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I don’t even know where to begin with this… journal. I’m certainly not as eloquent as you. You wrote me hundreds of life lessons to prepare me for this and I can’t give any of that to you in return. I’m not a tactical genius or in any other way impressive. I’m just…me.
I guess that was enough for you.
Ar’alani has given me some data to sift through, but I’m having a hard time figuring it all out. It just feels so pointless. With you, we were hunting down pirates and saving the day. Now… I’m a certifiable desk jockey—all I do is sit around and look at numbers. I guess the only good thing to come from it so far is proof that I would have hated that position in supply. Remember when I wanted to go into logistics? I would have hated my life.
Or maybe I wouldn’t have—I mean, I never would have known any better.
I’m being dramatic, I guess. I’ve read your journal cover to cover twice now, but I wish you could kick my ass in gear. You always have a way of looking at a situation from another angle, I could use that right about now.
–Eli
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I was so insufferable, in the beginning. I don’t know how you could stand to be around me. Here, on the Steadfast I don’t have a translator, or an aide, or an… anybody. I can see now why you wanted to stay by my side. Having a single ally is better than wading into a room alone.
I just can’t stop thinking about how we were always together. We didn’t talk all the time, but we still… talked. I don’t know, you make for a good sound board, I guess. Maybe that’s why it’s taking so long to bust up this data, I can’t think my ideas out loud for your rebuttal or inquiries. Makes me think maybe I’m not as good as you thought I was.
There is one girl, but I can’t tell if she is fascinated by me because I'm an alien or if she wants to be my friend. Her name is Vah’nya. She’s nice. She talks slowly so that I can mimic her pronunciation and she’s the only one who calls me Eli.
I forgot to tell you about that, though it would have been nice if you mentioned it, they call me Ivant here. Eli’van’to. Smooshed together—Ivant. It wouldn’t be so bad if it didn’t sound so much like infant. I know Basic and Cheunh are totally different languages, but still. I don’t like it.
–Eli
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I’m so damn mad at you right now. How can you not see? How can you not see that I’m falling apart at the seams right now. I thought we were friends, damnit. I thought that you could look at me, like I do for you, and know that something is wrong. I need something. Anything. I don’t believe in myself anymore and I’m starting to lose my faith in you as well. Gods, I wish—why can’t you speak your mind for once in your Chaos-damned life?
–Eli
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I know what I’m supposed to do now. I understand the importance of this project. I always wondered what you really thought of me, but I guess this was you telling me all along and I just couldn’t see it. You’ve entrusted me with the most sacred part of your world. I won’t let you down.
–Eli
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Part of my ‘duties as assigned’ is to translate Lesser Space news articles for Ar’alani. You died today and I had to tell her that. I can’t even begin to describe the look on her face. She was angry, but in a placid sort of way—like water receding before a tsunami. She stood up from her desk, dismissed me, and locked the door behind me. I stayed outside for a minute, I heard a crash of something falling and then nothing else. I don’t know what you two were to one another, maybe she loved you too, but I don’t know what to do. I wish you were here. I wish you could tell me how to fix this.
–Eli
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Sometimes I think about our life in Lesser Space and I wonder if you ever knew. If you ever figured out how much I loved you. I never said anything, but you never did either. I wonder if you saw it on my face, or in every cup of caf I made you. I wonder if you felt the same way and just didn’t know how to show it. I wish you knew. I wish I could tell you.
–Eli
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Today we are going to war. The Ascendancy has shattered and we have decided not to take sides. We are fighting to keep Grysks out of our government, out of our people, but they don't fight wars with might anymore, they fight them with manipulation. I can see it all, but nobody will listen to me. Nobody except Ar'alani and this other officer who seems to like stirring up trouble—Samakro. I'm being transferred to the Springhawk as a Senior Commander. I wish more than ever that you could give me guidance.
I love you,
Eli
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Today I thought I saw you, but it turns out it was your sister. I never knew you had a sister, or a brother for that matter. Why didn't you tell me? You trusted me with everything else, why not this? Then again I guess there is a difference between guarding yourself and your people.
–Eli
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If you were alive I would tell you how much of a bone head you were for staying. We need you. I can't do this alone. I've been promoted to Mid Captain. Somehow I'm supposed to convince a crew that I am worthy of loyalty. Samakro seems to think that I'll do alright. He said, “If Thrawn can do it, so can you.” But I'm not you. I've never been you.
–Eli
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I don't know why I write you anymore. It has been years since you were declared dead, longer more since I last saw you. I have been promoted to Senior Captain, the same rank you held upon your exile. My crew is loyal to me, but not because I am especially fierce or demanding, but because I am honest and understanding. They all defend me against xenophobic remarks. I had to bail out two of my best officers last shore leave because they got in a bar fight in my honor. I wish I could say I like being held in such esteem. I don't know how you did it—maybe that's how we differ. You enjoyed the power, I can't wait to relinquish it all. But even so, if you were alive, I would thank you for making me what I am today.
–Eli
~
Thrawn holds the leather bound journal, careful of its burnt pages. The penmanship improved with each entry, but it still remained sharp and angular as it had in Basic—smudged from his left hand sliding through the still wet ink.
“This is the last entry?” Thrawn asks, his voice tighter than he had expected.
Ar'alani nods. “Yes. There might have been more, but it was all that was recovered in the remains of the Springhawk . It is a miracle it was recovered at all.”
Thrawn stares at the memorial before him—all the lives that were lost when the commander and his crew decided the only course of action was to sacrifice themselves to prevent a warhead from impacting Csilla. A useless waste. One that will be forgotten in the next conflict save for this pathetic statue. It is too small, not at all reflective of the magnitude of loss in Thrawn’s chest.
“Be grateful,” Ar'alani says. “You have this to remember him by. You could have been left with nothing.”
Thrawn holds Eli’s words tighter. Nothing would have been better, being left without knowing his innermost thoughts would have given him the decency of ignorance. Now he knows and he only wishes that he could tell Eli, just once, how he feels.