boxofmisfits | A minor setback

Entry tags:

A minor setback

This had not gone according to plan.

He had successfully infiltrated a branch of the Alliance to Restore the Republic, where he was to observe their movements, learn their organizational structure and resources. He'd set up a covert communication triad on the planet, with just enough power to transmit encrypted messages to an off-world listening post without having to rely on the local holonet technology. He had steadily been feeding data back to the Ascendancy on that one-way transmitter, out of contact with his handlers. Until they gave him a sign, he would participate in planning and executing covert operations against the Galactic Empire to keep his cover intact.

And he'd almost grown used to seeing a pale, dull-eyed face in the mirror. His skin and hair follicles had been bleached and tinted with a reversible dye, and a disguise mesh and adaptive lenses had altered his eyes and features enough to make him seem Human.

It had worked. The only close call had been the injuries he'd sustained two months ago, when he'd had to hide their extent from the rest of the group rather than risk them seeing the large blue patches of skin left behind when the bacta patches came off. A little more dye, and he'd been back in character again, undermining the local Imperial presence and fomenting unrest. It wasn't work he was proud of, but he did enjoy the skill it took to pull off.

The arrival of the Seventh Fleet had been unexpected, and, frankly, a disaster. He'd advocated that the Alliance cell fall back out of the system and regroup, but there were too many local partisans who held the area as sacred ground. A battle that soon followed destroyed one pole of his triad, leaving him unable to send a message to the Ascendancy.

They didn't stand a chance. Mitth'raw'nuruodo was not going to be bested by these aliens, and he couldn't tell them why they were doomed without breaking his cover. He couldn't leave, either, not without his cover identity being branded a deserter from the cause. That could still reach other Alliance cells. He would have to wait until he could convince enough of them to flee or go to ground.

It was frustrating, knowing that regardless of what he did, much of his work here had been pointless. The local cell was unraveling, and while he'd begun to sketch out their connections to other groups, it wasn't enough to make it all seem worth it.

He'd hoped, at least, that he had sufficiently secured his own position. But that turned out not to be the case.

The raid struck without warning--perhaps they'd been compromised somehow, he had no idea. Cornered, countermeasures outmatched, there'd been nothing left to do but fight.

The blaster bolt burned a hole in the armored cloth of his coat, and he fell back hard onto the metal floor, hitting his head. He didn't remember very much after that.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The mission had been a simple one. Thrawn had correctly predicted the presence of a rebel cell in the system, even as other Admirals had claimed the area was of no consequence. The rebels didn't stand a chance.

The rebels had refused to fall back, of course. Thrawn knew they wouldn't. They were stubborn and defiant, which was almost admirable. Yet that wouldn't save them from being torn apart.

A lieutenant reported that they'd captured a rebel and were holding him in the brig. The rebel had been injured, and the officer claimed there was something 'weird' about him. Thrawn asked him to elaborate, and the officer said that his blood was the wrong color.

Curious, Thrawn made his way down to the brig, without an escort.

Reaching the prisoner's cell, Thrawn unlocked it and stood in the doorway. No sense in getting ambushed.

He came to slowly. Breathing hurt terribly. He opened his eyes, then closed them tightly shut again. The lights were blindingly bright, or that might have just been his throbbing head. He tried to sit up, but his hand's weren't responding properly.

He was in wrist binders. The walls were a familiar shade of gray, no different than any other Imperial facility in the galaxy. He had been captured. Blast it all.

Another attempt to sit up finally succeeded with a wince. Focus. Check over his injuries, take stock of what he had. The blaster bolt had managed to get through, but the burn was only superficial, with some deep bruising beneath it. That explained the aching ribs. An experimental touch to his scalp came away sticky with congealing blood from a head wound just above his hairline. That meant the cracking feeling on the side of his face was dried blood. He had no idea if anyone had paid enough attention to notice it. He brushed away as much of it as he could. No, no, not the most useful way to spend his time right now. Take inventory.

He'd been searched, but not thoroughly enough. He still had the compact lockpicks hidden along his gumline, and the saw wire hidden in the hem of his trousers if those failed, a few small sealed capsules of breaching explosives he could use to get into the door lock. He could--

The door opened.

--He couldn't.

For a moment, he couldn't find his composure. He blamed the head injury. It was absolutely at fault for his transfixed staring.

It was him.

