#agral

ALL ESSENTIAL PERSONNEL INDICATED FOR COLD SLEEP HAVE RECEIVED THEIR THORACIC PORTS AND BACTA TREATMENT.

PREPARATION FOR NON-EMERGENCY COLDSLEEP:

Your groups will be called by MOS and rank. Do not wait in the medbay corridors. 

No food after 00:00 - clear liquids only. Take the intestinal prep at the same time.

At 06:00 leave your quarters wearing the hooded jumpsuit provided. Your possessions will be stored away for you.

In the staging area wait to be called with your group. Please do not bring anything with you such as datapads, reading material, or your personal comlinks.

We will soon be home. 

They will soon regret it.

Long live the Empire. 

CMDE Albus Marinith, ISD Chimaera FLAG, 7th Fleet, 

GADM Mitth'raw'nuruodo, ISD Chimaera FLAG, 7th Fleet

~

They were good soldiers and sailors of the Empire, and rather than await a lingering death from starvation and thirst - or eating dead whale meat (barf) - his Humans got to work. Thrawn, of course, didn't know this. He was in and out of coldsleep, medbeds, bacta tanks, and surgery. His Humans were as determined to save him as they were to get home. They were shocked silly when three crones suddenly appeared on the auxiliary bridge, and the Three Mothers almost joined their sisters before Thrawn stopped them. 

They had something to offer - and they wanted something in return.

A way to communicate with the galaxy far, far away. A way to rally the resources needed to return home. The hyperlanes were purgill migration routes, the purgill one of the oldest species not just in the galaxy, but in the universe, and a species eating itself out of existence. They came here to spawn, then die, their bones filled with Clouzon, the ships that ran on it the only way for them to get home. With a ring based on the old Jedi fighter hyperspace rings, the Chimaera could fly again. It would take the Mothers back to Dathomir, and the crew of the Chimaera back home.

It was go time.

They found a way to mine the bone belt, then vaporize the bones in a plasma engine, collecting the gasses. The Chimaera's chief engineer's last act had been to shut down the core with his bare hands in a breached engine room. In the weeks that it took to minimally refuel, the air turned stale as vital systems starved. Then, nursing the core back to full power - and holding their breath - engine by engine, they fired the Gemon-4 ion engines and moved slowly into the atmosphere.

Thrawn awoke just in time for the descent.

More devilry, but it could not be helped. Three rickety old hags weighed against the remaining Chimaera crew. 

So they are here now, his loyal crew. Almost all sleep in their stasis units in the catacombs. The Chimaera is vacuum tight and as spaceworthy as possible. Bridger will be stranded. 

Hammerly shuffles the cards, the chrono counting down to 00:00. Pyrondi has a pile of worthless chips and heckles Lomar and Agral that she's cashing in when they get home. Yve doesn't do goodbyes, and is sitting this one out. Marinith is finishing his last commands and a glass of his Corellian whisky. 

Thrawn brings a bottle and takes a seat. "Deal me in, Flag Captain Hammerly."

"Ready to lose your pension, sir?" Pyrondi chirps with her characteristic confidence.

"Hold onto your chips, Commander Pyrondi." Card games such as Five Card Fool Me involve strategy as much as luck. "Remember last time."

She tried to bluff the table with a pair of deuces and fooled everyone but him. 

They talk about what they're going to do when they get home. Some of the acts involve improbable uses for Bridger's head, but most are typical leave activities. They talk about visiting family, partying, indulging in food and drink, or hobbies. 

"What are you planning to do, sir?"

"Apparently, Commander Lomar, I need to plan on posting your bail." Thrawn let a small smirk flit across his face, making the others eye their cards nervously. "Don't worry about the courts martial. I've had enough of them that I can talk you through."

The runup to coldsleep has seen some remarkable behavior in the name of stress relief, and Thrawn has long looked the other way on fraternization. Waking up in a pile of warm and naked Humans has been comforting these past months. They have never disdained his injured body, and many bear scars from horrendous wounds of their own.

Five minutes to 00:00, Hammerly puts the cards away and kisses them all farewell. Lomar and Agral follow. Marinith looks in and bids him goodnight. Yve's farewell is personal, warm, and heartfelt. Pyrondi tidies the room and Thrawn can feel her reluctance to leave.

"I'll look in on you in a few hours." 

She nods, not trusting her voice, and goes. Thrawn would never betray her confidence that coldsleep terrifies her. They've all had the drills, starting with the academy, but this is going to be for a very long time. They don't have enough consumables for the length of time they'll have to wait. Thrawn and a core of stormtroopers will remain awake, with a few officers and specialists to wake when the Eye of Sion arrives.

The prep for non-emergency coldsleep is unpleasant, but he noticed them cutting back on rations and increasing fluids. When he looks in on Pyrondi, as promised, she's pale and fatigued in the aftermath. A weak smile from her and he enters, placing the do-not-disturb on the doorway. He's going to miss her as she sleeps. He will miss all of them. His Humans.

He stays until 06:00, going to medbay and finding everything ready. He nods at the medic to begin.

"Commander Agral, report to medbay."

"Commander Yve, report to medbay."

"Commander Lomar, report to medbay."

"Commander- Commodore Marinith, report to medbay."

Pyrondi is last, and it is for his own selfish purpose. Marinith gives him a knowing look.

The body, reactivating from a cold start, goes through hell. Hibernation sickness can last for weeks if one is not properly inducted. First come the scans to make sure of an empty digestive tract. A protective drink goes down, eye and nose drops are administered, a mouthpiece put in place. Then the thoracic port is hooked up to the infusion pump. There is nobody to see as he takes Pyrondi's hand. She's a good officer, one of his very best.

"Anesthesia in three, two, one. Commander, count backwards from ten."

