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thedistantstorm · 4 years

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Project Compass 36

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This time: The confrontation aboard the Compass reaches its peak.

Next time: Victory has a cost.

When confrontation arose, Vah'nya danced through it. She'd seen it coming, her Sight strong and sure, leaving her aware of her enemy long before it had ever laid eyes upon her. There was a tempo, a rhythm to the altercation that only she knew.

The Grysk was easily four times her weight in their armor, dwarfing her thin frame in width though they were only slightly taller than her in height. They swung at her menacingly, but she saw the move before it happened, ducking under a thick arm to slip both behind and further away.

As her enemy staggered forward empty-handed, bending awkwardly to keep their balance as the deckplates beneath them rumbled and shifted from external plasmasphere impact, Vah'nya spun to face their back and extended her hands. The Grysk spun around as well, putting their back to the rest of their enemies, but it was too late. As if seeing the space between atoms, she charged the air with elemental energy. Ions rearranged themselves and the bolts that coalesced in the expanse between them glowed a searing blue- white, crackling ominously with contact.

Vah’nya’s foe dropped, their body seizing with electricity that ricocheted through the gaps in metal armor. It was a force of nature, a seemingly unnatural thing, and yet the Navigator glowed in its wake. Her skin held a healthy, cerulean-cream shine, her eyes were sharp and ethereal: cognizant of what she'd done, but aware that protecting the lives of her people had been far more important.

Un'hee hadn't needed to see it. Not with her eyes. She could see it in her mind, feel the way Vah'nya's spirit sang as she moved, the absolute sureness of her actions. She understood that there was more to it than sight. More to it than the Sight, in any form.

Vah'nya had instilled sureness, had always led by example. Un'hee might bicker with her ceaselessly, but they were sister-Navigators, and Un'hee could admit her admiration and awe. She should have known that she would not be the first.

She was relieved, if she were to be honest with herself. And that relief felt refreshing, awakening. This great and terrifying power she had discovered was not just her own. All of their sisters could be capable of this. And like she had been shown, after she had seen the way to help save Mitth'raw'nuruodo, Vah'nya would again guide her. Guide them all.

Eli, too. She could feel his heartbeat, muted through his armor, but steady: like a wardrum within his chest. He was calm. This was no surprise.

Of course, she thought. Because Eli had known as long as Vah’nya had. And, more than Vah’nya, Eli knew- No. That line of thought wasn't important, she told herself. What had happened was over now. He had recovered. They both had, and they were here now, fighting.

She could fight, too.

They needed her. Though Eli and Vah'nya were calm, they were the only ones. She sensed panic and fear like a tangible thing. Awe and terror, pride and uncertainty, all of it so very unsure. They had found others, she realized. She, Eli, and Vah’nya were not alone.

Had they found-?

Her memory, momentarily fragmented, disoriented by the subconscious use of her Sight, returned to her swiftly. Eli had helped her. She remembered him triggering Somnia, remembered him saying it was alright, but she needed to know. She needed to see for herself. She wouldn’t forgive herself for killing them, not even for killing the Grysk if it hadn’t been enough to save Thrawn, too.

"Thrawn," She called to him quietly, voice hoarse and dry from disuse and unconsciousness. They couldn’t hear her over the sounds of the dying Grysk and awed Chis. They must have rescueded others, though not many. Strange, it felt so loud to her while everything else was still so muted. She considered that it might be Eli. His close presence was soothing, enough to lull her back to a comfortable state of half-wakefulness, but she needed to come back now.

The thin black material - some synthweave blend that was soft to the touch - was balled in her hands. It took effort to twitch them, to force her tightly curled fists to relent. They did. She focused, looking for Thrawn without her eyes.

He was near to her - to them. Close enough to touch. In the space between awake and unconscious, she sensed his… Apprehension. Acknowledgement. A fear that was almost reverent. Something warily respectful.

