Chapter 7

Responses:

Nightwing2013 / Achilles453 (since you guys are both covering the same topic): I mean, I'm sorry if it breaks your immersion, but what with Cassian being from the 'galaxy far, far away' equivalent of the Iberian peninsula, I'm going to keep writing some of his dialogue in spanish. That'll probably be dialled back going forward though, since I (and most Rebelcaptain fic writers) mostly use it for him to comfort/amuse Jyn, and she isn't going to be a major player anyways.

CrystalBorf: Damn, I'm literally doing this every other chapter… Star Wars: Into The Unknown, by lothcat1138? Glad to know you like this as well though!

Guest (August 14) Well, Fest is actually a real language in the Galaxy Far, Far Away, but yeah, Cassian is a space hispanic. I've seen some stories like jbn42's The Hacker and the Veterinarian make his background Mexican, or somewhere in the Iberian peninsula. Also, you're the 20th reviewer here, thanks man!

(A/N Don't own rebels, just this collection of ideas to tide me over until the sequel is out. Trigger warning for references to suicide, but it's no stronger than POTC 1.)

"So, what do you know about the Force, anyways?" Ezra looked ahead at Thrawn questioningly, waiting for a response. They had spent the better part of a day getting out of the Destroyer, and were now making their way across the ever changing terrain. (By Ezra's internal clock at least. He stopped counting the days here hours ago.) It had been complete silence for a while, and the combination monotony/awkwardness was making Ezra fidgety. Thrawn paused for a second, then kept walking.

"I know it is some form of energy, a weapon- excuse me, a power, that the Jedi and Sith use. I encountered a Jedi, many years ago. He saved my life with it."

Ezra scoffed. "And fine choice that was." Thrawn, for his credit, was unperturbed by Ezra's remark, and merely smiled as he continued.

"Perhaps. It served him well at the time, and it served me well later on." Ezra, though thoroughly annoyed at this faceless Jedi who had gone to the trouble of saving this blue-skinned excuse for a travel companion, and thus eventually separated him from his companions, was nonetheless intrigued.

"Is he still alive, or did you turn on him like the rest of the empire did?" Thrawn was silent, considering something, then answered.

"No. That Jedi is long dead, before Palpatine instituted the Empire."

"Would you? Have turned on him, I mean." Ezra's tone no longer held a note of sarcasm, it was genuine curiosity now. Thrawn was silent again, but still answered.

"Depending on the rewards gained to the risks taken. I would have had my status as an imperial officer, my prestige as a high-success soldier, stacked against helping a traitor to my allegiance. Of course, allegiance is only what you make of it. I would have helped him, yes, if I stood to gain enough."

"And is that what all your decisions are made by? How much you gain, by wiping out a group of people trying to bring justice to the galaxy?" The sardonic tone was back, Ezra not even trying to conceal it. For his credit, Thrawn did not rise to the bait- but then it's hard to do that when the barrel of a DL-44 is rammed into your shoulder blades, Ezra supposed. He lowered the blaster, back down to his side where he had been holding it for the previous time of the journey- and in that moment Thrawn made his move. Spinning around, Thrawn clocked Ezra across the jaw, then grabbed for the blaster. Reeling, it was all Ezra could do to keep hold, as they devolved into a tug of war for the weapon. Thrawn was taller, heavier, and stronger, so Ezra reverted to his tactics from the streets, amplified by his time with Kanan - turn the enemy's strength against them. Seeing Thrawn trying another punch, Ezra stepped into his guard, then let go of the blaster, dropped low and swept his legs out from under him. But the Chiss wasn't done yet. Clutching at Ezra's shins, he pulled him down, and they began a fast, furious brawl while desperately scrabbling for the DL-44. Ezra scored a hit to the ribs and leapt backwards, grabbing the pistol as he went. Breathing heavily, he got up, and pointed it at Thrawn, who wordlessly lifted his hands behind his head and turned.

"I was waiting for you to try something like that, but not until we had actually gotten somewhere." From what Ezra could see, Thrawn's mouth was slightly curving up at the edges.

"In case you hadn't noticed, we are on an alien planet with no immediate hope of rescue, escape, or otherwise extrication from our situation. We, as far as we know, are the first humanoid species to live here for two decades, and I for one, would like to be holding our only ticket out, barring starvation."

"Well that's just sad. The great 'Grand Admiral' Thrawn, reduced to thinking of taking his own life in order to escape. You can sit here and be a defeatist if you like, but I am going to find a way off this planet." Thrawn lowered his hands, and shifted around, presumably to talk, but neither got the chance, as the darkness rolled over them, significantly changing the landscape around them - and beneath them. A yawning chasm opened up under their feet, instantly dropping the Jedi and Chiss thousands of meters down.

Ezra came too at the bottom of a rock shaft, floating in a pool of green, scummy muck. He didn't immediately move, only shifting to get out once no apparent entities made themselves known through the force- or, living entities, at least. There was a malevolent presence in the cavern, something old, and angry, and very much pissed off. Still not completely sure how he had survived the fall, or if it wasn't all a dream and he had fallen asleep in the turret of the Ghost, Ezra climbed out of the basin, his clothes drying as soon as they lost contact with the water.

"Well, that's interesting."

"That is interesting indeed, young man. Although, with the amount of time you spend down here, everything just becomes mundane." Ezra did a double take; the voice was like Thrawn's, yet there was something underlying. It was along the same lines as the presence, dark and ancient, with anger barely kept beneath the surface.

"Ah, you seem to be wondering what I am. Terribly rude of you to not say it out loud, but no matter. We'll get to know each other, after a fashion." A-ha. Ezra had pinpointed the signature; if not it's origin. Creeping down one of the side passages, Ezra came slowly closer to his quarry.

"That's it, nearly there. I wonder; what will you think of me?" As Ezra rounded a corner, he saw a familiar blue tone, muscled arms and piercing red eyes, somehow different to when they had fallen down the shaft. Then, they had screamed tactical knowledge, a font of information hidden behind a firewall of flesh, but they were distinctly not Thrawn's eyes now. There was no self-asserted gleam in the red, instead replaced by a harsh, almost cruel crimson. Indistinguishable in colour, yet miles different in feel. As Ezra entered the room, the Thrawn-like figure smiled.

"I've wanted to meet you for a very long time, Ezra Bridger."

Brief AN this time, cause I'm falling asleep at my desk writing. I swear, I'm trying to prewrite this, but I have barely any solid inspiration. From the end-of-chapter scene a while back, you probably know what's happened, but I'll explain in detail next week, if that's the chapter I do in Ezra's POV. If not, then the next time we're on Mortis. Thank you for the continued support, you guys are great, (2500 views guys, almost halfway to QfE and this is four times shorter!) and remember to

Vaya con Queso,

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