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While exile was a rare form of punishment in the Chiss Ascendancy, it came with a specific set of rules. These rules were extensive, covering the minimum distance the exiled must settle from Ascendancy space, provisions provided to the exiled person, and an explicit ban on all forms of communication between the exiled Chiss and all others of their kind.
Admiral Ar’alani possessed an exception to this rule. Or perhaps a violation; the correct term depended on to whom one spoke. The only people who knew about Ar’alani’s secret comm triad found it permissible, and that was enough for her. As an admiral of the Chiss Expansionary Defense Fleet, Ar’alani could be trusted with military secrets. She was responsible enough to not abuse her privilege with frivolous conversation.
The temptation was always there, of course. In the first weeks of Thrawn's exile, Ar’alani itched to speak with him every day. She wanted to know the minute the man was discovered by the Lesser Space Empire. She wanted to know exactly what terms he negotiated for an alliance between their peoples. Ar’alani wanted to know every challenge Thrawn overcame and every ally he made during his time away.
The first time she succumbed to temptation came just over a month into his exile. On the third planet Thrawn and the Parala chose for initial contact, their plan worked… to an extent. According to the Ascendancy’s covert spy probes recording from orbit, a Lesser Space ship had landed on the world, engaged in a brief conflict with Thrawn, and took him aboard their vessel. He was alive, but chained. Ar’alani reviewed the footage in the privacy of her office aboard the Vigilant. She rested her chin on her outstretched thumbs, hands covering half her face.
Why had there been a fight? Were they taking Thrawn prisoner? He couldn’t exactly negotiate an alliance with the new empire from a jail cell. Ar’alani wished she could see what they were doing to Thrawn now, but their probes could only survey from a distance without risking detection. They couldn’t follow him everywhere.
So she called him. With her door locked to everything except the emergency code, not even Wutroow would be able to see what she was up to. She raised the white cylindrical comm to her lips and entered the activation key. It dinged with acceptance.
She listened as the comm reached across light-years in the Chaos, emitting a dull whine while it surveyed the galaxy for a connection with its partner device. Ar’alani felt the sound settle into the pit of her stomach, a cry of longing. She and her comm sat for several minutes in suspended animation.
Ding! Ar’alani started upright in her chair when the device connected. She pushed down on the comm’s speaker button, code phrases at the ready when the call abruptly ended. The thin tether connecting Ar’alani and Thrawn across the galaxy severed before Ar’alani could say a word.
Ding! The comm chimed before Thrawn could stop it. He smacked the fold in his robes into which his comm was sewn, causing the stuncuffs around his wrists to rattle.
The cadet, Eli Vanto, peeked an eye open. He had been dozing off to sleep. No small feat when one feels threatened by the prisoner confined across the room. “You okay over there?” he asked in Sy Bisti.
“All is well,” Thrawn replied smoothly. “I merely seek a comfortable position in which to sleep.”
“I heard a machine noise.” The cadet continued. “It sounded like it came from you.”
Thrawn shrugged, a picture of innocence. “What machine would your captain attach to me at this hour? I am already chained to this cot.”
“I don’t know,” the cadet grunted, tiredness seeping into his voice. “I’ll ask the captain about it in the morning.”
As the boy rolled over to seek sleep once again, Thrawn could only pray to the warrior’s fortune the cadet did not keep his promise.
Ar’alani threw the comm down on her desk and growled. Why had Thrawn refused to speak with her? It wouldn’t be the first time he’d refused to check in while on a mission.
Perhaps he was under observation. Unable to have a discreet conversation. Another possibility was that his captors had stolen his device. If the Galactic Empire of Lesser Space intended to hold him prisoner, they wouldn’t want him calling anyone to escape.
Not that Ar’alani could have rescued him anyway. Her official orders stated that Chiss in exile were not afforded any protection by the Ascendancy. She had no right to fly the Vigilant into Lesser Space.
Ar’alani hated the feeling of worry gnawing at her stomach. She hated not knowing what would come next for Thrawn. For the Ascendancy as a whole as they awaited another Grysk attack.
Surely Thrawn’s grand plan to recruit the Empire into his crusade against the Grysk wasn’t over this quickly - if anyone could turn an imprisonment around, it was him. He was the most unconventional strategist Ar’alani had ever met. He often placed himself in a seemingly vulnerable position to lure his opponent into action. It was possible that his capture was part of the plan. A bold, reckless plan Thrawn could only attempt when there were no others to worry about.
If Thrawn’s year in exile were to yield the results he and Ba’kif had promised, she had to trust him. Fussing over his every move would sabotage his efforts. If Ar’alani ever wanted to see Thrawn again, she had to leave him to his own devices. She wouldn’t call him again anytime soon. Instead, Ar’alani would be patient. Wait for Thrawn to reach out to her with news about his mission. If he truly needed help, Ar’alani would have to hear him ask for it, then send him the aid he required.
