Chapter 4- Bloodsport
Kylo Ren was silent. He was still reeling from the intensity of Hux's dream. If he was shocked and startled, he couldn't imagine how Hux must be feeling.
"Are you all r— how are you feeling?" Kylo asked, reformulating his question mid-sentence.
"Exhausted," Hux said truthfully.
"Do you want to take a break for a bit?"
"Yes, actually. I just… I'll let you know when I'm ready to have you in my head again."
Kylo squeezed his hand in response. They were silent for a few moments, Hux lying there with his eyes closed, not asleep, but not quite awake either. Hux was well aware of what Kylo Ren's life at 12 years old had been like; Ren had divulged his background to Hux early on in their professional rapport when Hux walked in on him destroying a console with his lightsaber and demanded to know the reasons behind his outburst. To Hux's surprise, Ren had explained everything, barring his relationship with the Supreme Leader.
For some reason that Kylo Ren could not identify or articulate, he thought Hux trustworthy; the man was always measured, in control, and never faltered in his own self-confidence. These were traits of which Ren was envious, and he hated Hux for his mastery of them. Yet the highly-strung Ren had blurted out everything to the orderly General Hux, who had not mocked Ren as anticipated but furrowed his brow in either bewilderment or sympathy; Ren couldn't tell at the time.
At 12, Kylo had settled into his Jedi training, learning the ways of the Force. Knowing Hux's story now, Kylo thought, they might not have been so different. Kylo Ren had his own nightmares and his own voice haunting him. Only the voice was Snoke's and it wasn't just inside his head, it followed him, watched him. It was always there, in the shadows, with him from conception. Snoke seduced the young padawan, preyed upon his biggest insecurities and his biggest sources of rage —
No, Ren thought. The Supreme Leader is wise. He taught you to overcome those insecurities and to channel that anger into greatness. You are a powerful Force-user because of his training. The nightmares were temporary, a childish thing.
Snoke had also led him to Hux. Without Snoke, Kylo thought, you would never have met him. Kylo Ren did not wish to continue with this train of thought any longer. In search of a distraction, he resumed conversation with Hux.
"Did you ever find out why that officer didn't hit you?" Kylo asked, suspecting the answer.
"I never received confirmation, but I have every reason to believe it was because he was horrified by my body. That seems more likely than him being seized by a merciful impulse," Hux said tersely. "He didn't expect me," Hux said, echoing the phrasing he had used with Kylo.
"Oh." Kylo wished he could think up a better response. Hux was the one with the practical solutions, whether it be something he could do to make Kylo feel better, or a rational explanation for what he was feeling. That's Hux, Kylo thought, grounded in rationality. Failing to think of anything remotely useful or comforting, Kylo moved to the next question.
"How did you make it so long without the other cadets finding out?" Kylo Ren could be tactful when the situation required it, but he was terrible at asking questions. No matter how gently or carefully he phrased them, they always sounded like an interrogation. Unsurprisingly, Ren's interrogations were notoriously successful and everybody on the Finalizer knew that when Ren was sent to interrogate a captive, he would get what he was looking for. Ren always got what he wanted.
Hux ignored Kylo's accusatory and impatient tone — he was well used to it by now and knew it wasn't intentional.
"Well, my uniform and eventually all my other kit had one of those blasted compressors, so nobody noticed during the day. At night, I took up changing in a stall in the 'fresher. Not because anyone ever pointed or was rude or did anything, it was because I had begun to feel… out of place. Wrong." It was difficult for Hux to admit this, Kylo sensed. We've started this whole conversation and once it's done with, he'll never have to have it again. Kylo traced Hux's thought pattern and then left him, until he was next permitted in.
"I had picked up by that point that men and women of our species were, I guess, 'supposed' to have different bodies. The Academy took everyone and it was only our living quarters that were gender-segregated."
"I was more confused than anything else because nobody actually explained my… my situation until they had to," Hux continued.
"And you never asked?"
