Turnabout is fair play . . . except the Dark Side doesn't play fair and it doesn't like its methods being used against it. Kylo is indignant about Rey's new posture of opposition. She's not supposed to do this, but she's doing it anyway. And damn, if she isn't good at it.
When the bond opens now, he has to gird his mental shields. Rey is on alert to sift his mind for information. It becomes a battle of wills each time their minds connect. She's on offense, he's on defense. It requires maximum concentration.
But the bond keeps opening, giving them both access to valuable information. Kylo has no doubt that Rey is sharing all she learns with the Republic. It results in more complications and challenges. He no longer has his enemy at a complete disadvantage. If anything, they have him on the run—quite literally. For the cat-and-mouse game with the Republic fleet gets tricky when your estranged girlfriend knows where you are. His flagship jumps multiple times a day now. He's rarely entirely sure where he is at any given time. That's mostly by design. But thanks to Rey, the Republic is wise to the true limitations of his resources. They now know that they have him vastly outnumbered.
He solves the problem the same way he is solving other problems—by enlisting popular support. The game is up for hiding the true meager state of his fleet. But the game is not up for hiding his fleet. 'Catch me if you can' is his cheeky response on the holonet as his people hand out even more First Order transponders to everyday citizens. Now, there are thousands of personal spacecrafts, cargo transports, and even commercial passenger vehicles crisscrossing the galaxy ostensibly posing as First Order warships. The real warships get lost amid the throng.
So, when the Republic arrives to attack what it believes to be Snoke's behemoth craft that was repaired after Crait, it catches instead a wealthy Rim family heading out on vacation in their small cruiser. The wife records her husband being confronted by a Republic boarding party as troops ransack the family's ship.
"Who are you?" a Republic officer demands.
"Welcome aboard," the surly middle-aged human husband snarls in a broad Rim twang as he holds his hands up.
"Who are you?"
"I'm Kylo Ren," the captive man smirks defiantly as the wife behind the camera gasps.
The moment goes viral on the holonet. Later, the man is identified as the son of an exiled Imperial regional governor. Naturally, he has First Order sympathies.
Days later, the Republic captures a freighter full of industrial scrap. This time, the Republic's frustrated representatives confront the freighter's salty captain, a much-displeased Trandoshan spacer.
"Who are you? Why do you have a military grade transponder on this craft?"
The alien answers with fluent profanity.
"Watch your mouth, lizard man!" Someone shoves a blaster to the Trandoshan's temple as an off-camera voice demands, "Who are you? Start talking!"
"Can't you tell?" the green-skinned spacer drawls in perfect Basic. "I'm fucking Kylo Ren." Then, he tells the Republic officer exactly where he can go.
That recording goes viral as well.
Every few days a new account of an ugly confrontation surfaces. First, the Republic captures a school bus transport with the electronic signature of a TIE fighter. Next, they waylay a passenger ship full of retirees they erroneously believe to be a star destroyer. Each time, a frustrated and chagrined Republic officer asks for identification and an explanation. The answers are all a variation of the same theme:
"I'm Kylo Ren" or "I'm the First Order." Kylo's personal favorite is the toothless old lady who is forced to her knees in handcuffs. She gleefully croaks, "I'm Kylo Ren's girlfriend" to her heavy-handed interrogators. He's so tickled by the old broad's insouciance that he has his people track her down and send her flowers compliments of the Supreme Leader.
There aren't many of these incidents—the Republic gets wise to the bad optics of detaining civilians, including wailing women and screaming children. They keep chasing fake transponders but stop confronting transports that are obviously not military. But the damage is done. The few widely reported incidents get the public's attention. Many in the Rim now truly believe that the Republic is waging war against Rim citizens. Naturally, Kylo stokes the perception to maximize the paranoia.
Moreover, he starts using actual civilian ships to disguise First Order troop and equipment movements. He will take full advantage of the Republic's hands-off policy for ostensibly civilian craft. It amuses him to no end that he's smuggling his war machine across the galaxy. Are you proud of your son now, Han Solo?
