Author's notes at the end.


Chapter 9

What had she done? What was she thinking? What was wrong with her? These were the thoughts that occupied Moira's mind as she paced the length of her room over and over again. She had lost track of time, but that was irrelevant compared to the current turmoil in her mind. She had agreed to help train the First Order's military, especially Stormtroopers, killers, and for what, just to save her own ass? The idea had sounded sensible at the time, but now Moira regretted it. Screw doing whatever it takes to survive, you are practically fraternizing with the enemy now! She was going to be sick.

Moira clutched her head in frustration and resisted the urge to slam it repeatedly against a wall. She was such a moof-milker! Why she would think that consenting to this would improve her situation was beyond her. How was this going to help her stay alive in the long run? For all she knew, she could be finding herself on the frontlines, fighting for a cause that she did not believe in but doing it anyway because it would help her "stay alive." How long could she keep feeding herself this garbage? What was she truly hoping to gain from all of this?

She then paused to look out the window, feeling that familiar longing and hope rise within her, and she quickly shoved those feelings down with annoyance. No, this had better not be what she was hoping to gain. She hadn't forgotten that same feeling of hope that had appeared when her brother said that she would eventually gain access to most of the base. She had to restrain herself from asking if that included the outside. If this was why she had really agreed to help, then she hated herself even more. No, she reminded herself, I can help the Resistance this way, somehow. I will get out of here, and when I do, I will go straight to Leia and tell her-.

She spun sharply on her heels when the door slid open, revealing her Stormtrooper guards. "What?" she snapped. "What do you want?" Can't you see that I am in the middle of a pity party for myself?

The soldiers, impassive as always, informed her that the General was ready for her now. "Oh yes," Moira remarked scathingly, "it's only when he's ready, not the other way around." There was no comment; the soldiers merely stepped aside, waiting for her to walk through. "What, no binders this time?" she asked.

"The General has decided that binders are no longer needed; you will not be escaping anytime soon, he said."

Moira raised her eyebrows. "Oh, did he now? I was hoping to hear that he now trusts me completely, but I suppose that it's not going to be that easy, and we never truly get what we want, right?"

She could sense that underneath their helmets, they were rolling their eyes now. It was strange, she could almost feel their annoyance. Moira had always been excellent at reading people, usually based on their body language, but this felt a little different, and she did not know why. It was almost as if she felt annoyed herself, but she had no real reason to be- those were not her emotions.

"The General no longer finds it necessary for you to be restrained everywhere you go. He is being generous; you would be advised against resisting. We will be forced to restrain you otherwise."

Moira almost smiled at that. "I'm not about to object to this; in fact, I am grateful. It'll be much easier to bash your heads in." She watched them shift a little where they stood, and she smiled. "I'm joking, you two. Training hasn't begun yet."

With that said, she quickly brushed past them and into the hall and started down it. She slowed when she realized that she was not being followed, and she turned around to face her guards who were frozen in place. Once again, she had feelings that weren't hers: fear and trepidation, but they were gone as quickly as they had arrived.

"Well, are you coming or not? I really have no idea where I'm going, and I don't think that any of us wants to keep the General waiting, am I correct?"

"Yes, ma'am," they said, much to her surprise. They hurried towards her and took their places beside her, leading the way. Moira could not help the wild grin that spread across her face when she was able to swing her arms about freely, but she did not think that her escorts or anyone else that they passed felt the same way.


General Hux was waiting for them in what appeared to be the Command Center, and the first thing that Moira noticed was the pair of technicians making what looked like ordinary repairs to a damaged piece of equipment. However, upon further inspection, Moira saw what looked like gouges in the metal, as if it had been violently slashed multiple times, but by what, Moira had no idea. It had to have been by something hot, for wherever the lacerations had been made, the metal had melted. Severed wires sparked, and monitors smoked. Whatever—whoever- had done this must have been in an intense fit of rage.

"That is what happens when Lord Ren gets angry; you'd best stay out of his way when that happens," one of the troopers commented nonchalantly, as if this was an everyday occurrence. What was even more disconcerting was how everyone else in the room carried on with their business, completely ignoring the demolished piece of machinery nearby.

"Oh. What kinds of stuff does he get angry at?"

"Anything that does not go his way," answered Hux, striding towards them. "It is quite obvious that Ren was not happy about our arrangement."

"What?" Moira asked, startled. "Are you saying that this is my fault? He did that because of me?" She knew that Kylo Ren wasn't pleased about her future here on this base; that had been evident from his behavior at the meeting, but she did not think that he was that mad about it. Did he really hate her that much? She barely knew the guy, and if anything, she was the one who deserved to hate him, not the other way around. What could she have possibly done to make him dislike her? She now felt even more apprehensive about him than she had before. She now knew that those gashes in the metal were undoubtedly made by a lightsaber, so what would happen the next time Ren got angry and she happened to be in the same room? She did not want to think about that.

