Saga - PT Spacer Slicer Sponger Spy | Thrawn, OC, post-Rebels | Short story, fic-gift for Nehru_Amidala

Ice Dance

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It became increasingly difficult to keep up the pretence of a casual family outing as Thrawn, Minerva and Rhiannon wandered through the crowd looking for the Lothal governor. Pryce’s absence made Minerva nervous, and after a while cracks began to show even in Thrawn’s impassive façade. “Perhaps she did not come at all,” he muttered as they walked past yet another group of Imperial officers. “It could be that she took advantage of this assembly to conduct a mission somewhere else while –”

“I sliced the Imperial liner’s passenger manifesto,” Minerva interrupted. “It said she was there along with everyone else.”

“Imperial records can be tampered with, as you very well know, my dear – but this is not the time for such a discussion. We will have to keep looking.”

They resumed their march, trudging heavily through the snow while Rhiannon made happy gurgles and waved her tiny fists at anyone who was nearby. Minerva’s elegant gown and coat made things difficult for her, and she had to be cautious to avoid a misstep that would sent her tumbling down the icy slope. “Do you think she could be holding her meeting with Fava now, before the show begins?” she asked after a while.

Thrawn tilted his head. “We cannot exclude the possibility, but it would go against every rule of operational security and common sense. She arrived on planet on a passenger liner together with her colleagues. She would have attracted unwanted attention by leaving the group when they all boarded the snowspeeders to come here.” He paused and added: “No, she would do no such thing. Going against procedures that are so deeply ingrained in her psyche is not conceivable; her taste in art shows a lack of creativity that –”

Minerva suddenly grabbed his sleeve. “Look! It’s Municipal Councillor Yeleva, the one you think is in the Crymorah’s pocket.”

He followed her gaze to see that a Human male in elaborate robes was approaching Harus Ison while Rosita Turuy had taken a few steps aside to talk in her wrist comm. The Chiss officer and his wife merely nodded at each other, and, with deft, precise moves, each one extracted yet another microchip from their pocket and tucked it discreetly in their ear.

“Yes, Governor, he is here,” Thrawn heard Major Turuy say. “Walking around as if he owns the entire planet, with this insufferable smug look he favours at all times.” The comment made the Chiss chuckle. Rosita Turuy’s intense dislike for him dated back to their days as cadets in the Royal Imperial Academy, and she had not taken kindly to his vertiginous rise to one of the top posts of the Navy while it took her years to reach the rank of major only to find herself shunted to the Outer Rim in the service of a governor’s office.

“That stuck-up little girl who had the bad taste to marry him is here as well,” Turuy continued. “If she were on active duty, I’d have her court-martialled for her impertinence.” At this Thrawn experienced a surge of anger and concern. He would have to ensure that no ill came to his wife. “Yes, Governor,” Turuy said again after a pause. “I will file my report about them as soon as the show is over. Will I see you here?” Thrawn strove to hear Pryce’s reply, but the sound was muffled by the thick fabric of the major’s pocket where he’d buried the spy chip. “Thank you, Governor. Turuy out.”

The Chiss glanced at his wife to see that she was bouncing on the balls of her feet. He deactivated his listening device carefully before speaking. “Turuy was reporting our presence to Pryce,” he said quietly to avoid being overheard. “What did you find?”

“Yeleva was looking for Pryce too,” Minerva said breathlessly. “That’s why he sought out Ison.”

Thrawn arched an eyebrow. “Did Ison point him in the right direction?”

“No. But we know a lot more now.”

The second eyebrow joined the first. “How so?”

Minerva gave him an impatient look and began to tick items off her fingers. “We know that a Crymorah official wants to talk to Pryce. We know that he expects Ison to have an idea where he is. We know that Turuy had to inform her if we were here.” She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Basically we know that we have a conspiracy on our hands.”

