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The cadets of Taharim ought to embody a warrior’s discipline. Instructors used a rigorous code to whip every new arrival into shape. They were the one place in Ascendancy society where family and status didn’t matter.
Most Chiss weren’t used to living under such strict and equal rules. Many would receive downmarks they had to work off over the course of their instruction at Taharim. Some even learned the hard way that code enforcement began before they stepped foot on Naporar.
And while fifty downmarks upon arrival didn’t set a record, it was a notable second place.
With fading sunlight lining his office walls, Colonel Ko’wevar’yozdu eyed the midager cadet standing before his desk, trying to guess what the boy could have done to anger his transporting officer so severely. The boy’s face was serious beyond his years, creased with premature wisdom. The only clues he was not full grown were the glow in his eyes and the height he had he had yet to acquire.
Despite his solemn expression, the boy had a determination in his brow that lacked familiarity with remorse. It was one of Wevary’s duties to fill this gap in the cadet’s upbringing. “Cadet Mitth’raw’nuru. I have orders from Junior Captain Vorlip to assign you fifty downmarks for your flagrant breach of conduct on her vessel. Do you care to explain yourself?”
The boy frowned. “Will a sufficient justification reduce my punishment?”
“It will not.”
“Then why must I provide one?”
Wevary sneered. Not only did this boy not understand remorse, he lacked respect as well. “Because a superior has given you an order, Cadet. In the fleet, subordinates obey their superior’s officers.”
Catching onto his mistake, the cadet gave Wevary a belated salute. “Yes, sir. I… misunderstood written instructions and accidentally ventured into a restricted area of the ship. At the time, I did not realize my offense warranted fifty downmarks.”
Wevary didn’t either. He’d met Vorlip several times before. While she liked to put new cadets in their place, it wasn’t like her to be so harsh. “What was in this restricted area, cadet?”
“Nothing of note that I observed, sir. I merely exchanged words with the captain’s daughter.”
And with that comment, Wevary understood exactly what had transpired. It was for the best that the cadet didn’t realize the magnitude of what he had done. The secrets upon which he had so nearly stumbled.
Even so, Wevary didn’t think a pair of wandering feet deserved latrine duty. “I see. Cadet, prepare to receive your punishment. Upon the completion of your punitive duties, all downmarks will be erased from your record.”
The cadet straightened, offering his best imitation of a soldier standing at attention. “I am ready for you to deliver my sentence, Colonel.”
Wevary narrowly avoided a smile at that remark. It amused him to hear what fresh cadets thought passed for protocol. “You will spend three months assisting the orderlies at the Naporar House of Honored Veterans. The residents there ought to be able to teach you the nuances of Ascendancy regulation. These duties will be in addition to your regular instruction. Do not expect a moment of downtime during your first term here.”
Cadet Mitth’raw’nuru took his punishment on the chin. “I understand, sir. I shall report to my duty as soon as required.”
So the cadet knew better than to complain, at least. That was something. Maybe there was hope for this one yet.
Wevary gestured for the cadet to stand at rest. “Your first shift is tomorrow at dawn. One day before term begins. The House is across from CEDF headquarters on the far side of the city. Public transportation runs hourly at the entrance you came in. Don’t oversleep. The House caretaker will report to me personally if you neglect your duties. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then get out of my sight.” Wevary dismissed the cadet. The boy rushed to leave the room, closing the door swiftly behind him.
Wevary chewed on the inside of his cheek, his desk lamp’s light growing more prominent as nighttime conquered the sky behind him. Wevary replayed his encounter with the cadet in his mind.
Unlike the first place winner for most downmarks received on arrival to Taharim, this one didn’t seem like a repeat troublemaker. Wevary would be surprised if he ever saw Mitth’raw’nuru visit his office again. The worst thing that was likely to happen was the cadet would miss out on chances to bond with peers. Fall behind in classes, even. Any moment he was not in class would be dominated by duties at the House.
It wasn’t as though the assignment would waste his time, however. The warriors there ought to teach Thrawn a valuable lesson about serving the Ascendancy: those who serve well will be served in turn at the sunset of their lives.
