The representative of the Raclan Bank does not visit Kylo in person. They do not send an envoy. They don't allow him to see them via hologram.

Sitting in his office, at his desk, he is met only by the sound of a voice.

Kylo sighs. Apparently, in dealing with his predecessor, they have grown both wise and wary. He assumes that if he were to work on it, he could find the voice speaking to him, and choke the life out of it.

Just the idea of it wearies him.

On the upside, they did not send a person, which means he can take this in his office, instead of having to loom larger than life in his all black throne room. Here he can be Kylo more than The Supreme Leader.

The voice on the other side of the comm is soothing. A mixture of well-off, posh, and pampered accents. All of them tell him he's talking to someone with money, none of them tell him where this person is from. "As you know, My Lord, we've offered you the most flexible repayment terms we can. But, all debts come due, eventually. We need at least a token, something to make it worth our while to keep extending you credit."

Kylo tries to focus in on the voice, tries to find it, see if there's any fear or malice or… anything.

But there's nothing out there.

It clicks in his mind. He's talking to a droid. It's possible at this point there are no bankers, not any longer. Not to deal with him. There are just programs. A droid can't be killed, not if its program is spread across thousands of bodies. It can't be intimidated, not if it wasn't programmed for it. The Force cannot be used against it to change its mind.

A wise move on the part of whomever ordered it.

"As per the terms your predecessor arranged, we can take payment in credits or raw materials at market value per kiloton. Or, if need be, we have several systems we've acquired recently, and if you were to provide the enforcement of labor conditions, we could work with that, as well."

He's low on credits, and using all the ones he has to patch up the Supremacy and build his new planet killers. He's got raw materials, but they too are being used to patch up the Supremacy and build his new planet killers. Labor though…

"I'm sure you could. Give me the list of planets. We'll 'manage' your labor for you."

"Wonderful! We're sending along the coordinates."

Kylo kills the communication. He looks to his newest "Trusted" Second-In-Command. This one adores him. He's practically got a shrine to him in his chambers. It makes his stomach curdle to think too long on that.

He's staring up at Kylo like a puppy.

"Find where those coordinates came from."

"Yes, sir. May I ask why, sir?" He's hanging on every word, like whatever Kylo says next will be the revealed wisdom of the ages. Kylo sighs. He followed Snoke like this, when he was young. He wanted to be this, for Vader.

He wonders if Vader, had he seen Kylo, would have felt the same way he does now about his Second In Command, whom he calls, in the privacy of his mind, The Sycophant.

"Yes. Ask."

His voice trembles as he says, "Why, sir?"

"Because as soon as I have my fleet of planet killers, we're going to blow that bank out of existence. And at the same time, we're going to remove every person on those planets, and then destroy whatever is left of value."

"Sir!" The Sycophant looks horrified.

"No one, not even the great banking houses of the core worlds, dictate terms to me. As long as they presume to tell me what and when and how I will pay, I will destroy what they own, and who owes them."

The Sycophant is almost panting with glee at the idea of this. Just being near this kind of power makes him hard, metaphorically if not literally. "Yes! Sir! If you'd like, I can see about learning where their computer backups are, sir. With one strike, we can make it clear that if they do not bow to you, that we can erase all of their records."

Kylo nods. "Yes. Do that. Until then, find me the least cruel overseer we have. I want him in charge of arranging for the 'labor' services on those planets. We're going to move people off, not raw goods."

"I will do that, sir."

When the Sycophant runs to do his bidding, Kylo can feel the shade of Hux behind him.

"More dog bones?" He says, stepping next to Kylo, standing shoulder to shoulder with him, both of them looking out at unending space.

"That's the idea." Between the destruction of Starkiller, the Fulminatrix, and the Supremacy they are low on manpower. They've got the largest force in the galaxy still, but that largest force is less than half of what it used to be. If the people on these world are of any value, he's more than happy to scoop them up and into his service.

Hux has a disgusted expression on his face. "I should have killed you when I had the chance."

"Undoubtedly."

"They won't love you for it." Hux looks in the direction of where the Sycophant went. "Or if they do, it'll be like him. They'll love the image, the power, not the man."

Kylo glares at Hux. He was never anywhere near that perceptive when he was alive. Then he shrugs. "They won't loathe me, either. And the chaos… If he really can find the records." He turns to the ghost of Hux. "We destroyed the Senate. What's left of the Republic is reeling. The Resistance is gone. It numbers maybe a thousand spread across more systems than we can count. The only ones who can get near to doing us any harm now are the big banking families. Hit one hard enough that it bleeds, and the others will toe the line."

"Or they'll cut your credits off."

Kylo's utterly unperturbed by that. If he's going down, he's taking the entire First Order, and as much of the galaxy as he can, with him.


Kylo takes the pad from his Chief Training and Labor Officer, General Hurntor.

"This is the full report?"

"As full as we can make it, sir. After the… recent unpleasantness, we are missing some key figures to aid in our investigation and assessment, but… as best we can tell…"

Kylo nods, waving away General Hurntor.

He begins to read, occasionally sipping some tea while he digests what's in the report.

On the most top level, Hurntor, who had been, before, as he put it, 'The Recent Unpleasantness' in charge of 'recruitment,' namely making sure their raiders kidnapped enough children to turn into soldiers each month, was more than willing to splash all the blame he could on Hux and Phasma's corpses.

He's diplomatic about it, not exactly faulting either of them, but making it very clear that while, in general, their training protocols were effective, there's just no way to use fear and pain to make every recruit into a model Stormtrooper.

