Hello. o/
My first attempt at Star Wars and with a couple that was not a couple, but should have been a couple: Thrawn & Maris Ferasi.
There will be two chapters, one focusing on Maris and another on Thrawn. Since English is not my mother language, I apologize for the many mistakes you will find here. I can only hope they won't ruin everything. :)
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, Star Wars doesn't belong to me.
Song: Solitary Ground
Band: Epica
Notes: Some information come from Wookieepedia, others from Outbound Flight and the Thrawn Trilogy and so many others are pure creative liberty.
Subtitles:
-"Blah blah": dialogues
-Blá blá: flashbacks
-"Blah blah": thoughts
-Blah blah: intonations
Elegy
noun, plural elegies.
1.
a mournful, melancholy, or plaintive poem, especially a funeral song ora lament for the dead.
2.
a poem written in elegiac meter.
3.
a sad or mournful musical composition.
Chapter 1 - The Red Flame
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
Living at different places
Evading into various spaces
My compass has broken
I'm losing the way
An ongoing madness has led me astray
Upon entering her X-Wing, she already knew this would be her last battle. The feeling was not based on anything concrete, but only on a vague and suffocating sensation that became true. She saw, in the black space, allied fighters exploding, and many enemy fighters sharing the same fate. No one went into war expecting anything less.
Even so, the woman would give all of herself in that battle. Although victory was highly improbable. For that precision in the attack, that impeccable coordination...No, it was not worth thinking about it now. All that mattered was the battle.
Her last vision was not that of the final and precise shot; but the little fragment of a sculpture she had brought along. It was just one piece of a larger object that had been left behind in Derra IV. A beautiful, enigmatic, red object.
An object just like his eyes.
My past breaths down my neck
And it seems now that all I can do is
Go back to beginnings when all lay ahead
The fading illusion now plagues me instead
Maris Ferasi's eyes wandered over the few objects displayed in the rooms of Commander Mitth'raw'nuruodo. Apparently, his taste for art didn't include areas such as interior design. Which was to be expected, of course. The room was simple and functional. A bed (where she is laying on her side), a small bookcase, a closet, and a table with two chairs (he was sitting in one of those).
Various objects were displayed on the shelves. They probably belonged to many of the species that lived in the Unknown Regions and which varied in color, shape and size. However, the human couldn't help noticing how often red - and its variants - appeared in the room.
Red.
She has always liked that color. There was something powerful and attractive about it; qualities shared by the man she was watching. Thrawn was at the table, reading some report and extremely focused on his task. He had removed the top of his uniform off, leaving only a black shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbows.
The young woman's eyes rose from the blue of his skin, passed by the black cloth, took their time in admiring the broad shoulders and went down the unbuttoned shirt until she saw a little more of the exposed skin of her host, and there her eyes lingered a little more. They eyes went back up again and travelled to his arms until they reached his hands. Those strong, determined hands.
"Your sudden attention is greatly appreciated, Ferasi", Maris was so absorbed that she didn't realize that her companion had seen her wandering eyes. "But I had assumed the objects in the room would be more interesting."
She laughs, embarrassed by being caught on the act.
"And they were for a while," she says. "But I got tired of looking at them, and since my host is neglecting me...", she sees him raise one eyebrow, "I had to find something else to do."
"An unacceptable behavior on your host's part."
"I agree. Especially when his guest has brought something", Maris rises up from bed, goes to her coat and takes out a small bag from inside one of the inner pockets. Then she sits on the commander's lap. "From my home planet."
"K'rell'n." He says as he picks up the present.
"Corellia, Thrawn. These are firegems."
He takes gazes at the little reddish objects in his hands, and she waits patiently for the Chiss to finish his analysis, for she knows well the cathartic effect that observing art has on him.
"Thank you, Maris. However, I do not know how to reciprocate." He did not look at woman as he thanked her, but buried his face in her neck and gave her a brief kiss that sent shivers down the smuggler's spine.
Her hands caress his blue-black hair.
"You don't have to, but you can reduce your debt by answering one question."
"At your service." He smiles discreetly.
"Why do you like red so much?" She asks and points to the art pieces in his room.
"They serve as a constant reminder of an ideal." Thrawn places the statuettes on the table, then moves his hands to the smugglers' waist, bringing her closer. "The Red Flame."
"What is it about?"
"Perfection," the chosen word confuses the young woman even more. "The Red Flame embodies all that is expected from every child of Csilla: cunning, courage, discipline and state of preparedness."
The commander sees his companion tilting her head a little to the side, in deep contemplation. It does not take long for her to present an adorable little trait that he had noticed during their language lessons and other moments in each other's company. Maris Ferasi always bit her lower lip when she was pondering or something lost herself in thoughts.