Thrawn had seen this before, Un’hee remembered. It was not entirely the same - she’d heard the story of the creature he’d shot down from the sky, a being who called upon a great and terrible storm that did not distinguish between friend and foe - and yet it was. She felt him tense, closing himself off, and twitched again in Eli’s hold like an answer. Thrawn didn’t notice.

But Eli had. She carefully peeled back her covering, finding the halls of the Compass to be darker than she expected. Eli’s tan-skinned features were awash in the ambient glow. His lips curved into a half smile when he met her gaze. She could see the relief war with worry and anger. No doubt she was in trouble with him. She didn’t care right now, squirming, seeing fit to tell him so-

The human didn’t coddle her though. His expression - those deep, dark expressive eyes - showed understanding that outweighed his emotions. He eased her to the ground, assuring himself she was able to support her own weight before letting go.

Eli’s emotions were important, yes, but she had more pressing concerns in that moment. She took a wobbly step to the side and slipped her much smaller hand into Thrawn’s loose fist, half-clenched at his side. Her cold fingers uncurled against his palm, seeking purchase. He did not flinch. His fingers clasped hers in a gentle squeeze before relaxing, but to her surprise, he did not let go.

She looked up to him as he looked down at her, as stern and stoic as she’d remembered the first time they’d met. His eyes were different now. It was as though there was some shroud had been pulled back, though he was no easier to read this way. He felt worried, yes - she could imagine what he’d seen in his mind’s eye watching Vah’nya vanquish their shared enemy - but beneath that, there was something else. He felt balanced now. Balanced I'm no a way that someone didn’t know they could be until they achieved it. It wasn’t feigned or forced out of some sense of duty. It just was.

Un’hee was pulled from her thoughts by Vah’nya. Vah’nya, who refused to acknowledge her quarry beyond confirming it no longer drew breath. She rose to her feet and stepped around gangly, still-twitching limbs and immediately crouched in front of the young girl.

“What were you thinking?” The Senior Navigator bellowed. “You could have been killed!”

“I had to,” Un’hee said, pushing out her chin, her tone increasing in pitch with every word. “I knew I had to just like you. They would have killed him, and I-”

“Not now,” Ivant cut in, extending both his hands in a placating gesture toward the enraged woman. Un’hee couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen true fury in Vah’nya’s eyes. She barely kept it in check, but Un’hee knew fury was easier to channel than fear. Fear would drown them, if they let it. “Later. Mission first.”

Thrawn’s fingers tightened around Un'hee's hand again briefly before he let go. If he was concerned that she stayed all but leaning against him for the moment, he said nothing. She watched him meet Eli’s gaze over her head, saw the way they spoke without words in the two seconds that passed.

To Vah’nya, he began, “Are you able to call upon this... lightning,” He didn't stumble over the word, but the pause was obvious to Un’hee, “On demand?” That rerouted the conversation, the tension, all of it, in a matter of seconds.

Vah’nya pushed a flyaway piece of blue-black hair behind her ear and settled back into the coolness of militant discipline. She explained, “Yes, though truly controlling it is another story. I can see the paths it can take, but it is not a foolproof thing.”

Un’hee only realized that Eli had moved from beside them when she heard the clanging thud of the Grysk’s body being rolled over with his boot. He took a knee and inspected the corpse. Un'hee's forced herself not to look away. She'd done this, too. “It works just fine in close range, and when you focus,” Eli clarified.

Vah’nya inclined her head. "True, but ultimately it is more of a destructive power. It cannot manipulate fragile electronics."

Eli muttered something unintelligible. Not so loudly as to interrupt their exchange entirely, though he did draw Thrawn's sharp gaze. Eli didn't speak up or voice his opinion to the group, so the conversation moved on.

“And I would not not ask it of you,” Thrawn affirmed, shifting his gaze back to her. “But I would ask you to take an alternative route to the bridge.” He considered, “I believe the way you traversed the ship without detection.”

