Chapter Six

Before we begin, I just wanted to say thanks to everyone who has followed/favorited/read this story. 3

"General." Someone gently shook his shoulders. "You should wake up."

Hux gasped, scrambling up only to hit his aching head on the jet's ceiling. "Where are we?"

"Flying back to training," Zaira said, avoiding his gaze.

"Snoke will know anyway," he said dejectedly. "Wait – you struck me!"

"I'm sorry if it hurt."

"Of course it didn't," he lied. "It's the principle. One you've crossed too many times."

"There's no shame in saying something hurts," she said carefully.

"I said it doesn't hurt!"

Zaira sighed. "There's a giant bruise on your forehead, sir."

"I'd rather you call me 'Hux' and treat me with the respect I deserve," he growled.

"I'm sorry," she repeated. "Honest."

"You should have killed me," he snapped. "That whiny child just destroyed us all. Everything I've worked for – everything my father worked for – and he just sacrifices it all because he feels guilty in front of his mommy."

"Guilt is a powerful weapon," Zaira remarked quietly. Guilt, like she felt for saving him from Rey's blaster. Did they suspect her of treason yet?

"Did you know he's not much younger than me? I'm 34, he's 29, and he acts like a child. Good riddance, I say!" Hux shook. "How old are you?"

"21."

"Well, you act twice his age!" Hux paused. "Perhaps that's a slight exaggeration. No matter. You see the point. And now he's made us look weak just a week after demolishing the Weapon over some silly infatuation!"

"And yet!" Hux continued. "He is favored by the Supreme Leader. Nothing he does is his fault – well, until now. I hope Snoke hates him now. Why couldn't Snoke have trusted me? Why must I always be the disappointment child?!"

Zaira observed him. "Was your father a cruel taskmaster, too, then?"

Hux's mouth opened, but no sound came out.

"Because mine was," Zaira admitted. "He taught me all my combat skills before the academy. He made sure I would succeed as a human weapon." By betraying others – by betraying you.

Not that she had any fondness for the General. Nothing besides pity, that is.

"My father knew what I needed," Hux insisted. "I'm grateful."

"Which is exactly why you crave Snoke's approval?"

"He's my leader. Of course I crave his approval." Hux dragged a hand through his fiery hair, temper rising, pulse speeding. "And now I've failed; I've failed. Again! I loathe that Ren and I – I loathe myself most of all."

"No, please, you don't need to hate yourself," Zaira cried. Almost immediately she wondered, but didn't he? He killed billions. "Not for that."

"Phasma loathes me, too, and so do you," he grumbled. "I would commit suicide if it would help the First Order, but that doesn't matter to even its Leader! No, it's all charisma and the Force."

"Why would you kill yourself?" Zaira's alarm grew. Thankfully, she'd put the blasters in the back before waking him.

"What do I have to live for, if not the First Order? I was four when the Empire fell. All my paltry memories before then are happy, do you know that? Then I remember the escape from Coruscant, the change that came over my father, the way he would beat my mother." Hux stopped.

"Repeat a word of this," he said after a moment, "and I will have you executed for treason."

"Never," she said quickly.

"I need control," he whispered, his face even paler than usual. "And I don't have it, Lieutenant Dax."

"I know," she whispered back. "But you've never had it, don't you see? We are the children of ambitious fathers. Our outcomes were predetermined."

Hux bristled. "I've made my own choices on the way."

"As have I. They're the only decisions I'm proud of, precious few that they are" Zaira confessed. Yes, it was true – she wasn't even proud of her decision to spy, moral as the Resistance's motives were.

Hux dropped his gaze. Funny how his decisions were the opposite. Arranging that incompetent Captain Roland's downfall, taking out Colonel Raist. All for this position, all for General.

"That's why I'm proud of my hair, actually. It's my decision."

"It's hair."

"But it's mine. It's, oh I don't know, proof that I'm a person or something." A person instead of a weapon; that was all Zaira ever hoped to be.

"I'm a General. I can't afford that luxury." Hux smoothed the taunting wrinkles in his jacket. "Dax, you heard none of this."

