Chapter 24: A Path to Perdition
-.-.-.-
"Sometimes even the smallest doubt can shake the greatest belief."
"The simplest gesture of kindness can fill a galaxy with hope." ―Bail Organa
-.-.-.-
"Wish she could tell him, "Hold on"
She's waiting between worlds
Waiting between worlds that divide through a choice undefined
A break in the line where all paths intertwine
And no roads lead or progress behind
And all signs read: "Know The Way". Decide."
―"Waiting Between Worlds" by Zack Hemsey
-.-.-.-
Corporal Osleo Prennert was thrilled to have had the honor of guiding such a majestic diplomatic ship in for landing. The ship was beautiful and sleek compared to the rugged veneer of small fighter-craft like X-wings fresh from a scuffle. The sleek ship bespoke of the elegance of those contained within its shining hull, but Osleo's thrill soon mixed with curious concern. From up in his narrow tower, he witnessed a swarm of activity erupt down below after it landed. Ships were being repositioned, and personnel hurriedly shuffled around the tarmac of Yavin IV's Great Pyramid. It was as if they were preparing for both massive launches and arrivals at the same time.
It all looked very confusing from his position up so high in the sky, a fellow tenant among golden colored whisper birds. But General Draven had given him a very blunt talking to after nearly missing Captain Syndulla's approach. It wasn't so much his words or his voice; it was the general's eyes that struck deep into his soul. General Draven was a military leader who expected his people to embody their best selves, and he was one to quickly point out, without any fluff or padding, each and every inefficiency he could see. But the general's words weren't out of malice, but born from an aura of blunt respect, which simply demanded the same in return from his soldiers. He was a good leader… just pragmatically realistic. One who expected the best and saw the worst, and one who was very cognizant of the consequence of failure resulting from carelessness.
A sentinel-on-watch wasn't supposed to worry or wonder about the unknown. Certainly, no more daydreaming. But he thought he recognized that figure walking down the ramp of the diplomatic ship. The flowing cloak mixed with attire structured in the formal tones of Alderaan gave him away.
-.-
"I apologize for the delay. Imperial blockades impeded our progress much more than usual," Senator Bail Organa said as he walked down the ramp of his ship. Mon Mothma stood at the foot of the ramp and saw a rigid stress upon him as he walked to meet her. He still stole a wondered glance up at Yavin IV's Great Pyramid as he approached though.
"I'm glad you made it safely, my friend," Mon Mothma said with a soft smile. Her voice flowed with familiar tones of regality and diplomatic poise. But she was in the presence of a friend, and Bail recognized her apprehensive edge.
"The call to return seemed urgent," Bail said, holding her eyes as he stopped before her. He read the unspoken strain reflected despite her smile. They couldn't fool each other.
She hummed and slowly nodded as she gathered her thoughts. "There's been a… development, that requires the delicacies of an in-person briefing."
Bail glanced around them, making sure their conversation was private despite the busy tarmac. "Does this have anything to do with the broadcast? About the Seventh Fleet?" He hesitated, lowering his voice. "About Grand Admiral Thrawn…?"
Mon Mothma rose a hand and averted her eyes before glancing around herself. She was being cautious, even here on Yavin IV, and that made Bail nervous. "It does," she said softly.
"I had hoped not," Bail said with a hush. He had held hope that the Alliance wasn't responsible for such a high-profile attack. To do so would mean a pain and a punishment from the Empire that Bail wasn't sure the fledgling rebellion cause could withstand at such an early stage of formation. They simply weren't ready for full-scale conflict.
A spark of that hope had kindled while in transit to Yavin IV as none of his contacts, Fulcrum and otherwise, came back with a positive confirmation of the act. But now…
"Walk with me," Mon Mothma said. They walked through throngs of flight crews and mechanics tending to a group of A-wings as they made their way toward the interior of the Great Pyramid.
"Remember our time in the Republic Senate," Mon Mothma said. "The corruption we faced together as a coalition before the Emperor gained his power? It was a confusing time wasn't it."
"It still is," Bail said as he maneuvered around hurried crew chiefs. His mind fell into sad memories of those now lost who were part of that original coalition. Friends like Padmé Amidala…
He shook himself from those thoughts and saw that Mon Mothma perhaps did the same. Bail fought back a feeling of claustrophobia as they walked deeper into the Rebel base.
