Despite my efforts, my sleep was fitful and tiring. For the first time in over a week, my recurring nightmares returned, but as usual I could not remember the details after waking beyond the memory of the scent of smoke. I woke early to hear my bunkmates moving about. I waited until they left before getting out of bed. I needed some time alone to prepare myself for the day's duties.

I went about my routine as usual, using the extra time to fix my hair. I could see that we were provided hair oil for general use and I gratefully utilized it; the shower had dried my locks and made them frizzy and brittle. Carefully, I arranged my hair in a style I'd seen other servants wear: with a single, thick braided ridge atop my head split into three braided buns. As usual, I left two small plaits to rest in front on which I could attach my ID clamp. It was to be visible always.

My morning progressed without incident, and the rest of my shift passed with nothing happening of note aside from, finally, learning the name of the young man who seemed to share my schedule, Kaden. I also learned that he was somewhat simple-minded. His comments about the Lieutenant General were made in ignorance, not malice, though their effect had been the same. It didn't make me like him any more, but it did call for more patience.

The day ended, and the previous one's anxieties began to fade. Perhaps I'd been overly rash in my fears. I decided to join the other servants in the mess hall, even though I did not end up speaking to anyone. I ate alone, and I didn't mind.

This time, when the previously-recorded image of Hux appeared on screen during the newscast, I was not afraid. Indeed, I made myself look at him as he gave a short speech on the continuing efforts of the First Order to bring law to a lawless galaxy. I studied his speech, his patterns of movement and expression. He was unusually young for someone of his rank and undeniably handsome, but there was a quality to his eyes, cold blue in the light of the broadcast holo-imagers, that was disconcerting to me.

That night, I slept more easily.

The rest of the week passed in much the same manner. I woke, dressed, and returned to the gym facilities each day, performing my job with perfection before leaving at the end of my shift. The Lieutenant General did not return to my floor, and it was my hope that I wouldn't be seeing him again. Though I didn't encourage it, Kaden showed his tendency to talk any time we were alone. I made sure to leave the desk, and his company, at every opportunity. I learned the names of my bunkmates, though I had no intention of befriending any of them, and they seemed to feel the same way about me. Things were, overall, going well.

On the morning of the last day of the week, I arrived early. My first week of service in this capacity would be assessed and my future assignments would be considered. Either I would continue this post, or I would be given another. Even though I thought I'd jeopardized everything on the first day, I didn't want to leave this post if I could avoid it; it was easy, and, apart from things of my own doing, safe. Given enough time, I could even advance enough to find myself in a position where I might be able to provide Phasma with useful intel.

The first half of the day progressed as usual. I cleaned the rooms and prepared them for the next guests, or provided extra towels to any that requested them. I came close to telling Kaden to shut up, but held my tongue and did not use my Gaze, a feat of will that I took some pride in considering how he was testing my patience and my desire for solitude.

But right around the middle of my shift, something strange began to make itself known at the edge of my awareness. I had not accessed my Gaze, or anything else related to the Force, the entire week. But even so, a faint prickling sensation began to rise in the air around me. I could feel it on the skin of my face and scalp, and soon it spread to my neck. It was not dissimilar to the sensation I'd felt before when using my Gaze, but it was different in that it was originating outside of myself.

It was directional, and when I followed it, I found myself facing the turbolift. As the seconds ticked by, the sensation only grew, and my nerves grew with it. I forced my eyes to stay down, to continue my job, and I tried to ignore it in the hope that it would pass.

Muffled conversation between two male voices could be heard long before the lift doors opened. When they did, I found myself inexplicably paralyzed with fear as the sensation only intensified.

"Your eagerness to impress Supreme Leader is amusing," the voice said. The vocoder-filtered timbre was unlike any other I'd heard through soldier helmets. It was at once coarse and smooth, like liquid gravel. I knew that the one speaking was the presence I'd felt. "See that you don't disappoint him when the time comes to prove your claims."

"Your concern is noted," the other voice replied. It was Hux. My mouth felt dry, and I realized I was trembling. I stood there, stock still behind the half-desk.

"I hope so, Lieutenant General…" the voice responded before trailing off.

I had a very sudden and painful awareness of my own presence. Time seemed to stop. I felt the pricking of needles on my face and scalp sharpen. It felt as though they were sinking into me. My breath caught in my throat and I struggled to maintain my steady composure.

