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“Will you walk with me, Lieutenant Commander?”
Eli turned to look at Thrawn, surprised. He did not usually ask questions.
It was about time for him to be ready to leave the promotion dinner; Thrawn was a man of precise times and habits, and he had done his customary amount of required mingling. Tarkin had not stayed long, of course, and Thrawn had already paid his respects to everyone of interest. Retiring at this point was expected.
But normally he did not ask.
“Of course, sir,” said Eli. “Any particular destination in mind?”
“To quarters. Unless you have other plans? It is a night for celebrating.”
Another question – two in two minutes? Eli eyed Thrawn, finding nothing unusual in his grave attention, and then the room. A smattering of Coruscant’s elite, both military and civilian – the kind of people Eli had hardly imagined he would ever see in person, and tonight most of them had congratulated him by name.
He was still a little unnerved, but when he had first come to Coruscant he would have been struck dumb in awe of such a gathering. Now he could see the invisible commerce they were engaged in, the give-and-take of favors and influence that flowed through the upper levels of Coruscant like a second economy. It reminded him of the neighborhood market on Lysatra, where, as a child, his mother had taught him to bargain.
“I have had enough of celebrating,” he decided. “Let’s go.”
Thrawn looked pleased, the expression mostly in his eyes. Eli had wondered often whether Thrawn was a typical example of a Chiss. Were they all that perceptive, that smart, that impassive? As he followed Thrawn out of the room, Eli smiled to himself. Maybe Thrawn was more expressive than your average Chiss. Either way, Eli wasn’t likely to ever find out.
Falling in step with Thrawn, one pace behind and to the left, was instinctual by now. They had to leave the ceremonial wing and go down five levels to reach their temporarily-assigned quarters in the massive combined headquarters building. Normally, they would have returned directly to the Thunder Wasp, but now the quarters made sense. They would not be going back.
“Do you know how long before we go to the Chimaera?” he asked, breaking the comfortable silence.
Thrawn activated the lift, tilting his head slightly as they waited. “We have three days, I expect.”
Plenty of time to arrange the transfer of all of his and Thrawn’s things to their new post. “New protocols to learn,” Eli realized, smiling again at the ridiculous idea of anyone going from lieutenant to commodore in four years. “Again.”
“Indeed, Lieutenant Commander.”
The title made it clear Thrawn was thinking of Eli’s own jump in rank, but Eli already knew the place and etiquette of a lieutenant commander. He had actually been talking about learning Thrawn’s own protocol; he wasn’t familiar with the ins and outs of being a commodore, and Thrawn certainly wasn’t going to bother learning it himself.
The lift arrived with a click and a hiss, and Thrawn stepped in. Eli followed. “Another court-martial, another promotion. Did you expect this when you came here?” asked Eli.
He had learned that he could ask Thrawn anything he pleased, as long as it was neither too personal, nor involved any strategically important information about the Chiss. Thrawn would either answer or he wouldn’t, but he never had a problem with Eli asking.
“To Coruscant?”
“No, to the Empire.”
“This was not a court-martial,” Thrawn said.
“No,” agreed Eli. But it had come right on the heels of the court-martial for the Cyphar incident. Thrawn’s entire career continuously teetered between commendation and condemnation. Taking Thrawn’s off-topic dodge as a refusal to answer, Eli said nothing else. He was surprised when, a moment later, Thrawn spoke again.
“I expected nothing when I came,” said Thrawn. “I hoped that the Empire would take advantage of my skills and knowledge somehow. I certainly did not expect to be given a position in the military.”
Eli looked at Thrawn and found Thrawn already looking at him, gaze fixed and steady. When the lift came to a sudden stop and the door slid open it felt jarring, even though the pneumatics were nothing but smooth, as always. Eli cocked his head at Thrawn and stepped out. “No?”
Thrawn raised an eyebrow. This time he followed.
“At this point, I just assume you orchestrate everything that happens to us.” Eli shrugged, heading for the numbered corridor that should contain their assigned quarters and smothering his smile.
“I hope that you are joking, Lieutenant Commander Vanto.”
“I am.” Eli grinned at Thrawn and stopped in front of a door. “Suite 14A. This one’s yours, I guess.”
