Archive of Our Own ^beta

On the first day of the Restored Chiss Ascendancy, the sun dawned bright and cold in Fura’s sky, and a chill wind whistled around Eli as he climbed the white pebble path of the Ceremonial Way. Thick forest covered the rest of the Sacred Hill, but around the path it had been severely cut back, allowing the Way to be seen easily from the ground. It also allowed the wind to slice unobstructed across the hill; even in his thick coat Eli shivered.

At the hill’s crown the path split off into several separate branches, twisting around the plant beds and small pools that made up the Ancestor’s Garden. Fura’s climate trended cold even in summer, but the harsh climate didn’t keep the garden from thriving. The fact that there are over thirty gardeners to tend it probably helps, Eli thought, picking the correct path and setting off.

The Chiss didn’t worship a pantheon or single great creator; instead they venerated their ancestors, keeping the previous generations alive through small, intricately crafted tokens placed in sacred gardens. On Csilla they were vast gardens of ice sculptures; on Veroe the sculptures were formed in sand and then heat-blasted until they became glass; on Malai the gardens were made up of pebbles shaped into flat mosaic patterns. Here on Fura, the garden was more traditional, at least to Eli’s sensibilities. A profusion of native plants had been meticulously arranged into perfect formations, centred around small, perfectly round pools of crystal-clear green water.

Today the pools reflected the moody grey sky overhead, their depths impenetrable and deep, intense green. Eli went to his knees beside the largest, deepest pool in the garden, right at the heart, and settled in to wait. He had a brief, childish temptation to take one of the pebbles and toss it into the water, but he refrained.

He wasn’t kept waiting. Eli had only been there for a few minutes when Thrass appeared and joined him at the pool, kneeling down with a heavy sigh. He looked very tired, Eli noted, his face drawn and worried.

Still, he managed to dredge up a smile as he took a roll of actual paper out of his robes and handed it to Eli. “There you have it – the Dalarai, as promised.”

“Thank you,” Eli said, holding the roll of thick, smooth paper reverently in his hand. “This is…”

“You earnt it,” Thrass said, the ghost of a smile still on his face.

Yes, Eli had certainly earnt it – and he had the scars to prove it. He avoided leaning too far over, not wanting to catch his reflection in the water. “So this is everything, then? Full, equal status in the eyes of the Ascendancy?”

Thrass nodded. “You will have all the rights of any natural born Chiss. Right to live anywhere, be protected under law, marry… everything. Only half of what you deserve, given that you almost gave your life for the Ascendancy – but that is what I could get.”

“It’s no small thing,” Eli assured him.

“Compared to what you’ve done? It feels trite.”

“It’s important to me.” Eli laid a hand on his arm. “Thank you, Thrass.”

“It was my honour.” Thrass smiled tiredly. “Now, of course, would be the moment, if you wished to join a Family…”

Eli couldn’t help but laugh. “You’ve been trying to get me to join the Mitth for seven years, Thrass. What makes you think I’m going to say yes now?”

“Well, now I’m the Aristocra,” Thrass said, “I’m in charge of everything. I could make things very pleasant for you.”

“That’s favouritism.”

“That’s what the Families are.”

Eli shook his head. “I can’t, Thrass. I’ve given too much to the CDF to abandon them now.”

“You’d look very good in red,” Thrass said, only half-teasing.

“I think I look fine in white.” Eli smiled at him. “But thank you, truly, for offering. You are one of my greatest friends.”

“As you are, and always will be, no matter whose family you join.” Thrass sighed heavily. “I feel bad that we are not celebrating this properly, Eli.”

“There are many other things to be done. We can call it the Restored Ascendancy all we like, but there are many things that still need to be restored.”

“Yes.” Thrass looked apologetic as he handed Eli something else – a datapad. “To that end, I have this for you as well.”

“More orders?” Eli keyed the datapad on, scanning through the lines of text.

“From the very highest level,” Thrass said.

Eli frowned as he scanned the lines of text. “A Grysk incursion in Alaroa…”

“A defeated Grysk incursion,” Thrass stressed, “But the Alaroa aren’t a fighting force on par with the Grysk. It should have been an easy conquest. And yet…”

“And yet it wasn’t. But it stands to reason - the Grysk are severely weakened now. Maybe that was all it took.”

“Maybe.” Thrass didn’t look convinced. “But I believe there’s something else to it - and the other Aristocra agree. It’s important.”

“It’s a long way from our borders,” Eli countered.

“It’s still important.” Thrass smiled. “Moreover, Admiral, as you haven’t elected to be included in the Council, you don’t get a say.”

Eli shook his head. “As if I would ever get invited to sit on the Council. I may have the Dalarai, Thrass, but there are still some things out of my reach.”

“Maybe - but maybe not. This is a whole new Ascendancy now.” Thrass stood and brushed off his knees. “Well, I wish you good luck, Eli’Vanto. May warrior’s fortune favour you.”

“And may politician’s fortune favour you,” Eli said, winking at him as he also stood.

That at least wrung a laugh out of Thrass. “That’s not a saying.”

“Well, as you said, it’s a whole new Ascendancy now.” Eli grinned at him as they left the garden together. “Maybe I’m making it a saying.”

/

“Prepare for realspace reversion,” the helm said.

Eli took a deep breath, held it, then let it out slowly. He could feel anticipation warring with caution and a touch of nerves in his gut. Preparing to fight and die was his natural reaction to a realspace reversion now; during the war, every time they’d dropped out of hyperspace they were at risk of attack. It was hard to convince himself that that wasn’t the case now – especially as he had no idea what would be waiting for them in the Alaroa system.

They dropped in on the edge of the system, clinging to the orbit of a small dwarf planet to hide themselves a little. Eli ordered them to engage the stealth drive, then perform some preliminary scans of the system.

‘Alaroa’ was the name for the people, the system and the primary planet. They were an avian species, and as far as Eli knew, not terribly interested in expanding beyond their home system, though they had mastered the technology necessary for spaceflight. Not particularly known for their military accomplishments, he wouldn’t have bet on them against the Grysk, at least not before the war. Now, though, it might be a different story.

“We’re picking up what we expected, sir,” the sensor officer, Lieutenant Alaam, said after a few minutes. “Seven planets; main settlement on Alaroa, research stations and heavy industry plants on other planets in system. Medium shipping traffic; several Alaroan military vessels on patrol patterns.” He frowned as he looked at the scanners. “Picking up something unusual in the inner system now. Not enough information to be certain what it is.”

“Anything close?” Eli asked.

“One patrol ship in the outer system. Currently in the orbit of Calatoa, the second gas giant.”

“Hold position here.” The helm acknowledged, and the bridge went silent. Eli stood in front of the tactical display, watching the little points of light that represented ships and planets, thinking. The Council were desperate to know why the Grysk came here, and how they were repelled by an inferior force, but the Alaroa were reclusive and standoffish toward other species. Eli had a feeling that approaching them directly might not yield results. “Have you any more details on that anomaly in the inner system?” he asked.

“No, Admiral,” Alaam said. “We’re too far away for the passive scans to pick up anything more detailed.”

Eli thought for a second. The distance was too far to safely use Thrawn’s old trick of letting a ship drift toward the target, powered down to be undetectable on scanners. Getting any closer would highly increase the risk that the Alaroa would notice them, especially that ship coasting in Calatoa’s orbit. There was, as Eli saw it, only one viable option.

“Prepare the Deleki freighter, Commander,” he said to Senior Commander Tev’san, his second in command. “Let’s see if we can’t probe their defences a little.”

“Very well, Admiral.” Tev’san nodded and turned, keying his commlink to begin relaying orders.

