AN: Happy Eclipse Night, my lovelies! Have a chapter!
Also, this is the official end of the Second Act. Got the feeling things are about to get, in a word, FUCKED?!
Yeah, I got that feeling too.
Chapter 57: Grand Admiral
As soon as word of the Imperial victory at Batonn had reached Coruscant, the Emperor had summoned Thrawn to see him the moment the sector had been secured and properly investigated for any lingering threats to Imperial rule. Given the extent of the devastation incurred at the Creekpath mining facility where Nightswan and his rebel incursion had been destroyed, Thrawn had estimated it to be a week at least before the rubble was sifted through and the casualties totaled, a thing the Emperor patiently seemed to expect, giving the Chiss the time he needed to settle things to his satisfaction. Though Thrawn was far from satisfied with the outcome of this slaughter.
Colonel Yularen had said the Battle of Batonn had ranked among the most horrendous things he had seen in his military career, including many of the bloody battles of the Clone Wars, and though Thrawn had seen worse, had caused worse, he was inclined to agree. The civilian casualties far outnumbered the rebels, a gross waste of life and resources that Thrawn had difficulty stomaching. His career in the Imperial Navy had been marked by outstanding, creative success that limited casualties on both sides to an extreme minimum, even though those successes rarely fell in line with the desires of the Admiralty. He strove to strengthen the Empire by preserving lives, what he viewed to be as their most valuable resource. On many days, Thrawn believed the rest of the Naval commanders strove only to crush all opposition in a show of their overwhelming power.
There was, of course, a time and place for complete and total destruction, but that place was not here, not with so many civilians caught in the line of fire, not when there was so much still to be learned from the capture of the rebel leaders, not when he had seen him, the Shadow King, fleeing the scene so shortly after the explosion that destroyed the city. In the days that followed, Thrawn thought a great deal about the Shadow King, sought clues and information that could link the man to Nightswan or to the massacre that had happened here, but no matter how he twisted it, no matter the speculation, the evidence never fit. Obi-Wan had not done this, nor did he believe so when he had let the rebel go when he had flown the elusive Umbra so close to the Chimaera's command deck.
It was a plea, an evaluation, an accusation that Kenobi had levied against Thrawn in that moment, a silent conversation between warriors both reeling from what had happened, both grasping at straws in the moment as they tried to discover who had done this terrible thing. Kenobi was, Thrawn surmised, down on Batonn for the same reason that Thrawn had journeyed to the surface himself. They were there to speak with Nightswan. Perhaps the renegade Sith was there to recruit the rebel and his insurgency to his own cause, or perhaps, like Thrawn himself, he was drawn to a man possessing rare talents that could be used elsewhere. More ominous, however, was the idea that, perhaps, Kenobi had sought Nightswan for information on the Empire's secret project, just as Thrawn had, desperate to collect pieces they were missing to form a clear picture of what it was they faced.
And now Nightswan's wealth of information was gone, along with the man himself, who Thrawn looked for and found among the dead. It was a tragic, unnecessary waste, though Nightswan's fate was sealed when he refused Thrawn's offer and opted to stay and fight beside his men. Though to die so pointlessly among so many innocent lives was certainly not what the man had expected when he faced off against the Admiral's forces, of that, Thrawn was certain. Perhaps Kenobi had been able to learn what Thrawn could not from Nightswan before he perished. Information that, in time, would be Thrawn's as well when he finally had the opportunity to catch the elusive Obi-Wan Kenobi.
The Admiral had kept silent about seeing the Shadow King that night, held that piece of information close to his chest in order to preserve the integrity of the investigation at Creekpath. Were knowledge of Kenobi's presence to be made known, the investigation would come to an immediate end, the difficult search for answers abandoned in favor of an obvious scapegoat, and while Thrawn knew that Obi-Wan was not responsible, he was certain the blame would very quickly be cast upon the dangerous rebel, his past pattern of behavior substituted for any real evidence to prove his involvement. As it was, there was little evidence to be found at Creekpath, the explosion contained by the city's blast shield exponentially increasing the damaged generated and effectively destroying any and all traces of evidence that might have otherwise been located and acquired by a thorough search.
And despite all of this, Thrawn strongly suspected that he knew the cause.
Governor Ahrinda Pryce had been suspicious even before the mission, had a personal investment in the situation at Creekpath that made the stubborn, ambitious woman forego all safety protocols in order to have her way. As an Imperial Governor, Thrawn had little control over Pryce's actions, and furthermore, she had already secured support from the Director of the ISB, making it nearly impossible to press his objections to her very personally motivated interference. The Governor's parents lived in Creekpath, and she had used this fact to give her cause to go down to the rebel stronghold with an ISB undercover agent, not just to secure and extract her parents, but to obtain what information she could about the facility.
She had been successful in her efforts to bring her parents to safety. But the information she had obtained, if she did manage to obtain any, was rendered immediately irrelevant when Creekpath was destroyed, just as her parents were, conveniently, brought to safety. Even more coincidental was that her ISB bodyguard had perished as well, effectively destroying the one man who could have bore witness to the truth of what had happened there. It was all too convenient, too coincidental, and whatever it was that happened down there, Thrawn was certain that Governor Ahrinda Pryce had a hand in it.
Not that he could have done anything about it, as she had so pointed out when he had, in private, began to levy accusations against her. He had no proof, no evidence, and in a situation where it was his word against hers, there was no question of who would come out the victor. An Imperial Governor, politically savvy and extremely well connected, against an Admiral, an alien from the furthest regions of the galaxy who many in the Naval High Command were eager to see taken down. In this, Governor Pryce had outplayed him, and more over, she had known it, had made the case that Thrawn could only benefit from having her on his side to help him navigate a political game he had no talent in playing. Thrawn understood the truth in this, knew that his quick rise through the ranks was due in part to people smoothing his way for him, as much as he opposed the idea, as much as he asserted that politics had no place in the Navy, that advancement should be based on skills and results.
But it was not like that in the Empire.
Thrawn did not turn Pryce in, did not bring charges against her as he knew he should have, but it was not because of politics, and certainly not because she had made a good case to keep her close as an ally. He simply lacked the evidence to prove her involvement.
