The Freak Fleet 'verse: A series of stories exploring the dynamics among Grand Admiral Thrawn, Pellaeon, Covell, Parck, Niriz, Dorja, and other members of the Seventh Fleet. Legends cast in Rebels, a couple of OCs. Mix of Canon and Legends (Essentially AU). Serious, as well as not-so-serious fics. Semi-crack.
The Freak Fleet - Breaking the Ice - Of Chiss and Men - Witch Hunt - Second Chances - Chance Encounters - The Evil So Terrible It Tried To Black Out The Stars - An Unstoppable Force Meets an Immovable Object - All Roads Lead to Coruscant - Freak Fleet Files - A Kingdom of Isolation
"I'm only saying there's more to this than a missing trinket. The Admiral turns the station and the ship upside down, disappears for hours, won't discuss why, only that the situation's been resolved." Colonel Covell set down his mug of Forvish ale a bit more firmly than necessary.
"If the Admiral doesn't want us to know the details," Captain Pellaeon countered, "it's not really our business, is it? Whatever it was the Rebels took, it's been resolved." He chose to overlook that his choice of beverage this evening, the rather volatile syrspirit, said that his nerves weren't quite so convinced.
"Damn it, Gilad, it's your ship!" Covell cursed. "He's obviously got something aboard that we don't know about and which he's willing to go to great personal lengths to protect. Aren't you the least bit curious?"
A heavy hand fell on Covell's shoulder, making him slosh his drink dangerously close to spilling.
"Curious about what?" General Bittenfeld, Seventh Fleet's Army corps commander, dropped into a chair with all the grace of the red-headed Wookiee on spice he sometimes resembled.
Covell only looked resigned to the intrusion. "We were discussing the incident at Ord Trasi. The Admiral's little mynock hunt."
"Oh, that!" Bittenfeld snorted. "Probably just misplaced one of those trinkets he collects. Positively insane about them."
"I don't know," Pellaeon sighed in spite of himself. "This was . . . different. I'd almost have said he was in a panic, if he were capable of it."
"He took a shuttle, with no troopers, not Navy or Stormtroopers, and when he came back, it was as if nothing happened," Covell said, uneasy as he probably was about his commanding officer taking an interest. Pellaeon couldn't blame him. At worst, Bittenfeld would probably just speculate as he'd just done. Still, once an idea took root, he could out-stubborn a bull bantha.
"I was merely speculating about what could be so important to the Admiral he'd upset protocol seven ways from Selonia to deal with it, but then wouldn't explain what any of it was about."
Bittenfeld poured himself a glass from the pitcher of ale and downed it in one swallow. "You want to know what the Admiral's up to?"
Pellaeon felt a sense of impending doom.
"Let's just go and ask."
With General Bittenfeld in the lead, they arrived to the door of Grand Admiral Thrawn's office, the Stormtrooper standing guard in front of the door giving the General a sharp salute immediately when he saw him. This one might have been one of the hand-picked stormtroopers by Thrawn but strictly speaking, the Grand Admiral had only borrowed him from the General as the Stormtrooper Corps belonged to the Army contingent.
"At ease, trooper," the General waved him off, "is the Admiral there?"
"Yes, sir," the trooper said in the usual filtered voice, "though he mentioned he did not wish to be disturbed at this time."
The General gritted his teeth.
"Well, you had better told him there is a matter I wish to discuss with him, trooper."
"Sir, yes, sir," the stormtrooper and tilted his head to a side, presumably activating the internal comm link, calling the Grand Admiral.
They waited in silence for several minutes and then the stormtrooper titled his head back and turned his attention to them.
"The Admiral will see you now, General." The trooper activated the switch at the side panel and stepped aside.
"Yes, General Bittenfeld?" came the smooth, cultured voice of Grand Admiral Thrawn from the far end of the room.
The Chiss was seated in his chair, the whole command room shrouded in near-darkness, lit up only by the extensive holographic gallery.
The General apparently didn't have the habit of tip toeing around Thrawn's precious virtual art collection like Pellaeon did. Instead he walked right through them, causing the flatsculps and tri-d works to ripple and momentarily disappear. Pellaeon shook his head at the blatant disrespect to the works of art, holograms or not. The Grand Admiral always looked up to them with such admiration and awe as if they were true originals personally given and signed by the creators themselves. Pellaeon might never be able to truly appreciate them as Thrawn did, but he would have never dared to barge through them like the General had just done.