The alien seriously considered replacing those teeth biting her lip with his own when the human laughed. His frown was almost imperceptible.
"It's nothing," Maris says. "I just found it curious that you use such a word to describe this ideal," her hands travel through his hair. "Flame." Another pause. "It's just that almost all these attributes give me an idea of control, calm. All that fire is not."
"And what is the fire to you?"
She answers with a deep, searing kiss.
"The opposite."
In me
There's still a place that
Fulfils me
A sanctity here that I call home
I run to
When winter descends
If I try, can I find solid ground?
I follow elusive paths, oh!
It seems they have been written in stone and the
Door to a new life is closing so fast
Burning the bridges will not bring me back
Those times at the Crustai base would mark her forever. And not just because of him. The return to the "real world", to the Republic, was more shocking than she thought it would be. Not so much because of Qennto's chronic bad temper and rudeness, she did not allow herself to be impressed by that. It would not be worth it. But because of later events.
The debt to Drixo was paid and she pursued her noble and transgressive smuggling business for a few more years. Very few. The trips, the risks, and even the prospect of causing some damage to the Government's finances did not satisfy her as it did once. An uneasiness was born within Maris and it did not long for her to realize that the emptiness would not be filled by a deviant career. She, Maris Ferasi, second-in-command at the Bargain Hunter, needed something more. It was an elementary thing, but one that had moved different generations at different moments in History: an ideal.
She says goodbye to Dubrak Qennto and to smuggling life. No regrets, no hurt (on her part) and no politeness (on his part). What to do next? What skills did she have? Several. Good notions of mechanics, navigation, languages ...but... how could she use all that? Or part of that?
Since she had no idea, she chose to use the acquired (and beautifully scrounged from the Public Treasury) fortune to take a gap year and get off the radars. She traveled to Naboo, Coruscant (and to the magnificent Skydome Botanical Garden), Corulag. Those had been beautiful months of freedom, fun and flirtations until, two years later, everything changed.
The Clone Wars begun and the galaxy plunged into chaos. An inert Senate, bloodthirsty Separatists, civil wars, Corellia choosing isolation. It was during such pandemonium that she found the place to apply her skills: relief missions traveling through the conflict zones and trying to alleviate the suffering of millions caught in the crossfire. Those had been years of crossing the Galaxy and seeing the worse andthe best in living beings. Species and more species striving daily for survival or extermination.
Suddenly, it was all over.
The Clone Wars.
The Jedi Order.
The Republic.
From the debris of the known world was born an aberrant mutation, a cursed chimera. The Galactic Empire. Ruled by the beloved chancellor Palpatine. Correction: Emperor Palpatine. Maris was on a mission on Ryloth when she watched, stupefied, with many individuals of many species, that fateful statement in the Senate.
"Galactic Empire ... " It was as if her mind had gone off the air "... secure society."
She excused herself and looked for some place where she could be left alone. On that starry night, on a distant planet, she cried. Like she had not cried in years. Maris Ferasi knew herself well enough to know the nature of that terrible pain. It was the deepest disappointment. That heartbreak that only a sincere idealist would have. Yes, the Republic was corrupt, and no one could dispute that. But it was worth fighting for, and that she did. For years. Until what had begun as an isolated dissent became an alliance. The Rebel Alliance.
The former smuggler served the Alliance in many ways over the years. Recruiting members, spying, collecting information (Thank the Force for her transgressive years), taking care of logistics.
The name Maris Ferasi practically disappeared from records, being replaced by the codename "Red Flame", that made sense only to her. In the middle of one of her missions, the past came knocking on her door. In the form of an old and dear friend.
In me
There's still a place that
Fulfils me
A sanctity here that I call home
I run to
When winter descends
If I try, can I find solid ground?
In me
There's still a place that
Fulfils me
A sanctity here that I call home
I run to
When winter descends
If I try, can I find solid ground?
Her encounter with Jorj Car'das only lasted a day and took place on indistinct motel in Chandrilla. When he knocked on her door, with a tired smile on his face and bottles of strong beer in one hand, there was no way she could not think on how time had not been merciful to her friend. His brown skin was dry and wrinkled, his hair was much grayer than age would allow, and his brown eyes looked haunted. As if he had been in the presence of an indescribable horror.
As curious as she was, Maris would not invade her friend's privacy, especially when she herself had more skeletons in the closet than she wanted and could count. The conversation had been long and enjoyable for the most part. With sips of beer and laughter.
"You can imagine the chaos on that mission," the woman was recounting an anecdotal episode that had taken place a few months before and that had the other former smuggler roaring with laughter.
