The throne room was as Thrawn remembered it, but time had changed his perspective. When he had first arrived, Thrawn was certain of his purpose. Infiltrate, build the Empire up, or help it destroy itself – whatever it would take to ensure the Chiss would survive.

Now, Thrawn was here with a different purpose in his mind. It wasn't simply to retrieve the rank plaque the Emperor offered him. And, strangely enough to him, not merely to protect his people.

"Congratulations, Grand Admiral," the Emperor said. "An excellent day for you. An excellent day for my Empire. Though I fear many will not see it that way."

Ah, yes. The news of what happened at Batonn had spread throughout the galaxy as quickly as though through hyperspace. Many systems were voicing anger and concern at the carnage. Much of the blame for that had, naturally, fallen on Thrawn's shoulders. Without actual proof of Pryce's hand in the attack, Thrawn was forced to accept it as his own.

"I will endeavor to set their hearts and minds at ease," Thrawn said, his mind drifting from the battle at Batonn. "But first I must calm my own heart and mind."

The look on the Emperor's face was clear – he wasn't expecting to hear about any doubts from his naval officers. Perhaps the Emperor thought Thrawn wished to speak about Batonn. He was most likely glad that it had been the alien officer who had been blamed for Batonn… an officer who was still enough of an outsider that any criticism falling on him wouldn't hurt the rest of the Imperial Navy… an officer's undoing which could be manipulated to fed the narrative of xenophobia rampant in politics.

"Must you, now?" the Emperor asked, a mocking note on his voice. "Very well. Speak your mind, Grand Admiral."

"Tell me about the Death Star."

And suddenly, startlingly – Thrawn could see memories flashing across his mind. It was just a blur, but something he had no control over. He certainly had never started reminiscing on a caliber like this before. And the thoughts were random. Just mental images of flying through space… nothing more, though the idea of Death Star pressed upon his thoughts.

But Thrawn had never seen it, never actually flew to the construction site. Even if it made no sense, it was as if his brain had suddenly wanted to see it. His mind needed to know that he'd seen it – as though his impeccable memory had simply forgotten that Thrawn had never seen it, and was going through him memories to double check.

Most odd.

"When and how did you hear of that project?"

"I learned the name from unguarded dispatches," Thrawn said, wincing slightly as he vividly recalled the exact moment, clear as though he was currently sitting there, reading the name on his datapad.

"I deduced the size and power from resource allocations," Thrawn continued, struggling to hide the growing discomfort. And again, without warning - and he almost wanted to say without his wanting to - Thrawn could see himself, hear himself, talking to Eli. Asking him to go over the files on doonium, asking him what it would mean. He could see Eli looking back up at him, offering his conclusions. His questioning on why any single project would requite so much building materials, what the purpose of something so large could be.

Thrawn shook his head slightly, trying to fight against the memories, but a growing headache was pounding back against his resolve. It would be easier – less painful – to give in.

"I now wish to learn from you its purpose," Thrawn finally finished, and again, stronger this time, his mind played out the most vivid images in his head.

He could see his own fears, playing out before him. The Death Star – he'd never even imagined it before – but he knew that's what it was as he saw it in his mind's eye. A giant black moon, a great evil circle off set on the upper half… Thrawn could see Csilla, the small flecks of light which were the Chiss starfighters darting around the monstrous satellite, fighting in vain to stop it.

And flashes of green, a laser shooting towards his home world. It took all of Thrawn's will power to contain a gasp of terror at the realness of his own imagination, to not give in to the pain of seeing his world destroyed.

Once again, the grip vanished in an instant, and Thrawn was no longer helpless against his mind.

"Ah," the Emperor said knowingly. "Your throughts are laid bare, Mitth'raw'nuruodo. You fear that, once I have dealt with the rebels within my borders, I will turn my unstoppable weapon against your Chiss. Is that your concern?"

Thrawn felt his heart stop cold.

It couldn't be.

But perhaps it was. The Emperor had just summed up what Thrawn had imagined, a little too accurately for it to be mere coincidence. But if he had-

Another push in his mind. Answer.

"That is part of it," Thrawn said, burying his worry and speaking as normally as he could. "I would certainly not wish to see my aid to you and your Empire subverted into conquest or destruction. But I would also warn against diverting too many of the Empire's resources from a flexible navy of capital ships and starfighters to massive projects that can bring the Imperial presence to only one system at a time."

A push from somewhere beyond himself to imagine - why?