In the General's defense, though, it was not a deliberate act of an insubordination or an offense. A part of Bittenfeld's brain responsible for perceiving art must have been clearly missing or so under-developed that even the Grand Admiral gave up on disciplining him for being disrespectful to the works of great masters. It would have been as the finest Mon Cal opera compositions to deaf ears. There was no point at feeling anger towards the General just like there was no point of feeling anger towards the weather any other force of nature.
This was simply General Bittenfeld at his finest. The only culture in him resided in his intestines.
"Grand Admiral."
The gundark-in-an-art-gallery stopped directly in front of the Chiss, looking him straight in the eyes, the humility in his voice when he said the rank sounding completely out of place with his careless behavior so far.
"There is a certain matter we need to discuss."
Thrawn leaned over and pressed a button, all the holograms in the room disappearing in an instant, the lights switching on, immediately brightening up the room into the pre-set standard aboard an any Imperial ship.
"I am unaware of any outstanding issues with the Army, General."
Thrawn gave them a curt, polite nod in welcome, his glowing red eyes briefly flickering over at Pellaeon and then back at the gundark.
"Or given Captain Pellaeon's presence, is there some conflict between the two services?"
It was always fascinating to observe the interaction between the two giants, Pellaeon thought. The Grand Admiral, solid, calm, composed, alien; his face carved from stone, his voice smooth and cultured. The General, an unchained, wild, passionate and brutally honest man whose every expression was always clearly written on his face, his voice rough and full of emotion.
"Actually, sir, it's about the recent . . . incident at Ord Trasi." General Bittenfeld tried his very best at being polite toward the Chiss.
Clearly he held the Grand Admiral in the highest respect though he was not afraid of him in the slightest.
Thrawn paused, just for a moment. "Incident? Did the rebels inflict further damage?" he asked in a deceptively mind tone.
If it been anyone else Pellaeon would have gone as far as describing it as faux innocence.
The General stiffened, an expression of anger crossing his features. Obviously he did not enjoy being treated like a fool, by Thrawn or anyone. Whatever respect he held for Thrawn's position was gone in an instant.
"Sir, you required ship and station personnel to conduct a search, which turned up nothing, and you disappeared for several hours, returned, and . . . well, sir, we have no idea what it was about. It was rather disruptive to the Army and station crew as well."
Thrawn's eyes narrowed.
"I do not need to explain my actions to you, General, or to anyone else on my command staff. Dismissed."
Bittenfeld didn't move.
"With all due respect sir, I disagree."
"This is a personal matter and not a command question."
Was Pellaeon imagining things, or did Thrawn sound just slightly tense? Enough to be noticed, even.
Bittenfeld drew himself up, the gundark preparing to charge.
"So you mean to tell me, sir, you ran my men in circles, turning the whole station upside down for a purely personal matter and did not even have the decency to inform me beforehand?"
Thrawn rose, a reminder that his height was not inconsiderable, either.
"General Bittenfeld, while I consider myself a very patient man and tolerate your emotional outbursts, this time you have overstepped your place. I repeat: You. Are. Dismissed."
Bittenfeld crossed his arms, and his chin lifted in pure defiance.
"No."
Pellaeon swallowed hard, and he heard Covell suck in a long, hissing breath. The General not only refused to back down, not only he had committed a clear act of insubordination, he had said 'No.'
Not 'no, sir', something the Chiss would have let him walk away without consequences, he had said 'No.'
The Grand Admiral jerked in surprise, the red eyes widening. It must have been a great surprise indeed if his preternatural control slipped and the shock appeared so openly on the otherwise calm and composed face.
"I beg your pardon?"
Pellaeon felt the blood freeze in his veins, he felt the color drain from his face, he felt his heart stop and then suddenly kick back in and start beating so fast he thought he would collapse.
Bittenfeld was not at all intimidated.
"Damn you, Thrawn, you may be a Grand Admiral and command my allegiance but I am the Seventh Fleet General. How do you expect me to take care of my men when you conceal such things from me?"
Pellaeon recalled the myths surrounding the Chiss, the horrible things that happened to those who crossed them, the far-fetched descriptions of Chiss supernatural skills, their ability to steal the souls of the beings who were foolish enough to look them in the eyes. At this very moment, he would have sworn the myths were all true.
