Someone was following them.
Kylo Ren knew they were using the Force, and he knew that they were hidden from sight.
He also knew that they wanted to kill him.
Turning to Hux, who had stopped talking once he realised his companion was focused on something else, Ren murmured, "Don't turn around. Someone is going to appear behind me. They're armed."
Hux narrowed his eyes. "I hear nothing."
Ren nodded impatiently. "That's because they don't want you to. Go, call the stormtroopers. I'll handle this."
"Are you sure?"
He turned to look at Hux; under the helmet, he was glaring, and he was sure his companion knew it. The General's lip twitched in an attempt at a sneer, and he hurried away, pressing his communicator.
Ren closed his eyes. The intruder was getting much closer; they were nearly behind him. Without warning his whirled around and, palm extended towards them, froze the person in place with a burst of Force energy.
The pocket of air shimmered, and a figure materialized, seemingly out of thin air. They wore a scarf around their face, obscuring all but their eyes, and their clothes were all loose cloth and folds, making it impossible to discern whether they carried any concealed weapons.
The intruder's eyes narrowed, and Ren felt the person push against him— but he was stronger, much stronger. He held them in place, half-floating in the air, until Hux and a small group of stormtroopers entered and relieved the assailant of their weapons- two blasters and a handful of knives. They pulled the person's arms behind their back and forced them to their knees.
Ren knelt in front of the intruder, noting the person's heavy breathing and racing pulse.
"You were invisible," he said quietly. "Tell me how you did that."
The intruder spat something, but it was muffled under the headscarf. Hux calmly stepped up behind the person and removed it.
It was a girl, not much younger than Ren himself. She had pale hair in a tight braid around her head, and blood was smeared all over her nose and mouth; her nose must have started bleeding from the pressure of using the Force. Her mouth was set in a thin line.
Ren gripped her chin in his hand, and she bit her lip, eyes flitting nervously from the Knight's mask to Hux, standing silently behind them.
"Tell me," Ren repeated, and the girl winced, as if something were giving her a headache. Ren raised an eyebrow; he wasn't causing it.
Sweat dripped down the girl's forehead and she clenched her jaw, before making a small noise of pain and slumping in the stormtroopers' grip.
Ren rolled his eyes; they always got themselves knocked unconscious before he could question them. Although how she did it… he would find that out, too, soon enough.
"Take her," he said as he stood. The stormtroopers hauled the girl away obediently, and Ren turned to Hux, who was doing a remarkable job of looking unsurprised.
"Resistance, perhaps?"
Ren grunted, neither confirming nor denying the General's theory. When he'd interrogated Resistance troops, they'd had the telltale look of absolute fear in their eyes— pupils ridiculously dilated, bodies shaking, pleading for their lives in short breaths and stifled screams. The girl had done none of these things— in fact, she'd looked at Ren with desperation, with a glimmer of hope in her wide eyes.
Well, she'll find none of that here.
Hux was standing by the door the stormtroopers had exited through. He held it open for Ren, and followed him down the hall, keeping pace with the Sith.
"How did she manage to enter the Finalizer without our sensors detecting it?" Hux asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice.
Ren kept his gaze focused ahead as he spoke. "She is well-taught in the ways of the Force. No doubt she put her abilities to use."
The General's jaw tightened. "Shall I increase security around the hangar bays?"
"No. The girl came alone. I doubt anyone with her skill set will follow, given her failure to complete her mission."
Hux nodded. They had reached the end of the hall. Hux motioned vaguely down one end of the adjoining corridor.
"I had her taken to one of the interrogation chambers. I assumed you wanted to begin questioning immediately."
"Correct. Inform the Supreme Leader of my whereabouts if he contacts you."
"Of course." Hux strode down the opposite corridor, leaving Ren alone.
—
I've failed.
"Not yet," Bree whispered into the darkness. Her head was pounding, and she itched to reach up and tear that damn chip from her skull with nothing but her fingers. For a brief moment she was grateful for the shackles that kept her arms by her sides.
The room was pitch black, save for the occasional blinking of monitor lights and the dull glow from underneath the doorframe. Bree was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, her limbs were shaking of their own accord, whether from pain or fear, she didn't know.
She pulled against the cuffs again, feeling sick. She hadn't expected to live very long as an assassin, but… this was too soon. At twenty-seven she should have been at the height of her career, not strapped to a chair inside the Finalizer.
And now you're going to die, because you weren't strong enough to fool one Sith Lord. Or was it Knight of Ren..? Well, it doesn't make a difference, anyway. They're both going to kill you.
The chip in her brain hummed sharply, and Bree hissed, clenching her teeth. She hated it, hated the man who had put it there, hated being in this damned cell…
A computer console to her left short-circuited and started smoking. At this point, she had no idea if it was her or just her mind playing tricks.
Bree felt herself slipping into unconsciousness again, and was secretly grateful for it. Someone was crying; perhaps it was her.
—
When Ren entered the interrogation chamber, he was unsurprised to find the girl's head lolling to one side, still unconscious. There was fresh blood on her face, and welts over her wrists from straining against the cuffs. Ren waved a hand and the room's lights flickered to life.
He'd decided to move straight to mind-probing; a Force-sensitive was better equipped to withstand normal torture techniques, and he couldn't afford to take chances.
"Wake up," he told the girl sharply, and her head jerked up, eyes unfocused. She spotted Ren and, for the first time, he sensed fear.
Ren walked towards her, slowly, and her gaze followed him with a slightly glazed expression.
"Who sent you?" Ren decided to give her the benefit of the doubt; he'd be able to tell if she was lying. The girl took a shallow breath.
"M'not with the Resistance." Her accent was odd— Ren couldn't place it, but it sounded like some of the accents from the Outer Rim— slurring her words together and speaking in quick bursts.
