"Please don't hurt me. I have a wife and three small children."
That's her court-appointed attorney's introduction as he tiptoes into her cell. The expression the man wears suggests he believes that he is presenting himself for execution.
Rey is annoyed by this attitude. She may have helped Kylo Ren, but she is not Kylo Ren. Moreover, Ben himself is not the Kylo Ren persona the whole galaxy fears. Not entirely, that is. Ben is not the enemy and neither is she. Darth Sidious is the enemy.
So, Rey snaps back, "I'm not going to hurt you," belatedly realizing that her indignant retort is the wrong response. Because now, the man looks even more scared. He fumbles nervously with his comlink and drops his datapad.
Rey sighs and proceeds to endure a two-hour long interview that asks a lot of the same questions in different ways three times. By the time the jumpy lawyer is ready to exit, his demeanor is subdued. "You will be a difficult defense," he tells her plainly as he gathers up his things.
"I did this for peace," she restates her constant refrain.
The lawyer nods, but reminds her again, "That's an explanation, but not a defense. It's not exculpatory under the statute as written. There is no 'I had good political motives' exception to treason."
"There should be. Someone should make one," she points out testily.
"The Senate, together with the courts, decide what treason means," her lawyer informs her. "This isn't the First Order where the whims of one man determine what is legal."
"What judge did you anger to get this appointment?" Rey grumbles, looking away in frustration.
"Actually, this assignment is considered a mark of distinction," the man answers softly.
"So, you're good? I hope you're good."
"Yes," the lawyer confirms. "The Chancellor wants to make certain you have a vigorous and fair defense from reputable and experienced counsel."
"So that when they convict me, it will look like justice?" she guesses.
"Yes." There is no pretense to the contrary from this glum, direct man. "I urge you to reconsider the plea deal we discussed—"
"No, thanks."
"I urge you to reconsider," the lawyer presses again. "My staff has done some research into the development of the modern treason statute. The last Jedi to be indicted for treason was over four thousand years ago—Revan and his Jedi Crusader followers. Only one of their generals ever returned to the Republic to answer the charge."
"Yeah? What happened to him?" Rey wonders aloud.
"It was a her. She was exiled for life. That is the very best outcome you can hope to get, Rey. In the wake of her case, the Republic modified the treason statute to make leniency especially unavailable. The decision at the time was very badly received—there was considerable public sentiment for a harsher sentence."
Whatever. "That was four thousand years ago." Rey shrugs with feigned indifference. Truthfully, she's trying not to contemplate where all this may be leading. She's way out of her league for something like a courtroom battle. And she's beginning to realize that her disgrace may have ended any chance for a revival of the Jedi Order. No doubt that consequence was also an aim of wily Darth Sidious.
The lawyer now resumes his handwringing. "I must implore you to consider a plea bargain. The statutory sentence of execution, while not mandatory, is a reasonable possibility in your instance. Your Jedi status makes you a particularly appropriate candidate for that outcome. People fear your power."
There the man goes again speaking in subordinate clauses. The wordy lawyer is not disagreeable, he's just in the position of delivering bleak news she'd rather not hear. Execution by the Republic is a fate she never contemplated when she set out to help Ben.
"Treason is your main issue," her counsel summarizes. "I think we can get the 'aid and comfort to the enemy' charge dismissed. There is no evidence to support the state's allegations that you are a Palpatine or to prove any legal marriage to Kylo Ren."
"That's all a lie! Darth Sidious' lies!" she scowls.
Her lawyer winces at her naming the alter ego of Sheev Palpatine. "The er . . . less said about that matter, the better. I must advise you again that attempting to bring Darth Sidious into your defense is a poor strategic choice. Conspiracy theories do not impress juries in my experience."
"But it's true!" she huffs.
"Maybe so, but we have no evidence to prove it. We need evidence to back up such an—ahem—unorthodox claim. At best, it will be confusing to the jury. At worst, it looks like a deliberate misdirect."
Rey fumes. She glares at her cell wall. "This is the thanks Ben and I get for saving the galaxy at Exogol—"
"Ren. Please refer to the former Ben Solo as Supreme Leader Kylo Ren."
"I died for this Republic and then Ben died for me! We succeed in making peace and now it's treason?" she rants.
