Holiday music erupted ship wide over the PA system, startling several unsuspecting First Order crew members and exciting the Hapes nationals into cheers. Streamers popped out of metal boxes across the ship, spraying confetti and colored stripes of pulp paper. First Order banners dropped down the walls. Streamers rolled down the edges of entryways.
And a hoard of beautiful Hapes servants stampeded throughout the Insurrection, bearing wrapped packages. Confections and cakes were brought in on ornate trays and placed in lounge areas. Corks were popped on bottles as stemmed glasses were shoved into First Order officers' hands and drinks were poured for them before they could realize what was happening.
Throughout the Insurrection, presents were placed on consoles near officers, given to stormtroopers, snuck into engineer's kits, and tossed to pilots. Small ribbon wrapped gifts appeared everywhere. Including the infirmary…
Except the medical wing was—in terms of the intensive care units—spared the wholesale decorations and rowdy festivities. And the music was subdued there to a gentle hum to maintain the quiet peace needed for patients.
Unaware of the holiday-take-over of his ship, General Hux struggled to don his uniform. It was an excruciating process. Painful and blocked by External fixators, he had an uphill battle. Yet, he was stubborn. Real stubborn.
Fortunately, the Lady Roan had long since vacated his IC unit. And the silence and privacy helped augment his persistence. He was breathing better and the chest pain was manageable. Still, he hardly less than half his normal range of motion. So he was grateful her absence allowed him to embarrassingly fumble and strain with his uniform on his own.
Determined to some semblance of propriety, he gritted through the pain to slash his left pant leg and right sleeve in order to put the confounded uniform on. He would be shot out an air-lock before he'd run around the ship without a proper uniform.
Hux jerked it over his broken leg in agonizing tugs. The fabric protested. He grit his teeth, nearly ripping it snagging it with his right arm's external fixators. At least the shirt was less of a hassle than the pants were.
After considerable effort, the general finally managed to pull on his uniform by the time an ensign—judging on his insignia… too young and too new to be known personally to the general—bounded into the intensive care unit bearing a small gift.
"General, sir," the freckled kid thrust the red and gold ribboned package towards his face, "This is for you."
Eyeballing the bow bobbing on the little box warily, Hux achingly pulled his outer jacket over his shoulders, slipping the left arm in its sleeve. "What is it?"
"It's a present from the princess," the officer whom delivered it beamed as if the present made him proud.
"From the princess?" Hux felt astonished. "Why?"
He racked his brain for some triumph or achievement he had done warranting reward. But he came up with nothing.
"Happy Giving Days," the baby-faced officer answered, his grin puffing up his chest as he handed the package to him.
Hux shifted his torso painfully for a more comfortable position, almost shrugging off his jacket in the process. Examining the small ribboned package, he rotated it in his hand. "Giving Days?"
"The imperial holiday," the ensign blubbered, smile wavering with concern. "where the imperial ancient one brings good children gifts and the Quramest'il punishes disloyal children with electro-whips. Surely you know of it."
"I know the holiday!" Hux snapped.
Rebuffed, the ensign blinked for a long moment then whimpered. "Of course, sir."
The general closed his eyes, slightly regretful for taking his bitterness out on the younger man.
The ensign couldn't possibly have elucidated that Hux's father negated all holidays and family togetherness as worthless wastes of time… even the imperial festivals. No galas. No vacations. No jubilee. No giving gifts outside of liquor. The Grand Admiral despised holidays and made sure his son understood that fact well.
But at the academy, Hux did witness other cadets from imperial families celebrate with their parents and siblings. Waving banners and opening presents, laughing over sugar-encrusted sour balls that made their mouths pucker, and chasing each other around wearing horned fur masks with fake electro-sticks and blurting, "You are punished!" Then they would too out on week-long family outings.
Hux, on the other hand, never left the academy. Never left—unless there was a specified and pre-scheduled field trip. And the Grand Admiral made a concerted effort to prevent him from celebrating any holiday. Celebrations produced weaknesses.
So, the only other knowledge he had of Giving Days was from researching it on the data network. As a child, he discovered within the data stream images of shrubs decorated with glowing orbs and ribbons, sugary ornate confections with sour centers, spice cakes staked until they nearly toppled over, and the ancient Imperial himself—an old giving bearded man offering children presents followed by the vicious horned wookie-like beast whom punished the children not loyal to the empire with whips and electro-sticks. And of course, if that wasn't sanguine enough. The data network was saturated with images of smiling families—taking holograms together wearing matching imperial insignia pajamas and unwrapping presents. Hux despised that holiday. Utterly despised it.
At least he did… until that moment.
Hux clutched his very first Giving Days present in his palm and inhaled the flowery scent wafting off of it. The princess's perfume. And it was wrapped slightly askew with the pulp paper lumpy around the edges. Far from perfect. A child could have achieved a more aesthetic appearance than it had. The princess must have wrapped it personally.
He breathed in her fragrance… Again the familiar scent of candy and flowers. His first real Giving Days present. And it was from the imperial princess. The granddaughter of the Great Emperor thought of him.
The round cheeked officer stared at Hux with excitement widened eyes. "Are you going to open it, sir?"
Hux hesitated. "Now?"
Compassion fluttered across the ensign's features. "Here, I'll help you." Mistaking his hesitation for an inability to opening the present due to his injuries.
That warranted a severe glare.
The ensign retracted his hands, "Sorry sir." He saluted him, instinctively. "Honor to the Supreme Leader."
Hux rolled his eyes.
The First Order ranks were filled with thousands of exceptionally young officers. Raised on the tenets of the First Order, the Supreme Leader preferred them to seasoned imperials. They were wholly loyal to Snoke and entirely indoctrinated, more so than even he was.