“Not a bad plan if we have something ready on the other end,” Mused Eli, who confirmed Vah'nya's cooperation with a swift nod. Then he rose from beside the body and addressed Thrawn, making it clear that he was the leader, not Eli. Un'hee had wondered. “Another grunt," He said. "I don’t think there’s any high-ranking ones beside that commander who demanded your presence." He toed at the dead alien's armor. "Worst of all, there's nothing we can tie back to our people. We're flying blind on that end.”

"Perhaps," Thrawn considered. “Their liaison with our people is too new for them to rely on a single individual or reveal their cards entirely. Subjugation was hardly their goal in this venture, nor was returning me to Emperor Palpatine, though both would undoubtedly be useful to their cause.”

“You’re right,” Eli agreed. He did not hide his anger now, Un’hee noticed. It was smooth and slick and mostly unfamiliar to her. She knew he did his best to mask his temper, especially with her sisters, and thus was not used to seeing it so close to the surface. “They’re just doing this to show they can. To show how deep they’ve inserted their influence.”

“It will not be tolerated,” Thrawn swore, like a vow. Un’hee believed him. His disdain curled like a predator beneath his skin, though she did not fear the violence he'd bring. Unlike their enemies, his anger and Eli's had a sharp edge. They cared little for conquest. They were driven by their desire to protect.

There was only one way onto the bridge. As such, it had been a no-nonsense, straightforward approach. It has been an offensive that started as stealth, making as little noise as possible, then turned into an all-out assault as they reached the last stretch and passed the point of no return.

Ezra had been surprised by the amount of resistance, and even more surprised by the number of drab-looking Chiss that fought with the same cold fury that his own allies did. They had passed several Grysks that were not the commander. Ezra's allies had keen eyes, but through the Force he had sensed a sort of blank servitude within them as well, so similar to the enemy Chiss forces. It was disturbing.

Even more disturbing was their present situation. Approaching the bridge head on - as was their only realistic option - had left them trapped between the majority of enemy forces aboard the Compass. Ahead of them, the larger contingent fired at them indiscriminately. Behind them, a slow trickle of support crept in to pick them off. Ezra tried his best to see them coming, but they were so flat and unobtrusive, in addition to that usual slippery feeling Chiss had in the Force.

The Chiss beside him, the small team who had suffered losses and were supposed to be better protected because they had his assistance, were tired. Ezra was tired too. They'd been in this killbox for a while now, their enemy just waiting for them to make a mistake. Though he didn't know them well enough to get a good read on them, they were far more open to him in the Force - accepting, perhaps - than their enemies. They were grateful for his intervention, albeit rattled by his abilities. They had never fought with a Jedi. And Ezra hadn't fought like this since he was a rebel and Thrawn his greatest enemy.

He clenched his fists. He missed his lightsaber and its protective hum. There was nothing for it now. He didn't need his lightsaber to be a Jedi.

Reaching out, he felt for the incoming blaster bolts that targeted his comrades and nudged them to the side. He felt something else, too. Something directly above him.

Vah'nya.

She wasn't like Kanan or Ahsoka, wasn't like a Jedi at all. And yet, whenever he extended himself mentally, especially after they'd taken to meditating together on occasion, she always reached back. He wasn't sure if she knew she was doing it, but it didn't stop him from sending his own feelings - relief especially, that she seemed to be alright - her way.

She didn't answer. She could project emotion, any being could, but she couldn’t pointedly target him in the Force. It simply wasn’t like that for her. He shifted focus. Beside him, one of his allies paused, their eyes briefly pausing on the grate that covered the life-support's ventilation shaft over the enemy's head. Chiss could see in the infrared, Ezra knew. If there was someone up in that ductwork, they'd be obvious against the cool backdrop of silver-blue.

They couldn't draw attention to her, and he didn't dare mention that he suspected it was her aloud. Still, he had to do something. He raised his hand to jerk their enemies by their weapons, anything to keep their attention away from what was happening above them.