"I would never repeat it. But I'm not sure you want me to pretend nothing happened?"

"Of course that's what I want," he snarled. Memories of his panic flooded him, shamed him, screamed failure. "Is it – is it possible?"

"You're asking me?" Zaira regarded him. "No. No, it's not, and it shouldn't be. You're a human and you ought to be allotted mistakes."

"I'm a General," he retorted.

"That's not all you are!"

"It's all I've ever been," he pled. And yet he'd panicked at his first battle.

Zaira wanted to say so much to him, to say everything she wanted someone to say to herself. "Don't stop there, Hux, or whatever your first name is."

He laughed harshly. "It's Brendol. Same as my father."

"I take it you prefer Hux," she said quickly. "Well then. I have an idea: I'll give you combat training."

"Combat training?" Hux stared at her. "Since when did your name become Lieutenant Daft?"

Zaira gaped at him. "You told a joke. All due respect, sir, but I didn't think you capable."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not."

"I've had combat training. I know everything about battles. I was merely upset at my impulsive actions, that is all," Hux blustered.

"Ah, but don't the stormtroopers need experience as well as theory? Isn't that what we're supposed to be doing? So why wouldn't you? I shan't leave a mark." A mischievous light glimmered in her auburn eyes.

"I don't trust you." Yet, more training could only benefit him…

"I did save your life back there." Her stomach turned at the treason to the Resistance, at her faith in saving mankind, any mankind, on instinct.

"Thank you for doing your duty," he said with a sniff.

"Hux, you're too kind." She rolled her eyes as they slowed down to approach OHS1782-03.

"Nobody dares to talk to me like you." Hux crossed his arms. "I'm not sure if that's a threat or a compliment, so take care, Zaira."

Saying her name caused a strange sensation in his stomach. Almost like a lightsaber come to life.

"You'll come to my quarters at night, after the stormtroopers have been properly trained, and then spar with me, or whatever you plan on doing," he said briskly, ignoring the lightsaber.

Kylo Ren may have been unconscious and strapped tight to a bed, but Finn remained uneasy.

"More motivation for you to get better," Poe joked.

"Poe, he cut open Finn's spine," Rey said bitterly.

"Hey, at least I'm alive, and without guilt," Finn said, glancing at the motionless, dark figure.

"I hope he spends every second of a long life remembering Han Solo," Rey said with an intensity that surprised her friends.

BB-8 rolled up to Ren's bed and brandished his electric stringers.

Rey couldn't help but chuckle. The droid, her first friend, had more moxie than the entire First Order.

"Uh, Luke."

Rey whirled around to see the dejected Jedi watching them. "How long have you been there?"

"Forever, or so it feels." Luke glided towards Finn. "I've heard so much about you – the stormtrooper, right?"

"Ex-stormtrooper," Finn corrected.

"Of course." Luke rested a hand on Finn's shoulders. "You're an inspiration, you know that?"

Finn's heart swelled. He had just been praised by the greatest Jedi to exist. Luke Skywalker admired him.

"It's really Rey whose friendship kept me from running. I just saved Poe because I needed a pilot." Finn smirked at Poe, who laughed.

"You're all inspiring. A bit more than a tired Jedi who did run away," Luke said.

"But you came back," Rey said.

"Thanks to you. That seems to be a common theme around here." Luke smiled. "May I speak with you in private, Rey? Perhaps Finn and the pilot could take a walk?"

"That sounds like a great idea," Poe enthused, though Finn felt a stab of jealousy as Poe helped him up.

"Rey," Luke said quietly. "You seem very angry."

"Angry? How can I not be? He murdered his father, and he tried to take the easy way out?" Rey gestured furiously at Kylo. "He had a father, and he killed him, while I've waited my whole life for a family."

She fought tears. "Master Skywalker – Luke – I don't care that he probed my mind and hurt me. I care that he hurt my friends, that he threw everything that ever mattered away."

Luke stared at his nephew's still, barely breathing body.

"Do you think he could gain it back? Change?"