"I didn't have the opportunity to do so." I didn't know how to ask. I didn't know how to admit that I didn't know myself, who I was. What I was, Hux thought, not caring whether Kylo heard him or not.
"What did you think before you got that explanation?"
"The theory I had was that I'd inherited things like my hair colour and facial structure from my father, and things like my body shape and genitalia from my mother. It was a theory consistent with the idea that we're a mixture of our parents' genetics." Kylo smiled; even when horribly uninformed, young Hux could explain his way out of anything.
"Oh, don't look at me like that!" Hux snapped, turning red with embarrassment. "I grew up in exile in the Outer Rim and didn't so much as see another person outside of my family until I went to the Academy. My parents weren't exactly the most forthright of people and my father went out of his way to keep everything me for as long as was practical. He had his reasons but it doesn't mean they did me any good. Therefore, I would appreciate it if you would excuse my kriffing ignorance, Kylo Ren," Hux seethed.
"I'm sorry," Kylo apologised. "That's not what I meant."
Hux gave no answer. Scowling slightly, he waved his hand in Kylo's direction. You may resume, Hux thought, knowing that he would snap at Kylo again if he said it aloud. Without hesitation, Kylo plunged back into Hux's memories.
Fourteen-year-old Hux was in a training salon, dressed all in white with loose-fitting breeches and a sleeveless shirt. Hux had protective tape bound around his arms, from his knuckles to his mid-forearms. He held a wooden staff, about a metre and a half long, in his hands.
Hux's physique had changed dramatically; now more lean than slender. He was not big enough to be bulky, but he definitely looked powerful, Kylo thought. His hair was out of regulation style, mussed from his exercise. Hux's features were sharp yet delicate and he had outgrown most of his freckles. He would have been pale had he not been flushed with exertion. Hux's chest was completely flat. Ah, thought Kylo. They must have put compressors in everything he owned by that point.
Young Hux assumed his combat stance, feet apart, knees bent ever so slightly, torso upright, and staff in both hands angled across his body. His opponent waited at the other side of the salon, poised in the same fashion. They were shorter than Hux, with broad shoulders and dark hair cropped short like Hux's. They wielded a staff of the same length despite their comparatively diminutive height. Hux recognised them; they had been in some of the same lessons and he thought he had seen them in blaster practice too.
The two cadets walked half the length of the room to meet in the middle and saluted each other. It was a silent acknowledgement that they would fight with respect and that one-day they might even head into battle side-by-side.
Their instructor, watching from the sidelines, initiated three short beeps of a different tone each, to signal the start of the bout. Neither cadet moved at first, each trying to read the other. Suddenly they lunged forward swinging their staff at Hux, who pushed back with his own to block them. Twirling his staff in his hands, Hux knocked their hand out the way. Dropping one hand to his side, he reached out to make contact but he was a fraction of a second too slow, for they flicked their wrist and deftly parried the attack and responding with another attempt to hit him. Hux took two steps back to dodge them; they missed and steadied themselves with both hands on their staff once more.
Kylo Ren could feel the excitement radiating from Hux as he realised he was revelling in the exercise. Kylo was surprised; he had never seen Hux on the battlefield and he'd always thought Hux too squeamish and too much above doing the dirty work to be good at combat. Kylo had only ever seen him devising battle plans, formulating strategies, and commanding from afar. From that, it seemed logical to surmise that combat was not Hux's strongest suit but from what Kylo could tell, Hux was a decent fighter, as was his opponent. Whatever training program the Academy ran, it was doing is job, Kylo thought.
The contestants continued their silent match, communicating instead through their weapons. Hux remembered his training: never forget, a one-on-one fight is a conversation. Your opponent's moves will tell you things about them that words never could. On the battlefield, you'll get to know your enemies faster than you came to know your friends. Listen to their body. Feel how they move and learn to move around them. Cover your weaknesses and assert your strengths.
Like constructing a sentence in a discussion, you have to know what you want to achieve and how you're going to achieve it. Technique is nothing without a plan. Having no strategy puts you on the defensive, and you don't want to be there for too long.
