Okay, so I had this chapter finished, and polished, and ready to go. But then I reviewed it, scrapped huge sections of it and decided to change my mind completely.
This is the result.
Chapter 10
Finalizer, hyperspace
Hyperspace made her a little sick. The Force was at odds with what she had been surrounded by and she wondered how people did it all the time.
Minneko tried to relax and center herself. They were letting her rest-for now, and she wanted to take as much advantage of the opportunity as possible. Her wrists and ankles chaffed against their restraints and Minneko was grateful for the material that at least cushioned her ankles a little.
A low moan escaped her as she took stock of her injuries. Her head was pounding and her arm felt as though it was on fire. She ached from being forced into this position for so long. She doubted she could stand for long-let alone walk-at the moment with the pain in her ankle.
She slowly expanded her senses outward, keeping her prescience small. Ren would no doubt be unhappy if he sensed her before he was ready. Two troopers stood guard outside. They weren't Force-sensitive, but she could easily read the feelings of boredom and slight fear in them. Last time a Force-sensitive had been held captive by the First Oder, she'd escaped all too easily.
Her best bet was to focus her attention on General Hux and Kylo Ren. Hux worked with Ren, grudgingly of course and while she doubted she'd be able to manipulate his mind, she could turn him and Ren on each other. Their relationship was already antagonistic and Hux was looking for any excuse (however discretely) to get rid of the Dark-Lord wannabe from "his" ship.
No, too risky. She might be killed in the fallout rather than some trooper. She concentrated. A small explosion sounded from across the hall. The troopers jerked out of their stupor and looked first at each other than at the closed doors. "Stay here. I'll check it out." The more senior of the two opened the door and stepped inside.
Step Two: find some way to get out of this machine and hope her ankle was only sprained.
She was a Tesles. She was an Olan. She could do this.
-PAGEBREAK-
The HAB, Illum
Hangar Bay
Poe landed his X-wing in one of the most bizarre scenes he'd ever seen. Beings with clipboards were running up to pilots to take down information before running off again. He took off his helmet and ran a hand through his hair, wondering what was coming next.
"All Resistance personnel please report to the Mess Hall for room assignments." The announcement replayed itself every few minutes so the still incoming ships were aware of what was going on.
A teenager came up to him, "Sorry, sir, but I've got to get some information before you go to the mess hall."
"Shoot," BB-8 released itself from its hold and spun over, beeping excitedly.
"Name?"
"Poe Dameron," BB-8 chirped impatiently, probably eager to see R2-D2 again.
"Captain?" Poe nodded, keeping one hand on BB-8's dome to hold the droid in place.
"And obviously, X-wing pilot?"
"You got it. Is dinner anytime soon? We've been without a real meal for days."
The boy nodded. "Just after you get your room assignment, go to the Biosphere. There's a welcome party and my mam's one of the cooks. They've set up there. Nice to meet you, sir!" The boy ran off to take care of the next incoming X-wing.
"All right, what do you say we find out where we'll be sleeping?" BB-8 beeped in agreement as they joined the straggle of pilots and techs heading to the mess hall.
The line leading to the mess hall went on for a while and Poe passed the time taking note of who was there and who wasn't.
The line moved quickly and Poe could see that there were three tables set up. There wasn't much distinction on anything other than "go to the open desk."
When Poe's turn came, BB-8 had already abandoned him to speak with other astromechs, no doubt comparing stories and trading jibes. "Poe Dameron, Black Squadron."
The Mon Cal at the desk clicked a file on the datapad in front of him. "Single or double? Or no real preference?"
"No real preference. As long as we're not sleeping on the floor."
The Mon Cal nodded, flipping through vacancies. "There's a single near the Biosphere. Level 7, number 327. You won't have a long walk to dinner tonight. Here's your key, and if you could just press your thumb there for hangar access-"
Poe put his thumb on the pad. A beep told him it had been scanned successfully. "Thanks," He said, taking the key that the Mon Cal handed him.
The Mon Cal smiled, "My pleasure. Just keep doing your job so I don't have to see my grandkids grow up in fear."
Calling BB-8 away from the other droids, Poe made his way in a confusion of twisting hallways and confusing layouts. The other pilots who had already been assigned were already making themselves at home-claiming bunks and freshening up.
Poe stuck the key into the hole and waited for the lock to click open. He stepped inside. The room was larger than his on D'Qar with a neatly made bed in one corner. A desk equipped with a state-of-the-art computer sat opposite, next to a transparisteel window overlooking a sea of green. BB-8 chirped, asking what they had a view of. "It must be the Biosphere," Poe said, walking over and looking out and down. Trees-almost as big as those on D'Qar with their roots presumably just as deep stood. He could see more people setting up a picnic-style dinner and his mouth watered at the thought of real food instead of ration packs.
