Chapter 23: Perspectives

Curiosity is one of the most permanent and certain characteristics of the human mind – every world and every culture that Thrawn has encountered so far has proved that the axiom holds. It might be pictured as being made up of chains of seemingly small, harmless questions extending outwards: one by one breaking the confines of certainties and parsecs, slowly but surely reaching far beyond its starting point. Beyond the borders of the familiar galaxy, as the case may be.

In essence, it was curiosity, coupled with a bit of careful, meticulous staging on Thrawn's part, that lead Lieutenant Commander Vanto away from a set-in-stone future to where he is now – serving the Chiss Ascendancy. That, and personal loyalty, of course. Thrawn ponders this peculiar paradox of human nature as his old friend and ally hands over a standard Imperial datapad with a high-speed transmitter loaned to him a day before to test their new system of sending coded messages via HoloNet.

For a moment, Thrawn is studying a pattern of numbers flowing across the display in silence – neat arrays of sets from 1 to 5 - before they start converting into words and sentences.

"Messages starting with zero will stand for Basic, two zeroes for Sy Bitsi," Vanto explains, voice betraying a swelling of pride at his ingenious solution, "from there each alphabet is fractioned into a five-by-five checkerboard, so each letter will coincide with two numbers from one to five."

"Most impressive, as always when it comes to your mastery of numbers."

"Numbers are like music, if only one bothers to listen, of course."

Eli Vanto turns around to reach for his questis and demonstrate transmissions through the AscendancyNet, but his gaze catches the sight of General Skywalker and Navigator Vah'nya.

His lips compress briefly, muscle tension increases.

"So, are you certain he can be trusted?"

"Have I ever given you a reason to doubt my judgement?"

"Is that a rhetorical question?" He mutters under his breath, then heaves a long, suffering sigh and continues. "I promised to protect navigator Vah'nya and…"

"While the matters of the so-called Force are a mystery to me, I trust General Skywalker will not do any harm. You have my word for it. But your concern is commendable."

"By the way, any relation to the General Skywalker?"

From what Thrawn can recall, when he first mentioned Anakin Skywalker to Eli Vanto all those years ago, the name was met with enthusiasm, respect and a touch of hero-worship. Hopefully, it will lend some credence to his son and help diffuse the tension.

"His son, actually."

He pauses, taking in the revelation, the muscles in his jaw slowly but surely relaxing, indicating that he's coming around.

"He does seem quite close to Councilor Organa, though," a small gesture towards another part of the bridge, from where Leia is observing her brother's silent interaction with Navigator Vah'nya. "Wouldn't that be a problem for you?"

"Why would that be?"

"Because you cannot install code transmitters into Imperial data cylinders for all that I know."

It's good to see Lieutenant Commander Vanto excel at connecting the dots, even if the line he is trying to draw is slightly askew.

"It's a natural human tendency to care for one's siblings."

Raised eyebrows, mount slightly agape –clearly, not a piece of information Eli Vanto expected to get to with this line of questioning, but the one Thrawn has to give away to avoid any confusion.

"I am, however, grateful for your discretion this morning. Expect we can count on it in future."

"So… the Councilor?"

"Yes."

"Meaning, a politician?" He waves his hand in front of him to emphasise the point, indicating all that he thinks of politicians in general and Thrawn's ability to deal with them in particular.

"Yes."

"And a princess?"

Now, that is new.

He had been sent on his mission long before Princess Organa became a prominent enough figure for a rank-and-file officers to notice. Even Thrawn didn't know of her existence until after his return – not that his lack of political awareness is any indication. Leia herself is not volunteering the fact, too used to sentients simply knowing, which begs the question…. As if reading his mind, Lieutenant Commander Vanto chuckles, an oddly satisfied expression on his face.

"I did my own research of cultural downloads."

"For the last time," Thrawn fights a sudden urge to pitch the bridge of his nose, "holo tabloids don't classify as such."

"You can't blame me for catching up with galactic news while I had HoloNet access. So, a princess?"

"Strictly speaking, Alderaan no longer exists, but I presume the honorary title still stands, yes."

"And also… Anakin Skywalker's daughter?"

"Yes."