Thrawn smiled. “I hate to disappoint you, my dear, but we do not know any of this. I suspect that Councillor Yeleva is affiliated with the Crymorah but this is not a hard fact. Furthermore, it could very well be that he was hoping to ask Turuy instead of Ison about the governor’s whereabouts, since our two friends had been standing together until she stepped away to answer a comm call. Lastly, with Turuy being assigned to Pryce’s office as an intelligence officer, it is in no way surprising that she would inform her boss of the comings and goings at this event. Unless we can find solid proof of this conspiracy you speak of, we are jumping at ghosts.”

Minerva’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “At least we know that she’s here,” she mumbled.

“I am afraid that we do not know even that,” Thrawn corrected. “Until we see her in the flesh, we only know that others expect her to be here, which is a rather important difference.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a loud rumble of the crowd. They turned around to see that Fava Fasolia Faké’s repulsorlift dais was finally sliding up the hillock next to theirs. The Hutt was fashionably late and her attire for the occasion was outright extravagant – the large plexisteel snowflake that stood precariously on the top of her head was the least of her eccentricities, all things considered. She ignored the boos, catcalls and shouts of “where’s the hot chocolate” from the audience, gave the briefest of introductory speeches, and announced that the Ice Dance was about to begin.

Miniature drones released a shower of glittering specks from the skies as the music swelled and the dancers of the Ballet de Suburbia emerged from cleverly camouflaged holes in the icy ground. Within seconds it was obvious that their performance would be astounding. They slid smoothly across the dance floor to occupy the whole of the open expanse and they were leaping, spinning and pirouetting in a dazzling show of light as the translucent stoles they waved caught the sparkling flakes and sent them back up in the air to generate the shadows of mysterious creatures from ice worlds. Rhiannon let out a series of delighted squeals and began to gesticulate wildly in her baby sling, and Thrawn had no choice but to take a few steps forward to give her a better view of the show. Minerva tried to follow suit but caught her foot in the hem of her gown and very nearly tumbled over.

“Go ahead,” she told Thrawn as she picked herself up. “I’m right behind you.”

She wiped the snow from her knees and lifted her dress by a few centimetres, and she was about to catch up with her husband and daughter, when the sight of a woman in an Imperial coat stopped her dead in her tracks.

Governor Pryce was standing at the foot of a nearby hillock, observing the show from the ground.

 

Aw geez, there's Pryce! Wonder why's she up there, this is suspicious. Very suspicious. Loved the bad-mouthing of Thrawn and Minerva, boy are they going to get it when Thrawn returns to power.

 

Love Thrawn's analysis of Pryce's likely actions And unfortunately the surmise about an actual conspiracy is an intelligent one but not backed up by hard prosecutable evidence -- likely they could squirm out of any accusations leveled. That is until Minerva caught sight of Pryce.

The ice dance really does sound lovely.

 

Hmmm... what is Pryce up to? Great tension here.

I liked this description. It's never easy to see through Thrawn.

Oh man, Thrawn is going to be unhappy! The conspiracy theory sounds plausible, but as WarmNyota stated, proof is needed. Should get quite interesting.

An icy slope indeed! The entire dance is a slippery one.

 

Thank you all for reading and reviewing! I'm sorry for delaying this update a bit, I got sidetracked by another plot bunny. But now I'm back on track, so here it is!

A few quick replies:

Thanks! Ison and Turuy are certainly going to get it, although it may not be as dramatic as what happened in your story last week (!). As for Pryce... just read on.

Thank you! I want to elaborate on the Ice Dance at some point, but it won't be in this story. My inspiration was a combination of Caracalla, a Lebanese dance troupe that stages these blockbuster shows with extravagant costumes and a gazillion dancers on stage (see for instance this video) and figure skating. As for the conspiracy – maybe Minerva is getting ahead of herself, maybe not. What are the odds that more than one high-ranking Imperial is a mole for a criminal group?

Thanks! This is very much why I love writing Thrawn. You can never know what he's really up to, but sometimes things don't go according to plan.

And that's the whole point of this next chapter, so without further ado...

 

Death!