The Deleki were a nomadic race, known as impartial traders who always had prime goods to sell. Their homeworld had been destroyed decades ago, and since then they had established themselves throughout the Unknown Regions. Even isolationists like the Alaroa might be willing to trade with a lone, nonthreatening Deleki ship.

It was nearly fifteen minutes before Tev’san said, “The freighter is prepared, Admiral.”

“Very good. Send them out.”

There was one rather eccentric Lieutenant aboard the Windwalker who could both speak Beleki and imitate their squeaky accent while speaking Ar’densa, the local trade language in this section of the Unknown Regions. She and a partner had been assigned the mission; Eli watched the small blip of the freighter appear on the tactical display as it launched from the ship and went speeding off toward the system’s interior. As they all watched in silence, the freighter zipped unchallenged past the Alaroan patrol ship near Cataloa, dodged around traffic going to and from their heavy industry installations on Kelaroa, and began an approach toward the Alaroan homeworld. “They’re sending back data, Admiral,” the comms officer, Junior Captain Veba, said, “Forwarding to scanning and analysis now.”

After a moment Alaam said, “They passed right by that anomaly, Admiral. It looks like debris…”

“Debris of what?” Eli asked sharply.

“A moment, Admiral…” He tapped something on his board. “Ships. Several of them, probably quite large.”

“The Grysk fleet?” Tev’san asked.

“More than likely.” Eli looked back to the tactical display, where the freighter was almost in Alaroa’s orbit. “Anything else?”

“All other data seems normal, Admiral. They report no challenge from either the patrol ship or Kelaroan space control.” Veba paused and read something else. “Ah, now they’re being challenged, Admiral. Transmitting codes.”

There was a long wait, during which Eli tried not to tap his fingers or show any other outward sign of anxiety. The Alaroa were suspicious; it made sense that they’d take time to validate clearance codes.

Veba broke the tense silence. “They’re approved, Admiral,” she said, a clear note of relief in her voice. “Now moving into planetary orbit.”

Eli felt the tension in his shoulders relax just a little bit. They would stay there, sending communications advertising their wares to the planet below to keep up the pretence, while also performing covert scans of the planet and the ships surrounding it. Then the Windwalker could fake a Deleki ‘return signal’, which commanded all ships in a system to return to the main Deleki flotilla before they moved on. It was a good cover, even if not perfect.

The tension returned full-force when the Veba said, “Admiral, they’re being commanded to land on planet.”

“What?” Eli asked.

“They’ve been sent landing orders. It’s definitely not a request, Admiral.”

Eli paused, thinking quickly. There was no way the Chiss officers could pretend to be Deleki if they landed, and they would be a good bargaining chip for the Alaroa if they got caught. But they would have to run the gauntlet of almost the entire system if they made a run for it, fighting off several Alaroan patrol and warships on the way, which would be a struggle for the hefty freighter. It would be a lot easier if the Windwalker broke cover to help them, but then all hope of peaceful cooperation would be lost. We’re not here to shoot up a solar system and cause an intragalactic incident, Eli thought.

But maybe the opportunity for deception wasn’t quite over yet.

“Tell them to land as ordered,” he said, “And when they get there, if the authorities ask to board, their cover story is that they’re a pair of Chiss exiles who pose as Deleki to sell their wares. I’m sure Lieutenant Kalat can handle it.” Kalat wasn’t just able to impersonate Deleki; she had a love of performance that made Eli think she might have been happier as an undercover Chiss Intelligence agent.

Tev’san looked uncomfortable. “Pretending to be an exile, Admiral…”

“I know, but it’s necessary. Let me know when they confirm.”

Veba turned to her board; after a minute she said, “They confirm, Admiral. They’re moving to a landing approach.”

“Let us hope they can be convincing,” Eli murmured.

On the tactical board, the freighter dipped toward Alaroa and then came to a stop on the surface. They would see or hear nothing more until it took off again; the stealth technique they employed to make their ship-to-ship comms untraceable in space became disrupted by planetary atmospheres. There was nothing to do but dig in and wait.

Eli ground his teeth. He hated waiting.

“Commander, move the ship a quarter turn around the moon,” Eli said, eyeing the tactical display. Just in case.

/

Two hours passed before anything happened. Without a word over the comms, the freighter lifted off from Alaroa’s surface and began making its way back toward the ship. The bridge was absolutely silent as it wound its way between the system’s various obstacles, retracing its previous path almost exactly. “Still no word from them?” Eli asked.

Veba shook her head. “No, sir.”

Eli frowned, watching the little dot get closer. If they weren’t responding, that might mean there was no one on the ship - which suggested that either the Alaroa were fishing for their position, watching to see where the freighter got picked up, or that they’d loaded the thing to the gunnels with explosives. “Send them a clearance code,” Eli said.

Veba acknowledged and sent the message. There was a long, tense silence; Eli was about to give another order when she said, “They’ve sent back a corresponding code, Admiral. It’s correct.”

That meant someone was on board - but was it Lieutenant Kalat and her partner? Or could it be that the Alaroa were flying the freighter and the Chiss officers were prisoners, forced to reveal the corresponding code for their captors to send back? Or - however unlikely - had the Alaroa known the code themselves? Or had access to someone else who would?

Eli had to assume the worst - and he had to divine their motive. They were clearly looking for the Windwalker; the question was whether they intended to open fire, locate the ship and then run, or allow themselves to be taken aboard. Even under stealth, the Windwalker’s shields would be good enough to take several hits from the freighter before they had to ramp them up to full battle strength, and they could hopefully employ their tractor beams to catch the ship before it was able to make an escape. It would be simpler to let them fly into the hangar of their own accord, though, and then accost them there.

“I’m working under the assumption that it’s not Lieutenant Kalat flying that ship,” Eli told the bridge, “Weapons and shields, get ready to power up. Tractor beams, be ready to catch that ship if it tries to escape. Captain, organize teams in the hangar bay to neutralize the freighter and crew if they make a landing. Tell Moonrunner to make the same preparations.”

There was a scramble of activity around him. Eli kept watching the freighter, tracking its course, thinking. If they were following the route back to exactly the position the freighter had left the Windwalker, then they would end up a fair distance away from the flagship; but her sister ship, the Moonrunner, was much closer, floating in space above where the Windwalker had previously been, further toward the dwarf planet’s northern pole. Eli eyed the distance, and nodded slightly to himself. The Moonrunner was even more perfectly placed to catch the freighter in its tractor beam than the Windwalker - and hopefully the Alaroans thought they were only searching for one ship.

“Both ships report ready, sir,” Tev’san said.

“Very good, Commander. Let’s see what the freighter does now…”

The freighter stayed on course, flying to the point it had left the Windwalker and then pausing there, as if waiting for something. “Are they scanning?” Eli asked.

Alaam said, “Yes, Admiral. Too primitive to pick us up with the stealthing on, though.”

Eli’s mouth twisted; he had a feeling it wasn’t that simple.

His feeling was confirmed a moment later; Veba said, “The freighter’s sending out a signal - looks like a homing beacon!” at almost the same moment as Alaam said, “They’re turning tail, Admiral!”

“Tractor beams,” Eli said; a second later, the beams appeared on the tactical display, represented by fuzzy white beams of light.

“Moonrunner has them, Admiral,” Alaam said.

“Move us into range, just in case. Drop the stealth shield.”

As the helm acknowledged, Alaam said, “They’re trying to break free of the tractor beam, Admiral. No success so far.”

Eli could see the ship jinking and diving on the tactical, breaking free of the tractor beam for a few moments before being caught again. “Make sure they’ve brought all their beams to bear on it, Commander,” he said to Tev’san, who was on the comm to the Moonrunner’s captain already. “We can’t afford to let that ship get away.”

