"What is all this?" Nestor regards the red carpet their speeder pulls up to with dismay. "Boss . . . ?"

Kylo peers ahead to where valet droids swarm the vehicles in line ahead of them. "This event must be more A-list than I thought."

Kylo's doing that impressed but unimpressed thing that the Core elite do so well, but he's Mid Rim and that means he panics at this sort of thing. Lowbrow, decidedly un-fancy Nestor doesn't hide how intimidated he feels. "Shit, Kylo, this is too much . . . "

"Just go with it. We're here, we're dressed. We bought tables. We belong."

"I'm never going to belong among these people. You belong among these people."

"Fine. But one day, we're going to have to rule over these people . . . those we don't kill."

Trust it to Kylo to make his point so bluntly.

In something of a role reversal, the Apprentice starts cheerleading hard. "No one here is better than you. They just have more credits, more education, and more pedigree than you do."

"Right." Basically, more everything than he does.

"This is her world, Flick, so you had better get used to this sort of thing."

"Right."

"You got this."

"Right."

"Plus, it's too late to back out now."

"Right. Shit. I hate that I let myself get talked into this."

The valet droids have moved to hover outside their speeder and there is a long line of arriving speeders behind them. Stalling clearly isn't an option. So, with a deep breath and a reassuring pat at the snub blaster hidden inside his coat, Nestor climbs out of the speeder and arrives at his first ever black-tie gala.

Amused Kylo naturally indulges in some snark. "You're not in the Mid Rim anymore."

Nestor grunts. "When I signed up with the Order, I thought if I ever ended up on Coruscant I would be sacking the city, not crashing a party."

Kylo, who looks surprisingly dashing in his formalwear, flashes his trademark smirk as he buttons his coat. "Cheer up. Most everyone is going to assume you're my security."

It's true. He's put on a lot of muscle since he became a Knight. His chest is pretty massive and so are his arms. It's an impressive physique in the gym, but it's not particularly elegant in dress clothes. Nestor knows he looks like the brute bodyguard he once was. That sort of thing is apparently a status symbol on Coruscant.

By now, the rest of the Knights have emerged from Kylo's speeder and the two speeders that follow behind. Everyone looks the part in formal dress. They even have a few of the stormtrooper pool girls along as dates for the evening. The girls are looking hot in slinky red gowns that toe the fine line of sexy versus tacky quite admirably. Kylo sent them ahead to Coruscant with a hefty credit balance and the instructions to buy gowns to make an entrance. Keep it classy, he told them, but make it red and eye catching to take the attention off us. Nestor judges that effort to be a success. The First Order is represented well tonight, if in secret.

He's hoping that they will blend in sufficiently to match their cover story. The two gala tables were bought under the name of a fictitious private equity fund. Ostensibly, they are rich, young investor types out on the town with their wives and girlfriends. In reality, this is all an elaborate pretext so he can see his fashionable it-girl socialite crush Cessily Ono who will be in attendance tonight.

It was Pedro's idea. While sharing a beer in the officer's lounge, Nestor had lamented his lack of romantic progress. Thoughtful, quiet Pedro suggested that he needed to meet Cesi on her own turf. She thinks you're a thug and a killer, Pedro reasoned, so show her you're also a gentleman. Prove to her that you can move in her world of fancy people. I can't do that, frustrated Nestor complained. Sure, you can, eavesdropping Kylo disagreed. And then one thing led to another, and now Nestor is standing uncomfortable and hot in a tuxedo while camera bots and press people fawn over the local notables who have preceded them into the party.

He tugs at his tight collar and grumbles. "The only time I thought I would wear this getup would be to my wedding."

Kylo agrees. "If she ever marries you, Cessily Ono will definitely make you wear one."

"You still gonna be my best man?"

His boss snorts. "Girls like that don't marry losers like you."

"Then why are we here?"

"To get you laid. Your problem," Kylo informs him, "is that your intentions are too honorable."

Getting lectured on girls from a guy as hopelessly awkward as Kylo doesn't sit well with Nestor. He regrets he ever agreed to this ridiculous scheme, and he says so. "This is a bad idea. In the history of bad ideas, this has to be the worst."

"Quit stalling, Cinderella. Let's go in. There are too many cameras here. It will be better inside with just the event photographers to avoid."

Glancing around warily at the throng of partygoers in their finery, Nestor gulps. "Whatever you say, Boss."

Nestor sticks close to Kylo as they make their way down the red carpet towards the venue entrance. They manage to avoid any attention until they get stuck waiting at some check-in table while Kylo receives their table assignments. That's when someone taps Nestor on the back.

"Excuse me, Sir. Can I get a picture of you two?"

Nestor is confused.

The man repeats the request.

"Pictures!?" he yelps nervously at Kylo who is turning around to see what's up. "How do you uh feel about a picture?"

"Pictures!?" Kylo's eyebrows shoot up.

"Yeah . . . no pictures . . . not tonight," Nestor tries to shoo away the photographer. "Some other time . . ."

The photographer is polite but persistent. He tries to impress them by naming a holonet site Nestor has never heard of as his employer. It's probably harmless. So, worried that their fluster will attract attention and maybe raise suspicions among this crowd who is mostly here to see and be seen, Nestor relents. "Sure, I guess. Take a quick picture," he gives in as disapproving Kylo glowers.

Leaning close, Nestor reminds his friend, "No one outside the Order knows your face. Just pull your sleeve down. Hide that Vader tat and relax."

"I never relax."