Ren searched her thoughts, briefly. She was telling the truth.
"Who, then?" The girl bit her lip, hesitating. Ren felt the wave of fear again, stronger this time. He changed his approach, raising his palm and sifting through her thoughts instead. He heard her make a weak noise of protest, and ignored it.
A chip. There was a computer chip planted in her skull. Ren guessed that it could be activated if she told him anything, blowing her brains to pieces, and quite possibly him along with it. Ren had to commend whoever had installed it for their intuition, at least. He pushed harder, the blur of thoughts and emotions in the girl's mind becoming harder and harder to keep up with.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw her, face pale and sweaty. He had to finish this quickly, or there would be no chance of her cooperating with him in the future.
Finally, he found the name he was looking for: Frey. The image was clear in the girl's mind; a tall man, human, in his late thirties. A large burn scar across his neck and stubble on his chin.
Ren let the girl go, and she took a deep breath, collecting herself. "Did you find what you were looking for?"
"Tell me about Frey."
The girl swallowed. "Smuggler, assassinations on the side. You messed up one of his trading outposts. He sent me to kill you."
"Anything else?"
The girl pulled against her cuffs experimentally. "His base is in the Outer Rim. Vinsoth. He'll know you're coming, since I haven't reported back. He'll be on guard."
"Your cooperation will be noted." He stepped away from her and opened the door to the interrogation chamber. Before he left, he closed his hand into a fist. There was a muffled snapping noise, and the girl sighed. The chip was harmless now.
"Thank you."
The words were soft, barely audible over the hum of machinery. Ren grunted.
"A small inconvenience taken care of. The First Order rewards those who cooperate with them. When we land, I'll send someone to make you look presentable." Ren didn't bother explaining why. Instead he exited the chamber without so much as a nod at the girl. The door closed with a sharp hiss.
—
Kylo Ren was correct; two women with the symbol of the First Order on their pristine uniforms entered the room and undid Bree's cuffs some hours later. As she rubbed her wrists, the younger of the women took her arm. She couldn't have been more than thirty-five, with dark red hair tied back in a severe bun and a smattering of freckles over her face.
"Please come with us." She pulled a pair of small handcuffs from her trouser pocket, and mumbled an apology when Bree grimaced. The older woman pulled a blaster from her belt and nudged Bree with it.
"Don't try to escape. You won't get far if you do."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Bree said under her breath as they led her out of the room and down a long corridor. The red-headed woman opened a door in front of them, and they walked down several more corridors until Bree was hopelessly lost.
After a few more minutes of this routine, they stopped at a large set of doors. The older woman keyed in a code and the doors slid open, revealing what must have been refresher facilities, complete with sonic showers and benches in the middle of the room. Everything was was made of dark grey durasteel and duracrete, no viewports or adjoining doors. The room was empty save for Bree and her companions.
The red-headed woman nodded at a cubicle. "There's a change of clothes on the bench. You must be exhausted." She had a Coruscanti accent, Bree noted. She might have trained at the Arkanis Academy or something like it. That's where the officers of the Empire came from, I think.
The older woman gave the red-head a look, and she fell silent. Bree shrugged and waited for them to turn around before stripping and stepping into the shower.
The sonic shower felt amazing after so many hours of hyperspace and before that, Frey's grimy headquarters on Vinsoth. Bree closed her eyes and pulled the tangles out of her hair, savoring the precious few minutes she had in the cubicle.
Eventually she brought herself back to reality and toweled off, pulling on the clothes as quickly as possible. Unsurprisingly, it was a dark grey uniform, the First Order emblem embroidered into the shoulder of the jacket. It was a bit loose on her, and Bree frowned at her fairly obvious ribcage as she pulled on an undershirt.
If Kylo Ren and his lackeys weren't planning to kill her when she arrived, she'd have to put on some weight. She rolled the sleeves of the uniform up to her elbows and did the same with the trouser legs, hoping they wouldn't fall off her when she walked.
Bree asked the red-headed woman for a hair tie, and walked to one of the mirrors in the shower room. As she pulled he hair back she studied herself in the mirror. A girl who'd seen plenty of sleepless nights stared gauntly back at her. Her white-blond hair hung limply over her shoulders and, with all the scars and blemishes, she looked much older than she was. Pale grey-blue eyes rimmed with dark circles narrowed condescendingly at her reflection.
The older woman cleared her throat. It was time to leave.
Bree walked over to them and reluctantly let them snap her cuffs back on. On the way to what assumed was the command centre of the First Order's base, Bree tried to make conversation with the red-headed woman, but all she got was stony-faced silence.
This did nothing to calm her nerves. Briefly, Bree wondered if she could use the Force to escape, then thought better of it. Kylo Ren would know, and he'd find her like he had last time. She doubted that he was someone who gave second chances.
The two women stopped at a door, and handed Bree over to a group of stormtroopers, who silently opened the door and led her down another series of corridors. Bree rolled her eyes. Does this place ever end?
Finally a pair of doors hissed open, revealing a huge room lined with computer screens. Large tinted viewports revealed what would have been, under different circumstances, a stunning view of Starkiller, the First Order's main base, all snow-capped mountains and gleaming durasteel buildings. So it was a planet, not a space station, although Bree couldn't help but notice all the similarities it had to the Empire's Death Star, especially the hallways inside the Base.
Bree glanced around; she suspected the room was normally full of people, but today only Ren and a shorter, orange-haired man stood in the centre, on a raised platform. The stormtroopers stepped back, but didn't take off her handcuffs.
Ren and his companion walked towards her, their steps echoing ominously against the metal-grated floor. Bree was scared, but she swallowed her fear and spoke, willing her voice not to crack.
"Since you haven't killed me yet, I guess we're here to talk. You got any caf?"