"No, it's not your doing. Ren just cannot manage his anger. He throws child-like tantrums over the pettiest incidents. He was merely upset that he had not been notified of the decision before the conference and that his opinion had been trumped by me and Phasma; he does not take those kinds of affronts well. His inability to handle disappointment is not your fault, but I would go out of my way to avoid him for the time being, if I were you. If you could not tell, he does not exactly approve of my and Phasma's plans for you."

Moira was shocked at how easy it was for her brother to speak so low of Kylo Ren, to speak of him with such disdain—was he not afraid of him like everyone else clearly was, or did he simply detest him that much? She had not missed the nearly palpable tension that was between the two, and she had only seen them in the same room twice. She sensed that there was some kind of power struggle, but it was impossible to determine the frontrunner.

"Where is he right now?" She unconsciously glanced around the room and over her shoulder, expecting the dark specter to appear behind her at any given moment.

"Most likely off venting somewhere else, which I am sure I will find out about sooner or later. I had managed to remove him from this area, risking possible decapitation, before he could cause further damage. Really, this is nothing you should concern yourself with, as it happens once or twice a month here. Just do not provoke his wrath; I am afraid that I will not be able to protect you then."

"Well," Moira scoffed, "thanks for that. So," she said, looking around the room again, "this is obviously the command center then?" Her gaze was now fixed upon the vast window taking up almost all of the wall before her. Distracted, she did not hear her the general's response, but she allowed herself to be guided around the room, observing everything in it. She did not pay much attention to what was being said; the only words that she clung to were the ones describing the planetary shield that was strong enough to deflect any attack and could not be penetrated by a ship traveling at sublight speeds. Did it prevent anything unauthorized from leaving as well? Judging from her brother's almost smug tone, Moira saw no other reason she was being told this information.

People stared whenever they passed by, mostly at Moira. She caught a few in the act of stealing brief glances in her direction, and they would quickly turn away when they realized that they had been caught. She could see the curiosity in their eyes, but also the mistrust, and in some, barely concealed contempt. She knew that no one here trusted her; they had to know what she had done on Ord Mantell and here. To them, she was a stranger, an outsider, the enemy. They would rather see her in a cell or on the chopping block. "She believes that because she is the general's sister she is now innocent. Does she honestly think that she is important enough to have some kind of power over us? She has no right to strut around like that." The thoughts were clear as day in Moira's head, but they weren't her own. The voice in her head was male and full of so much scorn that it made Moira physically recoil with a gasp.

Hux turned back to her with a look of surprise and concern. "Are you alright?" he asked upon seeing her wide eyes.

"Did you hear that?" Moira asked in a hushed voice, not wanting to draw too much attention to the scene.

Her brother's eyebrows knit in confusion. "Hear what?" he asked. His expression alone was enough to answer Moira's question.

Her heart leapt to her throat and a cold sweat began to condense on the back of her neck. Her eyes darted around the room, desperately searching for the source of the voice but finding nothing. That's it, I'm really losing it now, she thought. I'm hearing voices; that's one of the first signs of psychosis. She began to force herself to take deep, calming breaths, inhaling slowly through the nose and exhaling just as slowly out the mouth. I am just being paranoid, she told herself. I'm thinking that everyone's out to get me now.

"What is it, Moira?" Hux asked again, sounding worried yet impatient all at once.

"It-it's nothing. Never mind," she replied, giving a shaky laugh. "I'm just a little jumpy, that's all." It wasn't a complete lie, at least.

General Hux did not look that convinced, but with a shrug and a shake of his head, continued onward.


The rest of the tour consisted of a brief glimpse into the numerous ship hangars filled with ships and vehicles so advanced that Moira had never seen the likes of them before, and what Moira quickly learned to be the limits to her "freedom" on this base. Besides her room, these included the cafeteria, med bay, Hux's office (restricted hours, of course), the conference room (more restricted hours), and lastly, the training facility, which would be Moira's own office of sorts. At first glance, it was impressive, to say the least, almost rivaling that of the Black Sun's back on Ord Mantell.

"Feel free to remain here to become used to this new setting; you will be here often. As for me, I must be getting back to my office. I believe that a certain lieutenant is waiting for me." He pointedly looked at Moira, who just raised her eyebrows in an innocent expression.

"I would spend some time here preparing if I were you. You start tomorrow." And with that, he was gone, leaving no room for Moira to protest. Asshole.

