AU-verse post-mission with Thrawn and Hera

[grandadmiralartcritic]

As first engagements go, Thrawn has definitely experienced worse. Enemy routed, casualties comparatively minimal, and the damaged ships, at least, should be easily repairable.

The lost soldiers, however . . . that is a different story.

He strides along the slightly scorched corridor of the flagship, keeping a weather eye on the morale of the troops -- as well as their stress response and repair efficiency.

Many things will depend on it.

Comments

[for_everyone]

"Deflector shields held, but they'll need more extensive repairs before they're battle-ready again."

"I'm counting on us not running into any more TIE fighters on our way back to base," Hera answers the Mirialan lieutenant, crouched right alongside him as he examines the inside of the ship's main console. "How are comms doing?"

"Out in medical and the flight deck."

Hera sighs and straightens up. "Just what we need." Her eyes linger on the console, and she absently brushes carbon dust. Then, she turns, looking away from the lieutenant and to human woman monitoring the navigation panels. "Captain, make sure we run a scan of the ship before the next hyperspace jump, I want to know they didn't leave anything on us."

The captain nods, and Hera looks back to the lieutenant. "Go oversee comms repairs in medical, tell them I'll be down there soon.

"Yes, General." The lieutenant also nods to her, then walks past her, his eyes flickering to Thrawn as he heads for the corridor. Hera watches him go.

[grandadmiralartcritic]

Thrawn does not seem to register lieutenant's glance, or the slightly heightened color in the Mirialan's cheeks.

He does, however, look over at Hera a few moments later.

"Would you care to have me assist with repairs to either set of comms? I have some practical engineering skills at my disposal."

[for_everyone]

"I think the crew can handle it," Hera answers, now turning her eyes to Thrawn.

"But you can walk with me to the flight deck."

[grandadmiralartcritic]

"Of course."

His voice is mild as ever, pitched slightly louder than usual to be heard over the repairs going on in the corridor.

"I would suggest running drills once repairs are finished -- not immediately, of course -- in order to tighten up response times. We were lucky a few more times than I care to rely on."

[for_everyone]

"All right."

She turns to the captain once more. "I'll be back before the next hyperspace jump, have the scan ready."

The captain nods again, also briefly glancing between Hera and Thrawn before she returns to her console. Hera turns to Thrawn, and then steps forward, leading them from the bridge.

[grandadmiralartcritic]

Thrawn follows obediently, hands clasped behind his back.

"I will be curious, General Syndulla, to see your after-action report," he says quietly as they pass through the corridors.

"Provided, that is, that such things are permitted me."

[for_everyone]

"I doubt there's going to be much in it that you don't already know."

Hera doesn't look at Thrawn while she walks, but this isn't deliberate. She's watching every crew member they pass, meeting their eyes, even occasionally touching their shoulders or arms. They always nod to her in return, some keeping a strict military composure, but others actually smiling at her.

"But I think we can allow it."

[grandadmiralartcritic]

Thrawn, too, does not shy away from meeting anyone's eyes, but their gazes slide off of him and fix on Hera.

It is not unexpected.

"How kind," he observes, just a tad dryly. "But I do appreciate it. Your perspective is, I expect, somewhat different from mine. Perhaps not tactically, but in other respects. I'm . . . curious."

[for_everyone]

"We'll give you what you need to be effective," Hera says, leading the way into turbolift.

"I'm hoping to have better days than this."

[grandadmiralartcritic]

"I think it not unlikely."

Thrawn enters the lift and turns away to the left, hands still loosely clasped behind his back, half his attention focused inward, the other half . . . not.

"I can see more of the shape of them now, and should the prisoners your people obtained supply us with names and homeworlds -- more details of their psychology and instincts should come clear."

[for_everyone]

Hera hits the button for the lower deck, and once the doors close, she takes a deep breath, lowering her head.

"We'll see."

[grandadmiralartcritic]

"Mmm."

Thrawn watches her momentarily, just out of the corner of his eye.

Then --

"Your resistance, I presume, will provide for those we lost in one way or another, yes?"

[for_everyone]

Hera lifts her head, glancing sideways at him before looking back to the wall.

"In one way or another. Now that what's left of the Republic is funding us."

[grandadmiralartcritic]

"Good."

A warrior has a duty to the people whose lives he spends like coins. Thrawn takes a moment to wonder how widespread a sentiment that is amongst the rest of this organization.

He is doubtful about the Republic's commitment to such principles, given politicians. And yet --

[for_everyone]

The lift doors open, and Hera straightens before she steps out onto the deck.

The silence lingers as they walk, until Hera asks, "Is that something that concerns you?"

[grandadmiralartcritic]

"Does that surprise you?"

He arches one eyebrow very faintly, then relaxes his face.

"But yes. The lives of the ones who obey us are the responsibility of those in command, and not only while they are alive."

Just as the lives and safety of civilians are the responsibility of the warriors among a population. Something the Empire long ago set aside, and which Thrawn became inured to during his time of service to that entity.

Once it would have felt refreshing to be able to be as protective as the Chiss raised him to be. Alas.

[for_everyone]

"I don't know."

Her eyes are ahead, her pace quick as they make their way toward the hangar, but suddenly, her voice is soft, and tired.

"I've been talking to survivors and family and friends for as long as I can remember. Maybe I thought it'd be an abstraction for you."

[grandadmiralartcritic]

"Moreso than for you, after all this time."

He is not smiling.

"Even among my own people, the correct actions were more important than the correct feelings. It made adaptation to the Empire's ways easier, in the end."

[for_everyone]

"My crews usually included many different kinds of people. They all had different needs."

She stops at the blast doors to the hangar, now closed, and examines the control panel next to it. "I didn't think of it as 'feeling correctly.'"

[grandadmiralartcritic]

Thrawn, too, studies the control panel. It does not appear to be smoking, but perhaps Hera sees something he does not.

"No," Thrawn says mildly. "Observation has clearly demonstrated that you would not."

[for_everyone]

Hera taps a few buttons on the panel, checking the display screen below it, and then pressing a larger button to open the doors.

"Are you implying something?"

She sounds neither bothered nor concerned. But she's developed a habit of asking Thrawn to state things outright, as much as his habit of speaking obliquely.

[grandadmiralartcritic]

"I had not intended to imply."

There is a faint weight to that last word.

"Merely state that you -- and many other people in this part of the galaxy -- have managed to integrate feeling without impeding your function. It is frequently baffling, but not ineffective."

[for_everyone]

"Then you can feel baffled."

She steps through the door, out onto the flight deck. By now the most injured pilots have already been taken to medical. A few with bruising or small scrapes still linger by their fighters, as mechanics run back and forth to survey and relay the damage. A red astromech rolls up to Hera and Thrawn as they enter, swiveling her sensor array between them and beeping.

"All right, let's see it," Hera says.

[grandadmiralartcritic]

Thrawn scans the flight deck briefly, then unhooks his datapad from his belt and begins pulling up the spare parts manifest for the fleet.

"I'll follow you," he says, to the both of them.

"Do let me know if I should be fetching the toolkit."

[for_everyone]

The droid leads them to a wall panel where two more droids, a human mechanic, and Rodian lieutenant are crowded around. The droids are welding frayed patches of the panel, the mechanic sorting through her own toolkit, and the lieutenant reading his own datapad.

He looks up as they approach, straightening at once, large eyes fixing on Hera. "General."

"Lieutenant Gola," Hera turns her eyes to a cascade of sparks that fly from one of the droid's arms. "How does it look?"