The Machine

by Vespaer

"Force users, they're so arrogant. They think this war is all about them." Rey and Kylo Ren: two halves of the same protagonist. But if they're both right, then who is wrong? What if the face of true evil wears an entirely different kind of mask? What if it's something with impossibly deep roots - a corruption so insidious, it could hide itself in plain sight? Can they fight it?

21. Ch 21: The Rescue

Chapter Twenty-One: The Rescue

"Well," Omar Entero laughed as he lolled his head back and raised his hands to the sky, "I'll be damned. This galaxy is just..."

He didn't finish, he just continued to laugh as he let his hands fall back to his sides. He didn't strike Finn as someone who was trying to be funny or project any attempt at levity. The laughter that was dying in his throat sounded more like the strained exhalation of a man strapped down with too heavy a load to bear - the air was just squeezed from him and this was the form it took.

"Pleased to meet you," he sighed with resignation as he extended a hand toward the young boy. "I'm Omar Entero."

"Like hell you are," Tom barked suspiciously, allowing his fingers to sneak nearer to the blaster he'd stuffed beneath his belt. "That's awful convenient."

"No, Tom... look," whispered the woman called Threezie. She was pointing her finger toward Rey - specifically at the thing hanging from her hip. "Isn't that..."

Finn followed the woman's line of sight at the same time Rey reached down to touch the object in question, dangling gently at her side, unused but in plain view.

Kylo Ren's lightsaber. The thing was an icon, familiar to anyone within the ranks of the First Order.

"Tom... the Lieutenant said -"

"I know what she said."

"Tom!" Threezie cried, more insistently this time. "She said they took him on Prakith, Tom! You..."

Her voice drifted off as she stepped away from the boy, allowing her hand to linger on his shoulder for a moment as she pulled herself away. Finn couldn't help himself. He sought the eyes of his best friend - something important was happening. Something that would have a lasting impact - something that would give them a foothold that not even the Trade Federation could expect.

They were forming new and unanticipated allies. Critical ones. It was just like what Poe had said around the campfire, after having gone to interrogate Kylo Ren. They needed to forge new allies. And these two people were very real evidence that the First Order was willing to crumble away around the edges... if they were brave enough to try to chip away at it. How many more pieces could they get to peel off?

"You're her, aren't you?" Threezie said to Rey. The woman kept her body language cautious with her arms tightly crossed around her middle as she sniffled and smiled, nodding her assessment. "You're the girl. You're with the Resistance. You're the ones who found Kylo Ren on Prakith."

"Threezie, stop - don't tell them anything!"

"Tom," she said as she turned toward her partner, scrunching her shoulders up to her neck, "FN-2187 is with them. You heard the lieutenant - he's real, he's alive, and he's with them. And that lightsaber is proof. She was telling the truth."

Finn knew he should be careful here. The rational part of his brain knew that the First Order might send agents after him someday, having marked him as a traitor - he'd even been verbally branded as such by Kylo Ren himself. But that same part of his brain also knew that the only people in the entire galaxy who would know him by his designation - could recognizably identify him - were other soldiers like himself.

Other Stormtroopers.

People like him. People with the same struggles, ideologies... and fears.

His rational brain was too slow to stop his heart from leaping into his mouth. The words were on his tongue before the thoughts could even be fully formed and analyzed. There was something he needed here, something he desperately needed, and it overrode all of his other, higher cognitive processes.

"I'm FN-2187," he heard himself say out loud. The sound of it echoed inside his head, almost as if he was standing at the center of the galaxy and speaking a truth so big and sincere and real that even the cosmic Force itself rippled to carry it through all corners of known universe, like the shockwaves of a supernova.

"Finn..." Poe gasped beside him, and suddenly he felt every eye in the hold land on him. Just him... still standing there, a firm and singular center of the galaxy. But no longer alone. There wasn't anything else Poe could say... or would. It wasn't his choice to make.

"Dammit," Omar grumbled, "why would you tell them th- y'know what? Nevermind. We don't have the time to argue about this."

"They need us - they need you," Finn implored him. "Can't you see? This is an opportunity..."

"Okay. Sure. Fine. Whatever. But later. Right now we have bigger problems to solve. Look," Omar turned back to Tom, whose hand was now fully resting on the grip of his blaster. "You want me? You found me. Need me to prove it? I can't. But opening fire in close quarters in front of a child isn't going to solve anything, so why don't you leave that potential hull breach right there where it belongs beneath yer belt. Stars, even my seventeen year old daughter knows better than to just fling guns around on spaceships."

He took one daring step closer to Tom and stared him down, square in the eye, as he raised a finger to jab it around in the direction he indicated.

"You want me, or her, or him to do anything for you? Then you've gotta help us first. Right now we've got a ship in orbit that's under siege. My daughter is on that ship!" he yelled at them in frustration, stricken by his emotions as he pointed toward the sky. "And so is a handful of other innocent children whose lives are in danger. We need this ship in order to get in there and save them. So let us handle this situation, and then we can handle yours. How does that sound?"

The way he said it didn't leave much wiggle room for an answer that wasn't yes. And he got the results he wanted - Tom relaxed his stance on one hip, and let his hand slip from his blaster to hang at his side.

"Fine," Tom responded. "One condition, though. I'm coming with you."

"Tom!" Threezie cried.

"Honey, it's the only way we can -"

"What about us?! What about our baby?! What if something happens?!"

"Threez, it's the only way we can make sure they don't just take off and never come back."

"No," Finn began, "that's not who we are, we would never do th-"

"Give me the toggle switch," Tom commanded her, ignoring him.

"Tom..."

"Just give it. Any funny business and this ship goes nowhere." With that he turned to eye everyone in the hold. "Try to take it from me an I'll shoot every last kriffing one of you."

"Sounds great," Omar agreed, probably a bit hypocritically and far too eager. "Stupid, but great. Whatever. Let's get the umm, uh..." he gestured loosely toward the oddly garbed Fondorian who was still mindlessly lost in the tranquility of the cheerful, golden dawn outside of the viewport, "the, uh... the rest of this cargo off of the ship and get 'er in the air."

"It'll be okay," Finn whispered his reassurance to Threezie as he tentatively approached her. Stiff with uncertainty, she handed off the square little black mechanism to her partner. She grabbed the man's hand and squeezed it for a moment as she gave him a terse parting look that spoke a thousand words. Making no haste, Finn moved to take her arm to guide her and the young blonde boy down the gangway ramp leading out of the cargo bay. The way she looked up at him as they turned to make their departure was like a punch to the gut. Once more he felt himself becoming something he wasn't sure he was ready to become... but the universe or fate or the Force or whatever wasn't going to wait for him to be ready. He wondered if this was how Rey felt most of the time. He swallowed his nerves and continued. "We won't leave anyone behind. We still have a vehicle here, a wind catamaran. I'll take you there. It's too useful to abandon - we have to come back for it, so my, uh... my girlfriend is sitting in it until we can drop in for a pick up."

And that was the second pit in his belly. It twinged as he stepped out of the hold and squinted his watering eyes in the bright sunlight. It was the first time he'd ever said the word in his entire life. It felt so foreign, like some other voice had passed through his lips.

Girlfriend.

He'd spent so long a faceless, nameless number marching lost in file and rank - uniform and anonymous in more ways than one with his face sweating and hidden within the dehumanizing mantle of a white bucket helmet. And only one decision - one choice, one spontaneous and life-altering risk - took all of that away. Changed everything. Shaped it into this new and seemingly impossible form that included things he'd never even considered - things that belonged to the lives they'd tried not to imagine... things that were endemic to the lives the First Order sought to reap, raze, and destroy.

Things like friendship. Things like love. Things like a purpose. Things like a name. A home, a family.

A girlfriend.

And with it came newer sensations that were tough to describe. But what he'd thought before was nothing more than simple worry had now become something larger and heavier and more consuming. This... this was what dread felt like. He was terrified for her... Rose. To leave her behind, but this time on her own. And even though that rational, logical part of his brain was vying for his attention once more, to remind him that she was probably a far more capable person than he was... his love for her was more adamant. He didn't know what to do... and it made him dizzy.

Before they left the quay to enter the short, gated queue lines for cargo carriers and standard disembarkation checks, Threezie came to a quick halt and grabbed him by both arms. Quickly, before they lost view of the sleek and stolen, pretty white yacht.

"I need to hear you say it again," she told him. "I need to know it's the truth. Our lives depend on it. Are you... really... him...?"

The man she was leaving behind was more than just a squad mate. He was the father of her baby. He was her future - her family. He was her hopes and dreams. He was her reason for putting her life on the line. The terror shining in her eyes was sourced from the same fountain of love that fed Finn's own fears. A love that was forbidden... and yet so essential a part of life and human nature. A love that sent them on a journey that paralleled his own so closely.

"I know how hard this is," he told her, cupping her elbows. "I know what kind of risk you're taking. No one knows that more than me... except maybe Kylo Ren. But I know what it's like to always have one eye over your shoulder, to not be able to trust anyone... to constantly be running and always feel so alone. But I promise you. I am FN-2187, he is Omar Entero, and you're not alone. Not anymore. And we're not gonna leave you behind."

She heaved one sigh as she dropped her hands away and stared at her feet, nodding as she summoned the strength to continue. The boy hovered near her silently, attached to her as though by an invisible leash - an unseen tether of fright, displacement, confusion, and separation anxiety. He was a castaway amongst a sea of faces, ripped away from everything he'd ever known and plunged into the depths, fighting to keep from sinking out of sight, and she was his only anchor. Not for the first time, Finn saw the importance in the work that Omar Entero was doing.

"Come on," Finn shuffled them gently along. "The sooner we get there, the sooner we can get this over with and get us all someplace safer."

He made eye contact with Rose as they weaved through foot traffic to reach where she was parked, adjacent to the exiting thoroughfare. She sat up and waved to him, having been sitting hunched over at the helm of the Zephyr while doggedly examining the holonet site secretly provided by the Hutt Representative. Her smile of relief faded upon seeing him return, blending into a careful mask of polite apprehension when she saw her lover was not alone.

And she did not recognize his company.

Finn could almost feel the woman beside him clench at such a chilly reception. It was the same way his own insides had frozen into a solid block of ice the first time he'd set foot - as a former First Order infantry soldier - inside a Resistance base. It was more than just a feeling of having both feet in two separate worlds... it was the feeling of being seen as a complete and utter fraud. It was the feeling of not knowing where he stood or where he belonged. Or if he would ever belong anywhere ever again.

But now... he was on the other side of it, and he had the benefit of hindsight. The veil of the unknown had been pulled away. And these people would get through it too.

"Did I hear the other man call you Finn?" Threezie asked him, nervously making small talk as they stopped to allow a small train of hovercarts to pass by, hauling a smelly, dusty payload of raw ore.

"Yeah - I, uh... I couldn't think of much else at the time, but I've grown attached to it." He couldn't help but smile. He couldn't imagine not being Finn anymore.

"The Lieutenant told us you were going by Finn, too. I'm PK-3334, but everyone always called me Threes. So Tom calls me Threezie, heh... I guess, because he likes to make things more difficult."

"You said his name is Tom?"

"Yeah. TM-9805. There's a lot of them. A lot of Toms. But he's my Tom. Is, uh... that girl there. Is she your... uh...?"

"Heh, yeah," he rubbed at the back of his neck as they moved past the final cart to finally close the distance. "That's Rose."

"Hi there!" Rose called out, her voice light and friendly, but quavering with tiny notes of paranoia. "Everything, uh... everything alright? You're back early... and..."

"This is Threezie," Finn made the introduction as he rested an elbow on the Zephyr's shiny, brassy railing. "And, uh..." he bent to catch sight of the boy, "well... I know I'm not Omar, but what are we supposed to call you?" The boy said nothing, seeming content to scowl at his feet and pretend there were no conversations happening anywhere in his immediate vicinity. "Well... okay. This is, um... Harold. This is Harold."

