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Chapter Text

An imperial star destroyer marked by a mythical beast of long dead legends decaling its hull, orbited the empires planetary capital: Coruscant.

Over an hour had passed since the star destroyers commander had received his new orders from the imperial high command. But the mountainous starship remained stationary in high orbit. Its engines idle, its systems offline. For all intents and purposes, it was a slumbering beast, sentenced to remain that way, until its commander spoke otherwise.

The space lanes intersecting the massive cruiser were sparse and lightly travelled. A few small freighters ambling along at a snail’s pace, a couple of shuttle crafts meandering by. All offering the imperial destroyer a wide berth as they did so.

The interior of the ship though, was another matter entirely. Bodies rushed form here to there. Officers, technicians and non-coms alike scurried throughout the ships corridors like rats scampering along sewage pipes.

The one place where there wasn’t a hurried scramble – was the commanders bridge side office. Though it usually acted as a studious sanctuary for its owner, at the current point in time, there was a tense unbroken atmosphere piercing the layer of tranquillity.

Sat in the straight-backed lounge set against a wall, were two young woman. One dressed in imperial blacks, while the other wore a uniform of midnight blue, with a crest of intersecting circles patched to her right sleeve. And there was a noticeable gap between them. The imperial officer carried an expression of confusion, her tense posture matching. While the Chiss navigator held a fiery determination in her eyes.

“Navigator Vah’nya, you said your name was? Stationed aboard the Steadfast?” Grand Admiral Thrawn asked, his expression was somewhere between, veiled uninterest and careful optimism.

The Chiss navigator responded in fluent Meese-caulf “Yes.”

“Which would mean your commanding officer; is Admiral Ar’alani.” Thrawn stated.

The girl nodded, and a small smile touched her lips. She stole a glance at Oskorri, who smiled back, though hers was admittedly strained.

Upon finalising her introduction with the other girl, she’d immediately steered her through the star destroyers maze-like corridors - to Lomar, her closet superior. And in turn Lomar had shuffled the news through the chain of command until it had reached the ear of the grand admiral. Who himself was still surface side of the city-wide planet at the time.

Thrawn, Faro, Eli, Oskorri, and Vah’nya were the chosen group now in the admirals office. Of course, Pellaeon who was still saddled with supervising the night shift rotation, had been unavailable to attend. A well-documented heavy sleeper, it had been decided to not attempt rousing the captain from his slumber.

When she’d spotted the crude caricature she’d drawn of the admiral, and Ronan's destroyed cape, on one of the walls. It had taken all of her willpower to restrain a laugh. After receiving her promotion to junior lieutenant that day, she didn’t want to incur any setbacks that may drop her back to ensign.

“Lieutenant?” Thrawn said.

It took her a moment to realize the admiral was addressing her. She still hadn’t gotten used to the change in her rank.

“Sir?”

“You’ve had no contact with Vah’nya or other Chiss of the ascendancy before this meeting?” He asked in Meese caulf. The only trade language both her and Vah’nya spoke fluently.

Oskorri’s brow furrowed “No sir. I’ve never met any Chiss before you.” She knew she was telling the truth, but a small part of her still felt like she was giving the wrong answer. Though she reckoned it was just nerves. Being in the admiral’s offices, when you weren’t a part of the senior command, either meant you were receiving a commendation, or disciplinary action.

“And Vah’nya,” Thrawn said, turning back to the navigator “You said you felt ‘drawn’ to Lieutenant Oskorri?”

The girl’s face tensed slightly “I felt a…connection, like a…” her face scrunched up as she searched for the word in its translated form “A rope. I followed its trail, and the trail, it led me here, to her.” Her lips parted ever so slightly, as she half turned to look at Oskorri.

Oskorri for her part, suddenly felt like one of the admirals art pieces. Placed on a wall to be examined and studied by those piercing red eyes.

“And how did you come to find out the lieutenants name?” he asked, gesturing in her direction.

The girls lip twitched “I heard a voice,” she said, tapping her right temple “It was another Chiss speaking to me.”

Thrawn’s eyes narrowed in interest “Why do you say that?”

“His accent. Serving aboard the Steadfast, I have heard all the accents in the ascendancy. It was Chiss.” She said with certainty.

“And it was a man’s voice?” Thrawn asked, a hidden frown twitching at the corners of his mouth.

Vah'nya nodded.

The grand admiral swapped his gaze to both of them, then half turned, his eyes drifted to a dusty game board kept high on one of his shelves.

“Is Admiral Ar’arlani aware of your current whereabouts, and the reason for you making the long journey to the deep core?” he asked, turning back to the lounge.

It looked like this was a question she couldn’t answer easily. She cut her gaze to the floor, opting to remain silent.

Taking her silence as a no, Thrawn’s red eyes flicked between them, then after a moment, he brought his hands together in a prayer motion. “We cannot disobey our orders to assist Governor Tarkin on his pirate hunt,” he started “But it will most likely require us to travel to the furthest boundaries of wild space. From there, we can attempt to hail the Steadfast.”

A small, muffled groan escaped the navigator.

Faro who’d throughout the discussion had stayed relatively quiet, stepped forward “Sir, with the records we’ve already compiled of the Sluuga, we know that their species are documented as to circulating around sparse pockets of the unknown regions.” Her face turned sour “Probably to use them as picking grounds for their salvaging enterprises.”

Eli stepped in place with Faro “We can still obey the orders from up top. It’ll take time, time we can use to our advantage.”

“Very good.” Thrawn said “It’s decided then. Commodore, when you have time, please find a cabin suitable for Navigator Vah’nya.” He then turned his sights to the officer settled on the lounge “Lieutenant Oskorri.” She immediately straightened in her seat “I understand the difficulty and the strangeness of the situation. But until we are able to uncover reasons for Vah’nya searching you out. She’ll need someone to act as her chaperone.” Oskorri nodded, though with noticeable reluctance “As you both will be spending a large amount of time together, for the foreseeable future, it’ll be an excellent opportunity to get to know each other. Discover what this connection is.” His voice suddenly became dark “and what it may mean for us all.”

Oskorri stood to her feet, she’d do it for the admiral, for the Chimera. It was her duty as an officer of the imperial navy, of the empire. Besides, she trusted the admiral, so she figured she had no reason not to trust Vah’nya. And after the events of the past weeks, with the sporadic supernatural experiences she’d encountered, there was a chance, no matter how slim – that Vah’nya could be the key to discovering the origins of the unexplainable happenings.

She put on her most reassuring smile and hoped it didn’t look unconvincing “I can show you where I work,” she said, holding a hand out for the other girl to take “I rushed you in so fast, I didn’t have time to introduce you properly to Lieutenant Lomar.”

“The moustache man?” Vah’nya asked, tapping her top lip.

A small chuckled slipped past Eli’s lips before he was able to cover his mouth.

Thrawn locked his hands behind his back “With that settled, I’d like to lay out a few ground rules,” he said, facing Vah’nya “I will ask that you converse in either Meese caulf or Sy Bisti.” He waited for her to nod before continuing “The presence of another Chiss, especially one much younger, may raise questions, questions that we do not currently have answers for. Our cover story, for the time being, will be that Navigator Vah’nya, is here on an emissary mission, acting as the Chiss Ascendancy’s ambassador.”

“One hell of a promotion.” Eli said.

The comment roused a small chorus of laughs between himself and Faro.

Even Thrawn allowed a half smile.

“Commodore, I believe we’re slightly behind our schedule. Please prepare my ship for hyperspace travel.”

“Of course, admiral.” Faro responded briskly.

As the three imperial officers and the single Chiss navigator filtered out of the admirals office, they diverted into two separate paths. Vah’nya hadn’t eaten in a few hours, so showing her the way to the mess hall was the first item Oskorri needed to tick off of her orientation.

On their short walk back to the command bridge, Faro had been occupied with her datapad, humming, grumbling and muttering, without ever reaching the level of producing actual words.

“Does he know what the assignment is?”

“Not yet,” Faro said, frowning at her datapad, as if the device itself had offended her. “But he’s optimistic that it won’t take him too far from the mid rim.”

“Guess you’ll have to find a temporary partner to snuggle up with.” But he seemed to regret the jibe as soon as he said it. as Faro shot him a glare that could bring a warship to a screeching halt.

“I’m just pulling your leg.” Eli attested, throwing his hands up.

Faro rolled her eyes “Besides, he gave me his word he’d call every day.”

Eli’s smile softened “You two make a cute couple.” There wasn’t a trace of sarcasm in his voice.

“We aren’t a…” she paused pensively “We do.”

A couple. It was something they’d talked about briefly at the promotional ceremony. But they hadn’t be awarded enough time to actually put a name to what their relationship was. What made it more difficult was that they were on two opposite sides of the imperial militaries spectrum. One, a commodore of the flagship star destroyer of the seventh fleet. And the other, an assistant director who held the rank of colonel in the advanced weapons research hierarchy.

