It had been three days since Hux had informed you of your involvement in the mission to Garatira. After those three restless, caf-driven days of writing, sorting, and compiling data, it was only fair that you allowed yourself to rest. After all, you couldn't completely wear yourself out before the great escapade.

You lazily craned your neck, reluctant to leave the comfort of your less than luxurious standard issue bed. 08:32, your bedside chrono read. You turned to hug your single pillow to your cheek. Three hours later than usual. This is nice. Ugh, I need to find a way to sleep in more often!

Your room was small, much smaller than your room on Starkiller. It was cold too. The sleek, black, and painfully basic interior was a bit short of welcoming, but you tried your best to ignore that. You had attempted to give the room a pop of personality— various photographs haphazardly taped around your living space still enduring since the endeavor. Some of these pictures included the incredible temperate rainforests of Endor, the long-gone expanses of Lothal's spine trees and orchards, and a rusty orange can-cell perching atop a wroshyr tree on Kashyyyk. One of your favorites showcased the genetic diversity of the tookah. The most stunning specimen, a loth-cat, stood in the center with her wide, dark eyes fixed on the camera before her. So cute. As soft and beautiful as Millicent is, some of these exotic felines could probably give her a run for her money…

Unfortunately, your decor could never be as satisfying as the real thing. At least the mission on Garatira will liberate you from the equally dark and industrial ship. Besides the whole notion of your own impending doom, you were beginning to look forward to a breath of fresh air.

Speaking of fresh air, the best you could do for now was to get out of your stuffy quarters. You threw on a pair of slacks and a black dress shirt, enduring the chilly air as you changed. After several twists and turns through the endless, dimly lit hallways, you arrived at the cafeteria for breakfast.

The Finalizer was an enormous vessel. Her crew consisted of at least one hundred fifty, and she spanned nearly three kilometers in length. There were multitudes of near-identical hallways— these hallways so numerous that getting lost amidst them was no chore at all. Despite this, you eventually acquired a sense of direction after spending more time aboard the battlecruiser. Finding your way isn't something you would fret over too much about nowadays. Needless to say, this wasn't always the case. During your first stay, you were absolutely mortified.

What if I wander into a trash compactor? What if I take a wrong turn and, instead of opening a door to another room, I shoot myself out a damn airlock?! You were constantly worrying that you'd end up in a life-threatening situation after getting lost— and you did get lost. You got lost several times during that first godforsaken first stay. Fortunately, in none of these instances did you have a near-death experience. An officer or stormtrooper was never too far away to escort you back to your quarters, though they weren't usually very happy to have to do so.

You made your way out of the cafeteria as soon as you could. It gets awfully crowded in there, and you would rather have your lackluster meal—somehow even more lackluster than the food of Starkiller Base— in your slightly more comfortable room.

You held your tray with care, cautious as to not spill your cup of hot caf. I wouldn't want that to happen again.

You winced, recalling the physical and emotional pain of drenching your top in near-boiling caf— all because you were in too much of a hurry to leave to pay any attention to your own safety. It was not a pleasant experience.

The unfortunate incident had encouraged you to slow down a bit once in awhile. You began your route back to your quarters. A few stormtroopers dashed past you, streaks of red and blue glistening onto their shiny white armor. The colored light that illuminated from the walls was something you came to appreciate. It was a flash of color in an endless black ocean. Several officers and one technician rushed by, bickering amongst themselves quietly as they briskly walked. What's their hurry?

You could hear muffled shouting in the distance, and picked up your pace slightly. It grew louder as you approached the end of the corridor. You stopped dead in your tracks. It was him.

A hurricane of black with a presence that could incite terror in any one of his subordinates that was unfortunate enough to cross paths with him— that was Kylo Ren. Despite it all, you almost admired him, albeit from a distance. It wasn't often you had a close encounter. You shuffled into a corner, hoping to appear less noticeable.

The commander seemed angry— a retracted lightsaber in one hand, the other balled tightly into a fist. Wow. Kylo Ren, commander of the First Order. Jedi Killer and extraordinarily gifted Force-sensitive! I heard he can even freeze blaster bolts in midair and read minds! What an astonishing human being— if he is even human. Is he? No one ever sees him with nothing less than his mask and many layers… Not that his outfit isn't cool— it's pretty sick, you've got to admit. Especially the surcoat, the way it flows when he walks is great for dramatic effect! That cowl looks awfully cozy… And the mask is pretty badass too! I wonder what's underneath. Maybe sometime I'll— OH SHIT HE'S LOOKING AT ME.

The dark figure practically towered over you. Through his visor, you could see your reflection staring right back. You must have looked ridiculous— a very tired scientist, shivering and gripping onto a breakfast tray as if life itself depended upon it, all while shrinking before Kylo Ren himself— who seemingly just initiated an impromptu staring contest.

You took a shallow, shuddered breath. Your head hurt, but you were unsure if the feeling resonated from a possible mind probing, or a migraine from the sheer stress you've been experiencing.

Oh Stars. Okay, okay, uhhhh… Millicent, a cat. Taxonomic nomenclature, Felis catus. A carnivorous— obligate carnivore— endothermic quadruped. Digitigrade legs, a tail, both aid in locomotion. Ummm, SPIDERS! Mygalomorphae have two book lungs and chelicerae that point downwards! Araneomorphae fangs go side to side! Arachnids are of Arthropoda, which are animals! Animal cells don't have cell walls! Methane gas is released as bubbles are melted within permafrost. Rainforest topsoil is low in nutrients… Photosynthesis is performed inside the chloroplast! MITOCHONDRIA IS THE POWERHOUSE OF THE CELL.

Kylo Ren was gone just as quickly as he arrived. The commander turned away from you after what felt like an eternity— although it was really only a few moments— suddenly losing any interest in you he may have had. He stormed off, not giving you a second look.

Sighing, you sunk down and plopped your tray on your lap. You stayed there for several minutes until you could no longer endure sitting on the cold floor. Did he hear all that? If he did— oh, he would have heard me going on about his outfit! Even worse… my nerd ramblings! Oh, I'm sorry, Commander.

You mentally kicked yourself. How typical of you to bring heaps of embarrassment upon yourself, Kylo Ren of all people bearing witness. You were in a great mood to get back to work.