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-I.-
It was cold, but it was always cold in Csaplar. Dark, too.
Eli pulled the scarf around his face, tried to sink back into the hooded cloak, and adjusted his goggles. The outfit wasn’t exactly fashionable, but it wasn’t all that out of place, either. It was snowing, the wind whipping the flakes around violently, and even the oh-so-untouchable Chiss had their limits when it came to the weather in Csaplar at this time of year.
They didn’t even have a word for winter . It was always winter here: sometimes more, sometimes less. The Chiss called this time of the year tsuzah : the test. To them it was a dark joke; to Eli it was grim reality.
The fact that this establishment didn’t have a tunnel connecting it to the city’s main road was a mark against it. Only crazy people went out in weather like this. Only desperate people, people with nothing to lose.
Exiles. Outcasts. The Chiss called them clanless, nameless. You had to be the worst of the worst to be kicked out of your clan. Not having one in the first place was unthinkable.
Eli waited for the outer door to open, then the inner—a necessity in this season—and walked into the Chiss equivalent of a cantina. A real dive of one. Csaplar was Csilla’s capital, and parts of it were more advanced than the best neighborhoods in Coruscant. But every city had its dark corners.
The bartender was an older Chiss man, threads of white hair belying his age. Eli held up a hand to him and the bartender nodded, slid him a deceptively tiny glass. Chiss liquors were much stronger than human ones. Eli sat in a corner, feeling shorter than ever. He was tired of looking up at everyone. He was tired of Cheunh, the intonations, the impenetrable metaphors.
Eli had really been trying not to feel sorry for himself, lately. Trying and failing. He’d been in the Ascendancy for the better part of six months. (Six months by Imperial reckoning. It was seven cycles by the Csillan calendar. He was trying to think in those terms too. And also failing.)
What was happening at—he swallowed. Not at home, he warned himself. He corrected: Back there. On the Chimera , he meant. In the Empire. What was happening to Thrawn? He had the coordinates for the message relay, but he couldn’t touch it, hadn’t so much as seen it. He was supposedly the equivalent of a Commander in the CEDF, but really, he was Ar’alani’s prize pet. Her alien to be shown off, paraded around when it was convenient, locked up when it wasn’t.
Was that how Thrawn had felt when he’d arrived in the Empire?
It didn’t matter. This wasn’t how Thrawn had reacted. He’d found an ally (a pawn, that same voice whispered). He’d worked for a better position (manipulated his way to the top, it said). He’d been equal to the task. (The final dig: Thrawn is a genius. Who are you?)
He shook his head, took his drink like a shot, which was probably not wise. It was what the Chiss considered cheap, but it tasted expensive enough to Eli. ( My people practice superior distilling techniques , he recalled Thrawn saying, smugly.) It took effect within a few minutes, softening the edges of the world a little, blessedly warming his always-cold limbs, relaxing the ever-present tension in his shoulders.
He sighed, sat back, and considered the other patrons. He was trying to decide who he was going to pick a fight with.
—
The trick to getting a Chiss to throw the first punch was relatively simple. He'd thrown his hood back, lost the scarf and the goggles, and let the stares hit him in earnest. The result of this was always some combination of fascination and either thinly veiled interest or thinly veiled disgust. Either were a fine starting point. They'd come over to get a closer look. There were very few aliens in Csaplar, and only one human. Chiss were arrogant and xenophobic, but they were uniformly curious.
Then, he'd insult whoever it was with the crudest Cheunh phrases that he could manage. That was nearly unheard of, even here in a gods-forsaken place like this. The Chiss were a little more subtle. Eli was tired of subtlety, too.
The clanless didn't have much to lose except their pride. That was usually all it took: some alien talking down to them. This guy, in particular, had cracked after the first insult.