"Your intentions, however honorable, do not justify your actions under the law. Rey, Jedi Knights with magical Force powers going rogue is not something the rule of law looks favorably upon."
"I will tell the jury the whole story, so they will understand," she decides.
"As your counsel, I must advise against you testifying. You will only incriminate yourself further. As it is, the record is highly problematic."
"Are we through?" She is impatient for this to end. She's heard enough.
Her lawyer relents. "I believe we've covered enough for now. Perhaps some further time to reflect on what we have discussed will change your mind."
Not likely, but Rey nods just to be done with the interview. Much more legal advice from this guy and she might give into the temptation to Vader choke him. The lawyer is nice enough and trying hard, but he's very smallminded about her case, she believes. He's too hung up on . . . well, legalisms and missing the point of her actions. She wasn't trying to harm the Republic, she was trying to save it. Why can't he see that?
When the door to her cell next slides open hours later, it's not some scared looking guard delivering a meal or the lawyer coming back with more bad news. Rey finds herself staring at two First Order stormtroopers with hot gun barrels. Immediately, her adrenaline starts pumping.
"Oh . . ." She launches to her feet, barely believing her eyes.
"Right cell. That's her. Let's go," one of the troopers summarizes things curtly.
Startled Rey now finds her tongue and starts to react—and she reacts badly.
"I told Kylo Ren not to do this! This will restart the war!" she explodes, glaring at the men who are obviously following orders and not here of their own accord.
The two troopers exchange looks. Then, one states the obvious: "We're here to rescue you." Like she should be grateful.
Well, she's not. Rey puts hands on hips and balks. "I am not leaving! I won't be a part of this!"
Again, the two troopers exchange looks. "It's like the old guy said . . . "
Rey has no idea who the 'old guy' is, and she doesn't care. She lifts her chin and digs into her refusal. "I am not leaving."
She might be a traitor but she's not a fugitive from justice. The only way she will ever earn back the respect of her friends is to submit to the due process of law and use that opportunity to explain her point of view. They might not agree, but perhaps they will be persuaded to understand her actions better. She still believes in democracy and she respects the authority of the Senate and the Chancellor, meaning she did not ally with the enemy lightly.
There are sounds of blaster fire from in the corridor now. Uh oh. Rey's eyes widen. Clearly, this is not the time for a discussion.
"Lady, let's go!" The first trooper snarls his impatience.
Rey simply crosses her arms.
The body language is effective. "You gonna make her?" The second trooper complains. "Because I'm not. She's a Jedi."
"Awww, shit. Where's the old guy? Get the old guy in here."
A third stormtrooper now pushes past the two bickering in the doorway. This trooper is a bit shorter and slower, but his air of command is unmistakable.
The new arrival addresses her in low, cultured tones, "Milady, do reconsider. We need to leave immediately."
The calm voice is vaguely familiar but with the helmet voice modulation, Rey can't place it. She searches the familiar, anonymous uniform for any trace of recognition, but finds none. This man looks like any other stormtrooper.
"Who are you?" she demands. Cocking her head and poking her lips out, irked Rey wonders aloud, "Aren't you a little short for a stormtrooper?"
"Oh, the uniform." The new trooper doffs his helmet, revealing wispy white hair. "That's better," the man decides as he looks up to face her.
"Milo?" Rey squints. She thinks that's his name. This guy isn't just short for a stormtrooper, he's decades too old as well. She remembers this slight, stern wraith of a man from Zakuul where he served Darth Plagueis. Milo was a peripheral presence who said one word to his longtime colleague Vanee's ten. Mostly Milo skulked in hallways and in the corners of rooms looking dour.
His deep set, lined eyes now hold her gaze steadily. "Your father sent me."
Your father.
"Snoke . . . " she breathes out softly.
"Exactly. Snoke sent me."
Rey can feel in the Force the truth of Milo's words. He tells her gravely, "Your father is very concerned for your welfare. Milady, it is not safe for you here."
"Snoke . . . " she repeats in a whisper. "Snoke sent you . . ." In real-time, she's wrapping her head around Milo being sent to collect her by force. This is an unanticipated move. Darth Plagueis is an ally and a proponent of balance. Rey has just assumed that means he is also a proponent of peace. But perhaps not . . . It would be just like that untrustworthy Muun to care less about peace and more about the Force. The plight of little people in war has never concerned Darth Plagueis the Wise, she suspects. He has long been devoted to ideas and principles at their expense. And, she guesses, Darth Plagueis does what he wants, whether or not Ben concurs.
