CHAPTER 6
The Small Print
Sword of Shili – 2 BBY
Nara had worked with complete strangers before…frankly not in a very long time, but often enough to at least know the drill. Words were only to be exchanged with critical members of the crew, and especially not with anyone you'd probably never see again. Keeping your mind clear of possible attachments to these individuals could spare you a lot of emotional pain and discomfort. You were also not supposed to share ammunition or where you would be heading to after the job was finished, as to avoid potential sabotage, or the claiming of your share.
All rules she didn't particularly like or wish to be reminded of. Working with people she could trust was far preferable to constantly wondering if her partner was just leading her into a death trap. She preferred fixed shares in that regard.
The good thing about this excursion was there was no money involved, only information, as it seemed…but the more Nara got a look at her two companions…the more she began to notice the cold sweat slowly slithering down her forehead.
This was her first time without Bo Katan in over half a decade. Just the thought of it made her fingers crack underneath the grip of her others, waiting in unpleasant anticipation for the next choice she'd have to make on her own accord. She'd never trusted herself to do that anymore, not after Csilla, and certainly not after Nar Shaddaa. Bo had always been there to keep her straight, to keep her from veering off into the depths of her own tendencies and unflattering past…to keep her the Mandalorian she tried so hard to pretend to be now.
She knew better. She wasn't a real Mandalorian, or at least she didn't feel like one at all. The armor, while surely convincing still didn't feel like it was hers…like she had never truly purged herself of what she once was.
It made her want to cry; to run off into the refresher to take another spice hit…
Her gloved thumb caressed the imprinted symbol mirrored beside the distinct beak residing at the center of her helmet's forehead…the sign of House Vigan of the Chiss Ascendancy. She tried to cling to that, a sense of belonging to a family that surely never wanted to see her again…or did…and only wanted to have her tried and executed for treason.
None of it mattered. No one could take her blood, and her blood was the reason she was here in the first place.
She leaned back in her chosen seat in the loading deck, holding her helmet almost like a child would hold a plush toy, and refused to release that tether. Closing her eyes with the calming ambience of hyperspace, her neck slouched as sleep finally consumed her.
You don't know what it will do!
They want us to try…we have to try!
I'm…I'm terrified for you…
Wait right here for me…I'll see you on the other side.
You're a coward! A disgrace!
Out of my sight!
GET OUT!
What did you do to my sister?!
Come back!
I…I can't…
Nara's inhale was more like a scream as she jerked forward in her seat, her mind returning to reality. She trembled, tears reappearing exactly as they had in those moments, and she desperately tried to wipe them away.
"Everything alright in here?"
Her violent throat clear certainly gave it away. "Yeah…y-yeah…everything's fine," she nodded, finally wiping her face dry as she looked up to see what looked like Wraith, although being without his helmet was an oddity she didn't expect.
"So why don't you tell us what to expect," another voice sounded just to her right, and she turned to see Banshee sitting casually beside her…although still with her helmet over her head.
Nara cleared her throat again, and then shrugged. "You're the super soldiers. I feel like you'd know more than me."
"We don't need you for combat prowess," Banshee snapped back. "If anything, you're just bait, or someone she might not shoot at."
The chiss popped her brow. "I'll take note of that for later…you know when she's got your throat in a vice."
Banshee was already prepping a retort when Wraith finally stepped in front of them. "Enough. Let's leave the antagonism behind for a while and focus."
Nara scoffed. "Do you have any idea who I am?"
"Enough of one," Banshee answered, her red optics fixed upon her. "Which makes me wonder if you're willing to do what needs to be done."
"You're gonna have to be a little more specific," Nara met her gaze, letting her smirk begin to show.
"All we know about you is that you and the super solider woman are from the same chiss House. You're our best lead by far to tracking her down and potentially defeating her, especially after over a decade of cold trails and shoddy intel," Wraith said, crossing his arms. "We got this tip from Fulcrum—"
"Who the fuck is Fulcrum?" Nara asked, genuinely unaware. She'd heard Bo Katan use the name many times, but never explained to her who it actually was. "And how the hell do they know so much about me?"
Wraith narrowed his eyes, and Nara detected a bit of touchiness in his tone. "They're resourceful."
Nara nodded, feigning surprise. "Huh…no shit. Any other of my secrets you'd like to just put out into the open?"
"You also used to be a stripper," Banshee quipped, to which Nara knew better than to take the bait.
"An expensive stripper," Nara corrected. "Blue skin really ups the rates."