Eli grinned as he dropped to the floor, ducking under his opponent’s grasp. The trick to fighting with Chiss was, first of all, not to care if he lost, because he was going to. They were all taller and stronger than he was. Being slightly drunk was helpful: he only felt the bruises and cuts fully later. Being fast and fighting dirty was more helpful. He only took glancing blows as he backed away, ducked under reaching hands, rolled to the ground and—
“What do you think you're doing?” a clipped voice asked from somewhere above him. A familiar voice.
The distraction was enough to make Eli stop moving for a second, which was a mistake. His opponent's foot connected with his ribcage. He curled into a ball around the burst of pain and tried to catch his breath.
From somewhere above him, Eli vaguely heard the two Chiss exchanging lethal words. The clanless one hissed something and the other voice just laughed. “Move on,” its owner said, dryly.
Eli looked up, still gasping, and took in the person who'd interrupted this whole admittedly stupid business.
“Thr—” he started, before he could help himself. The newcomer extended his hand to help him up. No, not Thrawn. Of course not. Strikingly similar, but now as Eli looked at him, the differences became more and more obvious. A more expressive face, more delicate features, a smaller nose and even higher cheekbones. His dark hair was longer, styled differently, and he wore a Syndic’s robes.
“Thrass?” Eli said in surprise, accepting the hand up.
Thrass stiffened. Right, they'd never actually been formally introduced.
“Syndic Mitth’ras’safis, I mean,” Eli corrected himself, between gasps. He tried to straighten up, but couldn’t. He leaned over, eyes closed tight against the pain. “Sorry.”
“Commander Eli Vanto,” Thrawn's brother said. “Can I join you? I prefer to sit at a table, however, not on the ground. Actually, I prefer not to come to a place like this at all. Next time, perhaps you'll let me suggest a more civilized location.”
Eli huffed an incredulous laugh. “I didn't invite you,” he said.
“I like to invite myself,” Thrass said. “Showing up unexpectedly teaches you a good deal.” Like his voice and his appearance, the remark was simultaneously like and unlike something Thrawn would have said.
He stood there waiting while Eli collected himself. Everyone else in the place was pointedly notlooking at them now.
Finally, they sat, Eli clutching his side. His ribs probably weren't broken, just bruised, but the difference wasn't all that comforting.
“I speak your language,” Thrass said in Basic. Accented and simplified, but still Basic. “If you prefer.”
The harsh consonants of Basic, the rhythm of it, the simple fact that it was the language he'd grown up speaking….
“Yes, I do,” Eli said carefully, in the same language. It felt like a relief. Like a balm. And had the added benefit of ensuring they couldn't be overheard. “Thank you, Syndic.”
“Is this an assignment from Admiral Ar’alani?” Thrass asked. “Are you gathering intelligence?”
“You know I'm not,” Eli said. “If you followed me here.”
Thrass smiled. His smile was utterly unlike Thrawn's: open, charming. Eli didn't quite trust it. “She'll find out, you know.”
“I don't care,” Eli said. He knew he should care; it was stupid, what he’d been doing. He couldn’t even come up with a good reason why he’d been sneaking off, avoiding his “guides,” who were really more like minders.
“Then why did you come here at all, Commander?” Thrass asked.
Eli looked down at the table top. It was old, scuffed, made of some kind of metal, refracting light in an odd way. Even the damn tables in a cantina were strange here. He knew what Thrass meant: why had he come to the Ascendancy at all, if he was going to act like this.
“Thrawn asked me to,” Eli finally said.
“He manipulated you into it, you mean. You can go, you're not a prisoner.”
Eli knew that was true. He could leave, he could go back to his life. To the Empire. But he wouldn't. “He didn't manipulate me,” Eli said. “He asked. I accepted.”
Thrass considered him. “He asked you,” he said, dryly. “Thrawn must have changed quite a bit since I saw him last.”
Eli shrugged. “I don’t know about that.”
Thrass accepted this without comment. “What do you want to do here, Eli Vanto?” Every Chiss always used his full name, out of protocol. “Clearly, whatever you’re doing now isn’t it.”