"Their luck is that you were always very good at dealing with pressure," Jorj said, but his eyes became suddenly serious as he stared at the half-closed window. "Our times in the Bargain Hunter proved that." Silence hangs in the air for a few seconds. "Maris, do you still think about our mission in the Unknown Regions?"
"Every day, and for a few minutes," the woman goes to the window and gazes into the dark sky. "Almost like a bad habit. And you?
"The same." His tone was faintly dismissive.
"Jorj, you were never the best of liars, and that question did not come out of nowhere." Maris asked. "What happened?"
"I saw our friend a while ago."
Thank the Force Maris did not have her beer at the time, or the poor object would have fallen to the ground and caused a monumental mess. She leans on the window sill, incapable of speaking, and her thoughts fly light-years away and toward the friend in question.
"I can't believe you have been to Crustai!" She beams. "When was it? What was it like? Why did you go there?"
Car'das laughs.
"Cool you hyperdrive, Maris! One thing at a time!" His hands up in a sign of surrender before the hail of questions.
"How is Commander Mitth'rawnuruodo? Is he an admiral now? Has he changed his black uniform for the white one?" Her friend's request clearly had no effect whatsoever, and Maris did not notice her friend getting closer. "What about his brother?"
He takes her hands and makes the euphoria slow down a bit. Both remain silent. She confused, he uncomfortable.
"I'm sorry about that, Maris. I shouldn't have said anything."
"Why not?
"Let's sit on your bed, please." They do just that. Maris leans against the headboard and Jorj at the other end. "I will answer as much as I can, but you may not like it."
"Thanks for the warning." Her attempt of humor fails miserably.
"I haven't been to Crustai. I helped our friend on a mission that had nothing to do with the Chiss." He gets up and picks up two beers, without even bothering about glasses."What the hell were you thinking?" Car'das silently berates himself.
Back on his place, the man resumes his speech. "He is very well. He's no longer a commander and I believe the white uniform is his destiny. But not in the way you think."
"What do you mean?"
"I assisted Captain Thrawn," he sees her frowning. "and it should not be long before he receives the white uniform...of the Grand Admirals of the Empire."
The woman places the beer bottle on the nightstand and brings her hands to her face in complete shock.
"I'm so sorry, Maris." He knew the news would hit her hard.
"Captain Thrawn ..." the rebel whispers. "How did this happen?"
Car'das narrates the events after their departure from the Chiss Ascendancy. The death of Thrass and the sad fate of Outbound Flight, Thrawn's successive preemptive strikes that led him into exile. His entry into the ranks of the Galactic Empire. At every moment, Maris grew more devastated and Jorj more regretful. But there was no easy way ro do this. Maris needed to know about the powerful enemy she could find. It hurt him deeply to see his friends on opposite sides and he prayed that the Force would be graceful enough to never allow them to cross paths again. For there would be nothing left of that mutual allure that Jorj never really understood.
"What do I do, Jorj?"
"About what?"
"About Thrawn. I must warn the Alliance about him." She takes a sip of beer and regains some of the composure she came very close to losing. Her mind tries to conjure an image of the Thrawn wearing the Empire's nefarious uniform, but it was impossible. As far as she was concerned, his colors would always be blue, red, and black. "They need to know the risks."
"Maybe not." The man says. "At least, not for now. He doesn't work much on this side of the galaxy"
"Does he know about me?" She hoped that was not the case.
"No, but he has asked about you. I omitted as much as possible. I told him you worked with logistics and traveled a lot."
"Not far from the truth…"
"He wanted to know if you and Qennto were still working together." Jorj sees a curious smile spring to her lips. "I said no, that you two had gone separate ways a long time ago."
"More than you know."
"Maris," curiosity was eating him alive. "Qennto was insanely jealous of Thrawn. Sorry to ask, but…"
"You wanna know if he was right ?" Interrupts the woman.
"Well…yes."
"Yes and no." So very informative. "Yes, because Thrawn was much more than a friend. And no, because Rak and I were no longer together, despite his hopes on that."
"So, I wasn't wrong". He says to himself. "How was that even possible?"
"There's no explanation for these things, Jorj."
In me
There's still a place that
Fulfils me
A sanctity here that I call home
I run to
When winter descends
If I try, can I find solid ground?
And she did not explain at all. It was none of his business,anyway. The encounter with Jorj in Chandrilla was the last time Maris talked about Chiss to anyone, since she preferred to keep her time in Crustai - and him - as her secret garden. That place where she hid whenever life in war became too heavy.
The years passed, the fights became worse and Derra IV happened. Shortly before the battle, her usual helmet had its shield broken and she left it at the base, next to her few belongings, that would be found shortly after.
Or am I just wasting time?
Wasting time ...
(To be continued)