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Samakro did not have a baseline for Thrawn's behavior; he simply did not know the man before his reinstatement as the Springhawk's Senior Captain.
Yet, the current Mid Captain was no stranger to battles or the pain-stricken recovery process that often followed.
He did not have to like Thrawn to keep an eye on his rehabilitation.
Samakro could find little regarding the Senior Captain's previous assignment. No matter how long he scrolled through his questis, the results were always the same; a scouting mission on a nomadic species called the Vagaari followed by a wholly redacted document.
Exiting his suite, Samakro could not wholly shake the gnawing sensation in his stomach. It felt wrong to question Thrawn's past on top of his seemingly woundless skin.
Perhaps they would uncover a mutual understanding, maybe even a common ground, or so the Mid Captain told himself as he entered the lift.
Nearing Thrawn's office, Samakro keyed in his private code, the Senior Captain had always condoned unexpected visits; this time shouldn't have been any different from the last.
Yet, the workspace was dim, showing no signs of occupancy as Samakro further crept inside.
It was wrong for the Mid Captain to linger in a space that wasn't his, and yet he couldn't abandon his search just yet.
"Thrawn?" Samakro asked aloud as he surveyed the quarters.
The Senior Captain had to be here; he was sure of it.
A faint glow emulated from beneath the fresher door as the Mid Captain's brow furrowed. Perhaps Thrawn had fallen ill and shut himself away until it passed?
Despite only knowing the younger Chiss for a handful of months, Samakro doubted this outcome, especially considering he had seen Thrawn work multiple fifteen-hour shifts while visibly indisposed.
Nearing the door, the Senior Captain's muffled voice caused Samakro's eyes to narrow in suspicion. Who the hell was he talking to in the bathroom?
The Mid Captain knew he would regret his actions as he pressed his ear against the door, honing in on the low hum of Thrawn's voice.
"Some wounds do not deserve to heal." The Senior Captain's tone was soft as if speaking to a misguided child.
"Everything holds the capability to repair itself; often, time can be the greatest healer." The unfamiliar voice of a female Chiss said.
"How do you mend the fibers of an old life? How do you continue onwards when you already understand there is no going back? There are somethings even time cannot mend."
Samakro's mouth felt dry as he took a step backward. Whatever conversation was occurring just beyond the wall was not his to overhear.
As the fresher door opened, all Samakro could do was correct his posture as his eyes locked with Thrawn's sleepless gaze.
The Senior Captain scarcely looked at Samakro before abandoning the call on his questis. "Mid Captain," he nodded lazily.
Samakro mimicked the gesture as his shoulders tensed. "I can come back if you are busy, sir."
Thrawn looked almost amused as he raised a single, dark eyebrow. "Not at all."
The Mid Captain gave a short, courteous nod as his lips pursed. It was difficult to not let his gaze wander over the raw bags beneath Thrawn's eyes or the sharp ammonic scent that clung to his skin.
"I just wanted to know how physical therapy has been going, sir."
The corner of Thrawn's eyes creased as his gaze drifted past Samakro's line of sight.
"Tedious, but well. I appreciate your concern Mid Captain."
"Just checking in, sir," Samakro said as he turned away from Thrawn, the Senior Captain's words still prodding his mind.
Whatever the Senior Captain endured with the Vaagari, it was evident that the scars were no longer physical.
"Ufsa'mak'ro?" A crisp voice rang out as the Mid Captain exited the Springhawk.
Samakro couldn't recall the last time he had spoken with an Ufsa representative. Despite being a merit adoptive, his role within the family was more or less secure; he served the Ascendancy, and the family received credit.
Thalias shot him a pitiful look as she pulled Che'ri ahead. So much for a proper lunch, Samakro thought dimly as he neared the slender figure.
His lips parted, a formality resting on his tongue as another man came into view; Thurfian.
Muttering a string of profanities beneath his breath, Samakro could feel his hair graying.
Syndic Thurfian was well known amongst the Springhawks crew; his one-sided disdain towards the Senior Captain was possibly felt by all except Thrawn.
As he approached the two men, Samakro filed a mental note to talk to Thrawn about Thurfian and, at minimum, gage his awareness towards the political side of the Ascendancy.