That's an understatement. Kylo stands ramrod straight and poker-faced staring at the camera while Nestor attempts a smile. But the photographer has other ideas. "Step over here in the good light, please. We're picking up some glare where you are now. No, not you," the photographer rebuffs Jonar who has come investigate. "Just the couple, please."

"Couple?" Kylo chokes. "Did he say couple?"

Jonar overhears and grins ear to ear.

"Just go with it," Nestor mumbles, feeling his ears burn and his cheeks redden. "Let's get this over with."

"This is humiliating."

"Tell me about it. You're not my type."

"Damn right. I'm too good for you. You're Mid Rim."

Nestor scoffs, "I've got more requirements than that. For starters, my girl needs to be female. Boss, you can sometimes be a prissy bitch, but you're not bitch enough for me."

Observing Jonar doesn't bother to hide his snickering at this bickering.

The oblivious photographer keeps angling for his best shot. "Closer, please. Maybe an arm around each other?"

"This is close enough," Kylo retorts, adding under his breath, "Any closer, Flick, and I'm pulling my sword."

"Touch me and I'll put a shot between your eyes," Nestor blusters back.

"That's better. Now smile," the clueless photographer prods. "Your boyfriend can smile, right?"

Nestor elbows Kylo. "Smile, asshole. Grandpa is gonna love this."

"For the record, I'm only doing this so we don't break cover."

"Same here. This is for the mission."

Kylo plasters on a slightly maniacal grin. Nestor gamely grins too. Amused Jonar grins hardest of all.

"Done. Come on."

"Not so fast," Jonar inserts himself. "I came to get you in the group shot."

"Group shot?" he and Kylo respond in alarmed unison.

Jonar shrugs. "Hey, if there's not a picture, it didn't happen."

"Yes, that's the point," Nestor frowns hard at him.

The guy can't take a hint. Jonar gestures to where the rest of the Knights and the girls are posed as a group. "All that's missing is you two."

"Fuck," Kylo swears as he and Nestor exchange looks. So much for not attracting attention. Multiple camera bots and photographers snap away evidence that the incognito Knights of Ren rolled up to a red-carpet gala on Coruscant's swank Upper Level accompanied by plenty of young, lithe First Order female arm candy.

There's something so cheekily blatant about the whole stunt—their masks off, wearing the red and black of the Order, accompanied by a squad of troopers out of uniform—that Nestor considers. Snoke might actually love this. On some level, it's an epic troll move against the Coruscant establishment power elite. And that thought leads him to conclude, "I guess we might as well . . . " If there is one picture of them in attendance, there might as well be a hundred.

"I'm going to hack Hux's datapad and upload this as his new screensaver," Static happily declares as he stands with a sexy pool girl draped down both his left side and his right.

That proposed prank convinces Kylo to participate. He grumbles but stands in the back of the group shot, smirking hard. It's a mocking expression Hux will recognize, Nestor is certain.

The posing is done. Kylo stalks away into the party and all the rest dutifully follow.

The evening begins with a cocktail hour in an overly crowded, loud antechamber to the main event space. People are chatting, greeting one another, and obsessively checking their comlinks and datapads, like always.

"Let's get drinks," Pedro suggests before he starts chasing the nearest waiter with a tray of glasses.

Kylo harrumphs, "There isn't enough liquor here to make me forget that entrance."

It's clear that none of the Knights is going to let Kylo forget it either. Omar points at them and coos, "Oooh, if it isn't the happy couple," as Carlos guffaws.

"Fuck you!" he and Kylo respond in unison.

Carlos laughs. "You know, that homo shit's not legal on my homeworld."

"Yeah? What backwater judgy Rim Hellhole is that?" Kylo complains. "Carlos, you're a cretin. Bigoted fuckers like you are why the Rim gets called deplorable."

Carlos is unrepentant. "I'm just saying . . . where I come from, we don't stand for guys fucking guys." He considers a moment before adding, "We don't do interspecies either. Well, unless you're talking hot Twi'lek chicks. That's okay. They're almost human. I mean, what's a headtail or two?"

"I don't care who Nestor fucks, so long as it's not me," the Apprentice scowls.

"Caring about who Nestor fucks is why we're all here," Omar points out. "So, where's your girl, Flick?"

"It's so crowded, we'll never find her," Nestor laments.

Kylo takes charge. "Let's split up. You and I will go hang by the bar at 3 o'clock. Omar and Carlos, you take the bar at 9 o'clock. Static, find Pedro and loiter by the ladies' room. Jonar, you keep an eye on the entrance. Got it?"

"Got it. Let's go execute Order 69," Static chortles.

"In his dreams!" departing Carlos sniffs. "Dude hasn't even kissed her yet."

"Has too. We all saw."

"Nah, that was her kissing him on the cheek. Doesn't count."

Nestor cringes inwardly. Shooting Kylo a look, he vents, "I hate that I ever agreed to do this."

"Too late," Kylo grunts. "And this mission beats murdering judges and stealing Force relics. Think of it as a change of pace."

"Grandpa is gonna be pissed when he finds out about this . . . "

"He won't find out."

"He always finds out. You just think he doesn't."

Snoke keeps Kylo on a very short leash. But for the most part, the Supreme Leader looks the other way for the Knights' over-the-top antics. The big boss seems happy to indulge Kylo's public violence. If anything, he encourages it. But those stunts have at least some tangential value to the cause. Tonight has nothing to do with the First Order or the Sith. Tonight is all about his personal life. So Nestor has a hard time seeing how old Snoke will tolerate this level of expense and risk.

"Even if he finds out, he won't care. He doesn't care what I do." Kylo words are a boast that comes out glum. The truth is the Apprentice is practically begging for limits. But while Kylo gets plenty of Force lightning discipline, his punishment seems to depend more on Snoke's mood than on the Apprentice's actions.

