General Hux was not a man ruled by his temper. With all the consternation he had been dealt of late – his soldier turning traitor, being tasked with saving that religious man-child as his life's work was demolished, and now arriving to report to their omnipotent and immensely displeased master – he had hardly expected one shout to undo him.
General Hux was a soldier, a practical man. He could not, and never had, indulged his temper the way that sniveling Ren did.
Yet his face burned the color of his hair as he and his stormtroopers marched up to the Supreme Leader's dwelling. Citizens of their rugged moon crowded around, their eyes demanding an answer to his failure.
Ren's failure, he reminded himself. If Kylo Ren hadn't let compassion for the girl impair his judgment, if he'd captured the droid, been impersonal - if Kylo Ren hadn't been Kylo Ren - his magnificent Starkiller would have won them victory. He would have been the hero to these ragtag creatures, to Snoke, to himself and his dead father.
Unfortunately, Ren had been whisked away to the medical base, leaving Hux and Phasma the only officers to escort the surviving stormtroopers and ragtag officers up the rocky streets to the decrepit castle their Supreme Leader had chosen to live in this month.
Once again, he looked like a fool, while the injured Ren was an object of sympathy. Hux thought of the Supreme Leader's disappointment, and desperation rose along with the bile in his throat.
Some of the citizens' faces were sympathetic, some scared. Most were angry, sneering, though none dared taunt them.
Hux liked to think that he was too imposing, that they were still impressed with him, the brains behind the stormtroopers and the Starkiller, but the truth was that Captain Phasma, clutching her still-shiny blaster, kept the mocking at bay.
And then.
"Perhaps failing at mass murder counts as victory?"
Hux spun around, determined to find and annihilate this impudent – ah, there it was. A human like himself. Her eyes widened when she realized he had noticed her.
"What…was…that…" Hux seethed.
She backed up, clearly regretting her choice. If he had looked closer, he might have noticed a smirk in her eyes, but Hux was too tired and humiliated to notice emotion.
"Phasma," Hux said loudly.
"Yes, sir." She knew the order before he gave it, but Captain Phasma was too intelligent to act before his command.
"See to that wretch."
"Yes, sir," she said again. Her blaster was aimed and fired before the mouthy woman had a chance to flee.
She toppled off the edge of the cliff she'd foolishly stood by, towards the deep, deep sea below.
Hux had not counted on what happened next.
He'd intended to show force, command, power. Instead, his audience seemed stunned by his actions.
The fools! As if this violence was unique in their miserable lives! He practically led the First Order, their one hope from the chaos of the Resistance.
Yet, he still felt…uneasy. Almost like a failure.
The stone hit him before he'd had time to resume his march.
Phasma and the other stormtroopers cocked their blasters.
"What, are you going to kill your citizens now?"
"How could you have lost our best weapon?"
"He's a child, of course he did. I don't know what the Supreme Leader could have been thinking – "
"Do – not – question – the Supreme Leader!" spat Hux. They hated him – they really did – no!
"Oh really?" yelled an older man. "How many lives were lost? How many officers?"
"I don't see my son," added an elderly woman tearfully.
Hux has no idea who her son was and couldn't care less. Caring made one weak, like her.
"Your personal wishes are no reason to question Supreme Leader Snoke."
"Bullshit!" Another rock narrowly missed his nose, clanging loudly against Phasma's armor.
"Shoot anyone who attacks," Hux snarled.
"Shoot us? More of us?" shrieked a younger voice.
Then the citizens were swarming them, and the riot stormtroopers were firing into the crowd, and more citizens were dying. And one more stormtrooper, too, toppled backwards, in Hux's peripheral vision.
So much death – he didn't like being so close to it. Death should occur halfway across the galaxy. It should be a clean means to end chaos.
Now Phasma would probably blame him, too, for the deaths of more of her precious stormtroopers. He hated these citizens. He hated them so much, he wished he could have wiped them out with the Starkiller.
"Sir, this way." A stormtrooper beckoned Hux and the remaining Starkiller officers away from the riot.
"Captain, are you coming?" Hux demanded.
Phasma's disdain was palpable. "I'll stay with my troopers until this is over, General."
"Kill all the dissidents," he spat before fleeing towards the castle.
Moving away from the chaos didn't calm him, though. Someone far more frightening, far more disappointing, awaited him inside.
The clang of Phasma's armor alerted Lieutenant Zaira Dax to the captain's presence before the towering trooper had rounded the corner. The first order officers were gathered together outside the Supreme Leader's meeting room. Most had never met him, and few wanted to.
Thankfully, Zaira had always stood a bit back from the crowd.