The room, he saw, upon closer inspection, was well appointed. Testing out the bed, he felt a real mattress for the first time in ages and fought the urge to fall asleep. BB-8 bustled back and forth, happy that the charging station was in its terms "perfectly functional" compared to the cobbled together mess Poe had rigged up on D'Qar.
The blankets and sheets were soft-comfort was obviously a priority here, and Poe knew he would happily die here, if only to feel the soft fabric of the sheets while he did.
Only the knocking on the door could have snapped him from his happy daydream. The door slid open, revealing Finn who looked about as wide-eyed as Poe felt. "Did you feel the sheets?" Poe asked, still not quite ready to move from the soft cloud he rested on.
"And the bed?" They both smiled and Finn pushed Poe over so he could climb on. "This feels amazing,"
"First Order never had anything like this?"
"Not that I ever saw," They both lapsed into silence as they let all their aches sink into the soft bedding.
"Think we should go to dinner?" Poe asked after a while, hearing the sound of people moving and music began drifting up.
"We should," Finn didn't show any sign of moving until BB-8, looking them over dubiously shocked them with his electroprod. "BeeBee!" Finn shot up and landed hard on the floor. "I was happily dying here,"
BB-8 squawked something sarcastic before zooming off.
"Droid has anger management problems," Finn muttered, picking himself up.
"He likes you," Poe said, now smelling the sweet smell of real home-cooked food.
Finn, smelling the same thing, let the matter drop. "Dinner?" he asked as Poe reluctantly rolled off the bed himself.
"Dinner."
The party was in full swing by the time Poe and Finn entered the Biosphere. Someone pressed cups of a clear liquid (Poe suspected it was moonshine, not water) into their hands before running off.
Following the ever-growing scent of smoked meat, spices, and food, Poe and Finn loaded up plates with just about every delicacy that the residents had to offer.
Poe saw other Resistance pilots digging in as quickly as they could. Poe knew what they were on. Since fresh meat was so rare, Poe had often dreamt he'd eaten a whole nerf steak and only realized it was a dream when he'd properly remembered what he'd had for dinner: an unappetizing mix of wilting vegetables and synth meat.
So really, who was he to judge? Especially considering two pilots were sneaking bits of sausage off each other's plates.
"How's it going?" Kister appeared, having changed back into his kilt-something that Poe was still getting used to seeing. Many people here were wearing them. Others had added a colorful scarf in a particular pattern. The Resistance came in a mix of casual dress and uniform-most of the pilots had shucked their flight suits in favor of what Poe normally saw on down time.
"Good," Finn finished a rather strange-looking fruit that one of the residents had helpfully told him was a kiwi. "Good," Poe noticed how Kister sounded slightly strained.
"Avoiding your girlfriend?" Poe asked, knowing Kister's behavior from prior experience with other members of his squad.
"Yep," Kister knocked back some more moonshine. "At least until she's a little less…" "Aggressive?" Finn supplied helpfully.
"Yep. That and I'm not going to visit Ferrus Olan's grave until I'm no longer the bearer of bad news."
"Even dead, Granddad's considered intimidating," Masako appeared, holding a piece of cake on a plate and a sour expression. "By everyone except me."
"Well, you were his grandkid." Kister said. "You've got an unfair advantage."
"Minneko's his favorite." She said, casually sitting next to Poe. "Everyone knows it."
"And you were Bant's" Kister said, finally reaching for the jug of water in the center of the table.
"And Mom was the Captain's." Poe raised an eyebrow. "The Captain?"
"There was only one pilot that everyone ever called 'The Captain.'" Kister said, resting his elbows on the table. "Han Solo."
"Finer cap'n there never was," Masako said. "Upset Granddad for just existing."
"Well, that was between them," Kister said. "And I think that was because he was the one to convince your mom to leave here,"
"Oh Mom wanted to leave long before The Captain ever showed up." Masako finished her drink.
Kister snorted. "Yeh can't keep someone locked up. If they want out bad 'nough, they'll find a way."
Han Solo: The Captain. My friends and I have been calling him that long before Episode VII. And of course, I wanted to give Leia a bit more closeness to this place. Because really, her dad tried to kill her, her son turned to the dark side, and her husband and brother each ditched her for their own misguided way of making amends. Or in Luke's case, avoiding the problem completely.
And yes, the HAB is essentially a luxury resort that the First Order would kill for-at least until they encountered the residents. The hard workers can sleep on real beds, eat real food, and have some sense of normalcy in the midst of the war. Kind of like Disney: you escape there and don't realize how high your credit card bill is until you check your statement after vacation.
I'm planning a trip to Disneyland and the feels are getting to me.
I apologize.
May the Force be with you-
Sparky