Milo announces, "This is an extraction. Your father ordered you rescued."
But by the First Order? That's the part that doesn't make sense. "Is Ben with you?"
"No. Leader Ren wants you free, but he cannot order it without breaking the ceasefire. So, we are acting independently."
"In First Order uniforms?" she challenges. She jabs a finger at the iconic helmet he's holding. "This is breaking the ceasefire!"
"Milady, you are in great danger. Come with us now. Do not delay. We will explain later," Milo assures her.
Something about the way he evades her eyes makes Rey suspicious she's not being told everything. "Explain now," she stonewalls.
"There isn't time." As if to punctuate that point, more blaster fire sounds from in the hallway. There are shouts as well. They sound close.
Milo reaches into a utility pack hanging at his waist. "Here." He thrusts a heavy lightsaber hilt at her. "Take it. The Master sent this for you."
Rey accepts the sword and lights it. She frowns. "It's red."
"Were you expecting another color? The Master doesn't keep Jedi weapons around."
"No, I guess not," Rey concedes as she deactivates the weapon and frowns some more. Suddenly, she has a very bad feeling. She senses danger—imminent but somehow diffuse danger—and it has her rattled. There is more here to worry about than just the guards capturing her. But she can't yet identify what is wrong.
"Come now," Milo urges. "The troopers will take out the remaining security cameras on the way out. If we go quickly, we will be gone before anyone can identify us. They will think it an escape attempt."
"There were guards and a special ops team . . ."
"Were. Not anymore."
"You killed them all?"
"Naturally," Milo nods. "We do what must be done."
"But they will think I did that!"
"It's no worse than treason," the longtime Sith servant reasons. "Milady, the longer you delay, the greater the risk of discovery which will inflame tensions between the First Order and the Republic again. This could restart the war," he warns, and it's exactly what she fears. It's why she told Ben not to try something stupid like this. She never dreamed crafty old Plagueis would take matters into his own hands.
She hisses back, "Of course, it could restart the war! This an extremely risky thing to do!"
"You are a priority for the Master," Milo smoothly deflects her anger. "This is his decision, not mine. You may take the issue up with the Master when I deliver you safely to him."
"Running away won't solve my problems here!" Rey argues. "This will make things worse!" Plus, she promised Finn that she would cooperate. Yet again, her actions will seem like a personal betrayal.
"Come with me. It is the only way," Milo counters ominously, as the other two stormtroopers now rush past him out into the corridor to assist in returning fire from unseen guards. Visibly stressed, Milo now begins to plead, "Milady, if you choose to remain, you are a sitting duck for Darth Sidious! He set you up. Kylo Ren was betrayed, as were you."
"I know."
"Then come! The Republic has succeeded in keeping your arrest very quiet. That helps Lord Sidious. There will be no one to know when you are assassinated in jail. The Chancellor will say Ren ordered the hit to keep you quiet, and people will believe it."
That's entirely possible, Rey has to concede. Because wherever he hides, Darth Sidious has a very long reach into both the First Order and the Republic. The man has eyes and ears everywhere, she fears.
"Come! At least with us you have a fighting chance. If you stay here, it's a death wish! Now light that sword again and let's get out of here," Milo argues.
But Rey stands with feet planted as she considers. Just outside the open doorway, she sees more blaster fire streaking by. A trooper is hit. The man makes a groaning sigh as he slumps to the ground with a thud. The Force tells her he's dead.
Milo follows her eyes to the fallen trooper and points. "Don't let him have died in vain! You need to survive to fulfill your destiny for all our sakes. Rey, you owe it to the Force!"
That's the sort of metaphysical melodrama that only a servant of Darth Plagueis could give words to. But it's also the sort of dreamy pragmatism that Ben would agree with. Ben has told her time and time again that she and him are not like other people. They are not normal and never will be. For they are Skywalkers, and their decisions and conflicts have galactic ramifications. They are above the law and beyond conventional morality, Ben has argued more than once. As demigods of the Force, they answer only to history, he has told her with a completely straight face.
"The Republic is alerted to our presence! Milady, we must flee!" Milo implores.