Still, the First Order continues to have supply issues. The Republic has figured out—probably thanks to Rey—that their recurrent minor theft problem is courtesy of the enemy. Fortunately, these days, Kylo has the credits to pay for his equipment. The issue is that the Republic is terrorizing his Rim-based suppliers, patrolling them and even occupying their warehouses to ensure the First Order shipments are held up. Sell to the First Order and we'll arrest you, the Republic threatens. It forces Kylo to steal from his own local factories and refineries.
It's an inside job, of course. The First Order swoops in to collect their materials when someone 'accidentally' lowers the shield gate or the surveillance system 'malfunctions.' The onsite workers are shocked—shocked!—by the security breach. They stand in disbelief as the First Order helps itself to what they need. And if a few days later, payment in full through an anonymous credit transfer arrives to the supplier's bank account, the Republic is none the wiser. Still, it's a lot of hassle Kylo would rather not go through for routine deliveries.
Oddly enough, all these improvised workarounds give him respect and a certain folkhero status among his people. Kylo didn't set out to become a bandit aided and abetted with a wink and a nod by his people, often one precarious step ahead of his pursuers. But like it or not, that's what he is now. Kylo feels sheepishly more and more like his 'seat of his pants' father, getting in and out of jams left and right as he stumbles forward bluffing the Republic every chance he gets. This is definitely not how Snoke or Palpatine fought wars, but it's the best he can do in the situation he finds himself in.
Kylo feels like he ought to be sitting on a throne somewhere in a darkened room, drawing out his syllables with evil relish as he tortures underlings with Force lightning and makes grand pronouncements. But in truth, his days are random and chaotic as he reacts in the moment to the latest challenges. A proper Sith would be much more in control, he knows. Things would be planned out and he would sit back content to watch them unfold. But instead, he bounces from crisis to crisis as a very hands-on leader.
He's also given up all pretense of anonymity and remoteness. First, he lost the mask. Then, he lost his reticence for public appearances. Leader Ren is his own man now, not Snoke's creation and Sidious' puppet. He's on the holonet in a short video once a week communicating to his supporters. Kylo worries that he's becoming too visible, but the PR types love it. This isn't your grandfather's Empire led by a reclusive ghoul in a cloak. This the Empire of the future led by a modern, dynamic leader who communicates directly to his people . . . if a little tersely.
But to win an Empire, he has to win the war. That means he needs to thwart Rey's determined efforts. After a few weeks of mental jousting across the bond, Kylo decides that he's tired of playing defense. Time to put Rey on the hot seat. What makes her most uncomfortable and embarrassed? Two things: Jakku and sex. He'll skip Jakku—that wasn't her fault. But their tryst on the Falcon when she dumped him the next morning? Well, that's fair game.
And so, the next time the bond opens, he begins a rather detailed daydream of his body thrusting deep into hers. She is naked beneath him. Her head thrown back, eyes closed, mouth open and panting. He heaves and she follows with him, her head moving back and forth on the pillow. The only sound is his efforts and her soft grunting.
Through the bond, he watches as Rey's face grows pale and then pink. She looks stunned.
You were so beautiful that night. I can't wait to have you again, wife.
He's ratcheting up the provocation. As expected, she falls for it.
I'm not your wife!
We are joined by the Force for forever. What god has joined together, let no man put asunder.
I am not your wife!
Secret marriages are a Skywalker thing. Don't worry. I won't tell if you won't tell, Jedi . . . but you are most definitely attached.
The ploy works. Rey is so shocked that she recoils from his mind. She's too outraged, embarrassed and livid to concentrate on her mental intrusion. The tactic works so well that it becomes his pastime. The bond opens and Kylo begins to indulge in lurid fantasy. Sometimes, it's wholesome. He's making love to Rey in his quarters by starlight. It's a sensual, mostly vague depiction of a languid romantic encounter. Other times, it's raunchy. Rey is on her knees in handcuffs sucking his dick. They're not done until she swallows. And just to piss her off completely, he imagines Rey wearing that pink dress the whole time.
I'll bite you!
She would, too.
I'll bite you!
