Chapter 25 – Covalence
"Forgive me, Grandfather. I was not strong enough."
Rey kneeled before the urn with her head bowed, the unnecessary mask discarded on the floor to her left. She was trembling slightly, still jittery from the hour she had spent exacting revenge upon the Skywalker girl. The experience was supposed to be cathartic, and yet Rey didn't feel any semblance of resolution. On the contrary, she felt more frustrated than ever. The heir of Vitrius had defeated her in single combat and it had only been on account to the support of her Stormtroopers that she had been able to apprehend the young Jedi.
"You are strong, yet still very young, my child," the soothing voice of her grandfather told her. Rising from the urn was the tendrils of smoke which made up the Sith. Raising her head, Rey watched as the smoke coalesced into the familiar figure of Darth Sidious. A vaporous hand reached out and stroked her cheek tenderly. "Do not wallow in defeat, but revel in the chance to learn," the sagacious Sith told her. "The next time you will not be so unprepared."
Rey smiled faintly at her supportive grandfather. He could be harsh at times, but that was only because he had such high expectations for her. She knew that he loved her just like her father had. He was proud of her, and in turn she was proud to be his granddaughter. It felt so incredible to know where she came from – to know that she was a Palpatine. She suspected Skywalker felt the same about Vitrius…
…and about Ben.
"What should I do with her now, Grandfather?" Rey asked as Sidious retracted his hand. The ghostly figure considered this question for a moment, his smoky robes undulating and swirling as the dark material of which he was composed brewed.
"We have no use for the girl," he said finally. "You may dispose of her."
Rey swallowed hard, dreading this instruction. "But why not use her as bait?" she asked. "To lure Vitrius?"
Sidious frowned down at her. "We have no need of bate," he said flatly. "When the time comes, Vitrius will come to us and we will destroy her." Rey nodded and looked down. She felt Sidious' glowing eyes on her as she did this. "Your thoughts betray you, my child," he said after a moment of consideration. "You are afraid of what he will think of you. Is that right?"
"Yes, Grandfather," Rey confessed at once, knowing better than to lie. She paused, her face contorting with bitterness as she remembered the bond she had sensed between the two Skywalker siblings. "He… loves her," she spat viciously. "If I kill her –"
"The son is irrelevant," Sidious barked, causing Rey to stop abruptly. "I have told you this time and time again, Rey. He is not to affect your judgement in the future, is that clear?"
Rey bit hard on her tongue as she forced herself to nod. "Yes, Grandfather," she intoned. Yet her acquiescence was merely for show. When the time came, she knew Ben would be the one to join her. After she assumed the mantle of the Sith, Ben Solo would be her brother again.
Just then, the door to her quarters slid open behind her and Sidious' tenebrous figure dissolved into an indiscernible cloud of smoke once more. Rising to her feet, Rey spun around to see a protocol droid standing in the doorway.
"Why are you interrupting me?" she asked tersely, summoning her helmet back to her hand and placing it on her head. It was a relief that it was only a droid. Her grandfather didn't want any sentient to see her without her mask on as it was too dangerous for them to know that she was a girl – and a fifteen year old girl at that. While Rey found the helmet burdensome and uncomfortable, she could understand the rationale behind it. No doubt, her subordinates would not respect her if they knew who was beneath the mask.
"I apologize for intruding, Lord Ren, but General Hux's shuttle arrived a few minutes ago," the droid told her with a bow of its head. "I was told that you wished to be alerted of the general's arrival."
Rey's irritation faded at these words. "I did," she said, placing her hands behind her back and stepping forward. "Lead me to him."
Following after the droid, Rey marched out of her quarters and down the lustrous black halls of her flagship, the Revenge. It was on this ship where she had spent the better part of the past three years training under her grandfather's tutelage. When she wasn't training, she was busy commanding the forces of the First Order.
Her title as Master of the Knights of Ren and designated heir of the Emperor technically meant that she was in charge of the entire First Order. The reality of the situation, however, was that the dozen or so generals at the top of the military hierarchy wielded tremendous power which Rey could do little to check. This hadn't bothered her at first – after all, she desperately needed these men and women's help if she wanted to maintain control over the massively unwieldy apparatus that was the First Order – but now one of them had gone too far. General Hux, the most brazen defier of her authority, had taken it upon himself to seek a settlement with the New Republic without consulting her first. Even worse, he had gone ahead and used the superweapon to devastating effect despite promising never to do such a thing without the express consent of the entire warboard.
