#Ronan Riverstone

[vivianquill]

[begin tape]

*click*

Golden, slitted eyes stare at you for a moment, before the man sighs. It's Ronan-- Headrush-- Roro. He looks tired. There's something hollow about his eyes, the tilt of his head, the twist of his mouth. It's like he's wearing a mask of his face, but the only thing behind it is void. He's trying to hard to look normal. The room you are in is sparse, though lived in. There are clothes thrown on the floor, a jacket over the back of a desk chair.

"The new therapist Harpy got me said I should do this." He says, by way of explanation. "She said that If I can't tell her about it, then I should write it out. Or record it. Or something, just to get it out of my head. I don't even have to show it to anyone."

The view changes, blurring as Ronan sets you down on a surface and flops back on his bed. He stares up at the ceiling, all pretenses dropped. His face goes blank. The mask is off.

"I think there's something wrong with me."

Silence. You can't speak to fill it-- you're just a camera.

"There's always been something wrong with me. Ever since I was little I've been-- scared of everything. I'm on medication for the anxiety now, but it never really went away. I could never turn off the part of my brain that overthought everything. That saw everything and thought it meant everything was going wrong."

"It was why I was such a good hero." Ronan sighs, covering his eyes with an arm. "I paid attention to everything. But it made me so tired. all the time. I could never get a break from being on guard, even at home, because it was my job to make things easier for Bay. He was always so busy, trying to keep us from getting thrown out onto the streets. They don't tell people that-- the hero division. Or the schools. They don't tell you that those of us with talents you can see get treated differently. It's just a part of life."

"Until Merrix helped me out, getting me that job with the division and all, Bay and I were one bad week from being kicked out of house and home. That's why I stole. The only reason. I hated seeing him like that, worried about our future. We had no family to help us, we didn't know about the division's aid programs for those with visible talents. People who got the short end of the stick. He tried to hide it, but I knew he had to choose between groceries or rent sometimes. I knew that the cash I brought home from my-- uhm. Messenger job was the only thing that let us make rent some months. I think he thought I was working for a villain. I never told him that I was pick-pocketing. He did his best-- we just-- everyone thought that he would turn out to be a villain, cause of how he looked. I got called a liar at school all the time, because of my snake's eyes."

There's the sound of a shaky breath. Then more silence.

"But that's not what I'm supposed to talk about. I'm supposed to tell you why I've been different."

More silence.

"The thoughts stopped."

"That's all there is to it, really. Whatever was in that spider, what Anansi had bite me? It made the thoughts stop. I had a panic attack, and those make the thoughts stop because there are too many. It makes my brain go static-y, without anything able to be there because It's so full."

The light has started to dim. It's so so slow, only noticeable now in this moment. It must be sunset.

"But-- That spider made my head go empty in a way that i've never had before. It was like-- everything was okay because there was nothing to be worried about. And it felt so nice."

"I don't know how to explain it really. It's like when you live next to the freeway, you get used to the sound of cars, yeah? And then you move to the country, all of a sudden it's silent outside. You go back to the city for a visit and you can't believe how loud it is in your own head."

"Nothing else has ever been able to do that. Not even when I broke my ankle on a mission and got hopped up and the good stuff. It's kind of happened since, when everything goes floaty and soft at the edges and the outside world just-- doesn't exist. It isn't the same, though."

"I'm scared about what I would do to get my head that quiet again. For longer. For forever."

There's another too-long silence, only broken by deep breaths that move his chest up and down.

"I don't like how everyone at HQ looks at me when I space out. They say I've been less observant, but I still notice things. I guess I'm just-- not as anxious. Not as suspicious. There's a part of me that is too tired for the kinds of mental gymnastics I used to go through with every interaction. I can't bring myself to fake the emotions I don't feel anymore. Everyone can tell, I know they can. . . I used to never take things at face value. It's like my brain has to pick and choose what to pay attention to and it's just-- kept choosing nothing. Instead of everything. And Bay. I know he's worried. He hasn't said anything, but I can see it in his eyes when he looks at me."