"The base seems to be on high alert," he said clearing his throat.
"We've increased patrols as a result of the broadcast." Mon Mothma took a deep breath as she paused before a sealed door. Bail recognized it as the entrance to a secured Alliance Intelligence hub and became increasingly wary at a looming pressure of change born from shadows. She considered his gaze a moment.
"Those days with the Republic Senate, during the Clone War," she began slowly. "The lines between sides were blurred at times, and it became apparent more existed than merely Separatists and Loyalists. There were others, existing apart and wishing to remain so, such as Mandalore." The conflict was painful to remember. She gestured. "That time was a prelude to what we now endure, together. But the system is still the same."
"What are you trying to say?" he said with a hush. Bail was folding into an unspoken revelation. If this was about the Imperial broadcast…
"The bureaucracy remains to be fundamentally the same flawed machine. The system will always act to preserve itself. And its most valuable commodity it wishes to maintain? Perception."
It was a game of perception. A game of lies. The broadcast was pure propaganda just like everything else the Empire did in the public eye. Bail huffed an incredulous breath, but why should he be surprised? He shouldn't be. But the subject of the propaganda was ludicrous, right? Grand Admiral Thrawn? The very Imperial Officer that was nearly victorious in decimating their entire cause at Atollon?
Nearly victorious…
A Chiss Grand Admiral… A Chiss who claimed to be exiled from his people…
"So, he's not… Are you saying…" Bail's voice hushed as it trailed off, but his eyes continued the wild question.
Mon Mothma hesitated, perhaps understanding that which was unspoken, and nodded slowly, keeping her sharp eyes upon his. "It's become apparent there are more to consider. Another party works from the shadows and seems to have been doing so for quite some time. Much longer than we realize. There's more that we as the Rebel Alliance must become aware of before moving forward in this clandestine civil war."
She opened the doors to the Alliance Intelligence area, and Bail saw through wide eyes, a circular holotable with what appeared to be jumbled data and distorted imagery floating above it. Air felt heavy as they entered. The room was dark, the central blue glow not quite permeating toward the far corners but further illuminated by green holographic maps and screens being monitored by a limited number of Rebel Alliance Officers.
"Ah, senators, good of you to finally join us," General Draven said.
"Generals," Mon Mothma said in gentle greeting, as she and Bail joined General Draven and General Dodonna around the holotable.
Draven held the look of a man resigned to battle, the experiences and burdens of the past creasing his features. Bail thought the general seemed disagreeable, peevish perhaps even at the principle of this meeting.
General Dodonna meanwhile was focused on the jumbled data hovering before them. He absentmindedly stroked his snowy beard as he tried to decipher the images.
"This data makes no sense. The corruption is severe and probably encrypted underneath all of that," Dodonna said with a sigh. Bail agreed; the numbers were all over the place, and imagery malformed. Dodonna motioned to Draven. "Have your people tried to extract it yet?"
"So far, unsuccessfully," Draven said, crossing his arms with furrowed brow.
"Do we have a time of arrival?" Mon Mothma asked Draven.
"They've gone silent as of two jumps ago," Draven answered. "But estimates are anywhere within the next three hours. I must reiterate, Senator, I don't agree with bringing him here."
Mon Mothma nodded, her eyes narrowing with her thoughts. "I understand your concerns, but he will be able to explain these readings," she said, motioning to the data.
"Do you really understand? It's what he might do afterward that concerns me," Draven retorted. He shook his head and sighed. "But only if he's able to do so. Their astromech's report was less than optimistic."
"All the more reason for him to be here where he'll best be treated."
"Ah, excuse me," Dodonna interrupted, raising a hand. He rose his eyebrows as he glanced between them. "He?"
Draven took a breath and eyed both Bail and Dodonna with the sharp assessment of a military intelligence general. He took a beat as it was apparent his mind was warring with the realities and specifics of the situation.
It was time to explain.
"Clear the room!" Draven announced suddenly, making Dodonna flinch. The general turned swiftly, his voice gruff and powerful as he addressed his officers in the intelligence bay. "Step away from your stations! You'll be recalled once authorized, but until then, everyone out! Clear the room!"
Bail watched as everyone shuffled away. No one seemed surprised at the call to exit. This must have been happening fairly often recently, Bail thought.
"What's going on?" Bail asked once the four of them were alone.