Mitth’raw’nuru stood outside the Naporar House for Honored Veterans. The building was surrounded by predawn darkness, obscuring its features. The single source of light in the crisp autumn morning were his bright crimson eyes. The only other Chiss Thrawn had seen awake were the Taharim night patrol and the streetcar operator. Based on the extensive yawning of his driver, Thrawn suspected he had caught the first ride of the day.
A woman with faded scrubs and graying hair approached him from behind. She clicked a button in her hand, granting them both access to the house. Thrawn stepped aside to meet her eyes, and the woman grunted. “You’re the downmarked cadet?”
Was this woman a soldier? Thrawn didn’t know what attire medical officers wore in the CEDF. He saluted out of an abundance of caution. “Yes, madam. I am Mitth’raw’nuru.”
“Ooh, a great Mitth. No wonder you missed out on latrines.” Her tone was dry, almost parched. “I’m Anju’hovy’akiv. The day shift caretaker. “ She held the door open, ushering Thrawn inside. Bright, orange-tinted lights snapped on as his motion was detected. “You’re early.”
“I did not wish to be late for my first shift on duty. I take my role as a cadet seriously.”
“Sure you do.”
Thrawn regarded the reception room with mild surprise. Inside was a collection of upholstered furniture with the Coperan pointillist style on its seat covers. Such a style was older than Thrawn’s parents, giving away the seats’ age. Beyond the seat covers, the room lacked decoration of any kind. The only thing waiting behind the receptionist’s desk was a myriad of notices and posters. To its left was a closed double door
Typically, places of honor were well decorated. Thrawn had expected a house of honored soldiers to memorialize the great deeds of those residing within. Instead, his first impression of the house was barrenness. Neglect, even.
Juhovya watched him with a cynic’s glare. “I’ll bet you were real excited about this gig too. Ready to clean bedpans for senile old vets all day?”
“Will that be my task?” Thrawn failed to see how that differed significantly from latrine duty. “Are ‘senile’ elderly veterans the only residents here?”
Juhovya shrugged. She plopped in her seat behind the receptionist’s desk with a heaving sigh. “They’re not all mad, but they are all old. Most fleet warriors go back to their families when they leave the service. The flag rank can retire to a special luxury compound built in their honor. But if you’re a soldier without a family to care for you in your old age, the fleet steps into your life again. This time, they serve you.” She gestured outwards towards the walls of the room. “A mix of military provisioning and private donations keep orphaned veterans here until their eyes go dark. Then they get a plot in the fleet’s public cemetery.”
“I see.” Thrawn had never heard of this program before. There were no veteran houses in his home village on Rentor. Only a rundown poorhouse from the impoverished and clanless. “Colonel Wevary said I would be assisting orderlies. When do they arrive?”
“Soon. The night shift orderly will show you the ropes before he leaves.”
With no further explanation, Juhovya shoved Thrawn through the set of doors into a wide hallway. The walls were painted a cream color that flaked and yellowed with age. All Thrawn could see were doors with charts hanging from them and the occasional medical supply cart. The scene reminded him more of a hospital ward than any permanent residence.
Unsure of what to do, Thrawn began to pace the corridor. He listened intently for any sign of Chiss life. Some doors muffled the sound of snoring, but one had a squeaky set of wheels turning behind it. They were getting closer.
Thrawn stepped back to let another medical cart come into view. Attached to the cart was a male Chiss in scrubs, this one hunched over with eyes drooping from exhaustion. The man straightened upon seeing Thrawn. “You that cadet who got in trouble?”
“I am. My name is Mitth’raw’nuru. And you are…?”
“Orderly Pasa’ncha’chovic. I’m showing you what to do before I go home.” From the way the man said home, that time could not come soon enough. “This will be quick. We get at least one cadet every term, so don’t think you did anything extra bad to be here.”
Thrawn hadn’t thought anything of the sort until the man said it. What followed was a rushed tutorial of the residents’ morning routine. Based on the charts on the door, Thrawn would know which residents needed help with dressing themselves and performing their morning hygiene routines. He would also know who required an escort to the dining area and who could attend breakfast on their own accord.
Contrary to Juhovya’s earlier comments, there was no expectation Thrawn would clean up excrement. “If the veteran has… issues in that area, they should already have a bag and tube hooked up to their leg. You can let a day shift orderly know if it needs to be changed.