The first stun bolt nearly grazed his cheek. The coils of overwhelming energy expanded as they traveled over his shoulder, striking one of their assailants in the chin and dropping them with a strangled hiss of contact. More followed, sailing by him and his allies.

Footsteps followed and Ezra picked out at least five pairs of footsteps. “Set weapons to stun,” Called the familiar, authoritative voice and Ezra felt himself relax ever so slightly.

Beside him, one of his allies tipped their head to look behind them with hardly any concern for the rank of the one they spoke to. “Are you crazy, sir? They’re shooting to kill.”

“Hardly,” Thrawn’s voice came again, as Ezra flicked the mechanism on his own blaster to follow Thrawn’s instructions. He grew louder with every word, the sharpness of his command tone leading one of his other allies to toggle the stun setting on their weapon as well. “If the need to take life arises, so be it. Now is not that time. There are enough of us to neutralize this offensive.”

The captain did not retreat into cover when the shots came again. Athletically, he dipped and side-stepped them. They were coming slower now, the enemy forces slightly dismayed by the development and weakened significantly with the first round of the newcomers’ incapacitations, but it didn’t detract from the skill the older Chiss exhibited amongst mostly younger comrades. He raised his blaster again and took out two with pointed stun bolts to the chest before they could lock onto their target’s quickly shifting position.

Ezra stepped out of the hatchway he’d been using as semi-decent cover and took a lower stance, firing in tandem as the rest of their forces fell in. The already accumulated forces stayed low, firing from their positions dotted along the hallway in similar doors and ancillary alcoves like Ezra had been while Thrawn’s people stayed predominantly in line of sight for their enemy, providing heavy rings of cover-fire.

Ezra let Thrawn step in front of him protectively as he dropped his depleted blaster pack and took the one Thrawn indicated on his belt. He recognized the weapon and its backup and had to ask, “Where’s Captain Ivant?”

“His portion of the plan is in motion.”

“Oh good,” Ezra breathed in relief, then added, “Hopefully it’s a better plan than your last one. No offense, but that one was kriffing stupid.”

Squeezing off another shot, then three more in quick succession, Thrawn said, “It is good to know you are uninjured as well.” It looked like he might have made another statement, or possibly asked a question about the status of their remaining troops as the battle began to turn in their favor, but his head swiveled quickly, his expression changing from one of untouchable stoicism to a stern frown.

“What?” Ezra scrambled to his feet. “I don’t like that look,” He said.

“The ship is moving.”

“Moving? How can you tell?”

Thrawn’s concentration was absolute, though he was still able to multitask. “I can tell.” He looked to their comrades. “They’re engaging the Steadfast. We must move quickly to retake the bridge.” He plucked a comm from his belt and brought it to his lips. “Navigator Vah’nya, do you have confirmation?”

The sound of the comm device was muffled and metallic sounding. “Confirmed. Proceed as planned.”

“Very good.” Thrawn stalked up to their defeated enemies. Most were dead, but there were still some who might be saved. Though he did not prefer casualties, Ezra could see the flare of his nostrils, the utter contempt he had for them. “Set up a defensive perimeter to the sides of the blast doors. They will explode outward. Drag any prisoners who are alive out of its direct path.”

The questions came quick, albeit with more respect than the original outburst.

Thrawn confirmed his orders, “The Commander will not seek to harm themself, but those not sealed in with will be considered acceptable collateral. The doors will be rigged to damage any approaching forces in the event that the remaining crew attempted to thwart their plans.”

“I liked the Grysk better when they offed themselves before we got information,” The smart-mouthed woman who had sassed Thrawn earlier said.

“Only the lower-level Grysk do that,” A quieter voice came. Ezra didn’t recognize the man, but judging by his bloodied, disheveled uniform, he’d already been aboard the Compass. “This one wants to live.”

