AN: This is my first fan fiction story. I'm trying out my creative writing skills after a long career in a non-creative field. I appreciate any comments, positive or negative.

Star Wars - Soldier of the Force

There was a definite chill to the night air on Tel Morsoon. The early autumn day had started warm, but the afternoon rains had cooled things down. The rain was just a light mist now; drips fell at random from the edge of a rooftop overhang. Under the overhang, looking out over a slum on the outskirts of the planet's main space port, a lone figure huddled under a dirty cloak.

Kylo Ren hated being cold.

So much so that he often wore a heavy tunic and cloak any time he was outside of his personal quarters on the First Order Star Destroyer Finalizer. On Snoke's ship the Supremacy, the late Supreme Leader had indulged his aging body by keeping the temperature higher. Kylo could be comfortable in just his tunic.

But he was no longer on either ship, or any other ship of the First Order, for that matter. The disposed former Supreme Leader Kylo Ren was trying desperately to stay warm, and was not having much luck. He could warm the roof under him using the Force, but as soon as he fell asleep, the heat would dissipate from the metal and the cold would eventually awaken him. His tunic was shredded from lightsaber slashes. The cloak he was under and the pad he lay on (both stolen) were filthy and too lightweight. In another time and place, Kylo would not have allowed such items to even touch him, but he was past such haughtiness now. The light mist continued to come down; keeping the air damp. Kylo shivered miserably. He wanted desperately to sleep, but the cold, and the pain of his wounds, were effectively preventing it. Instead, he thought back over the events that had brought him to such a lowly situation.

The stupidity of it all is that he knew it was coming. General Hux was smart enough to keep his thoughts and feelings buried deep, so Kylo couldn't sense them directly. But the intensity of the general's hatred was such that an attempt on his life was inevitable; it was the collaboration with the two Knights of Ren that he hadn't foreseen. Kylo groaned. In-fighting amongst the Knights had left only those two, which surprised him; he knew them to be two of the weaker fighters. But once his own fight with them started, however, he found out quickly why they had prevailed - separately, they were weak, but together, they were a highly coordinated and effective team.

Even so, he had more than held his own against them; he was even starting to prevail when Hux intervened with a blaster shot. Kylo deflected the blast, but in doing so left himself open to a saber slash across his mid-section. The agonizing pain brought him to his knees. His attacker used the moment to quickly sweep Kylo's lightsaber away. Then, victory at hand, with a sneer on his lips, he raised his lightsaber to deliver the final blow. Kylo tried to gather himself for a counter-attack, but his wound was too severe. All he could do was brace himself for the end. Then Hux intervened again. "No," Hux said. "I have a more fitting end in mind." He turned to his captain and said, "Have Ren taken to the garbage disposal, to be jettisoned with the rest of the trash." He turned back to Kylo. "Let him die in the vacuum of space." The Knights apparently approved of this action; they turned away from him, laughing. Kylo could do nothing. All he had strength for was spit a curse at Hux: "The Resistance will destroy you." Hux answered with a strong kick to Kylo's face, sending him sprawling, unconscious. Kylo's final thoughts, before the blackness engulfed him, were surprisingly serene. Now, he thought, it would all finally be over. The pain would be gone.

Kylo awoke with a start to darkness. But instead of floating in the cold emptiness of space as he was expecting, he found himself lying on his back, under a tarp. A hand was over his mouth, urging his silence. As his eyes grew accustomed to the low light, he saw a young med tech. She was directing the repair of his injuries by a med droid. "There's only enough time to fix the worst of it," she whispered. "Don't do this," he whispered back. "If you're caught-". She covered his mouth again. "We're getting you off the ship." She and the droid started to pull away, leaving him under the tarp. "May the Force be with you."