"That's not my name!"

"Well, I can't really believe you if you don't prove me wrong!" Finn bent at the middle and mock-chastised him in a sing-song voice. The boy only mutely spun around and turned inward on himself, thoroughly dissatisfied with the entire state of affairs. "They're looking for Omar," Finn explained.

"That's weird," Rose replied. "And convenient."

"That's what we were thinking," Threezie told her.

"The Force works in mysterious ways," Finn said out loud, but internally he thought it just had a really warped sense of humor. Spending no more time than he really needed to, he reached to take Rose's hand in both of his.

"I know I owe you more explanation than this, but it'll have to wait. These folks need to stay here with you where they'll be safe. Threezie is... um..."

"I'm pregnant," she explained as she labored to pull herself over the railing and haul herself inside the vehicle. She balked for a moment, though, before she could reach for the boy's hands to help him up and over. Finn couldn't see what she was looking at... but Rose understood immediately.

"I know what that looks like," she told the other woman. "But -"

"It looks like a giant pool of dried blood."

"I know, it... it is. But it's not what you think."

"You do have Kylo Ren, don't you," Threezie asked them, her face grave as she stood straight and stock still, mentally questioning if remaining on board was the right decision. "He was shot down on Prakith. You were there - you got him. You have him."

"We did," Finn told her. "But we don't anymore. This is almost like a hostage exchange except it's, uh... it's complicated. And I've gotta go. Mandalorians don't like waiting."

"They do like shooting guns on spaceships," Threezie called after him while both she and Rose took the boy's arms to pull him over the side of the railing. "I know Omar said he doesn't like guns on spaceships, but I don't know how else he's going to save his daughter and take back your ship."

"Well," Finn laughed as he strode backwards, drinking in the sight of Rose's silky black curls and the soft, round pearl of her nose one last time, and the tawny apple of her cheeks, "he probably thinks he's going to lecture them about it until they decide to fling their own selves out of the airlock willingly. Between you and me, I think he's got a shot."

"Finn, wait!" Rose beckoned him before he got too far away. "Here!"

He jogged back to retrieve the two objects she was waving in the open air between them. They were both datapads - the one containing their lists of names, and the other containing Kylo Ren's stolen data.

"You'll need these," she told him, tapping a couple icons to open a program on each. "If you're fighting anyone who's been working with Clan Deshra, you're going to be fighting retribution feedback shields." Just like they had back in the tavern. "I saved both pitch frequencies on these pads. Just play them, one on each, and you can interrupt their feedback loops. It'll bring their shields down. If they've changed the frequencies, just keep cycling through until you find the right ones. Hopefully it'll help you get this done faster, and... and safer."

And there was the third kick in the ribs. Knowing that he couldn't have done this without her. And thinking about the look on her face if he didn't come back... even trying to imagine her disappointment... her resentment that he couldn't manage to follow her instructions and come back to her safe and whole. Trying to imagine her devastation, or even her own foolishness that she'd placed so of her much faith in him. He was afraid he would let her down. He was afraid she'd think less of him somehow, or question whether sharing her love with him was worth the risk of heartache.

He never knew that love could be this difficult.

But then her lips were on his again, supple and sugary as summer fruit, and as warm and life-affirming as sunrise. The soft, light slip of her tongue against his was electric, banishing his thoughts and doubts and fears back to the darker corners of his mind where they belonged. She lent him her strength and her faith and when at last he pulled away from her, he felt renewed and ready.

He felt important again.

This battle was one of many they would face - some together, some apart. But as long as they had each other and they had something to fight for, then they had what they needed to change the world. Change the whole galaxy, even... maybe forever.

---

The Corvette hanging in space, dwarfed by the giant freighter it saw fit to try to occupy, was a rough-hewn patchwork of loose cables, riveted bare metal patches, and cracked, bubbling paint - what used to be a lively black and yellow rendition of a clan symbol that had been stripped by atmospheric friction, solar radiation, and gunfire. Rey had seen countless junkers and pirate marauders in her life, and none were so fearsome as this beast. She could still see scorch marks striping her hull and half the surface area of the ship was dotted with cannons and homespun frag grenade launchers. The vessel left no question that it was designed for just one purpose.

And they...

They were in ship designed to tour a famous Fondorian chef and his holovid crew around the galaxy. They had a gourmet caf machine with a built in milk foamer. They had surround sound, an autopilot set to a timer, and plush seats covered with rich and sumptuous bantha calf leather. Their paintjob even had a finish designed to give it an irridescent effect under photography lens.

What they didn't have was...

"You've got to be kidding me," Omar practically sobbed from the copilot's chair, where he was seated next to Poe who was experimentally pushing every button and flipping every switch he could find on the HUD. "Who the kriff picked this ship?!" No one answered him. But everyone was pretty certain it was Finn. "High class ship like this is a floating target for thugs and thieves - you're telling me it doesn't have even one single turret?! This is crazy!"

"We shouldn't need them," Rey reminded him. "Sonora Deshra has what..." She gulped down a queer knot of guilt and loss before she continued. "She has what they want. She has Ben Solo. She made a deal for him - she said she would contact her clan and tell them to let the children go. My bounty is paid for, we're no threat to them. We should be able to just... fly right into the hangar bay. Tight squeeze, but we should fit."

"None of that explains why I still can't raise Chewie on comms," Poe told her, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Maybe he's busy on comms already. Maybe he's in contact with Sonora."

"Maybe," Poe replied to her. "But I still have a bad feeling."

He didn't have to explain it, Rey felt it too. A sinking feeling - a well of gravity that pulled the air within her down where releasing it took effort. This galaxy had already burned through her finite supply of trust, taking the Deshra woman at her word was just as difficult now as it was then.

"This is just like the tavern," she said out loud for anyone to hear. "Even suspecting it's a trap doesn't change what we have to do."

"I had wondered if you'd picked out my message," Poe smiled a clever smile at her. His hands returned to the bright, azure lights of the HUD to flit back and forth about the controls. "Well, this isn't the first dogfight I've flown with no guns. Remind me to tell you about the time we did an escort run on the outskirts of Ord Mantell. Just means we've gotta fly faster than they can shoot. Fortunately we've got a fast ship and a good pilot."

"With any luck, they won't shoot and we won't have to worry."

"Yeah," he muttered, cracking his knuckles and bringing up the laser guided flight path optimizer, "with any luck."

Anticipating a bumpy ride, Rey and the rest of the crew began looking for seats and safety straps. But when they swept smoothly into weapons' firing range and sizzling orange cannon blasts were sent sailing past their nose into the empty velvet pall of space, Rey's heart plummeted to her feet. The only spark of hope that kept total despair at bay was the possibility that Sonora Deshra hadn't kept her word because she couldn't have - because Ben Solo did not turn out to be the simple bounty she'd planned. It was like him to outsmart - it was like him to fight back. Maybe he was on his own. Maybe he was safe.

Maybe... when this was done... she could find him.

Maybe he'd forgive her. Consent to return, and help her.

"Oof!" The air was knocked from her as the braided nylon safety straps that held her bit into her shoulders. Inertia swung them around - Poe had kicked out the port thrusters and tucked them into a barrel roll to dodge the next incoming volley. He immediately zigzagged the other way and for a brief second, the full Corvette had hung in the center of the viewport. The ship was fast, but not as fast as the yacht - it was bigger and bulkier. It appeared to have tilt and yaw, swinging its mass along a vector that would bring it broadside with the yacht's overall trajectory. They were clearly trying to maximize the number of cannons firing on their ship at the same time, and there were five on each side. Poe was a great pilot... but the yacht wasn't exactly an X-wing.

She undid her safety straps.

"If we haven't been able to reach them on comms," Omar grunted as he gripped his fingers onto the console to keep from thrashing around, "it's likely they're firing on us because they don't know we're on this ship."

But Rey knew better. Deep down, they all did. It was convenient to view a mean-looking Corvette full of bounty hunters as uncivilized or bloodthirsty - a roving band of fleabitten, unwashed reavers. But nothing could have been further from the truth - honor was at the root of their beliefs, and they had nothing to gain from shooting down unarmed civilians. They weren't stupid. They knew they were holding innocent children hostage. They knew that they'd commandeered their opponent's last good transport ship, and even if they hadn't, the transport was too big to fit in the freighter's hangar bay. They knew that someone like Rey would stop at nothing to make a rescue attempt. And if they hadn't called in for a pickup, then this was the only other logical course of action.

The deal on Kylo Ren was dead or no deal. They knew who they were firing at. It was just common sense. They had every intention of shooting first, then collecting their bounty from the dregs left floating in space... preferrably as far from the freighter as possible, before the yacht got close enough to endanger the lives of the innocent bystanders on board.

Rey knew their cause was lost. She planted her feet on the deck, feeling it pitch beneath her as if it was a little piece of flotsam skimming over the crests of sand dunes on Jakku. Like the squares of black tiles or old chute lids she used to use as a scavenger, skating down tall, tractable inclines to more quickly wrangle her goods back to her speeder. She remembered how the sand felt, shifting beneath her feet. She let the old muscle memory come back to her. She stood and let her body weight pivot on her hips, leaving her knees loose and fluid.

"Rey!" Finn hissed at her, alarmed. "Have you lost your mind? Sit back down before you break your neck!"

She opened her mouth to answer him, but then sucked in a quick breath of surprise. The ship twisted once more, and the ground beneath her feet rolled away behind her. She toppled forward into a trot as the deck turned over and became walls. She leaped on her tip toes over seats, light fixtures, and a power junction box. At the end of the turn, she somersaulted over to land in a crouch back where she began. Panting, and with the ship still whipping back and forth underneath her, she slowly and carefully approached the cockpit.

"See if you can bring it back into visual," she instructed Poe.

"W-wha?!" he snapped his head around, astonished to find her standing behind him. "Are you crazy? They're firing everything at us!"

"I only need a couple seconds!"

"I'm not sure I can give you even one!"

But he made the attempt nonetheless. Within the blink of an eye, the Corvette was there and gone again as Poe hit the thrusters hard to the starboard, and they careened away to duck behind the freighter. It was the biggest, safest harbor they were going to get, but it wouldn't last.

"No, no," Rey told him, "I need to see it!"

"And I need us to live!"

"Can we maybe not distract the pilot, like, right now?!" Omar growled at her. And he probably wasn't wrong. As usual.

Rationally, Rey knew that if they were to slide this ship back into the freighter's hangar bay, they would have to bring the yacht back around to her aft. Doing so would take them lengthwise back past the opposite side of the Corvette. And they wouldn't be able to land the yacht at their current rate of speed - they would have to slow her down, but they couldn't do so while trying to evade weapons' fire.

She would only have one shot at this.

The fact was, to someone with Rey's particular set of talents, a ship without guns wasn't unarmed. To someone like Rey, every gun on the field of play was her gun.

She closed her eyes and surrendered herself to the cradled embrace of the Force. She let it right her when her balance tipped, like a steady hand. She then reached out with her mind's eye to visualize their relative position juxtaposed with their foe, and she let the Force feed her foresight. She also probed her memory, examining the glance she got at that Corvette like a snapshot.

There were five cannons on either side, but they were not in line with each other. Two of the five were offset and asymmetrical. The others however...

Her eyes flew open. She took her lower lip into her mouth and she waited. She clenched her fists, she flexed her fingers. And she waited.

"Okay," Poe stated, making his plans out loud, likely to reduce his stress level, "right now they're bringing themselves around and waiting for us to come out from the other side of the freighter. We could go under or over the top, but then we've gotta flip a full one-eighty to sling ourselves into the hangar bay while all of those guns are pointed at us."

"So you're just gonna fly right straight into 'em then, is that yer plan?!" Omar cried.

"It is."

"While they're expecting us...?! And lining up their sights on us?! All five guns?!"

"Exactly! Which means we can make a pretty safe prediction on where they're gonna be when we pull around."

"Okay, that sounds great, but how are you gonna keep us from getting blasted in the face?!"

