#scratchling

[seaelien]

wait I kinda fuck with this

[catfortress]

Scratch-lings !!! (like scout-lings!)

[zeffydraws]

Scratchling - flying

It's not used to its high speeds quite yet and tends to crash into things as it flies

---

Hummingbard - flying

It plucks at its string like feathers on its tail with its beak to soothe flowery pokemon so that they fall asleep, so that it can get nectar from said flowers

[socscilearn]

RT @scratch: How well do you know your Scratch blocks? Test your skills with the addictive Wordle remix Scratchle by Scratcher yippymishy!… — Stacy Anne Allen (@stacyanneallen) Mar 1, 2024

—

[oemzee]

Scratchlings vol3.2

[mellofi]

I’m so normal,,,,,,, everywhere I carry printed out photocopies of my doctors not that says ”you are normal” and has a three letter word scratchled out after are but don’t worr about it,,,,,

[thedistantstorm]

Project Compass 35

Read along on AO3 here

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

This time: It has to be a Chiss.

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

-/

Eli - Vanto had a right to his anger, Thrawn thought, but that was as much as he was willing to let himself linger on the subject at the moment. He followed dutifully behind Vah’nya and Vanto, taking care to check over his shoulder to confirm that they were not followed through the ship. The duo moved like they were two halves of a single entity. He had never seen them work together in hostile situations beyond the bridge of a warship, and even then a Navigator’s role was limited in situations that did not require immediate departure or swift, flawlessly executed arrival.

“The control room is on your right,” Vanto said, and Vah’nya gripped her blaster tighter.

They were after the prisoners - the loyal Chiss aboard the Compass who had been detained and not murdered. There probably weren't many, only those of high political value would have been spared from the immediate slaughter once the Grysks arrived. Besides, the enemy had already murdered a Navigator simply to prove a point. Those who did not have the gift of sight could not expect any mercy.

Their main objective at this stage was to locate and secure Senior Captain Khresh. Both Vanto and Vah’nya were rather hopeful that the man was still alive. Thrawn found that unlikely, but he would reserve judgement. They had not shared the details of their plan, but it was clear that there was a plan in play. He no longer felt the effects of the chemical concoction he’d been dosed with, no doubt in part to his biology, but also the stimulant that Vah’nya had administered. However, it was possible he’d been appraised of their plan and been unable to retain the information before the other effects of the hypo had kicked in. Some of his short-term memory remained out of his grasp, hazed and disjointed. He remembered being found, Vah’nya’s too-cold hands on his face and her lips moving as she assessed his status, but there were moments that eluded him.

The entry panel beside the door was red, locked down. Vah'nya slapped her hand to the biometric panel and it flashed, then opened to her unique signature. It shouldn't have, Thrawn knew.

"Thorough," Eli drawled sarcastically, lending voice to Thrawn's thoughts, though Thrawn never would have commented aloud. His fellow Captain then inclined his head to indicate Thrawn should follow Vah'nya in. A wise defensive position, with Thrawn carrying Un'hee and not able to assist much in combat.

He obeyed the silent command. Eli shut them in the small room. Thrawn could hear his footsteps from the other side of the door, but turned back to Vah'nya. "They will be able to see who accessed the terminal on the bridge," Said Thrawn. “We will not have much time.”

"That is fine," Said Vah'nya, voice hard. “Only the first half of this plan was intended to be a stealth mission.” She pulled her comm from her belt once certain the room was secure. It was silent, but blinked to indicate the receipt of an incoming transmission.

Vah'nya investigated the terminal datascreens while her fingers flew across the console, searching for information. "I'm in," She said after a moment. "Standing by."

The channel remained silent for four seconds, before ambient sound came over the comms. The antechamber leading into the cellblock opened and closed swiftly. The subsequent blaster fire was crisp and loud, the end of the bolts giving the indication that the cartridge was nearly empty. In his grip, Thrawn felt Un’hee stir, her shoulders curling in before she relaxed again, head still limp against his collarbone.

“Open cells twenty-two and twenty-four,” Vanto ordered tersely.

Vah’nya entered the command into the terminal. “Do you need backup?” She asked.

“Negative,” He said, voice softer. “I have five crew members.”

“Injuries?”

“Nothing life threatening,” He confirmed.

“Only five?” Vah’nya’s voice rose sharply as she queued up the cell feed. She flinched away from them almost immediately. Looking over her shoulder, Thrawn saw what she had and could hardly blame the young woman for looking away, regardless of her military indoctrination. It was a gruesome sight. Typical, but wasteful. Unforgivable.

Eli’s voice was tight. “Yeah,” He said. “Coming back to you now.”

“And Senior Captain Khresh?”

“They took him and the remaining Navigator to the bridge,” Came a quaking male voice in the vicinity of the comms device. It was not Vanto.

The edge to Vah’nya’s voice could not be missed. Even though she could hear the sound of the antechamber doors being activated without the use of her comm, she thumbed the device anyway. “Navigator… singular?”

“The other three have been terminated,” Eli confirmed, opening the door to reveal the small party of rescued prisoners. He was thumbing at a pockmark from a blaster bolt that had hit his chest armor, looking displeased. His left arm had taken a glancing blow, but he paid it little mind, so Vah’nya figured it likely singed his tunic more than it had damaged him. “Navigator Ve’hikri was the first, as Thrawn confirmed. The other two,” He trailed off, listening to another voice behind him that was too quiet for Thrawn to hear from a distance. “Were also murdered to prove a point, supposedly. I suspect they were systematically executing whomever they had left.”

“Who remains?”

“Ke’hala,” Eli said gravely. “They need a Navigator to steer the ship if they plan to take it. The younger the better.” Ke’hala was barely seven years old. Thrawn considered the child in his arms, who had been taken even younger. It was predatory. It was unacceptable.

“Why waste the resources?” Asked one of the rescued crewmen. “Why would our own be so heartless as to slaughter their own?”

Eli did not smile as he deferred to Va’hnya. The Navigator’s back remained straight, and her eyes were vivid in an ethereal way - with barely concealed emotion, so out of place for a Chiss, and even more so for a Navigator. She only met the human’s gaze for the briefest of seconds before she took point.

“We need to rethink what we know about our enemy,” She said, stepping out of the control room and into the hall. “These are not Scratchlings or some ambiguous client race. They are enslaving our warriors. They are morphing their perceptions and turning them against their own.” Vah’nya’s gaze was cold, chilled with fury and determination. “They have forgotten what it means to be a Chiss,” She said. “And it is up to us to remind them.”