Still, she hesitates. What would Ben do in this instance? He would leave with Milo, Rey decides. Ben would live to fight another day, recognizing that Darth Sidious is his true enemy who must be thwarted. A Republic treason charge, after all, would mean nothing to Ben. He certainly wouldn't consider it worth dying over. And Rey, herself a survivor, isn't too keen for actual martyrdom. She'd rather live to attempt to explain her actions than die here a victim.
With a wary nod to Milo, she lights her borrowed sword and makes a fateful choice. "Okay, let's go."
The old guy looks ready to faint with relief. He jams back on his helmet and orders, "Cover us!" as he reaches for her left hand to tug her into the corridor.
Rey is annoyed by what she perceives as his paternalism. She shakes him free. "Stop taking my hand," she grinds out as she begins to parry and deflect incoming shots. Mimicking Ben's signature move, she freezes blaster bolts as best she can, but inevitably some slip past.
"You came in here, didn't you have a plan for getting out?" she complains as she perceives they are cornered and increasingly outnumbered. Plus, stuck in the open of the detention corridor, they are very exposed to incoming fire.
"You're our plan for getting out!" one of the troopers hollers back. "You're a Jedi—do something! Use the magic Force!"
The man is right. Rey takes a deep breath, summons her power, and waves a hand at the group of firing guards. She steals their consciousness with the Force, a move Ben once used on her. It causes the men to instantly drop their weapons and sink to the floor in a deep Force sleep. It's the easiest and most harmless solution she can think of in the moment.
"Wow . . . " The trooper beside her is impressed. "You killed them all with a wave of your hand . . . you really are his daughter."
"If course, she is!" Milo takes offense.
"Come on!" Rey starts running, not bothering to correct anyone's assumption that she just killed six people.
The remainder of her rescue is a blur of violent chaos. Panting Rey runs while the others shoot. Clearly, they have been discovered because armed guards seem to pour out from around every corner of the facility they are fleeing. By the time Rey and her rescuers burst out into the open on the street level, there are even guards on speeders aiming from above. No one is shooting stun bolts-it's strictly lethal force at this point. With her borrowed sword swinging, Rey does her best to deflect their shots while a well-timed getaway transport swoops down to collect her and the others. Amazingly, the ship is boldly emblazoned on both sides with the insignia of the First Order.
In fact, the entire operation is distressingly public. From the instantly identifiable white armored stormtroopers to the First Order transport, her escape has all the hallmarks of an enemy military operation. Moreover, she's stuck swinging a Sith red blade as well. This setup couldn't be better planned to outrage the Republic and to confirm her guilt. But Rey is too far gone in her escape attempt to abandon it now. She and her rescuers scramble onboard and the transport heads fast for the upper atmosphere, engines whining from the extreme effort.
The ensuing aerial chase through the skies of Coruscant is brutal and brief. Local police attempt to arrest them like they are civilians being detained for speeding. The transport pilot answers with a barrage of military weaponry that obliterates their pursuers effectively. Soon, the transport climbs into the lower orbit layers, where it skirts the long queue for the local hyperspace lanes and escapes to lightspeed immediately.
"Were we tracked?" Milo worries beside her in the cockpit.
"Hard to tell," the pilot replies. "But those were civilian ships after us, so I think not."
Rey volunteers, "Only Republic military ships have hyperspace tracking tech. But just to be sure, you might want to skip at least once."
"Roger that," the pilot nods. "We'll get to the rendezvous point without being caught," he vows. Then, he proceeds to lightspeed skip twice in quick succession to throw any tracking tech off their path. "That should do it," the pilot sits back, satisfied.
Rey can feel the collective exhale of relief from the others who like her have crowded into the cockpit. The space empties out fast as the troopers head back into the cabin of the transport, removing their helmets and gloves as they exit.
But Rey remains. She read the trajectory of the final skip over the pilot's shoulder. It's nowhere near Zakuul. So, she turns to Milo to ask, "Where are we going?"
"To a rendezvous point on the edge of the Rim."
"I see. Will Ben be there?" She needs to talk to Ben to discuss how to handle the political fallout from what just happened.
"We're meeting in Republic space. Ren can't be seen anywhere outside the Rim. The rendezvous point is far too risky a location as is," the old man worries. "Hyperspace tracking makes this sort of thing far more dangerous than in the old days . . ."
