Chapter Text
There were times when Eli Vanto prided himself on his diplomatic skills. Not just in the grand scheme of things, where pompous politicians and high ranking officers were involved, but also on a more personal level. These were the skills that had helped him adapt as a total outsider in a society that wasn’t necessarily open to welcoming him.
True, Thrawn had handled being in the same situation with much more grace but most people tended to look bumbling next to Thrawn. In any respect. His former mentor had a way of staying poised even when failing and Eli couldn’t begrudge him for that. Even if he envied him for it sometimes.
At the end of the day, though, the Chiss were ultimately reasonable beings. They had a ways to go when it came to how they treated the unknown and foreign but they weren’t up there with the worst species in that regard.
That said, there were of course exceptions…
Eli winced as the Chiss captain raised his voice, swinging his arm in a cutting motion that made a nearby officer scurry away while the man standing in front of him could only brace himself and endure the onslaught. The Chiss’ face was contorted in fury and Eli doubted Ronan could even understand him at this point, what with the way the words got lost under the vitriol.
(Heck, Eli could barely understand him… Though he did catch the insults. The nasty xenophobic kind, he noted grimly.)
Ronan himself stood completely still under the assault, his lips thin and pressed together to the point of going white. He hadn’t so much as twitched or said a thing since the officer’s tirade began – a state Eli was almost creeped out to see him in; that wasn’t the Ronan he knew – and he seemed to have shut down, his stare fixed somewhere above the captain’s shoulder though the tense puckered wrinkles around his mouth said otherwise.
And all of this over a simple mispronunciation, Eli fumed privately.
Ronan no doubt saw the injustice of it all but he was smart enough to understand that talking back to the captain now wouldn’t lead to anything good down the road. Not with the Chiss this intent on humiliating him.
There was another raise in volume and Eli once again wished he didn’t have to witness this spectacle. More than anything he wished Ar’alani was here to diffuse the situation and talk some sense into the captain but alas, Ar’alani was far away and they were surrounded by unfamiliar faces on this ship – a new post Csilla had assigned them to not too long ago seemingly out of the blue.
Something about the Chiss wanting to see if Ronan and Vanto were truly cut out for the fleet or if their service only showed results under Ar’alani’s command, an admiral loyal to Thrawn and who could be covering their failings to help him save face.
Well, Eli didn’t know about covering. But Ar’alani had certainly been more patient and lenient than he’d initially realized.
After a few more agonizing minutes, they were finally dismissed and allowed to retire to their shared private quarters.
Which brought them to the present moment, with Eli fumbling with his boots and desperately trying to seem casual while Ronan laid on his own bed, as still and as silent as a corpse and with his gaze fixated on the ceiling. They hadn’t said anything on their way here and the silence was beginning to weigh on him, thick and awkward and definitely not something they were used to.
He resisted the urge to chew on his lip.
He and Ronan hadn’t come anywhere near being friends since the latter had been dropped off at Ar’alani’s doorstep but they were still the only humans in this part of space and seeing Ronan like this, so quiet and decidedly not himself, made Eli uncomfortable.
Personal diplomacy, he reminded himself and braced for what he was about to do next.
He took a moment to pick his words and cleared his throat before making his tone into something casual.
“He didn’t have to be that rude you know, that word is especially tricky.”
He risked a glance in Ronan’s direction, pretending to wrestle with his boot’s fastenings. There was no reaction from the other bed save for some unintelligible mumbling.
Eli bit back a sigh.
“I know how you feel. I struggled with the language too at first. I still do.”
This time there was silence and Eli had to close his eyes and count to ten to muster the last of his resolve to go through with this. He’s difficult on the best of days, Eli reminded himself, you can do this. Plus, his pride was just obliterated in front of half the ship’s crew, what can you possibly do that’s worse?
He steeled himself once again.
“It’s actually their vocal cords.”
This one got him a reaction as Ronan’s disheveled head rose from the bed and Eli found himself the object of a scowl.
“What?”
Eli gestured vaguely at his throat.
