Captain Slavin knew he had made the right choice in reaching out to Grand Admiral Thrawn the moment the alien had stepped from his shuttle. He knew he had taken a gamble reaching out to the two Grand Admirals that had the greatest success in quashing resistance in their sectors. He had truly not thought that Thrawn would reply, much less offer his help.
Captain Slavin knew he had bit off more than he could chew when Grand Admiral Uriellien Viita stepped from his shuttle. When he had not heard from him and Thrawn had shown up, he had dismissed Viita from his mind. Then the man showed up unannounced, making him look like a power grabbing fool. The fact that he came was bad enough, but bringing his civilian sister along with him was wholly off putting. That he let her stand in on their conversations was downright preposterous.
Both Grand Admirals must have been playing at something, but Slavin had yet to figure out what it was. They did not act like rivals. In fact, Viita acted as if he liked Thrawn. Slavin couldn't tell if Thrawn liked anything, his manner remained so constant. But the Captain was convinced that they must have both been making a play for Ryloth for them both to be here or perhaps something else above his paygrade. But neither man gave any hint of what it could be. Which is part of what made them both Grand Admirals, Slavin assumed.
The Chiss seemed to let nothing bother him. He was preternaturally calm, taking everything that happened around him in stride, from Viita showing up and inviting himself to stay, to overseeing the skirmishes that had commenced since his arrival. He gave off the air of being supremely confident of all decisions that he made.
The half-Astarraxian's presence was wholly different from that of Thrawn. Viita exuded joviality. He told jokes, teased his men playfully, flirted with any woman in his vicinity, and graciously deferred to Thrawn in almost everything. He was quick to flare his temper, but then quick to calm down once again. Once he had calmed, he acted as if the transgression that angered him had never happened. And he treated his sister as if she were the Emperor himself.
Slavin knew which side he wanted to be on.
"His relationship with her is unnatural," Slavin said to Thrawn upon observing Viita with his sister. The two golden haired, marble skinned aliens-in-human-clothing were speaking to each other about something out of their hearing. Viita was bent slightly to be closer to her, his eyes gazing down at the lady like one would a lover. She gesticulated with her hands as she spoke, almost hitting him on several occasions, but he made no move to step back out of her reach.
"You disapprove of siblings being close?" Thrawn asked, turning his appraising gaze to the Captain.
"That isn't close," Slavin said, disgust building in his gut. "That's inappropriate." They were always touching each other when in reach—a stroke with a hand or an arm draped around the shoulders.
"I have seen nothing inappropriate about their behavior," Thrawn said mildly. "Astarraxians as a rule have a small sphere of personal space and their families are tightly knit. Grand Admiral Viita and Lady Luxsolaria have been through a great deal of travail together, which generally tends to bring people closer together, does it not?"
Slavin had trouble keeping eye contact with Thrawn as he explained. "I suppose so, sir," he groused.
While Thrawn and Viita seemed to get along fine, despite whatever power plays against each other Slavin was sure they were up to, he couldn't decide how Thrawn felt about Lady Luxsolaria. When she occasionally interjected into their military talk, he listened politely. Sometimes he challenged what she said, sometimes he agreed, sometimes he said nothing. But never did he speak to her harshly or with disrespect. Nor did he tell her to bugger off.
But then, there were other times when Slavin caught the Chiss watching her, almost suspiciously, as if he were trying to catch her in some sort of trickery. The red eyes were intense, almost glowing, as he regarded her.
Once, while the three of them were talking, with Viita having his back to her, she reached up to the holomap that was displayed in the front of the room. A portable holoprojector threw the image into the air. As if in a type of trance, paying no attention to anyone else in the room, she walked over to a section and placed a finger on an empty section of the map. It hovered there for a long moment.
Slavin saw that Thrawn had seen her, his eyes shifting from her form to the point on the map where she touched, a slight frown on his face. He thought the Grand Admiral would admonish her, but he said nothing.
"Don't touch the picture," Slavin couldn't help himself. That she was even there was inappropriate, much less touching things, even non-corporeal things. "You'll distort the map."
She snatched her hand away, holding it to her chest in a fist, and backed away. Her cheeks began to flame red, and Slavin could see the faint outline of a darker red Astarraxian swirls on her temples and jaw. "I'm sorry," she said, blinking rapidly. Her eyes darted from Thrawn to Slavin to Viita, before she turned without another word and walked out.
Viita had glared at him darkly.
But what was most insufferable was, after being present for a week, she interrupted them in the middle of the day.
