#marinith

[contentment-of-cats]

The Card Game at the End of the Galaxy.

They got the Lady as repaired as one could hope. The damned whales apparently used the refined Clouzon fuels to come back here to die after spawning. The Chimaera's crew had been too busy dying or with damage control to see the beasties having it off in hyperspace. Grace and Little Gods only knew if she'd hold together making the jump, but with the materials of other crashed ships, they'd been able to put her back together.

Shipwide Communication: All Hands

ALL ESSENTIAL PERSONNEL INDICATED FOR COLD SLEEP HAVE RECEIVED THEIR THORACIC PORTS AND BACTA TREATMENT.

PREPARATION FOR NON-EMERGENCY COLDSLEEP:

Your groups will be called by MOS and rank. Do not wait in the medbay corridors. 

No food after 00:00 - clear liquids only. Take the intestinal prep at the same time.

At 06:00 leave your quarters wearing the hooded jumpsuit provided. Your possessions will be stored away for you.

In the staging area wait to be called with your group. Please do not bring anything with you such as datapads, reading material, or your personal comlinks.

We will soon be home. 

They will soon regret it.

Long live the Empire. 

CMDE Albus Marinith, ISD Chimaera FLAG, 7th Fleet, 

GADM Mitth'raw'nuruodo, ISD Chimaera FLAG, 7th Fleet

~

They were good soldiers and sailors of the Empire, and rather than await a lingering death from starvation and thirst - or eating dead whale meat (barf) - his Humans got to work. Thrawn, of course, didn't know this. He was in and out of coldsleep, medbeds, bacta tanks, and surgery. His Humans were as determined to save him as they were to get home. They were shocked silly when three crones suddenly appeared on the auxiliary bridge, and the Three Mothers almost joined their sisters before Thrawn stopped them. 

They had something to offer - and they wanted something in return.

A way to communicate with the galaxy far, far away. A way to rally the resources needed to return home. The hyperlanes were purgill migration routes, the purgill one of the oldest species not just in the galaxy, but in the universe, and a species eating itself out of existence. They came here to spawn, then die, their bones filled with Clouzon, the ships that ran on it the only way for them to get home. With a ring based on the old Jedi fighter hyperspace rings, the Chimaera could fly again. It would take the Mothers back to Dathomir, and the crew of the Chimaera back home.

It was go time.

They found a way to mine the bone belt, then vaporize the bones in a plasma engine, collecting the gasses. The Chimaera's chief engineer's last act had been to shut down the core with his bare hands in a breached engine room. In the weeks that it took to minimally refuel, the air turned stale as vital systems starved. Then, nursing the core back to full power - and holding their breath - engine by engine, they fired the Gemon-4 ion engines and moved slowly into the atmosphere.

Thrawn awoke just in time for the descent.

More devilry, but it could not be helped. Three rickety old hags weighed against the remaining Chimaera crew. 

So they are here now, his loyal crew. Almost all sleep in their stasis units in the catacombs. The Chimaera is vacuum tight and as spaceworthy as possible. Bridger will be stranded. 

Hammerly shuffles the cards, the chrono counting down to 00:00. Pyrondi has a pile of worthless chips and heckles Lomar and Agral that she's cashing in when they get home. Yve doesn't do goodbyes, and is sitting this one out. Marinith is finishing his last commands and a glass of his Corellian whisky. 

Thrawn brings a bottle and takes a seat. "Deal me in, Flag Captain Hammerly."

"Ready to lose your pension, sir?" Pyrondi chirps with her characteristic confidence.

"Hold onto your chips, Commander Pyrondi." Card games such as Five Card Fool Me involve strategy as much as luck. "Remember last time."

She tried to bluff the table with a pair of deuces and fooled everyone but him. 

They talk about what they're going to do when they get home. Some of the acts involve improbable uses for Bridger's head, but most are typical leave activities. They talk about visiting family, partying, indulging in food and drink, or hobbies. 

"What are you planning to do, sir?"

"Apparently, Commander Lomar, I need to plan on posting your bail." Thrawn let a small smirk flit across his face, making the others eye their cards nervously. "Don't worry about the courts martial. I've had enough of them that I can talk you through."

The runup to coldsleep has seen some remarkable behavior in the name of stress relief, and Thrawn has long looked the other way on fraternization. Waking up in a pile of warm and naked Humans has been comforting these past months. They have never disdained his injured body, and many bear scars from horrendous wounds of their own.

Five minutes to 00:00, Hammerly puts the cards away and kisses them all farewell. Lomar and Agral follow. Marinith looks in and bids him goodnight. Yve's farewell is personal, warm, and heartfelt. Pyrondi tidies the room and Thrawn can feel her reluctance to leave.

"I'll look in on you in a few hours." 

She nods, not trusting her voice, and goes. Thrawn would never betray her confidence that coldsleep terrifies her. They've all had the drills, starting with the academy, but this is going to be for a very long time. They don't have enough consumables for the length of time they'll have to wait. Thrawn and a core of stormtroopers will remain awake, with a few officers and specialists to wake when the Eye of Sion arrives.

The prep for non-emergency coldsleep is unpleasant, but he noticed them cutting back on rations and increasing fluids. When he looks in on Pyrondi, as promised, she's pale and fatigued in the aftermath. A weak smile from her and he enters, placing the do-not-disturb on the doorway. He's going to miss her as she sleeps. He will miss all of them. His Humans.

He stays until 06:00, going to medbay and finding everything ready. He nods at the medic to begin.

"Commander Agral, report to medbay."

"Commander Yve, report to medbay."

"Commander Lomar, report to medbay."

"Commander- Commodore Marinith, report to medbay."

Pyrondi is last, and it is for his own selfish purpose. Marinith gives him a knowing look.

The body, reactivating from a cold start, goes through hell. Hibernation sickness can last for weeks if one is not properly inducted. First come the scans to make sure of an empty digestive tract. A protective drink goes down, eye and nose drops are administered, a mouthpiece put in place. Then the thoracic port is hooked up to the infusion pump. There is nobody to see as he takes Pyrondi's hand. She's a good officer, one of his very best.

"Anesthesia in three, two, one. Commander, count backwards from ten."

"Ten. Nine. Eight. S-sevix. Fi-" 

Pyrondi's eyes haze, close, and are then delicately taped to protect them. The mouthpiece and airway tube are placed, then her exposed face covered with bacta patches. It doesn't look like her any longer. Thrawn starts to tuck her fingers into the mitt, then looks at the other four caskets waiting, lights blinking. It's not a Chiss custom, but he presses his lips to her warm fingers. 

"I'll see you soon, Commander Pyrondi." 

He tucks her hand back in, straightens and nods at the medic.

"Coldsleep prep dose underway… now." He can't see the warmth drain from her face, but he can see her in infrared when he blinks his nictitating lid. She changes until her body gives only a cold blue signal. "Patient is stable. Beginning induction."

He waits. She or one of the others waited for him - there every time he woke up. 

"Induction successful for Pyrondi, Commander, Senior Weapons Officer, female, twenty-six years of age."

The casket closes, carbonite gas filling the space, the light flashes and then settles into a steady red. 

Thrawn nods to the medic, one of the few crew members left awake.

"We'll take good care of them, sir."

"Dismissed."

When the troopers come to take the five caskets, Thrawn turns and walks away.

Now all he has to do is wait.

[aeon2407]

Pyro's Pyrotechnic Love Life - Chapter 10

Late post. Quite late actually. But here you go. Dedicated to the amazing @contentment-of-cats as always. Also on AO3.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Command Bridge, The Levinbolt, Task Force Spearhead, Fleet One

“Marshal on deck!”

Everyone snapped to attention as Artur stepped onto the bridge, in the uniform of a Tagge Armada Marshal – minus the cape, that was for ceremonies – and took his seat.

“As you were, everyone. How long until breakout?”

“Two minutes, sir.”

“I saw that the Executor stopped around Naboo for a few minutes. What was that about?”

“Uh… They stopped for Lord Vader, sir. He took his personal TIE for a separate mission after Death Squadron affirmed their loyalty to the Dynasty. They will arrive right after us.”

“Ah. All good, then. We’ll be expecting a guest coming up from planetside within the next few days. He is to be considered arm and dangerous at all times, but at the moment he is an ally and should be treated as a guest of honor. The name is Obi-Wan Kenobi. The codeword is ‘High Ground’. Any questions?”

A murmur of confusion, some small requests for clarification, and they were all settled. No one mentioned Order 66 or the numerous warrants and bounties on Kenobi’s head. They were all committing treason soon anyway.

“Captain on the bridge.”

Artur turned around. Yana and Yissa were both wearing the distinct red and gold uniform, the rank device for Captain and Commander respectively shining on their collars. “Commander, Captain, glad you could join us.”

Yana smiled at him. “Happy to be here, sir.”

“Stent, I’m reassigning you to late watch. Take a break.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Commander Hammerly, Sensors is yours.”

“Yes, sir.”