"I'm gonna roll us away then gun it and duck under the Corvette. That will put us at an angle where I can nose 'er into the hangar bay, and we'll also be in a position that's tough for their firing arc to reach."

"Don't worry about their firing arc," Rey told them. Calm. Collected. Ready. Sound of mind, and tranquil in purpose - just as the ancient Jedi texts told her.

"I'm worried about you rolling around in here like a big sack of bricks! Kriff - hold on!"

True to his word, the instant they coasted out from behind the sanctuary of the big freighter's mammoth shadow, listing hard as Poe wrenched her port to keep her vector under control, hot, blazing streaks of cannon fire erupted from the fully perpendicular starboard side of the Corvette. The thing almost appeared to smile at them in a terrifying, predatory sort of way. It had teeth, and was happy to show them.

There was a loud thud in the cockpit as Poe yanked the controls again as far as he could, this time to spiral away to the starboard. And this time, Rey was ready. She jumped and arched her back, curling her body into a graceful and acrobatic backflip. She felt nothing but air brush over her as the ship twisted all around her. When she landed the deck was beneath her feet again. Poe punched the throttle to make a dive directly at the ship, faster than it could align it's calibration on them, with the intention of slipping beneath her at the last second. It was the only opportunity that Rey was going to get.

She flung out her hand. And she pulled.

The cannon at the far end of the Corvette's mid-line spun around independently of its brothers, ninety degrees from where it had been facing. And it opened fire on the two other cannons, in line and downstream from it. For a moment, all they could see were explosions.

"OH!" Omar gasped as he flung himself back in his seat, the glow of the billowing wave of unleashed energy lighting up his face.

When the resulting cloud of shrapnel dispersed to float haplessly through space, it was then that Rey could see clearly - one of the asymmetrical cannons had also been damaged by one of the nearby detonations. The facing starboard side of the Corvette was effectively down to one working cannon.

"There," Rey smiled smugly, crossing her arms over her chest. "Now they have a choice - they can either take the time to bring their ship around to fire from the port side cannons, or they can keep doing their best with the one they've got on the starboard. Do you think you can dodge one cannon?"

"Can I dodge one cannon," Poe laughed at her as he continued his original flight path, ducking and weaving effortlessly as he dove below the Corvette.

Where a previously unseen ventral gun was waiting.

Rey did stumble this time as the yacht lurched unexpectedly, and sparks and smoke began to fill the cabin.

"We're hit!" Tom yelled, but only matter of factly. They were in a ship that belonged to a chef, after all. So naturally the fire suppression systems that immediately burst to life were state of the art and second to none. Aside from that, the hull damage could be assessed later - they were mere meters from the lip of the hangar bay.

"Hang on," Poe addressed them, "this is gonna be rough."

They were still coming in too fast, and the angle was probably less than optimal. They managed to miss the Silencer completely, much to the relief of everyone everywhere. No one needed a heavy impact against dormant firepower of that caliber. Instead, they crashed onto the deck of the hangar bay and slid the opposite direction, and Rey's teeth narrowly missed clipping off the end of her tongue. She'd only just regained her footing and her balance when the yacht collided with the Upsilon shuttle with a resounding clang that left her ears deafly ringing for several seconds. After that, something loud and heavy tumbled and rolled from overhead.

"Oh man," she could see Omar mouth as a second loose chunk of the shuttle's obelisk wing - the one that had been damaged in the firefight over Churruma - finally fell away to land directly on the yacht's thick plexiglass viewport. It scraped a long, angry scar across the nose of the yacht before it finally reached its resting place.

"We're still taking this ship back?" Omar asked Poe.

"It's probably insured," Maz called from the back.

"Do you think they'll fire on us in here?" Tom asked as he, Finn, and Maz ripped off their safety straps.

"Only the ventral gun is at a good angle," Poe answered him, craning around to look behind them, "but it's risky, and I'm not sure they want to endanger -"

He was interrupted by blaster fire pitting new holes in their port side hull plating. It didn't come from outside the hangar bay, however - it came from within.

"Oh look," Omar groused, deadpan and monotone, "more guns. Think that insurance policy covers guns?"

"He's a celebrity," Maz answered him, turning and straightening the spectacles on her face, "I'm sure it's fine."

"What's our strategy?" Finn asked the burning question. "Once we get off the cargo ramp, there's not much cover between the ship and the door..."

"Don't worry about that," Rey told him, ripping Kylo Ren's lightsaber from her hip with one good yank. Everyone jumped when the hiss of the blade and the burning flare of hellish red light cast a sanguine penumbra over every dark space in the cabin. "Just follow me."

She was furious. She had fought so hard to maintain control over her emotions, like she'd done during the skirmish outside, but she failed. She just couldn't take any more.

She was starving, she was exhausted, she was hurting, she felt used, she felt betrayed, she had the weight of the galaxy resting on her shoulders, and she was furious. Ever since she couldn't bring herself to sell that cute little astrometric droid for rations, she'd been thrust into this whirlwind life of insanity. She hadn't stopped getting attacked, kidnapped, tortured, held for ransom, beaten down, lied to, or shot at since. She wanted a hot meal. She wanted a long bath. She wanted to sleep for two days. She wanted just a few nice, quiet hours to herself, during which she didn't have to see or talk to anyone. She was tapped out, her battery was empty. She was absolutely done with all of this.

And she was furious.

She was ready to go swing that blade at something. Anything. Let the will of the Force save anyone who managed to get in her way. She knew it wasn't the Jedi way. To hell with the Jedi. She stomped her way across the cargo deck and slammed her hand down onto the button that released the seals on the ramp. Everyone crowded at her back. They were ready to take their own damned ship back.

---

"You're awful quiet," Sonora Deshra teased him.

Kylo Ren knew why that surprised her. He was aware of what people said about his temper. He was aware that the mere suggestion of his reknowned hair-trigger hostility kept a lot of people at arms' reach. Which suited him just fine. All of his life, all he'd ever seen in the eyes of the people who looked upon him was fear. Fear, revulsion, and mistrust. Even from the people who loved him. All except... for her. The girl. But there was only so much a person could take.

The assumption that he was an inherently violent person was incorrect. He could be cold. He could be ruthless. And at times, yes, he could be explosive. But that didn't make him a maniac. It didn't mean he was crazy - he wasn't crazy. He had moments of serenity, of introspection. He had moments of meditative calm. And privately, he too was mistrustful of people. He was guarded... maybe even shy. Withdrawn. He didn't think there was anything wrong with being someone who wasn't prone to polite laughter or banal small talk. He simply believed words carried meaning, and should be reserved solely for such instances. So... he supposed, in all honesty, he truly was just a quiet person by nature. It didn't necessarily mean anything.

"You mad at her for sellin' out on you like that? Or are you just scared? I did mention the buyer wants you alive, didn't I?"

Scared...? Oh, good grief. The very thought was just... just absurd. And shortsighted, to say the least. She clearly knew nothing of her prey - nothing more than his face value, which was all that really mattered to her.

Sonora Deshra couldn't fathom his fears. Her struggles paled in comparison. When this was done, she'd go home to her clan. She'd go home and wait for the day she'd enter her hallowed Halls of the Hunt, to be welcomed by the arms of her son. His father and mother would do no such thing for him, having abandoned their claim to him years ago. Once the bounty hunter's contractual obligation was fulfilled he would be cast out to the tides of the universe, to wash up a broken and lonely piece of driftwood on the shores of obscurity, somewhere out there. But Sonora Deshra would collect her paycheck, then forget all about him and move on with her life. The same as everyone else.

The same as Rey.

Who had no choice but to move on without him, corralled in the direction the Force bade her go. His own vanity was his epitaph - to think he could ever have been her teacher... He was a master of nothing, what could he teach her? His destiny was failure. His legacy was obsolescence. His only roll in her story was to provide a cautionary tale that taught her the folly in seeking corruption in the dark side of the Force... that, and to show her how to remove the end cap from the hilt of a lightsaber with no hand gestures.

He was a fool to ever beg her to stay with him. Not when her purpose was so far ahead and away from him. Not when her story was so much bigger. He was a fool to ever think he could offer her anything... let alone a galaxy that was not his to give.

But if he could...

"You know, in my experience," the Deshra woman broke through his train of thought once more as she pounded insistently on the console, grimacing at her unanswered hails as she double-checked her frequency, "quiet people are planners. Should I be worried about what you're planning?"

Maybe that was the twist in his thinking. Maybe he should be planning - more in the long term. The dregs of his mother's Resistance may be cashing in on a brand new fleet of ships, but their man power was still severely underrepresented. Instead of lamenting over everything he could never give her... the girl... Rey... perhaps he should focus on the one thing he still could.

Help.

Her friends still believed that she had need of them. They still believed they shared footing with her, and that they would vanquish the galaxy's woes alongside each other, a united front. But their efforts, while valiant and sincere and probably appreciated, would soon turn vain. They would be nothing to her, when the time came - nothing more than the clouds beneath her feet, or a net to catch her. They couldn't comprehend the world she lived in.

But he could. He knew its rules and its motives. He was intimately familiar with its hidden menaces. He knew how to survive its stranglehold. He had strength, he had skill. He had knowledge. He had a looser moral compass and a stronger stomach - his hand wouldn't falter when it came time to make hard choices for the greater good. He could be there to help her when mercy was not an option. He could be there to balance her when the light in her made her afraid of her own emotions.

The two things he didn't have, though, were the key combination to these damned infernal stun cuffs...

And a ship.

At least... for now.

"What the bloody kriffing hell!" Sonora Deshra slammed her fist once more into the console, cracking the interface and causing the HUD to stutter slightly. In her fit of pique, she hung her head and swung it slowly, dragging the back of one hand across her creased, sun-leathered brow. "Ni cuy dar'manda... ni cuy Mando'ade! Mando'ad draar digu..."

"Troubles?" He could keep his tongue no longer. To do so now would just be awkward... and he hated when people thought he was awkward.

It was her turn for taciturn silence. Instead of answering him, she raked her fingernails across the innocuous rows of buttons before her, keeping her chin pressed to her chest and growling beneath her breath.

"Things aren't going as you planned?"

For a moment he thought she might sling an elbow into his teeth, to make him pay for his combative mouth with a pound of flesh. The way Snoke would. The way he still expected. The reflex was trained and instinctual. But instead she just laughed at him. A sickly, raspy wheeze of a laugh, like something laced with acid. She leered at him out of the corner of her eye.

"You're a funny guy, you know that?"

"Just a casual observation."

"Heh."

She placed both palms on the console and straightened her arms, pushing herself back and arching her spine to release some sort of tension.

"Not even the best laid plans are flawless," she told him. "Your crew are stranded planetside. They can't leave the surface without calling for a pickup." She gave the console one last good shove then brought a thumbnail into her mouth for a noisy chew. She was clearly flummoxed. "Nothing works for anyone unless they call in for a pickup. Why wouldn't the comms be clear...?"

"I already told you, they -"

"Shut up! I know what you told me!"

"You think they're just a bunch of little children up there, don't you?"

"Obviously not, di'kut. I'm not stupid - I know how tall I was the first time I could reach the flight controls without sitting on blocks. I know you've got a compliment of at least -"

"What do you really think you know about those children anyway?"

"They're probably wasting all your bandwidth watching holovids - what's that got to do with -"

"You think you're so smart."

It was his turn to laugh. It was an icy, cruel mockery of a thing that left his throat. He didn't know why he felt compelled to rise to his feet, but he did it anyway. Perhaps it was a leftover imprint from his time within the First Order. Perhaps he just wanted the chance to tower over her and stare her down imperiously from above, to remind her who still really had the upper hand. Perhaps it made him feel as if he was more in control of his situation. Spoken words were often wasted in Kylo Ren's opinion, but body language... body language was a volume beyond words. It was a far more efficient form of communication, and it was rarely misconstrued.

"Maybe you are," he went on. "You probably are. But this fight isn't about being smart. This fight is about strength."