Kylo Ren's companion's mouth twitched up in a sneer.
"Don't push your luck, girl. It's by our mercy that you're standing here unharmed."
Ren held up a hand, signaling for him to be silent.
"Supreme Leader Snoke has requested an audience with you."
What?
For the love of her, Bree couldn't think of a witty one-liner to throw back at him.
—
Ren didn't have to ask the girl to follow him; she must have sensed the seriousness of the situation and walked behind him and Hux obediently, so silent he forced himself not to look back and check she was still there. He still didn't know her name, and didn't bother to ask. Assassins had no need of names in his eyes.
They reached the chamber in which Ren and Hux would frequently meet with Snoke. The girl took one look at it and scowled, compliance gone.
"There's no way in Malachor that I'm going in there."
"You're in no position to make demands," Hux snapped, opening the door. He let Ren walk past him, then half-dragged the girl with him into the massive chamber. Ren glanced back, just for a second, and even in the darkness of the room he could see the fear on the girl's face. He smiled under the mask. Good.
The hologram of the Supreme Leader flickered into existence, and he peered down at the three figures in front of him. Ren and Hux bowed their heads in respect.
"What is your name, girl?" Snoke demanded sharply, but not unkindly. Ren heard the girl gulp and she twisted in Hux's grip.
"Bree. Bree Truesider, sir."
Snoke leaned forward, searching her face. "Truesider… I recognise that name. A Dark Side cult, no?"
Bree nodded. "My… my family was close with Emperor Palpatine when the Empire was still around. My great-grandmother was Aznat Truesider, who helped the Separatists during the Clone Wars."
Snoke didn't appear impressed by this information, but then again, it had always been impossible to read him. He motioned to Ren and Hux. "Leave us. I will speak to the girl alone." The two men nodded and left the chamber.
As soon as the doors closed, Hux turned to Ren, surprise and a hint of disdain on his carefully composed features.
"What does the Supreme Leader want with an amateur assassin?"
Ren was just as confused as his companion, but he took care not to show it. "I told you before, she is skilled in the Force. Perhaps he hopes to recruit her into the First Order."
Hux's nose wrinkled. "You can't trust those Outer Rim scum. They'll slit your throat without a second thought."
Ren let out a barking laugh. "They could try. Don't overestimate our enemies, General."
"Don't underestimate our enemies..." Hux snapped, then caught himself, trailing off weakly. The tips of his ears went red as he realised he'd gone too far.
"I… I apologize, Lord Ren, that was out of line." The General turned stiffly and headed back down the hall they'd come from. "If you have need of me, I shall be completing paperwork in my quarters."
"See to it that that doesn't happen again, General," Ren called after him. Hux didn't reply.
—
Bree watched Ren and Hux leave, wishing she could come with them. Snoke must have noticed.
"You're afraid." Bree looked up at the Supreme Leader.
"Should I be?" He didn't answer.
She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, composing herself. She was done with being scared. She was free of Frey and his assassin's guild. Her destiny was her own. Let's not ruin the moment by running away like a frightened bantha whenever someone drags me into an interrogation.
Squaring her shoulders, Bree held Snoke's gaze as she spoke. "Supreme Leader, I'd like to join the First Order." It was her best option, now she didn't have to worry about Frey.
He snorted. "I do not take kindly to those who attempt to murder my apprentices. What makes you think I'd be willing to accept?"
"I've trained in the ways of the Force, and I can learn a lot more. I know a lot of Outer Rim planets and trading routes that the Resistance might using to move their forces. I can fight, and lead fights, if that's what you want. I—"
"Your achievements mean nothing without proof," Snoke said coldly. "You say you have trained in the Force? Show me."
Bree closed her eyes and reached out into the Force, drawing on its energy and willing herself to disappear. The air around her shimmered and she knew she was masked from sight. Yet the Supreme Leader remained silent. Bree became visible again and concentrated on a spot next to her.
She envisioned a Sith Lord, red lightsaber blazing in his hand and black robes swirling around him. A few moments later, the Sith Lord appeared, almost as if he'd been there the entire time. The buzz of the illusion's lightsaber was the only sound in the chamber.
Snoke chuckled, without humour. "Your party tricks are entertaining, but not enough to win my favour. Anyone with a sufficient amount of Force training could have done those. Show me what the Dark Side has taught you, Bree Truesider. If you cannot do so, I will summon General Hux and have him give the order for your execution."
The Sith Lord Bree had created dissolved in a puff of smoke. She glared at the floor, cheeks red.
She knew one other thing, something she'd been practicing before Frey had sent her out on this suicide mission… but she wasn't ready, it wasn't nearly as polished or refined as her other skills. And if Bree couldn't summon it… well, it was looking a lot like these precious minutes would be her last. I have to try. I've got to try.
Bree closed her eyes again, willing the Force to flow through her. She was calmer then she'd ever been; there was no fear, no hope, just the Force. Just the Force…
And nothing. She felt nothing, just the cold emptiness of defeat. Her mouth tasted bitter as she stared guiltily at Snoke, who tutted down at her.
"Disappointing. Your ancestors would have been ashamed."
Bree's temper flared, and her hands balled into fists. "My ancestors—" she stopped, a sudden realisation coming to her. The Dark Side of the Force rejected calm and peace, she remembered her parents once telling her that. It thrived on anger, fear and passion. And those were three things Bree always had far too much of.
She brought forth every memory she hated, everything she'd been afraid to face, the images bombarding her brain all at once. The time her mother pushed her into the path of a speeder in hopes of awakening her Force abilities; her father's constant look of disgust when she refused to participate in his sick Dark Side cult; the blinding pain as Frey had her brain chip installed and his laughter afterwards; the parties he'd force her to attend so he could show off his latest toy; being totally helpless as Kylo Ren held her in place and the stormtroopers snapped her handcuffs together—
And there it was, in a burst of electric energy, the lightning crackling through Bree's fingers and spreading out in tendrils, causing sparks and smoke to billow up inside the chamber. The Force coursed through her veins, all of her senses suddenly amplified.
