In some slightly altered version of Rebels where Pellaeon was on the Chimaera.

Disclaimer: I own Nothing!

The Chimaera's departure from hyperspace had been remarkably smooth, considering the circumstances. Their alien assailants had casually detached themselves from the ship and began to simply fly away, suddenly indifferent to the star destroyer they had just brought to its knees. The crippled ship simply hung in space, with a slow but unstoppable momentum taking it closer and closer to the planet directly ahead.

"I can't get the system up," a anxious ensign called from the crew pit. "The primary and secondary generators have failed, we don't have nearly the power we need to restart cold engines."

Captain Gilad Pellaeon resisted the urge to rub his temples in frustration. A man of middle age, he was distinguished by a spotless straight uniform and an even straighter spine; the very model of an un-dauntable imperial officer, except perhaps for the neatly trimmed but bushy mustache that matched his prematurely graying hair. But even this long practiced image was starting to crack, straining against the inexplicable situation they had been dragged into.

The normal order one would find on the bridge of a respectable Imperial star destroyer had been replaced by barely organized chaos, as auxiliary bridge crews tried to repair the damage done by the jedi's bizarre attack. Crewmen huddled around functioning consoles and worked frantically to repair inoperative ones. Bits of debris and bodies still littered the floor, with clean up far down on their list of priorities. But the most unsettling thing was the fact that they could not even see where they were going. As soon as those beasts had extracted themselves from the ship, the emergency blast shields (a feature unique to the Chimaera that Thrawn had been campaigning to make mandatory on all imperial cruisers) had slammed shut to block the pressure leak where the view-port used to be. If not for a few sensor consoles that survived, they would never have known they were heading for a planetary collision; and even then the fact they couldn't actually see their course simply reinforced a growing sense of powerlessness.

"Continue troubleshooting," Thrawn somehow endeavored to keep his tone firm but decisive even in this disaster. "We must find the cause of engine failure immediately." Barely pausing for a breath he turned on his heel to the opposite crew-pit and called down. "Get an evaluation on the operability of our tractor beams in this condition!"

Pellaeon glanced up with interest. He had only recently been transferred to this command, but he had already witnessed the Grand Admirals skill for unusual solutions. "Could tractors help rectify the situation?"

The Admiral kept his alien gaze on the crew-pit. "We could launch our shuttles and light transports, then lock on and use them to pull the ship into a more stable orbit. If there is a moon or some other large mass within range, we could use it as leverage to clear ourselves from the planets gravitational shadow."

"We have a negative on the tractor beams sir," a crewmen replied. "None were active before power failure and we don't have the charge we'd need to start them up now."

"Perhaps we could rig grappling cables between ourselves and the smaller craft," Pellaeon offered.

"It would take some time to jury-rig," Thrawn appeared to be only half listening, his tone almost casually thoughtful as he stared at the blast shields that blocked the sight of their impending destruction. "And as we get closer to the planet it's gravitational pull becomes stronger."

"We have an answer from engineering sir," the ensign sounded like she had just had the floor pulled out from under her. "Being dragged into hyperspace involuntarily must have fractured the generators focusing conduit. Engineering says it's broken into a hundred pieces."

Pellaeon wanted to stumble toward the nearest chair and collapse into it. The focusing conduit was made from carefully designed metal alloys, with just the right conductivity to channel power through efficiently They were so expensive to make for engines as big as those of a star destroyer, and so hard to damage, that ships rarely carried spares. And replacements could not simply be welded together in the machine shop. "Could they be repaired?"

"Yes," Thrawn's quiet voice answered before the exhausted ensign could. "A reasonable amount of heating and the pieces would bond back together very securely. But we would need to have every last piece precisely fitted together, any irregularity could cause it to fracture again. That kind of repair would take hours, possibly days."

The frantic sounds of work had petered out around the bridge, as crewmen gave up pretending they were not listening. Pellaeon did his best to keep his gaze up, while not looking directly at any on them. "Shall I give the order to abandon ship sir?" He knew Thrawn had already received a cursory report on their status, including the large number of escape pods that had been damaged.