Thus began one of the strangest journeys Kylo had ever taken. He soon realized he was in the bottom of a shipping container, being moved along through the ship. The treatment of his wounds may have been hasty, but it was effective; he felt his strength returning almost immediately. He even considered leaving his hiding place and returning to the bridge to confront his would-be usurpers, but his curiosity got the better of him - he was intrigued by his rescuers. It quickly became apparent that it was a coordinated effort by several people, and that this organization hadn't just sprung up out of nowhere. It was clearly an underground movement going on right underneath his and Hux's noses. Both troopers and officers were involved, and Kylo noticed the officers were all young, lower-ranking ones. Were they growing tired of life under the iron fist of the First Order, he wondered.

But it wasn't just his interest in this "mini-resistance" that made him stay hidden. Once, he would have rashly charged off to try and take back control of the fleet. But ever since taking command at the Battle of Crait - and despite his rage at his uncle and the Resistance at that fight - Kylo had begun to feel different. Calmer, more composed, and more measured in his responses. Not having to fear Snoke's wrath was a large part of the change: now, he was beholden only to himself. But there was something else; something at the back of his consciousness. Not quite a voice, but definitely there, helping to guide his decisions. Uncle Luke, perhaps? Was this what he meant by "I will always be with you"? Whatever it was, his troops were responding to the difference. From his senior officers on down to the stormtroopers, the more confident he felt in his command, the more confident they seemed to be in him. No more nervous shuffling among his officers. Nor the terror that Kylo used to sense from the troopers, flowing like a wake behind him as he walked through the corridors. There was still some fear, of course; but now there was something else, as well: respect.

At least, he thought there was. He could only seethe in silence as he had tried to stay hidden, while the container continued to move along. Eventually, he ended up on a supply ship leaving the Finalizer, headed back to the space port on Tel Morsoon. Once it landed he was able to escape off of it unnoticed. That had proved to be the easy part. As Kylo walked along the street, trying to blend in, the realization of his situation had sunk in: he was alone, with no money, no place to sleep, and only the tattered clothes on his back. The latter of which had quickly proved to be inadequate for the climate. It was an affront to his dignity to resort to stealing, but the chill in his bones had soon overcome his reluctance. Unfortunately, despite the stories he had heard about his father's life as a thief and a smuggler, Kylo didn't have much practical knowledge of "street-smarts". He had soon found, however, that the Force was a surprisingly good ally in such matters. He could easily distract his "mark" while pilfering whatever he needed - for now, a cloak, a pad to sleep on, and some food. This would have been fine, once he settled into a back alley for the night, but then the rains started. After a long search, he finally found one of the few dry places there were - in an alcove of an overhang on a warehouse roof. There wasn't quite enough room to sit up completely, and just enough room to lie down, if he bent his knees.

The drizzle finally stopped, but the cold dampness remained. Kylo moved about under the cloak, trying to find a comfortable position, wishing for the oblivion of sleep. Anything, even if only a few hours, to take him away from the stark reality of his new existence. Where could he go from here? He had to get back to the First Order, but how? The cold weariness in his body muddled his thoughts. But then, he began to think along a different path: what if he didn't go back? What if he just disappeared into the Outer Rim, or some even more remote place? Hux would certainly announce to the galaxy that Kylo Ren was dead; no one would know that he wasn't. Except there was someone who would know he wasn't dead. A lovely face with brown eyes appeared unbidden, unwanted in his mind. Rey. He huddled tighter. If there was one person he didn't want to think about, it was her. But even if she knew I was still alive, he thought, she wouldn't care. She had made her feelings clear in Snoke's throne room, and he hadn't had any contact with her - through the Force or otherwise - since. He tried to put her out of his mind. He was still trying when he heard a voice.

"Ben."

He wanted to ignore it, that long-ago name, but word was spoken with such authority that it was impossible to ignore. He opened his eyes, and there before him, sitting cross-legged not a meter away from him, was Luke Skywalker. Kylo didn't for one moment doubt that it truly was his uncle. He looked just as he did on Crait - only clean-shaven this time, Kylo noted - with the same dark uniform. Surprisingly, he felt no rush of anger at the sight of Luke; at least, not what he had felt on Crait. Only calm. Maybe it was the change of circumstance. What would be the point, Kylo thought, he's dead. He sat up slowly, careful of the overhang.