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In that moment Minerva cursed herself, her husband and Eliskandro for the elegant outfit she had chosen to wear to the Ice Dance. Thrawn had been absolutely correct that she needed to appear as different as possible from Ricka Katram of course, and the Hutt groomer had done a tremendous job at transforming her hair and face – but a floor-length ballroom gown and high-heeled boots were the last thing she needed to walk in the snow, let alone on what was essentially an undercover mission where she had to be able to act swiftly. The heavy coat that she wore over her gown made moving around even more difficult, and more than once she had to catch herself from falling as she hastened to reach Governor Pryce.

She arrived at the foot of her hillock and, without even stopping to catch her breath, she began to climb the neighbouring one. Pryce was halfway up the slope, heading towards a small cluster of local personalities that included Yeleva. The sight of the suspected Crymorah collaborator made Minerva even more suspicious, and she quickened her pace. She wanted to be able to listen in to any conversation that the governor held with the councillor, and for that she needed to plant a microchip on Pryce before the conversation began.

She was only a few steps away from the governor, fumbling in her pocket to extract a spy chip, when the toe of her boot got caught in the hem of her coat.

Minerva saw herself nose-diving in slow motion. She managed to pull out the microchip and hold her hand before her as she slammed into Pryce. Her head hit hard on the compressed snow when she collapsed to the ground, and everything went black.

* * *​

Rhiannon had been in the middle of a chorus of happy squeaks and squawks at the sight of the prima ballerina’s airborne pirouette when she abruptly let out a shrill scream and burst into tears. The sudden commotion amidst the silence of the crowd caused the dancer to lose her balance upon receiving herself on her feet, and sheer momentum made her slide wildly to the side of the open expanse of ice, toppling several of her colleagues in her wake. Within seconds, the Ballet de Suburbia’s ravishing, ethereal show gave way to a messy tangle of arms and legs on the dance floor, with spreading puddles of deep red indicating that some of the performers were sporting serious wounds.

Thrawn immediately understood that Rhiannon’s tantrum indicated that something had happened to Minerva, and he spun around on his heel, scrutinising the audience for his wife. Minerva couldn’t be far, they had only been separated for minutes, he kept telling himself as he tried to soothe his baby daughter. However, the situation with the crowd was already getting out of control. There were loud boos at the artistic debacle, followed by shouts of “fail!”, “losers!”, “we came for nothing!” and “where’s the hot chocolate?”, followed by yet more jeers and catcalls. Very soon things descended into total chaos.

An angry throng of humans and aliens invaded the open expanse, heading towards the mounds of snow where the officials were assembled for the show. Imperial security personnel closed ranks around Thrawn and the senior officers surrounding him, but it turned out that the problem was elsewhere. The howling mob went straight for the hillock where Fava Fasolia Faké lay atop her repulsorlift dais, and the local constabulary, assisted by a group of scruffy-looking men who seemingly materialised out of nowhere, had to shoot a few stun bolts into the crowd to get them to back off. But the effect of their intervention was short-lived, and within minutes the furious horde was climbing the hillock again.

The Hutt’s entourage sent her sledding down the back slope for safety, and Thrawn saw in the corner of his eye that Grand Moff Tarkin was gesturing for Imperial security staff to join the group that was protecting the crime lord. This raised his suspicions, but he still couldn’t see Minerva, and Rhiannon was still wailing in despair. He didn’t hesitate for a moment; his family was far more important than any criminal or Imperial plots. He stepped away from the assembled officers for a better vantage point on the area.

Medics were struggling to collect the injured dancers down in the field, and the swarm of furious spectators was battling Fava’s henchmen a little further away. He was confident that Minerva wouldn’t be found in either of these areas. The rest of the audience was streaming down the hillocks and leaving the venue, which made it even more difficult to find his wife amidst all the movement, when he suddenly spotted one of the ushers in turquoise coats on the neighbouring mound of snow. The man was gesticulating towards the first aid crews to get their attention and there was a crumpled form at his feet. A medteam caught sight of the usher and headed in his direction, and as he stepped aside to make space for them Thrawn recognised Minerva’s elegant coat on the ground. He could see that she was already stirring. She was not dead.