"I thought it would be the red eyes."
Nara shook her head. "Nah. They're never looking at your eyes when you're sitting on them," she then motioned towards her stomach. "More like—"
"I think the point has been made," Wraith's voice rang out with intense annoyance at the both of them, and Nara suppressed a chuckle. "As I said, let's focus."
"Long story short," Banshee took the lead. "You're here to correct assumptions and lend a blaster when we need it, and if we need you to seduce a guard, we'll let you know."
Nara winked. "Being able to show my face certainly has its advantages."
Banshee held her stare, and the chiss watched her fist slowly close.
"Oh," Nara winced with contempt. "Touchy subject?"
Banshee lurched forward, grasping a tight hold around Nara's arm as she attempted to block, and then was thrown across the deck, her back slamming against durasteel with such force that she was lucky to be wearing beskar. Hitting the floor in a daze, she reacted quickly, activating her jetpack and colliding into the advancing woman, her momentum brought to a halt in her embrace. Killing the power in an instant, Banshee lost her balance, and Nara took the chance to wrap her in a choke hold and lock her legs at her knees, forcing them straight as they fell. Hitting the floor, Nara desperately tried to hold her arms, but Banshee merely grasped ahold of each of them and pulled at her wrists with raw, unmatched strength. Flipping around, Banshee secured herself atop her, pinning Nara's arms with one hand as she raised her fist…only to have Wraith pull her off. She kicked at him, trying to free herself, but he proved stronger than even her.
"You won't have much of a face when I'm done with you!" she spat in Wraith's grip while Nara tried to rise, only to feel her tendons in her arm locked in place.
"Save it for the damn imps!" Wraith pushed her away, standing between her and Nara. "We get in, get out, and split off. Until then, I don't want any more of this. Am I clear?"
Nara coughed, still looking at the fuming Banshee. "…crystal."
Her previous opponent let out a stark growl and marched back into the cockpit, leaving Nara to contemplate how she would be of any help to these people. She didn't stand a chance against Banshee…even when she'd done everything right…and could only imagine what an improved menace could possibly do.
Maybe the chance of being spared wasn't so bad after all.
Chimaera – 2 BBY
Her boots pounded against the deck as she landed, advancing through a raised corridor of metal cubes with her blaster raised. She let off two shots, burning perfectly through the raised targets mere seconds after they appeared before rolling with arms outstretched, falling into a kneel and landing another clean shot to a target that let out a satisfying ding with the confirmed hit. Pressing forward, she headed down another corridor, her keen eyes spotting the trap just as it opened, firing white-hot flames her direction, only to miss as she kicked off the side wall and landed gracefully atop the makeshift wall. Maintaining her balance, she pressed forward with utmost haste, landing within the parallel corridor and charging straight into the stormtrooper dummy with a powerful hit with her shoulder.
Nerah's senses spiked as a combat droid slashed at her back with a stun stick, energy crackling purple at its head. Losing her rifle as planned, she jerked aside, and then caught the next strike with one hand and swung with her free fist, the armor around her knuckles protecting her bones as they slammed into durasteel. The droid reeled from her strength, and by then she was already atop it, driving her blade deep into the soft neck wiring underneath its head.
"End practice!" she called out.
One cue, the entire course became a flat plane of square lining, overlooked only by a single observation window above. She pushed the droid aside, working out the kinks in her neck as she strode to the exit door, entering the empty armory with a long, tired sigh.
Just another day without anywhere to go. She usually spent most of her free time training, but without an assignment, or any particular need for her on the bridge…that was about all she was useful for. Feeling aimless was a personal pet peeve…useless even more so.
So in nothing more than a sport bra and her protective leggings, she laid back in her quarters, sifting through the holonet on a datapad while her tired muscles were given a reprieve. Loving the smell of ginger and pine, she had candles lit on her desk not far from her bed, and the scent did much to relax her mind. Thrawn had always said that mental exhaustion could be far more dangerous than physical, so Nerah had made sure to maintain her freshness…even if the holonet was filled with nothing but ridiculous puff pieces and clickbait.
Nothing but noise.
Somewhat frustrated with her boredom, she swiped the tab away…and her eyes locked on the photo that she accidently pulled up.
It was her about three years ago, standing in full armor beside a human male of similar age, her arms clasped in front of her with a look of youthful innocent bliss. The man had his arms behind his back, smiling back at the holocam in his dress greys, his brown hair looking like just as much of a mop as she remembered…his brown eyes showing a distinct joy in the company he had.