While Vah’nya stoked the fires of determination in their recovered allies, Eli pulled back to Thrawn’s position. He did not speak to Thrawn, but he did check on Un’hee, who seemed to respond to his hand on her head, twitching as if in a deep sleep.

“Bridge team, acknowledge,” He said.

The static of the comm was bright for just under a minute then broke, the subsequent sounds violent and muzzy with battle. “Acknowledged,” Ezra’s voice came. He was out of breath. “A bit busy here.”

“Have you made it to the bridge?”

“We’re working on it,” The Jedi hissed. The sound of blaster fire was loud, and it took Bridger a moment to continue. “We could use some help.”

“We’re coming your way now. Do you have eyes on their Commander or Khresh?”

“They’re on the bridge,” A Chiss voice called from the other side of the comm. The voice was female. “I heard them talking to Senior Captain Khresh, but we can’t get through the blast door. Enemy forces are… significant. We’ve lost two.”

“Stay strong. We’ll be there as soon as we can. Ivant out.”

After he pocketed his comm, he looked up at Thrawn. “Trade you,” He began, offering Thrawn his blaster with one hand, motioning to Un’hee with the other. “We need to take the bridge.” His voice dipped lower. “My gut says Khresh is still alive, probably to keep Navigator Ke'hala compliant. I don't know how long that will last with us mounting an offensive.”

“Your assessment is likely correct,” Thrawn acknowledged. It was the most likely course, assuming that both Khresh and Ke’hala were alive. “However, switching roles is unnecessary. You are capable of leading this offensive. They are anticipating you.”

If Vanto was surprised that Thrawn had seen through his plans, he gave little indication. "Perhaps I could," Eli supposed. He met Thrawn's eyes with all the seriousness of a senior commander. A leader. The intensity of it lit up places deep inside Thrawn that he dared not name. "But it needs to be you."

-/

In battle, the plans drafted before the battle so rarely made it to the end without serious revision, if they were not discarded entirely. Commanders who saw fit rely on an unchangeable script were easily defeated. Commanders who could not adapt often crumbled under the weight of their indecision or doubt. Only those who anticipated and reacted dynamically tended to survive battle, though even then, the odds of survival were never absolute.

The Grysks were intelligent. Their hierarchy, while still unknown for the most part, had roles. The grunts - an amalgamation of low class officers - were likely low in whatever social caste made up their society. They were trained to die with honor, to take their own lives rather than be taken prisoner or probed for information. They held only scraps of information. For while the Grysk coveted other species, asserting their claim and injecting themselves into the hearts and minds of their clients, the practice had to originate from somewhere.

Within.

Their commanders subjugated both client and lesser Grysk alike. Those who were lesser rarely noticed for how deeply they were entrenched. This was a strength - their leadership was absolute when facing an enemy. Commanders had never been reported in pairs.

It was also a devastating weakness.

Vah'nya hadn't been the one to figure it out. Eli had told her, their fingers interlocked between them, her face pressed against his shoulder. He'd mouthed his suspicions in the quietest voice possible, speaking around tremors he couldn't control, his back slick with blood from a round of torture Vah'nya had been forced to watch. It had been the tactic of an interrogation for information she had never known.

Eli had always been brilliant like that, understatedly so. Now, with Captain Mitth'raw'nuruodo on their side, Vah'nya could see how he had learned, the way the more senior captain's lessons had translated into something more, taking into account his strengths and bolstering his weak points. It was intriguing. She saw similarities in his tutelage of her, though he’d done more than copy his former mentor. Eli had made Thrawn’s lessons his own.

Going for subtlety, Vah’nya angled herself toward Ivant and Thrawn. They were conversing softly, and looked like they had been for a few moments now. She didn’t dare interrupt just yet.

"I abandoned my post aboard the Steadfast," Thrawn was saying, some part of a greater conversation Vah'nya had not been privy to. She had been checking over the rescued crew, confirming that none required intervention. They hadn't. “And what I did, after,” The Chiss met his gaze, with a look that Vah’nya considered nearly apologetic. What happened in the hangar, then. “My actions are not those of a commander one should follow.”

Eli shrugged. "I have known you-” He broke off to emphasize, “Who you really are, for a while now," Ivant said. "I know why you did it," He continued, so sure that Vah'nya swore she could feel the truth of it. His lips quirked upward, the stormy irritation beginning to clear in his eyes. “I know you just wanted to prevent anyone else from getting hurt, but you would have hurt us anyway because we care about you. I care. If you think-” The intensity of his own sincerity seemed to give him pause. Eli let the emotion wash over him, then regrouped, shaking his head. “So long as I’m around, you’ll never be alone. I’m tired of chasing after you, so stop leavin’ me behind.”

Thrawn's expression was similarly sincere, but equally as serious. He gave a deep, fluid nod as if making a vow.

Reaching around to cup the back of Thrawn’s neck, Eli deftly retrieved the tracker he’d placed on the other man aboard the Steadfast and held it out on the tip of his finger, showing Thrawn the nearly invisible, tiny beacon.

The other captain frowned at first. When he recognized it, his shoulders eased. “You are serious," He said. He did not gesture between them, but Eli seemed to catch his meaning. After all this. After the secrets, and the betrayal and the way he’d picked up the pieces only to throw it all away again.

"I just said I was tired of chasing after you," Eli said, giving the other man a small smile. “You and I both know we're better as a team.” His confidence was radiant and honest. He was like a sun, drawing Thrawn to revolve around him if only to bask in a piece of that light.

Beyond them, the comms crackled, their rescued crew talked quietly amongst themselves. The moment broke.

“But this isn’t about you and me,” Eli admitted. “Our people need you now. They need you to lead them to victory. To show their misguided brothers and sisters that a warrior of the Chiss Ascendancy is capable of.”

"And you?"

Earnestly, Eli asserted, "I'll have your back, every step of the way."

Thrawn smiled then. Not with the gleaming machinations of a master tactician, not the seriousness of a military commander. This was something different. Something that to the outsider might not have seemed much like a smile at all, but for the tiniest uptick of lips.

And yet.

Vah'nya felt the shift in Thrawn, like a tangle inside him shook loose, the conflict fading away. He straightened, and it was unlike anything she'd seen in him before. Like the weight he'd carried, the shadowy edge of grief and self incrimination, maybe even doubt dissipated.

He was not looking backwards any longer, Vah'nya realized. He'd come to terms with what he had done and who he had been, and these were his first steps coming out on the other side.