Kylo just smirks. He shifts the fantasy setting and now she's pleasuring him as he sits on the Dark throne. Is she getting this? She is. Rey looks like she wants to explode.
This is fun, he decides.
One day, his daydream recalls the moment they touched hands in the Force. What if Uncle Luke hadn't cockblocked them? What if things had gone further? Can you have sex through the Force? Well, why not? It's a fantasy, after all. Kylo decides that things would definitely be going down in that hut . . . And whoa! Kylo senses that this is not a new topic for Rey. He sees in her mind that she's thought about this. Excellent. She's always been far less indifferent to him than she lets on.
Show me your fantasy.
No!
Come on. Let me see.
I've never thought about it.
Liar!
Exchanges like that are pretty much how things persist when the bond opens. Rey mostly ignores him, looking mortified and occasionally bored. He gets as much intelligence as he can while trying to distract her with fantasies of them in bed together. He and Rey don't have real conversations. They don't get the chance since the bond opens exclusively when they are around others. It no longer opens daily either. It's more like every few days, usually in the morning.
Does the Force know they need a cooling off period? Perhaps.
Kylo refuses to get discouraged. He and Rey were never going to be a normal couple. So what if they fight? All couples fight. It's fine. He will cut Rey some slack and be patient with her opposition. He knows she's swayed by his arguments about the Force. She has plenty of misgivings about the Republic as well, he's learned. So, he eases off his high-pressure tactics. He will let things play out. Fortunately, the Republic seems to have abandoned its assassination efforts for the present. For whatever reason, they are focused on beating him by conventional warfare these days.
He also reminds himself that Rey is very young to be thrust into her role. Hell, he himself feels at least ten years too young to be ruling the First Order. Plus, Rey is still so new to her power. She didn't grow up acclimating to her Force like he did. Great power takes getting used to. He knows from being inside Rey's head that her abilities compound her sense of otherness. She intimidates people and it isolates her. His lonely girl is surrounded by people and yet she doesn't seem particularly close to anyone but the traitor general. She's always so alone, which Kylo knows is her biggest fear.
But there's nothing he can do about it now, so he soldiers on fighting his war. It's a war of ships and lasers, but also a war of words. He's fighting the enemy on the holonet just as zealously as he fights in space and on land. Fortunately, the Republic keeps playing into his hands. Those idiots on Coruscant are conveniently full of righteous arrogance.
It is an all-too-common mistake to dismiss your political opponents as stupid because you disagree with them. But that sort of hubris catches up with you in the end. Call them wrong, call them misguided, call them misinformed, even call them evil . . . but don't call them stupid. Not if you ever hope to eventually woo their supporters to your side. It's a mistake the Republic keeps making in the Rim, but it's a lesson Kylo Ren learned young from his politician mother.
Few on the Republic side recognize that legacy, however. The Core press fixates on his family relationship to his grandfather and to his uncle. Leader Ren is the Skywalker scion gone tragically bad following Darth Vader's example. He is the secret shame that sent the legendary Jedi Luke Skywalker into exile. And while that's all true, it causes most to overlook that he is also Leia Organa's son. Maybe that's because his mother was a Resistance General in her later years and no longer a New Republic Senate power player. But in his formative years before he was sent away for Jedi training, Ben Solo was a Senator's son in Coruscant. He grew up steeped in democracy. Why is that relevant? Because Kylo Ren knows politics.
The First Order civilian politicos delight in it. Tired of years of being shunted aside in favor of the military, they find a keenly interested and receptive ear in Leader Ren. He demands weekly briefings on their efforts.
"Will I be on the ballot?" he wants to know. The First Order's current political strategy is twofold. First, delegitimize the upcoming elections, making a mockery of the democratic process. Second, elect as many First Order candidates as possible, including himself. Because why not? If the Republic Senate was good enough for Sheev Palpatine, it's good enough for him. Besides, his mother and grandmother were Senators. Elections are as much a family tradition as lightsabers and Death Stars, he jokes.
No one laughs. They're too afraid.
"Leader, Sir, you wouldn't actually accept a Senate seat, would you?" his political director looks askance at the mere mention of the idea.