"We will continue this discussion later."

"Yes. We will," Hux said, his timbre too careful, too measured, too precise to belong to any other. At the moment, I could almost sense an undertone of rage. The discomfort of the other man's presence began to recede when he stepped back into the turbolift until it was gone.

"You," he said.

He was talking to me. I felt faint again.

"Sir?" my voice was a squeak.

"Is my room prepared?"

My mind raced, my heart was in my throat, and then I remembered to look at the screen.

"Yes, Sir."

He said nothing more before stalking off, the sound of boots clipping against the floor unmuffled despite the carpet.

When he was gone, I felt as if the air returned to the corridor. I didn't understand what had been said between Hux and that other person, but I could sense the controlled tension between them, apparent in their tones. I heard Kaden, who until this moment had been suspiciously absent, approaching. Once I was sure that we were alone, I leaned weakly against the wall.

"You look like you're going to be sick again," he said. I peered at him through narrowed eyes, but he was looking toward the turbolift.

"I can't believe Kylo Ren came here. He never comes here," he said, his voice awash with irritating wonderment. Kylo Ren, the Commander. "Did you get a look at him?'

"Shut up." The words ground out of my mouth at the same moment that I felt my eyes itch with an extra burst of anger.

He balked in response, and then without further delay, hurried off. It seemed that he had suddenly found a task elsewhere that needed to be taken care of, and I watched him leave with some minor satisfaction. The back of my eyeballs prickled briefly but then receded. I knew that I should not have risked using my Gaze, but I'd lost patience with the servant and his stupidity.

I steadied my breaths until I felt that I could stand again.

My mind worked as I performed my duties automatically. That strange sensation I'd felt, like thousands of needles were lightly pricking my face and scalp, the one that I could not deny was so like the way I'd felt using my Gaze on others, was that the Force? I'd heard that the Commander was gifted with it, though I didn't understand what that meant exactly.

The loud thuds and smacks I could hear emanating from the room at the end of the hall, the same one that Hux had occupied yesterday, drew me out of my musings. He was angry, and even so, I could imagine that he executed his strikes with steady control. That frightened me more than anything else. I tried to tune him out and maintain my outward composure, but I couldn't help but imagine how it would feel to be the target of that steady aggression. And those eyes.

My shift ended some time after Hux left. I took it as good fortune that he said nothing further to me. I did not waste any time heading back toward the service stairwell.

The moment I opened the door, however, I was met with the sight of two Stormtroopers.

"That's her, 221784-R," one of them, female, said. My heart skipped a beat. Then, to me, she said, "come with us."

I obeyed without hesitation. Inside, I was in a screaming panic. They took me back through the service entrance. I was vaguely aware of the stares as I passed, but I was too preoccupied to care.

They led me through the corridors. After a few turns, I dared to speak.

"Where are you taking me?"

The white helmet beside me barely spared me a glance.

"Lieutenant General Hux's quarters."

When my feet stumbled, I felt a hand on my arm, but it was not kind, and once I was steady, it didn't let go, as though they thought I might try to run. If not for that hand, I might have.

I felt disconnected, somehow outside of myself as I passed through the section of the base leading to the officers' quarters.

Respond with perfect obedience. It was the only way I might survive. Of course, I could do nothing else but obey. Every unsavory thing I'd ever heard about him ran around in my mind, making it unable to think about anything else. Some said that he liked to practice torture and interrogation techniques on slaves. Others related to the most extreme rumors, that he somehow managed to nurse a preference for the taste of human flesh.

As for the rumor that he was a rapist… slaves knew their place. Things happened. If the perpetrators were caught, they were punished and the matter closed. If they weren't, there was not much that could be done. Raping a slave was in the same league as taking liberties with one's livestock: deplorable, but victimless. To think that an officer so high in the organization engaged in such behavior without any to stop him was something I didn't want to think about. Of course, it was too late.

My stomach roiled as nausea came in clammy, hot waves. I could see no way out, could think of nothing beyond reacting in such a way that I would be executed. All too soon, my escort and I arrived at our destination. The guards posted at the door nodded a greeting to the ones with me, and when the door opened, my escort left. I had no doubt that the ones standing there now would show me no more compassion than the others.

Immediately upon stepping through the door, my eyes searched the room for any sign of Hux. The space was empty. It appeared that I was alone. The door closed behind me.