“One more thing: as a temporary helper, you are not allowed to dispense medication of any kind. I don’t care if a resident asks you for a pill or tells you they need to take one. If they give you trouble, tell an orderly. We are allowed to hand out medicine. Not you. Got it?”
“I understand. Thank you for your instruction, Orderly Sanchach.”
“Don’t use my core name,” he ordered, tone flat. “If you understood all that, good. I’m leaving. The early birds wake up around sunrise and the day orderlies should arrive a bit before that.”
Before Thrawn could say another word, Orderly Pasa’ncha’chovic departed the scene. With at least a few hours to wait before his obligations began, Thrawn took the time to explore the compound. It was larger on the inside than its shadowy outline had suggested, with two underground floors accessible by both stairs and lift. The first subterranean floor contained a mess hall and an infirmary. The deepest floor had a variety of activity spaces. There was a miniature exercise yard, lounge area with a stack of last-generation questises, and a cramped art studio. The supplies in every room were old, but not unusable.
Thrawn compared his surroundings to Rentor’s poorhouse. The residents here lived far more luxurious lives by comparison, but that was no surprise. The Chiss Ascendancy honored its warriors at every point of their service. If Thrawn did not die in battle or stay with the Mitth, he could expect to spend his last days in a home of precisely this sort.
Careful not to lose track of time, Thrawn climbed the stairs back to the surface floor. When he got there, a few doors were already open. A pair of female orderlies peeked outside into the hallway. “There you are, cadet! Get in here and help this man put clothes on.”
As Thrawn rushed inside, the women left him to go care for other residents. Inside was a man with no pants on. His undergarments were worn and tattered, and the external parts of a catheter hung from his leg. Judging by its empty contents, the orderlies had just cleaned it.
“An’ who are you, young son?”
Thrawn lifted his eyes from the man’s legs to his face. The old man’s face was pockmarked with charric scars. His skull looked slightly misshapen, and silvery hair grew only in the patches lacking white puckered tissue. Thrawn swallowed before he spoke. “I am Cadet Mitth’raw’nuru. It is my duty as a cadet of Taharim to assist you for the following three months. And you are…?”
“Call me Thuroun.” The elderly veteran sized Thrawn up, no doubt taking note of his youthful, unmarked face. “Another Taharim boy, eh? I was a mid commander in the fleet before I came here. If you saw what I had in my years of battle, you’d need one of these for yourself.” Thuroun nudged his catheter with his thigh.
The gesture reminded Thrawn of his mission. He walked over to the man’s dresser and retrieved a pair of smooth black slacks. “I have been instructed to dress you for the morning. Are these pants acceptable, Mid Commander?”
Thuroun chuckled at the invocation of his former rank. “Not the dress pants, boy. This isn’t parade day. Just grab one of the brown ones and get over here.”
Thrawn followed Thuroun’s instructions. After the pants came the socks with grips on the bottom, followed by shoes with inserts to support the man’s shriveled feet. Thuroun was mostly able to put his shirt on himself, but he required a steadying hand to help with the buttons and the sleeves.
“You are dressed, Mid Commander.” Thrawn stepped back as he spoke. “Do you require any assistance with morning hygiene or retrieving your meal?”
Thuroun shook his head. “Not today, boy. You’ll find I’m a youngster compared to the rest of these geezers.”
And so Thrawn’s morning continued. The orderlies mainly told him to clothe and wash the male residents, as they were both married women who found it distasteful to touch other men so intimately. Thrawn saw nothing wrong with the arrangement.
As he introduced himself to all the veterans staying in the house, he learned that Thuroun was the highest ranking veteran among them. Not all had scars as visible as Thuroun’s, but some had the haunted eyes and furtive movements of warriors who had suffered true horrors. In the mess hall, one woman had eye bags so deep that it appeared she hadn’t slept in decades. The light of her gaze was so dim, it seemed as if she would fall dead any moment.
Thrawn wished he had time to learn more about each resident’s service to the Ascendancy. Alas, he never had time to probe deeply. Once the cook and the medic arrived, there were six workers to care for over fifty veterans. Eager to put their new set of hands to use, the orderlies summoned Thrawn for every task they wished not to do themselves. This included laundry, bedroom cleaning, bathroom escorts, shower oversight, and trash disposal. Thrawn received all his meals in the house, eating whatever soft food the cook had prepared for the residents that day.
