As the door shut behind Pellaeon a weight lifted from his shoulders – along with most of his tension. He slumped backwards, resting against the door's cool surface as he sighed. His palms flattened themselves against the door, his fingers shaking against its surface. He felt tired and hurt, but beneath all of that laid a small sense of victory. Some progress had been made between them in that room – not much, perhaps, but it was better than nothing. He had more information now than he had before. Even if he didn't like it—

(even if it made his blood boil)

—it was still something.

He would have to snatch at every ounce of information Thrawn gave him until he had a better picture of their new situation. Unfortunately that meant being patient, and playing by his terms. He knew better than to think that twisting Thrawn's arm into saying more would be anything more than a pointless exercise in frustration.

He scrubbed at his face with his hands. To an onlooker, it might have seemed as though he were trying to wipe any remaining exhaustion from his expression.

Gritting his teeth, he dropped his hands and let his head fall back against the door. Damn that man, he thought. Did Thrawn have to be so infuriating?

He certainly already knew the answer to that question. Ten years was not long enough for Pellaeon to forget about his habits of secrecy; how close he had always kept his cards to his chest. And, unfortunately, he did not have the time to stew over what had just transpired between them. There was too much that needed to be done today for him to lose focus, not for his anger, not for his stress, and certainly not for Thrawn. Especially not for Thrawn, that blasted man.

It was hard to imagine a time when they had worked together as a unit, when mysteries had been opportunities for learning rather than bastions of frustration, and the only worries that weighed on Pellaeon's shoulders came from following the admiral's occasional farfetched order.

A decade had done so much to change their positions.

He could admit to himself that he missed those years. Had mourned them and kept his memories of the supposed late grand admiral close to his heart. Even the memories that involved Thrawn being an ass were cherished ones.

At least during those years he had – generally – known what to expect from his commanding officer.

Now it felt like trying to gain any sense of understanding from that man would turn into an exercise in frustration. If anyone had told him working for Thrawn would someday be considered one of the less stressful periods in his life, his past self would have laughed.

Pellaeon pushed himself off of the door, intent on moving to the Chimaera's bridge to start the workday proper. It was looking to be a long day, and he had to get the typical morning checks out of the way before he was free to contemplate how he would introducing Thrawn to what was left of the Empire. The idea of that alone was enough to make him long for the time when the weight of the Empire's decisions didn't rest solely on his shoulders.

Such wishes were nothing more than pipe dreams but knowing that did nothing to stop the longing.

He kept his gate easy and relaxed, mostly for the benefit of the others he passed who couldn't quite keep their curious glances hidden. He merely gave each of them a nod in acknowledgment and no one tried to get him to stop and chat – so he simply kept moving, ignoring the muted whispers that cropped up behind him. And, perhaps a bit regretfully, he also ignored any hallway that would have prolonged his trip.

It was tempting but there was no point in wasting any more time. The meeting with Thrawn had already put him behind schedule and getting back on track would help ease his mind a bit. So when he finally reached the door to the bridge, he did not hesitate upon entering. He already knew that his appearance would cause a bit of a stir, so he pretended not to notice the sudden attention he gained. And while they all had the wherewithal to refrain from whispering to one another, it did not stop anyone from staring. Every pair of eyes in the room turned to watch him as he entered the room and followed him as he made his way down the catwalk.

Ardiff straightened into attention as he approached. The captain's expression was clear of his previous worry, but wary exhaustion had seemingly replaced it. The crew must have been giving him hell in Pellaeon's absence. With a sympathetic smile, Pellaeon muttered, "At ease, Captain."

Ardiff relaxed, but his strained expression remained. "Good morning, Admiral. I hope that what kept you this morning was not too troublesome?"

"It was not. Nothing more than an unexpected meeting that could not be rescheduled."

For a moment, Ardiff eyed him and Pellaeon knew he wanted to press the point. Thankfully he knew better than to say anything while in front of the officers; he simply nodded and kept his mouth shut.

A little bit of the weight that rode on Pellaeon's shoulders left. "Is there anything of particular note to report?"

"No sir. Everything is progressing as normal and all correspondence from the other ships has revealed nothing unexpected. Although there has been some lack of focus here on the Chimaera, sir."

Pellaeon followed Ardiff's gaze towards a pair of young officers below them, both of whom seemed a bit too invested in their terminal screens. "I suppose that is to be expected, considering the…" One of the officers glanced up and made eye contact with Pellaeon. As he arched an eyebrow, the officer's eyes shot back to the terminal, her fingers darting over the keys at a frantic pace. "Extenuating circumstances that we have found ourselves in." He looked back towards Ardiff as he finished.

"Speaking of those circumstances, sir. May I ask just what your previous meeting entailed?"

Pellaeon glanced around surreptitiously and nodded. "Walk with me, Ardiff," he muttered as he made his way back down the length of the catwalk, the captain in tow. There was no place on the bridge that guaranteed them privacy, but he was not about to feed the gossip machine by leaving the room entirely. However, there were a few locations where one could lessen other's ability to listen in on their conversation. Pellaeon stopped in front of a navigation read-out board, lancing at Ardiff as he stepped up beside him. "I have learned a few more details than I knew yesterday from our guest. He claims that he has a plan to help the Empire."

"Do you believe him, sir?"

He already knew the answer to that question of course, but he found that it was hard to say it out loud. He did believe that Thrawn had a plan and even that he believed that it would benefit the Empire in the end. It was something that made him feel guilty deep in his guts. Like he shouldn't believe Thrawn – that it was too easy to just take his word.

