Thrawn suspected Governor Pryce wouldn't appreciate him answering Captain Slavin's call for assistance in dealing with the insurgency on Ryloth.

What he didn't expect was just how unreasonably upset about it she would be.

There were the reprimands he anticipated – he shouldn't have gone on any mission without consulting her. His mission to bring Lothal under control was primary to any other Imperial entanglements going on around the galaxy. And even though Thrawn wanted to point out that Cham Syndulla and Hera Syndulla were father and daughter and thus did have something to do with Lothal, he held his tongue and accepted the onslaught.

But then her anger began to get unreasonable. She seemed hyper fixated on one issue above all others – that Thrawn had spoken with Hera. Not that she had successfully escaped. Not that Thrawn had taken something which belonged to her - Pryce didn't even seem to notice the Twi'lek pilot's kalikori standing prominently on display in his office.

No, what angered her was that they had held a conversation.

And while Thrawn stared at her, expressionless and unmoving as he received her verbal abuse, his mind was going at the speed of light.

What was Pryce threatened by? As inexpert as Thrawn would consider himself on female competitiveness, he got the feeling that it had little to do with Hera Syndulla herself. Pryce's anger was not jealousy, but underneath the aggression, Thrawn could detect the finer notes of fear on her voice. So then - what information was Pryce afraid he may have gleaned from Hera?

What opportunity did I miss?

He was only spared from more of Pryce's outburst by a beep from her commlink.

She nearly ripped a seam in her uniform tearing the device from her belt. "This had better be important!"

"It is." Thrawn recognized Tarkin's velvety voice. Pryce recognized it, too, and straightened up.

"Grand Moff Tarkin-"

"You may hold off on the pleasantries, Governor. A matter has arisen when requires your attention. Where are you?"

"In Grand Admiral Thrawn's office-"

"Then I suggest you find a more private place. We need to talk."

Pryce glanced up at Thrawn. His face betrayed no emotion, and from all appearances, he still looked like the defeated officer, too beaten by circumstances to suspect anything was amiss.

"Very well," Pryce said, shutting down her commlink.

"When I get back," Pryce turned her attention to Thrawn, "I want to hear more about what you are doing about Lothal and not about you rushing off to every officer's call to try to get out from underneath me."

"I believe an initiative to engage the local populace in activities to aid the Empire would be most beneficial to fostering a sense of belonging to Imperial progress rather than merely subjugated by it," Thrawn answered mechanically, as if by rote, as if he didn't understand Pryce's order. "A factory, for example, or a-"

"A factory, a cordon, I don't care what it is," Pryce said, turning and leaving the room. "Just something."

Thrawn waited nearly a full minute staring at the door before he moved to his desk, activating his datapad.

What information could Hera Syndulla possibly have that I would want? Thrawn narrowed his eyes. Or that Pryce does not want me to have?

His first idea he knew would probably lead to a dead end, but tried it anyways – he entered her name into a search engine, limiting the parameters of the search in the criminal databases to focus solely on those arrested under the Empire's interspecies relationship ban. The results came up negative.

Thrawn's fingers hesitated before he began typing out new letters, a curiosity he knew he should not allow to surface getting the better of him.

But when he had entered in Eli Vanto's name, the results were exactly what he feared.

Information populated on the screen, along with a picture of his face.

Thrawn put the datapad down, glancing away.

He thought he'd want to see his face again. Thrawn didn't think it would hurt. Not after all this time. Not as sharply as it did. Yet the voice inside his head which screamed for him to do something to solve the problem continued to scream. That constant drive to solve problems was once appreciated. In this instance? Thrawn thought logic would have done more to dull the pain. To accept things and move on.

But still… the urge to do something kept nagging at him.

Pryce didn't want me talking with Hera… they had to have been captured together.

Thrawn chided himself for his behavior, but he reached for the datapad again, his eyes glazed over as he refreshed the search parameters, Eli's face vanishing. And yet that hurt as well – the notion of him vanishing…

Thrawn winced. He had to maintain better control over his emotions.

Thrawn typed out a request to see all those arrested under the interspecies relationships law, singling out the females. He scrolled through the faces, quickly, pausing only momentarily any time a picture would show up with a Twi'lek's telltale lekku.

And then… there she was.

A false name, of course. But it was unmistakably Hera Syndulla. So they were imprisoned together.

His eyes quickly skimmed the information. It was noted that "Esha Pala" had escaped confinement once she had been returned to her "home world" – the planet where she had been arrested. And from there, Hera jumped right back into the fight. Thrawn no longer had the heart to smile, though the irony that this world was still close enough to Lothal did garner his attention. They simply cannot stray too far from that world.

So… what to do with the knowledge that Eli and Hera had been imprisoned together? It could be assumed Eli would have recognized her – they had been on their way to Lothal to deal with Syndulla's Ghost crew and Eli had reviewed the files as well. He was far better at recognizing differences between alien faces than other humans.

