Work Text:
Owl Party
It was tradition that, at the conclusion of a successful campaign, the Chimaera bridge crew would assemble in the officer’s lounge for drinks; tonight was no different. They had hunted this particular group of pirates for the last month and a half, and the tenacious gang had been causing problems in the sector for longer than that, so the victory was an especially satisfying one. By the time Thrawn arrived the rest of the crew were already boisterous and well into their second or third rounds. Spirits were high; cheers erupted as he made his way through the lounge, pausing to give his thanks and congratulations to the various tables he passed. Thrawn recognized hard work, and his successes were everyone’s successes. It was one of the things the crew loved him for.
Finally reaching the table where his closest senior staff were waiting, Thrawn slipped into the open chair and met their grins with a slight smile of his own, nodding his thanks to Eli for the drink he had waiting. Taking a sip of the rich golden liquid, he listened to the conversation already underway.
“Really? Only three? That seems.. Amazingly low, Hammerly.” Pyrondi was slightly tipsy already; her shockingly bright green drink was half gone, the glasses littering the table suggesting that this was not the first of them she had had already. “Uh. Not to imply anything, of course.” Pyrondi shoved a spear of fruit off the edge of her cup into her mouth to keep her foot from going further in.
Hammerly simply snorted. “I go for quality over quantity, Pyro. When I do a job, I do it right.” She smirked as the table erupted into laughter - aside from Thrawn, who looked between the two, slightly puzzled.
“What about you, then? Three would just be what, the last week?” Hammerly grinned at Pyrondi, who turned the same shade of pink as Faro’s drink.
“That would be extremely against regulation, Hammerly.” She glanced at Faro and Thrawn.
“We’re just talking in hypotheticals, of course. And our fine CO’s don’t hear anything that happens at the table, right?” Hammerly grinned. “You’re not getting out of answering the question. What’s your body count?”
Faro sipped her frosty drink, rolling her eyes indulgently; Thrawn simply shrugged a shoulder, more interested in the answer than the strict legality of the question.
“Um.. let’s see…” Three sets of eyebrows slowly rose as Pyrondi thought back. “I’m going to say… twenty-seven? Ish?”
Faro’s eyebrows remained lofty; Vanto started coughing on his drink; Thrawn had an expression of approval; Hammerly’s jaw dropped. “Pyrondi!”
“What? Join the navy, see the galaxy, sample the wonders, right? It’s what my recruiter told me.”
More laughter and a clinking of glasses between Hammerly and Pyrondi. Hammerly drained the dark liquid from her glass then leaned forward while Pyrondi called for another round.
“Your turn, Faro.”
Faro rolled her eyes, then smiled behind her glass. “Seven. And you know at least three, and no, I’m not going to name names.”
“Oh that is SO not fair. You can’t just drop a tidbit like that and then refuse to expand on it.” Eli’s accent was more pronounced than usual; he pulled his straw from the dregs of his glass and plopped it into the new drink set before him, an ornate gradient going from blue at the base to deep purple on top.
“I can and will, Vanto. And since you have opinions on the matter, it’s your turn. Anyone we know?” Faro kept eye contact with Eli while the other women started snickering; Thrawn glanced over, curious.
Eli raised his chin, unwilling to rise to Faro’s bait despite the flare of red on his cheeks. “Four. And if you don’t plan on sharing details, I don’t see why I should either.”
Faro chuckled; Hammerly nodded in approval, lifting her glass in a salute; Pyrondi grinned, gaze sliding from Eli to Thrawn and back again. Thrawn, meanwhile, was looking at Eli with an expression of doubt. That wasn’t correct; Thrawn knew for sure it was more than that. His attention was pulled back by Pyrondi’s slightly glassy stare in his direction.
“What about you, Sir? What’s your body count?”
Four sets of eyes turned to him; Pyrondi and Hammerly blatantly interested, Faro and Eli poorly pretending not to be.
Thrawn took a long sip of his drink.