In the meantime… she would give him six months, the halfway point of the timeline Thrawn had given himself. That seemed fair, did it not?
Ar’alani stared at the comm on her desk, addressing it as though Thrawn were in the room with her. “I trust you not to get yourself killed, Mitth’raw’nuruodo. I will hold you to your word. If you do not return from Lesser Space on schedule, I will fly out there and drag you home myself.”
Thrawn’s first six months away from the Ascendancy flew by in a whirlwind. He changed roles from exile to prisoner to cadet to lieutenant in rapid succession. Now aboard the Blood Crow with his resentful aide, Thrawn felt some degree of peace in this position among the Empire for the first time.
He didn’t allow himself to think of his prior service often. Only when reminiscence was necessary to Thrawn’s mission did he indulge. When he transferred his only line to the CEDF from his exile clothes to his Imperial uniform, for example. Thrawn was fortunate that Chiss comms were skinnier than Imperial ones. He was able to hide the device inside one that no human would find unusual to see on his person. Were someone to ask why Thrawn possessed two comms, he would simply say it was a spare. A necessary thing to have in the case of a routine equipment failure, was it not?
Yet that explanation only worked for as long as no one heard the comm activate. Its connection confirmation sound was far higher pitched than the one Imperial comms utilized. Thrawn was not prepared to report his progress to Admiral Ar’alani at this time, and he knew the sound of her voice would only cause him longing.
So when the comm beeped in the middle of Thrawn’s disassembly of Clone Wars droidekas, he immediately disconnected the call before Ensign Vanto could hear the ding a second time. It would do no good for him to recognize the sound and make his own deductions.
Forgive me, Ar’alani. Thrawn allowed himself a split second of yearning before returning to the task at hand.
On the six month anniversary of Thrawn’s exile, Ar’alani spent the day drilling the Vigilant and its cruiser ships, the Grayshrike and the Springhawk. The drills went well; Senior Captains Ziinda and Samakro were good officers, exactly what the CEDF needed to rebuild the Syndicure’s trust. They also took the threat of the Grysk seriously, having seen the enemy with their own eyes. Ar’alani had no complaints, but she still felt the absence of a certain senior captain in their drill maneuvers.
Thrawn wasn’t just a senior captain to her. As much as Ar’alani treasured Wutroow, Ziinda, Samakro, and all the others, Thrawn was special; she had known since she was a senior cadet that he was different from the rest. Their careers… no, their lives were entwined in a way that Ar’alani had never expected to find with another person. Thrawn had followed her from cadethood to flag rank. He had been a staple in every facet of her life.
Lovers was too simple a word for it. Their families and careers didn’t allow for formal recognition of their relationship. The Mitth and Irizi rivalry was too heated to ever approve matches between family members, let alone with one of their Blood. The CEDF (rightly) banned flag rank officers from marriage and children, lest their family considerations interfere with their service to all the Chiss. These obstacles were nothing in the face of a man as determined as Thrawn. It was one of his many qualities Ar’alani found both admirable and objectionable.
A quality of Thrawn’s Ar’alani found purely irritating was his penchant for radio silence on long missions. Thrawn still hadn’t checked in. The Ascendancy had no intelligence reaching that far into Lesser Space, so no one knew what he had been up to after his arrest.
Those that didn’t know Thrawn might write his mission off as a failure. A fantasy job invented to ensure he entered exile without protest. But Ar’alani knew Thrawn. He wouldn’t be deceived by such a trick. Even if the person approving it had meant for the mission to be impossible, Thrawn would find a way.
Faith could only sustain Ar’alani for so long. In an act of pure superstition, Ar’alani brought a second item out of her office’s desk drawer: a miniature statue from the Naporar Museum of Art. Ar’alani had bought it back when she was a senior cadet. Thrawn had invited her to a night at the museum as a thank you for helping him escape a cheating charge. It had been their first date of many, and by far their most public.
Ar’alani used to keep it displayed on her desk. Where Thrawn had kept art (replicas or otherwise) all over his office, she had only allowed herself the smallest of indulgences. After the battle over Sunrise, Ar’alani had hidden the totem away. Looking at it had proven too much of a distraction most days. Now, she hoped that the memory of Thrawn next to the comm would bless their call and make it possible and convenient for Thrawn to speak with her.
Once again, the comm whined as it searched for its partner. As before, the comm dinged when it made a connection. This time, Ar’alani didn’t even have time to press the speaker before the line went dead.
She cursed, then directed her lecture at the museum souvenir. “You can’t ignore me forever, Mitth’raw’nuruodo. You promised me a year maximum. If things were going according to your plan, you would be home in the Ascendancy already!”