Then Eli might have made an approach…

Thrawn winced.

The only information he would get from Captain Syndulla was the information he already had. Eli Vanto was dead.

Perhaps Pryce wasn't afraid of Hera saying anything to Thrawn. Perhaps she was upset because she didn't like the idea of him seeking out information. Not that there was any information to gain, but afraid he might do something careless which would land him in trouble with the Empire and she would lose a valuable asset.

Thrawn put the datapad down.

He'd almost allowed himself to forget that in this world without Eli, that was all he was to those around him. An asset. An instrument. A pet project. The way he'd originally intended it to be.

He sighed and glanced back at the datapad. Hera Syndulla. The last connection he had to the one who thought of him as something more than a resource.
Thrawn briefly considered making a point of asking Hera about Eli next time he spoke to her – for he was certain there would be a next time. Perhaps merely speaking about it would be enough to quiet his mind, to give peace to this torment. But if Thrawn could hardly contain his composure sitting alone in his office and looking at a picture he knew he would find – what did he expect his reaction would be to listening to another describe Eli's final days?

Thrawn cringed suddenly as an unexpected thought entered his mind – perhaps Hera had recognized him. Maybe she knew who Thrawn was… perhaps Eli had told her, described him… perhaps Eli had spent his final days imaging that Thrawn had had a hand in his imprisonment. Perhaps he thought of him as a monster.

And perhaps that was the reason Hera didn't mention her having met Eli. Because she thought he was a monster, too.

No… Pryce had nothing to fear from Thrawn interacting with Hera again. That road led nowhere except to more pain.

-SWR-

Arhinda couldn't believe what she was hearing. The commlink in her hand quivered, her hand shaking. It was not possible.

"Well… kill him then!" she blurted out. "An accident or… or something!"

She was reeling. It simply wasn't possible.

"Yet an accident would rouse suspicions, would it not?" Tarkin asked, his voice reflecting the scowl Arhinda was sure was on his face. "You assured me that Grand Admiral Thrawn was so clever his assistance was essential to defeating the Rebellion. And yet you think he would simply overlook such a blatantly obvious silencing tactic?"

"This agent must be silenced," Arhinda stressed.

She couldn't believe it… apparently suspicions at the Imperial Security Bureau were raised when one of their agents returned to Coruscant, bragging about coming into a lot of money. Of course, ISB became suspicious and suspected he was involving with some sort of espionage.

After all, spy networks were known to offer unheard-of amounts of credits for information on the Empire. After a brief interrogation, the agent revealed that he had faked the execution of Eli Vanto, and instead sold him into slavery to make the extra credits.

He remained in ISB detention, his fate a highly guarded secret. Tarkin, with whatever methods he possessed, was able to hear about it.

"He could be looking into the case right now," Pryce said, her heart hammering in her chest.

"It seems as though the plan you assured me was foolproof is unraveling at a rate you are unable to keep up with," Tarkin said bitingly. "The Emperor had his own reasons for wanting Thrawn contained yet you told me I had to do everything in my power to protect him. Well, looks like he's been protected but now it's you who needs protection."

Pryce didn't trust herself to answer right away.

If Thrawn found out… if he found out Vanto was still alive… She couldn't say it out loud, but she feared Thrawn would seek revenge. If not against the Empire, then certainly against her. Tarkin was right – she needed protection.

And if not? If she was protected? If Thrawn was denied his revenge, what then? Thrawn would do everything in his power to find Vanto. And if she tried to put a limit to his movements? She was sure he would defect, if it came down to it. And then how was she supposed to get Lothal back under control?

"Does he have any friends left at ISB?" Tarkin asked. Pryce was surprised by the question.

"I suppose Yularen…" she said. "Though he's been instructed not to speak to Thrawn on this case, and I don't believe Thrawn has even asked."

"If he has no friends, then he has no access to information," Tarkin said, voice once again smooth. "This slaving operation, though. I'll have to send someone to keep an eye on it. It's far too out of the way and far too small to reach Thrawn's attention, but if Vanto is there, we need to ensure he remains there."

Pryce narrowed her eyes. "Could… couldn't we just… buy him back and kill him ourselves?" Yes… that was the only way. "Thrawn's… been asking about a body," she lied. "He's let the matter drop for now but… he has brought it up."

"Has he now?" Tarkin said. "Strange you haven't mentioned this before."

"What could I have done about it before?" Pryce asked. "But now we know where to find him… and bringing back a body… that would keep Thrawn from looking into this anymore."

"And focus on ending the Rebel threat?" Tarkin said. "Very well, Governor Pryce. Once I secure the exact location from our ISB agent, I will send a contingent to go secure Vanto."

The commlink clicked off, and Pryce smiled to herself. In fact, she smiled the whole way back to Thrawn's office. And when she saw the blue alien's blank, deadpan face staring back at her?