"Come to gloat, have you," Kylo said to the Force ghost.

Luke's expression didn't change; only his head tilted slightly. "Gloat about what?" he asked.

Kylo wanted to groan. He recognized Luke's demeanor and tone of voice: it was the same he used during Kylo's Jedi training. The calm, slightly puzzled expression. Asking a question with a seemingly obvious answer, but meant to elicit the type of response from the padawan that would that would lead them, in their own way, to the Truth. Kylo knew the drill. But he was tired. And cold. And in pain. Part of him wanted to snarl at Luke, to chase him away. But he didn't. Instead, he looked Luke in the eye. The Padawan, facing the Master. And in that moment, lost and very much alone, the Padawan was what Kylo wanted to be, once again.

"The Mighty Kylo Ren," he said in answer to Luke, "huddling in the cold and rain, reduced to petty theft." There was no sarcasm to his voice, however; he said it evenly, as a statement of fact. But as he said the words, he looked around, and considered the people here, and their plight. "I hate stealing from these people, though. They have so little as it is."

With those last words, there came a change to Luke. His countenance softened, but his eyes stayed intense: the teacher, sensing the pupil was reaching a turning point. "These people, their lives matter to you?" he asked. There was no sarcasm to Luke's voice, either; the question was asked simply, with genuine curiosity.

Kylo hesitated. Should be tell him about the changes he was feeling, the difference in thought? Once, he could talk easily to his uncle. He seemed, more than Kylo's parents, to understand the young man's sense of isolation; his frustration at being old enough to understand what was going on, but too young to be taken seriously. But that was before . . . He looked at Luke, strong but patient. As always. And he thought, what does it matter now? "Their lives didn't used to matter," he admitted. "I don't know why, but becoming Supreme Leader changed that. It shouldn't matter; it's just a title. But it does. The solders under my command: they're not just any solders, they're . . . They're my solders. I'm responsible for them." He looked around. "The same for the citizens. These people here, no one's really cared about them. Not the Old Republic, not the Empire, not even the New Republic." He looked at Luke. "I think I can change their lives. Some of it's politics," he confessed, "the better things are for people, the less likely they'll join the Resistance. But still . . ." Luke's expression hadn't changed much, and Kylo wondered what he was thinking. "Lies, right? I'm the Supreme Leader of the First Order - I'm here to rule the galaxy, not worry about some underlings and peasants," he said.

"No, I believe you." Then a mischievous gleam came to Luke's eyes. "For one thing, Supreme Leader or not, you always were a terrible liar." Kylo grimaced in response. Luke's face softened again. "The concern you feel for the people under your command, and under your rule, you've come to this of your own accord. Of your own volition. It's the path of your true self, away from the darkness." Luke leaned forward. "To the ways of a Jedi."

Jedi. At the sound of the word, a coldness swept through Kylo that had nothing to do with the weather. What I wouldn't give . . ., he started to think, but then just as quickly closed it off. The past is dead, he ruefully reminded himself. But it still impacted the present. He could no longer look his uncle in the eye. "How can I come to the ways of the Jedi, with all that I've done? How can I atone for my sins?" he said sadly.

Luke didn't answer. Instead, his body slowly began to morph into someone else. Kylo watched, at first with fascination, then with growing dread at who was appearing - Han Solo. Younger looking, but still in the same jacket he was wearing when . . . Kylo was in a panic. The last person he thought that he would ever encounter - in this life or the next - was his father. He tried to get away from ghost, but there was no way out of the small alcove past him. Han watched his son with a look of both amusement and sadness on his face. "Relax, kid, I'm not here for revenge," he said.

Kylo stopped struggling, and settled for pushing himself against the back wall of the overhang. "That's not what I . . . How can you . . . You're not a Jedi!" he sputtered.

Han smiled that familiar cocky smile of his. "But I know someone who is," he said lightly.

