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His dad had a saying he loved to recite - “A ship is a ship.” It had seemed nonsensical for much of his life, but since arriving in the Ascendency Eli was truly starting to appreciate the truth in those five words. The language barrier was still tricky, but their numbers and equations were as familiar as Basic, which had given him a way to prove his usefulness to an otherwise reluctant crew. The Steadfast was one of the newer ships in the CEDF, but as anyone who routinely served on ships knew, new didn’t mean that things didn’t need repair or adjusting. Eli also quickly came to realize that as efficient as the CEDF could be, it could also be extremely political, which meant that a large number of the crew was there for family prestige, rather than out of a real desire to serve. So when something went wrong and maintenance wasn’t readily available, many of the officers and crew would drag their feet rather than take care of things.
Not Eli. His hand was the first one raised to volunteer to inspect a problem; after all, a ship was a ship, and they all worked on the same basic principles - it was just a matter of extrapolating what the warship needed based on his experience assisting in repairs of the Vanto Shipping fleet. If you took into account the size difference and were able to figure out the numbers, you could - usually - figure out how something worked.
Then there was the fact that he enjoyed the work, which brought him a welcome respite from the tension his presence usually caused on the Bridge. Down in the guts of the ship, he was often alone, or occasionally assisted by one of the enlisted crew, who were much less judgemental - if a little wary. It allowed him a moment to catch his breath, to focus on something that didn’t require some higher knowledge of interpersonal relations of a people he had limited exposure to or frantic attempts to mentally translate a language that he barely understood. And truth be told, he needed that time alone, because the tension was growing among certain officers. Their stares had grown colder, their Cheunh was spoken faster in an effort to trip him up, and their blame fell on him more often than not for mistakes. He was starting to think that they were tiring of his presence.
Tonight he was alone, inspecting a noise that was coming from one of the engine bays. While the engine itself might be above his abilities to repair, sometimes all that a clunking noise required was a spanner and some elbow grease on a connection that had loosened a little too much. And this time, luckily, he was right. He bent over the main valve to reach the bolt on the pipe that was rattling. If nothing else, Admiral Ar’Alani would be pleased; then again, she always seemed pleased with his work.
With a grunt, he turned the spanner until the bolt no longer budged, and then backed away to inspect his work, pushing his hair back from his sweat-slicked forehead. “That should hold until we get back to port,” he mumbled to himself, freezing when he heard what sounded like a footstep behind him.
He wasn’t alone down here.
Eli spun around, and came face to face with Lieutenant Ufsa’ors'ker, whose face was a stoney mask of hatred.
“Lieutenant,” he said, playing off his surprise and wariness with a smile. “You scared me. What can I do for you?”
Saorsk took a step forward, his expression unchanging. “You can die,” he said, with uncharacteristic bluntness. Chiss were usually not so forthright, opting instead for formal language couched in hidden meanings. “You’ve outstayed your welcome here, foreigner.”
Eli retreated a step, feeling the press of the valve against his back. “What?”
“I know you think you’re the Admiral’s pet and that you can do no wrong, and that she wouldn’t dare harm a hair on your head because you’re the Exile’s fucktoy, but the rest of us are sick of you.” Saorsk continued to slowly step towards Eli, like an icecat stalking its prey. “So we thought it was time for a little accident.”
“Look, wait,” Eli said, holding up both hands, the spanner still clutched in his right. There were all sorts of little ‘accidents’ that could happen in one of these engine rooms. They were compact, and full of hot release valves and sharp corners. Then there was the fact that no one would dare question a fellow Chiss over how an outsider died. “There’s no need for this. We can talk it out. I can get transferred…”
Saorsk shook his head, one corner off his lips quirking up in a malicious little smile. “No. Time’s up, foreigner.” He lunged forward, his hands reaching for Eli’s throat.
He didn’t think; he merely reacted as he saw his life flash before his eyes - his childhood on Lysatra, his time in the Empire, meeting Thrawn. As soon as Saorsk’s hands grasped his throat, he swung his right hand hard, bringing the spanner crashing against the side of the Chiss’ head.
Saorsk jerked to one side, and the pair of them went tumbling against a tangle of pipes and metal. Eli was barely aware of the sickening crack that sounded when the other man’s head hit the hard corner of an electrical panel; he was still blinded by panic and fear, and was concentrating more on extricating himself from Saorsk’s now limp clutches.
He stood, shuffling back a few steps, his lungs pumping in air in great, greedy gulps. “Oh no.” He didn’t have to see the blood pooling around Saorsk’s head to know the man was dead. The light had gone from the Chiss’ eyes, which stared blankly into the darkness above them. “Oh fuck.”
He dropped the spanner, which fell to the ground with a great clank, and immediately ran out of the engine room, his steps carrying him towards the bridge as fast as they could manage.
“Admiral!” he cried out as soon as he reached the command center. “Admiral…please. I need…”
Ar’alani turned in her chair, her eyes widening when she saw the state he was in. “Lieutenant Commander?” she asked, and quickly stepped over to him.
“Admiral…Saorsk…” He couldn’t quite get the words out, and she reached out to place her hands on his shoulders.
“Slowly, Lieutenant Commander.”
“Saorsk attacked me down in Engine room 3,” he said, tears stinging his eyes. Death was a part of military service, he knew, but this was different. He’d killed a member of his own crew, the people who, despite their mistrust of him, he was supposed to support and protect. “I…had to. I had to protect myself.”
“Eli,” Ar’alani said sharply in stilted Basic as a nearby crew member went rushing towards the Engine room. “Say no more.”
Unfortunately, he didn’t get the hint. He was wracked with both shock and guilt, and his tongue continued to stumble over the Cheunh. “I killed him.”
Her shoulders slumped, and her grip tightened on his shoulders, hard enough to make him wince. “You stupid, stupid boy,” she hissed back at him, disappointment plastered over her stern features. Disappointment…and pity.
“Admiral?”
“He’s dead!” came a shout as the crew member rushed back onto the Bridge. “Confirmation from the engine room - the Lieutenant’s dead! Call security!” Every eye immediately turned to Eli, the expressions on the faces of all the Chiss gone hard and cold - Lieutenant Ufsa’ors’ker was dead, and he’d just admitted to it.
“I couldn’t…” he stopped abruptly when Ar’alani shook him, her lips pulling back in a snarl.
“Eli,” she hissed again, her voice dropping. “You don’t know what you’ve done.”
"Admiral," a stern voice said from behind them. "We'll take the prisoner off your hands now."
Ar'alani looked at Eli, her face going as stony as the others, and nodded curtly.
Eli blinked, and stared back at her as a cold weight of dread began to pool in his stomach. “What?”
“I can’t help you, Eli. Not after you admitted it. You killed a Chiss. I’m sorry.”
Eli felt hands roughly grab him and drag him away from the Admiral. Security was pulling him towards the door. He knew where they were taking him, and began to fight against it, his heels digging futilely into the hard metal floor. “Admiral! It was an accident! You can’t let them do this to me!”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, shaking her head as she watched the team haul him through the blast doors and off toward the nearest airlock. As an outsider, he had no legal standing or rights, and had no family to defend him; the laws of the Ascendency were quite clear on the consequences of his actions, accidental or otherwise. There was no possible way she could argue for delay.
Ar'alani caught his eye as the blast doors started to close, her expression softening just for a moment, her words no louder than a whisper.
“I’m so sorry, Eli.”