It was an unsatisfactory conclusion. Thousands of civilians killed alongside the rebel insurgents and Imperial personnel caught under the shield, with no physical evidence left behind to bring the one responsible to justice. It was a horrible waste, the message of fear spread by the destruction of Batonn hardly worth the resources wasted and the potential for further insurgencies to rise up in their place to fight against a bloody regime. This kind of chaos could only beget more chaos, not the stability and order that Thrawn worked to impose, but this was the outcome he was left with, an unsatisfactory, bitter result to a conflict that would have, could have, ended far differently. All that was left to do was finish up with Batonn, tie up what loose ends he could grasp, and return to Coruscant to answer the Emperor's summons.
With the situation at Batonn settled, Thrawn now walked the halls of the Imperial Palace, his measured gait slow and deliberately meandering, much to the intense displeasure of the increasingly anxious Eli Vanto. His body heat was raised, his shoulders tense, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his uniform as he vacillated between swift, nervous steps in his haste to not keep the Emperor waiting, and sluggish foot-dragging to prolong the meeting he so dreaded. The Emperor often had this effect upon his officers, and the Lieutenant Commander was, in this, very far out of his depth, a nobody from Wild Space who had no business in the presence of an Emperor, and watching the man mentally battle with himself brought a faint, imperceptible smile to Thrawn's lips.
"We're going to be late..." Eli muttered under his breath once again, pacing away from the Admiral for a moment before he slowed to fall into step with the Chiss' slow stride once again. "We've kept him waiting, the Emperor's going to kill us for keeping him waiting..."
"We received the directive to return to Coruscant a week ago, and we were only to return when the Batonn sector had been brought back under Imperial order," Thrawn quietly explained. "What is a few minutes more?"
"I don't reckon the Emperor will see it that way, sir..."
"Do you know the origin of this piece of art, Commander Vanto?" Thrawn asked, slowing to a stop before a large painting upon the wall of the long, dark hall, and with a heavy sigh, Eli dragged his feet to stand beside the Chiss.
"I don't..." Eli muttered, his eyes drifting over the sharp, angular shapes starkly painted upon the dark canvas. "Though I suspect that instead of meeting the Emperor with all due haste, you're going to tell me what it means, aren't you?"
"I am," Thrawn said crisply, pointedly ignoring Eli's exasperated sigh. His ridged brow drawing together as he looked over the work, Thrawn's glowing eyes drifted to the anxious man at his side, and suddenly feeling the weight of the Chiss' intense scrutiny, Eli looked up at the Admiral's blue face just as Thrawn looked back to the painting upon the wall. "What is it you fear about our summons, Commander?"
"I don't know..." Eli said with a shrug, an attempt to look more carefree than he felt, but the tightness in his shoulders betrayed his tension. "This isn't some court marshaling. Stars know I've gotten used to those by now. This is the Emperor."
"I have met with the Emperor on several occasions."
"Yeah, but I haven't!" Eli growled between clenched teeth, his shoulders hunching as two robed officials slowly passed them by, a deep flush staining the ruddy skin of his cheeks and neck as he felt their gazes upon him. "I don't know, he's just...the Emperor, you know?" Eli mumbled. "I still remember when we first brought you to him, I remember how it felt to be in his presence! He ain't nothing like he's shown in the holos! Something just felt...wrong. Off, eerie, I don't know..." Eli peered up and found the glowing eyes of the Chiss upon him, and he sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping as he ran his fingers through his hair. "Just nervous, is all..."
For a moment, Thrawn was silent, his eyes flicking to the ground for a moment before he looked back at the art, his back straightening and his head held high, his hands clasped behind his back as they always were when he was fully confident in his understanding. "We have been summoned to battle," Thrawn whispered, his emotionless monotone sending a shiver up Eli's spine despite the chill in the air. "A different sort of battle from the ones you and I usually conduct, but a battle none the less. We do not know if we go to meet an adversary or an ally. We do not know his goals or his objectives. All we can do is arm ourselves with knowledge in an effort to anticipate his moves."
"...you think you can do that by looking at this here painting?"
"I do," Thrawn said firmly. "Tell me, Commander Vanto. What do we know of the situation of our impending meeting?"
"I don't know!" Eli huffed in frustration, and the unamused arching of Thrawn's eyebrow made the Commander sigh heavily, his gaze drifting up to the art they stood before, squinting to see if he could see even a fraction of what Thrawn saw there. As a hundred times before, he couldn't. Whatever it was that the Chiss saw in the lines and shapes and brush strokes was lost on Eli. "Well..." Eli said thoughtfully. "We got the order to return after our victory at Batonn, right?"
"That is correct."
"Even without the details, the initial reports were brutal," Eli said grimly."Don't need any exact numbers to know that. Way I see it, this could go one of two way. He could be calling you back to praise you for defeating the rebels, or to scold you for the messy job."
"It could be both," Thrawn quietly pointed out. "Or it could be neither."
"You think the Emperor called you here for something completely unrelated?" Eli asked.
"Perhaps..." Thrawn muttered, his chest rising with a slow, deep breath as he shifted his weight from one foot, to the other, and back to center, his eyes slowly running over the painting once again and drinking in the details. "Observe the lines of this piece," Thrawn said softly, his hand raising to trace the outline of the image in the air before him. "They are sharp and angular, devoid of any curves or soft lines. The colors are bold and flat, with no gradient fades or shading, chosen instead for sharp contrasts. Red, black, white," the Admiral said as he gestured to the corresponding swaths of color. "The realism of the event depicted is less important than the feeling invoked. You will find similar art produced by the Mandalorians."
"Another warrior culture, I take it?" Eli asked, and Thrawn nodded, the slightest imperceptible smile on his lips as his gaze flicked to the Commander at his side.
"Warriors, yes..." Thrawn mused. "Though that is not what is meant to be taken from this piece. Not all warrior cultures produce such stark art. In this, it is rather more a testament to the motivation and the mentality of the warriors and the society that produced them. The slightest frown touched Eli's lips, his brow wrinkling in his lack of understanding, and Thrawn slid the datapad out of his back pocket. "Allow me to explain," he said, dragging his finger across the screen and angling the device so Eli could see the image the Admiral had pulled up.
"Hey, I've seen that piece before!" Eli said, loud enough for his voice to carry down the long, stark hall, and he clamped his mouth shut, and embarrassed flush upon his face. "In Sundari Palace, on Mandalore," Eli said much quieter. "Moff Katan keeps it behind her throne."