"I do. But my father changed, and that was improbable enough. To ask a second corrupt man to change is to ask for a miracle," Luke stated. "Yet … he was my family."

Rey blinked. Family. "Then – then you should ask for such a miracle."

Luke regarded her. "You're so lonely."

"That's what your nephew said when he saw my mind."

"How cheap. One doesn't need to see your mind to know that," Luke scoffed.

"You taught him better than that, I suppose?" Rey didn't want to remember the fear as her secret hopes were ripped open.

"As a matter of fact, I did. Or I tried. But I think I'd like to try again." Luke cleared his throat. "You have the Force, Rey, stronger than anyone I've seen. As strong as Anakin Skywalker. Would you do me the honor of becoming a foolish Jedi's new pupil?"

"Will we help the Resistance?"

"We will."

"You want to teach me. Me!" Rey babbled with excitement. In that moment, in that moment of feeling wanted, she could have forgiven Kylo Ren himself.

"You're still angry, aren't you?"

"Disappointed, really." Phasma heaved a sigh. "I strive to install discipline in my troops; now one moment of tomfoolery may undo all my efforts."

"I think you are strong enough to curtail any rebellious trends," Zaira said, watching the sky above.

Phasma huffed, yanking off her helmet. Zaira had seen her friend's bare, beautiful face only once before. In the moonlight she looked radiant, and tragic. "I'm human, Zaira. I don't have the Force or power other than my blaster and my title."

"You're still enough," Zaira insisted.

Phasma smiled sadly, brimming with unhappy memories. "I know, despite what the General implied, it wasn't your idea."

"He's been quite rash lately." Zaira tucked a stand of hair behind her ear. "Do you think the Supreme Leader will find out?"

"I'd be shocked if he didn't already know." Phasma eyed her friend. "Since you appear to care about him, you might as well warn him that his avarice will be his downfall."

"Him? General Hux?" Zaira gasped. "Only as far as I care about any person."

"You have high levels of empathy," Phasma said. "Empathy kept me from reporting FN-2187's abnormalities. Empathy motivated his betrayal."

Zaira was taken aback. Phasma had never admitted weakness before.

"You care more about the general than many others," Phasma continued.

"Only in so far as he's pleasing to annoy," Zaira insisted.

Phasma chuckled. "That may be true, but with Kylo Ren gone, that annoying little man is the only hope we have left."

No, you're our only hope, Zaira thought as she watched her friend retreat indoors. You're my only friend.

It wasn't true. She didn't like Hux; pitied him, sure, but not like.

She fumbled with her transmitter. She desperately wanted sleep, but she had to make contact with the Resistance. If she'd demolished her mission, her father would be most unpleasant to deal with.

"Zaira." General Leia and Admiral Ackbar stared up at her.

"I called as soon as I could. There was simply no way to inform you." Zaira fumbled for the words.

"We understand," said Leia.

"Then how did you have time to come here?" Ackbar demanded.

Zaira scowled. "I was in the company of General Hux the entire time." Hux, whom she hated because she had to. No, she didn't hate him; she just wasn't fond of him.

"How bad were your losses?" She held her breath.

"Relatively few, though less than they would be had we had warning," Ackbar said. He didn't mean to hurt her, but the fact remained that his men and women were dead, and they shouldn't be.

Zaira winced. "And Ren?"

Leia inhaled sharply, agony across her face. "Alive."

Awake, she had just heard, but the woman who led the Resistance just didn't have the courage to go see her son.

Zaira nodded, aware of Leia's discomfort. "Good."

"Do inform us as soon as you know Snoke's next move. Unfortunately, we lost your ships after reaching the Outer Rim, so we shan't be reaching you anytime soon. Unless you've since learned your whereabouts?" Ackbar asked.

What to say? No, because she was off training their enemy?

"I will inform immediately when I know anything of value."

"Well then, we hope to hear from you soon."

"I'll do my best, General. Best of luck with reparations," Zaira said lamely.

"May the Force be with you," Leia said suddenly.

"Um – uh – you too." The Force, Zaira reckoned, had never been with her, and never would be. The Force didn't give or do a damn for her.