"Chancellor Ren has a nice ring to it, don't you think?" he muses.
No one so much as smiles.
Kylo continues unabated. "My mother never got her Chancellorship. The politically inconvenient truth about her father ended her Senate career abruptly. Think of the irony of Chancellor Ren leading the Republic."
The room is silent.
"So . . . we would destroy the Republic from within, if need be?" someone finally speaks up.
"It won't come to that."
All around him, people exhale with clear relief.
His political director reminds him again, "Sir, the Republic still hasn't determined whether First Order candidates are eligible for the ballot."
He shrugs. "Of course, not. They're dragging their feet before they decide to allow it at the eleventh hour. Then, they will announce with great fanfare and magnanimity that we are included in the election process, hoping that it's already too late for us to mount effective campaigns to win."
"Yes, Sir. That's what we expect."
"So start the campaigns now. Dare them to deny us our candidates. Proceed upon the presumption that we are welcome. We will either win at the ballot box or win when we force them to exclude us. Then, we will have irrefutable proof that the Republic's democracy is a lie."
There are nods around the room endorsing that view, but his political director squirms. "Sir, that may be harder to pull off than we believe."
"Why?"
"Because their strategy is to silence us."
Kylo's eyes narrow. "Tell me more."
"Sir, ever since Hosnia, the Core media has been 'de-platforming' our media sympathizers quietly."
"What does that mean in Basic?" Kylo tires of all this jargon.
"It means our friends are being cancelled, so to speak. Banned from reputable media outlets. Muzzled on social media. Shut out of public discourse. It's a virtual purge of our holonet presence to censor what the Republic calls violent rhetoric and disinformation."
He nods. "I understand."
"Well, they've started doing it to average ordinary citizens now. Sir, these aren't contrarian intellectuals who are mouthpieces to the public at large. These are individuals who talk to tens, maybe hundreds of friends, business contacts, and family members. They're not professional writers or thinkers, but they're getting banned and cancelled as well."
Someone volunteers, "My uncle got banned from the holonet because he liked and shared a post that was alleged to be fake news."
"Exactly," his political director jumps in. "They're calling it a means to restrict false and misleading rumors, but it's basically an attempt to keep our information from being disseminated. That clip of the old lady you sent flowers to crying on camera that was so affecting? We think that was the last straw. The Republic hates testimonials of our people in their own words going viral."
"Do I care?" He looks to his experts. "Does it matter if someone can't post a picture of their First Order birthday cake on the holonet?"
"It could get worse, Sir. There are rumors the Republic will go beyond de-platforming individuals. Now, there is talk they will eliminate the platforms themselves."
He scoffs, "You can't shut down the holonet."
"No, but you can disband social media on Rim worlds and suspend accounts."
He surmises where all this is going. "They're muzzling us in advance of the election . . . "
"Yes. It's not the Republic acting directly. It's their friends in big media and big tech."
"They are one and the same," someone grumbles aloud what everyone else is thinking.
His political director has a strategic mind that Kylo values. The man observes sourly, "This is a remarkably self-destructive move from professions dependent on freedom of speech, but the journalists now dominating newsrooms and the moguls controlling boardrooms aren't thinking long-term. I'm sure they can't imagine being censored themselves."
"Not until we make the rules," a voice from across the room grumbles to a chorus of concurring nods.
"Fine. Let's make our own platforms," Kylo suggests his latest workaround. "How hard can it be? Don't we have some software tech types who can help us?"
"We're on it," his political director confirms. "We also have some free speech allies in the Core still. Not many, but some."
"Good. Rally them to take a stand against the Republic's liberal orthodoxy. Rigidly enforced conformity is hardly the marketplace of ideas that fuels a healthy democracy."
That comment makes his political guy smile. "You certainly have the lingo down, Sir."
Kylo grunts. "I know more about democracy than anyone in this room. It's why I quit it."
"Yes, Sir. And may I say, Sir, how much we appreciate that fact? We . . . uh . . . had to explain to a General last week what 'woke' meant. He'd never heard of the term."
"That was probably a point of pride for him," Kylo guesses. "But there is value in understanding your enemy and their biases."