They danced towards him, their footwork nimble, and almost succeeded in jabbing him in the shoulder. Hux responded by lowering his staff to catch their feet when a sharp pain tore through him. Hux's hand instinctively moved to the site of the pain — his stomach, he thought — but the pain flashed through him again and he nearly dropped his staff.
Hux's opponent seized their chance; they swished their weapon across Hux's back, knocking him to the ground; but Hux barely felt it because the pain in his stomach was rapidly increasing, as though his insides were being tightened. Get up, he willed himself. If you get wounded in real combat and you lie there, you die. He forced himself to his feet again, just in time to sidestep them as they ran towards him with a resurgent attack.
Hux was barely able to concentrate. Every fibre of his being was screaming in protest, begging for him to curl up and not move. His insides twisted, as though they were a wet cloth being wrong dry.
Every move is a potential victory — or a potential loss.
Need a new plan, Hux thought foggily. Can't attack, too painful. Tightening his grip on his staff, Hux flipped it so that it was horizontal and pushed it forward with both hands as his opponent hurtled towards him. They collided with Hux's staff, their own momentum sending them crashing to the ground.
Truly struggling to stay on his feet, Hux extended his staff towards his opponent. This was the signal that they were at his mercy — that he had won the skirmish — but also a gesture to help them up. They took it but it wasn't much help; Hux could no longer support himself let alone them. When they used the staff to leverage their weight they succeeded only in pulling him to the floor next to them.
"Hey, are you all right?" they asked him, as their instructor started towards them both.
"Not really… feel like I'm gonna be sick," Hux croaked. Mother of Kwath! Hux cursed himself and the weakness of his body. Of course I had to get sick during combat. He tried to console himself with the fact that he had won the bout, despite his sudden illness.
Yes, but look at you now. Does this feel like a victory? said the voice in Hux's head. Get up. You look pathetic.
"HX-1138, SG-4931. That was a commendable performance, both of you," said their instructor. "HX-1138, you turned a number of impressive tricks. Your execution was outstanding each time and your strong defence won you the match. But I didn't see enough offensive. You have to fight back," she said. "We can work on that next time."
Hux barely heard her; he was trying to get up without doubling over in pain. Drained from the pain, his face was now devoid of colour and coated with a sheen of sweat. He leaned on his staff for support, shaking. Hux wanted nothing more than to leave but he waited for his dismissal. You won, he thought. Don't ruin it now. You can go in a few moments, just a few moments longer.
Turning to SG-4931, who was now standing and brushing the dust off their clothing, the combat trainer offered similar feedback. "You led throughout," she said. "Your endurance and speed are exceptional. However, your attacks need to be more varied. I know you're capable of more advanced moves."
"Shake hands and vacate; next round starts in five minutes." The instructor dismissed them both with a wave of her hand.
"Ma'am, I think he's —" began SG-4931, but their combat trainer had already turned her back and begun preparing the next two cadets for the next round. "HX-1138, do you need to go to medcentre?"
"Fresher first," Hux said through gritted teeth. Pushing past them, he arduously made his way to the nearest training salon 'fresher, not knowing or caring whether he was in the correct one. He made for the nearest stall and vomited into the lavatory basin. Ordinarily, he felt much better after being sick, but the pain persisted. There was something else too: Hux felt an unpleasant, sticky sensation between his legs. Slipping his hand under the waistband of his underclothes, Hux located the feeling and was alarmed to find blood on his fingers. He looked down and saw that his white combat gear was beginning to stain red with it.
Hell! I'm bleeding out! Hux panicked. I must have caught some atrocious disease and it's consuming me slowly and painfully. Oh stars it hurts so much and there's blood everywhere! What if there's no cure for this? What if I die? Hux's thoughts spiralled into an uncontrollable anxious turmoil and he struggled not to cry, both out of fear and pain.
Pull yourself together, said the voice. You're the future ruler of the Galaxy. What's so scary about a little bit of blood? Hux paused, trying to calm himself. You're not going to die, it told him. You're going clean yourself up and get your arse to medcentre. Now.
