Author's Notes: Okay. So I realize that my other story "This is a Problem" has been a more than a little slow on the update front. However, I decided to take a small jaunt into a galaxy far, far away. So, after a lot of time getting sucked into Wookiepedia, I came up with this little thing. Personally, I've always thought that General Hux is a little under-valued by the First Order, so here's his time to shine! In addition, there is ONE minimal use of a swear. Nothing serious, but for those who may be sensitive, don't say I didn't warn you. Last but not least, as always, PM me with any mistakes that you find.
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Disclaimer: Lucas Films and Disney are the ones that own this, at least until they respond to my e-mails...
Hux's hair that he had so carefully gelled back this morning now hung in strands around his face. His dress uniform that was modeled after ones from the height of the Empire, once pressed and pristine, was rumpled and dusty. His epaulets were askew, his greatcoat ripped, his rancor-hide gloves now sported a small tear. All of the troopers that he had brought with him were dead, and he was a prisoner of the Resistance. It had all happened so fast...
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One day ago...
Hux was on a new model of the old Lambda-class military shuttles that had been reserved for the elite of the Empire. It had several modifications, including a hangar bay and a top-of-the-line hyperdrive straight from the assembly lines of Kuat. He was currently heading planetside to the scorching, Outer Rim world of Tatooine in order to create better shipping and trade routes into the Mid and Inner Rims. According to several reliable sources of intel, Lothal and a new planet called Kurinar had recently been discovered to have massive deposits of doonium, a very durable metal that was a key component in any good capital ship.
In addition, a planet named Lysatra was rumored to have an active trade network comparable to Taris' in the good old days. Hux strode out of his quarters and up to the bridge where he was due to make a call to Rotta the Hutt, who had inherited the position of ruler of Tatooine from his father. It took him a few minutes to reach the head of the ship, but in that time, the pit crew had already managed to hook up a connection.
Seemed like the Imperial Academies were still good for some things, then. The top general of the First Order made a small note to review some of the academies at a later date. Perhaps there would be more cadets of their kind. Hux took one last minute to straighten out his uniform and flipped the switch that would connect their viewport screen to Rotta's palace.
After a few seconds of waiting, it flickered to life, its blue glow only serving to make Hux seem even paler. On the screen was a protocol droid that was to guide them down to the planet.
"The great and powerful Rotta is expecting you, General Hux. He asks that you dock at Bay 9, then bring yourself to his throne room where he will hear what you have to say," the droid said, its metallic voice sending the beginnings of a migraine screwing directly into Hux's head. The General nodded curtly and ended the transmission.
He made a sharp about-face, staring down at the pit crew."You heard that piece of trash. Bring us in!" he snapped irritably, making the officers jump. "Notify me of when we get within sight of that slug's 'palace'. I will be in my quarters." He strode out of the bridge, the durasteel doors easily sliding shut behind him as he made the short trip to his rooms.
A passcode was entered by a hand clad in a rancor-leather glove and Hux practically threw himself onto the bed once he was sure that nobody could see him. Massaging his head as he pulled some documents from the top of his bedside table, he swore viciously, practically seeing his oncoming migraine speed up. Shoving the pain aside, he sat up and began to mutter as he went over the papers.
After about three of them, he began to see an emerging pattern. Ren. That bastard had apparently reduced three consoles to scraps these past four days alone and had traumatized more than one stormtrooper, causing them to be sent in for reconditioning and wrecking the First Order's latest budget plan as well. The crackling of his personal com-unit roughly snapped him out of his thoughts. It was a message from an officer on the bridge, one Lieutenant Kryell.
"General Hux, sir? The shuttle is within sight of Rotta's palace. The bridge awaits further instructions."
Hux felt a crooked smile twist itself onto his face. "Very good, Lieutenant Krye. Bring us in for a smooth landing at Bay 9, just as requested. Prepare a guard to accompany me to that repulsive snail's 'throne room'."
"Yes, General Hux. As you wish."