She took the newly vacant spot, getting herself used to the layout. Jashin, Odo, and Phyrre were already settled in, all three staying as senior loots after the jump over but would be promoted soon. Brilliant officers should be in command. Yana was the Levinbolt’s captain the same way Marinith was the Chimaera’s captain, so she took a spot next to the chair. “Orders, sir?”

“Break out over Tepasi, check in with Armada HQ, then pick up Kenobi. I have a meeting with the core family tonight to go over the details. Are you sure you’re up for this? The Empire gave you a second chance.”

“TaggeCo gave me a second chance, helped me break free from the exploitations of the Youth Corps when Commandant Martal wasn’t able to. My loyalty is with my family and the Chimaera first and foremost, but the rest of it is with you.”

A warm smile. A loving look. “Good to hear. Lieutenant Agral, how long to breakout?”

“Thirty seconds, sir! Slowing down hyperdrives, stabilizing sublight engines.”

“Lieutenant Lomar, signal Tepasi Control, tell them we’re on approach. Request Drydock One and a full resupply.”

“Aye, sir. Tepasi Control, this is Armada battleship Levinbolt on final approach, twenty seconds to breakout. Requesting Drydock One and a full resupply. How copy?”

“Levinbolt, Tepasi Control. Good copy, Drydock One on standby.”

“Commander Hammerly, be on the lookout for any approaching vessels once we break out. We’re an Armada ship, not many have legitimate reasons to dock with us.”

“Copy that, sir. Sensors at full range, we’ll see them coming.”

“Sir, breaking out in five.”

“Captain Pyrondi, you have the bridge. Lieutenants Lomar, Agral, report to my office once we land.”

The two exchanged glances and sounded off their affirmatives. Artur left to update the family and get himself updated on other parts of the plan. A coup on this scale took plenty of moving parts, and therefore plenty of chances for something to go wrong. The key was quick, decisive responses to the thing that went wrong.

They were still in the delicate stages. One false step could send it all burning up. He needed to make sure that didn’t happen.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Commanding Officer’s Office, The Levinbolt, Task Force Spearhead

“Lieutenants Agral and Lomar reporting, sir.”

“Come in you two. Take a seat.”

They did so, sitting with perfect academy posture. Artur stared at them. “I’ll get to the point. This is about your families. You two are already onboard with this plan, but we want to make sure that the Agrals and the Slicing Clan are with us too.”

The House was powerful, but not all-powerful. There were factions they didn’t mess with unless they absolutely had to. The Slicing Clan was on top of that list, and the Agral name was known throughout the galaxy for a reason.

The two looked at each other before turning back to him. “We can’t speak for our families, sir, but with permission we can call them. I think both of our families will agree to it.”

Artur nodded. Well within expectations. “Permission granted. Get an encrypted line and call them.”

Hopefully they were amenable to Titanfall. The Agrals would be a problem, but if the Slicing Clan turned hostile their best course of action was mutual destruction. That alone spoke volumes to their power.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tagge Armada HQ, Unlos Tagge, Tepasi

Thirty Hours Later

“So that’s why, even with the tentative agreements between us and both factions, King Jashin Agral Sr. and Matriarch Shiya Lomar want to meet. Should be a simple discussion on the finer details, nothing too complicated. How are things on other fronts?”

Domina leaned back in her seat as Artur finished his report. It was just the two of them in this room, catching each other up on things. Not even Lapin was there.

She scrolled through her datapad. “Neither Organa nor Mothma have cracked, not that we expected them to. The ISB is putting pressure on their families, Organa specifically has to worry about his daughter being charged with accessory to treason. As for Mothma, she’s been shown footage of Narkina 5, specifically what female prisoners go through. There are fates worse than death. We’ll let her stew in it for a few days then offer her a deal for information.

Ulric is doing his job, gaining allies and influence. Palpatine is getting delayed or outright falsified reports from all agencies. Orman reported that Vader is regenerating without issue, apparently the midichlorians are helping him along. We’ll take Coruscant when he is back and fully reacclimated. Should take another three days for him to fully form, then he’ll start the recovery process.”

Artur nodded. “I’ll prepare the fleets and inform Thrawn. What about the Spectres? Any news?”

“Yes. Kanan Jarrus was released from postop today. His body accepted the eyes seamlessly and he’s undergoing nerve therapy to reacclimate himself to sight.”

“Good. That’s good. Death Squadron?”

“Enough resistors to fill two ISDs, Vader deemed the rest to be loyal to him and by extension to us. The resistors are scattered in brigs across their fleet.”

“Shame, but expected. What do we do in the meantime?”

“You’re still on leave. As far as Palpatine is concerned, everything is normal. Keep it that way until it’s time to strike. Go prepare. Train with that new knee. Be with your girlfriends, which by the way, are you sure you can handle three, Artur?”

“Three?”

“Yes. Ilyana, Yissa, Merri.”

“Merri?! No, no, she’s… uh, I’m not sure, but-“

“Let me stop you right there. That girl has been crushing on you for years. I know because she was one of the scouting targets for the Armada. You took her virginity and left her to wake up by herself in a cold and empty medbay. Whatever you feel, make it clear to her. Don’t pussyfoot around like you did with Ilyana all those years ago. Be solid, be firm, make a tactical decision.”

Artur nodded. In hindsight, he could’ve at least taken Merri to his quarters before leaving for the bridge so that she’d wake up warm and with some privacy. Shit. “I’ll talk to her after my bridge shift. Thanks Auntie, needed that.”

“I know, kiddo. Go on, your fleets need you.” A chime on her comms. “On second thought, standby. Lapin just received code ‘High Ground’ over comms. Kenobi’s at TIS. Go pick him up. Put him on the Levinbolt while I arrange transportation.”

With a nod, Artur stood and left the room, mind still debating the Merri Barlin Situation. He needed to talk to Yana and Yissa. It was as much their say as it was his, and of course that was assuming Merri would even accept their little arrangement in the first place.

One step at a time, Artur. One step at a time.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Arrival Gate, Tepasi Interstellar Spaceport

Obi-Wan was calm. He was on the right path and he knew it, it was just a matter of navigating that path. Said navigation now required him to get involve with the Tagges to get Anakin back, so that was what he was doing.

So why did he feel so exposed sitting here? Oh, right, security cams. He’d spent all of two hours on Coruscant. It was still strange being back in the Core, even if Tepasi had more nature. Not that it was a particularly high bar, every planet had more nature than Coruscant.

A man was approaching him. Even without looking, Obi-Wan knew who it was as the other man sat down next to him. That volatility and wrongness in the Force was unique to one and only one being. “Artur, pleasure to-”

“Don’t use my name, don’t say anything, just put this cloak on and follow.”

Right. A Tagge would naturally attract attention, especially here, and attention was the last thing either of them wanted right now. Obi-Wan took the offered cloak – gray and white – and slipped it over his head before following the scion to a speeder outside.

“We’re taking you to one of our ships in orbit. You’ll be treated as a guest, but try anything or be anywhere you’re not supposed to be and I’ll put your old ass in the brig myself, understood?”

“Understood. I’m just here to save Anakin and kill Sidious. That’s all.”

A silent nod turned into a silent drive. Obi-Wan took the time to meditate and tried to reach out to Anakin. He knew they had him in a blind spot in the Force, but he tried anyway, just to be sure. Eventually, they arrived at a private landing pad, where a TaggeCo shuttle and a squad of black-armored stormtroopers – SCAR Troopers – were already waiting.

Artur parked the speeder in the back of a nearby hangar. Obi-Wan tensed instinctively as one of the troopers – an officer with cropped brown hair– approached them. “All good to go, sir. Still as planned?”

“Still as planned, Revy. Kenobi, this is General Revy Maklar, my ground forces commander. You answer to me, her, and Ilyana Pyrondi, in that order.”

Obi-Wan was staring. He couldn’t sense Revy at all. She knew that too, judging by the knowing smirk on her unhelmeted face. “What’s wrong, Kenobi? Never seen a Force Null before?”

So that was what she was. He’d suspected, given that there was nothing in the Force where she was supposed to be. Not the blank void like what most droids were either, just natural air where there should’ve been a Human woman. He’d also noticed the scar on her neck, the surgical mark of a freed slave, but wisely avoided commenting on it.

“Pleasure to meet you, General. Obi-Wan Kenobi, at your service.”

She shook his hand and motioned for him to follow. The trip up to the Levinbolt was as silent as the trip from the spaceport, Obi-Wan growing increasingly unnerved sitting between a Force Null and the non-Sensitive Apprentice of Darth Vader. They said nothing to him besides the necessary instructions as the shuttle landed in a hangar bay. Artur escorted him personally to his quarters, bigger than anywhere he’d slept in before, even Satine’s chambers.

“This will be your room for the duration of your stay here. We’re arranging a transport for you to Anakin on Byth, but until then you’ll be confined to this ship. Here’s your access card, don’t lose it. Any questions?”

Obi-Wan took the card and turned it over, tucking it into his robes. “How is Anakin? Have there been any reports?”

