Belladonna

by Rose Eclipse

A "Casablanca" one-shot. Loyalty Officer Sinjir Rath Velus investigates a conflict in the marriage of Grand Admiral Thrawn.

Prelude - Past

It was dawn on Corusant.

The Emperor watched the first few shards of yellow light creep up and over the horizon, driving away the last wisps of a nighttime sky. The morning aura cascaded over the city, causing millions of sparkling lights to flare up as the citizens of his world woke up to go about another day. He leaned back in his throne, eyes glittering with satisfaction as a smile creased over his wrinkled face.

It was late morning on Tatooine.

Luke Skywalker adjusted his goggles and with a deep intake of air, tilted the nose of the dustcropper downward. It lurched into the canyon, sending a tickle of delight into his stomach until he steadied the tiny ship into a smooth pace. He let out a yelp of joy as the hot dry wind ruffled through his hair and whistled in his ears. For a few precious moments, he savored the rush of freedom and let all worries fall behind him.

It was nearly dusk on Yavin Four.

A shiny blue beetle skittered over Ezra Bridger's fingers. The tingling sensation caused his fist to curl up for a moment but then he let the beetle scatter away. Slowly rising to his feet, he let his fingers wrap around the handle of his lightsaber. He ignited the blade and began the motions of Form Three, allowing the green blade to slice effortlessly through the air. Worries and concerns lingered in the back of his mind but he accepted that he could not alter them at the moment. For now, there was the earth of Yavin Four, the lightsaber in his hand, and the Force all around him. He continued onward with his training.

It was afternoon on Alderaan.

The droid slipped a final pearl-encrusted pin into Princess Leia's hair. Her neck ached from sitting in one place for so long and when she stood up, she felt the bones in her neck make tiny snapping sounds in relief. She studied the young woman's reflection in the mirror and saw a pretty picture of pink-and-white silk and pearls starring back at her. But the somber expression was more fitting for a funeral than the celebration taking place in the downstairs ballroom. Leia hastily replaced her expression with a sweet smile. When the facade was satisfactory enough to fool even herself, she picked up her gloves and headed downstairs to join the waiting guests.

It was night on Naboo.

Beneath a starlit sky, all of the citizens were sleeping peacefully (save for some colicky babies and their parents). The air held the fragrance of autumn leaves and freshly-cut grass. A fresh wind stirred the surface of the lakes and rivers, including the Kalliko River that ran at the foot of a grand mansion. The master of the house and his wife both lay asleep in their bedroom.

The wife's head was resting upon the pillow, supported in the crook of her husband's arm. Another arm was wrapped around her waist with his hand resting protectively upon the curve of her left breast. Their bare bodies were pressed so tightly together that not even a strand of hair could come between them. Despite the lack of clothing, they were comfortably warm with the luxurious bedding beneath and around them that kept out the lightest brush of chilled air.

Nothing moved. Nobody stirred. Silence continued to endure one hour after another until two tiny flickers of blue light came from a small communicator resting on the bedside table. Then the lights flickered out and the room was pitch-black again.

But the master of the house had sensed it and now his eyes were wide open. He unwound himself from around his wife and reached for the communicator. The soft buzzing sound rippled through the room yet made no more of a sound than an insect on the wall. He brought the device to his lips and spoke a few words quietly so as not to disturb his wife.

"Of course. At once, Grand Moff."

He pushed the sheets back and placed his feet upon the carpeted floor. He crossed the room and stepped into the walk-in closet where his uniform was already freshly-prepared for tomorrow. Even in darkness, he was able to remove it from its peg on the wall and dress himself without a stumble or hesitation.

When he returned to the master bedroom, a single lamp glowing with warm yellow light next to the bed. His wife was already propped up on one elbow and rubbing her eyes with confusion. "What's going on?" she murmured sleepily.

Her husband's profile came into vision when he approached the bed. His voice hovered above her as he said, "I have been summoned back to the fleet. A Mid-Rim skirmish requires my attention."

He wife took a moment to look her husband up and down. His creased white uniform gleamed beneath the light as did the ranking marks beneath his collar.

"Now?" she asked. There was a hint of disappointment in her voice.

She felt the mattress sink beneath her as he knelt back onto the bed. "Now. It will not take more than three or four rotations and I will contact you when this is over."

His chin tilted down until she could meet his gaze and see his glowing eyes. "You should go back to sleep."

She murmured something but then felt his finger on her lips. "Shhh," he whispered. "Sleep."

His finger only slipped away from her mouth long enough for his lips to press against hers. There was firmness in his kiss; it was not a timid or fleeting gesture. It was a soldier's vow that he would return victorious to claim what was rightfully his.

Too exhausted to do anything else and aware that there was nothing she could do, his wife fell back against the pillows and closed her eyes.

A hand cupped the side of her face, holding her there and feeling the warmth of her breath on his wrist. Their contact lingered for a few seconds and then he withdrew his hand and left the room.

When she awoke to a bright and dew-shined morning, he was gone.

A-A-A

"The Belladonna flower holds the symbols ancient magical lore, bewitching and beguiling meanings, with the powers of inducing attraction and mystical lure." –Universe of Symbolism website

"Amaryllis belladonna is named after the Greek beauty, Amaryllis, and bella donna, which means 'beautiful lady' in Italian. Botanically belladonna also means poisonous. –Calcallas website, meaning of Belladonna flower

A-A-A

Present

The Galactic Empire consisted of billions of beings, each one a tiny yet useful cog in the architecture designed by Sheev Palpatine. They had their duties, obligations, and assignments to carry out as his compliant subjects. If they did not live up to the expectations of the Emperor or his subordinates, well, then one cog could easily be replaced with another. It wouldn't be worth a second thought to dismiss an officer who outlived his usefulness.

Sinjir Rath Velus of the Imperial Security Bureau had no concerns about being replaced.

Nevertheless, he felt a twitch of concern when he had been requested-no, commanded to appear before Grand Admiral Thrawn. The shuttlecraft delivering Sinjir to the Chimera had a brief uneventful flight through space which allowed him time to scrutinize his reflection in the scrubbed metallic walls. A lithe tanned man with dark sideburns and a roguish smirk in the corner of his mouth starred back. He willed himself to smooth the resisting muscle away until the firm facade of an Imperial officer glared back at him.

He hastily ran the last six months of productivity through his mind. No, there was nothing he could think of that would send up a red warning flag. On the contrary, Commodore Piper had complimented Sinjir on weakening a Mid-Rim smuggling ring. Aside from his ability to consume six or seven glasses of rum at a time, there was no reason for Sinjir to be accused of anything less than an ideally-functioning Imperial officer.

So why did he feel sweat start to bead on his lip? Sinjir swiped a gloved hand over his mouth to erase the trace of visual concern. There was no need for him to be worried. Perhaps the grand admiral needed to speak to him about bureaucracy or space routes.

Yet there was no beating around the bush. This was the extraordinary Chiss that had sent for Sinjir. He had read the reports of Thrawn's military victories before being summoned and was impressed with the alien's tactics.

Four stormtroopers were waiting when Sinjir descended from the shuttle. "Office Rath Velus to see Grand Admiral Thrawn," he informed them.

One masked soldier shifted the weight of his gun enough to extend a hand to Sinjir. "Credentials," ordered the stormtrooper.

"Of course." Sinjir plucked the data-card from his pocket and handed it to the stormtrooper. He remained stoic as his security details were examined.

Sinjir himself had been considered a potential stormtrooper for all of five minutes. "Too dangerous and too smart," his mentor had described him, before his destiny had lead Sinjir to the I.S.B. There was no need to waste witty remarks on the stormtroopers and after the credentials were approved, he allowed himself to be boxed in on all sides as the stormtroopers escorted him into the Chimera.

The security droid outside Thrawn's quarters accepted Sinjir's code cylinder and after his credentials were approved, it wheeled aside so that he could enter the office.

Four seconds later, Sinjir found himself standing in an art gallery.

His feet were frozen in place, his eyes distracted by the swirls and patterns, the ever-changing cascades of color from the holograms of artwork that hovered around the room. It was an illusion of beauty in stark contrast to the monochrome tones of the walls. He managed to tear his gaze away from a painting of a four-horned crimson beast to a figure that had risen from behind the desk.

Reports of the Chiss' description did not exaggerate. His frame and features were humanoid but the glowing red eyes marked him as the prodigy of a unique and elusive species. The white uniform he wore looked cool and dignified against his pale blue skin. His silver collar markings and gold shoulder bars reminded Sinjir he was in the presence of an elite officer. He stood dumbstruck as the alien nodded his head to Sinjir. His blue-black hair shimmered beneath the lights.

"Officer Rath Velus," Thrawn finally spoke. His velvety-smooth voice rippled in Sinjir's ears. "I thank you for coming. Be seated."

Sinjir respectfully nodded his head to Thrawn and then made himself as comfortable as he could in one of the high-backed chairs.

Thrawn gestured to the hologram that Sinjir had been admiring. "Are you familiar with the Lomar beast?"

"No. But I saw one of them in a menagerie as a boy," Sinjir admitted.

"I see." Thrawn sat back down behind his desk. He typed in several digits on his computer and the holograms vanished. "I am sure you are wondering why I have requested your presence here aboard the Chimera. Before I proceed, I must insist that you hold this meeting to the highest standard of discretion."

"Of course," said Sinjir. "I am familiar with confidentiality." He could feel bristles of energy running up and down his arms. But whether it was in fear, or anticipation, he could not say.

"How is your mission progressing against Black Sun?"

Sinjir's shoulders squared back with pride. "We're making excellent headway with them. Troops are preparing to strike at one of their central compounds this week."

"I see." Thrawn leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers together. "Would your team be able to spare you or is your presence there mandatory?"

He watched Sinjir frown briefly in confusion before his features smoothed out. "My duties are usually behind the scenes, Grand Admiral. I have already extracted the information we require from Black Sun so it is likely I will not play an active role in the strike operation. Why do you ask?"

"I have a matter that I want you to personally attend to."

Intrigued by Thrawn's words, Sinjir leaned forward in his chair. "Which is?"

Thrawn pressed a button on his key pad and a new hologram rose up from the table. It was not the image of a tapestry or a mosaic, but that of a person. A Twi'lek, Sinjir recognized, by the twin headtails trailing down her back. Due to the grainy quality of the hologram, Sinjir could not derive any further details except that she was a young woman with a confident smile and elegant figure.

"This is my wife, Tamar Ily'an," Thrawn explained. "I would like you to go to Naboo to get acquainted with her."

Sinjir's body snapped with attention from the news. No doubt Thrawn could see how bewildered he was. Sinjir was accustomed to breaking fingers and making grown men piss in their pants. Being assigned to visit a lovely planet and watch over a lovely woman was not part of his daily obligations.

Sinjir continued to study the hologram of Tamar before he slowly said, "I was not aware that you were married."

"The reception was a private affair."

"Ah," Sinjir said with a nod. "Am I to presume that the nature of my visit to your wife is to be a discreet one?"

"Merely a social one," Thrawn explained. "My duties in the navy limit time spent on Naboo but I would like Tamar to transition gradually into the circles of Core society. If you could spare a few days to befriend my wife and offer her useful advice on Imperial protocol, you will have my gratitude."

"Well," Sinjir paused to clear his throat. "I'm sure Commodore Piper would permit my absence if it came with your approval. But if I may be so bold as to inquire about the true nature of this operation..." he allowed his voice to trail off.

Thrawn waved a hand through the air in a gesture of regal confidence. "Of course Officer Rath Velus. You may speak your mind freely."

Sinjir straightened up in his chair. "Do you wish me to investigate if your wife is guilty of infidelity?" No sooner had the words left his lips then he regretted them. How dare Sinjir make a crass comment about the wife of an elite officer! Thrawn would be insulted from the accusation.