There was no hesitation as Thrawn placed Un'hee in Ivant's arms. She watched their hands catch on each other, the quick tangle and tender squeeze of fingers before Thrawn stepped back. The other Chiss’s gaze swept to her, likely displeased that she had been eavesdropping on their conversation. Ivant's eyes were bright though, and she had no doubt that Thrawn, though far more stoic, felt the same.

They had hope. She could feel its currents like a brisk wind, new and electric and bright.

Vah'nya had often wondered how it would be to have both of them teaching her sisters, helping them in tandem to find themselves and their way forward amidst the many perils of the galaxy. To have Thrawn sharpen their minds and Ivant illuminate the connection between their minds and their hearts. Here and now, she knew the seeds of that goal- Ivant's master plan - had been planted.

It would not make what they had to do any easier, but the way forward was clear.

Thrawn waded through the room and out into the corridor, taking stock of their meager troops. Vah’nya followed but Ivant remained back, probably to assert that Thrawn was in control. It didn’t last more than a minute, though. Thrawn’s piercing eyes only had to narrow upon him for Ivant to realize Thrawn wished him to be at his side, regardless of what their troops took the statement to mean.

Vah'nya inclined her head to Thrawn as Ivant approached. Ivant dipped his chin in silent approval. He wasn't the only one who had learned, she thought, but held her tongue. Instead, she asked, "Your orders, Captain Thrawn?"

-/

Eli had only been allowed to stay back for as long as it took Thrawn assess their additions. The pointed gaze he’d been given made him pause. Thrawn had really taken it to heart, what he’d said. He didn’t have time to think about how good that felt, not with Un’hee shifting in his grip as she wrestled her way back to consciousness. It hadn’t taken long for her to begin to resurface, though Eli suspected it wasn’t because she wanted to be alert. She was simply reacting to the situation’s demands.

She would need to be monitored closely after this. Though, she did settle when Eli stood shoulder-to shoulder with Thrawn. Eli couldn’t help but be excited to see what Thrawn would do.

“I require information,” Thrawn said, addressing the rescued crew members. “Who executed these people?”

“It was a Grysk,” one of the males said. None of these crew members were anyone Eli knew, but Vah’nya had not tipped him off that they were untrustworthy. Her sense for that sort of thing had been growing. She’d learned from their previous mistakes not to take any chances when it came to what her instincts told her. “They had Chiss with them, but they did not fire.”

“Did they display any signs of disobedience?”

The crew member, a lieutenant by the look of him, shrugged. “Not especially. They just seemed… flat. Soulless.”

Thrawn considered for only a fraction of a second. "I do not desire any loss of life, especially that of a Chiss. However, those Chiss wearing coveralls are our brethren no longer. I would prefer that you stun rather than use lethal force, but do not hesitate to do what must be done."

“And the Grysks?”

Vah’nya fixed Thrawn with a look, a regal confident expression from out of the corner of her eyes, and as if magnetized, he met almost immediately. “Leave any Grysks to me,” She said, handing one of the crew members her weapon. That contradiction - disarming herself willingly, while claiming she’d be capable of handling the enemy - gave Thrawn pause. The Senior Navigator continued, “I can see them in ways you cannot. Please allow me to guide you.”

Thrawn didn’t like the idea, though. It wasn’t that the entire thing was unorthodox, Thrawn never quite cared for tradition. He turned to Eli for his consideration, and was given a confident nod. “Navigator Vah’nya is more than capable of bringing them down. She and Navigator Un’hee have been capable of killing Grysks while seemingly unarmed.” Ivant regarded him, asking for trust that had long since been earned.

He’d put it together, Eli knew. Thrawn’s gaze left him and settled on a still-incoherent Un’hee. “Our captors,” Thrawn suspected.

“I will show you. There are not many more between us and our destination, but we will not make it to the bridge without at least one altercation,” Vah’nya said. Then, she addressed the group with conviction. “Allow me to show you what a Navigator is meant to be.”

[missingmxstic]

Being a dog is very unusual and scary Andi think I need a hug and ear scratchles

[suevincent]

Quick Pint at the Pig and Ferret Pub ~ Usual Muttwits

Quick Pint at the Pig and Ferret Pub ~ Usual Muttwits

“Checkers? Who’s askin’ then?

Useless mutt. Was normal when ‘e ‘ad four pins, lyk, but now..? There’s a reason I never bring him down the P and F. Three legs! Enough to put yuz off your pint and scratchlings, init!

But ‘is talents lie elsewhere, know wot I mean? Wot helps with the lawful apprehensions of street mutts, trainings of sheep dogs, and security of me valuables – erh guests wotz living…

[oemzee]

Scratchlings vol3.1 #lineartdrawing

[oemzee]

Scratchlings vol3. #lineartdrawing

Daily drawing content

[thedistantstorm]

Project Compass 20

Read along on AO3 Here

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

This time: Un’hee recognizes something from her past.

Next time: Admiral Ar'alani watches. Ezra worries. Vah'nya recalls a memory.

-/ 

[Note: this one contains some moderately graphic violence, including descriptions of asphyxiation.]

-/

There was a distinct fuzziness, a sort of rounded softness to Un’hee’s vision as she reported for her watch shift on the bridge. She doubted there would be anything of note, for the last week, since Eli had tested all the Navigators at once, they’d been drifting at quarter speed, patrolling the interior edge of their current sector, making wide, elegant arches around any planetoids or moons. Nothing was amiss. By all indicators, it should be a relatively boring shift.

And yet… Un’hee couldn’t help the uncomfortable foreboding feeling that unfurled in her belly. It felt like she was walking through a dream, a lucid dream, waiting for the moment when she would wake up.

She stood at Eli’s elbow for as long as he’d let her. There was a level of business that almost didn’t make sense. Her fingers curled over his arm when he stood, intent to escort her to the Navigator’s console. To her left, in the crew pit, Ezra looked up at her and smiled. She braved a smile of her own, but it was forced. She looked up, and Eli was looking down.

They didn’t speak. She squeezed gently, and if her hand trembled a little, he didn’t comment on it. She sat at her seat and closed her eyes, intent to pretend she had a headache. Really, she just wanted to listen. Something wasn’t right. The last few weeks, she’d felt the general unease, the tension. She knew Vah’nya had felt it too, but not like Un’hee had been. Vah’nya was dreaming of things to come. Things, the older Navigator said, that weren’t close. Not yet.

Un’hee felt that feeling she’d felt back on Copero. Like they were balanced on a knife’s edge, like it was made of ice. Something was about to slip, they were going to fall. Like there was a divide. She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, her vision going red like their glow, the infrared of her hands a soothing wash for the pressure in her mind.

