Chapter 5. Silver linings
Art is paradoxical by nature. It both reflects the past and creates the future. It both orders and disintegrates, and somehow, through the course of both, defies entropy. It can be found all around, if one knows where to look, its remit stretches beyond galleries, artefacts, paintings, statues. It hides in daily life, too, in a cut of a dress, a piece of jewellery, a choice of color or… a hairstyle.
He starts the morning by talking to Admiral Ackbar rather than siding with the Imperial delegation in front of the Pinnacle room, and, no, he has no qualms over it. Ackbar is a formidable warrior, and now that they no longer need to clash on a battlefield, there is a begrudging respect on both sides, possibly a bit of shared experience as well. There is a certain irony in the fact that the two leading military masterminds of the former Rebellion and the former Empire happen to be aliens. Thrawn is under no delusions – his move up in the ranks of the Imperial military was unheard of, and whatever his strategic strengths, would have never been possible without the Emperor's and Colonel Yularen's protection. Ackbar was dealt a worse hand, and managed to come on top, albeit on the other side. Strategically, he can become an invaluable ally during the upcoming invasion – the more so the reason to start earning his trust early.
Then, around the time their conversation moves on to potential division zones between the fleets, Senator Organa enters the hall, confirming his long-held belief that most intricate and subtle things may seem simple at first. She is, once again, a walking amalgamation of hidden signals.
Small twisted braids, only one in full view, crossing her forehead, others are carefully, meticulously hidden under loose strands, creating an illusion of simplicity and movement. Yet, once she turns around, and he sees the back of her head – multiple small twists, tied together, crossing, capturing loose tresses in a constricting cage – the illusion disappears.
From what he's learned, during the High Republic era, Alderaanians used hairstyling as a substitute for cryptography, with different types of braiding conveying hidden messages whenever other forms of encryption were unreliable. The tradition withered, eventually became obsolete due to technological progress. Only a handful of symbolic hair styles passed the test of time, worn on significant occasions, rather than in day-to-day life, and most people probably didn't even bother digging into the history behind. The royal family, however, vigorously upheld the tradition, teaching each new sovereign countless intricate patterns and meanings behind them from an early age.
Alderaani morning braid is more than a simple tribute, it's a reflection on the past and the future. It is also a very personal hairstyle, rarely, if ever, worn in public. Getting over a loss doesn't mean forgetting it. It just means that the pain subsides to a tolerable level, a level that doesn't destroy you. It means masking it, it allowing the passage of time cover the scars of the loss, but they still will be there, hiding in the plain sight.
"You're my brother, and my friend. "
Unbidden,a long-forgotten echo of Thrass' voice interrupts the orderly flow of his thoughts and deductions. Time and distance shrink, make a hyper jump, tearing away a protective cover of the past decades from his memories.Phantom pain strikes somewhere in the middle of his chest, threatening to slice him raw and shatter his self-control in a blink of an eye.
"Grand Admiral?" Admiral Ackbar's voice brings Thrawn back to reality. The reality where any misstep can be fatal, and there is no room for getting lost in his thoughts. He cannot resist the urge to blink to chase away the memories, and if it's not a reminder of the all-encompassing power art can hold, then he doesn't know what is.
"Apologies, Admiral, I got distracted, now, where were we?"
Still, as he passes Senator Organa at the entrance, he cannot help but whisper: "If I haven't mentioned it yesterday, I am sorry for your loss, Senator."
Ironically, whether she knows it or not, and probably not, she has just given him a clue. Alderaanian propensity for covert ploys, lingering, justified grief, distrust to all Imperials and a true Skywalker stubbornness? She would not go without a fight, and that makes his day much more interesting and eventful than he expected.
Unbeknownst to Senator Organa, her little escapade also helps to speed-up other parts of his plan, and Thrawn is wondering whether to applaud her for it, or get concerned. Starts only know where her plotting will lead her next time, this particular combination of traits and patterns can be quite unpredictable. While he cannot afford any unpredictable factors to interfere with his mission, he finds her… fascinating.
He opts to spend the next evening exercising in one of the halls in the East wing of the palace, conveniently allocated to serve as a temporary sparring gym for the Imperial command (the New Republic emissaries and military are offered a similar space in the West wing, the arrangement suits him, for now). Half an hour in, an outraged female voice cuts through the clashing sounds his melee stick parring attacks of three DT combat droids.
"You! You smug, gloating…"
Forty five degrees to the north, she is right at the entrance, thirty seconds before one of the DTs will identify her as a threat. The door swings open, and a fragile woman in white enters the gym.
In the hindsight, replacing a verbal deactivation with a strike code after agent Kallus' attempt to reprogram his droids might have been a bit presumptuous.
The world comes into a sharp focus. Thrawn swings his stick to block the upcoming blow from the right, aiming at the control panel of the droid. No time to get creative with this one. Three strikes in the center, one on the side.
