"We need to find allies…"
How many times had the words been uttered? More dejected and hopeless each time? Losing their meaning until they resembled some hollow, trotted out mantra?
"There aren't any." Poe might have expected to hear it from anyone else but Leia Organa? The saviour of the Resistance, and the Rebellion before it? The purveyor of the famous phrase and adopted motto of the galaxy's last hope. Hope is like the sun. If you only believe it when you see it, you'll never make it through the night. "We've put out our signals where we can, where it's safe. But you've said yourself that those spots are restricting all the time under the First Order's influence." The pilot couldn't argue that fact, not when he'd delivered the damning news himself.
"And, let's not forget…" Leia groaned as she stood up; the constant running from detection and little to no rest taking its toll, making her seem older than she was. "I had to exile one of my best spies because of you."
How many times was he going to hear that? Lips pursed; Poe knew better than to argue. It was, after all, effectively true. It had been several weeks since Keir's departure and he had effectively vanished; nowhere to be seen or heard in any of his usual haunts or regular contacts. Was he dead? Curled up somewhere, overcome with loss? First of his daughter and granddaughter? Then the Resistance, a place of belonging for anyone that wanted it?
"General!" The frantic call from a nearby console tore a hole in the conversation and saved Poe from a guilty, if impatient reply. "We've intercepted a civilian transmission…!" Leia was already on her way with Poe hot on her heels, enough for the operative to drop her voice for imperative subtlety. "It's a First Order labour camp." Heightening her eyes with fraught urgency to Leia leaning over her shoulder to inspect the real-time information they had so far. "An area known to the locals as Ronto Ridge… Not far from the town of Anchorhead…"
"Thank you, we'll have this analysed. R2? You know what to do." Leia rose to her full, unimposing height (her height might not have been her most intimidating asset, that came with her character, her mind and whenever she opened her mouth) and found one of the Resistance's most loyal already trained on her. "Wanna make amends?" She inquired, but Poe was already on the move; assembling Black Squadron, Blue Squadron, Red Squadron, and whatever remnants he could scrape together.
It worked.
It all worked. Right down to the last and most insignificant detail.
First Order? Yes.
Camp? Yes.
Labour? Absolutely not. Aside from the one baby born there in the past few days, perhaps.
The camp served as little more than a temporary (and voluntary) relocation to residents and business owners affected by the recent scrap between the reigning Hutts and the First Order. It led to (Lucilla was proud to say) three dead Hutts being dragged down the main street by celebrating locals on their dewbacks.
But the area had not been unscarred in the fray. Homes had been burned, businesses targeted and the marketplace in ruination. So, not only was the First Order in the process of cleaning up its own mess, it provided food, water, shelter, medicine (and transport into town for those whose workplaces were not affected but their homes were); not to mention education and schooling to the children of the area. And it was all overseen on the ground, of course, by the darling Lucilla Hux and her infant daughter, Lilia.
The campsite was something of a mercy mission; the cool white of the canvas and the strategic placing of the camp itself between the ridges for wind (and sandstorm) breakage served for a pleasant, refreshing atmosphere in the unforgiving heat of the Tatooinian suns. The various cooling units placed at regular intervals around internal parts the camp were surely of benefit too. The water was plentiful, arriving in towering, cold storage vats every few hours for whoever wanted or needed it. The food, much the same but with improved quality and variety under Lucilla's insistence. One could not forget the standard of medical care being administered to all who presented themselves. After all, these people were not prisoners. Far from it.
"Miss Lucilla…" That ebony head (the dark locks pinned back for maximum cooling) tweaked, her chin drawing even with her shoulder to acknowledge Mitaka behind her; his own calm mirrored the confidence he had in her planning and the trust in the woman he had already declared his loyalty to as Empress. "We have incoming."
"Thank you, Captain." Lucilla rose from her crouch on the sand-strewn ground of the makeshift campsite; someone else of her standing might have dusted themselves off, but the little dove, conscious of the people around her, did not. Not when she wanted to be seen as accessible and approachable, not above anyone else. "Please ensure Omega Squadron and Zeta Squadron are ready to engage. I believe they are taking their lead from the Supreme Leader."
"Commanders Bean and Dess were none too pleased of having command of their own squadrons removed in favour of the Supreme Leader, Miss Lucilla."Mitaka chimed knowingly, taking his protective place at the Public Liaison's side; overly puffed and proud of his new Captain's attire, even the scattering of sand did not spoil it for him.
"It is a once off, Captain Mitaka, I assure you." Lucilla replied; the trademark beam that projected motherly gentility found Lilia's hoverpram and the group of children that peeked into it with typical childlike curiosity. "This operation is imperative for the future of the First Order and the galaxy. Once it is complete, Commanders Bean and Dess can fly the length and breadth of the known universe if they wish. Is Quietus on standby for aerial support?"