"What's to understand?" A young woman in the front of the room speaks up. "They hate us."
It's true. But time for some self-awareness. "The Core press has created a caricature of who we are. It's Armitage Hux screaming speeches, bizarre Snoke in his golden bathrobe, and me with the Force, the sword, and mask. We are unreasonable, threatening killers in their view. Some of that is true, but it's not all we are."
"Their stereotypes limit us . . . " the young woman wisely observes.
He agrees. "They marginalize us. There is no need to engage in serious political discourse with raving lunatics. That's who we are to the average citizen of the Republic—violent extremists to fear and to kill. Hosnia might have advanced our military objectives, but it was an enormous setback for our political goals."
"Er . . . uh . . . you said it, Sir, not us," the political director chimes in.
Weirdly, moments like this make him feel like his mother's son. But Kylo keeps warming to his theme. "The construction of identity is bound up with the disposition of power and powerlessness in each society . . . or so wrote Count Dooku." And whoops, he just got too intellectual for the First Order. Everyone blinks at him. Apparently, no one present has read Dooku's writings on the Confederacy of Independent States. The Count was known as a political idealist to many initially based on those essays. It was only after Dooku fought a bloody civil war that anyone took him seriously. But those writings are a masterful critique of the Old Republic. That they aren't required reading for every member of the First Order is an oversight Kylo now chalks up to Snoke aka Darth Sidious not wanting to focus attention on his former Apprentice.
His stumped political director ventures, "What does that mean, Sir?"
"It means that despite a hundred years of evolving political unrest in the Rim, the dominance of the Core continues. It's in part because the Core's way of seeing us justifies their ongoing system of social and economic domination. When we win—and we will win—the Core will have to adjust to a post-colonial galaxy," Kylo threatens ominously.
"In the meantime, Sir—"
"In the meantime, they may drive us underground onto new media outlets, but they won't muzzle us. All their rhetoric rings hollow when you see how afraid they are of free speech. They know our ideas have appeal and merit. It's why they want to quash us. They fear what they cannot control," Kylo observes in his best Sith Master voice.
That sort of Dark resolve is just what these politicos needs to hear. "We're on it, Sir."
"Good. And do we still think Dameron is running for Senate?"
"He filed paperwork for a fundraising committee on Coruscant this week. Assuming he wins, he will be a top contender to replace the temporary Chancellor."
Kylo scowls, thinking how his dead mother would be proud. Dameron was her protégée in the Resistance. The hero son she wanted but didn't get. And now, Dameron will be the defender of democracy just like she herself once was.
Time to discredit him. "Make sure to give a hefty anonymous donation to Dameron's campaign. Give the maximum credits the law will allow."
His political director blinks. "Sir? We want him to win?"
Kylo shrugs. "The devil we know is better than the devil we don't," he reasons. "And think of the scandal when we reveal that we are his largest campaign donor." It's not the same as being revealed to be Darth Vader's daughter, but it's something.
Enough politics for today. He dismisses the meeting and heads for the bridge of his star destroyer to turn his attention back to war with the Republic. Standing at the helm of a great ship, he ought to feel very Darth Vader. But his task of evading capture is more akin to his spice smuggler father's line of work. Yesterday, he ducked behind an asteroid field to avoid detection, which is just what Han Solo would have done in the circumstance.
Kylo wonders if all his experiences have led him to this point. If the Force always intended that his Senator mother and his criminal father rear him with their respective examples. For so long, his Jedi uncle played such an outsized role in his fate that it overshadowed others. But Kylo sees now that he has failed to appreciate his parents' contributions to his formative years. He is the sum of all those who came before him, for better or for worse. All day, every day now, he acts and reacts against that past in order to forge the future. For a long time, he labored under the long shadow cast by his fearsome clan. And also, under the aegis of his surreptitious Dark Master Darth Sidious. But no more. These days, he is his own man. Dark, but with a purpose more than himself. It's not Light exactly. But it's something close.