It was simple, really. Thrawn didn't even bother much to imagine it. He could clearly see the problem – smugglers and pirates and slavers running wild across the galaxy, as Star Destroyers became extinct and one giant space station was helplessly zooming around systems trying to herd them.

It simply would not work. Not to keep the Empire secure.

"Allow me to allay your fears," the Emperor said.

"I have no designs against your people. Indeed, I have noted that despite your assistance in mapping the Unknown Region hyperspace routes, you have kept the location of Chiss worlds and bases secret. That is acceptable. I don't begrudge you the defense of your people."

Thrawn felt the tightness in his shoulders slacken a bit. For a terrifying moment, Thrawn feared he had done something wrong – to hide his worlds. It would have come off as distrustful… but still. The Emperor's voice still held malice. Still held a tone like someone slowly allowing a trap to unfold.

"As to Imperial resources," the Emperor smiled. "There will soon be no need to spread the Imperial presence across the galaxy. Once the Death Star is fully operational, its very existence will suppress all opposition."

Thrawn furrowed his brow, trying to read the man before him. There was a strange, evil glint of delight in his eye as he stared back at Thrawn.

It was as though cloaked figure before him wanted him to figure out why. Why one single space station would be enough to immediately guarantee the obedience of the galaxy.

Why? The idea pressed harder.

It was almost too delicious an idea to not imagine – and Thrawn's mind, which enjoyed exploring possibilities anyways, offered no resistance.

Thrawn was thinking of it before he realized it. He had already deduced its destructive capacities, had already determined the Emperor was cruel and vindictive and unfit to rule. And at his imaginings of the Death Star's destruction of Csilla…

He felt his stomach drop out as the realization hit him. The Emperor… the very man standing right before him was planning to use the destructive capabilities of this weapon – not against the Rebellion, not against enemy vessels – but upon worlds.

There was no other explanation for the enormity of its firepower potential. It wasn't merely overkill. Over exuberance. It was intentional. The ability to destroy a planet… and the Emperor would use it… use it to terrify the galaxy in obeying the whims of a madman.

He must be stopped.

Thrawn was convinced. Without a doubt. The Death Star would be used against civilians. Against noncombatants. Entire worlds wiped from existence - billions of innocent lives lost. And the moment it was used, the Rebellion would win. The firepower would mean nothing, because every system would pour its resources into helping the rebels destroy such a machine.

And if the Rebels won… the galaxy was lost. It would be the chaos of the Republic all over again. The Clone Wars… and Csilla… and the threat beyond.

The Emperor could not succeed in using this machine.

What would you do to see such ends?

Whatever it took, Thrawn realized. If it meant subverting its construction so it would never succeed. If it meant finding the blueprints of the Death Star and pouring over them to find weaknesses… even if it meant destroying it. Even if it meant giving such information to the Rebels. Even if it meant assassinating the Emperor. And taking his place-

"You would turn traitor?" the Emperor asked.

Thrawn blinked his eyes, forcing himself back to the present, and quickly trying to recall the last thing he had said.

But he hadn't said anything, and he was fairly sure his face had remained as impassive as ever – also giving nothing away.

Could he see my thoughts? Thrawn asked himself. It was a ridiculous idea, but the anger pouring out of the man before him left almost nothing to doubt.

Your thoughts are laid bare.

There was only one type of being Thrawn was aware of who might possess such a power. The Jedi.

He'd seen Jedi do incredible things. Unnatural things. But there were all dead, weren't they? That's what Eli had told him - that the Jedi had attempted to dominate the entire galaxy and were slaughtered for their treachery. Thrawn felt a tightness in his throat as he recalled that one had nearly killed him despite being separated by the vastness of space.

Thrawn gagged.

His heart rate skyrocketed as a hand flew to his throat. He had suddenly stopped breathing. Just like before…

Thrawn tossed his head to the side, doubling over, as though trying to shake off an invisible rope. He tugged at his collar, despite knowing it wasn't what was cutting off air. Despite his pride, despite his poise, Thrawn collapsed down to all fours, fingers digging uselessly into the ground. He gagged again –unable to cough without air getting to his lungs. And each second dragged painfully on, as if time itself slowed down.

"This is my reward for allowing an alien into my Navy?" the Emperor said, the anger biting on his words. "You once promised me your allegiance, but your thoughts betray you. Your goals were never for my Empire."

The invisible grip released him, and Thrawn fell forward, completely sprawled on the ground, coughing in great heaving gasps for air. Trying desperately to control his racing heart, but the helplessness, the mere idea of helplessness, was causing his heartrate to spiral out of control.

