boxofmisfits | So a Sith and a Chiss Walk Into the Same Warlord's Ship--

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So a Sith and a Chiss Walk Into the Same Warlord's Ship--

The Force was a capricious thing, if not straight up malicious.

War had broken out once more between the Sith Empire and the Galactic Republic and Altair had been on the front lines, working to ensure safety and stability for his people. Onderon, Mek-Sha, their assault on Corellia and the Meridian Complex, and at the end of it all, he had chosen to make his Alliance an official member of the Empire, and reclaimed his Sith title.

He had welcomed the Imperial presence on Odessen, had flown the flag of his nation where the flag of the Eternal Alliance once hung, and he had been happy. He had been home.

Then that artifact- he had been working on a tip Lana had gotten through her contacts, that there was an artifact that would serve Altair and the Sith Empire well.

It hadn't been a trap. Only the Force working in mysterious ways.

For a while after he'd been dragged to the future, he'd seethed. He'd lost his home, his title once more, and worse than that, he would never get to see his loved ones ever again. Not the people of the Alliance, nor Lana, nor Theron. He had been truly alone, for the first time in a long time.

But he couldn't stay angry forever, couldn't refuse to function.

He had made himself a new life on a new planet. He worked making his art, and he made friends. Occasionally, he traveled, too.

A year into his new life, tragedy struck, and his anger found a purpose once more.

That anger was why he was on this ship- the Warlord and his people had taken his friends from him. Altair would now take everything from them.

Blood splattered across the floor as he sliced a man in half, another one falling to the floor and convulsing as he threw a bolt of lightning. He finished him off my snapping his neck, and then lunged forward to dispatch a third.

He turned his head to look back at the dimly lit hallway, the blood of his enemies painting the scenery red.

No time to hesitate.

Altair continued moving, masking his presence, making himself damn near invisible. Coming upon more panicked guards trying to get a handle on the situation while also moving to get their leader out, he stopped in the shadows and listened. Escape pods. So that was their plans.

He turned and slipped through the darkness, popping out here and there to dispatch of anyone who seemed like they could be trouble, and by the time he made it to the escape pods, the Warlord was rushing his people to get ready- voice catching in his throat as the Sith stepped out.

With a few simple flicks of the wrist, Altair deflected blaster bolts back at the ones who thought that shooting at him would be a good idea, and two men who tried to flee were yanked back and slammed into the metal floors hard enough to break their heads open, a bit of blood splattering over the Sith's dark boots.

His head turned to the Warlord himself- the man who had ordered the attack on the place Altair had called home. Killed his neighbors, his friends, people who were innocent and deserved better.

"And then," He spoke, reaching out with the Force and warping the metal around the escape pods so they couldn't launch, "There was only us..."

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There was some recognition, though not that of one who'd met Vader in person. Altair had heard of Vader, of course. Though he had no interest in seeking him out, or making an enemy of him. The only way that would happen was if Vader put himself in Altair's path- and Altair was confident that he would be the victor, considering he'd fought much stronger opponents before.

He said nothing of the sort of course, only shrugged his shoulders.

"There's no one way to be Sith, of course- the code is more of a vague guideline rather than a set of rules. But I've been hasty before in my life. I've made mistakes, and suffered for them. I even died once, though it didn't stick."

There was no indication that he was lying- to say that he had had an interesting life would be an understatement, though he didn't intend to give Thrawn the full story.

"Had I not learned to be patient, and to temper my ambitions with the wisdom I've gained, I would just have been another dead Sith Lord, swallowed up by the sands of time, forgotten, and unmourned."

Thrawn watched Altair's reaction. He'd never met Vader in person, judging from his reaction, which meant that he wasn't some secret apprentice of Vader or a rival who was running from the Sith Lord. He was still holding on to the theory that Altair was stolen as a child and raised by a different Sith. Surely the Hand had some clue that would help him solve the enigma that was Darth Nox.

"You died once? There is certainly a story there, I can tell. However, that you learned patience, that is good. Patience is the key to defeating one's enemies."

Patience was a game he and Nuso Esva were all too familiar with, when it came to one another.

"I did. It was... Neat."