Her first instinct was to close it out, but as her crimson eyes lingered, she found her blue-skinned hand instead moving to enlarge the image, getting a better view of the almost distant memory.
The man was Eli Vanto, a protégé of Thrawn's that had served many years beside her own mentor, mirroring his progress and had assisted with his advancement through Imperial command. Nerah had met him almost eight years ago and remembered that he seemed like the only honest person she could even talk to…especially for a human. He was…kind, tremendously smart, and had a heart she almost envied, and a commitment she admired so much, it made her cheeks heat once more.
Her thumb brushed up against the surface his image occupied, and then felt her heart beat a little faster, her breathing slow…and smile grow.
She missed him so much…and she almost considered contacting him with their personal line, but that was only for absolute emergencies. Whether she liked it or not, her loneliness was not an emergency. Eli was now with her own people, serving as somewhat of an attaché for the Empire under Admiral Ar'alani's command…someone she was not entirely keen on possibly upsetting at this time.
But he was just one button push away…and surely he missed her too…didn't he? Did some other chiss woman catch his eye, or just anyone other than her? Was that why she hadn't heard from him again?
Nerah shook her head. No…he was just too busy and couldn't spare a moment. He was just too hard at work familiarizing himself with the chiss culture and processes…something he'd been at for three years…
Her heart sank. Sometimes she wished she could return to Chiss space…back to her people…to her family. She knew they'd be so proud of her and the work she had done. She'd become a symbol of Imperial unity, as well as their willingness to work with other species…should the absolute necessity be there.
That simple fact assured her that she may never be able to return home. The Chimaera was home, or about as close as it would ever be again.
This…scentless…lifeless machine, filled with aliens who didn't even consider her an equal.
What kind of home was that?
"Commander Nerah," Faro's voice came in through her comm, prompting her to click it on.
"Go ahead, Commodore."
"Admiral Thrawn would like you on the bridge. He has an assignment for you."
Her eyes lit up, shutting down her datapad in a flash and preparing to rearm herself. "Copy that. I'll be there in five."
Distractions were the best remedy for such thoughts.
Azure – 2 BBY
Azure was a planet that truly adopted the term "middle of nowhere". With little to no strategic or resource value, not even the Empire had bothered to collect it into its fold, and it only confused Nara further as to why they even bothered coming here. It was basically nothing but oceans and clandestine facilities long abandoned by the Republic, with the only point of interest being the spaceport they had just left.
Why would they find the super solider here?
"We're here to lay a trap," Wraith answered her unasked question over the howling winds and crashing waves below. Nara's helmet did much to silence them with their linked channels, but the wind still continued to barrage her left side as they paced across the bridge, Banshee taking point while Wraith briefed Nara just in front.
"How do you know she's coming here?" Nara asked, shouting over the wind as a strong gust roared through, making her shore up her balance. "What's there to find?'
"Fulcrum tipped us off," Wraith answered, having to shout as well.
Nara rolled her eyes, concealed by her helmet. "Just how much does this Fulcrum know about everything?"
"He could tell you, but he'd have to kill you!" Banshee replied, just as they reached the tall, cylinder-shaped building, its foundation built far beneath the ocean's surface below.
"They're an information broker," Wraith crossed his arms as Banshee wrapped her strong hands around the watertight door crank and began to pull. "I'm sure you've met them, but that's all I can tell you."
"Right," she rested one hand atop one of her blasters in holster. She already had a fair idea who Fulcrum was, especially as she began to narrow down the list of mutual friends Wraith and Bo Katan had, which was, by all accounts, a very small list. It was obvious he and her had a past, an ugly one at that, perhaps stemming back to her days with Death Watch, and his days with the Separatists. By all accounts, the Clone Wars wasn't at all significant to the Ascendancy, and their insular society had been that way for a millennium, so Nara's knowledge of the war was checkered at best. The Empire was already calling the shots by the time she entered the wider galaxy on her own.
And with what Bo Katan had said…something about Wraith…loving someone?
He really wasn't that cute…but to each their own, Nara figured. She preferred thinkers over brawn and testosterone, although a little manliness was required, as far as long-term partners were concerned.
She had swung from both sides…but ladies just weren't the same, to be honest. They didn't elicit that ovary-tingling excitement she felt upon seeing a fact-spewing cutie for a man, and while she wouldn't turn down a possible good time, she still had her preferences.
Rubbing the back of her glove against her visor to clear the water build-up, she'd realized she'd broken the first rule of being on mission: letting her mind wander into the gutter.