He let out a sigh of relief and hugged Rhiannon a little tighter. The child was still sobbing, but it seemed that the worst of her outburst was over. He whispered comforting words to her in Cheunh as he started making his way down the hill and towards Minerva, and he was about to begin climbing the neighbouring slope when his natural curiosity caused him to give a glance to the little troupe that was leading Fava Fasolia Faké away from the dance venue.

Rosita Turuy had joined the Imperial security team of her own volition, and she was now walking alongside the Hutt’s dais and chatting with the crime lord.

Without hesitation, Thrawn activated the spy chip that was still in his ear and began to listen in.

 

Definitely realistic portrayal of how a distraction of something so minutely choreographed can turn everything literally into a chaotic tumble and mess.

That was a quick dissolve of the festivities and now if the conspirators separate without saying anything incriminating -- but it looks like someone of them might with Turuy and Fava together.

I adore Thrawn's keen observantness and single-minded focus on Minerva combined, followed by a swift action of turning the spy-chip back on
for the persistent complaint of "No hot chocolate!" Certainly a downside there.

 

I could have lend Thrawn a lot of crying toddlers for a concerto!!!

Brilliant update!

 

What a chapter! Something happens to Minerva, Rhiannon starts fussing, and things fall apart. Now, what was Rosita doing with Fava, I wonder? Anyways, I loved this chapter as always and I look forward to the next installment.

 

Thank you all for reading and reviewing! I'm keeping my replies very short, because the big reveal is coming (d'oh!) and I don't want to spoil the next chapter.

@WarmNyota_SweetAyesha Thank you As always, Thrawn is multi-tasking – finding his wife, looking after the child, and of course staying alert for the mission. As for the absence of hot chocolate... it's almost as if someone knew there wouldn't be any, isn't it?

@AzureAngel2 Thanks! I went to an opera once in the old theatre under the Acropolis, and someone had brought their little kid along. Let's just say that it was an interesting musical experience!

@Nehru_Amidala Thanks! I'm glad you're still enjoying this. There was a reason I established a Force bond between Minerva and Rhiannon from early on in this story. I wanted Rhiannon to have a role to play, as tiny as she is, and this was her moment of glory

YouTube upload complete, the next chapter is coming right up!

 

The Tide Turns

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Everything was dark. Minerva couldn’t see anything, she couldn’t feel anyone nearby – and yet she could hear the wailing and sobbing of an infant inside her head. The child’s voice was loud and shrill; but it was the sense of agony that was truly excruciating. This child was in great pain. She had to do something.

But she couldn’t do anything, because she didn’t know where she was, where the child was – who the child was.

And then, amidst her confusion, it suddenly dawned on her. Rhiannon.

Why was Rhiannon crying? Was she alright? Was she safe? Wasn’t she with her father?

With a superhuman effort Minerva pulled herself together and opened her eyes.

The first sensation that hit her was the bitter cold. It took her a moment to understand that she was laying face down on a carpet of snow, and to remember that she was on Ando Prime.

The second thing she noticed was the noise. Shouts. Hits. Stun bolts. There was some sort of fighting going on, and she couldn’t hear Rhiannon anymore. Someone near her was calling a medic.

She wasn’t entirely sure how she’d found herself in a war zone, until she took note of the throbbing pain on her temple.

Yes! She’d been climbing the hillock, she’d misstepped and… Pryce! Governor Pryce! Had she managed to plant the microchip on her?

She scrambled to her knees and looked around. People were running in all directions, and Pryce was nowhere to be seen. She was about to try and stand up when boot-clad feet topped by a turquoise coat appeared in her line of sight, and an unknown voice said, “Take it easy, Milady. You took a nasty fall, but you’ll be fine.”

* * *​

“Face it, Fava. You were betrayed,” Thrawn heard Rosita say. “Someone whipped up their anger. This mob didn’t pop up out of nowhere for hot chocolate.”

“You don’t know the people of Ando Prime, Rosita,” Fava replied. “Greedy maggots, the lot of them. What do you think they came for, the art?”

