I. A BAD START

1.

Like the legend of the Phoenix
All ends with beginnings
What keeps the planets spinning
The force from the beginning.

DAFT PUNK – Get Lucky

With an unfamiliar feeling of melancholy, Rey watched the last of the ships leave, carrying Commander D'Acy and Chewbacca to their homeworlds Warlentta and Kashyyyk respectively, and become an increasingly little dot on the horizon. Only she, Finn, Rose and the droids were left in the – well, anyone calling it a 'base' would also try to sell you a holiday package to Jakku with the slogan 'Experience the Magic of the Desert'. It was nothing more than a camouflaged hangar in the empty wastes of Tatooine, not even a proper 'hangar', but rather a deserted moisture barn, and it was only camouflaged because so much sand had blown over the sides and roof that it was impossible to detect from the air.

Everybody who was anybody had left in order to recruit additional support and troops as well as acquiring new ships. Only Finn and she didn't know anyone they could have asked for either, and Rose was still recovering from her injuries.

Once the little freighter was well and truly out of sight, she cast her eyes to the dunes in front of her, which reminded her an awful lot of those on Jakku. She had travelled all over the galaxy, only to end up pretty much where she had started…

But that was rubbish, and faintheartedness not part of her make-up. She rubbed her hands and went back to her principal task, which was the repair of the Millennium Falcon. It had suffered a good deal, by TIE-fighter missiles, rockfall, and lastly a graze from the Finalizer itself. If Chewbacca hadn't hurled them out of harm's way in the very last second, that one shot would have been the end of the Resistance. As it was, it had only ripped off half of the left flank cladding, so Rey had spent most of the last days roaming the desert around them, looking for possible spare parts, or rather: objects that could be made into spare parts. So far, her best bet were some corrugated iron huts she had spotted a dozen miles to the South. She had begun to dismantle these and drag them piece by piece through the desert; transporting them to the hangar was nothing if not hard work, given that her only means of transport was a rickety little glider with all the oomph of an asthmatic Porg.

It really was just like back home.

x X x

2. Face/Off

When I am king, you will be first against the wall
With your opinion which is of no consequence at all
What's that?
What's that?
…You don't remember
You don't remember
Why don't you remember my name?
Off with his head, man

RADIOHEAD – Paranoid Alien

There were times when he really missed his mask and very often, these moments occurred when he was in the same room like General Hux. The new possibility to wordlessly sneer at the man was no compensation for being able to disguise boredom, disdain, confusion or, worst of all, total lack of comprehension. Kylo Ren was no soldier, had never gone through the ranks, and had only a basic working knowledge of military technology. He knew he was as unfit to lead an operation like the First Order as he was to conduct the Coruscant Symphonic Orchestra and should have been happy to delegate that task to such an eager proxy – just that he wasn't. Quite the opposite. His dislike for the General was deeply rooted, as old as their acquaintance, and Hux returned the compliment with interest. Even now. Damn it. How often did you have to choke a man until he respected your superiority?!

"It really is the most efficient method," Hux finished a long-winding monologue over the necessity to bomb the city of Nevo Kall wholesale in order to take out six to eight people.

Kylo cast him a deliberately unimpressed glance.

Hux frowned. "Uh – that's it, all in all."

Kylo kept up the stare.

Hux's frown deepened. "Did you hear anything I said?"

"I did. And I'm waiting."

"Waiting for what?"

Kylo shook his head in exasperation and made a small gesture with his hand which threw Hux against the wall behind him, together with the chair he had been sitting on.

"Sooner or later you will learn to address me as 'Supreme Leader', General. I am sure of it. Because otherwise, I will break every single bone in your body."

"Yes, sir. I mean – Supreme Leader. Forgive my – it is still a little unfamiliar." He freed himself from the rubble of what had been his chair, got up and straightened his uniform. "Oh, and one more thing, Supreme Leader…"

"What!"

"We have reason to believe that the leader of the Resistance is presently in Nevo Kall."

There it was again, the dire necessity of a damned mask! He felt Hux's close scrutiny (and was impressed despite himself; only fifteen seconds ago the impertinent man had still been lying in a heap on the floor!) and hoped against hope that his face wouldn't give away his reaction to that particular bit of news.