Eli sighed. “I don't know. Thrawn said there's a threat out there, to both the Ascendancy and the Empire. He said I could be of some use to your people. But I'm not any use—” running around after Ar'alani and being babysat by CEDF guards , he thought but didn't say. Ar’alani was high-ranking and Thrass was a politician. News and gossip traveled fast in Csaplar. He already knew that after only a few months.
“Where do you think you could be of use ?” Thrass said.
Eli opened his mouth to say supply and analytics but what came out instead was, “In command somewhere. Back on a ship.”
“Your own ship?” Thrass said. “Here?”
Eli shrugged again. Now that he’d said it, he could picture himself as a Captain. And he hadn’t even realized how much he wanted to be flying again. “I know. The Military Hierarchy isn't going to let an alien have that kind of position.”
“Perhaps. But eyes are on you, Eli Vanto,” Thrass said. “And Thrawn sent reports ahead of you. There are people who know what you can do. Make the right friends and it might be their only choice to let you.”
Eli didn't feel drunk anymore, nicely blurred with alcohol and adrenaline. He was tired, cold again, and his side ached fiercely. “Thrawn sent reports about me?” he said, massaging his temples.
“He did. Effusive reports,” Thrass said. “That is, for him. My brother didn't really have many…” he paused. There were a lot of words in Cheunh for ties of obligation, affection, kinship, clan affiliation. Eli could see Thrass mentally trying to classify him in one of them. He finally chose a neutral Basic word in lieu of any of them. “...friends here. For him to consider you one means something. To me and to others. I can see his influence in the analyses you’ve been doing for Ar’alani, and you have something he never seemed to be able to cultivate.”
“What’s that?”
“Tact,” Thrass said. “Empathy. Valuable skills, in my position. More so than in the military.”
Eli sighed. “It doesn’t seem that way, but thanks.”
True friendship is so exceedingly rare, was what Thrawn had written in the journal he’d given Eli. But what they were to each other was far more than that. And Thrawn had sent him away less for what Eli could provide the Ascendancy than for what protection Thrawn could offer him. What did you do with something rare but put it away for fear you would lose it? Eli was starting to wonder if he’d made the right choice in accepting that offer.
“Not friends, Syndic, ch'atehe'ah, ” he corrected in Cheunh. It wasn’t what they’d really called each other, it wasn’t oath-sworn, but it meant something more than a friend, with no overtones of clan or blood obligation. Affiliation by choice. Loyalty.
“Hm,” Thrass said, switching back to Basic. “Indeed. Well, if you’re tired of following Ar’alani around, being ignored, and...doing whatever this is meant to be—” He waved a hand dismissively at their dingy surroundings. “You can find me and I’ll make the right introductions.”
Eli sighed. “I’ll think about it.”
“I believe you will,” Thrass said, his face blank. “Are you leaving now?”
“No,” Eli said. Just because he'd think about Thrass's offer, and probably take it, didn't mean he'd do it right this minute.
Thrass considered him, one eyebrow raised. “Be careful, Eli Vanto,” he said, and left.
-II.-
This channel is for mission reports. Eli stared at the message, his heart racing. An answer, finally, and it was a flat denial. He tried to imagine Thrawn receiving his own messages. What had he thought when he'd heard from Eli? He'd practically asked him to contact him, giving him the coordinates in that journal, then ignored his first messages.
I do not trust them with your life. And that is distracting. For both of us. Eli unclenched his fists. Distracting wasn't even close. For a minute, the desire to be touched was so strong it was almost a physical ache. Thrawn had sent him away because he cared for him, Eli hadn't thought about how it would feel from the other side. He didn't think he trusted the Empire with Thrawn's life either.
He composed his own message. The tunnel he'd created in the relay didn't allow for much detail.
this is a secure channel for personal reports. you know it's me. He shook his head. If he only had a few words, might as well make them count. status of oath: intact. recently accepted a promotion to captain in the CEDF but would prefer previous position - admiral's aide.
He sent it.
