Chapter Three

"The scavenger beat you."

Kylo's stomach flopped. "With our training, I will not be defeated again."

"She beat you before the forest," Snoke reminded him. "Resisting you, escaping from under your nose – your underestimation caused this. You are weak, petulant, like a baby."

Kylo stared at the floor. Not that Snoke could see him behind his mask.

"I overestimated your maturity," said Snoke with disgust.

"Yes, Supreme Leader. I was weak and foolish," Kylo pled.

"But you are now stronger," purred Snoke, that familiar tone he'd heard since he was old enough to remember. "You have beaten your father's poison."

"Because of your wisdom, Supreme Leader."

"I knew you had the darkness in you." Snoke smiled, and despite the hideous sight, Kylo could not have felt more happy.

It was worth it, he thought. I am free.

The Sith Code he'd learned years ago echoed in his mind. My chains are broken. The Force shall free me.

"Now," said Snoke with the same proud tone, "we will attend to the last step of your training.

"The Resistance," Kylo said.

"In a manner of speaking," Snoke said. "They have the map, thanks to you. You must redeem your mistake."

"I will not fail you," Kylo promised, instantly hating himself again. How many had died because of his oversight? No, he couldn't be sentimental over death. What was wrong with him?

"You will train daily with me to destroy the Jedi forever," Snoke growled. "Once we find where the old Jedi has been hiding – and we will – you will end him, along with the girl. Without the Jedi and the Republic, the Resistance shall have no one to turn to. They will fall, and the Galaxy will be ours."

"Yes, Supreme Leader."

"In the meantime, I have another task for you. You must prove yourself a competent leader after your humiliating defeat."

Kylo's face burned. He waited as Snoke rummaged through his mind. It barely hurt anymore.

"You're right," Snoke murmured. "There is no going back. The light was Han Solo, and it has died a violent death by our hands."

Kylo didn't want to think another thought, lest he disappoint the Supreme Leader. No, I can't disappoint him. I killed it. It.

Apparently satisfied, Snoke leaned back in his chair. "You are dismissed, for today. You're weaker than expected; training must be pushed back a day."

"I can begin today."

"No!" Snoke's enormous eyes flashed. "Now that the General is off training new stormtroopers, you'll be running the First Order. See to that today, boy."

Kylo swallowed. "Thank you, Supreme Leader."

The Supreme Leader was wise. He had never been wrong before, and he believed in Kylo Ren.

Back in his quarters, sparse and empty, save for the helmet – had Hux, of all insufferable assholes, remembered it? – Kylo's legs buckled.

I can't do this – I can't – I will fail and ruin everything! I am bad, don't you know?

He killed his father. No, an enemy General. His father.

He was bad! Unsuited to light or dark.

Too afraid to ask even his grandfather for help, for surely Darth Vader was not so weak, Kylo could do nothing but hit himself, over and over and over, until his rage was spent.

He stood up. He had Snoke's work to do.

Zaira was quite certain she'd never heard so many numbers before today. But Phasma had insisted on telling her all the stormtrooper names. Zaira, for her part, felt better about her decision to rescue Phasma every time she noticed her friend's softer side. Did that make her a terrible person, she wondered, or a good one, provided the Resistance was the good side?

"I'll try to remember these," Zaira said.

"We dock tomorrow." Hux marched into the room, clutching a stack of scribbled papers. "I hope you two've developed a suitable syllabus."

"We have, General," said Phasma.

"Wonderful," he said curtly. "Captain Phasma, if you'll leave us."

Phasma rose as Hux opened his mouth again. "As this is your first visit to the stormtrooper trainings, I thought it pertinent to discuss protocol."

"More so than what the Captain's told me?"

Hux took the seat across from her. "Yes. It's imperative that we raise competent, faithful soldiers."

"Certainly," Zaira agreed. "I'm aware that compassion is not to be tolerated among them."

"Indeed." He shuffled the papers in his hands. "No discussion of the Starkiller shall be permitted. If the troopers are caught mentioning that unfortunate event, make sure to mention that the Resistance caused this. And take note of the offending stormtroopers' numbers. Report them to the Captain immediately."

"I'm confused," said Zaira, wondering if she was going too far, if she would give away her secret.

Hux frowned. "What could possibly be confusing about my orders?"