Terrifying, was more like it. He had been unable to defend himself against Thanaton, and he had died. His apprentices had recovered him, and he had come to, without really knowing what had happened. The unknown was a scary thing- of course, his life had continued to be chaotic even after that.

Even now though, after everything, he wasn't entirely sure if he indeed could die.

Nothing he needed to say though- and certainly not something he wanted to test. Regardless, his stories were his to keep- and he wasn't sure yet if he wanted to share most of them with Thrawn, even though they were allies. Better to stay a mystery, he thought. Safer.

The movement of his hands halted for a moment, before resuming the rhythmic, practiced motion, continuing his embroidery stitch by skillful stitch.

"Learning to be patient has certainly made life easier, though, so I won't argue with you there."

Altair was sure he still could be impatient. But impatience to get results usually didn't end well. So unless it was an emergency and there was no time to think, he preferred taking his time. And he wasn't young and naive any more either- he couldn't be the same as he was then, had to be in control.

"I was young when that happened. When I died. Nineteen or twenty years old, perhaps. Probably easier to be impatient when one young and naive."

Thrawn wondered if it was a case of him simply being legally dead for a few seconds, or if he truly did die and the Force saved him. Judging by his body language and face, Thrawn was leaning towards the latter.

"Indeed. I feel that we are all like that when we are younger." Even Thrawn had his moments when he was a young man. "You also remind me of just how little I know about the Force, and the extent to which it can do things."

"If it makes you feel any better, I don't feel like I know much about the Force either. Whenever I feel like I've figured it out, like I know a lot, something happens to remind me that I still have much to learn."

Altair had been a Sith for well over a decade now, and it had been his job to chase mysteries down- to recover lost knowledge, to learn all he could about Sith rituals, and some Jedi ones too. But while he certainly was skilled with the powers he'd been given, to say that he knew all he needed to know about the Force would be arrogant.

His life had taught him to keep an open mind, too.

How could he ever feel any different, after the life he'd lived. And being here, too- after all, he'd fallen through time, ended up thousands of years in the future, with no way back. The Force was mysterious- and he knew little, even though he was constantly learning.

Of course, while his expression hinted at the fact that he was thinking about something, he had no intentions of actually speaking his mind.

"It's a bit different for you, of course- and everyone else who's not Force sensitive. The Force runs through all living things, but you don't feel that in the same way I do. To you, it must be entirely more abstract. Though I imagine that vexes you somewhat."

For someone who liked to see the big picture- who wanted knowledge- it had to be frustrating.

"Perhaps the knowledge I'm willing to share will fill in some blanks for you."

So, Altair had picked up a few things about Thrawn, just as Thrawn had about him. Most impressive. Thrawn liked those who were observant. "That is my hope, yes. Your knowledge may be most valuable to my Empire."

Thrawn steepled his fingers, regarding Altair's face rather than his hands. "I had an encounter with a Jedi many years ago, before the Clone War. The Republic sent out an exploration ship known as Outbound Flight, led by a Jedi master named Jorus C'baoth. I intercepted the ship, because it was imperative that it never go past the galaxy. I offered him a chance to surrender, but he refused, and attempted to murder me by choking me with his mind."

"If he did that, then he couldn't have been much of a proper Jedi. Of course, many Jedi fail to live up to the ideal of their Order. In my admittedly limited experience, Jedi are either sanctimonious cretins who talk about peace, but refuse to follow through and act the aggressor, never trying to understand a thing outside their narrow view- forcing their will on others as well as any Sith, or they take peace to such an extreme that they let war and death reign around them, and refuse to act for fear of overstepping themselves."

That was his experience, anyway. He'd worked with a few Jedi in the past, but he couldn't claim that he liked them, or thought them to be good, interesting people. They had noble goals- he could admit that much. But they failed on the execution, and he had seen more Jedi fall or fail, than anything else.

"Still, to use the Force to try and choke you... That's more of a Sith thing to do. Obviously he failed to do any permanent damage, but... What happened to him? Did you kill him?"

It was idle curiosity more than anything else. Idle curiosity, and it kept the conversation off of himself.