So Major Turuy was on first-name terms with the Hutt crime lord. Thrawn verified that the recorder in his pocket was activated as he made his way towards Minerva. The spy chip’s range was limited and he would soon have to start following Fava’s security detail if he wanted to eavesdrop on the rest of the conversation, but first he needed to make sure that his wife was alright.

“I get that they were attracted here by your promise of free hot chocolate,” Rosita said impatiently as Thrawn began to climb the slope where medics were fussing over Minerva. “But that doesn’t explain this mini-uprising. Someone put them up to it.”

The Hutt inhaled sharply, and when she spoke next the tone of her voice was outright dangerous. “Really, Rosita? Someone put them up to challenging the Great Fava Fasolia Faké? And who would that be? Who would have the nerve?”

“Look at those around you, Fava,” Rosita snapped. “How many would like to sit on your throne in the Castle on the Hill? Hmmm. Let me think. All of them?”

Thrawn hastened his pace. The dialogue so far was incriminating enough, but Tarkin would demand more. The Grand Moff was known to enjoy catching traitors red-handed, and he would want to see Turuy in Fava’s company with his own eyes. The Chiss had almost reached Minerva, who was now staggering to her feet, when the Hutt’s reply caught his attention.

“You know, Rosita, there is indeed one person who could be responsible for this mess. Only one person knew of the ISB’s fishing op on Ceska and of my plans for this event and of my cocoa shipment’s itinerary and of the loss of that particular freighter. And this person could easily have planted a few agitators in today’s crowd to rile them up and turn them against me. Do you agree with me, dear Rosita, that this person, this single individual who caused me so much trouble, should be made to disappear in the deepest gallery under the Castle on the Hill, never to be heard from again?”

Thrawn immediately understood where this was going. He spun on his heel to catch a glimpse of the Hutt’s procession, to see if Turuy understood too. To his dismay, the arrogant ISB major merely shrugged in her usual contemptuous manner as the microchip relayed her reply.

“Obviously.”

“Excellent, Rosita, excellent,” the Hutt said in a voice so cold that the temperature appeared to drop by several degrees, if such a thing were possible in Ando Prime’s frigid climate. “It will be taken care of as soon as we reach my palace. I trust you will be joining us?”

“Don’t be stupid, Fava. I’ve been around you for far too long already. Someone’s bound to notice, and then our entire little scheme will fall apart.”

From his vantage point, Thrawn barely noticed the twitch of the Hutt’s hand, but he saw clearly that one of her henchmen was now pressing something – a disguised blaster, no doubt – in Major Turuy’s back. “You’re coming with us, you kriffing Imp,” an unknown male voice said on the spy chip. “You’re going to regret double-crossing the Crymorah, I can promise you that.”

Thrawn spun around again and climbed the last few metres that separated him from his wife. A medic was applying a bacta-based ointment to a bruise on the side of her head. “There is no need, darling,” he said when he saw her fiddling with the chip in her ear. “Rhiannon and I have all the evidence we need.”

 

AHA! So the spy is revealed and it's Rosita? Well, I sort of thought it was her and Rhiannon definitely takes after her father, helping him with the observations and what not. I do not feel sorry for the woman, bad mouthing Minerva and Thrawn, is she in for it now!

 

Yay, the tide did indeed turn and quite satisfactorily. Rosita's goose is cooked, either by Fava or Tarkin

 

Thank you to everyone who stopped by to read, and special thanks @Nehru_Amidala and @WarmNyota_SweetAyesha!

I'm typing up this non-reply to your reviews as I wait for the opening crawl to upload to YouTube. I can't say anything else, because there's a surprise in the next chapter and I don't want to spoil it for anyone who's reading – so stay tuned, it's coming up in a few minutes!

 

The Final Confrontation

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Grand Moff Tarkin was standing by the refreshments stand and watching the last of the audience stream out of the Ice Dance venue, when Thrawn and Minerva caught up with him. As soon as he saw them, his face broke into a sly smile and he waved for them to come closer.