"Sir, if compassion isn't to be tolerated, how can you possibly hope to stir their anger over the destruction of Starkiller Base?"

"Our enemies ruined a technological marvel; is that not reason enough?" Hux snapped.

Zaira tilted her head, taking in the young man before her. "Why are you upset about it?"

"For the reason I just stated."

"The loss of life means nothing to you?"

"It was not my primary concern. Life cannot be for a man in my position, Lieutenant."

Zaira leaned forward. "Seems strange, then, that Captain Phasma informed me that many of the heavily edited footage you feed the trainees focuses on the need for the First Order to restore and save the lives of those in the galaxy."

"What is your point, Lieutenant?"

"I'm confused; that's my point!" she snapped. "Gracious, if we're on the right side, and we have to doctor videos and forbid compassion unless it's suitable to our needs – that just seems…hazy."

"Hazy?" Hux asked tersely.

"Yes. Hazy. As in morally questionable."

"This is war. Our best weapon just exploded," Hux ranted. "This is no time to question right and wrong."

"I couldn't disagree more!" Her voice rose.

"Well, that means nothing, as I already question your judgment. Like your foppish idea that your position is safe here." He stood.

"I apologize for my tone. I respect you as General," Zaira said quickly.

Hux stepped closer, stared down at her without blinking. "I don't think you do."

Her heart pounded. She'd prided herself on standing out, questioning leaders and taking risks, unlike most spies. Those very characteristics had landed her this job, but perhaps they would also be her downfall.

"If you think about it, I wouldn't question you unless I cared enough to respect you."

"Yes, that seems to be your handy excuse." Finally, he blinked. "Well, I'm not sure I trust you. And I'm not about to have my operation fail because of your noncompliance."

"I wouldn't expect you to. I hope to prove you wrong."

"I don't fail, Lieutenant." His anger failed to mask the anxiety. He had never been allowed failure, and he wouldn't make an exception now.

Except the Starkiller. He swallowed.

"Proving you wrong – that I can be trusted to competently train your stormtroopers – won't be failure, I'm sure," Zaira tested.

"I don't care what you call it. Just don't disappoint me." Hux glared at her.

She bit her lip. "I have no intention of letting you down, sir."

"Excellent. Now leave."

"At once, sir." Zaira hurried out of the room, praying to the Force itself that she would not see Hux again until they docked.

Not that the Force had ever helped her. In fact, she rather despised that impersonal, favorite-playing essence. Yet she was also willing to try anything that would help her.

Hux slammed his fist on his speech. How could he encourage these young trainees when they'd just lost a battle? And he'd been their leader.

Rumors had to spread, even among the most disciplined stormtroopers-in-training. Gossip was common during his time in the Imperial Academy, that he remembered.

Would they hate him? Mock him? A pang hit his heart.

Athbar had mocked him. Daddy's pet, sleaze, waste of space, bookworm destined to die on the front lines.

And yet, when they'd received their assignments to kill a classmate, Athbar was the one who balked. Hux hadn't hesitated to kill Athbar. He'd shown Athbar, his teachers, everyone – he'd shown them all that he was capable of greatness.

Hux squirmed. He had to go on. Do this. Being sent from the Supreme Leader showed his skills, not that Snoke didn't believe in him.

He would kill Kylo Ren if he could, if Snoke would admire him.

"General?"

Hux's hands shook with fury and fear. He gripped his papers tighter. "What is it now, Lieutenant?"

Zaira stared at him. "Are you all right?"

"Was that all you wanted to ask?" Hux barked.

"I have a very agitated hologram of Colonel Datoo wishing to speak with you."

Hux thought he might explode as he followed Lieutenant Dax to the Finalizer's shiny control room. No, no, he was not Kylo Ren. His enemy. He would crush his enemy, like Athbar. He crushed all who stood in his way. He succeeded. He was General, after all.

"Sir, are you aware that, in your absence, Kylo Ren has been put in charge of the First Order?" blustered Datoo.

What? Hux's mind spun. He was still in charge, wasn't he?

"Of course I'm aware," he snapped.

"He's injured and foolish. We'll head to disaster."

"We've already hit disaster; have you forgotten?" Hux asked.

"Well, no, but –"

"I won't be busy with training for long. In the meantime, you report to Kylo Ren. We mustn't question the Supreme Leader," Hux said.

His heart pounded. He felt loose, expendable, needy.