"I expect your men to follow orders," Thrawn said in a tone that could have cut glass, the glowing eyes blazing like infernal fires. "That includes orders where they are not privy to the details."
General Bittenfeld must have been suicidal, there was no other reasonable explanation for how he kept going despite being subjected to the same hypnotizing gaze.
Pellaeon thought it might be time to intercede. "With absolutely all due respect, sir, in this particular scenario further details might have made matters a bit easier."
Bittenfeld wasn't bothering with politeness. "Don't screw with me, Thrawn. You know very well that I have always followed your orders without question even when they made absolutely no sense. This is different."
Pellaeon didn't dare breathe, let alone speak.
Something shifted in the red eyed gaze, and suddenly all three were released from the invisible spell. The Chiss curiosity got better of him.
"In what respect?"
General Bittenfeld put on the suicide vest and ran toward the enemy lines.
"You used Imperial resources for a personal mission, resolved it yourself, without any indication it was proper use of my men's time. Play with your little ships all you want, but if you're going to use Army equipment, you're going to tell me what for."
So that was it. The General was insane. Mentally unstable. Unfit for duty. Not only the part of Bittenfeld's brain responsible for perceiving art was missing. He also happened to have no survival instinct whatsoever.
The Chiss must have realized it too, for he had decided to take mercy on the weak-minded fool.
"You are making a mistake, General. I suggest you leave now before I change my mind and decide to remind you to what happens to those who make mistakes."
Pellaeon could feel his heart hammering and was surprised he couldn't hear Covell's as well. Everyone knew what Thrawn meant about uncorrected errors and mistakes. He and Covell took a step forward and were about to drag the General away, probably to have him locked up in a mental asylum. Permanently.
"No, Grand Admiral, you are making a mistake."
Unfortunately, the General was faster and stronger than them, pushing them away. Well, so much for trying to save him.
"I am calling my favor for Atollon," the General said, his voice cold as ice, "And for the record, I want to state that this is not how I expected it to happen. I wanted to have a fight with you, full power, no holding back, even if you were to break every kriffing bone in my body."
He took a deep breath.
"Screw it, I am calling the favor and I am doing it now. I let you lead my men into a battle because of your petty personal vendetta against the Ghost's crew and you not only failed to capture them or kill them, your actions brought wrath of an immortal creature upon my men and resulted in unnecessary loss of lives and waste of Imperial resources. There are only two ways I leave this room, with an answer or in a body bag."
Thawn just stared at Bittenfeld, the glowing eyes unblinking. He even appeared to stop breathing for a moment. It was as if the Chiss brain was trying to solve an equation that had no solution. As if he had been trying to divide by zero.
Pellaeon wondered exactly how he was going to phrase a report about a suddenly-deceased general being cleaned up in the Grand Admiral's command room.
Thrawn pressed a button in his command chair's control pad and spoke a few words in a language Pellaeon didn't understand at all. A light flickered on the control panel in response, and Thrawn nodded as if to himself.
"Very well. Understand, gentlemen, if any of you reveals to anyone what I am about to show you, he will not live long enough to regret having done so."
Thrawn lead them back through his art display room where he kept his physical art collection when it was not on display to the private entrance to his quarters. Covell wondered aloud, speaking for them both, "Maybe he's just going to kill us somewhere private."
Pellaeon didn't reply, but he had a horrible feeling the Colonel might be right.
Inside the Grand Admiral's private quarters, the living space was far less austere than Pellaeon would have expected. The bedding looked . . . nonstandard, softer, and while it shouldn't have surprised him to see art on the walls, it was real art, and much more delicate than he'd have predicted - starscapes, snow fields, and even one of the rare and expensive Alderaani moss paintings. Besides the usual bunk and a work space, a small table with flimsy and drawing materials sat near the viewport. There was a carafe of some dark liquid on the table as well, and to Pellaeon's confusion, there were two glasses beside it.
Thrawn spoke, that same incomprehensible language, and there was a flicker of movement at the corner of his vision.
Pellaeon turned, and he felt his jaw drop. Covell apparently wasn't breathing, and there was a strangled sound that might have been Bittenfeld. Because whatever they had expected, it was not this. This was a tall, slender female, nearly Thrawn's height, with the same powder-blue skin and glowing red eyes. A mane of cobalt hair was swept back in an artfully-disheveled braid, and while she glanced uncertainly at Thrawn, her bearing left no doubt that she was a person accustomed to being dignified and in control. And for an unguarded instant, Thrawn was looking at her the way Pellaeon had previously only seen him look at an especially-treasured piece of art.
