"So . . . did you see her?" Nestor looks up from his datapad as Kylo stomps back onto his shuttle parked at the Leader's bunker.
His response is a curt "No." Then Kylo barks over his shoulder impatiently towards the cockpit, "I'm back. Let's go. NOW!" The shuttle's repulsor lifts kick in to break gravity and he is placated. Kylo sighs as he turns back to Nestor. "She was there though. She's always there. I feel her in the Force." It's hard to miss all that beguiling, shining Light that is a siren's call to his mind. It's the telltale sign that Rey is there but she cannot or will not see him.
His friend wisely changes the topic. "How was Grandpa?"
"In a good mood. He had just finished frying Hux."
"Ouch."
"You have no idea." Ouch doesn't begin to describe the feeling of Force lightning. Kylo knows from personal experience. "I told Snoke that Skywalker got away again when he went to save some civilians. He was fine about it."
"That's bullshit," Nestor objects. "The Jedi ran from you, Kylo. We all saw it."
"Skywalker doesn't want to kill me, Nestor. He runs so he doesn't have to fight me." His uncle knows that anytime there is a lightsaber duel, all bets are off. And usually, someone ends up dead. Skywalker spent years in exile avoiding this conflict and, apparently, he still wants to avoid it even though he's back in the game. It is very frustrating.
"He ran because he knows you're gonna kill him," Nestor says loyally. "Did you tell Snoke about Dax?"
"Yeah. He knows."
Nestor makes a fist. "I liked that kid. What'd Snoke say?"
Kylo shrugs. "That there are worse ways to die than getting killed by a Jedi." And Snoke has a point there, Kylo thinks. Luke Skywalker took down one Death Star, two Sith, and the Empire. There is no shame for any in the First Order falling to his sword. Well . . . no shame for anyone but Kylo Ren.
"Yeah, I guess," Nestor grumbles. "I liked that kid." Kylo's face must look dejected too because his second in command is moved to exhort to him, "Better luck next time, boss." And Kylo isn't sure if Nestor is talking about a rematch with Skywalker, him finally getting to see Rey, or both.
Many weeks go by before he actually lays eyes on Rey. And when he does, she is unrecognizable. Soft is the immediate word that comes to mind, and heretofore that would never be a word Kylo would use to describe Rey. He arrives to report one day and finds that his Master will receive him in his library and not in the audience chamber. Kylo drags off his mask and stalks down to Snoke's private quarters where he spent so much time as a boy. He hasn't been here in ages, but not much has changed. Into the library he marches, only to find Snoke with Rey.
Kylo stops in his tracks. His heart skips a beat. Then another. "Rey."
She looks up at the sound of her name and freezes.
Old Darth Plagueis smiles.
Her hair is caught up in an elegant tousled updo that vaguely reminds Kylo of Rey's Jakku trio of buns. Her face is lightly made up like he remembers from Kardura. With glossy lips, smooth skin and girlishly flushed cheeks that just now are turning scarlet with embarrassed surprise. Rey is seated so Kylo can't tell much about her ivory dress except that it is long and it covers her demurely. Altogether, this soft and pretty woman is a storybook princess, not a desert scavenger. The air of neglect and hunger is gone. This woman looks pampered and polished. She is beautiful in a very conventional, very refined sense.
Instantly, he dislikes it.
He shouldn't be surprised. After all, Darth Plagueis is the man who handed him a uniform, a mask and sword at age fifteen. These gifts came complete with a new name. In a day, the runaway Jedi Padawan Ben Solo became the Sith Apprentice Kylo Ren. A powerful transformation began that day, even if it took years to completely take hold. Knowing his Master's penchant for control, Kylo wonders if Rey's new makeover is her own form of new identity. If behind all this feminine finery is a desire to transform the fierce girl who might have been an enemy Jedi. Looking at her now, Rey appears a woman far more likely to break his heart than she would be to stab him in the heart.
Is it all for show? Kylo wonders if the change is merely superficial or if the resilient girl he knew and admired has faded away.
Snoke turns to Rey and lays a gentle hand on her arm. "Leave us, my dear. Kylo Ren and I have a war to discuss. Do look in on the poor general for me."
Rey acknowledges this dismissal with a regal incline of her head worthy of his princess mother. She rises gracefully and exits the room with a soft swish of fabric and a faint waft of perfume.