“Admiral, several Alaroan warships are moving,” Alaam said, “I would guess they’re responding to the homing beacon.”

“How long til contact?” Eli snapped.

“Three to five minutes until contact with patrol ship from Cataloa orbit. Seven to ten minutes until contact with inner system warships.”

On the tactical, Eli could see that the freighter had stopped moving, now caught up in all five of the Moonrunner’s tractor beams. “Tell Captain Talet, full power on all tractor beams,” he said to Tev’san, “Then prepare for hyperspace. Make a short jump to the nearest uninhabited system.”

The next minute stretched out taunt like a string ready to snap. Eli watched the Alaroan ships get closer and closer, all while the freighter seemed to inch up toward the Moonrunner. The Alaroan patrol ship was almost in range by the time the freighter disappeared into the hangar; Eli commanded his weapons officer to send a few warning shots in the Alaroan’s direction, trying to warn them off while the two ships turned in preparation for their jump to hyperspace. “Ready for the jump, Admiral,” the helm said; a moment later Moonrunner’s helm said the same.

“Jump,” Eli said, and watched as the Navigator at the helm - Uo’len, a girl of only eight - closed her eyes and focused. With a low hum and a familiar pull in his gut, the starlines stretched, and they made the jump.

Eli took a second to just breathe. It wasn’t the outcome he would have hoped for, but it also wasn’t a disaster. Neither ship had been harmed, they had retrieved the freighter, and managed not to kill any Alaroans or blow up any of their ships. They had acquired whoever was flying the freighter, who would hopefully be able to tell them at least something about how the Alaroa had defeated the Grysk. What worried Eli was the fate of Lieutenant Kalat and her partner. If they weren’t on the freighter, that meant the Alaroa had hostages; but they now had hostages too. Maybe they would be able to make a trade.

The jump took only fifteen minutes; they emerged in an empty, lifeless star system a few lightyears away from Alaroa. Not more than thirty seconds after they reverted to realspace, Veba said, “Sir, urgent hail from the Moonrunner.”

Eli nodded to her to put it through. They’d had fifteen minutes in hyperspace with whoever was crewing the freighter - and now it sounded like there might be trouble.

“Admiral,” the voice of Captain Talet, the Moonrunner’s commanding officer, came over the speaker, “We’ve managed to neutralize the hostiles on board the freighter, sir. They made a stand in the cockpit, but we were able to subdue them without casualties. I’ve ordered them taken down to the brig.”

“Very good, Captain. Who were these hostiles?”

“Five Alaroa and one human, sir. They put up quite the fight, sir, and we haven’t been able to get any answers out of them since taking them into custody.”

“That’s to be expected. What of Lieutenant Kalat and her partner?”

“Tied up in the cargo hold, sir. Unharmed.”

Eli breathed a silent sigh of relief. “Good. Secure the prisoners in the brig, Captain, and then go over that ship with a fine tooth comb. Find anything out of place.”

“Yes, sir. Will you be coming over to interrogate the prisoners, sir?”

“Yes. We’ll be with you soon, Captain.” When he closed the comm line, he turned to Tev’san. “Prepare my shuttle, Commander.”

/

The Moonrunner’s brig was full of the sound of avian chirping and hissing. The Alaroa had their own, bird-like language, but Eli knew they could be convinced to speak Ar’densa or Meese Caulf when necessity required. Considering he wouldn’t even be able to make the sounds required for half their native words, he would need to first convince them of the necessity of their cooperation.

The brig held no other captives, so each Alaroan had a cell to themself, as did the one human among the group. It was to him Eli went first, thinking he might be an easier target than the xenophobic avians; but he was laid out on the cot in his cell, apparently unconscious. “What happened?” Eli demanded.

“He was stunned, sir.” His guide was Senior Captain Leva’tesh’an, shortened to Atesh, who looked rather nervous in the company of an Admiral. “All but two of the party were, but the Alaroa recovered quickly.”

“He’s in good health?”

“He seems to be, sir.”

“Right. Well, we’d better try one of the Alaroa, then. Is there an obvious leader?”

“Yes, sir - the guards will transfer him to an interrogation room for you.”

“Thank you.” As Captain Atesh moved away, Eli kept staring at the human prisoner. He had the strangest feeling that the young man was familiar - like Eli had seen him somewhere before. Surely it was impossible - but… He narrowed his eyes, studying the man’s face, trying to remember. There was a definite familiarity. But where…

There was the sound of several vibrostaffs turning on, and an increase in squawking; Eli looked around to see six guards and Captain Atesh escorting an unhappy Alaroan out of their cell and down the corridor. Taking one last look at the human prisoner, he sighed, then followed.

The Alaroan was not particularly cooperative. It was a struggle to even get him to speak a language they understood, and when he finally did, he revealed little more than his name and occupation. He clearly held a military title, but the name was unfamiliar to Eli and it didn’t correspond to Chiss or Imperial ranks. He said many times that the Alaroa would come for him, and the ‘Chiss pirates’ would receive their just punishment; it was a revelation to discover after nearly an hour of speaking to him that he thought Eli and his crew were pirates. Eli’s attempts to convince him that they were in the employ of the legitimate and newly reformed Chiss Ascendancy fell on deaf ears.

They spent an hour and a half with him, and another hour with the Alaroan they took to be the second in command, who would not be convinced that Eli and the Chiss were here only for information - and also, strangely enough, thought they were pirates. “It seems the Ascendancy’s reputation has taken a hit after the Schism,” Eli said tiredly after the second Alaroan was escorted from the room.

Captain Talet had joined him half an hour into the first interrogation; now he looked very grave. “It has, Admiral. Only our continued appropriate conduct can ensure the restoration of our reputation.”

Eli gave him a curious look. “Does something about this mission disquiet you, Captain?”

Talet glanced at him, then away. “You have always encouraged honest speech, Admiral.”

“And I’ll encourage it again now.”

“Then…yes. It seems wrong to invade other beings’ star systems, no matter how peacefully, just to look for traces of our enemy.”

“Hmm. Maybe. Maybe I should have come to them openly, and seen how they reacted.” Eli sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “Well. No use dwelling on that now.”

“No, sir.” The commlink at Talet’s side chirped, and he answered, spoke for a minute, then keyed it off again. “The search crews say they’ve found nothing unusual on the freighter, Admiral.”

“They’re sure?”

“Mid Commander Velus assures me, sir.”

“Alright,” Eli said, trying to swallow a hint of disappointment. It was a long shot there would have been anything of interest on the freighter. “Arrange to have it flown back to the Windwalker and tell Hangar Master Losa to put it back in storage. I’ll take the shuttle back with Lieutenant Kalat. When we’re safely back on the Windwalker, set a course back to Csilla and prepare to jump. We’ll see if the interrogators in Csaplar can get anything out of these Alaroa.”

/

The first Eli knew of any potential problem was their sudden, unscheduled drop from hyperspace.

He’d retired to his quarters, planning to wash up and sleep, but he’d gotten sidetracked writing up a rough draft of his mission report. He was just trying to convince himself to leave it and get in the fresher when he felt the tug of a realspace reversion. It was a sickeningly familiar sensation, and to his war-trained mind it meant one thing: Grysk.

He was on the comm before he’d even made it out the door. “Commander, report.”

“Can’t find Grysk ship on the scopes yet, Admiral,” Tev’san said tightly. “No shots fired in either direction.”

“Keep searching, I’m on my way.”

By the time he reached the bridge the ship was at full battle stations, and the sensor team were scanning feverishly for a sign of the enemy. “Nothing yet, sir,” Alaam said.

“Sir, I can’t get hold of the Moonrunner,” Veba said, “Lieutenant, is she on scopes?”