And there was also the other issue. They hadn’t said the word yet. But it was constantly there, darting from their sights like a shadow concealing itself amongst newly forming pillars.

Love.

Saying the word made it real – too real. But if it did become serious, would they have to consider sacrificing their careers for their relationship? Would that relationship even survive the tumultuous slope of resignation from their respective posts? Would it be worth all that trouble?

These were questions much like Lieutenant Oskorri and the Navigator Vah’nya. That she didn’t have answers to. And that was not something she enjoyed. Not one bit.

As Oskorri escorted her new companion to the mess hall, their conversation was stilted to say the least, but that was to be expected. She had essentially all but carried the other girl to Lomar, not sparing a single moment for them to actually introduce themselves.

As the other girl had stated again, she’d felt a tetherable force guiding her away from the safety of the Chiss Ascendancy’s protected borders, and into the unstable increasingly expanding boundaries of the Imperial Empire; and at the end of that tether – was Oskorri.

Though she admitted she didn’t actually know why she was being guided to Oskorri, what it meant or how to find out, just that she needed to find her, stay close to her. And discover what otherworldly strings were being pulled to bring them together.

“I’m the second chair comm’s officer,” Oskorri had been saying, as she lead the other girl to the mess hall “I’m stationed on the command bridge.”

Though it looked like her introduction fell on preoccupied ears, as it seemed that Vah’nya’s attention was snatched up by the unique markers on the exposed portions of Oskorri’s skin. Clearly the Chiss navigator wasn’t in the habit of being in such close proximity to humans, if she had ever been for that matter.

Her eyes widening as she studied the freckles on her hands, the beauty spots dotted around her left eye, the small scar on her left ear. “Your hair, its…” she murmured, moving closer and squinting at some loose strands “Yellow, like sand.”

“Blond,” Oskorri corrected politely, sounding out each syllable “I hate sand, it gets everywhere. My Appa used to say that when I was a baby, the sun came down from its cradle in the sky and kissed my crown.” She pointed to the very top of her head.

Vah’nya squinted again “Appa?”

“It’s a word from Bothese, it means: papa.” Oskorri explained “My father’s a Bothan.” When the navigator sent her questioning look, she waved a hand “I’ll show you some of our species codex’s, once I’m off duty.” She caught the other girls eye “What about you, your parents, your family…”

“Navigators leave their families when they’re very young. I don’t remember what my parents looked like.” She paused a moment “But I do sometimes have faint memories of my brothers.”

“Oh.”

Was that the norm in the Ascendancy, to have children leave their families in order to serve in the defence forces. Was it the norm to have them sacrifice their childhood, their wellbeing, their safety?

“The expansionary fleets is my family,” she went on, though the sentiment rang hollow “After when I lose my gift, I will have a straight path into joining one of the forty, and if I have a sponsor, one of the eight.” She didn’t sound optimistic or excited about the prospect.

“The Mitth are one of those families, right?” Oskorri asked, recalling the time Commander Vanto had divulged with some of the crew on the nuances of Chiss family politics, syndicure’s, syndics and aristocra.

“They are the eighth of the twelve great families.” Vah’nya clarified, holding eight fingers up.

Oskorri felt her lips compress. To her, family was who you choose it be, the people you love and cherish and who love and support you throughout life’s trials and tribulations. She couldn’t imagine boiling the definition down to a ranking system, trials, interviews, infighting. And gained privileges depending on your position within the family hierarchy.

“A weird definition for family.” She winced, realizing how that sounded “Sorry, it’s your culture, I’m being rude.”

The other young woman held an expression she could only describe as distant contemplation “I agree,” she said after some time “Somethings do need to change.”

Oskorri had readied a response, when a female officer, the squares on her rank plaque denoting them as lieutenant commander walked by them. She didn’t seem to notice them as she muttered to herself, tapping away at a datapad.

“That’s Commander Hammerly,” Oskorri explained, admittedly feeling dumbfounded at the other officer being completely oblivious to the newest form of fresh gossip standing right by her “When she’s not working at her station as the chief sensors officer, she’s hunting down scuttlebutt.”

Vah’nya repeated the word in basic, after a few tries of twisting her tongue, she had it. “Scuttlebutt? It sounds like a scuttling bug; does she eat them?”

Oskorri found herself laughing at the mental conjuration of a hard-shelled bug that chittered in tall grasses, whilst hunted by a ravenous Hammerly “No, scuttlebutt’s naval slang for gossip.”

Even Vah’nya broke out into a quiet laugh “As I get older, the more I crave ‘scuttlebutt’ it makes the longer journeys more bearable.”

This led to the conservation veering into the length of time they’d both been serving their respective authorities. Oskorri couldn’t temper her disbelief, in hearing that the navigator had already served in the defence force for over fifteen years. While she had only served two in comparison. As they kept walking, the conversation diverted down to their personal interests: Oskorri favouring art and other physical media, whereas Vah’nya leaned toward music and dance. The surprisingly passionate discussion had ended with her offering to draw the other girls commander, in hopes of it acting as a buffer to her not feeling so alone on an imperial star destroyer with only one other Chiss aboard.

Eventually they made it to the mess hall. it was sparsely populate, as most of the crew weren’t designated to have their next meal for another few hours. As they collected their food: ration packs and nutrient bars instead of the grey sludge served only day prior. Oskorri steered them towards the far end of the hall, allowing the other girl some privacy from curious crew members.

Oskorri watched with both amusement and fascination, as the other girl stared at her meal. The ration pack which was self-expanding once soaked in water, contained a small loaf of bread and five slices of mossy textured nutrient blocks. Though to her credit, she began eating the alien meal with little hesitation.

After a while, Vah’nya began reading from a datapad-like device she called a ‘Questas’ she’d kept it close to her since leaving the admirals office.

“Do you have Third Sight?” she asked, looking up from the device.

Oskorri’s eyebrows wriggled “Third Sight?”

The other girl nodded “Admiral Ar’arlani said some species in the chaos call it the great presence.”

Oskorri felt her body lock into place. The great presence, it’s the name wild spacers used for the – “The Force,” she strained the words out “We… I mean the people of the rims; they call it the Force. No.”

she stared openly at the Chiss navigator. There was something about Vah’nya that just made feel like she could trust her. “A few standard weeks ago, I had this strange dream. There was a man, a Chiss, he called himself Thrass. He spoke to me in the dream,” she firmed her lips “But no matter how hard I try I can’t remember what he said, just that it was important for the admiral to hear. Then sometime later, we got caught in a reflection nebula. I volunteered myself to find the tools we needed to get us out of the nebula safely. I searched and searched, but there was just one thing I just couldn’t find,” she sighed, realising how strange it all sounded out loud “I swear I heard his voice telling where it was.” She lifted her eyes to scan the mess hall, before unhooking her datapad from her belt, she searched through its contents “I never showed the admiral this. To be honest, I never showed anyone - it’s a drawing of what h looked like in my dream.”

As the navigator stared at the drawing, her expression fell, looking as though she’d seen a spectre rise from the mushed remnants of her meal. Her attention was drawn, not to the facial structure or other defining physical markers, but to the seven-pointed sun crest adorning his red robes.

After a second, she let out a sharp gasp “Mitth’ras’safis,” her eyes widened in genuine surprise “He was a syndic of the Mitth family. He died over fifteen years ago; his loss was measured as great tragedy to the family.” She lifted her gaze to Oskorri “And to Mitth'raw'nuruodo; that’s what Admiral Ar’alani said.”

Oskorri’s furrowed her brow. Mitth'raw'nuruodo: the admirals full Chiss name. The only person in the empire she knew who used it with any regularity – was the emperor himself.

But that means Thrass and Thrawn were both a part of the Mitth family. He knew Thrass, knew him personally enough to grieve deeply over his death.

“What was their relationship?” Her tongue felt reluctant to form the words. She knew the answer, but she needed to hear it.

“They were brothers.”

Oskorri set the datapad on the table “Brothers…Why wouldn’t the admiral tell me that?” she said, more to herself then Vah’nya. Her mind darted back to the events of her allergic reaction, when she’d woken up in his office. She remembered him mentioning his brother, but not that, that brother was Thrass. It changed everything.

She found herself groaning into her hands, she also still couldn’t remember anything else from the conversation they’d shared in her dream. Just that it was something important, something she needed to tell Thrawn, and something about telling his-

“Painful memories?” Vah’nya suggested, picking up her fork “Have you seen others in your dreams?”

“No.”

Vah’nya turned back to her meal “You must have Third Sight.”

‘Force sensitivity’ Oskorri corrected in her mind. But the before the empire reorganised itself from the dregs of the republic: the only Force sensitive group of any noticeable recognition - were the Jedi. But the Jedi were traitors, oath breakers. If anyone else found out about her, would they brand her as a Jedi? A traitor.