Much to his surprise, Thrawn merely shook his head. "No, I am confident that Tamar is loyal to me. But as I said before, it must be difficult for her to adjust while I am preoccupied with hunting down the Empire's enemies. Your presence would lifts her spirits while I am away."

Sinjir continued to frown in puzzlement.

"I hope this assignment will not be a demeaning task for a man of your caliber," Thrawn remarked.

"Not at all," Sinjir said quickly. "I'm honored to have been selected for it."

"Yet you seem uncertain."

Sinjir's shoulders tightened slightly. It was not Imperial protocol to question one's superior offices. Yet he found himself speaking cautiously before Thrawn.

"I am merely curious why you chose me from Commodore Piper's squad."

"Your impeccable record, your usefulness to the I.S.B, and your mannerisms all impressed me," said Thrawn. He placed his hands upon the desk and rose back to his feet. "As soon as you have permission from Commodore Piper, I will have a shuttle prepared to take you to Naboo."

All Sinjir could do was nod in agreement. A bizarre request, to say the least, but who was he to question a grand admiral? If Thrawn requested his assistance then Sinjir was obligated to provide. Besides, a few rotations spent beneath Naboo's beautiful sky would hardly be considered an insufferable mission.

So he let those little fizzling questions slip away and got to his feet, testifying to Thrawn that he would secure permission as soon as possible and then do everything possible to befriend the grand admiral's wife.

A-A-A

Naboo

Tamar placed the data card back on her desk and picked up her cup of kaff. A long savoring sip from the porcelain mug caused Tamar to close her eyes and sigh contently. It was a delicious concoction harvested from some of the best Core farms and topped with a dollop of frothed milk. After drinking half a cup, she turned back to her work and continued to enter the data Thrawn had requested.

"At least 23 mining moons provide jade for artistic and ornamental purposes but the most valuable quality can only be obtained beneath the oceans of Tressla," Tamar wrote. "Known as 'dream jade', its luster and remarkable smoothness is known to have a soothing effect when one holds it. Indeed, Tressla dream jade is much sought after by galactic collectors.

"Dream jade is identified by its deep green color flecked with silver. Contemporary scientists are able to dye inferior pieces to resemble 'dream jade' so it is recommended to have a geologist test the stone to confirm its authenticity. The Jedi knights used dream jade as effective meditation stones in their temple during practices of-"

The stream of words flowing from Tamar's fingertips into the computer was interrupted by oncoming thoughts. She stopped working and shifted her eyes aside, thoughts from the past sweeping towards the surface of her conscience.

Nostalgia seldom could distract Tamar but her lips instantly perked up when she remembered herself as a spitfire teenager who fell meek in the presence of a Jedi master. His voice had been firm and commanding when she observed him leading the clone troopers but it became warm and gracious when he had spoken to her.

But Master Mace Windu was dead and this reality swept through her like a cloud covering the sun. Even if he could be resurrected and stand before Tamar as a figure of flesh and blood, would he admit the errors of his people? Did Jedi ever have regrets or did they justify their deeds for the benefit of the galaxy?

"Meelady?"

Tamar's meditation was interrupted by her handmaiden. She blinked away her wistfulness and looked up at the door. "Yes, Shelli?" she asked.

The tall pink Gungan stood before Tamar's desk with a box in her wiry arms. "Theesa just came for you."

"Thank you, Shelli. I'll try them on in the lounge."

During her research, Tamar had uncovered recorded speeches of the late Senator Amidala and admired the woman's green-and-gold overcoat. She requested a copy of the coat tailored to her own measurements. The designer had been so pleased with his customer's purchase that he had sent Tamar half a dozen other outfits copied in Padme's style in the hopes that Tamar would place further orders with him.

Now with Shelli's help and suggestions to adjust a hem or alter a sleeve, Tamar had gone through other clothes with mild interest. The latest outfit had been tried on and worn with discomforting results. She stood in front of the mirror and frowned slightly. Compared to the green overcoat, this one was downright scandalous.

The "outfit" consisted of two overlapped purpled tops that were cropped just the top of the ribcage, sending a plunging exposure of flesh down all the way to the hips. A tiny purple skirt with the front half cut away was included along with a pair of such rigid tights that Tamar wondered if Amidala's circulation was ever cut off from wearing them.

"Perhaps she was entertaining someone on an intimate level?" Tamar thought. She turned sideways and studied her reflection in the mirror before running her hands down her hips. It was impossible to consider if the senator ever wore this outfit in public, especially to give speeches to fellow diplomats.

Shelli had been gushing in approval to Tamar until she saw her mistress' wrinkled brow. "Notta likee?" asked Shelli.

Tamar shook her head. "I can't wear this out in public. It leaves nothing to the imagination."

"On the contrary. It leaves a great deal to the imagination."

She whirled on heel to see Sinjir in the doorway. Tamar felt herself flush from the presence of an Imperial officer while she was wearing those ridiculous purple pants. She hastily snatched up her morning robe and threw it over her shoulders. The newcomer had the courtesy to look away until she secured the robe closed. Then he turned his head back to her with a slightly amused expression on his face.

"My apologies, Lady Ily'an. I did not mean to startle you or intrude upon your privacy," he said. "Permit me to make a proper introduction. I am Loyalty Officers Sinjir Rath Velus, at your service."

He rotated his arm twice in the air and bowed at the waist to Tamar. Standing straight up again, they scrutinized one another in silence contemplation.

Tamar was accustomed to the eyes of strangers who looked at her as if she was an item for their pleasure or a silly empty-headed alien. Yet Officer Rath Velus did not assess her in a similar ogling manner but in the way of one intrigued.

He was handsome for a human, she decided. The sideburns were just a tad longer than regulations permitted and he sported tanned skin the color of rich cream poured into kaff. A beak of a nose was centered between shrewd playful eyes. Tamar felt her mouth instinctively form into a smile from at Rath Velus' introduction. He clearly had a sense of humor and seemed to run with it, rather than squelch it down.

"I'm sorry for staring," he said. "But your hologram could not fully capture the extent of your beauty."

"My hologram?" Tamar asked.

"Grand Admiral Thrawn was benevolent in permitting me to see it. I have come on his behalf to inquire if you are well and require anything while he is away."

"I am well," she assured him. "And I thank you for the compliment."

Tamar turned to Shelli. "Please bring a fresh pot of wintermint tea and some refreshments for our guest."

"Yes, meelady." Shelli bowed and left the room, leaving Tamar alone with the officer.

"If I may, my lady." Sinjir gestured to the piles of clothing that lay on the sofa. Tamar shrugged her shoulders. She watched Sinjir sift through the clothes making small murmuring sounds.

"Interesting," he muttered. "Original designs?"

"Inspired by Senator Amidala," she told him.

"No wonder you're having trouble with the wardrobe," Sinjir concluded. He clicked his tongue with disapproval. "Amidala was a politician so it is only logical that her styles will have to be altered for the wife of a military strategist. And her physic was a petite human woman so your tailor-droid will have to made alterations for your figure and proportions."

Tamar found herself smiling in spite of herself. "I'm impressed, Officer Rath Velus. You're the first office I've met who has an eye for fashion. Is it mandatory education in your career?"

"Watching lifestyles is a hobby of mine," he explained. "Ah, this should be more to your liking."

Sinjir drew out a red velvet tunic from the stack of clothes. "Worn with a versatile pair of black trousers, it could be a functional outfit for small intimate meetings or during space travel."

Tamar accepted his advice with grace. Shelli returned with a tea tray and soon Tamar was pouring Sinjir his second cup of fragrant spiced tea while he sampled the sandwiches and cakes, complimenting her yet again on Tamar's success as a hostess. For nearly half an hour they made polite small talk until Tamar posed a question.

"So my husband requested you come to Naboo to offer fashion advice?"

Sinjir delicately replaced his cup back in its saucer. "I have my own intentions for paying a social call, Lady Ily'an," he replied in a more grave tone.

A-A-A

"What is this?" Tamar demanded. She had strode into the bedroom, a data-chip clutched tightly between her fingers. Thrawn looked up from the book he was reading to observe his wife standing before him.

Her eyes flashed as she said, "If this is your idea of a joke then it isn't an amusing one."

"It is no joke," her husband assured her in his usual cool fluid tone. "You told me of your encounter with Master Mace Windu when you were a child. Surely you understand the privileges of being able to listen to some of his colleagues' final transmissions."

Tamar had to restrain herself from slamming the accusing chip onto the table before her. "Hutts," she spat out between her lips. "The Jedi gained space routes during the Clone Wars by working with the Hutts. Those crime lords that have been buying up my people across the galaxy for their amusement are the same ones who collaborated with the Jedi."

She swiped her hands downward. "And you expect me to consider it a privilege to learn something so vile?"

"I expect you to accept the facts as they are," Thrawn replied calmly. She watched him rise from his chair and walk around the table. "You've spoken warmly of Master Windu in the past. Perhaps this inclusion of history will allow you to realize that he and the other Jedi were not the righteous warriors you judged them to be."

Tamar felt a slow thick surge of anger stir through her veins, now distraught with Thrawn as she was of the horrendous news about the Jedi's deeds. "You make me ill," she muttered at last.

One of Thrawn's brows arched up ever-so-slightly. "My presence can hardly cause you physical distress," he said. Thrawn reached out with one hand, resting it upon his wife's shoulder. Tamar flinched but held her ground.

"Don't be frightened," he soothed her. The fingers tightly slightly on her shoulder and she felt the movement in his arm, pulling her towards him.

The razor's edge of fear that had been welling up within Tamar tipped over into anger. Her palm lashed through the air, eager to strike at his face. But the Chiss was prepared for an attack and easily caught Tamar by the wrist before she could slap him. His fingers gripped around her wrist.

Tamar jerked back and forth in an attempt to break his hold. "Let me go!" she snapped.

"I will release you when you admit that your opinions have clouded your judgement."

Tamar only struggled harder, aware that Thrawn's calmness was winning over her own petty frustrations. But in this moment her emotions were her only weapons and she refused to forsake them.

"I will not apologize for how I feel!" she shouted in his face.

"Then you should learn to be more be more patient." A smile brushed over his lips; the hint of an adversary who has gained the upper hand. But then he released Tamar's hand and she held it to her chest as if it was wounded.

Thrawn strode over to the wardrobe and began to remove several articles of clothing. Tamar watched him meticulously fold them up into neat piles upon the bed. "What are you doing?" she asked with a frown.

"Removing myself from the bedchamber. My presence should not distresses you to the point of madness. I will sleep in the east wing of this house until your temper has receded," Thrawn announced. He lowered his head and added wryly, "Or until you ask for me."

The cheek of the man! Could he be any more arrogant as to presume that Tamar would make such a humbling request? She should have been relieved that he wasn't going to humiliate her further. Yet why did she suspect that he was continuing to succeed in this feud?

"What makes you think I will come back to you begging on my knees?" she demanded.

"Only time will tell, my wife. One of us will be right and one of us will be wrong."

A-A-A

That had been several weeks ago. Thrawn continued to spend his nights in the east wing and while he could have easily overrun the security codes and forced his way back into the bedroom, he made no attempt to do so. Nor did he attempt to make even the slightest gesture of intimacy between himself and his wife.

Yet he remained unfailingly polite to Tamar. Every morning Thrawn inquired if she had slept well the night before, he thanked her for preparing excellent kaff at breakfast, and even gone out of the way to purchase two expensive glass sculptures that she had been admiring on the holo-net.

The arrangement frustrated Tamar. She thought she would have been relieved not to share Thrawn's bed anymore but now realized that their physical intimacy was one of the few things she had come to accept, even anticipate, in her alliance with him. And with that void now widening further every day, she realized he had strategically cut Tamar off from her personal satisfaction. She didn't know how long a Chiss could endure in this lifestyle but to Tamar, it was a vexing ache that pestered her like an itch she couldn't scratch.