After a second Alaam said, “No. I can’t see her anywhere-”

Then, with a slight whine and a clicking noise, all the lights on the bridge went out.

There was a moment of horrible silence before the red emergency lighting kicked in. All around Eli the boards at various bridge stations were dark; they had no comms, sensors, or hyperdrive. Judging by the lack of vibration through his feet, he guessed the engine might have just powered down as well.

“What happened?” he snapped.

“I’m booting up emergency diagnostic, sir,” the engineering officer, Senior Captain Calse, said.

Eli forced himself to take a deep breath, forced himself to be calm. If they had only emergency power, that meant they had life support, gravity, lights, and limited diagnostic capabilities. It was enough to keep the crew alive - provided there wasn’t someone waiting out there to strike them down. Without sensors and scanners, they’d never see them coming.

It took an entire minute for the emergency diagnostic to run; a minute that felt incalculably long and painful to Eli. When Calse finally spoke, she sounded puzzled. “Sir, from what I can tell, it looks like nothing has broken or been sabotaged. It looks like…” She hesitated. “It looks like someone flipped all the main breaker switches down in the engine room.”

For a moment Eli just stared at her. He knew what she was talking about - there was an entire room on the engineering deck dedicated to circuit breakers, from which you could cut off power to any part of the ship. High on the wall in that room were several huge, intimidating breakers that would shut off power to whole sections of the ship’s systems - like the hyperdrive, engine, weapons…

“There’s a comm in the breaker room, sir,” Calse said, “I’ll try them now.”

Another long, tense silence; after fifteen seconds Calse said, “No one’s answering, sir.”

Eli tried to keep a handle on the calm he’d been forcing himself to feel. “Someone must have flipped those breakers, Captain. Get Engineering Control on the line.”

When the line was answered, Eli for a moment almost didn’t recognise the voice of Engineering Chief Tasl. “Sir, there’s trouble down here,” the man said, sounding nothing like his usual collected self. “Someone’s locked themselves in the breaker room and flipped the switches, sir. We’ve tried to force the door but- I don’t know how- we can’t do anything too drastic, if we break those breakers-”

“I understand, Chief Tasl,” Eli said, uncomfortably aware of how serious the situation now was. If anything happened to those breakers, they might not be able to turn the Windwalker’s systems back on - and if they were stranded out here, in unknown space with no comms and no engine, they were toast. “Are all the members of Engineering accounted for?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Are you able to communicate through the door with whoever’s inside?”

“They haven’t responded to us, Admiral, though they should be able to hear.”

“Alright. Don’t do anything further to try and open the door, but see if you can’t get them to respond to you verbally. We’ll come up with a solution soon.” The line closed, and Eli said, “Captain, keep signaling the breaker room; I want to know who’s in there and what the hell they think they’re doing. Senior Commander, perform a role call of the entire ship’s crew. I want to know if anyone is missing or away from their station.”

For the next five minutes, the only sound was Tev’san organising the role call, and in the background, the incessant beeping of the ringing comm. Whoever was in the breaker room did not seem inclined to answer. Eli was almost ready to go down himself when the line suddenly clicked open.

Instantly Calse said, “Breaker room, this is the Bridge, ordering you to turn on the main breaker switches now.”

There was a bit of unintelligible muttering on the line, then a wavering voice said, “Bridge, this is Ensign Nasei. I- I regret to, to i-inform you that we’ve been, um, hijacked.”

Eli blinked. Hijacked?

Ensign Nasei kept speaking. “They demand that, um, they want to- to- parley. They want to parley. With the commanding officer.”

This was unreal. Eli could feel almost nothing through the sheer disbelief that had taken over him. They’d been hijacked?

By who?

Everyone on the bridge was staring at him. He wet his lips and said, “Ask Ensign Nasei who these people are.”

There was more muttering once Calse conveyed his message; after a moment Nasei answered, “They, er, claim to be advisors to the Alaroan government.”

So if they’d come from Alaroa… Eli bit back a curse as several pieces fell into place. Whoever had overseen the freighter’s search was going to get one hell of a dressing down if they got out of this. Eli didn’t know how they’d hidden themselves from the search, or how they’d managed to get from the hangar bay to engineering, but there was only one place they could have come from.

“Ask Ensign Nasei what these advisors want,” he snapped.

Little to no conferring this time; Nasei simply said, “They want to talk to the Admiral. They won’t say anything more than that.”

Eli sighed and closed his eyes, resisting the urge to press on his temples and relieve the headache that was gathering there. There were certainly ways they could try and dislodge these hijackers from their position of power, but Eli knew that, as much as he didn’t like the thought, they might respond to diplomacy. Then maybe they could end this without disaster or bloodshed.

“Very well,” he sighed, “Tell our guests I’ll be right down.”

/

A gaggle of frazzled and haggard engineers had gathered in the corridor outside the breaker room, their faces thrown into sharp contrast by the unsettling red glow of the emergency lights. They parted silently to let Eli through, allowing him to step up to the breaker room door, where Engineering Chief Tasl was waiting. “Any movement, Chief?” Eli asked.

“Nothing, sir. No response to us verbally, either.”

“Did you try trade languages?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Very well. Let’s get on with it, then.”

Tasl nodded, then hammered on the door with a wrench. “Listen up in there! The Admiral’s here to deal with you now, so say your piece!” he shouted, switching to Meese Caulf.

For a second there was no response. Eli almost signalled Tasl to try again in a different language – but then a voice responded. “That still sounds like you, Engineering Chief,” the voice said, “Why don’t you let the Admiral speak for himself?”

The words were Meese Caulf, accented in a way that, to Eli’s surprise, suggested the speaker had a Core or Corusanti accent; he would have guessed the speaker was female. He took a deep breath and said, “I’m here. Is there a reason you’re endangering the lives of all the people aboard this ship?”

“You’re the kidnapper, Admiral,” the female voice said, “We demand that we be taken back to the Alaroa system immediately.”

“That can be arranged,” Eli said slowly, “So long as you agree to tell us the details of how the Alaroans defeated the Grysk.”

There was a pause, then; “All this over some information?”

“Yes. We want nothing from the Alaroa except information. If you can provide it, we can let you go on your way.”

There was a longer pause, and when Eli leant closer, he could hear low voices conferring on the other side of the door. He had a suspicion they were speaking Basic, but he couldn’t make out enough to tell for sure.

“No deal, Admiral,” the female voice said, “We’re not comfortable giving Alaroan secrets to pirates like you.” Eli was about to ask what she meant, but she continued, “Besides, we don’t need you to take us anywhere.”

“What-” Eli started, but then his commlink started to squawk. When he picked up, it was Tev’san’s voice, as stressed as he’d ever heard it.

“Admiral, someone’s taken the bridge!”

It felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water through Eli’s veins. “What?”

Tev’san paused for a second to cough, then said, “Baro gas, sir. Flooded the room with it; we had to evacuate. Now they’ve sealed the door.”

Eli saw the hijackers plan in one horrible moment. Get control of the breaker room and the bridge, and there were very few other options available to wrestle back control of the ship. The hijackers could take it anywhere they wanted.

Except that their plan relied on Eli being unwilling to risk damage to his ship. If he decided to ignore that risk…

He took a few steps away from the door, enough that he would be out of earshot of whoever was inside. “Commander, prepare a group of marines with spacesuits and armour-piercing slugthrowers, and have them congregate at the airlocks closest to the bridge. Have another group of marines ready to break open the door and retake the bridge. Then send another squad down to the breaker room with door breaching equipment and a canister of choking gas.”

Tev’san must have worked out what he wanted to do, but he offered no objection. He confirmed, and Eli shut off the comm, then turned to Tasl. “Chief, I need a schematic that shows any vents leading to the breaker room.”