While Thrawn had never cared for elderly Chiss before, he was no stranger to domestic chores. The day passed quickly. By the end of it, the day orderlies found they had no room to critique Thrawn’s work. Instead, they told him to “be back after your final class every day this week. Our caretaker has your class schedule. Only school obligations and sleep can excuse you from your work here. You got that, cadet?”
Again, this arrangement was no different from the one Thrawn had followed in childhood. The only point of divergence was that instead of his own household, Thrawn was tending to veterans of the Chiss Ascendancy. “I understand. I shall return tomorrow.”
After Thrawn left, he introduced himself to his roommates in the barracks for the first time. Because he did not want to bear a reputation for troublemaking, he declined to tell the other cadets where he had been that day. Or why.
Instead, he used the last few hours in the day to prepare for the first day of academy instruction. With so little free time on his hands, Thrawn would have to utilize every moment to its maximum potential.
The first few weeks at the academy proved challenging indeed. Thrawn was not accustomed to finding academic subjects difficult. His schooling on Rentor seemed provincial by comparison. Instead of being discouraged, however, Thrawn welcomed the challenge.
The residents of the veterans home grew used to Thrawn’s arrival in the evenings. Some had attended Taharim several decades ago, and they enjoyed asking Thrawn about his studies. With so little happening in their daily lives, a few went so far as to live vicariously through him.
Yet none reveled in Thrawn’s company as much as Thuroun. “Do they still teach you how to march, boy? Just because the Ascendancy doesn’t partake in much surface warfare doesn’t mean you shouldn’t know how to march.”
“I am on the parade grounds every morning, Mid Commander,” Thrawn confirmed as he adjusted the questis’ settings for the old man. It was to be Thuroun’s first time using a questis since arrival in the home. The man wanted to read a book, but the standard size of the Cheunh script was too small for his eyes. “We are also learning the most common climate types of Chaos planets in case we ever have to survive on a foreign world.”
“Never crash your fighter into a volcano, boy. Take it from me.” Thuroun gestured to a particularly large scar on the side of his skull. “Lava can burn through helmets.”
Thrawn raised his eyebrows. He set the questis aside, fully invested in hearing Thuroun’s story. “You were a pilot once?”
“It was my first assignment out of Taharim. Boy was I a hotshot. I wanted to see every corner of the Chaos. Let every alien know the power of the Chiss.” He leaned forward, a confidant’s twinkle in his eye. “Some of the Ascendancy’s combat regulations exist because of me.”
“That’s not true.” Raanida, another resident, looked up from her own questis. “The ban on preemptive strikes existed before you were born!”
“Well you would know, wouldn’t you, Lieutenant ?” Thuroun laughed. “The Ascendancy classified some forms of alien engagement as preemptive strikes because of me. I think the mission to a lava world was punishment from my commander… not the burn, mind you. I got hurt all by myself.
“So what I’m saying is, pay attention to your classes, boy. You never know when you’re going to need it. And you can’t store it all in your head either. Some of it needs to be in the body.” He tapped his bony arm with the opposite hand. “In the muscles.”
“Now that part’s true.” Raanida chimed in again. “Learn it from us, boy. Even if you become a swanky officer, you can never let your combat body slip. If you don’t run to the melee, the melee runs to you.”
“I thank you both for your wisdom.” Thrawn bowed his head, then returned to the task at hand. Once he had successfully enlarged the text on the questis, he handed the device over to Thuroun.
Before he could ask the pair anything else, an orderly called his name. She demanded he come supervise a pair of men showering. Ensure they don't slip on water and injure themselves.
Thrawn stood, then bowed to the elderly former officers. “Forgive me, Mid Commander. Lieutenant. My presence is required elsewhere.”
“Enjoy the peeping,” Thuroun teased. Thrawn scowled back at first, then smiled. He knew Thuroun meant well.
Even though his schedule kept him busy, Thrawn largely found he didn’t mind. Some veterans were friendly and wise in a way he expected a grandparent would be.
