Chell followed Breiner through metal halls that seemed to go on forever; the odd Stormtrooper or technician eyeing them as they passed. Before their initial meeting on Hosnian Prime, there was never a need to pay much mind to the mysterious organization. There were whispers of the First Order growing in the shadows, but why would that have mattered to her? She and her colleagues had a hunch that Chancellor Villecham underestimated the Empire idolizers, yet even they couldn't fathom the extent. Chell was on a star destroyer of that much she was certain. But, something told her this brazen violation of the Galactic Ordinance didn't even begin to scratch the surface of their power.
During the time they had been walking Vand Breiner was idly chatting. To be honest, Chell hadn't been much paying attention. Her brain burned with questions.
"What is he even?" she asked abruptly. Senator Niobe didn't trust Breiner any farther than she could spit. But, seeing as they would be working together, she would have to rely on him for information. "The man in black, is he a wizard? Is he in some kind of cult? What's his deal?"
Mortified, Breiner immediately checked each direction as if he expected said wizard to suddenly appear and smite them both. Over the last couple days she had only heard (what she could assume was) the ominous man's name in cautious whispers. Broaching the subject of Kylo Ren with the delicate tact of a sledgehammer was a conscious choice; she wanted to gauge the senator's honest reaction. Just how taboo was the masked agent? Without warning, Breiner urgently ushered her into a little nook in the hallway. Despite the hall being completely empty a second ago, he poked his head out once more to make sure the coast was clear. Chell felt a little silly huddled in a corner, but she didn't resist. She maintained an incredulous look as Vand turned back to her.
In a hushed whisper he finally began to answer her questions. "Listen closely as I'm not going to explain this twice, especially not here. The First Order is primarily structured through a rigid military hierarchy. Even though I handle politics I still answer to the officers and above. He falls outside the normal chain of command. The only person he could almost consider a peer is General Hux, but even then his agenda can outrank the general's. My point is that he is our superior, he is everyone's superior. He is volatile, dangerous, and has powers you couldn't begin to comprehend. He could kill you now and face no consequence. So please, please stop calling him a wizard. Don't think about him. Don't mention him beyond necessary logistics. To discuss him beyond this is strictly forbidden."
Chell opened her mouth to speak, but Breiner interrupted. "We will travel to Coruscant together, but once we're there he won't trouble himself with us; he has far more important matters to attend to. Don't give him a reason to pay attention to you. Understood?"
Ironically, Breiner's explanation only fanned the fire of her building curiosity. How big was their military? How much influence do they wield in the galaxy? Who was perched at the top of this rigid hierarchy? All sorts of questions raced from her brain to her mouth. But, the one that won out first was, "What am I supposed to call him?"
"Nothing!" he hissed. "Don't talk to him." Breiner heaved an impatient sigh as if she was missing the entire point of his warning. "But, should he engage you, you will address him as sir."
Shortly after the two emerged from their secret conference nook they were intercepted by someone in administration. Niobe and Breiner were led to a wing filled with numerous, similar looking doors. After the attendant opened one of them for Vand it quickly became apparent that these were all rooms designated for officers and other esteemed guests; basically anyone they didn't throw in a detainment center. Chell was somewhat surprised she was given her own room, though she doubted the privacy was anything more than an illusion. It would be inaccurate to say she was relieved. There was a long moment where she just stood, feet planted, staring out at the room. Her body refused to relax and rightfully so. After everything that happened over the last couple of days, how could she? At this point she was running on fumes, but there was no 'off' switch for justified anxiety.
How many minutes had gone by? Senator Niobe was so caught up digesting her own thoughts that she hadn't even taken two steps past the doorway. A swift, gentle knock jolted her from her daze. Not having to move far at all, the senator turned around and hit the control panel. The door whooshed open to reveal a young attendant with a cart full of laundry and cleaning supplies. He offered to dry clean her clothes. What? Niobe looked down at her light grey robes. Prior to her arrival on Hosnian Prime her whole ensemble was immaculately pressed. But, a couple days of scaling senate walls and desperately fleeing capture have left them worse for wear. Briefly she considered if this was some sort of trick, but she dismissed the notion. If the First Order wanted her dead it probably wouldn't start as an elaborate ruse involving her laundry. Also, if anyone could get rid of a stain it was probably these assholes. Niobe agreed and the boy gave her a bag and a fresh set of generic clothes to wear in the meantime. The door closed for a moment and reopened with the senator donning only bath robe. She handed back the bag now filled with her clothes.