But still, she needed to know for sure, how could, she be sure? She racked her brain for answers, when it came to her, she’d grown up hearing the tales of the Jedi and their powers, that they could lift things with only the power of their minds. She looked down and spotted the spoon she’d been using. How did they do it? Just reach out and lift it? There must’ve been more steps but their was no way of her learning them.

She might as well give it a shot. Steadying her breath, she reached to the spoon, splaying her fingers and tensing the joints – nothing. She tried again at a different angle, then with her other hand, then changing re-tweaking the position of her fingers; but nothing, it stayed motionless on the table.

“Maybe that’s why I sensed you; we share a connection within the great presence.” Vah’nya murmured, pressing a finger into her chest then pointing it at Oskorri’s.

“Who’s got a romantic connection?” a high-pitched female voice questioned. Both girls looked up to see: Senior Lieutenant Ahala Pyrondi. A consuming grin plastered on her mouth “Oshil! Is she your girlfriend?” she asked, as she scrambled over the table, scuttering across the metal surface in attempt to get a better look at the newcomer.

Oskorri sucked in breath ‘Girlfriend?’ she felt a sudden tingle radiate throughout her body. She felt unable to muster a response, remaining instead in stunned silence.

Though to her relief, Pyrondi’s efforts to swim across the tabled were slashed, when Hammerly who’d been walking behind her, latched onto the other woman’s belt with an iron grip “My dear senior lieutenant, the impropriety of the question. You can’t just inquire on the relations between a fellow officer and their companion.” She said scoldingly, as she all but dragged Pyrondi back to the other side of the bench.

“Oshil! Wait, Hammerly! I need to know!” Pyrondi cried, flailing her arms in a fruitless attempt to free herself, as Hammerly hauled her over to the far side of the cafeteria.

After a few seconds of awkward silence, she turned back to Vah’nya “That’s Pyrondi. She’s the chief weapons officer.” She paused before adding “She’s actually really nice, a great friend.”

Vah’nya’s eyes widened in alarm. “Your cheeks… Is it normal for them to turn red?”

Oskorri frowned, then touched a finger to her face, her skin was radiating heat “Oh. It happens sometimes, usually when a person’s embarrassed. It’s called blushing.”

The navigator seemed to tuck the information away, before returning to her meal and eying the rest of the ration pack and nutrient bar with suspicion.

“You get used to it,” Oskorri assured her.

Vah’nya’s lips became a thin line “We have more edible foods to choose from on Chiss ships.”

“Like what?” Oskorri asked, taking a bite out of her own nutrient bar “I don’t think anyone’s ever thought to ask the admiral what Chiss eat?”

This lead to her detailing the various food and drinks of the Ascendancy. including a famous bistro known its cheese triangles, with Oskorri eagerly listening. The conversation then turned to the differing species, climates and terrestrial planes. Migration patterns, festivals, celebrated holidays, customs, traditions. Painting a clear picture in the lieutenant’s mind of the subtle beauty that lay beneath the bureaucratic politics the ascendancy seemed to wrap itself up in.

“Not everywhere in the galaxy is like Coruscant,” she’d been saying in response to a question of the imperial capitals lack of lush greenery and sizable oceans. “When I retire from the navy; I plan to build a cottage in one of Etrilla’s forests.” She said, a smile lifting her lips “We have some of the most beautiful forests in wild space.”

Vah’nya smiled at her “I love forests. My first caretaker used to take me hiking through the mountains on Avidich.”

Subconsciously, Oskorri found herself moving closer to the navigator “I’ve got a few sketches of the forests back home, in my quarters, when you get settled in, we can put one of them in your cabin.”

“I’d like that.” Vah’nya said softly.

They finished their meals. Vah’nya waited as Oskorri placed the trays, utensils and cups, into the nearest deposit container.

“We should go see the quartermaster,” Oskorri said, as she held her hand out for the navigator “I have an idea for a device that could help make your stay a bit smoother.” As they left the mess hall and travelled down a half empty corridor, she pulled up a rough drawing of device that comprised of an earpiece and a neckband of some kind “It’s a translator headset. At minimum, if it works, whenever someone’s speaking Basic, it could be translated directly, into Meese Caulf, or even Cheun. Instead of your needing an interpreter.” She added, gesturing to herself.

The other girl peered at the design, seemingly intrigued. So it became clear that technical designs and electronics weren’t a major interest for her. This time, there walk was carried out mostly in silence, apart from the odd question here or there from the navigator. After a while of quiet, Oskorri decided to break the silence.

“What is she like? Ar’alani.”

A small half smile touched the navigators lips “Kind.”

“She sounds like the admiral.” She hesitated, before continuing “I used to lie about where I was from, I didn’t wanna be singled out for being from a ‘backwater peasant planet in wild space’. Even at the academy I felt like I was on my own.” She gently touched tiles on the newly minted lieutenant’s plaque “I thought about drooping out a few times. Going back home to tell my dad that I couldn’t cut it.” she looked over to see Vah’nya watching her with wide expressive eyes “I stayed, of course. But I still had my doubts about the whole thing. It wasn’t until received my commission for the Chimaera; I still remember meeting Commander Vanto and Admiral Thrawn. They were both so kind and accommodating, after talking to them, I found out that they were both considered outsiders too. After that I stopped feeling so alone.”

Vah’nya tapped her lips “Commander Vanto,” she said, “you’re both from ‘wild space’ but you don’t speak the same way.”

Oskorri nodded “Etrilla’s was originally settled by a species called the Rakatan. They were eventually driven out, but when other settlers came to live there, they latched on to their accents.” She then groaned under her breath “Sorry, I keep talking about myself. Where are you from?” when the other girl stared at her, she clarified “As in which planet?”

The smooth youthful skin on the navigators face became tight. She turned her head away, looking off into the distance “I don’t remember.”

“Bad memory?”

“No, there aren’t any memories.” She said after a moment “I don’t remember where I was born, the records of a navigators place of birth are kept sealed.”

This ended the conversation on a rather sombre note.

Expansionary ships were considerably smaller is size and therefore required less encyclopaedic knowledge to navigate through them. Which in comparison to your average imperial star destroy, didn’t fare well, as the long winding corridors and tight maintenance hatches ways all looked as if they’d been copy and pasted ten times over. Making it decidedly harder to find your way around if you hadn’t taken the time to memorize each levels mapping system.

Eventually, after trekking past crowded corridors and stuffy service passageways. They reached the border of a large foyer that spewed open into a trident of facility corridors. The one on the left leading to the main armoury and stormtrooper barracks, the one to the right ended at the medical bay. And just ahead of them: ‘the quartermaster’s den’ as it was colloquially known amongst the crew. A large cubic space that pushed inward to the wall. Its entrance comprised of two-meter-tall counter, which was bisected by a plastic partition. A small window sized portion of the partition had been carved out and replaced by six rods that connected with the counter. Additionally, snuggly built into a recess of the counter was metal basin, fitted with a one-way sliding hatch.

The workshop was stacked and stuffed from end to end with standing shelves teeming with an assortment of items, that could be required on a star destroyer: from objects as small as a mouse droids circuit matrix, to a fuel tank cap of TIE fighter. Even more mundane items such as cleaning solvents for blasters were stocked in the workshop. Lining the one of the walls, were fabrication machines whose sole job was to fabricate clothing of any size, material and colour.

There was a grumbling voice and the sound of falling metal, then after a few seconds went by, a head popped up into view. The quartermaster of the Chimaera: Fint Orcus, a tall woman who like her workshop was a calamitic arrangement of meticulously curated items. Her hair greying hair was pulled back into a tight bun, kept in place by two decommissioned code cylinders welded together, and a set of welders goggles rested on her forehead. her work uniform, a black jumpsuit fitted with a dozen pockets, jingled and clinked as the numerous components and parts she carried in them, rattled freely against each other.

She had a welcoming face that naturally put most at ease when first meeting her. Especially as her personality matched the warmth her eyes projected.

Upon catching sight of the two young woman, the corners of her mouth tugged up into a toothy smile “Oskorri! Heard you got a promotion, congratulations.” She said, prodding a finger into the partition, as she stood to her full height.

“Thank you, ma’am.” Oskorri said as she and Vah’nya approached the counter.

Orcus’s eyes wandered over to the Chiss, her smile loosening slightly “Is that the admirals daughter? She doesn’t look like much look like him.”

“She’s an ambassador, from the Chiss Ascendancy.” Oskorri corrected.

Orcus snapped her fingers “If you get the time, I can teach you a touch of Coru-Core! It’s a real language, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“A language comprised of spittle and slobbering globular mumbles?” a snarky voice retorted. Coming into view as they rounded a corner of shelving units: was Chief supply officer Meto Doxit. Their usual sneer plastered firmly to their face. Compared to Orcus friendly roundish features, Doxit’s thin lips, tight skin and angular bone structure - could clear a room in moments.

