I finally watched The Last Jedi. Was not impressed that they made Hux look so weak! He seemed to be *sorta* on equal footing in the last movie, so that really surprised me. Oh well. He's still a dope-ass character in my head. And he's got a wife, named Reiny... but perhaps that's a story for another time?

Chapter Three

"Supreme Leader, I am having trouble seeing why we should keep this girl…" Hux said, head bowed down.

"Silence, General," Snoke commanded. He then fell silent, contemplating the situation and formulating a plan. Ren and Hux stood before the giant hologram of Snoke in the throne room aboard Finalizer. Rays of light peaked through Snoke's pixels, casting an eerie glow on his already pale skin.

After what felt like a little too long, Snoke spoke. "Though unplanned and unmandated, my young apprentice acted on instinct. As he had mentioned, he sensed the Force in this girl. If manipulated in the proper way, she could be a formidable ally. She is naiive - living on a planet so cut off from the rest of the galaxy. Showing her our plans for all people will convince her. She will see that First Order brings safety and security.

"And you, Kylo Ren, will receive an added benefit from her. There is an old saying where I am from, 'see one, do one, teach one." Through taking her on as an apprentice of sorts, you're own skill and connection to the Force can only improve. Begin with this task immediately, Apprentice."

When Snoke was finished, Kylo Ren nodded and turned to leave. "Oh, and Kylo. Bring her to me, first. I'd like to meet this Calla," Snoke called out after him. Kylo turned, bowed to his Supreme Leader, and left the throne room.

Hux and Snoke remained.

"Supreme Leader, I don't mean to question…"

Snoke interrupted him yet again, "Then don't, General. Keep an eye on this girl and Kylo Ren. Report to me his progress with her, or lack thereof. If she causes too much trouble and needs to be disposed of, then by all means, act accordingly."

"Yes, Supreme Leader."

"Now, go. I have other matters to attend to," he boomed, always with the slight tone of disapproval telling Hux that even doing well was not doing well. Snoke's hologram disappeared, and Hux exited the throne room.


"Calla…"

"Calla…"

Calla could hear the voice, but it was so far away. Like on a different planet. It was soft and womanly. But strong. Fierce. Full of fire.

It was dark, and cold. It felt like tiny droplets of mist were coating her skin. She heard water rushing, cascading.

"Calla, open your eyes," it said. Calla's eyes fluttered. She didn't even know her eyes had been closed.

As she opened her eyes, it revealed a great scene before her. Calla was standing on top boulder in a river. She knew the river well. She looked to her left, and there was the Basha monument. Rising high into the sky like a spire, its mossy rock surface had its hands reached out to the heavens.

"Calla," the voice said. It was clearer now, and Calla knew it was emanating from behind her. She turned.

A woman stood there. She was dressed in a shimmery white cloth that draped across her short figure so well that it seemed like the fabric would rather die than leave her body. Her dark hair was drawn up into curls on top of her head, not one out of place. Her skin was a gray color. It was ghostly, ethereal.

Calla was confused. "Who are you? Why are we here? Where is Althea?" Calla asked.

"My name is Tyla. I have been watching you for a very long time. And watching your mother before that," she said.

"I'm not sure I understand."

"You're asleep, Calla. So I can communicate with you. In light of very recent events, I decided you needed my help before it was too late," Tyla said.

In light of recent events. Calla wasn't sure what that meant. What recent events?

"It's not important right now." Was she reading her mind? "You'll see soon. But we haven't much time," She said, and came closer to Calla on the rock.

She continued, "Your mother, Kerria, wanted to be here. But she didn't want to distract from what I'm about to tell you." Tyla paused again. "Calla, you're different than the others from our planet."

"I don't understand who you are. My mother?" she said. The confusion was setting in.

"My name is Tyla Romulun. I have been dead for many, many years. I used to live on this planet; I was a member of your tribe years before you were born. And I'm like you." she said.

"Like me?"

"Yes, Calla. Our tribe has always said that everyone is connected to the Force. That we are all privy to its power and peace. But you and I...and your mother…we were all born with a stronger attachment. The Force lets out more power through us."

"I don't understand."

Tyla came closer still.

"Your aim. In archery. Have you ever noticed that you can will an arrow to hit exactly where you want it to? Or that you're reaching for something on your top shelf that's just out of reach, and then you reach and reach, and it's suddenly in your hands?" she asked, almost conspiratorially. Calla nodded. "Other people in our tribe can't do that. It was just us. If our tribe of people hadn't broken away from the Republic when we did, they might have made us Jedi because of this special connection to the Force." Tyla stopped.