His Master watches him watch her depart. No doubt seeing his mix of disappointment and relief. Snoke's yellow eyes find Kylo's dark ones. "Kill Skywalker and I will give her back to you. She will be yours to use as you see fit."
It's a good offer. But Kylo does not respond, he just files it away. "Who's the general?" Kylo asks, anxious to move past this chance meeting with Rey and get down to business. Well, any business other than Rey.
"General Hux is in residence in the infirmary again," his Master reveals. "He has not yet completed his punishment."
Kylo nods knowingly at this. "More lightning?"
"Yes." Snoke settles back in his chair and glances at the doorway through which Rey has just exited. "It kills two birds with one stone. The general is atoning for his oversights and our princess has a chance to witness the effects of the full power of the Dark Side. It is necessary for her to respect the Sith. And this allows me to teach her to fear us without actually harming her."
That sounds like a win-win as far as Kylo is concerned. Hux will suffer so Rey will not. He nods his agreement.
"She is really quite delightful," his Master muses aloud. "So unaffected and intelligent. Our princess has a natural connection to the Force. No doubt she would have had her awakening soon. It surprises me that it had not occurred already." Old Plagueis smiles absently. "It is nice to have a woman around here. It breaks up the monotony of uniforms. Now," his Master too gets down to business, "Tell me about the siege of the Mid Rim. How much longer will this take? I tire of wasting resources on those mediocre fly-over worlds."
The Mid Rim is the bulk of the galaxy. It is home to a mix of species, but mainly these are human worlds. Unlike the Rim Worlds that are impoverished, largely undeveloped, and serve mostly as a source of raw materials and cheap labor for the galaxy, the Mid Rim is solidly middle class. Its world economies are based on skilled manufacturing and service industry jobs that are too sophisticated for droids but too déclassé for the elite. Here live the target consumers for every mass-produced item in the galaxy. Here toil the hardworking, taxpaying and only mildly interesting bourgeoisie. These people think they are living the good life, but that speaks more to their standards than it does to their true experience. Prices are affordable, jobs are plentiful, people are mostly content. They gawk at the lifestyles and culture of the Core and they look down on the slaves and outlaws of the Rim. You can't get more basic than the Mid Rim.
And therein lies the problem for the First Order. Snoke's revolution was born in the anonymity of the Unknown Territories and nurtured by the lawlessness and poverty of the Outer Rim. The far-flung outer systems are the natural constituency of the Order. Worlds that welcome a strong arm which forces factions to cooperate and stamps out dissidents and crime. Worlds that desperately need to believe the Order's promises of security, order and prosperity.
The Mid-Rim systems present more challenge. These are the remnants of the New Republic, the very heart of the galaxy. Worlds with prosperity and opportunity. Worlds where the institutions of government function and are largely trusted. There is just too much contentment and apathy here and not enough anger and political unrest. And so, the Mid Rim worlds are hostile territory for the destroyers of Hosnian Prime.
Without the leveraging threat of annihilation courtesy of the Starkiller, the First Order now must contend with the Mid Rim system by system. Snoke's political advisors long ago drew up plans to destabilize the governments of the most important worlds. Exposing longstanding political corruption works but random violence and assassinations are more efficient. Then the Order makes its offer: join us, let us help you. We will keep you safe from the war. Come, be a part of our glorious future. It's the offer of a handshake from a steel fist in a velvet glove. Refuse the handshake and reject the First Order at your peril. For if you will not submit, Kylo Ren will lay waste to your cities, burn your homes and turn your children into stormtroopers. And in the end, you will submit anyway.
Some worlds instantly capitulate. Others doubt the sincerity of the threat. So, further examples must be made. The First Order doesn't need the Starkiller Base to kill. But the alternative means are far less efficient. And so the war has bogged down in the Mid Rim. The fighting is fierce and mostly to a draw. Progress is slow and casualties are high on both sides. It's the Clone Wars all over again.
Snoke is growing impatient. He had hoped to push through to the Core by now. But that expectation had presumed judicious use of the Starkiller. With the overwhelming leverage of his super weapon gone, far too many worlds resist his ultimatums. Fighting on so many fronts is stretching the First Order's resources thin.
Kylo endures an hour-long grilling by his Master. Then, he is dismissed and admonished to show faster, most satisfactory results. The search for Skywalker is on indefinite hold now. We will not chase him down, Snoke decides. He will engage eventually, even if it's a last stand. With those marching orders, Kylo Ren goes back to the battlefront.
