for_everyone | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

The advantage of Hera's typical technique is that it's controlled, and understated. She draws as little attention as possible to the act while she's carrying it out, giving her time to plant evidence and leave the area before most have even realized what has happened. But, once in a while, a particular job calls for a little more showmanship than this. Her work is never supposed to leave any uncertainty as to what it means, and who is behind it. But sometimes, there can also be value in sheer brazenness.

Which means that Hera's most recent target, Captain Orfanidis, was stabbed in the chest in his own quarters aboard the ISS Laran. At least the follow-up requires slightly less work – Hera doesn't even bother hiding her weapon. She hopes they find it. She hopes they find her DNA on it. She hopes they know exactly who did this, and that they walk in fear of when she'll do it again.

But if she plans to do it again, it also means she has to get away. Which is why she waits just long enough to ensure Orfanidis is dead before she drops her blade, and checks her time, before she steps back out into the hall. The moment she does is just as the ship's assigned cleaning "staff" is passing through. They're all wearing shock collars, so that they don't need a monitor, and are dutifully keeping their eyes down. Already disguised accordingly, it's easy enough for Hera to step in among them, and walk with them as they pass through the staff quarters.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Oh," Kanan says, pulling that sneer back on, but it's faltering and unsteady. "Because honesty is going to serve me well here."

How can he believe that, not just here, but anywhere?

She raises her eyebrows.

"Being half-Betazoid saved your life today."

After a beat, she adds, "And not running like a coward did, too."

He snorts, half humor and half spite, and even he's not sure if it's really half-and-half.

"Remind me again how your side punishes failure?"

Hera raises her eyes, glancing up to Thrawn.

"We can't afford to waste the way Terrans do."

"No."

That's impossible. No one could ever --

She turns her eyes back to him.

"The Terrans have made this part of the galaxy cruel. We have to find ways to survive that. But we have no reason to carry that out on each other now."

"Doesn't anyone here have ambition?"

Ambition, cruelty, torture, murder. They're all the same word.

She blinks, and takes a few seconds to consider this question.

"We all have ambition. But the Terrans won't allow that. And how would it help us to harm our allies?"

He snorts again.

"The Empire seems to have gotten far enough without that kind of softness."

Just look at it, the sheer scope of it. Isn't that winning?

Hera glances to Thrawn, but when he doesn't speak, she turns back to Kanan.

"And what, Lieutenant Jarrus, has that meant for you? What about your ambition?"

"If I had any, it would be meaningless."

It's a rote recitation, but at the same time it's true.

(His only ambition is not to die.)

"So they have ground you down, while making you believe you're not a slave."

Her voice is mild, and faintly curious.

"Does your organization -- if it can even be called that -- not have hierarchy?"

He tries to inject scorn into his tone, but the genuine curiosity wins through, regardless.

"We have leaders," she answers. "We don't need masters."

"What's the difference?"

This comes out bitterly, and perhaps that is no surprise.

Well, for one -

Hera reaches up to toward her neck. She's no longer wearing one of the collars used on the Laran, she was ready to have that disguise off her as soon as possible. But she tugs aside her neckline, revealing the scar where her implant had been as a child.

As she covers it again, "But you've proved they don't always need such measures, do they?

He flinches, looking away from her and shrinking into himself.

In this moment he stays silent.

(It's true.)

Her eyes follow Kanan's motion, but she it's a few seconds before she speaks. She considers her words, and that Thrawn is watching her.

"In that case, I'd like to think the difference is respect."

He snorts again, though he doesn't look up.

"I'm half-Betazoid, so the Terrans don't respect me. And I'm half-Terran, so I can't see how you'd respect me, so -- "

"A Terran can go back to their Empire."

Before respect comes some level of trust, and Hera can't imagine she could ever have that with a Terran. But -

"You can't."

Now Kanan does look back at her, bitterness still curling one half of his mouth.

"Maybe if I wanted to be tortured to death."

That's pretty much the only outcome of that idea.

Like a reminder,

"You don't."

"No," Kanan agrees, because there's no point in not doing it now. He's shown his hand.

"So what's the deal?"

Thrawn smiles very faintly, studying Kanan without looking toward Hera.

"Well done," he says, once more in Sy Bisti. "Shall we ask him to help ferret out informants to the opposition, do you think? A trial position in data analysis? I imagine he would be suspicious if we didn't immediately wish to make use of his psionic talents."

Edited 2018-07-18 23:33 (UTC)

Hera also watches Kanan, not looking back to Thrawn as she answers, "I'm not so sure."

In fact, she imagines rushing him to work it, seeming eager to use him like a shining new tool, would be more likely to close him off again.

Instead, she only asks, "Will you help us?"