"Yes, Miss Lucilla. Coordinates are pre-set and she will drop out of hyperspace the moment she is contacted." A campsite in the desert is one thing, but a Star Destroyer hanging overhead? That is quite another. Any why ruin the element of surprise?
"Excellent. Shield generators at the perimeters? All fully operational?"
"Tested this morning and functioning to full capacity."
"Wonderful. And my husband is… where?"
"He assumed command of Quietus when you decided to have it on standby. He said he trusted no one else with your Destroyer."
"Ah, so I know who to have court-martialled if there is even a single scratch on the hull." Mitaka joined in on the soft titter; not out of duty or to brownnose an unofficial superiour, but appreciating the joke intended to be shared among friends. "Oh… Excuse me, Captain…" Her com. And there was only one of two people it could be. "Activate shield generators." Dainty finger poised over the button to answer the communication, she directed a last-minute instruction to the Captain about to depart. "Go about, quietly and subtly. Advise anyone crossing your path that we have unidentified incoming and until we are sure there is no threat, they are to remain within the confines of the camp. Go quickly, Captain."
Despite the darkness of a First Order Captain's uniform in the blaring twin suns of Tatooine, Mitaka went with speed.
"Where are you?"
The projection cast a blue hue across Lucilla's bewitching features, emanating from the handheld device and no doubt displaying a portion of her surroundings to the contactor; just like she could deduce the inside of the infamous Tie-Silencer.
"I'm where I'm supposed to be. Are you?"
"Are you sure about this?"
"If I wasn't sure, Ren, would I have put myself here? Would I have put your hold-daughter here? Would I have put all these innocent people here?" Not that the Supreme Leader gave a bantha's behind about the innocent people in the Tatooinian camp. Already, out of the corner of her eye, the little dove spied people moving around her, Mitaka's message seemed to have made it around.
"The "civilian transmission" was sent only an hour or so ago." Lucilla went on casually, arching an eyebrow at the projection image of her harassed-looking colleague. "We already have reports of incoming craft that we're certain are Resistance, so I need you to stop questioning what has worked so far and play the role you chose."
A nearby Stormtrooper's radio crackled and Lucilla's ear cocked: A back-up request. Incoming hostiles. Airstrike.
"Those shield generators are state of the art!" Ren was protesting into the projector, though the First Order Liaison was only half listening. "Already, they're going to be choked with sand!"
"Those generators are imperative for the protection of our people and our troops-"
"Stormtroopers!"
"They are also our people!" Lucilla bit back at the projection who (she could have sworn it) recoiled and bristled at the sudden scolding. "They are sons and daughters of the First Order, who have, will and do lay down their lives to guard us from tyranny like the Resistance and deserve more respect for it! Remember that the next time you believe them expendable! Be ready!" As swiftly as she had answered it, the blue-eyed beauty terminated the communication with the vicious hiss of: "Imbecile."
That unprompted display of compassion did not go unnoticed either. Not when she passed said Trooper (whose radio she had partially eavesdropped on) and found herself the subject of an endeared (if silent) helmet tilt.
Lucilla was not a master strategist. She was not a trained tactician. She had not spent years at the Imperial Academy studying plans or manoeuvres. But what she did know was that sometimes, the Resistance ran headfirst into situations without knowing the full story, without assessing if everything was as it seemed from the outset. Particularly if her overly enthusiastic cousin was at the forefront. And now, she counted on it. But… Like I said… It worked.
"Looks like this is the place!" Poe called into his earpiece, his link to his rag-tag squadron; each one burning with enthusiasm to match his own. To liberate the "labour camp", rescue civilians and tear the First Order a new one all at the same time.
"Stormtroopers ahead!" BB-8 had whistled to him, his image receptor range better than any human eye; Poe simply passed the message along to the twenty-strong fleet of X-Wings, Y-Wings and A-Wings roaring in his wake. BB-8 had seen sand before, but the way Tatooinian sand whipped this way and that, getting everywhere, he would need a deep-soak oil bath after this.
"Remember! We wanna avoid any civilian casualties so-! Wait, wait, wait! What the hell're those?! BB-8! What're-?!"
"Shield generators!" BB-B squealed back, scarcely identifying the model and assuming correctly what they were.
"They're tryna keep us out, guys!" The olive-skinned pilot announced, flicking a switch to enable the weapons system. "Blow the hell outta 'em and anything that tries to stop you! We'll get those people out!"
Behind Lucilla, at the entrance of one of the main tents, people started to gather and gawk at the imminent fleet of mishmash vehicles; trademarks of the Resistance. This, too, was imperative.
"Is that the Resistance?!" One of them howled, horror-struck, as one of Snap Wexley's proton torpedoes collided with one of the shield generators and security fencing simultaneously (to keep out local trouble and to make the camp look like a labour camp) with a resonating BOOM and reactionary screams.
"What…what are they doing?!" Another stammered in terrified incomprehension. "Do they know we're down here?!"