He and Kylo get drinks and do what they always do in social situations: they stand side by side observing the crowd. Tonight, however, his boss is a little touchy about that habit. "Don't stand so close to me. I mean it. I don't want anyone else thinking I'm your—"

"Got it. Say no more." Nestor takes one long step to the left. "What is this party fundraising for again?"

"Who knows? Who cares? Probably underprivileged kids or university scholarships or rescue pets. Does it matter?"

"I guess not." Nestor worries aloud now, "What if she doesn't show?"

"She's probably on the carpet posing. That's basically her job. And it's early."

"Yeah, you're right." Nestor doesn't know what he fears most—that Cesi Ono will show up or that she will ghost. Either outcome seems scary right now.

Kylo's mind is on work. "The Starkiller is back on schedule."

"Really?" The First Order's worst kept secret is Starkiller Base, and it is the subject of many random rumors, most of them false. Curious Nestor presses, "Who told you that?"

"Milo."

"Then it's credible."

Kylo nods. "It was a head's up."

"What do you mean?"

"I need to be ready when the weapon is ready."

"Right. We all do. When the weapon is ready, the war begins."

"No. The war begins when the weapon is ready and when the Apprentice is ready."

Yikes. "Oh."

Kylo sighs heavily. "No pressure . . ." He takes a long swig of his drink. And then another.

This is typical Kylo. You get him in a social situation, and he hangs on the periphery, drinks, and begins to obsess over his own drama. The guy is a complete outsider, even within the First Order where he's supposed to be a leader. For all his fighting prowess and Force power, the Apprentice is painfully insecure and often morose. So, in these settings Nestor tries to be a good friend and get him to talk a bit. Sometimes it works and Kylo unloads, often dropping nuggets of his backstory in the process. More often, Kylo shuts down and becomes extra peevish. Which will it be tonight? Nestor has no clue as he prods, "So what does that mean exactly? When are you ready?"

"I wish I knew." Kylo looks troubled as he glances over and half-whispers, "Do you think he's going to make me fire it?"

"The Starkiller Base?"

"Yes. Wait—Fuck." Something has Kylo's attention.

Nestor automatically follows his eyes into the crowd. "What's wrong?" He doesn't see anything amiss. In fact, no one currently seems to be looking their way, let alone coming their direction.

"Fuck!"

Nestor knows his friend well enough to read his expression and tone. Something is very, very wrong. Kylo is suddenly whiter than his usual pallor. His body is stiff. And for a brief second, Nestor thinks his friend's eyes flash yellow, though he could be mistaken.

"We're busted?"

"I'm busted."

"Shit!" Nestor puts down his drink as he thinks aloud. "We're all split up now, which isn't good. I told you we should have worn ear coms. How are we going to alert the others?"

"Fuuuuck." Kylo is frozen in place as he stares wide eyed at his feet. He's not looking at anything in particular. It's almost as if he is looking inwardly.

The inaction prompts Nestor to hiss at him, "Don't just stand there! Let's get out of here!"

"Good idea." Kylo frantically glances around and then darts through the nearest pair of glass doors. They lead to a long, open-air balcony with a spectacular view of the Upper Level cityscape. The balcony runs the full length of the adjacent cocktail party reception room.

Nestor follows. "Where are you—great! A dead end." There's no way out on this empty balcony unless you plan an aerial exit or a suicide plunge. Nestor has a better idea. "Come on, let's get lost in the crowd. We can split up to confuse things."

"No."

"No? Is this fight, not flight?" Nestor automatically reaches inside his coat for his gun.

Kylo nods gravely. "I have to face her . . . I can't run."

Her. "Her."

"She's here."

Nestor has a good idea who 'she' is. He's only seen Kylo react like this once before and it was when he sensed his mother's presence in the Force. Suddenly, all thoughts of Cessily Ono are gone. This mission is no longer about his love life. A real enemy is approaching.

"Fuck!" Nestor swears and gulps. He starts improvising a plan. "Shall I get the others?"

"No. I must face her alone."

Alone? Hell no. "I don't like that. I don't like that at all," Nestor's objection is firm. The Knights are a team and they don't leave anyone—especially Kylo—behind.

By now, the poor guy is visibly trembling. Kylo throws down the drink he's still holding and the glass explodes on contact with the stone floor. "SHIT!" The Apprentice punches the air in a gesture of rage mixed with futility. His shoulders heave as he begins to pace the balcony. This is Kylo fighting for control, looking like a caged rancor. These are the moments when the Apprentice is at his most Dark and unpredictable. It's when everyone throws up their hands and backs away to give him space, hoping that they won't be the target of his rage.

But not him. This is when Nestor approaches and does his best to be a calm voice of reason, talking his boss out of his worst excesses. Like tonight, when he wants to confront his enemy mother in public at a fancy party with several hundred of Coruscant's A-list within shouting distance.

"Let's go quietly," Nestor urges. "You and I slip out through the kitchen or the backstairs. When we're away, we'll com the rest to join us."

"It's too late," Kylo wails. The poor guy appears increasingly distraught. "She knows I'm here!"

"That doesn't matter if we leave."

"It does! She wasn't supposed to be here, so she knows I didn't come for her and that means she'll think—"

"This is a First Order operation she's just stumbled into," Nestor thinks aloud.

"Yes! She'll think this is some terror plot she's busted. For all we know," Kylo moans, "she's already alerted security."

"Maybe . . . " Nestor reasons aloud, "but maybe not. She doesn't want people to know who you are to her, right? So how would she explain why she's suspicious?"