So . . . this was the masterpiece at the heart of Thrawn's collection.
Lisetha studied the three officers, until this moment mere faces from the secure-cams Thrawn had required her to know, and raised an eyebrow. [Thrawn, if we're going to have visitors, I would have appreciated much more time to be prepared. I'm a complete fright.] She spoke Cheunh, knowing none of them would comprehend it.
Thrawn smiled, so slightly a human likely wouldn't notice. [If I had my choice, they wouldn't be here,] he replied in kind. [I apologize for disturbing you.]
[Not at all. It's rather refreshing to see new faces.] She gave what she hoped was a suitably polite nod. "Gentlemen."
Pellaeon (she knew him by the mustache and the naval rank on his uniform) recovered first. "Ah. . . my . . . lady?"
"You may address her as Lady Lisetha," Thrawn said, and she could hear the note of amusement low in his voice, though she was sure the humans could not. He held out a hand to her and let him guide her to stand before them.
"Lisetha, allow me to present General Bittenfeld, Captain Pellaeon, and Colonel Covell."
Lisetha smiled, she hoped broadly enough. "An honor to meet you all in person. Though I confess I am rather surprised to meet you at all."
"Believe me, Lady, not half as surprised as any of us." Bittenfeld was indeed as bold as Thrawn complained. He sounded, if anything, like he was trying not to laugh. "Thrawn, you sly devil, keeping her to yourself all this time, letting those poor women of the court pine themselves sick over you, and a few of the men, too… Letting everyone think you're above that sort of nonsense, and here you have her stashed away. Well played, Admiral."
Thrawn's face darkened, but Lisetha couldn't keep down a laugh. "This one does have a point. May I keep him? He amuses me."
"That would be the only reason I keep him around," Thrawn said drily.
Pellaeon and Covell, meanwhile, looked like some species of flushed, sweating statues. Lisetha wondered that anyone with faces so warm could avoid being dizzy. "Thank you, General, I think. But other two look so flushed, Thrawn. Do they have a fever?"
Covell's mind seemed to catch up with the situation.
"With all due respect, my lady, for ... whatever your position is ... what is your position?"
Lisetha blinked, and for a moment retreated to Cheunh. [Is that as much a double entendre in Basic as I think?]
Thrawn's lip twisted. [He'll pay for that later,] and switched to Basic. "Colonel Covell, you will be required to visit a sickbay after the next practice session with me."
Lisetha gave him what she hoped was a forgiving smile. "I am Lady Lisetha, and my position, as you say, is whatever your lord the Grand Admiral requires of me."
Pellaeon and Covell looked, if it were possible, even more dumbstruck.
Bittenfeld, though was not yet at a loss for word. "Well, that explains why you were so desperate to get her back. A mistress like that must be hard to come by."
"Spare me your barracks-room language." Thrawn gritted his teeth. "Lady Lisetha and I were contracted to marry before my exile. She chose to follow me once that occurred."
Pellaeon spoke up. "Contracted? Do you mean engaged?"
Lisetha smiled and corrected him, she hoped gently. "Our people don't leave things like marriage to chance, Captain. His adoptive family presented him to my father a potentially-suitable match for me. I was . . . amenable. Your Admiral may be a commoner, but he has many exceptional qualities that any ruling family, such as my own, would be pleased to see bred into their future generations."
Bittenfeld snickered. "Thrawn a commoner? Marrying a princess? This is priceless."
Pellaeon, meanwhile, looked, as far as she could tell, rather horrified. "There's no . . . affection involved?"
Thrawn's face hardened, so she spoke quickly.
"Oh, I could have rejected him if I'd decided he wouldn't do," Lisetha smirked just a bit. "But Thrawn didn't have liberty of choice as a common-born. Or rather, he could have decided to bow out, but the consequences would have been a political disaster and an embarrassment to his adoptive Family."
Pellaeon still looked just a trace stunned at the notion. "Your families simply examined a resume and said 'here, meet and see if you don't mind marrying each other?'"
Thrawn looked a bit pensive. She might, if they'd been alone, even have teased him for seeming sad.
"Matches born of affection have no place in our culture, Captain," Thrawn said, with enough regret in his voice that even the humans surely heard it. "It is one of the things I, in a way, envy of your culture, now that I know of it."