Tasl nodded, seemingly reassured by being asked to perform a task he knew without doubt how to do. He had the schematic up in seconds. “Here, Admiral, look; there are several vents.”

Eli studied the schematic for a moment before pointing. “This one, that leads from the maintenance corridor. Could you lead a squad there?”

“Yes, Admiral.”

“Good – they’ll be here any minute.”

Tasl looked nervous; an expression that moved to pure dread as the ship suddenly began to power back on around them. “They’re getting ready to jump,” he said.

“So long as we can get into the breaker room, we can regain control,” Eli said, “They’ll have to go in short hyperjumps, anyway. There’s no way they could have secured a Navigator.”

It was an achingly long five minutes, standing in the bowels of the ship, listening to everything powering up around them and knowing they had absolutely no control over any of it. Eventually, though, a group of black-armoured Chiss marines came jogging around the corner, armed with breach charges and three heavy canisters of choking gas. “Chief, take them to the maintenance corridor we picked out,” Eli said, “Sergeant, once you’re there, wait for my signal, then deploy the canister and throw it into the vent. Chief Tasl will show you on the schematic where you’re aiming.” The marine Sergeant saluted, and Tasl led the way as they trotted off along the corridor. Eli turned to the commander of the second group and said, “Captain, you and your marines will be breaching the door and subduing the hostiles. We’re aiming for no damage to the electrical equipment, but more important is that you secure the room.”

“These breaching charges aren’t delicate, sir,” the Captain said.

“I know, but do your best. We’ll time it so that the gas goes in, give them a few seconds panic, then blow the door. As soon as the hostiles are down, cut the power to the hyperdrive, engine and weapons.”

“Yes, sir.”

In truth, Eli was nervous. The Captain wasn’t wrong that there was significant risk of damaging the breakers inside the room, the consequences of which could be disastrous. But there was no way they could continue to allow the hijackers control of their ship. Even if it left them dead in space, there were other hyperspace capable craft in the hangar; they would make it work somehow.

Eli watched from a safe distance along the corridor as the marines set the breaching charge. Halfway through, he got a comm from Tev’san, telling him the other marines were ready and waiting by the airlocks. “Hold there,” Eli told him, “Let us get control of the breakers again first. We don’t want the hijackers jumping to hyperspace while the marines are outside.”

The marine Captain signalled ready; Eli said into his commlink, “Throw the canister, Sergeant.”

Eli couldn’t hear the canister being thrown, but he did hear the yells as it deployed inside the room. To survive the gas they’d used on the bridge, the hijackers’ companions must have had some kind of rebreather; it was an even bet that these hijackers did too – thus the breaching charge.

The marine Captain held up one hand with all the fingers extended, then counted down from five. When his hand was a fist, the demolitions expert hit the detonator, and a vibration ran down the corridor while smoke gushed from the door. “In in in!” the Captain yelled, and the marines disappeared into the room; a second later Eli heard the sound of yells and stun blasts discharging.

It was all over in seconds. It seemed like no time at all until one of the marines appeared again and made the ‘all clear’ signal with his hands. Eli hastened forward, saying into his commlink, “Send the marines out, Commander! We’re clear down here!” Tev’san acknowledged, and Eli heard over the comm as the marines launched out the airlock and into space.

When he reached the door, two of the marines were wrestling with the huge breaker that controlled power to the hyperdrive; as Eli watched, they managed to flip it. Eli scanned the room, seeing that the marines had stunned three hijackers and laid them out on the floor, while one marine was talking to a rather shell-shocked young Chiss whom Eli assumed to be Ensign Nasei.

Then his eyes caught on the hijackers’ faces, and he froze.

It couldn’t be. There was no way it could possibly be-

“Sir? Admiral?” the marine Captain was at his side, clearly trying to get his attention, but Eli could barely hear him through the ringing in his ears.

There was no way the crew of the Chimaera could be here.

“Sir, marines are in position,” Tev’san’s voice said over the commlink, “About to blow the windows.”

Eli opened his mouth, but he couldn’t force anything out. He heard Tev’san give the order to fire.

/

The plan went perfectly. The marines used the armour-piercing slugthrower rounds to break the bridge’s transparisteel windows, and the resulting decompression pulled the Bora gas explosively out into the air, clearing the bridge for the team at the doors, who set off their breaching charge and stormed inside. By some miracle, each of the four hijackers on the bridge had managed to avoid getting catapulted out of the windows into space, but they were helpless to resist the spacesuit-clad, maglock-booted marines, and were all taken into custody with little to no trouble. The emergency shutters had then deployed, sealing the bridge off from the vacuum. Down in engineering, the breaker room had taken minimal damage, all of which Chief Engineer Tasl seemed confident he could repair. They would be back in hyperspace and on their way to Csilla in three hours at most.

All in all, a successful operation.

Except, Eli thought, for the toll it was now taking on him.

Eli stood at the monitor console in the brig’s control room, watching the live feed from each cell. On them, he watched six of his former crewmates from the Chimaera, plus the one stranger, as they sat sullenly, or paced, or harangued the guards, or meditated, or…

There was Commander Hammerly, the Chimaera’s sensor officer; Lieutenant Pyrondi, the Chimaera’s weapons officer; Pik and Waffle, the two deathtroopers who had accompanied him years ago on his first mission with Ronan; Dobbs, who’d been in charge of Chimaera’s TIE Defenders; and a black-haired, unfamiliar young man who Eli had to guess was the reputed Rebel Jedi, Ezra Bridger.

And Thrawn. Real. Alive. Whole. Thrawn.

Just the thought left Eli short of breath. Over the years, as the silence had lengthened and lengthened, Eli had accepted that Thrawn was gone; that he was dead, or lost somewhere on the edge of space, beyond rescue. The Ascendancy had tipped over into open war with the Grysk a mere two months after Thrawn’s disappearance, and Eli had been too deeply entangled with the Chiss war machine to break off and go searching for him. He had accepted reality; he had grieved.

But now that reality had been turned on its head.

Beside him, he could just tell that Tev’san was bursting to say something. “What is it, Commander?” he murmured.

“Admiral- forgive me- isn’t that Aristocra Mitth’rass’safis’ brother?”

Eli sighed. He had hoped no one would recognize Thrawn. “Yes, it is.” Seeing Tev’san’s frown, he said, “What do you know of Mitth’raw’nuruodo, Commander?”

The look in Tev’san’s eyes when he glanced at Eli was wary. “I know he was a respected commander in the CDF. I know he left to pursue a career in the Imperial Navy – there were rumours of exile, though Family Mitth maintained he had been sent under their auspices.”

“I believe the latter is true,” Eli said, “I believe the former Council sent him to judge the strengths and weaknesses of the Empire.”

“A mole.”

“Of a sort, yes.”

They fell silent for a few seconds before Tev’san said, “Surely we must bring him back to the Council.”

Eli felt his lips twist. “My instinct would be to bring him to Aristocra Mitth’ras’safis himself.”

“That could be seen as favouritism, sir.”

“True.” Eli sighed. “In any case, I think we had best see what he has to say for himself.” Eli turned and addressed the only other person in the room. “Mid Captain Thalla, have your guards bring Mitth’raw’nuruodo to an interview room.”

“Yes, sir.” The Head Brig Officer saluted, then disappeared out of the room. Eli was able to watch as four guards arrived at Thrawn’s cell and escorted him out and back down the corridor. He seemed to put up no resistance.

“Come on, Commander,” he said, and led the way out of the room.

Each interview room had a small antechamber between it and the corridor, a sort of waiting room; here Eli stopped, taking deep breaths, trying to force himself to push the door release button.