For one painfully long minute the Grand Admiral stood silently, arms crossed with one hand to his chin. His supply of miracles seemed to have reached its end.

Then he keyed his comlink on again. "Detention center, what is the status of our prisoner?"

"He's woken up sir," came the apprehensive reply. "I have a squad of stormtroopers outside the door if he does anything suspicious, but so far he's just sitting there on his bunk, and per your orders no one has interacted with him."

"I will be down shortly, let me know if anything changes." Thrawn keyed off his comlink then spun on his heel toward the turbolift door, nodding to Pellaeon as he passed. "Come with me captain, if you will. Commander Faro," He called the second in command over his shoulder. "contact the main hangar and tell them to begin rigging tow cables onto all their mid-sized craft immediately. They are also to plant attachment sites on our hull."

Pellaeon fought to hide his apprehension as he joined Thrawn in the turbolift, turning to him as soon as the doors closed. "You think that the JEDI can help us."

"I have looked into what is confirmed about the Force in recent months, and various forms meditation that allow its users to reassembly broken objects have been documented." The Grand Admiral talked about such supernatural powers with the frankness he would a ships engine capabilities. "It's possible Bridger could repair the conduit and restore our power. Baring that, perhaps he can lift the ship clear from danger. If all else fails, we try towing ourselves."

The captain was beginning to think Thrawn had been overly rattled by the earlier battle. "You think one jedi could lift this entire ship?"

Thrawn glanced at him with what might have been annoyance. "One jedi has destroyed this ship," he replied tersely. "I will not underestimate the same enemy twice!"

Ezra slowly came out of a daze inside an imperial detention cell, and for a moment could not remember how he had gotten there. The first thing that came to him was a memory of collapsing onto a metal floor, sounds of a door screeching open, blasters being cocked, orders being shouted, then the sense of being dragged off as everything faded to oblivion. He started using the concentration techniques Kanan had taught him and-

Kanan

Ezra bolted upright, so quickly he almost fell back down. Everything came flooding back; Kanans' death, their assault on the Empire, surrendering to Thrawn, meeting the Emperor, his awful test. And, finally, his last move. The plan that rid Lothal of the Empire entirely, but also meant he was leaving his home, and his family, behind. Maybe forever.

As he sat on his bunk, Ezra didn't think he had ever felt so tired before. It had taken all his strength in the Force to keep the purrgil focused on what he needed them to do, and he'd never had to hold it for so long before. His whole body seemed to ache at least slightly, and there was a dull throbbing from where Thrawn had shot him in the shoulder, though someone had slapped a bacta patch on it while he was out. As his mind cleared he began to draw on the Force, in a very small amount, to speed his recovery. That was when he began to sense the feelings of fear that surrounded him.

A lot of the star destroyers crew had apparently survived, and it occurred to Ezra that someone should have shown up at his cell by now. Stretching out, he could vaguely feel their thoughts; every degree on the spectrum between apprehension and full blown panic He spread his awareness wider and got a solid image; the giant face of a desert covered planet, with the tiny arrow of the star destroyer heading for it.

"Guess we took out Thrawn's ship after all," Ezra tried joking with himself. There might still be a chance for him to get clear of the impending collision. An escape pod would probably be blasted before he could ever get clear, but if he made it to the hangar he might just find something with more armor that he could fly out.

As Ezra tried to figure out the best way to get to the hangar (stealing a uniform had worked before), He became aware that the guards out side his cell suddenly radiated anxiety. More were coming, and he could sense a familiar alien presence among them.

"Guess this is it." He'd known they would come, Thrawn wasn't the type to let the other guy have the last word, but he had hoped for more time to recuperate. Nevertheless he stood up, allowed his focus to slip into the Force the way Kanan had taught him, and began to stretch his limbs for the coming fight.

He expected them to start off with a barrage of blaster fire or maybe a thermal detonator. He couldn't have been more surprised when there was a knock at the cell door.