“This one wishes to take this ship as a trophy and display our vulnerabilities, both on a military and personal level,” Thrawn corrected. “Whether he desires to live is irrelevant. Our duty is to regain control of our vessel and neutralize the insurgent threat.” He looked at the group. “Once the doors are blown, you will wait for Navigator Vah’nya’s signal to storm the bridge.”

“What signal?” Another of Ezra’s comrades asked.

“You’ll know,” Thrawn said darkly.

Yes, Ezra supposed they would.

Commander Faro jumped up from her console, already sending the communiqué to Admiral Ar’alani’s datapad and the Steafast’s bridge speakers even as she spoke. “Admiral, I have Captain Ivant.”

“The encryption?”

“It’s secure, ma’am.”

The admiral whirled around from the command walkway to face her. “Send it through, Commander.”

“Sent,” Faro confirmed crisply.

Ar’alani barely heard her, focused on the man aboard her rogue capital ship. “Ivant,” She demanded.

“Admiral. I have Un’hee in custody.”

“And the others?”

“It’s a bloodbath,” He said seriously, voice offset by static. “Captain Thrawn was kept with Un’hee. At last check, the survivors indicated one navigator and Senior Captain Khresh were still alive.” He paused, breathing hard. He’d likely been running, Ar’alani suspected. They were all running out of time, both literally and figuratively, she supposed. “Have you gotten anything from our friends?”

It was a crude but inconspicuous way of asking if House Chaf had provided them with any information. She appreciated his discretion. “It is too soon,” She said tightly, then redirected, “I am more concerned with the field of battle. Your former ship is being brought to bear against mine.” Her annoyance was obvious.

“Captain Thrawn is working on that.”

“Captain Thrawn,” She said carefully. She knew his objective, but refused to satiate her curiosity on the subject. There were more pressing matters to be discussed. “And what are you working on?”

“Leveling the field.”

Scoffing, Ar’alani said, “You sound as though you intend to do something foolish.”

“You might say that,” He supposed. “Can the Steadfast run interference?”

Snappish, she retorted, “You understand what you are asking me to do?” Ivant’s request would put her between a confirmed enemy Commander with his warped mockery of Chiss warriors and a Grysk capital ship that could have even more Chiss with inside knowledge of their ships, their tactics, everything. If the Compass wasn’t brought under control within minutes of Ar’alani turning her back on it, their enemy would know victory.

“I know it’s a risk,” Eli agreed. “But I need a guarantee that our enemies cannot escape. There is security footage that cannot fall into enemy hands. External comms should still be down, but there’s no way to confirm at this point without retaking the bridge. Thrawn will come through with his half of the plan,” He said confidently. “We will disable the Compass by any means necessary.”

Growling out a sigh, Ar’alani turned to her bridge crew. “Helm, take us in,” She demanded of them before speaking to Ivant once more. “If the Compass rams my ship, it will be your head, Eli’van’to.”

“I accept full responsibility,” He confirmed with confidence. He had the presence of mind not to comment that if the Compass got that close, there was little chance any of them were going to make it out of this engagement alive. “Thank you, Admiral.”

“Do not make me regret this,” She said, and ended the transmission. A glance at the tactical made her snarl beneath her breath and look to the helm. “Bring us to full speed,” She urged them. “It won’t do us any good if they’re too fast for us to catch.” Then, to the sensor officers, she commanded, “You will report any fluctuations in the Compass’s readings directly to me.”

The officer flushed, untested and timid, but set his jaw and inclined his head. “Yes, admiral.”

She didn’t like this. She looked down at the scene - what she could see of it, anyway - and it only made things worse. Ke’hala was crying. She could hear the girl’s tiny snuffling sobs interspersed with the sound of wet, strained breaths and knew without any shadow of a doubt that it was Khresh, bloodied and propped precariously against one of the monitoring stations. Taking great care to remain quiet, she began loosening the bolts that kept the access register locked in place.