"Dismissed," Hux told him.
Disappointedly eyeing the closed present, the ensign lowered his salute, "Yes, sir" and then obediently scuttled out of there.
After an awkward bungling with the wrapping, Hux braced the present in his right armpit and tore the paper off it with his left hand. Laying the gift on his lap, he pushed the remnants of the paper aside to reveal a small box. It opened in response to his thumb brushing its sensor.
A small hologram of the princess poured up out of it.
"Armitage, I deeply wish you the happiest Giving Days. I know this isn't much of a present," she said, "so I want you to know that you have a newly purchased gift hidden in your office. But this present is sentimental…"
A self-conscious expression crossed her face as she wrung her fingers, "Or at least I consider it sentimental."
Hux's expression softened.
"I may not know you well enough as I would like yet, but I do know you appreciate history as much as Mitth'raw—" she corrected herself, pushing a lock behind her ear "—Grand Admiral Thrawn did artwork. And perhaps this isn't the perfect gift, but it's a historical archive…a historical archive on a small pocket drive."
She pushed her hair further behind her ear bashful, "Some files on it might be a tad distorted, but Ru Two was able to salvage the majority of them. It is a compilation of all the military proceedings of the greatest Admirals within the empire, including Thrawn, and their strategies."
The general sucked in an intake of breath.
"And some of the files are extensive personal logs dictated by these men that you might find entertaining." The hologram's smile turned apologetic. "Maybe you might consider this a dumb gift."
"Never!" He blurted at the recording.
"But I just thought you might find it interesting…" She said, "I wanted you to realize that you have a lot in common with the greatest imperial military minds. And how, you can change the universe for the better."
A happy and heartfelt expression softened her delicate features. "If anyone can lead the First Order to greatness it is you. Even if it doesn't mean much: I believe in you and I just hope that maybe someday… you can believe in yourself."
He felt a smile tug at his lips.
"…And know that you are a most valued friend," she said.
His smile disappeared in an instant. "Friend?" She designated him as 'friend.'
Hux coughed. A practical sucker punch to his chest.
With that the hologram dissipated.
"That's it?" he complained and shook the hologram imager. "You can't end with friend!" He shook it harder. "Anything but friend!"
The imager hissed and whined in complaint. A puff of smoke erupted from it, signaling its death.
The young general dropped his head, repeating pathetically, "Friend? Why did she have to say. 'friend?'"
Pushing the defeated thoughts aside, Hux gathered himself in a new surge of optimism. "Friendship can evolve into love." His determination rose. "Marriages have started on less."
Hux extracted the small archive—a black cylinder drive. It was an antique in itself.
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he rolled the drive in his fingers. Despite his militant reserve, his eyes welled a little moisture. He wasn't one for emotions… but his eyes glistened and deepened in color, the more he mulled over what the princess had done. It stirred his heart. And if he had loved her before, at that moment… his affections for her increased exponentially. Yes, friendship would most certainly blossom into a deep and lasting love.
Hux brushed the drive against his lips, dragging its metallic surface down his bottom lip. The princess had touched the device—her fingers had held it. Curling the drive into his fist, he closed his eyes and held it against his forehead. Then kissed it and kissed it indulgently as if it were her fingers or her lips.
"Do you need some time alone?" A female snide voice snickered.
Hux's eyes popped open in horror to see Lady Roan smirking down at him.
Dressed in a fresh uniform, the noblewoman sauntered towards him. The newly liberated guns on her hips swaying as she walked in that sensuous criss-crossing manner that invited his eyes to follow the length of her legs. "Most men prefer the company of a woman," she scoffed, "But if you like cold metal items, who am I to judge."
He scowled, slipping the drive into his jacket's pocket. "How charming. And these are the inner workings of your mind?"
"I call it as I see it." She plopped down on the seat next to him with the grace of a rough wookie. She whipped out a flask from her jacket and threw a swig back.
He tracked the bottle yearningly.
She wiped her lips with the back of her wrist. "So when are you breaking out of here?"
He narrowed his eyes, not sure how to reply. First, he needed to assess the woman's angle. "What concern is it of yours?"
"Just asking," she threw another gulp of hooch back, "Because you are missing out."
"Are you drunk?" He watched her sway a little with disgust… or perhaps, it was envy.
"Not nearly enough to find you attractive."
"Aren't you supposed to be attending the princess?" He scowled.
"She ditched us for that…" she tipped her flask over to shake it.
Nothing dripped out. She tossed it over her shoulder and slipped out another flask—from the Emperor only knows where— and gulped the whiskey down.
She gasped making a face at the acridness of the liquor and finished, "…hot sith."
Hux's eyebrows shot to his auburn hairline and he coughed to his regret when she resorted to a string of Hapan… describing the sordid conversation her sisters were having over the dark lord a few… he wasn't sure if it the translation meant 'teaching' or 'learning.'
"Pardon?" He asked, not exactly sure if he heard her correctly.
"Did you know there is a party outside?" She changed the subject, waving her flask at him. "Epic," she enunciated the consonants strongly as if saying, 'epppiccc."
Hux froze. "Party?"
"Presents everywhere. The princess bought them all." She threw another one back, "And the booze…" Roan grinned, laughing, "Not too bad, but we brought that ourselves." She swayed slightly and threw her arm over the back of her chair. "Brought you a few cases of my family's best production. You will know that I can acquire the best wine in the Hapes Consortium. Smuggled that shizzle easily aboard in the crates of flour. No one suspected a thing."
The general felt the color in his face fluctuate between pallor and a furious red. "Is that so?"