He double-checked his comm. Eli had been given 14B, an adjoining ancillary room. Of course. Yesterday he probably would have felt a sting, knowing that the whole galaxy saw him as Thrawn’s optional accessory, less necessary than a mouse droid. For today at least, he was surprised to find that he didn’t really care.
Thrawn palmed the door open and walked in. The quarters were what you would expect of a short-term billet at Imperial military headquarters: plain, serviceable, and completely devoid of character. There was a hybrid sitting room that doubled as an office space, and a bedroom. Eli’s own quarters would no doubt be smaller, but essentially the same. Eli wondered if Thrawn could see the nature of a culture in a lack of art as easily as he could in art.
If they had been in someone’s good graces, they would probably have been invited to spend what little leave time they had somewhere luxurious. It was looking more and more like this promotion had not come from High Command’s initiative, though, and clearly whatever hand Tarkin had in the matter did not extend all the way to patronage.
“I believe,” Thrawn said, unbuttoning the sleeves and collar of his uniform tunic, “that when you asked if I expected this, you meant to inquire whether my previous military career with my own people was similarly – unsmooth? Arkrith?”
“Turbulent.”
Eli didn’t bother denying it. He watched with interest as Thrawn sat down on the low couch and then slouched, his long legs almost touching the chair across from him. Now that Thrawn had sat, Eli could as well if he wanted to. He chose to stay where he was, leaning against the back of the chair with his hands stuffed in his pockets.
“It was… turbulent. I was the youngest Chiss ever to be appointed Force Commander, and yet, as you know, my career ended in exile.” Thrawn lifted a hand, tracing the shape of an undulating sine wave in the air. His glowing eyes were fixed on Eli, his face showing the calmly expectant expression he wore when he was waiting for Eli to draw a specific, obvious conclusion.
Thrawn did not talk about his past. Why was he doing so now? Why had he brought Eli here – asked him to come?
Twisting to avoid the conclusion Thrawn was prodding him towards, Eli asked, “And are you happy?”
Thrawn squinted for a long moment, as confused as Eli had ever seen him. “Happy?” he said slowly, as if the word were completely unfamiliar. “I don’t understand the purpose of your question.”
“If you don’t like the turbulence–” Eli shrugged. How could he say this without sounding like he was insulting Thrawn, or blaming him for problems caused by others? “If the ride is too bumpy, you could make it smoother for yourself. If you wanted to. Sir.”
Already shaking his head, Thrawn said, “Only at the cost of my effectiveness — the cost of innocent lives. I will always do whatever necessary to protect those who depend on me. My happiness is immaterial.”
After serving with Thrawn for four years, Eli could have hardly expected any other response. So why was Thrawn talking to him about this?
“Are you happy, Lieutenant Commander Vanto?”
Eli winced. Ah. Yes. That was what the conversation was about. What it had always been about. Finding himself staring fixedly at the chair back he was leaning on, Eli snuck a tiny look at Thrawn. Of course, he was still staring evenly like this was a completely normal subject to talk about, something they discussed every day, even though he hadn’t liked having that question turned on him, either, had he?
“Sure,” said Eli. “I mean, yeah. As much as anybody, I guess.”
He winced at the way his drawl came through more strongly than usual. When he dared to glance up again Thrawn’s knowing expression strung Eli even tighter. What was he wanting to hear: that he had ruined Eli’s career? That Eli had never wanted to be his aide? That Eli resented him and wished they had never met? Or was he trying to force Eli to admit that he wanted to be here, in Thrawn’s shadow — that it was more meaningful work than he could ever imagine finding anywhere else?
“This was not what you wanted your life to be. My presence has caused you much trouble in the years since we met. We both know that your promotion was so long delayed because of my enemies, not yours,” Thrawn went on. “Your future with me is likely to include many more such instances of turbulence.”
I’m not going to stop, Thrawn was telling him.
Well, Eli had never expected him to stop, never really wanted him to stop. The galaxy needed Thrawn. Regardless, he couldn’t exactly deny that Thrawn had crashed into his life like a flaming meteorite. He had certainly hated Thrawn a little bit, for a while. Would he go back and change things if he could? It was not a question Eli thought much about anymore.
“What are you trying to say, sir?” Eli knew he was supposed to figure it out, but he was tired of this awkward line of conversation.
“Exactly what I have said.” Thrawn’s eyes glittered, his gaze never wavering. “Eli, you did not have a choice when they first assigned you to me. You may have that choice now.”