The prisoner was injured, and therefor wouldn't be trying to escape or attack Thrawn. The dried blood indicated that his injuries were quite real, as was the blaster bolt wound. Even if he were to attempt an escape, Thrawn had his pistol on him, set to stun.

He entered the cell, looking at the rebel prisoner. That blood, it was certainly not human blood. It was indeed the wrong color to be human blood, and Thrawn was very familiar with that shade. For it was the color of his own blood.

The man was stunned to see him. But it wasn't the look of one who was scared, having been cornered by the dreaded Chiss Grand Admiral, wondering what he was going to do to him. The look was that of awe, almost reverence. Most unusual for a rebel.

"You know of me," It wasn't a question, but there was a hint of curiosity to his voice. If Thrawn was correct, he would have questions of his own.

He did what he could to hide the look, but it was too late. He'd been blindingly obvious. Amateurish. Trained for deep cover operations, and all that goes out the window when he sees a living legend.

Idiot.

His cover was already compromised, but he couldn't let it go. The Humans might not have figured it out yet, and who knew if any of them were monitoring this? Not all Imperial brigs had cameras in their cells, but he wouldn't take that chance. For now, he has to stay Human.

"Obviously. You're a Grand Admiral." The Basic accent he was using was one common to the Outer Rim, which had helped him blend in since his assignment began. "Why are you here?"

The outcome likely was going to be dire for him, regardless. He had his own mission, and Mitth'raw'nuruodo--well. He might have his own. It wasn't as if he actually knew anything about what had led the famous CEDF commander to join the Empire. And even if they were both working for the Ascendancy, then the other chiss was just as bound by his role to play as he was.

"I'm here to see you, of course," Thrawn stated, in a tone that was almost conversational. To a fellow Chiss, it would certainly be a conversational voice.

The report of the battle had also turned up some interesting finds. Nobody else had seen it, but Thrawn had spotted something on the tactical as well as the after-report. It was something only used where holonet communication was impractical or impossible, in the Unknown Regions.

Thrawn saw evidence that a triad had been set up.

"Humans do not normally bleed that color," Thrawn watched the rebel, gauging his reaction and reading his face.

"I suppose you'd be the expert." Inwardly, he was wincing at having to keep up this farce. Why did he have to be given a cover identity like this? He didn't want to emulate the rude, flagrantly emotional behavior of a Human on the best of days, and absolutely not now.

His mothers would be so embarrassed. "If you must know, I've had some work done."

"Oh, I believe you. You have had cosmetic work done, on your skin, possibly even your eyes." Thrawn had yet to encounter anyone willing to go to such lengths to hide their species. If the rebel were wearing makeup, it would have smeared, or even been partly washed off by blood or sweat.

"You are not human. Yet, we both know that the rebels are far more accepting of aliens in their ranks than the Imperial Navy." A fact Thrawn was all too aware of.

There was no way the Admiral didn't know. He could hide almost everything about himself, but not the color of his blood.

Whether his cover was blown or not was essentially out of his hands now. In fact, it might benefit the admiral in the short term if he turned over an Ascendancy spy.

He had to avoid outing himself, but he just couldn't keep acting like a brat. He had to push this as close as he could to actual politeness, otherwise he might just die before the aliens had the chance to take another shot at him.

"It would be easier to get along with the Imperials if you looked Human, wouldn't it? Just throw on a uniform and blend in." It had let him sneak into all sorts of Imperial facilities during his time among the Alliance. "Apparently I was convincing."

"It would be, admittedly, but I prefer to not hide that part of myself." Thrawn had dealt with the xenophobia since the Imperials found him, and proved everybody wrong about what an alien could do. He still experienced some of that xenophobia, along with criticism for his unorthodox methods, but Thrawn knew that just came with his role by now.

"You do not wish others to know what you are, because you don't wish others to know where you come from. It would jeopardize your mission."

He did his best to keep his eyes on the admiral. Yes, it would jeopardize his mission. "So? What are you going to do about it?"

He wanted to ask the question properly. Say it in Cheunh, where it would hold the proper weight. Because this was a question that determined the whole course of his life from this moment.

"That depends on where I judge your true loyalties lay," Thrawn looked down at the other man, kneeling down beside him.

If this man was a true rebel, then Thrawn couldn't let him go. If he was an agent of the Ascendancy, he would have to think of a way to slip him out without making it look suspicious. And even that was assuming it would be beneficial to Thrawn to let him go.

