The mornings on Ryloth were cold. The moisture of Thrawn's exhale condensed in front of him as he stood outside of the constructed building that was Slavin's headquarters. The chill wasn't unpleasant, but crisp and invigorating. The desert air smelled fresh, the only time of day that it did. The rest of the time, the heat baked the dry ground into a hard clay causing the smell of arid sand to fill one's nostrils. Thrawn took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, savoring the feeling.
Slavin's campaign on Ryloth was a tangled mess that he was quickly unwinding. His troops were under poor discipline. Orders were often delayed in their relay to lower commands, which made them badly executed. Or worse, not executed at all. That was the very first thing to change upon his arrival.
He watched a platoon of troopers jog by on their morning PT training. The stormtroopers were tightening up, slower than he would like, but he could see progress being made. Progress was what he wanted. Progress led to an ultimate goal. That goal here was victory.
He ducked back into the command building, which was empty save for him. He had taken over Slavin's desk in the far corner. Like the rest of the camp, it was now tightly put together. The datapad on it indicated that Commodore Faro had sent him his latest correspondence from the Chimaera. It was a long list of files and paperwork that needed to be completed, forms that needed his signature, and a civilian letter.
He tapped the indicator for it and the name Luxsolaria Viita-Tristane popped up as the sender. He felt a small surge of adrenaline at seeing her name. To be appropriately polite, he had sent her a thank you for the lace mat she'd sent, assured her that the journals she had suggested had, indeed, been helpful, and expressed his gratitude at her assistance with her brother's endeavor. He had not expected to get a letter back.
Dear Grand Admiral, it read, I hope this letter finds you well. I was thrilled to receive your response and am so glad that the mat fits underneath the ship. I was afraid that I had made it too short. It rattled on about various rumors concerning Lothal, some of them Thrawn noted as true and some of them false. She wrote that a new art exhibit was opening soon at the Grand Museum and she was excited to go and see it, along with the new opera, Ethos of Endira, she was going to see with some girlfriends. He read through it twice, his mind going to the thought that there was nothing in the letter that concerned him. It was a letter one might write to a friend.
In fact, she signed it, Your friend, Sola.
He didn't know how he felt about that. He had enjoyed the party game against her, to the point that he found himself thinking of their back and forth answers more than once since the gala. It had been refreshing to have a challenge, to have a worthy opponent to go up against. It had been refreshing to play a game at all, usually such occasions were something to be endured. The game of Snooks had made the tedious time go by much more pleasantly. Madam Tristane had been bright and excitable, a ball of kinetic energy waiting to be discharged. And now, somehow, they were, apparently, penpals.
The thought of writing her back intrigued him. Not so much in the writing of his letters, but in the reception of the letter back. Though her letter had nothing that concerned him in it, he wanted to know it none-the-less. He wanted to know about her.
There was something very different about her from her brother. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on. It was just beyond his grasp, in a hazy fog. He could not see the shape of it, but knew that it was there, waiting for him to come a little closer to find out what it was. And he wanted to know what it was. He did not like mysteries.
Mysteries were a challenge to be overcome. They only stayed mysteries to those who chose not to examine them. He was not one to leave something unexamined.
He dismissed her letter and opened another one to Commodore Faro. Obtain the files of Uriellien Viita and Luxsolaria Viita-Tristane and send them to me. He had just sent the letter off when his stationary com on the command table in the front of the room indicated a communication from The Chimaera.
He crossed the room of the pop up command building and turned it on. Commodore Faro's face appeared in the holoimage, her dark brows drawn together in anxiety.
"What is it, Commodore?" Thrawn asked in his smooth voice.
"Sir, the Crimson Asp has just arrived in high orbit and Grand Admiral Viita is asking to see you and Captain Slavin."
Speak of the devil, Thrawn thought with amusement, and who should appear?
"Shall I send him your coordinates, sir?" Faro asked.
"Yes," Thrawn replied. "We will see what the Grand Admiral wants."
"And sir," the anxiety was back on her face. "I think you should know—it's unusual—his civilian sister is with him. I am afraid this might be some kind of ambush."
"Ambush?" Thrawn asked. "What makes you say that?"
She was quiet a moment before answering. "He seemed particularly pleased to find us here."