"How long has he been in there?"
"Oh, a grand total of zero seconds." Zaira gestured forward as the pacing general came back into view. "It appears the Supreme Leader cares more about the doctor's reports on Kylo Ren's condition than the General's failed project. Not terribly surprising … to everyone except General Hux."
Captain Phasma, proud and certain as she typically was, now felt shaken. Kylo Ren beaten. The Starkiller blown apart, and with it her stormtroopers. And herself responsible for lowering the shields.
Herself responsible for her troopers' deaths.
"It wasn't your fault," Zaira said quietly, as if reading her friend's mind. "No stormtrooper is a match for a Wookie's rage." She chuckled, lamely. "And hell knows we officers aren't. If they'd gotten their hands on us, we'd probably have been persuaded to destroy the planet all on our own."
"FN-2187 led them to us." Phasma couldn't help but wonder if FN-2187 had escaped, and she didn't know why she wanted him alive. But she did, perhaps because no more stormtroopers needed to die. And because she could blame him. He'd led them to her.
"I'm sorry," Zaira said, feigning surprise.
Phasma snorted. "I don't need your sympathy, Lieutenant. What I need is…persuasion."
The younger woman's eyes widened. "You want to suggest we abandon the simulations again."
"Supplement."
"Same to the General."
"You saw the riot today."
"Felt it, too." Zaira touched a scrape on her forehead. Not just on the outside, she dared not add. She'd instantly loved the woman who'd dared speak up, yet knew enough to mourn her passing before Hux had even given the order.
Phasma lowered her voice. "An experienced trooper could have ended that in less than a minute. It took us nearly twenty. If Hux wants to avoid a repeat of FN-2187, he'd best start changing his training sessions."
"Fair point," Zaira mused, watching Hux's hands clench and unclench. He was visibly sweating from over twenty feet away. "But given recent events, he'll not take the suggestion well."
Phasma knew that without Lieutenant Zaira searching for her in the trash compactor, she'd have blown up with her troopers. "I'm in no position to be asking for favors, but I've seen your…persuasive skills."
Zaira assessed the General once more. She'd never worked closely with Hux and had no love for the priggish fool. "With him, we're beyond language skills. I'd have to resort to drastic…physical measures."
"Are you certain?"
"Pretty darn," Zaira muttered. Sometimes she wished she wasn't quite so good at profiling.
"I would of course support your plea for clemency," said Phasma hesitantly. "If he were conscious, I am sure Kylo Ren would as well."
"Kylo Ren would support a Rathtar over Hux." Zaira straightened her shoulders as the doctors exited the Supreme Leader's chambers. Hux swept past them with his nose in the air, into his sure-to-be-unfortunate meeting.
Taking on General Hux, forcing him to change his training methods to keep more stormtroopers alive – oh, Lieutenant Zaira Dax wanted no more deaths, she truly did.
I don't want anyone else to die, she said.
"I would support a Rathtar training my soldiers over Hux. At least then they'd be prepared," Phasma said coldly.
You need to prepare – the weapon is charging – we're aiming for you next –
By advocating for more seasoned stormtroopers, she would be endangering more lives.
And if her persuasion backfired and she wound up interrogated…they would know.
I don't want anyone else to die.
She cared about the stormtroopers – pitied them, really. She'd barely been able to contain her ecstasy when news of FN-2187's betrayal broke. She just cared about the Resistance more.
But she still cared about the stormtroopers.
"Of course I'll do everything in my power," Zaira promised her friend.
She felt like kicking herself.
"General!"
Hux hated when Snoke used that tone of voice. The intense anger reminded him of his childhood. "Supreme Leader, I – "
"Your weapon is gone. Your troops in disarray. They have the map, the advantage. Tell me, do you possess anything of use to me?" Snoke slowly shook his head.
"We have two thousand more stormtroopers in preparation on Khar Delba. Within the month they will have completed their training." Hux knew his reply was paltry at best.
He hadn't scavenged that wayward fool's body off his life dream for no appreciation!
"You are angry," Snoke intoned.
"At the Resistance," Hux said properly. "I would have liked to end them."
"We will," Snoke purred. "With or without your ideas."
Hux bristled. "I – "
"I'm aware of the altercation that took place outside my headquarters."
"A few disgruntled villagers who thought it worthwhile to mock the First Order. My stormtroopers put them in their place."
"Did they?"
"Of course, Supreme Leader." Hux stood still. He didn't want to so much as breathe, lest he make a mistake.
Snoke leaned forward, practically staring into the General's soul. It thrilled Hux.
