A hand encased in a black leather glove roved over the gouges in the metal and took in the scratches in the paint. Icy blue eyes narrowed at the damage, both confused and a little unnerved. What the hell was capable of that? He stepped back and observed the destruction that was consistent all the way along the shuttle, he couldn't figure it out. Whatever it was, it was big. What few Stormtroopers did survive the scouting missions reported very little life outside. The odd Asharl panther, Wampa and tauntaun from a distance but other than that…. And this was no panther, Wampa or a Gorgodon for that matter.

"And we still don't know what it was?" He addressed the chrome Stormtrooper who watched her superior assess the damage to the ship.

"No, sir. We've been unable to identify it. I have left a description and the databases are still being searched." He turned back to the small ship and touched the metal again almost fretfully.

"How many dead?"

"It killed three, sir. None frozen." Finalizer had been a dark place in the past few weeks. Everything had been coming apart at the seams. The terrain was treacherous, too many Stormtroopers were dying on recon missions and they still hadn't been able to find the crystal caves. It would have killed him to abandon the planet when so many units had been dedicated to the new base on Ilum; it would have been an embarrassment.

The thought of returning to Snoke and informing his master that the planet he had pushed for was no longer viable was unbearable. Or at least; that had been his attitude up until the last recon mission.

When Captain Phasma disembarked carrying a smelly bundle of fur and rags, the General hadn't been sure what to think. The planet was supposed to be unpopulated. Its face was covered and the mask was tight, he was advised by medic that it was best to leave it be. Whatever it was, human or not, it was useful. The cameras in Layna's cell were trained on her as she slowly recovered from the stun blast to the chest. Unknown to her, she had been scanned by a carefully guarded medic to get a better insight into her (or it, as she was still being referred to outside the cell) and a translator droid was on standby.

"The scan results are in, General." One of the control staff informed him, causing him to glance to Phasma then follow after the officer.

"What is it?" He asked briskly, arriving in the control room and looking to a monitor where the bundle was slowly coming out of its stupor.

"She's a human female, sir." The General scrutinized the moving bundle with a frown creasing his brow. How?! "About twenty eight years of age" His analyst continued, browsing through the stats the scans had delivered. "Healthy if quite thin…."

"You told me this planet was uninhabited."

"It is, sir." The analyst replied, turning to look at his superior. "She seems to be an exception. Her scans are showing up all sorts of things. Extra layer of fat for heat, a curvature in her spine to sleep curled up…. She's adapted sir."

Adapted. The word rang in his head as his boots pounded the floor that lead to the holding cells. Maybe she was the key. If she was adapted, if she knew the terrain; she could solve all his problems. If she cooperated, she could be invaluable. He found the cell and when he entered, the smell hit him immediately. Blood, raw meat, general unkemptness. His attention was grabbed by a groan from the pile of white, greying rags on the unsteady, wire bed. Despite the smell, his feet carried him forwards. He could see no hair, no skin; it was nearly impossible to tell she was human, let alone female.

"Where am I?" Her accent was undecipherable and rough. It was choked out of confusion and weakness of the blast still dwindling in her system. So she spoke Galactic Basic? Even better.

"You're aboard a vessel called Finalizer." He had always been remarkably proud of the ship (not quite Starkiller proud but it would always be his first command as General) but it had become a prison.

"Finalizer…" He dared a few steps closer and the smell only intensified.

"I've been told you're adapted to this terrain, is that correct?" Maybe it was too deep a question for someone who was barely conscious. There was little of her to see but when he peered sideways towards the top of the bed, a pair of soft grey eyes looked back at him; the skin around them was paler than his. The mask (like the rest of her attire) was barely white, bordering on grey and covered her nose and mouth; almost the entirety of her face.

Adapted? Why did he need to know that? Whoever the fuck he was.

"Depends who's asking." Layna's recovery was slow but with each passing minute, she felt stronger. And more like her brazen self.

"The First Order wants to know." He replied fervently, rather taken aback by her response and her tone. She was hardly in a position to be abrasive. He had straightened up again; he was taller, taller than her and impossibly staunch and rigid. He had a head of fiery red hair the like of which she'd never seen, held back neatly in place. It couldn't possibly have been real. He was pale but not even like her. He just looked…. Unhealthy, exhausted. He was head to toe in black; how did that possibly help his camouflage?! First Order…. It sounded vaguely familiar. Maybe many moons ago, she had heard of it but as a child, it would have been something that she would have been immune to caring about.

"I asked you a question." He reminded her, doing all in his power not to grit his teeth. "Do you know this terrain?" Did he deserve this information? With the more aware Layna became, the more she realized she needed to get out of here. Out of this cell and off this ship. Finally, she conceded.

"Yes, I do. Look, buddy….. I have a pack I need to get back to. I really don't have time for this." It seemed the weight of the situation had no bearing on her which annoyed him even more.

"A pack?!" He repeated, almost spat it. "A pack of what?! There are more of you?!"