I could've snapped your neck and you would've never realized it until you were already dead.
Nara was picky with which of Bo Katan's lessons she had chosen to let stick…which only made her wonder how Alhara was fairing right now.
The door creaked loudly as Banshee had finally forced it open, revealing a dark interior and shelter from the rising storm. Following Wraith inside, Nara was nearly blinded as she began to activate her night vision, the lights slowly flashing on with recognition. Banshee shut the door behind them, finally lowering the howl to a low whistle outside the walls.
"Ammo and ordinance in the back," Wraith jerked his thumb towards the back end of the circular room where another, much less foreboding door was situated. Nara found herself looking around at the makeshift setup, taking note to the dust that had gathered in various shelves rusted from the high concentration of moisture.
"This some kind of shack for one of the three homeless people on Azure?" Nara inquired.
"Safe house," Wraith corrected, opening a crate and digging through its contents, just as Banshee passed by to make her way to the back. "One of many I've set up across the galaxy."
Nara watched for Banshee to slide into the side room. "Quaint," she remarked, just as Banshee shut the door. "Hey…can I ask you something?"
Wraith stopped for the moment, granting her a sideways glance.
The chiss flicked her helmeted head towards the door, lowering her voice. "Why can't she show her face? Does she have a defect or something?"
He paused his search, but eventually shook his head, rummaging the crate again. "She'll die."
That certainly explained a lot.
"Can I ask—"
"It's a long story that's none of your business," Banshee answered from behind, toying with her gauntlet, and then shutting the aperture closed. "Unless you want to tell us why you left the Ascendancy."
Nara grimaced. She had her there…and honestly was beginning to regret ever asking, as well as feeling guilt weigh heavily upon her after what happened on their ride over. Taunting someone about a life-or-death issue…Nara had dark humor, but not that dark, and now there was no excuse for it, no matter how she felt about Banshee personally.
"I'm sorry," she apologized, her head inclining. "I didn't mean—"
"Sure you did," Banshee cut her off. "And I don't want your pity."
Nara swallowed. "Fair enough."
Wraith finally finished his search, attaching a few objects to his belt. "Now that the two of you are best friends, can we put this to rest and focus on our task?"
Best friends. That was one way of putting it.
She let it go, as Banshee seemed perfectly content with his suggestion. "Give me the rundown."
Dantooine – 2 BBY
Alhara's nose smacked into her helmet once again as it impacted the grassy floor, letting out a yelp in surprise as exhaustion weakened her perceptions.
"You're still favoring one side. Again," Bo Katan's voice judged.
Alhara forced herself back on her feet with a frustrated huff, doing her best to jog back to the strong, thin branch they had set up that spanned two tree stumps. Climbing back atop the first, she wiggled her fingers into fists, and then took her first step onto the branch, trying to get a good balanced foothold. Once she stopped wobbling, she took another step, leaving the stump and now fully committed to the balancing act.
Already she felt herself slipping as she spread her arms out in hopes of counteracting any stray movements, and her tired legs were virtually no help. Still, she tried to progress, gritting her teeth and taking another step, only to fall into the same spot she had hit before. Slamming both fists into the grass, she let out a growl of frustration. "The branch isn't stable."
"Maybe," Bo admitted, pacing to stand just in front of her kneeling form. "Do you think the winds will always be perfect?"
Alhara shrugged, flopping onto her rear. "Probably not."
"They won't," her masked mentor promised with a pointed finger. "Why do you think we're doing this?"
More questions…more tests…one after another after another after another…
She was so tired by now her brain couldn't function quite as well as she last recalled, and her answer was wordless, merely a shake of her head and heavy sigh.
"When you are wearing a jetpack, even the slightest loss of perfect balance can have you spiraling towards the surface faster than you could possibly react to. Do you know what happens then?" she asked again.
Alhara bowed her head. "I don't—"
"You die!" she shouted, and Alhara winced, feeling herself instinctually search for a place to hide, but in such an open field, there was no place to go. Everything about her hurt, her legs, her arms, her nose and even her fingers. All that pain along with the displeasure of her mentor was becoming too much…and she felt her eyes begin to water.
No…she was not going to cry. Not now. Not ever in front of Bo Katan.
But this…why couldn't she get this? Everything else had come so easy, and now when she's asked to do something as simple as balance across a branch, she couldn't even reach the halfway point?