The way Altair spoke, he had clearly met Jedi in person. Yet, all but a few Jedi had been killed at the end of the Clone War, more than twenty years ago. Altair looked like he might have been old enough to have lived during that time, yet the records of that time never mentioned a Darth Nox. Or perhaps there were pockets of surviving Jedi in the Unknown Region.

"I killed him, yes. Though, I suppose it would be more accurate to say that I set up the means of his death but did not personally carry it out. He was within the ship at the time, communicating with me through a holo." Thrawn hadn't even known at the time that a Jedi or Sith could use their powers from that great a distance, just from seeing their victim on a holo.

"I had prepared a bomb that would flood the ship with radioactive energy powerful enough to kill those within the ship. Palpatine's spy, who was with me at the time, activated the bomb and killed C'baoth, thus saving my life. The only survivors on the ship were those within the core at the time."

This wasn't a pleasant memory for Thrawn. Even if he personally hadn't killed those people, he'd still been responsible for their deaths. He hated taking that much life, but they had refused to turn around and Thrawn couldn't risk them getting into contact with the Far Outsiders. He had also been led to believe that they were enemies, which was a mistake on his part.

That mission had also cost him his brother, something he would never forgive himself for.

"I see. I won't make you say anything more. Doesn't take a genius to see that it's not a pleasant memory for you."

Even if Thrawn's emotions were difficult to get a read on, Altair knew by now how he preferred to operate. Had Thrawn seen the lives of others as being cheap, as being something he didn't care for, then Altair would have never joined him, never would have stayed.

He halted his movement, looking down at his embroidery, then carefully stuck the needle to the fabric, securing it there. He stepped closer to Thrawn's desk, putting the embroidery down, and pushing it across the surface over to the other Chiss.

"It's not done yet, but maybe it can tell you a few things already."

He imagined it would be a fitting distraction from his current thoughts.

Thrawn's eyes went down to the embroidery, sliding it towards him and lifting it up for a closer inspection. Given how Altair had been protective of his art and seemed to not want Thrawn to get a look at it, he wouldn't take this opportunity for granted.

He studied the material, the care with which Altair made every stitch, and the subject matter itself. He would have to cross reference the flower with Balmorra fauna later. The artwork told him Altair was patient, which he already knew. "If you want, we can obtain more material for you, in different colors." Even out in the Unknown Region, there were planets with huge textile markets. "You are a man who takes joy in the natural world around you, no matter what world you are on. Perhaps the forests around my fortress will be a welcome sight to you."

"If you insist, then I would welcome having more materials to work with- but you needn't go out of your way. I'm quite capable of replenishing my own stock whenever I run low on something."

Of course, even as he said that, there was a not insignificant amount of something almost like excitement at the idea of new materials, and thread in many different colors- art was an evolving thing. He was constantly getting better. And he liked having a wide assortment of materials to work with, and to have new things to create with.

"I do. Doesn't matter which planet I'm on. There is always beauty to be found."

Forests, deserts, tundras, even icy planets like Hoth and Ilum- Altair had seen many different environments. He always found beauty, no matter where he went.

"Perhaps they will. I'm always searching for more inspiration."

He was an artist, so of course he was.

"Does it tell you anything else?"

"It tells me something that I already knew, which is that you were not raised Chiss. Rather, you were raised among aliens, most likely humans. You are also self-taught." Thrawn honestly can't imagine a Sith teaching their apprentice to do embroidery, and thus it's something he picked up on his own, possibly since childhood.

"There is only so much I may read from an unfinished piece."

With the way Altair averted his gaze, it was obvious enough that Thrawn wasn't entirely correct. Despite being a Sith, Altair had never quite learned to hide his emotions, and there were even humans who knew how to hide their feelings better than Altair did.

Thrawn was right that he hadn't necessarily been raised Chiss- that he grew up alongside humans and other aliens. But his parents had been there. His grandparents. But it wasn't something he was going to get into. While he still bore the scars of his childhood- both literally and figuratively- it wasn't something Thrawn needed to know in such detail.

"You are mostly correct."

A few details were wrong, but the general gist was correct.

"Only so much you may read from an unfinished piece, and this one in particular, I imagine. It is after all, only a flower I saw once. You should see what I make when I'm making something that represents my emotional state or my history."