"She's got the Force and people know it! All she has to say is that she's got a bad feeling or some stupid shit like that."

"Good point," Nestor concedes. "So, what do we do?"

"I panic and you leave. Get the others and leave."

"That was my original plan," Nestor grumbles.

"Fuck! FUUUCK!" frazzled Kylo punches the air again. "Here she comes. She's heading this way. Right to me." The Apprentice looks terrified. Like he might shit his pants or dissolve into tears at any moment.

Warily, Nestor ventures, "So have you spoken to her since—"

"No! Not directly."

What does that mean? "Okay. Uh . . . so . . . how do we play this?" Kylo's panic is starting to rub off on him because now Nestor is starting to feel trapped and terrified too. With another gulp of air, he impulsively suggests a solution suitable for an enemy general. "Should we kill her?"

"NO! No, we don't kill her!" Kylo shoots him a look. "What the fuck, Flick? She's my mother!"

"Right, but—"

"You want me to kill your mother, asshole?"

"No, but Mom's on our side—"

"Oh, fuck . . . oh, fuck . . . Nestor, get out of here!"

"If you think I'm going to abandon you with our archenemy—"

"Oh, come on! What the Hell use are you against a Skywalker? She could snap your neck with her mind. You will be collateral damage if you so much as open your mouth!"

Nestor nods his understanding but digs in. "I hear you, Boss. I won't escalate but I'm not leaving you either." Snoke made him Kylo's babysitter and he's going to complete the mission even if it means witnessing some epic mother-son fallout and then getting arrested or shot for his efforts.

"Put that gun away! Stand down!"

"Roger that." Nestor reluctantly stashes his blaster back inside his coat.

Will this be a war of words? Does Leia Organa use a sword? Is he about to get Force pushed off this balcony? Just how violent is Kylo's warmongering mommy? Nestor has so many questions, but it's pointless to ask for guidance. As it is, the guy is doing his best to hold himself together as critical seconds tick by.

Time for a quick pep talk. "You got this, Kylo," Nestor mutters, echoing the words he himself heard on the way in. "Don't let her get under your skin. Keep it short. Say what you need to say and then we'll leave."

"I hate her . . . I really hate her . . . " Kylo nods. His words are harsh, but his delivery is tepid. He sounds more like he's convincing himself than denouncing her. Like he's stoking his Dark Side in anticipation of her Light Side pitch he knows he must resist.

This is a test, Nestor instinctively knows. There's no way tonight will be kept a secret from Snoke now. Running home to mommy is one scenario the Supreme Leader clearly fears for his Apprentice. For if Light Side Luke Skywalker can slip up and give in to a Dark Side impulse, and if Dark Side Vader can slip up and give into a Light Side impulse . . . then anything can happen. The Skywalkers have been known to switch sides abruptly and cause major fallout. And if that happens tonight, what does he do? Nestor will follow Kylo into battle against anyone, but he is not willing to follow him to the Republic. He's no turncoat. Geez, this night has taken a turn for the worse. Is it going to end with the Knights fighting the Apprentice and Leia Organa? Nestor fervently hopes not.

When moments later the Princess of Alderaan, former Senator, and Resistance General busts out onto the relative privacy of the empty terrace, she comes alone. Nestor stands facing her grimly. He's positioned himself between her and Kylo, who stands at the balcony balustrade facing outwards toward the Coruscant cityscape.

She's shorter than he expected. Much shorter. Somehow, Nestor expected this fearsome woman—a towering figure from the early days of the New Republic—to be more physically impressive. And sure, everyone looks bigger on the holonet. But wow is the old broad with the big mouth tiny. Leia Organa reaches his chest and he's only average height for a guy. Ordinarily, this sort of de minimis adversary wouldn't pose much of a threat. Except this is Darth Vader's daughter and so looks are definitely deceiving. Suddenly, Nestor is every bit as intimidated as Kylo is.

She's expensively dressed like Nestor knew she would be. Big jewels twinkle at her ears, her neck, and her fingers. She must be in her fifties now, but she is still a strikingly handsome woman. Youth is gone but her elegant bone structure and regal bearing won't fade. Looking at her features, Nestor thinks Kylo's mom might be very beautiful if she smiled like a regular person. But Leia Organa's smile is perfunctory political theatre. She comes across as a brittle, controlling woman on the holonet. Given her expression as she sweeps in, Nestor worries things will go downhill fast.

The Rebel Princess ignores him completely. "Ben!" she barks.

Kylo turns around and slowly walks even to Nestor. He eyes his mother coldly but keeps quiet. His jaw is set, his shoulders are raised, and his fists are clenched. Kylo fairly radiates tension, like a taut bowstring threatening to snap. But he is at least outwardly calm and composed. The Apprentice stands completely still, with just the night breeze ruffling his hair.

"Ben."

Nestor's eyes dart from mother to son. If there is a resemblance, he can't see it. Their facial features and physical builds appear very dissimilar. But maybe that's fitting since these two family members are very different. As far as Nestor can tell, the only thing they have in common is the Force. And, well, he doesn't need the Force to tell him how fraught this accidental reunion is. Fear is written all over Kylo's face. And Leia Organa has the glaring eyes, lifted chin, and pursed lips that angry mothers everywhere use to convey a potent mix of disapproval and disappointment. Nestor saw that look on his own mother's face after Dad's jailbreak. Kylo gets that same 'I can't believe my idiot son did this' maternal glare now.

Nervous, defensive Kylo is an especially peevish Kylo. He goes low for his opener. "Look how old you've become."