"Will Vanee be there?"
"He's on Zakuul still."
"Right."
Milo must notice her jitters. He takes her aside in a fatherly way and discretely probes, "Are you alright, Milady? The Republic didn't harm you or drug you, did they?"
She shakes her head. "They only asked me questions."
"That is a relief. Still, allow me to do a quick medical scan to be sure." Milo produces a small battlefield medical scanner from the same pack that held the lightsaber he brought her. He holds the scanner up, and Rey shies away.
"That's not necessary. I'm fine."
"We had no idea what shape we might find you in—we feared the worst, so I brought this."
"I'm fine."
"Of course. But indulge an old man," Milo wheedles.
"Oh, very well." She submits to a few seconds of scan before she waves the instrument away. "I'm fine."
"Yes, I see. Excellent. Come, let us find you a seat. You there," Milo orders to the nearest stormtrooper as together they exit the cockpit, "find Lady Rey something to eat. And get her some water."
She objects. "That's not necessary."
"I insist. Now, let's go relax in the back. It's a long flight. Let's get you comfortable."
Milo proceeds to fuss over her like some doting grandfather who won't take no for an answer. He provides no further explanations in reply to her many questions—he defers to his Master for answers. But he does provide all sorts of creature comforts. From a meal, to a blanket, to some relative privacy on the cramped personnel transport, Milo busies himself serving her every need. That's his role for Plagueis, she surmises, and Milo reverts to it automatically for her in lieu of his Master. Plus, honestly, it's comfort she needs right now.
After the adrenaline rush of her escape comes the crash of weariness. Rey nods off to sleep after she has worried long and hard about how to fix the mess she just caused for herself and for the galaxy. She can't seem to shake the persistent sense of dread she first felt in her cell. The immediate danger of her escape has passed, but there is danger nonetheless. It adds to her worries.
She awakens from a gentle nudge from Milo, who has removed his stormtrooper disguise and now looks like his usual black liveried self. "Milady, we are here."
Wiping her eyes, Rey sits up. Then she glances past Milo's shoulder to one of the small windows of the transport. She sees a large capital ship up close. It isn't Snoke's sleek civilian cruiser she saw parked on the landing pad on Zakuul. It's a warship. Those are gun ports and artillery batteries.
Milo follows her eyes and surmises her thoughts. "It's borrowed from the First Order. In case we need some firepower."
"So, Ben is in on this," she concludes sourly, uncertain what that means.
"I'll let the Master explain," deferential Milo takes refuge in his usual non-answer answer. "He's on the ship."
"Good." Someone needs to start explaining this reckless jailbreak that Rey felt compelled to cooperate with.
Docking takes mere moments. But with each passing second, Rey's strange sense of unease increases. Like a faraway siren wailing as it approaches fast, danger buzzes incessantly in her mind. Warning that something is coming. Something important that cannot be ignored. The sensation prompts her to stretch out her feelings. To be alert in the special way only a Force sensitive person can be. But while Rey detects many people in close proximity—probably the ship's crew—she senses nothing unusual. And truthfully, that's not unexpected for a meeting with Snoke. Darth Plagueis leaves no telltale trace in the Force. That's intentional, Ben has explained, for traditionally the Sith cloak their Force imprint to conceal themselves. It's how Sheev Palpatine took meetings with the Jedi High Council and no one was the wiser. The Jedi Order had no idea that the Sith Lord they sought held the highest elective office in the Republic. And so, as Rey now grabs her borrowed sword and prepares to disembark, she is unconcerned that she cannot sense the presence of Old Darth Plagueis. But maybe he knows whatever the danger is. Something is creating quite a disturbance in the Force.
Distracted Rey emerges last from the transport. She stops short and blinks. She finds herself looking at a phalanx of First Order troops standing at attention. They are assembled in neat uniformed rows that fill most of the hangar bay. It looks like an official welcoming ceremony for a head of state. There are at least five hundred stormtroopers along with enough officers to make Rey wonder who's left manning the bridge.
She shoots Milo a look. "What is all this?"
"Your honor guard. You are to be received as a very important guest."
Rey makes a face and grumbles under her breath, "Looking conspicuous on a First Order ship is how I got into this mess."
"Not to worry now," Milo soothes. "You are safe here with us."