There was a greater threat looming beneath the surface. Tamar realized that if her husband continued to be displeased with her, he might focus his interests elsewhere. The Rebel Alliance could suffer greater losses and civilians could become easy targets if he continued to exercise his authority and cruelty over others.

No, Tamar would not allow anyone else to endure consequences for her rashness. She would have to find a way back into Thrawn's good graces.

"I hope you will forgive me for asking but it is with the best of intentions," Sinjir said politely. "I correct in presuming that you and the grand admiral are in some sort of conflict?"

"We had a fight," Tamar said at last.

"Ah." Sinjir placed his cup on the table and leaned back against the cushions. He studied Tamar for a moment and then suddenly jerked forward, as if hit with a surge of energy, he snapped his fingers.

"Lady Ily'an," Sinjir said as he got to his feet. "I would be honored if you would allow me to take on the assignment of restoring your relationship with the grand admiral."

"Assignment?" she repeated.

He nodded with confidence. "You are too charming and pretty to waste your days away in neglect and he is too valuable as an Imperial officer to hold onto petty grudges. If you will but put your trust into my hands, I will do everything possible to rekindle the romance between you two."

She gave a wry smile. Thrawn hadn't exactly wooed her with romance to convince Tamar to accept him, yet she knew better than to refuse Sinjir's offer.

"Anything you can do to help would be appreciated," she told him.

"Hmmm…" Sinjir rubbed his chin with a thumb and index finger while he paced the floor. "Are you fond of the opera?"

"I adore it."

"Wonderful! This will be easier than anticipated," he assured her. "The comedy Chaos Over Canterwall will be performing in ten rotations time at the Omega Conservatory and afterwards, there will be a small formal reception honoring some of the navy's finest officers. I'm sure the grand admiral will agree to take you to the opera and his presence will be anticipated at the following reception."

Tamar shifted to one side on the cushions. "And you think this reception will be a good opportunity for us both?"

"Indeed I do, Lady Ily'an. Just imagine yourself on his arm, entering a jeweled ballroom, surrounded by dozens of fresh admirers. If a small slice of jealousy doesn't inspire Thrawn to take affirmative action, then at least his eyes will be open to realize what a charming elegant wife he has."

He watched Tamar's limbs straighten attentively. "All right," she said. "But before we start, I have a favor to ask."

"Your wish is my command, Lady Ily'an," declared Sinjir. "What is your favor?"

"Please call me 'Tamar'."

Surprised at her request and relieved that he not stand on ceremony, Sinjir agreed at once.

The afternoon passed by quickly as the tailor's latest outfits were packed up and sent back to the store. Sinjir drew up new fashion plates, advising Tamar on contemporary styles that would be expect with the Omega group. He also offered helpful hints on classic Core dances and she agreed to practice diligently in her spare time.

They were so engrossed in their work that neither of them sensed Thrawn's presence, as he had lingered quietly in the doorway for a few moments. Fortunately, Sinjir called out to him and they both stood up.

"Grand Admiral," he beamed at Thrawn. "I've been having the most wonderful time being entertained by your wife this afternoon. Did you know she brews a superb cup of tea?"

"Of course," Thrawn said. He strode into the room and nodded to his wife, who curtseyed to him politely.

Sinjir cleared his throat and spoke quickly. "Commander Sloane's promotion will be recognized after the performance of Chaos Over Canterway. I hope you and Lady Ily'an will be attending the reception. Colonel Yularen and I cannot be the only ones providing stimulating conversation for the evening."

"I would like to see the opera very much," Tamar put in.

Much to their relief, Thrawn politely accepted both of their requests. Then he gestured to the tapes and data chips on the table before them. "I presume a new wardrobe will be necessary for my wife's debut in society?"

"A Corusant-inspired gown would make an ideal impression," Sinjir suggested politely. "With new gloves, shoes, a cape, jewelry…"

"All of them?" Tamar intervened. Her wardrobe was already filled with gowns provided by Thrawn's generous coffers.

"All of them," Thrawn agreed aloud. "You know the account contacts, Tamar. Purchase whatever Officer Rath Velus thinks is necessary for you to acquire for the reception."

"I understand. Thank you." Tamar offered Sinjir to stay for dinner but he respectfully declined, assuring Tamar that he would call upon her again to make sure she had everything she required for the upcoming event. With a bow to the lady and a salute to the grand admiral, he departed from their home in high spirits.

After Sinjir had left Thrawn asked his wife, "You approve of Officer Rath Velus?"

"I think he's delightful," she admitted. "His personality must make him indispensable to the I.S.B."

"It isn't his personality that makes Rath Velus indispensable," Thrawn remarked. "It is his results."

Something about his monotone remark caused the ends of Tamar's lekku twitch warily. "What do you mean?"

"He is a loyalty officer, Tamar. It is his duty to confirm the allegiance of the Empire's subjects or expose what loyalty is lacking….using whatever means he deems necessary."

She staggered back slightly, a hand resting upon the sofa's arm for support. "An interrogator?" she asked softly.

"Yes. But rest assured, Sinjir's interest in our future is a genuine one. He gains nothing by making fools of us but likely earns commendation if the evening is a success."

Tamar tried to process this newest piece of information and was more disappointed than afraid. Sinjir had been charming, a breathe of fresh air in her life. But to think behind that roguish smile was a man fully-capable of intimidating anyone, as immaculate as any officer in the Empire was expected to be…

Well, there was no backing out now. She had accepted Sinjir's help and would have to go through with it. Thrawn was right: the reception had to be a success. Tamar could not afford to disgrace herself in front of her husband, the loyalty officer, and a crowd of Imperial guests. She would make herself delightful as possible at the reception.

"It is a lovely evening," she said at last.

"Yes," Thrawn agreed, not taking his eyes off his data-pad.

Tamar gestured to the outdoors. "Would you care to join me in a stroll across the promenade before dinner?"

His red eyes opened wider and now he looked up from his work. "My apologies, wife. But I have a great deal of data to oversee this evening. Have the droid prepare whatever you want." Thrawn gave her a brief nod and added, "I bid you goodnight."

Tamar watched him stroll off and into the east wing.

She sighed and sank back onto the couch. All across the galaxy smugglers were shipping stolen goods, slaves were hacking stones, miners were sweating, and insurgents were rebelling and shooting at stormtroopers.

Tamar sat enclosed in satin and velvet upon the gem of the Mid-World.

"It doesn't mean I have to sit here wallowing in self-pity," Tamar chided herself. Spurned by her own rebuke, she changed into work clothes and spent the rest of the day working in her garden.

A-A-A

Ten rotations later:

Tamar sat in front of her night-table making preparations for her debut. For this evening she discarded the usual line of black kohl around her eyes and instead, followed Sinjir's advice to use a popular silver-colored cosmetic. She had applied this carefully to her eyelids and painted three small dots outside the corners of each eye.

She faced her reflection in the mirror and shook her head with irony. Even since a child she had envisioned the day she would rub shoulders with the galaxy's elite. Now Tamar realized Aunt Bina's warning from childhood had come true: "Be careful what you wish for, dear."

Despite the posture and breathing tones, Tamar's stomach fluttered with concern. She had confidence in her abilities to carry herself off with all the dignity of an ideal guest but the facts remained that she was an alien, a commoner from the Outer Rim, and someone who had dabbled in manual labor to earn money instead of inherit it. Those were three barbs that people could use against her. Who knew what other petty little tricks they had up their sleeves?

She would not allow them to humiliate herself or her husband. The cascading folds of her green dress would be battle armor and her smile and words would become weapons to fend off the snide remarks of the Empire's most arrogant residents.

What would Aunt Bina say if she could see Tamar now? Would she be ashamed of her niece for groveling before the Empire? Or would she understand that it was necessary to swallow one's pride in a time of war?

She envisioned Aunt Bina tapping Tamar on her shoulder and whispering the right words into her ear. "Have courage, my dear," she would say. "Hold your head high and maintain dignity, always dignity."

The door slid open and Thrawn swiftly stepped into the room. Tamar had been so distracted with her thoughts that she dropped the bottle she was holding. It landed back on the table with a sharp clack.

"Forgive me for startling you," Thrawn said. He drew closer to Tamar and picked up the blue glass bottle, then handed it to her.

"No need," she told him. "I'm just a bit nervous." She accepted the bottle from him and lightly dabbed perfume around her neck.

"Is there anything I can do to restore your confidence?"

She looked up at him with a small smile. "Standing by your side will be all the confidence I require."

Tamar continued to finish dressing while her husband stood behind her in silent observation. She smoothed out the front of her flowing emerald-tinted dress, wishing that the side slits had only run up to her knees instead of all the way to her thighs. But Sinjir said that was the style nowadays and so the slits remained. It was either that or have a dress with no back at all and Tamar wouldn't run the risk of shivering her way through the evening.

She removed several bangles from her jewel case and clasped them around her wrists. The final touch rested with four heavy glittering necklaces on the table, waiting for Tamar's selection. Thrawn had spared no expense for his wife's accessories and each necklace would have suited a queen.

The gemstones were indeed valuable but Tamar thought they had been fitted into gaudy pieces meant to dazzle and impress onlookers rather than enhance the person wearing them. None of the necklaces had the simplicity or elegance she preferred.

Her gaze went from one necklace to another, unable to decide which was the least distasteful. "Which one?" Tamar finally asked him.

"None of them."

She opened her mouth to question his answer but Thrawn had removed a narrow black case from his pocket. He opened it up for Tamar to see the contents inside. Two slim silver chains lay inside, one slightly longer than the other. In the center of each one was a small white round gem that seemed to glow from within, rather than sparkle from outside light. Starring at the two white gems, Tamar instantly felt a sense of calmness come over her.

She looked back up at Thrawn. "Are those kyber crystals?" she asked quietly.

"They are."

It was not be the first time Tamar had seen a kyber crystal nor wore one around her neck. Once she had concealed the gem relinquished from Kanan Jarrus within her locket, determined not to reveal it to any outsiders. But would it be sacrilegious, even a desecration, to flaunt an entity of the Force out in the public like this?

Now Thrawn had removed the silver strands and they shimmered between his fingers like a swirl of midnight snow. Then he bent low until Tamar could feel his cool steady breath on the back of her neck and then he carefully drew the necklace around her throat. His fingers carefully fastened the clasps at the back of her neck. Tamar starred back at her reflection and the soft touch of those white gems that rested gently against the top of her chest.

He was still right behind her. It would be too easy for him to touch or her kiss her but Thrawn made no further intimate contact and had put the necklace on her with the detachment of a doctor.

"Tamar?"

She swallowed to clear her throat. "Yes, Mith'raw'nurodo?" His birth name rumbled and rolled around in the back of her throat.

"I must ask you not to reveal the identity of that necklace to the public. These kyber crystals are too small to be of any use to the Empire but informing others of their origin may inspire feelings of resentment."

To his request, all his wife could do was nod with resolution and murmur, "Of course."

A-A-A

The operatic comedy Chaos Over Canterwall was delightful with many witty remarks, tumbles, and falls that caused the audience to all laugh at once. Tamar joined in the amusement and also grew warm with laughter while Thrawn observed with his usual silent intrigue.

The plot was a classic one: a woman of society runs away and disguises herself as a pirate, only to realize that her growing attraction to the enemy pirate king is the ideal suitor that she once refused. After many rounds of slapstick including two teenagers dressed as Wookies and a malfunctioning droid that would break out into random songs, the heroine relinquishes her scandalous ways and accepts the hand of her true love in the end.

Tamar could have sworn the same play was show on the Holo-net during the Clone War, only with a few lines rewritten to satisfy current social demands. She applauded loudly and joined the audience in a standing ovation when the play ended. Thrawn had bought his wife a beautiful floor-length cloak lined with silver fur and no doubt many admiring eyes were watching Tamar as her husband helped her into the cloak and escorted her out of the opera house.

