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For a few seconds, Hera had been sure the shouting and blasterfire they had heard echoing through the base were her crew trying to find her. Reckless, single-minded, fighting their way through these unfamiliar beings. The girls had held close to her, asking what was happening, and Hera hadn't dared answer. But then as the blastefire died down, as the voices grew quieter, she heard something else. Smooth, steady paces, the tap of boots. It was just before the cell door opened that Hera knew what was going to be on the other side of it.

And there was no escape. Three Stormtoopers stepped into the cell at once, moving to surround Hera and the two Chiss girls. The girls didn't keep asking questions, though they followed the Troopers with their eyes, and huddled behind Hera, trying to use her as a shield. The troopers were followed by an officer. Hera kept her eyes on the floor at first, but she looked up in surprise as the officer knelt down, and slowly approached her and the girls.

Hera realized then that the Empire knew what they'd find here. Or at least, they'd known part of it. When the girl closest to the officer flinched back, burying her face in Hera's shoulder, the officer looked at her.

"Who are you?"

She was wearing a rough-woven skirt and tunic, boots and a simple cap. Yet for a few seconds, Hera had forgotten that she might look different. That more likely than not, the Imps weren't going to recognize her. She closed her eyes, and took a moment to be grateful that the officer had spoken first. And then, to come up with a story.

A name. Nyn. A story. Captured by pirates, who traveled out into the far reaches, bordering the Unknown Regions, and sold her to these beings – the Grysk, the Imperials called them – who used her to watch over their stolen children. She used her Ryloth accent, spoke in halting sentences, kept her eyes on the floor, only stealing quick, frightened glances at her questioner. The girls wouldn't leave her, so the Imps had taken them all together, first into a shuttle from which Hera and the girls watched as it flew up into a Star Destroyer, then within that, an empty room that looked like it might be used as low-ranking officers' quarters. That surprised her, as did the fact that they brought water for her and the girls to drink, and even a few protein bars.

But whatever the Empire wants with these girls, she can't imagine it's anything better than the Grysk did. Sooner or later, she'll have to act. Even as she's far from her crew, with two children to take with her, and no hope of fighting an entire Star Destroyer alone.

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Hera gets to her feet, looking down to the girls as she does.

"Do you have the cloaking device with you?"

Thrawn is fortunate that Rukh is prone to obey his commands, even when they are phrased as requests.

"Of course," he says dryly, unclipping a small, unprepossessing square of metal from his belt.

"Shall I explain how to work this?"

Hera, now, speaks to the girls, lightly touching the older one's shoulder. "Do you need him to explain?"

The girl looks to the square of metal, her eyes lingering on it for a moment, but -

"Yes, please."

Thrawn beckons them both forward, dropping to an easy crouch, seemingly careless of Hera's presence.

(He trusts, for the moment, that she will not ruin the chance of escape for these children. Another time, another place, even later today . . . no.)

"It is very simple," he says, in Meese Cauf. "Press this button once to turn it on, twice to turn it off. It recharges itself slowly, so you must use it only when it is necessary. When you think you will be seen, or when I or the Captain tell you to."

He looks up at Syndulla, then.

"Understood?"

The girls both nod, standing tight together, and the older girl reaches out her hand to take the device. Thrawn lets it go, if slowly.

Then --

"Shall we?"

The younger girl holds to the older, but with her other hand, she reaches for Hera. Hera takes the girl's hand gently into her own - the girl clings to her tightly.

"Coth'eraw'rema," Hera says, softly. She clearly, and entirely, enunciates each of the girls' names. "Suc'asaw'earmemm."

"Hera," the girls answer together.

She looks up to Thrawn, and nods.

"Mitth'raw'nuruodo," Thrawn says, gesturing toward himself. It might help the girls to know, later, when they are debriefed in the Ascendancy.

(And it may help Thrawn, too. Eventually.)

"I shall lead the way. Captain, should you prefer to move at my left hand, or my right?"