Eli crossed his arms. “I’m pretty sure we both just received our orders.”
Flicking a hand, Thrawn tacitly dismissed the very concept of orders. “I am currently in a position of favor, as you may have noticed,” he said dryly. “It is likely within my power to get you reassigned to a post of your own choosing, if you should wish it. You could resume your original career path, or take up your own command. With your promotion, now is the most natural time, and now is when I have the necessary influence. That will only last until the next time I offend Coruscant.”
“So, probably until tomorrow,” Eli joked, stalling as his mind raced.
Tarkin. Somehow, Thrawn had gotten into the moff’s good graces, and he was offering to call in a favor from Tarkin to get Eli reassigned. Another favor, Eli realized. His promotion today could only have come from the same source.
“Exactly.” Thrawn did not smile properly, but his eyes crinkled in what Eli had come to recognize as amusement. “So you see, this is a limited-time offer.”
And it was a real offer. If Tarkin could hand them two promotions and a Star Destroyer in one day, he could expedite a minor officer’s transfer in his sleep. And Eli of all people knew that when Thrawn said he would accomplish something — he did. Trying to picture returning to a supply officer track as a Lieutenant Commander… Eli shook his head. He couldn’t imagine it.
“While you are with me, most will only ever see you as an assistant. My presence will taint everything you do and my fortunes, good or bad, will decide yours.” Thrawn was explaining this placidly, like Eli didn’t understand. Like it hadn’t been Eli’s entire life for the past four years. “At your own command, you would be free to choose your own path and be judged on your own merits.”
The urge to snap at Thrawn was nearly irresistible. Don’t tell me how to look after my own interests, Eli would say. Instead, he took a deep breath and tried to think about why this situation seemed familiar. Thrawn was always giving him orders. They were always having oblique conversations that Eli didn’t understand until they were almost over. Why did this feel different?
Thrawn had told him how to look after his own interests once before. He had suggested one thing, in order to provoke Eli into doing the opposite.
I don’t dislike you.
“I’m not nineteen anymore, sir,” said Eli. “You’re manipulating me.”
“Yes,” Thrawn agreed, pleased.
Two could play at this game. “If you want to transfer me, you can just say so. I have tried to serve you well — I certainly wouldn’t want to be a problem for you, sir.”
This time Thrawn did smile. “Lieutenant Commander Vanto, you are invaluable to me.”
Eli reacted like he had been slapped.
“I’m sorry?” he said, and then immediately wanted to die. Why was he apologizing for being complimented? What if Thrawn thought he was fishing for more praise? “Why are we even talking about this, then? At your own command indeed,” Eli scoffed, parroting Thrawn’s earlier words.
Sharply, Thrawn said, “Make no mistake, Lieutenant Commander Vanto. If you choose to retain your current position, I intend to train you for command.”
It was deeply improper to roll your eyes at your commanding officer, but Eli did it anyway.
“Eli,” said Thrawn, which was probably his own more dignified version of an eyeroll. He hadn’t used Eli’s first name so much in years. “What do you think I have been doing all this time?”
Eli said nothing, because if he said anything it was going to be hell if I know.
“Do you think I go over my plans with you in such detail because I like to hear myself talk?”
“I just thought you liked mind games?”
“Only when they serve a purpose.”
That was right. Thrawn never did anything aimlessly. Every action was in pursuit of a goal. And his goal for drilling Eli on his tactics was supposedly to make Eli a field commander? Ridiculous.
“Sir, I’m not meant for command.”
“If you wish to pursue another path that is entirely your choice, of course.”
Thrawn’s pleasant tone was provoking, but at this point Eli wasn’t sure whether it was deliberate or whether he was just bristling at nothing. Arguing with Thrawn was like trying to fight the wind. Eli had a mental image of himself flailing wildly at the air, and choked back a laugh.
Gesturing at the empty chair, he said, “With your permission, sir?”
When Thrawn nodded, he sat down. Sprawling a little, Eli tried and failed to mentally backtrack through the conversation. He sighed and decided to just take Thrawn at face value; he would probably find out later what was really going on.
“I have no desire to transfer, sir,” said Eli, surprised at the conviction in his own voice. “Thank you for the offer, though.”
“You are sure? I know you appreciate certainty.”
Nonplussed, Eli said, “I have plenty of certainty.”