Lisetha took his hand, and only resisted pressing it to her lips because they were not alone. "Affection can be learned. Or blossom on its own when the proper meeting is arranged." And she added in in Cheuh, [Did you think I chased you across a galaxy because I believe so strongly in a contract?]
Thrawn said nothing, but she felt the trace of his thumb across her palm and the gentle pressure of his hand tightening over hers.
Pellaeon might be stunned, but he certainly didn't seem to miss details, either.
"If I might be so bold sir, it appears in that case that you have been a very lucky in your match?"
Thrawn sighed and nodded. "Indeed, Captain. Even if I had the luxury of free choice and all the time in the galaxy to make it, I doubt I could have chosen better."
Lisetha felt a warmth rising up the back of her neck, and knew even if human eyes weren't sensitive enough to see it, Thrawn would, and knew what it meant. If they'd been alone, she would have shown him proper gratitude for such a common, but enchanting, expression of sentiment.
Bittenfeld was clearly not as moved by tenderness as the Captain. "I apologize for my insubordination, sir. However, there is an another matter that needs to be brought to your attention."
Thrawn sighed, only now it was far more annoyed than wistful. "What is it now, General?"
The General drew himself up. He was really quite physically imposing, and more than most humans his skin seemed prone to brilliant infrared displays on the slightest provocation. "You keep your woman locked up like prisoner, Grand Admiral! What does she even do all day?"
Lisetha had to release Thrawn's hand so both hers were free to smother very undignified laughter. "Oh, he's really marvelous."
Thrawn gave her a pointed look. "You don't need a pet."
Lisetha smirked back. "Jealous?"
Thrawn gave the soft snort that was the closest he ever came to open laughter in any company but hers. "Never, but you'll get tired of him, mark my words."
Lisetha shook her head and turned back to the officers. "Oh, I amuse myself. I paint, I draw, I read. I watch your human holodramas."
Pellaon blinked. "You are an artist?"
"A mere hobbyist," Lisetha said. "But I enjoy it. I certainly never had any talent for dancing or playing the tsa'nishen."
Thrawn smiled indulgently. "Who do you think drew the patch on your arm, and the nose art I had them place on the ship?"
Covell and Pellaeon were staring, and even Bittenfeld looked mildly impressed.
Covell said, "You created the chimaera?"
"My . . . Thrawn is quite fascinated by the many legends of such hybrid beasts. I took a rather liberal approach at the three headed mythical beast. Especially on the stylized design for the patch. Thrawn seemed pleased, though. Do you like it?"
Pellaeon looked utterly entranced, and Covell was staring at her with such open admiration she was momentarily concerned Thrawn would be jealous.
"We love you! It, we mean, your design," the Colonel stammered.
"We're proud to wear it, my lady," and Pellaeon now made the title sound quite sincere.
Lisetha lowered her eyes modestly, mostly to hide the pleased smile.
"Oh, I'm merely an amateur."
"It's wonderful, my lady," Covell said fervently. "We've literally fought for it."
Thrawn snorted.
"And now you see, gentlemen, why I had to keep her a secret. Besides, of course, the usual risks of court politics."
They were all nodding agreeably. The effect was almost comic.
"Your secret is safe with us, Admiral," Pellaeon said.
"I'm still not pleased with your keeping a lady locked in a closet." Bittenfeld was still the gundark barging blithely through the art gallery.
Lisetha smiled gently. It was a bit like she imagined dealing with a stubborn child might be like, and given Thrawn's personality and her own, she might as well practice while she could. "I'm perfectly content, General, as you can see. Hardly a prisoner."
Bittenfeld glowered. "Forgive me, my lady. However, if you ever wished to slip out for a fresh air, the Army is at your disposal. I can either accompany you myself or I can recommend my second-in-command, Colonel Covell, he may be a scuttlebutt but he is actually very discreet when it comes to important things."
It was starting to sound like an intriguing idea, really, but Thrawn intervened. "No. Absolutely not. The last time she wandered alone I nearly lost her to the Rebels."
That, if possible, roused the gundark to further heights of indignation.
"IT WOULD HAVE NEVER HAPPENED HAD I KNOWN ABOUT HER!" Bittenfeld bellowed. "I would have escorted her to the station myself. Just let the Rebels try and lay a finger on her then!"
Lisetha looked to her husband. "He does have a point."