“Ah, don’t mind them. We received a communiqué from the grand quartermaster’s office this morning.” Orcus said, flapping a hand at a terminal fixed into her side of the counter “We ran into some issues with weapon lockers. The gene locks we use, keeps recognizing DNA that isn’t Human, Chiss or otherwise. She’s sending out an engineer from the royal institute to take a look at them.”

Oskorri felt her eyes narrow “The grand qautermaster?” she scoured her mental library to match a face to the name, searching from army to navy even ISB, but she came up blank “I’ve never heard of her.”

Orcus snorted “You wouldn’t. She’s the head of the engineering and sciences corps. I met her once,” she said boastfully “Got slapped with a court martial on our previous assignment…”

Doxit shivered theatrically “The Executrix.”

Orcus rolled her shoulders “Some officers slimy adjutant said I hadn’t ‘followed protocol’ during a routine skirmish with some terrorist cell over Salient one,” she crossed her arms and lowered them to the counter “Meto can vouch for me, I know the bylaws and protocols better than I know my own mother.”

“It was a prosperous allegation.” Doxit sniffed “So prosperous in fact that I accompanied you to the tribunal at imperial high command - and you know how I loathe Coruscant.”

Orcus blew out a breath “I’ll cut to the chase; it wasn’t goin’ well. Our superior was my defence attorney. He meant well but the guy was a seasoned veteran, not a tight collared bureaucrat.”

Doxit tapped their chin “We thought that was it, we’d run out of plays to wriggle her out of receiving a dishonourable discharge.”

“But lo and behold,” Orcus carried on “Who comes marchin’ in but the big ‘GQ’ herself.” A reminiscent smile touched her lips “At first, I thought my mind had skedaddled into insanity, I couldn’t believe she actually came all that way – for me. She greeted us, even apologised for bein’ late. She went toe to toe with the committee, with a stack of files upon files of naval protocols pertaining to the role of a quartermaster during active combat. She said I hadn’t broken a single one.”

Doxit threw their hands in the air “You can imagine our overflowing joy at being reassigned to the Chimaera. Piece of advice,” they said, levelling their beady gaze solely at Oskorri “If you ever have the minute chance of meeting her, you say: ‘my lady’. The use of title of grand quartermaster is reserved for those of superior rank.”

Orcus snorted “That counts you out then.”

“Bantha fodder.” Doxit shot back.

“Nerf herder.”

Ten tense seconds ticked by, before the two imperials broke out into riotous laughter and clapped each other on the shoulder.

“Same time tomorrow? I’ll bring the confectioneries.” Doxit said, as they navigated themselves past the tall shelves to a small hatch door and disappeared from view.

“You’ll smell the caf before you see it.” Orcus promised

“Of that, I’m sure.”

As their conversation ended, Oskorri turned Vah’nya – the other girls eyes were dancing in their sockets, she’d been clearly trying to translate any shred of what they were saying, without luck.

Oskorri mentally groaned, she’d gotten so engrossed in the quartermaster anecdote, that it completely slipped her mind of the others lacking in understanding Basic. She apologised and quickly delivered a detailed summation of the conversation in Meese Caulf.

Though some things would need later elaboration, like what exactly a Nerf herder and Bantha fodder was. And why two people obviously friendly with each other, would call each other that.

Orcus sniffed “Sorry, don’t speak any trade languages, never lived out in the sticks.” Again Oskorri came in to translate sticks as wild space.

After that explanation was finished, the lieutenant gave the details to Orcus for the reasoning behind their visit as she slipped her datapad into the basin. Orcus plucked the device up, slid her goggles over her eyes peered at devices screen.

After over a minute of quiet grunts and soft mumbles, she placed the device back into the basin “Listen, I have the parts available, but you’ll need to make some tweaks to the design.”

The young lieutenant, listened attentively as the older woman explained at length, what corrections and tweaks would need to be made for the proposed design to work “Send it over to me and I’ll pass it down to the fella’s in engineering when I get a chance.” “As you can both see, I’m drowning in work.”

Again Vah’nya waited patiently for her imperial companion to clarify and translate the conversation.

“By the way, did you catch a glimpse at Hammerly’s ‘secret’ newsletter? She managed to put the squeeze on one of Tarkin’s aids for a drop of delectable data,” she motioned for them to lean closer to the partition “One of Yularen’s spies is as a smuggler working for a forgery operation on Bestine. Apparently, the spies reported to Yularen’s old chum: Partagaz, that the scavenger ship we locked horns with at the pass, was part of a syndicate. Some of the crew think it’s the usual lot: Zerek Besh, Droid Gotra, Pyks. But I got my own guess – Crimson Dawn.”

Specializing in communications, Oskorri had no real experience or knowledge on the crime syndicates and their operations. But she couldn’t help but wonder why Crimson Dawn would be working with pirates specialising in salvaging and scrap dealings.

“Nice to meet ya’, Vah’nya,” Orcus was saying in Basic “You wanna change your threads any time, come see me. My fabricators gettin’ lazy.” She looked ready to say something else, before her foot connected with something heavy on the floor “Hey! Who’s hoarding crates in my workspace!”

Chapter Text

As the two girls navigated themselves to the command bridge. Vah’nya spoke about how she imagined Thrawn would look like, during her long enduring trip to the core. Her only past experiences of him being paintings, anecdotes, military records. She confessed that she’d thought he’d be much larger in person, whether she meant in a physical sense or his decorated military history in the expansionary defence fleet – Oskorri remained unsure. They spent a portion of the conversation discussing his military triumphs and tribulations. Then the conversation turned to her commanding officer: Ar’alani.

“Admiral Ar’alani doesn’t approve.” Vah’nya had been saying.

Oskorri sent her a questioning look “Of his rank?”

Vah’nya shook her head “His loyalty to the empire. I once overheard a conversation she shared with Senior Captain Khresh: ‘Is his life there truly so much better?’.” She pursed her lips “But I don’t think it’s that simple - I think she misses him. Mid Commander Tanik told me they were very close before his…” the girl fought to find the right word.

“Exile.” Oskorri offered.

She’d heard the tale of course, everyone on the Chimera had. Banished by his own people, his crime? Striking first against their enemies.

The admiral was a great man, an experienced commander, and a military tactician equal to none. His non-existent prowess with politics aside. As with many others aboard the star destroyer, her feelings toward the Chiss ascendancy weren’t favourable.

She imagined that being able to be without the ascendancy dictating his actions grew Thrawn’s innate military skills and tactics. But she couldn’t help but imagine the loneliness he must feel. She couldn’t begin to comprehend the idea of being so far from Agral and the others, who she’d grown close to in the navy.

Over ten years since Thrawn had been spotted on a remote planet deep in wild space. Over ten years since he’d been banished from the chaos to lesser space. Over ten years since he’d been in contact with his people. She couldn’t begin to imagine the loneliness that could bring to someone who already preferred his own company and the solemn clarity it brings.

“The ascendancy feels his absence.” Vah’nya was saying “Admiral Ar’alani wants for him to return, as a warrior of the fleet – to help banish our enemies from the ascendancy’s borders.”

“Enemies?”

Her eyes darkened “Grysk’s.” the word fled from her lips like a silent thief.

Grysk’s. Oskorri had heard of them before, and there favourableness in employing client species to act as underlings.

Before she could continue her own thought: there was a sudden loud tinging erupting from her hip. As her comm began buzzing incessantly on her belt. She plucked the device up and held it to her ear. After the voice on the other end nattered in a few short sentences. She replied back in basic, before cutting off the connection. “Lieutenant Lomar’s covering the night shift for our night duty officer for a few days. She tripped over a misplaced crate and sprained her ankle.”

But as the translated words left her mouth; she felt her body suddenly tense up. With Lomar on night duty, she would have to lead the comm station until Kiromon could return to work. Great, she’d never commanded the station on her own before, she’d practiced with Lomar on a few uneventful days when the ship had been cruising through a passive system. But what if the Chimera went into battle? Entered into skirmish with pirates, smugglers, spice runners. Would she have to rouse the man from his sleep and drag him bleary eyed to the bridge?

She only then realised she was frowning; she also realised that the other girl was staring at her, her eyes looking not at her, but in her. As if…she were opening her up like a book, reading the pages of her mind.

There came that unfamiliar tingle again, as the blood in her cheeks rose to the surface. She regulated and explained the dense military jargon that Van’yah wasn’t familiar with. Though it did end in Oskorri saying that she wouldn’t see the ‘moustache man’ for a few days.

Once they had arrived at the command centre and stepped through the sliding doors, they were instantly met with a flurried sight. The bridge looked more like a disturbed nest of sting fly’s, then an imperial command centre. Officers, technicians and non-coms buzzing about the area. As she ushered the other girl to her station, Oskorri spared a glance to the forward viewport. Commander Vanto and Commodore Faro were swapping datapads and relaying orders to the crew pits as they knocked down each item on the ships pre-travel checklist.

She ushered the other girl down the right-hand side crew pit stairs. Manoeuvring her past bulky consoles and chattering non-coms. She stopped her when they reached a sectioned off area, where three consoles fitted with various audio and visual components, headsets and other necessary communication equipment.