A warm hand pressed against her back and she straightened. She shook her head, already anticipating the Captain’s question. “I am fine,” She insisted.

Ivant looked down at her, concern swirling in his gaze. He waited, hoping she’d come clean, but someone on the right side of the crewpit called to him over a passive sensor reading and he patted her once on the arm before turning away.

The shift was long because it was painfully boring. Like the rest of the days and weeks since Lieutenant Esmadi’s outburst, the Captain did not leave the bridge for the entirety of the shift, though he did spend a great deal of time in his command chair, reviewing reports on his datapad.

Only once did Ezra get up and approach her, and even then, it was brief, to check if she was okay on his way to speak to the Captain, to update him of their status. When he was behind her, she cast a glance at Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo. He sat in the seat beside the one Ezra had vacated, but his attention was honed in on the monitor they shared.

Like all of his gazes had been recently, they were focused, intense. When the first officer leaned over Thrawn, pointing at, then likely discussing whatever it was Ezra was currently reporting to Ivant, the Chiss didn’t look up at his fellow Commander. Un’hee caught the subtlest hint of his withdrawn, subdued emotions before they were wrestled back down, and the smooth veneer of stoic calm resurfaced.

She knew he was hiding his emotions. She knew he was good at it, too. He was a frightening man, Mitth’raw’nuruodo. But he was protective, and he cared, and at his heart, despite the things he’d done before, Un’hee knew he was good. She also knew he didn’t like it when someone stared at him, so when his red, calculative gaze swung her way, she went back to looking out the viewport at the subtly shifting stars.

Commander Slasha came over to her not long after, one hand tucked in the other behind his back. “Navigator Un’hee,” He said politely. He almost looked a little warm, though he didn't quite glow in the infrared. “Enjoying the view?”

She hummed, not particularly in the mood for conversation. “It is not a bad one,” She supposed, “Though I do not particularly enjoy being out this far.”

“That is fair,” Commander Slasha agreed. “It would be nice to patrol closer to Csilla, or even back toward Sarvchi,” He said neutrally. “The Path of the Houses is a much better view.”

Un’hee considered, sucking her lower lip between her teeth. She didn’t like it when someone stood behind and over her. It was a reminder of the Grysks and their Scratchlings. “Yes, I suppose,” She said, leaning forward. “Less Grysk sightings, too,” She added, in an attempt to be sociable.

Commander Slasha nodded, a wry laugh wrung from his lips. “I’d better check on our weapons officers,” He said softly. “Without anything to do and nothing on their targeting monitors, I wouldn’t be surprised to find them nodding off.”

Nodding off? Un’hee frowned as he left her station. None of their people would ever do something so disgraceful. Even the youngest of Navigators rarely slept on duty, and it was usually related to situations beyond their control - illness, growth spurts, over-stimulation, things like that. But even then, such a thing was rare. It was why there were typically the same number of both younger and older Navigators aboard a ship.

She sighed. Without anyone standing over her shoulder the detached, far-away feeling she had been feeling most of the day returned with a vengeance. She curled in on herself, taking a deep breath. Something told her she needed to focus. That undercurrent of static in her mind sharp and loud, creating contrast. Something was going to happen. Something was-

Wrong.

Un'hee's head shot up. She looked left, then right, as if something had just made a loud sound. When there was nothing, only the ambient voices of the bridge, the faint beeping of the passive sensors, nothing to signal the beginnings of chaos, she pressed both hands to her chest, over her thumping heart. Exhaled.

Maybe she was a little paranoid, she thought to herself, trying to catch her breath.

Then came the slam.

It came from the left. It was not terribly loud, but to Un'hee, it was deafening. She turned in her seat, looking over. Commander Mitth'raw'nuruodo's hand was braced on the console, and Ezra was looking over at him with concern. He looked… his face had a sheen to it. Like he was unwell. His chest heaved once and then stopped. His hands came up, clumsy and sluggish, like he didn't have proper control of his extremities.

Then, his back arched sharply as he began to convulse and Ezra screamed.

Un'hee didn't think. She didn't look back at Eli to see his unabashed horror and panic. She moved. She ducked under the arms of the three closest officers and found herself at Thrawn's side. Her eyes felt like they were going to bulge out of her skull when she knelt down opposite Ezra.

Over their heads, she heard Ivant yelling for medical, demanding order and a status on Thrawn. Whatever Ezra said was lost to her, because she was unable to look away from him. Thrawn’s eyes were half open slits of fading luminous red, and his lips were moving but she had no idea what he was saying.

Thrawn's eyes found Un'hee, and the young Chiss watched his hands spasm on his chest while he struggled for breath. His chest wasn't rising. He wasn't breathing, Un'hee realized. It was his lungs. It was-

"Poison," Commander Slasha said gravely, appearing over them. He reached down for Ezra and pulled him to his feet, only for the Jedi to jerk away from him defensively.

Un'hee gasped, grasping at Mitth’raw’nuruodo's tunic and wrenching open the sealing strips. She might be young, but she was more experienced than most of the crew when it came to this. She knew what this was. Knew it before she yanked up Thrawn's black undershirt just under his armpits. Her eyes flew up and around, immediately defensive.

"Everyone get away from him!" She hollered, shrill and defensive. She knew what this was, she thought again, the thought repeating itself on an endless loop of static as she shouted, "Get away from him right now!"

Nobody listened. She closed her eyes, willed back her tears, and met Ezra's gaze. He and Commander Ivant were the only two people who were trustworthy. Only them.

"Step. Back," The Jedi said, his intrinsic powers snapping through the last word. He brought his power to bear when he wasn't listened to, those around Thrawn being pushed back as though walls had been erected around him and Un'hee.

In the resounding, terrifying silence, only the sound of Thrawn's choking was heard. Only the choking, but then, before it happened, Un’hee heard it: a tiny, singular clink.

The Navigator threw herself over Thrawn before chaos erupted on the bridge, instincts driving her to keep him still, to prevent whatever instinctual reaction he’d have as best she could despite her size. One single blast rang out, but Un’hee had her face turned to look up at Thrawn’s, felt him jerk beneath her, only half-aware. He sputtered, heaving for breath his body couldn’t process, and she saw red and orange blood clots leak from his mouth, felt the burn of black lesions appearing beneath her hands upon his chest. His eyes were no longer open, but one of his hands sliped down the side of her arm as he tried and failed to touch her shoulder before falling back to his side. Was it his way of trying to console her? Was he accepting his situation’s futility? Surely not. She felt her eyes sting.

"What is this?" Ezra asked sharply. His hands remained extended in a warning preventing anyone from approaching them. "What's happening to him?"