Breathe steady. Don't give up anything that could be used against the Ascendancy.

His resolve was steadied. "My loyalty is to my home and my people."

It was all he could say, but it was the truth.

It was a non-answer, and yet that still told Thrawn something. By now, Thrawn was almost certain the main before him wasn't a Grysk spy, which was fortunate. But if he was a Chiss sent by the Ascendancy, much like himself, then that could cause complications.

"You knew who I was, but you did not run, even as you knew you were fighting a losing battle. Because you did not wish to look the deserter, nor could you reveal to your comrades why you knew victory was out of your grasp."

Thrawn reached down and gently swiped his finger against the dried blood on the rebel's skin, examining it as he rubbed it between his fingers.

Edited 2019-10-03 21:33 (UTC)

"And give up everything we'd worked for? Never." He closed his eyes for a moment as he was touched. There wasn't any shame in losing, you had to learn from it and carry on.

But it was still a personal disappointment, and in this case, an embarrassment. This might be the only time he ever met Mitth'raw'nuruodo, and he was duty bound to be rude.

These were the sorts of challenges they didn't tell you about when you signed on as a spy.

"You need not keep up this charade. It is just you and I, for the moment," Thrawn said. He didn't take offense to the so-called rebel's words, and was merely making an observation.

Flicking the last of the dried blood off his fingers, away from either of them, Thrawn examined the other man, red eyes roaming over his face, looking for some kind of clue. The blood's color pointed to a species whose natural skin color didn't match that of the captured rebel.

"Really?" He still sounded Human, and skeptical. But he had to do his job, dammit. Watch the Admiral's face, his body language, try and get a read on whether he was telling the truth.

Try not to make any more of a fool of himself.

Edited 2019-10-03 22:14 (UTC)

"Yes. There is no surveillance within the brig," Thrawn waved a finger in a vague gesture. Outside of the brig, certainly there was surveillance, in case a prisoner escaped.

Abruptly switching to Cheuhn, Thrawn said, "We are alone."

Even if the other man continued to feign ignorance, Thrawn still watched him for any kind of reaction to the use of that language.

It was true in some Imperial brigs. He knew that, he'd pulled enough data out of their systems to have learned it, but he couldn't be sure that would always be the case. He was being paranoid, and he knew it. But at the same time, why would he assume sloppy Human practices would be followed here?

And yet, he could see no sign of a lie. He wasn't perfect with reading faces, but like most, he'd been trained first to analyze other chiss, before he had been selected for a foreign assignment. He knew the basic tells, and had been trained to suppress them in himself.

And yet it was hard not to respond when he was addressed in Cheunh.

He couldn't say anything. But he could still respond: A small, subtle gesture of understanding, one that he'd never seen Humans do, only chiss. "I don't know what you just said," he lied.

And after a further second of consideration, switched to Sy Bisti. "This might be better."

The barest hint of a smile touched Thrawn's lips. To a human, it would otherwise be unnoticeable, but to a fellow Chiss, or one who had just spent a lot of time around one, it was certainly there. He'd seen that little hint that the so-called rebel had given him.

Switching to Sy Bisti, he replied, "Very well. Your dedication to your role is admirable. What shall I call you?"

Even if the other man gave him an alias, Thrawn would go with that.

"Legate." It was the codename he'd used as an Alliance agent, rather than the one the Ascendancy had assigned him.

It was still a significant admission. With not all of their databanks successfully purged before the Empire attacked, that codename was probably still attached to a number of operations he'd been involved in.

"The identity is now compromised. There's little more I can do here." For his own mission, at least. It would be hard for him to escape this without arousing suspicion towards his current identity. "I can only support others." Others who also served the Ascendancy. Hopefully the Admiral was still one of them.

"A pleasure to meet you, Legate," Thrawn doubted that was a name his people had given him. It was probably a rebel code name. With that code name, it would be easy enough to find information on him.

"Letting you go without arousing suspicion may not entirely be possible," Thrawn's loyalty had been called into question before. Loyalty to his Empire, or his own kind. He hoped there would never come a day when he would need to choose between them.

He hesitated for a moment. "Likewise." It was sincere, despite the circumstances. At least now he could be polite. The things he'd had to say in Basic were going to be a lifelong embarrassment, he could tell that already.

"I did not assume it would be otherwise. We all have our responsibilities."

"You were sent to infiltrate the rebels. Or, you were sent under similar circumstances as I, and sensed an opportunity when it presented itself to you."