Rey knew at once what Hux had done when she felt that terrible tremor in the Force. Despite being the leader of a massive military empire, Rey would never condone such a wanton and barbaric use of violence. Besides her personal moralistic qualms, Rey knew that the destruction of Chandrila was a horrific move politically. Whereas their cause had once been sympathetic to the masses in the galaxy – especially to those in the Outer Rim where the rule of the New Republic was most vehemently abhorred – with this brutal act, the First Order would no longer engender this type of support. Overnight, they had gone from the liberators to the oppressors. How could they possibly expect to exert control over the galaxy now after what Hux had done?
Arriving at the committee room, Rey surpassed her ambling droid guard and marched past the sliding doors. There she found the entire leadership of the First Order congregated around a sleek black table. Standing at the head of the table where she normally sat was Hux himself, his pallid face glowing with smug pride as he looked up to see her entrance.
"Ah, Lord Ren," he said, bowing his head ever-so-slightly to her. "I hope you heard the news?"
Rey stopped at the opposite end of the table as she took a moment to scan over the generals in the room. The typically austere bunch was looking positively euphoric, broad smiles painted across each and every one of their faces. Clearly they had not been horrified like she had been by the news of Chandrila's destruction.
"I did," she answered laconically after a few moments of silence.
Obtuse as always, Hux failed to detect the displeasure in her voice. "Well then you know the war is won!" he exclaimed, reaching to the table and picking up a glass of some sort of frothy, sparkling beverage. Raising it into the air, he looked away from her and toward his colleagues. "Victory!" he pronounced.
"Victory!" they repeated with mirth.
Rey's face twitched underneath the mask. As Hux raised the glass to his lips, she clenched her right hand into a fist. The general let out a startled yelp as the glass in his hands shattered and the liquid went pouring over his chest. Cursing, he brushed his hand over his tunic and took a step away from the glass which was strewn on the floor beneath him.
"I must have gotten a little carried away," Hux said with a high-pitched chuckle as a blush spread across his cheeks. "Droid, come clean this up!" he ordered to the protocol droid who was standing by the closed door. When the servile droid made to perform this task, however, Rey held out her hand and stopped it.
"Leave it," she growled. Taking a step closer, she raised her hand and pointed a finger at Hux. "Your celebrations are premature, General," she said in a low voice. "The war is far from won."
Hux smirked at her. "I know what this is about, Ren," he told her in a condescending tone which only he would have the audacity to use. "You think this makes me more powerful than you, don't you?"
Stunned by his temerity, Rey stared back at the gloating general for a few moments with her mouth hanging open. How dare he speak to her in this way! Had he entirely forgotten who she was? Did he not remember that she was the heir to the Emperor, not him?
Fists shaking with outrage, Rey instinctively reached down to her belt where she found not one, but two blades. She was momentarily confounded before remembering that she had confiscated her grandfather's second blade from the despicable Skywalker several hours ago. Empowered by the thought of her foe's imminent demise, Rey produced the two lightsabers and activated them at her sides – the red blade at her right and the white at her left.
The room froze, the baleful hum of the twin sabers causing the generals' faces to blanch with fear. Hux alone seemed undeterred by the gesture, his smug smirk deepening at the sight. "You can't intimidate me, Ren," he taunted. "I'm too important."
Rey snapped. Slashing the two blades horizontally, she cut off the legs of the table, sending it crashing to the ground with a deafening smash. Startled, the generals all leapt backward in fright. Swiping her left hand to the side, she discarded of the wounded table which went flying into the opposite wall. No longer impeded by the table, she took three long strides towards Hux. Whirling the red saber in her right hand, she thrust forward with her left and pointed the white tip of the blade to Hux's throat. All was still. Neither Rey nor Hux so much as breathed as the latter stared down at the quivering blade with the utmost trepidation.
"You are not important, General," she said finally, her voice dripping with acrimony as she inched the white blade even closer to Hux's throat.
"You can't touch me," Hux said boldly, yet the squeaky pitch of his voice somewhat undermined the effect.