Twenty seconds. She has enough common sense to stay still, yet one of the droids starts advancing towards her.
Turn, step left, turn again, create more unnecessary movement to keep the droids registering him as main opponent, leading them away from the door. Slide, punch, three in the center, one on the side – the second one powers down.
Ten seconds.
Rukh was under strict orders not to let anyone in, and yet here she is. Possibly he sensed Lord Vader in her, and conceded, it's going to be a problem in future. Elbow strike, turn, melee stick connects with the center panel again. Crack. Three in the center, one on the side.
Two.
The last droid collapses in a heap of metal a meter away from her feet, and Senator Organa takes an involuntary step back. That was… a bit too close for his linking. Thrawn walks to the other side of the hall and grabs a towel off the rack, breath returning to normal as he wipes his forehead and neck. Then, he steps forward to properly greet her.
"Nice to see you again, Senator, you certainly know how to make an entrance.
Eyes wide, cheeks a bit flushed, possibly only now realizing how close she came towalking right into a combat zone. Yet, her composure is admirable, she takes a deep breath and continues, still seemingly outraged, but calmer than before, at least no longer promising death to the next individual to cross her path.
"You… Space pirates? You told the Chancellor that the Eleventh fleet saved Luke from space pirates while on a blasted goodwill visit to Cordelia?"
"Well, it definitely saved him and the New Republic at large from making a mistake. I've also suggested that it would be more impactful if a press statement expressing gratitude on behalf of the New Republic comes from you, given your… invaluable contribution to the rescue. I thought we agreed on this version yesterday, Senator?"
"I've never agreed to this, it sounds ridiculous."
"Better than the truth."
"It's the most ridiculous lie I've ever heard. Are you always so abysmally bad at making things up?" It rattles him, mainly because he is not used to people challenging him so bluntly, well, not anymore. But before he can answer, she mutters, possibly more to herself then him. "I can't believe Mon took it at face value."
"She didn't, of course."
Eyes narrowed, hands clenching. Worry lines crossing her forehead. She is wondering if he shared the full story behind the debacle, and what it may mean for the talks as well as her own relationship with her mentor.
"But the Chancellor has enough common sense not to ask questions if she doesn't want to hear answers. Chandrilan culture fosters appreciation for a willful ignorance of small transgressions for the sake of the greater good."
She leans on the wall behind her, shoulders relaxing, tension slowly leaving her body.
"I could've explained Luke's appearance in a hundred different ways, there was no need to make up such a ridiculous cover story."
"I beg to differ."
Her eyebrows raise in a mix of surprise and mild irritation, she is curious to hear his reasoning, that much is evident, but would not admit it out loud.
"Tell me, Senator, how much do you know about the inner workings of the Imperial navy?"
"Given I've opposed a few bills funding it, and had to fight it for years, quite a bit, I assure you. The good, the bad, and the ugly. There is no need for a lecture."
Her posture changes, fire, confidence, readiness to fight any of his arguments tooth and nail. It's fascinating, really, how quickly she changes her colors in front of him. She is a force to reckon with, right here and there.
"Indeed. The Imperial navy hierarchy has many… peculiarities, one of them, which came as a surprise to me at first, is that promotions and rank are granted by the virtue of personal favors, politics and connections rather than talent. I've also seen good people being denied recognition for years, as a form of retribution for friendship, gender or a tendency to tell truth to power. Officially, Grand Admiral Sloane is in charge of the Eleventh fleet. I am sure you know, if the Republican intelligence is any good, that it's not her first priority at the moment."
She knows, judging by the slight nod and the way her eyes narrow, that Shadow council is in the middle of yet another power struggle, that Sloane, Hux and Rudd feel threatened by his own return as well as military victories. Unfortunately, people stop being rational when their egoes are at stake.
"Commodore Faro had to defy her current the chain of command to get to Cordellia as soon as I needed her to, moreover, she will need to defy it in future it by keeping a secret and not giving anyone an excuse to call off the talks over your attempt to break the truce, Senator."
"I am still not sure what it's got to do with making up a heroic rescue."
"Grand Admiral Sloane is incredibly sensitive to perceived mixed loyalties. Let's say, by making a public case of General Skywalker's rescue, we will not leave her any room for retribution or any more excuses for withholding ranks."
"And the more public it becomes, the less power she has over it." Realization finally dawns on her, "That's why you need me to make a press statement."
"Indeed."
There is another reason, of course, apart from simply helping his former protégé, but it's too early to let Senator Organa know. Not just yet.
"I still can't believe I gave you a pretext to stage all of this in a day."
"I simply didn't want to let a good crisis go to waste. Believe me, Senator, it will have the same effect on admiral Sloane as Spiran caf had Commandant Hux earlier today."
"I will neither confirm, nor deny having anything to do with it."
Yet, a small, conspiratorial smile is playing in the corners of her lips, and he gets a feeling she will thoroughly enjoy tomorrow's press conference, at least as much as she did reprogramming the protocol droids.