"Shouldn't you have started your little list of reasons to lay waste to that place with this item?" he growled.

"I wasn't sure how you'd take it," Hux said slyly, then added in great haste, "Supreme Leader."

"Oh? And might I inquire why?"

"Because she's y- because General – Organa…?" He gave himself a little shake. "I'm sorry. I know that the Supreme Leader – Supreme Leader Snoke, I mean – prohibited the use of this name. Does that still stand?

Grateful for the sideshow, Kylo entered into the spirit of the conversation. "Organa? Surely not. I never heard of that prohibition."

"Well, let us call her the leader of the Resistance for simplicity's sake. And seeing your personal relation to her, the topic seemed rather delicate."

"My personal relation to the leader of the Resistance, General…?"

Hux had enough. "For goodness' sake, let's make no more bones about it, shall we? She's your mother! There, I said it. Are you happy now?"

Another blast sent him into the same wall. "When will you learn, General?" Kylo got up and walked past him. Without turning around, he added, "And given my personal relation as you call it, I will take care of her myself. Call the attack off."

"Yes, sir. Supreme Leader," Hux moaned from the floor. "But –"

You had to hand it to the man, he was unstoppable. "But what?"

"Is that wise, Supreme Leader?"

"You question my wisdom, General…?"

"Not at all, Supreme Leader. I merely wish to relieve you of a task that you may consider – difficult."

An unwilling spark of admiration sputtered in Kylo as he contemplated the man still lying on the ground as some blood from a head wound slowly trickled onto the collar of his uniform. The sheer stubborn determination of this guy!

"Have you forgotten that I did my father the same service?"

"Neither have I forgotten that the Supreme Leader – your predecessor – thought it had weakened you considerably. Supreme Leader."

Well, that was what patricide did for you, Kylo thought while staring at his subordinate in sheer loathing, only to realise something he hadn't known about Hux, or come to that, Captain Phasma.

With one swift move fuelled by disgust he brought a part of the ceiling down on Hux. "You have your orders, General," he snarled as he turned on his heel and marched out.

Why, why had he allowed himself to be goaded into destroying his mask! On his way back to his quarters, he was positive that every single Stormtrooper eyed him curiously from behind their own helmets (how he envied them). Just as certain was he that his face was scarlet with anger and sheer bloody embarrassment.

When he had finally sealed the door to his rooms, he threw himself onto his cot, knuckling his eyes forcefully and groaning. This could not continue under any circumstances. Not only the Hux situation – which was dire enough in itself, but at least theoretically resolvable. Damn the man, but he was a darned good soldier and strategist, the best the First Order had. Still, one could have replaced him with someone else, perhaps less capable, but hopefully less odious. But Hux really was only the tip of the iceberg.

To be quite frank, ruling the galaxy had never much figured in Kylo Ren's personal agenda. He knew that even as an infant, General Hux had dreamt to become the new Emperor, whereas the idea had never ever occurred to Kylo until that dreadful day two weeks ago. As things were, one of the two reasons he had taken the job on was so that Hux wouldn't get it. Because talented tactician filled to the brim with ambition as the general assuredly was, he would have made everything far worse than it was anyhow. (The second reason was of such private nature that he wouldn't have admitted it even to himself.)

Why had he joined the cause in the first place? Easy. He had wanted to destroy the Republic, the Resistance, and as Snoke's apprentice learn to become as mighty in the Force as his grandfather had been. He had accomplished most of this – the Republic was in ruins, the Resistance consisted of no more people than fitted into the Millennium Falcon and he had become as powerful as Snoke had been willing to let him be. Shouldn't he feel at least a morsel of satisfaction?!

To the contrary, he felt rotten. Absolutely rotten. He couldn't remember a time in his life when he had felt less content – and he had never been a bundle of joy to begin with.

And with the Resistance down to their last dozen, he finally could no more avoid the biggest problem of all.

He sneered, remembering Hux's discomfort speaking her name. Princess Leia of Alderaan (another planet that was no more), General Organa, Senator Solo (that senate didn't exist any longer either), the leader of the Resistance – to him she had always been Ama plain and simple. After she had sent him away to train with Luke, he had made a point of calling her 'Mother' instead – a childish manoeuvre to make it clear he was a child no more. Let the past die, kill it if you must – that was all very well, he was truly convinced of it, but it hadn't taken his father's death (yes, alright! Murder!) to realise that his mother was something else.