The outside air was frigid with a biting sensation that nipped the tips of Tamar's lekku but she was more than comfortable, nestled deep within the folds of her cloak. A brief journey across town in a light-speeder brought them to the reception hall where dozens of stormtroopers stood poised at the entrance doors, willing and ready to arrest anyone who was not invited to the event.

Tamar relinquished her cloak with reluctance yet was soothed by the warm fragrant air around them. She took several moments to admire the watercolor paintings on the wall, the silvery chanticleers overhead, and the rainbow-tinted spheres that hovered around them to complete a breathtaking scenery.

"Tamar." The sound of her husband calling her name drew Tamar back to the present. He offered her his elbow and she laced her gloved arm through his. Together they walked in evenly-paced footsteps to the doors that led out to the main ballroom. Tamar could see throngs of guests within and hear them chattering to each other above the sounds of glass clinking and drinks being poured.

A black-and-red protocol droid stood at the door to announce the new guests' names as they entered the room.

"Senator Trenkin and Lord Bal Hien," it announced in a perfectly-modulated voice. Tamar watched the senator and her companion stride in the ballroom and become swallowed up by the crowd. The droid continued to proclaim names as the line before them shrank down.

"Her Imperial Highness Princess Cassina of Brau."

"Duchess Keiko the Third and Commander Trawl dah-Weyn."

Tamar barely had a moment to peek a glance up at Thrawn but his head was turned towards the crowd, his profile noble and confident before—

"Grand Admiral Thrawn and Lady Tamar Ily'an!" the droid declared.

"Courage my dear," Tamar reminded herself.

Drawing back her shoulders and straightening her spine with self-assurance, she walked forward with Thrawn, past the droid and towards the center of the room. The chatter around them continued, though somewhat softer than before as guests stopped to stare at the aliens who had appeared. She stole a glance downwards to see the kyber crystals in her necklace were glittering as finely as the collars and pendants of other guests. The folds of her green dressed swayed around her legs as she moved, careful to take small steps in her high-heeled shoes.

Thrawn released his arm from Tamar's own long enough to bow to the host, Viceroy Thoras. Remembering her cue, Tamar draped the end of her shawl over her left shoulder and curtsied deeply to the viceroy's wife.

"Grand Admiral Thrawn," the Viceroy drawled. He was a big whiskered man adorned with many medals that beamed brightly as his smile. "My wife and I thank you for coming to our little gathering."

Thrawn straightened up and said, "We are honored with your invitation". His head turned every-so-slightly to Tamar, red eyes glowing with attention.

She knew her cue and immediately knelt further before the hostess. "Your excellency," she murmured with lowered eyes. "I have the honor of being the grand admiral's wife, Tamar Ily'an."

"Rise, my dear." Tamar did so and came face-to-face with the plump elderly lady in pink satin. She extended a hand to Tamar, who accepted it. "So nice to meet you at last. My my, so you're the catch of our grand admiral. He has good taste. What a pretty little thing you are!"

"Agreed, Cassandra," said the Viceroy. "Thrawn's wife must be the prettiest woman in the room—next to your delightful self, of course," he added mischievously.

His wife chuckled, shoulders shaking with amusement. "Oh Remus, how you do go on!" She waved a hand to her guests, indication that they could proceed.

Tamar removed the end of her shawl from around her shoulder and wrapped her arm around Thrawn's again. He steered her directly towards a circle of guests. "That wasn't so bad," she thought. Tamar could have done without being called a "catch" or "pretty little thing" but there were far worse things she had been called before.

"At last!" Sinjir called, waving his hand to them both. "I was beginning to worry if traffic had held you up. Lady Ily'an, I understand that you know Colonel Yularen of the I.S.B." Tamar did indeed and exchanged pleasantries with the colonel.

"So you're the infamous Lady Ily'an," said a tall slim woman in green lace. She had appeared right between the officers by cutting in smoothly and now she gave Tamar a thinly-veiled smirk. "Rumors are that you worked in some form of entertainment before meeting the grand admiral."

Tamar met her face with a cool gaze. "Yes I did," she stated simply.

"A dancer? One of those infamous Twi'lek performers from the Outer Rim?" the woman persisted.

"No, you shrivel-brained twit," Tamar thought. Aloud she merely stated, "I ran an evening club for Imperial officers on Iolanthe."

"Ran it, you say?" The woman lifted her gold lorgnette to her eyes as she examined Tamar further. "That must have been exhausting for you to manage. Is that were you did your dancing?"

A pity the woman wasn't a few feet closer or Tamar would have loved to show the woman the back of her hand. Instead she smiled sweetly and answered, "As the full-time manager of the club, I left the dancing to other people. Though I did sing on stage from time to time."

"How interesting. And why aren't you still in show business?" the woman demanded.

Tamar drew in some air through her nostrils to quell the tremble of indignation simmering within her chest. Sensing Thrawn's presence by her side, she gestured airily to him.

"Because the grand admiral made me an irresistible offer," Tamar explained. This caused polite laughter among the other guests. The woman frowned but said nothing. Tamar granted herself a small sigh of relief.

Yularen stopped chuckling and smoothed down the ends of his white moustache. "I see that Major Vulak is here," he said as he gestured to another officer in the room. To Tamar he said, "Would you mind if I borrowed your husband for a while? I'm sure Vulak could benefit from some of Thrawn's strategic advice."

"Of course," she said politely. Tamar and Thrawn exchanged nods and then she watched him follow Yularen to the circle where Vulak was standing.

The tall slim woman sauntered off, leaving Tamar standing alone with Sinjir.

"I should have foreseen this," he muttered under his breath. "Once Vulak meets the grand admiral, he'll be asked to meet every other person in the room. I should have planned better."

"You have done all that you could," Tamar assured him. "And I'm glad to see at least one friend here tonight."

Sinjir gave her a half-smile. "You look stunning. I'm glad you took advice regarding the side-slits. I know you're accustomed to other styles but you pull this one off well."

"Thank you, Sinjir."

His eyes brightened up. "Time for a new strategy. We'll just have to veer Thrawn's attention back to you." He offered a hand to Tamar. "Lady Ily'an, may I have the honor of this dance?"

"I thought you'd never ask," she said. Tamar let Sinjir guide her to the dance floor and soon they were making their way through the other couples in time to the classic Core waltz. Tamar performed through the steps adequately though kept sneaking glances over her shoulder at Thrawn. He was still in a tight circle surrounded by other officers asking for military advice and suggestions. Never once did he look up in her direction.

If Sinjir could detect disappointment on her face, he had the courtesy not to mention it aloud. They continued to skim and swirl around their partners in time to the one-two-three-one-two-three counts of the music. No sooner did the dance end then Yularen approached them and asked Tamar for the next dance. She agreed eagerly and then found herself accepting Yularen's request to follow-up with a third dance with a blushing twenty-two year old captain who was well-connected but required some social grace.

The captain was a shy stammering youth with a smattering of freckles on his pale nose and the lump in his throat kept going up and down when he held Tamar against him. She felt sorry for the boy and overlooked any slightly stumbles they encountered, putting on her most patient expression for him.

By the time the third dance ended, the soles of Tamar's feet ached. She was eager to rest quietly and refresh herself for a few minutes. An empty chair appeared in reach and Tamar smiled, taking a step towards it. But before she could move further, she was blocked in her path by a shock of red hair.

"Please excuse—" she began. Tamar was cut off when the officer strode up to her and clamped a muscular arm around her waist. She was unceremoniously hugged against his chest and pushed backwards, away from the chair and back onto the dance floor.

"Pardon me but we haven't been introduced yet," she pointed out.

The robust man gave her a wide grin. "You are right," he breathed in her face. She grimaced as a wave of alcoholic fumes hit her in the face.

"I am General Brendol Hux," he announced. "So nice to meet Thrawn's other half. You are even more ravishing in the flesh."

Tamar frowned as his grip on her right hand tightened. Hux swung her around in a circle, bloodshot eyes roaming all over her body, taking special attention to her breasts and legs. Tamar's stomach clenched up in disgust. She had met people like Hux before but had Hogarth her bodyguard to drive them off or could just walk away and into the safety of her club.

But now she had to endure being pushed and pressed against Hux's heaving body. Tamar found herself speaking urgently, "I implore you, General Hux. My husband will—"

"—be occupied for the rest of the evening," he interrupted her again. Hux gestured with his chin over to Thrawn's circle. The Chiss' back was turned to them.

"It must be difficult for you, having a husband who is away so much of the time. All those lonely days to yourself while he's out there in space," Hux lamented sarcastically. His head suddenly leaned into Tamar's zone and she swiftly turned her head aside before he could attempt to press his mouth onto hers.

To her relief, Hux did not do so. But he did put his mouth to her ear and she could smell further wine and brandy that hung around him like toxic fumes.

"I could soothe that loneliness," Hux murmured against her neck. "I know what women like. I know what a woman like you wants. I could make you happy."

Tamar's jaws clenched together for a moment before she shot back, "You don't know anything about me."

"I know one thing about you: you're ripe for picking."

The hand on her waist instantly slipped to Tamar's backside, squeezing the flesh. She gasped in horror, fear hastily transforming into sickness and shame from Hux's crude gesture. He only grinned at her with lustful confidence. A dagger of anger plunged through Tamar's thoughts and she instinctively lifted up her shoe and gave him a swift sharp kick in the shins. But Tamar's high-heels were delicate shoes while the general wore thick army boots. It had no more effect on Hux than the fluttering wings of a fly.

"You're vivacious!" he added with a snicker.

Everyone around her was unware of Tamar's humiliation and she knew exposing herself would only cause trouble. Yet she could not resist glaring at Hux through narrowed eyes.

"I do not accept offers from drunkards who cannot keep their hands to themselves," she hissed at him. "Or officers who forget they are in the presence of a lady."

The insult sent a ripple of shock across Hux's face. Disbelief boiled up into fury as his face turned as red as his hair. "It seems the lady needs to be taught a lesson," he growled. His fingers pressed into Tamar's wrist before Hux twisted it around painfully.

A scream rose up in Tamar's throat that she could barely keep down by biting on her lower lip. Thick tears of shame swelled up in her eyes and she tried to force them down, knowing all too well they would spring up in a matter of seconds much to Hux's pleasure.

"General Hux?"

Tamar's "partner" eased up his grip on her hand at the sound of his name. The distraction was all that was necessary and Tamar's hand was abruptly pulled out of Hux's reach by the newcomer. She felt her body being pulled gently away from Hux and she allowed it to be, finding herself turning around in a half-circle and then landing safely in Thrawn's arms.

Never had she been this relieved to see the Chiss. "Perfect timing," she murmured.

He said nothing but tilted his chin so their faces could meet. Tamar met his gaze though it took some valor to look directly into his glowing red eyes. Perhaps the Chiss' ancestors deliberately adapted or bred to poses those eyes that would intimidate their enemies.

Before Tamar could think of something else to say, his arm was around her shoulders and he was guided her into the next dance.

The six-step was slightly trickier than the Core waltz and Tamar had to use all of her attention on her footwork to make sure she didn't make an error. It was one-two-three-turn-and-waltz-four-five-six-backwards-now. She did lose a step out of place and her knee collided with Thrawn's leg but he said nothing and they smoothed their steps out and into the next form.

If anyone noticed the minor error then they made no comment of it. Tamar was aware of the audience's attention, no doubt a mixture of pleasure and jealousy from observing the high-rank aliens among them. At least Hux was sulking off to drown himself in another glass. She snatched a glance at Sinjir who smiled and waved at her from across the ballroom.

When the dance was over, Tamar was guided to a plush sofa and sank happily into the folds of the cushions. While her feet recovered, Thrawn retrieved several glasses from a serving droid and brought her a fluted glass filled with bubbles and shimmering pink liquid.

Tamar took one long well-deserved gulp of the champagne and would have polished it off in another swallow had she not reminded herself of a lady's duties. Exercising restraint, she sipped daintily at the glass and watched Thrawn also sample the contents of his glass.