"Oh no?" Rey asked, tilting her masked head. "Then how come I can do this?"
Retracting the white blade, she simultaneously slashed forward with the red one. With deadly precision, Rey sliced through Hux's left wrist, only barely singing the fabric of his pants sleeve on the way past. The general's decapitated hand fell to the ground with a thud and he immediately screamed in pain as he hunched over. Rey didn't allow him the opportunity to nurse his wound, however. Clipping her red blade back to her belt, she lifted her right arm and pulled Hux into the air by his throat.
"The Republic is dead," she spat, her vitriol conveyed in spite of the modulation of her voice. "That means I am in charge. The Emperor chose me, not you, Hux."
"I… I'm sorry," Hux wheezed, his face rapidly turning purple as he clawed at his throat with his remaining hand and thrashed his legs wildly.
"Let this be a warning to you all," Rey said, looking away from Hux as she turned to the petrified generals and pointed her white blade at them. "Defy my authority again, and you will suffer a far worse fate than General Hux's." With that, Rey lowered her fist and allowed Hux to collapse to the ground. Retching horribly, the disgraced general caressed at his throat as saliva and mucus spewed out of his mouth and onto his chin. Relishing her foe's humiliation, Rey bared her teeth with animalistic pleasure. Her revelry was cut short, however, when she heard the door behind her open with a hiss.
"Generals, we have a –"
The person shut up abruptly when they saw what had transpired in the conference room. Frowning irritably, Rey reluctantly turned away from Hux's prone form to see the distinctive chrome-armored figure of Captain Phasma standing in the doorway.
"What is it, Captain?" she asked tersely.
Phasma hesitated a moment, her helmet doing little to belie her incredulity. "Er… I apologize for interfering, Lord Ren," she said. "There is a situation in the west hangar bay."
"A situation?" Rey asked, eyebrow arched.
"Yes, sir," Phasma said with a bob of her domed head. "It seems someone managed to steal a TIE fighter."
Rey froze, the ephemeral satisfaction which she had derived from beating up Hux shattering in an instant. "Skywalker," she snarled, a bitter rancor rendering her voice raspy. "She's trying to escape."
"Are you sure you know how to fly this thing?"
"Of course I do!" Ania snapped to her Stormtrooper companion who was seated against her back facing the opposite direction. "A little help, please?" she asked in a whisper as she returned her attention to the thoroughly befuddling assortment of triggers, switches, and throttles which lay before her.
"Oh, now you want my help?" her grandfather's voice said, indignant as always.
"Yes!" she cried.
"What?" the man behind her asked.
"Nothing!" she shouted. Glancing into the navcom to her right, Ania's eyes widened in fear. "Actually, something!" she said loudly. "We're about to have some company!"
"What are you talking about?"
A tremor ran through the entire vessel when they were suddenly thrown off course. Ania and the Stormtrooper both screamed as they began a tailspin.
"Help me! Help me! Help me!" Ania shouted as the TIE continued to tumble through space.
"Ania, I fail to see how I could be of much help here," Anakin said with infuriating calm.
"Tell me what to do!" she shrieked.
"What the hell are you doing?" the Stormtrooper asked.
"You know how to fly, don't you?"
"Yes, but not –"
"You see that throttle? That controls axial direction just like in any other ship."
Ania blinked a few times as her mind cleared. "But in the Falcon –" she started to say, but Anakin cut her off.
"Yes, it looks different," he said with uncharacteristic brusqueness. "Its function is the same, though. You might want to pull up before you crash into that ship over there."
Looking up out the window, Ania gasped when she saw that they were rapidly plummeting toward a cruiser. In the navcom she could still see three TIEs in pursuit. Acting on instinct, she grabbed the steering mechanism with both hands and pulled the throttles toward her as hard as she could.
The whole ship veered to the left abruptly, causing Ania's head to go smashing back against her headrest. "What's happening?" she asked in a high-pitched shriek.
"You're the pilot!" the Stormtrooper unhelpfully contributed, oblivious that she wasn't talking to him.
"Your wing must have been hit," Anakin told her in a dire voice.
"What!?" she asked, horrified.
"Don't worry, you'll be fine," he assured her, although he didn't sound especially confident. "You're going to have to crash land on that planet if you want to escape those TIEs."
"Crash land?" she repeated, utterly petrified by this point.