Before Thrawn could speak, the gundark charged on. It was small wonder he was often unstoppable on the battlefield, given the determination he put into any objective.
"Grand Admiral, she is a lady and as such she needs to have a taste of fresh air and a change of scenery once in a while. I personally vouch for her safety. If anything ever happens to her, I will bear the consequences."
Thrawn raised an eyebrow, but to Lisetha's astonishment he appeared to actually be considering it. "Without knowing what those consequences would be?"
Bittenfeld drew himself to attention. "I swear on my family honor."
Thrawn smiled, the kind of smile that set even his allies on edge. "Courageous, General, considering you have no idea what I had in mind for the Rebels had I captured them abducting her or if there had been so much as the faintest scratch on her. But I do believe you mean it."
Lisetha did feel obliged to defend herself. "Well, I wasn't harmed. And you have to admit, I was able to take care of myself. If you'd taken much longer to contact them I'd have managed the whole escape myself."
Bittenfeld's ears practically perked.
"Oh?"
Briefly, Thrawn explained Lisetha's capture, in which she'd had to be subdued by a Lasat guard captain after jumping and delivering a painful assault to the traitor ISB agent, Kallus, before the Rebels could hold her, and how she had bought time for their escape and delayed the Rebels who'd brought her to him by sabotaging their stolen transport under their noses. By the time Thrawn finished, Bittenfeld had a positively covetous gleam in his eyes.
"If I may say so, my lady, you would have made an excellent Army soldier."
Thrawn's eyes burned a warning. "Do not give her ideas, General."
Lisetha blushed. "I'm afraid I was born for politics, not war. My talents are more suited to a council chamber than in a walker or a fighter. "
Pellaeon and Covell exchanged startled looks, the wheels clearly turning. Lisetha kept her own council, but she knew what they were thinking. Thrawn would never have spoken aloud of his plans, Palpatine would not live forever and Vader aside, he had no heir. Their expressions said it plainly: they were wondering, were they looking at the future imperial consort? Empress, even?
Thrawn was clearly following their trail of thoughts, too, and she knew what he was thinking behind the tiny smirk. Humans truly were a never ending source of amusement. Ah, if they only knew.
"I will happily leave military matters to those officially positioned to deal with them," was all she said aloud. "Though of course self-defense is an important part of any rounded education."
Meanwhile Bittenfeld's imagination was limited to closer matters. "Sir, I had my suspicions before but now you have confirmed them. There is no clear distinction between navy and army in your species' military forces, is there?"
Thrawn shook his head. "No, General. While we do have admirals and generals, of course, the Chiss warriors are trained for both space and ground combat."
Bittenfeld's expression was downright covetous. "And you don't happen to have more of those Chiss warriors around, do you? I want at least a platoon. Or two."
Thrawn's expression probably seemed blank to the humans, but she knew his feelings on the matter were, at the most, dubious. "I am not sure the General would appreciate that as much as he thinks."
Bittenfeld wasn't remotely deterred. "A platoon of warriors who are well versed in space and ground combat, possessing superior strength, enhanced vision, keener hearing, and are capable of quick thinking, fully at my command, ready to obey my every order?"
Bittenfeld laughed, looking absolutely delighted at the thought.
Lisetha tried not to laugh, either at the sudden enthusiasm or at the horrified expression on Covell's face.
"You are forgetting one matter, General." When he gave her a dark look, she switched languages. [Can you speak Cheunh?]
The general frowned, and tried to repeat what she'd said. At least, she assumed that was what he did, but she couldn't be sure, as what came out of his mouth sounded like nothing so much as a small felid trying to spit around a mouthful of pebbles. She managed to bite her cheek, but Thrawn didn't even make the effort, guffawing with outright amusement.
Lisetha almost laughed, but contained herself. "Thrawn, hush! Imagine what we must have sounded like in Basic the first time we tried!"
Pellaeon and Covell, though, clearly had other concerns. "Did the Admiral . . . laugh?" Pellaeon said.
Covell looked as if he couldn't even blink. "I wouldn't care to speculate. If he did he might be going mad. If he didn't we are."
"I think the universe has gone mad," Pellaeon said.
Lisetha knew she was going to laugh herself sick as soon as she was alone.
[Meeting me, now laughing-be careful, Thrawn, they're going to start thinking you're a mere mortal!]
Thrawn drew in a deep breath and composed himself. "General, your Cheunh pronunciation leaves much to be desired."