And so, one day as he makes a risky impromptu trip behind enemy lines down to the surface of an occupied world, he sees the graffiti words 'I am Kylo Ren' sprayed on the side of a building. It's an act of defiance against the hated Republic occupiers. It's also tangible proof that he—the erstwhile Obi-Wan Skywalker Organa Solo, Prince of doomed Alderaan, fallen Jedi Padawan, unwitting Sith Apprentice, and lately Supreme Leader Kylo Ren-has stoked something very real and very powerful out here on the edge of the known galaxy: hope.
Hope was his mother's cliché topic. She loved to wax on about hope in her Senate speeches. Kylo suspects now that all those words were as much a pep talk to herself as to the galaxy. She and Luke must have known that Darth Sidious was out there somewhere, biding his time for a comeback. And now, years later, he's doing the same: preaching hope for a better future to anyone who will follow him. His mother staked a firm claim to hope on the Light Side of the Force. Hope fit squarely into her good/evil understanding of the universe. So what would Leia Organa say to talk of hope coming from the Dark Side and the First Order? Kylo doesn't know, and he's not sure he cares. He's done with arbitrary delineations of Dark and Light, good and bad, Jedi and Sith. To Hell with all that.
If only Rey could be convinced of that view . . . He hates how things are between them now. But it is a problem partly of his own making, he recognizes. He tries to convince her to step out of her meetings to have a private conversation with him across the bond. She refuses. Apparently, Rey is more wary of a real conversation with him than she is worried for protecting the Republic's secrets. That makes no sense to him.
So at night as he meditates in bed—a leftover habit from his Jedi days—he tries to initiate the bond. If he could just control the bond and compel it to open, he and Rey could talk at will. But the Force refuses to grant his wish. His efforts go to waste.
Still, that night he dreams of Rey. She's afraid and angry, pressured and unhappy. He sees his girl crying looking like she did on Jakku when he met her with the droid. She's standing alone on a sandbank thinking she has come so far only to end up back where she started. Rey cries even harder now. She wishes she never helped that droid in the desert. She wishes she didn't have the Force. And that's when the gist of the dream finally dawns on him: in his dream, Rey has exiled herself.
Kylo awakes concerned. Has he gone overboard with his antics? The next time the bond opens, he stares at Rey, worrying. She looks the same as usual with her scraped back hair and glowering expression. And maybe she does look a little tired and sad, he notes, taking in the faint shadows under her eyes.
Are you alright?
I'm fine.
Kylo sucks it up and attempts an apology. I've been a little . . . A little lewd? Well, a lot lewd. As he struggles to find the words to communicate that he fully recognizes what a dick he's been, Rey responds.
I'm fine. It's fine. I don't care what you think or what you do.
Ouch. That stings.
I only care that you lose this war.
I care about you.
No, you don't. You care about the Force and you care about yourself . . . and I guess you care about your cause. But you don't care about me.
That's not true!
Just then, a voice from within Rey's setting asks, "Rey, what do you think?"
She's caught up in their telepathic communication that everyone surrounding her is completely oblivious to. Kylo watches his girl blush and stammer. "I'm sorry. I was . . . er . . . someplace else. Could you repeat the question?"
Rey turns her attention back to the room she's in. The bond remains open a while longer, but the moment between them is lost. Rey refuses to engage with him further. Once again, he is relegated to the silent treatment. Kylo resigns himself back to their status quo.
The weeks keep ticking by fast. Overall, his leadership seems to be working. The First Order military manages to stay alive mostly thanks to Plagueis' credits, a lot of subterfuge, and Kylo's refusal to get drawn into any climactic battle. On the occupied worlds, his people are finally getting organized to foster widespread civil unrest. The holonet is full of pictures of fiery riots and violent protest marches. Every few days, there is another terrorist style attack on the Republic invaders. How long until the Core worlds openly wonder whether their tax dollars are worth all this effort? That's when Kylo will know the tide of the war is truly turning.
But even now, there's no way Dameron and the traitor FN-2187 can credibly contend that the war is over and the Republic has won. Anyone can see that the First Order is still very much a threat. The Republic cannot claim to control the Rim systems. No one believes that free and fair elections are possible in the near term. The galaxy is as much as mess as it has ever been, and that's all thanks to him. In the course of a little over six months, Kylo has turned things around. It is a remarkable comeback story for the history books. But it's not winning . . . not yet, at least.