"It's time for tea," she said, throwing open the door to the command building and striding in. The bright sun beamed in behind her, giving her a halo and reflecting off of her white, lace dress.
"I beg your pardon?" Slavin flustered. They had been deep in conversation about a battle plan and he was having trouble wrapping his mind around what she said. Had she actually announced afternoon tea?
"Tea is ready," she said in a sunny tone. "It is waiting for you gentleman in the tea tent."
Viita chuckled.
Slavin looked at him as if he were crazy. Maybe he was crazy. How could think this was funny? The woman was barging in like she owned the place. "We don't have time for tea!"
Lady Luxsolaria's sunny demeanor vanished. It was almost as if heat were being drawn out of him, the coldness she eminanted was that palpable. The sunshine behind her, warm a moment before, seemed to lose its golden hue to more cool white. "I have searched high and low for a tea set," she said imperiously. "I have set up a tea service. It is time for tea." Without waiting for anyone to reply, she turned and walked out of the room.
There was a moment of silence.
"Well," Viita said, clapping Thrawn on the shoulder. "Looks like tea is back on the menu." He headed toward the door.
Slavin looked to Thrawn for some sort of indication as to what to do. Surely they weren't going to tea. That was utterly ridiculous.
But Thrawn did not even regard him. He put his hands behind his back and began to walk with his typical long stride toward the door. Slavin was rooted in place for a moment, disbelief making his brain empty. He then scurried to catch up with the Grand Admirals.
As he approached, Viita draped his arm around his shoulders and put his weight on him menacingly. He leaned down so he was closer to the shorter man's ear, and said with over joviality, "If you want to get back on her good side, I would suggest complimenting her on the poetry selection."
Turning his face slowly to meet Viita's gaze, he craned his head back and swallowed hard. The Grand Admiral was right in his face. Anxiety crept up his torso. "Poetry?"
"Oh yes!" Viita released him and Slavin almost stumbled. "I am sure it will be a full Imperial tea service if she's prepared it."
And it was.
She had erected a small tent to shade the participants, with a table and chairs inside. Several other officers were already present and stood when they saw them approaching. The table was set with trays of cucubit sandwiches and an ornate porcelain china teapot in the middle of it all. Each chair had a matching lunch plate, teacup, and saucer with a folded napkin.
Slavin hadn't had tea like this since he was at the Academy, learning to have an officer's tea. This one differed in that Lady Luxsolaria poured the first cup for everyone, shining that sunny smile of hers, and then sat away from the table with a datapad in her lap. Viita was looking at her expectantly, and the other officers followed his lead.
She took a deep breath and then read:
When with the skin you do acknowledge drought,
The dry in the voice, the lightness of feet, the fine
Flake of the heat at every level line;
When with the hand you learn to touch without
Surprise the spine for the leaf, the prickled petal,
The stone scorched in the shine, and the wood brittle;
Then where the pipe drips and the fronds sprout
And the foot-square forest of clover blooms in sand,
You will lean and watch, but never touch with your hand.
Her voice was melodious, almost hypnotic as she read. Slavin could imagine it soothing someone to sleep at night. He glanced around the table to see Viita staring at her adoringly, leaning in her direction as if that would make him be able to hear her better. Thrawn was regarding her with that almost-glare of his, his face neutral.
"That isn't one of yours," Viita said when she finished.
She tsked. "I'm not so rude as to read my own poetry at tea," she said quietly. "But I thought this one was appropriate for where we are."
"Was the poet speaking of Ryloth?" Thrawn asked.
"I don't know," she replied with raised eyebrows. "I don't know anything about this particular poet. But they knew about the scorched stones and fine flake of heat of the desert." She smiled.
"Indeed," Thrawn replied. He watched her for a moment, the two of them locking eyes, and then turned to his tea.
The conversation after that was stilted at first, but Viita began asking personal questions of the other officers present, "Are you married? Do you have children? What ages are they?" He easily drew out details of those present that might otherwise never have come to light, as the cucubit sandwiches were eaten and the teapot drained.
Slavin had to admit, it was a good cup of tea.
They had tea daily after that, always at the same time, and while Slavin would have rathered they didn't, other officers seemed to look forward to the respite from the day. He noticed Lady Luxsolaria was rather popular with the men and women of the camp. He couldn't imagine why. Surely his people weren't that desperate to hear poetry read to them.
A/N: the poem presented here is "Desert" by Josephine Miles, 1934