There was something about his words or his tone, or the shift in their relative positions that put her on edge. She leaned back in her seat as she peered up at him and behind her eyes he could see her wheels turning, categorizing the current locations of her personal armaments, or calculating distances to the nearest forms of exit, or mentally rehearsing combat sequences in anticipation of his opening move.

"You think I'm some sort of weak old woman, is that it?" she asked him, feigning intrigue by the prospect of violence. "Some sort of bent and helpless ba'buir?"

"Did you know all of those children up there are like me?"

"A mouthy pain in the ass?"

"Force sensitive."

She narrowed her eyes at him and folded her arms in front of her. She was trying to sniff out his bluff... and why he might feel he needed one in the first place. But her curiosity won her out - she wanted to know what he was getting at. Sometimes the trap was more interesting than the bait. He continued before she could prompt him.

"They're young and untrained. They haven't mastered the art of control yet." His voice was soft and deadly, but his gaze had fallen outside the viewport - out over the breeze-brushed tips of tall grasses covering the floodplain on which they rested. Something was glinting in the distance, on the horizon. Someone was coming. "Restraint comes with years of study and practice. But the Force can be very overwhelming to a person so young and inexperienced... and alone. Without a mentor, it can eat you alive."

"So... am I supposed to be more afraid of them than you? Or is it the other way around? I'm confused." She was trying to rile him. He ignored her. This would all be over soon.

"They're so strong. I watched them collapse an entire mine shaft. They did it to escape from me. They trapped me inside. One of those boys hasn't even figured out how to lift a rock yet without shattering it. Without splitting it clean in half. He's got a hell of a grip."

Sonora lolled her head over to one shoulder and eyed him skeptically. She wore her disdain for his theatrics openly but made no attempt to stop him. She didn't appreciate his attempt to taunt her any more than he did hers... but the information he was giving held at least some importance to her nonetheless.

"The human body can bend," he warned her, evenly, casting his eyes on her to hungrily hold her unblinking gaze, "until the human body breaks."

Something dark crawled up his spine like an itch. He tasted the old, thirsty tang of blood on the back of his tongue. He could worry about the cuffs later. If anything he could trade the bounty hunter's blaster and a few of her other gadgets to some pimply, teenaged prep-school gradebook slicer to run an ad hoc algorithm against the combo lock.

What he needed was the ship. This ship. His mother's ship. And he needed it before that thing on the horizon got too close to get away from it. The transport didn't have any cannons but he didn't need them. He only needed himself. He was the most dangerous thing in this galaxy.

Aside from... her. The girl. Rey.

"I told you they'd fight you," he snarled at the Deshra woman, tightening his fingers into fists. "I told you not to underestimate them."

She dropped her hands from her chest to smooth them over the ends of the armrests that cupped her in her seat. Her stance was far too casual. Her level of apparent relaxation seemed forced. The muscles coiling beneath her skin were ready for anything.

"Will you underestimate me?" he asked her, daring her.

"I've already overestimated you," she spat. "Only a complete or'dinii would screw up a deal that wants him alive."

Her eyes flicked away from his for the fraction of a second - only long enough to land on the vambrace control for the electronet. Her blaster holster was hanging on the seat behind her. The glance was likely a misdirect - he'd be an idiot to think she wasn't still armed, likely with at least one vibroblade. Probably stuffed in her boot... itching to slip between his ribs if he proved to be more trouble than what he was worth.

"You can't uphold your end of the bargain," he answered her. "Why should I uphold mine?"

"So we're supposed to fight now? Is that it, ori'jagyc? Just knock each other's teeth in? For what? What do you think you'll gain? You're so close - this could all be over for you if you'd just... wait..." She shifted in her seat and straightened, leaning forward to jut her face closer to him and eye him with cocksure bemusement. The movement was designed to mask how close her hand now rested to her knee. And the top lip of her boot. "You have another ship on the surface... don't you...?"

She gave every indication that she was certain of her deduction. But for all of his skills, for all of the years of painstaking effort he'd put into crafting the mask he wore to conceal his thoughts and emotions, he could never fully prevent them from betraying him. Perhaps it was the twitch of a brow or the pull of his mouth. Her brief lapse of overconfidence faded.

"No... Hux said you escaped in a TIE," she said. "That can't be it. A TIE only seats one."

"Two."

"T... two? Really?"

"Yeah," he muttered. "That TIE does. Long story."

"Doesn't matter. Two people aren't enough to take back a freighter that big."

"Is that what you think?" It was his turn to brim with confidence - he'd have to use that to make a move. He had no more time for her coaxing or her bad deals. A tiny pinpoint of reflected light moved across the pane of the viewport.

"As tight as that fight was in Kalikori? Yes I most certainly do. But how else would you...? If you didn't have another...? No, you don't have a base on Tython - they're too neutral, it's too problematic. They'd never stand for that. The Resistance fleet was decimated over Crait, so I... I don't understand..."

He couldn't get the hidden blade away from her while it was still hidden. He'd have to feint to draw her out... and prepare for the worst.

"Face it," he sneered at her, "your clan will never step foot out of that hangar bay alive. Your hunt is over, the deal's off. You can't keep your end of the bargain, and there's no need for me to keep mine. Not when you have something I need."

She only had a moment to tilt her head in confusion when, with a jerk of his chin, her blaster holster sailed out of the cockpit to clatter loudly to the deck across the passenger cabin. She cackled as she ran her tongue along her gapped teeth - a good fight was probably the only other thing she cherished more than a smooth deal. But she didn't pull the knife. Perhaps she'd seen the ship approaching too - perhaps she was planning to buy time. Perhaps she still didn't want to damage her goods.

In a flash, knowing his next move was to choke the life from her, she threw a hard upper cut toward his jaw, but he was too quick and well trained. He dodged her easily and wrenched her wrist around hard, flinging his other hand toward her throat. She was prepared for him, though - she pulled against her captured wrist for leverage and sank a heavy boot deep into his groin. Pain exploded from his kidneys to his eyeballs, doubling him over and dropping him to his knees, gasping through a diaphragm that had seized and refused to draw breath. Freed, she swung herself over his prone form, but before she made a mad dash toward the electronet behind her she grabbed him by his hair and slammed his face into the console for good measure. The crunch was nearly enough to make him vomit.

An ordinary man would have been left crippled. But Kylo Ren drew power from pain.

With his right hand still clamped around his middle, he lashed his left out at the electronet just as the bounty hunter reached it. He was faster, though, and when he pulled it he ensnared her in it. The woman let out an uncharacteristic shriek of panic as she flailed unsuccessfully to rid herself of the thing, tripping over and falling onto her back. She then flung herself around and tossed an arm toward the vambrace control - if she failed to reach it before he did, there was no telling what he might do to her. Once more he outpaced her as he yanked the vambrace off of the floor, but she happened to snag it when it zipped through midair past her face. She roared in desperation as she fought to keep it from him, grappling with the thing in a vicious game of tug-of-war. But she was weakening by the second, and her hand was slipping. It was only a matter of time...

Time she knew she didn't have. Her other hand reached around to touch something on her arm and a tiny, unidentified mechanism slid out from a thin metal bracer, hidden within the folds of her sleeve. She grunted as she struggled to keep her hold on the vambrace - her fingertips had begun to turn white from the pressure. But that other hand had dipped into a side pocket on her pants to retrieve an even smaller object.

One Kylo Ren recognized instantly. It was a tranquilizer dart. And in doing so, she presented him a hard choice.

"Oh no you don't," he cried as he let go of the vambrace to snatch the fuzzy little dart from her other hand. But now she had everything - she had the dart gun at her wrist, she had the net, and she had the controls. He couldn't let her load another dart - he couldn't let her disentangle herself from that net. He had to do something. He would kill her if he had to...

He stalked toward her as she dug her heels into the deck and slid herself backwards, still trying to wrestle herself out of the net while keeping distance between them in order to better evade him. It would be so much easier if he could only conjure Force lightning the way his master once could. One spark is all it would take - the lattice of the net would do the rest, carrying the charge along its wires to coat her body and stun her unilaterally. From there he could dump her out the airlock and the ship was as good as his.

But the nature of Force lightning was sinister. It wasn't born purely from a place of passion or defiance, or even bloodthirst... it was born from an intense loathing. A seething. From a place so dark and devouring that it left its user a blind and empty, hollow shell, cored and carved away from the inside out. It required not only sacrifice, but a bitter indifference to that sacrifice as an additional tithe... one he was never quite capable of paying. To do so would change him into something he wasn't sure he ever really wanted to be. Not... really.

So instead he reached out through the Force and lifted her by her neck, slamming her back into the facing bulkhead repeatedly until she finally dropped the vambrace control. Mandalorians were tough with their thruster packs and gadgets - their armor, their guns, their retribution feedback shields. They were a much more manageable threat, however, when complacent over the promise of an easy deal, and still dressed to play the part of a barmaid. And then, of course... there was the Force.

"What is wrong with you?!" she scowled at him, squeezing her eyes shut until the ringing between her ears began to subside. "You're getting the best deal possible! Just let them pay it then you're free! Why would you screw this up?!"

A humming rumble set the electronet rattling against her shirt and the leather of her belt. The vambrace control buzzed where it lay on the deck. A long shadow cast the cabin into a dark grey gloom of dread. It was too late now... there was nowhere to run. Frigid cold pulsed up his spine with every heartbeat, pooling and freezing in the place where his neck met his shoulders. His mouth was suddenly too dry to swallow. He gave her the only answer he could.

"Some fates are worse than death."

"Hah," she laughed at him, ridiculing him as she patently misunderstood him, "only a Sith is afraid of death. I am not afraid to die - do your worst! To fight for this hunt is an honor - to die for this hunt is to die with honor! I will fight you, ori'jagyc - you do what you need to do! Strike me down, send me home to see my son - go ahead! But what happens to you next?!"

He caught movement outside in his periphery - a warble in the tapestry of shadow that held them in its mire. He didn't want to look at it... he didn't want to face what happened next. Some fates were worse than death.

"Who's next after me, huh!? You make a break for it here!?" she continued to berate him. "Rodian pirates? Zabraki hunters? Trandoshans? Other Mando'a like me? You can be as strong as you want - whatever! But don't be stupid!"

But she didn't understand. All of those things... they were just flesh. Flesh that moved bones. Nothing more than meat and blood and bone and neural impulses. Simple things. Soft things. Ordinary things.

What was waiting for him out there was a specter. One he'd known all of his life. He didn't have to see it to know what it was - it's talons were tickling the length of his spine from beyond the depths of his oldest childhood nightmares. It was the harbinger of every cruel thing that robbed from him his life, his family, and his innocence. Robbed him of his own free will.

They came for him even now just as they'd come for him when he was a child. To steal him. To find him. Because that was their gift - to find. They could find anything, it was who they were, it was what they did. And the bounty hunter was right. There was nowhere else he could go. It was all over for him now.

He sucked his lips into his mouth to keep them from trembling. He released his hold on the Deshra woman and curled his fingers back into fists. He pleaded hard with a stomach that was threatening to turn inside out. He closed his eyes once and summoned the courage to face his buyer - to face this foul, putrid horror that tipped him reeling head first into flashbacks of childhood trauma.

It was everything he could do to keep from crying out... to keep from running, to keep from fighting for his life when his eyes landed on them.

There were three of them - three still, black alien figures that blocked the sunlight as they stood and stared and waited. Unnaturally tall with unnaturally small heads perched atop unnaturally elongated necks hidden beneath flowing robes and veils. Everything was stretched into gross, freakish distortion on their bodies...

The bodies of Snoke's Navigators. And they'd come to find him once more... just as they'd done, all of those years ago.

But what more could they possibly take from him?

---

"I've got this - just keep 'em occupied!" Finn cried as they all huddled together at the rear of the yacht.