That changed the tone a bit. Just like Han, he thought. And with that, his panic started to dissipate. And, Kylo realized, he wasn't as afraid to face this moment as he thought. In truth, he regretted what he had done to his father almost as soon as it was over. He especially regretted it when Snoke made it clear that Kylo had killed Han for nothing. And now, through a twist of fate - and the Force - he could have a chance to make amends. Kylo squared himself up, and for the first time in this encounter, looked Han in the eye. He spoke quietly but clearly.

"I'm sorry," he said, "for all of it. For - for killing you. For being a fool."

For a moment Han looked surprised, but then just as quickly a warm smile came to his face. "Don't apologize for the last part - we've all been there," he said. Then his face grew more serious. "Look, I always figured I wasn't going to die in my sleep."

"But at the hands of your own son?" Kylo said achingly.

Han shrugged, and then grinned. "Hey, at least Chewie didn't get hurt. I was always afraid that big lug was gonna take one meant for me."

Now Kylo smiled a thin smile. Then he looked evenly at his father. "Why are you here?" he asked.

"For the same reason as the last time. To take you home," Han replied.

Kylo sighed. "There's no home to go back to," he said quietly. "I destroyed it all. Only Chewie's left, and he must be back on Kashyyyk by now."

"Hmmm, he's probably still with the Resistance," Han said. "Which is where you should go."

"The Resistance?!" Kylo sat bolt upright - forgetting about the low headroom. He smacked his head on the overhang. Rubbing his head, he said with exasperation, "That's just great. They'll draw straws to see who gets the honor of killing me."

Han looked annoyed. "You know Rey wouldn't let that happen," he said.

"Rey?!" Kylo almost smacked his head again, but he remembered just in time. Instead he rolled his eyes. "She'd be the first in line to draw."

Han scowled. "Look, kid, when it comes to Rey, you played that last hand badly. But you're still in the game," he said earnestly.

Kylo regarded him. "Even after making such a fool of myself?" he asked.

"You'd be surprised how much of a fool you can be and a woman will still take you back," Han said breezily.

"Spoken from personal experience, no doubt," Kylo deadpanned.

"Watch it kid," Han shot back. But not that harshly, Kylo noted. In fact, the whole conversation was remarkably civil for the two of them. We used to always end up screaming at each other, he thought. Then, sadly, Did he have to die before we could finally call a truce?

Han must have read the play of emotions on Kylo's face. His own expression became serious again. "Look, Ben . . . son," he said hesitantly. Kylo looked at him intently. "I don't know what kind of hell Snoke put you through," he said solemnly. "But you're alive, and he's not. And that's all that matters."

Kylo smiled sadly, and sighed. "Why did I have to be born Force-sensitive," he said.

"Because you had to get your good looks from me," Han quipped. Kylo smirked. Han smiled warmly again. "See you around, kid."

With that, Han began to morph back into Luke. Kylo watched the transformation with anticipation. As soon as the change was complete, he spoke to Luke.

"Where do I go from here?" He asked. Then sighed. "I'm not a Jedi."

"No," Luke agreed, "but that's not the point." He shook his head. "There's some truth to what you've told Rey: you shouldn't look to the past. You've embraced the Light too much to be a Sith, but you have knowledge of the Dark that no Jedi would have, including me. You should use it." His expression became stronger, his eyes more intense. "Ben, what your father said about what Snoke put you through is true. But the fires of that hell didn't destroy you - they forged you. You've always had the power. Now you have the strength. To find your own path, wherever it takes you. To do whatever you need to do. To be who you want to be." Then he smiled. "The Force will be with you, Ben. Always." Then slowly his image faded away; his intense eyes, the last to disappear.

When he was gone, Kylo continued to sit, staring at the place Luke and Han had been. His mind was in turmoil. What to make of what the two men had told him? The irony of what Luke told him, about the past. He had told Rey to let the past die out of anger at his own family, and what he felt they had done to him. Now, Luke was telling him to forget the past of the Jedi and Sith. But to what end? A new Order? Kylo had been physically tired before; now, after facing his family, he was emotionally worn out, as well. He couldn't deal with it all right now. I'll figure it out in the morning, he thought.