Thrawn raised his eyebrows and sat back on the couch, clearly inviting Eli to explain what exactly he meant by that. They had just talked about turbulence, and Eli’s life as Thrawn’s aide was certainly full of high-stakes unpredictability — but that wasn’t what he was talking about.
Eli waved a confusingly vague hand. “Sure, I mean, the missions... who knows what could happen. But the outcome is always certain.”
“Oh?”
“You always win, sir.”
The tiny change in Thrawn’s expression meant something, but Eli couldn’t guess as to what. He cocked his head and his intent stare never left Eli’s face, which was familiar, but other than that he seemed to have almost frozen. After a long minute of silence, he said slowly, “Eli, there may come a day when I do not.”
Speaking of things Eli couldn’t imagine.
He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “You’re protecting people, sir. What you’re doing matters. I would rather help you do that and get ignored or court-martialed every year than have my own career doing nothing important.”
Still in the grip of that unnatural stiffness, Thrawn said, “That is — good — to hear.”
Eli waited. Thrawn had forced this discussion. Now that he had his answer, what would he do with it? Minutes later, Eli was still waiting, watching Thrawn’s slightly abstracted expression as he thought. What could be worth thinking so hard about?
Finally, Eli leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees. “Sir, what is this about? Will you level with me?”
Thrawn’s gaze snapped into focus, and a tiny frown appeared between his eyebrows. “Level?”
Idioms were hard to explain without using other idioms. Lay your cards on the table, Eli wanted to say. “Explain your plan straightforwardly and honestly.”
“Ah, of course. My plan, as I said, is to train you for a command position.”
Eli squinted. “You were serious?”
“Yes.” Thrawn shifted in his seat, adjusting his position with an unusual, errant energy. “You are already a capable officer, and you have a natural aptitude for the kind of strategic thinking that is necessary in a military leader. It would be a waste to not utilize that potential.”
This was so far from anything Eli had ever expected to hear come out of Thrawn’s mouth that he just blinked and shook his head. He would have to process that later, probably in bed staring sleeplessly at the ceiling, because he didn’t have the time right now. “But you said you’ve already been doing that, right? So why this rigmarole?”
Thrawn’s eyes glinted with interest, letting Eli know that rigmarole, too, was a new word. He didn’t ask for a translation, though, so the context must have made its meaning obvious. Typically, Thrawn’s Basic was closer to perfect than most native speakers ever achieved, and his chosen vocabulary far more elaborate than strictly necessary. He would rattle off importune and vehemence without batting an eye, but it was often the slangy, informal words and sayings that were new to him.
“Yes. When we were graduating from the Academy, did you think you would ever be capable of doing the kind of things you have done?”
“No way,” said Eli. Being by Thrawn’s side every day had taught him things he would never have dreamed of as a cadet.
“You have already learned much, but there is a limit to how much I can teach a resistant person. You, in particular, have always resisted the idea that you belong on the bridge, not in an office. And you have been resistant to me.”
“When have I ever been resistant to you?” Eli demanded.
Conceding with a tilt of his head, Thrawn said, “You have always behaved with perfect discipline. But in your heart, you have resisted your role as my aide.”
Well, that was true. “I... don’t really mind that anymore.”
“I know. It is merely the fact that you had no choice in the matter. A military commander can never be halfhearted. Complete commitment comes only with choice, so it was necessary to give you the choice.”
Eli mulled that over. "So you knew I wouldn't transfer."
"I suspected and hoped that you would not, but the offer was real."
“And now that I’ve chosen?”
“When we get to the Chimaera, you will have your own authority as a lieutenant commander. I will give you greater responsibilities over ship and personnel. When appropriate, I will put you into practical command situations. Of course, your duties as my aide will be reduced in proportion to the new tasks you take on. I find my current need for an aide to be less acute, anyway.”
As Thrawn said the last part, the press of his mouth hinted at humor. Eli made a face at him that was absolutely inappropriate to make at one’s commanding officer. He had never seen any sign of Thrawn’s alleged need for an aide at any time, much less now. Privately, Eli suspected he had spoken perfectly serviceable Basic from day one and his need for a translator had also been fictional.
Thrawn smiled. “Will you do this, Lieutenant Commander Vanto?”