There was a moments pause in which he ludicrously wondered if he was supposed to say 'come in', but then the door slid open. Thrawn stood there with hands behind his back, his uniform somehow only slightly ruffled by the events of the last few hours. His demeanor was equally controlled, though Ezra noticed just a slight hint of tenseness, as if the Grand Admiral was bracing for an attack but didn't want the other guy to notice. There were a dozen stormtroopers in the hall, maybe more, but they had all backed off slightly so none were within arms length of the door. Weakened, and without his lightsaber, Ezra didn't think he could get past that many; even stormtroopers couldn't fail at these odds. Maybe if he took the admiral hostage, but he had a feeling that would be harder to do than one might think.

"Commander Bridger," Thrawn nodded toward Ezra, as if they had just run into each other on the street. "Might I have a word with you?"

Ezra was so surprised that all he could manage was an exasperated shrug. "It's your ship."

The Grand Admiral purposefully descended the few steps into the cell, stopping when they were just a few feet from each other. The already anxious stormtroopers tense even more; blasters were held at parade rest as the admiral had ordered, but fingers were on triggers.

"I trust you are aware of our situation?" Thrawn asked.

"The ship has no power, and we are heading straight toward a planet." Ezra sensed the troopers tense even further; he shouldn't have been able to know this from inside a cell.

"The only realistic remedy is if we repair the shattered focusing conduit for our main generator," Thrawn plowed ahead. "But we do not have nearly enough time to do it by any conventional method."

Ezra raised an eyebrow, but otherwise tried to make his expression as unreadable as the Grand Admirals. He didn't know why Thrawn was stalling the execution to explain details, but every moment he played along was more time for him to recuperate. "Do you have an unconventional one?"

"That is the jedi specialty, is it not?"

After everything that had happened today (had it really all been one day) Ezra was pretty much incapable of shock, but that was surprising. "You want ME to help you!?"

"Helping those in need does play some part in the jedi philosophy, correct?" Thrawn's tone went just along the border of patronizing.

"I'm pretty sure they make an exception for people you're at war with." Ezra retorted, deciding to ignore the fact he still only had a beginners knowledge of the codes finer points. "Even the jedi let rules slip on the battlefield."

"And rightly so," Thrawn agreed. "But now that the battle is over, surely killing at least ten thousand now defenseless people by denying them help is rather excessive, even in war?"

Anger started to bubble up from Ezra's stomach, and he fought to stay in control as he glared daggers at the high and mighty imperial. "That's at about the same level of cruelty as opening fire on about a hundred thousand innocent, defenseless people, because your glorious empire is more important that the people who live in it. In fact under imperial rules of war, I'm pretty sure a few thousand unnecessary deaths makes you qualified for a promotion and a fancy uniform!"

There was a moment of silence, in which Ezra could sense the stormtroopers listening in the hall just itching for an order to gun him down. Unfazed, Thrawn simply replied, "Is it the jedi way to match the standards of your enemies?"

Ezra ground his teeth as he doubled down on his glare. DAMN YOU! DAMN GRAND ADMIRAL!

They marched down the corridors toward the main engineering space at a quicker and quicker pace. The ships last power reserves were starting to run out, and it was as if the star destroyer was dying right in front of them; hallway lights grew increasingly dim and doors opened with increased sluggishness. En route, Thrawn received a report that had something to do with the insufficient strength of tow cables which Ezra didn't quite understand; but it caused Thrawn to order that all nonessential parts of the ship be evacuated so lighting and life-support could be shut down to save power, and it all seemed to almost be the final straw for the exhausted captain.

He had wanted to return to the bridge anyway, but the turbolifts weren't working.

Once they reached engineering they wasted no time in getting Ezra into a power-leak suit and sending him out with the chief engineer and a team of tech grunts to try and save the ship. Making their way inside the massive encased tube that housed the primary power generator, they squeezed through a maze of circuits, pipes and wires, until they came to a small open space somewhere in the middle, between two generator pieces that were each bigger than the Ghost. Both were blackened with the discharge of an explosion, and droid sized pieces of broken metal littered the area.