Rey was happy to oblige him. She paid the ventral gun of the Corvette outside no heed, unlike Poe Dameron who balked as he stared down the barrel of the thing, waiting for it to blast the hangar bay to smithereens. The only thing that drew his attention away begrudgingly was the angry volley of blaster fire that swarmed in glowing colors all around him. He danced nimbly, scorch marks narrowly missing his agile feet.

But for Rey, there was nothing so mercurial about this fight. This fight wasn't about reflexes or dexterity. It was about strength. Strength... and rage. She had been asked to sacrifice so much already. How much more would she be asked to sacrifice before this fight was over? The thought alone was enough fuel to stoke the fires inside her. She stood before the men who were firing on them from the doorway, and she met their eyes and she stared them down. She'd made a hard, terrible trade for this ship, and she was going to take it back, one way or another.

Returned gunfire was easily deflected by Clan Deshra's shields. Blunt force trauma, however, was a different story. She reached out through the Force and found the piece of the Upsilon shuttle wing that had gouged its way down the nose of the yacht. She screamed her battle cry as she gave the thing a good lift and slammed it into the door frame where the bounty hunters stood, using line of sight as their only cover for their position. She was fairly certain one of the men didn't make it out in time - the crunch and a wet, guttural cry gave him away, although it was possible he'd only been crushed below his waist.

Without sparing a single moment to look, she yanked the thing away again to rake it across the tiles of the hangar bay deck before she launched it out into space, sending it sailing through the atmospheric force field to bash headlong into the ventral cannon hanging beneath the Corvette. Shattered, broken pieces of shrapnel twirled lazily off into the limitless black fathoms beyond, leaving the threat sufficiently nullified.

She stalked forward, lightsaber ready, before their enemy had any time to regroup. She could feel the blade's hatred burning in her hand. She could feel the crystal's fury like heat, twisting up her arm like smoke. The crack that cleaved the thing like a wound was cutting into her skin, branding her like a hot iron. It colored the air, the world - her very thoughts - a searing, blazing red... and for a moment it frightened her. It made her afraid of what she might become if she let too much of Kylo Ren enter her.

But it also gave her hope, too, that Ben Solo was still alive out there somewhere. That the broken crystal that twinned his soul could still feel its connection to its master. And as such, it could still feed her the strength she needed to save the lives of their innocent children.

She set her feet to marching, but before she could take two steps Omar had met her at her shoulder, both blasters raised and firing. His lips were pulled back into a sharp-toothed snarl, making his beard bristle like the hair on the back of a manka cat's neck. She could feel the others rounding up behind her.

Gingerly, they stepped over the mangled man still groaning in the doorway to enter the long passageway that lead to engineering and the open cargo space beyond. Breathing heavy, they all followed the shouts echoing up the corridor, and the glow of the lightsaber against the walls. From behind her, Rey could hear a tiny, thin whistle - presumably from Finn and one of the datapads he'd been holding dutifully before him.

Upon exiting the passageway, another fierce barrage of blaster bolts immediately erupted from behind the coolant tanks and the large metal tubes that fed the ion fusion chambers deep inside the freighter's engine. At the same time, a wall of acrid smoke and the smell of burning metal stung their eyes and filled the air. Flickering yellow-orange light licked up the walls - a telltale sign of an uncontrolled fire burning somewhere within. The situation was growing more urgent. This wasn't the type of space where Rey could just haphazardly divert gunfire with the aid of a lightsaber and the Force. This type of environment called for greater precision, and a whole lot of guts.

Sooo... she rushed them.

They weren't going to come out from their hiding places, and until their shields were disabled, firing on them was only further risking a missed shot that could result in total catastrophe. To evade a blaster bolt at close range that would scatter her entrails all over the floor, she sprung up hard to run her feet along the near bulkhead before catapulting herself saber-first onto her enemy's chosen hiding place. The only thing heard above their gunshots and their gasps of surprise was her own savage roar.

The one she landed on collapsed under her weight, dropping his pistol but also freeing his hand to search for his vibroblade. He never got the chance to use it, though. After Rey bashed an elbow into the face of his partner, she impaled her prey with the hot, red pointy end of Kylo Ren's lightsaber. The other man, fearing for his life after watching his friend get dispatched so easily, wasted no time in ramming his knee into her rib cage and pounding her in the left cheekbone with his heavy metal gauntlet. In her brief daze, she heard Finn shout his words of encouragement to her.

"I've almost got it!"

He brushed past her to continue following Omar up and ahead, further into the belly of the ship along with Poe, Maz, and their new comrade, Tom.

When her vision cleared, she found herself staring down the length of a blaster barrel. She grabbed the man's wrist and turned it away the very moment his finger pulled the trigger. She sliced at him with the saber but he kicked her again, pushing her only as far away as her vice grip on his arm would allow. He was strong enough to overpower her, to wrestle against her and turn his pistol toward her heart. She couldn't allow him a second opportunity to take that shot - it was him or her. So, she brought the saber around again and neatly severed his hand. She then stabbed him to mercifully silence his screams and put him out of his misery.

Pushing damp hair out of her eyes, she turned to follow the whistling siren of Finn's datapad all the way past the med bay and up to the doorway to the main commons where she found him crouched out of firing range. Maz was cuddled up next to him with her eyes sighted down her blaster barrel, providing him cover. He had the first datapad lying beside him and the second an inch from his face where it illuminated every bead of sweat on his brow and upper lip. It set the whites of his eyes and the line of his teeth in stark, tense contrast against the shadows cast across the rest of his face. He was so engrossed in his efforts he paid absolutely no heed to the large meteoric shot that pummeled the corner near his head, blowing a chunk off of the wall to rain down a cascade of debris all over his chest. The shot had obviously come from Chewie's bow caster, which told her that there was a good chance they hadn't been too late - that the children were still alive.

She dropped to the floor near Finn's feet and pressed her back to the opposite side of the doorway, leaning in with only half of her face to try to get a picture of the commons room inside. What she found upon her initial inspection was the potential for a horrifying blood bath.

Poe, Tom, and Omar had taken whatever meager cover they could find - the latter two having ducked into the mess unit leaving Poe to fend for himself behind a crate of standard issue nutrient paste. Beyond them, their attention now divided and frenzied, was a small mob of Deshra clansmen and their compatriots who had taken up residence behind a barricade of couches, chairs, and tables. Tin cups, holovids, and game pieces were strewn everywhere, and several small fires crackled openly with the promise of suffocating death if left unattended for much longer.

The clansmen's backs were wide open targets.

They clearly had not anticipated being struck from behind as they'd chosen to focus instead on pressing their advance into the interior of the ship. Rey couldn't blame them - before she and her team had boarded, there was no reason for any of them to believe they faced any threat beyond the angry Wookiee and the strawberry blonde, teenaged girl who were both firing ineffectually on them from behind a sparking, damaged holoprojector.

"Look, girl," Maz gasped at her.

And then a sickening thought struck Rey like another heavy boot to the belly. Was... was that the reason Sonora Deshra's messages hadn't come through...? A damaged holoprojector? Was all of this violence completely needless? How many more would have to die if she couldn't stop them - if she couldn't make anyone listen?

The bounty hunters were sandwiched and vulnerable, flanked between two opposing forces on either side, and horribly exposed. The only thing that had kept them from doing anything irrational and stupid in a state of panicked self-preservation was the integrity of their retribution feedback shields. If Finn brought them down now, it would be utter pandemonium. Against her better judgment... she had to stop him. She yanked the second datapad out of his hands before he got any further.

"W-wha...?" he stammered, confused. "What are you doing?"

"The holoprojector is damaged!" she yelled at him over the cacophony of gunfire and the howling descants of Wookiee obscenities.

"What's that got to do with -"

"No one else needs to die! We just need to fix the projector so that Sonora's messages can come through!"

If she sent them... Rey wasn't completely certain the risk would outweigh the reward, but they had to try. They'd made a deal. A hard deal.

"How are you gonna convince them of that?!" Finn shouted back at her, poking a finger toward the men in question.

And it was at that moment where she stopped - the fight stopped, time stopped, everything stopped - and she looked within... deep within herself. For that moment, the thought had crossed her mind that it would just be easier, maybe even better, if she gave the datapad back to Finn to let him complete his work... let him bring those shields down... let them slaughter every last one of those men in cold blood and end this fight once and for all. She glanced down at that datapad... and the hands that held it, slick with the blood she'd smeared all over the thing's smooth, slim edges.

The blood of the lives she'd already taken.

She stared at the evidence of her lust for violence. She stared at the bridge she'd almost crossed and, not for the first time, she thought of Ben Solo. How old had he been - and how alone had he been - when he'd stood on this bridge? The one that spanned the divide between righteous fury and the thrill of power? Between the zealous conviction of a just cause... and a flimsy, vapid justification for murder? The pale, thin line between a hero and a monster?

She remembered the rush of control she'd felt when she'd entered the mind of the tavern keep in Kalikori Town. The way her feelings of desperation and helplessness had evaporated in an instant with such a simple, terrible action... She remembered voicing her concerns to General Leia Organa, what felt like ages ago, that she feared her own anger... that she was mortified by her hatred. And yet, she wasn't afraid of the dark. She was more afraid of how much she didn't fear it. Did it constitute temptation...?

Was this what caused Luke Skywalker to light his saber over the form of an innocent, sleeping young boy?

If so... what did this make her...? Was this the will of the Force?

But then, as she pressed her cheek to the corner of the entryway one more time to watch Poe tuck himself into a ball to dodge an errant shot, she remembered something else Ben Solo had said.

There's no such thing as Destiny, there is only Choice.

She would have to make a choice. A better choice, the right choice. And that time was now.

"Go girl," Maz told her with preternatural assurance. "You know what you have to do. You can do it." The woman pulled the datapad from her fingers.

She was right. She had to. She had to make it over the barricade to reach the holoprojector, but even at the pinnacle of her dexterity she couldn't get past all of those men without taking fire. And again, parrying blaster bolts with the lightsaber only put her friends at greater risk, as if they didn't already have enough to dodge with blasts tearing holes in the bulkheads or ripping hot cuts across the deck that left streaks of flames in their wake. Her frantic brainstorming was brought to a short halt when two of the men at the barricade peeled away to pull their vibroblades and close the distance between themselves and the mess unit, presumably to take full advantage of their shields in order to deal with Omar and Tom. She had to take action now. The break away gave her the edge she needed.

She couldn't make repairs to the holoprojector while it still had power. And while she knew the Mandalorian helmets the hunters wore had dark vision capability, there would be a brief pause before it kicked over. It was now or never.

"Omar!" she screamed. When the man turned to look at her from where he cowered behind the long metal line of cabinetry, she finished with a loud, "Here!" before she lobbed the lightsaber through the air. He caught it swiftly and gave her a quick, confused quirk of an eyebrow before she turned and flung a hand toward a junction box on the wall. Through the Force, she yanked it open and pulled the converter, breaking the circuit.

And the whole of the commons was plunged into darkness.

Lena Entero's high-pitched shriek told her where she needed to go. With that, she let the Force guide her. She ran directly toward the men at the barricade before they could see her. She leaped at them, landing both hands on a pair of strong, armored shoulders before she cartwheeled herself over them and the barricade entirely. When she landed on the deck, she rolled into a tight somersault that brought her to the rim of the dais where the projector sat. Looking up and back from where she lay on the floor, all she could see was the red sheen of the lightsaber across the commons and the burnt glow that still bled from the wound in the holoprojector.

But that all ended when she heard Chewbacca roar from behind her. A grunt and a light breeze from his pelt as it tore through the air told her he'd thrown something. The ensuing explosion that deafened her would have blinded her, too, if she hadn't been so fixated on trying to identify the mangled wiring on the projector's console. He'd thrown a flash grenade - he was trying to reset the kick over on their enemy's dark vision. If she was paying attention the next time, perhaps she could get a better look at what she needed to do, and catalog the different colors insulating the exposed wires. That was all she needed to see.