Artur’s expression softened. “He’s fine. Should be fully formed within the next few days, then he’ll need to go through the recovery process too. Uncle Orman’s with him – best bioengineer in the galaxy. He’ll make sure Anakin is stable, but you’ll need to be there for your old padawan, both physically and emotionally. We need the Chosen One at his best for what’s to come.”

Obi-Wan sighed, relieved. Anakin was stable and would recover. The severe damage he’d done to him on Mustafar would be healed. “Thank you. For doing this. Helping him. Thank you.”

“Wasn’t exactly for altruistic reasons, but you’re welcome regardless. Get some sleep if you want, there’s food and drinks in the preservation unit under the countertop, spare clothes are in the closet. Call for help if you need anything.”

Obi-Wan thanked him one last time and was left alone. He tried to sleep off nerves but couldn't, so he got a bite to eat. Good food, better than anything he had on Tatooine by far. Then he took advantage of the shower – hot water on a combat ship was a ridiculous level of luxury – and the clothes being provided. Different stuff, different styles ranging from casual sleepwear to formal suits.

He settled on light gray robes that he recognized as belonging to the Tenno, the Tepasi religious sect in the Temple of Lotus, just without any of the regalia denoting title or achievements. They were light and comfortable, airy yet warm, just like Jedi robes. He hesitated before throwing his robes into the washing cycle but did so eventually, clipped his and Anakin’s lightsabers onto the leather belt, and left for the bridge.

….

Where was the bridge again?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thirty Minutes Later

“Master Kenobi. I trust you had no trouble finding your way around?”

The teasing smirk on Artur’s face told them both that he knew damn well otherwise. Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “You really are Anakin’s apprentice.”

“I’m Vader’s apprentice. Get it right.”

“Apologies.”

“Accepted. Your transport arrangements will be ready in an hour. Until then, there’s a meditation room and a dojo onboard.”

“Dojo please. I need to practice before we take on Sidious.”

“Right this way. Captain, you have the bridge.”

“Yes, sir.”

Obi-Wan noted the distrustful glare from the captain, Pyrondi if he wasn’t mistaken, and almost shrunk away. He followed Artur out of the bridge as the tiny captain turned back to her datapad.

A shiver shot through his spine. Small Brunettes.

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The Stinger Mantis, Tepasi Sovereign Space

Sixteen Minutes Later

“Unauthorized shuttle, power down and stand down immediately. This is your final warning.”

So obviously some mistakes were made.

That was an understatement actually. Many severe mistakes were made.

Cal was locked in probably the most powerful tractor beam he’d ever encountered, with more firepower than he could’ve imagined aiming at him, and no backup to speak of. He was kriffed.

“BD, open a channel to that ship.”

“Beep boop?”

“Just trust me on this, buddy.”

“Boop boop bah.”

“Thank you bud. Tagge battleship Levinbolt, this is captain of the Stinger Mantis speaking. I’m not here to cause any trouble. I’m here to see Obi-Wan Kenobi. I know he’s here, so don’t bother denying it.”

A beat of silence. “Power down and stand down. I will not repeat myself again.”

A woman, the same one that identified herself as the captain of that posh ship keeping him trapped. She had an edge to her voice, a cold sort of fury that told Cal he’d better obey or she’d erase him from existence.

“Copy that. Powering down now.”

The first thing he did was cut comms with the Levinbolt. “BD, send a signal over the encrypted line. Request backup and extraction for two, then hide in the floor.”

Some arguing and beeping later, BD was finally squirreled away in the hidden compartment under the caf table and Cal was ready to fight his way out if necessary. The Mantis was reeled in via tractor beam and he tucked himself into the little corner next to the boarding ramp.

The plan, as stupid and suicidal as it sounded, was to fight his way through the initial boarding party, find himself either a set of armor or uniform, find and disable the tractor beam, then fly out. Simple, right? Cal split his saber in two, prepared to deflect blaster bolts and ready for a fight from all angles as the Mantis settled into the hangar bay and familiar bootsteps approached.

He wasn’t ready for them to pump gas into the ventilation system.

BD squeaked in alarm as Cal slumped, unconscious. He tried to fight back as troopers in black armor flooded the main cabin. The droid managed to shock one of the troopers before another one turned and shot him point blank with a restraining bolt. BD felt his programming freeze and locked up as they scooped him up into a durasteel box.

After years of fighting, running, and hiding, Cal Revano Kestis, one of the last Jedi Knights left alive, was finally captured.

His comlink chimed and was promptly turned off. On Tanalorr, Merrin frowned, told Greez to babysit Kata, and took her fighter to Naboo. ‘Quick check in’ her ass, her idiot of a husband was probably captured or on a suicide mission somewhere.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

TaggeCo Veteran Rehabilitation Centre, Tepasi

Kanan, or Commander Dume as he was registered here, had been diligently going through every exercise they wanted him to. Some were very useful in helping him regain hand-eye coordination, which had atrophied over the past year, while others were useless to him on account of Force sensitivity. He went through all of it regardless, being with Hera in their dorm after every long day.

It was a wonderful thing, being able to see her again. She was as beautiful as the day he last saw her, perhaps even more so now. He got to watch, and listen, and feel, as the child, their child, grew more and more in her womb.

Life under the Tagges had restrictions and he knew there would be plenty of compromises in the future, but at least his family was all safe and any new additions wouldn’t be born on the run.

So of course, in typical post-Order-66 Jedi fashion, he felt one of his old creche-mates, his best friend of all people, appear over orbit and almost immediately dulled. Not dead, but unconscious.

He went through his day, went back to his dorm, and immediately grabbed the comlink next to his bed. Lapin had given him their personal comm code for emergencies. “Lapin?”

“Is this about the Jedi we just caught?”

“Uh, yes. I think I know him. You got Cal Kestis right?”

“Yep. If you wanna talk to him, I can arrange that.”

“Please do. He was my best friend back before.”

“Keep your inbox open. I’ll send details after I’m done eating.”

“Thank you.”

They ended the call right as Hera walked in. Kanan filled her in on what happened, which led to a long conversation about his time in the Temple.

Kanan didn’t sleep that night. If there was one thing he knew for certain about Cal, it was that the man could be more stubborn than Master Windu, and just as good with a lightsaber.

It was going to be an interesting conversation.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Residential Wing, Tagge Manor, Tepasi

Lapin rubbed their eyes and sighed. How many kriffing Jedi were still alive!? And why was half of them suddenly their problem?

They called Artur and told him to tell Kenobi about what just happened. They had three Jedi right now, all of them connected one way or another. Might as well put them all in a room together and see what comes out of it.

[meine-eigene-religion]

Innere Persönlichkeiten/Anteile: keine DIS!!!!

Lamia: Die Zerstörerin und Beschützerin

- 35 Jahre

- Aggresiv und lacht über alles hämisch. Zieht Therapie ins lächerliche und negative.

- Hasst Therapie und therapiert werden. Hasst das Leben und die negative Vergangenheit

- Emotionen: Wut, Hass, ärger, dysfunktional

- Lieblingsfarbe: Schwarz

- Schutzperson für mich und ana und Lisa

- Lamia ist die pure Dysfunktionalität

- Sie glaubt mit dem Dysfunktionalem mir helfen zu können und mich schützen zu können. Manchmal ist das auch so, aber oftmals ist das Dysfunktionale schädlich und MUSS therapiert werden.

- Sie verbildlicht meine dunkle Seite der Seele

Saraphina:

- 37 Jahre

- Glücklich, konstruktiv, macht alles nach Norm und Regeln. Nie gegen die eigene Morale.

- Ist für Therapie und Stabilität. Kämpft für mich in konstruktive Weise

- Emotionen: lässt alles gezielt und in Portionen raus

- Dysfunktional: keine

- Lieblingsfarbe: Weiß

- Ist keine Schutzperson in meinem System. Versucht aber krampfhaft eine zu sein. Sie will mich vor Lamia schützen

Umgang: sie ist ungefährlich und normal. Sie einfach lassen. Sie wird eh nur strahlen oder in Gedanken vertieft sein

Lisa:

- 14 Jahre war 6 Jahre (zwillingsschwester von Ana), retraumatisierung wurde sie 14 Jahre

- In der Pubertät

- Mal hyperaktiv und mal zickig schlecht gelaunt und wütend

- Emotionen: Wut. Hass.Selbsthass

- Dysfunktional: Essstörung manchmal Angststörung

- Will keine Nähe und Kontakt

- Lieblingsfarbe: rot

- Ist sehr gegen Therapie und Kliniken. Geht auf die Nullbockschiene. Arbeitet aber manchmal auch gut mit

- Beschützerin für mich und Ana . Beschützt vor dem Trauma.

- Innerer Triggerpunkt: flashbacks Trauma

Umgang: sie wird auf keinen hören. Aber sie wird nichts gefährliches tun. Am besten sie alleine lassen. Man kann versuchen mit ihr zu reden.