"A satisfying year on Dentor, don't you think?" she asked him.

"Except this isn't Dentor champagne," Thrawn responded. "I suspect it was purchased elsewhere and treated to achieve the color and texture desired."

She smiled and shook her head. Only Thrawn could be so perceptive about a mere glass of refreshment. "Would you care for another?" he offered her.

"Please." The serving droid was summoned and fresh drinks appeared in their hands. Tamar had barely started on her second glass when Colonel Yularen, Sinjir, and several other guests approached them. With reluctance, Tamar rose from her relaxed seat.

"I've been looking forward to you meeting one of our rising stars," Yularen informed her. "Lady Ily'an, allow me to introduce you to Commander Rae Sloane. Now leader of the star destroyer Vitality."

The commander surprised Tamar by thrusting out a gloved hand. Recalling one of Sinjir's helpful tips, Tamar smoothly transferred her glass from the right hand to the left so she could properly shake the woman's hand. Sloane was a tall athletic-looking woman with rich brown skin, liquid dark eyes, and glossy black hair pulled back to the nape of her neck. Flowing curls cascaded down her back with restrained beauty.

Unlike other female guests clad in sensual gowns and extravagant ornaments, Sloane wore a naval uniform tunic with black trousers and polished boots. Her only accessory was a white cloak that fastened at her shoulders with two silver clasps and fell to her ankles. Though her wardrobe lacked color and attention, Sloane held herself with such poise and self-assurance that Tamar suspected the commander could easily subdue anyone else in the room.

"An honor, commander," she said at last. Sloane released her hand from Tamar's and slipped it behind her back.

"Lady Ily'an," Sloane stated. She scanned Tamar's face with intrigue. "Do you recall a Lieutenant Racoo on Iolanthe? A bit stout, a scar on his chin?"

Tamar thought quickly and then brightened up. "Why yes, I do. He and his friends visited several years ago."

"Racoo went to the Jewel Garden to celebrate a friend's birthday. He told me that he had an enjoyable evening at your club," said Sloane. She spoke with cool yet polite approval.

"I'm glad it met his standards. Forgive me if I do not recall all customers but did you honor us with a visit as well to the club?"

"I don't have time for such pleasantries," Sloane stated as-a-matter-of-fact.

Tamar decided to leave the discussion at that and allowed Yularen to steer the conversation towards Sloane's successful military campaign in the Mygeeto sector. From what stories he told, Tamar could see that Sloane was a great admirer of Thrawn's accomplishments. Like the Chiss, she did not waste time chasing half-baked theories or wrestling with petty quarrels. Sloane had a direct focused mind fixation on the ambition of defeating the Empire's greatest threats.

"You'll certainly get another promotion in a few months," Sinjir encouraged Sloane.

"One does not 'get' promotions. One earns them," she insisted. Noticing the Twi'lek smile over her glass, she eyed Tamar. "Have I said something to amuse you?"

"Not at all, Commander. On the contrary, we're of like minds," Tamar assured her. "Nothing worth doing is ever gained by mediocre methods. A person must constantly be honing his or her skills like a muscle exercised if they are to build up their success."

Sloane did not smile directly but her large dark eyes were bright with animation. "Well said, Lady Ily'an."

"Here, here," Sinjir chimed in. He grinned approvingly at Tamar.

"Excuse me, sir." One of the serving droids tapped Thrawn on the shoulder. When he turned around it said, "Prime Minister Ashray requests your presence in the foyer." He gestured to a figure in a red sash standing several paces away.

"Tell him I will be there promptly," Thrawn commanded the droid. It bobbed its shiny head to him and walked off. "Tamar," he said, offering her to take his glass of champagne. She found herself standing in her tracks holding the glasses and watching her husband yet again leave her to the mercy of the other guests.

Tamar felt a small part of herself deflate inside and tried not to sigh with exasperation. Surely by now she should have expected Thrawn to be preoccupied with everyone else but having held her head high all evening again posing as the ideal wife of a military officer, tolerating every dance and then Hux's crude gestures, she was exhausted from the façade.

She couldn't wait to return to her home on Naboo and soak in the tub for a full hour.

"Lady Ily'an?"

She broke out of her melancholy thoughts at the sound of her name being called.

"Yes?"

"I was discussing the situation on Ryloth with Colonel Yularen," Sloane put in. "Dreadful business. I hope you haven't suffered because of the conflict."

"Not at all, Commander. It is after all 'business' when a foreign army comes to your planet, enslaves your people, invades their homes, and refuses to let them leave on their own accord."

Tamar managed to reply coolly, "I was fortunate enough to leave Ryloth years ago, Commander. I put that part of my heritage behind me."

"Then you have no say on the current situation of your fellow Twi'leks?" Sloane's words were spoken with genuine interest.

"I'm not adapt with military matters," Tamar said diplomatically. She stole a quick glance at Sinjir who let out a small sigh of relief.

"Perhaps if the people of Ryloth were able to select another leader in place of Cham Syndulla then a truce could be forged between them and the Empire," Yularen suggested. "He's a courageous leader, I'll give him that. But what served him well in the Clone Wars is only causing more strife in the current conflict. If he continues to take drastic measures, the local militia will have to double its efforts on the entire population."

"That's because he has a daughter who can fly circles around all of your Star Destroyers and they'd both rather give their lives than call a 'truce' with anyone who uses Ryloth like a pretty bauble to claim."

"It shouldn't come to that," Sloane cut in fiercely. She smoothed out the front of her tunic and went on in a calmer tone, "People should not have to be coerced into complying with the Empire out of fear or rage. They should agree because it is the right thing to do: restoring order to a chaotic universe."

"Tell that to Mirah and Ephriam Bridger. Oh wait, they're dead. I would recommend discussing the matter with their son unless the mere sight of a Jedi makes you hysterical."

Tamar must have been clenching her teeth by now or griping the handle of the glass too tight because Sinjir swiftly shifted the discussion.

"It is a pity that your schedules don't allow them much time for entertainment. Perhaps Lady Ily'an could give us a review on the evening's opera?" he suggested.

She relaxed her shoulders and took a brief sip of champagne. "I'd be glad too."

Thrawn had not yet given the Prime Minister his full advice on how to draw out a potential spy when he heard the brittle sound of a glass shattering upon the marbled floor. Tamar was already sinking to her knees when he broke out into a run, a flash of blue-and-white amidst the other guests, and was by her side in a matter of seconds. She lay twisted up on the floor, hands wrapped around her waist. A thin trickle of foam skimmed to her lips and her face was distorted with agony.

"My stomach..." she whispered weakly.

"Fetch a doctor!" Thrawn shouted, his voice thundering over the audience. "My wife has been poisoned."

A-A-A

Onyx Central Hospital

Doctor Palori was nearly twenty nine but forever looked like eighteen. It didn't help that she still retained some of her baby fat in her cheeks and was petite by human standards. The hours were grueling and patients whined and complained every minute.

But you received an adequate salary as an Imperial medical officer with a compensation package on the side. So Dr. Palori shut her mouth and let her patients rant away until she finally punctured them with the proper injections and prescribed painkillers.

But she was unprepared when the alien officer burst through the doors, carrying yet another alien swathed in green silk in his arms. The word "poisoned" had no sooner reached her ears then Dr. Palori snapped to attention and summoned her best medical droids. The Twi'lek was placed upon a stretcher and an oral mask secured over her mouth, drawing the toxins out of her body.

Nor had she overlooked the blue-skinned man who had brought her in (a Pantoran with an eye condition?) and sported several rows of insignia plaques on his uniform. The presence of a high-ranking officer, and an alien one at that, would have thrown off many medics. But Dr. Palori was in her mode and able to discard all other worries and questions, focusing directly on the matter at hand.

She asked Thrawn a stream of questions such as his wife's health background,allergic reactions, and if she had experienced similar conditions by being exposed to off-world environments. He answered her questions calmly and professionally without any sense of panic that might have naturally seized anyone about to lose a spouse.

After twenty minutes of observations and two injections later, the medical droid responded to Dr. Polari. She turned to Thrawn with a brow smoothing out.

"Your wife's condition is stable at the moment, Grand Admiral. She consumed only a minuscule amount of the toxin. A larger dose would have killed her instantly. Twi'lek stomachs also poses a slightly more durable lining of muscle than other humanoid species so the odds of her recovering are likely."

"Have you been able to identify this toxin?" asked Thrawn.

Rather than reply in the negative Dr. Palori said, "My team and I are working on it now."

Thrawn said, "I will be conducting an examination of the evening's event with Colonel Yularen of the I.S.B. Have all information forwarded to us promptly." He handed the physician a card that she accepted at once.

"I cannot stress enough the importance of your success, Dr. Palori. My wife's life is in your hands."

The red eyes flickered at her and only now did Dr. Palori allow herself a tiny gulp of worry. She did not say that she would do her best or that she was sympathetic with the elegant woman who lay unconscious on the medical bed. No, she would wisely keep her lips sealed and do as the grand admiral said.

Dr. Polari nodded in agreement.

Thrawn stood over his wife's bed for a moment longer, only to remove a silvery cloak that had been resting on his arm and to cover the woman's lower body with it. Then he departed silently from the room.

A-A-A

I.S.B. branch, downtown district

"I'm glad you're here," Yularen told Sinjir. "Another pair of keen eyes will help."

"Anything to find the culprit who did this," Sinjir agreed. His expression was no longer playful or lighthearted. His brows were knit together as he and Yularen examined the screen replaying everything the cameras had captured.

Sinjir would make sure whoever hurt Tamar would rue this night.

The doors parted and Thrawn stepped into the room. "Any progress?" he asked both officers. Yularen shook his head.

Sinjir pressed a hand to his chin in thought. "What I don't understand is the motive. Why would someone want to murder Tamar? What gain is to be had?" He glanced aside at Thrawn. "Do you now if she had any enemies?"

"None," said the Chiss. "Although several women may express minor resentment from Tamar's fortunes, none of them showed any valid interest in harming her. One man may have been slighted by his actions."

"Brendol Hux never thinks properly when he's in his cups," Yularen grumbled.

"Perhaps I could persuade him to mend his ways when this is over," suggested Sinjir.

He watched the screen silently until Yularen noticed something. "Look here," he gestured to his colleagues. They followed his index finger that was pointing to Tamar's figure on the screen.

"That footage was right before Commander Sloane arrived. You don't think…" Sinjir glanced at Thrawn.

"I doubt Commander Sloane is capable of this malicious act," Thrawn. "Nor would she attempt to do so the presence of Colonel Yulren or myself."

"Even to throw off her own suspicions?" Sinjir frowned.

Thrawn turned his head to Sinjir. "As you said, Officer Rath Velus. Where is the motive?" he inquired curiously.

Sinjir was speechless. Thrawn asked Colonel Yularen to expand the visual display so that the screen could zoom in on the individuals. They watched the entire episode play out and then rewinding it, observed yet again.

"Tamar drank a full glass of champagne with no consequences so the poison had to arrive in the second glass," Yularen concluded. He said to Sinjir, "I want a team of data-extractors to round up every serving droid from the evening and run a full-scale diagnostics exam."

Sinjir nodded in agreement. He sat down at a monitor screen on the other size of the room and sent out the series of commands.

"Look here," Thrawn told Yularen. It was his turn to point to the magnified screen. "Tamar did indeed have a reaction from a second glass. But observe her hands and see which one is holding the poison."

Yularen rewound the footage several seconds and his eyebrows arched up. "By stars," he murmured. "They switched hands!"

Sinjir looked up from his work to see Yularen rewind the footage yet again. "Now I see it," the colonel murmured. "Tamar receives her second glass and takes a sip without any harm. It switches to her left hand when she greets Commander Sloane. But the drink that causes her a toxic reaction is now being held…."

"….in her right hand," Thrawn concluded. His eyes lifted from the screen to face Yularen. "That is because I gave her my glass to hold when I was asked to speak with the prime minister."