When he did, he would finally be face to face with the man he’d thought seven years dead.

“Admiral?” Tev’san said from just beside him.

“Sorry, Commander. I…” Eli hesitated, unsure what to say, unsure how he could express his emotions without overstepping the bounds of propriety. There were so many emotions swirling in him, he could barely name them, let alone give them voice.

“I can speak to him, Admiral, if you’d rather not.”

Eli had to hold back a bitter laugh. “No. I need to. I must. Wait here.” With that, he reached out and pressed the button.

Thrawn was seated stiffly, proudly straight in his chair. He looked very different to the last time Eli had seen him, at least physically; his neat, carefully cut hair had been replaced by a long ponytail, while his pristine, pressed white Grand Admiral’s uniform had been traded for rough, practical clothes that put Eli in mind of a smuggler. He had just a touch more age about the face – but his eyes were as intense as ever.

The expression that spread across his face as Eli walked into the room was the closest to pure shock Eli had ever seen on him.

He walked over and sat down, and they stared at each other for a long, silent minute.

“I don’t think I’ve ever shocked you to silence before,” Eli said.

“Eli.” Thrawn was clearly trying very hard to be his usual calm, collected self, but wasn’t quite managing it. “What are you doing here?”

“As I told the person I now believe was Commander Hammerly down in engineering, we’re looking for information on how the Alaroa defeated the Grysk.” Eli raised an eyebrow. “And getting hijacked, apparently.”

“I did not know you were aboard.”

“Yes. You couldn’t have.” Eli frowned. “Both the Alaroa and Commander Hammerly seemed to think we were pirates.”

“That is what the Alaroa told us you were. They believe the entire Chiss Ascendancy has broken apart, its remnants no more than pirates or drifters.” Thrawn was looking at him closely. “But this does not seem to be the case.”

Eli sighed. “The Ascendancy was…shattered by the war. The split between those who supported the Grysk and those who fought them broke society in two, and normal governance broke down. People have been calling it the Schism.” He paused, then said, “But that’s all over now. The Grysk are defeated, and the Restored Ascendancy has not long been in power.”

“And it was they who sent you on this mission?”

“I meant what I said to Hammerly - if we get the information we need, we can let them and the Alaroa go.” Eli cocked his head. “But now I think I know how the Alaroa defeated the Grysk.”

Thrawn nodded slowly. “After they told us of the demise of the Ascendancy… I had nowhere else to go. I agreed to stay with the Alaroa and help them combat the Grysk. The others agreed to stay with me. We managed to devise a strategy by which the Alaroa were able to destroy the Grysk fleet that had been harassing them. The Grysk have not been seen in the system since.”

“If you would agree to speak on such matters to the Council, I doubt anyone else’s testimony would be needed.”

“That is where we’re going, then? Back to the Ascendancy?”

“Yes.”

Thrawn inclined his head. “Then you may present me to the Council - provided you let the others go.”

“You may present yourself to the Council.” Eli stood up and leant over the table, and released Thrawn’s hands from the binders.

Thrawn looked at him warily. “I do not know that presenting me as a free man will be beneficial to you. My companions and I hijacked your ship.”

“Under a case of mistaken identity - and you did no lasting harm.” Eli almost laughed. “It was my orders that did that.”

“Still.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Eli said, “No one will question me - not on the ship, at least.”

Slowly, almost tentatively, Thrawn stood. “Very well. The others?”

“So long as they can be relied upon not to cause trouble, they can be free as well. They’re your responsibility, though.”

“Noted.”

There was a pain in Eli’s chest, thick and unexplainable. This reunion was going fine - well even - and yet-

“There is pain in your face, Eli Vanto,” Thrawn said quietly. “What is it that bothers you?”

Trust Thrawn to read him like a book. “Nothing,” he said, sharper than he meant to, “We should go and release the other prisoners.”

Eli turned, and was keenly aware of Thrawn’s eyes on his back as he left the room.

/

Eli watched the swirling blue of hyperspace go past from the viewport in his private rooms, frowning to himself.

Thrawn was here, alive, as were his old shipmates. They had solemnly apologised and agreed to keep the peace, and further agreed to give their own testimonies to the Chiss Council. His mission was a success, if a roundabout one.

So why did he feel so restless and off-balance?

A ping from the door broke into his thoughts. He’d sent away the member of the honour guard who would traditionally have been guarding it - after the events of the day, they all needed their rest - so he walked over himself and opened the door.

He’d guessed it would be Thrawn standing outside. Eli didn’t give him the chance to ask; he simply stepped back and let him through.

Thrawn walked inside, and Eli followed a few steps behind. This would have been the moment to start a casual conversation, or perhaps offer a drink, but every sentence Eli tried to start got stuck in his throat.

Thrawn glanced around the interior of the cabin, then his gaze focused back in on Eli. Instead of starting with any pleasantries or small talk, he said, “You were unhappy earlier, and now you are even more unhappy. I wish to know why.”

Despite himself, Eli couldn’t help his wry smile. “Of course you do.”

Thrawn just looked at him expectantly.

Eli looked away. “It’s because…” He closed his eyes. “I guess it’s because I missed you. I thought you were dead; I mourned you. And now you’re not dead but…It’s stiff, just, businesslike between us. I suppose I’m wondering if… if we’ve grown apart. Spent too much time away from each other, going down different paths.”

“My almost crippling your ship probably has something to do with the general distance,” Thrawn said quietly.

Eli let out a painful little laugh. “I should’ve guessed it was you. Who else would be so audacious?”

“But like you said, you believed me dead.” Thrawn took a step closer, and Eli turned to look at him. “I do not mean to be cold, Eli. I have been…learning to be less so, recently.”

“While I have been learning to be more so,” Eli murmured.

“That does not mean this is impossible,” Thrawn said.

“This?”

Thrawn didn’t answer; instead his eyes drifted to the left side of Eli’s face. Eli had to fight the urge to lift his hand, to cover the scars. “Will you tell me what happened?” Thrawn asked, his voice more gentle than Eli had ever heard it.

“A- a Grysk,” Eli said. The memory was still hard to think about. “They- I was captured. The- he- his claws…”

Thrawn’s hand landed on his shoulder. “You need say no more.”

Eli couldn’t manage words; he just nodded.

“Would you allow me the Ksenthai?”

Eli stilled, blinking up at him. The Ksenthai was an ancient Chiss tradition, a way of symbolically honouring and thanking warriors who had been visibly disfigured by their efforts in war. It was simple - it just involved a kiss to the injured or scarred part of the skin. Eli had thought it odd and too intimate at first, but many Chiss had asked the same of him. Even Thrass had done it.

But this was Thrawn, and for some reason, that was different.

Still, after allowing everyone else, he couldn’t exactly say no. “Yes,” he said, startled at how his voice came out unnecessarily breathy.

Something unnameable flared in Thrawn’s eyes; he raised one hand and tipped Eli’s chin up and sideways, their eyes still locked, right until the moment he leaned in.

His kiss was soft, unbearably soft, and despite the muted sensation of his scars it felt like fire chasing across his skin.

Most had stopped at one, but Thrawn kept going - and Eli didn’t protest. He pressed those achingly soft, gentle kisses across the scars on Eli’s cheek and then across the underside of his jaw, down onto his throat. Eli should’ve stopped him - should’ve told him he was going far, far beyond what the ritual entailed - but he didn’t want him to stop. His breathing was short, almost panting, and he ached to reach up, to touch Thrawn back in some way.

“I also missed you, Eli’Vanto,” Thrawn said, a soft whisper against his neck, “More than I can say.”

Thrawn lifted his head, moving back, and Eli acted on instinct, catching his mouth as he went.