Just keep at it until you get it, kiddo. There's never a rush. Persistence is all that matters, as well as learning from each failure.
Her father used to sit and watch her for hours without saying a word, letting her try at an exercise for however long she needed. She'd learned to keep at a task despite her body's protests, focusing only on her mind and maintaining that constant work ethic. Sometimes she'd get it on her first try, and others on her three hundredth, but all that mattered was that she kept at it, no matter how long it took.
But Bo…Bo had no such views of endless time. By the third failure her voice began to rise, and by the fifth she began to pace, until finally reaching this point in which she made the threat that failing to master this technique could only result in her own death. Alhara had only reached that point twice before, and she'd been lucky enough to only use is as fuel to make herself angry, and then have it down two attempts later…but she was nowhere near success with this.
And with no Nara to throw in some positive reinforcement, she felt helpless.
Then Bo Katan took a seat beside her, wrapping her arms around her knees…and that made her angry.
"I can do it," Alhara rose to her feet in frustration, only to feel her arm grabbed by Bo's much stronger frame.
"Alhara, sit down, please," she asked, the edge in her voice gone. "That's enough for today."
"I can do it!" Alhara protested, trying to free herself, only to feel her grip tighten.
"I said…that's enough for today," the edge returned, ensuring she understood this was not a request. "I want you to listen to me."
Listen? What good will that do?
Alhara didn't test her a third time, and resigned to her fate, adopting a similar sitting position with her eyes fixed ahead. For a few long moments neither of them said anything, and by now, Alhara had no words for her, only self-inflicted anger.
"When I was your age, I was like you; a young girl with stalwart determination, wanting nothing more than to get everything right the first time," she began. "Granted, I didn't have your patience…and I still don't…but I could never understand why. I just always had this internal clock running in my head, like every minute I wasn't putting towards my training was just another minute my next opponent could use against me."
Alhara continued to listen, stubbornly still focused on her failure.
"I would always beat myself up every time I fell down or couldn't complete a task in time…but I quickly realized that was a snowball effect. If you keep pressuring yourself to be perfect, you've already set yourself up to fail. Perfection is unattainable…unknowable, and also based in perspective…and after all those years, I seem to have forgotten that."
Alhara blinked, turning to see her still looking out into the distance. "Bo, I can handle it."
"That's not the point," she shook her head, meeting her gaze. "You're different from anyone I've ever seen. You learn things at a slower pace but execute them with a precision I've never seen before…sometimes even see things before they happen."
"Huh?" Alhara questioned, genuinely confused. "No I don't."
Bo Katan sighed. "I don't know anything about the Force, Alhara, but your father told me you have it, although its apparently quite limited. Said something about being able to glimpse into the future for a short moment, but that may only be the extent of your abilities…and I guess it's something you do naturally."
Alhara grumbled. "I don't want to use the Force. I don't want to be a Jedi."
"And you don't have to," Bo eased. "But there are certain…realities with being a Mandalorian. Our people see Force wielders as a challenge, and we've fought the Jedi in many wars over many millennia, and every time, we've lost. The last war nearly destroyed our people, but we managed to survive, as we always do."
She was glad Bo was at least considering her one.
"Taking you in was not as simple as you might think," Bo Katan admitted. "Force sensitive recruits, at least ones we know about, are unprecedented as far as we know…so there were many objections. They'd think you would have an unfair advantage; bring about dishonor among the clans…interfere with tradition."
Alhara bowed her head. "How did you convince them?"
Bo shook her head. "I didn't. I took you as what the ancients call a 'foundling'," she explained.
"A…foundling?" Alhara asked.
She nodded. "It was the only way I could bring you in without anyone else's consent…but it also implies that—"
"You're my buir," Alhara answered for her, recalling one of her reading stints.
"Technically…yes," Bo Katan confirmed. "I didn't tell you because your real mother is still alive…and I didn't think she would agree to such terms."
The pieces started to come together, and Alhara started to feel her mood lightening somewhat. "So that's why we're always training alone…because it's mandated that you and you alone instruct me."
"You know your history," Bo praised. "Although that's not entirely true. After what had happened on Botajef…I just wanted you all to myself, I guess. It's hard to explain…but sometimes I feel like I'm living through you…like I have a second chance at everything."
Alhara furrowed her brow. That didn't make a ton of sense, but she felt she understood…somewhat.
"Who was your mentor?" Alhara asked, suddenly feeling more comfortable.
That was when Bo finally came to a halt, her visor slowly drifting away from Alhara and down to the grass, making her regret ever asking in the first place.