I allowed myself a moment to take in my surroundings. It was laid out much like Phasma's quarters. The immediate room appeared to be the main living space. Straight ahead, a doorway led to another room beyond. Through the door, I could see the front corner of a bed and the entrance to a personal washroom. I was surprised to see that Hux's space was no larger than the Captain's.

To the left was a dedicated sitting area with a couch and a chair in plush black leather. Between that and the back wall of the room was a large desk with inbuilt access terminal and a large executive style desk chair. When I looked to the space to my right, all illusion that this could have been anyone else's quarters dissolved entirely.

The wall was lined in all manner of mounted weapons. Poles with spikes and hooks, handheld claw weapons, blades as thin as a small finger that ended in razor sharp points, and all manner of blunt weapons. All melee weapons, many whose function was clearly meant to maim, to cause pain, rather than to kill quickly. lights in the ceiling above the display cast beams that glinted off sharp edges and carved stark shadows. The collection almost had a museum quality to it; each item was arranged lovingly to display it to its maximum effect, and while I knew nothing of alien cultures, I could tell that not all the weapons were of human design and origin.

He was a weapon's enthusiast, serious one as it would seem. This was a fact that did nothing to alleviate my nerves. But as I looked to the floor beneath the weapons, chill dread gripped my heart and tightened.

It was bare but for a plastifilm sheet roughly twelve feet by eight feet, which was adhered to the corners of floor and wall. Overall, it consumed half of the floor space in this room, and I did not miss the fact that the sitting area faced it. Almost as though it were a stage.

I heard a noise then, and I looked up, panic bringing my pulse to my throat, and I felt the blood drain from my face.

I was not alone, of course. Lieutenant General Hux stood there in the open doorway leading to the back of his quarters. I hadn't seen him because he'd been in his room. I immediately snapped my eyes to his black shining boots and the solid black uniform pants tucked into them. I'd seen enough to see that he was holding something in each hand, two identical black objects.

I followed his feet as they moved across the floor to the sitting area. He seemed utterly unconcerned with my presence.

I heard leather cushions compressing as he took a seat. I stood stock still, eyes down. All my attention was devoted to keeping my breathing steady as the silence stretched. My fear was making me hypersensitive to every small sound of rustling fabric and the creaking leather of his boots. I was sure that my entire body quaked with each forceful beat of my heart.

What was he waiting for?

The door to the chambers opened behind me with a silky whisper. Light footsteps padded the ground, approached me from behind until the person stood next to me. From my peripheral vision, I could tell that the figure was slight. Female, shorter and thinner than me. I fixed my eyes on the floor in front of me, painfully conscious of the man that sat on the couch. I was sure that he was looking at us now.

Suddenly, he was standing. Boots squeaked, and he crossed the room so that he stood in the center of the plastifilm sheet. My hand was trembling now overtly, and I could do nothing to control it. Then, there was movement and two heavy clanks as two weighty objects dropped to the sheet. I recognized them immediately, as I had just been made to wear one not so long ago. Shock collars. I could see from where I stood that black metal implements were currently unlocked, the hinges open.

From the outside, they appeared plain, merely wide bands of black metal. I knew from experience however, that the inner surface featured a row of tiny, thorn-like spikes along the circumference. These spikes were meant to prick the skin so that they might more directly deliver their intended electric shock. My eyes narrowed as I remembered the last time I'd had to wear one. I'd been insolent, I couldn't deny it. But this time? My only crime was looking. A shock collar seemed like an extreme measure of punishment. Then again, I couldn't be sure of his motives for the evening.

Hux stood there for a long, agonizing moment while I and the other girl stared at them. He returned to the sitting area. I heard the couch cushion compress as he sat down again. Neither me nor the other girl moved. I could hear her breathing, though, short and fast.

"I suppose we should begin," he said. His tone was light, lilting. His boots were splayed out casually. He was entirely calm, completely at ease. His relaxed manner only made his next words that much more chilling. "Put them on."

I couldn't stop myself. My face turned to the girl next to me, and our eyes met with the same question: was he simply going to shock us? I was struck by how thin she looked, how young. She was quaking harder than I was. But still, conditioning superseded any fear-paralysis, and she silently crept over so that she stood before one of the collars.

She bent forward, fingers hesitating before they grasped it. The metal joint clinked heavily as it was lifted from the floor. Her hollow eyes stared at it as she straightened out, and then, obediently, she moved to close it around her neck. She winced when the band auto-adjusted and the clasp locked into place.