He's more than happy to suggest that a failure rate of up to 13% was being kept hidden by the Commandant Brendol Hux, and that General Hux was more than happy to continue sweeping his father's failures into the crematorium.

His suggestions included going back to a system of actually 'recruiting' soldiers, instead of kidnapping them. Apparently test after test after test has shown that volunteers do a better job of following orders, and because they don't have to be literally beaten into submission, they maintain enough ability to think outside the traditional parameters to make good officers.

Though, barring that, or if enough people could not be recruited, he thought droids may be a sensible answer.

Kylo sets the pad aside, sips his tea, and thinks.


"My Lord…" The Sycophant bows to him, and then turns, "The Branthean Delegation."

Kylo nods, and the Sycophant backs away.

Kylo watches the half-dozen bureaucrats in front of him. He can feel the mix of fear and hope on them, and underlying that, true white-knuckled desperation.

The leader, an elderly man, dark of skin and eyes, and, probably, once, hair, but it is white now, kneels before Kylo.

Kylo gestures with his hand, curling his fingers upward, letting the man know to rise. "My predecessor enjoyed towering over men on their knees. I think it made him feel big." Kylo sits back on his throne, black metal in the middle of an onyx sheen black receiving room. Black floors, black walls, black ceiling, all three broken only by bars of white-blue light, and a huge window looking out on the galaxy behind Kylo's back.

The bureaucrat stands up, and Kylo continues, "I have no need for that."

He can feel the petitioners noticing that they're alone with the Supreme Leader. There are no guards, no functionaries. He feels their fear mount. The man who allows anyone into his presence, alone, is the man who fears no one.

Or has nothing to lose.

Either way, he's vastly more dangerous that the man surrounded by a phalanx of guards and a legion of flunkies.

"What brings you to my presence?" Kylo asks as the delegation all look at him, and around him, and each other, none of them sure how to address him or what to do.

"My Lord," the older one begins, "We wouldn't wish to trouble you, but we are desperate. Our system… We are on the edge of the unknown regions, and… unsavory… elements have long raided our borders." He pauses, and swallows hard. "Sir… The Senate… They provided us with security. Troops, ships… manpower to protect our borders. We…" He's trembling, so afraid that this request will result in physical harm to him. Terrified that reminding Kylo that the Senate of the Republic was more than just a debating society would cause him to burst in a fury of bad temper.

Kylo stays calm. He was aware of the fact that the Senate was useful. And that if he doesn't want yet another Resistance popping up among the ashes of the old one, he's going to need to take up that slack. Men do not long stand passive and quiet when their homes burn and their businesses are robbed.

"Do you have any Republic troops and ships left?"

The old man cringes. "A few… When the distress signal went out from Hosnian Prime…"

Kylo knows what he's not saying. "Any that had faster than light capability flew to defend their home, didn't make it in time, and promptly joined the Resistance to be destroyed by us."

"Probably, My Lord… Or they are still in hiding. They did not return to us. The six that stayed have pulled back to our capitol planet, but six fighters cannot patrol a seventeen planet system, let alone protect it."

Kylo nods. "You are, of course, correct. How many did the Senate offer you?"

"One hundred and fifty ships, fully crewed."

"Then we will send two hundred until things are under control again. We will send another hundred to train your own people on. And when the raiders are under control, and your system has had time to rebuild, you will send me two hundred of your best men to join my forces, and the raw materials to produce three hundred more ships. Say… In two years?"

He can feel the palpable rush of relief from the delegation. They were expecting to be smacked, hard, for just asking.

"Thank you, My Lord."

Kylo nods at that. Then he adds, "You will, of course, continue to remit the taxes you sent to the Republic, but to me."

That gets a collection of startled looks between the delegation, followed by a fast, "Yes, of course, sir!"

Kylo offers him a quick, sharp smile. "Excellent. As soon as I receive confirmation that we've gotten your quarterly payment, I'll have ships on the way."

He can feel that they're going to be mortgaging their own homes to get that payment together, selling businesses, begging from friends, but that they will get it done. That, the utter desperation to get anyone who can help them, cements Kylo's next move.

"While we're at it, if you have someone who specializes in the raiders, an intelligence analyst for example, make sure that my generals get in contact with him. Your system can't be the only one having this problem, and we're better off nipping it early than letting it fester."

"Thank you, My Lord. We'll make sure to send everything along."

Kylo nods, and they retreat from his presence.

Kylo stands, turns, hand resting on the back of his throne, and looks out at the galaxy spread wide around him.

Be a smart enough ruler, and maybe you won't have any enemies.

He knows that's impossible, and given how he got into this chair, friends are unlikely, too. But if he's smart enough, and valuable enough, they won't like him, but they'll defend him.

He makes a mental note to tell the Sycophant to find out how many systems were farming out their security to the Senate forces, and then to offer the same protections, plus some, to them, in exchange for payment of back, and continuing, taxes. He guesses that will leave his men spread thin, but, at least right now, he's still the biggest player in the game.

And he hopes, that once he spreads his men around, the other players will decide to support him. The status quo that protects you is almost always preferable to the future which threatens you. So, if he wishes to stay here, he needs to become that status quo.

He watches the stars, wondering which one Rey's orbiting, and finds himself wondering what she would do if she were here, by his side. How would she have dealt with the petitioners?

He wonders, if… when, she hears about this, if it will make her smile, or if the idea of him ruling well will make her curse, because a good ruler will always have enemies, but they'll be fewer and further between. And should he be that good ruler, what happens to her Resistance?