She gestured toward the two empty seats closet to them “This is where my superior sits, that’s my seat and that’s Ensign Parralla.” She said, directing a hand to young officer stationed at the furthest seat, staring at his own consoles flashing screens.

As per usual for that time of day, there was small plate with a half-eaten slice of sweetmallow cake, set to the side of his desk “Is it bring your daughter to work day?” Parala mumbled, as he lazily lifted his eyes from his console’s flashing screen.

“Chiss ambassador.” Oskorri said in return.

Parala raised an eyebrow at the navigator, before he shrugged it off and returned to his work, already losing interest. A native of Naboo, the ensign was all too familiar with a culture that preferred the youthful mentality of adolescent natives to succeed in their monarchy and senate. the idea of a young woman acting as the emissary of a nation wasn’t worth turning his head over.

Oskorri had been ushering Vah'nya into the vacant seat next to Parala, when a male voice hissed her name from the bridge. She looked up to catch Lieutenant Agral flapping his hands wildly, in an attempt to snare her attention, but it was also catching the attention of the other crew pit staff, who stared up at the Chiss girl as they walked back up the stairs and stepped across the remainder of the walkway.

Goan Agral, helmsman of the ISD Chimera. On Oskorri’s first day aboard the beastly starship, he’d immediately offered his hand in friendship. His constant companionship had made those first difficult months bearable.

Having been stationed as the Chimaera’s helmsman for a few years now, Agral had developed his own unique eccentricities when it came to his work: as an example, he preferred to carry out his duties at the bridge’s top console, not the one positioned in the crew pit (where he’d undeniably have more privacy, space, and a place to sit and rest his feet during his long shift) His own reasons for this, was that when he was directing the ships position, he wanted to extract a clear image of the ships momentum and velocity. Factors which were far more difficult when viewing the ships nose from the hazy image of the camera modules set on the crew pits console screens.

Upon their approach to his console, Agral’s smile widened as he eyed Vah’nya’s uniform “Hello, I’m Lieutenant Agral, the helmsman.” He spoke the greeting in a watered-down adaptation of Meese Caulf, that lacked the vital accents and pronunciations, though it was still passable in its context.

“Agral.” Vah’nya said softly, rounding out each syllable.

“But feel free to call me Goan.”

“Goan, what is growing on your lip?” she asked, with a pointed finger aimed at his top lip.

The helmsman face holstered an utterly crestfallen expression, “It’s my moustache…” he murmured with a disheartened voice, and running a finger along the nearly non-existent stubble “The captain said I look distinguished.”

“I know Aric has a tub of growth oil stuffed under his mattress.” Oskorri put in, soothing the helmsman’s bruised vanity. Before looking over at Vah’nya “Human male have different rates of growth for facial hair.”

Vah’nya’s face scrunched up, clearly embarrassed about her comment.

Agral for his part holstered a grin and waved her off. He re-aimed his sights on Oskorri as he stroked the faint line of stubble dotted just beneath his nose “The commander told me she came here for you.”

Oskorri’s eye twitched “Which commander?”

Agral merely slanted his head in response.

Oskorri grumbled “Hammerly. How does she know everything?”

Agral snorted “She’s part Lurker hound, sniffing out any little inkling of gossip,” he proclaimed, throwing his hands over his chest “I bet if you asked her what underwear the emperor wears, she’d have an answer.”

Desiring a change in topic, Oskorri shifted the conversation to a more pressing matter “Do you remember that odd dream I had a few weeks ago?”

“Oh, yeah. You were on the bridge, and you saw some black goo on the walls, and you got stuck chatting with that guy, uh, Thrass?” he guessed, tapping his chin in thought.

She looked at Vah’nya, then back to Agral. She knew he could keep a secret and besides, Thrawn was aware of their closeness, he’d surely understand. She leaned in close “The admiral and Thrass - they were brothers.”

Agral’s brow beetled “Huh. I’ve never heard him mention a brother, or any Chiss actually.” Sparing a glance at Vah’nya as he said this.

From beside her, the navigator spoke up “Third sight.”

Oskorri reluctantly nodded “Navigator Vah’nya has a theory, that I might be Force sensitive.” The words reluctantly left her lips.

Agral stepped back, his lower back making contact with his console “The Force…you can use the Force?” his eyes darted nervously to the crew pit “That’s what the Jedi used.” His voice now lower in volume.

“Jedi?”

Oskorri found herself frowning. There wasn’t a word for the Jedi, that translated directly into Meese caulf.

What answer could she give? That the Jedi were an ancient order of laser sword wielding monks that had existed throughout a hundred lifetimes. Before being effectively and dedicatedly snuffed out by the order of one man, as a precaution to their revolting against the then republic.

Agral readjusted himself against the console “The Jedi were peacekeepers,” he stopped to consider his words “At least that was they were supposed to be. After two of the leaders of the separatist alliance were taken out, a group of Jedi masters tried to assassinate the emperor, back when he was supreme chancellor. They wanted to seize control of the former republic.” he gave a shrug “It’s how they taught it in school.” He then turned to Oskorri, placing a hand on her shoulder “But using the Force doesn’t make you a Jedi, their being a whole religious sect and everything. Anyway, they’re all dead now – the Jedi are extinct.”

Oskorri’s swirling mind, didn’t find peace with his words, if anything, his reassurance stirred up other conflicting feelings. On Etrilla, the Jedi were seen as diplomats, guardians, noble warriors. Being so far out of imperial reach, the news of the Jedi’s betrayal against the republic didn’t reach them until much later. It wasn’t until she attended the imperial academy on Myanmar that her imperial history lectures had drilled into the students how the Jedi had betrayed the core values of everything the republic stood for. Their legacy was to be trampled, dismissed, tarnished - eviscerated.

“And it’s only a guess, right?” Agral said, looking over to Vah’nya. “So, Vah’nya what was your mission statement? Before the whole ‘searching for old leaf eater’ over here.” He popped his thumb at Oskorri, who in return, softly scuffed his shoulder with her fist.

“Search for threats to the ascendancy.” The navigator responded, relaying her mission directive as if she were reading from a script.

Agral leaned against his console “The usual then. So what happened? What made you travel all this way for the caped vandalizer?”

“I was on station one day, when I entered Third Sight,” she said, running a hand down the helmsman’s console “Everything felt normal. But the last time I entered,” she gazed at Oskorri “All I saw was you.”

Oskorri felt pinned by that look, as a sudden flush of heat warmed her skin. What did she mean, a physical projection, her aura? her spirit? she’d described it as a rope earlier. Was that what she saw? A literal piece of rope guiding her directly to Oskorri’s exact location. The voice she’d heard, telling her Oskorri’s name. there was no way to tell if they’d both been visited by the ghost of Mitth’ras’safis: syndicate of the Mitth family. One of the twelve-

“Admiral on bridge!”

The voice belonging to Major Carvia, boomed into the already chaotic atmosphere of the command bridge, the warning gladly bounced off of the walls, as the admiral himself, glided through the aft entrance.

“You'd better head down, we’ll pick up at dinner.” Agral chimed, swapping a worried glance between Oskorri and the steadily approaching grand admiral.

As Oskorri settled into her superiors chair, she found herself feeling utterly confounded on how to move forward. Was it permissible to teach the other girl her duties and responsibilities? was she allowed to divulge sensitive codes used by the comms station? In the end it was decided for her, as the navigator took a keen interest in the similarities and differences between the steadfast and the Chimera, when it came to communications, and the operational procedures of the bridge. Oskorri even found time to conduct a practice session between Vah’nya and Agral: guiding her through the familiar pattern of connecting calls to the bridge, logging communication activity and so on.

But as they neared the end of the day shift, Oskorri had noticed an uneasy quietness from the other girl. Turning to face her, she could see the tightness in the Chiss’ facial muscles, and the anxious bounce in her legs.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked, hopeful to alleviate some of whatever was bothering her.

Vah’nya’s eyes remained on her own borrowed console “My sisters,” She paused “Admiral Ar’arlani. And you?”

There was no need to lie “The Jedi,” she pointed to a small corner of her screen: where a list of imperial records were displayed “Before their extinction, they would locate the families of Force sensitive children, who then gave them to be raised in the Jedi temple. They had the power to sense force sensitive children.”

Vah’nya turned in her seat “Why they didn’t sense you?”

Oskorri didn’t have an answer for that. It raised a good point, if she was Force sensitive, why hadn’t they sensed her? Was wild space considered too far for them to travel? Were her abilities too weak to sense over such a distance. Or maybe they had come; before the clone war, before the empires rise, before their extinction.