Un'hee looked up at him, her eyes dark. "It is a poison that creates something called ch'asebi tochi," She said. "It's metabolized through our skin."

Ezra stood straight, turning to face Captain Ivant. He did not waste his time or attention on the crowd of officers, some of whom were restraining others, the tension teaching a fever pitch. The Captain didn't levy his gun at anyone else, but it stayed out, muzzle smoking in his hand. It had not been set to stun, and the body on the ground proved it. "Do we have an antidote for this? We have to."

Un'hee lifted her hands, seeing the rapidly spreading, ugly blackish-orange mottling from the poison, feeling the tingle of acid created by the poison's reaction to Chiss physiology against her own skin. She'd seen this a long time ago, in fragmented, terrifying memories she’d desperately willed not to exist. It was slow and painful, turning one’s resilience and determination to keep breathing into lengthy, incomprehensible torture. She'd seen it used on Chiss before. She’d seen what it did to them, in the end. Un’hee could pretend all she wanted, but she would never forget it.

Ivant stepped off of the command walkway and dropped down to the crewpit between consoles. He didn’t answer Ezra’s question. "The Grysks call it-" He said something in a skittering, vile sort of tone that barely sounded like language at all. Ezra figured it must have been Meese Caulf, but he couldn’t be sure. At the mention of the Grysks, though, the restless murmurs of the bridge crew went unnaturally silent.

"Blue Death," Un'hee murmured in Cheunh, shuddering as Ivant bent down and plucked something up from the ground. He held it between two fingers, not hazarding a look at the dead commander on the ground beside it. The vial was cracked but not compromised, which was something to be grateful for as it wasn't quite empty.

Ezra dropped to his knees and pushed her hands away, only for Ivant to grab him bodily and hoist him up. “You can’t do compressions,” Ivant said gravely. “You’ll only hurt him more.”

The Jedi clawed at the arm barred around him. “We can’t just do nothing!” He shouted.

“We have to get him to medbay,” Ivant said. “Med-team’s on their way,” He assured Ezra, and they appeared only seconds later.

Reluctantly, she Un’hee stepped back when they’d asked her to, the medics wasting no time to try and intervene. But Un’hee knew better. Eli hadn’t told Ezra of an antidote because there wasn’t one. This poison was newer. It was rumored, its effects were seen, but it had never been taken whole for analysis from their enemies. Even if that vial had enough poison left in it to be analyzed, it was doubtful that they had the capabilities to develop such an antidote here.

Which left her - and to a lesser extent, through Second Sight, Vah’nya - as the only person who had truly seen this, who had experienced this in the flesh and not just in whatever briefings. This was her responsibility. She had to do something! She owed it to Thrawn, the seemingly frightening man who had been one half responsible for her rescue from the Grysks. She had to be stronger! Surely she could do something about this?! She screwed her eyes shut, willing herself to think. She wasn't here, wasn't involved in Project Compass because she was just any Navigator. Eli and Vah'nya and Admiral Ar'alani believed in her. Believed she was capable of more than Third Sight. So, perhaps she could do this. Perhaps she could become stronger. Maybe she just had to believe in herself. Forget the odds. She was a Chiss Navigator. But more than that, she was a warrior. She wasn’t going to let this happen. With that resolve, she lifted her head.

She would protect Mitth'raw'nuruodo.

-/

Admiral Ar’alani swept into the Steadfast’s medbay as though it were a warzone. A blaster was heavy on her hip, seemingly out of place, and yet completely appropriate. Her piercing eyes flickered to the display. She exhaled and inclined her head to the nearest medic who had stiffened briefly to attention when he’d seen her approach.

“He is dying,” She said to the medic.

The medic grimaced, but agreed all the same. “That kind of damage isn’t something we can fix. We’ve lessened his pain. I’m sorry, Admiral.”

She nodded, not interested in his apology for something that was hardly his fault in the first place. “How long?”

Taking another look at the flagging vital signs on the monitor, the medic frowned. “We’re not sure how he’s lasted this long,” He said. “Soon. Before the shift is over. ”

“Three hours?”

A voice from the hallway leading into the medbay drew both of their attention. “It would have been quicker, but he didn’t get a chance to administer all of it,” Ivant said. His eyes were hard. Ar’alani watched him carefully. His fingers were clenched into fists, likely to prevent anyone from seeing his fingers shaking. He was rattled, and that kept his voice low. “In full doses, Navigator Un’hee says it’s far less painful, extremely fast acting, and very deadly.”

At Ivant’s side stood a very tense Un’hee. Ar’alani followed the girl’s gaze. She did not bother with the monitors or even the medics, her brilliant eyes locking on to Thrawn’s mask covered face. There were machines breathing for him, artificially simulating what the acid-ruined remains of his own could not. If the medical devices bothered her, she did not show it. Ar’alani was impressed. The girl had always had issues with medical evaluations and the pristine whiteness of the medbay thanks to her time in captivity. Normally, she needed one of them to sit with her, to act as a lifeline to combat her understandable, lingering fears.

This time, she stepped forward as if compelled: focused gaze, lips set in a thin line, shoulders square.

Dark eyes watched her. Ar’alani tilted her head, regarding Ivant and his wordless request. “You wish for me to clear the medbay,” She said. “Do you not?”

“It would be advisable,” Ivant said. “Navigator Un’hee would like a few moments.”

“I had thought you would bring Vah’nya,” Ar’alani pushed back. “We do not have much time.”

“I’m aware,” The Captain answered as she gave the order to clear the otherwise unoccupied medbay. When the doors closed behind the staff, Ivant exhaled and his shoulders fell.

“Navigator Vah’nya would be-”

“No,” Un’hee said firmly, triggering the transparisteel door to Thrawn’s bunk with a quiet whoosh. “I will do it,” She told them both.

Ar’alani gave Eli a stern look. It was clear they hadn’t talked about this. “Are you saying-”

He nodded. “If Navigator Un’hee says she can do it, I believe her.”

“And if she cannot?”

“That is not an option,” The girl said, seeing herself inside.

Ivant walked to the control console on the far side of the exterior room and dimmed the lights, then disconnected every one of the holocams through the administrative controls. The admiral waited for him in the doorway to the smaller, individual bay that Thrawn had been moved to from the far smaller medical facilities aboard the Compass.