"Calla, I know it's hard to understand. But there are others with this special connection like we have. And they are going to want to reap your connection for themselves. And they're going to do it however they need to. So you need to learn one thing before you wake up," she said.

Calla still couldn't speak. She wasn't sure if could trust this dream, but it felt so real. And Tyla echoed questions that Calla had in her mind for so long, but never dreamed of asking. It would have been rude to discuss it with anyone in the tribe.

"It took me moons to learn this, but you have significantly less time than me. So I'm going to give you the secret. There's going to be someone who wants to hear your thoughts. And he can with his power in the Force," she said.

Calla noticed the edges of her vision were going darker. The sensation of water droplets on her skin was fading. Instead, it was being replaced with a metallic coldness.

"It's going to feel like someone is tugging at your mind. Don't resist it. Don't even try to notice it. The moment you start to resist or give it more attention, that's when…"

Tyla didn't get the chance to finish.

A loud whizzing sound woke Calla from her slumber suddenly. She jerked awake, trying to lift her body from the cold metal on her back. But she couldn't. Her arms were constrained to the reclined chair underneath her. She struggled in vain for a moment. She couldn't remember what was happening or where she was.

"Your struggle is futile," a mechanical, deep voice echoed from the room she was in. She glanced around her, searching. Amongst the violently bright lights and white metal walls, Calla spotted the figure. Dark and looming, the same man from before. The man who stopped her arrow in its tracks before the world went black. Masked and domineering, he inched towards her.

"You." Calla said, accusing. "Where are my people?"

"Dead," he answered back, his voice modified by his helmet.

Calla's heart stopped beating for a moment, lurching through her chest. She swallowed, but remembered she had no reason to trust this man.

Althea could still be out there. Her father, Vanan, Brocah - everyone could still be alive and well and just waiting for her to escape.

"What is your name?" the metallic voice buzzed through the air.

Calla scoffed. "You just told me my entire tribe is dead and you're asking me my name?"

"Yes. And you're taking it surprisingly well. Don't tell me you hated that tribe?"Calla squeezed her fists and pursed her lips. She dug her short nails into her palms, and wished to the Force that she had an arrow to plunge into this monster's heart.

"I see. Didn't hate them…" he paused, tilting his head to one side, considering something. "But you don't believe me when I say they're all dead."

Calla clenched her teeth.

"Holo-order, play vid 6686," the voice boomed.

Suddenly, a second mechanical voice vibrated from the walls. A screen appeared in front of the man and Calla, and it started to play a scene from a man's perspective. The man looked down, and Calla saw his white-plated boots stepping over bodies. Bodies of little Juni, his mother, and her mother before her. The boot kicked one. Calla saw Juni's face, covered in soot and pain, but completely still. The man looked up at the wasteland before him. Over the small fires and billowing smoke, Calla knew it was her home. And it was in shambles. The video showed the figure moving through the town's center, weaving in and around all the bodies. A couple of white-plated soldiers lay on the ground too, but the vast majority was her tribesmen. Her people.

She silently watched the horror before her. Her eyes stung with a hatred and a sorrow deep inside of her. Calla didn't dare let a tear escape. "Tears are for those who've stopped fighting," Vanan used to say. Tears were for moments unseen. Tears were for endings. And Calla wasn't letting this be her ending just yet.

"Holo-order, cease vid," the man said. The scene before her vanished. "Do you believe me now?" he asked.

Calla ignored his question. She suspected it was rhetorical, and she didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

"You're the First Order, aren't you? Even in my small, isolated corner of the galaxy, we were told of your unimaginable horrors."

The helmet tipped its head. "Now you know our names, so what is yours?" he asked.

"It matters very little that I tell you, seeing as how I'll be dead as soon as you have what you want from me," she said. "So, tell me what you want from me."

The figure reached up with both arms, clasped his helmet, and removed it. Air whooshed from beneath it, as the mask revealed a man with dark, curly hair and eyes of pure anguish and resentment. His jaw was a chiseled angle, his nose long, and his lips contorted in a constant sneer.

"We don't want anything from you," he said, putting the helmet to his side. His voice was rich and deep, and Calla understood why he hid it under a layer of mechanics. A voice like that doesn't scare, it soothes. "We want you," he continued.

"Me," she said, incredulously.

"Yes. You. Well, we just wanted your planet, and we attained that very simply. You were just a bonus."