-III.-
The worst part of being injured, Eli had decided, wasn't the pain, it was the boredom. He didn't remember the first week after his ship, the Dark Vigilance, returned to Csilla at all. From what he had been told, he'd been in a bacta tank the entire time, and the whole first cycle after that was a haze. But now he was recovered enough to know what was going on — and what he was missing out on.
He checked his messages. His executive officer had continued sending him regular reports: status updates about their repairs, orders for their next mission. She hadn’t even mentioned Eli’s injuries. Eli was touched. Chiss didn't acknowledge anything they considered weakness. To ask after his recovery would be an indication of disrespect; to ignore it and pretend that everything was as-usual was a mark of confidence in Eli’s abilities and leadership. It was evidence of how long Eli had been in the Ascendancy that he didn't even question that. He liked it, actually.
Eli's door chime went off and he keyed in the entry without even bothering to see who it was; it was obviously Thrass. Finally, he'd get some real news.
Thrass walked right in and eyed Eli carefully. “Well, you don't look as bad as you did when you first got back,” he said in Basic.
“Thanks,” Eli said dryly. So much for tact and not mentioning weakness, but it made him grin, which had been the goal. He'd accept it from Thrass like he wouldn't from anyone else.
“How's the neural integration?” Thrass said, nodding at Eli’s leg where it was propped up in front of him.
“In and out, still,” Eli said. “It wasn't really meant for the human nervous system in the first place, so forgive me for not getting up. How's Sigeta?”
“Her core name?”
Eli remembered the look on Aristocra Kres’iget’anthi’s face, when they'd stormed the Vagaari ship and freed her. “Yeah,” he said. “You drop protocol when you’re in hostile territory together.”
“That explains a lot,” Thrass said.
“Oh?” Eli said, trying not to betray how desperate he was for news.
Thrass sensed it, though. He sat down, trying to be casual, but Eli saw that he was excited about something. “She’s doing well. Recovering, too, and as imperious as ever. And my sources say she's planning to make you a fourfold honor offer.”
Eli had a few years of practice controlling his body language and facial expressions, but he wasn't as good at it as he would have liked. That was a marriage proposal, a serious one. Their association had been brief, before he was injured. He’d liked Sigeta well enough, but this—
“I'm nameless,” he said, as carefully as he could. “She can't.”
“You’re without a clan because you’re in service to the CEDF, not because you’re in disgrace,” Thrass waved a hand, dismissing the fact that Eli was clanless because he was human, entirely. “And Mitth’ will adopt you, obviously,” he added.
“You have it worked out already? You asked Aristocra Mitth’eme'niriri?” Eli said. He tried not to grip the arm of his chair. Just when he thought there wasn't a damn Chiss looking over his shoulder and controlling his every move for once. Of course. There was nothing they wouldn’t use to fight for a better position in the Ruling Families. And Thrass had the Mitth’ Aristocra’s complete confidence. It might take some convincing, but if Thrass insisted, an offer would be indeed be forthcoming.
Thrass blinked at him. “This is good news, Eli. A merit adoption, an alliance with the Kres’...”
“It's good news for you ,” Eli said. “But you didn't ask me. I'm turning down both offers, if they're made.”
“You can't!” Eli had never heard Thrass genuinely shocked before.
“I can't be adopted into Mitth’, Thrass,” Eli said. He looked at Thrass steadily. “And I won't be bound to Sigeta, even if it’s only ceremonial. Draw your own conclusions, I'm sure you can figure it out.”
Thrass was silent for a minute. “This is about Thrawn?” he said, finally. “I’ve always suspected that the two of you were closer than you said, but…”
Eli nodded.
“You haven't seen him for years,” Thrass said, in disbelief. “He might not come back at all.”
“We've been in touch,” Eli said. He wasn't going to consider the possibility that Thrass had raised. “Sort of. And if he does come back, I can't be a member of your clan. Understand?”
Thrass stared at him. People in the same clan couldn't enter into marriage contracts or even casual relationships. It was equivalent to incest, even when the parties didn't share a bloodline. Eli wasn’t going to say more. Everything else was private.