It was a terrifying thought. Eli had never believed he was the kind of person who could command battles, but Thrawn was right when he said Eli had already done things he thought he could never do. He had chafed at still being an ensign, feeling like he was long past ready to take the next step. And it was true, he was familiar enough with Thrawn’s processes by now to follow them even when other people were confused, but—
“I’ll never be able to do what you do, sir.”
Thrawn dismissed that with a gesture. “No one needs you to be me. Trust me to know your capabilities."
And really, he kept circling back to that. Thrawn said he could do this. If Thrawn said something, he was right.
“I’ll do my best,” Eli said.
Relaxing back into his seat, Thrawn said, “Excellent.”
Eli let his head drop, raking his fingers through his hair and breathing deeply. He felt like he needed to go to bed and sleep for eight hours to recuperate from this conversation. The day had started with the stress of anticipating another court-martial, and then the shock of his promotion, and now: You have a natural aptitude for strategic thinking.
“One more thing, Eli.”
“Oh pfassk,” Eli muttered into his hands.
Amused, Thrawn said, “Of course, we can speak of this later if you are too tired.”
“No, uh, I’m fine, sir. What is it?”
“I would like to begin teaching you Cheunh.”
Eli froze. Slowly, he looked up. He had never heard of Cheunh, but now it was his turn to rely on context clues. “Your language?”
Thrawn nodded.
“Why?”
“I believe it may eventually be useful to you.”
Clearly the time for laying cards on the table was over, but honestly Eli didn’t need a reason. Everything about Thrawn’s people had practically been top secret until now. Learn the language of the Chiss? Hell yes.
“Sure, if you want,” he said, trying not to seem overly eager. “Is Cheunh hard?”
“Cheunh,” Thrawn corrected.
“Cheunh,” Eli tried, and saw from the twitch of Thrawn’s mouth that he was still doing it wrong. “This isn’t a good start.”
“I don’t believe you will find the structure of the language to be overly difficult. What other species struggle with most is the pronunciation.”
“I can see why.”
“Listen,” said Thrawn. “Cheunh.”
Narrowing his eyes until they were almost closed, Eli tilted his ear towards Thrawn. “Again?”
“Cheunh.”
Thrawn’s “ch” sound was harsh, almost like a click, and then the rest of the word was breathy. The vowel sound moving to the H at the end was particularly sibilant. Eli made a few noises, trying to find what parts of the mouth Thrawn was using to make those sounds, and then said, “Cheunh.”
“Good!”
It was impossible not to grin, when Thrawn was as visibly surprised as Eli had ever seen him.
“Not exactly correct, but nearly there. We have six main sounds that other species find it difficult to make. It may not be possible for you to truly learn all of them. I believe humans may have biologically different vocal capabilities, but you are a clever linguist. You will likely be able to get close, and where the true sound is impossible you will still be able to make yourself understood.”
Eli imagined himself trying to talk to a Chiss in lispy, human-accented Cheunh. Thrawn had only said the sounds might be impossible. Didn’t he know? Had any human ever learned Cheunh? It would be nice to master all of them perfectly, like a native. This, for once, was something Eli thought he might very well be able to do.
“The first sound is that hhh, at the end of Cheunh. You heard that I was pronouncing it with more air than the normal H-sound in Basic, but if you listen, you’ll notice the sound also takes place higher and further back in the mouth. Think about the zhe-sound in Sy Bisti—”
“Okay. Wait. Sir,” Eli interrupted, holding up a hand, “are we doing this right now?”
“I want to introduce the difficult sounds, since they will take the longest to master. After that, your bunk awaits you. We have several days of leave to spend on more in-depth concepts.”
“Great,” said Eli.
Thrawn raised an eyebrow at him. “You said you had enough of celebrating.”
“That’s true, I did.”
Honestly Thrawn was right; despite his sarcasm, Eli didn’t mind that much. He was tired, and thinking about the future that awaited him on the Chimaera settled a solid ball of nerves in his gut, but Thrawn had said trust me, and Eli did. He felt like he was where he was supposed to be. And being maybe the first and only human to ever learn the Chiss language? Now that was exciting.
Eli rolled his shoulders, stretching his stiff muscles, and then slouched firmly into his seat. Unclipping his comm, he set it to record and then placed it on the arm of the chair. There was no way he was going to master all of this without notes to refer to later.
“Okay, sir. Let’s do this.”