“I trust that you will tell me the details of your contribution to today’s operation in due time,” he said pleasantly.

Thrawn smiled back. “Our contribution was primarily the absence of hot chocolate, Governor – although our daughter assisted us with disrupting this event in a most unexpected way.”

Tarkin patted Rhiannon’s head. The infant grimaced a little but remained still. “A loyal agent of the Empire at such a young age. This child has a most promising future.”

Thrawn was waiting patiently for the Grand Moff to disclose the details of what he had just termed an ‘operation’, but Minerva would have none of it. She forced herself to adopt a respectful yet humorous tone. “I take it that you also had a hand in this hullabaloo, Sir?”

Tarkin chuckled. “My staff merely ensured that the crowd was adequately riled up. I had no doubt that your husband and yourself would take all necessary measures to clear his name.” His smile became feral. “I am confident that you are now bringing me the evidence I need to neutralise the traitor in our ranks.”

* * *​

The battle for the Castle on the Hill was short-lived. In addition to his regular stormtroopers, Tarkin had smuggled four squads of death troopers on the planet. Fava’s henchmen didn’t stand a chance. The Hutt herself, however, was putting up a terrific fight. She was still holed up in her sauna, shooting unerringly at anyone who sought to come in and arrest her, when Tarkin, Thrawn, Minerva and Rhiannon made their entrance in the building. “Tsk, tsk,” Tarkin murmured. “Smuggling, illicit trading, threatening the stability of the Empire, kidnapping an Imperial officer… and now resisting arrest. The list keeps getting longer, it seems.”

A young man wearing the turquoise outfit of the municipality’s cultural service – Thrawn recognised the junior aide who had been staffing the kiosk in the market – approached them and gave the Grand Moff a crisp salute. “We cleared the underground tunnels of fighters, Sir. The complex extends further than we could possibly imagine, all shielded by sensor jammers of the latest generation. It even includes a food condensation facilities. The stockpiles could feed entire planets for years.”

“What of our target?”

“We identified the location, Sir. We remained unseen, as per your instructions.”

“Excellent.” Tarkin turned to Thrawn and Minerva. “Shall we?”

The young aide guided them across the palace – Thrawn cringed at the gaudy decorations on display in every room – and to a bank of turbolifts. A short ride later, they arrived in a cave carved out of pure ice and had to board a cargo hovertrain to reach their final destination: a deep, well-like pit in the maintenance area that ran along one of the tunnels. Tarkin motioned for Thrawn to plug his spy chip into a datapad equipped with an adequate loudspeaker and began to play Rosita Turuy’s conversation with the Hutt as they walked the last few metres to the edge of Fava’s oubliette.

At first, the recording was virtually inaudible as the traitor’s pleas for help grew louder at the sound of approaching footfalls. She paused just long enough for the final sentence to be heard.

“Don’t be stupid, Fava. I’ve been around you for far too long already. Someone’s bound to notice, and then our entire little scheme will fall apart.”

Tarkin allowed for a few seconds of ominous silence before prompting Thrawn to step forward and reveal himself to Turuy. There was an astonished gasp, and the prisoner shouted: “You!”

There was such loathing in her tone that Thrawn was taken aback, but he maintained his impassive composure. “Indeed, me, Rosita. You do not seem particularly happy to see me.”

“I’m never happy to see you, you blue freak. Starting from that card game back when we were in the Academy.”

“All this about a card game you lost more than a decade ago? How petty, Rosita. I would have hoped you were handsomely paid for seeking to starve the citizens of the Empire you have sworn to defend.”

“I WHAT? You’re such a self-aggrandising idiot, Thrawn. I had to infiltrate the Crymorah on my own initiative because of your incompetence! I spent months and months building the confidence of that filthy Hutt, listening to her blabber, putting up with her paranoia to figure out the details of the network she’d built! And I was almost there! Now the Crymorah will go underground and reorganise, the mole they have in the Empire will go dormant, and I’ll have to start from scratch! Why couldn’t you stay out of the way?”