Ronan rubs at his face, making a wordless sound of frustration muffled by his hands. He drops his arms again, hands above his head.

"I feel like I'm broken inside. Like I want something I can't have. It feels bad to want to not have to be so alert all the time. Like, that was my thing. I don't want it anymore. I want to be a hero still, I really do, but-- It feels like i have to pretend to be like I used to be, when I have no idea how to be that anymore. And I don't think I want to. I love helping people but-- If one spider bite is all it took to make my head go quiet, why have I been jumping through all these hoops my whole life? Ones that never worked all the way?"

His voice drops to a whisper at his next words.

"I'm scared I might turn villain, if one of them finds out. If one of them comes up with a way to make my head quiet like that spider."

"It was addicting, not having to think for once."

Ronan sits for a minute in silence, just quiet with his thoughts, before he shifts, rolling over to grab the camera. There's shuffling and hands and blurry movement.

*click*

[end of tape]

[thedistantstorm]

Project Compass 28

Read along on AO3 Here

<< Previous Chapter <<     >> Next Chapter >>

This time: Ivant and Thrawn seek out an old ally.

Next time: The enemy lies in wait.

-/

Thrawn looked down at his left hand, clenching it as though he could still feel the phantom of Eli's calloused hand in his from days before. It had been warm, but humans ran warmer than Chiss. That was a biological fact. Chiss were able to sustain far cooler temperatures, though they were capable of handling intense heat as well, their bodies simply more adaptable to extremes.

Beside him in the cockpit of their transport, Ezra hummed, directing his question behind them. “So why, exactly, don’t you want me to come with you guys?” His tone indicated it was nice to speak Basic for a change.

“It’s for your best interest.” The left corner of Eli’s lips lifted in a half-smile, and there was something amused in the gaze he gave Thrawn. “I don’t think my contact would do anything, but,” Deep brown eyes met luminous red.

Thrawn said, “Krennic is dead.”

Eli nodded, and Ezra calmly steered their shuttle into the bay they’d been given by the control tower that overlooked the port. A moment later, Eli mused, “Yes, he knows.”

“And he doesn’t like the Emperor, therefore this should not even be a consideration.”

Ezra looked over his shoulder, seeking clarification. “How many ex-Imps do the Chiss employ, exactly?”

“The question you mean to ask is ‘How many Imps did Thrawn ship off to the Ascendancy,’ and the answer is two.” There was humor in his gaze and his voice as he added, “Be grateful you’re stuck with me."

Thrawn didn’t laugh, but his quiet huff was as good as. For Ezra’s benefit, he said, “I doubt Brierly Ronan would sell him out to the Empire.”

“I told you he still calls me ‘the traitor,’ right?”

Thrawn swiveled the co-pilot’s chair around to face Eli, who stood, leaning casually against the hatch. “Yes,” The Chiss said. “However, as I've said, he doesn’t like the Emperor which should make him an ally.”

“I think I also told you he’s attached to House Chaf?” The look on the human’s face was flat as he argued back. “As in, he's the very publicly recognized liaison to Formbi, who even more publicly despises your brother?”

“Surely Syndic Chaf’orm’bintrano would not appreciate such an indelicate statement, Captain,” Thrawn all but crooned. “Besides, my service to our military negates any benefits I would receive from my house.”

“Right,” Eli agreed, both sarcastic and reluctant, all at once. He was all too aware of a multitude of situations - not just Thrawn’s own - that might suggest otherwise. “Regardless, Ezra is staying in the ship for his safety, on the off chance, well,” He broke off, admitting, “I don’t think Ronan’s about to try and contact anyone, but consider it a favor to me and keep an eye on the ship, okay?”

Ezra scoffed as he activated the landing gear and methodically toggled the brake and shut down protocols to begin as necessary. Eli might have total control over the Navigators, but Ezra had one final card to play: Ezra was no Navigator, and he answered to Thrawn. He tried not to think about the vast number of close friends who would be very concerned for his mental state at the thought as he said, “No offense, but you’re not my boss.”