Leia Organa snaps back, "Something far worse has happened to you." And look at that curled lip. Kylo's mom definitely won't be pulling her punches. She's probably been planning this lecture for years.

"You aren't supposed to be here."

She nods coolly. "The keynote speaker is sick. I'm filling in. What are you doing here?"

"We are everywhere. Understand? The First Order is everywhere," Kylo gloats and brags.

His mother is unimpressed. "I asked what are you doing here."

"Worried I'll make a scene?" Kylo jeers. "Worried I'll rush the stage and announce who I am? Hello, I'm Kylo Ren and I'm the son who Leia Organa falsely claims is dead."

"Don't you dare!"

"Oh, I would dare. I dare anything these days."

"Yes, I know."

Perhaps anticipating her accusations to come, Kylo starts in on his grievances first. They bubble out his mouth in a rushing font of vitriol. "You're a fraud! You lied to the galaxy! Told everyone I was dead. Like you lied about Vader."

"That was to protect you."

"It was to protect you! To protect your political career! Well, that lie came out. Just like your lies about me will come out. How long will you last as leader of the Resistance then?"

"Is that a threat?"

"Yes."

Kylo being Kylo, his vehement tirade quickly morphs into whining. He's more hurt than angry, and it shows. Nestor wants to cringe as Kylo chokes out, "It's not enough for you to send me away and then pretend that I'm dead . . . you had to declare war on me too? In a public speech?"

Leia Organa makes no disavowals. This is her chance to walk things back, but she declines. "Snoke must be stopped. Ben, he is evil! What the First Order plans is evil!"

Stung Kylo shouts back, "That's right! And I am evil too!"

Nestor doesn't agree with this pouty assertion. It's true that the Apprentice is caught up in being the bad guy, trying so hard to fill the shoes of his fearsome grandfather who to this day is equal parts reviled and revered. He's got a conflicted soul, family on both sides of the current brewing civil war, and a harsh Master in Snoke. But is Kylo truly evil? Are the Knights really the bad guys? Is the First Order evil? Nestor doesn't think so.

Fuming Kylo doubles down on his childish proclamation, much to his mother's dismay. "I am evil too!"

Listening Nestor can't decide whether Kylo's sneer is sarcasm or just a statement on how much his New Republic-Jedi upbringing still influences his mindset.

For her part, Leia Organa visibly swallows and looks away. The set of her shoulders slumps just a little. Her son clearly scored a hit. But no one is winning this war of words, Nestor judges.

The princess now crosses her arms and mutters, "What are you doing here? You never answered me."

"I don't owe you any explanations. About tonight or anything."

"That's not how I see it."

"It's how I see it." Kylo starts lamenting again. "You didn't even bother to try to reach me. You just talked to Luke and made your mind up and then held a press conference."

His irritated mother fires back, "You didn't exactly make yourself available for questioning. You know, all these years later, I honestly can't say I am surprised by what you did. Ben, it hurts me to say it, but I saw this coming."

"Oh, so you had foreseen that night at the temple?" Kylo blinks.

"No. But I raised you. I knew what you were, even if I didn't want to admit it to myself. I thought that Luke could help. But even he couldn't get through to you." Leia Organa shakes her head with regret. "He tried. Force knows, Luke tried . . . "

Glancing at his boss, Nestor sees that Kylo has that same bleak, beaten expression he gets whenever anyone mentions the name Luke Skywalker. But for the first time, Nestor sees that the resignation Kylo feels about his uncle is mixed with a heavy dose of shame. Kylo didn't want to do what he did at the temple, but he didn't see any other option at the time. Now years later, rather than feeling justified for his self-defense, Kylo mostly seems frustrated that the situation ever arose in the first place.

Bitchy, judgy Leia Organa seems oblivious to her son's pain. She keeps piling on blame. "You had every advantage—"

"Material things, yes."

"And an education and two parents—"

"You were never around. Neither was Dad. Both too busy . . . "

The quiet way Kylo says this is so hurt that Nestor really feels for him. Nestor remembers now how respectful Kylo had been when he introduced him to his own parents. Only later did Nestor realize that Kylo was envious of his humble, happy upbringing, not disdainful. To this day, Nestor knows he is his parent's pride and joy, and they would do anything to help him. Not so with Kylo.

Hard ass Leia Organa is having none of her son's recriminations. "Don't blame this on me! You're way past blaming your parents now. Grow up, Ben!"

"Oh, I blame you. I blame you the most of all!" And now, Kylo gets around to the topic Nestor knows he wants to discuss. "What did Luke tell you about that night at his temple?"

"That you attacked him. That you used the Dark Side to try to kill him. He lived, but you succeeded in killing most of the others."

"Did he tell you why?"

"He said that you were out of control. That he had seen the Darkness building in you for months during your training. That it consumed you in the moment and it overpowered him."

"So, he didn't tell you why."

"Is there more?"

"Ask Luke."

Leia Organa scowls and for the first time Nestor sees a physical resemblance with her son. The two have the same intense facial expressions. "I can't ask Luke! He's gone, as you well know. Ben, what happened at the temple?"

"Find Luke and ask him."

"I'm asking you."

The Apprentice gets passive aggressive now with averted eyes and more evasion. "You won't believe me . . . "

"Don't be coy."

Petulant Kylo shakes his head. "You won't believe me. Because in order to believe me, you'd have to admit to the Darkness—to the Vader!—in you."

Leia Organa sniffs, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I think you do," Kylo goads. "I think that's really why you sent me away in the first place. You saw what I am, and it reminded you of yourself! But you couldn't face it, so you sent me away!"

"I didn't send you away. You went to Jedi training. That's different."