Typical Chiss families lived close to their elders, but Thrawn knew none of his grandparents. His mother once told Thrawn that her parents passed from disease shortly after she gave birth. At the time, she had taken the deaths as an ill omen. A sign their family was cursed. She viewed Thrawn in particular as a Chiss of dark fate.
Thrawn’s father had disagreed. He believed fate was as ill-organized as the Chaos itself. There was no sinister explanation for why his parents’ public transport shuttle had crossed paths with an asteroid the year after his marriage. The way Thrawn’s father told the story, the tragedies brought husband and wife closer. They leaned on each other for strength, and together, the Kivu household was able to overcome any challenge.
Yet Thrawn was Kivu no more. He was a Merit Adoptive of the Mitth, a Great Family able to supplement its ranks with talent from all over the Ascendancy. Even if individuals passed, the family would always endure.
Perhaps Thrawn would live next to his grandchildren one day. If not, he hoped he at least had cadets through which to pass down any wisdom he acquired.
Just over a month into his assignment to the veterans home, one of Thrawn’s roommates thought to ask about the matter. It was Flou’san’drong, a cadet Thrawn admired for making it into Taharim with no family connections. They were leaving their last class of the day when he asked, “hey, Thrawn. How come you never join us for dinner? You’re always welcome to.”
“I do not decline because I don’t wish to join you. I simply have other duties I cannot shirk.” Thrawn blinked as they stepped into sunlight. For a moment, the light and heat blinded him. When he regained his vision, he saw the rest of their freshman class herding one another into the mess hall. They all chattered excitedly, thrilled to count their day over. Thrawn could not relate to their cheer.
Ousandro tilted his head, confused. “What duties? I thought only upperclassmen had to complete extra jobs around Taharim.”
“Not quite.” Thrawn didn’t want to elaborate any further. He had seen other downmarked freshmen receive jeers while cleaning the washrooms, usually as punishment for disrespecting an instructor. Thrawn didn’t want his fellow cadets to associate him with disrespecting superiors, especially not the cadets he held in high regard. “Forgive me, Ousandro. I must depart promptly.”
Thrawn turned to depart campus. As he did, he witnessed another roommate of theirs, Ufsa’condru’biu, approach Ousandro. “Stop trying to get him to join us. He clearly thinks he’s too good for our squadron. Snooty Mitth.”
Thrawn quickened his pace. Of the few times he had engaged Sacondrub in conversation, none had gone well. Sacondrub was an Ufsa Cousin who had grown up navigating Ruling Family politics. As a freshly minted Merit Adoptive, Thrawn knew little about which family was allies or rivals with whom. Few put his ignorance on display quite like Sacondrub did.
If they were aspiring politicians, Thrawn would understand the criticism. His lack of political understanding would indeed be a weakness. But as a warrior of the politically neutral fleet, such a thing ought to be irrelevant. A lack of family politics was the very reason Thrawn, Ousandro, and Sacondrub were even housed in the same barracks.
Thrawn chewed on the encounter longer than he cared to admit. Even the House veterans could tell something was bothering him. “What’s got your brow furrowed? Your face will match mine if you keep that up.”
He explained his problem to the residents over dinner. Raanida shook her head, trying not to grimace as she did. “Sorry, kid. Fleet’s been like that since we were cadets. If the Syndicure wasn’t always trying to pull stunts in the military, we wouldn’t have so many rules keeping them out of our business, now would we?
“You’re a Mitth boy. They got your hide into Taharim, didn’t they?” Thrawn nodded. “Well, I was a Clarr adoptive back in the day. But if you don’t hold that against me, I won’t hold your Mitth name against you.”
Thrawn’s brow dug deeper into his forehead. “I don’t understand, Lieutenant. The two fleets serve the entire Ascendancy. Why would soldiers bring their families into it?”
“We soldiers are people too.” Another veteran chimed in. “The warrior’s code is a list of goals. The best warriors spend their whole careers trying to live up to it. The rest don’t even try.”
“Adoption is a blessing, but it carries some curses too. Some people are going to hate you just for your name.” Raanida barked out a laugh. “Just like we all did once. Forget Taharim, cadet. This house is the one place in the whole Ascendancy where families don’t mean squat.”
