[Poe]

Breakfast had been handed around to everyone as Hux was finishing talking to Rose. Initially, Poe stayed with their group as Rose filled people in on their roles. His was easy to understand. His attention wandered, as did his gaze. Hux was sitting alone again. Poe wondered if that was standard – did he always eat alone? Or was it that he didn't have anyone here of similar rank?

From what he'd read of the Resistance's thick file on the man, everyone hated Hux. He was like Tarkin with no respect. Which was bizarre because he was also mentioned as having supposedly eliminated his rivals (including his father) in gruesome ways that never had any firsthand corroboration. Hux was somehow simultaneously toothless and bloodthirsty, a mastermind widely reputed to be incompetent. He was nonetheless credited with Starkiller Base, the stormtrooper training program, most of the promotional efforts, while managing to fulfill duties as an army general at the same time. It made no sense.

Maybe he was just lousy at personal PR. At the moment, he was sitting on the thickest remaining section of the tree trunk, his meal bar half-eaten in one hand while with the other, he was picking at the fibrous structure of the exposed plant material. It was white like bone and covered with shallow serrations from whatever had eaten into it overnight. The whole thing had been reduced in girth by at least half what it had been before.

Hux wasn't entirely alone. One of the troopers stood guard over him – the one with the black pauldron with white barring. The staff sergeant. FL … Poe tried to remember. The mental trick he used was that she was Flinn instead of Finn. A bunch of the other ones were also Finns (FNs), though he couldn't tell which ones. Her shoulder pauldron made her distinctive. The next part of her designation was a two, sort of like Flight – FL with a t sound. Two twos (as 'Flinn' had two n's). And another round number: sixteen. FL-2216?

FL … He remembered the first sergeant telling her 'Flag, you're up.' He'd thought at the time she meant something like, 'I'm passing you the flag' or 'tag, you're it'. But now that he thought about it, FLag. Their names meant things, the same as his name told about his family. According to them, it told them he had parents. Which was far from the default assumption for these guys. Huh.

As he approached, she turned her head in his direction, then away with a slight angling of her shoulders. It was different from how she'd been with the others – deliberately interposed with C'ai and sharply attentive, close at hand, when Hux had talked with Rose. She ignored Poe more thoroughly than she would have one of her own. It was a big change from the one who had grabbed him the night before, jabbing the blaster muzzle into his side so hard it was still bruised.

Hux looked up at him, as placid as Poe had yet seen him. Poe asked, "Can I join you?" He lifted his meal bar to show his intention to eat with him.

"Yes." Hux nodded and gestured next to him on the trunk.

Poe settled in. He took a bite. Hux took one as well. He was most of the way done. He'd been served first and taken a small bite while the stormtroopers had stood around watching him, holding the bars they had yet to distribute. "That thing you guys did earlier," Poe said, gesturing at Hux's meal bar, "was that … what was that?"

"What thing?"

"You eating first? Is that to show it's not poisoned?"

Hux chuckled. "No. It's a … tradition. The highest ranked person eats first in any gathering."

"Oh. Why's that?" He had his suspicions that it was to allow whoever was in charge to have first and best choice of everything, but he kept his tone innocent.

"Well. You could say that those lower ranked are showing their respect for authority and their personal discipline by waiting."

"Yeah, I guess so."

Hux fiddled with the last bit of his bar. It was a mealy substance, soft and chewy without much texture. Poe found it edible and a bit over-rich. That was about it. Hux said, "You could also say it's just a simple means to show your power over others and reinforce conditioning."

Poe had just taken a bite, so he couldn't respond. Hux continued after a pause, his voice quiet and steady, somewhat introspective like he was seeing what he was telling about. "My father used it as a tool for his students. Several hundred cadets, twelve or thirteen years of age, all gathered in the great hall of Grafson for breakfast. Meals were laid out: steaming eggs, salted meat, toasted breads, soft-dried fruits. He ate. He gave no signal for his cadets to do so.

"So they sat at their places and waited. When he was done with his own meal, he dismissed them. They – we – had our duties for the day, exercises and drills, more grueling than most. At lunch, the same thing. He ate. No one else was permitted. Same for dinner. Food prepared and set out, then discarded entire. And the next morning at breakfast. That was when the first two broke – one openly and another who was caught filching. A few others later boasted of bits they'd managed to steal unseen, but they weren't punished as those two were.