"Your program is lacking, General. With the traitor, the girl's escape, and the destruction of the weapon, something must change. We cannot allow the Resistance – the chaos of the Light – to overtake us."
"It won't. How can chaos defeat your sublime methods."
"Where there is disaster, there is opportunity," Snoke continued, barely listening to him. "You'll spend the month aiding Kylo Ren's final training. And when your stormtroopers graduate next month, you'll have devised a plan to better prepare them the battle."
"Absolutely, Supreme Leader," Hux said eagerly.
"You may go." Snoke waved his hand.
Hux strode out with more pride than he felt.
His father's hands caressed his face, slid off his face, fell and fell and fell –
Kylo Ren awoke and wished he hadn't.
For General Hux glowered at him.
Hux'd rescued him, Kylo realized. He'd rather have been picked up by an angry Wookie –
Chewie's howl burst in his ears and he wanted to scream. He felt weak, helpless, shamed.
"You're welcome, Ren." Hux could barely contain his satisfaction.
Kylo glared and said nothing else.
Hux walked closer to the bed, looking like a cat waiting to pounce.
"In other news, you appear to have satisfied the Supreme Leader."
Kylo flinched even as his pride rose.
Hux's blue eyes glittered. "Why Ren, are you feeling sad about killing the enemy?"
"I would never feel for enemies of the Supreme Leader," Kylo managed. And he had to mean it. There was no going back. He was truly Kylo Ren, Kylo Ren forevermore. Dull; it felt dull and hollow.
"Excellent. You'll be out of bed in three days, and then you'll be able to end the Jedi Order or whatever else Snoke has planned for you."
"Jealous, General?"
"You'll have to forgive me if it's hard to feel jealous of a man beat by a traitor and a girl, whose face is split in two." Hux peered closer. He'd never seen Ren without his mask before the rescue, and he rather enjoyed the humanity of his rival. Humanity could always be beaten.
"It's likely easier than to be jealous of a man whose life's work betrays him and destroys his weapon."
"I couldn't have managed without your incompetence."
"If you have no more business here, perhaps you should be thinking on rebuilding your program." Kylo wanted to scream, Leave! Leave! Leave! He wanted to smash things with – not his lightsaber. The clean one. The one that the girl had stolen. He wanted that one.
The clean one. The non-patricidal one.
"Get out, General," he growled.
"My pleasure," Hux said sweetly.
With the General gone, Kylo surveyed his surroundings. Sparsely furnitured, just his bed and a table on which a doctor's kit lay. Pristine and clean, the room was.
He couldn't stand it. He wanted to cut himself through with a lightsaber, to singe off the rotten sentiment he felt inside. He would cut his own heart out if the weakness would end.
But Kylo Ren was trapped in a makeshift hospital room, in the presence of his very Master, while he still wavered between the dark and the light. He could only bite his lip until he bled salty red, dig his fingers into his palms, disfigure himself further, a testament that yes, he deserved to be hurt.
"Keep interviewing the villagers," Hux snapped. "If anyone indicates this riot was planned, get all the information you can, then shoot them."
"Yes, sir," said a trooper.
"We cannot afford another display of weakness," Hux emphasized.
"Yes, sir," repeated the trooper.
Hux stormed off towards his room, down a long and lonely corridor with too fw troopers to guard. The day was nearly spent, and his eyelids wanted nothing more than to close. He wasn't sure he could in good conscience allow himself sleep, however. He couldn't afford it, and the insanity that lurked in his mind's closet whispered that he deserved the pain of sleep deprivation.
Still, he yanked open the door to tiny room. It screeched something awful, and he almost felt like bursting into tears. Couldn't one thing go right?
A dark figure thrust him back against his door so violently the general's teeth shuddered. In another swift motion he was on the floor.
"Cease!" Hux scrambled to his feet, yanking his now rumpled jacket into place.
He blinked. He knew this woman. Not that he could recall her name. He just knew her as the officer he didn't like, the officer who occasionally laughed at inappropriate times, who got dreamy eyed when they passed a starfield, who dyed her hair silver-purple to be different. Captain Phasma's friend.
"What is the meaning of this?" he snarled. Of course someone who dyed her hair would prove difficult.
Her answer was a swift kick to his groin.
Hux gasped as she easily flipped him upside down and pinned his feet against the wall.
With a punch to her knee cap he was free – only to see a blaster pointed directly at his face.
Zaira Dax's expressionless face stared back at him.
She could kill him now. End the ruthless miscreant who'd killed millions.
Or she could help the stormtroopers. She could keep her word to Phasma, the murderous, motherly captain she considered a friend. The captain she willingly betrayed.
Justice, her mind cried. But where was justice?