“Here and death, that is. Chiss are all the same in death.”
Thrawn remembered what the caretaker had told him on his first day. “If some of you used to be part of ruling families, why are you here today? Shouldn’t the families that adopted you be in charge of your care?”
“Should is the operative word there, boy.” Thuroun joined the conversation, his tray of warm stew-like mush still in hand. “If your military career wasn’t glorious enough-”
“-if your shell shock wasn’t ‘curable’ enough-”
“-if your battle scars aren’t inspiring enough-”
“They drop you in here. Some lucky folks married into families nicer than ours or have kids that can stick up for them. But if you don’t rise past Merit Adoptive, it’s easy to cut your branch off the tree. You’ll never see a Blood in here.” Thuroun fixed Thrawn with a harsh stare. “You always know when a new arrival used to be in a Ruling Family because a big donation comes in. They throw money at their guilt until it goes away.”
Raanida nodded mournfully. “The year Thuroun arrived was the year we got all those questises. I remember.”
“That’s right! The safety handles in the showers too.” The residents dissolved into chatter amongst themselves, leaving Thrawn with a bitter taste in mouth as he dug through his stew. The bites melted in his mouth with no need for chewing.
Colonel Wevary had been right about one thing. The residents were teaching Thrawn a great deal about the Ascendancy. More than soaking in their collective wisdom, Thrawn sensed the veterans served as a warning to cadets. An example of the fate that waited for them if they didn’t live up to their family’s expectations.
He supposed there were worse fates. Though when the orderlies sent him to spoon feed a toothless resident who vomited on him, Thrawn struggled to think of any. Such a man deserved compassion, not dismissal.
Thrawn had a week left of his service to the veterans home when his roommates found out his secret. Sacondrub had stalked him to the building’s entrance one morning when classes weren’t in session. By the time Thrawn returned, he’d already told everyone else in their squadron. “So this is why you’ve ignored us all term. You spend every free moment with old people?”
“They provide supplemental instruction,” Thrawn offered by way of explanation. He hoped that would be the end of the matter.
It was not. “You know, I heard a rumor from one of the seniors. Every year, the most pathetic cadet at Taharim gets assigned to nursing duty.” Sacondrub cocked his head, reveling in Thrawn’s discomfort. Several other cadets watched the confrontation unfold in their sleeping quarters. “How long is your tour of duty, Mitth’raw’nuru?”
“Three months,” Thrawn admitted, reticent.
“So that’s why you came back reeking of piss one night. And here we all thought it was yours.” Sacondrub’s jab got a few onlookers to laugh.
Ousandro wasn’t having it. “Leave Thrawn alone. We all hope we live as long as those veterans. It’s a sign of proper civilization to have lots of wise elders cared for by our people.”
“So someone has to wipe drool off their faces. That doesn’t explain why Thrawn’s the one doing it.”
“Yeah!” One of Sacondrub’s friends chimed in. “Tell us what you did, Thrawn. How many downmarks do you have to get for three months in a veterans’ home?”
“I don’t wish to speak of the matter. It was a lapse in my judgment on the transport to Naporar.” Thrawn addressed his comments to Ousandro as he spoke. “My disciplinary record has been clean ever since.”
“Because you don’t have time to do anything else. I’d wait and see what other trouble you get into first.” Sacondrub panned his eyes over Thrawn. “Just don’t involve the rest of us.”
“Come on, Thrawn,” Ousandro invited Thrawn out of the hot zone. “You don’t have to listen to this.”
The two cadets left their barracks, electing to walk laps in the nearby exercise yard instead. As it was not yet curfew at Taharim, they were permitted to wander freely around campus for the next hour. With winter just on the horizon, Thrawn regretted leaving his coat in the room. The wind, though drier than the gusts on Rentor, spoke of a cold yet to come.
“You could have told me, Thrawn.” Ousandro opened their private conversation. “I wouldn’t have held it against you.”
“My duties began before our first meeting. I had no way of knowing what anyone would hold against me.”
Ousandro mulled over that answer for a bit. Save for the wind, all was silent on the Taharim campus. Then he spoke again, “I was serious when I said it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Half of Sacondrub’s friends have had latrine duty in the last month. He only cares about downmarks because it’s you.”