The comlink clicked off and Hux shoved the reports back into the drawer they had come from. Popping a quick look in the mirror to fix his collar (just a bit upturned), he opened his room's door and made the short trek back to the bridge. Walking along the shortened catwalk that led to the front of the ship, he turned to only other ranking officer that had been assigned to this miserable negotiation mission. "Colonel Artzin, you will be accompanying me to the actual negotiation. On the way in, make sure to take careful notes of where cameras and certain 'weapon depots' are hidden. Am I clear?"
The aforementioned man straightened to attention, uniform unwrinkled and boots pristine. "Yes, sir," he declared, saluting proudly. Hux nearly smiled, nearly. Dismissing him with a wave of his hand, he turned to the pilot.
"How long until we land?"
"Only a few minutes, sir. Bay 9 is just up ahead."
Hux looked out the viewport and sure enough, the entrance to the landing bay loomed large, practically swallowing the shuttle as it docked. He could just begin to make out the shadowy shapes of a protocol droid, a humanoid, and a few bounty hunters with spiky armor. It only took a short amount of time for the shuttle to land completely, small jets of pressurized air leaking out as the gangplank was lowered.
Hux and his escort stepped out, presenting quite a picture next to the filthy minions of Rotta. "We have arrived. Droid, if you would be so exceedingly kind as to guide us to Rotta's throne room?" he asked, the stormtroopers behind him remaining quiet, prompting the colonel to do the same. The bronze machine bowed to Hux, made a surprisingly quick turn, and began to walk. As the two groups walked, the colonel took in the surroundings carefully, noticing the cameras, escape routes, and well-concealed weapons. Finally, the party reached their destination.
The bronze protocol droid took its place beside Rotta, ready to translate whatever the Hutt had to say. Even though the galaxy was at war, the cantina was still packed and a (new) chained TWi'lek was still at the base of Rotta's platform. The Hutt gestured to the First Order group and began to speak while the droid translated.
"The Great and Powerful Rotta welcomes you to his palace and hopes that you will enjoy your stay. Now, what did you wish to bring up?"
Hux and Artzin fixed rather dead-looking smiles on their faces. "Rotta, it is a pleasure to finally be in your presence. I have come to you today to discuss the possibility of new trade routes into the Outer and Mid Rims."
Rotta's tongue slipped out from his mouth and licked his lips. "My lord believes that something could be worked out if the First Order is willing to give something valuable in return. He wonders if perhaps you would like to continue your negotiations in private, without others around to observe?" Hux gave a stiff nod and bowed to Rotta, waiting for instructions on what to do.
The chattery droid didn't fail to provide. "My lord would prefer if you would enter the antechamber down the hall and to the right. Third door. He wishes that you make yourself comfortable while he gathers the necessary documents."
Hux smirked and began a steady walk towards the aforementioned chamber, hoping to close these new deals quickly. Upon entering the room, his eyes were drawn to the furniture. The chairs appeared to be held together with string, spit, and prayers in a stark contrast to the First Order's sleek, metal tables and chairs.
His lip curling in disdain, he motioned for the stormtroopers to continue standing. It wouldn't do to sully that armor with slurry. The Colonel stood as well, just off to Hux's right. A few minutes of silence passed before Rotta entered the room with a small entourage in tow. Shuffling the papers in his fat hands, he began.
"General Hux. What routes did you wish to open? Tatooine is secluded, but still quite open to trade, especially for the kind that you have in mind. Or how about Dantooine or Hoth? Inhospitable, yes, but all the better for you and your superiors."
Hux struggled immensely to keep the snarl off of his face as Colonel Artzin took some stealthy notes. "Great Rotta, I really thinking more along the lines of Lothal, Kurinar, or Lysatra. Lothal and Lysatra both have able shipping economies and are near to where we would like to receive the shipments. In addition, according to our scans, Kurinar and Lothal have several untapped veins of doonium. Besides, Lysatra is practically the new Taris in terms of trade."
Rotta shook his head and opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by a massive explosion. A crack split the ceiling above their heads and dust rained down. The bounty hunters in Rotta's party took off like blasts from a laser cannon, straight to the source of the trouble while Rotta began to quickly move out of the structurally unstable room. "Rotta! What is going on? Is this an attempt to sabotage the First Order?" Hux screamed.