"What are you doing here, scoundrel?"

Zaira whirled around to see two of her trainees, blasters in hand.

"Congratulations, you've avoided death," a grim doctor greeted the groggy Kylo Ren, pressing lightly against Kylo's chest wound.

He didn't dare wince, didn't dare react.

A dark figure froze in his peripheral vision sent fear shooting through Kylo. His mother? Chewie?

He couldn't bear to look.

"Help me, Poe," a smooth voice said.

Kylo held his breath. Poe Dameron, the pilot he'd tortured, the pilot before whom he'd murdered his old family friend. Lor… would his suicide cure his wrongs?

I did it for the First Order. That wasn't wrong, he thought furiously.

The figure invaded his vision, peering over his eyes.

Finn looked down at the once powerful Kylo Ren, lying pale and weak and bitter before him. A fresh wound on his chest, an old blaster shot on his side, a scar on his face.

Traitor!

And maybe Finn was, but treason had brought him to Poe, the man who held him up. Treason had led him to Rey and her kind eyes. Treason was the best decision he'd ever made.

"You ruined so many lives," Finn whispered hoarsely. "I never knew anything but darkness, but I knew the Light more than you. You hurt Poe and Rey and killed your father. Do you know what I would have done to know a father?"

"Sir, maybe you'd better not – " Doctor Kalonia began.

"No, I need to say this."

Kylo wanted to say that Hux was in charge of the stormtrooper program, that he'd even suggested the use of a clone army – albeit tauntingly – but he didn't want to acknowledge his life enough to speak.

Poe rubbed his friend's shoulder.

"You tried to kill me, because I am nothing to you. Maybe I still will be, but I have to – I have to say this." Finn struggled for the words. "I forgive you."

Kylo felt as if he were standing on the edge of a rushing, unpolluted river. A river he did not want to join.

"Don't."

"So he does recognize right from wrong." Facing his torturer again, Poe found himself unable to resist a dig.

"Of course I do. I was always right," Kylo lied instinctively. "Even when I killed that old man and Han Solo."

Shock them, frighten them away. Let them hate him. He hated himself!

Poe raised a fist but stopped at Finn's look.

"You'll learn someday you're wrong. My point was that I forgive you, and since I'm not under your command, you don't get to tell me what I feel." Finn's eyes shone.

FN-2187 was everything he was not, Kylo realized.

"I hope someday I can be as good as Finn, but I'm not there yet," Poe added.

"Help me back?"

"'Course, buddy." Poe guided the stormtrooper away from a horrified Kylo.

Bee-eep-boop! An angry orange-and-white droid rolled in as Dr. Kalonia walked over to check on Finn.

Kylo's stomach turned. For right behind the droid was R2-D2, the childhood friend he'd left brokenhearted after the destruction of Luke's academy.

BB-8 swiveled around to see Kylo, casually demonstrating his electric stingers.

Poe laughed.

Doo-deep-deep. R2 rolled towards Kylo, jostling his bed. Don't you remember me?

Kylo stared at the droid, just long enough for R2 to see the emptiness he felt inside.

Anakin changed, so can you.

I don't want to change, Kylo thought. I won't be undone by sentiment like Anakin. I killed Han.

I love you, said the droid, giving his bed another jostle.

"You shouldn't," Kylo whispered.

Despite himself, his hand reached out to rest on R2's dome.

Zaira deftly tucked her transmitter in her pants as she swung around. "RT-3131, 3100."

"Lieutenant Dax," stammered 3100, a tall but nervous young man. "Our apologies. We were doing our rounds and thought you were a trespasser."

"What are you doing outside?" asked 3131.

Zaira noted the curiosity, the innocence in this trained soldier's voice. Wiping her sweaty palms on her pants, she came up with the boldest lie she dared tell. The lie that might just aid the Resistance. "I was watching the moons."

"Why would you do that?" 3100 asked in confusion.

"Because they're beautiful; do you know what that means?"

"Of course we know what beauty means." 3100's voice rose.