“Fine,” Eli said, turning away from them to toggle the door hatch. He didn’t lose that casual-confidence Thrawn now associated with him, even with their mission starting. “I’ll go alone.” He stepped out.

“You will not.” Thrawn looked at Ezra, who sulked with a shift of his lips. “Bridger will stay on the ship,” He called louder, addressing his fellow captain’s retreating back.

“If I didn’t know better,” Ezra murmured slyly, leaning back to cross his legs and prop them up on the dash, much to Thrawn’s displeasure, “I’d think Captain Ivant is just trying to get you alone.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“You are insufferable,” The Chiss hissed in reply. It seemed the prospect of being behind bothered him more than he realized.

“But I might be right.” Ezra sang in a buzzing hum.

“We are professionals, on a mission from our Admiral,” Thrawn insisted. “That is not what this is.”

“Riiiiight,” Ezra drawled, “And I’m a Sith Lord.” He met Thrawn’s glower with a dull expression. “Call it what you want, but you better catch up with him before he leaves you behind for real. I’ll keep the ship company like a good aide.”

Thrawn did lengthen his stride, noticing Eli waiting for him in the open doorway of the building that lay on the outskirts of the docking bay. It was newer in design, the architecture of an age after Thrawn had departed on his mission, though it was at least a decade old. The outside of the building had been smoothed by Csilla’s unforgiving climate.

It had been a long time since they’d naturally fallen into step beside each other on a mission without one or the other forced to stand a step behind and to one side or the other, following social etiquette. Something long forgotten, yet still familiar bloomed in Thrawn’s belly. Even at Royal Imperial, all those years ago, they hadn’t truly been on even ground, though it had been nearly impossible to notice. Now, though, he felt it. He had always wondered if a day like this would come.

He wasn’t disappointed.

Eli steered him to a longer ancillary corridor to the left with nothing but a subtle shift of his stance, only looking up at Thrawn at the last second. He smiled briefly. His eyes were clear and bright, like polished riverstone. When his wrist brushed Thrawn’s forearm as they stepped through the doorway, he didn’t react. Neither did Thrawn. But he didn’t step back, content to let their sleeves brush as they continued on their way.

Had this happened before, in the Empire? Thrawn wondered. He hadn’t been looking, hadn’t considered this a possibility for himself, much less for his then Commander. They’d been what he’d hoped were friends. And regardless of his valiant actions, Thrawn had come to realize that Eli had hoped for the same.

Thrawn wasn’t used to being so hopeful, but he found that he didn’t mind. The concept of discovery was exhilarating.

Eli’s lips thinned and twisted as they approached another door leading to what sounded like a far more busy place. “This is the main drag,” He informed Thrawn as the hydraulics did their job, and a beautiful mezzanine was revealed. “Usually I wouldn’t indulge Ronan by meeting in such a place, but I like the café.”

His fellow captain completely ignored the beautiful, whimsical art, suspended from the ceiling and done in expansive murals on almost every wall. In fact, Eli paid the art little mind until Thrawn had stopped several paces back, inspecting a crystalline sculpture that seemed to accept the rare glow from the sun that peeked through the skylights overhead and warmed to a kaleidoscope of color in the infrared, subtle and intricate in its execution.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen that look,” Eli said into Thrawn's analysis. He licked his lips, wetting them. “I can’t wait to hear you tell me the artist’s entire life story later.”

Thrawn glanced away from the tangle of elements that comprised the complex, suspended piece. “Oh?” He asked, surprised.

“I know who the artist is. We can test how well your art-sense is now that you’re back where you belong.” The words weren’t playful, more inquisitive, curious.

The Chiss turned back from the artwork and let Eli guide him. “You know the artist?”

“Oh, I do,” He said. “And I’m not telling you the story until you give me your analysis.”

“She came onto you,” Thrawn speculated immediately. His eyes flickered between the piece and Vanto, narrowing as he appraised the human.