"I just need a little time," she pleaded with Lena, who had crowded in next to her once the Mandalorians had recovered and resumed their attack.

"What are you doing?!" the girl cried in bewilderment.

"There's someone on the outside who needs to get a message through," Rey replied, ripping and tearing at the wraps that wound their way up her arm. She only needed a short length. "This can all end - I just have to fix this!"

"How can you even see?!"

"I can't," she answered honestly. She felt certain the Force wouldn't steer her wrong... but a little light would really help her out.

Chewie chirped his understanding and threw another grenade.

Omar bellowed ferociously as he slashed the lightsaber at his attackers during the momentary flash of light. Poe had dropped his blaster pistol when another hunter turned on him, doing his best to wrestle him to the ground and end his life. Finn charged from where he sat to tackle the man around the middle in defense of his friend and leader. And before the light faded, Rey was successfully able to distinguish the yellow wires from the blue ones and separate them between her right and left hands. All that was left to do was twist their frayed connections together and wrap them tightly with the cloth. The sweat-sodden strips of linen would eventually burn away from the surge of conductivity, but perhaps they'd last long enough for one short, crucial bit of conversation across time and space. When her handiwork was complete, she leaped across the deck to replace the converter to its rightful place and restore power to the commons.

A panorama of chaos raged all around her when the lights came on. The mess unit had been shredded to not much more than hot melted strips of metal, Poe and Finn were still grappling with their assailants amidst a jumbled mess of collapsed crates and nutrient paste tubes, and a multitude of blaster bolts were still ricocheting off of the walls. Rey pulled her own blaster from its holster to provide cover for herself as she returned to the holoprojector. Once there, she scrolled through the call logs until she found the frequency for the Resistance's last good transport ship, then she slammed her fist down onto the call button.

The wait was agonizing.

Chewie made a clean head shot on a man who was clambering over the barricade, and while he was flung away to bonelessly sprawl face down across the deck, his shielding prevented his death. He got his hands beneath him and shook his spinning head.

And the holoprojector kept ringing.

Omar was forced to skewer his attacker with the lightsaber while another man climbed over the mess unit. He traded shots with Tom who took two to his left shoulder and arm. Omar couldn't quite pull the lightsaber free fast enough.

And the holoprojector kept ringing.

Finn was pinned with his back to the floor, fighting with every muscle in his body to keep the barrel of a blaster from being pressed against his forehead. Poe twisted beneath the weight of another man in time to dodge the downward strike of a buzzing vibroblade - he stretched to reach for his blaster but his fingertips were still too far away to do much more than nudge it.

And the holoprojector kept ringing.

"Come on," Rey sobbed beneath her breath, even as a deadly green bolt zipped past her face close enough to blister her skin. The shots she was firing were not enough to keep them from coming after her. She should have let Finn finish bringing down their shields. She should have snapped Sonora Deshra's neck when she'd had the chance, if she'd known then that they'd have to take this ship back the hard way anyway. She should never have traded Ben Solo - he should be here with her now. This fight should be over and won.

And suddenly... the holoprojector stopped ringing.

"Son of a sarlacc pit!" cried a voice from the other end. Like a gift from the Force itself, it was Sonora Deshra. "There! See?! Was that so hard?! Will you stop fighting me now!? Let's just get this over with! Mother of Makers!"

Her voice was high and tight with fear and exasperation - she was clearly screaming at Ben Solo. Rey clamped a hand over her mouth at the sight of him, but did nothing to stifle her tears. This might be the last glimpse she'd ever get of him.

He was standing tall and dark and straight, but his shoulders were rigid and there was blood trickling from his nose and from his brow, seeping down the length of his scar. He never turned to face them. His eyes were far away somewhere else, but not as dead and hollow as they usually were. They were filled with something this time... something tough to discern. Not something she'd ever truly seen him openly display, except maybe once... in the temple ruins, at the foot of the staircase leading to the old lightsaber forge. He was staring at something. Something he didn't want to see. She prayed it wasn't his death. She prayed she wouldn't bear witness to his execution before she could get away to do something about it.

"Teryl, is that you?" Sonora Deshra cried as she squinted and leaned in over her console. Her face became a giant sphere above the projector, obscuring Rey's view of anything else, let alone Ben Solo. She'd only then noticed how quiet it had become within the commons room aboard the freighter.

"This is Dale," called one of the men left behind the barricade. He waved as he stood up from his position, removing his helmet and approaching the dais. "Teryl's dead." The accusation in his voice was unmistakable, but honestly... he knew what this was the instant he set foot on this ship. Rey had absolutely zero pity for the man.

Slowly, one by one, the other men began to let go, stand up, back away, and relax. No one holstered their weapons, but no one made any move to provoke any further violence. Quickly, Maz rushed to pick up Poe's fallen blaster and return it to him, handing Finn back his datapad in the process. Rey herself skipped around the barricade to retreat into the mess unit where she could help Omar assess Tom's condition and help him to his feet.

"Su cuy kar'taylii. Su cuy ti Ka'ra," Sonora told them heavily, with reverence.

"Says the dar'manda who got herself dishonored by surrendering to her enemy like a coward."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Sonora droned as she backed away and claimed a seat, crossing her arms. Ben Solo never budged an inch from where he stood. "Talk all you want, ori'jagyc, but I'm the one who's caught your bounty. He ain't coming back to that ship. You're dead in the water."

"Good hunt, then," the man named Dale responded as he leaned with one hand on his hip. "What do you want?"

"You know what I want," she told him, a gleam of danger in her eyes beneath the heavy set of her silver brow. "I'm your matriarch still. And now you know it." She leaned forward and placed her elbows on her knees, steepling her fingers before her chin. "I have a new buyer."

"You're bluffing," Dale scoffed at her.

"Why would I?" Sonora spread her arms wide. "Look, he's here, he's alive - you know how many offers are on the table? You dishonor me - why wouldn't I steal from you?"

"You dishonored yourself."

"And I aim to change that. Right here, right now. Tell you what, I'll make you a deal, ad'ika." Which stood to reason. Sonora Deshra was all about her deals. She pointed at him from the end of a blithe, loose wrist. "If you can get here before I close this deal... you can have him."

"Wha..." Rey breathed, ice cold shock draining the blood from her face. But before she could protest any further, someone took her hand.

And pressed something into it.

It was Tom. He'd given her the mechanism that cut the fuel lines on the yacht.

A plan began to form in her mind. She sucked in a shaky breath to calm her nerves and temper her expectations. She had to remain calm. Cool, natural, convincing, and calm.

"I'm sending the coordinates along this frequency. You should have no problem, we haven't gotten far... unless you really think there's a whole lot of honor in hunting down little children..."

The passive aggressive way Sonora slyly smiled at him through the one lifted corner of her mouth was a crushing blow to the ego of any man. The one named Dale only huffed and shook his head at her in incredulity. His manhood affronted and his fight pointless and over, he finally returned his weapon to its holster.

"Do you have them?" he sighed and asked a partner next to him, referring to the stated set of coordinates. His colleague only gave him a crisp nod of affirmation. "Fine," he finally acquiesced to the floating blue image of Sonora Deshra hovering above the holoprojector. "Have it your way. But don't wait on our account. We've taken heavy fire and we've, uh..." he frowned over his shoulder at Rey. She returned his steely gaze, eye for eye. "We've had some casualties."

"Don't worry, my friend," Sonora chuckled at him, smug and satisfied with her win. "I'll keep them talking as long as I can." And with that, she cut the connection.

"Take the yacht," Rey blurted before the last remaining pops of static had fizzled out of the air.

"W-what...?" the man turned to her in the middle of dumping his huge bucket-shaped helmet back over his head.

"You can send a shuttle for your dead and your injured - we'll give you safe harbor. But if you're going to chase your bounty, you should take the yacht. It's faster than your Corvette."

He narrowed his eyes at her with suspicion, searching for her angle and trying to decipher her bluff.

"Why should we trust you...?" he asked in all fairness.

"Because our ship's on fire!" she cried, letting a taste of her true emotions color her voice and season the pot. "We've got three terrified children we'd like to get to safety, and the sooner we reach Takodana the better."

"The thing is of no consequence to us," Maz stood and spoke, waving a dismissive hand before her. "We stole it from someone else who will pay a deductible to have it replaced sometime next week. It's a non-issue. This is Kylo Ren we're talking about. We've already traded him for this ship. Go." She waved that same hand over her head. "Go do the galaxy a favor. The faster the better. And get that yacht out of our hold. If you take it, you may still have a shot. If you'll pardon the pun. Consider it payment in full, to purchase your expedient absence."

And for one tense and restive, nail-biting moment Rey held her breath. Dale and his clansmen all looked at each other and shrugged. They collected their knives and powered down their weapons. They shouldered the bodies of their fallen like nothing more than sacks of raw tubers. Dale let his helmet fall over his eyes.

"You expecting a cut or something?" his tinny, stuffy voice asked.

"I'm expecting you to leave!" Rey yelled at the man, throwing a stiff hand toward the exit. "I don't give a flying piece of bantha crap what you do with that yacht - just take it and go! You've done enough already!"

She hoped her outburst was enough. She'd compel him through the Force if she had to... but she hoped she wouldn't have to. And then casually Dale tapped two fingers to his helm as a weak sort of farewell salute before he made his way toward the passage that lead to the hangar bay.

"Have it your way, then. Pleasure doing business with you."

And then they were gone.

---

"Woah, woah, woah - hold up! It's me, little buddy!"

Rey looked up from the fire she was smothering to see Poe standing before the open door to the old captain's bedchamber. On the other side was the rotund and rolling form of BB-8 with all working arms extended, for all intents and purposes looking like an oversized, white and orange spider. He'd sprung forth with everything sharp, pointy, and flaming he had in order to face off against whatever opened the door - behind him she could see the three children huddled together on the bed. The little droid squealed like a happy flock of birds when he found his would-be attacker was actually his oldest friend.

"It's alright, it's alright," Poe cooed at them all, rubbing BB-8's shiny metal head, "it's all over. It's okay now."

But it wasn't. It wasn't okay... and it wasn't over either. Rey rolled up the charred and tattered blanket she'd been using and tossed it into the compactor chute before stomping a straight, hurried line toward the cockpit, all business. Behind her she heard the air leave Lena Entero's lungs as her father scooped her up into his arms.

"Dammit, girl... you okay? Stand back - lemme look at you."

"I'm fine, daddy. Really."

"Are you sure? Did they touch you?"

"What?! No! Ew!"

"And don't think I didn't notice what you were doing! What did I tell you about guns on spaceships?!"

"Daddy -"

"Guns on spaceships, Lena!"

"You told me not to miss! I didn't miss!"

"Anyone know where I can find a mop?" Finn called from the doorway to the corridor beyond the commons. "Chewie's got the fire out in engineering, but the floor's a bloody mess." And then Rey knew he saw her. She knew he could read her like a book, more than anyone in this galaxy. She knew he wouldn't miss her intensity, and the fevered pace of her movements. She braced herself for the incoming line of interrogation. "Oh, Rey, I'm... I'm sorry. That was probably a little insensiti...uh, whatcha doin'? What's going on?"

She already had the signal dialed in. It was already feeding their navigation systems. She was already spooling up their drive array. It was the same set of coordinates that Sonora Deshra had given the Mandalorians... just procured from a different source.

"I put Leia's bracelet on him before I let him go," she answered over her shoulder without looking up from her work. She didn't want to see his face. She didn't want to have this argument. She didn't want to waste any time - there was no time to waste. Sonora Deshra would only talk for so long.

"Uh...huh. Okay," was all he had to say, and in her mind's eye, she could see him locking questioning eyes with Poe Dameron, who would most certainly interject with his perfected and famous -

"Whoa, wait - what?!"

"I have the same coordinates Sonora Deshra sent her men. If we hurry, we can get there before it's too late."

"Where, exactly? And to do what?"

She'd already laid in a flight path. She'd already turned the helm about. She punched the throttle then spun around to face them. She couldn't avoid them any longer.