Ar’alani tried to consider the facts without emotion. The ability to establish a connection across space was a good sign; it meant the other comm still existed in an intact state. It wasn’t a technical problem, as the comms were connecting with one another as intended. No, Thrawn was choosing not to answer.
If Thrawn was the one denying her calls, then that meant he was still alive. A stranger with the device may not know how to do that so easily, so the quick decline could be a sign the device remained on his person. Thrawn was alive and well, he just wasn’t ready to speak to her. His restraint in answering her calls was simply a sign that he was handling their separation better than Ar’alani was. He always knew how to show off with his stoicism.
Two could play in this game. Ar’alani would give Thrawn the full year he had asked for. If he returned to the Ascendancy without once calling her, she would lecture him the minute they were alone. Any story he brought back from Lesser Space had better include an explanation for his complete comm silence.
Ar’alani returned her miniature statue to its drawer within her desk. Her comm belonged in a secret pocket on the inside of the admiral’s tunic. Ar’alani silently vowed to keep it with her at all times. If Thrawn ever did need her, Ar’alani would be sure to render him aid, exile or no exile.
“I won’t let you disappear from the Chaos so easily, Mitth’raw’nuruodo. You’ve left too deep an impression for anyone to forget you.”
Despite her eternally busy schedule, the dreaded day came far too quickly. A pall of sadness settled over the Vigilant’s bridge as Ar’alani took her position at the helm. Officers glanced among each other as if searching for the right words to say. It was as if a major figure on Csilla had died.
As was often the case in tense situations, Wutroow spoke first to break the ice. “Good morning, Admiral. It must be a slow news day.”
Ar’alani raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean, Senior Captain?”
“The fleet newsletter. It included the… the anniversary today.” Wutroow cleared her throat. “Senior Captain Thrawn’s anniversary, ma’am.”
Ar’alani broke eye contact. Her crimson gaze burned a hole through the viewport. The secret pocket in her tunic, silent throughout the year, sat heavy against her chest. “We all remember the presence Mitth'raw'nuruodo had in our fleet. His actions echo through the Chaos even today.”
“You could say that again.” Oeskym snorted, oblivious to the heavy mood gathering on the bridge. “Do you think he’s still alive out there?”
“I’m confident he is,” Biclian replied. “Probably found a new band of aliens to rally around him and run into a war.”
“Senior Captain Wutroow, you have the bridge.” Ar’alani rose from her seat, departing the bridge as quickly as she had entered.
Biclian and Oeskym cowered in their seats, convinced that they had said something wrong. Ar’alani had no interest in disciplining them, nor did she think she could stand another minute of their wild speculation. It spoke too closely of her private fears.
A year at the most. Was that not what Thrawn and Ba’kif had promised her? Ar’alani collapsed behind the locked door of her office, hand searching the underside of her tunic. When her fingers found the secret comm device, she brought it to the light. After checking to ensure its battery hadn’t died, she began the ritual that had failed her twice before. She called Thrawn.
As Ar’alani waited, she imagined the comm’s signal bouncing from satellite to satellite throughout the Chaos, reaching beyond the bounds of CEDF travel routes into Lesser Space. The signal searched the entire galaxy for its partner device. She pretended that it shared her enthusiasm for putting rumors about Thrawn to rest.
Ding! A muffled crackling sound erupted through the comm’s speaker. Ar’alani raised it to her lips, all but kissing the speaker. Code phrases be damned. “Mitth’raw’nuruodo. Speak to me.”
“Good day, Admiral Ar’alani. I’m glad to know this contingency line remains available.”
Ar’alani sighed in relief, eyes turning towards the ceiling. He sounded the same. Confident, unhurt. “You have much to answer for, Mitth’raw’nuruodo. It has been one year.”
“Has it, now? Imperial years are longer than Chiss ones, but their days are shorter. I must confess it has been hard to track time in both units of measure.”
She grit her teeth. He was toying with her. He had to be. She could take his good humor as a sign he was well, but frustration overrode the thought. “What is the status of your mission? You have been silent all this time.”
“I have had little time alone in the past year. The Emperor assigned me a human aide and translator. For a time, he has shared sleeping quarters with me. I think it unwise to bring him into my confidence at this time.”
So Thrawn hadn’t told this human the truth of his exile yet. What did that suggest? “Where does an alliance between the Empire and the Ascendancy stand?”
“It remains in consideration. I have met with the Lesser Space Emperor, and he requires me to prove the military prowess of my people before he agrees to consider an arrangement. That is what I am doing now… as a lieutenant in his navy.”
Ar’alani wanted to press her palm to her face. Leave it to Thrawn to join a foreign military in what was supposed to be a quest to help the Chiss fleet. “How long is that going to take? You promised me a year, Mitth’raw’nuruodo.”
