pulled from the darkness of his thoughts by the beep of his comlink. Quickly putting the flimsi and the book back into their hidden compartment, out of sight but never fully out of mind, he composed himself and checked the ID before answering the call.
“Commander Faro." His voice was calm and cool again, betraying no emotion.
Faro’s clear voice echoed in the emptiness of his cabin, the room only by the eerie glow of the holoprojectors. “Admiral. Systems are showing full green and all personnel is on standby. I also have the captains on the comm ready for orders."
“Thank you, Commander. I will be on the bridge shortly.”
“Yes, sir.” The comm shut off, leaving the room in silence again.
Thrawn stood up and straightened his tunic, catching his reflection in the viewport. For all the disarray he experienced internally, his visage still looked as immaculate as ever. Those who served under him expected and relied on his strength of mind and grace under pressure and that was what they would get from him.
He would not fail.
Never again.