Fleetingly, Thrawn wonders if he has over-estimated the practical value of curiosity, given that today disadvantages clearly outweigh advantages, or if it's simply an oversight on his part, given he hasn't sufficiently prepared to handle this particular line of questioning.

"I am good with numbers, as you know, as well as sums and detractions."

"I think we've just witnessed a yet another evidence of the fact." Pitching the bridge of his nose becomes more alluring with each passing second. "Your point being?"

"You want my answer converted in standard Coruscant years, Csilla years or Alderaan years?"

"I see… no need, I am well aware of the difference in each and every one of those orbital periods."

"You know, Thrawn, I've never thought…."

Eli Vanto is in severe and imminent danger of rubbing a hole in his forehead with his hand.

"Actually no, scratch that, it's exactly the kind of predicament you'd get yourself into."

"Would you have any other valuable inputs, or shall we move on to saving the galaxy?"

"May the warrior's fortune be in your favor." Wry amusement sending small ripples through his voice, before his tone turns serious once again when he does, in fact, move on. "Now, that's how we will stagger our messages throughout ad breaks..."

Curiosity is not a purely Human trait, it's also common for the Chiss, although it never manifests itself so overtly. Ar'alani doesn't ask any questions in front of the audience, yet, before they part ways, Thrawn does catch her inquisitive gaze that betrays a mixture of the said curiosity, concern and tension. Clearly, a conversation will be in store when their paths cross the next time.

Foresight is a critical adaptive strategy for times of great stress or uncertainty. The objective is not to get the future right. Rather, to prepare for any of the futures which may arise.

That evening, after they depart back to the Core Worlds, as he opens the door to none other than the illustrious Jedi Master returning his uniform jacket, of all things, Thrawn mentally congratulates himself on resorting to the said adaptive strategy prior to Chimaera's departure from Coruscant. Seems like ordering to have ysalamiri discreetly placed in a hidden corner of his private quarters at all times was a sound precaution. Not that he seriously expects to need their protective vacuum, but one can never be absolutely sure of anything with Lord Vader's offspring.

The case in point is staring at him right now, clearly expecting an explanation and crumpling his uniform jacket so tight that his knuckles turn white.

Suspicion, worry, frustration, protectiveness – all mixed together in the icy blue gaze – a mirror image of his father's, back when his eyes weren't hidden by the back optical lenses.Luke Skywalker doesn't take loyalty lightly, that's a given, yet his desire to protect those closest to him pushes this natural tendency to a whole new level.

Time to resort to Tatooine straightforwardness, as it seems.

"Four."

"I'm sorry?"

"There are four ways to use my uniform jacket and the data cylinders as a weapon, General Skywalker, should you feel the need, given that, as I can see, Councillor Organa has confiscated your lightsaber." One more quick look at his visitor proves Thrawn's suspicion. "And your blaster."

"Wait." General Skywalker blinks, clearly not expecting this sort of opening, "I can think only of three."

"Shall we compare the notes, or would you prefer a practical demonstration?"

"She also instructed me to behave, so I suspect it's out out of question."

"Or… a training session may be in order, I'm sure she won't find out. I can lend you some of my combat sticks, if you feel the need to express your disapproval."

"Lead the way, Grand Admiral."

Chimaera training gym doesn't have any ysalamiri, yet Thrawn is certain General Skywalker will not resort to his father's favorite method of dealing with problems – warrior's honor won't let him do it, given they've just settled on combat sticks as a weapon of choice.

Some people tend to mask worry with anger – this peculiar trait is running strong in one particular family.

Side strike, parry, counter-attack.

His technique still bears an unmistakable imprint of a Tatooine native, clearly favouring power attacks and swift counterstrikes, however, Thrawn notes with satisfaction, their previous sparring sessions didn't go in vain: he's making a conscious effort to add deceptive moves and strikes, finally using his built and agility to his advantage.

Parry, feint, parry.

Thrawn lets a couple of strikes get through on purpose: nothing serious, but it'll help further diffuse the tension before General Skywalker will be ready and willing to talk. Which should be soon, given that Thrawn has offered him to use two melee sticks tonight – unaccustomed to this form of simultaneous combat, he's bound to lose concentration in fifteen minutes or so.