Her hair whipped around her face and, distantly, she heard someone laughing; whether it was her or Snoke, she didn't know. She had done it; this was much more dangerous than the little electric shocks she'd caused in her quarters on Vinsoth. This was what power in its purest form looked like, what it felt like.
Bree felt herself growing weak, and, reluctantly, she lowered her arms, the lightning puttering out and the Force fading from her system. She felt dizzy— black spots danced at the edges of her vision and her head was pounding— but she had done it.
Snoke's laughter had ceased; he was now nodding at her approvingly.
"Very impressive indeed, my dear. You have done well."
The doors burst open then, and Kylo Ren strode down the walkway. Bree couldn't tell under the mask, but he seemed agitated.
"Supreme Leader, I heard explosions. Is—"
Snoke waved a hand nonchalantly. "All is well, Ren. Take Bree to some suitable accommodation." Ren paused, glancing from Bree to Snoke.
"Supreme Leader, you aren't seriously thinking-"
"Did I ask you to question me?" the hologram snapped, and Ren took a step back, surprised. He looked down, muttering, "No, sir."
"Good. Take the girl to Hux if you must, but find her a place to sleep and do it quickly. Afterwards report back to me."
"Yes, Supreme Leader." Ren reached for Bree's arm. She pulled away in a moment of bravery.
"I can walk by myself." Ren didn't move, but Bree suspected he was rolling his eyes under the mask. He took her arm again.
"Don't waste my time, assassin."
Snoke's hologram flickered away as they left the chamber. Ren didn't speak to Bree once during their walk; he handed her over to Hux like a small child and instructed him to find her a spare room.
Hux, after making several choice remarks about Ren, then called the redheaded woman from before, and she took Bree to a small room next to the showering facilities. There was a bed, a desk and a drawer. Everything the same colour and style— no room for individuality in the First Order.
The redheaded woman pointed to the drawer.
"Change of clothes in there, toiletries. If there's an emergency press this button," she pointed to a button next to the door, "and talk into the comm. There's a map of the Base on the desk, there. I've slotted you into my shifts, so your meal times are at 0600 hours, 1200 hours and 1800 hours. If you miss one the cafeteria is closed until the next, so don't be late.
"Your free time is from 1900 to 2000 hours. The comm on the door also allows messages to go through, so if you're needed they'll let you know." The redhead turned to leave, and Bree caught her arm.
"Wait. What's your name?"
"Novan. Nyssa Novan."
"Novan, what the hell am I doing here with these bucketbrains?" the high of the Sith Lightning was far past wearing off and Bree was starting to realise just how screwed she was. Novan shrugged.
"I'm afraid I don't know. If you met with General Hux and Kylo Ren and you're still breathing, someone must have thought you were useful. No one in the First Order is useless. The General makes sure of that."
Bree sighed, feeling very tired. "It was worth a shot. I'm Bree, by the way. Bree Truesider." Novan smiled.
"Nice to meet you, Bree. I expect we'll be seeing a lot of each other?"
"I hope so. You're the only person I've met so far who doesn't want to kill me."
Novan chuckled. "I work in the command centre and the central flight deck on the Finalizer, so I'm not around often, but if I have any spare time I can show you around, give you a basic idea of how Starkiller Base and the Finalizer work."
"Thanks." Bree waved as she left, then collapsed on her bed. No doubt it was early morning of the next day cycle. Bree pulled off her jacket, boots and pants, and within moments of doing so she was asleep, willing herself not to dream about Snoke or the lightning or Kylo Ren and General Hux.
She'd deal with all of that when she'd had a decent night's sleep.
—
Ren had pestered Snoke as much as he dared, but he still couldn't manage to get the Supreme Leader to tell him why he'd let Bree go so easily. He assumed it was because she'd displayed an ability he'd overlooked. Perhaps there was more to her then she was letting on.
She couldn't have been stronger than me, Ren thought, I would have felt it. But whatever she did, it must have been something impressive for Snoke to allow her to live.
"Ren." It was Hux. The General caught up with him as they walked down one of Starkiller Base's many corridors. "I believe you have an assignment? Shouldn't you be getting to it?"
Ren ground his teeth. Hux, at his request, had looked into the 'Frey' that he'd seen in Bree's mind. To Ren's surprise, the man hadn't fled his base on Vinsoth, even after his assassin failed to report back. Ren had to admire the man's courage— or stupidity, since it was Ren himself that would be paying him a visit in a few hours. Bree would accompany him- under close supervision, of course.
"Shouldn't you be preparing my shuttle for my departure, General? Or have you forgotten your own duties, too?" Ren shot back. Hux's jaw tightened.
"Of course not. Shall I call our assassin?"
Ren shouldered past him very unceremoniously. Hux grunted as he was bumped out of the way.
"I'll find her myself. See to it that my shuttle is ready to fly when I return."
Hux nodded curtly and stalked away in the direction of the control centre, probably to yell at an unsuspecting underling. Ren stormed off in the opposite direction.
Many of the stormtroopers were finishing breakfast, but they wisely steered clear of the Knight's path as he strode towards one of the many barracks within the Base. He reached out with the Force, checking Bree was in the direction he was walking, and found her, sitting alone in a private room near the showers. Many of the stormtroopers' barracks were situated here, but the halls were practically empty.
Ren didn't bother knocking; the doors hissed open and Bree nearly jumped out of her skin as he entered.
"Stars!" She blinked a few times and straightened her clothes unconsciously. "Uh, Lord Ren, I wasn't expecting you."