"They're trying to bomb us! For taking aid!"
Another torpedo crashed the campsite, further west, where more petrified people watched the galaxy's beloved Resistance rain hellfire, laser canons and more proton torpedoes on their place of refuge. Thankfully, the remaining generators held firm in the most populated areas while Trooper ground support gave everything they had to protect the occupants. Lucilla placidly looked on, counting down the seconds, until… Right on cue.
"Poe!" Karé Kun erupted in the squad leader's earpiece, as if the sudden shriek of two Tie squadrons dropping out of nowhere was unnoticeable. "We got company!"
"Then let's make this quick and hurt 'em where we can! Aim for the transports and clusters of Troopers!" It was the last com some of them would ever receive when the Ties came screaming over the sand dunes; ducking and diving, landing their shots and dodging more. Lucilla could only imagine that the cheers from the camp's occupants would be more crushing to the likes of Poe (if he could hear them) than any shot to the tail when the Ties arrived. And the celebrations were deafening when the perceived traitors were pursued and snuffed out one by one.
Poe's eyes, pin-pricked with panicked tears, dropped to his console, to the red exes that marked his fallen comrades. Karé: gone. Oddy: gone. Jessika: gone. Yolo: gone. Among others. Less than half his squadron left. And it was about to get worse.
"There's too many of 'em! Pull back! Everyone pull back! Make the ju- Oh my God…"
The encroaching shadow of the First Order's newest Destroyer Quietus falling across the campsite and beyond, ripped the air from Poe's lungs; leaving his order hanging suspended. The sheer size of it alone, filling the desert sky, was intimidation enough though it carried extra Tie support if required. Canons dropped (a threat, and nothing more), Quietus served as a glorious distraction for the Supreme Leader-led Tie squad to land two more kills (Poe choked on the fresh losses of Stomeroni Starck and Suralinda Javos). It took those two to die before Poe took his own advice and scarpered.
"Ladies and Gentlemen of all species…" That kind face, that benevolent face, that blameless face; addressing the galaxy with reserved regality. "My name is Lucilla Hux, and I am the Public Relations Liaison of the First Order."
"I spoke to you some months ago, regarding the situation on Ryloth and the First Order's efforts to rectify it. Thankfully, we were successful and now Ryloth is thriving with regular updates from local government to advise us of any changes in their situation. Up until this evening, we had striven to make similar strides with the planet Tatooine, in the Arkanis Sector."
"With First Order assistance, the town of Anchorhead has been able to throw off the shackles of local organized crime run by the Hutts for the first time in decades. We, of the First Order, are very proud of our involvement and of those who can now call themselves free men and women, with no one to answer to but themselves."
"Approximately two weeks ago, under my supervision and implementation, the First Order set up a relief camp in the desert beyond Anchorhead while we set about a clean up operation after the over-throw of the Hutts. The camp allowed for the distribution of food, water, fuel, clothing, medical attention and also housed areas for sleeping and education while homes, businesses and schools were being repaired or rebuilt. Attendance at the camp was completely voluntary, and all were welcome."
Those beguiling features melted into something else… Vague distress? Upset? Consternation? With a swallow of apparent emotion, the First Order's angelic Public Relations Liaison went on seemingly accidental accusatory fire creeping into her tone as the injustice registered as she recounted it all.
"Therefore, I must publicly call on General Leia Organa and her Resistance cohorts. I demand to know why they felt it prudent and necessary to launch an airstrike on a relief camp where innocent men, women and children sought refuge. I was on the ground with some of the children and my own baby daughter, and for them to see heroes of the Resistance dropping proton torpedoes and raining laser fire is something none of them will readily forget. And for what? For accepting First Order aid? To silence me? For speaking out against their actions on Coruscant in their abduction attempt? No matter how many casualties or fatalities in the process?" Point made; the darling poster girl softened in her tone to address one final point.
"We were extremely lucky that two Tie squadrons were on standby, as well as the Star Destroyer: Quietus to stifle the unprovoked attack; much to the relief of all present at the camp that day. We would especially like the extend our gratitude and appreciation to the Stormtrooper squadron stationed at the base who rose to and countered the threat from the ground; selflessly placing their lives on the line to protect those in First Order care. Mercifully, there were no fatal casualties in the ranks. It is a constant reminder to us that, even in the desert, the First Order strives to shield us from tyranny."
The one they called Lucilla finished her broadcast with a warm, maternal smile and a courteous bow of her Umbaran head; the gesture so gracious, it would not unsettle a crown or a tiara. When she rose, she made each and every viewer feel special, by lifting those breath-taking eyes and (somehow) bringing them to whoever watched.
"Goodnight, and long reign the First Order."
Quietus: /kwʌɪˈiːtəs/
Noun.
Literary: Death or something that causes death, regarded as a release from life.
Archaic: Something that has a calming or soothing effect.