"I want to talk to Ben. I need to send a transmission to Ben."
"Yes, of course. But first, you must see the Master."
"Fine." Is it possible she missed old Plagueis? Rey starts scanning the group for the big, ugly Muun, who surely must be easy to spot.
"Welcome. Milady, you honor us with your presence," some obsequious man in a sharp admiral's uniform greets her and then bows low. He's treating her like some sort of princess and it makes her uncomfortable. What exactly has Ben told these people? Rey worries she's now supposed to be the First Lady of the First Order, and she never agreed to that. Despite her arrest, she still has loyalties to the Republic and to the democracy and freedom it champions.
Rey ignores the toadying man. She turns to demand to Milo, "Where is my father?" She's a bit surprised that Plagueis is not here with the rest of the pomp and circumstance. Because all this tortured formality somehow seems to fit the zombie Sith Master who hails from a bygone era. She remembers that Plagueis had four-course dinners every night during exile at his art-bedecked villa.
Milo takes the cue. He immediately ushers her past the admiral. "Allow me to escort you to the bridge. How happy he will be that you are released from enemy captivity."
Rey is very ready to exit center stage. All the curious eyes on her are beginning to grate. She announces, "I know the way," and starts off at a quick trot towards the hangar bay central elevator bank. She's prowled enough Imperial star destroyer wrecks on Jakku to know the usual layout. Not much has changed in thirty years where capital ship design is concerned. The farthest right elevator car is still the one that leads directly to the ship's bridge.
Milo is plenty spry for a man of his years. By the time she strides into the next elevator, he slips in behind her just before the door closes.
"He will be so pleased," Plagueis' longtime servant gushes. It's the most animated Rey has ever seen the man. But try as she might, she cannot warm to the guy. Moreover, she finds this whole escape plot to be very ill conceived. Will Ben be furious with her for playing along? Or is he in on this debacle? Honestly, none of this is her fault. For by the time Milo and his stormtroopers arrived, the damage to the ceasefire agreement had likely already been done. But admittedly, that sobering visit from her lawyer combined with her fear of the long reach of Darth Sidious had her primed to escape her prison.
The elevator door slides open to reveal the main portion of the bridge. This is the aerie command center of the great ship, and it is fully manned with officers hard at work in cramped trenches of recessed equipment. But Rey ignores all that. Her attention is on the lone figure standing on the catwalk opposite her. He is silhouetted against the triangular shaped windows facing away.
That's not Darth Plagueis. The figure draped in the traditional vestments of a Dark priest is no seven-foot Muun. He's far too short to be Ben either. Suddenly, Rey worries that she has been duped. Because what is this?
Sure enough, as the cloaked figure slowly turns and tosses back his concealing hood, Rey sees that she is meeting a young version of a very famous figure who supposedly died the first time years before she was born.
"YOU!" she reacts.
Her host's lips turn up, but it's less a smile than an expression of triumph. "Welcome home, Daughter . . . Granddaughter, to be most accurate."
He must be a clone, gaping Rey reasons. That's the only possible explanation. For the stranger considering her smugly looks to be about Ben's age, maybe even younger. He appears nothing like the scarred and wizened old crone she remembers from Exogol. But that's him. She recognizes Darth Sidious in his latest iteration.
"You!" she hisses again, aghast and suddenly very afraid. She hasn't been rescued, Rey realizes. She has been captured.
Darth Sidious nods to her in a polite gesture. As if they are friends and this is a social occasion. "We meet again . . . at last. You don't know how much I have anticipated this reunion."
Rey simply glares. This must be the young Sheev Palpatine in his junior Senator of Naboo days. He has neatly coiffed red hair and a smooth, unlined face. His features are regular and pleasing. His slightly receding hairline makes him look more patrician and intellectual than prematurely balding. Somehow that seems appropriate gravitas for a young lawmaker. Except he's not an Old Republic Senator, he's the twice deposed self-proclaimed Emperor and a longtime Sith Master. This is the man who beguiled Anakin Skywalker and then duped his grandson Ben Solo. And on Exogol, he tried to seduce her into furthering his aims.
Rey's right hand, still wrapped around her borrowed lightsaber, begins to finger the activation button.
"Am I the wrong Snoke?" her nemesis preens coyly. "Expecting someone else?"
"Where is Darth Plagueis?" she growls.