“Perhaps.” Thrawn hadn’t noticed who was performing latrine duty in weeks. If he wasn’t caring for veterans, he was studying. He hardly even had time to sleep as of late. “I am not ashamed of my association with veterans, Ousandro. Many are honored warriors of the Ascendancy. My only source of shame is that, had I not been assigned to their care, I would not be aware they existed. Even accounting for my presence, they have too few caregivers for too many residents.”
“Yeah… it’s easy to say we Chiss care for our elderly or disabled. It’s another to actually do it.” Ousandro looked down. “I used to visit my grandparents once a week to run errands for them. One week, I found my grandfather collapsed on the floor. He’d fallen in the night, and my grandmother’s sleeping medicine was too strong for her to wake up when it happened. After that… I visited my grandmother and uncle once a week.”
“My condolences for your loss.” Without going into detail, Thrawn decided to share that “all my grandparents died years ago. I never knew them.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Do not be. It is a fact that cannot be changed.”
“...When is your next shift at the veterans’ house?” Ousandro asked, changing the subject.
“Tomorrow evening.”
“May I join you? I won’t do your job for you in case that interferes with your punishment, but I do miss visiting my grandmother. It sounds like the veterans in that home could use more company.”
Thrawn ended up accepting the invitation. When Ousandro showed up at his side the next day, the residents were delighted they had another cadet to talk to. The orderlies warned Thrawn that Ousandro couldn’t help with chores, but it ended up not being a problem. All Thrawn’s roommate did was chat with the veterans all night. The exact thing Thrawn did in his spare moments between tasks.
As he was wheeling a medical supply cart by, Ousandro’s group roped him into their conversation. “Hey, Thrawn! Are you ready for the fighter simulation test next week?”
Next week, hm? Thrawn’s last day in the veterans’ home was the day before the exam. He would fulfill his obligations, debrief with Colonel Wevary, and (perhaps) have a few hours with which he could choose to sleep or study. “I have not looked into the matter, no.”
“Cadets use simulators now?” Raanida laughed. “Back in my day, they put us in an actual fighter. We spent the whole day in orbit. A few cadets took off in different directions, completing their exam in the Naporar system’s asteroid field.”
“That’s how we did it too!” Thuroun chimed in. “Did you have any cadets die in your year, Raanida?”
She sniffed, scandalized. “No! In my year, all our cadets paid attention in flight training. I don’t know what the clowns in your year were up to.”
“You all used to do the test live?” Ousandro asked. “We aren’t allowed to pilot a real spacecraft until our second year.”
“Hearing your story, I suspect we know why,” Thrawn commented dryly.
“Don’t blame me, boys. Blame this man here!” Raanida shoved Thuroun playfully.
“Simulation or not, I’m sure the instructors made it as realistic as possible. Don’t think of your exam like you’re in a computer program, boys. Think of it like we did. You’re in a real fighter doing a real mission. Even if that doesn’t get you top marks, it will help you a lot more in the service than playing video games does.”
“That’s smart.” Ousandro noted. “I see what Thrawn means about you all providing him extra instruction. No wonder his grades have been so high.”
The two veterans looked over at Thrawn, genuine appreciation shining in their eyes. Appreciation and… sadness? “No, we’re a distraction to this boy. He’ll be at the top of your class when he stops coming here every day.”
Thrawn wanted to correct them, but an orderly summoned him to the laundry room before he could. A resident had soiled their bedsheets and needed clean ones before they could retire for the night. Not caring that Thrawn only had a few days left in his punishment, the orderlies were intent to use Thrawn’s labor for unpleasant tasks for as long as they could.
Every moment Thrawn wasn’t occupied with another task, he was preparing for his simulation exam. Over the past three months, Thrawn had grown adept at studying with the materials around him regardless of where he was.
For the next few days, Thrawn read up on the specs of the spacecraft that would be included in his simulation. He looked for ways to use the crafts’ features and environments to his advantage, finally coming up with a strategy to shield fighters from view in the shadows of a disabled craft. It wasn’t enough to have the strategy in his head. Thrawn needed to put it in his muscles as well.