"Greetings Mid Captain," said the representative. "You may call me Savirn."
"And what pleasure do I owe this unannounced meeting." Samakro asked, his eyes drifting in Thurfian's direction.
"We merely wish to discuss your Senior Captain." Thurfian inclined his head downwards as he spoke. "And perhaps the possibility of reinstating you as the ship’s Captain."
Samakro's skin prickled. If anyone else had brought up this conversation, perhaps he would have been willing to momentarily separate himself from his hierarchy of loyalties. Yet, he didn't trust Thurfian, not one binary bit.
The Mid Captain kept his face blank as he trailed behind the two older men, mentally searching for his vantage point.
Savirn's pine-colored robes swished fluidly as he keyed open an empty conference room. "We will be brief Mid Captain," he gestured to an empty chair.
Samakro's posture remained rigid as his arms folded over his chest. "What do you want?" He said, his words laved with false curiosity.
The Syndic's lips curled upwards as he steepled his fingers. "As you are aware, your Senior Captain's stability is under question. We do not believe he is fit to maintain his current position."
Samakro felt his jaw tighten; what gave them the right to question Thrawn's headspace?
"Senior Captain Thrawn is just as fit to serve as any member of the Fleet. Your personal vendetta does not change that."
Thurfian looked almost bored as he raised an eyebrow. "Are you aware of his over three month stay at Pfaska Sanatorium?"
Samakro shook his head. "You lie." He said, not allowing a sliver of doubt to reach his words.
The Syndic innocently placed his questis in front of him.
The Mid Captain's eyes graced the medical report before him. "This is classified information; you have no right to Senior Captain Thrawn's file."
Thurfian didn't bother to take back the screen as Samakro's eyes fully grasped the material before him; it was Thrawn's psychiatric evaluation.
The Mid Captain's throat felt uncomfortably tight as he forced his gaze upwards.
It was a truth ingrained into every corner of the Ascendancy, one that every Chiss absorbed before their thin legs could lift them upright; there was a failure within acknowledgment, shame in the admission of mental infirmity.
"As I was saying Mid Captain, we do not believe Senior Captain Thrawn is well enough to continue adequately serving the Ascendancy, if you are willing –"
Samakro didn't allow Thurfian to finish as he stood up and reached for the door.
"Senior Captain Thrawn is an excellent commander who has and will do more for the Ascendancy than you could accomplish in lifetimes, Syndic." Samakro's tone remained professional. "You tote his records like a sign of your own superiority, and it's pitiful. I don't give a damn what treatment Thrawn has sought out; he will always be a better man than you ever will."
The Mid Captain didn't bother cataloging either Thurfian or Savirn's reaction as he left the office.
Samakro's adrenaline had departed his veins hours ago, leaving only watery exhaustion in its place.
Thrawn looked equally drained as he pulled up Supreme General Ba'kif's hologram. Neither man has spoken since the Senior Captain called him into his office.
"Mid Captain Samakro," Ba'kif's exasperated voice greeted him. "Care to explain why Syndic Thurfian demanded your immediate expulsion from the fleet?"
"It is complicated, sir." Samakro winced at his words yet still couldn't bring himself to regret his actions. "Thurfian wanted to reinstate me as head of the Springhawk."
Ba'kif's features morphed into a tight scowl as he turned to face Thrawn. "Do you know anything regarding this situation?"
Thrawn thoughtfully studied Samakro as he shook his head. "It is the first I am hearing of it. Not necessarily a surprise, I know the Syndicure has a curated perception of me."
The Supreme General steepled his fingers as he met Samakro's hooded gaze. "What specifically did Thurfian want from you in return?"
The Mid Captain chewed the inside of his cheek; lying would not correct the situation, but it was far from his place to verbalize Thrawn's private records. "He attempted to denounce the Senior Captain's standings and competency as our leader.
Ba'kif's jaw twitched as he returned to Thrawn. "I will allow you, Senior Captain, full control over this situation considering its proximity." The older man's hologram vanished with a final nod to both officers, leaving the sparse office in silence.
"You may speak freely," Thrawn prompted as his gaze met Samakro's.
It was a difficult conversation; one the Mid Captain was neither qualified for nor educated on. Yet, to be a member of the Expansionary Defense Fleet was to cultivate meaning from nothing, to craft an answer out of the unknown. Samakro would approach the subject just as he would any other with Thrawn, through respect and competence.