“Their vocal cords,” he elaborated, “They’re biologically different. Which makes some sounds really tough for us to pronounce.”
Ronan’s frown deepened for a moment, bordering on a grimace, before he rolled his eyes and flopped back onto his pillow sullenly.
“Of course it does,” he grumbled and Eli felt some of the tension leave his shoulders and be replaced with relief. This was more like the Ronan he knew.
Which wasn’t normally a ‘good thing’ – the Ronan he knew was nothing but a pain in the ass, really – but it did make the air in the room lighter and Eli worked his boots all the way off before bringing his legs up and leaning back against the wall.
“I’m not sure if they know it though,” he said casually, “They’re not very tolerant about it.”
“You don’t say.”
Eli snorted at that. He supposed it was kind of obvious.
With that, the conversation trailed off and he allowed himself to relax somewhat, letting his mind drift and the day’s tension drain away as he traced patterns on the ceiling’s surface. He had just about decided to turn in for the day when a voice drifted up from Ronan’s bed and Eli snapped his head to him, blinking the thought away.
“I’m sorry?”
Ronan frowned again, his glare firmly in place.
“I said, if you would be so gracious to hear this time,” he sniffed. “Why are you here, Vanto?”
The question took a moment to register but when it did, Eli answered it with ease.
“Because Thrawn thought I would be useful here.”
Ronan didn’t seem to like that response and it instantly showed all over his face and the way his shoulders bunched under his uniform. It was a reaction Eli was used to seeing whenever Thrawn was brought up, the Assistant Director’s disposition towards him remaining ever so hostile despite having known him so briefly.
Eli had long given up arguing about it.
But then,
“Why are you being useful to them.”
His nose wrinkled and he glared right back at Ronan as it finally hit him where this exchange was headed. So this is what Ronan was going for? Trying to bait Eli into a conversation condemning the Chiss in general?
Well, he wouldn’t be getting it, he decided as he pointedly shifted his position against the wall.
“Because one day they may be useful to us,” he said, putting more force behind his words. “And I respect them. Why are you here?”
“Why are you here?”
Ronan felt his whole face spasm at that and turned back to stare at the ceiling stubbornly. He was not going to discuss this with Vanto.
But Vanto wouldn’t be Vanto if he didn’t decide to be infinitely irritating every five minutes and Ronan’s obvious reluctance to talk didn’t seem to deter him.
“Let me guess,” he began, ever so smug, “you wanted to gather information and pass it on to Krennic. Except that’s not working out very well for you.”
The words sent a jolt of indignation through him and he sent Vanto his best warning glare while the brazen yokel merely smirked back at him.
Curse him and his transient insights.
It was true – Ronan had hoped to expose whatever underhanded deal Thrawn had going on with his people or at least a hidden group of force sensitives that could potentially be a threat to the Empire. Yet all he’d found was a group of children who didn’t even know what the Force was and only used it to guide ships.
It was not merely bad luck but bad judgement. What was worse, he hadn’t reported to Director Krennic in weeks and he was fairly sure the Empire had lobbed him in the same category as Vanto by now: a coward, deserter or traitor or possibly all three, each one more damning than the last.
His lips thinned at the thought of the news reaching Director Krennic. His closest and most loyal subordinate gone after a frolic in deep space with Thrawn. Part of him wondered if the director would refuse to believe it and think Thrawn had been the one to get rid of him after the report that had cost him his funding… but if Ronan believed that, it was only because he wanted to.
A chilling idea suddenly occurred to him and he swallowed heavily.
“They haven’t let us contact the Empire once since I came here,” he said, the ball of dread in his chest growing as his mind took that train of thought and ran with it, taking it to all sorts of horrifying conclusions.
“I’m not even sure there is a way to contact them,” he finished quietly.
“The Chiss are very secretive.” Vanto shrugged, unbothered. “I’m not surprised we don’t have much contact with the rest of the galaxy.”
But Ronan’s sudden realization had already unmasked the obvious truth and he felt the color drain from his face as he shot up in his cot.