In his last day at the veterans home, Thrawn found a way to install a simplified, publicly available version of the simulation on the residents’ questises. He invited Thuroun to play as the enemy against him. “Oh, I don’ know, boy. My pilot reflexes aren’t what they used to be.”
“That doesn’t concern me, Mid Commander. All I need is a proof of concept for my strategy.”
“Oh, a strategy boy! That will get you into commander chairs in no time.” Thuroun sounded like he was teasing, but his eyes shone with genuine admiration. It was the brightest his eyes had glowed in all the time Thrawn had known him. “Let’s do this. Prepare to be crushed, boy!”
Thuroun did indeed crush Thrawn in the first few rounds. Getting into position to “disappear” was harder than Thrawn had realized it would be. He had to disable an enemy craft before he could use it as a shield.
After his sixth time beating Thrawn, Thuroun asked what Thrawn was trying to accomplish. When he explained the idea, the old pilot crowed. “Ooh, that’s brilliant! I wouldn’t have some of my scars if I’d thought to try that thirty years ago.”
Thrawn got called away to Juhovya before he could win a game against Thuroun. When he reached Juhovya’s desk, she smiled at him. “I don’t know what else to tell you, cadet. My residents are going to miss you.”
“I could still visit them on occasion,” Thrawn suggested.
“Don’t make promises you won’t keep,” she warned. “Plenty of people promised to visit the residents here. How many visitors have you seen come by in the last few months?”
Excluding the time Thrawn had brought one? “None, madam.”
“Exactly. Don’t worry about them, though. We’ll ask Wevary to send a new cadet next term. If this year’s budgeting cycle goes better, we might hire another orderly too. Not that it’s any of your business.” Juhovya signed Thrawn’s release form, then sent it to Wevary’s personal questis. “Bye, cadet.”
Thrawn wasn’t ready to leave just yet. He still needed to-
“Hold it there, boy!” Thuroun burst through the doors to the house’s reception area. Juhovya startled at his presence. “I did it on the simulation! Your idea. It works. Should work in real life too, so if the newer editions don’t allow it, it’s a bug there. Not here.”
Juhovya tried to ask what they were doing, but the men ignored her. Thrawn stepped forward to clasp Thuroun gently on the arm. “Thank you, Mid Commander. I will miss you most of all.”
“I’ll miss you too, boy. Write when you have a minute for your old man, okay? And I have something for ya.” Thuroun dropped a tarnished service medal in Thrawn’s hands. Thrawn held the medal up to the light. It was… a seven pointed sun? One of the star’s points were bent, but there was no mistaking the shape.
Thrawn examined the medal in awe. “So I was right. You were a-”
“What’s past is past. Maybe you’ll have better luck with this than I did. They might give you your own later, but all them medals are made so cheap nowadays. Use the real nyix one if you can.” Thuroun returned Thrawn’s arm clasp with one of his own. “I see my boy self in you, Thrawn. But you’re sharper than I ever was. Don’t just be like me, boy. Be better.”
Thrawn was taken aback. He’d never had a relative speak to him in this way before. He felt twin senses of awe and obligation settle over his chest. “It is… an honor to continue your service, Mid Commander Mitth’uron…”
“Mitth’uron’acho.” Thuroun finished. “I hope I live long enough to see your victories reported in the Ascendancy news. That should only take a few years, don’tcha think?”
“I will report to you when I know, Mid Commander.” Thrawn stepped back and bowed to Thuroun.
Juhovya stood from her desk to break up their farewell. “Sweet as this is, Taharim’s about to have curfew. If you don’t get on the streetcar now, cadet, you’re going to be back here with even more downmarks.”
Thuroun laughed, eyes shining with unshed tears. “Scram now, boy. You can’t report squat to me if you don’t place high in your class.”
“Farewell, Mid Commander. May the warrior’s fortune smile upon your efforts.” Thrawn turned to leave the veterans’ home for a final time. He let the bent point of the Mitth family crest dig into his palm. He wasted precious nighttime polishing it when he returned to his barracks.
If the house’s veterans were proof of one thing, it was the truth of an old Ascendancy adage. Even after losing their families, their titles, and much of their independence, all the residents were loyal Ascendancy warriors.
For a warrior may experience victory or defeat. He may come home to honor or shunning. He does not cease to serve.