'Train yourself to let go of everything you fear to lose', Jedi wisdom had it (obviously, these guys had been insane, no wonder they had perished). He had tried for years and years to let go of his parents, and at times succeeded far enough to convince himself he didn't even miss them – they had never ever really been there anyway, had they! But it had been nothing but wishful thinking. All his father had needed to say was 'Come home, we miss you' and his son had been on the verge of tears, ready to throw years of training overboard for one sentimentality worthy of a cheesy greeting card. His training – programming, he sneered in self-loathing – had won the day, he had managed to overcome hesitation, love, basic human decency, had managed to kill his own father, and what had been the end of it? Not liberation, but utter devastation.

Only two weeks ago, he had sat in his TIE-silencer, the command bridge of his mother's ship in his crosshairs, his finger on the trigger – perfectly unable to press it. The horror when he had seen someone else make the hit, the shock of thinking she was dead, the horrendous grief that had only lessened once he had grasped that she wasn't, a day or two later! A lot had changed since then, but the one crucial bit had not – he could not kill his mother, he could not, he couldn't bear the thought that something should happen to her.

Why couldn't she just give up?! Oh, of course, because she was Leia, no matter the title or position. The Republic, and the Senate, and the wars, and nowadays the Resistance – this wasn't just her life, it was her. Even as a mother, these things had always come first for her. Even the bedtime stories she had told him had been about her father – scratch that, the man she had then claimed to be her father, the oh-so-honourable Senator Bail Organa – and his quest to restore the Old Republic, and the Jedi, and Obi-Wan Kenobi, revered Jedi master who had trained Luke Skywalker – and all but killed Kylo's real grandfather, as he had later learnt. Much, much later. For goodness' sake, they had actually named their only child after that guy!

All these lies! Everyone had been lying their asses off, most of all his Ama. On the one hand she had preached to him about goodness, liberty, justice, honesty – while on the other she had twisted the truth in whichever way had suited her best, if she had been home to begin with. Otherwise he had been left in the tender care of C-3PO. A droid. What mother would have her child raised by a machine?! Okay, C-3PO was alright. A pain in the butt most of the time, but somewhat sweet. But unfortunately also the galaxy's biggest fan of the Skywalker clan, and equipped with a memory chip containing every major (and minor!) victory of the Republic, old and new, and no qualms to repeat them word for bloody word.

But he had always felt different, that he had no place in all this, that there was something in him that wasn't goodness and sweetness and light. Knowing that he was in fact Darth Vader's grandson might have helped, of course. Instead of coming clean though, they had doubled up on the brainwashing, eventually sending him away to stay with Luke, of all people. The worst liar and hypocrite of them all.

A subtle shift in the perfect silence of his room, the sound of a light going on so to speak, permeated his gloomy thoughts. He lowered his hands which had still covered his eyes and turned around in surprise that was, in spite of himself, almost pleasant. He even forgot that he was ragingly mad with her.

His opposite number clearly shared all the surprise and none of the pleasure. She scowled at him and barked, 'Oh dear me no. Leave me alone!'

'I wasn't –'

'I wish you would stop this. It's no use!'

Why was he always on the defensive with this woman?! 'I'm not doing it!'

'Well, neither am I, and I know I'm not a liar.'

That one hit home hard. He had a whole collection of bad qualities, but he had never been dishonest. Never. 'Not once have I lied to you,' he growled.

She changed tack with the speed of light. 'Oh no. That's the one bad habit you steered clear of.'

He rolled his eyes. 'Well, there were no other good habits left after you had snatched them all up.'

'They'd be wasted on you. What would the Supreme Leader of the First Order –' she spat out the words as if they were venom, '– need them for! What good would mercy, or justice, or a sense for right and wrong, do the ruler of the galaxy!'

'Interesting. When you had the chance to instil all that into the actual ruling of the galaxy, you scoffed at it.'

'And we're back at square one. This conversation is over.'

'If only it were!'