“Maker, Vanto… we’re never getting out of here are we?” He said fearfully and watched as Vanto’s brow scrunched up.
“What do you mean?”
“They’re never letting us leave,” Ronan insisted, “The Force navigators alone, they don’t want anyone knowing about that.”
Vanto nodded along in acknowledgment. “And we already do.”
Ronan’s horror mounted at his lackluster response but even more potent was the rage he felt at the fact that he’d essentially been tricked. Thrawn’s promises be damned, the Chiss had lied to him.
Ronan had been promised the opportunity to leave whenever he wanted and even a transport back to the Empire if it came to that. But those promises no longer held any water.
The Chiss had made it clear how adamant they were about not letting any information about their Sky Walkers or battle tactics fall into enemy hands, be it on purpose or by accident, and Ar’alani was nothing if not meticulous. Thrawn knew all that, he must have known all that when he put Ronan under her command.
He’d thought Thrawn above such dishonest tactics… Apparently, he’d been wrong. And now he would never go back to the Empire, never see Stardust finished and never stand at Director Krennic’s side again.
“Maker help us…” he said in a small voice and fell back in his cot as his despair gripped him. Form the corner of his eye he saw Vanto shake his head.
“This is why I keep telling you to drop your reservations,” he sighed, sounding oddly sincere. “The Chiss value loyalty and they’re very good at telling when you’re lying. Being honest with them and serving the Ascendancy earnestly guarantees that they’ll treat you fairly. And probably let you leave one day.”
The suggestion settled uneasy in Ronan’s gut and he once again felt the phantom pull of strings on himself. Platitudes and more false promises, his mind whispered angrily. He poured all of that contempt into his voice.
“Or maybe that was Thrawn’s plan all along,” he spat. “To make sure I wouldn’t leave.”
Vanto snorted.
“Why, because you’re such a big threat to him?”
“Because I’m loyal to Director Krennic. And I would do everything in my power to make sure he succeeds.” Ronan bit out though the words sounded hollow to his own ears. Vanto didn’t seem impressed by them either.
“If you say so.” He shrugged and turned to stare vapidly at the wall.
He didn’t seem to want to press the issue further but Ronan’s mind was already running a thousand light years a minute and he couldn’t stop the doubts from worming their way into his heart.
Back on the Chimaera’s bridge, Thrawn had maintained that Ronan was a dead man if he decided to return to Stardust. A frightening prospect for sure but Ronan had assured himself time and time again that this wasn’t the reason why he chose to leave. It was for the Empire’s good, for the whole galaxy’s good.
However now his conviction was beginning to falter.
If he were so loyal to Krennic he would have fought to stay with Stardust regardless if his life was on the line or not. His usefulness here was a mere possibility while his importance to Stardust’s speedy completion was fact.
Maybe his loyalty was not all he made it out to be after all. Instead of staying by Director Krennic’s side, especially when a troublesome character like Vader threatened to take over, he’d gone on some wild goose chase for force sensitives.
Something the Emperor’s vaunted inquisitors and that rabid lapdog of his should be doing. Ronan was an Assistant Director for Maker’s sake.
No, actually, stupid is what he was. Overthinking to the point of driving himself into a corner.
Curse Thrawn for tricking him into agreeing to this!
“Anyhow,” Vanto’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “Thrawn never said anything about challenging Krennic.”
Ronan felt a fresh surge of zealous rage.
“And yet that’s what he did.” He got up to jab a finger into the mattress. “Even if he doesn’t see Director Krennic as his enemy, he still pushes for more financing for his Defender program. And those funds will end up being detracted from our project. From the true deterrent the galaxy needs.”
The outburst peaked and then simmered for a moment, eating away at the reluctant respect he’d come to have for Thrawn all those months ago, before suddenly ebbing away and leaving him exhausted.
“But anyway none of that matters now,” he said as he lowered himself back to the cot. “Not while we’re stuck here.”
From across the room Vanto sneered and moved to turn his back toward him.
“Maybe you’re stuck,” he scoffed, settling into his own bed. “I’m here of my own volition.”