"We can't do that!" she heard the Stormtrooper shout. "We'll burn up in the atmosphere! This ship isn't fitted with heat shields!"
"I will protect you, Ania," her grandfather's voice said calmly. "I always have."
"We don't have a choice!" Ania yelled to her companion. "We have to get away from those TIEs."
The Stormtrooper gulped audibly in fear. "I don't want to die," she heard him say, more so to himself than to her.
"Don't worry!" Ania insisted. "The Force is with us."
The Stormtrooper snorted derisively. "I'm so dead," he said in resignation.
"Don't say that!" Ania protested as she adjusted their course as best she could toward the dusty orb that was Jakku. "Hey, you never told me your name," she said, attempting to divert the Stormtrooper's attention away from his impending doom.
"I don't have a name," he said, sounding too stunned to express any emotion whatsoever.
"Of course you do! Everyone has a name," Ania said through gritted teeth as she willed the errant vessel to the right. She must have been using the Force without realizing it because there was no way their TIE should have been able to fly as straight as it was with a busted left wing.
"I have a classification, that's it," the Stormtrooper said.
"Well what's your classification?" Ania asked.
"FN-2187," the Stormtrooper answered at once.
Ania considered this for a moment. "FN, eh?" she said. "Finn, I'm going to call you Finn. Is that alright?"
A brief moment of silence. "Finn," the Stormtrooper repeated. "I like that."
Ania smiled in spite of herself. "Glad to meet you, Finn, I'm Ania," she said.
"Yeah, I know," Finn said. "Everyone knows that."
Oddly flattered by this, Ania's smile grew bigger in tandem with Jakku in the window which now dominated her field of view. The cockpit began to heat up, slowly at first and then rapidly to the point that she was entirely drenched in sweat.
"We're burning up!" Finn shouted.
"It's unpleasant, isn't it?" Anakin's voice said in her head. "Burning alive is a terrible way to go. Believe me, I'd know."
"I thought you were going to protect us!" Ania exclaimed.
"Oh, calm down," Anakin said, and she could practically see him rolling his eyes at her. "I'm not going to let my granddaughter get burnt to a crisp."
"Well that's nice of you," Ania said snidely. "Could you make it a little less toasty in here?"
"Who the hell are you talking to?" Finn asked her.
"None of your damn business!" Ania shot back.
"You're crazy, aren't you?" Finn asked.
"No crazier than you," Ania pointed out. "What type of a Stormtrooper defects, anyway?"
"I have no idea!" Finn shouted. "I have no idea what I'm doing!"
"Well neither do I," Ania mumbled.
The trio fell silent as they continued tumbling through the atmosphere. Their battered TIE fighter trembled and shook, and at one point she was fairly sure the left wing must have completely been ripped off. Even so, Ania felt a resounding calm. Regardless of how facetious and glib he could be, Ania knew that she would always be safe as long as her grandfather was by her side. Now was no different despite the perilous circumstances.
By this point, they had fully entered into the atmosphere and the entire window in front of her was emblazoned with red hot heat. Debris and dust pelted the vessel which continued to rattle ferociously, causing Ania's whole seat to vibrate. For several minutes, Ania scarcely breathed as she grasped onto the now-useless throttles with a desperate grip. Finally, the rattling began to abate and the brutal heat enervated. The window cleared somewhat and Ania could make out the sandy terrain of the planet below. They were precipitating downward with no means to decelerate, and Ania began to panic as the ground came closer and closer.
"We're going to crash!" she shrieked, no doubt startling Finn who couldn't see how close they were. Anakin provided no assurance to her, serving to only exacerbate her terror. Ania screamed as she shut her eyes tight and covered her face with her hands just before they went crashing into the planet surface.
Yet no collision came. Instead, the entire vessel came to a sudden stop a few dozen feet from the ground, the abruptness of their brake causing Ania's whole body to jolt forward only to be restrained roughly by the seatbelt strapped over her chest. Realizing that she was still screaming, Ania closed her mouth as she struggled to reorient herself into a more comfortable position.
"Are you okay?" she heard Finn ask.
"I… I think so," she said, patting herself down as she failed to find any sort of injuries. Her ribs were bruised from the violent deceleration, but other than that she was miraculously fine.