Ren jerked a thumb behind him. "With me." Bree rose and checked everything was in order, before following him. He noticed she was wearing the uniform most First Order officers wore— the dark grey shirt and flared trousers, with the Order's symbol embroidered on the upper sleeve of the shirt. Though she'd been wearing it yesterday, it was still a little odd to see her out of her assassin's garb.
"Is something up?" Bree asked as they hurried to the hangar where Ren's ship was stowed.
"We're going to Vinsoth," he told her simply. She opened her mouth to object but was interrupted by a group of stormtroopers that met them inside the hangar.
"Sir, your ship is ready to fly," one of them said.
"Good. Cuff her and make sure she's secure before we jump to hyperspace." Ren left Bree with the stormtroopers and boarded the ship, easing himself into his seat and flicking on the familiar controls.
Although there were people who could fly his ship for him, he preferred to do it himself. After all, Darth Vader had been an exceptional pilot— it was only fitting that Ren was equally skilled.
The ship hummed to life and Ren allowed himself a small smile under his mask. He honestly did enjoy flying, the jolt of jumping into hyperspace; slower than he remembered, but a similar feeling of exhilaration. He'd been on many ships, but only a few could match the twelve parsecs he was familiar with.
Damn. He tried to push the memories from his head, but he was tired and a few wormed their way into his skull. He'd been so small then, running through the Millennium Falcon, tripping over loose wires and machinery. His father had lifted him up into the pilot's seat and showed him how to make the jump into hyperspace.
"It's the fastest ship in the galaxy, Ben," he told him, watching his son stare open-mouthed at the controls too large for his toddler hands. "Nothing can outrun it. Maybe one day I'll let you fly it."
A young Ben Solo pointed to his father's blaster, strapped to his belt. "Can you show me how to shoot, too?"
Han winked. "Just don't tell your mother."
Ren growled low in his throat and slammed his fist onto the control panel. That man was not his father. Not anymore. The fond memory faded and was replaced with cold determination to complete his mission. Ren stared ahead as the shuttle shot into hyperspace.
He felt nothing.
—
The stormtroopers, thankfully, undid Bree's handcuffs when they landed on Vinsoth. She was glad for a breath of fresh air after the hours of space travel had made her sick, and although they kept a close watch on her, at least her arms weren't tied behind her back. Vinsoth was nearing the end of its day cycle, sunlight vanishing behind the mountains to the west.
The familiar grasslands of the planet felt alien to her now, and Bree wasn't sure if she was grateful or upset at this. Hopefully it would allow her to stand by as Ren took his revenge on her former master.
Ren motioned for the stormtroopers to stay with the ship.
"We'll be less noticeable if we enter alone." Bree had to agree; she just hoped no one would recognise her.
Frey's base was mainly underground, and could only be accessed by two entrances, the main entrance a small hut whose stairs led down into the base. Both entrances were guarded by Chevins, the planet's native species.
This continent's dictator had had an uneasy truce with Frey, which essentially allowed the smuggler to set up shop here, in return for twenty percent of his bounty. Frey had agreed, then had had one of his assassins kill the dictator shortly afterwards. Since then, the Chevins on the continent either left him alone or offered their services in return for partial safety.
Ren approached the Chevin in front of the main entrance calmly. Of course, it stopped him.
"What is your business here?" it asked in a garbled accent.
Without warning, Ren drew his lightsaber and slashed the Chevin's throat. It wasn't a clean cut, and dark blood sprayed everywhere as the the Chevin slumped to the ground.
"What the hell was that for?" Bree hissed as Ren strode past the Chevin's corpse. He turned to look back at her, his body language clearly exasperated.
"He could have alerted someone. I removed a risk."
"You didn't need to kill him!" Bree shot back, trying to keep her voice down. They'd stopped at a grey staircase inside the hut. The stairs led down, into the base.
"You have just as much blood on your hands as I do," Ren told her, strapping his lightsaber back to his belt, "so don't act so high-and-mighty."
"The people I killed were asking for it," Bree muttered. "This guy sure wasn't. You can't just kill people for no reason."
Ren shrugged and gestured at the stairs. "We'll discuss this later, if that will pit you at ease. Right now, we have a mission." They had reached the bottom of the staircase and Bree held up a hand, relieved to finally be calling the shots. She banished all thoughts of the Chevin from her mind and focused on the task at hand.
"It's quiet, which means there won't be a lot of assassins in the base today. Frey usually keeps a few around in case of an emergency, so we might have trouble when we get farther in, but otherwise this should be pretty easy."
Ren turned to look at her— at least, she thought he had. The mask made it impossible to tell.
"You would so easily betray the man who gave you food and shelter? Who trained you to be an assassin and saved you from your family on Byss?" Then, with a wry tip of his head, "Is he 'asking for it'?"
Bree glared at her boots. Of course Ren would have known that, but the words still stung and brought back unwanted memories.
"Frey sent me on a suicide mission. He must've known I'd get killed coming after you unprepared. If I had any respect for that piece of scum, it's long gone," she said bitterly, looking away from Ren. "Come on. We should get moving before anyone realizes we're here."
She edged up against the wall of the corridor, reaching for her blaster… and finding nothing. Ren caught her eye and shook his head once.
"You don't need a weapon."
"But what about—" Bree grew silent as Ren held up a finger, listening. There were voices coming from the end of an adjoining hallway. Bree flattened herself against the metal of the wall and concentrated, finding the two assassins' minds and easing her way in, creating the illusion of invisibility.
A thought occurred to her then; why didn't she just reveal Ren now, to the two assassins? Of course, they wouldn't be a match for him, but he'd be distracted long enough for Bree to run up the staircase and back to the ship. She could tell the stormtroopers that Ren had been killed, and she could get out of there.