Thrawn raised an ironic eyebrow. “Are you seriously claiming that the incriminating conversation we just heard was part of your, ahem, confidence-building measures?”

Rosita snorted. “I don’t have to justify myself to alien scum like you. My loyalty to the Empire cannot be questioned.”

“I am afraid it can,” an unexpected female voice said behind Thrawn. He spun around to see that Arihnda Pryce had joined the party, and he wondered for a fleeting moment how she had found her way to them.

“You work for me, Rosita,” the Lothal governor said scathingly. “Do you believe that you could run this entire operation under my nose without me noticing that something was afoot?” She brandished a datapad of her own. “You sent and received encrypted communications from my office. You sliced into databases and modified classified Imperial records from my office. You used the accounts of my mining company for your money transfers. I am hereby demanding that Governor Tarkin adds to the charges against you the intent to frame me for your misdeeds.”

“I never…” Turuy’s voice trailed off. She inhaled sharply, as if understanding has suddenly dawned on her. “This is why Fava was always a step ahead of me! It was you all along! You’re the mole!”

“Enough!” Tarkin thundered. “We have heard enough from the dewback’s mouth to know who was in league with a criminal syndicate, Major Turuy. You have caused enough damage to the Empire as things are, you cost Kuba Hrdost his life, you nearly cost Grand Admiral Thrawn his career and the Imperial Navy its best strategist. You are hereby under arrest. You will be given the opportunity to defend yourself in front of a court of law.”

He spun on his heel and led the little group back to the hovertrain. Turuy’s screams died out in the distance as they walked away. “Tarkin, you fool! You’ve got the wrong person!” the disgraced ISB major was shouting. “She set it all up! She’s the mole!”

 

Well, that was quite the chapter now, wasn't it? It was nice to see Rosita get her come uppance, but is she telling the truth about Pryce? I am happy to see Thrawn's rank has been restored, and I look forward to seeing what happens next.

 

@Chyntuck Perfect round of mutual accusation between Rosita and Pryce.

I am not surprised Pryce is in the thick of things, not at all. But is she the real moll, or Rosita? Or both of them mutually /reciprocally scheming?
I am happy Thrawn has his rank restored.

 

And again, typing up replies while the crawl uploads to YouTube.

Thanks for the reviews @Nehru_Amidala and @WarmNyota_SweetAyesha and thanks for sticking with this story throughout! We're reaching the epilogue now, and everything is back to normal... or is it? It's a good question you have there about Pryce, and you're not the only ones wondering about it.

Thank you to everyone who has been reading this! I hope you had a good time

 

I have had a wonderful time!

 

The Grand Finale

​

“... And now that all the rank bars have been distributed and and the speeches are done, you are all very impatient to have some of the refreshments that will be served in the hallway. However, there is one more thing to do. Distinguished guests and members of the service, please join me in welcoming Lieutenant Minerva Hektor.”

Minerva blushed and handed Rhiannon over to Thrawn before standing up. She didn’t know that Tarkin had something in store for her; this was supposed to be a classic graduation ceremony for Imperial cadets. She forced herself to ignore the hundreds of pairs of eyes that followed her as she made her way to the podium and stood to attention in front of the Grand Moff.

“Lieutenant Hektor,” Tarkin began. “Some of our new recruits may only know you as the wife of Grand Admiral Thrawn. Others may have heard of your exceptional mapmaking skills. However, it is time for all to hear of your recent deeds.” He turned back to the assembly. “The woman who stands before you is the face of loyalty to the Empire. She did not turn her back on the oath she had taken when her family was wronged. Instead, she displayed initiative, perseverance and utmost dedication to remedy the ill that had befallen her by addressing a threat to the stability and prosperity of the Empire. She confronted it head-on, at great personal risk – and she won. For this, Lieutenant Hektor, you are hereby promoted to the rank of major in the Imperial Navy, effective immediately.”

The room broke out in thunderous applause as the Grand Moff pinned Minerva’s new rank bars to her chest. She maintained her composure and gave another crisp salute, but she had to struggle hard not to laugh at the happy squeals she could hear coming from her daughter.