One week later, Kylo is back for another war council with Snoke. This time, he presents himself with his arm in a sling. He is sidelined now for at least a month while his nearly severed left arm knits itself back together. His Master is displeased both by the injury and by his lack of meaningful progress. Privately, Kylo thinks it ridiculous of his Master to attempt to conquer the galaxy in a mere year's time. But Snoke is adamant that time is on the side of the enemy. And he may be right.
When this latest interview with Snoke concludes, Kylo stalks back to his shuttle. He's tired, in pain and more than a little frustrated. He is not in the mood for delay.
"Kylo, wait."
He whirls at the sound of her voice saying his name. For a second, he forgets completely the throbbing pain of his left arm. "Rey."
She's in full princess mode, he sees, the same as last time. Lovely and fragile looking in her long pale blue dress trimmed with sparkly bits. This time, her hair is down and it's a riot of dark waves that spill over her shoulders. Rey looks like she belongs at some elegant Coruscant reception and not the inner sanctum of the First Order in the middle of a vicious war. Damn . . . she's beautiful. How had he never noticed how truly beautiful Rey is?
Suddenly, Kylo does something completely uncharacteristic. He panics. He's never broken up with a girl before. Hell, he's never had a girl before. How does he play this? This isn't like talking trash to the enemy or exchanging insults with Hux and his military goons. Kylo is at a complete loss for how to act. So reflexively he defaults to distant and cold. That's how his mother had always acted around his father when she was hurt and angry. Thankfully, he has his mask on this time. That makes it easier.
"You're hurt." Rey gestures to his left arm.
He nods but brushes off her concern. "It's healing. It's not my sword arm. It's nothing really."
"Oh," Rey stammers. "Right." She bites her lip and then awkwardly shifts her weight. "I'm sorry that you are hurt. I saw your arm in a sling and I wondered."
"Even I get hurt now and then. It's a war, people get hurt."
"Yes. Of course." She reddens and he regrets responding so sharply to her sympathy. He's a Sith and so he has become accustomed to bloodshed, even his own from time to time. But frankly, he's a bit embarrassed about this wound and touchy about the temporary weakness it represents. Especially around Rey.
"I guess I should have expected that," Rey says softly. "When I see you on the holonet, you're always at the front of the action."
He's glad she's noticed. Hopefully, the rest of the galaxy has too. "I lead the way my grandfather led," Kylo boasts. "From the front." She nods silently and he can't stop himself from adding, "I will be as powerful as Darth Vader. Just wait." There is an edge to his tone. Her long ago insult had pricked his ego and stayed with him.
Rey says nothing. She just stands there looking hesitant and uncertain and increasingly embarrassed that she had ever stopped him in the first place.
"My shuttle is waiting," he reminds her impatiently.
"Yes. Of course." Rey is beet red now. "Excuse me for delaying you." And that phrase alone is something Rey of Jakku never would have said. Kylo remembers a girl who strode confidently into the Niima Outpost and gruffly instructed him to stay quiet because she would do the talking. His scavenger girl was never one for social niceties. But apparently, she is now. "Well, I hope your arm heals fast," she says weakly.
He nods. Then turns and leaves.
"Did you see her?" Nestor asks him as the shuttle lifts off from Snoke's bunker bound for the Finalizer.
"Yes, I saw her." Kylo has already begun obsessing over their few seconds of stilted conversation. He knew that when he and Rey finally spoke, it would be awkward. He had been right. Still, he should have handled that better. But Rey had caught him by surprise and belatedly he realizes that he has squandered the opportunity presented to him.
"And? Did she speak to you this time?"
"She was worried when she saw my arm. She stopped to ask me about it."
Nestor nods his approval at this. "Well, that's a good sign—you have her sympathy. Next time, boss, you should arrive full on bleeding and let her fall at your feet. Does she still look like a princess?"
"Yeah. She looks like someone else now . . . " Not like the girl who had so captured his imagination. The girl in desert rags with wrapped arms who had stood proudly outside the hovel she called home. The Rey he knew had dressed like a peasant and acted like a queen. She was never what she appeared to be and that was a good thing.
"What else did she say?"