All of a sudden, a barrage of emotions forced their way into her mind: Loneliness, fear, unease. But something was wrong, those weren’t her feelings. The other’s girls face was scrunched up, and her eyes were squeezed shut. “Vah’nya-” as her hand made contact with the navigators own a sudden barrage of memories swarmed her mind. A blue skinned woman with long black hair swept across her shoulders, wearing a white tunic, herded in by flashing consoles and black unformed officers. Then she saw herself, corralled in by a pluming cloud of white light, and a…a pair of outstretched feathered wings unfurled from her back.

But she was fiercely dragged out as soon as she entered the strange mindscape, left with a single name on her lips “Yetana.” The word left her lips without consent or resistance. Her heart was racing, thumping against its bony cage. A frightened prisoner. And her datapad was now in front of, her pen clutched tightly in her right hand.

She heard Vah’nya gasp sharply “What did you see?” shuffling herself closer to the puzzled lieutenant. Her wide eyes were drawn to a pair of outstretched wings on Oskorri’s datapad.

When had she drawn that?

“You also saw them?” Vah’nya murmured to herself. Though she sounded no surer of her experience than Oskorri, who’s thoughts were drawn to the back of her tunic, and the secret she kept hidden beneath it.

Out of fear of unearthing more about the strange event, Oskorri refused to converse with the navigator on whatever it was they had both experienced. The other girl looked to be unwilling to drop the matter at first, but after the third attempt to converse on what had happened, she finally, reluctantly, dropped it.

If Lomar or Ronan were here, she could simply confide in them, ask for their wisdom and advice. But they weren’t, Lomar was for the foreseeable future, leading the night shift, and Ronan was off somewhere in the inner rim catering to his own superiors orders.

Eventually, time became her ally, and she found herself relaying the day shifts reports to the junior lieutenant who’d be assisting Lomar in his own nightly duties. As it turns out, Lomar himself had become victim to a misplaced crate and wound up in the med bay, though merely for an ice pack to relieve some mild bruising. Oskorri was thankful to hear that the injury hadn’t rendered him incapable of work.

As it turned out, Parala was self-taught in the trade language Sy Bysti, and so on their long walk to the mess hall, he’d been chattering with Vah’nya, mostly about Naboo, and its otherworldly beauty. Oskorri for her part, quietly wrestled with sudden surge of guilt. Casting her eyes away, each time the navigator looked back at her. She didn’t mean to hurt the girls feelings by brushing her off, but she needed time, time to understand what was going on.

“She saw wings.” Though she left out the part that she also saw wings, and that the name of her home-worlds ancient guardian had lept freely from her tongue, as though it was a prayer from a pious disciple.

The helmsman’s eyebrows shot up, as he slackened his pace and casted a quick look at her back “Did you show her the…” his words trailed off.

Again, she felt her skin unexplainably prickle “No Goan!” She’d just met the girl that day. Revealing to her the secret on her back, was not a decision that could be taken lightly. She’d received a cultural exemption for it, which itself had taken over a year to clear. But even then, it had taken her months to build up the courage to show Agral.

“She might like them.” Agral; said with a wink, while patting her back “You went through enough trouble to get them done.”

Oskorri felt her eyes widen “What? She might?” But…the thought of exposing her back to Vah’nya... Why did the idea make her body run hot.

Again, unwanted feelings fled to her mind: Joy, delight, concern.

Concern.

But those weren’t her feelings!

“Do you have any concerns?” she sounded ridiculous, like some kind of mind reader.

Agral stared at her as if she suddenly grown a second head “Yeah…concern that Pie’s gonna eat all the good ration bars before we get there.” His response, was strained, dragged out

Once they’d entered the mess hall, Parala gave a curt goodbye as he went to sit down with his own group of friends.

“Where’s Pie and Hammerly?” Agral commented, as they made to sit down at one of the nearest tables

But as she took her own seat, Vah'nya hurried to join her “You felt my emotions, you saw them.” she murmured softly. Then her expression suddenly lifted, as if she’d cracked a code “Second sight…”

Oskorri sucked in a breath, sliding back from the other girl Confusion, trepidation, uncertainty! Then all at once, like a great cataclysmic flood – the fortified walls of her mind - crumbled. It felt though she were the epicentre of many arms, reaching out to the minds of the others in the mess hall. Plucking up their thoughts and emotions, feeding them back into her.

She couldn’t…she couldn’t breathe, her body abruptly felt dispatched from her mind, as though she were nothing more than a phantom, holding no real tether to the living world. Her skin felt like it was atomizing into oblivion.

“I can’t breathe; I can’t breathe…” her tunics collar suddenly felt two sizes too small.

The feelings only became louder, like drums rhythmically beating in her ears, drowning out the muddy sounds of monotonous chewing, scrapping cutlery and babbling voices.

Too loud! It was too loud!

“Oshil, calm down. I’m here, talk to me. What’s wrong?” Agral pleaded, reaching over the table.

Terror! Calamity! Oblivion!

“No! Stay away from me!” she cried, stepping back from them like a frightened animal.

It was Vah’nya’s voice now “Oshil, its ok-.” She tentatively reached out for her…

Oskorri clenched her teeth, slapping the other girls hand away.

“No it’s not!” she franticly raised her hands to her face, tempted to claw at her skin and peel away this thumping beat “What’s wrong with me!” she had to get away from them, get away from the noises filling her mind. From those chattering voices, screaming at her!

She had to run. She had to outrun the voices, outrun the fear that was clinging to her skin like a great beast longing to smother her.

With that, she turned on her heel and fled from the mess hall.

Agral practically swam over the table “Oshil!” he called out. His face was tense, his eyes searching as he righted himself on the other side of the table.

“I have to find her.” Vah’nya declared, moving to stand beside him. A determined look lighting a fire in her eyes.

Agral tipped his chin “I got a decent hunch on where she’ll go.” as he guided her out of the cafeteria.

Chapter Text

Her mind had set its course. She felt as if she were being hunted by an invisible, looming creature, stalking her forcing her forward, belaying her from rest. The voices, the emotions, had stopped – but her heart was still beating against her ribs, as if trying to free itself from her. Unwilling to be contained.

As her feet carried her onward, she found herself stalking through the corridor where the admirals private office resided. Continuing on her frantic path, she passed the usually closed door, only to find it open instead. It was unlike him to leave it open. She could talk to him. He may have withheld the truth about his relationship with Thrass, but that didn’t matter right now; he’d know what to do. He always knew what to do.

Though as she made to approach, she heard a voice leaking out from the open door “I believe she would be a great asset to the Chiss ascendancy.”

that was Thrawn, was he talking about her? Was that all she was to him? An asset to be freely given without her own choices bearing an impact. Was she to be treated as Vah’nya was by the ascendancy, separated from her family, and friends, sent unwillingly to a foreign pocket of space?

“Do you think we should tell her, sir?” it was Eli’s voice now “About Thrass.” There was a heavy pause “And Star Forge.”

“In time.”

“No, no…he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t do that…” she found herself muttering. Shuffling away from the door and blindly knocking over a loose crate, her legs kicking uselessly as she toppled over it. What was it with all of these crates?

“Hey, you alright out there?” Eli called out from inside the office. Seemingly unaware of the source of the noise.

Oskorri scrambled to her feet and ran, she ran as though being pursued by tireless hunters. She felt hot and unsteady. Her mind felt as though it were searching for an escape route. Fleeing from the uncertainty of her current reality.

After what felt like an age of fleeing from her own thoughts, she found herself at the entrance to the communications lab. She hurried through the empty rooms, to the long-range transmission suite.

She fought uselessly to stem the tremble in her fingers as she punched in Ronan’s private number “Please. Please pick up…please…” she was almost chanting the words. Supplicating before the holoprojection, awaiting some crippled salvation from the freshly sprung demons haunting her.

On the third chime, a tone signalled the call had connected. A second later, and the projected holo-image of Assistant director Ronan and the room he was currently occupying, filled the small communications suite in a transparent blue haze.

He was grinning, and looked to be about to speak, but as he stared at her – the grin became a smile, then a frown.

“Sir. I’m sorry, I didn’t want to bother you. I know your busy, it’s just…” the words were catching in her throat, she was still panting erratically, trying and failing to catch her breath.

“Lieutenant Oskorri, what’s wrong?” he asked, tossing the datapad held in his hand, onto the desk he’d been crouched over just moments ago.

“…I…I…I…think I’m broken. Sir, there’s something wrong with me,” she began pacing back and forth, adrenaline pumping through her body, readying her already alert mind, for attack “I’m seeing dead people in my dreams, hearing voices in my head. And now there’s this girl who’s travelled all the way from the chaos to find me. But she doesn’t know why! I can feel people’s emotions! I just want to know what’s happening to me!”

She fell to her knees “I can’t…I can’t breathe!” as her heart quickened, her lungs in tern tightened, her blood pounded against her skin. As she began hyperventilating, her chest rising and falling in rapid breaths.

