XXVI
"So…you're back. Gonna run away crying this time?"
Rey smirks. Meela's brusque attitude is bracing; it sets the tone for how the rest of the Knights will view her sudden reemergence. "I didn't cry. Did you?"
"Oh yeah," her drawl comes through the mask grainy and processed, but it's there, "buckets. Come on, desert rat," she draws her saber, swings it through the air with the very arm Rey nearly broke, so it hums like a nest of Espacian hornets, "Let's dance."
"No," Kylo's flat denial freezes them all, "We have more important things to discuss."
He's leading from a place of lofty confidence, and they all feel it. No one even offers an objection before sabers and weapons deactivate and everyone comes to stand before him in a rough half-circle. Rey stands among the Knights, closest to Ben's right hand. Present, supportive, but not intrusive. With one hand on her saber, just in case. The Knights followed Kylo away from Luke, but even that loyalty might have been strained during the recent power struggle after Snoke's murder.
The situation now is fluid, to say the least. Rey understands fluid; she's navigated sinking sands often enough. But she's never had to worry about anyone else before. Not like this. Rey is squared, hackles raised, ready to confront anyone if they raise a hand to Ben; it's no different from someone pulling a knife on her.
They wait for him to find his words.
"You already sense the truth of what happened. With us. With Snoke. I killed him."
The Knights, poised and still, turn to stone. Not a single breath betrays them as living creatures.
Then Nüe snorts. "Good."
Ballah says, "Dead prick," it's the closest translation Rey can imagine, though there are several possibilities far more vulgar, "I'd have done it myself."
"We all would have," Meela says. One hand reaches out as if to knock Kylo on the back, but the Knights don't go in for that sort of camaraderie. For the first time, as the Knights chortle and sneer over the truth of Snoke's demise, Rey wonders how different they all were, as children training together under Luke.
They can't have been evil, not outwardly, or Luke would have anticipated their betrayal. They must have been kids...just kids. Raucous, playful; studious, focused. Every shade and variation of child. Only Ballah is older than Ben. Nüe is younger than Rey by two standard years. The rest lie scattered between them. Teens, preteens, when they came to Snoke.
Had Snoke twisted them all as he twisted Ben? He must have. There's a breath of relief sighing through the room now; each Knight's body unraveling as though freed from a rack. Alaezar unmasks himself, tossing the casque aside. It thuds, hollow, on the deck. He shakes his roped, dark hair free and grins.
"I knew it. I knew the girl couldn't have done it."
"Hey," Rey chides, "I'm standing here. Right here."
"Hell, scavenger, you know he's right," Meela hasn't removed her helmet, nor has its blank face-plate moved a millimeter off Ben's. "You're good, but you're not that good. I didn't think anybody was that good."
Her voice sinks to what passes for near superstitious awe, the whisper of an acolyte before the altar of a heretofore unknown god. All jokes sink away as the Knights focus again on Ben. Rey relaxes. They don't see him as a danger. He's their liberator.
"Why did you do it?" Lyarto speaks for the first time. "For her ?"
"Yes," he answers, and Rey looks away even though he doesn't glance at her. He feels at her, and that's enough. He feels gratitude, and determination, and love, love, love. She has to keep it off her face, how much it flusters and thrills her. The time for mooning and dreamy visions of holding hands under binary moons comes later. They're not off treacherous sands yet.
"I did it for her," Ben is still speaking, "And for me. And for you. Snoke was," he swallows, a twitch under one eye showing what a strain it is, speaking ill of his murdered master, "a monster. He took our faith and toyed with it. He never intended to change anything. He only wanted to be on the top of the wheel as it crushed everyone else.
"He lied, manipulated, used us. It had to end."
Lyarto nods, his prehensile tentacles waving thoughtfully. "Why didn't you tell us?"
This is the most delicate part of it all. Rey holds her breath; Ben's lips tighten.
"He didn't know if he could trust us," Meela said, finally turning away. Light reflects off her helmet as she slowly shakes her head. "That's it, isn't it? You didn't trust us."
"I had committed treason, killed our leader, and am about to propose the end of the First Order."
"And you thought that would matter?" Nüe scoffs. "When haven't we done exactly what you asked?"
"Never," Ben says, and there's a smile on his face that almost approaches soft. He looks at Nüe like a younger brother, Rey thinks. Someone he's guided and shepherded, through dangers and decades. "I didn't want to make your decisions for you. Not again."
"We never complained," Ballah says, stout and firm. "We were with you then. We're with you now."
As one, the Knights nod. If there's any dissension, hidden behind resolute faces, Rey can't see it. She can't feel it, either.
All she feels is an overwhelming wave of certainty. In Ben. In themselves. In their friendship.
"What's the plan?" Meela asks.
Ben nods. "We're going to change the galaxy."