"What happened?" Finn asked. "Did we land?"
Ania blinked a few times as she squinted out the window which was now more or less below her rather than in front of her. "We didn't land," she said. "We stopped."
"Stopped? I don't understand."
Ania merely smiled, marveling in the power of the Force. Their vessel was suspended several dozen feet in the air, hovering with ethereal calm above the sandy sea. Anakin had saved her again.
"Thank you, Grandfather," she whispered, hoping Finn would not overhear her.
"It is not I who you need to thank," Anakin said.
"What do you mean?" Ania asked, perplexed. Just then, the TIE began to descend once more – yet this time at a controlled pace. Bewildered by this turn of events, Ania looked around as she sought to see who or what was responsible for their salvation if not her grandfather. She found nothing, however. Half a minute later, the TIE came to a soft landing in the sand, and Finn and Ania collectively exhaled in relief.
"Help me pop off the hood," Ania said, unstrapping herself and standing up on the chair to reach the emergency hatch above them. She was too short to reach, however, even after getting up on her toes.
"Stop, just stop," Finn said, slapping her hand away as he too got out of his seat and reached up toward the hatch. "It doesn't open," he said, grimacing as he strained to push it open. "There must be a button somewhere to release it."
"Or you're just not doing it right," Ania countered.
Aggrieved, Finn looked down at her and frowned. "Just check the control panel, would you?"
Ania glanced down with ambivalence. There must have been two dozen different switches and levels on that control panel. She had no idea which one to press.
Ania looked back up quickly when she heard Finn yelp in shock and stumble back down onto his seat. "What happened?" she asked, seeing that he was clutching his right thumb.
"Look!" he exclaimed, pointing up at the hatch.
White sparks were shooting out in all directions as something from above began cutting through the metal. Apprehensive about who might be doing this, Ania instinctively reached to her belt only to remember that there was no lightsaber there.
A moment later, the hatch fell away and collided against the floor with a loud clang. Finn and Ania both squinted as they looked up out of their newfound sunroof.
"Miss Skywalker, are you alright?" a voice asked.
Holding a hand up to her eyes, Ania saw a shadowy head looking down at her. "Cara?" Ania asked, recognizing the countenance of her mother's chief of staff, General Dune.
"Are you alright?" Dune asked again.
"I'm fine," Ania answered without hesitation. "What's going on? How did you save us?"
"Oh, that wasn't me," Dune said with a thin smile. "Here, take my hand."
Reaching up, Ania accepted Dune's calloused hand and allowed herself to get pulled up out of the cockpit. Remarkably strong for an older woman, Dune had no problem doing this with just one arm. Struggling out of the TIE, Ania saw that the fighter's once-sleek exterior had been charred beyond recognition. Without Anakin's protection, there was no way they would have survived entering the atmosphere like they had.
"Follow me," Dune said before sliding off the surface of the TIE and landing in the sand below. Sparing a thought for Finn who was still in the cockpit, Ania stopped to lend him her hand and help him out as well before following after the general.
"Cara, are you going to explain –"
"Who is this?" Dune interrupted, pointing up at Finn who was still standing on the top of the TIE. "Why is a Stormtrooper with you?"
"This is Finn, he helped me escape," Ania said, startled by the vehemence in Dune's voice.
"Why would he do that?" Dune asked suspiciously, her hand hovering over her holster.
"I, er… I don't know," Ania admitted as she and Finn looked at each other. "You can trust him though." Dune didn't respond to this, her eyes narrowed as she stared down the renegade Stormtrooper. "Finn, come on down," Ania suggested, beckoning her companion to follow her down to the ground.
"How do you know he's not a spy?" Dune asked as Finn slid down the TIE, his armor clattering as he did so.
"He's not a spy," Ania dismissed. "He's being perfectly truthful."
Dune finally looked away from Finn to meet Ania's gaze. She considered her for a moment before nodding. Dune was very familiar with the Force, having worked closely with Ania's mother for decades. No doubt she understood that Ania's trust in Finn was not merely based on intuition. "Very well," she said after a tense silence. "But I'm going to insist that you hand me your weapon."