"You knew what I struggled with because you struggle with it too! But rather than help me, you sent me to Uncle Luke. Because Luke was always better at containing his Darkness than you were . . . until he wasn't . . . "

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Fuming Kylo calls bullshit on her indignation. "You like to pretend that you're so good—always the hero! Always the role model! But you're not good. Not entirely."

Leia Organa shrugs off the point. "No one is."

Kylo digs in. "I'm not talking about degrees of sin. I'm talking about a fundamental flaw in who you are! In who I am! We're Skywalkers. We are born conflicted. Equal parts Light and Dark in the Force. Capable of anything—"

"No!" Those words strike a nerve. Leia Organa gets truly angry now. "Ben Solo, you listen to me! Every day—Every. Single. Day.—I make a choice to be good. That's a choice that you can make too. Stop acting like your actions are beyond your control."

"It's not that simple."

"It is!"

"Luke once thought like you do. He probably believed it up until the moment he tried to execute me in my sleep."

"He what?" His mother squints, then recoils. She truly appears taken aback. "What did you say?"

"You heard me."

Leia Organa's eyes narrow. Suspicion dawns. She shakes her head and advances to wave a finger under Kylo's nose, "Oh no, Ben. You don't get to make that kind of accusation against your uncle and get away with it. Always blaming other people for your own shortcomings. And after all that Luke did for you. Luke was like—"

"Like a father to me?" Kylo hisses.

"Well, yes."

"That's right. Because you chased Dad away."

Again, Leia Organa scowls, looking very much like her son. She dismisses the point. "Don't start in on that."

"The divorce was your fault!"

"There is a lot between your father and I that you don't know. And that's as it should be. You were a child at the time, and I realize that colors your perception-"

"I'm going to kill Dad."

"What? What?" Leia Organa squints at her son as if perhaps she has misunderstood.

Kylo is pleased to have finally made an impression. He looms closer to his blinking, speechless mother as he promises, "I'm going to kill Dad just like I'm going to kill Luke."

"Ben!"

"Don't get in my way, Mother, or I'll be forced to kill you too."

Leia Organa doesn't have the good grace to look the least bit threatened by those words. She looks, well, extra pissed. And that steals away Kylo's Dark Side bravado. He's maudlin again. More hurt puppy than scary Dark Sith. More whiny teenager throwing out reckless threats than grown man who's prepared to follow through.

"You don't believe me . . . of course, you don't believe me . . . Who would believe me over the famous Jedi Master?"

Leia Organa considers Kylo a long moment before allowing, "I believe that you think what you're saying is true."

"It is the truth! Why do you think he ran? Why do you think he's in hiding?"

"It's you who wears a mask," Leia Organa snaps. "Luke hides because he was horrified by what you did and he feels responsible. Families entrusted him with their children and he didn't protect them . . . from you."

"No, that's not it!"

"It is! Luke wouldn't lie to me. He couldn't. I would know. And never, ever would Luke have turned on you. Luke loved you!"

"He tried to kill me! What happened at the temple was self-defense!" For all his vehemence and indignation, Kylo is nearly squirming as he admits, "I tapped into a power I didn't know I had. It came out before I could stop it. I didn't mean to hurt anyone . . . I was just trying to save myself."

"So you did attack Luke with the Dark Side?"

"He started it-"

"You might not know it," his mother nearly growls, "but all along your uncle was your most persistent apologist. Luke always saw the promise in you even when at times I struggled to see it myself."

"You're wrong!" Kylo asserts. "Luke's in hiding because he knows he is wrong too! He's never been afraid to confront evil. Except now, the evil is himself and he doesn't know how to handle that. It flies in the face of all of his Jedi teaching. Don't you see—it's all wrong!"

His mother shakes her head with a resigned sigh. "You are so lost. Luke warned that you were like this. Snoke has twisted your mind with—"

"Snoke has opened my mind up to the truth! I see through the lies of the Jedi! I do not fear the Dark Side!"

"There is no truth in Darkness, only pain." Kylo's mother gets downright cringeworthy now as she hisses, "I am so ashamed that you are my son. I wanted so much more for you than to repeat Vader's mistakes, but you too ended up slaughtering younglings at a Jedi temple . . . " There are bitter tears shining in her eyes as she sputters, "This is . . . you are . . . Ben, you are my worst nightmare come true. I hate what you have become. It's everything Luke and I tried to prevent."

Stung Kylo hollers back, "You and Luke are the ones repeating the mistakes of the past! Trying so hard to relive the glory days of the Old Republic and the Jedi Order that were already gone by the time you were born!"

"Says the boy pretending to be Vader and trying to bring back the Empire," his mother retorts, raising her eyebrows. "What's next, Ben—another Death Star?"

"Maybe," Kylo taunts.

If looks could kill, Kylo would be dead for that remark. But no one pulls a sword or starts choking with the Force. Mother and son simply glare at one another, each feeling frustrated and disappointed, both knowing there will be no reconciliation today or ever. Leia Organa is aghast, but also unsurprised at the path her son has taken. Kylo is defiant at her criticism even as he seems crushed by her insistence on believing the worst of him. She won't even entertain the idea that Luke Skywalker turned on his nephew, Nestor judges. But if there is a bad guy in all of this, it's the famous Jedi Master who has now ghosted the galaxy rather than face up to the consequences of his actions. So that leaves mother and son stuck in a private family standoff that is a prelude to the civil war to come. Right now, it's Kylo versus his mother, a proto-Sith versus an unofficial Jedi. Soon—very soon-it will be the First Order versus the Resistance and the Republic. And then, this personal and philosophical conflict will take on a political dimension in a galaxy-wide setting. Once the large scale violence begins, any chance for a resolution will have passed.