Ana:

- 6 Jahre

- Hyperaktiv und lieb. Redet gerne und viel. Malt gerne und ist kreativ. Kann aber auch sehr depressiv werden und weint viel

- Emotionen: Trauer und Scham

- Dysfunktional: keine

- Lieblingsfarbe: Grün

- Ist für Therapie

- Will nähe und gekuschelt werden

- Verletztes Kind

- Innere Triggerpunkt: Flashbacks oder wenn Trauer in mir hoch kommt,

- Äußere Triggerpunkte: kunst, kuscheltier, Zoo, Manchmal aber selten bei Körperkontakt und wenn sie einem sehr vertraut

Umgang: mit ihr reden (kindlich oder erwachsen) mit ihr malen oder spielen. Oder einfach alleine lassen. Wenn sie über den Trauma redet und Weint trösten oder allein lassen.

Marinith:

- 30 Jahre (eigendlich über 150 Jahre)

- Ist ein Vampir

- Verführerisch und elegant

- Trägt eine innere unstillbare Gier in sich.

- Gier und Sehnsucht nach Schmerz. Schmerz gegen Schmerz. Doch wird nicht Dysfunktional im den Sinne. Sie kämpft für die konstruktivität und gegen ihre Gier.

- Hat viel mit Sexualität zu tun

- Emotionen: alle aber vorallem den Selbsthass, (Selbsthass auf ihr Wesen)

- Dysfunktional: Eig. Keine aber ab und zu Alkohol (früher svv - aber jetzt nicht mehr)

- Lieblingsfarbe: Dunkelrot

- Keine Schutzperson für mich

Umgang:

Sie ist ungefährlich. Normaler Umgang. Redet mit ihr oder lass sie ihr Ding tun. Doch wenn sie sagt sie holt Alkohol, dann sag ihr einfach, sie dürfte es nicht tun.

Stev:

Mein männlicher Anteil. Stehts höflich und elegant, tritt er auf. Er hat lange blonde Haare und grüne Augen und ist im mittleren Alter.

Konstruktiv

Intelligent

Männlich

Stärken: Weiß immer einen Weg raus oder rein, Ist der Kopf der Anteile,

Weiß mehr als ich selbst (Ist hauptsächlich mein ganzes Unterbewusstsein)

Er regelt die Struktur der Innenwelt

Umgang: Stehts freundlich bleiben, Wenn es Kritik gibt, dann offen kommunizieren.

Das sind meine Anteile, mit denen ich im inneren reden kann, handeln kann und Entscheidungen treffen kann. Suche dir zutreffende Anteile aus und kommuniziere mit denen. Denn dann kommunizierst du mit deinem ganzen Ich! Dein Unterbewusstsein, wird mehr ins Bewusstsein gelangen.

[merry-chissmas]

My first fic of Chissmas, and it’s a short one because work has me by the short ones-

[contentment-of-cats]

WiP Bit 24

Thrawn has not been to see him. Ezra's admission that he tried to calm Pyrondi down using the Force repulsed Thrawn at gut level. In a way, Ezra could reluctantly see why. It was interference with someone's actual physical brain, their soul itself. Even Marinith expressed that if Ezra ever dared to do anything of the sort, he'd be disintegrated so fast he'd enter his next life leaving his mother like a shot torpedo.

That the Imperial captains seemed to know they had Force users in their ranks made Ezra deeply uneasy. Marinith was one such. The man's mind was like hitting a solid wall, and Marinith hitting him was like being hit by a wall and warned not to do it again, boy.

A new prison coverall popped out of a slot, and Ezra stripped down to get hosed. At least he was clean and fed. Bored out of his mind, but alive. The brig cells were utterly silent, not even the shipwide announcements reached him, no change of watch sounds, no klaxons, no nothing. The worst thing was that his sense of direction was completely screwed, and he couldn't sense more than a ship's length away. It was as if this part of space existed to mindfuck Jedi. Maybe Sith, too, as the Emperor never came this far out. Maybe even Thrawn didn't know where they were.

He greeted Marinith with, "The food here sucks."

Then came a voice he really didn't want to hear. "Then suck space, Haimo'dyk."

Pyrondi.

"Whatever you just called me-"

"Malignant spirit."

"-I'm not that."

The petite officer stepped out from behind Marinith and gave him a grin that was less a smile than a wolf showing her teeth. "The Grand Admiral says that if you tamper with my mind again, I get to kill you. My choice of method."

Ezra raised his hands, backing up and sitting down. The bridge crew, the ones from the main watch, they were terrifying. All of them with untapped potential, trained in their specialties, all of them true believers not so much in the Empire as much as they believed in Thrawn.

"No murdering the cadet, Senior Lieutenant.

"Sir."

Cadet. That sounded ominous.

"Today, Bridger, you start getting an education. Today is an education in what you did, now that we have the full sensor logs pulled and sorted."

Marinith threw a datapad at his head, which Ezra caught easily. On it was Lothal from a system defense station, all the ships delineated in green for civilian traffic, yellow for commercial ships, red for Imperial ships, blue for customs and commercial stations, yellow for Imperial construction docks and supply depots. The date in the upper right corner was the day before the Purrgil.

"You can thank Agral, Barlin, Hammerly, Lomar, Pyrondi, and Yve for this little presentation. Major Partagaz supplied the logistics, and our analysis groups cleared it."

Marinith leaned in and tapped the green arrowhead, starting the play.

The civilian and commercial traffic cleared away, a running tally at the bottom of the screen showing the number of ships and the tally of the crew. The commercial and civilian stations were moved out of the way, and added to the tally. He had no idea how many ships were in Lothal's space, how many they crewed. All of them carried Clouzon in their hyperdrive engines, the stations all had refueling depots equivalent to the tankage of an ISD. Imperial stations moved next, the construction rings were towed to higher orbits and the Seventh Fleet vacuum packed Lothal. Nothing in or out.

The bombardment started.

The Purrgil arrived and latches on to the parked civilian and commercial ships first and tore them apart. Ezra heard a scream and realized it was him. The stations were next, Imperial and non-combatant alike filled with Clouzon. The Imperial refueling depot held enough to service the whole Seventh and any departing Imperial vessels. The fleet was next. Some ships torn to bits in atmosphere and falling immediately to the city below, others dragged in flames into vacuum. Some sucked dry and dropped back to the world below.

"Those ships deorbiting didn't have time to get anyone to the escape pods. The survivors were burned to death on re-entry," Marinith noted.

Two counters appeared, one tagging probably noncombatant deaths and combatant deaths. The Imperial count stopped at 1.25 million. The noncombatant counter was still running as deorbiting wreckage smashed through the construction rings, destroying them and adding more wreckage to the atmosphere. Fires started across the world below, crates appeared where there were once towns, bands of thick black smoke scrawled across the surface of the world like clawmarks. Where the wrecks entered water, huge impact waves washed out coastal areas, and likely killed everything in the water for klicks around.

The civilian tally climbed and climbed until the display suddenly went black. The green letters scrolled across the screen.

"Sensors offline 22:17:44."

The civilian estimated tally of deaths stood at 3.3 million.

"Not counting casualties, or those who will die in the coming weeks and months."

"You also removed Lothal's defense against pirates, slavers, wreck strippers, and whatever central government there was," Pyrondi added. "You left them wide open, unless the Empire sends in another fleet, emergency relief, and rebuilding support."

"Even then, people will die of wounds, die in the wreckage of their cities and towns, die from exposure to toxic substances, from disease, lack of emergency services and medical care." Marinith stood, straightening his tunic." More will die from hunger, exposure, contaminated food and water, civil unrest. The Jedi I remember could feel deaths as sensations in the Force. I guess your teacher left that part out."

Ezra looked at the datapad, but he didn't need to. Everything had been branded into his brain.

"Actions have consequences. These are yours." Pyrondi took the datapad from his unresisting fingers. "The lesson concludes for today."

Ezra stared at the floor between his feet as both walked out, the door clanging shut behind them.

[contentment-of-cats]

WiP bit 21

Ezra was moved from medbay to a detention block some days after Thrawn came to see him. The ceiling had the normal light rings and the not-normal disintigrator arrays. Any attempt at escape and bip! Your atoms would be cleaned up by the Chimaera's enviro system. His meals - a ration bar and a can of rehydration - came out of a slot in the wall. He stood to be hosed off by a nozzle in the ceiling. Then he had a visitor.

He wished it was Thrawn. Or even Pyro.

It was Captain Marinith.

Neat of uniform with the build of a beanpole, the man had greying red hair and icy-blue eyes. He was also one of the Force users Ezra sensed after Pyro almost fried him. If he thought he was going to throw the man off by dangling that bit of information, that balloon went pop a second later.

"Of course, you idiot. I've been in uniform for thirty years, worked with Jedi - and you are no Jedi - and was tested at their temple as a child." The man took a seat, crossing his legs so that the ankle of his left rested on the knee of his right. "If I were you, I'd be much more interested in the method of your execution. Right now feeding you to Sally is running neck-and-neck with taking you down to the hangar and dropping you out in hyperspace."

"Sally?" He had a feeling that he'd regret asking.

"The dianoga that lives in central waste processing."