“She?” Eli questioned. His eyebrows accentuated the question.

“He?”He frowned. “No. The artist identifies as female. You can tell-”

Eli’s head tipped back and he laughed, honest and unbidden, interrupting Thrawn’s absurdly accurate conclusions. Thrawn’s lips quirked upwards into a tiny, helpless smile.

“Was my speculation correct?” The Chiss couldn't help but ask.

“Hell," Vanto was still laughing. "You don't miss a trick, Mitth’raw’nuruodo. I missed that.” Before Thrawn could think on those words or their meaning, Eli clapped his arm. “C’mon,” He drawled, “I don’t want to listen to Ronan bitch because we’re late.”

-/

The cafe was upscale and incredibly dim by human standards, playing up the Chiss side of superior sight. The mugs, Eli had been told, were a kind that lit up beautifully in the infrared, despite being made of some flimsi-like material so patrons could take their drinks to go. Considering the cautious look Thrawn gave a table’s beverages, that seemed to be about right.

Ronan, as expected, proceeded to scoff at the sight of Thrawn. “I’d heard you weren’t dead,” He said drolly in accented Cheunh as he stood to greet them. He shook Thrawn’s hand delicately when the Chiss said his name in greeting. Then, “Hello, Traitor.”

Rolling his eyes, Eli shook his fellow ex-Imperial’s hand in greeting. “Glad to see you haven’t lost your charm,” He said in Basic. “I think we can save your horrific attempt at that posh accent. I’d like to get through this without you needin’ to repeat yourself all the time.”

“I’ll have you know my accent is that of House Chaf. The population on Sarvchi speaks many different dialects of standard Cheunh. It isn’t my fault your military education didn’t properly culture you,” Ronan said primly, adjusting his yellow cape. Thrawn looked to Eli instead of speaking, and Ronan’s eyes lit up. “I thought he wasn’t on your good side?”

“Things change.” Eli said, foot nudging Thrawn’s before the Chiss realized the snarl threatening to break through his seemingly blank expression.

“Formbi won’t be thrilled,” Ronan snorted. “We do not want any part in your war.”

“Formbi is, as always, welcome to join us. I have yet to hear this sentiment to my face.”

“You know he has far more important things to do,” Ronan said with a self-important adjustment of his bright yellow cape. It drew Thrawn’s attention, and the syndic’s aide noticed that attention immediately. “It’s an upgrade from the drab one I wore during my time in the empire, don’t you think? Savit bit a hole through it during his little temper tantrum.”

Eli buried his face in his hands. Thrawn shrugged, not nearly as affected as Eli had thought. “It is… yellow,” The Chiss captain settled for commenting.

“That’s one word for it,” Eli muttered into his palm, then straightened and got down to business. “Did you get me the files I needed?”

“You could at least say please,” Ronan rebuked his lack of manners.

“I’ve got info, I don’t need to beg,” Vanto said, straightfaced.

“Of course,” Ronan said idly, producing a datacard. “The information you requested for your little project. There’s not much. The Empire was keen to make everyone forget what came before it.”

“Anything is something,” Eli commented mildly, pocketing the tiny chip within a hidden compartment in his tunic and producing another. He didn’t set it on the table between them, but held it between his fingertips, even when Ronan reached for it. He looked to Thrawn, calculatingly, then back to Ronan.

Ronan tapped the table twice, nonchalantly, then picked up his drink from the heavy coaster it rested on. It was a jamming device, the deep blue indicator blinking intermittently to show it was active. His gaze rose back to Eli as he set the drink back down.

Thrawn stroked his chin. “Were you followed?” He asked.

“There is a guard posted nearby. Two of them,” Ronan said. His expression gave away no indication of concern.

“Can you lose them?”

The pale human grinned. “With ease. Formbi is always disappointed when I don’t.”

Eli rolled his eyes, though he didn’t appear entirely irritated. Lower, he intoned, “I could give you this, or we could go to our ship and discuss things in detail.”

