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The room is nearly bare – there's a light, and a cot, and a refresher down the hall. Nothing about it suggested any importance to its occupant, other than that she had the room to herself. It wasn't meant to be anything more than minimally livable, and Hera doesn't mind. It makes things easier. Her pack is left in a corner. When she finally had the chance, she'd climbed into her cot, and slept for a few hours.

Since waking, Hera had checked in with the bridge officers, and then visited the refresher. She's in a fresh uniform, but climbed back on her cot. Rather than lie down again, Hera sits, crossing her legs and resting her hands over her knees. She bows her head, closes her eyes, and listens. At first to the empty silence of her cabin, but then, slowly, the footsteps in the hall beyond her door, the vibrations along the walls, the voices from the other cabins. Sometimes she imagines she can hear the hum of the ship itself, ebbing and flowing like a roaring heartbeat.

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"We're going to do something else first."

Instead, she turns into a stairwell, and heads up.

"I hope you do not mind if I refrain from playing guessing games."

Not that he has thus far, but. Lines must be drawn.

(Though he is very definitely curious. And perhaps a bit on guard.)

"No, you're free to just follow me."

She exits the stairwell after one flight up, and as she turns into the corridor, the only place she could likely be heading is the bridge.

"As you will."

He falls silent then, and remains blessedly silent all the way to the bridge.

Whatever can her purpose be? He is very interested, even still, in finding out.

A few minutes later, they step through the doors onto the bridge. The officers on-duty look up when Hera enters, but she stops at the door way, and immediately gestures for them to return to their work.

Then she turns back to Thrawn. "You can wait here, if you want."

If he wants. Hmmm. Perhaps if he had more information . . .

"Is that a requirement?"

"No."

But she doesn't wait for him to make up his mind, already stepping out to cross the bridge.

He follows.

Because to wait is to admit to discomfort or uncertainty, and he is not about to do that.

Hera nods to Captain Sorotai as they pass her, but she still doesn't stop. Instead, she keeps walking until they've reached one of the navigation consoles on the far side of the bridge, where a Twi'lek officer is sitting at the controls. Hera takes the empty chair next to them.

"How are you, lieutenant?"

The officer looks up, gold eyes flickering to Hera, and then, briefly, to Thrawn. "I've been plotting out our possible course trajectories, assuming we're sent back to the Horsel System. Has there been a change?"

Hera shakes her head. "Your shift ends in about two hours, right?"

The lieutenant glances to Thrawn again, but then back to Hera. "I - yes, it does."

Hera never looks away from them. "Do you think you could talk to Daska and Zofi then? Bring in some of the lower crew? I think they could use it."

The lieutenant's eyes widen a little in surprise, but they quickly smile. Still, theirs flicker once more to Thrawn. "Zeulon jaitare ne."

Hera laughs, rising from the chair and resting her hand on the lieutenant's shoulder. "Kalmio."

And then, Hera starts back toward the doors.

Thrawn nods to the lieutenant, then turns sharply and follows Hera away.

That was -- perhaps some would have found that enlightening. Thrawn merely fits it in as another part of a puzzle.

"Will you need to repeat this exercise, General? Or is the lieutenant sufficently tied into the crew's network to know how to reach all who might be, shall we say, uneasy?"

Hera doesn't answer until they're off the bridge.

"I think that will take care of that end," she says. "But I'd still want to talk to some of the ensigns first."

Hera merely realizes that her powers are limited. Even if she can be empathetic and understanding and inspiring as needed, there's only so much she can do alone.

Edited 2017-10-14 18:56 (UTC)

"And thus to the lounge we go? Or is there a better location for finding an ensign when you have need of one?"

Ensigns come and go, and are fairly easily recognizable. But where an ensign might prefer to be when off-duty if it is not a general crew gathering-place --

Thrawn really has no idea.

"We can start there."

There will be no quick or easy way to accomplish this, but it's as good a place to start as anywhere, in the time they have.

Quick and easy, Thrawn is slowly remembering, has almost nothing to do with sentient beings outside of a combat-oriented context. (At least for him, that's true.)

"And where we will finish?"

Perhaps, in truth, no one yet knows.

"I haven't planned out every move."

It's not a battle, Thrawn.

"No?"

It certainly seems like she has a strategy, at the very least.

"Is that a question of personal preference, or . . . "

Maybe it is just the way the Resistance (and the Rebellion, long before) handles interpersonal matters.

"It's how people often talk to each other."

She can't stop that from sounding a little condescending, but as she leads them this time to a turbolift, she turns back and adds, now entirely serious, "I can see how you'd be unused to that."

His smile is thin and crooked, there and just as quickly gone.

"There is a great deal of truth to that. Habits among the Chiss are . . . somewhat different, and I have not had much company -- good or bad -- on a regular basis in quite some time."

It is one reason why he is asking all these questions.

"I am slower to readjust than, perhaps, I had hoped."

She reaches for the button to call the elevator.

"Then maybe you could use this practice."

"Likely."

Again that thin smile passes across his face.

"Though perhaps I ought to try it outside of your company, eventually?"

Not soon, however. Things are still too delicate for that.

Hera lets out a breath.

"We'll see."

"Should we happen to live long enough to find out, it will be . . . interesting."

The elevator door opens just then, and Thrawn carefully steps inside.

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