The Card Game at the End of the Galaxy.
They got the Lady as repaired as one could hope. The damned whales apparently used the refined Clouzon fuels to come back here to die after spawning. The Chimaera's crew had been too busy dying or with damage control to see the beasties having it off in hyperspace. Grace and Little Gods only knew if she'd hold together making the jump, but with the materials of other crashed ships, they'd been able to put her back together.
Shipwide Communication: All Hands
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.
Now all he has to do is wait.