"As you may have discerned by now, the latest Holo-Net broadcast was a fabrication," Mon Mothma said. "It was meant to stoke the fires of the Imperial war machine against the Rebellion, while simultaneously providing an explanation as to the absence of the Seventh Fleet's Grand Admiral."
"Grand Admiral Thrawn?" Dodonna asked. Draven nodded and hummed an affirmative.
"Vader took him out under suspicion of treason apparently, contrary to the Empire's official report," Draven sighed, turning back around to address them. "The Ghost encountered a distress call, and this datachip was recovered from the survivor, who's believed to be Thrawn's bodyguard or assassin."
"Grand Admiral Thrawn meant for us to have this information should something happen to him," Mon Mothma said, motioning to the jumbled holoimages.
General Dodonna's face blanched, "What?" Dodonna's eyes danced over the holoimages with a new consideration. He looked like he was going to be sick.
"He meant to send intelligence… to the Rebellion?" Bail challenged.
Mon Mothma nodded. "There's a message—"
"Forgive me for interrupting Senator," Dodonna said. "But this datachip, is it even safe to have it present on base? It could be a trap to learn of our location."
"I've shared the same concerns, General Dodonna," Draven said. Mon Mothma stiffened, yet Draven looked uncomfortable as he glanced to her and nodded. "But my people have looked at the device. As far as we can tell, this was meant solely as a data courier. Though a horribly corrupted one. Besides, if it were a trap, we would have known the consequences long ago…"
Mon Mothma held cautious exhaustion in her stance as she considered her peers. "General Draven and I have seen it once already, but there's a message we must watch together," Mon Mothma said.
She pressed a button sequence, and it was as if every molecule of air suddenly retreated from around Bail as Grand Admiral Thrawn's image flickered into existence on the holotable.
"By Caraya's soul…," Dodonna muttered.
Thrawn was bathed in blue light, standing resolute and proud in his white Imperial uniform with his shoulders adorned with shining gold bars. His hands rested confidently behind his back, and the Chiss stood silent as he breathed measured breaths, steeling himself.
Bail slowly circled around to Thrawn's front and found the crimson eyes of the Chiss Grand Admiral intimidating even through holo. "This is absurd," Bail muttered, as he slid his hand over the holotable's surface for guidance. Dodonna held the same measure of awe as he did the same, moving to Mon Mothma's other side, and Draven slowly followed Dodonna with crossed arms and lowered head. Draven was entrenched in thought, calculations dancing across his brow and unfocused eyes.
Bail saw a flicker of uncharacteristic hesitation in Thrawn's eyes. Thrawn's voice was slow and held melodic purpose as he began to speak.
"The winding path to peace is always a worthy one, regardless of how many turns it takes," Thrawn said. A Jedi saying, Bail knew.
"This is real?" Bail asked.
"Yes," Draven said curtly, glancing to Bail with intense eyes though head still lowered in his walk.
Thrawn's strong voice melodically continued, "A wise ambassador once said, it is our duty, and our responsibility, to preserve the lives of those around us." Padmé. Bail met Mon Mothma's eyes with a flinch and found her already watching him with glistening eyes, expecting his reaction.
Taking his place next to Mon Mothma, Bail glanced back and saw a glimmer in Thrawn's own shimmering orbs. What seemed to be an echo of a memory cracked the crisp edge of Thrawn's Imperial rigidity, and his voice became wistful, eyes unfocused.
"She also beheld the light of thousands within her eyes, as she defended to me, that what drove her were individuals, people and honor." Bail saw that Thrawn's eyes were haunted as he lingered there in the memory. It was an odd sense of regret that hung upon the Chiss. To see this upon Thrawn, a grand admiral who had been such a passionate adversary…
"It is that same purpose under which I operate," Thrawn said, his voice strong. "She knew that a chorus of thousands would rise up in its place should her voice be extinguished, and it is to a few within what I see as that rising chorus, for which this message is intended."
Lightning struck the fibers of Bail's soul as he took in a harsh breath of air. That phrase… It resounded like a reverberating gong in his head. She knew that a chorus of thousands would rise up in its place should her voice be extinguished… That was a phrase inspired from Padmé's speech during the Alderaan Conference on the Clone War Refugee Crisis so long ago. Bail was there; he had heard her words personally.