"Not much else." He hadn't given her a chance to say much else, Kylo realizes. He had just made that crack about Vader and turned on heel and left. Yeah . . . he blew his chance. He should have asked Rey how she was doing, is Snoke treating her well, is she happy, what is she learning. He cares about how she is doing. Hell, he still cares about her. Even if they aren't together, he still cares about Rey. She's the only woman he has ever cared about. Probably the only woman he ever will care about.
Kylo looks down at his throbbing left arm and then over at the empty shuttle sleep bunk where the new kid used to snore when he slept. This war is costing him and everyone else a lot. Losing Rey was just the beginning, he realizes glumly.
"You're late," General Hux observes coolly as Rey enters the small infirmary. He's propped up on pillows looking better today.
"Oh. Uh . . . yeah. Sorry," Rey mumbles. She is still rattled from her conversation with Kylo. She feels strangely rejected and that stings even though they are over as a couple. Kylo hadn't even bothered to remove his mask. She never even got to see his face. That shouldn't matter, but it does.
"I expect timeliness," Hux informs her as though she were a remiss junior lieutenant. The general tends to treat everyone like they are his subordinate. Even princesses.
"I was delayed," Rey explains softly.
"Well, don't let it happen again, Princess," Hux reprimands her sternly. Rey shoots him a look and he has the good grace to look chastised. "I worried you weren't coming," he says quietly.
Something in the way he says this tells Rey how lonely Hux is. For, oh, how the mighty have fallen. She knows how bleak his existence is now, how pain ridden his life is. His prized career is in tatters and his name is a byword for failure. The general is keeping up a brave face in defeat but they both know it's only a matter of time before Snoke kills him. Oddly enough, Hux is still committed to his cause despite Snoke's treatment. It must take this sort of blind fanaticism to command the Starkiller, Rey decides. Only this sort of unquestioning devotion to the cause would permit a person to commit genocide. And also to meekly accept torture as a just punishment.
Loneliness is an emotion Rey understands better than most. So she decides to indulge the petulant General Hux and to put Kylo Ren out of her mind. At least the general looks forward to seeing her. Rey looks down at the disgraced man and her face softens. "Does that mean you missed me?" she teases him with a small smile.
The general smiles back but he still complains, "It means you're late." Hux complains a lot. But under the circumstances, Rey thinks he's entitled. Usually, it means he's feeling better. A grumpy Hux is a happy Hux, she has learned.
Rey settles into the chair that the medics now habitually leave for her at his bedside. She cocks her head at him. "What's your given name, General?" She has wondered this for a while now.
"Armitage."
Rey mishears. "Armistice?"
"Hardly," he scoffs and repeats himself. "Armitage."
"Very fancy," Rey observes. "That's a name for a prince."
He nods his agreement. General Armitage Hux takes himself very seriously and it pleases him when others do the same. But still, he adds, "My friends used to call me Army. Army Hux."
Rey grins. "I like that better. It's very fitting. Call me Rey," she tells him impulsively. "My friends call me Rey."
Army Hux nods and waves a hand at the holonet screen playing the war news. It's showing Kylo Ren again. "Turn that thing off, will you? I've heard enough about Ren for today."
Rey is more than happy to deactivate the screen. She doesn't particularly want to look at Kylo Ren today either. "You don't like each other, do you?"
"Ren is half insane. Prone to violent tantrums and irrational impulses. Obsessed with his own glory. It will take more than Snoke's little bitch swinging his sword to win the galaxy." The vehemence behind these words is biting. "He's making a mess of the Mid Rim. Ren is fighting this war like he's a Separatist, spreading our forces too thin. He should be focusing on the key worlds. You don't fight everywhere, you fight where you choose to fight. And you keep the enemy guessing where so that they are the ones who spread their forces thin."
"I've seen one of those tantrums," Rey recalls. "It wasn't pretty." Reflexively, she raises a hand to her cheek. It's a gesture the sharp eyed general doesn't miss.
"Last year, I added a line item to the repair budget on the Finalizer just to account for everything he broke," Army grumbles. "Ren is like an angry toddler when he doesn't get his way."
Yes, she remembers that. It's not a happy memory. Rey changes the topic. "Are they letting you eat today?"
"No, and I'm hungry."
"Then, here," Rey produces a muffin wrapped in a napkin that she has stolen from breakfast. She leans forward to surreptitiously hand it to him. "It's blueberry," she whispers. "Your favorite."