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Eli’van’to was satisfied, all in all. The patrol had been quiet of late, and would likely continue to be for the near future: the last major skirmishes they had engaged in had ended nearly three weeks ago. They had beaten the pirate fleet down to the point that they would need to retreat to lick their wounds and rebuild their forces before they could pose any kind of real threat to the trading vessels that ran through this sector. They would be back - like snowfall on Csilla, It was inevitable - but Ivant had gathered enough data over his years on this particular route to identify the patterns of the attack and average recovery times of the various factions that lurked along the stable hyperspace lanes on this edge of Ascendency space; it would be another six to eight months before this particular group was likely to become a problem again. And when they did, the Starfisher, like its avian namesake, would be ready and waiting to strike them hard and fast and without mercy, once again driving the pirates off to go after easier quarry elsewhere, far away from the Ascendency. The pattern would repeat, the cycle running anew.
It was an old dance, and Ivant knew the steps very well; he had been assured repeatedly that was why he had purview over this particular patrol route. He always accepted the lie graciously, knowing that was the least of the reasons he had been all but banished to the edge of Ascendency territory when he had proven his skills, and his worth, again and again and again to the EDF. Knowing it was all tied in to why he would never advance beyond his present rank, why he would never command a more modern ship, and why he would never really be seen as more than the alien that had only seemed to cast the same shadow as the man who had sent him, a paltry replacement that couldn’t be what they had wanted, and so couldn't possibly be of any real use to them.
Yes, Ivant saw the patterns. He recognized the cycles that ran around him. When he had been a younger man, the knowledge that he could give so much more, help so much more if the Chiss would only allow it used to fill him with frustration and anger. Now, as he began to creep into old age, his face wrinkled and his hair thinned and grey, he knew better than to try to fight against them and their prejudices. Despite the fact that he had lived among them, worked among them, served among them for longer than he had lived in the Empire, Ivant had accepted long ago that, aside from his crew and a small handful of others, he would only ever be an outsider to the Chiss, lower than the lowest among them. There was no way to make them see if they refused to look, even if the growing patterns of behavior that would ultimately lead them to a second civil war, this time without outside instigation, were abundantly clear to him. He had long ago come to terms with the fact that he could not help to save a people that refused to save themselves.
A voice pulled him from his bitter musings, spoken clearly over the hushed bits of conversation being exchanged between the rest of the bridge crew.
“Senior Captain? Admiral Mak’ro for you.”
Ivant glanced up from his datapad, his warm gaze fixing on his comms officer.
“I’ll take it in my office, Lieutenant. Mid-Captain, you have the bridge.”
“Yes, Sir,” both Chiss replied in unison. Ivant rose, ignoring the creaking in his knees and the twinge in his back, and headed out to see what it was that Mak’ro wanted from him this time.
Once he had settled down into his chair with a quiet sigh, Ivant activated his holotable and greeted the image of the Fleet Admiral, rendered in blue dust. Not for the first time, Ivant lamented that he aged like a human rather than a Chiss. Mak’ro had to be pushing ninety at this point: his hair had silvered, and some of the lines on his face had deepened - a side effect of his near-permanent scowl - but otherwise, he didn’t look more than ten years older than he had thirty years ago, and he had lost none of his mental acuity. Life really wasn’t fair sometimes. “Admiral. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Ivant,” Mak’ro acknowledged. They got along well enough, but they were hardly friends; he didn’t waste time with pleasantries. Unlike with most other Chiss, Ivant didn't take the brusqueness personally - that's just how Mak'ro was, and had always been. “We’ve found another cache from the Lesser Space Empire. I’m sending you the coordinates.”
Brow furrowing, Ivant sat up a little straighter. “Another? After all this time?” The Empire had been gone for decades. “I thought we had located and eradicated them all years ago.”
“Apparently not,” Mak’ro grumbled; age had done nothing to ease his crankiness. “This one wasn’t on the list, so it was either established after last contact, one that Thrawn didn’t know about, or one he decided not to inform us of. Regardless. Standard protocol. Loot what you can and blow the rest.”
“Yes, Sir. I’ll head there now.”
“Good. Report back when you’ve finished. Mak’ro out.”
Ivant was thankful their conversation had been via holo and not face to face; while he had learned a long, long time ago to keep his expression and tone of voice under control, Mak’ro would have surely seen the wild fluctuation in his body heat. Not a day went by that he didn’t think of Thrawn, but to hear someone else speak his name sent a lance of pain through Ivant that was surprisingly acute. How long had it been since they had been together, face to face? An unexpected meeting a year after being sent away, and then Thrawn had vanished, never to be seen again. After so long, he was almost certainly dead. All the searches Ivant had obsessively undertaken, using every reasonable lead and every implausible one, had yielded nothing but frustration and heartache. He hadn’t been able to accept that Thrawn was just gone.. but that had been a long time ago. Now he knew that he would only ever see him in his dreams - memories of the time they had together, and memories that never existed of all the time that they might have had together, if circumstances had been different.
Pushing back against the flood of emotion threatening to overpower him, Ivant contacted the bridge and informed them of the change of plans.
------
A day and a half later, the Starfisher arrived at the coordinates the Fleet Admiral had provided. It was no wonder this location hadn’t been found previously - tucked away on a planetoid surrounded by an asteroid field, the chances were slim that any ship not directed by a Navigator, or small enough with an exceptionally skilled pilot, or with strong enough shields that could absorb or deflect the impacts from the large chunks of metal and stone would be able to access it without sustaining considerable damage. It was a curious setup, unlike all the other caches they had destroyed over the years. Ivant was studying the data when he spotted a figure approaching in his peripheral. Glancing up, he smiled.
“Mid-Commander Un’hee. Your team is ready?”
The woman gave him an unimpressed look. “That’s not my name, Sir, and you know it.”
It was an old argument. Ivant knew that if Un'hee would just cooperate with the status quo and accept any of the numerous offers she had been given to join a family, she would gain the promotions she deserved, and her future would be bright once more. But every time the issue came up, she insisted she already had a family, and she bore her name with pride. Even if it wasn’t officially recognized, pretty much everyone on the ship acknowledged her choice. It was a losing battle on his part, but he stubbornly refused to fully surrender. By tying herself to him she was ensuring her career would continue to stagnate, and she deserved better than that.
“Fine. Mid-Commander Iunhe. Is your team assembled?”
“They are, Sir.”
“Good. Disembark when ready, and report back with any significant findings.” Ivant gave the woman a fond smile. “And be careful.”
Iunhe smiled back this time. “I will be, Papa. I promise.” She saluted, then headed out. Ivant watched her go, proud; it seemed just yesterday she had been a little girl, a mid-ager, a fresh cadet. His daughter made all the difficulties he had endured, and still endured, worth it.
He wished that Thrawn could have known her.
------
A half hour later the teammade contact, Iunhe requesting a private line to the Senior Captain. Ivant took the call in his office, frowning. It was usual for the team to call in so soon. “Everything okay down there?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine, Sir. There’s some things that.. Well. We’re not quite sure what we’re looking at, to be honest.”
“Do you need some additional technicians sent in?”
“No..” There was an odd note in Iunhe’s tone; a hesitation, an air of concern that was rare from the woman. “I think you need to come down here yourself, Papa. This stuff is weird, and we found a biometrically sealed container with your human name on it. In Cheunh.”
Eli’s stomach did a little flip; he hoped the tremble now present in his hand didn’t extend to his voice.
“Acknowledged. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”