Trying to breathe evenly, which was difficult to do while wearing his compressor-burdened shirt and worn out from the effort of combat, Hux loosened his breeches and wiped away as much of the blood as he could. He stuffed a handful of tissues in his underwear to try and mitigate the flow. Clenching his jaw and with one hand still on his abdomen, he walked stiffly to the turbolift that would take him to medcentre.
Glancing at the alert on his datapad, Brendol Hux checked the medcentre registers and saw that his son had checked in. He reached for his comlink.
"Commandant?" asked the medic droid on the other end of the line.
"I know Cadet HX-1138 is with you. What's the situation?"
"I received him. He took a turn in the sanisteam then I gave him Nyex and Comaren. I also administered a sanguineuter with a five-day lifespan."
"What state was he in when he arrived?"
"Agitated, Commandant. Very anxious and in a lot of pain. He was most concerned about his bleeding. He didn't know what was wrong with him."
"Did you tell him?"
"As per your direction, no sir. Instead, I reassured him that he would be all right and that we knew what to do."
"How is he now?"
"Very stable. He is sleeping. He may be discharged tonight, tomorrow morning at latest."
"Good. If he comes around before I get there, let him know that his father is coming to see him. If he's still asleep by the time I arrive, do not wake him up. In either case, I want the ward cleared of all droids and personnel, including you."
"Understood, Commandant."
"Hux out."
Brendol Hux sighed. He leaned on the arm of his chair, his chin resting on his hand. With his other hand he motioned for his personal droid DDM-38 to approach. "DeeDee," Hux said, "We're going to visit my son. We'll need to bring a few things. To my quarters, come."
When Brendol Hux arrived at the medcentre with DDM-38 in tow, young Hux was still asleep. He slept peacefully; the painkillers had granted him dreamless rest.
The elder Hux approached his bed and tenderly laid his hand on his son's forehead. He kept it there for no more than a couple of seconds, before withdrawing and settling himself on a chair next to Hux's bed. Taking out his datapad, he passed the time by reviewing the day's reports.
About an hour later, young Hux stirred on the bed. He opened his eyes groggily and before he could even take in his surroundings, he found himself looking into the eyes of Commandant Brendol Hux, his father.
Content Notes:
- SG-4931 uses "they" pronouns because they do not have a gender. When they enrolled in the Academy, they left the gender designation field blank, which is a legitimate option in this universe.
- The sanguineuter is my own creation. It is a combination of a tampon and the implant, a form of contraception available in the UK that remains effective for three years. One of the implant's possible side effects is stopping your periods.
- Instead of expelling the blood, the sanguineuter enables absorption of the blood back into the body, where its nutrients can be broken down and used. The sanguineuter dissolves when its lifespan expires and they can have lifespans ranging from a few hours to few years.
- The sanguineuter doesn't alleviate pain, but there is research being done to create dual function sanguineuters. Until they are developed, people who menstruate in this universe rely on a combination of these and of painkillers from SW canon.
- Sanguineuters are administered in the same way as a tampon with an applicator is inserted. The user, someone else, or a medic droid can do this. Once it is in, you cannot feel it.
- DDM-38 is canon and she's basically C-3P0 with "feminine programming." I have always found it strange that droids are gendered.
- [Irrelevant, but related]: in the novelisation of TFA, BB-8 is referred to with both "he" and "it" pronouns.
Personal Notes:
- This is the first time I have ever written a combat scene. The only kind of combative background I have is that I fence and have done for around eight years. I figured that a fencing scene would be unrealistic because swords (and lightsabers) are old-fashioned.
- Although the troops in SW all use blasters, I couldn't imagine them not being trained in close combat like this.
- Hux experiencing his first menstrual cycle during combat is inspired by an incident in which I got my period during a PE lesson.
- I support Hux's explanation of bodies and genitalia: they're just something you inherit. I believe that the various functionalities of different bodies and body parts should be explained and differentiated, but not in gendered terms.