(And maybe it was too easy to take his word when he had put Pellaeon through hell this past decade.)

But having to rely on himself to lead for so long had made him paranoid to a healthy degree. Every decision the Empire made on a grand scale was up to him to make, and thus every victory and defeat weighed on him in equal measure. And beneath all of those emotions was the desire to just lie to Ardiff. Tell him that no, he did not believe Thrawn. He may have been their leader once but that time had passed. Thrawn was just a civilian now; there was little reason to give him even an ounce of trust. He likely should not give Thrawn his trust, give him that power over him.

It felt like the smart choice. The wise one, to avoid giving Thrawn that power – even if only in the mind of his captain.

Pellaeon sighed and then nodded. He was no liar, not to his crew. "Yes. I don't know if whatever he has planned will work out for the best, but I do believe that he has some kind of scheme thought up."

"Will that impact the Empire's meeting with the New Republic?"

"No. The treaty will be finalized on the agreed-upon date and the meeting will still be held on this ship."

Ardiff fell silent. Pellaeon didn't try to force the conversation and instead stared at the navigation read-out. It was easy to imagine all of the faint glowing lines of the hyperlanes as all of their possible futures stretching out before him. If only he could divine which one of those paths would head to the best outcome…

The distinct sound of starched material rubbing over itself pulled Pellaeon from his thoughts. He turned and saw Ardiff staring back at him. "Sir," he began quietly, "may I have permission to speak freely?"

"Granted." Here it comes.

"There might be some who will not like your decision, or any of this really. But I know that everyone aboard this ship will understand the nature of anything you decide and they will respect it. And I will stand behind whatever you choose to do."

Pellaeon blinked. That had not quite been what he was expecting. He couldn't help but smile in appreciation. "Thank you, Ardiff. I appreciate your words and your loyalty." He looked back to the navigation screen. "I just hope that my choices won't lead us straight into a black hole."

"You won't sir." Ardiff placed a supportive hand on Pellaeon's shoulder. "And even if you did, we would follow you into it."

That startled a chuckle from Pellaeon. "I'd hope that you would speak up and stop me before that happened."

Ardiff smiled, nodded, and dropped his hand back down to his side. "Shall I begin the general reports, sir?"

"Please do."

They made their way back down the catwalk's length, Pellaeon listening intently as Ardiff listed off points of note. Despite the lack of interesting information some of the officers were still obviously trying to eavesdrop. Now that the conversation had moved on from Thrawn, Pellaeon found it much easier to ignore the prying eyes. It was easy to get absorbed in the everyday runnings of the ship, to pretend that it was just a day like any other.

Ardiff answered any question that Pellaeon had and any input needed from one of the other officers was readily answered without any real hesitation, as though they had nothing else to focus on but their work. Pellaeon felt some pride for Ardiff then, knowing that he could handle himself on the bridge and assert some control over the crew gave Pellaeon some comfort to the captain's competence and his own skill in leading him.

It was a peaceful way to start the morning proper and Pellaeon relished the feeling, even though the fact that it could not last hung over his head like a weight.

When Pellaeon was sure that everything had been covered, he stood with Ardiff for a moment. Trying to prolong the inevitable and failing, he supposed. "I want you to meet me in my office after your shift ends."

"Sir?"

"We will have to meet with Thrawn today to decide how we will handle the announcements, both for the Chimaera and the Empire at large." Pellaeon looked at Ardiff. "He said that he would defer to my judgment but he will be involved for the Chimaera's announcements. I want you to be there when I discuss this and I want dome time before the meeting for us to prepare ourselves."

"Yes sir. Should I bring anything with me, sir?"

"Just a pad for notes and your wits." He afforded Ardiff a wry smile. "It is what I will be bringing."

Dympha stepped out into the hallway. His eyes tracked the supreme commander as he abandoned the door and began walking down the hallway opposite of where Dympha had come from. He was surprised that the human had not noticed him standing just a few meters away, even before Dympha had allowed himself to fade into the few scant shadows that could be found in such bright hallways. It seemed that the man was rather distracted. How curious.

He turned his attention back to the door. Dympha suspected that the cause of Gilad Pellaeon's grief - and the person he was searching for - lay just beyond the door he had just exited.

Mitth'raw'nuruodo had been avoiding him, and Dympha did not appreciate the efforts he put into such acts. It had been too long since Mitth'raw'nuruodo had let him perform a proper physical, and with every day that passed the actions he took to avoid such examinations grew more and more impressive.

He sighed softly. Perhaps he had been spoiled; he had grown used to patients that didn't flinch away from his inquiries no matter how physical he was.

But he was just as experienced handling patients more vitriolic than Mitth'raw'nuruodo. He knew that he would come out the victor at the end of their silent battle; Mitth'raw'nuruodo could not avoid him, or his stethoscope, indefinitely.

These spats with Gilad Pellaeon were rather new though. And very interesting to bear witness to. He had never seen anything quite like their dynamic; certainly not on Csilla nor anywhere else he had traveled to.

He had seen many people hit their breaking point and lose everything. He had seen people struggle against futile situations, watched the light go out of their eyes as they gave up. It seemed that the supreme commander, however, was made of firmer substances.

So resilient...

Humans were such fascinating creatures. It would be foolish of him not to make the most of this little diversion Mitth'raw'nuruodo had drug him on.