"Thurfian showed me your records regarding your time at Pfaska. He wanted to use them as proof of your mental instability, to get me to turn against you, sir."
Thrawn's features slumped as he folded his hands; he didn't look surprised, rather, exhausted. He was painfully easy to read for a heartbeat as if his timeless facade had finally slipped away.
Samakro shifted his gaze towards the table. "Listen sir, frankly I don't give a damn what Thurfian has to say about you, he's a pathetic coward who will never understand the life and sacrifices of the fleet." The Mid Captain paused, momentarily drifting back into Thrawn's overheard therapy call. "Not every scar can heal on its own," he finished quietly.
Thrawn's voice was low, reminiscent of a man who didn't receive the opportunity to live a life with autonomy. "It wasn't my decision." The Senior Captain's brow furrowed as a note of hesitation lingered amongst his words. "Sometimes I feel as if my brother was the only one to ever understand me. It is a transition more difficult than I anticipated."
Mitth'ras'safis, Samakro recalled. He had never been one to pay attention to petty politics, but it seemed that the young Syndic's death had reached every corner of Csilla. His chest felt heavy with guilt for not knowing.
"I had a sister, her name was Crico'eder'isu, she was three years older than me." Samakro's saliva felt uncomfortably thick. He swore to never bring up her name for so many years, to not agitate the grief of a ghost who silently haunted him, but perhaps his loss could help. "She took her own life when I was fifteen, one year before I became a merit adoptive." The words felt thick and misshapen as if they were never meant to pass the Mid Captain's lips.
"I am sorry for your loss." Thrawn said softly as he met Samakro's eyes.
The Mid Captain nodded as his gaze drifted towards the ground. Her death was treated as a personal failure; Coederis's name had collectively left his family's vocabulary just as the glow had faded from her eyes.
Samakro could still recall their final conversation on Kinoss. It had been the wettest summer on record, crops had rotted, the family's checkered table cloth had wilted away amongst the ceaseless pelt of rain.
The two had sat on the decaying and sunken porch as the sun blossoms dripped blackly beneath the moonless sky.
Samakro had known something had shifted within his sister, as if she, like the flower, could only bear so much rain before her petals rotted amongst the over-saturated ground.
He had wanted to say something, anything, to get through to her deep-set, cloudy eyes.
But Samakro was fifteen and could not have known what 5'8 shadow would inhabit the unmade bed and creased sweaters that dotted a room that would never be open again.
"We are more common than dust out here." She had whispered as a humid drizzled had kissed her palms.
"There is more to the Ascendancy than this, you know it just as I do." Samakro had said as the warm weight of Coederis's head met his shoulder. "Your name should not define you."
Coederis had smiled at him as she slipped her homemade necklace into his grasp. "Watch the rain with me?"
Samakro had stayed on the porch all night, yet he sat alone when he awoke.
At eighteen, she had not been adopted; at eighteen, she was seen as a burden instead of a daughter. Their parents had never said it to the sibling's faces, but it was a truth they always understood; their failure spoke for the whole family.
It had always been easy for Samakro to brush off his parent's stern glares and endless lectures as he tended the fields. He should have known Coederis would have felt differently.
But he did not.
Returning his gaze to Thrawn, Samakro allowed his head to gently incline downwards. "It's not your fault." He paused as images of his sister tickled his lids. "Just as it isn't mine."
Thrawn remained quiet as he visibly chewed the inside of his cheek. "It is an experience the Ascendancy can neither help nor share in."
The years after Coederis had been cruel, despite Samakro's best efforts to find some semblance of peace, she remained every second alive just as she did dead. There was no instruction manual on banishing the gossamer spirit who moved through the air like summer rain.
"We have to keep going, if for no one else, then for their memory." Samakro said as he allowed his hand to rest on the desk. "Healing will probably never come from here, but you cannot let their ghost swallow you too."
Thrawn didn't speak as the cold weight of his fingers rested against the back of Samakro's palm. There was no honor in surviving, just as there was no solace in the old photographs of his sister.
The two remained silent until the office lights flickered off, bathing the room in complete and utter emptiness.