I followed behind her, my movements mechanical and rigid. Inside, I trembled, though at this moment, it was more from the indignity of being collared like an animal than from fear. I felt the first stirrings of my anger and I welcomed it, as little good as it would do me now.

The surface of the film crinkled as I stepped on it.

I brought the collar to rest around my neck and clamped it shut with bloodless fingers. The interior spikes pressed shallowly into the sensitive skin of my neck and throat. I had to hold my head high to avoid additional discomfort. Now the collars could only be removed by the appropriate command key, and I was sure I knew who possessed it.

Unable to cast my face down as was customary due to the awkward position of my neck, I stared straight ahead and forced my eyes down as far as I could make them. I swallowed hard, and that small movement caused one of the spikes to dig painfully into my skin. Satisfied that we had followed his orders, he stood to his feet with ease.

"142330-K and 221784-R," he began, addressing us both. I could hear my companion's heavy, tremulous breathing. "You are here because I have granted you both a unique opportunity. A chance to prove yourselves worthy of service to the First Order."

My stomach churned, and still I looked at the floor as he continued.

"The Supreme Leader is always in search of those that might further his cause. He knows that sometimes, such talent can come from lowly origins. And as such, I have taken it upon myself to bolster the ranks where it is needed the most."

My brow furrowed in confusion. What was this? I dared to steal a glance and alleviate the soreness in my eyes from peering down from such an angle. Piercing eyes like chips of blue glass met mine. Instead of immediately looking away, I found myself continuing to stare. His eyes narrowed, but he seemed otherwise unperturbed. He looked to the other girl.

"142330-K," he said again with the threat of a smile in the corners of his mouth. The girl swallowed, and I heard the nearly inaudible whimper of pain as the spikes dug in. "You continue to show a lack of aptitude with any task you are assigned. For anyone else, this would warrant reassignment to the mines. A death sentence for those lacking in fortitude."

He looked at me, then, meeting my eyes again.

"And you. I've made sure to examine your record very closely."

My face burned, but I didn't look away. I made myself look at his hateful, arrogant face. Now I didn't care about the repercussions. Whatever his intentions were, I could tell that they were far from pure, or official, and I was sure that nothing I did now would matter in the outcome.

"Even now you show a lack of respect for your superiors. Others might attribute this to inexperience. I suspect that no amount of continued training will cure you of it."

Words came to mind, words which I dared not speak, even now. For a long moment, he held my eyes, and to my shame, I was the one that broke the stare first. How had I ever thought him handsome? Anger and indignation whirled together with the fear inside of me until it was all I could feel.

I could hear 142330-K's teeth chattering as he began to pace slowly in front of us. It set the hairs on the back of my neck on edge.

"Luckily, I can find a use for nearly anyone, even you two." He stopped again in front of us. "The First Order has need of additional combat personnel. Not in the regular regiments, mind you. You are far too old to begin the training required. No, we need to build up our reserve corps."

He moved back toward the seating area. Combat training? This leagues away from what I'd been expecting. I couldn't believe it. But then, nothing about this made any sense. What was the point of the shock collars? And why the clandestine meeting in his chamber? As if sensing my confusion, he spoke, now with enjoyment.

"But we only need one of you. One of you will be granted a full reprieve for your transgressions."

One of us. My blood ran cold, and instantly the other slave girl and I looked at each other. I looked at Hux. Beneath the stark lighting over the seating area, long shadows stretched beneath his eyes and cheekbones. Still, the shine of light on his eyes made them glint in the shadow. I felt nothing from him but cold satisfaction as his intentions became plain.

"You may use any weapon you choose. If you think yourself clever, be warned that a single shock at maximum setting is fatal." He held up a small device in his hand. "Any questions?"

To my surprise, the other girl spoke up first. Her voice was as small and timid as I expected.

"Sir, please, I don't understand," she stuttered. Hux did not smile, but I heard him laugh.

"I thought it was clear," he said, his eyes growing cold. "You are to fight to the death. The victor can expect an improvement in her situation. The loser will be disposed of with the rest of the trash."

The girl seemed to have lost the ability to speak. When she looked at me again, her hollow eyes were wide, frightened. Desperate.

Hux lowered himself easily onto the couch.

"You may begin."