Yep. Regretted it.

[contentment-of-cats]

Ezra's reckoning

He knew about Thrawn's crew, of course. In general, they did not come planetside and preferred to spend their money at the Imperial depot's commissary and PX. He knew about Thrawn's SWO, possibly the only officer in the Navy who could shoot. Of course, that was a joke, as the Seventh didn't seem to tolerate inefficiency or (Kassius Konstantine exempted) incompetence. Now that he was Back, it seemed that Thrawn's officers had blown through the galaxy and taken root like scatterpuff seeds. Faro, Marinith, Hammerly, Barlin, Agral, Lomar, Yve, and Pyrondi were now everyone's flag-ranked problems.

Pyrondi - the Dragon - in particular.

He couldn't pull off the Purgill again.

The Third Fleet followed Grand Admiral Pyrondi as the Seventh had Thrawn. The Chimaera's etched ventral was matched by Pyrondi's dragon on the Imperial lll classed Audacity. It was her name, her flagship, and her reputation. Even the fleet patch carried the motto, "Firing Solution: The Shortest Distance between Two Points.' It also seemed that nobody much wanted to talk about her. Her entire file including planet of origin was redacted, but there were still clues. He matched images of her in civilian to some of tribal members hundreds of years old - she was more than likely from a place named Jegsziv. A world that was also redacted, and did not appear on any map, anywhere unless you went back to a half-millennia old TaggeCo survey reporting a 'recovered colony' world named Dzeghsziv.

Mothma and others from Before the Empire led with keeping their mouths shut, and a circle of misdirection that made Ezra feel he was a supporting cast member in a clown show. To be fair, the New Republic did not leave him with the sweet taste of victory. If this was what the Old Republic was like, no wonder it fell. The New Republic just seemed to be the Empire in new clothes. The planets with fewer resources and further from Coruscant got the shaft while the richer systems cut the pie for themselves.

The Trident Fleet - the Eleventh, Seventh, and Third - held a huge section of the Outer Rim, Wild Space, and strategic parts of the Mid-Rim, having brought the Seswennas into the fold recently, and offering protection for resources. The Trident Fleet contained more than that from massive numbers of defectors. Two other fleets defected almost intact. The Sixth was primarily an engineering fleet, and the Twelfth an expeditionary and supply fleet. Other disaffected personnel made it to the Trident Fleet from every other fleet as well. Some even made it from the survivors of Death Squadron and the First Fleet - all but obliterated at Endor. From everything he could find, the Tridents ran their territories well, if with military efficiency.

He spoke with Zeb, Hera, and Kallus.

"You can't argue with someone on the other side of a closed blast door, Ezra, and all of the principal actors had their reasons for joining." Kallus would spend the rest of his life under house arrest, despite his defection and work for the Alliance after that. "A lot of them remember the CIS talking points being similar to what the Republic says now. They backed the GAR when it was them and wanted to go back to the old rules after everyone paid in blood to take out Dooku and Grevious."

Hera and the others watched him and Ezra reflected that everyone else had moved on, but he was still who he was when he left.

"Pyrondi... the Intel Committee has limited what I can say."

"Why?"

Kallus looked at his hands, then made a washing motion. "It's okay if we do it."

"Do what?" Ezra looked at his friends, angry. "When we do what? What have 'we' done that nobody talks about?"

He stormed out after evasive answers, went back to his room overlooking the Amnesty Lodging and went to bed. In the middle of his sleeping shift, Ezra woke up with a thought banging him in the frontal lobes.

Why do you have to wash your hands? Because they're dirty.

Kallus and Zeb were not there when he went back the next day.

[contentment-of-cats]

The Noob Session

There is a great deal to be learned in observing the strategic games of his weapons officer. Pyrondi is an occasional player, but is most often present in the role of Dungeon Master - directing the chaos. It is chaos, in the sense that one's plans may or may not survive the first engagement with the enemy. To have the best possible chance ahead of said engagement, Thrawn studies Pirates & Privateers and is interested in how the narration of the Sith Wars differs here from the teachings of the Ascendancy. He chooses to be a Privateer - a ostensibly civilian ship's captain flying under 'letters of marque and reprisal' - official sanction for a private vessel to capture enemy ships of commerce or war.

Faro, Marinith, and Hammerly have elected to join the game as well. There will certainly be worthy foes, so he studies the classes more likely to oppose him. System Forces, Republic forces, Sith Empire forces, other Privateers, and the criminal classes - pirates, smugglers, and criminal organizations that pull their strings. Within those forces are different character classes making up crews, non-playing characters, vehicles, and armaments. Thrawn studies as he hasn't studied since Taharim and pulls Eli along with him.

They are quite well prepared, he thinks.

Then he pumps Eli and Captain Faro for insight into Pyrondi. His weapons officer can be brash and mouthy, never backs down from a fight, and is one of the few weapons officers he's met in his career who routinely runs firing solutions in her head. Her familial name in Cheunh means 'dragonet' or little dragon, while her personal name is close to the word for blizzard. She is of small stature, just over the Piett Standard.

The sign-ups were plentiful and the venue needed to handle an expanded number of players. The senior officers' dining room - for commanders and above - will host six cadres of players. The parties will each form the captain, officers, and crewmen of a vessel or a platoon headed by a lieutenant and staff sergeant as basic units of play. The tables are pushed together, and additional holotops linked to Pyrondi's have been found for each party. Pyrondi asked the more experienced players to help the 'noobs' to roll dice for their character attributes or 'stats.'

Thrawn finds the element of pure chance to be intriguing. One must possibly presume a level of intelligence to pass one's training. However, he has met some phenomenally stupid people in his career who one might think would have been eliminated from the gene pool via their own actions. They also rolled for wealth, and from that stat were able to buy ships, equipment, weapons, food, medical supplies, and other supply chain items. His Ranger-class light cruiser was at the top of his budget, both for speed and armor class. Those from his cadre chipped in their own wealth to buy supplies while his letters of marque are also letters of credit that allow him substantial buying power.

The players filter in, all of them in civilian clothing, then start taking their seats and talking to their cadre. The feel in the room is one of battle preparations, and perhaps it is so. Pyrondi has been working all week on her plans, and is the last one to come in. She sets up the graceful triptych screen, places the crystal ball, and then sets up her materials.

"Good evening, I brought dice sets and pads for the new players." Thrawn is rolling with one of Eli's sets, while he heard others commissioned new sets from the hobby crafters aboard. "All right, everyone get comfy, breaks will be each hour for ten minutes. Commodore Thrawn will banish us to bed so that we don't zombie on duty. Now, the campaign I've put together is based on the Battle of the Lemmil Cluster. It's a lesser known battle, but one for very high stakes since it was a rich source of raw materials including doonium, accelerite. and clouzon. The Lemmil Alliance played both ends and got richer than a Tagge doing it."

Everyone took out a personal data pad as Pyrondi distributed the scenario. Since nobody opted to play either Republic or Sith, those two were playing out their historical roles.

"Finally, Major Carvia will be co-modding with me for the ground campaigns. Now. we'll start this in a bar on Corellia. The White Star was a known hangout for privateers flying under Corellian letters of marque for the Prince-Admiral and Princess-General. It was also a hangout for the scum and villainy-"

"Hey!" Indignantly from an engineering lieutenant.

"You wanted to be a pirate, Ashbough. As I was saying, for the scum and villains of the Core are attempting to bend ears for a likely target-"

[contentment-of-cats]

Thrantovember 2023

From @queenieschaoscorner - their Thrantovember was the first fest I ever did back in 2020.

1. Neither Ever, Nor Never

Moderation in all things, even in happiness or in grief is the Chiss way, and Eli is learning that.

He knows that his crewmates on the Steadfast are vun'sasn tur carcim - worried for his existence - and Bun'hee sticks to him as she does to her stuffed tooka toy. He knows Ar'alani would send him back to 'his Humans' if they were still there, but they're not. Everyone he knew is gone. After fifteen years in the Imperial Navy, his parents both passed on, his siblings were strangers to him by his mid-twenties. The weird cadre became his kin - Barlin, Hammerly, Marinith. Then the Chimaera's just left-of-center on the psych exams crew, hand picked by Faro. He lost his crewmates, his friends, and Thrawn all in one nightmare handful of minutes over Lothal. 

Thrawn was his adversary, his mentor, his friend, more than friend. It was accepted though unspoken that flag officers and their aides had varying levels of intimacy.

Ar'alani sits with him when it's really bad. 

His crewmates try to draw him out, but he looks at them and in his mind's eye sees faces that he will never see again. He can't. If Un'hee didn't need him, he'd have put the muzzle of his charric under his chin and pulled the trigger.

It's bad tonight. 

Sometimes the tone of a laugh reminds him of Pyrondi. A gesture mimics Faro. Sometimes a Chiss has enough resemblance to Thrawn. Pain, Lomar told him after his father's death, is a signal of love with no receiving station. It has no place to go, the channel is closed.

"I want to teach you something, Eli Vanto."  

