"Fire."

The word warbled over the holoprojector, just as it had all the previous times Thrawn had watched it, but the reaction he felt had not been dulled through repetition. There was still the illogical call from the back of his mind, a cry out to the universe for something to happen. For events to change. Of course they didn't.

And just like all the previous times the recording had played, Eli braced himself at those words. The terror in his eyes still wild, but his body went rigid, assuming the position of attention, as though he preferred not to die struggling. It mattered little.

His body went slack, his torso slumping forward, jolted momentarily from his fall by the hands still bound behind him, before his knees folded and his entire body crumpled onto the ground.

The recording was finished there, and since Thrawn could still not find the heart to raise his hand and stop it, it merely restarted once more from the beginning.

"This is Imperial Security Bureau agent 045, calling upon ISBR 600-20, granting me authority under provision 12 to carry out executions in the name of the Empire."

Whomever the voice belonged remained out of shot, though Thrawn could envision a smile on the man's face. It was evident on his words. An unexpected turn of events. He is pleased.

Eli struggled against the swarm of stormtroopers manhandling him into position. He'd already known what was going to happen before the recording started. Eli started to say something – Thrawn could grasp his voice out of the multitude, but a strike landed on his torso, driving the air from his lungs. Thrawn could see him gasping for air, before a rag was tied around his mouth. Eli immediately set to remove the thing. Thrawn watched him work his jaw against it, quickly giving it up as futile and trying to rub it out of position with his shoulder. His desire to communicate overwhelms his desire to be free.

What Eli's muffled protests were meant to say, however, Thrawn could only guess.

"The accused is Commander Eli Vanto, formerly of the Imperial Navy, the primary suspect of life-threatening actions taken against the ISD Chimaera named by Grand Admiral Thrawn."

Eli shook his head at those words – either from a sense of betrayal or because he refused to believe it, Thrawn couldn't tell. The stormtroopers were walking away by that point. Eli's hands were secured behind his back.

"Raise weapons."

Eli's struggle became a full body attempt to pull free from his restraints, throwing his shoulder forward, wrenching with all his force against the binds. The restraints must not be metal for him to believe he has a chance. Or else he can no longer think logically.

"Fire."

And once again, Eli stopped struggling, stood tall at those words, the fear still flashing in his eyes but not wanting to die struggling. He doubled over at the impact of the weapon's projectiles, his body falling onto the ground.

At last, Thrawn reached forward, and turned off the projector. His hand was trembling.

His mind mulling over the puzzles.

Thrawn had turned in his report only two hours earlier. That was their first mistake. The second was Eli's clothes, or lack thereof. He was wearing the uniform of a prisoner. Somehow, over the week he had been missing from the Chimaera, Eli had been put into Imperial custody for breaking the law.

And during that week, no one had sought to inform Thrawn that his missing aide was found. Despite listing him as missing. Despite the Imperial protocols mandating that missing service members were to be searched for with all available resources. Thrawn felt a rumble in his throat as he growled low at the situation.

He had been maneuvered into naming Eli a traitor.

Thrawn looked back at the holoprojector on his desk, silent now that the recording had stopped. He reached for his datapad, eyes still locked on the projector.

Perhaps….

His fingers typed quickly, the results of his search coming up just as fast.

Description of wounds produced by slugthrowers.

There was a glimmer of hope. The recording made it hard to determine – the quality of the hologram was too low to analyze and Eli's actions after he'd been shot too quick to see the impacts of the slugs clearly – but… there was a chance. Thrawn's eyes darted quickly over the page-

Wounds penetrating the abdomen from projectiles are characterized by very little loss of blood.

Thrawn put the datapad down.

So that was it. Regardless of what had happened or why, it mattered little. Eli was dead.

The sound of hydraulics working open the door and Thrawn looked up, another growl low in his throat.

It was Governor Pryce.

She was walking into his office briskly but stopped as she made eye contact with him.

She made a faint huff of disgust, or disbelief, before asking, "What happened to your eyes?"