"Same for lunch. Finally dinner. After two days of rigorous physical training and no food, some were swaying in their seats. It saps a person surprisingly fast when you're required to work while fasting. He allowed all to eat, but a few minutes later he dismissed us, well before anyone had managed to bolt more than a few mouthfuls. Those who didn't leave immediately as ordered learned to regret it." Hux considered the last bit of his bar before eating it.

"What good did that do?" Poe asked, he tried to keep his voice flat and not emote too strongly. Hux's tone, too, was factual and distant, making it tough to tell what the man wanted Poe to take from this.

Hux glanced at him with a slightly arched brow, probably for his tone. Hux brushed non-existent crumbs from his fingers. "He told me. 'You require people to willingly participate in their own subordination. You teach them that they are the ones who have allowed you to rule them. They will eat, sleep, and pull the trigger at your command, no matter how much they might wish to do otherwise. This is power over people.'"

Poe blanched at the last third of his meal bar. "That's abuse. Not power."

Hux shrugged one shoulder. "It's both. It works."

"For what?"

"Instilling loyalty. And dread. After he did it the first time, he would require us to skip a meal from time to time. We never knew if that was the start of days without sustenance or just the one time. The uncertainty dulls the mind. You know you can't predict or control the decision to starve you and yet you have given up your autonomy to them under the illusion of serving a greater need."

"What need is that?"

"Advancing the First Order."

Poe chewed his lips. Quietly, he said, "Do you believe that?"

"I believe it works."

Poe softened his voice. "Do you believe it?"

"I don't understand the question."

"Do you believe it's a good idea to take away people's freedom and brainwash them into a loyalty and obedience they would have never agreed to if they had a choice?"

"I believe it works and we're at war."

Poe gave a disappointed sigh. He'd thought Hux was going somewhere with this, given that he wouldn't outright answer the question. He certainly had no trouble being unequivocal when he wanted to, so why the hesitancy now? Why had he even told that story?

Hux sighed as well. He said, "The traitor there is not the first or the only one to have broken his conditioning, but it is exceedingly rare." Poe looked over at him attentively. Hux added, "My father's dead now. Did you know that?"

"I'd … read that. Yeah." He wasn't sure where Hux was going with the subject change, but Poe was listening. He had the feeling, again, that Hux was trying to tell him something. Poe had also read the report from Vi Moradi that Armitage had arranged the murder himself. Which suddenly connected with Hux's use of 'we' and 'our' in the story, and the point about Finn not having been the first to break out. "Oh," he said in realization. "You mean you."

Hux – Armitage – had broken his conditioning somewhere along the line and killed his father for it. But then what? What did it mean?

Hux didn't react to Poe's statement. "It's a tradition now. And a harmless one. I won't change it." He gestured. "You've seen these troopers. You've seen Finn. They are well-fed. They have no dread they will go without. Though they probably should. We'll be out of food tomorrow."

"You are an intensely strange fellow," Poe said. What it meant was Hux had changed some things. Maybe not a lot, but how much could you change in an organization as tyrannical as the First Order, if you weren't the one in charge?

"Is that a problem?"

Poe popped the last of his meal bar in his mouth and put his newly empty hand on Hux's knee, right out in the open in front of everyone. He'd done it the night before, but no one had been looking at them then. Hux pulled in a breath and stiffened. There was a faint creak of armor behind them as the stormtrooper shifted. Poe squeezed lightly, then released, leaving his hand resting there casually. "No. It's not a problem."

Hux swallowed noisily and began breathing again. Poe was watching him enough to see that this was the moment Hux licked the corners of his mouth, as though checking for crumbs. He was definitely redder. Poe squeezed again and rubbed twice in small motions before taking his hand back. Hux swayed toward him before catching himself and turning away.

"Well," Poe said, "looks like most people are done. We should probably get started on getting the repulsors out."

"Yes, you're right," Hux said, pulling himself together. "I have a few announcements I need to make first." He stood, brushing the wrinkles from his clothing.