"We have to go rescue Ben Solo."

"Wait, wait, wait," Poe chuckled acrimoniously. He pointed a finger down at the deck. "Didn't we just trade this ship for that homicidal maniac...?"

"There's no need for namecalling -"

"And now you want to put the homicidal maniac back on this ship?"

"I'll take the shuttle then. I'm not asking you to go with me."

"I know you're not asking me to go with you. I'm asking why you're going."

"I know this is difficult to understand -"

"Understand?! What's for me to understand?! This isn't about me! This is about the Mandalorians who just tried to kill us! Don't you think they'll find that a little rude?! They set this ship on fire, Rey! With children on board!"

"Those Mandalorians are stranded in the middle of space right now," she told him as she tossed the little black box out onto the deck. It skittered to a stop next to the holoprojector. "I cut the toggle on their fuel line. They're not getting any closer."

"They still have the Corvette."

"And when they get back here, we'll be gone. We've got a head start. If we don't delay -"

"Okay, but what about Rose and the Zephyr? They're just sitting and waiting -"

"In town, where they're safe!" she yelled, her temper rising. Something bitter and shameful and real and necessary was filling her eyes with tears. She had to make him see. "Right now they're probably having a great time," she flung a hand over her head, "people watching and soaking up the sun! Maybe having lunch! Ben Solo is fighting for his life! We know he is, we can do something about it, and you want me to just... leave him behind?! Knowing they're going to kill him?!"

"I... I..."

"It's murder! Look." She balled her hands into fists and fought against her rage. She drew a long inhale and begged desperately for calm and reason. For focus... and discipline. The minutes were slipping by. "I know... what he is to you. I know... what he's done. But aren't we better than this? What do we stand for, if we're not?"

She glanced up to meet Omar's eyes and was surprised to find him smiling at her, swaying slowly as he snugly held his daughter to his chest.

"We... aren't the good guys if all we ever do is blow things up. They blow us up, so we blow them up, so they blow us up again." She sliced her hands through the air. "We're just another weapon! What does it matter who started it?! That's the whole point! It doesn't as long as we keep blowing each other up - that's what they want!

"We have to draw our line in the sand and decide who we are. And to me? We're the only place left in this galaxy that's a safe place - a place for a second chance. This Resistance was my second chance to find a family that loves me enough to keep me - to find a place where I belong." She pointed across the commons to her friend. "The Resistance was a place where Finn could find a life with meaning and a purpose that was right for him. And now he's been joined by others just like him. The Resistance was a place where General Leia could finish the work she started all of those years ago.

"This Resistance, these people standing right here in this room - we are the only chance this galaxy stands against total annihilation. We are this entire galaxy's last, best hope for a second chance.

"And I know what he's done. I know his crimes. I know the blood on his hands. He knows it too, that's why he's with us." She jabbed a finger out before her. "Show me one person in this room whose hands are clean!

"What was Finn doing when you met him?!" she yelled at her General. "How did you meet?!"

"I was destryoing the village of Tuanul," Finn answered for him, gravely.

"That's right! And how many other villages did you destroy before that one?! We've never asked, have we?! Because it doesn't matter! You're here now! And what about Paige Tico?!" she turned her attention back to Poe. "Does Rose know her sister is dead because of an order you gave?! Or was it her duty to know the risks?!"

Poe's face darkened, but not in anger. He sucked in a sharp breath, he closed his eyes, and his mouth fell open. He passed a hand through his hair, over his brow, and to cover his face. She knew it was a low blow, she regretted it the instant she said it. But this war was no longer what they'd thought it was. It was grey and blurry and messy and complex, and tiptoeing around the truth wasn't going to do anyone a single bit of good anymore. Honesty was their armor now, and they would find their strength in confronting it.

"That blood? That's all over the floor in engineering?" she whispered through a throat that was threatening to tighten and close. There was so much blood in there that she could smell it all the way up the hall. "I did that. And it's easy to rationalize that it was them or us. But it doesn't change the fact that those men had mothers and wives. Or husbands, even. They had families. And they aren't going home to them tonight.

"I did that.

"You know, Leia told me something once, and it's stuck with me. She said, 'war has a particular philosophy.' It's true. It's true. I think it's the very thing we use to validate our horrors, and justify our atrocities. It's the lullaby we use to sing ourselves to sleep at night. It's the lie we use to convince ourselves that this blood we've spilled is the reason we're the good guys and they're the bad guys. But that's not what the Resistance is to me. It's not my philosophy.

"This is the place we came to be better than what we were." She straightened her fists at her sides. "This is a place we came to make the galaxy better. We came here to change, and make change. We came here to make a difference, all of us. We came here for a second chance.

"So why is it okay for all of us, but it's not okay for him?!"

The deck became so quiet she could hear her echoes fade. She could hear the pings and whirs of the cooling fans on BB-8's onboard processing unit. She could hear Lena sniffle as she rubbed her face into her father's shirt, warmed by the pillow of his chest. She could even hear her own tears fall if she listened hard enough. And then, finally, someone broke the silence.

"She's right."

It was Finn.

"She is," he said again. He lifted a hand and let it fall to his side. "I don't know anything about the dark side of the Force... but I remember Snoke. I remember what it's like to live inside the First Order. And I know what it takes to leave it. You don't try to leave unless you really, really mean it. And I believe he means it. She's right. We need to go back."

Rey thought her chest would explode, just burst wide open with the sobs she fought so hard to contain. She closed her eyes in relief, and rolled them back in her head. Her lips were quivering, her knees were shaking. She let her tears fall when she looked back to Poe Dameron, whose face was wide and open with anguish, guilt, and a soul-deep weariness that cleaved the very heart of his indecision.

"He is the last person in this entire galaxy that's anything close to a fully trained Jedi," Rey reminded him. "He's powerful. We need him. And what's more than that... he's Han Solo's son, Poe.

"He's General Leia's son. Please. All she ever wanted was to bring her son home. Please."

"Please," cried another voice from the door to the old captain's bedchamber. A small, thin voice. Poe turned to see the slim, dark haired form of a boy peering around the frame of the entryway. It was Ali. "He almost died trying to save me. He told me he would take me home. He's sorry for the things he did. He wants to go home, too. He's just scared. He needs help."

Poe Dameron stumbled a little when the curve of BB-8's frame bumped against his knee.

"You too, little buddy?" Poe asked the droid in a voice that was on the verge of breaking. Rey thought she might have gone a bit too far with the whole Paige Tico thing. But the man just wiped his face and smiled sadly down at his favorite little flight partner.

"See?" he told him. "This is what it's like to be out of the cockpit and behind a desk." BB-8 dressed him down with a series of bleeps and whistles that minced no words about the clear view he saw of the man sliding the yacht sideways through the hangar bay force field. "Okay, okay, okay," Poe admitted reluctantly with a self-effacing laugh, "I know you told me I'd fly again. Next time I won't do it without you. I promise."

He gave the dome of the droid's head a couple light taps, a sign of affection between the two. Then he turned his eyes to Rey. The fire in them had died, but he didn't look defeated. He simply looked like a man who'd been reminded of something he'd forgotten. He lifted the corner of his mouth at her.

"You're right. You are. I don't have to like him, and I don't trust him," he pointed a finger at her, "and he does not get free reign on this ship, okay? He stays under lock and key until he proves himself. But you're right. I'll give him one chance. Let's go do it. For Leia. Dial it in."

"I already did," she confessed, twiddling her fingers together as she twisted one ankle behind her. "We'll, uh... we'll be there in a few minutes.

All he could do was laugh and shake his head.

"Of course you did."

---

Kylo Ren knew that his stun cuffs still had teeth, even if they were nowhere near their controller. He knew that if he struggled against them too strongly, they'd tighten, cutting off circulation and possibly refracturing his recently healed right arm. He did his best to fiddle with the lock through his connection with the Force, but it was difficult to find focus while an angry Mandalorian matriarch was impatiently shoving him down the exit ramp and out onto the open floodplain.

It was a shameful waste of an otherwise beautiful day. The marshy meadow sprawled as far as the eye could see, nestled sweetly in the lee of two towering sentinel peaks, hazy and resplendent in the pink and yellow, pearly morning sun. The dew on the tall, soft grasses dotted his pant legs, and the low, soft hum of insects sung a musical harmony paired against the whispery hush of the nearby river. The air was mild with not even so much as a breeze - still and dreamlike and perfect.

Except, of course, for the three grotesque figures standing before him like dead, black trees.

"There," Sonora grunted as she gave him one last push. He resisted the urge to spin around with both cuffed fists swinging when he nearly stumbled onto his face. "Te koor cuy'ani. He's all yours. But I feel compelled to tell you as the finder for this particularly nasty piece of merchandise, I don't take returns and I don't make refunds. I don't care how much trouble he gives you. And he will. And let me know if you change your mind and want me to shoot 'im. Been itching to all damned day. Even give you a discounted rate. Now if you'll excuse me," she dipped lightly at the waist by way of a courteous bow, "I have airspace to scan and a clan to wait for. Have fun."

And with that, she disappeared back into the hold of the transport ship.

Leaving him alone with... them.

And it was like waking up to that nightmare again... the same one he had over and over and over when he was little. The one that set him to screaming, the one that chased his sleep away the way a candle would banish the dark. The one that injected fear into his mother like the sinking stab of a needle. The one his father tried to ignore. The vision of a thing - of a tall black thing, blacker than the black of night - with shining eyes and flowing shadows standing in the corner of his bedroom just... staring at him. Searching for him. Reaching out for him. Trying to find... trying to touch. And they brought their demon with them.

They always came back for him, and here they were again. Except this time he could not wake up.

And there was no one coming to help him.

Now, just as much as then, there was no comfort. There were no arms to hold him. There were no words of encouragement or understanding, no tincture to dissolve his fears. He was completely and wretchedly alone.

And there was no one coming to help him.

He was unarmed and defenseless. His wrists were bound by a lock his mind was too paralyzed to try and open. And these creatures were just as strong in the Force as he was. He was completely at their mercy.

And there was no one coming to help him.

His mother was dead. His father was dead. His teacher was dead. His master was dead. And the girl... Rey... She had a purpose. She was meant for so much more than simply his fledgling and embarrassing attempts at ingratiation and nervous affection. She'd made her trade correctly.

So there was no one coming to help him.

With trembling destitution and chattering teeth, he quietly and gracefully resigned himself to his fate. His dignity was all he had left. Even if the devil himself found some value in seeking him, it was better than no value at all. So he squared his feet in a steady stance that kept his knees from shaking. He straightened his shoulders, he lifted his chin, and he looked those shadows deep into their cold, pale, shining eyes.

"What do you want?" he asked.

And their cold seeped into him... seeped into his mind where their words leaked down the pathways of his consciousness like the icy drips of glacial melt. Their voices whispered in unison.

"You still have a Destiny, Ben Solo."

Flashes and echoes of Snoke crashed through his mind, racing against each other one after one. Images of a ghastly deformed face with yellowed teeth and claws that claimed him, scarred him to his very soul. Foul breath, hot and wet against his ear as those claws stroked him in ways that left him vulnerable, teasing him and tantalizing him with promises of Destiny...

In an instant he thought he might throw up.

"There is no such thing as Destiny," he choked over the acid that had risen in his throat. "There is only Choice."

"You are Destined to make a Choice."

He lurched backwards as they strode forward, gliding noiselessly across the grass without disturbing so much as a blade. Before his brain could even react, they surrounded him. No matter what they did now, he couldn't get away. He knew they wanted him alive for some purpose but...

There was no one coming to help him.

He felt their frigid fingers land, freezing, on his shoulders as if they carried the very vacuum of space with them everywhere they went. He shivered as if scoured by the wintry winds of Hoth.

"You must face your fears, Ben Solo. You must decide what you want." No. No, no. He already answered this... this... no. Not this again. "You must confront your -"

"STOP!" he roared at them. "I already -! Just... just stop! I can't... keep..."