"Very good, Commander..." Thrawn gently praised, gesturing at the painting on the wall with his free hand. "Like this work of art, the Mandalorian work depicts the slaughter of Jedi, however, the purposes of the pieces are vastly different. Here," he said, handing the datapad to Eli and tapping upon the screen. "Study the piece carefully. It is stark like the other, yes, but not in the same way. There is a very clear distinction in the piece between the subject, the Mandalorian warrior at the center, and the rest of the piece. The Jedi are drawn with thin, nearly unpracticed lines, the shapes distorted, the features grotesque, while the Mandalorian is composed of bold lines and a great attention to detail."
"Almost like two people drew it."
"Nearly, yes," Thrawn said with a slight smirk. "Though I can assure you that a single artist was behind this work. It speaks to the value of the subject and the purpose of the art. The shading, the starkness of the chosen colors, grays and blacks and whites..." Thrawn took a deep breath, his eyes closing as the painting seemed to come to life behind his eyelids. "This piece invokes triumph and victory, and exalts the indomitable will of the proud Mandalorian people, as much of their art does. A boastful celebration of the achievements of war in their history." He carefully took the datapad from Eli's hand and slid it back into his pocket, his eyes unmoving on the painting before them. "...a very different sentiment and purpose from this one."
For a long moment, silence lay steadily upon them, Eli looking expectantly at Thrawn and waiting for him to continue with his explanation. He had long ago stopped trying to guess at the hidden meanings within the colors and lines, a pointless thing to attempt when his conclusions were always just wrong enough to warrant an explanation from the Chiss. Likewise, Thrawn had never expected others to see the things within art that were hidden to all but him, to understand the rich history and culture within art that wove colorful, beautiful stories of the artist and their people. And so Eli remained silent, waiting for Thrawn to be ready to speak.
"This piece is much simpler," Thrawn finally said, a quiet solemnity to his low, flat tone. "Bold, solid colors, angular figures and shapes, the lines smooth, uninterrupted and certain, made without hesitation." He stopped, took a deep breath and held it, his sharp mind slowly churning over his observations and conclusions, and slowly released his breath. "This artist was confident in their work and their purpose, just as the culture they came from, just as the warriors they depict here. The slaughter of the Jedi and the innocent..." he said gravely. "Without hesitation or compromise or remorse. This piece is not about triumph or victory, or even about the conquest of an enemy. This piece..." Thrawn whispered, taking the slightest step closer to the mural upon the wall. "This piece is about fear."
"...what does that mean for us?" Eli asked, shuffling to stand beside the Chiss when the uncomfortable spike of cold lanced through him, the hairs upon his neck raising with the feeling that he was somehow being watched.
"A very great deal," Thrawn said, the assured confidence in his tone easing Eli's fears, though not alleviating them entirely. "What do you know about the Sith?"
"The Sith?" Eli wrinkled his nose, his brow drawing together in thought as he searched his memory, and then shook his head. "Nothing. I've never heard of them."
"That is not surprising," Thrawn said. "The Sith are the historic enemies of the Jedi, said to have been driven to extinction over a thousand years ago. They have long since become the thing of myth and legend."
"It's been a long time since the Jedi," Eli muttered. "And sounds like whatever stories there were about these Sith died with them. Unless..." Eli paused and pursed his lips. "You don't think the Inquisitors are the Sith, do you? That they somehow survived after all that time?"
"Perhaps," Thrawn said almost dismissively, and Eli sighed heavily despite himself. Things like perhaps and we shall see were always the things Thrawn said when he did not wish to speak further on a subject, when he was holding his cards close to his chest, when he knew something everyone else did not and was refusing to share. "But I do not believe the Inquisitors are Sith. They are...something else..."
"Okay..." Eli muttered, trying to gauge the Chiss' face for some hint of what he was thinking, what information he was keeping, but as always, his face was impassive and unreadable. "If the Sith are gone, what does that have to do with us now?"
"Art can be used to learn a great deal about the people and the culture that produced it," Thrawn quietly explained. "Similarly, the art a being chooses to display says a great deal about that being. Looking at this piece..." Thrawn was silent for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he gave the painting a swift glance. "If you are concerned about an official reprimand and incurring the Emperor's wrath, do not be. It is unlikely he will care about the loss of life on Batonn."
"All that from this here painting?" Eli asked, and Thrawn gave an imperceptible nod. "...why were we summoned here, then?"
"There is only one way to know for certain," Thrawn said firmly, his back straightening as he stepped away from the painting and turned to continue down the hallway. "Come, Commander. The Emperor awaits us."
They walked the rest of the way in silence, the Admiral's long stride occasionally slowing to a languid walk as they passed by sculptures and murals and paintings, each one more frightening than the last, and despite the differences in styles and mediums, now that it had been so expertly spelled out, even Eli could see the wildly different art all had a commonality. Fear, raw and primal burned within his chest at the very sight of them, as Thrawn had said, the culture less important than the feeling they invoked. Art created by the Twi'lek, the Chagrian, the Zabrak, the distinctive art of dozens of species on display, as different as they were the same. Artists of different species, and each and every one of them Sith, whatever they were, just as Thrawn had said.
Eli's heart began to pound when he caught sight of the distinctive red robes of the Emperor's personal guard standing outside a large door, the memories of his first visit to the Imperial Palace and his first meeting with the Emperor flooding his mind and filling him with the same uncomfortable fear he had felt back then. Nothing was as he believed it would be, nothing was as he had imagined it. The palace had been blain and simple when images of imperial might filled his mind with ornate and extravagant splendor, and instead of the kindly older man the holos depicted the Emperor as, the real man had seemed wizened and frail, his face heavy with wrinkles like scars or burns, his eyes an unnatural and odd that somehow felt as though they saw everything, knew everything, and were filled to the brim with malice.
He wasn't eager to return to stand in the Emperor's presence.
Eli felt his impatient, nervous pace falter, his feet suddenly starting to drag at the sight of the robed guards and the knowledge of what sat in wait just beyond that door, and slowly, Thrawn started to pull away from him, his stride long and calm and confident, and Eli scrambled to catch up to him, his own stride much more hurried to keep up with the Chiss' longer legs. The long hallway felt much shorter than it actually was as he kept pace with the Admiral, and before Eli knew it, they were standing before the Imperial guard, the robed soldiers stepping out of their way and allowing them access into the throne room.