"It's just one big piece of conductive alloy," the chief engineer explained, waiving her arms at the debris around them. "If you can fit all the pieces together long enough for us to weld them, it should save the generator." She sounded like she couldn't quite believe she was saying this.

"Show me the picture again," Ezra asked, and one tech held up a detailed schematic of what the conduit was supposed to look like. Ezra took a quick moment to look it over, before instructing them all to stand back. "And keep a heads up," he ordered as he crouched to sit cross legged on the floor. "Things could start happening fast."

They all obeyed, though the chief engineer frowned at him. "We don't have time for you to take a nap be-."

"Let him work Major Harch," Thrawn's voice came on over the suit intercomms. He and his staff could see everything they were doing from the main engineering room.

Sitting on the floor, Ezra took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. In spite of his tiredness, he had no difficulty taping into the Force again. If anything, it seemed easier than before. He reached out, and spread his mind's eye to his surroundings, taking in every detail.

There were many distractions. Parts of the ship creaked and groaned as the planets gravity grew stronger and stronger, and faint alarms blared about the dropping power-levels, as if someone could have failed to notice them. He could hear a whole shipful of thoughts too; the growing panic among the crew, the captain's frustration over his sense of helplessness, the chief engineers skepticism about "jedi spoon-bending" and the admiral's crazy plan.

Tired as he was, it was so easy to be distracted by them, to let his mind wander and his power slip away. But he couldn't let it, he had another mission.

This thought brought more distractions. Images began flooding his mind, scenes of Lothal, and how it must look now with the Empire gone. Faces, the friends and family he might never see again. Alone with his thoughts he finally began too feel the ramifications of what he had chosen to do hit him. I will never see home again!

"The past is not something to dwell on," he heard Kanan's voice and remembered the time and place; a late night around the dejarik table in the Ghost's common room. It was one of the few times he'd gotten his master to talk about his experiences during the Clone Wars. "You can spend the rest of your life worrying over what you could have done, but what has happened can never be corrected. All that matters, all you should worry about, is what you can do to help people today and tomorrow."

Ezra let his stray thoughts slip away like raindrops running off him, and formed a solid picture of the power conduit nestling in its place.

All around them pieces began to move, irregular chunks of metal rose up from the floor and dislodged themselves from corners. Several choice curses sounded out behind him, and the techs were so dumbfounded they barely dodged several pieces that flew in from behind them.

They came together in mid air in the space the conduit used to be, where a growing cloud of pieces were moving about in place, reorienting themselves to fit together perfectly. A massive three dimensional puzzle, putting itself together in less than a minute. Suddenly it was done, and a wide squat cylinder of metal the size of a bantha connected the two generator pieces.

There was an astonished pause, and then the major barked something to her tech grunts and they sprang into action, surrounding the conduit and using fusion cutters to weld the split seams back together. Ezra remained seated on the floor as they went over every split and crack, sing ladders and ramp ways to cover it from bottom to top.

He wasn't sure how long it took, perhaps ten minutes, perhaps and hour. But when the major gave the all clear, and the techs scrambled to a safe distance, Ezra released his hold in the Force.

With just the barest grown the power conduit settled into its place, holding firm along its new welding. There was a pregnant pause, then someone in the engineering room flipped a switch and a deep hum began coming from the generator, as machinery came back to life all around them. The noise grew into a dull roar that drowned out the excited chatter of the techs, but Ezra still heard a casually precise voice speak into his helmet comm, "well done Commander Bridger

They finally talked again in the Grand Admirals private office. Which, like the man himself, had managed to remain largely tidy. After power was restored Thrawn and his captain had made a b-line for the bridge, caught up in a whirlwind of staff as they receive increasingly more detailed reports about the ships status along the way. Ezra had sort of just trailed behind them, aware of but not really caring about the squad of stormtroopers still breathing down his neck. Minute by minute updates continued for two hours or more as systems were brought back on line throughout the ship, and those totally inoperable were sorted for repair by priority. Finally, the admiral seemed satisfied, and lead Ezra to the privacy of his office while waving off concerned staff.