I can't. Frey deserves what's coming for him, and besides, I owe Kylo Ren my life. If I want to stay in the First Order- stay safe- I'll have to gain his trust.
...Also, there'd be nowhere in the galaxy I could hide when he'd found out what I'd done.
As the assassins turned the corner, they saw nothing but an empty hallway.
One of them— Bree remembered his name, Tarin— elbowed the other and laughed at some joke he'd made. They paused to glance down the corridor— probably to check for intruders— then carried on, oblivious. Ren and Bree became visible again, the latter breathing heavily, winded from the effort of the illusion. Ren waited for her to catch her breath before continuing on silently through Frey's base.
Bree led the way down a series of corridors. She and Ren glanced at each other, and she noticed his hand was never far away form his lightsaber. The halls were pale grey and starkly lit, and Bree felt exposed— she'd always hated walking through here, was always eager to accept another mission and leave Vinsoth for another precious few days.
"He'll probably be in his chambers," Bree told Ren as they stopped in front of them. Her hands were shaking.
Ren waved a hand at the lock on the door and it clicked open easily. Bree raised an eyebrow as the doors opened. This was too easy. There had to be some kind of trap; a room full of assassins, perhaps? A trip-wire in front of the door? Bree checked the floor as they entered just in case; there was nothing. She bit her lip. She could see the outline of Frey, sitting in a chair facing the window.
He stood, and Ren's hand flew to his lightsaber, unhooking it from his belt. Bree's hands twitched. She could fight with her fists if she needed to, but not for long. She scanned the room for any objects she could use as makeshift weapons, and found none. The room was bare save for a chair, a window and bookshelf.
"Bree. And Kylo Ren," Frey's voice made Bree's blood run cold. There was something different about it, somehow. It sounded deeper, older. Bree felt a strong pull of the Force in the room; she wondered who was causing it. It couldn't have been...
"Although it's terribly cliche, I have been expecting you. Snoke must have sent you, Knight of Ren. Unfortunately, I doubt you'll be reporting back to him."
—
The hair on the back of Ren's neck prickled, and he sensed a change in the Force. He knew Bree had felt it, too— she breathed sharply and narrowed her eyes.
The leader of the assassin's guild was slightly different than Ren had seen him in Bree's memories; taller than he'd originally thought, and clean-shaven, with sharp cheekbones and small, narrow eyes. The burn scars on his neck were huge, encompassing his not only his windpipe but his collarbones as well, one or two even snaking up to his jaw.
They looked an awful lot like lightsaber marks.
Then there was the issue of knowing Ren's name. He'd assumed Frey was at least partly Force-sensitive, or he couldn't have taught Bree any of her tricks, but… there was more to this man, just like there was more to Bree. Damn assassins. They're impossible to read.
Frey was nodding at Bree, now. "You suit a First Order uniform. I should have sent you to them sooner."
Bree's nostrils flared. "You nearly got me killed."
"I was simply testing your ability. Obviously it wasn't as potent as I'd originally thought."
"Bantha fodder you were. Besides, I've learnt more than the party tricks you taught me," Bree informed her former master cockily. He raised a thin eyebrow.
"Have you indeed? Well, perhaps you'll have to show me." Frey was clearly enjoying making her angry.
"Damn well I'll—"
"Enough." Bree's mouth clamped shut immediately when Ren spoke. The Knight flicked on his lightsaber and aimed it at Frey. "Shut up and don't get in the way."
Frey shook his head, tutting. "That's no way to speak to a woman, Kylo Ren. Perhaps I should teach you some manners." He flicked his wrist, and Ren was flying across the room. His head smacked against the wall and he slid to the floor, stunned, the clang of his helmet ringing in his ears. His lightsaber lay discarded by his side.
He was vaguely aware through his visor of Bree reaching out involuntarily towards him, a shocked expression on her face.
Ren felt blood dribble down his lip, and he said through gritted teeth, "Interesting, how your former master is a Sith Lord."
"I didn't know," Bree replied softly, taking a step back as Frey moved toward her. The Sith chuckled.
"You shouldn't have come back. You were such a promising employee, it's a shame that you brought him with you."
Bree remained silent. Ren tried to reach for his lightsaber, but Frey flicked his wrist again and it slid away from his grasp.
"I suppose I could allow you to return," Frey mused, stroking his chin.
Ren tried to rise from the floor and was shoved down by unseen hands. He snarled and pushed against Frey furiously, using every ounce of energy he had. Bree was frozen, one hand on the door and the other in front of her, as if to ward off evil.
"Of course, you'll have a new chip installed. This one would be a little more… ah, refined. All past faults will be forgotten, and there will be no more… for want of a better word, 'suicide' missions. Would you like that?"
"I'm not sure what I'd like, exactly," Bree muttered, her hand on the door turning ever so slightly. Ren realised she was reaching out with the Force, trying to push Ren's lightsaber over to him. It skidded closer, but Frey didn't seem to notice.
"Who are you trying to impress? You don't honestly think Snoke will let you join his elite Knights of Ren, do you? No, my dear, it's unlikely you'll ever see anything more than a computer screen for the rest of your life if you stay in the Order. I can offer you so much more than that."
"So, Ren's right? You're a Sith Lord?" Bree said quickly, before Frey could glance over at Ren, reaching for his lightsaber.
The man looked proud of himself as he declared, "Darth Tormic. Of course, I couldn't use that name after Snoke—" he spat the name like a curse "—came to power. I could train you personally, Bree. You'd be stronger than Kylo Ren, perhaps even Snoke himself."
Bree glanced up, and something flickered in her eyes. A lump formed in Ren's throat and he silently hoped she wasn't seriously considering Frey's offer. Then the moment passed, and Bree shook her head, moving her hand a little more. The lightsaber was now less than a metre away.
