Chapter 21: A Foul Stench

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"What use are ideals if we cannot fit them to the universe as we find it?" —Qui-Gon Jinn

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"Grand Admiral Thrawn is dead."

Tarkin's voice was heartless and crisp. The hologram managed to almost perfectly capture the icy cold of his natural essence. Commodore Faro and Major Ayer were hit with a wave of shock, though they tried to keep their reaction diminished under his gaze. Tarkin carried the weight of the Empire around him, and that Empire they knew saw Thrawn as a traitor and perhaps wanted him dead. Faro's spirit shook, but she somehow managed to maintain a stoic façade.

Dead.

Tarkin just stood there a moment, assessing their reactions. Testing them? Ayer especially felt Tarkin's steely gaze, as Ayer couldn't mask the faint anger hidden inside the depths of his eyes. Ayer wished he had his stormtrooper helmet on so he could hide his expression behind it instead of it resting underneath his arm. Tarkin seemed to process and recognize Ayer's anger.

"His wounds proved to be too great. He succumbed to them not too long ago," Tarkin said slowly in his clipped tone. He moved his controlling and judgmental gaze squarely upon Faro. "We thought it prudent to inform you, Commodore Faro, prior to this information releasing to the public."

We… Faro took in a shaky breath. "I see," Faro said in a hushed whisper.

"Your Chief Medical Officer, Doctor Zahara Cody…," Tarkin's voice carried an edge of warning, and Ayer's protective instincts surged up his spine. The Major recognized where the conversation was going. "…Please convey my sentiment to her that there was absolutely nothing further she could have done for Grand Admiral Thrawn."

Faro saw Tarkin's eyes flash with a pause. Of course. He's worried about Zahara's reaction. Ayer had to remain calm, for he shouldn't officially know the truth beyond the cover story.

"Of course, sir," Faro said cautiously. "I will personally inform her."

"Very wise. I am sure she will appreciate it," Tarkin said slowly. He rose his chin and stiffened his stance even more beyond what seemed to be possible. "This is a transition for the Seventh Fleet. You will maintain your position Commodore, but upon your arrival at Lothal, an advisor with direct knowledge of the situation will join you and Governor Pryce. He will be stationed aboard the Chimaera to assist in dealing with these rebel assassins. Once Lothal is returned to order, it is then that we may assess the future of the Seventh Fleet."

Faro understood the true meaning behind Tarkin's words. She was under scrutiny both of loyalty and of tactical aptitude as an Imperial Officer. Her future was in question considering what she knew. And this advisor…

"You will be given the courtesy an hour to inform your crew of the dire news about their former leader. Then it will be in the hands of the wider Holo-Net to disperse." Tarkin's voice, while still a pompous trill, took on a solemn stiffness. It was as if he was trying to add empathy to his tone, but it was impossible, coming from his cold heart. "I wish you success at Lothal, Commodore."

Tarkin's true face revealed itself just prior to the hologram fading away, his eyes intensifying and his mouth contorting into a smirk. It was as if the oxygen was stolen away from the office as Faro and Ayer were left standing there.

-.-.-.-

Governor Arihnda Pryce was irate. She paced in front of the window in her office with the heavy footfalls of a terentatek on the prowl. The structured gloom of her governorship, Lothal's Capital City, rested below, illuminated in the orange hues of sunset, masked by sordid pollution and smoke. Imperial resource gathering and mining operations made the city and the rest of the planet as a whole look horribly sick lately.

"You had me followed," she said through clinched teeth. "And you've neglected to inform me…" she emphasized her words with pointed fingers. "…until— now— of the biggest threat to the stability of my governorship."

"Do you not appreciate that the Empire invests in the safety of its most valuable assets?" Tarkin groveled haughtily from the hologram. Arihnda bristled as she paced, fiercely grasping her wrist behind her back as she tried to control her emotions. Valuable. Asset. Tarkin was playing her, and she knew it. Where he said valuable asset, she heard uncontrollable rival. Tarkin's voice held an edge of warning as he continued. "The Seventh Fleet returns to orbit Lothal as we speak, does it not? The Chimaera soon to follow."

Governor Arihnda Pryce groaned in frustration as she pivoted to pace down the length of the window yet again. "Yes, without the very mind that would have surely guaranteed my success against these rebel insurgents."

"Thrawn is dead, as I've stated," Tarkin said pointedly.

"As you've stated," Arihnda murmured, stopping in place. She took in a deep breath, composing herself as much as she could, and glanced down upon the city below. Her city. A symbol of her power. Arihnda was smart and knowledgeable to the whims of politics.

Part of her was curious how the Holo-Net would fashion their story of propaganda. How they dressed the story often would reveal a thread of truth for those who knew how to interpret the omissions. She knew in her heart more was going on than was being revealed to her. And she loathed being lied to. Disrespectful…

Arihnda turned to face Tarkin in a rigid whip. Her blue eyes held fire. "Do you expect me to believe this so easily? That Thrawn would allow himself to be taken out by his own sentinel droids? Those that he trained with nearly everyday? Their reprogramming null as their tactics would be the same?"

Tarkin's expression took on a dangerous sheen. As his façade faded to reveal his malicious authority, Arihnda's diminished and flinched to a yielding deference, her eyes wide as she realized she overstepped.

"Do you intend to make a lier out of me, Governor Pryce? Do you question the word of our Emperor?" Tarkin said.

"N— no… No, Gov— Grand Moff Tarkin," Arihnda stammered.

"Failure to acknowledge this truth will find you explaining why to a far less patient audience," Tarkin said. Every word was pointedly enunciated. His eyes narrowed with a slight smirk. "Others have found their power stripped away from them for similar questions of authority. Remember that."

Arihnda's mind was spinning. Did Thrawn's lack of political finesse and naïveté finally catch up to him? Kill him? Were rebels truly successful in taking out the greatest military mind of the Empire as the broadcast would claim? Or was there something else going on? She had enough political sense to stay quiet though and no longer voice her questions.

"I… understand," Arihnda said with a hush.

"Very good. An advisor aware of the situation is on route to join you on Lothal. His information will soon be transmitted to your station, and Commodore Faro shouldn't be too far behind with the Chimaera."

Arihnda cleared her throat and pressed a sequence on her desk console. "I appear to be receiving a data packet as we speak, sir. I will prepare for his arrival."

"Excellent. I expect your rebels to be eliminated, Governor Pryce… swiftly, before they must become my problem."

Tarkin took an almost theatrical pause to make sure Arihnda understood the threat. Then the hologram faded away, and Arihnda finally released a breath that she had been holding and punched a fist down to her desk. Thrawn, that idiot! She yelled in frustrated fury as she repeatedly hit her desk with more crashing thuds. Stormtroopers in the hallway flinched at the commotion.

A mellow trill interrupted her fit, and Arihnda exasperated one last groan. The download of this new advisor was complete. With a huff and trying to catch her breath, Arihnda slapped her personal code sequence down amid her pout and inserted her code cylinder into her console.

An unstable and maniacal laugh began to sound from her as she read over the report.

Arihnda needed a drink.