They were expected. Of course they were, but the thought of it now, here, without any of the security procedures or scrutiny, made Eli nauseous.
The hiss of the door sliding closed and bolting shut startled Eli so much he almost jumped, but he kept to Thrawn's side, his pace matching the Admiral's and his eyes fixed forward. The throne room was much as he remembered it, stark and simple, devoid of any ostentation or extravagance, so simple, in fact, that given new perspective from the impromptu art lesson the Admiral gave him, he looked at the room with new eyes, realizing that the throne room itself was in many key ways similar to the artwork displayed on their route through the palace. For just a moment, Eli wondered if this was simply a facet of Emperor Palatine's taste, a plain and simple man that came into great power at the end of the Clone Wars, or if there was something more to it, something deliberate and intentional in the scenery around him, something both sinister and secret and hidden in plain sight.
Much like the culture Thrawn talked about that Eli had never heard of. Much like the Sith.
Because of his vigilant, nervous survey of the still and silent throne room, Eli managed to notice the slightest hesitation in Thrawn's even stride, the smallest pause before he recovered his pace, but to Eli, who had worked closely with the unshakable Thrawn for many, many years and had never seen him surprised or confused or in any other state but complete control, it was alarming. Eli scanned the room again, this time with the purposeful intent of finding what had startled the stoic Admiral, looking for any hint of danger or threat, for something unexpected and out of place.
He quickly focused on the man that stood beside the throne, draped in rich burgundy robes, his skin blue and his head topped with large horns, a staff of office held in his hand. The Chagrian Grand Vizier Mas Amedda, Eli quickly recognized, wondering if his presence was unexpected enough to drag a reaction out of Thrawn, but quickly dismissed the idea as they drew closer. It may not have been expected for him to be there, but it was certainly not out of the realm of possibility that the ever important Grand Vizier be present, as Thrawn would have known. No, it had nothing to do with the Chagrian's presence.
It had everything to do with the throne being empty.
Eli blinked his eyes hard, squinted at the throne, remembering from his first visit how easily the Emperor's dark robes had blended him in, how it almost seemed as though the dark throne would swallow the man. But no, the throne was empty, of that there was no question, and as Thrawn drew up, his back straightening with the authority and command, Eli knew that was it. After all, it was indeed very strange and certainly unexpected for the Emperor to be absent from a meeting that he himself called for.
"Grand Vizier Amedda," Thrawn respectfully greeted, bowing his head as he stood before the Chagrian and the empty throne. "I am here to meet with the Emperor. Where is he?"
"The Emperor is not taking visitors at this time, Admiral," Amedda said in a haughty tone that set Eli's nerves on edge, though he said nothing, only stared at the ground, his hands clasped behind his back tightly squeezing together.
"It was the Emperor whom summoned me here, Grand Vizier," Thrawn said softly, a cold edge in his voice that wasn't there before. "Please inform him that I have arrived."
"As I said, the Emperor is not to be disturbed," Amedda growled, though Thrawn could hear the slightest waver in his voice, his black forked tongue darting between his teeth for a moment, the smallest rise in his body heat and a shift from one foot to the other that betrayed his uncertainty.
"You will take me to him," Thrawn said, "or I shall seek him out myself, and he will know of your attempts to prevent me from answering his direct command." For a long moment, there was silence, Mas Amedda tightening his grip upon his staff, his eyes narrowing with anger, and Eli held his breath, his eyes darting between the furious Chagrian and the calm, collected Chiss. As always, Thrawn's way of speaking ruffled feathers and landed him in trouble, and Eli was beginning to think he would never learn the tact necessary to handle politicians, certainly not ones as powerful as the Grand Vizier, as his high rank and position required. His results were hard to argue with, but more often than not, he had run into substantial trouble because his methods had angered the wrong people, only to be saved by people that understood that who you knew was just as important, if not more important, than what you knew.
But his good fortune couldn't last forever, and the higher in the ranks he climbed, the bigger a target he became and the more political savvy he would need to be exert the influence necessary to hold his position from someone who was powerful enough to see him taken down.
Someone like Grand Vizier Amedda.
"One moment..." Amedda bitterly hissed, turning from the Admiral and gesturing to the Royal Guard behind the throne with a swift flick of his hand, and the guard silently left through the door to the side of the throne, the three watching in silence as he left before the Chagrian turned angry eyes back on Thrawn. If the Admiral noticed the Grand Vizier's fury, he showed no sign of it, only inclining his head slightly to him.
"Thank you..."
"You have a fine way of speaking to people, Admiral," Amedda snarled, taking a menacing step closer to Thrawn, though the Chiss did not back away, only looked at the Vizier with cold indifference. "Speak to the wrong people that way and it's liable to see you fall very, very far..."
"Do you mean to suggest, Grand Vizier, that your word holds greater importance than the Emperor's word?" Thrawn asked softly, and Mas Amedda stood taller, his back and shoulders tight and his jaw clenched. "It was not my intention to offend you, but if you are insulted, you may join the line of those who desire to levy complaints against me."
"Perhaps I shall, Admiral," Amedda spat bitterly, and Eli drew up, his eyes flicking to Thrawn for just a moment to see if the Chiss had seen what he did, recognized the tone and the implication of the Grand Vizier's threat, a threat that Eli had seen once before, many years ago. If it was what he believed, Thrawn wasn't here just to see the Emperor, he was called to Coruscant to receive some honor, not unusual for him anymore, but at the rank of Admiral, Eli wasn't sure how Thrawn was capable of reaching higher. Thrawn's gaze slowly drifted to look at Eli as well, and Eli found understanding in the Chiss' glowing eyes, and something else, though Eli couldn't identify what that could be.
"Yes..." Thrawn muttered, looking back at the Grand Vizier, the door at the side of the throne opening once again, allowing the robed Royal Guard to step through and walk toward them with long, purposeful steps. "But not today." He gave Mas Amedda a short, respectful nod. "If you would excuse me, Grand Vizier. I have an appointment to keep with the Emperor."
"Admiral Thrawn?" the Royal Guard cut in before Mas Amedda could raise yet another objection. "You will follow me." The helmeted head turned slightly to look directly at Eli. "Alone."