"I don't have a weapon," Finn said bashfully. "I had to submit it for inspection after… after, uh…" Finn trailed off, blinking rapidly as he looked away. Ania sensed a great deal of guilt and disgust emanating from the young man. Was it possible he had been horrified by what he had seen the First Order do at Tuanul? If so, how could that be? Stormtroopers didn't have consciences. She thought those had been beaten out of them from birth.
"In that case, perhaps you should take off your armor," Dune said after a pause. "You don't want to attract too much attention to yourself."
Finn nodded readily, looking more than happy to strip himself clean of the distinctive white armor. As he was doing this, Dune surprised Ania by reaching out and placing a hand on her shoulder. "I'm so glad to see you safe," she told her. "Your mother was terrified when she heard what happened."
"So Poe got to her? Did he give her the map?"
Dune arched an eyebrow. "I don't know," she said frankly. "Perhaps you should talk with someone else about that."
"What do you mean?" Ania asked.
"Just follow me."
Obliging, Ania beckoned Finn to follow her as they made their way away from the TIE and toward a troop transport which she hadn't noticed until now. The three trudged through the sand for a hundred meters or so before a couple of soldiers emerged from the transport to greet them – the tattoos on their biceps revealing their elite dropper status.
"At ease, soldiers," Dune said to the saluting droppers. "How is he?"
"Hard to say, ma'am," the dropper on the left said. "He's unresponsive."
Dune licked her lips nervously and glanced at Ania. "Perhaps you might be able to help," she said. Ania wanted to ask what this was about when Dune turned away from her back toward the droppers. "You two frisk this man," she ordered, gesturing to Finn who had discarded his armor and was wearing a black shirt and slacks. "Make sure he doesn't have any weapons or wires."
"But Cara –"
"I am in charge here, Miss Skywalker," Dune interrupted tersely. "If you would please follow me."
"It's okay," Finn assured her as the two droppers stepped toward him. "I'll be fine."
Ania hesitated a moment longer before acquiescing and following after Dune up the ramp into the troop transport. The vessel featured a large, empty compartment with grab handles dangling from the ceiling for the soldiers to hold onto. It wasn't a luxurious ride – prioritizing the space over comfort so as to maximize the number of soldiers who could be transported. Congregated in the back of the compartment were four other droppers, two of whom kneeled down on the ground as they tended to someone propped up against the wall.
"Step aside, step aside," Dune said as she marched over toward the group, Ania scurrying after her. The obedient droppers complied with this order at once, the two jumping to their feet and getting out of the way so that their commanding general could approach. As the four soldiers cleared, Ania gasped when she saw who it was they had been tending to.
"Ben!" she exclaimed, rushing forward and falling to the ground by her unconscious brother's side. His head was lolled forward against his chest and his limbs were sprawled out by his sides. Taking his face into her hands, she craned his head up so that she could investigate him. "What happened?" she asked, her voice high-pitched with fright as she saw that Ben was entirely unresponsive to her touch.
"He saved you, that's what happened," she heard Dune say from above her. Releasing Ben, Ania looked up toward the imposing general. "He held up his hands and stopped your ship in midair." She paused, sparing a glance toward her soldiers and shaking her head in awe. "It was the most incredible thing any of us have ever seen."
So that's what her grandfather had meant. Anakin hadn't saved them, Ben had. Returning her attention to him, she gaped at his slumbering figure for a moment. Never would she have imagined Ben being capable of performing such a feat. Sure, she knew Ben was strong with the Force and he was perhaps more attuned to it than she was, but even so, suspending a plummeting ship in midair sounded like something Leia would have done, not Ben.
"He collapsed right after he landed you down safely," a soldier to her left said. "He's out stone cold. Nothing we do seems to do anything."
Pressing a finger to his pulse, Ania waited for a few moments before detecting a disturbingly faint beat. "He's barely breathing," she commented, noting the atypically long duration between the rise and fall of his chest. "Can't you do something for him?" she asked the soldiers.
"We gave him a dose of epinephrine," one of them told her. "It helped a bit, but his heart rate is still low."
"Then give him more!" Ania demanded, her throat beginning to constrict as panic washed over her.
"We already gave him the maximum dosage. It wouldn't be safe to give him any more than that."