Front strike, then a hit from the left, while General Skywalker is still trying to parry in the front.

Case in point: too focused on the obvious.

Turn right, pretend to fall for his new manoeuvre. Slip in through the opening created by the feint, trapping his first stick farther out of line. Counter-block the second combat stick.

Foot-sweep.

It's curtains for the Jedi Master, at least for today. Such a quick study, though.

Thrawn extends his hand to help General Skywalker back up on his feet.

"Feeling better?"

"Depends on your point of view." The Jedi accepts his hand and stands up. "For the record, even if I consider you an ally, I do not have to like it… whatever it is between you and Leia."

"Duly noted."

"Not that I can stop Leia when she sets her mind on something."

"I doubt anyone can."

"But it's my job to protect her."

"I think she'd say it may be a bit presumptuous of you," Thrawn cannot help a wry amusement as he imagines her outraged reaction at a suggestion that she cannot protect herself, "but I promise to help you in this endeavour. You would be able to discern if I were lying, would you not?"

A clear invitation to look into his mind, and the most efficient weapon to deal with General Skywalker – an absolute, complete and unabashed honesty. A high risk, high reward strategy, but Thrawn cannot allow even a shadow of distrust between himself and his allies, not with the invasion on the horizon, not with a role that Luke Skywalker will need to play.

He doubts he has any answers the Jedi Master would expect to see: Humans are keen on excessive displays of emotions, declarations and promises. He cannot offer any, it's not his nature, and now is not the time. He knows, though, that Leia Organa is brilliant, fascinating, impossible and unpredictable in equal measure. He knows it would've been easier, more rational and prudent just to ignore that nascent bond between them, but for the first time in a long while, he wants something… for himself rather for the greater good. He can only hope he'd never be forced to choose between the two. Most importantly, as things stand now, he means it: he will do his best to protect her. The prospect of any danger befalling her is unnerving. That irrational fear settles somewhere deep in his mind, past layers and layers of perfectly arranged plans and schemes, past the military theory and his own experience telling him that any high-ranking politician will inevitably be subject to danger in the upcoming war, the more so - the prospective Chancellor, if their plan holds.

"You still have a ridiculously organised and orderly mind, Grand Admiral," General Skywalker's voice breaks through his thoughts. "But, as we used to say back home, one grain of sand can spell the begging of a sandstorm."

Tatooine analogies aside, seems like an image of a particle and a wave has firmly imprinted itself on his mind. Thrawn takes a deep breath and orders his thoughts to fall back in place. He's always been a master at partitioning emotions from reason, and he does so now, even if it takes more conscious effort this time around. There are more pressing matters to take care of, after all.

"You have yet to tell me what you learned from Navigator Vah'nya."

Truth to be told, he heard a short version from Vah'nya herself, and then from Lieutenant Commander Vanto.

"…they probed deeply into Un'hee's mind and soul, they found her deepest desires and fears, her most comforting memories and her most cherished hopes, twisted and tarnished and bent all of them to their will… the Grysks…three can command a nation. A hundred can rule an entire world. Billions of beings, their hearts and souls broken, ready to fight and die at the order of a handful of aliens. No resistance, no revolt, no dissent, no hope."

However, just like with art, it's a classic case of experiencing an artwork versus interpreting it.

Anyone can do the former: no training or special knowledge is necessary to look at a sculpture, a painting, or a pattern, but the reaction a sentient will have to that artwork will inevitably be affected by their personal opinions, emotions, and upbringing.

The latter, however, is an art and science in itself. While Thrawn believes himself proficient in it, he is well aware that he is lacking context in his particular case, which is just as good as looking at a painting in the dark – one is bound to see vague shapes and silhouettes but miss a bigger picture, blind to its true depth, perspective and meaning.

Enter the Jedi Master. If he is as proficient in the matters of the so-called Force as his father before him, Thrawn hopes he can shed light on this particular mystery and help him find an underlying pattern.

As he listens to General Skywalker's conclusions laced with concern, Thrawn makes a few mental adjustments his plan: scenarios, after all, are dynamic living narratives, and require updating as the world itself evolves. They will need help from an unexpected, or rather, unwilling source.