Thrawn stood up, the growl working its way into a full blown hiss. Not as though the human before him would understand the Chiss cultural implications of a hiss.

"Did you do this?" he asked instead in a low voice.

"Do what?" Pryce asked with that same tone of disgust. "I'm merely here to inform you that Grand Moff Tarkin has authorized my request for the 7th Fleet in assisting me rid Lothal of the Rebel insurrection. You are to report immediately."

"I will alert my crew-"

"No need," Pryce cut him off. "Your crew has been replaced."

This time, the gravity of social or political repercussions couldn't hold back his hiss.

"It's standard Imperial procedure," Pryce said stiffly, the explanation coming too rapidly to her lips. "You accused a high level member of your crew of espionage-"

"Two. Hours. Ago," Thrawn said, taking steps around his desk. He must have looked menacing, for Pryce took a small step back at his approach.

"And you are docked at an Imperial ship yard," Pryce said. Again, her explanation came too rapidly for Thrawn's liking. "With dozens of similar ships with similar crews. And here I thought you would appreciate the way I was able to handle the bureaucratic side of things, unlike-"

"Eli."

A smirk grew on her face, causing Thrawn's blood to boil. "Ah yes, Eli. Do you call all your subordinates by their given names? Sounds a little too unprofessional for a Grand Admiral of the Imperial Navy, perhaps a change of crew is for the best after all. Though you clearly thought he was special. It seems as though you've spent a considerable amount of energy to keep him assigned to you. Even at the risk of your career. Or your life? Frankly, I'm surprised you accused him at all, seeing how close you were. Perhaps you saw he'd outgrown his usefulness."

Thrawn's eye narrowed. There was far too much innuendo being thrown around. Too much resentment. And Pryce… she was benefiting from all of it. "Is that why you had him-"

"Me?" Pryce asked. "What evidence do you have that I've had a hand in anything? Don't forget, Grand Admiral, that if you want to throw around accusations, you have to have proof. You didn't learn your lesson after Bataan."

Thrawn set his jaw. Things were too well timed, working too well in Pryce's favor. But actual proof? He had nothing, and Pryce knew it. Outmaneuvered again.

"That's more like it," Pryce said. "Now, as I said. Take command of this ship and bring us to Lothal. The only task you need to worry yourself with now is to eliminate the Rebels for me."

She turned and walked away. Thrawn could feel his skin crawling.

"He was executed wearing the uniform of an Imperial prisoner," Thrawn called after her. Pryce slowed her step, as if considering a retort. She didn't have an answer ready. Thrawn could feel his heart slamming against his ribs in anger. It was clear. The forces working against him had overlooked it.

"And I suppose you would have rather it been you?" Pryce asked. "It very well could have been. You probably haven't figured it out yet, but one needs to pull a lot of strings and call up a lot of favors to keep you out of prison."

That was not the answer Thrawn expected.

"Missed that bit of news, did you? Very well. While you were moping over your star destroyer, the Senate passed a law, making relationships between humans and nonhumans illegal, and before you interrupt me, remember that I warned you about the enemies you've developed and how they would do anything to see you fall?

"But sleeping with your aide? You practically gave them a free shot."

"There's no-"

"Proof? Of course there is. You don't think your enemies would make such a bold move and not have evidence. There are still eyes behind closed doors."

Thrawn was silent for a moment. He refused to either confirm or deny her claims. Instead, he muttered, "He didn't have to die."

"You killed him, Grand Admiral, and don't forget that."

She left the room quickly, leaving Thrawn alone with his thoughts.

They were thoughts he did want to explore. He had a job to do now. He stepped toward the door.

As he moved, Thrawn caught his reflection on one of the works of art opposite his desk. It stopped him in his tracks. A face he didn't recognize stared back at him from the reflective surface. Or more specifically, eyes he didn't know. Pink irises stared back at him… features he'd hardly known he had.

He closed his eyes. He had heard of this before but never seen it. Merely dismissed it as a romantic exaggeration out of Chiss legend. But it was true. A product of grief. The light in his eyes had gone out. The glow dulled.

He stepped out of his office.