A pause, and then- "And maybe you will, at some point."

"When that day comes, I will learn what I need to," Thrawn spoke as if it was a given that one day he would have access to Altair's art and his finished pieces. He was a patient man, after all.

His console lit up with a notification and Thrawn opened the comm channel. "Grand Admiral, we're approaching the Hand as we speak. Commander Stent has given us landing clearance for a shuttle."

"Thank you, Captain." He let go of the button and closed the channel. "Shall we?"

Taking his unfinished piece, Altair hid it in his armor again, and then put his helmeted mask back on, and pulled his hood up. Thrawn knew his species, and so did those doctors. Anyone else would get to continue living in blissful ignorance- and he imagined that was how they wanted it.

"Yes, let's," He replied, waiting for Thrawn to go first so he could trail behind him. It wasn't so much worried that he'd be stabbed in the back- if Thrawn had wanted to kill him, he would have done that when Altair actually was vulnerable- so much that it just felt more normal to walk behind Thrawn, than in front of him.

"You sounded very certain, by the way. That some day you'll see the art that actually means a lot to me. And says a lot about me, too."

No need to walk in silence- and he couldn't help but wonder if it was wishful thinking or confidence.

"I think you'll find that I'm very good at getting information that I want." It wasn't meant as a threat, more as something he just assumed would happen in due time. He would gain Altair's full trust, he was sure of it.

Thrawn led Nox to the shuttles and led him within. Parck was there too, having left Dagon in charge of the bridge until their return. The human eyed the Sith warily, as if daring him to harm the Grand Admiral, while also showing some fear in his eyes.

The trip to the surface wasn't a long one, and looking out the front viewport would show a fortress that looked very much like a hand in how it was designed. A voice in Cheunh spoke over the comm, letting Thrawn know that he was clear for landing.

Edited 2020-10-31 02:40 (UTC)

"You do know that sounded like a threat, right?"

Altair knew it wasn't- or at least he assumed it wasn't, considering he was still useful to Thrawn- but it did sound rather like a threat.

He followed along, and he didn't need to see the fear in Parck to feel it. He said nothing, of course, but couldn't help but admire the fact that he was protective of Thrawn, despite that fear. That level of loyalty was impressive- and for a moment, Altair found himself missing those who had once been so loyal to him. His crew, Lana, Theron... Even Moff Pyron.

The voice over the comm pulled him out of his thoughts, becoming tense. A crackle of electricity sparked up along his arms, punctuating that further.

"You didn't think that was worth mentioning?" He said, looking at Thrawn. He was uncomfortable enough just around him. Some warning would have been nice.

Parck flinched away from Altair, while Thrawn sat there stoically, regarding Altair with his usual iciness. "I wished to see your reaction." Underhanded? Perhaps. "The fortress is staffed by Chiss who chose to remain loyal to me, and become part of my own empire. I must ask that you refrain from harming them. In the meantime, I welcome you to the Hand of Thrawn."

The shuttle landed and the ramp opened up. Thrawn stepped out, and was greeted by a Chiss in his thirties. The Chiss greeted him in Cheunh, while Thrawn said in Basic, "Always a pleasure, Commander Kres'ten'tarthi. I must ask that you use Basic, for we have a guest who does not speak Cheunh."

Stent nodded. "Of course, Syndic."

The crackle of electricity the second time around wasn't fear- it was anger. Thrawn should know exactly how Altair felt about other Chiss, and still he had decided to test him in such a manner. It very nearly felt like a betrayal of trust- and Altair didn't respond well to being stabbed in the back.

Whatever timeframe Thrawn had imagined for getting to see Altair's art, it had now doubled.

"Pull a stunt like this again, and it's your safety I can't guarantee. I also rescind my offer of giving you my completed embroidery."

It wasn't in his nature to harm others, and he likely wouldn't- but his pride would sting if he merely accepted Thrawn testing him. Once the shuttle landed and Thrawn stepped out, Altair followed, the tenseness he felt luckily hidden by his armor and his mask.

"He can speak whatever language he likes. I've no intention of communicating with the rabble anyway."