Bail was transported to the past in his mind's eye. He heard Padmé's voice again, clear as day.
"I know that there are those individuals in the galaxy who would seek to promote fear and spread chaos," Padmé announced, her voice strong.
Bail was among a few who knew the cloaked figure standing next to him was not actually Padmé, but a droid adorned to appear so. Bounty hunter Aurra Sing had made things complicated at this conference, and Padawan Ahsoka Tano had already prevented catastrophe once. The brave padawan was with Padmé now in what Bail hoped was a safe location.
"To those who act as agents of chaos, I say this. I stand resolute and unyielding. And if you strike my voice down, know that a chorus of thousands shall rise up in its place, for you have no dominion over the righteous. We are the defenders of truth."
It was undeniable. Thrawn's message was surely intended for Bail and Mon Mothma, as the wording was deliberate and personal. Thrawn knew Padmé, Bail additionally realized. It was he of whom she spoke of so long ago. Thrawn was the Chiss scout who had aided in thwarting a Separatist operation from being unleashed against the Republic during the Clone War. The one who had helped Padmé and Anakin. Bail's mind reeled with overwhelming realization.
How many more deaths did Thrawn prevent by intervening? What more did he know?
Bail had missed much of the message as he emerged from his ocean of revelation. Mon Mothma glanced to Bail and noticed his face had paled considerably.
"Attached to this message is information I deem useful to your Rebellion," Thrawn said, taking a breath. "Please understand that everything I did, I did for the greater good of the galaxy, and with the intent of preserving all lives that were around me…" His head nodded and eyes narrowed. "…including yours."
Bail would have to watch the holo-message again to comprehend everything said. Padmé…
"I regret any pain I've caused to you all in the name of the Empire," Thrawn said. "And I am regretful that we could not go beyond the relationship of adversaries and toward that of allies." Thrawn smirked slightly. "Perhaps, were fates different…" Thrawn blinked slowly after a moment of consideration and then nodded in finality. "May you gain hope."
Grand Admiral Thrawn's image fizzled away, leaving General Draven's intense stare in its place.
"Captain Syndulla and her crew were able to recover him from Imperial custody," Draven said. "Our people found him under intense interrogation."
"They're enroute to base with him as we speak," Mon Mothma said.
"They actually had him imprisoned," Dodonna muttered in disbelief as he leaned on the holotable. "I never thought I'd see the day, Grand Admiral Thrawn defecting."
"That's not necessarily true," Draven said bluntly as he circled around the holotable again. "He never intended to defect. His message was a contingency, intended only to release and be delivered upon his failure." Draven uncrossed his arms and leaned on the table with deep breath. He grimaced despite his stiff demeanor. "He's not in good shape; Operative Kallus verified a mixture of lotiramine and skirtopanol. Thrawn may not be able to recall the information we seek should he even be willing to cooperate at all."
Mon Mothma held up a hand and exuded what could be described as a radiance of thousands. Her eyes scanned over each of them. "This may be the very evidence we need to legitimize our cause to the Senate and more so to the greater public. We must have faith."
-.-.-.-
I walk alone
Beside myself
Nowhere to go
All signs read: "Know The Way". Decide.
-.-
Commodore Faro hated shuttles. Their smaller airframe provided for a more turbulent ride through atmosphere, especially on a humid planet such as Lothal at this time of its seasonal cycle. That's why she was grateful the ISD Chimaera was granted clearance to dock with the Imperial Command Center in Capital City rather than flying in one of those garbage piles.
From her place at the forward command viewport, Faro observed as the massive Star Destroyer sliced through the upper atmosphere like a sharp beam of light piercing through an edge of darkest night. Its hull was strong and heavy, through which no natural turbulence could easily permeate. Advanced stabilizers and thrusters counteracted the intricacies of atmospheric weather streams that Imperial shuttles simply didn't possess.
The Chimaera gracefully soared through Lothal's sky, its shining hull majestic in its tones of chrome, reflecting Imperial might and security down upon the civilians of Lothal below. Its unique undercarriage design of a chimaera was preserved as an untarnished artifact left to honor the legacy of Grand Admiral Thrawn. In fact, the Empire was utilizing it as a battle cry for the rest of the crew and the Seventh Fleet. Brilliant hums of the ISD Chimeara's powerful engines reverberated outward through the outer edges of the city as it approached. It was a proud ship.