The kiss started slow, hesitant; but when Thrawn responded, leaning into it, his hands coming to rest on Eli’s shoulders, Eli felt relief flood his chest. He had still feared, somewhere down in the small part of him that remembered being only lonely, unsure, overlooked Ensign Vanto, that Thrawn might reject him.

Thrawn’s arm slipped around Eli’s waist even as his other hand came up to cup Eli’s cheek, tilting his head so he could deepen their kiss. They pressed together, and Eli reveled in it even as it still felt slightly taboo, slightly forbidden. They weren’t subordinate and commanding officer now, but the memory of when they had been was deeply ingrained. It felt like the fire across his skin had spread through his veins, eating him up inside as they broke apart with a gasp and Thrawn pressed kisses down his neck, seemingly oblivious to the scars.

Eli was vaguely thinking of taking things further - distracted by Thrawn’s mouth as they kissed again, and maybe it was a little soon but Eli wanted it, wanted him, so badly-

Of course, that was the moment they both felt the tug of realspace reversion, and a second later, heard the squawk of Eli’s commlink.

Eli pulled away with a sigh, though Thrawn’s hand on the back of his head kept him close. “Rain check?” he whispered.

“That is slang I haven’t picked up.”

Eli laughed. “That’s because you never watched balaball. It means…maybe we’ll continue this later.”

Eli felt Thrawn’s hands tighten on his waist. “We will definitely be continuing this later.”

/

Later turned out to be a lot longer than Eli intended.

There was a great amount of concern when they arrived - they had been gone a lot longer than they should have been - and a great deal more when the story behind their delay was revealed to the Council. Then there was a great deal of arguing over whether Thrawn and the other humans should have to face punishment for their attempted hijack of the Windwalker, which eventually resulted in an agreement on exile for the humans, and a ten year bar from military service for Thrawn. Eli had wanted to argue heavily against that one, until Thrass quietly told him that such a humiliation on Thrawn’s part would likely spare the humans from imprisonment or worse. Given that, Eli had declined to argue the point, though he’d dearly wanted to.

Then had come the debrief from his own mission, and Thrawn and the humans’ testimony before the Council. Long, protracted and ultimately boring, it had dragged on for days - at the end of which he had been obliged to escort the captured Alaroans back to their home system.

When he returned from a very awkward trip to Alaroa, Thrawn and Thrass had already retired to Fura, but Eli was not free to join them. As the only human officer in the Chiss fleet, he was the natural choice to return the now exiled humans to the Coreward galaxy, which ate up another two weeks. Though it was nice to spend time with Hammerly, Pyrondi and Dobbs, his mind kept going back to his and Thrawn’s promise; ‘later’.

He at least had a lot of time to think - and most of what he thought about was Thrawn. Some of it was anxiety - what had that kiss meant, exactly? - while some of it was a small, careful hope.

So many things had changed, and the constraints that had once made their relationship impossible were no longer relevant. Thrawn was no longer his commanding officer, and Eli, having earned the honour of the Dalarai and Chiss citizenship, was no longer barred from being with him simply because he was a different species.

So it was with no small amount of nerves and anticipation that he finally arrived at the private Mitth estate on Fura several weeks later.

Thrass met him at the main door of the estate, looking a little more cheerful than when Eli had last seen him. “Having your brother back is treating you well, then?” Eli asked as they began their walk through the compound.

“Yes and no,” Thrass said, managing to smile and grimace at the same time, “You of all people should know what Thrawn can be like in confined spaces. The military bar is finally forcing him to pursue other avenues, though, and I think that’s a good thing.”

“Maybe he’ll finally try his hand at politics.”

Thrass’ grimace was for real this time. “I doubt that will ever be Thrawn’s area of expertise.” They entered a wide covered terrace between two buildings, and Eli’s heart lifted and stomach churned as he saw Thrawn, sitting alone on one of the low couches that were strewn around. He turned at their approach, and a small smile curved his lips.

“I’m sorry that my stay will have to be a short one,” Thrass said as they came together, “I’m going to have to leave for Csilla tonight, so most of today will be taken up packing. I’ll be able to join you at dinner, though. I trust you’ll be fine on your own?”

Eli smiled, catching Thrawn’s eye. “We’ll be fine.”

Thrawn nodded. “I am sure I can think of something to keep us entertained.”

When Eli looked back at Thrass, his eyes were flicking between the two of them, his expression calculating; but he only said, “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

Despite insinuations, they didn’t get right back to ‘later’ as Eli had half-hoped they would. In the moment, it felt too sudden a shift - and Eli was honestly exhausted from the last few weeks of non-stop travel. It felt good to sit with his feet up on one of the couches, with no responsibilities and no work to do, listening to Thrawn talk about the artistic merit and history of the Mitth mansion’s sculpture gardens. It began to rain, the heavy, pelting rain that Fura was famous for, and the sound was so soothing that Eli didn’t realise he’d fallen asleep until Thrawn was shaking him awake to go to dinner.

The next few days passed in a similar lazy, relaxed fashion. The question of the two of them together, of their kiss, hung always in the back of Eli’s mind; but it was enough to spend time together again, to feel each other out. It felt almost cautious - like testing the waters, seeing if the person they remembered was still there. Seeing if, as Eli had feared, they had grown too far apart to come back together.

The Mitth family estate was ideally suited to this purpose. It had extensive gardens for walking, sculpture gardens to admire, and an absolute profusion of places to simply sit and relax. When they got bored of that, they could ask to be ferried to the nearest town, where there were cafes and museums and any number of other diversions.

The whole week had a slightly surreal feeling, like they’d sidestepped and ended up in a different universe. They’d spent so long in military, on ships, only relating to each other that way; it was strange to sit around and talk about art, or books, or order fancy artisan cafs in the Chiss equivalent of a tapcaf.

It was strange - but good, in its way. It was peaceful. “It feels good to be not in imminent danger of death at every moment of the day,” as Eli put it one night to Thrawn.

Thrawn’s only answer was an enigmatic smile.

Technically Eli hadn’t given the Admiralty an answer about when he would return to duty, and the more he stayed here, the more he wondered if he wanted to. He did miss his ship, and the never-dulled wonder of spaceflight; and a part of him missed the excitement, the danger, and all the simple routines and certain truths of military life. More than anything, as the week wore on into another, he missed having a purpose.

Thrawn didn’t ask when Eli would return, and Eli didn’t ask what Thrawn planned to do now he’d been barred from the military. He couldn’t imagine he’d thought about it yet, and he didn’t want to be the one to ruin the mood.

He did ask, though, the one question that had been bothering him since Alaroa. “Tell me,” he said, as they sat facing each other on one of the wide verandas, with rain splashing down outside, “How did you hijack my ship?”

Thrawn smiled. “It was fairly simple. We hid ourselves in the water tanks; Bridger made them read as full on the computer, so the searchers didn’t think to check. Once the freighter was back in storage, we slipped out and snuck through maintenance tunnels to the breaker room and the bridge. Pik was equal to the task of securing the breaker room on his own, even without Hammerly and Pyrondi at his back; and once they had your attention, we threw in the canister of Bora gas…”

“And you would have been able to fly right back to Alaroa,” Eli said sourly. “Where did the Bora gas come from?”

“The Alaroa sniff it as a hallucinogen.”

“Wow. Tough birds.”

Halfway into the second week, Thrawn announced that he needed a day or two to himself. He had a strange expression on his face as he said it, one that Eli couldn’t decipher, and that made him worry; but it wasn’t his place to demand Thrawn’s attention. He could entertain himself for a while.

Two days came and went, and then a third. Eli promised himself he wouldn’t bother Thrawn; he was fine alone.