As Suc'asaw'earmemm is holding her left hand, she answers, "Left."

Then, in Basic, she asks, "Is there a way I should act?"

Thrawn taps his lips with one finger for a moment, red eyes fixed on Hera's face.

"Cowed, if you can. And if not, at least subdued. Imagine you were a prisoner who feared her only hope of life was to provide any aid and information requested of you, and, indeed, more you could think of that we did not ask. At least for the first leg of this journey, while some eyes may be upon us."

With that said, he turns, gesturing the girls to come up behind him, and moves as if to open the door.

Edited 2019-04-04 01:52 (UTC)

"I'll figure it out."

The girls obey Thrawn's gesture, the younger pulling Hera along with her.

"I have no doubt."

And then Thrawn steps smoothly out the door, looking neither to the left nor to the right even as he notices the corridor is, as he predicted, currently empty. A slight jerk of the head is the only motion he gives to indicate that the girls and Hera should move forward.

Now, if the patrol schedule is as he arranged it, and no one has chosen to be derelict in their duties -- the most unobserved path to the shuttle bay is to the right, down a long, quiet corridor that contains several storage bays.

"Quickly, now," he says, keeping his pace brisk.

The girls nearly have to jog to keep up, but they manage to do so with soft footfalls that barely sound in the long hallways. Hera walks with her head down, her palms folded together over the younger girl's hand.

Her eyes flicker up to watch for Thrawn's signals.

And, when she can manage it, to get a look around the ship. She can't quite deny herself, it's not an opportunity she'll get often.

Edited 2019-04-04 03:12 (UTC)

The first leg of this trip is not particularly interesting, layout-wise, though were someone looking for good places to hide on a ship such as this, there are certainly a great many long-term storage bays that rarely see use lining the corridor. That may be something.

Thrawn, meanwhile, moves through the ship with careless-seeming ease, posture upright, hands held clearly visible at his sides. So it is that when they first hear several scattered footsteps moving toward him, he can make a quick, brutally simple horizontal slash of his hand without even needing to hiss between his teeth.

Hopefully a sideways glance at Syndulla as he moves a brisk two paces forward will convey that it is time for the girls to hide, now. He'll speak, if necessary, but avoiding it will be a great deal simpler. Thrawn is not, on the whole, the sort of man that mutters to himself when alone.

Hera looks down to the girls.

She doesn't speak, but nods her head once, and lets go of the younger girl's hand.

Almost at once, both girls vanish from sight. Hera folds her hands in front of her, and lowers her head so that she's looking straight down to her boots. But her lekku twitch, gently, as the footsteps grow louder.

The footsteps stumble down the corridor, resolving themselves into two ensigns that are clearly off-duty, looking for a place in which to be alone.

They come to an abrupt halt as they catch sight of Thrawn's crimson eyes, faces paling as what they've been caught doing sinks in.

"Ensigns," Thrawn says calmly. "As you are not on the cleaning rotation just now, I suspect you have better places in which to be."

His mouth is set in a flat line, no give anywhere in his expression.

"Uh. Sir," says the one on the left, sweat standing out on his upper lip. He hasn't even glanced in Hera's direction. "Yes, sir. We'll be -- "

"In the mess," says the second one, in a rush, already halfway to turning and clearly barely resisting the impulse to drag his companion with him. "It's mealtime. We -- yes. Sir."

And they both turn down the corridor and beat a hasty retreat.

Thrawn does not pause to watch them go, merely resumes walking.

Hera quickly begins to walk behind him, her head tilting slightly to the left, to listen for the girls following them as well.

Once the ensigns appear seem to be definitely gone, the two girls materialize again, still jogging slightly to keep up. The younger reaches for Hera's hand again.

Without looking, Hera takes the hand, and murmurs, "Good job."

"Well done to all of you," Thrawn says mildly. The corner of his mouth that is not facing Syndulla curves upward in a tiny, satisfied smile.