It was a shame that they found themselves within opposing sides of this little rebellion. Of course, Thrawn only got where he was because the Empire found him far too useful to discard, and it was hard to argue with hard results. Legate really did have to disguise himself.

"Will your cosmetics need to be reapplied?"

Did that mean joining the Empire had not been part of his mission? What kind of opportunity? Hopefully one to further support the Ascendancy, but...

"I cannot say. My apologies." His own mission was still classified.

"Once the skin heals." The scalp wound was likely small and already sealed, but the blaster burn was more of a problem. "Unless the skin can be reliably hidden from the humans, I should remain injured for now."

It hurt, but he could withstand it. He had more reason to, knowing who was watching him.

"Very well. But if your injuries become more severe, you may wish to reconsider."

Thrawn's mind was already coming up with ideas. Perhaps he could pass Legate off as a double agent for the Empire, or as working for Thrawn. Or Thrawn could set things up in such a way as to let Legate escape and continue his mission, but make it so that it wasn't technically Thrawn's fault, but that of some officer who needed a lesson in humility.

"How important is your mission?"

"Understood." He would eventually need to do something about it--he didn't need more scar tissue.

The question took him somewhat aback. "I can't answer that." He'd of course like to hope it was important, but he was early in his career, and from no particular prominent Family. The assignment was only ever going to be as important as he made it.

"I was employed as a specialist by cells in this sector." He had done his best to work his way into the local power structure, while avoiding situations that could subject him to too much scrutiny. Collect as much information as he could, from the broadest range of sources.

"I see," It sounded as if Legate's mission wasn't too dissimilar from Thrawn's. The Ascendancy had agents across the galaxy, hiding themselves. Perhaps Legate was investigating possible ways to combat their enemies, just as Thrawn had gathered the resources and power to fend off the Grysks, should the conflict come to a head.

"I'm afraid communication with your superiors might be difficult." Seeing as they'd knocked out the Triad. The Grysks used them too, hence Thrawn's initial worry that Legate was one of them, or an indoctrinated agent.

"The triad is disrupted." A shame. It had been well-hidden, partly due to the fact that none of the natives knew the technology. Finding one of the poles would have told them nothing. But any time he had to alter or establish one of them, it put the technology at risk of discovery, something he could not afford.

But he understood why it had been done. "I will adapt. With this identity compromised, I cannot continue to be effective in my previous role." And... what should he do now? That was still uncertain. But given his current position, who he was talking to, what he should say next was obvious.

"I stand ready to provide what assistance I can."

"Excellent,"

That still left the question of what to do with Legate. Thrawn could always use more allies, especially if this man was from the Ascendancy. Perhaps they could claim that Legate was secretly an Imperial spy, sent by Thrawn himself, to gather information on the rebels.

Of course, without knowing much about Legate's plans or why he was sent out in the first place, Thrawn would have to piece it together himself. He didn't like having all the facts.

"What do you think of the idea that you were my spy all along?"

Act as an agent for Mitth'raw'nuruodo? Obviously. He wanted to, he was also very frightened of the idea, but--he couldn't pass this up.

Calm. Think through it rationally. "Plausible. An undercover agent retrieved during the destruction of their assigned infiltration targets. I am capable of affecting a Coruscanti accent when required." His injuries would continue to be a problem until he could find an off-the-record way to tend to them and dye his skina again, however.

"My chief concern is remaining as human as possible, so that I do not compromise you." The Humans would most likely not trust another chiss. They would see it as a conspiracy. They would be correct.

"Would I be Imperial Navy special forces, ISB? Another branch?"

Edited 2019-10-11 21:09 (UTC)

The other man was doing a very good job at keeping his excitement at pay, Thrawn had to say.

"Of course," Another Chiss working with Thrawn would bring his loyalties into question. Thrawn already heard whispers within the Navy that he wasn't as loyal to the Emperor as he claimed, and was secretly working for his own kind. Thrawn of course did everything to make it look like that wasn't the case.

"I have allies within ISB," Thrawn mused. "I will have to consider our options further. For now, though, we should see about mending your wounds without drawing suspicion, and so you may reapply your cosmetics."

He didn't feel like he was hiding his emotions very well. Not compared to what he should be doing.

If he could treat himself, then no one would have to know. Wait--no. That wasn't true. Some Imperials had already seen his blood. They could perhaps be convinced that it was another's, but it was unlikely. One of his alibis--one he'd been too flustered to deploy, he now realized--could potentially work.