The question had no answer. The question was just a symptom. It was a clear and present signal of his own impending mental breakdown. There was only so much a man could take. He was cracking at the seams.

Why was he always so stupid? Why did he keep falling for this trap?

Why didn't he tell someone?

Why didn't he say no?

"Ben Solo -"

"Just tell me!" he screamed in panic and despair. "Tell me what you want me to say and I'll say it!"

"You must..." they hissed once more as the hands gripping his shoulders began to bruise and punish and numb. "You cannot move forward if -"

But something caught their attention. Kylo Ren had heard it too, had felt it. The ground beneath his feet had begun to rumble and quake. The low pulsing growl of a starship engine in atmo began to bounce and rebound between the two stone pillars of their neighboring mountains. He watched the ghostly face before him turn and look toward the sky. Out of a bizarre reflex, a masochistic one that was interested in seeing how things could possibly get even worse, he turned to see what had caught his captor's attention.

And then an enormous shadow passed over them all as a giant freighter eclipsed their view of the brilliant morning sun. And not just any freighter.

Her freighter.

He couldn't breath. He couldn't speak. He couldn't even think, his mind was completely shattered. All he could do was let his mouth fall open and let his hands hang loose and limp from the rigid metal confines of the stun cuffs that still made him a prisoner. He begged his eyes not to fill with tears. His brain grappled for an explanation - it tried to convince him that her Resistance was really only there to make sure the job was done... to see him finished off and then be on their merry way, unencumbered. He would have made any bargain with hope if it meant it would stop torturing him like this.

He didn't dare to dream she had come back for him.

But then the craft landed and the exit ramp clapped to the ground, sending up a spray of dew and mud and pollen. From within tromped a troop of figures, each one with pistols high - four men including Omar, whose long dust coat billowed behind him as he marched. There was also a slight young girl and the imposing form of Chewbacca with his fearsome bowcaster sighted and ready. And then the blazing red flash of his own lightsaber purred and sang from within the hands of Rey, who gripped it tightly as her purposeful boot steps pounded their way across the wet grass.

"Let him go."

Her voice was even, but her tone was unmistakable. He'd come to know how she sounded when she'd made up her mind about something. She wasn't going to repeat herself.

The Navigators didn't leave him, but they did turn to face their newcomers. There was strangely no malice in their movements, but an odd, quizzical fascination. A curiosity. They exchanged wordless glances with each other, but people like Kylo Ren and Rey knew there was much more being said beneath the surface, transmitted down the silver lines of the Force.

"You heard the lady," called a voice who weirdly turned out to be Poe Dameron. "You need to back away. Nice and slow. Hands where we can see 'em."

"What in all ti Ka'ra is going on out here?!" Sonora Deshra cried as she reemerged from the hold of the transport ship, presumably summoned by the arrival of a freighter that was not carrying the clansmen she was expecting.

"Hey, hey! Hey! Stop right there - right there!" Omar yelled at her as he advanced quickly, weapon trained between her eyes. He gave her no time to react, but the huntress had no reaction for him. This wasn't the first barrel in her life that had greeted her so cordially, and it likely wouldn't be the last. She simply shrugged and picked lazily at her teeth with a fingernail, leaning one hip against the hydraulic lift for the ramp.

But then one of... them spoke. Alone, with the airy slip of a breathy voice that reduced them all to unnerved silence.

"Come, child."

One long, spindly arm was extended toward the woman who stood before them, with her gnashing teeth and lit lightsaber. Every thread of tension in her body was a direct and unequivocal warning. There was nothing inviting about the gesture that beckoned her, but the compulsion to let the saber droop and follow the call was akin to a magic spell. He watched her approach with dread... who would defend them if they couldn't defend themselves? And yet a seed of doubt was beginning to take root in his mind.

They wanted him alive. They wanted him to make a choice. What did that mean?

Snoke was dead. What master did they serve now? Did they, even? What did they want?

Something didn't make sense here.

"Your hand," it commanded her. Something sank to the pit of his belly when he watched her extinguish the blade, but his quest for answers kept him from voicing his concerns. She clipped the saber to her belt and held out her hand, but her eyes landed on his. They widened and he could see her fears ticking in her mind like clock hands, never quite landing on whether or not she'd made a huge mistake in lowering her weapon.

"You," he was instructed by the one nearest him. Unwilling to abandon her in her risk, he held out his hand as well. His eyes never left hers. They were in this together. And then the third Navigator withdrew an object from within the folds of its heavy black robe.

"You must confront your fears," it hushed a soft sigh. "You must make a choice. It is your Destiny."

He felt the deathly cold pallor of alien skin as it slithered beneath his hand. It guided him until his fingers brushed up against Rey's. Her warmth was an oasis - the plump swells of their fingertips rested against each other once more, and he could feel the pulse of the Force that bound them, connecting them like one heartbeat that bled its way across the stars. And in that moment he fell entranced, enthralled by the silky soft embrace of her companionship. His fear of abandonment ebbed away as if washed by warm spring rains. He felt rescued.

And then the third Navigator laid its object across the plane of their twinned hands. It was thin, metallic, and square.

It was a datapad. Clearly of First Order issue.

"W-wha...?" Rey stammered, but she wasn't given the opportunity to inquire further. Promptly, the Navigators stepped away, the hems of their garments sweeping evenly and eerily across the grass.

"The Infinite Engine is ruin and death," they sang in unison. "It was never meant to be found. We could not stop him. We were meant to lead him astray. We failed. Until you ended him. This Destiny is yours. You must confront your fears. You must make a choice."

"I don't understand," Rey asked, "what choice?"

Only one word was their answer.

"Together."

They then quietly backed away before turning to step single file back up the ramp that lead them into their own vehicle. Kylo Ren caught the datapad with both of his hands when Rey raised hers to block her eyes from the sudden blast of swampy muck that burst from the lift of the craft. Slowly the atomized cloud of mud and water dispersed, condensing out of the air to deposit itself on every available surface, from their shoulders and hair to the sunny tips of dancing marshy plants.

"Well," Sonora broke the new silence, slapping her hands over the beads of sludge that now coated her pant legs, "that was fun." She threw a thumb over her shoulder, indicating the Resistance's last good transport ship. "So it's safe to assume from all of yer guns that you'll be taking this ship back with you, yeah?"

"You bet yer ass that's a safe assumption," Omar growled, pistol still held high.

"Fair enough."

She sauntered the rest of the way down the exit ramp to where she met Kylo Ren, shoulder to shoulder. Her eyes held a glint of amusement as she peered up at him and pondered the perfect set of parting words. Her gaze didn't linger far from the rest of the squad behind him, however. She'd been their prisoner the day before, same as him. She clearly had a lingering doubt that they'd allow her to part company so easily, but the truth remained - she'd upheld her end of her bargain. And everyone came out alive.

"Hope there's no hard feelings, ad'ika," she said to him. "Just business, and now our business is concluded. But if you ever find yourselves in need of some folks that are heavy on firepower, but a little light on the ol' moral compass," she tucked two fingers into a breast pocket to retrieve a small data chip, "give us a call." Out of reflex and propriety, Rey accepted the little token from the woman. "I can make you a fair quote.

"Te koor cuy'ani, aruetiise," she smiled back at them over her shoulder as she stuffed her hands into her pockets and started her trek off into the wilds where she belonged. "Ret'urcye mhi!"

"How will you get back to your clan?" Kylo Ren called after her on a strange compassionate impulse that seemed to come out of nowhere.

"I'm their matriarch again," she shouted back at him, turning a circle in the sun, her face lifted and her arms wide. "They'll come find me!" And with that she kept on walking until she slipped away unseen, disappearing at last through the thick curtain of tall grass.

But that made him think of something.

"How..." he began. But before the finished thought could climb its way out of him, Rey closed her hand around his and ran her thumb across the top of it. He looked down at her, just there, standing so close... just inside his bubble of space. Just close enough to feel... intimate. Close enough to make him nervous. He wasn't sure what to do, what to say... Was he supposed to lace his fingers into hers, or...?

But then she slid her hand up his wrist, and he felt something tug away from where it had been lodged beneath the cuff still clamped there, something he hadn't noticed before. She pulled it away and held it up between the two of them, giving it a good jiggle. The thing that flopped around over her fingertips looked like a bracelet with a bright blue object secured in the center. If he wasn't mistaken, it looked like it might be a...

"It's a homing beacon," she supplied, waggling her eyebrows at him as she pinched her bottom lip between her teeth. "It belonged to your mother. I put it on you before Sonora took you away. That's how we found you."

We found you. Plural. She may not have noticed what she said, but he did. And though his pride would have preferred to cast his eyes far away across the amber plain, his chin held strong and high, he could not avoid the pull that turned him around to face them all as they stood there staring back at him. He felt like the black hole at the epicenter of the galaxy. Even the Turncoat Trooper, Finn, who rested his weight on one leg as he holstered his weapon, locked eyes with him as he pursed his lips and gave a curt nod.

Even Poe Dameron exchanged a look before he grew obviously uncomfortable, failing to disguise his unease by coughing behind his hand before beckoning Chewbacca to join him in preparing the transport for flight. Even Chewbacca mewled at him and landed a heavy paw on the top of his head as he passed him by, mussing tangled knots into his thick black hair by way of affection.

He'd even caught the eye of young Lena Entero, who quickly lost interest at the sight of a brightly colored, multi-winged insect that plotted its vector past her face.

And even her father, Omar, whose guns had found his belt. He pushed aside the long drape of his coattails to slide his hands into his pockets as he made his slow walk across the field.

"Betcha didn't think anyone was coming for you, did ya?" he asked as he reached him, clapping a hand to his shoulder and giving him a shake.

"No..." he whispered so lightly he wasn't sure he could be heard over the soft tickle of a low breeze. "Why... why did you..."

"Because," Rey told him, reaching up to gently slide her slim, sweet fingers up his jaw, behind his ear, around his cheek and into his hair.

And everything just seemed to... stop behind that floodgate of touch. Paused, as if time was nothing more than a cottony, fuzzy little spore suspended by air and dew and sunlight. Careless and free and heedless of time or direction. Just captured as one moment in time, the two of them and them alone. He dove headlong into the depth of her eyes, finding that place where she mirrored him, the place where their two halves met. That tender spot, the spot that hurt, the spot that left a scar... but had finally managed to begin to heal. That place that told a story of two people who understood loss... who understood pain. Who understood power, and what it meant to be used for it. Who understood what it meant to be thrown away. And it was from that place where he heard her speak as he stared so deep within her.

"We don't leave anyone behind."

And it was like he drew breath for the first time. It was like his head had finally breached the surface of the water, just once. The cold receded and he could finally feel the sun on his skin. His heart ached still but with something new this time, something that wasn't pain. Something that swelled. Something that throbbed and pounded. Something that had been caged for so long that was finally, finally being set free.

"Let's go, buddy," Omar told him as he steered him around. "I wanna get a look at that arm. I think we might be able to get that splint off, if you're lucky."

It was something so strong and so powerful it exhausted him. It took every minute of the past day and pressed it down on him. His mouth was dry, his belly was empty, and his eyelids were heavy. His head was in a vice and he was just so tired even though he'd already slept for two days. He felt like he could sleep for two more.

But he would sleep well tonight. For the first time in... in maybe ever.

Because he'd found a little spark of hope.

---

MANDO'A:

-Ni cuy dar'manda: I am soulless/dishonored

-ni cuy Mando'ade: I am a daughter of Mandalore!

-Mando'ad draar digu: A Mandalorian never forgets!

-di'kut: idiot/dumbass

-ba'buir: grandmother

-ori'jagyc: big man

-ad'ika: son

-Su cuy kar'taylii. Su cuy ti Ka'ra.: He is held in our hearts. He is with the fallen kings.

-Te koor cuy'ani.: The deal is complete.

- aruetiise: outsiders

- Ret'urcye mhi: goodbye / we'll meet again