Since there seemed nothing else either of them could do about it, he rolled over while she turned her back on him. Seething with anger, he marvelled at the nerve of that woman. The last time they had met, he had just killed his master in order to save her bloody life – and had he got as much as a plain 'thank you' for his troubles? You betcha he had not! As a matter of fact, she acted as if he had done her some personal injury!

He was aware of her lingering presence for another couple of minutes, until the apparition finally faded away and he was left to himself, filled to the brim with fury, and frustration, and the depression he had had to start with, and something else which he had no name for.

x X x

3.

There's never been a true war that wasn't fought between two sets of people who were certain they were in the right. The really dangerous people believe they are doing whatever they are doing solely and only because it is without question the right thing to do. And that is what makes them dangerous.

MR. WEDNESDAY – American Gods

"So what does the Supreme Leader make of it?" Captain Phasma, for once not wearing her helmet, asked.

"Don't call him that."

"Well, he is the Supreme Leader, and you'd better remember it."

She watched him pressing a cool-pack against the back of his head. His eyes were blood-shot, which added another shade of red to his scarlet complexion and gingery hair, not to mention bloody scratches all over his face.

"He only usurps that position because he's got that trick of choking the living daylights out of you if you do as much as look at him."

"Or tell him he was a bit soft," she said drily.

"He is!"

"How soft was that wall he crashed you into?"

"How can we get rid of him, that's the question you should ask yourself."

"The usual way?"

They both contemplated the possibility of poisoning the man, like they had poisoned a whole list of people on their way to the top. General Hux would never make the mistake to accept a drink offered to him by his only confidante, and vice versa. When they met, they both brought their own bottles.

"Do you think it would work? With him being – you know – him?"

She shrugged and took a swig. "Does the Force enable him to sniff out poison, you mean? I don't know. As a matter of fact, there's a whole lot I do not know about the Force. Before I met the Supreme Leader – and him – I didn't even believe it existed."

The late General Hux on the other hand had always made his son wary of what he had called 'an outmoded religion'. Unfortunately, he hadn't thrown in too many useful details to pad the lecture up.

"It might be worthwhile to make ourselves more familiar with the concept," he said pensively.

"Look it up, you mean? What if he finds out?"

"How would he?"

"Oh, that mindreading parlour trick he does on occasion would certainly help."

"You read it up, then. He doesn't bother you."

"There's still the ship logs."

"He doesn't care for technology if it's not built into his precious TIE-fighter."

"But our technicians do, and there are a whole lot of them who practically idolise him."

"Idiots!"

"No, the finest and brightest minds of the First Order, as a matter of fact."

"Not you too!" he groaned.

"I don't idolise him. But only because he's soft and has the temper of a Rathtar, I won't discard his power with the Force either. That would be foolish. But coming back to my original question – what does he make of the Supremacy's progress?"

"Nothing. I haven't told him yet, and I'm not sure I'm going to. I mean – you'd think he'd ask, wouldn't you?"

She laughed, half incredulous, half admiring. "You're keeping secrets – military secrets – from our Supreme Leader?"

"It's not even that. As I said, he doesn't give a damn. If it had been up to him, there'd still be the Hosnian system."

Captain Phasma laughed harder. "Damn the man!"

Hux cast her an accusing look. "Yes, exactly. Didn't I mention how we got into that whole knock-me-senseless thing in the first place? I told him his bloody mother was in Nevo Kall."

"But she isn't."

"No, but he doesn't know that, does he? I just wanted to see how he'd react."

She pointedly glanced at his injuries. "And you got yourself an answer."

"You may say it was worth it. At least now I know. We'll leave Nevo Kall alone, and carry out the other strikes as planned without his interference."

"You are a brave man, Armitage Hux, I'll give you that."

She had meant it quite sincerely, but he took her words as mockery and his anyway red face flushed a deeper shade of crimson. "Listen, I've got a bloody war to fight here against fanaticised opponents, with limited resources and a leader not worth the name, whom I suspect to be an actual traitor to our cause and who shrinks back from taking out his mother even though she's the damned root of all evil. If you have a better idea, I beg you to share it!"

She raised her hand in a soothing gesture. "The plan is fine. But if I were you, I'd make sure I was at the other end of the galaxy when he's informed of its success."

x X x