"Is that all?" he snarled.

"Yes, sir," Datoo said meekly.

Hux clenched his jaw as Datoo's hologram disappeared. Was he – was he unnecessary?

"General, I'm concerned," said Zaira suddenly.

"Why are you still here?"

"This is my position whenever I'm not planning, if you'll recall," she said coldly.

"Wonderful," he said with venom.

Late at night, Hux lay awake, memorizing his latest speech. Well, he told himself he was memorizing it – the truth was that his words would not stop running through his head.

The speech was good, emphasizing the importance of sacrifice, of order, of avenging their fallen comrades. Fuck the Lieutenant's opinion. Empathy could be useful, too.

A knock on his door startled him.

"Why am I even surprised?" he remarked upon seeing Lieutenant Dax.

"Would you like some tea?"

"What? Have you decided that Ren isn't enough of a thorn in my ass? I should be sleeping," he exploded.

"You seem on the verge of hysterics." She held out a steaming cup.

"That's not your business."

Zaira knew she treaded on dangerous ground, but she'd rather risk for information. She couldn't waste her time close to Hux. Perhaps that would pay her debt for training the troopers.

Be daring, Father would have said. Yelled, really. Daring. Daring she would be.

"It is if you're the one who's supposed to be making decisions for myself and others." She shrugged, almost shyly. "Also, tea always helps me when I need to sleep."

"And visits during the night don't," Hux said.

"With all due respect, sir, you seem more like the type to lie awake with all your anxieties swirling about your mind."

"Excuse me?"

"Takes one to know one," Zaira said. "Here."

Begrudgingly, he took the tea. He wasn't stupid enough to drink it, though. She might be attempting to poison him. He would not be brought down by niceties.

"I promise it's not poisoned. I could offer to take a sip, if you'll feel better."

Hux scowled. He just wanted her gone. "Unsanitary."

She failed to stop a snort.

"What was that for?" he demanded.

"Unprofessional of me, sir."

"Say it."

She studied her cup, too embarrassed to maintain eye contact. Still, she hoped he'd appreciate her honesty amongst the First Order sycophants. "Do you ever…not have such a stick up your ass?"

Hux sipped the tea. Lemony, and sweet. He didn't like sweet; his father had hated him for liking it. "I could have you removed at once for that comment."

"Please don't. I don't aim to cause chaos with my candor. I do it to be truthful, nothing more."

"That would make you the only one," Hux said suspiciously.

"Well, are lies comforting?"

"Who lies to me? I am a general of the First Order," he spluttered.

"You lie to yourself. You're desperate for praise," Zaira pointed out. "Probably because you had issues with one or both parents as a child."

"Since when," Hux said slowly, lest he punch her and spill tea on his clean floor, "did you become a psytech?"

"Talking to them can certainly help us learn about each other," she said earnestly, "but, the truth is, like I said, takes one to know one."

"You have overstepped for the last time."

"I should not have said that. I didn't mean to offend you," Zaira said quickly.

"You offend me every minute longer you interrupt me," he snarled. Memories of his father were flooding his mind.

You're pathetic, crying like I hurt you. I'm raising you right, boy!

He'd just wanted to dress nice for his father. And Commandant Brendol Hux had erupted, saying he'd looked like a disgrace. That he was a disgrace.

You're too hard on him, Brendol.

Look at him, Perra. He's a disgrace. I'm doing him a favor.

Disgrace. Another memory swooped in. Don't disgrace me, boy. If you don't make it out of training, I'll wish you'd never been named after me.

I had to have praise, Hux thought desperately. I had to, or I would die.

Zaira watched silently. Her General was in agony, yet he said nothing.

"Will you be more or less upset if I leave?"

Hux gaped at her. "Leave! Leave now, you stupid woman!"

She left.

I am not a disgrace.

"I am not a disgrace," he whispered to himself.

The tea splashed in his hands as Hux realized he felt…lonely.

Zaira felt like throwing herself into the emptiness of space. Her whimsical ideas to charm a charmless man into giving her information, her ideas of making herself more important, more successful, were going to result in her demise.

She rather felt like she deserved it.

The Resistance doesn't, she reminded herself. She had to succeed for them, herself and her father be damned.

Dragging herself out of bed in the morning, Zaira walked to the bridge with a pounding heart.