"Your glass?" Sinjir blurted out from across the room.

"Yes, Officer Rath Velus," he murmured softly. "The poison was not intended for Tamar."

"It was intended for you," Yularen concluded.

Chilled silence filled the room. Then Sinjir fell back into his seat and gasped aloud. "Stars and comets," he muttered. "That changes everything, doesn't it?"

"Indeed it does. Because Tamar took one accidental sip from my glass, a series of new potential events have unfolded. She saved my life while exposing a plot I had yet to be aware of. But this time we have multiple suspects," Thrawn said. "As you both know I have many enemies."

"Unfortunately yes." Yularen rubbed his jawline. "Any ideas where to start?"

Thrawn keyed in some codes on the consul. Within seconds he was patched into Onyx Hospital. "Dr. Palori, any updates on the toxin?"

"Yes, grand admiral," the young doctor's voice chimed in. "I was about to contact you. My research team found a specialized concoction of several different plants and we're pinpointing the origin of each one."

"Is it safe to say that this toxin is not a recognized one on the market?" Yularen demanded.

"Indeed, sir. I suspect the murderer cooked up this tricky mess so that it couldn't be traced easily."

"Hmm." Yularen smoothed over his mustache with his fingers. "Dr. Palori, do you know which plant takes up a majority of the toxin?"

"Proportion? Let me see." There was a shuffling noise as Dr. Palori scrambled with her notes. "The lab results claim that strong amounts of malgur root were distilled and ground up into the toxin to make it faster to digest."

"And malgur root is commonly found where?" Sinjir inquired. He was sure Thrawn was watching him as he drew in a breath, bracing himself for Dr. Palori to release the answer that would surely help the Imperial officers to find the despicable culprit.

"Onderon."

A-A-A

Two hours later, I.S.B. interrogation chamber

A standard officer with an interrogation droid could have been summoned to handle the prisoner. But Yularen and Thrawn both permitted Sinjir to take over the case and he was now vivid with rage and guilt: rage over the man's botched assassination and guilt over his own actions.

"If only I hadn't encouraged them to attend the party," he thought to himself grimly. Though Dr. Polari assured them that Tamar's health was stable thanks to several injections of an antidote, Sinjir still blamed himself for what had transpired. Any anger towards himself was multiplied further towards the prime suspect awaiting punishment nearby.

A Sith would have been proud of how zealously Sinjir summoned forth his fury, driving back all thoughts of doubts and summoning the steely reserve that he was renowned for.

Now he walked into the interrogation chamber with a square leather box tucked under his pocket. He barely gave the prisoner a glance as he proceeded to set the case down upon a steel table.

"The droid told us everything," he said calmly. "Or better yet, his memory banks did. I give you credit for wiping everything on his hard drive but in your haste, you must not have realized that an unexpected disruption causes their memory banks to send out an alert to other similar droids in the same line of work.

"So though you did reprogram that droid to deliver the poisoned glass to the admiral, other droids were picking up on any suspicious behavior and downloading it into their own data banks. From the bits and pieces we extracted, your face came up on visual screens."

Only now did he lift his head up so that he could make eye contact with the prisoner. The would-be-assassin might have appeared impressive in his black flight-suit and utility belt but now strapped and sweating beneath the harsh light, he was slowly breaking down.

It was all part of the routine: give the suspects the right environment and their own fear and paranoia will do the work for you.

Sinjir gave the man a cool steady smile. "Congratulations, Aeris Rallyn. Thanks to your efforts, the grand admiral remains alive while his wife's own life hangs in the balance."

He watched a bead of sweat trickle down Rallyn's forehead and land in his eye. The prisoner flinched from the sting of salt.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out. "I didn't know she'd drink from it!"

"Intentions are not what matters to the I.S.B., Mr. Rallyn," Sinjir remarked. "Results do. As I am now prepared to demonstrate with my results from what I am certain will be a worthwhile extraction."

The prisoner's eyelids flickered nervously as Sinjir proceeded to unroll the case. Inside were no less than a dozen metallic needles that glinted beneath the lights.

"I presume you don't know about the finer details of the I.S.B. so permit me to educate you on a subject I am quite familiar with," Sinjir went on. "There are over three hundred sensitive points on the human body that can trigger pain. Such 'pain' can be described in various ways ranging from slight discomfort to suicidal agony."

He picked up one needle and walked over to the chair that had Rallyn strapped in place. Sinjir held the needle up to the light, allowing the tip to flicker and dance before him. Rallyn was unable to restrain himself any longer and started thrashing against his bindings, only to have Sinjir put his face before him.

Sinjir's eyes were staring into him with a cool crystal gaze. "Where shall we start?" asked the loyalty officer.

A-A-A

20 minutes later:

"Saw Gerrera," Sinjir concluded. He had just come out of the interrogation room where Rallyn had been reduced to a vomiting weeping mess of a human being.

"One of his renegades met Rallyn in a cantina and he was persuaded into the mission to end your life. Gerrera provided him with access codes to enter the reception posed as a laborer and the recipe for the toxin." He wiped his hands on a cloth and tucked his bag of needles beneath one arm.

"I had my suspicions," said Thrawn. "But now with Rallyn's confession, it can be confirmed. Thank you, Officer Rath Velus. You've been of great help this evening."

Sinjir's eyebrows arched down and his lips pursed up. "It's the least I can do."

"Colonel Yularen should be notified immediately," Thrawn commanded. He turned around and walked down the corridor but Sinjir blocked his path several steps away.

"That's it?" he demanded.

Thrawn eyed him curiously. "What else is there required?"

"What else is—" Sinjir closed his eyes for a moment, fingers in the air. "What I just did in there was as much for Tamar as it was for your own life, Grand Admiral."

"And for that you have my gratitude," the Chiss assured him.

"What about Tamar's gratitude?" Sinjir vented. Goodness knows if he should be speaking out of turn to a superior officer but at this hour of the night and without enough liquid refreshment, Sinjir was feverish with emotions. He would hold his tongue no longer.

"I have fulfilled your request to befriend your wife and encouraged her in every way to please you. Tamar has carried herself exceedingly well, I might add, despite Hux's advances. She is sincere in her efforts to regain your affections."

If the Chiss's ruby-red stare was unnerving Sinjir, he had the courage to deflect it. Now he was nearly shouting at Thrawn as he said, "I am advising you as one Imperial officer to another not to waste any further time on this truce!" He pointed out the window. "Can you not understand that your wife needs you right now? Is it not your duty as a husband to be by her side in her greatest hour of need?"

Thrawn was silent for several moments before speaking. "You have grown attached to Tamar, haven't you?" he asked softly.

Sinjir threw up his hands. "Not like that!" he insisted.

"Yes," agreed Thrawn. "Not like that."

Sinjir's hands dropped and his mouth fell open when he realizes the foolishness of his words. "He knows," he realized to himself.

Of course he knew. How could Sinjir think that he could hide anything from Thrawn, the Emperor's warrior, who could assess and analyze anyone in the galaxy?

"It is precisely because of 'that' for which I asked you to befriend Tamar," Thrawn insisted pointedly. "And now that your mission is over, I release you from your duties."

He took a step forward but Sinjir blocked his path yet again. "Have me demoted by Commodore Piper if you will," Sinjir dared to say. "But I must insist that you go to Tamar now."

"That is precisely what I am doing."

"You are? But—but the hospital is that way!" Sinjir gestured behind Thrawn.

The Chiss nodded in agreement. "Under Dr. Palori's approval, I had Tamar transferred to a private suite in the city. She will be able to recover in quiet comfort there."

"Oh."

Sinjir hastily stepped aside so that Thrawn could proceed. Only now did he slid his eyes away from Thrawn and wonder if this is what the prisoner felt like after Sinjir broke him: like a silly stupid fool ready to be squashed by a smarter man.

Thrawn surely had every good reason to put Sinjir in his place, if not lower. Much to Sinjir's bewildered he said, "We are both in the service of the Empire. Having you demoted will not serve Commodore Piper or Emperor Palpatine. I trust that you will continue to serve to the best of your abilities?"

Sinjir licked his lips and nodded meekly. He watched Thrawn walk off with his hands clasped behind his back and his footsteps smooth as a protocol droid. He looked like a man on a pleasant stroll through a garden, not a husband attending to an ill wife.

But who could know what thoughts whirled around inside that brilliant mind? Sinjir prided himself on being clever but he knew that he would be no match for Thrawn.

Not that Thrawn saw him as a rival. No, he had bigger game to hunt.

Sinjir should count his blessings. He had his status secured and nothing on his record to disgrace it. Tamar would surely recover in time. As for her and Thrawn, well, Sinjir had done all that he could. It was in their hands now.

"Or the hands of the Force as the Jedi would have put it," he thought to himself with a grim smile.

But Sinjir was exhausted from small talk, torture, mysteries, and duty. He left the I.S.B. building and hastily made his way to the nearest bar. Within the hour he had a bottle in one hand and a glass in the other. The hot sweet rush of alcohol was racing down his throat and heating his nerves until a pleasant hazy stupor came over Sinjir.

He still had the Empire: that was his biggest blessing yet. Sinjir counted it off every night as he pulled off his uniform boots. The Empire didn't need Sinjir but he needed the Empire like he needed oxygen to breathe. It was his savior and sanctuary, his focal sense in a chaotic life. Without its order and precision Sinjir knew exactly what he'd be: a wasted drunkard with a nasty secret that would get him pounded in the dust of the universe.

He picked up the bottle and looked at it. Well, he'd be a drunkard tonight. Commodore Piper would surely call in the morning with new orders.

Sinjir put the bottle to his lips and tilted his head back.

A-A-A

A private suite had indeed been procured for Tamar and now she was tucked in between the sheets, being watched over by a medical and a serving droid.

"Dr. Polari has distilled an antidote to the toxin that is drawing all hazardous substances out of her body," explained the medical droid. "However the side effects include a minor fever and hallucinations. Dr. Polari assures us that the side effects will wear off in one or two rotations."

"Thank you," Thrawn said. "I will oversee my wife's care. You are both dismissed for the evening."

The droids nodded their heads and shuffled out of the room.

Thrawn picked up a tray of medical supplies that had been resting on a table and brought it to the nightstand. He set it down and sat on the edge of the bed. Then he turned on one of the lamps to better see Tamar's face.

She was lying flat on her back and mumbling to herself, shifting around uncomfortably. Though her natural coloring was restored, small dots of perspiration had broken out on her skin.

Thrawn dipped a cloth into a bowl of cool water, wrung it out, and pressed it to Tamar's forehead. She fretted and tossed her head back and forth. Then her eyelids flickered up and down several times. She tried to say something but it came out in a weak croak.

"Shhh," he soothed her.

Tamar's eyes closed again but only for a moment before they flared open. She suddenly bolted up in bed, eyes now open and glistening with fever as they starred at Thrawn. Tamar reached out and seized his jacket between her fists.

"Where is Aunt Bina?" she cried out with a sob. "I want my Aunt Bina!"

For a moment Thrawn was silent. Then he gently said, "She is at the market".

Tamar's glassy eyes remained frozen wide open from his answer. "Oh," she finally said in a small voice. "Of course she is. She always takes her time."

Tamar's lekku trembled as a shiver ran through her. "Mithrawn…" Tamar moaned. Her head wobbled forward and fell heavily against his shoulder. "Wh-what did you do to my body?"

"You are unwell," he murmured against her head. Thrawn shifted his chest slightly until Tamar's head rested against his chest. He brought the palm of his hand to her back, sliding up and down in a soothing gesture. She moaned in relief and he altered the pressure, fingertips lightly kneading along the edges of her spine.

Thrawn continued the motion for several minutes until Tamar's breathing began to steady itself, her slim shivering body curled up and finding safety in his own body's heat.