"Ten. Nine. Eight. S-sevix. Fi-" 

Pyrondi's eyes haze, close, and are then delicately taped to protect them. The mouthpiece and airway tube are placed, then her exposed face covered with bacta patches. It doesn't look like her any longer. Thrawn starts to tuck her fingers into the mitt, then looks at the other four caskets waiting, lights blinking. It's not a Chiss custom, but he presses his lips to her warm fingers. 

"I'll see you soon, Commander Pyrondi." 

He tucks her hand back in, straightens and nods at the medic.

"Coldsleep prep dose underway… now." He can't see the warmth drain from her face, but he can see her in infrared when he blinks his nictitating lid. She changes until her body gives only a cold blue signal. "Patient is stable. Beginning induction."

He waits. She or one of the others waited for him - there every time he woke up. 

"Induction successful for Pyrondi, Commander, Senior Weapons Officer, female, twenty-six years of age."

The casket closes, carbonite gas filling the space, the light flashes and then settles into a steady red. 

Thrawn nods to the medic, one of the few crew members left awake.

"We'll take good care of them, sir."

"Dismissed."

When the troopers come to take the five caskets, Thrawn turns and walks away.

'Right here' turned out to be the stage, and the drink was a sweet and frozen thing with garnishes and a little paper umbrella. Cautiously looking around confirmed that, yes, the clientele was composed only of women. Some of them looking right at her as if she were a slice of blackout cake. The music started and a lady came strutting out on stage in boots to her thighs, a dress that didn't have enough bottom to reach the top of the boots, and also didn't have enough to keep her generous boobs contained. How did anyone dance in heels that high?Ilyana followed the others seated stage-side in tapping her credit stick on the receiver and sending credits to the dancer's account.

Ohbrightstars. The lady came over to dance right in front of her and Ilyana blushed. It wasn't indecent - she still had all of her scanty clothing on and-

No, she didn't.

Ilyana mentally smacked herself and remembered her manners.

The lady cooed and pinched her cheeks. "Oh, sugarbun, are you new to the team?"

In the next few minutes a crowd of dancing ladies plucked her from her seat and relocated her to an ornate couch, then all of then proceeded to dance on tables and even grind on her lap. If Ilyana blushed any more, her head would explode. Maybe this had not been the best idea, but they were all being so nice. She bought drinks for them, and was often placed in a lap when the lap she currently occupied had to perform. Likewise, a number of the clientele were looking at her as the Big Bad Howler looked at Little Masha. Even worse, Ilyana could recognize Captain Daala and Captain Sloane. An icy blonde was looking her over as if Ilyana was something she wanted to try on.

"It's late and I wanted to get my aircar and go find some dawnmeal-"

Six of the ladies bunched around her. "You have an aircar?"

And, "Don't worry, Poppet. We won't let the she-wolves get you."

"Er, yes. It's parked over at Guitta's-"

"Oh, the Hutt. Don't worry, she won't charge you a clipped credit."

"I know the perfect place. My sister's waiting tables at the Allisandre Grill-"

Honestly, maybe they ought to put dancing ladies in uniform because, bright stars, they plowed through everything like an ISD on full fire. True to their word, Ilyana was refunded her parking charge, and ten dancing ladies piled into the aircar. Noemi - a sweet-faced Alderaani gave her the directions and Giama got them the parking spot, while Maddein led a little parade of scantily-clad ladies and Ilyana into the grill, calling for a table in her sister's section. Ilyana checked her credit balance and tapped it on the receiver set in the table.

~

The enforced socializing made Karyn wish that she was a junior officer again. Sit and sit until you ass was sore, stand around until your feet hurt, smile until your face was fit to fall off your-

A few times in one's life, one witnessed such doings that the inside of one's skull was utterly silent. This was one of them. Pyro had said she didn't have plans for the evening, and that was technically true, but it failed to explain how her weapons officer and freshly-minted senior lieutenant was seated in the midst of a line of showgirls. Karyn reached over and tugged at the hem of Thrawn's tunic, drawing him from a conversation with a glassy-eyed Siward Cass about Delayan Clone War-era art.

The silence was positively ringing and Karyn caught Cass and Tarkin (and Vanto) counting the ladies surrounding a pink-cheeked Pyrondi.

"I'm going to ask her for pointers," Vanto muttered.

"This explains a few things," Jashin Agral agreed.

"By the UCNJ, she's not breaking any rules or regulations," Thrawn cut to the heart of the matter. "We'll have a talk with her later. While she didn't lie, there was not a lot of truth in her words. Humans are so strange about sex."

The Allisandre Grill was drawing a crowd. Mostly men. Mostly flag rank or connected. All of them homing in on the windowside table. Karyn picked up the pace, altering course, going to rescue her weapons officer before a talking-to that would blister ears. Of all the numbskulled capers-

~

The caf was freshly roasted and the pancakes were delicious; on the whole breakfast was solid as the decks of the Chimaera. The ladies were a flight of chattering tropical birds in colorful feathers, and Ilyana just listened for her name and got her cheeks pinched a lot. From time to time, rankers would come up to the window, stare, and then leave. As long as they were not in the restaurant, Ilyana did not have to come to attention.

"Ah. Senior Lieutenant Pyrondi." That voice, despite not being Navy, had her at attention as if there was a cable to the top of her head. "Delightful evening."

"Yes, Colonel Yularen, sir!"

Major Partagaz heeled his superior officer, and fixed her with a look that made cadets and midshipmen shake in their boots. Both men looked over the women at the table for long, voiceless moments.

"As you were, Lieutenant Pyrondi." The old wolf had a reputation as one with a high rate of return for the ladies. "Carry on."

"Sir." Ilyana resumed her seat after coming to attention for Major Partagaz, who had been Professor Partagaz not too long ago."