Ren slammed himself against the Force-hold, slowly but surely edging himself closer to his weapon.
"I thought the Sith were long gone," Bree mused. "My parents—"
Frey— or rather, Darth Tormic— snorted. "Your parents knew far less than they thought about the Dark Side. They were nothing more than blind followers."
"…I guess you taught yourself about the Dark Side, then?" Just a few more moments. Just keep him talking.
"Of course— after the defeat at Endor… well, Sith weren't exactly loved by the galaxy to start with, and that didn't help matters. And Bree, there is so much more you can learn from me. So much more." Bree crossed her arms, flicking her fingers as she did so. Ren's lightsaber flew into his hand, just as the Force-hold gave way, and he sprung to his feet, using the Force to throw Frey backwards.
—
The Sith Lord's expression went from betrayal to anger in mere moments. He pointed at Bree, and suddenly she couldn't breathe. Any kind of rational thought was replaced with blind panic as she clawed at her throat, feeling herself being lifted off the ground.
She kicked the air, pushing against Tormic's hold, but he was much stronger, and far more learned in the methods of the Sith. He looked almost regretful as he tightened his hold on her windpipe, cutting off all air supply completely. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ren trying to move forward, but Frey lifted his other hand and stopped him, too.
I can't do it, Bree thought angrily, he's too powerful. Frey— Tormic— was right, I should never have come here. She was beginning to black out. Bree remembered numbly that it took the average human seven or eight minutes to die from oxygen deprivation. She gasped, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
In one last desperate attempt to save herself before she fell unconscious, Bree reached out and felt the familiar pull of the Force, right at her fingertips. Lightning exploded from her fingers, enveloping Tormic in bright blue tendrils. He cursed, letting Bree fall to the ground, and Ren moved in.
The Knight calmly stepped up to Tormic, who was still shaking from the Sith Lightning, and ignited his lightsaber, driving it quite violently through the Sith Lord's neck and out the top of his head.
Bree's former master didn't even have time to scream.
He crumpled to the ground, fingers twitching and a pained expression on his normally composed face. But there wasn't time to celebrate. There was a low rumbling noise, and Ren whirled around, grabbing Bree's arm and hauling her to her feet.
"What's going on?"
"I don't know," Bree said weakly, throat still in pain from the Force-choke, "he must've turned on some kind of fail-safe, if he got killed? Maybe it's—"
"Not enough time," Ren said, half-dragging her out of the chamber. "We need to go." A piece of rubble landed right in front of them, and Ren swept his arm in an arc.
The rubble shifted, enough for him and Bree to edge around it. The whole base was shuddering, as if a massive earthquake was in motion. Bree and Ren dodged falling light fixtures and bits of ceiling, moving objects with the Force when necessary.
They reached the stairs out of breath and too late. Their only escape route had crumbled in on itself. Ren turned to Bree, his body language bordering on fear.
"Take cover," he told her, and Bree ducked under the remains of the staircase, finding a niche in the rubble, just as the rest of the ceiling caved in and they were left in darkness.
—
There was a pain in Ren's head that hadn't been there before. He blinked owlishly in the near-darkness, fingers scrambling for his lightsaber. His hand closed around the familiar metal and he flicked it on, assessing his injuries. Bruised ribs, most likely, and his head was pounding. Something sticky was on his arm, and after closer inspection it was revealed to be blood.
"Ren?" Bree's voice called. "Ren, where are you?" she sounded genuinely worried.
Kylo stood, supporting himself on a bit of fallen rubble. He raised his lightsaber, and saw Bree through the haze of settling dust. She waved.
"I think some of my fingers are broken," Bree said as she shuffled over to him, climbing over the pieces of debris between them. She wiggled her hand experimentally and hissed. "And maybe a sprained ankle."
Ren didn't reply— instead, his raised his lightsaber, the hallway turning a dull red colour. Carefully, he and Bree picked their way through the rubble, Bree moving very slowly to accommodate her ankle.
"There's a back door just down this way," Bree whispered, pointing down an adjoining corridor. They edged down it, too weak to move anything with the Force. Neither spoke, although Ren caught Bree glancing over at him when she thought he wasn't looking, presumably to check if he was alright.
After what felt like hours of walking, they came to a door, curiously untouched by the destruction of the rest of the base. Bree wrenched it open, and they were hit by rays of blinding sunlight. The night had passed by already; now, it was early morning on Vinsoth.
The stormtroopers were waiting for them at the base's main entrance.
Bree began to limp towards the stormtroopers, then collapsed onto one knee, cursing under her breath. Perhaps she was more wounded than she was letting on. Ren clipped his lightsaber to his belt and wiped dust from the visor of his mask. He took care not to show any weakness, but grudgingly allowed the stormtroopers to lead him and Bree into his ship and assess his injuries.
His left arm had a long but shallow cut on it, three of his ribs were bruised and nearly broken, and he had a minor concussion. Bree was reported to have four broken fingers, a sprained ankle and two broken ribs, plus bruising around her neck from earlier. They both had a whole range of scratches and bruises and had to be fitted with oxygen masks to help them breathe after inhaling so much dust.
Ren glared at the floor as the ship jumped to light-speed, fiddling with the controls on his lightsaber. Sure, he was relieved to have removed Frey— Tormic— from his personal hit list, but the victory seemed short-lived, given the extensive amount of injuries he'd received and the destruction of the base on Vinsoth.
Ren was angry that he hadn't been able to beat Tormic, angry that he had needed Bree's help to kill him. He was angry that was he wounded. Ren ripped the oxygen mask from his face and stalked over to the pilot seat of his ship.
The stormtrooper who was flying it wisely moved out of the way, and Ren sank into his seat, not bothering to strap himself in. One of the stormtroopers was brave enough to speak up.