Surely the sight brought a sense of stability and order, yes? Faro would hope to think that. There was a time when she would be confident about that sentiment. She was trained to think that, yet she felt an undeniable looming threat of chaos and war as she stood within the Star Destroyer itself. Too much had happened. Her base instincts instilled upon her as an Imperial Cadet were void and washed away, as her perspective had changed. Her perspective was clean.
Though, loyalty was a complicated thing sometimes, especially when mixed. While she wore a legacy of loyalty to Grand Admiral Thrawn, her responsibility transferred to that of his crew in his absence. Thrawn had entrusted them to her.
Faro's mind folded into memory. To those around her, Commodore Faro was merely lost in thought, as a leader sometimes may appear.
"The ship is yours, Commodore Faro," Thrawn's smooth voice echoed. At the viewport, she calmly turned her head to the side, and her mind's eye saw Grand Admiral Thrawn, bathed in cascades of silver light, standing next to her on the Chimaera's bridge once again, resolute just as they had stood together at that critical hour before fates changed. Before the Devastator appeared. Before Vader. A brilliant scene of stars dancing and morphing into that of Lothal's atmosphere was taking place before her outside the viewport while the Star Destroyer cut through the sky, but she was more enthralled by a vision of that which was taken.
Faro had understood the finality behind Thrawn's words back then, as he had allowed his gaze to linger upon her own eyes longer than perhaps necessary. Echoes of Vader's breathing. Thrawn's form was like a mirage, bright and clear yet somehow still unfocused in Faro's mind. Was she forgetting his image already? His presence was comforting to her though despite her insecurities and the obvious illusion.
She wasn't alone; he stood with her, even in memory. His eyes glinted, and he smirked slightly. He looked proud. She would never forget the look in those scarlet eyes. Protect them. I can do so no longer.
"Commodore, we're entering the approach corridor," a helmsman announced.
The mirage dissolved, and Faro lost the illusion, blinking rapidly. She cleared her throat and centered herself. "Very well lieutenant," Faro said, glancing over her shoulder. "Proceed as cleared and continue approach for planetary docking maneuvers with the Command Center."
Faro took a deep breath where she stood, looking straight again and beholding a mixture of space and planetary sky. She watched the remainder of the Chimaera's trajectory through atmospheric entry from the command viewport. Alone.
The sun danced through clouds as the puffs of moisture relented and revealed a dulled scenery of rolling fields of grass crowned by Lothal's Capital City. Persistent voices of regret and dashed hopes peppered at her mind as she watched Lothal's mushroom-shaped Imperial Complex come into view on the horizon. It ruined the skyline, and the planet looked sick.
Bitterness. Fear and doubt were ever present feelings since Tarkin's report. Thrawn was dead. There was no escaping that fact. She knew it. Ayer knew it. Her crew knew it.
-.-.-.-
Zahara knew it.
"Are you sure about this, doctor?" Ayer asked, as he stood in a doorway in the Chimaera's medical bay.
"I'm sure," Zahara said closing her ECM-598 Medical Backpack. It was restocked and prepared for transport. She looked up from her desk and caught Ayer's eyes as he crossed his arms. He casually leaned his shoulder against the doorway as he considered her. He didn't look convinced. Always the Stormtrooper Commander, she thought. Zahara smiled sadly with her kind green eyes. "It's what I need."
"You know it's not your fault," he said.
"I know." The smile left her delicate face, to be replaced by a self-reprimanding grimace. Her eyes sparkled like glistening emeralds. "But everywhere I look, I'm reminded of what happened. Of what I couldn't prevent. I was powerless and unable. A Chief Medical Officer of a Star Destroyer shouldn't allow their commander to-" She stopped herself. "I was the Chief Medical Officer on watch… I can't help but see the blame or the pity in their eyes as I pass by, and I don't know which is worse."
"No one blames you."
"But I do, and I see it reflected in the crew's eyes whether they intend it or not. And they don't even know what we know." She shook her head, her voice becoming small. "The flashbacks won't stop…"
"Zahara…," Ayer said, stepping forward into the room. His eyes shone with concern.
"Time away off-ship to think and heal will do me good," Zahara said, taking in a deep breath and trying to avoid Ayer's eyes. She stood and swung the backpack over a shoulder, as Ayer stopped in front of her. She tried to prevent the tremble in her voice. "Besides the medical staff on Lothal could use the help from what I understand."