"Your aunt wants you to get better," he said at last. Thrawn eased his wife back against the pillows and drew the blankets around her. He stopped for a moment to gaze down at his wife, who looked small and frail against the white sheets. Her head rested between her hands that were turned upwards, the fingers curled into the palms.

"What about Master Windu?" she whispered at last.

A shimmer ran through the red eyes. "He has returned to the temple on Coruscant."

"Ah."

Tamar exhaled deeply and her spine arched. Thrawn watched her let out a yawn and shift further beneath the sheets.

"You'll stay?" she murmured sleepily.

"Of course."

"Read to me?"

"Yes."

He made himself comfortable in one of the chairs and took out a manuscript from his private collection. Thrawn extracted several information pads and held one beneath the lamp. He proceeded to speak in a slow steady voice.

"It was in the second year of my apprenticeship that I, Nina Abutok, did undertake the quest with my teacher Jedi Master Joshua Rayne," he began.

"Our mission was to ascend the mountain range of Waganu in search of the sacred fire crystals that grew there. Master Rayne told me that the fire crystals were not like kyber crystals, nor could they power a lightsaber. But their healing abilities were legendary and I was eager to see one of their beautiful blossom-like formations with my own eyes. We made encampment at the foot of the mountain when Master Rayne said we should rest before nightfall. The winds roared around Waganu like restless ghosts until I finally closed my eyes…"

A-A-A

FLASHBACK: Iolanthe, several years ago

Tamar straightened up in her chair and starred at her right-hand man from across the desk. "I don't believe it," she said at last.

It has been nearly a month since she had gone to the black market and in a moment of deliberation, purchased and brought home a human teenager to help run her club for Imperial customers. At least being under her roof and on Tamar's payroll could keep him from falling back into greedy hands.

But none of them knew that their human friend Kay was the Jedi apprentice Ezra Bridger. All Tamar knew was that despite the rocky start, Kay was coming along surprisingly well. The bigger surprise was that Hogarth, who barely asked anything for himself, was being remarkably stubborn in asking Tamar to hire a tutor for Kay.

"You can take it out of my salary," Hogarth muttered.

"It isn't about the money," Tamar nearly snapped. "It's about Kay. Don't think I haven't noticed how he's been saving up his allowance and tips from the patrons. He'll purchase his service way and leave us as soon as possible. I know he doesn't want to stay here indefinitely."

"So we give him a reason to stay," insisted Hogarth. "Kay can have my speeder. Or I'll help him build a new one."

Tamar's mouth fell open for a moment before she could regain composure. "First Nava, now you? Everyone is smitten with this boy!" she exclaimed.

For once, Hogarth starred up and back at his employer. "What if we are?" he demanded. "He works hard, is honest, and always has a smile for the girls. You won't find a human teenager with that kind of goodness anywhere in the Core."

He watched her facial expression alter before she relented by murmuring, "That's true."

The sound of laughter interrupted their conversation. Hogarth followed Tamar out of her office and into the grand ballroom where "Kay" was entertaining Tamar's two Twi'lek assistants. He had tied a handkerchief around his dark hair into a makeshift turban and was doing a spot-on impression of Duchess Keiko, a well-known visitor to the club.

"Well dah-ling, you must know the best way to the gardens is through Thabisca!" Ezra trilled in the countesses' high-pitched voice. "Only a thumb-brained twit would take the back route to the gardens. But enough about me. Do tell me where you got that smashing frock and tell them it must come in my size." He marched up and down the floor, flaying his arms and thrusting his chin up to the ceiling.

Nava was in giggling fits but it was Miri that had them stunned. She was usually so quiet and melancholy that Tamar could get little more than a gentle smile out of her. But now she was laughing, her voice a long silvery stream of joy that bubbled out of her throat. Her long blue arms were wrapped around her waist as she shook in her chair with delight.

"Kay! Stop!" Miri begged. She had to wipe tears from her eyes. "I, I never laughed so hard before."

Ezra just cocked his head to one side. "Stop? Darling, one never stops on Iolanthe!" He wiggled his hips for extra effect and Miri burst into another fit of laugher.

At that moment, Tamar realized the truth in Hogarth's words. If this boy could bring such joy to Miri's life then she would move the entire planet to make him stay.

She didn't want him for her club. She wanted him for her family.

A-A-A

Present

Tamar drifted and out of her fever, memories of the past sifting to the front of her mind and then melting away whenever Thrawn's presence was near. Her forehead was bathed in cool water when she complained of being hot and blankets added to her bed when she was cold.

She had a fuzzy sensation of being lifted up and turned over onto her back, the bare skin of her shoulders and neck lightly massaged with a scented oil that was a blissful distraction from the aching heat in her head. But the touch had been as professional as a medical droid and surely would have been, except the fingers that made contact with her skin had been of flesh and not metal as they rubbed over and against her shivering limbs, stirring sensations in Tamar's bloodstreams and alighting the tiny nerves that danced up and down her lekku.

Then her nightgown had been drawn up to cover her shoulders and she had been turned back around and tucked in before drifting off to sleep.

Tamar awoke two days later feeling stiff and with a surprising grumble in her stomach. She summoned the protocol droid who drew back the shades just enough so that Tamar didn't have to squint from the bright afternoon light. The droid brought her a piece of toast and a cup of herbal tea, which Tamar took in careful nibbles and sips.

There was no sign of Thrawn in the room. Nor did the droid say he was anywhere in the suite. Had he been there all along or had Tamar been envisioning him there?

"Officer Rath Velus is in the lounge if you are well enough to receive him," said the droid.

Tamar's eyes brightened. "Tell him I'll be there soon." She pushed back the sheets and carefully slipped her feet to the ground. It took a few wobbly steps but Tamar made it to the refresher where she took a satisfying shower and then dressed in a leisure gown.

Sinjir wasn't the only surprise in the lounge. Tamar walked in to see him standing next to what looked like the combination of a flower boutique and a confectionery shop. Vases of purple tulips, pots brimming with golden sun-stars, and sheaves of dainty red heartblossoms took up the length of a sofa while boxes of various sizes and colors nearly spilled out of a chair.

She gave a half-laugh of disbelief. "What's all this?" Tamar asked, gesturing to the gifts.

"Tokens of goodwill from your new admirers," Sinjir announced. "The reception guests were mortified at the news that a grand admiral's wife was the victim of an insurgent plot. Overcoming adversity has won you into their graces."

Tamar eyed the gifts. "As nice as it is, I don't think it was worth all this attention."

"I agree." Sinjir paused and then said, "Please don't put your life on the line like that again. I don't think I could endure such a fright again."

"Rest assured, Sinjir. I won't." Tamar selected a blue box adorned with a white ribbon from the pile and sat down. "You'll stay for tea, I hope? I had one piece of toast but I'm still famished."

"I can stay another standard hour. Commodore Piper wants me back with the fleet tonight."

Tamar stopped opening up the candy box to look at him. "You're leaving?" she asked with a hint of disappointment.

"Yes. The Grand Admiral…" He paused in search of the right words to say.

"Did he say or do something to get you into trouble?" Tamar asked seriously. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Sinjir shook his head. "Noting of the sort. In fact, the grand admiral sends his regrets that he couldn't stay with you longer but he was also called back to the fleet. He asked me to relay the message that he should be back on Naboo by the end of the week."

"So he was here," Tamar thought to herself.

Sinjir sat down next to her on the sofa. "How can you tell what's in each of them?" he asked, gesturing down into the box of varied chocolates.

"There's usually a note somewhere that explains it. Ah, right here." Tamar fished out a card and handed to Sinjir. "What's this one with the squiggly line?"

"Um, Joogun fruit, I think." He scrunched up his nose. "Unless it's a squiggly line with two dots. That's marmalade. Honestly, I think the chocolate company makes all this up just to annoy customers."

Tamar bit through a chocolate and Sinjir watched her chew thoughtfully. "Joogun fruit," she concluded. She offered the box to Sinjir who cautiously picked out a round chocolate.

The look on his face when he bit into it was entertaining. "I'll sue whoever says this is supposed to taste like bantha cream," he sulked. "More like engine oil."

"I should probably get something else into my stomach other than sweets," Tamar said. She put the box aside and told the droid to bring fresh toast, eggs, and jysmeen tea.

When the droid left Sinjir got back to his feet. "Tamar, I hope that you can forgive me for this recent disaster."

Surprise flickered over her face. "It wasn't your fault, Sinjir. Please don't spare another moment berating yourself for someone else's crime."

"I'll try not to," said Sinjir. He sighed and tugged at his collar, suddenly looking tense. Tamar wondered what troubled him.

"Before I return to Commodore Piper, I want you to know that I admire your courage and diligence at the reception. The grand admiral is fortunate indeed to have you in his life. I only pray that his eyes will open soon to the truth."

He began to pace the floor. "There is a reason why Thrawn singled me out to befriend you and it has to do with a matter in my personal life. I don't know when we'll see each other again so I am determined to speak to you the truth, one person to another."

Sinjir looked at Tamar, whose silence spoke in approval for him to go on.

He took a deep breath. "The reason I was selected was because I am not like those of Hux's disposition."

"Thank goodness for that," Tamar said with a smile. But Sinjir wasn't smiling back.

"I don't think you fully understand."

"I confess that I don't. Could you be more specific, Sinjir?"

This time he cleared his throat. The food tray arrived and damn if Sinjir didn't wish it was Correlion wine instead of herbal tea that Tamar was pouring for him. Well, he might as well get it over with and then she could laugh or sneer in his face to her heart's content.

"I am not…attracted…" he said slowly, gesturing to Tamar.

"Not attracted to officer's wives? I'd say that's a good thing for."

He tried again to speak. Again, Tamar fumbled for an answer. "Twi'leks?"

"Women," he said at last. "I am not attracted to women."

Tamar starred at him blankly. Then the full weight of his confession came over her as she stated her thoughts.

"You are saying that you are romantically inclined to men?"

"Well, 'inclined' is putting it politely. But yes," Sinjir said with a weak smile. "So now you see why I went to Naboo. You could surround me with the most beautiful eligible women in the galaxy and it wouldn't change me."

He watched Tamar's mouth open up but no words came out. She slowly rose to her feet, starring at Sinjir and then glancing away, as though looking at him now hurt her.

The silence between them was torture to Sinjir.

Sinjir wasn't surprised. This little secret of his had caused potential friends to become bullies and rivals in his lifetime. No wonder he had made such a good loyalty officer: he could conceal himself and then strike at his adversaries when they least expected it.

Then Tamar said a single word. "And?"

"And?!" Sinjir repeated. Now it was his turn to look shocked. "I was expecting a greater reaction from you, Tamar."

"Such as?"

He shrugged. "A gasp, a shock, a stream of utter disbelief. A word or two of disgust will suffice."

"Why?"

"Why? And!?" Sinjir rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. "Stars, what has happened to your tongue? Didn't you hear me?"

"Loud and clear, Sinjir. No need to repeat yourself." Tamar fingered the petals on a bright orange bouquet. "I'll admit I am surprised. Is there...someone you care for?" she asked delicately.

A pained expression tugged at Sinjir's handsome face before it melted away. "Once," he finally said. "Once there was someone. Now they are gone."

"Oh."

Tamar seemed to be deliberating over what words to say next.

"I'll wager a hundred credits that I'm the first Imperial officer you've met to tell you so," said Sinjir

"That is true," agreed Tamar. "I'e always wondered if certain visitors to the Jewel Garden were like you. But I didn't dare ask aloud so I just decided to treat them like any other guest."

Sinjir all but sneered at her. "Of course. It wouldn't have been good for your club to accept certain 'unusual' people would it?"

The slight caused Tamar to straighten up and put her hands on her hips. Sinjir noticed her lekku were twitching impatiently. Whatever fatigue she had endured from her illness had been replaced with her usual sense of purpose.

"I am an entrepreneur, Sinjir. I want customers to be happy. I didn't bring up the topic at the club because I didn't want anyone to be embarrassed. Besides, why should it be my business to dictate the matters of another person's heart?"