Kylo, of course, knows where this is heading. Will his mother be on Hosnia when the Starkiller Base attacks? The Apprentice is wan as he wonders aloud, "So where does this go?"

His mother answers simply. "You go back to your side and I go back to mine." She's treating this meeting akin to a battlefield parlay, Nestor sees, not a personal conversation. It's yet another rejection.

"So, no 'let go of your hate' personal invitation back to the Light?" Kylo asks a bit hopefully.

"Would it work?"

"No."

"I didn't think so," his disapproving mother sniffs.

Kylo in turn doubles down on his bad guy role. He sneers, "You can't save my soul!"

"That's right," Leia Organa agrees sourly. "Only you can save your soul. No one can redeem anyone else. That change has to start from within."

Is she really washing her hands of her son? Nestor can't tell. Leia Organa seems to regard her son as the ticking thermal detonator that went off . . . like she always knew it would. And inherent in that attitude is an assumption that whatever Kylo is, he's not her fault. Maybe he's Luke's fault, but he's certainly not her fault. And is that right? Nestor wonders. On some level, Kylo seems to agree with his mother. For he firmly believes in his theory of the Force that makes him Dark and Light in equal measures. Kylo thinks he is born to be who he is, and that his family are too even if they deny it. More than anything, Kylo seems to want validation—and maybe vindication-from his mother. But she's not giving either.

Kylo starts in on blaming Skywalker again. "What happened at the temple was not my fault." He's determined to get his mother to understand his perspective. That seems to be very important to the Apprentice.

She isn't going for it. "So that's your story and you're sticking to it?" she harrumphs. "You'd like that version to be true, wouldn't you? It would complete this victim narrative you've built for yourself. Poor privileged, entitled Ben. Overpowered and underloved, right? Save that angle for a woman who'll fall for it. Not me."

"It was not my fault!" Kylo snarls back.

"Alright," Leia Organa plays along, "let's say for the sake of argument that you're right. Then explain to me all the mayhem you and your band of thugs engage in. Is that your fault? Or is that Luke's fault too?"

"That's different."

"How?" she challenges. "You can't take responsibility for anything, can you? Grow up, Ben! You're not a leader, you're a follower! Snoke's using you."

"That's not how it is. He's teaching me."

"You really are lost," his mother sighs before she throws up her hands and gives up on reasoning with her son. "Well, if ever you see the error of your ways, I will help you as best I can. But you're digging an awfully big hole for yourself. There will be lasting consequences for your actions even if you reform."

"I'm never going back."

"Have you thought this through? The First Order's days are numbered. And after that, you'll be a fugitive from justice living anonymously in exile."

The Apprentice projects a surprisingly convincing confidence now. He lifts his chin and solemnly predicts, "We're going to win. You'll see."

It earns him withering, condescension. "You can't win. I won't let you win," steely Leia Organa promises.

"How are you going to stop us?" her son presses. "With your private, supposed volunteer force that is bought and paid for under the table by the New Republic and staffed by its military?" Before his mother can answer, Kylo scoffs, "And the Resistance? Who chose that name—you? Tell me, Mother, what exactly are you resisting? You are the New Republic establishment, the dominant military force in the galaxy. The ones who resist—the ones who revolt—the underdogs who hide—are the First Order! You're not fooling anyone with that ragtag band of heroes bullshit. Still fighting the same war with the same playbook, aren't you? You're out of ideas. You're tired. You're old. It really shows."

His mother lifts her chin and whirls, marching straight for the door she came in through. "I don't have to listen to this—"

"Go ahead, walk away from me again!" Kylo hollers after her. "Refuse to hear my truth! You do it to me just like your Republic does it to the Rim. You're so confident that only you have the answers. Well, someday soon, you'll be in for a rude awakening. Change is coming," Kylo proclaims. "This time, Mother, you're on the wrong side of history. You're wrong about me and about the First Order."

Leia Organa stops and half turns. "I'm leaving now. There are people I need to greet before my speech. Ben, I'm going to pretend this conversation never happened so long as you and your buddy here leave immediately."

"I'm not leaving." Kylo looks to him. "Nestor, are we leaving?"

Leaving sounds like an excellent idea, and in Nestor's estimation it will count as a win. But leaving is clearly not an option. He dutifully responds, "We're staying."

"Why?" Leia Organa wants to know. "You never did say why you are here."

"We're here for a girl," Kylo answers truthfully.

Team player Nestor ratifies that answer too. "That's right. A girl."

"And you?" Kylo jeers. "Are you here to rally people to the cause? You never walk away from a microphone. What's tonight's address? Let me guess—it's a eulogy to Alderaan, some references to the Rebellion, and a lot of talk of 'never forget'. Oh, and hope. You love cliches about hope."

His mother responds stiffly. "There is nothing cliche about hope."

"I agree. But you know what is cliche? Platitudes about hope followed by inaction. Feelgood lines that placate rather than offer true solutions. At first, humble people might accept your lectures because they need your help. But over time, when they get more attitude than assistance, they grow increasingly restless and resentful. Eventually, they become disobedient," Kylo threatens ominously.

"Are those First Order talking points? I never pegged you for a political zealot."

"I get it from you, Mother. I learned political spin from the best in the business. And one day, I'm going to rule the galaxy. You never made it to Chancellor, but I'm going to be an Emperor," Kylo declares boldly.

His mother is unimpressed. "You're dreaming, laser brains. Snoke is just using you. And when he's done, he'll crush you. You're blind if you can't see that you are a means to an end. Whatever change you think is coming, it won't succeed in the long-term if it's coerced by violence and motivated by revenge. That animus will only get you so far for so long."