"We're about to land." Phasma waved a shiny hand towards a rocky, dull planet ahead.

"Lovely," Zaira said.

"Zaira, you appear agitated."

"I tried to show kindness and let my mouth ruin everything," Zaira answered.

"General Hux doesn't know kindness," said Phasma instinctively. Not that she herself did, either. Not that any of them could afford to.

"Easy, buddy." Poe hovered close as Finn attempted to take steps on his own.

"I can make it," Finn gasped, ignoring the pain shooting down his spine. Rey was alive, Poe was alive, and he was alive – his heart was strong today.

BB-8 booped excitedly, rolling slowly alongside the two men.

"BB was very concerned about you," Poe told him.

Finn chuckled.

Beep-bloop-bloop-oop-bleepy-bloop.

"I did not cry," Poe exclaimed. At Finn's quizzical glance, he softened. "All right, maybe at first. It was an emotional day, ya know?"

The droid's response was fast and furious.

"Last night?" Poe flushed. "A little teary-eyed, that's all!"

Beeeeeeeep, BB-8 replied with as much sarcasm as he could muster.

Poe ignored the droid. "I'm just happy you're awake."

"So am I," Finn grunted, concentrating on moving one foot in front of the other. He didn't want to think about the dreams he'd had. Phasma, Slip, Nines … Awake, he knew his fellow trainees were dead, and probably Phasma too.

And he was fighting against them.

"You worried about Rey?" Poe asked, observing the shadows on his friend's face.

"Rey can take care of herself."

Poe pointed his finger. "You're worried about Rey."

"I'm worried about Rey," Finn agreed with a nostalgic grin. The first human to extend a hand to him, the human who'd fought for his life when he'd been wounded, the human who'd hugged him and begged him to stay. He loved her, and he wasn't even sure what love was. They'd never discussed love in training.

"She can take care of herself, she and Luke and Chewy."

Beep-beep!

"And R2-D2!" Poe added hastily. "All right, where do you want to go, buddy?"

"Outside," said Finn. "Where I can see the sun."

"Good idea."

Finn squinted as bright light flooded his face. "Thought I'd never see sunlight again."

Poe watched his friend. "Then why – why did you fight him?"

"He hurt Rey," Finn said, surprised. "I'd never used a lightsaber before, but I had to try. It'd be nice not to use one again, though."

Poe's smile was sad. "That's a beautiful answer – Rey, I mean."

"I'd never had a friend before," Finn confessed. But what was Nines, what was Slip, what was Zeroes, if not his friends? Maybe I've always had friends and never known what to call them.

Slip's blood had saved him, jolted him from his mission on Jakku. Yet Nines had fought him. And who knew what had happened to Zeroes – Finn realized he'd probably never know.

"Well, you've got many now!" Poe patted Finn's shoulder, lest a hug topple the beautiful man before him.

Finn's eyes raked the outside, where soldiers milled about. Some noticed him and smiled.

People knew who he was, and they liked him. Something like shyness welled within him.

A shout captured their attention.

"A ship's landing here," Poe said breathlessly.

Finn's heart leapt.

"Hey!" Poe yelled at a dark-haired woman hurrying past. "Jessika! Who is it, friend or foe?"

"Looks to be the Falcon!" she called back as she raced ahead.

"Rey," said Finn, hobbling towards the gathering crowd.

"Wow, what a couple of days day – first you wake up, now she's back!" Poe beamed. "C'mon, I'll help you."

Finn decided he ought to be eternally grateful for his pilot friend, who elbowed people out of the way, mumbling "coming through, gotta get through," for several minutes. The Millennium Falcon was visible now, tantalizingly close to landing.

"Poe, Finn." Leia smiled at the two, though her anxiety was plain to see. She swallowed and stared ahead, regal as ever. Regal was her only defense.

The ship touched the surface, coming to a stop just twenty paces ahead of Finn. A Wookie waved in the cockpit, clearly pleased to see Finn.

"Chewy," he whispered, breaking into a huge grin. Poe squeezed his hand.

The door opened. The Resistance held its breath. Their only hope, their salvation, might be inside.

Finn's friend.

Leia's brother.

A familiar girl with three brown buns hopped out.

"Rey!" Finn cried, lurching forward.

She whirled around and burst into a smile as bright as her name.

Behind her, a mechanical hand appeared.