Life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards.
Søren Kierkegaard – Journals
Prologue:
And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not.
John 1:5
Her head on his chest, Leia listened to Han softly breathing and tried not to wake him up by laughing out loud. Could he possibly be as joyous as she was in this moment? No, he could not be! Because he didn't know yet what she was suddenly certain of: she was pregnant! No doubt about it! There was something she had never experienced before, a tender glowing in her tummy that hadn't been there five minutes ago. She was going to have a child. A son. She didn't know why she was so sure of this, but nothing could have persuaded her otherwise. She was going to have a son!
She suppressed a giggle. Han's son. Wouldn't he be a handful? She tried to picture him. His hair would be dark, and a little wavy, like his father's, and he'd have the same slim, long hands. Would his eyes be blue, too? No, she thought, it was enough if he inherited Han's chin, Han's nose, Han's lips. From her, he'd get the eyes, dark, ironic eyes. It wouldn't hurt if he also inherited her sense of duty.
She couldn't be pregnant for more than a few moments; Han and she hadn't seen each other in seven long weeks, after all. Nevertheless she could feel her son already, which also told her that he would be strong with the Force. Like his –
Uncle. And a bit like she.
Suddenly uneasy, she put her hand on her stomach and closed her eyes. Oh yes, there he was. Pure light. He was pure light.
Her shoulders started relaxing once more, when she felt something else, something very different, as if a thin swirl of black clouds was suddenly coiling itself around the light. Squeezing it. Poking it. Trying to get in.
She gave herself a little shake. Nonsense! These were just nerves. She'd heard of nerves. Apparently, some females had them. And now, on the brink of motherhood, she must have gotten herself some, too.
It would be alright. More than alright. It – he! – was going to be wonderful!
VII.
The Force Awakens
To move toward destiny is like eternity. To know eternity is enlightenment, and not to recognize eternity brings disorder and evil.
Joseph Campbell – The Hero with a Thousand Faces
x X x
1. The End Is Nigh
Inhuman solitude made of sand and God. Surely only two kinds of people can bear to live in such desert: lunatics and prophets. The mind topples here not from fright but from sacred awe; sometimes it collapses downward, losing human stability, sometimes it springs upward, enters heaven, sees God face to face, touches the hem of His blazing garment without being burned, hears what He says, and taking this, slings it into men's consciousness. Only in the desert do we see the birth of these fierce, indomitable souls who rise up in rebellion even against God himself and stand before Him fearlessly, their minds in resplendent consubstantiality with the skirts of the Lord. God sees them and is proud, because in them his breath has not vented its force; in them, God has not stooped to becoming a man.
Nikos Kazantzakis – Report to Greco: The Desert Sinai
x X x
1.1. Finally!: aboard the Finalizer, ABY 30/05/28, 21:08 GST
Unseen, in the background, Fate was quietly slipping the lead into the boxing-glove.
P.G. Wodehouse – Very Good, Jeeves
"Planetfall in T minus 53 minutes, sir."
Behind his mask, Kylo rolled his eyes. No matter how long he had been with the First Order, he could not accustom to their stilted ways. Take this simple line. It could have been three syllables shorter if the officer had cut out the T minus. Weren't these guys all about terse effectiveness?!
53 more minutes seemed both an awfully long, and delightfully short time. In only 53 minutes – 52 by now – he would hold the map to Skywalker in his hands. Finally! For years, he had zigzagged all across the galaxy for this. By this time tomorrow, he might already have vanquished the last of the Jedi. The completion of his training and this part of his journey altogether. Once he had overcome Skywalker, the master must show him the ultimate mysteries. Mustn't he?
He read the information before him. His rotten uncle had used to describe his homeworld as 'if there's a bright centre to the universe, Tatooine's the planet that it's farthest from.' But had he ever been to Jakku? Kylo marvelled at the data on the screen and wondered why people would live on a planet such as this. Temperatures of fifty degrees during the day, no vegetation, no bodies of water, and a rich fauna of lethal insect life to make it really cosy. After all, Lor San Tekka had chosen to live there. The last time they had met, the old man had had a nice little house with a garden on Lokori – why give that up, at his time of life, for a hut in hell?
50 more minutes! What was he supposed to do with himself until then? The obvious answer was to meditate, of course, but sitting still or focusing his mind were completely out of the question, he was far too fired up. No one else knew – except, of course, the master – but Kylo Ren had more personal motives on his agenda than simply destroying his master's only serious foe. He had dreamt of this moment for seven long years, he had prepared himself, trained, practised, straightened out his flaws and foibles, hardened his weaknesses. He was ready. He was going to have his revenge at last.
x X x
1.2. Embattled: aboard a transport in the orbit of the planet Jakku, ABY 30/05/28, 21:40 GST
If wrong becomes right, resistance becomes a duty and obeying a crime.