Where there had once been sudden dread, now Sinjir felt a sense of wary yet oncoming relief. He could barely believe what she was saying.

"If this is out of pity," he began.

"You have too much spine and spunk to waste on pity," Tamar assured him. "And you are the first person who has admitted to me that you 'steer co-pilot' so now I know to keep my mind open."

Sinjir managed a small chuckle. ""Steer co-pilot'. Is that what it's called?"

"I'm open to other suggestions." She tilted her head to one side. "Some people call us 'tailheads'. One clone said Twi'lek women naturally drove him and his brothers crazy because we've got, as I quote, 'knockers on our noggin'."

Sinjir suddenly burst out into a laugh of relief. He fell back against the sofa, wiping his eyes. "'Knockers on your noggin'," he cheered. "Oh, I'll have to remember that one."

He looked with admiration at the blue Twi'lek who had just poured out a cup of tea for him. "I'm going to miss you, Tamar Ily'an."

"So am I. You've been a wonderful companion these last few weeks," Tamar admitted. "I hope we can still be friends, Sinjir."

Sinjir touched his chest with a finger. "Do you really mean it?"

"Of course I do." Tamar held up the candy box. "After all, I need someone to help me finish up these chocolates."

A-A-A

Naboo

The Gungans knew their fate was better than other species held in the Empire's grip but that didn't improve their situation.

Their underwater cities remained polluted by reckless war machines and most of them have been "coerced" off-planet or forced into underpaid overworked jobs by the humans who had flocked to the new mansions and palaces that sprang up over the last decade. They might have endured this all with submission but being laughed at by the humans, deemed "stupid" or "uncivilized" by Imperials was the final lash of humiliation.

The Gungans were a proud people and this last insult weighed heavily in their hearts. They remembered the kindly Senator Amidala and the brave Jedi Skywalker who helped the Gungans drive out the Separatist droid army. But these were memories that dissolved away like the deepest waters of Naboo's seas.

Shelli only heard the stories as fairy-tales for entertainment and her mistress was a generous woman who never scolded Shelli or kept her out after dark. Perhaps that was why Shelli chattered away without regrets as she and Tamar worked together in the kitchen.

"De Zygerians, dey shippen slaves too," Shelli said as she rolled dough into round balls. "Mummsa say not go wandering off into de galaxy when she wusa leetle girl or you get cotta up and carried off!"

"I know. The Zygerians kidnapped many of my people too," agreed Tamar.

"But dey not hidden' it liken de Empire," Shelli rattled on. "Dey awful people, me mummsa tellin' me dey have big slave auctions all dah time. Building moocha-big cities with slaves, havin' great gamesa slaves, parties—''till da Jedi a comin' and bringa down de Zygerians with one bigga bang!"

Shelli beat her fist on the counter happily. Then she noticed Tamar, who was standing rigidly in place and staring straight ahead. A knife was gripped tightly in her hand.

"Mee lady?"

Tamar blinked twice and then faced her. "You're right, Shelli. As much as I hate to admit it, when it comes to slavery the Zygerians were even worse than the Empire. They boasted their crimes without shame. If the Jedi had to negotiate with people like the Hutts, at least it was for a cause that shut down the Zygerians permanently."

Shelli's eyelids drooped. "Forgive me, meeladay."

Tamar just lightly patted her on the shoulder. "It's all right. Thank you, Shelli."

She reached into her pocketbook and pressed a stack of credits into the Gungan's hand. Shelli feebly attempted to return the money back to Tamar. "Oh no, meelady. Itza too much."

"Keep it," Tamar insisted firmly. "You may need it for a rainy day."

Shelli sighed but nodded. She loathed taking more than her share. But these were difficult times and even her good job would not last forever. The money would certainly be helpful in the future. She slipped the credits into her pouch and bowed to Tamar.

After dismissing her maid, Tamar went upstairs and changed into a sheath dress of indigo silk. She applied her usual touch of makeup with the slim stroke of kohl around her eyes. Shelli's words had given Tamar much to think about.

Perhaps sometimes in life you didn't have the luxury of selecting right from wrong. Sometimes the odds were stacked so heavily against you that the only choices were between the lesser of two evils. If the Jedi didn't have the clairvoyance to foresee their own destruction, surely they were vulnerable to making difficult decisions in their lifetimes. If they had allied themselves with crime lords, so be it.

Tamar shuddered when she thought of the Zygerian slave empire and in her heart she was grateful that the Jedi generals had made it a top priority to destroy that evil entity. If only Mace Windu was around now to put a stop to this never-ending reign of power…

"There are others," she reminded herself. Remembering Ezra Bridger and Kanan Jarrus brought a smile to her face and warmed her all over.

Tamar poured over the contents of her jewel case until she pushed it aside with resolution. Then she unlocked a drawer and took out a sliver casket.

Inside was the circlet of golden pearls that Thrawn had given her as a wedding gift. Tamar lifted the pearls from their box and closed her eyes before drawing them around her neck. If this was meant to be a chain of submission, at least it was a gentle that settled harmlessly against Tamar's skin.

The indigo silk rustled soothingly around Tamar's legs as she descended the staircase and walked back into the kitchen where Thrawn had appeared.

He had removed the lid from one of the pots and was bent over to examine the contents.

"A pleasant aroma," he said before replacing the lid.

"That's seven-spice broth and rolled dumplings for a first course," Tamar explained. She counted off her fingers. "I've also prepared rack of meat, roasted tubers in butter, a verta-green salad, and whipped custard," she rattled off.

His eyes glowed with approval. "To what do I owe the honor of this banquet?"

Tamar clasped her hands in front of her chest. Instead of casting her eyes downward, she lifted her chin up to look Thrawn in the face. The Twi'lek kept her voice demure and pleasant as she spoke.

"It's an apology. I am sorry for my childish behavior earlier on," she said. "You have been generous to me and I will do my best to show my gratitude in return."

When Thrawn said nothing she added in a quieter voice, "I also hope you will return to our bedchamber."

There was a long pause as Thrawn said nothing. Finally he inquired, "You presumed that you could convince me to restore our relationship with a meal and verbal repentance?"

She hid a flinch by shrugging her shoulders. "I could have worn some scandalous outfit and plied you with wine instead."

"You would require a great deal of alcohol to make such a plan effective." His pitch rose and fell in a melody of thinly-veiled amusement.

Tamar's shoulders instinctively relaxed. "Care to put that to the test?" she asked.

Thrawn drew closer to his wife, his eyes never leaving her face. Tamar felt her back press against the counter until she could move no further. His head swayed slightly to the side, lingering near Tamar's cheek without making contact. The sensation of being so close together yet not touching was driving Tamar mad with impatience.

She heard him inhale lightly. "You changed your fragrance," Thrawn murmured. His warmth breath ghosted over her skin and sent a shiver through Tamar.

She didn't dare move or so much blink until he made his next move. "Do you like it?" she asked.

"Yes."

Tamar's eyes fell closed when she felt the skin of his face finally, at last, resting itself soothingly against her cheek. The tip of a nose slid over her skin, inhaling the aroma of perfume around her, grazing face and teasing lips with the softest and most tantalizing of touches.

"Do you want to eat now?" she asked in a dry whisper.

Thrawn's deep smooth breathing filled her ears.

"I am not hungry for food."

In a flash his mouth was on hers and sealing her lips into a long lingering kiss. Starved of intimacy, the thrill of his touch sent sweet jolts of electricity through Tamar's body as her arms lifted into the air and fell around his shoulders. The full weight of Thrawn's body pressed against hers until Tamar thought she would fall, fall into nothing for all eternity. Instead Thrawn wrapped his arms around her slim waist to lift Tamar off her feet and onto the counter, where her legs pressed tightly against his torso.

Tamar could barely think, only feel, as exhilaration coursed through her bloodstream and slowly transformed the liquid in her veins into sweet rich wine. Somewhere between kisses she felt her lips being parted wide and then the sensation of a writhing hot muscle sliding itself effortlessly into her mouth. Tamar barely had air to gasp as Thrawn continued his assault, his tongue grazing over her own and teasing it up and down, back and forth, in a dark frantic dance.

She desired, craved, to be seen, touched, and taken. At this moment he was not an enemy, not an Imperial officer, just another lackey in a white uniform. He was Mith'raw'nurodo, relentless and demanding. And he desired her with the wanting of a moon drawing the tide in and out at will.

Even between the kisses, Thrawn was in full control as he scooped his wife up into his arms and carried her out of the room and up the stairs. All the while Tamar's lips continued to find his own, the end of one kiss beginning in another while she raked her fingers urgently through his blue-black hair.

He did not deposit Tamar onto the bed in a mess of limbs and silk but set her down slowly and unwound Tamar's arms from around his neck. She let out a whine of protest that earned her that secretive elusive smile from him that made Tamar's stomach flutter yet again with aspiration.

Thrawn's fingers skimmed over her neck until he found the clasp at her throat. He removed the pearl necklace from around his wife's neck and set it down ceremoniously on the nightstand. The gems made small clicking sounds on impact and somewhere in the back of Tamar's mind she remembered this was the logical thing to do.

Thrawn appraised his prize for a heartbeat, then took a step closer to the bed. He stopped in place when something collided with the tip of his boot. Tamar watched the Chiss bend over and pull out the wide leather-bound book from beneath the bed.

He straightened up and opened it. His eyes widened and for a flash of a moment, she caught the emotions of surprise and bewilderment on his face. It was smoothed over by his usual intrigue as he turned over several pages.

Tamar bit the inside of her cheek to suppress a laugh. She watched him leaf through a few more pages and then Thrawn asked, "May I ask how you procured this book?"

"Sinjir sent it." This time Tamar giggled nervously.

"I see." He stopped skimming across the book long enough to examine a particular page. Thrawn lifted his gaze from the book in his hands down to his wife. "Can you tell me what is the Basic term for this?"

"It's called a 'pillow book'."

"And its function?"

Tamar eyed one of the pictures and gestured to it. "I think the illustrations speak for themselves."

"They certainly do," Thrawn murmured.

"Don't tell me your people don't have this sort of thing," Tamar said.

"We have alternatives."

"But not here. Not now," she pointed out.

"No," agreed Thrawn.

After looking over the book one final time, he placed it next to Tamar's head and climbed onto the bed next to her.

"Shall we begin?"

END

A-A-A

Author's notes:

Bwahahaha! I've been wanting to write more about Thrawn and Tamar for a long time now. I've decided if I ever win the lottery, I'm going to write a full novel about their relationship. This conflict of social expectations was definitely inspired by "Price and Prejudice" so yes, you can envision the river estate looking like Pemberley if you wish. Much credit goes to the entertaining "Thrawn" audiobook by Marc Thompson. Yet I continue to find it difficult to write Thrawn since his expressions and words are often restrained. This story took a while to hammer out but it all came down to a "lovers spat", Sinjir as a matchmaker, and a bungled assassination. I'm sure Gererra is not happy right now.

J54591 has expressed beautifully how Tamar and Thrawn's relationship is "emotionally bankrupt" and that fascinates me as a source of story conflict. Thrawn provides for his wife on a financial and certainly physical level but Tamar knows she can't trust Thrawn who knows how to play his cards by holding or holding back what matters to her.

Where do I being with Sinjir Rath Velus? Sarcastic, sardonic, droll, and hilarious when drunk, Chuck Wendig's delightful character is directly out of his "Aftermath" trilogy (as is Commander Sloane). In "Aftermath" we see Velus after the events of Return of the Jedi so it took some creative thinking to imagine what his life was like back when he still worked for the Empire.

Dr. Palori is a tribute to one of my coolest relatives, a member of the medical field who is diligent in practice with a good bedside manner. No, he doesn't work for the Empire or have (permanent) persnickety patients but the Rebel patients should learn to take their medication and stop flirting with him. ^^