The Liberation of Arkanis, they called it. Re-claiming it from the remnants of the Empire (all the more important for its inhabitation by high ranking officers) for the New Republic, and a Senator already waiting in the wings.

What should have been a joyous and momentous occasion for Ronnie (and there was no arguing that it was long over-due), it had unravelled itself as a nightmare from very early on in the operation. The appointing of the Republic Special Forces Division, with its brutal approach, made it so.

Ronnie uttered a wordless, relieved prayer (to who or what, she didn't know) of thanks when the projection revealed the staff surrendering without question. Rattled and traumatized, they had been herded to the kitchen where barked protocol informed them of the takeover. Then the footage changed.

That sapphire gaze could not be turned from the projection table, from the live feed of a bodycam of Republic Special Forces Division officer. The grainy blue might have cast illumination on her face, but no one looked at her. Aside from the occasional, guilty glance of Leia Organa, the packed but silent command centre focused on the projection.

A surmising, standard-procedure walkthrough of the Arkanis property, the former home of the Academy's Commandant, Brendol Hux. Rosaline's home that still held memories (bitter and sweet) for Ronnie.

Furniture smashed, splintered and broken.

Doors kicked in, some hanging by a single hinge to secure each room.

Walls and floors seared by blaster fire; as if anyone in the civilian household would have resisted and over-the-top precautions were taken to protect the over-zealous, well-armed officers.

The bodycam stalked past another doorway, upstairs in one of the bedroom wings; a familiar suite. The officer might not have reacted to the sprawled body on the floor, taken it in his stride, in fact, but prompted bile to rise in Ronnie's throat. It did not go unnoticed. The ripple of discomfort in the command centre did not even come close to reflecting Ronnie's reaction but Leia reserved her concerned utterance for the young woman beside her.

"It's important for you to know…." General Organa's hushed, sympathetic tone broke Ronnie's trance in the darkened room. "That we had nothing to do with this."

Ronnie believed it but it didn't stop her eyes from stinging. Or leaking. Or her chest from noiselessly heaving.

And just like that: It was over.

The officer signed off in the fashion dictated by protocol, the protocol that would forever scar the lifeless shell the mansion would become.

The projection died, but as the beam recoiled back into its source, Ronnie was already (uncharacteristically) elbowing her way towards the door to be alone.


"The New Republic have taken Arkanis." Commandant Brendol Hux drawled, unaffected, to the inferior officer he kept increasing company with.

Lieutenant.

Aid.

Son.

"They raided the mansion this morning."

The younger redhead, like his father, did not seem overly disturbed. Like it had been only a matter of time before something of this nature happened, like they had been waiting for it.

"Sarai is dead." Brendol continued lazily, his datapad seemingly holding more riveting and engaging material than his wife's murder at the hands of Republican officers. "She resisted arrest and it seems they were not in the mood for negotiations."

"She always was stubborn." Armitage chimed with cold traces of humour that his father appeared to share; suggested by how the older set of the same eyes lifted from the datapad and the corner of a fat cheek pulled with amusement. "But, all jokes aside, Commandant. First your daughter, then your wife. Those Republican animals will stop at nothing until they take everything from a man. And gunning down an unarmed woman…."

"We have everything we need right here, Lieutenant." Brendol assured, warmly and surely, with a raise of a half-full tumbler. The alcohol wouldn't last too long, either this glass or the stock they had brought with them to the Western Reaches. "As for unarmed… Sarai's tongue was more deadly than any blaster. Even if the rest of her was useless."

"No argument there." Armitage muttered, having had experience with Sarai's tongue. "I don't suppose they managed to unearth your daughter?"

"Speaking of useless. No. They can keep her as far as I'm concerned." He chewed on it for a moment, re-assessing the networking that marrying off his only daughter would establish him in. Would those links even still exist? Probably not. Upon the siege, many who were not already on the way to the Western Reaches, like himself and Armitage, were already dead or surrendered. In that resolve, Rosaline, wherever she was, was as useless as her dead mother.

Armitage had proved himself, time and time again already; there were few and far between who could advance from Cadet, to Second Lieutenant to Lieutenant in little more than a year. Naturally, it had made him re-evaluate how valuable a legitimate versus an illegitimate child could be. The conclusion did not match assumptions he'd made years ago.

"What of the staff, sir?" The younger redhead inquired cautiously after a mulling pause of his own. His own actions against the household may have had serious consequences but nothing, he suspected, compared to what the New Republic would do to Imperial "conspirators". "Have they been detained?"

"Detained and interrogated, no doubt. I think we can safely assume that any minimum trace of information they have managed to piece together will have long been handed over by now."