Ayer held out his armored hands, and Zahara gnawed at her bottom lip, fighting emotion. As Ayer's hands hovered before her like an offering, she shyly looked up into his eyes. There was a kindness and an understanding there in his gaze. She relented, released the tension in her shoulders, and placed her own delicate hands in his, gloved in armor.
"It's only a temporary assignment," Zahara said. Her eyes matched the sadness of her heart.
Ayer's eyes were tempted to mirror that of her own as they shined narrow. He would like to believe her, he really would… But he had seen the hooded poncho and the extra rations she had placed inside the ECM-598 Medical Backpack. Those weren't very standard as far as medical supplies went…
"Be careful down there," he began.
"I will," she said softly. Zahara motioned to move away, but Ayer held on. His grip pulsed as he gently held her hands, and his gaze knowingly held her own with a sharp spark.
"Reports show increased rebellion activity down there," he slowly insisted, his own voice hushed. "It's believed they use the sewer system underneath the city to smuggle themselves and supplies in and out of the area. Multiple access points on the street make for a cumbersome vulnerability for the local troops."
Zahara's heart quickened.
"An Imperial could find themselves walking next to an insurgent pretty easily without realizing it. Their presence is quite common on the streets… Please, be careful," he continued. His eyebrows rose as he searched her eyes. "You understand?"
"I…" Zahara exhaled a shaky breath, unsure and perhaps feeling exposed. Ayer rubbed over her hands with his thumbs, encouraging her voice. "I… haven't…" Her voice trailed off as she shifted her weight on her feet, but she willed her voice to return. "I haven't decided what to do yet," she whispered.
She looked away, ashamed to hold his gaze, but Ayer understood. They both shared a dangerous truth, and Ayer knew they were probably in more danger here among the Empire than on Lothal alongside those designated insurgents. Though that had to remain unspoken. A lot had to remain unspoken between them…
Ayer nodded and released her hands. "I'll escort you to your shuttle," he said softly. He put his helmet on per Imperial regulation and motioned toward the door. "Ma'am," he said.
Zahara stared out the doorway. "Thank you…, major," she said, glancing to him as she began to walk.
Ayer followed her to the Chimaera's hangar bay in silence. Zahara boarded a shuttle bound for the planet's surface under new orders approved by Commodore Faro to aid local Imperial medical staff. Ayer stood on the flight deck, his Stormtrooper Commander armor shining in mellow brilliance. He watched her go.
-.-.-.-
This bleeding heart
That's in my hands I fell apart
-.-
Swirlings in the Force— A call to focus—
Muffled voices…
Worried. Frustrated. Familiar…
"Careful with him." "His arm, watch his arm." "Here, hold this."
Zeb saw Thrawn's eyes flutter open as he gently twisted his arms underneath the Chiss Grand Admiral, maneuvering Thrawn's head to cradle in the hollow of his left arm, while hooking his right underneath Thrawn's thighs. Thrawn's weak gaze briefly met Zeb's own apprehensive one, but the crimson orbs heavily fluttered closed again as Zeb gently lifted him.
The Ghost's ramp lowered to reveal a bustling tarmac, and a shadowed hangar bay stood beyond at the bottom of Yavin's Great Pyramid. Zeb cradled Thrawn's unconscious form in his arms at the top of the ramp. Thrawn's bare right arm rested across his torso, and the IV lines were carefully coiled, while his left arm hung lax toward the ground. The mechanical ventilator steadily oscillated as it breathed for Thrawn, echoing its rhythmic whooshes throughout the cargo hold.
"Where are they?!" Zeb hollered. Medical personnel were supposed to meet them upon landing, but they were so far met with silence.
"They said they're on their way," Hera's voice sounded over the ship's comm. "I'll check again!"
"They should be here already," Kallus said, holding the ventilator and standing next to Zeb.
Kallus stood there exhausted, still in his stormtrooper disguise, and glanced over the tarmac with his piercing coppery eyes. Some Alliance personnel were already sending curious glances their way, spotting the figure clothed in a white Imperial uniform and tall black boots in Zeb's arms. Kallus adjusted his grip on the mechanical ventilator, and with his other hand, he reached over and touched Thrawn's fevered forehead. Zeb angled his arm that cradled Thrawn's head toward Kallus, and he saw Thrawn's brow furrow and head flinch slightly as he responded to Kallus' touch.