Leo XIII., 1891
"Excited?" Peekay asked with a grin and clapped FN-2187's shoulder.
The young Stormtrooper gave him a broad smile in return before putting on his helmet, more grateful than he cared to admit. This was going to be his first real battle. If you could call it that, because as the squad leader had explained, they didn't expect any serious resistance, more of a blue milk run. Still, FN-2187 was a little nervous. To have one's first real mission under the lead of Captain Phasma herself was enough to rattle the nerves of much more experienced soldiers, as a swift look around proved beyond doubt. They hadn't even entered the target planet's atmosphere, yet they all stood to attention as if expecting an inspection from her, which they were, in a manner of speaking. Indubitably, the head of the Stormtrooper program would analyse the videotape of the landing. Which made Peekay's little remark so much more valuable, for the simple reason that it went against protocol. But Peekay wasn't afraid of violating the protocol, or being monitored by Phasma; there was a streak of recklessness in him that their supervisors despaired over, but which also made him a model fighter when it came to actual combat. Famously among his peers, Peekay was a veteran of the Raid on Grenolaver, the Mazzana Attack and another six famous battles. Another thing to be thankful for – standing next in line to Peekay gave a rookie such as FN-2187 a feeling of invincibility by default.
Once the transporter had landed a little outside the village, it took no more than another eight minutes before the villagers had been overwhelmed and subdued; only two or three had actual weapons (not counting the number of sticks, brooms and one shovel), and none of them knew how to use either.
Privately, FN-2187 decided not to count this outing as his first battle because it certainly didn't deserve that name (Peekay's first battle had been during the Ravissian Uprising!). He immediately revised his opinion though when seeing Kylo Ren's upsilon shuttle slowly hovering down. It made for a good entry in his file to have fought alongside Kylo Ren.
Out of nowhere, shots were suddenly fired and before FN-2187 had even got his bearings, Peekay was hit right next to him and went down and there was blood everywhere and more shots and Peekay reached out for him and the blood squirted all over FN-2187's visor, he couldn't quell the wound underneath the armour, he was blinded by blood and tried dragging Peekay to safety where he was ranted at by Captain Phasma, "Can't you see he's dead?! Go back to your station!" and still unable to see much through his visor, he still blindly obeyed and scrambled back, only to see Ren whipping out his infamous laser-sword and killing an old man with it, a shot flew right at Ren but stopped in midair because Ren had stopped it in midair and then Ren ordered the villagers to be executed and the damned blaster energy-bolt was still sizzling in midair and FN-2187 completely lost the plot. He stared at the deadly scared people, at the rifle in his hands; in theory he knew what he was supposed to do but in reality he hadn't got an inkling, all he knew was that these people had done nothing wrong except being right here right now and that he couldn't possibly kill them, he couldn't, he couldn't, he just couldn't –
It made no difference. His comrades fired, the villagers were mown down remorselessly. It was over in less than ten seconds.
But it wasn't over for FN-2187. It wasn't over when Captain Phasma herself told him to have his weapon checked for malfunction, which was just another, crueller way of saying that he was going to be punished for his failure. It wasn't over when he felt a chill running down his spine and gazing around, found that Kylo Ren of all people was looking at him; in spite of the distance, in spite of the black mask, FN-2187 knew that effing Kylo Ren was observing him and that he knew that FN-2187 hadn't had a weapon malfunction. It wasn't over when that energy bolt exploded after all, driving home the point of impending, just slightly delayed disaster. It wasn't over when FN-2187 stepped back into the transporter to be taxied back to the Finalizer, sensing that all his comrades kept their distance as if fearing he was contagious.
Back on the Finalizer, he almost threw up in his helmet and in the moment he yanked it off, Captain Phasma happened to stand right behind him, reprimanded him sharply and sent him to reprogramming.
x X x
1.3. I'll Show You the Dark Side: on the planet Jakku, ABY 30/05/28, 22:02 GST
Desert sky, dream beneath the desert sky.
Desert rose, dreamed I saw a desert rose
Dress torn in ribbons and bows
Like a siren she calls (to me).
U2 – In God's Country
In the very moment he set his foot on the planet, he knew this was going to go very pear-shaped. In which way, he couldn't yet say, nor did he have the faintest idea why he was so sure. There was a strange energy to this place, a bizarre yet somewhat familiar texture to the Force that was almost tangible – maybe he had underestimated old San Tekka?
He looked around, spotted the old man already apprehended by a couple of Stormtroopers, but the Force was in no way stronger around the hermit than elsewhere. It didn't seem to emanate from anyone in particular, it was just there, in the air, in the ground, in the tickling flames of the campfires among the modest huts, carrying associations of spinebarrel flowers and shellavas and duckelberries and sparkling water, the scent of lilies of the valley and cyclamen, the smell and heat of sunshine –
This is a desert planet, you know.