She turned to look out on the room again. It was quite deep, the high ceilings allowing the slightest noise to echo throughout the area even though there was no one else there. Along the walls of stone and metal lay different weight machines and other kinds of equipment. The center of the room was made up of training mats and different weapons stations. The place smelled of metal and sweat, just how Moira liked it.

She turned back to her guards and instructed them to wait outside while she got to work; she had a feeling that it was going to be a long evening. When she finally did make it back to her room, Moira was pleased to find her bodysuit folded neatly on her bed along with her scarf, goggles, utility belt, and tonfas. "Hello, lovelies," she murmured, picking up her batons and kissing them individually. "I've missed you." She placed her clothes on the dresser and her tonfas under her pillows; she'd learnt to sleep with weapons over the years.

Unsurprisingly, sleep eluded her that night. Tomorrow, her new life on Starkiller Base would officially begin, whether she wanted it to or not. She already had a reputation here, a bad one, but she did not give a damn. She was not about to start with a clean slate because she simply did not need to, nor did she even want to. Still, anxiety and guilt gnawed away at her insides. She knew that she was going to be assessed tomorrow, her every move watched and scrutinized. She had expectations and standards to meet. One misstep could cost her freedom, however limited it was. Moira still could not get over the fact that she was helping to train Stormtroopers, to shape them into a fighting force that would terrorize the galaxy. Father would be so proud, she thought bitterly. Training elite Stormtroopers had been her father's specialty, and her brother had also taken up that philosophy. Moira would be the one implementing it.


At least several hours later, Moira found herself standing next to Captain Phasma, facing a row of seven Stormtrooper cadets, the FN Corps, she recalled Phasma saying. They were one the newest units to be inducted into the First Order, and according to Phasma, the most promising. Right now, Moira did not think so. Without the classic plastoid armor, these Stormtrooper wannabes did not look as intimidating. They looked young, perhaps around Moira's age. They stood at attention before her, dressed all in black, much like Moira, who wore a tank top instead of a long sleeved shirt. Her cargo pants fit snugly around her waist, and her combat boots reached her knees. She spotted one cadet staring at her, his hazel eyes scanning her up and down. Do you like what you see?

"…you are expected to obey Miss Hux with the same respect you give me. She possesses valuable skills that may someday be useful to you in battle," Phasma was saying when Moira tuned back into her lecture. "Am I understood?"

"Yes, Captain!" the men responded, saluting their commander, who turned to Moira.

"I shall remain here to observe the first few sessions if you are in need of assistance, but soon, you will be on your own."

Moira nodded her head. "I understand. Can I start now?"

Phasma nodded. "One more thing: be mindful of FN-2187," she said, jerking her head in the direction of a dark skinned male cadet. "He is the most compassionate of his unit; he will hold back. Make sure that that does not happen. Beat him bloody if that is what it takes to make him retaliate."

Moira raised her eyebrows but only nodded. "I...will see to that, Captain."

"And I will hold you to your word. You may begin Miss Hux; do not disappoint me." With that said, Phasma strode to the side of the room and stood still facing them.

Moira took a deep breath and placed her hands on her hips. She had never really taught a self-defense class before, as she was never given the opportunity to do so. However, she did know how Stormtroopers were trained.

"Alright, I'm not about to repeat what Phasma said, but here it is: respect. That is all I want from you men. I know that I have done nothing to earn even an ounce of respect from you as a person, but I still expect you to show me proper deference as an instructor." She paused. "You can start by making eye contact with me instead of my chest, FN-2003," she said with a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Immediately, those hazel eyes darted up to meet her gaze, wide with alarm. FN-2003's face went even paler than it already was and then became flushed with crimson as a few of his squadmates began to laugh.

"I apologize for Slip- I mean FN-2003 here; you see, he's always, well, slipping up on things," said another trooper, FN-417, she remembered from Phasma's introduction.

"Well, who could blame him for looking, really?" Moira asked innocently, shrugging her shoulders. "It doesn't happen too often around here for you boys, does it, to come this close in contact with a pretty, young woman."

"Neither does it happen to often that we are instructed by a terrorist," muttered the red-haired cadet who had been staring at Moira coldly ever since she entered the room. FN-2187, who was standing at his right, looked at him in alarm, but Moira did not notice, as her attention was now fixed solely on the cadet.

"Excuse me, what did you say? I didn't quite catch that." Folding her arms across her chest, she went to stand before the trooper.

"What I meant to say is that you were right about having done nothing to deserve our respect. If anything, you deserve death."

"FN-2199, that is enough from you," began Phasma, stepping forward, but Moira calmly held up a hand to stop her and turned back to face the cadet whose glare had not wavered.