"I was too quick to speak before," the Emperor continued. Thrawn sensed the approach of the red-robed Royal Guards, the electric hum from their vibro-edged Force pikes droning dangerously close. "For now I do have designs against your people. A fitting punishment for your treachery – once the Death Star is complete, I will test it against your home world."

Thrawn growled, pushing himself up, but before he could spring up to his feet, one of the Red Guards lunged forward.

Thrawn had learned about the weapons they carried. The Force Pike. Nothing he'd read had prepared him for the pain.

The entire world around Thrawn collapsed. Vanished completely. All that existed was contained within his body. The pain was lightning – it was the only way to describe it – like vibrating, splintering shards of electricity, crackling across his muscles, igniting every nerve, awakening each cell with a pain unlike anything he'd ever experienced before.

He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't scream. His entire body was seized up, constricted into a ball, as all his muscles constricted against his will. Cramping as they were forced to bend to the will of the pike…

And then, it was over.

Thrawn panted, wincing again as his muscles began to tremble, shaking uncontrollably in the aftershocks of the attack.

But it was over…

A cold, shuddering weakness fell like a blanket over him.

And then a thought.

Run away. Return to Csilla.

no

Despite the pain, despite the fear at the magnitude of the mistake he'd made, Thrawn recognized what that voice was now. And no amount of pain would force him to reveal the location of his home.

Csilla.

Thrawn winced, and focused his thoughts on the first thing that sprang to mind. A cup… a cup and pouring into it from a never ending container, blue milk.

He focused on the idea. Hyperfixated on it. Why he was thinking about it, he couldn't let himself wonder. It was a cup. A white cup. A cup with blue milk… he imagined the sound of the milk, the texture of the cup. Zeroed in on it. There was nothing else. White background. White cup. Blue milk. Pouring. Endlessly pouring.

And on the edges of his vision, a corrupting black presence, burning its way through the picture. But he couldn't imagine why. He had to keep focusing on the milk. The blue milk. Pouring. Endlessly pouridhg dinto the cuup.

black ness onverouwlmnig. Consu;mngin. .Thrhrawn could notnn think absuyg why it as. there.

Not.

yyeet

it burned. blackness likefire burbghing. swallhwoing all.

"He has a powerful mind."

And like that, the pressure vanished. And once again, Thrawn found himself panting. His head pounding, like waves slamming against a breakwater. But… he'd kept Csilla safe.

"I do not wish to destroy this mind," Thrawn could hear the Emperor saying from somewhere above him. He had only just realized there were droplets of blood on the ground, and he raised a shaky hand to his face, feeling the warm of blood dripping from his nose. "But there are other ways to retrieve the information I need."

"Take him away," the Emperor said. "And inform the ISB we will need their best interrogator. One who can make this traitor willingly give up the location of his home world."

Thrawn felt hands grabbing him, but he was by far too weak to resist.

_SWR_

Eli Vanto was pacing.

He'd expected Thrawn back by now. The Emperor didn't come across as someone who would chitchat and small talk for hours, but hours were exactly how much time had passed, and Thrawn had yet to return to their hotel.

Eli knew what his orders had been, yet he was hesitant to fulfill them.

If I don't return by sundown, you must assume the worse has happened, and flee.

Of course Thrawn could have simply been a little overdramatic.

Then again, only Thrawn would stride confidently off into the unknown to confront the Emperor about a project he didn't fully understand. Yet that's what he'd done. And the more time that passed, the less likely it was that he would return.

So Thrawn's fear that he might face consequences for voicing his disapproval of the project came true?

Eli winced.

He was no good at this. What was he supposed to do now? Thrawn had handed him a datapad, filled with hyperspace routes which could take him to Csilla. He'd said it would be the only place where he'd be safe if things with the Emperor took a turn for the worse.

It was crazy.

Thrawn was just being over dramatic. They probably had some stupid party for his promotion to Grand Admiral – Eli checked his comm again to see if he'd been invited. Just like the last twelve times he'd checked it, there was nothing.

There was a logical reason to why Thrawn was late.

And he wasn't about the desert the Navy, flying off into the Unknown Regions, abandoning everything he'd ever known – simply because he was getting jittery.

Eli perked up. There was the sound of footsteps approaching their hotel door. Not just one. Not Thrawn. But a pair.

The buzzer sounded, the filtered voice of a stormtrooper calling out,

"Commander Vanto, open this door. We need to speak to you about Admiral Thrawn."