"This next stretch may be more difficult. There will be a -- "

A chiming sound rings over the comms, accompanied by a flashing blue light at intervals along the wall.

"An all-stations drill while we're idle, to keep the troops alert."

And, in a way, too bleed off the remnants of battle tension from the conflict they just passed through.

"We must all be on our guard without seeming to be so."

The older girl clutches the cloaking device rather tightly when the chiming starts, like she'd like to turn it on again, but she resists.

The younger clings more tightly to Hera. The flashing blue light glints off their straight black hair.

"And you know where they'll be going."

Hera still doesn't look up while she speaks.

"Provided that everyone goes quickly to the correct posts, yes," Thrawn says.

"But with a significant portion of recent recruits within our forces, as well as the mix between my own people and Lord Vader's, there can be no guarantee."

Unfortunately.

"Do not be afraid to anticipate the need for the cloaking device, swift here will be much better than missing the cue. Perhaps you might wish to look alarmed, Captain, at the prospect of an emergency in a location such as this."

Hera's practiced at the 'subservient Twi'lek' look. Having to act panicked at an emergency aboard a ship is much more grating to her.

But she just turns her head back to the girls, and nods silently again, affirming Thrawn's instructions.

And then, she takes the opportunity to look up, toward the flashing lights, down the hall, as her lekku twist as they would in fright.

This hallway is certainly more strategically relevant. There are safety lockers lining the hallway, filled with emergency supplies and vac-suits for the officers. Several of the doors are marked with symbols for live munitions, while others hold terminals that interact with non-essential ship systems.

Thrawn refrains from saying 'well done' to Hera's frightened posture, because some lines it is better not to push across, instead choosing to turn and smile reassuringly at the girls.

"We're closer, now. Do not be afraid."

And then he moves down the corridor with brisk strides, hands clasped behind his back, not even waiting for Hera to catch up.

Hera makes a mental note of every symbol, every terminal. To know where she could find ammunition, weapons, medpaks and vac-suits on a Star Destroyer - it could all come in handy one day.

But she doesn't let this slow her strides - and the girls would hardly let her, as they tug her along, their own bright red eyes only flashing between her and Thrawn.

Edited 2019-04-05 01:39 (UTC)

They're moving toward an area of greater activity just now, and Thrawn tilts his head as if listening, taking deep, even breaths for a few long moments.

"I miscalculated the speed of those stationed on this deck, unfortunately. And it will be . . . suspicious to have a prisoner along during a drill."

The cloaking device will not cover three of them, alas.

"I do not intend to sound mistrustful, Captain, but please refrain from touching anything in munitions storage that would give the game away. And make sure the girls don't touch anything, either."

He's already opening the nearest door and gesturing for her and the children to get inside.

In another situation, Hera might say something biting back. But she's not going to let that put her or the girls at risk.

So she only shoots him a glance before she quickly, and gently, places her hands on the girls' shoulders and moves them into the closet alongside her. She holds them until they reach a spot safely between the shelves of munitions, then steps back to shut the door behind them.

It's entirely dark - she doesn't need to be told not to turn on a light. She can feel the clink of blaster packs and disabled grenades lining the shelves around them, the footsteps getting closer outside.

"Can you see?" she asks the girls in a whisper.

The younger one answers, "Blasters and bombs."

Edited 2019-04-05 06:11 (UTC)

Out in the corridor the sound of booted feet marching in step is quite clear, as is their sudden and unified stop.

"Sir," says a voice that is manifestly not tinged with a great deal of respect or discomfort. "You are not authorized to be here during this exercise."

Thrawn's thin lips twist in what might be wry acknowledgment, but may also be mild irritation.

"Commander Kimmund. Your grasp of a situation never fails to impress."

If only Rukh were here. That would make this interaction almost entertaining, rather than tedious.

The girls stay silent, but lean closer to Hera when the voices sounds on the other side of the door.

Hera, meanwhile, wonders what Commander would lecture Admiral Thrawn on where he was 'authorized' to be.