“You've been in touch ? You got into the message relay? That's Hierarchy tech,” Thrass said.
Eli shrugged. “No one’s caught it yet.”
“What did he say?” Thrass asked.
“To me? Not much,” Eli admitted. “Other than what’s in the official reports. He said enough, though.”
“Enough for you to turn this offer down,” Thrass said. “I don’t believe it. Thrawn’s not a romantic.”
Eli smiled ruefully. “You might be surprised,” he said. The pang of loss wasn’t as acute as it had been when he’d first arrived, but it was still there.
Thrass considered this for a minute. “Is that why he asked you to come here?”
Eli shrugged. “There were probably a lot of reasons. I’m not sorry that I did, but it has been—” lonely, Eli thought. Frustrating. But it had also been good. To go from an oddity to commanding a degree of respect, on his own. “Complicated,” he finished.
Thrass shook his head. “And you want to stay loyal to him?”
“I’m done talking about it, actually,” Eli said, mildly. “My answer to your plan is no, regardless of the reason.”
Thrass looked at him, for once at a loss for words.
“But I might tell you how I got into the message relay, if you do something for me.”
Thrass couldn’t resist that kind of bait. “What’s the favor?”
“Leak the information about Sigeta's plans,” Eli said. “Probably to one of the Inro’, she hates them. Then once it's out, mention to Syndic Kres’etan’draru what a surprise it is that Sigeta would give up such a big bargaining chip just when the clan is poised to move up in the rankings. She'd be better off staying open to offers and adopting me instead. He’s listen to you, and she'll listen to him. They're blood relations.”
Thrass laughed. “That's good; I like that. You realize, though, that you'll be under the Kres’ control? Sigeta will be your clan head; she'll have the final say over what you do if you accept merit adoption from them.”
“I'm used to arrogant, know-it-all Chiss trying to order me around,” Eli said. “I'll be all right.”
“I suppose you're right about that,” Thrass said, dryly. “And you'll give the Mitth' every consideration when you get the merit adoption offer from the Kres’?”
“Of course. I'll owe you, and the clan, of course. So will she.”
“When will you move over into the Aristocra like you should?” Thrass asked the room in general.
“There's going to be a war soon,” Eli pointed out. “Not before that.”
“It will be over fast. Do you think you’ll be recovered enough to fight in it before then?”
“I will,” Eli said, grimly. “And it might not be over as fast as you think.”
-IV.-
“ Oath-sworn ?” Thrass said, without preamble, as soon as Eli opened the door. “You and Thrawn ?”
Eli buried his head in his hands. He'd known Sigeta would use his status to the clan’s advantage, once she explained its rarity. He'd known it from the second he'd told her and her face shifted from anger at his obstinate refusal to be married off to a look of triumph at the opportunity.
He just thought it would have taken a little longer to get out. Not the same day.
“Who told you?” Eli said.
“At least five people on my way here,” Thrass said. “and I'm frankly disappointed that I didn't hear it from you directly. I have questions.”
“I bet you do,” Eli said.
He didn’t plan on answering any of them.
-V.-
The door closed behind him. Eli allowed himself to collapse against it for a moment.
Two years. It had been two years since that last message. Extraction unnecessary, indeed, impossible.
Eli didn’t notice the cold of Csaplar anymore. There had been a time when he’d hated it, now, it was just home. But the slowness of everything here...that, he still hadn’t grown used to. He should have known that he couldn’t push the Aristocra along, couldn’t force their hands when it came to Thrawn. The plan for the Empire had been unorthodox to begin with. Better to let it — and its mastermind — fade from public knowledge.
Eli let out a long breath.
He thought he had his own plan. He’d had long enough to think about it, but if it didn’t work, he’d be outcast — dead in the Empire, clanless in the Ascendancy.
Did that really matter? After all this time?
Oath intact, as you say, always.
It wasn’t a choice, really. Not at all.
First, he'd find Thrass. Next, he'd find a ship.
He had to try.