Eli looks up, his hands locked around a mug of cacaoleaf and aware he's been staring at the tactica board without making his move. Ar'alani's beating the pants off him, just the way Thrawn used to.  She cups her cool blue hands around his.

"Nav seo, nav nan'eo. Do you understand?"

Neither ever, nor never. 

"You're saying that I might see Thrawn again, also that I might not. It's not one or zero."

"It is not. Alive or dead, honor Thrawn and your ship-kin by doing what they would have wanted you to do."

Eli's vision shimmers. He knows the answer but asks the question anyway. "And that is?"

"Live, Eli. Thrawn would have wanted you to live. Honor him that way."

[contentment-of-cats]

For Owlpartytime: Thranto

Eli is an actual officer now, not just an ensign, but lieutenant commander. They vaulted him over Agral, Barlin, and Pyrondi, and put him on a level with Hammerly, Lomar, and Yve - and none of them hold it against him. 

Plenty of others do, though.

Yes, he more than deserved a promotion. It had been years, and he’d resented it, but knew it was an issue of having pissed of someone powerful and not an issue of his own competence. Still, Hammerly was a veteran of the clone wars, a good decade older than he was, and to be on a level with her was awkward. He ought to be a senior lieutenant, but he’s not going to quibble. This might be his last promotion for a while. Agral, Barlin, and Pyrondi will catch up with him soon, the way things are going.

The Chimaera is in for repairs, the Kuat yards bustling with Imperial army and naval personnel heading to various places to wait out their vessel’s return to deployment. He could go back to Lysatra, but transport to the edges of Imperial rule is whimsical at best - which is why ISDs exist. 

Maybe something closer? His shipmates seems to be looking at Canto Bight, and honestly it’s not looking like a bad deal. Cheap but good hotels, buffets, buckets of booze, and what happens in Canto Bight stays in Canto Bight. That is unless you come back with an STD, in which case punishment ranges from confinement to quarters all the way to a court martial. 

Better check the expiration on the prophylactic spray.

Hm. Nice Imperial sized bed. Sitting area. Desk. In-room safe for insignia and cylinders. Free breakfast. Good reviews. More important, an endorsement from the ISB as a secure hostel for officers and noncoms. A glance at Thrawn shows him still in conversation via holonet with Colonel Yularen - with Yularen putting his foot down. 

Oh no. 

It can only be a voluntold social event. 

Thrawn terminates the connection after the colonel signs off.

“How is Colonel Yularen, sir?” Eli asks.

“Insistent. Apparently Seinar and other arms manufacturers and fleet systems contractors are holding a convention on Cantonica.” Thrawn’s presentation was neutral. “We are expected. Colonel Yularen will bring us in his private shuttle.”

Eli rested his face in his hands momentarily. He needed a stronger word than ‘fuck.’ He’d been looking forward to the casinos, the food, entertainments, free-flowing booze, and getting laid. He really needed to get laid. He’s even forego the booze, food, casinos, and entertainment if it would get him laid. 

“I tried telling him that my remaining on Kuat to oversee repairs was critical. Does ‘bullshit’ mean the same thing in Basic as it does in Sy Bisti?”

Eli almost laughed. “Pretty close. It means untruthful, but not exactly a flat-out lie. I was already looking at Canto Bight.” Not getting laid, then. “I’ll book us into somewhere with a security rating and a less... celebratory atmosphere.”

~

The shuttle afforded to the head of the ISB is a Delta, packed with comforts and no doubt a lot of classified equipment. Thrawn is not sure why Colonel Yularen has latched on to him, or subsequently to the Seventh, but he is a pragmatist above all. Upon making port on Cantonica, he is marginally approving of their hotel, but makes sure that they are given a secure suite on a secure floor with a comms room that requires the abilities of Lomar to handle it. 

Once they fish the man out of the nudie bar and sober him up.

The convention showcases weapons systems and fleet services. Thrawn hails Faro and Marinith and drags them in. Pyrondi and Hammerly have been freshly booted from a casino - apparently Pyro is really good at roulette - and there is no rest for anyone. Further, there is a lot more voluntold socializing than previously indicated. 

Thrawn’s crew is happily social most of the time, but flee in all directions from being stuffed in a room with officialdom. Marinith ends up with a pole-dancing trophy, while Faro gets a number of executives blisteringly hungover. Pyrondi and Hammerly play five-card-fool-me and he has to get them off-planet before they end up fleecing the High Command. Finally, it’s just himself, Vanto, Yularen, Siward Cass, Moradmin Bast, and a half dozen executives in a place to make things dicey indeed. Conan Motti suggests a drinking game, one designed to get a newcomer completely hammered and presumably embarrass himself.

Human intoxicants are tasty, but not very strong. Relaxing, warming. Quite nice.

Surprisingly, Eli keeps up with Thrawn, as does Yularen. 

No wait. 

Vanto. Lieutenant Commander Vanto. 

There.

So, perhaps he should propose some toasts.

Drinking to health and Warrior’s Fortune. 

Good idea.

Ar’alani would be proud of him.

So Thrawn began the toasts in order of rank, making sure to do it in good Corellian whisky. Of course, nobody would refuse to drink, and nobody did. However, Admiral Motti fell asleep in a potted plant, several members of the IHC were unconscious under the table, and a number of civilian contractors ended up over the railing of the Stellar Center, vomiting into the fountain five stories down. Yularen murmured that Thrawn understood politics betterr than he thought, and both Eli and Thrawn carried the colonel back to his suite, handed him over to a discreet aide, and then went to their own rooms.

“That went well.” Thrawn turned expecting to see Eli, only Eli... Vanto. Vanto. Vanto. Was on the floor of the turbolift. “What are you doing down there?”

“Admiring the view.” Eli peers up at him. “You’re drink.”

“I’m drink?” What could that mean. Eli. No, Vanto. Lieutenant Commander Vanto was, as the CEDF term went, completely hammered. “You are intoxicated.”

“I’m not the one who toasted every member of the Imperial navy,” Eli retorts. “Do you know how much whisky’s sloshing around in your brain?”

“I am not hammered. Human intoxicants are nice, but nothing like what I am accustomed to.” Of course it’s been some years since he’s indulged in such. “You are Human, therefore drinking your intoxicants renders you hammered to the deck.”

“Bullshit, sir.”

“Who’s the one on the deck?”

“The view.”

Odd, there’s nothing to look at in a turbolift except for him. “I will assist you to bed, Commander Vanto.”

Now the man’s asleep. Thrawn pulls him upright and then across his shoulders in a carry. There’s a pleasant scent under the whisky and tibbak smoke. The doors open and Thrawn verifies it’s their floor before stepping out. Odd that it takes a few tries to open the hatch to their accommodation, but he makes it through and-

“Thrawn?”

“Yes, Eli Vanto?”

“M’gonna-”

Thrawn unloads him and holds an empty ice bucket under Eli’s face. Poor Human can’t hold his liquor. He has to sober Eli up. He can’t go to bed in this condition. 

Now he’s asleep again.

Thrawn sighs and overshoulders him again, carrying Eli into his sleeping room and the fresher. It’s very warm in here. To a Chiss, Humans always overheat their spaces. Even the ‘chilly’ temperatures of the Chimaera are a nice spring day to Thrawn. 

“Eli Vanto. Awaken. You are drunk.”

There is something murmured about pots and kettles that Thrawn doesn’t quite catch. Very well. Since Livan... Eli Vanto is horizontal on the bed, Thrawn tugs off his boots, then his socks. His aide sits up abruptly and spends some time dry-heaving into the waste bin hastily procured from under the desk. This will not do. Thrawn carefully helps him out of his tunic, belt and kepi set on the chair, tunic following the socks into the cleaner. 

“You, too.”

“Ch'ah am nah ch'at in'a vea carcir vuhncib tikim canseo.”

Eli’s face scrunches itself. “What?”

Thrawn repeats himself. He is not the one so intoxicated that he is projectile vomiting.

“Thrawn? It’s not Basic, Meese Caulf, Sy Bisti, or any of the six other languages I speak. I’m going to guess you’re speaking Chiss.” Then his aide has the effrontery to chuckle. “I told you you were drunk.”

Pausing, Thrawn considers a theory that Human intoxicants might have a delayed effect. Pulling a knife from his boot, he splays his hand on the dresser and begins to stab between his fingers faster and faster until-

“Oops.” “SHIT! Thrawn-”

Blood everywhere. 

The next moments are muddled as Eli has to vuhn again and Thrawn holds his napkin-wrapped hand above his head while Eli finds the bacta spray - hobbled by his trousers sliding down his hips as they are partially unfastened. There’s blood all over his white uniform. It’s a common occurrence, though it is not usually his. He stands and removes his tunic and belt - the napkin falls and now there’s blood on his trousers.

“It’s possible that I’m slightly inebriated, Commander Vanto.”

Eli comes back in with the bacta spray and two doses of something called Get-Rite. “Ya think?”

“That was sarcasm.” Ha. See? He can pick up some Humanisms. Then again, it could be long exposure to Eli.