As he lay back down to sleep, he realized he wasn't upset about the encounter. In fact, for all its difficulty, he was glad it had occurred. Then, the thought hit him: what he thought had been a threat from his uncle - "I'll always be with you" - was actually a promise. One that Luke had just kept. Kylo hunkered down. No matter how much he had tried to escape from his family, he knew now that he never would. Not as long as he was connected to the Force. He closed his eyes to sleep. Unfortunately, the temperature hadn't changed - the cold continued to keep him awake. "So much for sleep," he said out loud. Then, to Kylo's surprise, the metal under his pad started to warm. And he knew exactly who was doing it. He looked out at the place the images had appeared. "Thanks, Uncle Luke," he said.

Sunlight was just edging over the rooftops the next morning, but the space port and the surrounding areas were already buzzing with activity. The inhabitants - mostly human - were starting their daily routine. In the slum, in a widened stretch of the main street, vendors were setting up booths for a small market. Kylo sat behind some storage boxes in a near-by alley, hidden from the street. He had used the Force to float a hot drink away from an unsuspecting vendor. Now he drank, watching the activity, lost in thought. He wasn't any closer to a plan of action now than he had been last night. Throwing his lot in with the Resistance was a possibility, like Han said, but even if he could find them - and that was a very big if - it didn't seem like a sound idea. Even if they don't kill me outright, he thought, they certainly won't trust me. A sharp pain from his wounds reminded him of a more immediate need: a place to recuperate. And where he was right now didn't really fit the bill.

The roar of a ship's engines snapped him out of his thoughts. This close to a space port, the sound of engines was a constant background noise. But this was far too close. Kylo jumped to his feet, looking up, thinking a crash was eminent. The ship wasn't crashing, however; its pilot had it under complete control. But Kylo immediately recognized the type of ship - and the species it belong to - and the blood drained from his face.

Zygerrians!

The slavers' empire was greatly diminished from its peak during the Old Republic, but they were still a force to be reckoned with. Nowadays, instead of capturing large numbers of victims, they used quick grab-and-go tactics with small, fast ships. Like this one. Kylo knew they were brazen, but he had never heard of a raid this deep into First Order territory. He watched in shock as the ship sat down directly on the market booths, smashing them to pieces and crushing any unfortunate vendor or customer who didn't get out the way quickly enough. The ship had barely stopped moving when the main ramp came down and the slavers jumped out, brandishing their blasters and electric whips. Kylo ducked back behind the boxes; he hadn't been seen. He sprinted to the back of the alley, turned the corner, and flattened himself to the wall, panting. As he looked for an escape route he could hear the screams and cries of the victims, mixed with the shouts of the slavers, the discharge of blasters and the buzz of whips. And he stood there. And he listened. And the longer he stood there, the louder the sound of the terrified captives grew in his mind. And his fear for himself turned to anger for them.

But not anger as he once felt it. As Snoke's apprentice, his anger usually turned to rage - an all-consuming beast that boiled over into a physical rampage. But that raging psychopath of a Force-user was no longer pounding in his head, pushing him over the edge.

You're alive, Snoke isn't. That's all that matters.

The fire didn't destroy you, it forged you. You have the strength. Use it.

The words of his father and uncle came back to him. And a calmness, a serenity, came to his mind. Now, his anger didn't control him - he controlled it. And used it, to sharpen his focus. His breathing slowed. His eyes narrowed; his face hardened. And a plan formed in his mind. But not a plan of escape.

The slavers had acted quickly. As Kylo approached, he could see that all of the captives had controlling neck collars attached, and their captors were getting ready to herd them onto the ship. Kylo had gone down the alley and came back out on to the street a short distance from the carnage. The hood of the dirty cloak he wore was up over his head, and the rest of it flowed out around him as he walked, with long, purposeful strides. The movement ignited the pain in his wounds, but he was only dimly aware of it; his focus was completely on the task at hand. He was walking straight into the middle of a storm of battle, but he felt only strength and composure. And a certainty of purpose he had not felt before.