Pursing her lips, Ania ran her hand through Ben's damp hair in a vain attempt to calm herself down. Exhaling shakily, she closed her eyes and bowed her head. Placing her left hand on Ben's chest, Ania shut out all the distractions and focused entirely on her brother's frail Force presence. The familiar warmth which he typically exuded was dim and fluttering. Reaching out to him, however, Ania felt Ben reciprocating in kind in spite of his enfeebled state. He sought out her presence like a drowning man seeks air – tendrils of energy clawing and kneading at her own Force signature. Initially startled by the extent of his desperation, Ania relaxed and allowed him to latch onto her.
It was a bizarre sensation; intimate in the purest sense – Ania felt herself nurturing Ben back to consciousness as she shared her life energy with him. Strengthened by their covalent bond, Ben's Force presence began to rejuvenate. Confident that she had helped him as best she could, Ania retracted her hand from Ben's chest and opened her eyes. A little color had returned to her brother's formerly pallid face, confirming to Ania that he was going to be alright.
"He's going to be okay," Ania relayed to Dune and the droppers. "He was probably just drained from earlier."
"Are you sure?" Dune asked from behind her.
"Completely," Ania said assuredly.
The sound of approaching footsteps caused Dune to turn around. Emerging into compartment was Finn followed by the two droppers who had been frisking him. "He's all clear, General," one of the droppers informed Dune as they walked toward them.
"Very well," Dune said. "But I'm taking him straight to General Skywalker when we're able to leave here."
"When we're able?" Ania repeated. "What do you mean? Why can't we leave now?"
Dune turned back to look at her. "There's a battle taking place overhead right now," she informed her. "General Skywalker deployed the 7th Fleet as a diversionary force so that we could land on Jakku and rescue you."
"She did that?" Ania asked, surprised. "That seems… reckless."
Dune shared a look with her fellow droppers. "Indeed, it was," she agreed. "I believe the General's judgment is impaired when it comes to you and your brother."
"Excuse me?" Ania asked, bristling with indignation on her mother's behalf.
"The General Skywalker I served during the previous war would never have done something as foolhardy as this," Dune said, apathetic to Ania's irritation. "She prioritizes your safety over the safety of her forces. Dozens may die today because of this ill-conceived operation."
Ania swallowed hard and looked away toward Ben as she processed this criticism. "I… I'm sorry," she said, speaking as much to Ben as she was to Dune. "I shouldn't have placed myself in danger," she added, thinking back to her fight with her brother several days prior. She had been furious at him for how overly protective he was being. At the time, she had considered his attitude to be supercilious and superior. Now, however, she could understand why he had been so adamant about not letting her go on her own. The galaxy was a dangerous place, especially for a person like her.
"You are young. Recklessness is inherent at your age," she heard Dune tell her. "But in the future, do keep in mind how your actions may affect others. We are at war, young Skywalker. Your mother must be able to operate without distraction for she is our greatest hope. Do you understand this?"
"Yes, general," Ania said abashedly, eyes still fixated on Ben who was beginning to stir.
"Good," Dune said. "I'll go inform General Skywalker that you are alright."
The no-nonsense general marched away toward the cockpit. The droppers dispersed, milling about the compartment so as to give her some space. Appreciative of their tact, Ania returned her full attention to her brother. "Can you hear me, Ben?" she asked in a whisper as his eyelids began to flutter. "It's me, Ania."
"Is he going to be okay?"
Looking up sharply, Ania saw a nervous Finn looming over her. Seeing the solicitous look in his eyes, Ania bit back the urge to snap at him for intruding on her privacy. "He'll be fine," she said once again, her voice heavy as she bowed her head away from Finn. "This is all my fault."
"What is?" Finn asked.
Ania shook her head, not wanting to talk about it with this man who was essentially a stranger to her. Even so, she shared a close bond with Finn. She was indebted to him for saving her life and she didn't want to seem ungracious by reverting back to her characteristically brusque introversion.
"He saved us both," she told Finn. "We owe our lives to him." Her eyes scanned over Ben's face as she contemplated this. Her lower lip suddenly began to tremble as she realized how much unnecessary pain she must have inflicted upon her poor brother. He must have been terrified when he learned that she had been captured much like her mother had been. "I'm sorry, Ben," she said into her unconscious brother's ear before resting her head against his chest. "I hurt everyone I love," she murmured, eyes shut tight as she listened to the rhythmic cadence of Ben's heartbeat. "I'm so sorry."