The bacta goes on, both of them give up on trousers and their uniforms go in the cleaner on the ‘heavy duty’ cycle, leaving both of them in their underwear.

“You know, sir, that when I imagined both of us in a room in our underwear, this is not what I had in mind.” Eli looks morosely at his bloodied bed. 

It takes a moment to sink in and Thrawn puzzles over it “Why would you need to imagine me in my underwear. You’ve seen me in my underwear.”The academy, aboard the Blood Crow, shared accommodations-”

The light, as Ziara would say, finally clicks on.

Oh.

Oh.

“You imagining me in my underwear is sexual in nature.” Nailed it! But. “You are also my aide and a promising young officer whose reputation I in no way wish to taint. More than that, I consider you a friend and a confidante. I am,however, willing to state, that such attraction is... reciprocal and-” That color could not be healthy. His infrared is almost a miniature nova. “Are you all right? Did you drink something to make your ears turn that color? Are you about to die?”

In answer, Eli bowls him over and both of them land on the floor at the foot of the bed, noses bumping lips smashing and a possible chipped tooth later they surface. 

“What happens in Canto Bight stays in Canto Bight,” Eli blurts.

“I greatly wish that were true.” He is embracing his aide and his friend, and is disinclined to let go. “I also refuse to take advantage of our lowered inhibitions for my own delight.”

“I have the Get-Rite. We’ll drink it, suffer, and then decide.” Eli hands him the little green glass bottle. “I know that I won’t be changin’ my mind.”

“Get-Rite.is an anti-intoxicant?” Thrawn thumbs off the cap.

“Think of it as bacta for bad adult decisions.” Eli uncaps his own and clinks it with Thrawn’s. “One. Two. Three.”

Thrawn knocks his back and then wishes dearly that he hadn’t. His tongue tries to leave his head. His stomach attempts to return it, but his esophagus slams shut, unwilling to suffer a second time. Unable to sweat, his eyes stream tears. He is sure that vital organs cannot scream, but his kidneys and liver manage a reasonable facsimile and his brain fizzes and quivers in his skull. His ears pop as if he’s plummeting into atmosphere.

“Btuzahi ch'ah non!” Please shoot him now. Please.

Eli is uttering a nonstop stream of impressive multilingual profanity.

And then it’s over, aside from the desperate need to drain their bladders of a fuel drum of excess fluid. Then they are left wobbly-legged, intensely dehydrated, and sober. They wash up silently, sharing the walk-in shower, wrapping themselves in towels.

“I meant it. That kiss.” Eli reaches for Thrawn’s arm, hesitates, then completes the contact - his warm Human hand on Thrawn’s shoulder. “Drunk or sober, Thrawn, the answer’s the same.”

“For me as well, Eli. Just not, I think, tonight. I mean, this morning.” Cautiously he slides an arm around the younger man. “Fluids, food, and rest are my best recommendations.” A breath. “If you would like to share my bed.”

Eli looks at his wrecked bed. “Yeah. I can do that. I’ll order, though.”

Greatly daring, Thrawn proffers a kiss and finds it very warmly received and reciprocated. 

“Do Chiss eat breakfast in bed?”

Thrawn cocks his head. “No. I cannot say that we do, unless ill or injured.”

Eli manages a tired swagger as he walks to the lounge, making the towel swish enticingly. “I am going to introduce you to a great Human tradition.”

Something in Thrawn’s chest loosens, a tension leaving his neck and shoulders. The desire is mutual. Everything else can be worked out from that starting point. He goes to his room to make the bed for two.

[contentment-of-cats]

WiP bit 20

It burns. It's a dark fire in the eyes of every single Imperial he meets. The Seventh fleet is still going where the Purrgil take them and Ezra can't stop them. Pyrondi was kind enough to send him a staffing breakdown for his kill count.

28 Imperial Class I and II Star Destroyers, average of 45,000 souls per ISD. One million, two hundred and sixty thousand lives.

12 Dreadnought Class heavy cruisers, with an average of 12,000 souls. One hundred and forty-four thousand lives.

Five Interdictor class cruisers. 2,800 souls despite being the size of an ISD. Fourteen thousand lives.

20 Arquetiens light cruisers. 750 souls. Fifteen thousand lives.

Fifty Gozanti-class cruisers, freighters, supply ships, assault carriers, surveillance vessels, and Force knew what else. Crewing between twelve and 150 souls each.

The next communication was a detailed map of Lothal and an extrapolation based on their last sensor sweep of where the wreckage of obliterated ships would deorbit and crash into the world below. That's not counting the construction units that were hit by debris and deorbited in turn. Ezra has potentially killed at least a million Imps and at least that in his fellow citizens. The last slide compares his kill stats to Vader, Tarkin, and others. Saw Gerrera holds a record for the Catastrophe of Jegsziv - Pyro's homeworld. Ezra is second place.

The one time he tried to approach Pyrondi ended with him in medbay and 'Pyro' in the brig. There was a knife in her boot and she was fast, okay, but she didn't get the drop on him that way. It makes him take a longer look at the crew... the surviving crew of the Chimaera. It takes him even longer to deal with what he finds. Most kids never saw a Jedi in their lives. Lots of people lived and died never knowing that the Force existed, much less how to use it. Those abilities were latent - meaning in an entire life, the person never learned they could sense or use the Force. In some, they were dormant - used briefly, then went 'to sleep' after disuse. In a third instance, the abilities were so narrowly trained that the user was often mistaken for a highly gifted individual within their specialty. And lastly, the ability was an all but unusuable quirk. Under all conditions, those abilities could be traumatically awakened or activated in adulthood - and that was when they were the most dangerous to the person with the ability and those around them.

Pyro smashed him with a projection of emotion that Ezra never saw coming. Moreover, he was a sunburn red when they pulled her off of him. Both happened in literal seconds. She never even touched him with the blade. As he recuperated, under guard, he slipped into a meditative state, 'walking' without his body.

Jashin Agral.

Merri Barlin.

Yissa Hammerly.

Odo Lomar.

Albus Marinith.

Ilyana Pyrondi.

Phyrre Yve.

It had to be on purpose.

When Thrawn came to see Ezra, it wasn't to wish him happy birthday. He asked what happened between Ezra and Pyro. Ezra told him, and then added, "I tried to calm her down, but when I touched her mind-"

Very, very softly. "You did what?"

Oh. Bad mistake. "I touched her mind to try and calm her. It... she used the Force, but I don't know if she knows that-"

"You tried to influence her mind."

"To calm her-"

"You violated her mind." Ezra recoiled at the cold fury in those words. "You violated her autonomy. Her grief and anger are her own, and you found them inconvenient when you wanted to talk to her."

"It's not like that."

Thrawn got up and left.

[contentment-of-cats]

Fic dump.

Things Said Over Whiskey (968 words) by cathouse_mary Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Wullf Yularen, Gilad Pellaeon Additional Tags: Drinking, Gossip Summary: Two old navy men in a bar ten years after RTS.

~

Care (73764 words) by cathouse_mary Chapters: 25/? Fandom: Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017), Star Wars: Thrawn Ascendancy Trilogy - Timothy Zahn, Star Wars Legends: Thrawn Trilogy - Timothy Zahn, Star Wars: Rebels Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Relationships to be added, Pellaeon/Marinith, Pyrondi & Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo, Thrawn/Pyrondi Characters: Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo, Pyrondi (Star Wars), Hammerly (Star Wars), Gilad Pellaeon, Albus Marinith, Voss Parck, Dagon Niriz, Lomar (Star Wars), Agral (Star Wars), Original Imperial Characters (Star Wars), Original Female Imperial Character(s) Additional Tags: Being Lost, post-Lothal, Whump, injuries, Emotional Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Blankets, No Beta We Die Like Clones Summary: The 7th fleet is decimated, lost, and trying to survive being abandoned in deep space. Thrawn is recovering from his injuries, his officer corps dead or injured.

~

Love's Sucker Punch (1526 words) by cathouse_mary Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017), Star Wars Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Ilyana Pyrondi/Artur Tagge Characters: Original Imperial Characters (Star Wars) Additional Tags: These Idiots Summary: Artur Tagge meets the most infernal pest.

This is a fanfic of a fanfic of a fanfic - the fanfic of my fanfic is below and I am cocreator because we FAFO this thing.