"On that backwater planet of his stewing in exile, I presume."
Rey now turns to glare slit-eyed at Milo. She knows now why the slight octogenarian donned a stormtrooper suit. He was the bait-a lure to earn her trust. And, of course, he and the others came for her in full battle dress. They probably sought to be as recognizable as possible to pin her escape on Kylo Ren's First Order. It's Darth Sidious making more trouble. He's using his old Master's trusted servant to do it.
"You have betrayed Darth Plagueis," Rey accuses coldly, eyeing Milo with contempt.
He, like his wretched boss Lord Sidious, is unimpressed by her scorn. Milo calmly responds, "Long have I served the Sith. It is my calling in life. But I will not serve a Master who disdains the title 'Darth' and who plots the downfall of Darkness. That Muun calls himself wise, but his heresy will be defeated soon enough."
"You're another acolyte sheep," she fumes.
Milo lifts his chin as he corrects her with a grandiose menace that matches his new boss—or maybe that's his old boss-Lord Sidious. "The Sith are eternal. Darkness is supreme. That is as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be."
"You see?" his Master is gleeful. "I cannot be betrayed, I cannot be beaten—"
"I've heard that line before," Rey interrupts, reminding him, "I beat you once."
"And yet here I stand." Darth Sidious flashes his politician's practiced smile. "I was merely testing you. You exceeded my expectations. It is why I let you live."
That's not how she remembers Exogol. Rey's grip on the red lightsaber she holds tightens.
It does not go unnoticed. "Such hate . . . such anger . . . you are a credit to me, girl," Sheev Palpatine smiles slyly.
She snaps back, "I'm not your girl!"
"You are now." Her captor gloats, "You, like Lord Vader and like Kylo Ren before you, are now mine."
Rey has no retort to this chilling claim. She's starting to sweat.
Lord Sidious' henchman bows slightly before he approaches to hand off a datapad. "Master, the scan you requested."
"Thank you, Milo."
Rey now rages, "I won't be your Apprentice! I won't take the Dark throne!"
Lord Sidious is unconcerned. "Of course, you won't. We have already established that. But one day," he foretells, "your son will."
"What?" She's not following.
"My vision is confirmed true." Lord Sidious hands back the datapad to his hovering servant. "Congratulations, my dear. You are with child. Twins, in fact."
Rey gulps. "What?"
"Twins run in the family, or haven't you heard?" her tormentor chuckles.
Rey's eyes narrow. Her pulse quickens. Suddenly, she's breathing hard. "What are you saying?" she whispers shakily.
Darth Sidious is very pleased to reveal, "I'm saying that Lord Vader's grandson and you, my granddaughter, have created two new sons of Darkness. They will be worthy heirs to a fierce legacy of power. Spawn of a dyad of historic renown. And," he crows, "they are the next generation of Chosen Ones for me to rear. With your loving help, of course," he amends smoothly.
"You're wrong!" Rey gasps, even as she feels the truth of his words. "That's not true—that's impossible!" she half-wails in dismay.
"Search your feelings and you will know it to be true," intones Darth Sidious with glee.
She shakes her head, refusing to accept his words. "It's not true. It can't be true . . . " She and Ben took multiple precautions.
"Oh, but it is true. The Force gets what the Force wants. The promise of the Skywalker bloodline continues and now it joins with my own."
Rey doesn't bother with another denial. She blinks and swallows hard as she assesses her predicament. She's captured by a newly reinvigorated Darth Sidious and she may be pregnant. She's been complicit in a highly public escape from Republic detention, and now everyone will think the First Order has broken the ceasefire agreement. That might restart the war. Her friends at the Republic believe she has betrayed them, since she has admitted to conspiring with Kylo Ren. They are still focused on Ben as their enemy since they continue to refute that Darth Sidious lives.
She has been expertly manipulated, Rey realizes, and so has the Republic.
Inwardly, she churns with outrage. She and Ben—most especially Ben—worked so hard to achieve peace. It was to be the first step towards balance. It was the goal that would ensure that the billions of lives lost on Hosnia would not be in vain. The galaxy would exist in parallel regimes that were a compromise to avoid more civil war. Citizens could choose their allegiance and everyone would be happy . . . until evil, old Darth Sidious re-emerged yet again to rekindle the conflict and exploit it for his own aims.