“What can I do to help?” Ar’alani finally asked, watching Un’hee pull down the sheet that covered the dying man’s torso. Clearly they were going to do this whether they had her approval or not. Thrawn had been medicated for the unique, overwhelming pain, rendered unconscious and essentially comatose. Only the click-hiss sound of the ventilator that acted as an external set of lungs gave any indication that he was still alive once Ivant reached over him to toggle off the bio readings. And even then, it was still tentative. “Your hands are shaking, Eli’van’to,” Ar’alani said. “Get a hold of yourself.”

Ivant clenched them. “Get the bandages off his torso,” He instructed, willing his voice even.

“As you say,” She inclined her head, peeling back the bandages for Un’hee. It was uglier than she’d been told initially, the weeping wounds a combination of purple-black-orange, slowly eating through flesh and bone until it reached the surface in small but expanding amounts. “So this is what their Blue Death looks like.”

“Yes. It’s absorbed through the skin, and is designed to-”

“I understand the science behind it, Captain,” Ar’alani snapped. She’d never seen it at work, but she’d heard of the secret compound developed by the Grysks and their clients that was exceedingly toxic to Chiss and other species. It literally used the hormones responsible for their colorations and used them against them. In this case, this particular compound worked most efficiently against beings with blue skin. “I have never seen it on someone who was still alive.”

“Well, I think there’s a reason why he’s still alive.”

“You said he was not given the full dosage,” Ar’alani reminded him.

Eli’s eyebrows rose. “Yes,” he agreed, “But we also had company,” He said, then gestured to Un’hee.

“You believe she has slowed the progression already?”

“Yes,” He agreed, motioning for her to sit in one of the chairs in the corner. “I’ll do the rest.” By the rest, Ivant meant that he’d pull the ventilator mask off Thrawn’s face, the device that was allowing him to breathe as well as providing sedation. He needed to be unobstructed. Ar’alani looked away politely, pretending not to notice that the action took a second too long.

Un’hee gasped, head jerking upward when Thrawn’s chest seized without further breath. Hesitantly, she asked, “Will it hurt? I do not wish to hurt Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo.” She would though, and she knew it. If that was what it would take...

“No,” Ivant assured her, “It doesn’t hurt.” He watched her, eyes warm and concerned, but not forceful. “Do you still believe-”

“Yes, Captain Eli,” She said softly, this time looking into Thrawn’s face. His expression was smooth. The medications he’d been given to sedate him would linger, giving her time to work. “I can do it.” Determined, she clenched her fists. “I will.”

“That’s my girl,” Eli sounded proud, almost relieved, as if Un’hee’s confidence made all the difference. He inclined his head to her after a short glance at Admiral Ar’alani. “May warrior’s fortune be in your favor, Navigator.”

[thedistantstorm]

Project Compass 05

Read Along on AO3 Here

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This time: Un’hee confirms sinister forces at work, both past and present. Thrawn is delivered harrowing news. Ezra observes and contemplates his course of action.

Next time: Ezra encounters the Grysks. Thrawn has a confrontation. Vah’nya does something that could jeopardize everything.

-/

Six months. It had taken almost all of that time for Ezra not to feel entirely out of his depth amongst the Chiss. It was only recently that he felt comfortable enough to wander around alone and actually make conversation with the rest of the crew in their native language. Suffice to say he wasn't great at speaking Cheunh, but he could get by - and didn't mind the pronunciation corrections and tips as much as he let Thrawn believe.

He also suspected he was in the best shape of his life. In addition to his need to learn language, the team that assessed him felt him lacking in hand to hand combat. They didn't care about his abilities with a lightsaber - it wasn't as if they were anywhere close to kyber in the Unknown Regions - so that was another deficiency Thrawn set out to correct in their free time.

It was… strangely good to have Thrawn as a teacher. Thrawn, who, despite what Ivant had suggested, wanted Ezra to call him by his core name, who never demanded formality behind closed doors or during lessons was a good teacher. Ezra might even, with only a small amount of begrudging and a tiny bit of hand waving over their shared past, call him a friend.

Okay, so maybe he just considered Thrawn a friend, the rest of it be damned. Time, getting to know Thrawn, seeing him at work painted a different picture than what he'd seen with the Rebellion. And he wasn't fifteen anymore, it wasn't as simple as good versus bad. Thrawn had done bad things. But the Force stopped whispering caution and started murmuring trust a while ago, in conjunction with Ezra's shifting perception.

And, because he considered Thrawn a friend, Ezra had a lot to think about. Aside from their tasks: menial, semi-useful but mostly time-consuming, and Ezra's training and education, they didn't really do much. The ship they were on trained Navigators. It was an extensive nine month program, by Thrawn's estimation, an orientation and adjustment period, followed by theory and education, followed by practice in what was deemed a relatively safe space. Literally. Several times they had docked either on Chiss planets or tethered to larger ships and a Navigator had gone on their way to their new post.

This wasn't why Thrawn had further risked Ezra's ire to slowly slowly earn his trust. And it was, as he felt like he said almost every day, a waste for Thrawn to be forced to spend all his time and attention on him, to be forced to complete tasks more appropriate for people half Thrawn’s age (or whatever he assumed Thrawn’s age was, he hadn’t really seen any old-looking Chiss).

Something was happening here. Something that wasn't being talked about, that perhaps not even the majority of the crew knew of. Thrawn didn’t say anything to Ezra about it, but he was obsessed. Rarely did he leave the door to his quarters open - only if Ezra was working on something and would call for help with a translation - but Ezra’s understanding of the Chiss script was better than his sloppy spoken linguistics. Thrawn was looking into the Navigators and news surrounding them, and similar ships to this one. There weren’t any.

At first, Ezra suspected Thrawn's search for knowledge stemmed from his previous role, the amount of control he exuded over a situation. But as time went on, he realized that wasn’t entirely the case. Thrawn, someone Ezra viewed as the eye of a storm, a moment of calm despite chaos all around, was at odds with himself. He could feel the Chiss’s imbalance in the Force. But it didn’t make any sense. He hadn’t felt it before they arrived here, and no matter how much Ezra pressed him about his prior rank in comparison to his reprised one and all of its far less glamorous tasks, Thrawn never betrayed any hint of his emotions to Ezra after that first time. Not once.

So maybe, Ezra was starting to think, it wasn’t rank. In fact, for a short while, he almost forgot about it entirely, because Thrawn was acting more or less normal. Still very focused on the truth of whatever was happening aboard the Compass, but normal for Thrawn. Then, they had been put on alert, forced to travel far and away due to Grysk activity in their sector that had claimed two Chiss ships, seen three Navigators taken captive and the vast majority of the crews of both vessels slaughtered...

