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Vurawn’s mother ties his scarf unbearably tight around his neck and kneels before him. “Remember, you will make more friends with sweets than you will with stink-roots.”
He grimaces. There isn’t a Chiss child alive who likes stink-roots. The only person that Thrawn knows who even likes them is his father and he makes a point to be “invited to dinner” every time his mother prepares it. Those nights, he simply wanders through the woods and eats various berries and watches birds until he is certain his parents are finished eating.
“What if I don’t want to make friends?” Thrawn asks. The other kids are louder, more excitable. He just wants to sit and notice things and for that he is often bullied. Kids will take his lunch or call him names. He has no interest in befriending them.
“It is always nice to have friends, Vurawn,” she chides gently. “Now hurry off before you’re late. And don't forget your sweets.”
Vurawn takes a hold of his lunch pail and scampers off into the snow knowing full well he will not be giving any proverbial sweets to anyone.
~
The café is comfortably quiet. There is the hum of the appliances in the background and the soft murmur of fresh cacoleaf being brewed. Soft golden light filters in through the front windows and Thrawn settles fully into the conversation with his brother.
“You see,” Thrass begins, “it is easy, you simply be nice to everyone, gain their favor, and use it later. That is what politics is all about.”
Thrawn sits back, cradles his cacoleaf in his palms. “It still does not make sense. How would you know if someone is doing the same to you?”
Thrass contemplates, “I assume it’s by the favor they ask of you. For instance, if someone asks you to move furniture—they are likely your friend truly. If someone tells you to relay a message it could be a set up.”
“So friendship is determined by the favor asked?”
“Well, no…”
Thrawn holds up a hand. “I do not see the point of being nice to everyone. If they do not show kindness to me, I will not do the same to them.”
“Yes but relationships are nuanced . Even if someone is being kind to you, they could be playing a game of manipulation that you are not.”
“Are you manipulating me?”
“Of course not.”
Thrawn tuts. “I still do not see the need to treat every person I come across with kindness. Why would I want a friend who is cruel to others and myself?”
“They wouldn’t be your friend, they would be an ally to use later. A card up your sleeve.”
Thrawn takes a long sip of cacoleaf and lets Thrass’s comment hang in the air.
“It’s like the saying always goes,” Thrass says and takes a bite of cheese, “You make more friends with sweets than stink-roots.”
Thrawn grimaces. “I hate stink-roots.”
“Most people do.”
~
Ar’alani paces the garden outside the ceremony hall. “I do not understand you,” she snaps. She is like that sometimes. When she means well and she is passionate, her words become sharper. “All you have to do is play nice. Hasn’t anyone ever told you that you make more friends with sweets than with stink-roots?”
“Yes,” Thrawn says from his place on the bench, watching her bounce back and forth. “They have.”
“And, what, you chose not to listen to them?”
He sighs. “I do not see the point of being nice to people who do not deserve it.”
“It’s not about that,” she says. “It’s about not telling a commanding officer, to his face in front of several other officers, that he is an idiot .”
“His actions could have killed people.”
“Yes, but as a Senior Captain it is not your responsibility to inform him of such.”
“If not me, then who, Ar’alani? If we continue down this track you and I both know that it will end in civil war.”
She heaves a sigh and sits next to him on the bench. “If you would just… be polite you would be a commodore by now.”
“I will not be complacent in actions that will bring about the end of the Ascendancy.”
“Yes, but if you commissioned you could make these changes. You could tell the Admiral to frost off. Thrawn,” she puts a hand on his—they tried once to be something more than friends and though Thrawn couldn't reciprocate a small seed of that remains in their relationship now. “Please just try, that’s all I ask.”
“I will endeavor to do so,” he says and knows full well that he will not.
~
Thrawn and Eli return to their shared hotel room after another political gala. As soon as they cross the threshold, Eli is unsealing the high collar of his dress uniform. “Well that sucked,” he says concisely.
“Indeed,” Thrawn says and tries to ignore the headache building behind his eyes. The lights in the gala hall had been too bright and now he is suffering the consequences. “Thank you for the diversion,” he musters after a few moments of silence.
“Oh, you’re welcome. Least I can do as your aide and such.”
“Nevertheless, your efforts are greatly appreciated.” He doesn’t need to look at Eli to know that he is blushing.
They take turns changing out of their dress uniforms and into civilian attire. When Thrawn emerges from the refresher, Eli has a fresh pot of tea waiting for him on the low table.
“I know you’ll probably be up for a little while, sir, but I’m wiped so if you don’t need anything else…” Eli trails off with a longing glance towards their two mid-sized beds.
“You are free to retire for the evening. Thank you, Ensign.”
He gives Thrawn a tight lipped smile and turns towards their shared bedroom.
“Ensign, before you go, I do have one more question.”
Eli’s shoulders slump and he turns around. “Sir?”
“Why have you not encouraged me to befriend any of the senior staff?”
“Oh,” Eli rocks back on his heels, seemingly surprised by his question. “I guess because they all suck.”
“Explain.”
Eli sighs. “Well, quite frankly, none of them are going to have any respect for you—”
“Because I am an alien.”
“Right. So, if they aren’t going to respect you, there’s no sense in opening yourself up to being taken advantage of. You might as well stay cordial so they don’t have a reason to hate you more than they already do and keep your distance so they don’t have time to analyze any weaknesses.”
“I see.”
“Why do you ask?”
“It was merely a fleeting thought. You have my gratitude once again for your explanation.”
Eli moves to go to the room and stops. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you need them. You’re flying circles around leadership without any political ties. Before you know it, you’ll be giving them orders.”
Thrawn huffs a laugh. “We will see. Good night, Ensign.”
“Good night, sir. Try to go to bed at a reasonable hour. We have breakfast with Tarkin in the morning.”
Thrawn sighs. “Yes, I will. Thank you.”
Eli nods and heads into the bedroom. Thrawn sits back and wonders if the Ascendancy simply operates differently than the Empire or if Eli Vanto understands him at a level no one has before. He takes a sip of tea and looks down at the cup, the perfect amount of sugar has been added and next to the tea pot is a bottle of painkillers. The conclusion, he finds, is simple.