"Of course," Thrawn said. "You will wait for me at my shuttle, Lieutenant Commander Vanto. I will return as soon as my business is completed."
"Of course, sir," Eli said, his tone crisp and formal, though his shoulders sagged with a silent sigh of relief. Without another word, Thrawn turned from the commander and the vizier and followed the Royal Guard out through the door at the side of the throne into a long, dark passageway that he had walked several times over his years of service to the Empire. These passages led to the Emperor's personal quarters, where Thrawn had previously meet with him to discuss matters regarding the Unknown Regions in absolute privacy, mostly regarding how to navigate the dangerous area and the manner of species and resources that made their homes in that tumultuous part of the galaxy.
As per their arrangement when he had first been accepted into the Empire's military, Thrawn had provided Palpatine with maps of the regions, including the known hyperspace corridors, though many of those maps remained incomplete or unexplored, and Thrawn had very deliberately left out all information regarding his people, their outposts, bases, and the boarders of the Ascendancy. He was certain the Emperor knew that he was omitting this vital information, but he had made no mention of it, appearing to have been satisfied with what he had been given.
Thus far.
It was possible it would not remain so, that one day, the Emperor may demand more of him, and with the unknown threat of the Empire's secret project that had been kept so well hidden to the common eye, the day may come when his relationship to the Empire would have to be reevaluated. But not today. Today, he was disquieted, his swift mind racing with questions that demanded answers, and now, if his predictions were correct, he would be presented the opportunity to get answers to many of those questions. And he would. His path moving forward demanded upon the answers to these questions, more vital now than ever before with the unexpected, diverging roads he found himself approaching.
"Is the Emperor well?" Thrawn asked the guard quietly when they had turned down the last hallway, a single, black door at the far end. The guard was silent for a moment and made no move to look toward his charge.
"You shall see soon enough," the guard said in a gruff, impatient voice, and Thrawn's pace slowed slightly, his mind moving swiftly through the various outcomes and possibilities that this new information presented, eliminating some as unlikely and separating others out with higher probabilities of hitting on the truth. The guard's non-answer suggested that the Emperor was not, in fact, well. Be it in health or in circumstance, Thrawn was uncertain, though there were many reasons such a thing was a guarded secret. Hiding physical weakness or failure was common among those in power to preserve the illusion of infallibility, and Palpatine certainly made the effort to make every failure seem inconsequential, every setback a part of a greater plan.
As for what it could have been...Thrawn did not know, though whatever it was could not have been terribly serious. Serious illness would have had the entire palace in a frenzy, as the Emperor was an old man, and such things could prove fatal for the elderly, even with advanced medical care, and any significant failure Thrawn would have already heard about, as news and gossip spread exceedingly quickly through the military channels. Unless, of course, this failure was smaller, secret, personal...
A small smile touched the edge of Thrawn's lips. Somehow, he suspected this had to do with the Shadow King.
The door to the Emperor's personal chambers slid open, an the Royal Guard gestured for him to enter, and nodding his thanks to the guard, his hands folded behind his back, Thrawn entered the dark chamber, the door bolting shit behind him leaving him in a dark room lit only by the night sky and the lights of Coruscant pouring in from the window across the room. Thrawn spotted the Emperor quickly, the darkness of the room nothing before Chiss vision which edged into the infrared spectrum, the body heat of the Emperor lighting up like a beacon in his eyes, and the Admiral slowly walked toward him, bowing respectfully when Palpatine turned to face him.
"Welcome, Mitth'raw'nuruodo," the Emperor said, his voice low and hoarse, and with a wave of his hand, the lights upon the walls turned on, dim, but enough to light the room. Thrawn looked down at the elderly man and saw a pale face, paler than usual, near translucent and clammy, the wrinkles upon his face deeper and heavier than before, his eyes sunken and a sickly pale yellow, not the eerie, glowing amber they had been in the past. Thrawn's assumption had been correct. Palpatine was, in fact, ill. Very ill, from the look of it.
"My Emperor..."
"I have heard about your victories at Sammun and Batonn," Palpatine said, stepping toward the Chiss and gesturing for him to follow as he made his way across the room, his pace shuffling and slow, his shoulders hunched and, for once, very much seeming to be a man of his advanced age when before, Thrawn always felt he possessed the vigor of a much younger man. "A fine display of the might of my Empire, and a credit to your effectiveness at destroying the enemies that threaten the peace."
"Thank you, Your Majesty..." Thrawn said quietly, his own steps short and slow to keep pace with the Emperor as he hobbled toward the small office off the main room. He thought for a moment to mention that it was not the victory he wished for, that the destruction of the Creekpath Mining Complex was not, in fact, his work, so the credit for the victory by rights belonged to another, but he opted for silence instead, standing still before the Emperor's desk and watching as Palpatine slowly lowered himself into his chair.
"An excellent day for my Empire," he continued, pulling open one of the desk drawers and reaching inside. "An excellent day for you. Though perhaps not all shall see it that way." He pulled his hand out of the drawer, his gnarled fingers opening to reveal an insignia plaque resting upon his palm, an impressive thing made of twelve tiles in blue, red and gold. The Admiral's plaque upon his chest, six red tiles over six blue, seemed small in comparison. He had never seen its like in his service to the Empire. He took a slow, deep breath, his eyes looking between the plaque in the Emperor's hand and his pale, sunken eyes.
"Congratulations, Grand Admiral," Palpatine said, offering the plaque to Thrawn, but the Chiss made no move to take it, only stared at the plaque for a long moment before he respectfully bowed his head.
"Thank you, my Emperor..." Thrawn said quietly. "I shall endeavor to ease the hearts and minds of those who would oppose this distinction." He took a deep breath, held it for a moment as he looked at the plaque and weighed his options, and slowly exhaling as he resolved himself, he looked up to meet the Emperor's intense, amused stare. "But first I must calm my own heart and mind."
"Must you now..." Palpatine said slowly, the satisfied smirk upon his lips fading into displeasure, his gnarled fingers slowly closing around the rank plaque. "Very well...speak your mind, Grand Admiral."
"Tell me about the Death Star," Thrawn said calmly, and he watched as the remaining amusement drained from the Emperor's sickly face, the displeasure swiftly warping into malice.
"How did you hear of that project?" Palpatine growled, the soft tone of his voice conveying threat and danger, though Thrawn did not turn from it.