Jakku, eh? Who would have figured that this forgotten sandpit was such a place of power? But at least this explained why San Tekka had come here to begin with. It seemed so unlikely a destination for a man who, in the past, had gone all in for sacred uneti trees throwing gentle shade over ornamental ponds.
Yes, yes, that is all very well. Now will you get on with it!
He gave himself a little shake and observantly approached his target. Apprehensive but not scared. More disturbed by the Stormtroopers rounding up the villagers than by facing Kylo Ren. Interesting.
From up close, San Tekka's face was slightly at odds with his calm demeanour, weary, tired. It took Kylo a second or two to understand that those wrinkles had nothing whatsoever to do with this situation, but were a simple result of the fifteen years since he'd last seen him.
"Look how old you've become," he attempted some small talk and knew he was failing even as he spoke.
But San Tekka threw the ball right back at him. "Something far worse has happened to you."
Another thing Kylo hadn't reckoned with was that the old man might recognise him, too, or if not recognise, at least know who he was. Together with that strange tingling in the Force (definitely the light side, he thought, and resolved not to let himself be distracted), it made him uncomfortable and he decided to cut right to the chase.
"You know what I've come for."
"I know where you come from. Before you called yourself Kylo Ren."
Inside, Kylo was squirming; he felt the ball of anger in his guts starting to spin and snarled, "The map to Skywalker. We know you found it. And now you're going to give it to the First Order."
"The First Order rose from the Dark side," his opponent replied, even more stoic than before. "You did not."
It was as if he had his hand over that infamous big red button of comic strip fame, the one with the plaque underneath 'Do not touch under ANY circumstances!'.
"I'll show you the Dark side!"
"You may try. But you cannot deny the truth that is your family."
And he'd pushed it. Fury surged through Kylo's veins, much faster than his ratio could keep up with. Whipping out his sword and igniting it were one. "You're so right!" he cried and cut the man down without thinking twice. It seemed the only way to make the old geezer shut up.
You idiot! The old fool hadn't given up the map yet!
Dang it! Thankfully, there was no time to beat himself up about that just now. Through the Force he felt a blaster shot coming towards him (someone must have gotten his hands on a rifle after all; he'd have to have a word with Phasma about that later) from behind; he froze it as well as the shooter and turned around to see the poor idiot who mistook daredevilry for courage.
He turned out to be a raggedly handsome man, perhaps ten years older than Kylo, dressed very differently from the anchorite villagers. The way he held himself suggested soldier, the informal jacket pointed to Resistance rather than Republican, and as for his features – they seemed somewhat familiar though Kylo couldn't place him. Had they met before? Was this guy somehow famous? Had they fought each other in the past, maybe? No, as the sloppy shot had proven, he couldn't be infantry; again going by the jacket, Kylo pecked him as a pilot. Also, there were only a handful of people he had ever fought that were alive to be remembered, and this guy wasn't one of 'em.
Two Stormtroopers had grabbed him and pushed him to the ground. In order to see his face better, Kylo knelt down, looked him over and racked his brains. Nope. Nothing.
"So who talks first? You talk first? I talk first?"
Ah, a comedian. And then it dawned on Kylo. "The map – the old man gave it to you…"
Oh sweet relief! At least they wouldn't have to dig up the whole damned desert for the bloody thing!
"It's very hard to understand you with all the –"
Kylo got up. "Search him."
"– apparatus," the man finished lamely as he was patted down by two troopers.
"Nothing, sir."
"Put him on board."
It was perhaps noteworthy that nothing, not the strangely familiar stranger, nor Lor San Tekka's death, had dented the surrounding Force field even a little. It was as robust, as palpable and unnerving as it had been when Kylo had arrived; it made him want to eat duckelberries and –
"Sir, the villagers."
A village full of Church of Jedi acolytes? "Kill them all."
He hurried back toward his shuttle, but he wasn't quick enough. Damn Phasma, she lost no time! In a wink of an eye, the troopers had killed anyone still standing; the Force was troubled, but the overall feeling of sparkling water and musical clock chimes remained what it was.
But there was something else. Involuntarily, he turned his head, looking straight at a Stormtrooper with blood on his helmet. In this moment, he knew three things about that soldier: he was mortally scared, he was distressed to the point of physical sickness, and he had not fired a single shot. A second later, he also knew that this boy – he was no older than nineteen – had some trace of the Force in him, and made a mental note to look him up.
Could this kid be the source of that irregularity in the Force? No. This was just a coincidence.
There is no such thing as coincidence as far as the Force is concerned!
Yes, well. He'd look him up. Maybe he was worth training. It wasn't important just now. The only thing that mattered was finally getting that damned map.
x X x
1.4. Awful: on the Supremacy, ABY 30/01/20
Sometimes mortals can be more horrible than monsters.