"I can feel your anger. It swells and simmers. Yesss . . . feel its power," her captor relishes her frustration. "It gives you focus, it makes you stronger. I am defenseless. Take your weapon," Lord Sidious gestures to the lightsaber she's holding. It's the weapon Milo gave her supposedly for self-defense. But Darth Sidious has another use in mind. "Strike me down!" he invites.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Rey sighs.
"Your journey home to the Dark Side will be complete," Lord Sidious practically beams.
Rey is growing more and more enraged. "You are not my grandfather and the Dark Side is not my home!"
"My old Apprentice knows it to be true. He told you before Exogol—"
"You lie!"
"—and even now he tells his senior command your true identity as Reina Palpatine, my long-lost granddaughter and heiress to the Empire."
"You're wrong! That's just a cover story!"
"Oh no, dear child. It is you who is wrong . . . about a great many things."
An officer now approaches the bridge catwalk. He stops to hover at a respectful distance. Waiting to be acknowledged rather than interrupt the tense, highly personal conversation his Dark Master has chosen to conduct before numerous witnesses.
Lord Sidious swings cold blue eyes the man's way. "Yes, what is it?"
"My Lord, we're ready to make the jump to the Kessel system."
"Good. Take us home, Captain."
"Yes, my Lord." The man salutes.
"Kessel?" listening Rey reacts. "Do you hide there with the rest of the galaxy's scum?"
"Kessel is not our final destination," Lord Sidious answers smoothly. "We are heading to the Akkadese Maelstrom."
"The Maelstrom . . . that's dangerous . . . that's the Maw . . ." she breathes out.
"Indeed." Sidious inclines his head, looking pleased that she is impressed.
But truthfully, Rey is alarmed. "You'll never get a ship this size past the Maw." It's the trickiest part of the Kessel Run, full of uncharted gravity wells and collapsing star remnants that exert enormous pressures on starship hulls. It's the reason why spice kingpins smuggle their product in small and midsize freighters, rather than big capital ships they can surely afford. Because larger, more massive ships are more easily sucked into the treacherous Maw and never seen again.
"We're not skirting past the Maw, we are going into it."
She chokes, "I-Into the Maw? But that's suicide!"
"Be not afraid," the disconcertingly youthful Darth Sidious soothes. "Where we are going is a haven for those the Shadow Force favors. It predates Exogol and the Old Sith Empire by many millennia. Come," he offers her his hand in an invitation to join him at the windows. "Let us watch the jump to hyperspace together."
Rey shrinks back. She's unnervingly reminded of Ben in Snoke's throne room right before the Resistance escaped from Crait. Is this yet another 'join me' speech? If so, she declines.
Lord Sidious must know what she's thinking, for he grins devilishly. But the expression is fleeting. Now, he pouts. "Don't be like that, my dear. I will keep you safe. We travel into the Maw so I can introduce you at long last to your mother."
Her mother.
Rey glares at her enemy, unwilling to be taken in. She snarls, "My mother is dead! Your son is dead! Murdered by Ochi at your order when they refused to return to be used for your plots!" If that whole story is even true, that is. Rey doubts it. She tends to believe Darth Plagueis' version of her background that makes her an anonymous child of the Force, like Anakin Skywalker.
"It is true that my son is dead, but your mother lives still. She wishes to meet you."
Your mother lives still. This is more manipulation. Rey refuses to allow herself to be victimized. She shakes her head and firmly refutes, "No."
Darth Sidious practically purrs, "Plagueis never told you what happened to your mother . . ."
"He doesn't know who she is!"
"Oh yes, he does," Darth Sidious answers calmly. "He claims you as his progeny, as a child of the Force, does he not?"
"Yes." She might as well admit it, for Milo has surely told him already.
"What if I told you that we are both right? That you were conjured in the Force by that Muun but you were conceived in the womb of my son's wife."
Rey says nothing. She seethes and trembles with doubt, fear, frustration, and despair. Uncertain what to do . . . uncertain what she can do at this point. She has a sword in her hand but she doesn't dare use it. She's feeling very trapped. She fears being exploited.
Darth Sidious does not press the point. He lets her ruminate on his supposed revelations as he nods to the still hovering subordinate. "Captain, make the jump. Take us home into Darkness."
END of PART THREE
More to come