However, the repulsive son of the famous crime king never had the time to reply as a chunk of the ceiling dome crashed onto his head, ending this branch of the Hutt crime family. Hux slammed his hand down on the table in frustration, further damaging the poor piece of wood, "All of you lot, to the main cantina. I want every one of those intruders dead or alive and ready for interrogation. This is an attack on First Order sovereignty. MOVE!" The stormtroopers saluted and raced out, carefully avoiding the cooling corpse of the Hutt.
As soon as the white-clad drones were out of the room, he swept up all of the papers that Rotta had left behind when he tried to flee. There was a chance that there was something useful to these documents, and if there was, Hux was going to be the one to bring them back to the Supreme Leader. Quickly snapping photos, Hux tucked the data chip into his pocket as he walked back into the main cantina. Colonel Artzin had just finished clearing a path through the debris in order for the two officers to escape.
To his surprise and immediate dislike, it was the Resistance that had come to crash the trade deal. All nine of them must have come directly from their ramshackle ships because their helmets were still on, concealing the majority of their faces from Hux's sight. The general only had five stormtroopers. He could already see how this was going to end. Several troopers already lay dead on the floor compared to the one Resistance member.
Blasts were flying everywhere and the general fervently wished that he had Ren's power to stop them; it would come in handy right then. Hux resolved to look over the training programs when he got back to base. They really needed a revamp. As the smoke and dust cleared, Hux could see that all of the men still standing were either Resistance troops or bounty hunters that were only loyal to Rotta. He sneered and firmly shoved the idea of pinch-hiring one of them to defend him. Members of the First Order did not accept help from scum, beneficial or not. Hux motioned to Colonel Artzin using a set of FO hand signals.
'On my count, begin shooting from assorted places around the room. Attract their fire while I attempt to raise the ship's frequency.' Artzin gave a curt nod, unholstered his blaster pistol from his belt, took a covered position behind an overturned table, and did a rush-job of recalling his Academy weapons lessons. It had been some time since he was actually in a battle, and not simply practicing in one of the officer's training rooms.
It wasn't long before the remaining Resistance members to realize that there was still one main First Order member unaccounted for; General Hux was the reason they were here, and he wasn't currently in the pile of dead stormtroopers. Hux was already on his comm unit and trying to raise the ship on all FO channels. It didn't work; he was apparently out of range.
Frustratedly, Hux shut off his comm unit and tucked it away in his belt. Tapping the side of the overturned table to get Artzin's attention, he started to sign different instructions. 'Change in plans. Can't raise the ship, must make a break for it. Nine left, take ones of right. You know what you must do.' After unholstering his officers' blaster pistol, he silently tapped his regulation black boot on the ground three times in quick succession. Artzin nodded and began to fire on the wary Resistance members who still hadn't organized themselves properly. Two of them went down from bolts through the brains while the other seven began to return fire.
As their efforts began to pay off, Hux felt a shred of hope. Perhaps it was possible to reach the ship in order to get off this dustball after all. Then, Artzin went down and that shred of hope died. The blast had gone straight through his stomach, most likely into one of his organs. Artzin was moaning with pain, it felt as if something were attempting to chew through his abdomen.
In response, Hux grit his teeth and increased his rate of fire in order to compensate. Unfortunately, the Resistance members had noticed that some of the shots' frequency was lacking. Two brav-no, stupid ones began to edge forward, attempting to get around the table and stop Hux from firing. Hux sneered at them and shot one through the chest. However, in doing so, he accidentally let his guard drop. The other five from the rag-tag vigilante army sprang forward and practically tackled him to the filthy ground, beginning the descent of his uniform. Six Resistance scum left. It was going to be quite tough to salvage this one.
AN: I think I can, I think I can, I think I can. Or maybe this thing will just end up being banished to the far reaches of readers' imaginations. Maybe it won't ever be read, and I'll give up on it. But maybe, just maybe, I'll manage to end this particular piece and it won't die. On that sobering thought, so long for now... Lights out!