"What seems to be the matter soldier? Was it something I said? Tell me."

FN-2199 scowled at her. "I will not take orders from a rebel," he said in a disgusted tone.

Moira raised her eyebrows. "A rebel? What makes you say that?"

"What you did on Ord Mantell is no secret. Everyone here knows that you are with the Resistance. You are an enemy of the First Order; you deserve to be treated as such."

"Ah," Moira sighed, "so that's it. You believe that because I shot up some of your soldiers, I am automatically a rebel. News flash, I don't work for the Resistance; they just hired me. Besides, not everyone who will shoot at you is part of the Resistance, but I'm not allowed to talk about that," she added in a low voice.

"You killed loyal men-," he began with a snarl.

"Who have also killed, if I am not mistaken. You see, it's all from a certain point of view." She tilted her head to the side. "So tell me, FN-2199, who is the real enemy here?" She was met with stubborn silence, so she stepped back onto one of the mats laid out on the floor. "Come, FN-2199, join me. Everyone else, gather around."

The other cadets stood around the perimeter of the mat while FN-2199 all but swaggered into the ring to stand before her.

"Alright," she began, facing the others, "the most important rule of fighting is-."

"To never take your eyes off of your opponent," FN-2199 quipped from behind her, and lunged forward.

Moira whirled around and grabbed the trooper's fist, stopping it mid-punch. Before FN-2199 even knew what was happening, Moira violently twisted his arm, and as she did so, flipped up into the air, wrapping her legs around his neck, and flipped him forward onto the ground. Moira landed on her side, pinning down the arm that he had tried to punch her with, her legs still wrapped around his throat in a chokehold.

The reaction was immediate. A few of the cadets actually cried out, backing away from the mat, one actually yelling "Oh, my gods!" The others just sucked in a breath and winced. FN-2199, on the other hand, began to flail, hitting her leg and the mat in desperation. All it would take was a squeeze and a twist of her hips, and he would be…"

"Dead," she announced matter-of-factly before releasing him. He rolled away and staggered to his feet, gasping for breath, his eyes as round as small planets. Moira stood slowly and faced her class. They were deathly quiet, and she could see the fear that was now in their eyes, but also admiration. They were impressed, she could tell. "Actually," she began, "I was going to say 'be prepared for anything,' but thank you for providing an example, FN-2199."

Now that she had their undivided attention, she decided to drive her point home.

"Look, I know that I deserve death, alright? There are some days that I even wish I were dead, but as it stands, I'm still here," she began quietly. "I also know that I don't even have a rank, so why should you listen to me? Well, here's why: I've seen shit, more shit than you've ever had to clean up here before you got to where you are now. I learned how to properly snap a grown man's neck when I was fourteen years old, what did you do when you were that age, wipe the floors? I would have wiped the floor with your asses, just as I did now. So sure, go ahead and hate me for all I care, but you will listen to whatever I say and do whatever I say. Got it?" she shouted.

"Yes, ma'am!" they all shouted in turn, while FN-2199 remained stunned silent.

"Good," she said smiling. "Let's begin, shall we?"


General Hux turned away from the window of the suite overlooking the training room, a triumphant smirk on his face. "What was it you called her two weeks ago, Ren? 'Damaged goods?'"

He did not need the Force or whatever it was called to sense the annoyance and anger projected towards him by the cloaked figure, but he did not care. He felt like he had scored a victory over the Knight of Ren however small it might have been. He and Phasma had made a wise decision, one that Kylo Ren could no longer disagree with.

"I would not be so sure of yourself, General. She is still volatile…and vocal," Ren responded, still staring out the window.

Hux frowned. "What are you talking about?" he asked.

The Knight was still turned away from him. "Her thoughts, they are very loud. And," he added, "often angry." He sounded contemplative.

Hux felt his own anger rise from within. "Are you reading her mind? How-how dare you?" he spluttered. "You have no right-!"

"I do not need to," Kylo interrupted. "Her thoughts penetrate my mind on their own."

Hux frowned at this. "How is that possible?"

At this, Kylo finally turned to face him. "General," he began "your sister may be even more useful to us than you originally thought."


A/N: Thanks again to everyone who has followed, favorited, or reviewed this story; it's been fun so far!

In case you don't know, I now have a tumblr account! On it, I will blog about this fic, which will include pictures that I created via photo shop, so if you want to know what Moira looks like, head there! I may also include sneak peaks of upcoming chapters and their summaries.

My account is fngrl-2187. Feel free to check it out!

I hope that you liked this chapter; things are about to get very interesting from here on out! Moira's life will definitely never be the same.

Please review; constructive criticism is welcome!