"Sir, your injuries—" Ren used the Force to knock him backwards.
Damn my injuries. Damn Tormic. Damn it all.
—
Bree must have fallen asleep on Ren's transport shuttle, because she opened her eyes to a stormtrooper shaking her awake.
"Ma'am, we've arrived at Starkiller Base." He was surprisingly polite, a stark contrast to the handcuffs and jabs with a blaster a few hours ago. Bree removed her oxygen mask and sat up, her ribs screaming in protest.
"Where's Ren?"
"He's left the ship already."
Bree pushed herself out of her seat and limped towards the exit, taking care not to make her injuries worse. Her neck felt sore from where Tormic had choked it, and she had trouble breathing, but she was glad she was alive.
Ren hadn't waited for her, but it was easy to tell which direction he'd gone— still-smoldering lightsaber burns lined the walls of the hangar and several dazed-looking stormtroopers who'd mostly likely been thrown aside in anger were proof of that. Bree glanced at the stormtrooper beside her.
"Does he normally do this?" He shrugged.
"We deal with it." A group of First Order officers were standing near the exit to the hangar, Novan among them. She spotted Bree and rushed over, putting an arm around her shoulders and supporting her weight as they walked.
"You look like hell," Novan said dryly. Bree chuckled, then winced at the feeling.
"Less than three days in and I'm almost dead. I need insurance."
Novan laughed at that, then grew serious.
"I'm supposed to take you to General Hux. I think you're reporting back to Snoke, but they never tell me anything."
"Okay. Do you you think we could grab a wheelchair along the way?"
Novan grimaced apologetically. "I don't think we have time to find a spare one, but we could duck into one of the medbays and get you a pair of crutches. There are always plenty of those around."
"That'll be fine. Let's get going, I don't think the General is someone who likes to be kept waiting." They began walking through Starkiller Base's maze of corridors. Bree made a mental note to memorize a few of the turns, so she wouldn't get totally lost the next time she was called in to do something.
Novan dropped her off at the end of a hallway, explaining that it was restricted access, since it led to the room in which they communicated with Snoke.
"Take a left, another left, and the General should be waiting outside."
Bree was at the end of the second-last corridor when she heard voices at the end of it. Peering around the corner, Bree spotted General Hux and Ren standing outside Snoke's chamber. Hux was talking animatedly, a stark difference from the usual cold indifference Bree had seen. She strained to hear their conversation.
"—was stupid and irresponsible, that's why," Hux was saying. Ren sighed loudly, the sound slightly muffled by his mask.
"It was necessary. Now we don't have to worry about him."
"You and that useless girl could have been killed." Bree bristled at that; she'd helped, hadn't she? Obviously not enough, by Hux's standards.
"That 'useless girl' helped defeat a powerful Sith Lord." Ren spoke very calmly, as if he and Hux had similar arguments all the time.
The the General did something Bree wasn't expecting: he reached up and cupped the side of Ren's mask in his hand. It wasn't a rude or mocking gesture; it was… almost intimate.
"You have duties and responsibilities just like the rest of us, Kylo," Hux said softly, "you shouldn't be wasting your time going on wild goose chases to the Outer Rim."
Ren pushed the General's hand away.
"I don't need your advice," he snapped, turning away from Hux and punching in the access code to Snoke's throne room. Bree limped as casually as possible around the corner, trying to appear innocent, although from the dark look Hux was giving her he probably suspected that she'd seen or heard something.
He said nothing as he waited for her to enter the chamber, then followed, closing the door behind them.
Snoke's hologram flickered to life. He addressed Ren first.
"The smuggler?"
Ren nodded. "Dead, Supreme Leader. We were able to defeat him and leave Vinsoth." He told Snoke what had happened.
Bree couldn't help allowing a small smile of pride when he mentioned her lightning and how she distracted Tormic so Ren could get his lightsaber. Hux remained poker-faced the entire time Ren spoke, and then after that.
The Supreme Leader turned to Bree. "It seems there were many… unforeseen events regarding this Darth Tormic." He spat the name like a curse. "It's a shame you had to kill him. He would have been a valuable asset to the Knights of Ren, should he have been our ally."
That got Bree thinking. It that how Snoke saw her? Just another 'valuable asset'? Another pawn to play in his game?
She cursed herself internally; of course he would see her like that, that was how people like him ran things. No forming bonds, no granting second chances. That was the way Frey— or Tormic, whatever— had managed to stay alive and inconspicuous for so long; how the True Sider cult had run long after the Clone Wars had ended.
When you're a leader of something so dangerous, you can't afford to be affectionate. There were more important people, and less important people. Everyone was a thing to be exploited.
Bree's face must have betrayed some of her thoughts, for Snoke tutted and said, "My dear, don't look so forlorn. This is an opportunity for you to make your mark in the First Order. Through your actions in recent days you've shown your dedication to the Order, and a willingness to be part of something greater than yourself."
What dedication? All I did was save my own skin.
"Obviously your Force training needs work, and perhaps in time you can learn to wield a lightsaber," Snoke continued, "but in the mean time I am sure General Hux will find you a place in the Order."
Hux didn't look happy about this. Bree sensed he was going to make her life very difficult in the coming weeks. Despite all of her concerns, however, she bowed her head respectfully and said, "Thank you, Supreme Leader."
Snoke's hologram disappeared.
Hux snorted. "Congratulations, assassin, you're now a revered member of the First Order. Report for duty at 0800 tomorrow." He walked stiffly out of the room, Ren soon after. Bree waited for the doors to close, then carefully sat herself down on the floor, the metal cool against her trousers. She drew her knees up to her chest and took a few shaky breaths.
The next phase of her life was about to begin.
—