Bittenfeld clenched his fist. "If it gets me my platoon of Chiss warriors, I'll learn it! I'll master it in under a year!"
Thrawn raised an eyebrow.
"I could always tutor them," Lisetha suggested.
Pellaeon coughed delicately. "Ahem, sir, I heard it took Admiral Parck several years to learn to pronounce the Admiral's full name properly."
That was probably not the deterrent Pellaeon had hoped for.
"What name?" Bittenfeld demanded. "You have another name, Thrawn?"
Thrawn nodded. "It is pronounced 'Mitth'raw'nuruodo,' General. My core name is much simpler for humans."
Bittenfeld's face screwed up with heavy concentration, and he repeated a string of syllables. Which did, in fact, sound like Cheunh, but not what he had intended to say.
Lisetha clapped both hands over her mouth to try and contain the completely undignified gales of laughter.
Thrawn glowered at the General. "If you had any idea what you just said, General . . . "
Lisetha gasped for breath. "Oh, nar'ech'yon, he is so funny. I want to tutor him, it'll be so amusing."
Thrawn glared. "For a noblewoman, you're not being very dignified."
Lisetha tried to compose herself. "General, try Reli'set'harana."
Bittenfeld gritted his teeth. "Releesetaranah."
Lisetha blinked. "Oh dear."
Thrawn snickered. "I should kill you where you stand, General, using such language. In the most horrible way you can imagine."
Lisetha brushed it aside. "He still amuses me. And you haven't brought me any presents lately."
Thrawn snorted. "As you wish. I reserve the right to tell you 'I told you so' when he's gotten on your last nerve."
Bittenfeld glared. "Slander! I know how one treats a lady-apparently better than you as I don't keep mine locked up!"
Everyone, Lisetha included, stared.
Covell looked genuinely nonplused. "You have a lady?"
"Not a regular one! Who has time for that sort of thing in the Army? Nor as many as the Captain here, so the scuttlebutt says." He gave Pellaeon an overenthusiastic elbow to the ribs.
Lisetha raised an eyebrow, but she noticed that Thrawn did not seem particularly surprised.
Pellaeon glared. "It's not really a fit subject to discuss in front of a lady, General, with all due respect."
"I'm not the one who keeps a running tally," Bittenfeld retorted.
"General, please, there is a lady present. What you or I may or may not do on leave is not an appropriate topic."
Lisetha found the sudden delicacy strange, as they'd no doubt realized, given her presence in Thrawn's quarters, that she was not unacquainted with the notion of certain urges. "Thrawn, humans do not have the concept of recreation?"
Thrawn had the look he got when there was something he would prefer not to explain. "Their customs are very different, my dear. Some habits, even though they are widely indulged in, are considered best not acknowledged openly. Especially when there isn't their version of a contract involved."
"That does explain why some of them seem so tense."
Pellaeon's jaw dropped. "I cannot believe this... coming from a man who could not understand how I can have a son without my knowledge."
Lisetha was sure she hadn't heard properly. "How is that even possible, Captain? Surely you were present for the conception."
Even Bittenfeld was stunned into silence.
Thrawn sighed. "I told you, dear, they are curious creatures."
Lisetha shook her head, trying to wrap her mind around the notion. "Yes, but not so different. I would think they're aware when matters have progressed that far. Unless it doesn't have to take as long to ensure conception. Do they not require complete mating for it to occur? That doesn't sound very enjoyable."
Thrawn for once, looked at a complete loss. Which was preferable to the horrified looks on the humans' faces. "I believe you should add some texts on human biology to your reading, my dear," was all he said aloud, though.
THE END
MissKitsune08's notes:
Those of you who read ImperialGirl's gift fic to me, A Fair Exchange, might have seen it coming, those who didn't, well... Surprise! Oh, I think this fic was definitely worthy of a long sleepless night spent plotting, scheming, and writing over Messenger with my partner in crime. Well, this escalated quickly... It's literally a joint effort, take a guess as to who wrote what lines...
Oh, and I hope you enjoyed General Bittenfeld. He made his grand entrace in the Second Chances, and I am definitely not done with him yet! He is Mr. Bombastic.
In case you love ImperialGirl's Lisetha as much as I do, be sure to read her A Fair Exchange and, of course, don't forget to read her "main" EPIC series set in the Legends called TIE Fighter (400,000+ words of Thrawn, nuff said).