"It took many years, but I have deduced the size and power of the project from resource allocations," Thrawn said. "I have recently learned the name from unguarded dispatches. I would now learn from you its purpose." The danger faded from the Emperor's face, amusement and triumph taking its place, though there was a weariness about him, born of the mysterious illness he suffered from, by Thrawn's estimate.
"Your thoughts are laid bare, Mitth'raw'nuruodo," Palpatine rasped, taking in a slight, wheezing breath as he leaned back in his chair, his hands folded in his lap. "You fear that once I have purged the rebels from my Empire, I shall turn my unstoppable weapon against the Chiss."
"That is part of it..." Thrawn said quietly. "I would not like to see my aid to you and your Empire subverted into conquest and destruction."
"I have no designs against your people," Palpatine said with a dismissive flick of his hand. "But this is only part of your concern."
"Yes..." Thrawn muttered, his gaze falling for a moment before he looked back into the Emperor's sickly pale eyes. "I would caution against diverting too many Imperial resources into such massive projects. A flexible navy of capital warships and starfighters is the most efficient method of establishing and maintaining security across the Empire, while a project such as the Death Star can only bring the Imperial presence to one system at a time."
"There will soon be no need to spread the Imperial presence across the galaxy," Palpatine said, amusement and triumph coloring his voice. "Once the Death Star is fully operational, its very existence will suppress all opposition."
"Fear is a powerful motivator..." Thrawn said grimly. "Though not always as intended."
"You have something else in mind," Palpatine said, a statement, not a question, and gave a permissive wave of his hand. "Speak."
"I do..." Thrawn said slowly, measured as he weighed his options and chose his words. "The Imperial standard TIE fighter is a fast, maneuverable starfighter, but the lack of essential systems makes them highly susceptible to combat damage and are easily destroyed."
"We have a great many of them."
"Yes..." Thrawn quietly agreed. "But a good tactician knows that being outnumbered is not the same as being outmaneuvered. A clever strategist can find victory against superior numbers. Nightswan did." He was silent, his eyes flicking to the ground for a moment before he looked back into the Emperor's intense gaze. "The Shadow King continues to do so."
For a moment, there was silence, tense and heavy with anger and offense, and Thrawn saw the Emperor's muscles tense beneath his robes, his jaw tighten, his body heat rise. It was not the reaction of a man confident that the threat that Kenobi posed was under control, as he had been that last time, when Palpatine had ordered Thrawn to disengage with the renegade and divert his attention elsewhere. There was offense here, raw and recent. Thrawn had been right. Somehow, the Shadow King played into this.
"And your plan?" Sidious rasped, his chest heaving with silent coughing as he seemed to sink into his robes, the shadow of his hood falling over his eyes.
"An improvement to the standard TIE fighter," Thrawn said, his back straightening as he stood taller, more confident before the Emperor. "Modified and outfitted with heavy laser cannons, deflector shielding and a hyperdrive system."
"You seek to build a larger ship."
"I seek to build a better starfighter," Thrawn corrected. "Fast and maneuverable like the standard TIE without the weaknesses of one."
"An expensive ship, then," Palpatine said quietly, and the slightest smirk touched the Chiss' lips.
"No more expensive than the Death Star..." Thrawn said in a calm, monotonous voice, and from beneath the shadow of the Emperor's hood, the Chiss could see an amused smirk on Palpatine's lips. "With proper allocation of Imperial resources, the Navy could be outfitted with a superior starfighter, one that could effectively enforce the security and stability of the Empire. One that a rebel threat would have a very difficult time combating."
"And you believe that one small ship can bring this change?"
"Your Majesty, victory and defeat are often determined by the smallest detail," Thrawn said firmly, and the amused smile on the Emperor's face became wider as he held out his hand, the Grand Admiral's rank plaque resting on his palm. This time, Thrawn took it.
"Good..." the Emperor said, soft and sinister as he leaned back in his seat, his fingers steepled together as he watched the Chiss study the rank plaque in his hand. "You will assume command of the Seventh Fleet," he said when Thrawn's hand closed around the rank insignia, his glowing eyes returning to look at Palpatine. "Governor Pryce of Lothal has personally requested your aid in dealing with the rebel insurgency in her sector. She tires of Admiral Konstantine's repeated failures, as do I."
"I see..." Thrawn said, his eyes flicking to the ground for a moment as he slowly exhaled. He had suspected that the Governor would come to call upon him again, and while he was in no hurry to work with the overly ambitious, manipulative politician again, it was true that the Lothal sector was plagued with a highly effective rebel cell, one that had recently become associated with the elusive Shadow King. The Phoenix Squadron had proven to be very costly to the Empire. They needed to be destroyed before they could cause further damage. "I will depart for Lothal with all due haste."
"One thing more, Grand Admiral," Palpatine said, his raspy voice lowering in tone and pitch, a grave seriousness and bitter anger in his expression. "I have a mission for you of great importance." The Emperor was silent for a moment, his jaw clenched tightly and his eyes brimming with focused malice. "You will hunt the rebel menace Obi-Wan Kenobi. He has been a hindrance and an insult to my Empire for long enough. You will bring him to me, living or dead, I care not which, so long as you destroy the threat he possesses."
"The naval high command seemed confident they could achieve victory over him when they ordered me to stand down," Thrawn said softly. "As did you when you commanded I not engage him. Has he escalated the frequency and severity of his attacks?"
"The situation has changed, yes..." Palpatine snarled, a bitter menace in his voice, his shoulders stiffening as he tightly grasped the arms of his chair. More than anger, Thrawn decided. His assessment had been correct, this was a personal insult.
"For some time, I have believed him to be working in close association with the Phoenix rebels of Lothal," Thrawn said calmly, grasping his hands behind his back, carefully reading the Emperor's face, but there was no change, no reaction. It seemed as though he knew this already.
"How fortunate, then, that you shall be answering Governor Pryce's request for aid by bringing the Seventh Fleet to Lothal."
"Indeed..." Thrawn said flatly, the slightest wry, knowing smirk on his lips. "May I assume, then, that Kenobi is responsible for the major assault on Lothal, the destruction of Grand Moff Tarkin's Star Destroyer, and the recent theft of the ISD Subjugator over Ryloth?"
"Among other, lesser known things," the Emperor said, soft and dangerous. "Most recently, he has hunted and killed the last of my Inquisitors."