What does victory look like? Kylo starts brooding over his endgame. He must liberate his occupied worlds and kick the Republic out of the Rim, for certain. But does he need to rule the whole galaxy? Can there be victory if the Republic remains in existence? Might he want the Republic to remain as a foe? And can there be victory without Rey?
He's so consumed with his war that at first he doesn't notice when a week goes by and the bond hasn't opened. It's not unusual for three or four days to pass before the bond connects him with Rey. But a week is unprecedented. Worse still, the silence in the bond continues. When two weeks have passed, Kylo is concerned. Has something happened to Rey? Surely, the Force would tell him if she were hurt or dead. Then, the sneaking suspicion dawns that perhaps she has learned to subvert the bond. Is that even possible for a dyad? Or, does the Force just really think they need some time apart?
What's going on with Rey? He frets in private over the matter. Few on his staff would believe it, but Kylo Ren is a worrier. He might project a veneer of 'I can handle anything' confidence as a wartime leader, but for things—especially people— who truly matter to him, he can fret obsessively. Where is Rey? Is she okay? He starts saying nightly prayers to the Force to protect her.
The riddle of 'where is Rey' is answered at last when the bond opens. He's in a meeting surrounded by underlings when he feels the tickle in the back of his mind that presages their special connection. He's so surprised and delighted that he jumps up from the table he's sitting at and says her name aloud. "Rey!" And damn, if he doesn't have to suppress a smile quickly before his commanders see it. Everyone knows Leader Ren does not smile. Fortunately, this connection has happened often enough over the past few months that everyone in the room knows what's going on. Their fearless leader is talking in the Force to the Republic Jedi who is really their secret spy and Sheev Palpatine's granddaughter.
Kylo plays it cool, but inwardly he could faint with relief. Rey is shown in profile, standing tall atop a sand dune with her pretty face lifted towards the red glow of a setting sun. She's in full-on scavenger mode, complete with dirty arm wraps and tank top. She's even wearing that goofy trio of hair buns he remembers. It's a little girl's hairstyle worn on a grown woman, which makes it somehow endearing. Rey's skin is noticeably more tanned than usual, which betrays that this trip to the desert is not recent. It makes him frown.
He is immediately reminded of his dream weeks ago of Rey on Jakku in exile. That was no random dream, he now realizes. It was a premonition. A little seductive peek behind the veil of the Cosmic Force to prepare him for what is to come. And also, a warning not to interfere. For woe be unto any student of the Force who attempts to alter fate. The Force shows you the future so that you can begin to accept it. It's a test of faith. You must resist the temptation to try to change things, lest terrible punishment await.
Kylo gulps and squints at her. "Where are you? Is that Tatooine? Or is it Jakku?" Please say Tatooine.
Rey doesn't answer. It's more silent treatment.
Irked, he marches across the room to see her from a different angle, hoping to divine more information. And look . . . there's a wrecked Imperial star destroyer poking out of the sand before her. It's a telltale apocalyptic landscape. Kylo pouts his displeasure. "Jakku. I recognize that junkyard." That planet gives him the creeps. Why does anyone want to go back to Jakku? Especially her of all people.
Rey speaks now, even though she still refuses to look at him. "I grew up where the old Empire died. I don't think that's a coincidence, do you?"
Who cares? "What are you doing on Jakku? I hate that you're back there."
"It's my home."
"It's not. Go back to the Republic."
She's still staring straight ahead at that enormous downed ship, pointedly shunning him. Through the bond he is picking up seething hostility. That's not a surprise, really. But it is disappointing.
He tries again, softening his voice of command to a request. "Rey, please go back."
She sneers, "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"Yes. For starters, the Republic has running water and electricity. That place is a wasteland." Jakku is nothing but decaying ship skeletons and sand. He wants better for her than that. Plus, that shithole world is dangerous in ways that having the Force can't compensate for—like dehydration, heat, and starvation.