"It's one thing to know and another to understand." Oh, how often her father had told her this. "Here, let me show you."

She walked forward and took 3131's hands. "Understanding beauty makes me want to sing and dance."

"What are you – what are you doing?" 3131 dropped her blaster as her instructor began moving their bodies in rhythm with the tune she hummed.

"Understanding." Zaira twirled around and grasped 3100. "You too. Understanding is the key to a good soldier. Otherwise we'd all just use clones."

"I thought we just made better decisions," 3100 protested, even as his hips moved in better rhythm than Zaira had ever managed.

"Yes, and you do that because you understand a situation," Zaira suggested. And if you understand, you think for yourself.

3131 began humming her own lilting tune.

"Where did you learn music?" 3100 asked curiously.

"Music? This isn't. I don't know. I've always liked stringing sounds together," said 3131. "That's not, um, disobedient, is it, Lieutenant?"

"No. It's beautiful," Zaira said with a frown.

How often her father had forced her, over and over, to listen to his own music, to dance. And she'd hated it until discovering the moons while crying outside one night. In a way, Zaira supposed dancing in the moonlight had kept her strong throughout her life.

3131 tripped into 3100. "Oh, sorry, Hundred."

"Shh," he said suddenly, glancing at Zaira.

"You have nicknames?" Zaira inquired. Of course, even child soldiers would find ways to individualize themselves.

"Yes, Lieutenant. It won't happen again," 3100 said quickly, stepping almost in front of 3131.

Zaira's mind spun. Were these two …

"No, no, I think it's good. You're unique and you need to understand that, too," Zaira said.

"What is going on here?" Phasma staggered outside with two more stormtroopers, RT-2460 and RT-2492.

"We're learning how to understand," Zaira said, forcing levity into her voice. "Here, allow me to demonstrate."

Behind four identical helmets, the four stormtroopers' mouths dropped as Lieutenant Dax spun a stunned Captain Phasma around and around.

"It's called dancing in the moonlight and everyone needs it," Zaira called.

Phasma lurched away. "What of discipline?"

"Discipline can't be won with fear alone."

Phasma rubbed her helmet, though the action didn't much soothe her spinning head. "I'm not sure engaging their fancy will aid their development."

"I think it's exactly what they need," Zaira replied. Well, what the Resistance needed. What the people behind the numbers and white uniforms needed.

"Pray tell."

"The best soldiers ought to know their individual potential," Zaira said, staring pointedly at Phasma. "So they know when to help and when to leave another behind, or even, hmm, when to report another."

Like FN-2187. Phasma hesitated. She could bear to lose another stormtrooper to death, but not to treason. No more. "And you think this midnight mischief will help, do you?"

"Possibly." Zaira wondered how Phasma would receive the notion that her soldiers deserved to enjoy themselves for once.

"What is this ruckus?" General Hux burst outside.

"I can't help you with this one," Phasma said to her friend.

Zaira nodded, facing Hux. "Midnight mischief, of course."

"Midnight mis – what?" he spluttered.

"Otherwise known as dancing. As a means of expanding your troops' understanding of themselves and the universe, which should make better soldiers," Zaira said as persuasively as she could manage.

"That is nonsense." His face twisted.

Yes, but good nonsense, she thought but didn't say, as her hands latched onto his bony wrists.

"What are you doing, Lieutenant?" His voice rose in pitch.

"Demonstrating," she said simply. She could explain later, to him and Phasma, her father and the music.

He stumbled over her feet. Fear exploded inside him. "This is preposterous!"

"So are seven moons and the First Order and the galaxy itself." Zaira glanced over her shoulder. "RT-3131, give us your best melody."

RT-3131 wanted to cry like she did at night when no one could punish her. She didn't have one. She didn't know music. She didn't want trouble.

"Any one will do," Hundred whispered.

As the night filled with 3131's gentle humming, four stormtroopers and three officers engaged in the most awkward display of beauty seen in the history of the galaxy.

Or so reckoned General Hux, for when he ignored his own misgivings and his father's voice, he found himself enraptured by the eccentric woman holding his hands.