Eyes gleaming, Ronan asked, equally soft, “Is that where you’re hiding the Jedi? My sources say he doesn’t stray far from Thrawn.”

Thrawn eyed Ronan coolly, taking Eli’s earlier warning seriously. “Any actions you consider taking against my aide, I suggest you consider carefully.”

“Oh, please,” Ronan waved him off. “I wouldn’t.” He gestured to Eli. “This one’s just paranoid.”

“For good reason,” Eli said, stone-faced. His eyes remained hard, though his eyebrows rose. “What do you want to do?”

Smiling wanly, his aura shifting to become every bit the overworked Syndic’s assistant he was advertised to be, Ronan rose, ripping the datacard from Eli’s fingers with an over-dignified harrumph. Loudly, for effect, he said, “This conversation was incredibly pointless, per usual, with nothing of value for me.” Sliding his gaze between the two captains, ignoring Eli’s hiss of discomfort from the card scraping his fingernails. “You’re welcome for the information, Vanto.” He barely spared Thrawn a glance as he turned, drink and jammer in hand, letting his cape billow over his shoulder like an obnoxious victory flag.

Thrawn waited a few moments, watching as the yellow-clad human took his leave with all the air of pompous importance he remembered, then saw the two Chiss that were very clearly his escort follow at a calculated distance. They were subtle, Thrawn could give them that. “He will find our ship?”

Eli nodded. “Docking info is on the datacard he yanked out of my hand. He should be able to access a terminal somewhere to get what he needs after he dodges the two goons on his tail.”

“This was the plan all along,” Thrawn voiced, after a moment of comfortable silence.

“Why do you think I had Ezra stay with the ship?” Eli’s smile was knowing. He nudged Thrawn with an elbow. “At least this way it should give you enough time to check out the rest of the art on display in the mezzanine before we head back.”

Thrawn nodded, his eyes sharp and eager, though his mouth was held in that typical, serious line. “You should hope that Ezra won’t attack him,” He mused to his fellow captain.

This time, Eli’s grin was alight with amusement as he shrugged, “Well, we’ll find out how well he listened, now won’t we?”

-/

Ronan was sitting at the small table in the shuttle’s living area when Eli and Thrawn made it back.

“I see you two took the scenic route,” He commented. He held up his wrists, which were in binders. Ezra leaned against the wall beside the hatch, at a good angle to see Ronan and also get the drop on any unwanted visitors. The room was entirely empty save for the table and chairs bolted to the floor of the cabin.

“Good work, Bridger. The binders were a nice touch,” Eli said, extending a hand for the tool that would unlock them.

“Thanks for the heads up, by the way,” Ezra commented dryly.

It was Thrawn who skirted around the rest of the humans and took a seat to Ronan’s left. “Plans change, Bridger. You must adapt.”

Ezra waved the multitool nonchalantly but gave it up to Vanto with a sigh. He gestured to Ronan. “He said this was always the plan.”

Rubbing his wrists as the thick cuffs were removed, Ronan motioned to his bag and Ezra retrieved it with an exasperated sigh. The jammer from before was produced, as well as a holorecorder. “You understand I will have to record this for Syndic Chaf’orm’bintrano.”

“Yeah, I know,” Eli said. He exchanged a glance with Thrawn, who did not look so at ease. “You really should have brought him. Recording is dicey, especially considering the subject matter.”

“I will not be galavanting off on a galactic tour. I am going directly to Formbi the second this meeting is adjourned. He is nearby.” Reorienting the conversation, Ronan said, “House Chaf wants nothing to do with militaristic enterprises. That I am even here is only because you promised me samples.”

“I did,” Eli said, pulling a small, well-concealed cylinder with a tiny vial from within his tunic. He laid it out on the table. “That’s enough to kill three Chiss,” He said. “If it’s used on one, cardiac arrest is more or less instant. If you spread it out, you’re just slow, but fatal torture.”

Ezra swore and turned away, disappearing into the cockpit. Ronan’s eyes tracked him Almost silently, he murmured, “And the antidote?”