On the evening of the fourth day, Eli returned to his rooms to find a block of carved ice waiting for him.

Suspended in a freeze-field, the ice was as pristine as the moment it had been laser carved. It was a solid block about a foot long on each side; exactly one half of it had been carved into a beautiful array of patterns and designs.

Eli knew exactly what it was. He had to sit down hard on the nearest bench, his legs suddenly shaking too much to support him.

It took him several minutes to pull himself together enough to stand up again and go over to inspect the ice sculpture. The symbol of Family Mitth was clearly incorporated in the design, so technically it could have been sent by any one of a number of Mitth family members here on the estate; but Eli knew who had sent it. His suspicion was confirmed by the note that had been left along with the sculpture.

Eli,

You are under no obligation or expectation to agree; in fact I expect you won ’t. But I thought it prudent to clearly state my feelings on this matter.

Thrawn.

Eli read the note three times over, then sat back on his heels and rubbed one hand down his face, trying not to laugh hysterically. The note was so purely, utterly Thrawn; the fact that it was appended to the Chiss version of a marriage proposal just made it even more absurd than usual.

The presentation of a half-carved block of ice was a proposal method that had been handed down virtually unchanged from the Chiss’ first days on Csilla. Eli’s choices were simple; he could either send the block back still half uncarved, thus rejecting the proposal, or he could work his own design into the other half of the ice, which would mean he accepted.

His first thought was that of course he had to refuse. They’d shared one kiss; that was barely a basis for a marriage proposal. And the carved block - the net’salai, as it was known in Cheunh - was not just any marriage proposal. It represented an agreement to enter into the third, most romantic, and most binding form of Chiss marriage, the bond of net’sali. Once made, the bond was very rarely broken. If Eli accepted, it would be tantamount to a lifetime commitment.

Still, he didn’t move to seal the freezebox back up. He sat there, staring at the sculpture, tracing its lines with his eyes. There were hundreds of set designs, all with different meanings, different things you could say to your future spouse and different hopes you could express for the future of your marriage. After a while, Eli got up and retrieved his datapad, and looked up a database of meanings.

The things he could read off the sculpture made him blush. Faithfulness, undying loyalty, endless devotion… He switched the datapad off abruptly and got up, leaving the net’salai in its freeze-field on the floor. After a second, he went back and retrieved it; there would be many, many questions if anyone else saw it. He took it into his bedroom, sealed up the freezebox, and resolved to go to bed.

Of course, he lay awake for hours, thinking about the net’salai, and Thrawn, and the future…

In the morning, he sat up and glared at the freezebox where it sat innocently on the chest at the end of his bed.

Surely the answer to this was simple - his first reaction had been to refuse, so why not get on with it?

But then why did he feel so reluctant to actually do it?

Did he want to say yes?

What if I said yes?

The thought was compelling - but also terrifying.

I want to say yes. At least - there ’s a part of me that wants to say yes.

But why?

Eli threw his bedclothes off, frustrated, and went into the fresher. Afterward, he called the housekeeper and feigned illness, and she agreed to send someone with breakfast to his room. He let them bring it to his bedroom, then when they left took it out to the balcony instead, just so he didn’t have to keep looking at the freezebox, the source of all his confusion.

Faithfulness, undying loyalty, endless devotion. The meanings kept swirling through his head, thoughts like mosquitoes that wouldn’t leave him alone. He knew Thrawn was a man who kept everything incredibly close to his chest; Eli had had ten years and more to learn to read him, and even then his emotions were still sometimes a mystery. It wasn’t inconceivable that he’d been harbouring this secret, deep passion that he’d only now found the courage to express. And he’d been more than enthusiastic enough when they’d kissed.

But what did Eli feel in return?

He wanted Thrawn - both in his bed, and in his life. Everything felt better when he was around, even if everything was also more confusing and emotionally fraught when they were together. But they could find peace - as they had been doing for the last two weeks. They fit together, complimented each other, and Eli always missed him when he was gone. Had been missing him, in fact, for seven years.

One answer to Thrawn’s question was a definite, firm no. That was the answer he was expecting. But the other answer was…open. Possibility. Potential.

He put his head in his hands; he was thinking too much. He could just imagine what his mother would say if she were here right now  - he’d heard it a hundred times.

Eli, you’re not thinking about the really important question.

Eli stilled, then felt like he wanted to bang his head on the table.

The important question wasn’t “yes I will marry you” or “no I won’t”; it was simply, did he love Thrawn, or did he not?

The answer to that was obvious.

Maybe he didn’t feel quite ready for marriage - but he’d never been quite ready for any of the challenges Thrawn had thrown at him.

Eli smiled to himself, then went to make enquiries as to where he could find ice-carving equipment.

/

Eli met Thrawn three days later outside the Mitth family vault. Used both for burials and marriage ceremonies, the vault encapsulated the Chiss idea of the dead’s influence on the living, the way ancestors and families handed down luck and prosperity throughout the ages.

As tradition dictated, they hadn’t seen each other since Eli had sent back the net’salai with his half carved in. He had received a half-hysterical comm call from Thrass, most of which had consisted of Thrass exclaiming, “You want to be net’sali’a? His net’sali’a?” several times, while Eli assured him that he did, in fact, want just that.

They would go inside and perform the ceremony alone. Both of them were draped in long, flowing ceremonial robes, Thrawn’s a deep, blood red, and Eli’s startling white. Thrawn was carrying the freezebox in one hand; with the other he reached out and took Eli’s. “You are sure about this, Eli?”

Eli’s immediate response was to ask why everyone kept doubting him on that point, but the look on Thrawn’s face stopped him. He’d never seen Thrawn so openly worried before. So instead, he squeezed Thrawn’s hand and said, “Yes, I’m sure.”

Inside, an entire wing of the vault had been partitioned off and turned into a huge freezer. Large, ceiling-high blocks of ice had been formed inside, with little niches cut out in rows. It was into one of these that the two of them would place their own net’salai.

Eli shivered as they moved down the rows toward their appointed niche, drawing the robes closer around him. There were surprisingly few net’salai in the niches, considering how long the Mitth family had been in residence on Fura. It was just starting to dawn on Eli that the bond of net’sali might be even more rare than he realised when Thrawn stopped and pointed. “Here,” he said quietly, “You see how our names have been carved into the ice?”

Eli did, and his stomach clenched with nerves. He had a sudden urge to go back, to write this whole thing off as a mistake. Who was he to marry someone like Thrawn, anyway? Just a hick from some backward planet-

“Eli?” Thrawn said. When Eli looked, Thrawn had opened up the freezebox to reveal their net’salai.

Tracing the designs with his eyes, knowing what they meant and who had carved them, made the nerves settle in Eli’s stomach. “Together?” he asked softly.

Thrawn nodded, and fit his hands to his side of the ice block. Eli bent down and grasped his half, and as one they lifted together. It was heavy, but not heavy enough to prevent them lifting it up and slotting it into place inside the little niche.

Together they stood back for a moment and admired their handiwork. This was what sealed the deal, in Chiss eyes; what marked and recorded them as bound together. It was all a little fast for Eli’s taste, but he was used to the big, festive extravaganza of a Lysatran wedding. This was more dignified, more elegant; entirely more Chiss.

Eli turned to look at Thrawn, and found him already looking back. “This is a little surreal,” he whispered.

The corner of Thrawn’s mouth twitched. “The good kind of surreal, I hope.”

“Yes.”

Thrawn offered his arm, and Eli took it; and together they began to walk back toward the door. “Now, I believe I heard something about a party?” Eli said, grinning up at Thrawn.

Thrawn laughed, a sound rare and infinitely precious; and Eli knew beyond doubt that he had made the right decision.