Listening Nestor scowls again at her depiction of their cause. It's the same old double standard the New Republic applies to the First Order—that the Rebels who overthrew Palpatine were freedom fighters pursuing a just cause while Snoke's followers are a bunch of violent extremists who must be rounded up and prosecuted. Can General Organa see the hypocrisy? Does she appreciate that the men and women on their side feel much the same way that she and her followers felt thirty years ago?

She'd probably say that the New Republic is a democracy and the First Order's recourse should be at the ballot box. But that presumes the Rim worlds have adequate representation in the Senate and political allies elsewhere sufficient to pass a majority vote amid a galaxy with thousands of systems. It also presumes that there can be a legislative fix to the longstanding economic inequities of intergalactic trade.

More fundamentally, the problem is the Rimmers' attitudes towards government generally. There isn't much rule of law on places like Tattooine, Dantooine, and Jakku. So telling upset citizens to respect the legislative process and in a few years' time they might get a law passed is simply unsatisfactory. No one has any patience for that sort of thing. It's just too ineffective.

The Apprentice dutifully sticks up for their cause. He hisses, "Time will reveal how wrong you are. Luke got his comeuppance and so will you. Listen to me, Mother," Kylo demands Leia Organa's attention, even if he cannot command her respect. "I will destroy the New Republic, I will destroy Luke, and I will destroy Dad. Everything you have worked for, everyone you ever cared about-I will destroy it all! You get to live to watch it fall. Think of it as Alderaan all over again."

The words are a bitter vow delivered with extra nastiness. Rejected Kylo now rejects his mother with maximum Dark vitriol. Nestor is suddenly embarrassed for his needy friend who appears dangerously close to losing control once again. And there's that flash of yellow in his eyes like Nestor saw earlier.

Leia Organa sighs and looks away. "I don't understand you. I never have."

"You never tried."

"That's not true!"

"When you give your speech tonight, I will be in the crowd watching."

"Don't," she warns.

"I know you watch me from afar. Tonight, I will repay the favor. Tell me, who in the New Republic knows who I am? Or are you lying to them too?"

"Go ahead! Put it on the holonet! See if I care!" his mother huffs.

"They'll say the Vader taint continues for another generation."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? I knew Darth Vader. Darth Vader was a cunning enemy I bested more than once. Ben, you're no Darth Vader. You're just an overgrown child in a mask. You're not fooling anyone."

That remark hits home. Kylo bristles. "You underestimate my power."

"Save it, Ben. I don't want to hear it." Thoroughly annoyed Leia Organa now resumes her exit.

Nestor has remained a quiet spectator to this much aggrieved confrontation. Still, he feels like he ought to say something—anything—to this woman who is the self-appointed scold of Snoke and the First Order. Dare he speak up? Yes, he decides. It's a gesture of support for Kylo but also a statement of loyalty to his cause. Because Nestor won't stand to hear the First Order so mischaracterized and maligned. This is probably his one chance to tell this righteous old princess that she's wrong, and he's going to do it.

So, squaring his shoulders and summoning his confidence, Nestor leads with what galls him the most. "With respect, ma'am," he begins, addressing her retreating form. "We're not the bad guys. We are not evil."

Diminutive Leia Organa pauses, turns, and fixes him with a look that suddenly makes him feel like the smaller of the two. "And who are you?"

"Nestor Flick, Second Knight of Ren."

"One of Ben's thugs?"

"I'm one of many people who feels the way your son does."

"You don't have the Force."

"No, but I have a mind and I have opinions. I don't follow Snoke for the Dark Side. I do it because he offers better solutions for people like me."

"You're part of his cult of personality?"

"I like his policies."

"I see. Well, Mr. Flick, this is only marginally about policies. It's mostly about power."

Nestor tries again to make his point. "This might be about power to you . . . about who in your family gets to wield power, I guess . . . But for the rest of us, this doesn't have anything to do with the Force. It's pragmatic politics. We want real change, my lady."

Leia Organa favors him with a placating look she must reserve for her little people constituents. "Fair enough. Look, you had better beware what you wish for. Take it from me—I once helmed a successful revolution. The hard work begins after you win. Governing isn't easy."

Nestor bites his tongue to keep from pointing out that the Rebels did little to assuage peoples' fears in the aftermath of their victory. They didn't bother to make the case for why a band of left-wing terrorists ought to unilaterally comprise the New Republic government. As the victors, they apparently deemed compromise and moderation as unnecessary. It left a lingering bad first impression on many citizens who were mostly happy with the status quo. It made multi-generational enemies of the Imperial loyalists who were summarily exiled to the Rim. And now, thirty years later, that longstanding discontent is about to explode under Snoke's expert manipulation.

Kylo smirks. "I welcome the challenge of governing. It's a good problem to have."

"I won't let you have it," his mother snaps back. "If you're ever Emperor or Supreme Leader or whatever title your fascists followers anoint you, it will be over my dead body."

Kylo nods slowly, taking measure of his mother's tense stance and vehemence. "So be it," he snarls before stalking past her to re-enter the party. He'll be the first to leave this evening.

His mother whirls to warn, "Ben, if you get what you want, it won't make it better."

Kylo pretends not to hear.

"I mean it!" she calls after him. "Power will never satisfy you! It will only make you crave more power!"

Seething Kylo pauses to repond. "You're not listening. Not to me, and not to Nestor. You think you know who we are, but you don't. We're after a lot more than just power."

Confused Leia Organa fumes.

Nestor glares at her and then follows his boss.