She smiled even more.

-SWR-

If Eli was being honest with himself, he would admit that he had absolutely no idea what he and the other slaves were even mining.

His existence revolved around pushing a cart up and down the length of the mine shaft, pausing every couple of feet to watch buckets full of rock get dumped into the cart. There never seemed to be anything worthwhile in the entire endeavor. But what did he know? Maybe Zygerrians really liked rocks.

His body paid the price for the Zygerrian's geological fascination. Eli had torn off the sleeves to his prisoner's jumpsuit, wrapping the fabric around his hands to try and protect them from the rusty metal sides of the cart. And while the uniform modification helped with keeping him cooler, he could also witness first hand how badly his body was suffering.

His arms began to lose their muscle mass fairly quickly. In time, they looked like sticks. Eli was glad he couldn't see what his face looked like. He hadn't been shaving, that's for sure. And reflecting back on the times he and Thrawn had actually busted slaving operations? He imagined he was impossible to recognize.

Eli had lost all track of time. There were no days off, nothing to look forward to, nothing to break up the monotony. There were moments where he had to wonder if something had happened on the current day he was living in, or if it had happened weeks earlier. And as his concept of time slipped out of his grasp, he began to lose his sense of self.

But one day, something new happened.

The Zygerrians were excited. They were shouting in their own, snarling language, nearly jumping with joy. For a moment Eli was sure one of the slaves had died – but quickly pointed out to himself that he'd had to cart dead bodies out before and the Zygerrians were never this happy about it.

Eli pushed his cart closer. Curiosity made him forget the price for messing up at his job. He walked past buckets of rocks without so much as glancing at them. The Zygerrians were too preoccupied and didn't care.

When Eli got close enough… when his eyes adjusted to the multitude of torches popping on around the discovery… when he could make out a seam of black stone gleaming from the dull rock.

Eli felt his knees give out.

The Zygerrians were too preoccupied to notice him.

But Eli was doubled over, sinking down to all fours, his pulse so rapid his head was swimming.

No…

It was doonium.

No, no, no.

This had been a doonium mine.

He and Thrawn had spent years chasing down doonium shipments. Tracking prices… tracking the sheer quantity of doonium being sold … the conclusion they reached about a massive Imperial building project. The realization that it had to be something new, because if it was the same old Star Destroyers being built, there would be no reason to keep it so secret…

The need for secrecy which meant the Empire couldn't hire workers… workers that would need to be paid. Workers that could talk… the project which led to the Empire using slaves…

And now he had become a slave. Here. Mining doonium.

It wasn't a coincidence.

He'd spoken out. He'd gotten angry. He'd been so furious at Thrawn for not taking the Empire's hypocrisy seriously he'd nearly come to blows over it. And Thrawn never moved from his position – that there was something more important to fight… that he couldn't lose his position now… over mere slaves…

Eli's face contorted as he tried to hold back the pitiful sobs threatening to overwhelm him. But his emotional state was far too frail to hold back the avalanche. The first sob was a weird choked off sound as the electric shock alongside his throat cut off his breath. He ground his teeth together, trying to hold off the force smothering his body. He failed again.

Eli lost all his handling on logic and began clawing at his neck, desperately trying to find a way to rip that collar off. The cruelty of being unable to cry was more than he could bear.

The Zygerrians were beginning to shout orders again, but Eli was a million miles away. Even when Eli felt the sudden sting of the electro-whip snap across his shoulders. Even then, he kept ripping away at his neck.

Eli gave the whip the attention it deserved far too late to help himself.

His fingers finally fell away from his neck, his chest heaving from exhaustion and pain, a fresh sting lashing over his back. But he was spent… his anger gone… his fear gone… only an aching sense of betrayal remaining.

"Load the cart!" a voice ordered.

Eli decided right then and there he didn't care how painful it would be. He was done.

"Go on! Get moving, slave!"

He had almost not heart to shielding his body. He was curled up in a ball, yes, arms wrapped around himself. He felt the pain of their beatings, yes, but… it wasn't enough to stir him. His heart was dead. The only thought which crossed his mind was why. What had he done wrong?

Someone grabbed his leg and dragged him – where, Eli didn't really care – but he was sure it was out of the way of the cart. Someone else would have that fate now. Either the guards assumed his lack of response to pain meant he was already dead or they figured he would die soon and wasn't worth the effort anymore.

In the end, it didn't matter.

Eli curled a hand over his shoulder, desperate to comfort himself, his other hand cupping the back of his head. Even if his hands were sticky with blood, he ran his fingers through his hair… it was something Thrawn used to do… when he was upset…

Eli cringed, the pressure was building up in his chest again.

That was why he hadn't been rescued. It was why he'd suffered here for so long. There would be no rescue. No escape. Just a life of darkness and pain and hunger… and that wasn't a life at all.

And so Eli Vanto laid alone in the dark and waited to die.