Naturally. Armitage thought, realizing that Imperial and Republican process of apprehension and questioning of enemy sympathizers would be strategically similar.

"But no matter." His father went on, to the curious incline of a scarlet head and an ease of the typical superior/inferior officer relationship. "Whatever they do hand over, will be obsolete. The Empire as we know it is gone, all information attached to it a dead end. Something else will rise in its place, Lieutenant. And when it does, we will be there at the helm."


"Bwaaahp!"

"That's easy for you to say!" The olive-skinned pilot growled anxiously over his shoulder at the orange and white droid rolling the durasteel corridor in his wake. "You! You're adorable! You can have anyone you want!" As if this wasn't difficult and overthought enough without the droid's blasé input to rub the frenzied male up the wrong way.

"Bweep. Boppa boopa bweep."

"I just wanna make sure she's okay!" Poe argued, more flustered than he needed to be. As pointed out by the BB unit that followed him like a puppy, rounding the corner flawlessly while the young pilot almost collided with a wall in his distraction. "She left in a hurry! And I'm not tetchy!" Whether or not he took his nerves out on the droid was open to interpretation.

"Bwoop?"

"Course I'm gonna talk to her!" How Poe didn't falter at the very idea, he couldn't be sure, but he'd made it this far… Right? "Or… I'm gonna try…"

The pilot found himself hoping Leia hadn't been teasing him when she told him where to find Ronnie. She'd been somewhat aloof since her arrival, preferring little to no company and opting to keep mostly to herself. There had to be more to that than just shyness. Poe was patient but he was also tenacious; hoping that, sooner or later, Ronnie would believe him worthy of knowing whatever it was that made her keep a safe distance from everyone else.

But there was something about that day… Not just Ronnie but the General too; something sombre. What should have been a merciless onslaught of taunts, jibes and innuendos of Poe fainting when anywhere close to the mysterious brunette (once, it had happened once, and Ronnie hadn't seen it), was little more than solemn concession. That, in itself, was strange.

BB-8 was one step ahead – as always.

Poe gave the impression of being rooted and steadfast outside the quarter's door where, if Leia was telling the truth, Ronnie resided alone. But, as BB-8 correctly predicated (having run the probabilities against his master's previous behaviour when encountering this particular female), Poe did cave and tried to bolt at the last second before the pocketed itself. Not with BB-8 wedged against his leg though.

"Agh!" Cue the pilot colliding face-first with the worn walkway, betrayed by his own droid. "BB, what the hell?!" Only when Poe heightened his outraged gaze to the little robot, did he notice the rising of the photo-receptor, the lowering of it back down to Poe, rise again, fall again… Complete with the endearing whirr with each movement. In a sudden burst of understanding, the dark-haired male rolled onto his side and, sure enough, the situation (bar fainting) turned to continue to embarrass him. At least if he fainted now, he was already on the floor to limit the damage.

"Hi." The word tumbled, drenched in instantaneous fear; to rise would have meant putting faith in his legs that he just didn't possess at that moment. Not with those heavenly periwinkle eyes dropped to observe him in utter confusion and, dare he think it, a glaze of moroseness.

"Hello?"

"Uhh….." He had to try, he had to struggle; anything not to look like a complete loser! How Poe managed to scramble to his feet without humiliating himself further, he wasn't sure, but he was sure to be grateful for it. Poe straightened at the doorway, with only the threshold and an abundance of social awkwardness between them.

He'd never been this close.

He'd never addressed her directly.

He'd never been directly addressed by her.

And he hadn't fainted. Yet.

Instead of standing and gawping (which he would have been happy to do), Poe needed to think fast, to come up with a reason for the impromptu visit.

"Uhh… General Organa…." He mumbled, breaking his enamoured stare and patting down the numerous pockets of his cargo pants. "She… uhh… sent me…" Ronnie watched the process, no less bewildered than when she opened the door to discover him face down on the floor. "It's…. Here somewhere…." Pat, pat, pat. Pat, pat, pat.

By the divine intervention of some astronomical being, Poe found something he had not been expecting to find: a viable reason. And a ration bar.

"Just…. General." He muttered, his (already) disjointed speech becoming more splintered with the concept of her hand brushing his to gently take the bar he held aloft to her. "Said to… So… Yeah… Bye."

"Thank you?" But Poe had already turned on his heel to powerwalk (in the wrong direction) and remove himself from the encounter before it could sour with more embarrassment. He did not stop or turn to see Ronnie peering from her threshold to watch him leave with that trademark innocent curiosity.

Only when he successfully rounded the corner, did Poe stop dead and drop before his robotic companion.

"See!" He hissed, brimming with utter proud delight and a beam to match; though Poe, in his blissful ignorance, did not know what he had just intruded upon. "I did it!"