Zeb was nervous. Zeb was holding Thrawn… Zeb was holding a Grand Admiral of the Empire… Zeb was holding an operative of the Chiss Ascendancy…
Zeb was holding someone who's fate might affect the course of the galaxy…
"We should just go," Ezra said with a worried ache, walking up behind them. Zeb glanced back with unsure eyes to find Ezra and Kanan approaching. Thrawn's form was so lax in the Lasat's arms, lenient to every move. The fingers on Thrawn's right hand flinched with the movement, and Kanan reached for Ezra's shoulder, sensing a ripple in the Force.
Kallus groaned, frustrated. "He's right, we have to go." Kallus glanced to the back of the cargo bay. "Tell them to meet us, Hera! We're walking him over!"
-.-
A hurried sense of movement… Bounding springs through crisp air… A bird's call…
-.-
Crimson eyes fluttered open to see a flock of golden colored whisper birds soaring overhead across a towering sky, painted with clouds that stroked the vast canvas with beautiful tones of amethyst and coral. It was a sight to treasure after serving on ships for so long.
Thrawn's eyes were heavy as he glanced around. What do you see? As the whisper birds soared above, crimson eyes sluggishly focused on what appeared to be an ancient pyramid looming tall and proud. Curious… Zeb glanced down, and the Lasat's eyes widened when he caught the faded crimson orbs. Zeb said something but the sound was muffled and indistinct. Everything was becoming too bright, and focus was fleeting.
Thrawn blinked slowly toward a closing darkness and tried to reach out with his other senses. Focus… He felt the distinct rise and fall of Zeb's bounding gait as the Lasat carried him across the tarmac. Indiscernibly hushed voices echoed as they no doubt passed curious Alliance personnel. Then he felt the drift of natural air flowing across his left hand as it dangled freely toward the ground.
Thrawn tried to regain a sense of control by curling his fingers but was met with exhaustion and frustration as he found he could do no more. It was as if his arm was weighted down with the trials of a thousand suns. Feeling and sensation slowly drained away from his body, and he clinched his eyes before slowly relaxing them. Thrawn was losing his hold on consciousness. His body was betraying him again.
-.-
Echoed rumbles of engines… Sizzles of droid repair… Gasps of surprise…
"Mother of moons…" "We caught one…" "Wait… is that…?"
Strong arms carefully traded for a cushioned surface. So many voices. Arms drawn straight. Uniform tugged open. Cool breeze peppering cerulean skin.
Cold hands touching neck…
A sudden twist—CRACK—
EYES OPEN.
Thrawn's crimson eyes flashed open as he whipped up his left arm and latched onto Doctor Harter Kalonia's wrist before she could fully remove the bacta patch from his neck. Fiercely intense crimson orbs, reflecting a focused fight, found unfamiliar faces hovering above. The unexpected touch to his injured neck triggered a burst of strength as the sounds and emotions of Vader's attack flooded his senses again. Thrawn saw fear in their eyes as they were faced with a Chiss ready to fight.
Doctor Kalonia lifted her fingers away from his neck and froze as if in the gaze of a predator. Thrawn darted disoriented eyes around and found them to be inside what appeared to be a hangar, humid and dark.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" a nurse exclaimed.
Alien patterns and forms swirling in confusion—
Thrawn's shoulders heaved, and his booted feet shifted with the intent to fight as adrenaline rushed through his body, but foreign hands of the Rebellion medical team pressed down upon him. His crimson eyes narrowed with the brief intensity required of battle, and his hand pulsed around Doctor Kalonia's arm as he tried to pull it away with fleeting strength.
"Grand Admiral, you must calm yourself!" Doctor Kalonia insisted, nervously eyeing Thrawn's hand as his grip tensed even more upon her wrist.
Grand Admiral…
Thrawn tried to bring his right hand up as well but was met with a sharp pain as his wounds stretched and the IV lines tugged. He clinched his eyes closed, and suddenly became aware of the breathing tube.
"Make room!" Through heavy lids, Thrawn watched as two nurses were pushed aside to be replaced by Kallus. The former Imperial hovered low above the Chiss and met Thrawn's tiring gaze. "They're here to help you, Thrawn," Kallus firmly said. "Let them. You have to relax for them, okay?"