The slaver closest to him finally took notice of this strange, unarmed human striding toward him. The man said nothing as he casually aimed his blaster and fired. Kylo gestured with his hand. The blast stopped, reversed course, and as the stunned slaver watched, tore through his chest, killing him.

With that, all hell broke loose. The slavers with blasters fired on Kylo, only to suffer the same fate as the first one. Those with whips found themselves tossed through the air, to be impaled on the broken remains of the market booths. The head slaver at the foot of the ship's ramp clutched at his throat, his neck crushed. Gunners on the ship dropped dead of the same. And Kylo stood in the middle of it all, rapidly gesturing here and there, like a maestro conducting an orchestra of mayhem.

There weren't many slavers - they only needed a few for such a small mission - and when he finished with the armed ones, Kylo strode up the ramp into the ship. One by one, the bodies of the flight crew floated out of the ship, to be unceremoniously dropped on the ground with the others. Kylo walked back out and down the ramp; looked for and found the body of the head slaver. At a gesture of his hand the control box for the collars floated up to him. After a quick glance at the front panel, he pushed a button, and the collars disarmed and fell away from the captives.

Up to this point, the captives hadn't reacted much to Kylo's intervention. Mostly because the head slaver kept shocking them into submission with the neck collars; but they were emotionally stunned as well by the sudden turn of events. They went from the terror of enslavement at the hands of Zygerrians to watching this tall, cloaked human wielding incredible power to destroy the slavers. Now, as they stood up, throwing away the collars and trying to recover from the ordeal, they regarded Kylo warily. One middle-aged woman moved away from the others toward him. A man her own age put a hand out to stop her, but she shrugged him off. She shook with fear, her hands out in supplication, but she stepped up to him nonetheless.

"Who are you," she implored.

Kylo looked at her, and the others. He understood their fear: was he their savior, or an even worse threat? He spoke to her, gently, reassuringly, but loud enough for the others to hear. "I'm no one you need to be concerned about," he said, then started to turn away.

But that wasn't enough for her. She stepped closer, even touching his arm. "Please, tell us who you are, who it is who spared us?" she begged.

He wasn't sure how to answer her. Not with his name, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren. In the first place, they wouldn't believe him; and he was no longer the Supreme Leader, anyway. But what? He wasn't a Jedi Knight, either, but he did feel like someone ready to fight for people like these almost-slaves. A phrase came to him. He looked at her warmly, and even put a hand over the one she had on his arm.

"I'm a soldier," he said, "a Soldier of the Force."

Upon hearing that, her expression changed from fear to wonderment. He considered saying more, but he heard sirens going off in the distance, and knew interceptors would be arriving shortly. So instead, he turned, and without saying any more, walked up the boarding ramp of the slavers' ship, and closed the hatch.

The controls were straight-forward; he had the ship up and out into low orbit before anyone could arrive to challenge him. It would suit his needs perfectly: fast, maneuverable, and with plenty of supplies. The only question now was the same one he started the morning with: where to go? He needed an answer quickly; he wouldn't be able to evade the space port's police force for very long. Then he heard the familiar voice of Uncle Luke, with a single word: "Ahch-To."

Of course. The planet of Luke's self-imposed exile. Kylo smiled to himself; no one in the First Order even knew where it was, let alone think to go looking there for him. And he was sure, once word got out about the Zygerrian attack on Tel Morsoon - at least, how it ended - that the First Order would be out looking for him. His hands went to the navigational controls, but then stopped. He didn't know where Ahch-To was either; would this ship's computer have the co-ordinates? Luke spoke again, with the needed information. With a tone of some annoyance, Kylo noted wryly. He punched the co-ordinates into the computer, and prepared to make the jump to hyperspace. Ahch-To would be just the place to recover while he planned his next move. And, he had to admit to himself, he was intensely curious about the place, too. What had drawn Luke to it? I'll have plenty of time to find out, he thought. But then one of his other senses intruded on his thoughts, and his nose wrinkled. Slavers weren't known for their cleanliness. "I don't know which smells worse - me or this ship," he said out loud in disgust, just as the former slaver ship leaped into hyperspace.