Ezra sank into the nearest chair while Thrawn walked behind his desk and activated a hologram that displayed the ships steady approach to the planet. "We will make a controlled landing on the planets surface, and begin affecting serious repairs both internal and external. Though we will never achieve total operational readiness without a shipyard and some replacement personal, we will likely be ready for space travel in one standard week, two at most."

Ezra shrugged rather bemusedly. "Good news I guess."

"Though the ability to travel will likely be irrelevant," the admiral sat down in his chair. "Unless we can determine where we are relative to Imperial space."

That explained why he wanted to talk to Ezra. "Damned if I know," the jedi grinned in open mockery.

"It was you who was controlling the purrgil, was it not." Thrawn pressed patiently.

"I only told them to take us far, far away." Ezra tried to be annoyingly unconcerned, hoping to get a rise out of the Grand Admiral. "Not that I was actually speaking to them really, it's not so much translating words to their language as it is sending the overall impression of an idea. And the idea I had was 'take us away from the Empire'."

"Rather open ended," if Thrawn was getting aggravated he hid it very well, and Ezra didn't have the energy to probe him with the force. "But apparently fulfilled quite literally. Preliminary scans do not match this system to any on record, and we can detect none of the long-range transmission signals that could be picked up in any part of known space. Are you certain you have no idea where we are."

"If I had to guess," Ezra leaned forward in mock seriousness and stage-whispered. "Unknown space."

Thrawn brushed off the not so subtle taunting. "Judging by the direction the ship was facing before the jump, your creatures took us deeper 'east', past the outer rim." Galactic navigation revolved around the assigning of cardinal directions in space, a completely arbitrary but simple system.

"Maybe," Ezra leaned back again with a shrug. "But we don't really know anything about how purrgil travel through hyperspace. For all we know we could have been shot out west, farther than Yaga Minor."

The alien admiral gave the slightest of smiles. "No, I would have no problem navigating back to known space in the 'western' regions. I am fairly confident we have gone east."

Ezra didn't like the fact that Thrawn seemed totally sincere about this. Did he come from the Unknown Regions?

"Proceeding under that assumption," the admiral plowed onward. "We must return too Imperial space with all possible speed."

"Well, Grand Admiral, if you want my help you can k'resp sali d'e tam'ach!" Ezra figured Thrawn knew as much of the Messe Caulf trade language as anyone well acquainted with the Outer Rim, and there was just no beating it for colorful insults.

That at least earned him a surprised eyebrow raise. "And you are quite certain in this?" Thrawn persisted.

"I didn't free my home world from the Empire just to see it be enslaved again after a month." There was no longer any levity in Ezra's tone.

And yet in freeing Lothal, you have likely destroyed it. Thrawn leaned back in his chair, pondering the repercussions of his failure. The Emperor would tolerate no challenges to his rule; and if even the harshest conventional suppression failed, he would not hesitate to lay down his full hand. If Thrawn's estimations were correct, he had only had several months left to pacify the Outer Rim before the Death Star project was completed. Now the rebels victory, his failure, not only made that alternative inevitable, but provided the Emperor with the ideal target on which to demonstrate his terrible weapon, the first world to successfully defeat him.

It is unlikely that being aware of this will make the young jedi more cooperative, Thrawn decided. Better he remain ignorant for now.

"We will continue this discussion some other time." Thrawn pressed a button under his desk to summon the stormtrooper escort. "After we have some better knowledge of the situation, we'll be more likely to reach an understand."

"Take as long as you want," Ezra stood up as his guards arrived to return him to his cell. Apparently the Grand Admiral had decided to keep him alive for now, and that gave him possibilities for getting out of here (where ever here was). "But there is no force in this galaxy or any other that will make me help you willingly, or your Empire!"

More than once in the years that followed, Ezra would wonder if it had been a serious mistake to use those words.