She heard Ronan hiss a breath, as he stepped towards her, as if attempting to reach out of the projection “Look at me.” He said firmly “Breathe, in, out.” He outstretched his arms, raising them up a down in a fanning motion “Again. There we go.” After a few tries of following his instructions, her panicked gulps for air, seemed to wane “It’s okay, you’re going to be alright. You’re having a panic attack.” He said, as if the words would offer her some mitigating comfort. But as her mind and body fixed themselves on what was happening to her, her heart slowed, her skin cooled. As her bodies flight or fight response tweaked their formula’s.

Ronan continued to eye her physical signs. Visually examining her, for any further signs of concern. After a minute or two, her breathing had finally returned to its regular rhythm. Observing this, he folded his palms and nodded “Sit down, and wipe those tears away. Now, from the top,” as he took his own seat on the carpeted floor of his office.

So she did, she told him everything that had happened: about the Chiss Navigator who’d travelled the length of the known galaxy to seek her out. The dead man in her dreams, and his relationship with Thrawn. The fact that the admiral had withheld this vital information from her. The sudden possibility of her being Force sensitive, and the consequence of that notion transitioning to reality.

To his benefit, Ronan listened thoughtfully. Never once interrupting. After she was done retelling her tale of woe. He took his time to formulate a response.

“When I was a young boy,” he began “my grandmother passed away very suddenly. Her loss was…a heavy weight on all the family, but especially on my grandfather. I used to asked him about her, about their life together, her joys and passions, but their were often times where he would become furious with me whenever I asked him. He was never physically violent, mind you. But the problem became severe enough that my parents were forced to send him away to receive counselling,”

He paused for moment, exhaling a weighted breath, before picking up again “I didn’t seem him for many months. But when he finally made his way back to us,” Ronan smiled softly “I can remember the memory clear as crystal, even now. He dropped to his knees in front me, wrapped me up in arms and – cried.” His jaw trembled slightly “He apologised, explaining to me as best as any adult could to a child who’d never experienced grief before; it was the pain of losing my grandmother that caused him to act in that way. I’d always assumed he was angry at me. Her death caused his grief to mutate into this hideous monster of pain and rage. Grief can hurt people; it can hurt them beyond their capabilities to function.”

As Oskorri listened, she felt a dull shunt of unease settle in her stomach. She’d never personally experienced loss, and she was glad of it. The tangled pain of grief had not yet laid its sallow hand on her heart, and she hoped that would be the case for many years to come.

“People - they aren’t like machines,” Ronan continued “If a machine breaks down, you can find the cause and fix it with the right tools and parts. But people aren’t machines. Even if you can diagnose the problem, and you can outsource the resources needed to fix that problem,” his voice turned grave “Theres no guarantee they’ll work the same way,” he shook his head, and his eyes became distant “Sometimes, they never work again.”

Oskorri found herself frowning. As far as pep talk’s went, it was by far one of the worst she’d received. But the assistant director couldn’t be held responsible for that - he was an engineer at heart - his skills with people barley scrapped the surface, compared to his skills with non-sentient machinery. Machines didn’t need reassurance to work or to function through the errors, or malfunctions. Still, she was immensely grateful to the man, for offering her comfort and a way forward, away from her fears.

“Thrawn’s a good man,” Ronan went on, his sombre expression clearing “You may think it was out of malice, but I believe he’s similar to the commodore, in that he keeps his feelings close to his chest, to a disconcerting degree. But it could be the case that he didn’t know how to tell you. Did you ask him why he withheld the truth from you?”

“No. I overheard them talking in the admirals office. I ran instead.” She admitted sheepishly.

“Probably not the best course of action at the time but given your mental state I wouldn’t blame you for reacting that way. If it were me? I would stormed into his office, given him a piece of my mind – and then promptly trip over my cape.” He joked with a nasally chuckle.

Even Oskorri found herself laughing, only a little, but it helped.

“Now, about this Force sensitivity,” there was a certain cautiousness to his tone, as if he were dancing around the words “Back in my younger years, I took a trip with my university. We visited this village, looked like it had been plucked from the ruins of an ancient city. This old shaman, an interesting character. He had this remarkable ability to peer into a person’s past, like a photo album of sorts. Turns out the village he’d been born to had casted him out, saw him as a demon. He said something that to this day stuck with me. That ‘you’ll see the world in a slightly different shade than before. But you’ll still belong to it’.”

He raised a hooked finger to his chin “Whatever this is, Force sensitivity or otherwise, you’re surrounded by people who care about you, you’re not alone, far from it, in fact. Miss Oskorri, if your fears are that naval intelligence or ISB will hunt you down as an enemy of the empire, then those fears are completely unfounded. The empire’s former enemies who once wielded the Force are long gone.” he reached out, pretending to tap the tip of her nose “You have nothing to fear. Better?”

Oskorri nodded to herself “Better.” She did feel a new sense of resolve, but that resolve came accompanied with a fresh wave of guilt. Guilt over how she’d reacted to Agral – to Vah’nya, and guilt over bothering the assistant director with her trivial problems. On the imperial scale of importance, the swaying emotions of a lowly lieutenant, paled to the grand designs and machinations of the empire.

“Right,” Ronan was saying, as he settled himself against the nearest wall in his office “Tell me about this young woman, she seems to have left quite an impression on you.”

Without her realising it, the corners of Oskorri’s lips turned up in a small smile “I couldn’t believe it, when she told me how she’d gotten here,” as she retold the story of Vah’nya’s commandeering a Chiss gunboat and singlehandedly piloting it until she’d reached Coruscant and found her in the naval shipyard “She loves gossip, music, nature. She’s smart and curious, she’s fluent in over five languages.” She reached down and unhooked her datapad from its harness. Flipping through her private sketches, she eventually landed on the one she was looking for and turned the screen towards Ronan, showing him the simple sketch she’d done of the Chiss navigator “She has so much to say. I’ve already learned so much about the chaos from her, and the Chiss Ascendancy. She even knows stuff about the navigators guild, Appa would love to talk to her, and I like listening to her.”

“A portrait,” Ronan said, sending her a coy smile “Even I haven’t received that honour. She must be very special.”

Oskorri’s response found itself stuck in her throat: that strange tingling, the unconscious desire to smile. The feel of her hand…

“Miss Oskorri, I’m not in the business of stating opinions without facts. But I believe I can see you blushing.”

Her mouth dropped, was she developing feelings for the Chiss navigator? No, fraternisation with fellow officers was one thing, but with…. she winced as the back of her head slumped against the wall with a soft thud. Her eyes widened in realisation. She’d only known her a day, less than in fact.

Ronan smiled knowingly “Ah. I recognize that look all too well. It sounds as though you’ll have plenty of time with each other. Reading, studying, researching whatever mystical energy that’s drawn you both together.”

“Collecting naval antiques?” Oskorri chimed in with a small laugh.

Ronan wiped a tear from his eye as he stifled his own laughter “Perhaps not that, though we have amassed a long list of items we’re both eager to collect.” His eyes drifting to the encased Gyrocompass on his desk, and the small holo-bust of the commodore.

“How’s your new assignment faring, sir?” she asked, grateful to switch their conversation to lighter topic.

Ronan’s soft smile, twisted into harsh grimace “As well as can be expected. I’ve not voiced them yet, but…I’m starting to have my doubts about a few of the more militaristic aspects of the Stardust project.”

Stardust. She’d heard the name in passing. Muttered in muted breaths. But while, she held nowhere near the required clearance to know the ins and outs of the project; she felt safe in knowing that whatever the project entailed, would be for the good of the empire, and whatever was in the good of the empire – would also include her home.

From beside her, Ronan banished his grimace, readjusting his lips into a small smile “Though that’s not a suitable topic-” But before they could continue their conversation, there was a quiet hiss of compressed air, as the door to the communication room slid open.

“Oshil? Oshil?” a young woman’s voice called out into the darkness “Are you here?”

Vah’nya’s voice.

A few seconds later, the sound of boots pattering against Durasteel grew louder – and the blue skinned face of the navigator, popped into view, from shadows of the open door.

Ronan’s smile widened as he stood to his feet “I’ll leave you two to it.” he looked down at Oskorri “And remember, I’m only a call away.” With that, he pressed a keypad on his desk, and his image unrendered.

Leaving just the two of them.

A couple of tense moments dragged by as both girls stared at each other. Oskorri found herself breathing a sigh of relief; Vah’nya didn’t look upset or angry, just – concerned. As she approached her, the blue haze of the terminals splashed against her skin.

Oskorri began to rise to her feet, her apology felt stuck in her throat “Vah’nya, I’m sorr-”

But Vah’nya held up a hand, bringing Oskorri to a stop “My first caretaker, she was a navigator when she was a child. She taught me a technique for whenever I felt overwhelmed by my second sight.” She lowered herself to the floor in front of the lieutenant, making herself comfortable, she grasped Oskorri's and placed them in her own lap.

What was she doing?

“Close your eyes and imagine a stone, a large stone standing tall in the middle of a lake.” Oskorri was unsure about where this was going but eventually relented. She closed her eyes and imagined a large stone, standing sentry within the middle of a lake.