"Tell me, General, how good are you at dealing with people who may want to kill you?"

"Given I'm still alive, it's safe to assume I'm passable."

"Then, I have someone for you to meet and get on your side once we get back."

After General Skywalker takes his leave, Thrawn remains in the Chimaera gym: there is a certain meditative quality to the staccato of thoroughly satisfying thuds cutting the silence as his melee sticks hit durasteel armour of three DT droids. Physical exercise, coupled with mental focus and concentration drives a meshwork of oxygen, nutrients, and neurons, stimulating his mind.

Strike. Counter-attack.

For all their differences, his instructors at the Imperial Academy and back home in the Chiss Ascendancy were quite united in one assessment.

Only an idiot tries to fight a war on two fronts, and only a madman tries to fight one on three.

Well, not that he has a choice: the die is already cast. Not only in this gym, but in the galaxy at large, so might as well practice.

Feint, slide to the side. Having two combat sticks is definitely an advantage. Three strikes in the center of a control panel with his left hand, one at the side with the stick in his right hand. The first droid powers down.

General Skywalker will need to leave on his new mission soon. Missions, now in plural.

Leia most certainly will not like the idea, should she find out. Need to keep it under wraps for now.

Hunch down to let an upcoming strike from the third droid hit the second one in the center. Now, two more strikes in the same spot, one at the side. Done.

Destructive power needs to be met with destructive power, but no one said anything about who needs to deal the blow. It's all about staging and being able to pinpoint a right moment to make a move.

His melee sticks hold well against a new attack coming from the third droid. On impulse, he chose the ones made of Brylark tree for tonight. The only wood as strong as metal.

An idea comes to his mind, unrelated his current train of thought or this training session, but quite fascinating none the less. Related to the paradox of destruction inextricably linked to creation and the one woman whose eyes match that particular shade of warm brown. Thrawn makes a mental note to add one more item on the list of things to get done at Fondor and Kuat.

As if on cue, he registers a new movement at the entrance. Her ability to pick the worst possible timing is impeccable. At least, this time he got two droids down already. One more to go.

Thirty seconds. More than enough time.

Should've been, but instead of staying still in the doorway, she decides to stride into the gym, paying no heed to the ongoing combat. The last droid registers her movement sooner than expected.

Ten seconds.

Thrawn swings both sticks with practiced fluidity. It's the game of speed and precision now, rather than amplitude and force.

Turn, slide, three strikes in the center, one at the side. The last one is down.

Leia doesn't even bother to stop as the droid collapses in a heap of durasteel in front of her, simply steps aside and comes to face him, hands crossed over chest.

"Luke may be my well-meaning, delusional baby brother, but he's idiot."

Her tone holds a mixture of amusement and exasperation, her deep brown eyes sparkling with mirth and frustration in equal measure. Still, she's perfectly in her element, voice brooking no argument, rather just staring the fact.

"I see."

That one flyway strand of hair is careering her soft check and neck in a familiar and endlessly enthralling motion. Distracting, she's most definitely distracting. Imagining tracing the path of that flyaway strand with his lips is even more so.

"You, however, should've had more common sense than him."

She gestures around them, a silent but eloquent testimony to the fact that she has, in fact, found out about his sparring suggestion.

"Perhaps. But I find that a timely intervention usually helps the matters. Although I did point out to General Skywalker that his desire to protect you from anything is misguided at best."

Exasperation fades away, hands falling to her sides as she relaxes, her voice taking on a new quality – soft and teasing.

"See… now I cannot even be mad at you."

Well, in Thrawn's view, it's a perfectly good tactical position for the evening.

Author's note.

For those who may be curious – the coding system Eli has developed is heavily inspired by the Polybius square, and we both thank the ancient Greeks for their service to the galaxy far, far away.
Speaking of math, to save you a trip to Wookiepedia (aka I did my research so that you don't have to vibe): a Coruscant year / orbital period is 365 local days, similar to Alderaan - that one was at 364, while on Csilla it's actually 462. Choose your fighter ;)
We love Protective Luke in his house, it's all I have to say. He gave us all (and Leia) an excuse to see Thrawn in the gym again, so we thank him for his service.