Eli sighed. At this point, it was what it was. Ezra was bound to find out eventually. He spoke soft, but even, and didn’t plan to mince his words even when the Jedi returned. “That’s where house Chaf comes in. We cannot research it ourselves, and House Chaf has both the technology and the defenses to do it without our protection.”

“An interesting proposition.” He furrowed his brow. “Admiral Ar’alani would be willing to concede control like that?”

Thrawn looked between them briefly, then intervened. “It is a necessary concession,” He said. “There is a traitor within our midst.”

“Aboard your ship,” Ronan commented doubtfully. “Surely you can-”

“No,” Eli said. “Within the Aristocra.”

“Who?”

“We believe it is one of the ruling families,” Thrawn said. “We do not yet have-”

“It’s Inrokini,” Eli said.

“We suspect,” Thrawn interjected, looking at Vanto strangely. “We do not yet have-”

“Well,” The other captain leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Regardless, this is a Grysk poison that was not created by Chiss hands. The risks in accidental exposure are too great. We’re concerned about our science team even taking it out of vac-seal to put under a microscope.”

“Syndic Formbi will be pleased you at least consider our research teams above your own,” Ronan said smartly. He frowned, though. “Why do you suspect Inrokini?”

Thrawn said, “The most recent casualties were all supporters of House Inrokini.”

Eli looked at Ronan. “I think they’re going to frame House Chaf, use Formbi’s hate of Thrass as a motive. They’ve already tried to kill Thrawn once.”

Huffing, Ronan had to ask, “So how many bolts did you put into the idiot’s head, really?”

“Only one,” Eli commented. “I don’t miss.”

“Shame they denied the promotion.” He shrugged. “I figured it had to be worse, considering they had Kresh take your ship out from under you. That woman sure knows how to make a reward look like a punishment,” He said sharply.

“The promotion was a sham and you know it,” Vanto said, more to abate Thrawn’s curious look and Ezra’s head, peeking back into the unsealed doorway between cockpit and main cabin. “Back to the point: We need house Chaf’s help.”

Ronan nodded, his usual bluster melting away. “Look, I can take it to Formbi and plead your case. But it’s military. I don’t think he’ll go for it. He barely tolerates the CDF engaging the Grysks as it is.”

“The traitor situation may change his mind,” Thrawn said. “Whomever is getting this poison from the Grysks,” He indicated the innocent-seeming vial of fine, crystalline powder, “Is working with them directly. We believe it is a plot to subjugate one of the houses and take control of our people from the inside out.”

“You mean,” Ronan looked up in surprise. “That is - the Grysks are trying to make us a client species?” He looked between the two men. “Like those-” He shuddered, well aware of the Scratchlings. “Can they do that?”

Eli nodded. “Given enough time and the right access, I believe they can.” He shrugged. “Besides, it’s easier to get information and build power if two of the families are fighting to eliminate each other from power. If you were smart, you’d convince him to speak with Thrass and form an alliance.”

“You clearly do not understand the nuances of Chiss politics. That is impossible.”

“I think they could put aside their pride and turn their mutual disdain on a worthy target for a few cycles,” Thrawn interjected. “My brother is petty, that much is true, but he does not have a death wish.”

Ronan nodded, though he didn’t seem convinced, and contemplated. “Like I said, I’ll make your case. Suggest that he speak to Ar’alani, if not the two of you.” He indicated the vial. “Is there more? This is nowhere near enough for an in-depth study.”

“Yes,” Eli said. “I can have some folks run it to a place of your choosing if the syndic agrees.”

“Oh great,” Ronan said. “I do love receiving visits from Commodore Faro.”

“It’s Commander now,” Thrawn offered.

Ronan made a look that clearly said ‘of course it is.’ “How do you continuously convince these beings to give up everything and stay all the way out here?” He asked. “I didn’t think recruitment was part of your duties.” He wasn’t really expecting an answer.

He got one, anyway.

“Hey, he’s a likeable guy,” Ezra quipped from the doorway. “I mean, once you get over wanting to kill him a little.”