Rick Riordan – The Titan's Curse
FN-2187 was cleaning the floors in the tract housing the interrogation cells when apparently out of nowhere, Kylo Ren came striding in like an affliction. He was closely followed by General Hux who, by the look of things, found it not entirely easy to keep up.
In a panic, FN-2187 tried to check up on his work without being too obvious about it. Had he overlooked some stain on the floor? Had he blown dry everything? He broke out in a cold sweat contemplating the possibilities of General Hux slipping due to an oversight of lowly cadet FN-2187.
But the two speedily proceeded past him without even a fleeting notice of FN-2187's works. Kylo Ren vanished inside a cell; General Hux remained outside and quietly talked to the two troopers stationed at the door, but even though FN-2187 strained his ears to hear what they were saying, he was too far off.
For half a minute, he indulged in elaborate fantasies what cunning techniques Kylo Ren would employ in order to wheedle out the wanted information. Probably Ren's sheer apparition (there was no better word for it) would intimidate the enemy enough to spill his guts.
Then the screaming started.
Of course, the prisoner had screamed before. Those seasoned interrogators knew their instruments. But this was infinitely worse. These weren't the screams of a body in pain, these were the desperate outpourings of a soul in agony. At least, it didn't last long, twenty seconds perhaps. Then the door opened and revealed a hapless man in a New Republic uniform slouched on the board, his head lolling, a look of horror etched into his blood-drained face.
Kylo Ren stepped out and spoke in a flat, almost bored voice, "I told you before – don't pump them with truth drugs before you call for me. They give away more when their brains aren't clouded."
General Hux made a dismissive gesture. "Well, usually they work."
"This isn't a usual military officer. The Resistance train to withstand conventional interrogation techniques. Even the very lowly ones, like him."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean he knows nothing of value. He joined not three months ago; you seized him at his very first outing. He has no idea where the Resistance headquarters are and knows less about their operations than you do."
"Or maybe you couldn't penetrate his defences either," General Hux said with a challenging look.
Ren's posture conveyed nothing if not condescension. "Tell yourself that, Lieutenant Hux, if it helps."
And off he went. Behind his visor, FN-2187's mouth hung open. Once he and the two guards were alone in the corridor, he ventured, "What did he do?"
"I don't know, and you don't want to know either, cadet," one of them replied.
"No… No, I really think I do."
The other one shook his head slowly. "He can rummage through your brains as he pleases. He can see things not even you know are there. They say it's the Force."
"The Force? I thought – I was taught it's a Jedi thing, and that they use it to fight, and lift stuff…"
"Well, he uses it to read minds. And fight. And he is definitely no Jedi. Don't you know they call him the Jedi Killer?"
"I thought that was, you know, an honorary nickname or something."
"It's a literal description. He killed every last one except Luke Skywalker himself. And he's been on the hunt for that one ever since."
x X x
1.5. Make a Friend: in the desert on the planet Jakku, ABY 30/05/29, 17:51 GST
Sometimes I suspect that we build our traps ourselves, then we back into them, pretending amazement the while. That is the way of life, from the All-Highest down to the meanest creature in creation... But whether this is the case or no, it is still a worthy thing to open cages. It is still a virtuous act to free the imprisoned.
Dream – Sandman
Every evening upon coming home, Rey did the same. Always in the same sequence. At first, she checked if her plant was still alive. Then she turned on the energy convector and made sure she had enough water. Next, she took her self-made stylo and scratched another line into the wall. One for each day, there were so many by now that she had long stopped counting them. A while ago, she had needed to use a second wall. But one did better not think about that too much.
Only then she went on to prepare her meal and here came the first possible variation. It all depended on Unkar Plutt's mood of the day. If he had gorged himself on whatever secret supplies he might be hoarding, and gazumped some poor scavenger, she was quietly contented, too. If, like today, he was in a foul mood and the poor scavenger he'd short-changed was her, she grumbled wild oaths under her breath, cursing him for being an old miser and overall rotter. In seven languages. Soon to be eight, once she'd master the weird gaggling sounds of Aqualish.
When the food was ready, she took it outside to enjoy the second-best part of each day: watching the sun set over the Fallen Teeth (only watching its dawn over the Badlands was even better). During those short moments when the searing sun vanished or rose over the horizons, between the scorching heat of the day and the freezing cold of those desert nights, the barren plains really came to life. Insects frantically scuttled out of their hiding places to seize the precious time for whatever they needed to do, closely pursued by an entire food chain of increasingly large predators. Aurora ants were hunted by blood beetles were hunted by merzes were hunted by Black Viperas were hunted by Yellow-tail buzzards and other birds of prey. In the unlikely event that some of their mortal shells should be left over, there were countless other critters attending to those remains. As a rule of thumb, nothing ever ran to waste here.