"What could you possibly want with me? I am the daughter of the chief to a tribe that no longer exists. I have no standing or riches. No information. No power," she said, wiggling her arms subtly to see if there was any possible way to get out of the restraints.

"We're rich enough, informed enough," he said. "But you're wrong about the power. You have the Force strong within you."

Calla scoffed again. "The Force is strong in all of us. We are merely conduits of its power," she asserted, just as she had been taught, over and over again by her father and teachers.

"How terribly sad that you had to live with the thought you were just like everyone else. You weren't. You were stronger, better, more powerful than everyone in that village combined."

"You're wrong," she said. "I was just like everyone else."

"No. I sensed it when you aimed that arrow at me. Your connection to the Force was guiding it to me. Your emotion was willing it into my heart, wanting very much to kill me for what I was doing to your tribe," he said. Calla tried to breathe though the anger. Had she felt this way just a day ago, she would have completed a form to calm herself down. But here she had little choice but to let it seethe.

"The First Order can help you. I can help you. You can be the powerful, special woman you were always meant to be." The man inched even closer still. Calla shrank farther away from him, attempting to put as much distance between them as she could with her current restraints. "It can start by telling me your name."

His head was so close to her now. Calla wanted to spit on him. To bite him. To yell at him until he shriveled into a small kintu shrimp. But then she thought of something even better.

In an instant, Calla withdrew her head as far back into the metal as she could, and then thrust it quickly and sharply into the monster's nose, making a small grunting noise.

He was clearly caught off-guard as he tumbled back from the force of the collision, cupping his nose with his hand and cursing to himself in Basic.

Calla was feeling proud of herself for causing him just a little pain, but if she knew what she'd just done, she would have probably regretted it.

The man exploded with rage. He dashed forward, grabbed her face with his gloved hands and clutched with a vice-like grip. His eyes, once full of anguish, were now full of utter hate.

"I wanted to be nice to you," he said. "I wanted to form an alliance. But I see you'll have to give me information about yourself the easier way."

The man's gaze became intent as he bore his dark eyes into Calla's. She began to feel an overbearing weight in her mind. It wasn't subtle, but like a hammer crashing into a brick wall. The discomfort turned into pain as the man knocked more and more of her brick walls down. She felt the urge to push him out. So she sat there, in pure futility, as she willed the man's thoughts out of her own privacy.

Calla had never experienced anything like this pain. It weazled its way into every neuron, setting her mind aflame. She felt him starting to sift through memories. Private times between her father and her, practicing their Forms as her mother watched. Private times as Calla waltzed into the tribal council and demanded a prisoner be released of his crimes for the sake of mercy. Private times as sat outside her parent's room, hoping that her mother would make it through this one last…

No.

Those thoughts were not for this mystery man. They were for Calla only. The man came across a very faint memory, barely holding on. Calla was standing on a boulder in the Basha River, listening to an ethereal woman speak…

Tyla.

She was sure the spirit told her something about this. Warned her that someone would be...tugging at her mind. What had Tyla told her to do?

The man continued to sift through memories. Calla was forced to make a decision. If he was going to see memories, Calla would make damn sure they weren't worth seeing.

He couldn't have Althea. He couldn't have her father, or her mother. But he could have Vanan.

She clenched her jaw through the pain and focused on only Vanan. Vanan. Vanan. Vanan.


Calla approached a wooden table. Before her were three weapons: a bow and arrow, a spear, and a sword. She had no idea what to pick. She let her hands roam over the wooden bow, feeling the knobs in the bark. Her fingers glanced over the steel sword, leaving prints from her hand as she went. She clutched the smooth spear briefly.

"My father says men and women should only use bows. It's a long range weapon, so they won't get hurt," a male voice echoed from behind her.

She turned. Standing there was Vanan, his eyes peeking from underneath floppy brown hair. Her best friend since infancy...maybe her only friend since infancy.

"He said I should pick the sword." Vanan walked past Calla, quickly grabbing the weapon from the table. "It's a man's tool." Vanan looked upon the shiny metal as it gleamed under the sunlight.

"Then I'll take the bow," Calla said, picking up the bow and quiver. Silently, she determined to prove Vanan's father wrong. She would be better with a bow than any man with a sword.

They were older here. Vanan had cut his hair to a more manageable length. He dodged and darted between her, wielding the sword like it was an extension of himself. It was difficult for the young teenage Calla to keep up with him, she would just barely block his blade with her own before it touched her skin.

Think, Calla thought to herself, You need to get yourself out of this one.