"Thanks, kid."
Whether or not she was willing to admit it, the small gesture of hospitality began to calm her somewhat. At least enough where she was able to get out of her head and take in her surroundings. The room, much like the rest of the ship, had that same dark, metal aesthetic. It was modest in size yet economically spaced to fit a crisply made bed and table without overcrowding the area. Even the refresher shared the same sleek, modern design. She disrobed and placed the change of clothes on the counter. In the process she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and gave a disapproving tsh. No wonder Nebula was spooked at the sight of her; she looked like shit. Removing the pins she shook her mess of a hair loose. Leaning closer to the mirror she peered at the light nicks and bruises that marred her face. Eh. Her wrists were still tinged purple from the restraints. Not bad, could be worse.
The refresher was instantly, blessedly hot. Chell let the near scalding water engulf her for a generous amount of time before actually working to clean herself. When she finally finished the room was thick with steam and her skin was pinkishly raw between the heat and the scrubbing. After drying off she picked up the clothes given to her by the young attendant. The linen long sleeve shirt was white and had a few buttons dipping down the front. The pants, or leggings rather, were black spandex. Both were a snug fit, which was an interesting choice for a default set of clothes. Was everyone in the First Order traipsing around in tight spandex underneath their uniforms?
Once Chell was strapped into her temporary duds she shuffled back out into the room and uneasily lowered herself onto the bed. This was the smart thing to do, she told herself. Who really knows when she'd get another opportunity to sleep? Even still, she felt anxiety fighting her all the way down to the pillow. Yet days of turmoil followed by a hot shower made a compelling case for sleep. Lying on top of the blankets Chell slipped into a restless slumber. Anytime she crossed over without fail something would jerk her awake again. The flashes of nightmares that woke her varied; for the most part it was the thunderous boom of a detonator. Eventually she'd fade back in to find a black hand rushing up towards her face, only to be jolted to consciousness right before contact. The one that finally did her in was reliving the trauma of, as a child, falling far from the top of an orchard tree. Naturally she woke before hitting the bottom, but Chell was starting to take a hint; there was no way her body was going to let her sleep here. Adrenaline from the phantom fall coursed uncomfortably through her. She sat up and glanced at the glowing clock next to the bed. There was still a few hours left before they all depart for Coruscant. She definitely wasn't going to sleep and she still wanted answers. Were there even any guards outside her door? Curious, the senator got up, slipped on her boots, and poked her head out into the hall. There was no one in sight, least of all not anyone who'd try to detain her. Was there seriously nothing physically restricting her from leaving the room?
Taking this as an invitation to explore, Chell Niobe left her confines to gather intelligence on her new "friends." She had a hunch that she was probably definitely doing something she was not supposed to be doing. Then again, the senator was never known for being well-behaved.
The Finalizer's external observation portal was a vast room with great, sweeping windows. It served no practical military purpose; sensory equipment was infinitely more accurate picking up suspicious activity. The intent behind the design was to awe and inspire the observer as a dramatic display of power. Without fail the observation portal exquisitely captured the beauty of a mere sliver of space. This would be a popular destination for most, but crew members have learned to avoid this magnificent room for one, violently temperamental reason.
The portal's only occupant stood infinitesimal before this view; his quiet contemplation slowly degraded into a brood. Sleep perpetually eluded Kylo Ren. He may have the mental discipline to meditate for hours on end, but sleep was something else entirely. The harder he tried the more it felt like he was grasping at smoke with his bare hands. Especially now he has knowledge of the map, finding Skywalker meant everything. That should be his only focus; not sleep, not senators. In hindsight he regrets letting Breiner convince them to delay a few hours. The knight conveniently forgot that (in the moment of the decision) he did want to sleep. The senators were already holding him back, especially the girl. Niobe showed promise, but she was already trouble. He didn't have time to be sparing thoughts on her now and he certainly won't have time to be chasing her around Coruscant later. His thoughts flitted to when he caught her in the hangar earlier that day; how intensely furious she was with him. He could still feel it. An unwelcome knot tugged uncomfortably beneath his stomach.
This wasn't what he should be thinking about.
Kylo Ren sensed her before she even reached the threshold. He didn't have to turn around to know that she approached the external observation portal, or that she tensed when she saw him. Because he hadn't moved she was under the false impression that he hadn't noticed her. Quiet as a mouse she turned to leave.
His low, synthesized voice rang out, "Wait."