He stepped back a few paces when the bundle started to move with more strength and hauled itself up into (what he assumed was) a sitting position.

"Quohr." She answered with something of disdain though the word meant nothing to him. "There's fourteen in the pack, me included."

"And what attacked my shuttle?!"

"That would be Tyg."

"What's a Tyg?!"

"Tyg is his name. He's a Quohr."

"It killed three of my Stormtroopers!"

"Maybe they shouldn't have shot at him then, should they?" So not only was she adapted, she had beasts at her disposal. Very valuable indeed.

"What were you doing by the shuttle?"

"The shuttle arrived after we did. We were looking for food." The pieces started to click together in Hux's head; his mother had been right when she called him clever.

"I can't imagine there's too much food in an environment such as this one?" If he had been able to see her face, he would have seen the dejection and defeat in the features that stayed firmly hidden behind the piece of dirty cloth.

"There's not…."

"And you're feeding fourteen?"

"Fifteen soon." Yes, it was all falling into place. "One of the females is pregnant which is why I need to get back." Hux was not an empathetic or a kind man. Quite the opposite. But he knew what he wanted and how to get it. Her demeanour had changed when the topic turned to food. There it was. His avenue, his leverage.

"When was the last time you ate?"

"We were trying to bring back Stormtrooper remains to the pack. I didn't know what they were until we got there." She picked slowly at the meal another white armoured soldier had brought at the redhead's command. She wasn't used to hot food. Or cooked food for that matter. Hunger often didn't allow for such a process. Tauntaun was tauntaun, whether it was cooked or not.

He was more fascinated than he dared let on. She ate with her mask lowered though she had turned to face the wall to do so. He'd tried to catch a glimpse but she'd clearly foreseen it and did what she could to avoid it.

"Do you have a name?" She waited until she had chewed the morsel in her mouth. Normally, she would have answered regardless but she was weighing up her options. Did he need to know her real name? Then again, what did she have to lose by him knowing it?

"Layna." It seemed like a relatively normal name.

"My analyst tells me you're twenty eight." She stopped chewing the next piece in her mouth.

"Am I? You mean to tell me I've been on this Godsforsaken rock for twenty years?" The General's face melted into a perplexed frown. Twenty years….

"What do you mean Am I?! Surely you know your age?!"

"I've been here so long with no way of telling the time, how can you expect me to know my age?" That was fair. It worried her somewhat though. It meant her pack was older than expected. It meant Kari was twenty and would soon be enduring labour. It could kill her. And if she died, Sentai would die too.

"You're obviously not native to here."

"What gave it away?" His lips pursed but he refused to stoop to that level.

"Where are you from?"

"I was born on Entooine. My pack is also from Entooine." Another polar planet. She was born in the cold, no wonder she had no trouble with the terrain and the climate.

"And how did you end up here?" Layna's tray was set aside and again he tried to catch a look at her face but she had already reapplied her mask.

"Ship crashed. We were delivering Quohr pups to a zoological society for a breeding program, I don't remember where. Eight unrelated pups; four male, four female. We crashed about thirty miles from where we camp now. My parents were killed, they were zoologists; in charge of the shipment." Again, Hux wasn't personally interested in her history. But the more he knew, the more he had in a bid to control her. So far, he was off to a good start. She was open, maybe more trusting than she should have been.

"When they died, I stayed in the ship and lived off the food we'd brought with us. When the pups got too big and the food ran out, we had to move." Even he could admit that was probably a daunting undertaking for a child. Especially if his analyst was right and she had just been eight years old. Then again, being born on Entooine probably had its advantages in that circumstance.

"So, if I understand you correctly…." He began, still standing as he had done when he first entered the cell; even through her meal. "From the terrain, it doesn't take a genius to figure out that food is short. Your pack is dwindling…." There was that stab of shame again. Some pack leader you are. "Food is your main concern, correct? Maintaining your pack is your priority?"

"In a nutshell, yes." Strike while the iron is hot, he told himself. She's valuable; she'll deliver what you want, what you need.

"Well then, I have a proposition for you." Layna's head angled towards him and those grey eyes probed him once more. He couldn't decide if it unsettled him or not. "We, the First Order, will trade you and your pack food in exchange for scouting duties of the terrain. We want to establish a permanent base here. Preferably near to the crystal caves. Too many Stormtroopers have perished but I believe since you've survived here so long, it should be no issue for you."

He wasn't wrong. She knew the planet, she knew it well. And while this didn't sit incredibly well with her (Stormtroopers = Bad. Leader of Stormtroopers = Worse), he was offering her a lifeline. Not just for her but her whole pack. Kari's pup and the ones that could come after it might actually have a chance at a long, happy life. And it all depended on this.

"Deal." It was almost instantaneous. "If you can guarantee us raw meat, I'll go wherever you want me to go, find out whatever it is you want me to find out but…. The meat is essential."

"You have my word." Hux had to try not to seem overly pleased but this was a victory. "I will arrange a shuttle but first, I would like to see your pack." No buddy. You really don't.