"A story for another time, maybe," Bo Katan shook her head, and then rose to her feet. "How about we give this another try, you and me?"
In a snap, Alhara rushed to the stump and climbed atop, already prepped to give it another go. "Ready."
"Try keeping your mind clear and watch your footing. Feel the wind blowing against you and try to anticipate the change in gusts, as well as the stability of the branch. You have to be able to predict the forces working against you, and adjust properly," Bo pantomimed the technique, holding her arms out. "It's difficult, but with enough practice, you'll begin to notice patterns. Try to find this one."
Patterns…she could do that. She'd always had a knack for finding them, and while her ability to use them as predictors was still building itself, with what Bo had just explained, she felt she could implement it.
Closing her eyes, she felt the wind blowing into her right side, its force adjusting seemingly at random. Taking time, she analyzed its fluctuations, and noticed its distinct similarities to a heartbeat…her own heartbeat.
She opened her eyes and took her first step.
Chimaera – 2 BBY
Azure was perhaps the least blue ocean world Nerah had ever seen. From the viewport of the Chimaera, it looked more like a completely developed industrial world, but without the thick haze covering any view from space. They were a ways out, however, the planet looking like no more than a marble from this range and looks could certainly be deceiving.
"Hold position here," Thrawn instructed. "Commander Hammerly, sensor readings."
The female deck officer remained hunched over in the command pit, remaining at her station as her display fed her data. "No ships in the sector, Admiral."
"Very good. Let us keep it that way," Thrawn praised, and then turned to Nerah. "Have you become familiar with your directive?"
The chiss nodded, pulling a strand of her black hair back behind her ear. "I do have a few questions, however."
Thrawn kept his inquisitive gaze upon her. "About the purpose?"
Nerah swallowed, fighting off the chills that came from his rather unsettling mind-reading capabilities she had become rusty in dealing with. "Yes. You said this is a planet in which we would learn more about the traitor…but Azure is a rouge planet without a designated system. It has no strategic value or potential influence on the current conflict. Even if she was born here…I do not imagine she stayed for long."
Thrawn shook his head. "No, she did not…however in my experience, the places we originate from are the ones in which we consider first for safe haven. Take, for instance, Phoenix Squadron and the planet Lothal. The young Jedi Ezra Bridger was born and raised on the outer rim world, and despite their elusiveness, they always gravitate back."
"The home in which we leave, we will long to return," Nerah recited, reminded of her earlier homesick thoughts in her quarters.
The Admiral narrowed his eyes. "You speak from more recent experience," he noted. "That is good. It shall help you find what we are searching for."
Nerah didn't respond immediately, once again running her gloved hand though her hair as a reflex. She silently cursed to herself, knowing she was being far too obvious about her current imbalance.
"Such feelings are normal," Thrawn continued. "Do you fear of never returning to the Ascendancy?"
The chiss suppressed an urge to roll her eyes. Thrawn already knew the answer to that question…he had since she first came to the Empire, unable to speak Basic much at all. She'd completely reinvented herself just to be here now, and she'd worried for many years that if she returned home, no one she had loved would recognize her. It was fair, as she had left when she was barely a teenager, and certainly a decade could do much to one's appearance.
Uncomfortable with continuing the conversation for all to hear, she spoke in Cheunh, "I do."
She worried about the admittance…how he'd feel about her revealing a weakness, trained for so long to look as strong and intimidating as possible…but then remembered that it was Thrawn she was speaking to.
No…Mitth'raw'nuruodo.
Thrawn answered in Basic. "A warrior's motivation is inherently, and always, derived from his identity…where he comes from, his family, his culture…his home. A warrior fights in hopes of returning to that home after spending years, if not decades protecting his way of life, using that hope as his drive."
He then took a step forward and switched to Cheunh. "The time for us to return home is upon us, Vigan'era'hrorra, that much I can guarantee."
Nerah's eyes widened somewhat.
"You shall see why when you return, Commander," Thrawn finished back in Basic. "Commodore, prep my personal shuttle. We shall leave shortly."
"Yes sir," Faro confirmed, and then moved to relay the order through her display. Nerah looked to him as if he were a madman…but felt that surprise slowly melt into…pleasure? If Thrawn would join her, then that meant there was something on this planet only he thought he could solve and decipher…but that was dangerous, and if they lost him to one stray blaster bolt…
No…she would not let that happen.
"Allow us to depart," he said to Nerah. "And during our journey, I will tell you why."