Un’hee had come to their quarters late. So late that both Ezra and Thrawn had been in their respective quarters, Ezra asleep and Thrawn brooding (or whatever he did since Chiss didn’t seem to sleep like humans did). She’d slammed her palm so hard into the control panel it rocked the wall of the suite, alerting Thrawn, but Ezra had been able to sense her fear in his dreams, and had fallen out of bed over it.

It had taken them a long time to get her to do more than cling to Ezra, burying her face into his chest while she sobbed. In the end, Thrawn had sat across from Ezra on the low table, using the most docile command-tone Ezra had ever heard from him (it wasn’t kind, but it wasn’t laced with the malevolent undercurrent that some of his more gauche statements had been). Slowly, his simple questions that were answered with head shakes or nods fell away and she spoke of her own free will.

“Eli and Vah’nya are busy,” She said to them softly, tilting her head away from Ezra’s chest, although her eyes remained closed. She seemed to be counting through her breaths, Ezra realized in hindsight. It was something he’d seen before, after Kallus had joined their group. Zeb would sit next to them sometimes, and the two of them would sit shoulder to shoulder while Zeb counted inhales and exhales, speaking softly and un-Zeb-like until Kallus’s Coruscanti accent fell into place again.

“Busy with what?” Thrawn asked. Normally, he’d mention the lack of formalities, but this was not the time, and they both seemed to know it.

“They took Navigators,” Un’hee cried. It took her another moment to compose herself. “They said it was a slaughter.”

“The Grysks?”

“Yes,” The Chiss girl confirmed. Ezra had a hard time reconciling these Navigators as the children they were at times, but this was not one of them. “T-they’re consulting with the Admiral, and I couldn’t-”

“It’s alright, Un’hee,” Ezra had said. “You can stay with us.”

“It’s not alright,” The little Navigator said, crying harder. “I know how they think,” She said between gulping breaths, “They’ll put themselves in danger again. They’ve already been captured once,” She cried.

“They?” Thrawn reared back, watching Un’hee very carefully, trying to gain context without interrogating her. “Who was captured? The Navigators?”

Un’hee shook her head. “Vah’nya wasn’t supposed to go, but her Sight told her she needed to go with him, so she did. The Admiral was furious, and then-” She looked up at Thrawn. “It was a ch'accuscehn ch'erei,” She said.

Ezra didn’t understand, but looked to Thrawn instead of asking.

“A suicide mission,” Thrawn translated slowly, the words rolling dangerously off his lips in basic. “Vah’nya and who?”

“Eli,” Un’hee held Thrawn’s inquisitive gaze. “He wanted to protect all of us,” She murmured, small blue hands scrubbing at her eyes. Their red glow illuminated the damp tracks of her tears. “I don’t want him to do it again. He was gone for so long,” She whispered. And then she reached for Thrawn.

Ezra had been careful not to cage the girl in with an embrace, but Thrawn drew her against him as though it was second nature, and Un’hee seemed far more comfortable in his arms than she ever had been in Ezra’s.

“Captain Ivant-” Un’hee flinched. “Eli,” Thrawn revised slowly, the word sounding awkward on his lips, as though he’d spoken without permission. “He is not going to fight the Grysks today. Our orders were to set course for a sector closer to Wild Space. We will not engage with them, Nav-” He caught himself, “Un’hee.”

“They’ll come after us.”

“They are our enemy,” Thrawn had said, but he was frowning with just his eyes, locking onto Ezra. The young Jedi looked concerned, but stayed silent while Thrawn rose with the child in his arms. She was still short, likely anticipating a major growth spurt, or perhaps it was simply that Thrawn was that tall. “If not the Grysks, the Vagaari,” He said softly. “We must strive to protect that which we care about. It is why we serve, is it not?”

There was a moment of silence between them. “I don’t want Eli to die," She leaned back in Thrawn's grip and looked up at him. "Last time,” Un’hee trailed off. Thrawn tightened his grip on her. If Ezra hadn’t taken stock of his ramrod straight posture, he would have assumed he was comfortable with cradling the child to him as he paced the length of their shared space. “I didn’t want to see, but I had to,” She said. “Vah’nya wouldn’t have survived if he hadn’t-”She shook her head.

“You do not have to tell us,” Thrawn soothed. “Not if it troubles you.”

“You want to know,” She said. “And this is what I can tell you.”

Ezra’s lips pursed, his brow furrowing as he focused on the child. The Force hung around all of the Navigators, not Light, not Dark, not like it did a human. It was present and alive and neutral, almost like the Bendu had been, but different still. Right now, around Un’hee, it was a maelstrom of emotions: fear, guilt, and sadness. Behind it, small and growing, a feeling of safety. Comfort. But it wasn’t just Un’hee. He felt Thrawn, too. Thrawn’s worry was strong in the Force. Palpable. And with each word from Un’hee - how the Captain, then a Lieutenant Commander, had managed to kill and escape what the Navigator called Scratchlings, saving Navigator Vah’nya in the process, how he’d been promoted on his deathbed by Admiral Ar’alani, unsure if the long-term injuries would be something even a Chiss could survive - that worry went deep and grew stronger until it churned with fear and longinging, a lonely pain that Ezra felt in his core.

When the Navigator had inevitably cried herself out, falling asleep on Thrawn's shoulder, Ezra made a quiet joke about how Thrawn was going to pace a track into the duracrete tiling. Thrawn hadn't responded, and Ezra finally took it upon himself to stand in Thrawn's way, easing the exhausted girl out of his arms and settling her on the couch.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Ezra asked him as he stepped into his small room to pluck the blanket from his bed, throwing it over the child. He knew the answer would be a negative, but he left the option open.

Thrawn lingered in the doorway of his room, stiff-spined and wound. Ezra leaned against the wall that led to the tiny front corridor of the suite, where his quarters were. They stayed that way for a long, long time.

"Eli Vanto was present when I was found by the Empire," Thrawn said evenly. To Ezra, it had felt like being briefed on a mission. "I persuaded the Emperor to give him to me as a translator. We worked together for more than a decade, in service to the Empire."

"You were friends," Ezra said, connecting the dots.

"I-" Thrawn looked to Ezra in that moment, and it struck him that a man like Thrawn did not have many friends. He had allies. Enemies. A brother, apparently, though who knew where they stood with each other. "I had hoped so."

… And that was that. Thrawn had never given Ezra more than those few words. Not that he had to. Ezra was careful not to bring it up again. But he watched, now. He saw how Thrawn was not eager to please, but willing to pull his weight. He wanted to earn the Captain’s trust, but that seemed impossible. Ivant was never in the same room as Thrawn for longer than five minutes, it seemed, and if it was that long, it was because he was speaking with someone.