"Humans with Rattataki ancestry often display shades of blood similar to our own. Any medical droid that I am treated by should be supplied with this information."

Both Humans and Rattataki were near-chiss species, close enough in their biology that basic medical care should be essentially the same. He doubted an Imperial droid would do anything with that information. But it would be logged in infirmary records, and thus provide a document trail for anyone who doubted the story.

"As long as it does not record the procedure, I can safely receive treatment and restore my disguise." He only carried so much with him, though. He would have to be careful not to be injured again.

Edited 2019-10-12 01:04 (UTC)

"I will see to it that our droids attend to you, and keep your true species a secret. It will be easy enough to pass you off as a human-Rattataki hybrid." Even saying Legate was half-Chiss would be too risky.

Getting out his comm, Thrawn said into it, in Basic, "Doctor, prepare the medical bay, I want only droids working there until I say so." On the other side of the comm, the doctor gave the affirmative, saying that it would be ready shortly.

Looking back down at Legate, he returned to Sy Bisti, "We may leave when you feel like it."

He gestured an affirmative. As long as he wasn't subjected to a bioscan, the lie would hold. He had used it before, when confronted by members of the Alliance. They'd accepted it then, given their sympathies. He would meet with greater suspicion here, but that was unavoidable. Until he could construct a new face for himself, he would be notable here.

That was not what he wanted to be as a spy, but it seemed like the Admiral had managed to deal with the same problem quite handily. He wasn't sure he could live up to the standards of Mitth'raw'nuruodo, but it meant that such things were technically possible.

He stood, rolling his shoulders back, taking a careful breath as the pain from the blaster burn flared. Imperial posture. He'd practiced it well enough for operations undertaken on behalf of the Alliance.

He bowed his head slightly to Thrawn, switching to Basic, and a polished Coruscanti accent. "Thank you, Admiral. I'll not delay you further."

"Very good," The accent was very convincing, Thrawn had to say. A useful skill for a spy, being able to put on the accent of another culture.

Waving Legate along, Thrawn said, "The medical bay is this way. I know which corridors we may take so that we will not run into anyone."

Making sure Legate was walking with him, Thrawn led him down the corridors, as promised, ones in which nobody was using at this time, until they reached the medical bay. Taking a look within, Thrawn saw that there were only medical droids on staff, as requested.

"The droids may attend to you now."

He followed, the sound of his softer boots masked by the Admiral's as he matched his stride. He was mentally keeping track of the route they took as they went. Ships were always easier to navigate than surface cities for him: they were so much closer to the enclosed world of Csillan architecture, despite the alien logic of their design. Along the way, he tried to listen for distant footsteps, and get a sense of where intersections might lead to.

The medbay was mercifully free of Humans as well, leaving only the lanky Imperial medical droids. He didn't relish the idea of foreign models getting near him with hypodermics, but he would have to trust the Admiral.

"Thank you, sir," he replied. "Once I'm patched up and back in a proper uniform, I'll be happy to provide a full debriefing." The armored fabric of his coat had served him well, but sadly he'd have to discard it, at least for now. And if he were to be playing the part of an Imperial, he'd need at least some form of identification. All his aliases that had worked on-planet wouldn't have the security clearance to match an ISB agent, or whichever branch he'd pretend to be a part of now.

Thrawn nodded. "I will have the droids contact me when you have healed and are ready to speak with me."

He stayed only long enough to make sure Legate had given himself over to the droids' care, before turning and leaving his new agent to heal. He would have a uniform sent down, and left just inside the medical by for Legate. As he walked, he began to think up a cover for the other Chiss. Saying that he was ISB had risks, since Colonel Yularen would eventually figure out that Legate was not one of his agents. Still, the Colonel was one of Thrawn's greatest allies, and would possibly be willing to go with the story.

Claiming that Legate was a special forces agent might work better in the long run, and would be easier to falsify credentials for.

Back in his office, Thrawn patiently waited for the call, taking the time to meditate among holographic artworks.

"Understood."

The droids were, as expected, coldly professional. The only point of contention--keeping his shed clothes and personal effects available for retrieval. If possible, he would hold onto all of them as a back-up, including the wealth of hidden equipment within. The droids, meanwhile, wanted the area as sterile as possible. They finally compromised on placing his clothes in a sealed case. An odd, but acceptable exchange.