“The water will rise and crash against the stone. But it remains steady, unmoving.”

She felt her own body shift and heave, as battering waves fell against the rock. Again, and again. But her body; the stone - remained in place, as though sleeping giants, unbothered by falling rocks.

“Now, imagine you are the stone. You wait patiently for the water to settle, when it does a bird flies down to sit on the water, reach out to it.”

Oskorri followed the instructions: imagining herself as the weighted stone, gazing out to the furthest corners of the lake. As her mind carried her across the water - she saw it: a short-necked bird with blue wings and red eyes. She reached out to it, sensing its emotions: warmth, compassion, understanding. Then more memories came: of laughter, but also fear, and resilience, determination, courage. As she peered a bit closer, she swore she could’ve seen another, smaller bird - with the caricature of a golden sun painted on its wings. But just as she spotted the bird, it vanished from the lake, leaving only a faint ripple in the tranquil surface of the water.

“Then when you’re ready, let the bird go.”

Doing as she was told, Oskorri imagined herself retreating back to the stone, as the bird in her mind flew away. And opened her eyes.

“It can be scary at first, but you have me now.” Vah’nya said, thumping her hand against her chest. “I will teach you, as I was taught. Whatever is happening to us, Oshil; we’re in it together.”

Oskorri smiled and quietly offered her thanks. The other girl had, had her abilities almost all her life. Knowing she would be there to teach her how to control, whatever it was that was happening to her, made her heart feel ten times lighter.

As they both rose to their feet, Oskorri was keenly aware of their still entwined hands – and there was that tingle again.

“Why isn’t Goan with you? Wait, how did you know I’d be here?”

Vah’nya gave a small shrug “He said that I should come to you alone.” But her attention was now captured by the quietly buzzing terminals littering the room.

On the long walk back to the cafeteria, they talked. About their aspirations, hopes, desires. The conversation flowed freely, spared from the awkward glances and stuffy silences that had straddled their previous exchanges. The discussion had at one point, slipped into past and current friendships.

“I’ve had other friends before joining the navy,” Oskorri had been saying “I still do, but I’ve never really clicked with anyone before, outside of the navy.” She looked pointedly at the navigator “Not like with you.”

Vah’nya’s mouth parted ever so slightly. Then the corners of her lips curled into a smile. “Does that mean we’re friends?”

Oskorri rocked her head “If you want to be?” cringing slightly at how it sounded similar to when she was at school, passing notes in class to other children on if they wanted to be ‘best friends for life’: tick yes or no - expect the no box was always crossed out.

Vah’nya looked to be deep in thought “When I was younger, I had caretakers to look after me,” she pointedly stared ahead “and on the Steadfast, I have my sisters and Admiral Ar’alani, but I’ve never had a friend before.” She gave Oskorri a small smile.

Eventually as they drew closer to the mess hall, they found themselves walking close enough for the cuffed of their sleeves to brush against each other.

Eli spotted them in main corridor leading to the mess hall and hastily ushered them into Thrawn’s secondary office.

The lounge in this office had roughly an extra meter in length than the one residing in his bridge side office; but surprisingly, the two girls sat close to each other with only a small gap left between them.

Thrawn, mirroring his stance from hours before, stood before the both of them, hands locked behind his back “I’m pleased to see you’ve both grown more comfortable with each other. Lieutenant Oskorri, I owe you and navigator Vah’nya an apology. Assistant Director Ronan is correct in his assessment,” he waved a hand toward Faro, who was holding a datapad “Some losses never truly leave us, as such the memories of those loved ones can be difficult to render in words when the pain of the loss is far greater than any word could contain.” His eyes held a quiet sense of grief “Yes, my brother was syndic Mitth’ras’safis.”

Both girls shared a look, before nodding to each other, and revealing the information they’d discovered, and theorised on their own during the long day.

“Force sensitive,” Thrawn said thoughtfully “That would enlighten some dark spots in our current coterie of questions. Those from the navigators guilds have the ability to enter a sort of trance, similar to the one Vah’nya enters while using third sight. They can sense, as well as locate another navigators.”

“Which would explain how she was able to find us.” Eli added

At least things were beginning to make sense now…

Thrawn pressed a finger to his chin “Under the previous circumstances, I didn’t think it necessary to mention, but Vah’nya’s age is also most likely a factor within this unsolved bond.”

“Her age?” Oskorri murmured, it hadn’t crossed her mind to ask.

“The Chiss navigators have gradually lost their abilities to use third and second sight, most lose the ability completely by the age of fourteen,” he gestured toward Vah’nya “Which is why Navigator Van’yah is a unique outlier. As she is already twenty-two years old.”

He adjusted his sights to Oskorri “lieutenant - I would never and will never presume to dictate where your career will go. While I did voice my interest with Commander Vanto in your joining the Chiss ascendancy, the choice as always, would be yours. And as of now the future is still yet to delivered into certainty.” He placed a hand over his rank plaque “You have my word, that if it is your wish to stay as a communications officer aboard the Chimera, it will be kept. But if your wishes and aspirations do change, then I will gladly do all within my power to assist with those desires.” Curiously his red eyes shifted to Vah’nya as he said this

Thrawn turned his head toward Faro “Commodore, do we have a cabin ready for Navigator Van’yah?”

Faro firmed her lips “Not as of yet, admiral. With the preparations of readying the ship for space travel, I ran out of time to solve that small issue.”

Vah’nya raised a hand “I could sleep with Oshil,” Eli spluttered “on the floor.” she clarified “I brought a bed roll.” Gesturing to the large rucksack she’d come with and had left in Thrawn’s possession for safe keeping.

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Don’t we have a spare cabin in the lieutenants block?” Eli commented “It’s a few doors down from Oskorri’s, so you’ll be a stone’s throw away from each other.”

“Very good.” Thrawn said “Commodore, have the qautermaster take Lieutenant Oskorri’s measurements, and have a deprivation helmet fabricated.”

Deep within the Chaos, a Chiss warship hovered silently, cradled within a striking blanket of stars. Churning ion engines rumbled quietly, supporting the large star ship, keeping it aloft while it remained stationary.

If there was one thing Admiral Ar’alani of the Chiss expansionary defence force did not like – it was not knowing where a member of her crew was. Especially when that crew member was a gifted navigator, who’d served on the Steadfast for multiple years. When the navigator was the only Chiss girl in recorded history who’d retained her third and second sight even as she aged out of adolescence.

“What do you mean ‘she’s missing’.” Ar’arlani scowled as she settled herself in the central chair of the command room.

“We’ve searched the entire ship, front to back admiral, she is not here.” The warrior relayed.

Ar’alani’s compressed her lips, feeling as though a knot was forming in her gut. She’d woken up to a security breach report from mid commander Tanik: that Vah’nya, after her shift had ended, had disabled the control console in the ships rear hangar bay; that she’d then climbed aboard a two-seater light gunboat, disabled its tracking beacon and had silently guided it out of the hangar bay open hatch - without a single witness noticing the clandestine event. Ar’alani was now stuck within the aftermath of the chaos. Her mind was flooded with questions: Where had Vah’nya gone? And why hadn’t she confide in anyone? Was she in some sort of trouble? Did she get into a fight with one of the younger navigators, or an officer, a warrior?

Not even the other navigators, who’d been roused from their own cabins, knew anything about it. according to their own testimony’s, she’d seemed perfectly fine; no abnormal normal behaviour or comments to hint at what was going on, inside the walls of her mind.

Ar’arlani spared a thought to contacting the command post on Sposia; but if the information leaked to the syndicure…She winced as her mind drew itself back to the last time a Chiss navigator's life had been put in danger. No, relaying the information of Vah’nya’s sudden absence was not an option.

“Admiral, her daily entries, there are mentions of a ‘human’ girl.” Mid Captain Tanik said, confusion warping his features.

“We’re distant relatives.” Ar’alani said offhandedly. But as a moment passed, her attention snared itself on a vital piece of information “Wait. You said a human girl?” she repeated, straightening in her chair.

Tanik pursed his lips “Oshil Oskorri of Etrilla.” He relayed in broken basic, the words sounding foreign on his tongue.

“Etrilla,” Khresh spoke up “It’s a planet in close proximity to lesser space - that must be where Navigator Vah’nya went.”

“Let us not jump to conclusions, Commander Khresh.” Ar’alani said, tempering the man’s hasty plans.

“Admiral, we found this concealed beneath her bunk.” One of the warriors spoke up from beside her chair; and presenting her with a disc sized metal puck. Ar’alani frowned as she pressed a small silver button, jutting out from its rim. After a moment of waiting, the centre of the disc came alive, as it rendered a detailed 3D miniaturised holo-image of an imperial star destroyer. Its hull marked with the decal of an ancient two headed beast.

Ar’alani’s eyes widened ever so slightly “The Chimera.” she turned to look out the forward viewport “Thrawn.”

To be continued…in the Chimera detective agency!