"You may have also refused to accompany me if I told you that there would be other Chiss besides myself. You will show me your artwork in time, Lord Nox."

Parck came up beside Thrawn and exchanged greetings with Stent. The younger Chiss glanced at Nox, "Who is this, Syndic Mitth'raw'nuruodo?"

"Allow me to introduce Lord Nox. He is a Sith, and he will be adding some information to our database." While Thrawn looked up anything that could be a clue as to where the Sith came from. "Would you kindly inform the staff in the command center that we have arrived?"

Stent nodded and took the lift down. Thrawn turned to Altair. "You are of course welcome to any information you may want, provided that we have it."

Altair would have argued that he'd still have accompanied him, but he wasn't sure he could be entirely honest about it. There had been many Chiss in the Alliance- even many who had stayed after the fall of the Eternal Empire, loyal to him over even the Ascendancy- but he'd never quite gotten used to his own kind.

He was still angry, of course, but his anger would pass on its own, or become useful to him later on.

"I'm certain I'll find something of use," He said, giving no indication that he had understood the exchange between Thrawn and Stent.

"I imagine you're much more interested in the knowledge I can add, than you are in what I wish to learn, anyway."

"Oh nonsense, anything you may find in here may prove useful to the both of us. After all, if you are to serve on my council, a little knowledge may be a powerful thing."

The lift returned and Thrawn led both Nox and Parck inside. It took them down to the command center, where about three Chiss were currently on staff. In the center of the room was a throne surrounded by a command console, a replica of the one in Thrawn's office. It overlooked a map of the entire galaxy.

"You may use any console. Captain Parck or myself will assist you if you require it," Thrawn said to Nox. In the meantime, he went to his command chair and sat down.

"I'm not technologically inept."

Not only had he been in this time for a while, but he'd also interacted with many types of technology in his own- including consoles from places outside the Core. Zakuul's technology, not to mention what could be found on Iokath. If he and his people could figure out of that, then figuring out of a console here should be no problem at all.

Of course it would be easier to focus if the three Chiss he didn't know would vacate the premises, but he wouldn't ask.

Instead he chose a console somewhat at a distance from them, so he could first check if there was something he wished to read, before thinking about adding some of his own knowledge.

"I did not mean to imply otherwise."

Thrawn had access to every bit of information in the Hand from his personal console. Parck stood beside him, never taking his eyes off the Sith, in case he tried anything while the Grand Admiral was absorbed in his findings. Stent also returned, giving Thrawn some blank data cards and looking over his shoulder.

He searched for any reports about kidnapped Chiss children within the last couple of decades. The only such reports said that the children were recovered, which wasn't surprising, since the Chiss were protective of their kids. He searched for anything that would hint at a Chiss child born with the Force, but that comes up empty too. That didn't mean his theory was inaccurate, but it could have meant that Nox's master was very good at hiding things.

Then he did a search for Darth Nox and what he found was very interesting indeed. There was a Sith with that title during the Jedi/Sith Wars. Very little information of that time had survived, but Nox's accomplishments had been worth preserving, it seemed. They were very impressive accomplishments indeed. At first, Thrawn figured it was a legacy title, before he saw the artwork. Not just the artwork to represent Nox, but the man's art itself. There was very little of either, yet it was enough for a new theory to form in his mind.

He copied the information to a data-card and thanked Stent.

Altair could feel eyes on him. And not only that, with all the Chiss around being like trying to get a read on blocks of ice, he could feel Parck's emotions. A human was easy to get a read on, after all. He did nothing though, to show that he knew, instead focusing on finding information he wanted.

Some of his searches were similar to Thrawn's- looking for information about Force sensitive Chiss. He found nothing. Nor any hint about their past attitudes toward Force sensitives. Perhaps it had simply been so long it had been forgotten by them, even though the Force itself remembered all those who had been returned to it without doing anything to deserve it.

Then he began looking into other things about his people. About culture, and other things that he hadn't been able to learn because of his family, and because the Ascendancy had never welcomed him as one of their own- had rejected him much in the same way he'd always been rejected before. He was curious, after all. Despite everything.

Thinking about what to add would have to wait until he had what he wanted.

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