Their longest conversation had been during a report in which they’d been sent down planetside to a world that spoke more Sy Bisti than Cheunh, about a month after Un’hee’s stay in their quarters. It had been a standard debrief, nothing much had happened, but Captain Ivant had spoken with Thrawn as though they’d always had this relationship. Ivant’s Sy Bisti was more impressive than his Cheunh. His drawl fit in perfectly with the language, sounding polite and yet inviting.

Afterward, Ezra pretended not to hear the slam of a datapad across the desk inside Thrawn’s quarter’s and left him to his own devices.

But it had him wondering. And that was why he’d decided to do some recon of his own. Not on what the Chiss were up to. He had a feeling that would reveal itself in due time. There was a reason he was in this place. He’d felt that in his meditations for a while now.

Un'hee slipped into the mess with a big yawn. Her braids were definitely slept in, and she tucked a stray blue-black lock behind her ear with one hand while she waved at Ezra with the other.

Hardly anyone was here at this hour, the Chiss tended to stay up late and sleep until later in the morning, rather than sleep and rise early. It worked out in his favor. He was usually awake before Thrawn, who readapted to Ascendency life rather gracefully. It had been quite a surprise to the Chiss at first to find Ezra an early-riser, but some things about Rebel culture were ingrained. Ezra pushed down some of his homesickness and looked into his caf - black, the way he'd gotten used to drinking it after Kanan was injured to save their remaining sugar for his tea - then pushed it back altogether and he saw Un'hee approach him from the corner of his vision. She reached for his mug and refilled it with the warming kettle she must have gotten from the mess staff.

It was nearly empty, but Un'hee dashed to return it. The interaction with others was enough to wake the young Chiss up. "You're here early," she said as a greeting. "Is everything well?"

"Everything's fine, Un'hee."

"It does not seem like it," She said, frowning over a warm cereal that Ezra tried once and hated. Apparently the bread was the most modest of food offerings amongst the Chiss, but Ezra had always believed himself to be a rather simple guy. Stranger still was that he shared a common taste in Chiss cuisine with his suite-mate (except for that dreaded half the crew drank).

“Humans are used to getting up early and sleeping when the sun is down - so at the end of a standard rotation,” He explained in Cheunh. It was slower than speaking in basic, but Ezra was trying to do as Thrawn instructed and speak only in Cheunh during the day. It was getting easier. He still dreamed in basic for the most part, but that was likely to continue regardless of how many languages he learned. “I think the standard day here is a little longer.”

“Yes,” Un’hee agreed. She set down her spoon rather than point it at him. The young girl had a tendency to talk with her hands when she was excited or off-duty, and this was at least the latter, though he was sure she’d be more excited if she hadn’t just rolled out of bed.

“Why are you up so early?”

“Oh,” Un’hee shrugged. “No reason.”

“You don’t have anything for another five standard hours,” He said, looking at the chrono-projection on the wall. “It’s definitely too early for you.”

Un’hee reclaimed her spoon and pushed some of the cereal around. “I have supplemental lessons,” She said, quietly. “Like your language ones.”

“For what?” Ezra’s face wrinkled with his frown. “You aren’t struggling with any of your studies.” That, Ezra knew, was true. Un’hee, despite only being nine years old, had the maturity and intelligence of a being at least five years older, and a recall that was otherworldly thanks to the strength of her Sight.

She shrugged. “I didn’t ask for them,” She said, sharing a sly smile, and the tiny twinkling of a giggle with him. With an eye-roll more befitting an ornery teenager, she continued, “I just go as ordered.”

Ezra nodded in sympathy. He understood how that went. “Don’t let them work you too hard,” He said between bites of his bread. Today he’d had some kind of butter put on the flat slices. It was a more savory than sweet flavor, and Ezra found that he liked it more than the sweet jam Thrawn always slathered over his own. He pushed away the thought of how strange a sweet-toothed Thrawn was, and tried to keep his focus on Un’hee. Though their abilities in the Force were minimally similar, the Chiss Navigators always managed to tell when his thoughts wandered.

“So,” She said, when most of her cereal was gone, and she had only a glass of some milky green juice left, “Why are you up and in the mess this early? You almost always wait for Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo.”

That was a classified question, but Ezra could hardly give the girl such an answer. He had to come up with something. His goal had been to eat a quick breakfast and see if he could make it to the workout center on the second level that the Captain was rumored to frequent in the mornings. Like the Navigators, he had been given permission to use whatever training facilities aboard he wished, while the rest of the crew were assigned to facilities by rank and proximity from their lodgings.

“I’m-”

“Navigator Un’hee,” An authoritative voice called from behind the girl. In an instant, the young Navigator was on her feet, at attention.

“Admiral Ar’alani!” She squeaked, both surprised and elated. It appeared to take an effort in the girl's part not to run to the superior officer.

Ezra was quick to rise as well, shoulders and back straightening to Chiss standards. "Good morning, Admiral," He said in Cheunh when Ar'alani's intense gaze - like Thrawn's, but more obvious about looking for slip-ups - trailed over him. It felt heavy and appraising, much now Ezra had considered Thrawn in the past. He forced himself to stay still under her scrutiny.

"Good morning, Ezra'Bridger," She replied. "At ease," She instructed them next, and though she gave no indication, she seemed approving of Ezra's understanding of the instruction, shifting to parade rest rather than relaxing fully like Un'hee.

"It seems Mitth'raw'nuruodo has provided adequate instruction," Ar'alani moved closer. "Do you understand what I am saying?"

"Yes, Sir." He replied, again in Cheunh.

She nodded. Her voice was interesting, Ezra decided. Dangerous and silky like Thrawn's, but more melodious. Coiled, like a deadly predator, waiting to strike. "You do not have supplemental lessons like Navigator Un'hee this early, is that correct?"

Ezra stiffened. "No, Sir."

The smallest hint of satisfaction curled her lip, there and gone before Ezra could blink. "Excellent. Will Mitth'raw'nuruodo be necessary to translate for you?"

"I should be alright, Sir."

"Fine. You will ask if you do not understand. Are we clear?”

“Yes, Admiral.”

She nodded, satisfied. To Un’hee, she instructed, “Finish your meal. When you go to your supplemental session, please Vah’nya know he is with me. Captain Ivant is aware.”

Un’hee nodded while Ezra reached for his datapad, sitting beside his tray on the table. “Should I inform Commander Thrawn?”

“No,” Ar’alani said, lips thinning. Ezra’s finger’s stilled over the datapad before he could open his communications. “With me, Sky-walker.”