“Thirty-two, one on one.” He smiled slightly, the pride of a skilled warrior and the memory of defeated enemies making his chest puff slightly. “Hundreds, possibly thousands if we count the total, but as those were group efforts I would think it violates the spirit of the question.”
The women exchanged impressed glances; Eli pinched the bridge of his nose. Thrawn continued.
“Vanto is being needlessly humble; I have seen his capabilities in person many times, alone and in tandem with my own. Pyrondi, you are far more skilled than I ever assumed; we will have to exchange pointers at some point, if you are amenable. Hammerly and Faro, I am certain that should the opportunity present itself, you both would perform more than admirably, and should we find ourselves in such a situation I am confident in your abilities.”
Everyone was silent for a few beats; Pyrondi recovered first, and lifted her glass.
“Good job, sir. You’re an inspiration to us all. To Admiral Thrawn!”
The table mimicked her actions, all looking at the Chiss with fondness, and cheered.
Thrawn smiled, eyes bright and amused, and sipped his drink again.
Bextia
Samakro took his toiletries from his locker in silence.
Thrawn, at his side, hadn't said a word since they had finished the funeral honors in the Naporar base, for the Navy members killed on the last Springhawk mission and had returned to the ship.
Once in the showers, Samakro spoke.
"The loss of these warriors was not your responsibility. We took them on their mission, such was our duty." he asked.
Thrawn turned his head slightly towards him, not looking at him fully, but said nothing.
"We all carry deaths on our conscience" Samakro continued "It's part of our job." he turned on the tap and rinsed his hair. "My body count is six." he paused "A small CEDF ship, launched a distress signal but I didn't manage to get there in time to succor them. The entire crew perished.... What's yours?"
"Fifty thousand," Thrawn said, staring at the wall in front of him, water streaming down his serious face.
Samakro blinked, surprised. He thought back, and there had never been a battle in which the CEDF had suffered such a large number of casualties.
"When was that?" he asked him.
"An expeditionary ship coming from lesser space..." Thrawn didn't seem too keen to talk about it. He walked over to the hanger and picked up his towel.
"But that... that's an alien ship. No, I mean your _real_ body count, chiss, not aliens."
Thrawn paused, wrapping the towel around his hips.
"Then... it's just one." he said in a whisper.
BeeBee76
“Hey, asshole! Welcome to the FKC. Celebrations start at 18:00 - drinks are free!” The lieutenant’s voice echoed down the corridor, as he shoved past Eli and headed for his station aboard the Chimaera.
So. This was supposed to be a joyous occasion? Eli felt anything but a celebratory mood. He actually felt sick. It was a choice that was not his to make, rather, it was forced upon him by circumstances.
A son, brother, nephew or husband was never coming home. Children would never be born. Eli was now a killer, and he was not sure how he was going to deal with it.
Eli had officially begun his body count. He joined the First Kill Club.
Eli leaned against a wall to steady himself. A man was saved in the process, none of the team had been injured, and the mission was declared a success. A war was being fought. There was no time for remorse. Onward & upward goes the saying.
The guilt clawed at his being, invaded his sleep, and stole his appetite. Was this normal?
Eli did not hear the steady footfall as someone approached, nor did he initially notice Thrawn’s hand rest under his chin, and gently tilt his anguished face towards his. Red eyes looked deeply into Eli’s troubled brown eyes.
“The first kill is always the most difficult,” Thrawn began. “Many will follow, perhaps more disturbing by circumstance, or more gruesome by method. None will affect you as badly as the first. Allow yourself to grieve. It is normal.”
Eli swallowed, paused and quietly asked, “Do you still, uh, think of yours...your first kill, sir?”
Thrawn’s eyes clouded for a fraction of a second. “Yes, Eli, I do.”
In that brief moment, another level of bonding had occurred, and was over as quickly as it began. Thrawn turned away and continued down the corridor, and Eli let himself into his quarters.
The healing had begun.