* * *​

The evening dragged on for longer than Thrawn and Minerva had expected. There was a banquet after the ceremony, and it was late in the night when they arrived back in their Coruscant apartment. Minerva made herself a cup of hot chocolate and sat at the data terminal to browse the HoloNet while Thrawn gave an exhausted Rhiannon her bath and put her to sleep with the final chapter of Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy.

“Rosita’s trial ended today,” Minerva told her husband when he tiptoed out of their daughter’s room. “Just before our ceremony, actually.”

He sat on the couch and crossed his legs nonchalantly. “So I heard.”

“She was found guilty on all counts.”

“Indeed.”

“They said that the evidence against her was irrefutable.”

“Irrefutable.”

“She’ll be spending the next ten years in a labour camp. Quite a harsh sentence, if you ask me.”

“Quite.”

There was no doubt that something about this entire story was nagging at the back of his mind. “You don’t seem happy.”

Thrawn sighed. “There are moments when I wonder…” His voice trailed off.

“You think that Tarkin’s little scheme was too smart by half,” Minerva said. “That he created a situation where the Crymorah thought you were out of the way, yet you’d still be trying to uncover the mole…”

“... and we were so busy manoeuvring around each other that we might have failed to grasp all the evidence that was available to us.”

“It’s true that Pryce is a very smart woman,” Minerva said casually. “I wouldn’t put it past her to manipulate Rosita into infiltrating the Crymorah on her own while she, herself, was in league with Fava.”

“She could have.”

“It does sound a little far-fetched.”

“It does. But this is Arihnda Pryce we are talking about.”

“And it’s not like we’re going to miss Rosita anyway.”

“Not at all. However –”

“However, you won’t sleep until you are beyond certain that you got your hands on the mole.”

There was a spark of mischief in her eyes that finally caught Thrawn’s attention. “Major Minerva Hektor,” he said with mock sternness. “What have you been up to behind your husband’s back?”

She gave him her most innocent look. “Me? Nothing that you would not approve of, Admiral. It just happened that I was sitting next to Pryce during the banquet, and…” She rummaged in her pocket and held up a spy chip. “What do you think?”

Thrawn grinned. “I think that marrying you was the smartest thing I ever did, Major. Shall we listen in?”

“You’ll forgive me for not waiting for you, Admiral. I started while you were giving Rhiannon her bath.” She turned to the data terminal and pulled up an audio file.

At first all there was to hear on the recording was the sound of footfalls on duracrete, the beep of a cardkey, the whoosh of a door. Then the shuffle of feet became muffled, indicating that Pryce was now walking on a carpet, and the rustle of fabric told the two listeners that she was getting rid of her coat. Minerva gestured for Thrawn to pay attention, and they heard the click of metal – someone activating a compartment – followed by the tapping of fingers on keys. And suddenly, Pryce’s voice echoed across the lounge.

Tomorrow, ten hundred hours, in the Imperial Gardens. We need a new plan.

Minerva deactivated the data terminal and smiled at her husband. He let out a chuckle. “Darling. It seems that you enjoyed our little foray into freelancing, perhaps even a little too much.”

She shrugged indifferently. “Not me, Rhiannon. I promised to take her to the Imperial Gardens tomorrow. She has a bright career ahead of her as a spy.”

 

This was utterly delightful, and thank you, thank you so much for writing this!

 

@Chyntuck you are multifaceted in your talent. And you took someone else's OC and made them riveting and likeable. And clever Major Minerva -- LOL she got the goods on Pryce and that's a fact!! She is definitely cut out for the espionage field.

 

Another masterful piece by @Chyntuck (you don't know how to write any other kind, really!). Engrossing, and action filled, with some great twists and turns. It's a scary task, trying to write someone else's OCs, but you have really pulled it off.

 

Wow, you always manage to suck me straight into your stories and I end up almost speechless once the ride is over.

The intrigues in Minerva´s and Thrawn´s life might never end, but at least they face the dangers together and have fun. And Rhiannon.