"They are all dead?" Thrawn asked, his eyes narrowing slightly, and a displeased sneer marred the Emperor's face. "A waste of a valuable resource..." Thrawn muttered. "You have my condolences for their loss."
"You will see to it that justice is done," the Emperor said, the anger gone from the lines of his face, but the malice in his pale eyes remained. "Go now, Grand Admiral. Show these rebels the full might of the Empire."
Bowing respectfully, Thrawn turned and left the room, two Royal Guards falling in step beside him as they led him away, and Sidious leaned back in his seat, his features hardening as he watched the Chiss go. For the first time since he had been a student himself, the future was clouded and uncertain. The Force was turbulent and wrathful, a roiling sea in a storm, the vision of Lumis' defeat that had been so clear, so certain before gone like a wisp of smoke. A Jedi Master was slain, and yet, Yoda was not dead, the brightness of his presence leaving the Sith Master ill and blinded, the Dark Side still screaming with the pain of burns from the Jedi's touch. But he would recover soon enough, and when he did, the Force would once again bend to his will. Lumis lived on borrowed time. Thrawn would see to that.
It was taking longer than Eli had expected. When he returned to the shuttle, he got to work, flipping through his datapad at the secure transmissions that had come through, trying to glean an idea of what was happening around the Empire and where they could be headed next. He had expected Thrawn to have returned in that time, and when he did not, Eli moved to looking again at the reports from Batonn, combing through what information and data they had managed to salvage from the destruction on the ground, but there was little to be found beneath the death of so many civilians. Still, even after he had finished with that, Thrawn hadn't returned, and the Lieutenant Commander nervously began looking for other things to do.
Fifteen minutes became thirty, thirty minutes became an hour, an hour became two as Eli busied himself with going over the Chimaera's inventory logs and maintenance reports and talking to the crews servicing the Lambda shuttle, his nerves getting the better of him and his worries mounting as time passed with no sign of the Admiral. If this was a commendation or an honor as Eli suspected it was, then Thrawn should have returned long ago. After all, in the years Eli had known Thrawn, both promotions and court marshals had become commonplace for the Chiss, a routine thing that saw him rushed out as swiftly as he had been brought in. They had never taken long, and he didn't see why it should take so long now, unless something had gone horribly wrong.
As he paced outside the Lambda, he convinced himself that there was a perfectly reasonable explanation for how long it was taking the Admiral to return, that perhaps the Emperor was not so eager to see the resoundingly successful Chiss quickly dealt with as the increasingly frustrated naval high command was. After all, Thrawn had, from time to time, been summoned to meet with the Emperor, part of the terms of his induction into the Imperial Navy, no doubt, so it was entirely likely that the Emperor had just kept him longer, using that time to discuss other matters while Thrawn was in his presence.
But the nagging fear lingered, a horrible, awful thought in the back of Eli's mind that whispered that, somehow, both Eli and Thrawn had gravely misjudged the situation, that the Emperor was displeased with the way the bloody handling of Batonn went. That even now, Thrawn was imprisoned, or worse, already dead, executed for the atrocity of his latest victory, the senseless slaughter of all those civilians too grievous to overlook.
Just as he had convinced himself to go looking for his missing Admiral, Eli caught sight of Thrawn calmly walking toward the Lambda from the other side of the hangar. At first, he was uncertain it was the Chiss, the white uniform the man wore instead of the gray-green of the navy making him believe it was an agent of the ISB, but as he squinted to see, took a few steps closer, he saw it was indeed Thrawn, the royal blue of his skin unmistakable. Eli felt relief wash over him before the confusion struck, wondering for a moment if the Chiss had been relieved of his position and taken up Yularen's offer to join the ranks of the ISB he had been offered so long ago, but as Thrawn's relaxed pace drew him closer, and as Eli walked swiftly to meet him, he quickly saw that this was not the case.
The uniform was unlike anything that Eli had ever seen in the Imperial navy, pristine white with gold shoulder bars and silver collar insignia, the rank plaque on his chest an impressive array of twelve blue, red and gold tiles that set him apart from other Admirals. Even from the Fleet Admirals, Eli noted when he got a closer look at it as he met Thrawn on the walkway and silently fell into step beside him. He didn't recognize this arrangement. This was something new. Something different. Something significant, he belatedly noted. Against all reason, Thrawn had been promoted again, but this time, to something far beyond the standard chain of command.
"Another promotion, sir?" Eli asked timidly, the Chiss beside him silent, his eyes downcast and contemplative as he slowly nodded.
"Indeed..." Thrawn whispered, his languid pace slowing even further as he unclasped his hands from behind his back to reach up to his chest and run his finger over the rank plaque fixed to the left breast of his uniform. "To the rank of Grand Admiral."
"Grand Admiral?" Eli gasped, his eyes widening as he looked the Chiss over once again. "I've never heard of a Grand Admiral...c-congratulations, sir."
"Thank you, Commander Vanto..."
"Guess High Command's gonna have a real hard time pushing you around now, huh?" Eli said as they stepped up the ramp of the Lambda, a wry smirk on his lips that was subtly mirrored on Thrawn's lips when his glowing red eyes flicked to the man at his side. "They're gonna hate this when they find out."
"I do not believe many of them will be overly pleased, no," Thrawn said, nodding to the crew at attention when he entered the shuttle, and the men and women swiftly set to their tasks to prepare for takeoff, the codes swiftly punched into consoles that retracted the ramp and sealed the forward hatch.
"So...we got ourselves a new assignment?" Eli asked as he followed Thrawn into his personal stateroom, the floor beneath his feet thrumming with the thrust of the engines as they lifted off from the palace hangar. "New ship to go along with your fancy new uniform?"
"Same ship," Thrawn said quietly, a faint, fond smile on his lips as he sat himself at his desk in the corner, and Eli couldn't help the knowing smirk that settled upon his face. For all that the Chiss was dedicated to logic and practicality, he was indelibly fond of his ship and his crew, though if asked, Eli knew Thrawn well enough to know that the Admiral - the Grand Admiral - would explain it away as a matter of efficiency. His crew knew him and his unconventional command style, and it would take time to build that same trust and understanding aboard a new ship.
"The Chimaera," Thrawn continued, "will now serve as the flagship of the Seventh Fleet. We have been assigned the task of hunting and destroying the rebels known as the Phoenix Squadron."