Vanan had the advantage in personal combat. He always had. But Calla was deadly with a bow. If she could just get a little distance…

Vanan launched himself at Calla. His sword was overhead, about to come down on her body in a killing blow. This was it. Vanan was strong and bully-headed. He assumed he had the upperhand enough to make a bold move like that.

Calla side-stepped his blade and shuffled behind him. As Vanan regained his balance, Calla gained distance. Farther and farther until she turned back, thirty paces from her best friend. He had just started to face her when she lifted her sword and cast it into the air, aiming for Vanan.

It soared through the air, as weightless as a knife but with the force of a spear. Vanan didn't have any time to block. The sword caught the very edge of his sleeve, and sliced through it, finally landing behind him.

Vanan looked down at his shirt, back at Calla, and back at his shirt.

"That's the fourth time this week my mother will have to mend this tunic, Calla."

Calla put a hand on her hip. "Well, then don't let a long-range warrior get to long range."

"It's not my fault you've got some sort of magical power that lets you do things like that," Vanan said.

"No. But it is your fault that I picked a bow in the first place, Vanan."

Vanan sauntered towards Calla, dropping his own sword off on a bench on the way. "If I really caused you to be so great with the bow, then I'm glad you listened to me. The tribe needs a chief as deadly as you are with that thing." He inched closer still.

Calla wiped the beads of sweat from her forehead, and also approached Vanan. She remained quiet. They stopped within inches of each other.

"I should go home. My mother wants me to go out with her to pick up some herbs," Calla said.

Vanan opened his mouth to say something, but instead fell silent. He had an intense look on his face, half-puzzled, half-terrified. He gave a small nod before clapping his hand on her shoulder.

"To our time together," he said.

Calla repeated the action. "And to all our time apart."

Calla removed her hand, but Vanan kept his clutched on her body. He squeezed gently, smiled, and removed his hand.

The whole rest of the night, Calla's skin had burned from the memory of his touch emblazoned on shoulder.

Calla was crying. Calla had the day to wander into the forest and forget what life was for a bit. She hadn't brought Vanan. It had been a while since she'd been able to cry - the walls were too thin in her home.

She'd traveled until the sun neared the center of the sky, eating only fruits along the way. When she neared the Basha Monument and the surrounding river, she hadn't stopped. Instead, she traveled just beyond the river, nearing a waterfall that originated from the mountain above.

There, she sat on a mossy log and listened to the rolling water cascading before her. It was loud enough to drown out the sobs.

"Tears are for those who've stopped fighting!" she heard from behind her. Through the tears, the yelling had scared Calla. She jumped up from her seat and immediately pulled her bow off of her shoulder and threaded an arrow on it.

When she saw Vanan, she lowered the weapon. The moment of tears had ceased in the wave of adrenaline, but now, as she looked upon her best friend, her lip quivered. In a matter of seconds, Vanan was pressing her head to his chest and embracing her tightly.

She sobbed into him for what felt like an hour. Vanan's tunic was soaked through with slobber, snot, and tears, but Calla didn't care. She had to get it all out of her.

He held her tight until finally helping her back to a sunny clearing where the sounds of the waterfall weren't overpowering all else.

"Calla. You're the strongest, most determined woman…" he stopped… "no, person, I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. You've kept me going through every training, every illness, every boring consul meeting. You are my best friend." He paused, as Calla looked at him with blurry vision. "Tears are for those who've stopped fighting...and I'm really glad you stopped fighting for a second."

Calla's nose crinkled, a new wave of grief overcame her.

"She's here, Calla. And when you're ready to fight again, she'll be fighting with you."

They sat, intertwined in each other's arms, for a long time. Eventually, Calla's breathing steadied, her nose stopped dripping, and she swallowed a heavy glob of spit down her dry throat. Her emotions were haywire, and she felt bold. Maybe too bold.

Calla and Vanan shared their first kiss, drenched in the salty tears of heartache. When she pulled back, she didn't dare look at his face. Instead, she opted to hug him again. Though it hurt to speak, Calla whispered in a breathy, abrupt voice.

"I love you, Vanan Eas."

It didn't even take him a second.

"I love you too, Calla Abolithe."


When the man let go of her memories, Calla felt as though the hold on her body was lifted. Her head whipped backwards into the metal beneath her, sending one last shot of pain through her body.

"Calla Abolithe," the man said, retreating from her. "I am Kylo Ren. Welcome aboard the Star Destroyer, Finalizer."

lol. I gave you some Vanan backstory before fully killing him off. He's honestly such a good guy. Such a shame he's dead... or is he?

(he is.)