~

Pyro's Pyrotechnic Love Life (27258 words) by cathouse_mary, Aeon_2407 Chapters: 6/? Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017), Star Wars: Rebels Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Hammerly/Pyrondi (Star Wars), Ilyana Pyrondi/Artur Tagge, Karyn Faro/Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo, Agral/Yve (Star Wars), Ezra Bridger/Sabine Wren, Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla, Alrich Wren/Ursa Wren Characters: Original Characters, Artur Tagge, Pyrondi (Star Wars), Hammerly (Star Wars), Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo, Karyn Faro, Gilad Pellaeon, Agral (Star Wars), Lomar (Star Wars), Yve (Star Wars), Woldar (Star Wars), Cassio Tagge, Domina Tagge, Lapin Tagge, Original Imperial Characters (Star Wars), Original Stormtrooper Character(s) (Star Wars), Chimaera Crew Members (Star Wars), Sabine Wren, Ezra Bridger, Kanan Jarrus, Hera Syndulla, C1-10P | Chopper, Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios, Ursa Wren, Alrich Wren, Tristan Wren, Anakin Skywalker | Darth Vader, Wilhuff Tarkin, Conan Antonio Motti, Wullf Yularen, Sheev Palpatine | Darth Sidious, The Force (Star Wars) Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Chimaera means family, Sorta angsty at the beginning, but a lot more fluffy and funny later, I promise, No Beta We Die Like Clones, Everyone Is Gay, The Mandalorian Darksaber (Star Wars), Canto Bight | Capital City of Cantonica (Star Wars), Planet Krownest (Star Wars), Clan Wren (Star Wars), Unresolved Romantic Tension, Romantic Angst, Everyone Needs Therapy, Especially Artur, Established Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo/Karyn Faro, Established Hammerly/Pyrondi, Force Visions (Star Wars), The World Between Worlds (Star Wars), Alternate Timelines, Blood and Injury, Violence, Child Abandonment, House of Tagge Summary: What is it about the obscenely rich yet kind and funny officers that has Pyro gravitating to them her entire love life? Luckily, there were only two so far that fit the criteria. And her ex is transferring to the Chimaera. Not too bad. Right?

[contentment-of-cats]

WIP bit #3

Eli Vanto thinks that there are far too many admirals in his life. He's developing an allergy.  

Grand Admiral Thrawn - missing, but very much in his life.

Supreme Admiral Ar'alani - admirable, brilliant, he's still missing his rank despite worknig like a nerf herder.

Fleet Admiral Mak'ro - seems to regard him as some sort of trained growser.

Fleet Admiral In'daro - tried to separate him from Un'hee, which did not work well.

Fleet Admiral Tro'owmis - who the fuck knows?

He and Bun'hee take the ramp down from his trusty old Delta and come to attention for the senior captain awaiting them there. The Valiant is Tro'owmis' flagship and Th'ori'av is her Flag Captain or equivalent. It makes him think of Albus Marinith - that trusty, crusty old sailor. Un'hee takes and squeezes his hand, chasing away his darkness. He squeezes back.

Not your job, nor should it be.

I know.

Th'ori'av leads them not to the admiral's office, but to her quarters where she herself awaits them in her private office. After thanking and dismissing her captain, Tro'owmis looks at them over steepled fingers.

"Commander Eli'van'to, Navigator Un'hee - you must be hungry and tired, so join me for tea and then I'll show you to your quarters."

Eli blinks. He's a lieutenant commander, but that was a sop - or so he reckoned - to salve the sting of his demotion to lieutenant. "Admiral, we'd be honored."

Un'hee murmurs this along with him, so she might actually like this one. When asked, she will only say that she does not like people who treat him poorly, and she is as much an outsider as him. They want her to be fixed and operate just like the other navigators when she isn't like them at all. One of his last flaming fights with In'daro was over how expecting Un'hee to 'be normal' was like expecting her to walk on broken legs by pretending they weren't broken.

He and Un'hee were transferred again three days later.

They take seats on a comfortable couch, and Eli picks a plate for Un'hee from all the dishes set there. The admiral pours the dark, aromatic tea from a silver pot into thick glass cups. There's no formality here. Tro'owmis asks Un'hee about her trip, and the shuttle. Did she navigate? Yes, it looks like a bird - very pretty. What was it like for her on the other ships?

And, bless the little hunbun, that's what she does. No filter on her, and Eli means for it to stay that way. She holds her stuffie and says to the Fleet Admiral exactly what she thinks and Tro'owmis doesn't interrupt or justify. When Un'hee winds down, it's as if she's slap out of fuel. She sags against him, unable to keep her eyes open another second.

"I'd like to continue the conversation, Commander Eli'van'to. Do you want to put her down in my quarters or in yours?"

"Yours would be fine, but little kits have big ears." Eli adds, "And it's Lieutenant Commander."

"Ar'alani runs her ship and I run mine Commander. I have a noise generator - she won't hear anything she shouldn't, and nothing will disturb her."

Maybe, just maybe, things will be different here.

[contentment-of-cats]

FINALLY SHE POSTS

Care: Chapter 24 (69341 words) by cathouse_mary Chapters: 24/? Fandom: Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017), Star Wars: Thrawn Ascendancy Trilogy - Timothy Zahn, Star Wars Legends: Thrawn Trilogy - Timothy Zahn, Star Wars: Rebels Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Relationships to be added, Pellaeon/Marinith, Pyrondi & Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo, Thrawn/Pyrondi Characters: Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo, Pyrondi (Star Wars), Hammerly (Star Wars), Gilad Pellaeon, characters to be added - Character, Albus Marinith, Voss Parck, Dagon Niriz, Lomar (Star Wars), Agral (Star Wars), Original Imperial Characters (Star Wars), Original Female Imperial Character(s) Additional Tags: Being Lost, post-Lothal, Whump, injuries, Emotional Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Blankets, No Beta We Die Like Clones Summary: The 7th fleet is decimated, lost, and trying to survive being abandoned in deep space. Thrawn is recovering from his injuries, his officer corps dead or injured.

[contentment-of-cats]

WiP bit from Bridge Nerd Rising

Jashin and Sparky stood at attention in front of a row of flag officers, Grand Admiral Sartan handing two insignia boxes to Thrawn and he in turn handed them to Faro. Truthfully, after defending their theses it was almost too much to crawl back to the suite to fall over and sleep. The decision came down when they'd passed out watching Hammerly and Vanto play Pirates and Privateers. Thrawn only woke them for dinner, sent them to bed after and told them in the morning. The promotion ceremony would be held the next day on the steps of the Emperor's own palace. Granted, they were not there for a valor promotion, but for work in their primary NOS - naval operations specialties. They were very much just faces in the crowd, stepping forward only when Faro nodded. 

With nearly 9,000 officers aboard the Chimaera, they were also not the only ones Thrawn, Marinith, and Faro had to promote. 

First came the new cap insignia, the removal of the junior lieutenant plate and the mounting of the new one on the magnetic points in the uniform. You could be blown to bits, but your rank plate would be in place unless you were disintegrated. Next were their cylinders, the old ones removed and the newly programmed ones replacing them. He and Sparky came to attention, then stepped back into formation until everyone was done. Motti stepped forward and spoke.

"For valor and expertise, for your lives of dedication and sacrifice, the Empire is grateful. Long may you serve."

Thank the bright stars that he wasn't going to go on. The crowd of newly promoted officers roared back, "Long may you serve!"

Kepis flew into the air and some of the senior officers broke their stone faces enough to chuckle. The crowd broke up and it was a pretty good mess for the Chimaerans and Seventh Fleeters to make their way back to their commanding officers. His family was still up in the stands, and waving to them. Sparky'd been his buddy since the first year at Royal and the Agrals accepted her as another Corellian. The officers bunched around their superiors who had a Look on their faces.

"We're going to meet Emperor Palpatine. Just the promoted officers from our task force." Faro called everyone to order. "You come to attention and bow your head, you keep it bowed unless you are spoken to. You address the emperor as 'Your Majesty.' You fuck up and I kill you."

"Faro."

"Yes, sir. You fuck up and I won't kill you, I will make you wish you were dead, then I transfer your ass to Death Squadron."

[aeon2407]

Chapters: 4/?

Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017), Star Wars: Rebels

Rating: Teen And Up

Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationships: Hammerly/Pyrondi (Star Wars), Karyn Faro/Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo, Agral/Yve, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added

Characters: Original Characters, Pyrondi (Star Wars), Hammerly (Star Wars), Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo, Karyn Faro, Agral (Star Wars), Lomar (Star Wars), Yve (Star Wars), Woldar (Star Wars), Gilad Pellaeon, Albus Marinith, Cassio Tagge, Original Imperial Characters (Star Wars), Original Stormtrooper Character(s) (Star Wars), Chimaera Crew Members (Star Wars), Sabine Wren, Ursa Wren, Tristan Wren, Ezra Bridger, Kanan Jarrus, Hera Syndulla, C1-10P | Chopper, Alrich Wren, Anakin Skywalker | Darth Vader, Wilhuff Tarkin

Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Chimaera means family, Sorta angsty at the beginning, but a lot more fluffy and funny later, I promise, No Beta We Die Like Clones, wlw, Everyone Is Gay, The Mandalorian Darksaber (Star Wars), Canto Bight | Capital City of Cantonica (Star Wars), Planet Krownest (Star Wars), Clan Wren (Star Wars), Unresolved Romantic Tension, Romantic Angst, Everyone Needs Therapy, Especially Artur, Established Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo/Karyn Faro, Established Hammerly/Pyrondi Summary:

What is it about the obscenely rich yet kind and funny officers that has Pyro gravitating to them her entire love life? Luckily, there were only two so far that fit the criteria. And her ex is transferring to the Chimaera. Not too bad. Right?

Source: archiveofourown.org