Thrawn's eyes pulsed as he considered Kallus, his grip hesitating. Thrawn was unsure, confused and broken. He was struggling to find a capacity to trust through his triggered instinct to fight.
A worried and clearly upset Ezra then appeared beside Kallus. It was the first time Thrawn had seen the boy since the Force-vision. Thrawn's brow pulsed, startled yet instantly relieved.
"Thrawn?" Ezra's voice sounded anxious, his eyes darting around the group. "What's going on? How is he?"
Thrawn's dimmed crimson eyes softened as he considered the boy. Thrawn made a choice. He relented and released his grip on Doctor Kalonia's wrist and slowly began to relax. Kallus grabbed for Thrawn's left arm and gently lowered it down to the cushions of the repulsor gurney. "There you go," Kallus said.
"I need to look at your neck okay?" Doctor Kalonia said with a hush. Thrawn's focus internalized and his eyes flinched narrow and pulsed to the pull of the patch over delicate cerulean skin. Her hands slightly trembled as she pulled the bacta patch away and revealed intense greenish, purple bruising and a speckled rash of dark green dots.
A hush fell over the medical team.
"Clear signs of x ninety-one," Kalonia said softly. She moved her hands to Thrawn's chest and pulled the fabric away for a closer look. "And old scarring; let's prepare a scar tissue analysis as well."
"We've been trying to dilute the mixture of skirtopanol and lotiramine," Kallus said.
Thrawn was losing focus as the adrenaline began to fade away but held on to the last vestiges of concentration as a figure clothed in white appeared overhead next to Doctor Kalonia. The medical team showed deference.
"Grand Admiral Thrawn," Mon Mothma stated regally. Her voice was smooth, and a spark of surprised recognition resonated in Thrawn's eyes. "Do you recognize who I am?"
Thrawn blinked slowly as he maintained an ever-faltering focus upon her, and those around them held their breath at the meeting of both leaders. Mon Mothma wore a tranquilly stiff expression, yet her eyes held empathy as they were centered upon those scarlet and broken. It was as if information that they alone could decipher flowed between them, a magnetic aura of equals. Thrawn found the strength to nod an affirmation.
I walk alone
Beside myself
Nowhere to—
"You are welcome here." Mon Mothma held his faltering gaze a moment longer and nodded. She then looked each medical team member in the eye. "He is to be respected. Treat him as one of our own, you understand?"
Thrawn's eyes began to close.
"Yes, ma'am. Let's go," Doctor Kalonia said. She keyed a commlink at her belt as she pushed on the repulsor gurney. "Lieutenant, prep the room and medical droids for surgery."
Mon Mothma stood beside Kallus and Ezra as they watched the medical team take Thrawn deeper into the base toward the medcenter. Ezra didn't like the looks from some of the Alliance personnel as Thrawn passed. Some looked happy at the state of a captured Imperial officer; others looked angered at the sight.
"We need to—" Ezra began, worried. He felt a pressure on his shoulder and found Kanan there.
"I'll watch over him," Kanan said, following after Thrawn.
-.-.-.-
Commodore Faro walked down the metallic halls of Lothal's Imperial Command Center. Her booted feet produced hollow clacks that reverberated around her. It was time to meet with Governor Arihnda Pryce.
A Stormtrooper opened a door for her to reveal an office, crisp with Imperial decorum.
"Commodore Faro, welcome to Lothal," Arihnda said with a flavor of disdain. She looked perturbed and highly inconvenienced. Arihnda stood in front of a window that provided a clear view of Capital City. An Imperial officer in a white tunic of the Imperial Security Bureau stood with his back to Faro, rigid in his stance.
"Thank you, Governor Pryce. A pleasure," Faro said in formality, stopping in the middle of the office. She flinched when the door closed behind her, but her only physical betrayal of the flinch was her narrowed eyes. The unknown Imperial officer turned.
Arihnda gestured. "Allow me to introduce Loyalty Officer Major Emarr Ottkreg. I don't believe you've met before?"
"I can't say I've had the honor," Faro said, her heart quickening.
"The honor is mine, Commodore. The honor is mine," Ottkreg said with a crisp smile of malice.
-.-.-.-
"Waiting between worlds that divide through a choice undefined
A break in the line where all paths intertwine
And no roads lead or progress behind
And all signs read: "Know The Way". Decide."