Rey carefully timed her sparse meals to coincide with the evenings' cruel spectacle. This was the closest to entertainment she had ever come to know. She wasn't sentimental; she knew things – life – couldn't be any other way. Every figure in this theatre of death had its own part to play and was as crucial to the continuation of life itself as any other. Sooner or later, even the majestic buzzards were going to be gobbled up by the tenacious ants and thus contributed to their survival. Why, even the Fallen Teeth must have been a mighty range of mountains once. Now most of them had turned to sand.
She settled in the AT-AT's shadow which afforded her a grand view of the Fallen Teeth as well as the sea of dunes leading there. In the distance, a small freighter was taking off almost vertically. Rey put on her pilot-helmet as a salute and watched its trajectory until it was no longer visible. Where might it be going?
She imagined the pilot: a sinister Ezaraa wanted dead or alive in 16 systems. Her co-pilot was from Corellia. His name was Giiza Seven Fingers and he thought he was the best shot in the galaxy, though he really wasn't. They had come to Jakku to refuel before taking off for the Unknown Regions, because they were spice smugglers. What they didn't know was that famous bounty hunter Frettor Pak was already hot on their tails…
Rey liked to invent stories like that. She had thousands and thousands of them, making them up as she went along. When she drove through the endless desert. When she climbed through a destroyer. When she waited in line before Unkar Plutt's shop. And most of all, during those long dark hours when she couldn't fall asleep.
She was just watching a dumdum beetle fighting off the superior forces of aurora ants and translated the battle into Giiza Seven Fingers facing a gang of rival smugglers when she heard a noise.
As a rule, noises in the desert were never a good sign. It meant there was something where usually there was nothing, and in these environments, something rarely meant good news. She picked up her staff and went to have a look. On the other side of a small dune, she spotted Teedo Copperbottom (she gave them additional names in her head to tell them apart) astride his luggabeast dragging a small BB-unit in a net. The droid fought back gamely and made plaintive sounds.
In principle, Rey counted Teedo Copperbottom as a friend. No, that was not the right word… As a friendly acquaintance. Unlike Teedo Heatwave or Teedo Blastershot, Teedo Copperbottom was alright, they even shared food sometimes, when Rey was in a scrape, or when she had hunted down a shinpu. And if she had believed that Teedo Copperbottom was going to sell the droid to Unkar Plutt, she would have congratulated him on his lucky catch and gone back to mind her own business.
The issue was: Teedo Copperbottom only ever sold parts. He would dismantle the BB-unit, in other words: kill it. Rey greatly disapproved of unnecessary killing.
"T'allua mar par quar!" she cried sternly.
Not unreasonably, he told her to go to blazes.
"Par quar dar dunna!"
She ran down and started freeing the droid from the net, while Teedo Copperbottom spew a longwinded series of threats, complaints and entreaties at her. She didn't mind, she might have done the same in his position. And she knew he wouldn't attack her. Not because he wouldn't dare (the braveness of the Teedo bordered on idiocy sometimes), but because of Rey's special talent. She had a real knack for finding water in the desert. She was so good with it, she could afford sharing. Which she did with people she liked. Consequently, Teedo Copperbottom knew he should better stay in her good books.
Her patience had its limits though. "Nomaa!" she barked, which roughly meant 'enough!' in Basic, only that in Teedo it had very hostile conflagrations more in line with 'one more word and I'll use your skull as a cooking pot'.
Grumbling, Teedo Copperbottom kicked his luggabeast into motion and legged it. The droid beeped some very rude remarks after him and Rey instinctively shushed him. Only then she remembered that Teedo Copperbottom understood not a single language other than Teedo, not even a little Basic or Binary.
"That's just Teedo," she tried to explain to the bemused droid. "He wants you for parts."
The droid expressed his disgust in no uncertain terms, making her even gladder for Teedo Copperbottom's linguistic shortcomings.
"Don't be offended. He has no respect for anyone.'
The struggle had twisted the droid's antenna. Rey knelt down to right it. "Where do you come from?" she asked, wondering how a fully functioning BB-unit in prime condition ended up in the middle of the desert. Niima Outpost, the closest settlement, was twenty-four kilometres away, and she knew for a fact that nobody there owned a BB-unit.
The droid answered that it was very sorry, but it could not divulge classified information. Oh dear. The poor thing had overheated and was suffering from delusions of grandure!
"Classified, really? Me too. Big secret," she said to humour it and for a second, froze. She shouldn't have said that. To cover up her inexplicable unease, she took much more care than necessary when reattaching the antenna. "Niima Outpost is that way. Stay off Calvin Ridge. Keep away from the Sinking Fields to the North, or you'll drown in the sand."
The droid replied that it was pleased to meet her and that its name was BB-8 (clearly its owner lacked any imagination at all). To her alarm, it started rolling after her.
"Don't follow me. Town is that way."
But he wanted to come with her.
"No!" she exclaimed so forcefully that she surprised herself. It was only a droid, after all.
But he was all alone!
Rey turned around. If it was possible for a metal globe to look forlorn, this BB-unit managed the trick. Also, she knew that over the next dune, Teedo Copperbottom or any of his fellows would just pick the droid up once more. She really ought to deliver it to Niima Outpost herself when she went back tomorrow morning.
She mimicked at the droid to come along, then, and his happy stream of thankful beeps made her smile.
"You're welcome."
x X x
1.6. Awesome: on Starkiller Base, ABY 29/11/06
Out of his surname they have coined an epithet for a knave, and out of his Christian name a synonym for the Devil.
Thomas Babington Macaulay – On Machiavelli
FN-2187 was a model cadet, all his instructors and records agreed. He was a first-rate shot, excelled in hand-to-hand as well as melee combat and had passed every exam so far with flying colours, so his fellows had reacted with considerable consternation when the reward for all his achievements had been a new post in the janitorial unit, first on Starkiller Base, now on the Supremacy. When a Stormtrooper said that he'd give his right arm for a chance to serve on the Supremacy, by 'serving', he usually didn't mean toilet-scrubbing.
But FN-2187 did not mind. They never received plaques with their numbers on them, but the janitorial team was as essential a cog in the army machine as any other, more glorified unit. Also – who else but they had the practically free run of even the most restricted areas? FN-2187 had cleaned the elevator booth to the Supreme Leader's personal quarters! On a ship with a crew of more than a hundred thousand, only twelve people had the level of clearance to go in there – and he was one of them!
Most importantly, only very experienced soldiers got stationed on the Supremacy; in his unit, he was the most junior by a long shot. Which meant that he was able to learn a lot from people who really knew their stuff. After his shifts with the mop, he was able to put in endless hours training with some of the best soldiers in the entire First Order and got the chance to attend numerous lectures intended for aspiring officers.
Tonight, he had practised sharp-shooting with two true masters, PK-0816 and Lieutenant-Major Dortabine; the latter had actually recommended him and invited him to join them for a glass of sucosa in the mess. Frankly, FN-2187 felt like a million credits, walking down the corridors next to PK-0816 with the swag of a man expecting everyone passing them to know what a legend the guy beside him was.
"You're good, kid, but you've still got work to do on your reaction time," PK-0816 said good-naturedly. "You've got to get to the point where you no longer think."
"He's right, you know? Shaves 0.5 seconds of your results," Dortabine chipped in and clapped FN-2187 on the breastplate.
He really ought to look at his reaction time, because it took FN-2187 another moment to understand that Dortabine was actually trying to hold him back.
"Turn right," she snarled under her breath and FN-2187 was so accustomed to obeying anybody with a black stripe on their forearm that he did just that, with the same kind of thoughtless automatism they had just been talking about. His eyes though were drawn back further down the corridor into which they had been heading.
There stood a small group of high-ranking officers and a tall figure dressed all in black.
"Was that –" PK-0816 asked, a little breathless.
"Oh yes."
FN-2187 gazed at them cluelessly. He couldn't see PK-0816's face under the visor, but he wondered if he was as pale as Dortabine's usually florid complexion had turned.
"That was Kylo Ren, wasn't it?"
The other two nodded.
FN-2187 was on the verge of turning around to see if he could catch another glimpse, but once more Dortabine held him back.
"Another pro tip for you, kid – don't run into Kylo Ren."
"Don't be in the same room like Kylo Ren."
"If at all possible, try not to be on the same ship as Kylo Ren."
"Best he doesn't know you exist, really."
"But he's the greatest warrior we have!" FN-2187 managed to insert.
"Undoubtedly. He's also the scariest man you'll ever meet."
"I don't understand."
"He isn't exactly patient."
"Neither is Captain Phasma –"
"But Captain Phasma doesn't whip out a laser-sword and goes on a rampage when she is displeased."
PK-0816 nodded. "It's the Force –"
"The Force!" FN-2187 exclaimed, perfectly delighted.
PK-0816 shrugged. "Half of the stories about him are made up, if you ask me, but it doesn't follow he wasn't the mightiest fighter I ever saw."
"You've seen him in battle, then?" Dortabine asked curiously.
If he knew it or not, PK-0816 stood a little straighter. "My squad was under his command when we took Grenolaver. He blew out their defences in his TIE-silencer single-handedly and made short work of the remains with his sword. I've never seen anything like it. He used the Force to rip their rifles from their hands. He stopped blaster shots in midair. It's incredible, but – spooky. Really spooky."
x X x
1.7. Where Is It?: aboard the Finalizer, ABY 30/05/29, 22:24 GST
I'm smarter than you, and I'm going to find out what I want to know, and I'm going to get it from you whether you like it or not.
Dave Kujan – The Usual Suspects
The only information the captive had volunteered were his name and rank: Commander Poe Dameron of the Rapier Squadron. As for any other information, he had stubbornly resisted both torture and truth drugs, until the unnerved officer in charge had called for Kylo Ren in spite of himself and his superiors' wishes. The Intelligence arm of the First Order did not cherish that Ren succeeded where they failed.
The man came, as arrogant and sure of himself as ever, and if one could look down one's nose through a visor, Lieutenant Dray was certain Ren was doing it right now while browsing through Dameron's vita from the archives.
"The guy is a living legend," he said lightly. "And he's only 35."
"He'll soon be a dead legend," Dray retorted.
"Ah, yes. What a pity."
"Sir?"
"I think you will find that none of your men can hold a candle to his skills as a pilot, Lieutenant. He may well be the best pilot of his generation. Doesn't that make you think?"
Dray refrained from saying out loud that this would include Kylo Ren as well, but his face must have given him away, because Ren started chuckling. It was a disquieting sound made even more unnerving through the voice changer.
"Perhaps I am not the best flyer of my generation, Lieutenant. But as an interrogator, I beat your lot every time."
Thus he entered the interrogation cell and surveyed the prisoner, who had taken an awful beating and was unconscious.
Poe Dameron. That's why he had thought he'd recognised the guy. Half a lifetime ago, the man's mother had been Leia Organa's personal pilot. Kylo had been rather fond of Shara Bey, enough to almost regret having to hurt her son.
But that son decided to become a traitor.
Yeah, well. If there had been any doubt about that left, it vanished when the man woke up only to put on the most defiant scowl available to a bleeding man tied down to an interrogation board.
"I had no idea we had the best pilot in the Resistance on board," Kylo said and meant it, but Dameron, understandably, wasn't in the mood to chat. "Comfortable?"
"Not really."
Which was, no irony intended, a pity. What Kylo was about to do worked so much easier if the subject was relaxed. If they were calm and didn't try fighting it, it needn't even be hurtful. So he tried to distract the pilot once more (and to be honest, the answer to this question actually interested him).
"I was wondering – how's your mother?"
He needn't hear the answer. The prisoner's jaw clenched; a dark wave of grief, anger and – surprisingly – guilt emanated from him as he tried to spit at his captor. So Shara Bey was dead? And somehow, her son felt responsible.
For some reason, Kylo had to think of last night's encounter (if one could call it that) with the traumatised Stormtrooper. Knowing Captain Phasma's drill, that poor kid was probably heading for re-programming just now, if not worse. Kylo had always felt an instinctive dislike for the concept. Re-programming! The term itself was already an affront, as if they were nothing but droids, machines, computers.
He brushed off both the notion and the recollection and turned back to the prisoner. "I'm impressed. No one has been able to get out of you what you did with the map."
"You might want to rethink your technique."
That pretty much summed up why Kylo was here, after all. He reached out and fixed Dameron's mind. "Where is it?"
But the guy didn't give up yet. "The Resistance will not be intimidated by you," he managed to gnarl through clenched teeth.
Oh, for heaven's sake! "Where. Is. It?" Kylo repeated, exasperated, and waded through Dameron's mind, vaguely intrigued how much of a fight the other man put up. But he got there eventually. Of course he did.
"It's in a droid. A BB-unit," he informed General Hux, who was waiting already in the corridor and, as always when the two of them had any dealings together, was looking as if he had just bitten into a particularly sour shellava.
"Well, then. If it's on Jakku, we'll soon have it."
"I leave that to you," he replied and strode away, pretending he didn't hear Hux's next question.
"Anything else?"
x X x
1.8. The Best Pilot of His Generation: aboard the Finalizer, ABY 30/05/30, 00:46 GST
A person needs a little madness, or else they never dare cut the rope and be free.
Nikos Kazantzakis
A mosaic like a fractured mirror in his head. One shard showing Leia making him a commander. Another part of a map of the Illerian system. One reflecting a detail of an A-wing model 6, one showing Admiral Akbar, one the situation room on D'Qar. BB-8, Lor San Tekka, Snap and Phun Woo, Larma and Vabrayse, his mother, the way she had looked shortly before –
He wished Ren had killed him.
Not because of the agonising pain that subsided only very slowly, not because they were going to kill him anyway and that way, it would at least have been quick.
Ren had forced him to give up what he would gladly have died for. Now he knew of BB-8, their desperate search for Luke Skywalker, the location of the Resistance headquarters, all other bases, their exact numbers and armament, Leia's contacts in the Senate and who could say what else. It was all over just because Poe had failed!
The door to his cell slid open and he heard the words, "Ren wants the prisoner."
What else could Ren possibly want from him now? Poe didn't think he had any secret left, but he had no time to mull over the question as his shackles were opened and a Stormtrooper, gun in hand, dragged him up and away.
Maybe, Poe mused, he could at least go out in glory. Maybe he could get hold of a blaster and take Ren out, maybe… He was taken along one corridor after the other, the gun still pressing against his side, and only slowly he realised what had struck him as odd from the start. This was only one guy. All the others always moved in twos. What –
"Why aren't you more nervous?" the Stormtrooper interrupted his musings in a low voice, made even quieter by the voice changer. "You know who Kylo Ren is, right?"
The Resistance was not going to be intimidated! Poe snarled contemptuously, "Tall, weird black costume, thinks he's the smartest thing that's ever hit a planet?"
"Uh –"
"Yeah, met him."
"You know who he is?!"
"The Jedi Killer, I guess they call him. Not the kind of nickname I'd strive for, personally."
"Are you – some kind of – lunatic…?"
Poe chuckled, delighted to be allowed some showing off before the heroic sacrifice he'd hopefully make once he was alone with Ren. "Your scare tactics don't work on me, or any other member of the Resistance. I am not afraid of your famous bogeyman."
"In here," his captor said and shoved him into a small niche. "Listen carefully. If you do exactly as I say, I can get you out of here."
"What?"
The trooper took off his helmet and turned out to be a very young man covered in sweat and with eyes radiating sheer terror barely held at bay.
"This is a rescue," he said, unbelievably. "I'm helping you escape. Can you fly a TIE-fighter?"
Poe could only stare. "You're with the Resistance?!"
"No! I'm breaking you out! Can you fly a TIE-fighter?"
At least Poe had an answer for this one. "I can fly anything."
The young man laughed, sounding mightily relieved and looking the part. All the same, Poe hadn't stayed alive until now by being in any way credulous. "Why? Why are you helping me?"
"Because," the Stormtrooper said, suddenly solemn, "it is the right thing to do."
Bollocks!
"You need a pilot."
Again, that look of blessed relief, like a teacher delighted that his slow-witted student had finally found the right answer.
"I need a pilot. I need to get away from here as quick and as far as possible!"
Maybe it wasn't all lost just yet. Maybe he was given a chance to make good for his involuntary betrayal! Poe grinned. "We're gonna do this!"
"Yeah," the Stormtrooper replied, but he was back to terrified, and made this sound less like confirmation and more like an entreaty.
They went on like before, with the trooper's rifle pressed against Poe's ribcage, but now that he knew the truth, he wondered how soon someone else would see through this ridiculous charade. No matter. It was better to die fighting than to lose without fighting back at all.
But nobody caught on and they actually made it right into the hangar. It was bustling with soldiers and officers and mechanics and once more, Poe was rather impressed. The First Order's equipment was state-of-the-art, so much so that, should he ever come out of this alive, Poe would like some serious question time with a couple of weapon manufacturers whose merchandise he clearly recognised. It was very superior to the slapdash confection of whatever was available that the Resistance had to make do with.
"Okay. Stay calm. Stay calm," his captor-turned-rescuer muttered.
"I am calm."
"I'm talking to myself."
Oh shoot!
Still, by some miracle they managed to get into a TIE-fighter, and by now, Poe felt he was on the verge of a dangerously hyper delirium. "I always wanted to fly one of these things," he confessed, breathless. "Can you shoot?"
"Blasters I can."
"Okay, same principle." He followed this up with the most basic instruction walkthrough he could come up with.
"This is very complicated," the trooper replied all the same.
And yet, it would have to do. And it did. Despite some difficulties, they made it out of the hangar. They even managed to take down most of the star destroyer's canons. There truly wasn't a ship or fighter that Poe couldn't fly. And that kid was an excellent shot, even better if one considered this was his first time.
"Hey, what's your name?"
Almost cockily, he evaded a blast that would have hit nineteen pilots out of twenty.
"FN-2187."
"F – what?"
"That's the only name they ever gave me."
The poor guy! One so easily forgot that the First Order recruited its army by stealing small children. "Well, I ain't using it. FN, huh? Finn, I'm gonna call you Finn, is that alright?"
"Finn," the kid cried, "yeah, Finn! I kinda like that!"
Poe had to smile. "I'm Poe, Poe Dameron."
"Good to meet you, Poe!"
"Good to meet you, too, Finn. Nice shot!"
"Thanks! Where – where are we going?"
"Back to Jakku."
"No, no, no! We can't go back to Jakku! We need to get out of this system!"
Poe swerved around to get them in line for the next shot. They'd have to take out all of those pesky ventral canons before they could truly get away.
"I've got to get my droid before the First Order does –"
"A droid?!" shouted the kid, evidently shocked. "We've got to get as far away from the First Order as we can! We go back to Jakku, we die!"
Oh, what the heck. He had, however unwillingly, given his secret away to Kylo Ren of all people. There was no reason not to trust this deserter who was putting his life on the line.
"That droid has a map that leads straight to Luke Skywalker."
"You gotta be kidding me!"
By then, their opponent had warmed up the ventral canons, and once more, they seemed to be so very, very lucky, until they were no longer, and soared down to crash in the endless deserts of Jakku.
x X x