"The Phoenix Squadron..." Eli repeated, a slow, excited grin spreading across his face as the information sunk in. "The Emperor's sending you after the Shadow King, isn't he?"
"He is..." Thrawn confirmed, his hands folding together on the desk, his expression somber enough for the grin to swiftly vanish from Eli's face. "But for you, Commander Vanto...I would propose an alternative assignment."
"A...what?" Eli asked, staring at the Chiss with a mixture of confusion and disbelief, obediently sitting down in the chair opposite Thrawn when he gestured to it. "You're...sir, are you sending me away? Am I being reassigned?"
"Yes..." Thrawn said gravely, still for a moment before he respectfully inclined his head. "Provided you are agreeable to the assignment. You must understand, you are under no obligation to accept. This is not an order."
"Then what is it?" Eli asked nervously, swallowing hard as he tried and failed to read the Chiss' impassive face, and felt his chest tighten when a faint smile touched the edge of Thrawn's lips, the briefest flash of emotion in those glowing red eyes that Eli could have sworn was pride, though something about it seemed somehow sad.
"An offer, Commander," Thrawn said, his tone slow and measured as always. "I believe you have attained the greatest height that the Empire will allow, though your talent and potential reaches far beyond what they are willing to offer." Eli was silent, speechless for a moment as he stared at Thrawn, trying to decide if he was sincere, where this was coming from, what this meant, but he came up with nothing. He had missed something, but he was uncertain what it could have been.
"I'm...content with where I am, sir..." Eli stammered, uncertain what it was that Thrawn wanted to hear. "It's where I'm meant to be."
"Perhaps," Thrawn said. "Perhaps not." He was silent for a moment, his gaze dropping to his hands before he took a deep breath and looked back up at the bewildered, suspicious Commander. "Eli," Thrawn said quietly. "I offer you a position among my people. With the Chiss Ascendancy."
For a long moment, Eli was silent, his breath held and his eyes wide as he stared at Thrawn, his mind feeling as though it were slowly grinding the information he had been given and all the implications that went along with it. "You...weren't exiled, were you?" Eli asked carefully, and Thrawn closed his eyes, a slight gesture of his hand conceding that the Commander had the right of it. "...so, when we found you on that planet-"
"We had attempted twice before to attract the Empire's attention," Thrawn whispered. "Our third attempt brought the Strikefast, and you, to my location." He gestured dismissively. "You are well aware of the rest."
"...are you a spy?"
"No," Thrawn answered, swift and firm. "You were present when I offered knowledge of the Unknown Regions in exchange for being allowed to study the Empire, and being presented with the opportunity to observe the Imperial Navy by serving in its ranks was too advantageous to decline." Thrawn took a moment to observe Eli, his muscles tight, his body heat elevated, though he was leaning forward. Listening. "If I did not support the Empire, I would have left it long ago. I agree with the ideals of a powerful Empire as a stabilizing force for order." Thrawn sighed softly, his eyes flicking away from Eli for a second. "But I will always serve my people."
"And what if the interests of the Empire oppose the interests of the Chiss?"
"The two are not incompatible."
"Humor me, then," Eli said between grit teeth. "Suppose the Empire turned on your people. What then?"
"I will walk that path once I come to it..." Thrawn said, the strange monotone of his voice suddenly seeming colder, carrying a weight of finality that made it feel as though this wasn't just a possibility, but a road that he was certain he would one day travel. "But you come upon a divergence in your path now," Thrawn continued, the dangerous edge in his voice gone as if it hadn't been there at all. "The Chiss face forces far more evil than anything that exists within the Empire. I offer you an opportunity to combat these threats."
"What makes you think I'm capable of doing that!" Eli asked, louder than he intended, and he was answered only with the slight quirking of one of Thrawn's eyebrows, a subtle expression on the Chiss' face that said Eli knew damn well why he would believe he could do this thing. Words like talent and potential ran through his mind, ideas of remaining at his station or reaching beyond it just within his grasp, and he swallowed hard and looked at the man that had been his commander for so many years. "...do you really think I can do this?" Eli asked timidly.
"I would not have offered if I did not have full confidence in your abilities," Thrawn said quietly, and Eli swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest with nervousness and more excitement than he cared to admit.
"Would the Chiss have me?"
"Is a human among the Chiss more improbable than a Chiss among humans?" Thrawn countered, and a wry smirk spread across Eli's face, the tension of before vanishing swiftly under the onslaught of memories from their time in the Imperial Academy.
"It's all pretty improbable if you ask me," Eli said with a soft chuckle. "You've always been a bit of a fish ashore."
"Perhaps..." Thrawn muttered as he leaned back in his seat, a small, genuine smile tugging at the edge of his lips. For just a moment, there was silence, relaxed and comfortable, and for all the years he had served under the cold, dutiful Chiss, this was the first time Eli had felt warm in his presence, something more than a Captain, a Commander, a Commodore, an Admiral and his aide.
It felt like friendship.
"I'll do it," Eli whispered, more to himself than anything as he looked into Thrawn's searching gaze. "I'll do it," he said again, louder this time. "I'll serve your people as well as you served mine."
"You honor me..." Thrawn said, inclining his head toward the Commander. "I will contact my people at once and inform them of your decision."
"At once?" Eli asked, arching a single eyebrow as he watched Thrawn's fingers freeze upon his datapad. "No time at all to celebrate? Not everyday a non-human gets promoted to Grand Admiral in the Imperial Navy."
"A similarly rare occurrence for a human to join the Chiss Defense Fleet," Thrawn said as he pushed the datapad away. "Very well. I shall contact my people in the morning."
"Guess I can't convince you to get drunk in celebration, can I?"
"...I am on duty, Commander Vanto."
"When aren't you on duty, I knew it was too much to ask," Eli said with a roll of his eyes, looking out the viewport on the wall at the Chimaera hanging large and imposing in space before them, the ship's mythological namesake engraved beautifully and intimidating upon the hull. "...I'm going to miss this..." Eli muttered, the sudden tightness in his chest forcing him to tear his eyes away from the Star Destroyer and flash Thrawn a quick smile. "You'll give the Shadow King hell for me, won't you?"
"Yes..." Thrawn muttered, his gaze drifting out toward his flagship. "You can be certain of that."