Thrawn exhaled softly. The comm speaker barely transmitted it. “That promise is no longer viable. My apologies for the false hope, Admiral.
“As compensation… I propose an alternative. My aide’s family runs a shipping company on the edge of Lesser Space. They do business in the Chaos. I believe I may be able to use this connection as a channel to funnel items of importance back to the Ascendancy. Records, technology… observations. If the CEDF can establish a drop point within their systems of operation, I can discreetly break my silence.”
“...I accept your proposal.” Not that Ar’alani had a choice. “Tell me, Mitth’raw’nuruodo. Was your promise of a year ever sincere? Or was it a plan you concocted with Ba’kif to placate me?”
“It was optimistic, I admit. Yet it was true in that I wanted it to be so. I do not enjoy my separation from the Ascendancy, Admiral. Standing apart from you is the most difficult aspect of all.
“I do not know when we will speak again. I… I hold you in the highest regard, Ar’alani.”
The line went dead. Ar’alani had no chance to say anything back. She whispered into the microphone anyway, twin tears streaking down her face. “I love you too… Thrawn.”
Thrawn stared at the comm in his hand, scarlet eyes burning intensely. Were he to stare at the device with any greater concentration, it was bound to burst into flames.
He put the comm away before such a fate could occur. Ar’alani’s voice echoed in his head. Her precision of tone was a comfort in a time of such wild inexactitude.
At least she hadn’t questioned him on his alternative proposal. Thrawn hadn’t known he was planning to send materials to the Ascendancy in this way until that very moment. He would have to ask Ensign Vanto more questions about his family’s business. Find a way to become a client of theirs without revealing his true identity.
This mission would be easier if Thrawn could tell the ensign his true intentions. Yet Thrawn still hesitated to do so. Ensign Vanto had not yet forgiven Thrawn for permanently diverting his career path. If Thrawn gave him information about the Ascendancy now, the ensign could wield it as a weapon to accuse him of treason. With Thrawn’s mission scuttled, the ensign may believe he could return to the mundane life he craved.
No, not until Thrawn had won Ensign Vanto’s complete trust could he involve him fully in his designs. It was a shame, truly. The ensign was an incredible asset. Were she present, Thrawn knew Ar’alani would agree with his assessment.
Over the next few years, Thrawn sent a great many packages and letters under the name “Professor Thrass Svorno,” an academic conducting research correspondence with the Unknown Regions’ peoples. The Ascendancy would know it was him the instant they saw his assumed name.
Thrawn didn’t speak to Ar’alani when a package was on his way, but he let her know when they were coming. He used his secret comm to call her, then hung up as soon as the devices connected. Ar’alani caught on rapidly.
The next time they spoke was when Thrawn was ready to send Lieutenant Commander Vanto to the Ascendancy. As it was shortly before Thrawn’s ceremonial promotion to grand admiral, he kept the conversation brief. Ar’alani understood his need for concision.
It was not what either party wanted, but Thrawn felt their arrangement benefitted both parties. At least until everything fell apart.
After a decade of covert deliveries and whispers of something more, Ar’alani’s crew entered Lesser Space themselves in pursuit of the Grysk. She had not called Thrawn about it ahead of time; it was only thanks to the warrior’s fortune that his fleet was the one to find hers in Imperial space. She struggled to imagine any other Imperial admiral would be so willing to collaborate on this mission.
Working with Thrawn and his humans while they investigated Grysk incursions into Lesser Space brought a sea of memories back into Ar’alani’s mind. It reminded her of the man she’d spent years longing for. The memories tried (and failed) to smooth over the cracks the Empire had made in Thrawn’s promises to her. His reluctance to ever come back presented itself in parade attire during their time together.
It was in their aftermath of the action she put her concerns into words: “I very much fear I will never see you again. The growing chaos in the Ascendancy warns of coming war. If you don’t return quickly, there may be nothing left for you to return to.”
“I understand. But for now, I must remain here.”
Was that regret shining in his eyes? Or was Ar’alani imagining what she wanted to see from Thrawn? She stiffened her expression, mentally preparing herself for what she had to say next. “Then do what you deem right, and may the warrior’s fortune be ever in your favor.”
Somehow, despite her words to the contrary, Ar’alani still trusted Thrawn would make it back to her one day. And for the first time since meeting Thrawn, Ar’alani’s faith in him proved unfounded. Less than a week after their mission together, Thrawn disappeared from the galaxy. Soon after, civil war erupted within the Ascendancy, egged on by the Grysks. Ar’alani never left the Chaos again.
No word came of where Thrawn had gone. No ding could ever be heard on the comm again. The ties that bound them across the stars had severed.
Thrawn would never find his way home.