"This is my home . . . I wanted to go home," she contends, sounding very much like a child. "I may not be able to hide from you, but here I can keep you from making me betray my friends."
"You left the Republic because of me?"
Apparently, so. "I will not let you manipulate me any longer!" she thunders.
Oh. Okay. "Good." Rey leaving the Republic is actually a positive development. He brightens. Maybe he is wrong to be so concerned. Maybe this isn't exile, but instead her attempt to find neutral territory on a backwater world amid a galaxy at war. It's just that he's getting all sorts of weird vibes from Rey currently . . . Dark vibes. But at least, they are talking.
She crows, "I told Poe that you want to run for Senate. I saw it in your mind. If they let you run, are you going to command your people to vote for you?"
He crosses his arms and brags. "That won't be necessary. I'm shockingly popular these days." It's a new feeling to have people actually like him.
"Even though the mere mention of your name gets people banned from the holonet?"
He shrugs. "The Republic's overreach has done more to unify our cause than to hurt us."
"I didn't like that solution," she concedes. "I told them I disagreed. But there are no easy answers during wartime."
"No," Kylo allows. "But it doesn't take a political genius to recognize that silencing public debate does nothing to further the appeal of democracy. Cancel culture and blacklists are supposed to be our sort of thing. We're the ones who round up dissidents."
Lately, it's like the two sides of the war have switched places. The fascist authoritarian First Order is using Rebellion-era tactics while the liberal democratic Republic is busy quashing sedition. Truly, it is bizarre how things have unfolded. This war has each side twisting over and backwards on themselves, morphing the First Order into a ragtag band of freedom fighters and placing the Republic in the role of aggressor and occupier in the name of peacekeeping and law and order.
He can sense Rey's defensiveness. "Poe says we're fighting you on your own terms."
Kylo smirks. "In other words, Darkness wins."
That crack gets her attention. Rey's head snaps to the side and her eyes meet his. "Not if I have anything to say about it," she hisses.
Rey tosses her head and extends her right arm. Through the bond, Kylo feels her sudden, intense concentration and anger . . . so much anger. Rey's using the quick and easy path to power. It isn't the Jedi way, but Darkness is effective. Kylo would never admit it, but he impressed at how quickly she slips into the Shadow Force.
What is she doing?
Does she even know what she is doing?
Rey's face contorts as she struggles and strives. Her outstretched hand trembles. His girl has so much talent and so little knowledge. But mostly, right now she has anger. It churns hot and vehement as it channels deep into power. It's a very familiar sensation as he lives her emotions simultaneously through their mental connection.
What is she doing?
Surely, his Jedi girl doesn't know what she's doing?
There is a rushing, roaring, creaking, groaning sound audible over the bond. Kylo stalks further around the room he's in to get a better look. What he sees makes his jaw drop.
"Fuck . . . "
Rey has just levitated that wrecked star destroyer she's standing beside with the Force. Size matters not . . . well, sort of. Because that's a star destroyer not some TIE fighter. Fuck, who is he kidding? That's an epic feat. Moreover, Rey doesn't look like she's even breaking a sweat in the desert heat doing it.
He is impressed . . . and a little intimidated.
"I could do that." He could totally do that . . . he hopes. "I could do that."
Rey holds the massive capital ship aloft slightly before she lets it fall. The crash sends a cloud of sand and debris flying up as decades old brittle metal snaps on impact. It obscures everything for several moments.
"Rey? Rey, are you okay?" He peers through the haze. "REY!" Did his showoff girlfriend just drop a star destroyer on her head? Surely the Force wouldn't let things end like THAT.
He's worried, but he needn't be. For as the dust settles, Rey is revealed to be standing tall unharmed. Looking smugly satisfied with herself, she drags a hand across her face to wipe away grime that has settled. It focuses him on a new and unwelcome development. "Oh, no . . . No, Rey, no . . . " he mutters as his relief instantly dissipates.
She has yellow eyes. Bloodshot and red rimmed. They are the physical manifestation of Darkness run rampant, of anger unchecked and despair triumphant.
He's horrified. "Stay there! I'm coming!"