The wounds were not so dire as to necessitate a full bacta treatment, but the blaster burn was still raw and vulnerable to infection. Thankfully, the droids numbed the area before cleaning and sanitizing began, but even so the feeling was unpleasant.

The scalp wound was also sprayed clean with a dilute bacta solution, and patches and bandages of various strengths and formulations were placed over his burns and deeper bruises. They'd limit his range of movement a little, but he could adapt.

He declined to submit to a blood test, prompting another round of resistance from the droids. "Deferred, pending authorization" turned out to be the phrase that finally got them to leave off. With a few more tests and tweaks, he was released to collect his new uniform and the sealed case full of his old clothes.

Imperial uniforms were always somewhat restrictive in the shoulders, even more so now that he was wearing bandages under one. But with enough adjustments and the proper posture, he looked as if he belonged in it.

While he couldn't do a thing to dye his wounds yet, the gash on his scalp had closed over already. A small application of dye would solve that, and he hid the spot under his uniform cap to soak in the false skin tone. As a bonus--it hid what a mess his hair was by now. He needed more fixative, but that would have to wait for later.

Once he emerged from the changing room, the droids immediately and unceremoniously announced that they had contacted the Admiral.

Today was going to be such a long day, wasn't it.

Back in his office, Thrawn was already pulling up whatever Rattataki artwork he could find, holographic replicas decorating the room, washing it in a pale glow as he studied it. If they were going to pull Legate off as one at some point, it would help to know more about the species.

When the droid contacted him, Thrawn shut down the holoprojector and slipped out of his Admiral's suite, making his way back down to the medbay.

Legate did an admirable job at looking a true Imperial in his uniform, even if Thrawn could tell that he didn't quite fit into it. Thrawn recalled the first time he'd worn the uniform, and how it had taken him time to get used to it.

"Report, agent."

He waited to be summoned, but the order never came. Instead, the Admiral came to him. Unexpected. But not enough to throw him off this time.

"Sir," He crisply saluted as Thrawn entered, standing at ease once he was addressed.

"I infiltrated the Marcan's Pride extremist group as a sleeper agent twenty months ago. Since that time I have primarily operated under the codename Legate, participating in rebel activities in the interest of gaining further access to broader Rebel Alliance operations. My specialist credentials led to deployment as a consulting asset to Rebel cells sector-wide."

This was information meant for the Ascendancy, but it would now act to secure his position here. He would have to keep a log of disclosures, but this gamble seemed worth taking. "While structure of operational groups has remained fluid, certain individuals act as key points in sector-wide operations, and have thus been identified as weak points."

Some of them might be dead by now, but they couldn't possibly all have been rooted out while his cell was cut off.

"Very good."

Either Legate already had that story prepared, or he thought it up while being healed. Either way, Thrawn had to commend it. If Legate truly found these key individuals, then it would be easy enough to find and capture them.

"I will expect a full report, so we may put an end to these extremists and secure this sector."

"Of course, sir." Now that he was out of the brig, patched up, and in a new disguise, the enormity of all this was finally starting to hit him. His assignment really was absolutely gutted now, he was infiltrating the wrong faction all of a sudden, and Mitth'raw'nuruodo just gave him a compliment.

Also, apart from being unconscious, he'd barely slept in the past three days. That might have something to do with this burst of manic energy he was trying to tamp down on.

"I'll prioritize hand-off on last known locations and my Rebel passcodes."

That was it--right? No. There was something else, something the Humans had taken off of him while he was unconscious. Not his rifle, not the knives, there was something else--

Oh. He might be able to turn over something valuable. "I've not had the chance to verify if the data is retrievable, but my confiscated gear included surveillance holos that may contain records of art owned by several targets."

The barest hint of a smile crossed Thrawn's lips. There was no doubt anymore that Legate had indeed heard of Thrawn before today, if he knew enough about Thrawn's gift for interpreting artwork. Otherwise, he might not have brought it up, for the skill was unique to Thrawn alone.

"They will be of valuable aid to me, agent. I thank you for this information."

He could see that Legate was in need of rest, by the look in his eyes and in his face. He waved a hand, "Come. I apologize that we were not expecting you back, and therefor we haven't had proper quarters set up for you. But you may have the area near my personal office in the meantime."

Hands behind his back, Thrawn led his new agent away from the medical bay and towards the lift.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

A minor setback

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject