This is so late, I know. But man I can't write action to save my life. Which means I only have three days to write the next helsa chapter. No pressure tho, right?
Nothing to say here except more flashback. We'll get into the story proper soon, though, I swear! And those Reyux feels will come in tenfold.
To Do the Next Right Thing
Chapter 3
He found a way to discard his Stormtrooper armor for Batuu civilian clothes easily. He'd been able to sell off some parts he could salvage off the escape pod, even, for a few credits—quite a few of which went toward a few drinks at the cantina. He found a slightly tattered, dark blue scarf to keep his hair covered, and with all the heat threatening him from three suns, it certainly came in handy, though a few of those red tendrils always fell in front of his face.
What he couldn't get used to, though, was calling himself "Armitage."
Not a common name, but he rarely used it, even while rising through the ranks of the First Order. Hell, he was sure some of his Stormtroopers didn't even know it.
His Stormtroopers; his First Order. None of those things were his anymore.
The pain always stung; not just from the bruise from Pryde's blast or in his leg, but from thinking of what the First Order might deteriorate into without him, his organization. Hux was a man without a planet, a man without affiliation, something that had defined his entire existence. He was just "Armitage" now, and with Kylo Ren and Allegiant General Pryde leading the ranks, he just couldn't see himself among them anymore.
The sold escape pod parts granted him enough credits to find decent lodging and food. Certainly more cramped and messier than his pristine First Order quarters, but they did in a pinch. Besides, a beggar like him certainly couldn't be a chooser—he'd made that bed. Any regrets, he nipped them in the bud the moment he even dared to think them. Reality felt like this limbo, like his body could move, he could down drinks like they were nothing. His mind, in this groggy, slow place that knew how to hide, but didn't know how to live.
The call came when he least expected it, when he ducked behind racks of decommissioned thermal detonators near an old spire to hide from that damn spy, that blue-haired wench—Vy Moradi. She could certainly spot his hair just as easily as he could spot hers.
"Hiding from Vy?" Armitage jumped at the sound of someone crouched beside him: a small woman, her eyes brown and huge, platinum hair tied back into a messy tail. The ends of her clothes were frayed from overuse, dirt caking a bit beneath her nails.
He said nothing; Armitage was still trying to figure out if, for the time being, he should attempt that Stormtrooper accent again. Maybe if he kept it up long enough, it'd just be the way he talked. Lose that Imperial dialect his father had instilled on him so young.
"What'd you do? Sell some info to the First Order?"
But screw it. She didn't know him. And he needed her off his back. "Resistance, actually," he said, surprised to be telling the truth. Honestly, it was probably the only truth he'd told since landing near Black Spire Outpost.
The woman's lips curled upward, like she knew something. Armitage just raised a brow. "What?" he asked.
Instead of answering, she bit her lip. Then she took his hand, yanking him up—and Armitage, who hadn't had anyone so much as physically touch him in years, was shocked at her audacity as she sprinted across the outpost with him in tow. Then again, it wasn't like she knew his past, just from a few glances, wouldn't know just how wrong it was of her to grab him like that—something that could certainly get her killed as a Stormtrooper or petty officer. He used his free hand to attempt to hold his makeshift hood over his hair. With every step his leg throbbed, his chest heaved, pain shooting through them from his injuries.
He should attack or do something, right? Get her off of him? "What the hell?" he asked instead, slightly breathless at her speed. She probably didn't have a problem sneaking into places with her size. Armitage used to know the feeling as a child, before his height caught up to him.
"I'm Julen!" she cried. Why the hell were they heading toward Ohnaka Transports? And why were there so many ships leaving port all at once?
Hux finally yanked her back, forcing her to stop. "Explain yourself," he demanded, a bit out of breath just from not expecting her brazen attitude.
Julen looked him up and down, finally taking him in. Oh damn. She knew. She must have known who he was.
"You're a pilot, are you not?" she asked instead, gesturing to his jacket.
Armitage didn't realize that, when he'd taken it, it might have meant something—at least not here on Batuu. But there it was, faintly peeking out under his scarf: a pilot crest, small, but visible. Only a smuggler working for Hondo Ohnaka would know that, he surmised. "I—" he started, unsure how to explain himself.
"I'll pay you ten thousand credits to help my colleague and I fly into Exegol," she said quickly. She tugged his hand, and Armitage realized he hadn't let go—neither had she. "Come on—I can explain everything and play the holovid we were sent on the way."
"Exegol?" he repeated, his voice far weaker than intended. The Sith planet—the very piece of information that cemented him as a traitor to his own cause. It was a final battle: Resistance fighters stepping up with information he'd provided to them. He shouldn't see it. He couldn't see it. They would die, most likely; he saw the fire power used against Kijimi. He knew what kind of army the First Order recruited from the shadows.
Then again, the Resistance always had this way of pulling themselves up from the ashes when one least expected it. And given how much Pryde had underestimated him, maybe there was… oh, dare he think it: hope.
Hope for his enemy. How far he'd fallen.
Armitage clenched his jaw. Two more ships left.
"Please," Julen begged. "I could just turn you in to Vy Moradi. I'm sure you won't be hard to find with so many of us leaving."
Oh, of course that was the card she'd play. But he needed the money, and this would be the quickest way to earn credits of that sort, credits to soon leave this planet and retire somewhere else. And even so, if he died in battle, would it really be so terrible, even if it was against the First Order? Armitage slit his eyes. "Fine," he uttered. "But I want five thousand now. Six when we return."
Julen opened her mouth to speak, then restrained. Realizing they were still holding hands, she squeezed his instead. "Fine," she conceded, using her free hand to slap some credits in his palm. "There's two. The rest is on the ship, I promise."
Was she planning on swindling him out, or whichever poor soul she ended up recruiting? There was no time to question it as she pulled him aboard this bronze hunk of junk, barely big enough for three. Julen pushed Armitage into the pilot's seat, not giving him enough time to notice the young, dark-haired man beside him, tinkering with switches for takeoff. He grinned, his teeth sharp. "You'll drag just about anyone onboard to fly this hunk of junk, won't you, Julen?" the kid asked.
"Just get us to Exegol and get our blasters ready, Ivor." Julen reached over Armitage to tap out a few buttons, her chin brushing his shoulder. He didn't think he'd ever gotten this close in proximity with anyone—much less a woman—in his life.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm punching in the coordinates now." Ivor waved a hand, then took off. Armitage hadn't let the whole process really sink in: in just moments this girl had picked him out from the crowd and dragged him, a complete stranger, onto a trashed ship with the promise of credits. And Armitage just… went with it. Hardly questioned it. Didn't think he could keep fending for himself on Batuu. But the familiarity of the atmosphere fading, the stars like a comfortable, vast background assured him that the craziness he'd just endured, the suddenness of it all… it was for something.
He wouldn't exactly call it something in the Force—not yet, anyway.
Ivor gestured to Armitage to take the hyperdrive controls. "Feel free to do the honors…"
"Armitage." It was the first time he'd ever introduced himself to anyone like that. All right, so it wasn't as dreaded as he'd imagined, saying his name out loud.
"Armitage," Julen repeated. "Nice to meet you. Officially, anyway." Hearing it from someone else, like it wasn't the most cursed name in the galaxy, could actually be refreshing. Good enough for him to shoot the little ship into lightspeed, toward something that crazily felt brighter.
It all passed in such a blur.
In the ship's cramped bridge, Julen had to reach over Armitage to give him a basic rundown of the controls: a little old, but not something he couldn't handle. Her arm would brush against his, and each time Armitage tried to hide the faint flush that threatened to emerge. It was just from the closeness, the fact that he wasn't used to it, that was all. She showed him the transmission from General Calrissian, of all beings, the Wookie in tow asking anyone and everyone for assistance in defeating the Final Order. Not even the First Order anymore—something Armitage truly couldn't connect with. Each mention of just how far his beloved First Order had fallen only gave him the assurance that maybe his betrayal was for the better.
Julen actually made sure to give Armitage the rest of the five thousand credit deposit he'd demanded, true to her word. In fact, both she and Ivor seemed a little too trustworthy, too open to talk about their pasts. "Siblings" who grew up together on the Outpost with only each other, working for the intimidating Oga at first before moving on to smuggling for Hondo—first on only the planet, before Hondo realized he could benefit from his own smuggling ring.
"Julen can't fly very well, and I can't fix much." Ivor shrugged. "Somehow it works out in this piece of crap Hondo gave us."
"Because we never have a consistent pilot!" Julen piped up. As long as they talked about each other, they wouldn't ask about Armitage, and he could try to use that to his advantage. He still had no concrete response to if anyone asked about him, hadn't had enough time to think about it.
"Exegol, T-minus five," Ivor warned, looking at the map.
Armitage couldn't remember when he'd actually been in battle, had always commanded, had always lead. He could at least understand TIE Fighter patterns, get them close enough for Ivor to shoot one down, and get others off their backs. But he didn't understand Exegol's atmosphere, and would have to just make most of this up as he went along.
The armies amassed on both sides, when they arrived, had all three shocked. Destroyers and various ships littered the blue-grey sky, dodging lightning to hit each other in hopes of victory. And… was that even a Star Tours cruiser in the distance, going after two TIE Daggers?
"Oh, shit," Ivor breathed, hands shaking at the controls.
"I've got a bad feeling about this," Armitage uttered, taking the customary moment to remember the mission. Take out the navigation tower and the other Sith Destroyers could fall from Resistance firepower before they wreaked havoc across the galaxy. Already the could see tiny figures doing ground battle, knowing how integral a part that tower played in either defeat of or victory for the Final Order.
"We've got this," Julen assured, reaching over to squeeze their shoulders. At least one of them could be optimistic.
The ship was small enough to make sharp turns, but the controls worked well, a little less responsive than a TIE Fighter. Armitage could dodge those blasts easily, predicting the patters, knowing when they would bob and weave, twist, dip—
"TIE Daggers on our tail," Ivor announced, prompting Armitage to take action. All right, they'd try to lock on to shoot—best course of action was to weave quickly, shake them off. The crazy maneuver would be to flip this hunk of junk right around when the Daggers converged close to each other and swiftly take them out.
Armitage explained his little plan to the two, heart pounding in his chest. He hadn't flown like this in years, yet the controls came to him as if it were yesterday. Strange, he'd never had a penchant for it, not like Commander Dameron, or hell, even Kylo Ren. Maybe he'd picked up a thing or two just from observation alone—or maybe his father's awful insistence that he needed to be perfect at everything he tried, otherwise he was a waste of air, of space.
"That's absolutely insane—I love it!" Julen cried. "Fuel capacity is looking decent for this move, but it might just be your only shot; don't waste it." She tinkered with her holovid, the two of them looking for that pattern.
"Getting the blasters into position now," said Ivor.
He could feel time slow, the way his hands moving on the controls reacted to his trembling fingers. He could hear his own deep breathing, heart pounding. A former general, firing on his own, these two knowing nothing about his past.
"Picking up a strange signal coming at us," Ivor warned. The announcement was enough for Armitage to move aside, just as a bolt of lightning missed their ship.
"What the hell was that?" asked Julen. The lightning ended up hitting the TIE, sending one down. The other was flustered, as were they. Where had that come from? Armitage knew about the static atmosphere on Exegol, but this was excessive, as if it were coming from—
Former Emperor Palpatine. The ghost. The Force. This was all a mistake. "Lightning storm!" he cried, trying to make it seem as natural as possible, given the static atmosphere. The bolts seemed to strike as many Resistance ships as it could, but their smaller craft seemed to have a bit more of an advantage.
"The readings are off the charts." Ivor's eyes widened. "Nothing I've ever seen before, this surge. How long do you think it'll last?"
"No idea," said Julen. "But keep flying like that, Armitage, and we might just make it out of here with our heads."
"That's assuring," he uttered. Hopefully that ground team was doing well taking down that tower. "We could strike at those Sith Troopers down there; the TIEs seem more occupied with the bigger craft now that some are struck in the surge."
"All right," Julen agreed. "You're... really good at this in the moment thinking."
"Just a hunch," he tried to reason. But he was able to get them lower toward the tower, Ivor blasting at the Troopers giving those Resistance ground fighters such a difficult time. There was the droid, FN-2187, even. And in his peripheral vision, Armitage knew the Steadfast was looming above. Pryde was probably barking orders at his troops, and if General Hux had been there... well, he'd just be in the shadows, awaiting commands through a clenched jaw.
And then the lightning just... ceased from the source after a few moments. Armitage figured the girl, Rey, must be down there, doing, well... whatever singular mission she certainly had to be on, whatever wasn't part of the bigger picture. But she was helping the cause.
Helping. Armitage couldn't believe how simple it was to disconnect from his former affiliation because of how bastardized it'd become, with the former Emperor using some Sith army he hardly knew anything about, to Pryde usurping his position—watching this all burn was the catharsis he didn't think he needed.
"The tower, it's..." Ivor grinned, watching as FN-2187 jumped into the Millennium Falcon to make his valiant escape. The tower was down; the new Sith Destroyers with their planet killing capabilities were ripe for attack—and attack the Resistance did, Admiral Beck's ship and the Falcon immediately going for the Steadfast.
"Armitage, we're gonna need that maneuver right about now; those TIE Daggers are still coming at us hot!" said Julen.
Right. No time to think about Pryde's downfall, not until they were in the clear. Nodding, Armitage put himself back in that headspace, letting each second count. Weave through the falling ships and debris; dodge blasts, intercept the TIE pattern. The sound so familiar, so soothing, and yet, here he was, knowing just where to lead them, just where to turn sharply, and—
"Now!" he prompted, and Ivor shot right at the TIE, blasting the pilot and sending it down. And Armitage felt... pride surge in his chest. Accomplishment. How could this feel so good, the takedown of the Final Order? Watching it all crumble before his eyes?
And then there was the Steadfast, the bridge destroyed, Pryde being blasted out to his doom. Hux would have been on said bridge, no doubt either already dead or facing the same fate. And there was this strangeness, watching this parallel unfold in front of his eyes like some alternate reality. Since when had defying his cause, breaking from the idea that had molded his life, faking his own death, lead to this oh-so-positive outcome, where he had the freedom to participate in this battle and outlive everyone who had ever abused him.
Did that make him a coward or a vigilante for his actions?
Armitage had no time to think about it, before the Sith and Star Destroyers fell, chest heaving in attempt to come down from that high. His hand ran through his hair; when did he start sweating?
"We did it!" Julen and Ivor cried out, their cheers muffled as Armitage kept trying to process. Was that... a hint of a smile forming on his face? Relief running through his system?
"You were incredible." Julen reached over, and before Armitage could think, there were lips on his, wet and sudden and soft. Before he could understand just what she was doing—it was over. His first kiss, taken in a flash. Really, he was more amazed at the fact that it actually happened at all. "I knew I had a good feeling about you."
"Shit, let's go." Ivor rolled his eyes and took up co-piloting controls—they were just going back to the Spire, anyway.
His head was still spinning once the ship landed back by Ohnaka Transports. Armitage pulled the scarf back over his hair, his heart still pounding. The First Order, gone. Witnessed with his own eyes.
"You should stay on with us," said Julen, handing him the rest of the credits he'd demanded. "That was some damn good piloting out there."
Armitage licked his lips, contemplating. "Or what, you'll turn me in to Vy?"
Julen's eyes darted about. "I won't force you this time," she replied. "It's just… in the heat of the moment, I just thought—well it's so historic, isn't it? Watching the end of the war unfold?"
"I suppose so." He crossed his arms, and across the lot, his eyes squinted; someone else had done the same gesture, leaning on their craft. Just a coincidence, right? With their helmet on, he couldn't read facial expressions.
"And the kiss, I—"
"It's fine." Armitage shook his head. The figure in the maroon suit and gold helmet kept… staring. "You don't see the end of such a war that often."
Julen finally looked over her shoulder to where he stared, then blinked. "But it was just one job," she said, understanding. She nodded, and squeezed his arm. "Must have been a hell of a life you had before all this."
"It was." Sighing, he patted her arm in return. He wasn't sure how else to really show… camaraderie. Not like this. "But eventually we all face our fates." His slight smile probably held that somberness that made her face fall. "'Til the Spire."
"'Til the Spire." Julen shot back, letting him go.
When Armitage approached the figure, she stayed still. Just… leaned, her position cocky and unrelenting. It reminded him far too much of Commander Dameron. "Can I help you?" he asked.
"General Armitage Hux," she uttered lowly, her voice just as arrogant as Commander Dameron's, as well. "Didn't peg you for someone who would switch sides."
He took in her helmet, her ship, her blasters. "Well, I'll tell you it was definitely done before the destruction of Kijimi," he said, trying to cover his bases. "If you're here to kill me, which I'm presuming you are."
"Thinking about it," she replied. "You, unfortunately, are probably worth more alive than dead, though."
"Bounty hunter?" he guessed.
"Spice runner," she clarified. "You've had some run-ins with Poe Dameron, haven't you?"
Armitage raised a brow, amused. "On the occasion," he replied, trying to keep it vague. "I even saved him rather recently."
He didn't know how he could tell, but he could have sworn she smirked behind the helmet. Probably because he could read the unmoving expression through knowing Phasma. "Zorii Bliss. Get in." She gestured with her chin toward her ship. "I'll take you to Ajan Kloss."
"Ajan Kloss," Armitage repeated. "So that's where the Resistance has been hiding."
"Not anymore," said Zorii, leading him onboard.
As always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated! I now it's off to a bit of a slow start so far, but we'll get there.