The bridge was a hub of activity, the Grysk commander standing boldly on the command walkway while meek, out-of-place Chiss carried out orders. Very few of the Chiss here wore CDF uniforms. And even if they did, she swore it felt like a tangible entity sucking the free will from them.

How could they think this was right? They were engaging in open warfare against their own brothers and sisters, slaughtering them openly. Would she and Un’hee be enough to convince them? Vah’nya knew she could kill a Grysk, regardless of their rank. She didn’t care about killing a Grysk. She cared about her people, about making sure this never happened again. About making sure those who thought this was an acceptable practice, a way to make some political statement or another saw that they did not need to enter into the service of an enemy to recognize their full potential.

It was already at hand.

She clenched the bolts in her fist, twisting the final one free. She just needed to move them all to her belt pouch where they wouldn’t make sound and she would be ready when the time came. She could hear the commander snarl over the reports that their forces outside the bridge had been thwarted. She just needed to see the explosive device pressed against the blast doors.

At this angle, it was nearly impossible. Carefully, she shifted in the metal shaft, doing her best to angle herself away from the slotted vent to avoid enemy detection, especially in the infrared. It was no use.

She pushed herself flat against the bottom of the narrow shaft and listened some more to the crew's off-putting chatter. The Steadfast was changing course, effectively trying to cut them off. They recognized the potential for a multi-faceted attack, and wanted to root out the remaining opposition aboard this ship first. Good.

Cautiously, Vah'nya chanced another glance down through the grate, eyeing the commander from behind. Something nagged at her. She was missing something.

Navigator Ke'hala wasn't crying anymore. Vah'nya swung her gaze back to Senior Captain Khresh. She couldn't see more of his face than the curve of his chin, tucked against his chest. But she could see his hands. They were redirecting the crying Navigator's face away from her, and she could see his chin move as he said something she couldn't hear.

There came a dull scrape against the bottom of the ventilation shaft. Ke'hala was not the only one who noticed, Vah'nya realized, as it steadily grew louder. The durasteel was too thick to be penetrated by blaster fire or even the concealed knife she knew the commander wore, but the infrastructure of the ductwork had its own disadvantages.

Most pressing of those disadvantages was the quiet snick and rising beep of a magnetic grenade not far from where she was concealed. The tucked her head beneath her arms and drew her legs up beneath her as the grenade blew. Her ears rang, though it wasn’t nearly as loud as the blood pumping furiously in her ears, warning her of danger.

The warning came too little, too late. There was a thump that she felt through the vibrations of her compromised vent shaft. Then, a large hand wrapped around one of her ankles and yanked.

Vah’nya twisted her body, kicking with her other leg, seeking out her assailant. She heard Navigator Ke’hala let out a strangled cry, turning into a sharp gasp when Vah’nya’s boot met the temple of the Chiss that had pulled her from the blown-out section of ductwork. She lurched sideways, back hitting one of the consoles. She didn’t have a blaster, but she did have something else.

She slammed her hand against the nearest enemy’s thigh, digging her fingers into their grayish coveralls and letting herself feel that white-hot fury. It would be excruciating, she knew. But she’d seen the path the current took, following flesh and bone only from the leg down. It wouldn’t be fatal. They cried out in agony, jolting upright before falling to the ground, making several others nearby reach for their blasters as they twitched and screamed.

It didn’t matter. Vah’nya saw their blows coming with the kind of awareness that, of those among them, only Navigator Ke’hala could fathom. She twisted her torso, ducked, stepped back to miss the assault with a poised grace that left them cursing her.

Good, she thought, taking the holstered weapon from the belt of the client she’d injured. The Grysk was making their way toward her from the other side of the bridge. She met his dark, beady eyes, raised her pilfered blaster, and fired.

#thranto #thrawn/eli vanto #thrawn #eli vanto #vah'nya #ar'alani #un'hee #sw fanfiction #my writing

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